#rock bands be like: me and my friends come together so we can ROCK!! N!! ROLL!!

[blueflipflops]

Every rock band has an obligatory "I love rock. My friends love rock. I sing rock and ONLY rock. You should love rock too. SING IT WITH ME! ROCK!!! N'!!! ROLL!!!" song and I respect it

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[probably-writing-x]

Better For You

Spencer White x Reader

Summary: You knew Spencer outside of his ‘Spider’ persona. You knew the boy he was outside of the school crowd. But when the two worlds collide, will you see him for who he actually is?

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of spiking, cursing

———

“Spencer White?” You glance up from the diary in front of you, “Starting today?”

The tall boy in front of you clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. You can call me Spider.”

You scrunch your nose at his request, “Yeah I’m not gonna do that.”

He scoffs, “Alright, and what do I call you?”

“(Y/n),” You respond, “It’s just us two today so I can show you the ropes.”

“Can’t be that hard right? Sell people tickets, serve popcorn, pour a few drinks?”

You stare at him with a black expression, evidently unimpressed.

He looks down at his feet and then back up to you, “Okay, where do I start?”

Spencer was about the same age as you, you assumed. Your boss had said he came across as ‘confident and enthusiastic’ in his interview but both of those things seemed a little uncertain now.

You’d been working at the movie theater for nearly a year now, your uncle knew the manager so you’d been a shoo in from the moment you were old enough to work. It was long hours, late days, annoying customers, but it earned you money and that was all it needed to do.

“Let’s start with popcorn.”

———

That was two months ago now. You now spent nearly every shift with Spencer. He made the long nights feel like they ended earlier. He snuck you free food, dealt with the annoying customers for you, sped around the screens quicker than you so you didn’t have to do as much cleaning. He took extra hours so he could work when you worked.

You’d learnt in that two months that he was working here after an argument with his mum where she told him he’d never worked a day in his life. He’d taken this job to prove her wrong. That was on one of your late night shifts after a midnight screening. It was just the two of you and he was evidently down, evidently in need of someone to talk to. He’d opened up to you. You’d told him that you were sorry, though you weren’t exactly sure what for. He’d laughed and told you that if his Mum saw him like this she’d tell him this wasn’t work.

He drove you home that night, same as every night. And he thanked you before you got out of the car. He didn’t tell you what for, just said ‘thank you”. He needed it more than you did.

Now, he had your number and you had his. And you texted when you weren’t at work together. He sent you songs he thought you’d like, mainly from rock bands he’d heard at a concert that weekend. You sent him films he should watch and he forced himself to watch them, giving you a running commentary with text updates every few minutes.

You spoke to him more than you spoke to your other friends. You told him things before you told them nowadays too. But you two never saw each other outside of work. Separate schools, separate lives.

“Here,” You hand him over a stack of medium cups to add to the supplies at the counter.

Spencer takes them from you, loading them up onto the pyramid of cups you’d been making. It was a quiet day.

“You know if these fall you’re picking them up,” You comment, handing him another two cups.

Spencer adds them too and steps back with his hands raised as if he’s going to catch it, “Yeah, yeah, I figured.”

You grin, both of you admiring your handiwork.

“So,” He steps back to lean against the machine behind him, “I had a question.”

“A question,” You repeat, “Mysterious.”

“I know we’re not working on Saturday. My mates are having a party at the weekend, it’s stupid really, like this graveyard thing,” He shakes his head, “I was just… would you… would you want to come?”

You frown a little, as if taken aback but not wanting to admit it, “Are you…”

“You don’t have to, it’s a stupid idea really, I don’t know why we-“

“Yeah, I’ll come,” You nod, “I’m not here, so I’ve got nothing else to do.”

He smiles, “Alright, well then it’s a date.”

“Is it?” You cock a brow, folding your arms over your chest.

“I-“ His cheeks turn a dark shade of pink, “Shut up.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and steps forward, collapsing down the pyramid of cups into stacks in front of him.

———

Spencer texts you the location and you walk there as the sun’s going down - a little later than he’d suggested so you didn’t look awkward and eager.

It’s eerie when you think of it - a clearing in a graveyard converted into a party location. There’s already a crowd building, a mismatched stack of alcohol at one side and a littering of people you didn’t recognise mingling around.

Why had you agreed to come? You didn’t know a single soul here beyond Spencer. And surely he had other friends he’d want to see? The thoughts of turning around and pretending to have never arrived start coursing through your head. Your feet come to a stop, as if you’re preparing to disappear back into the surroundings.

“There you are!”

And there he is.

Through the crowd, you spot the familiar sight of that blonde floppy hair. The way his face curls up into that signature smile. He’s holding a red solo cup in each of his hands, extending them wide as if hugging you through the air.

“Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure about the whole… graveyard thing.”

Spencer laughs, “Yeah you just need to drink enough so you don’t think about it.”

He hands one of the cups to you and you take a sip.

“Careful, they’re probably spiked,” A girl walks past the two of you, eying Spencer with evident disgust.

She’s got dark short hair and a brightly coloured jacket with a black dress and she looks at you as if shes worried about you.

“Fuck off Amerie,” Spencer snaps, rolling his eyes at her.

You glance up at him and back to her and she offers you a small smile like she’s trying to warn you of something. She walks off over to another group of people and Spencer turns back to you.

“What was tha-“

“Come on, I want to introduce you to some people,” He places a hand gently on the middle of your back as if guiding you through the crowd.

There’s a group of boys over the other side, shouting loudly at each other and making vulgar gestures to go alongside whatever conversation they were having.

“Oi dickheads,” Spencer calls over, “Be normal for a minute, ay?”

The boys stop and turn around, both of them looking at you and then back to their friend.

“This is (Y/n),” He looks down at you and then back to them.

“(Y/n)!” One of the boys grins widely, “We’ve heard a lot about you. You moved in by Spider right?”

“Wh-“

“This is Ant, and that’s Dusty,” Spencer gestures between the two of them before you can say anything else.

“Nice to meet you,” You smile softly, “You know Spencer from school?”

“Yeah, basically since we could walk,” Dusty smiles at you, “We can tell you all the gory details.”

“Alright, alright, I’m right here,” Spencer shakes his head, standing close enough to you that his side is against yours, his arm still placed on your back.

He’s got that way about him. The feeling that you could just melt into his connection. You couldn’t explain it, but in a crowd of people you didn’t know, you were glad he was still beside you.

———

“So how does the dunny situation work here?”

Spencer turns to you and laughs, the two of you now at the edge of the party as people had started dancing in the middle. It was dark now, and you were stood just inches closer to Spencer to make the most of his radiating warmth.

“You find a spot where nobody can see you, and you put in some squat training,” He smiles, the kind of smile that creases his eyes.

“Oh how glamorous,” You wiggle your brows, placing your cup into his hand, “I’ll be right back.”

His fingertips linger on yours as your hand pulls away from his, his eyes lingering on you for even longer as you walk away.

You trail out away from the crowd and down a small path away from any prying eyes until you bump into the sound of giggling girls just ahead of you.

“Oh shit, sorry, I was just looking for somewhere to piss,” You clear your throat.

“Hey, wait, wait, wait,” One of the girls looks over to you, “You’re the girl that Spider was with right?”

It was the girl from earlier. The one Spencer had told to fuck off.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/n),” You offer a smile.

The girl’s friend stands up and zips up her trousers, both of them walking closer to you.

“I don’t want to sound like a cunt, but just be careful with him,” The girl, Amerie says.

“Am,” The other girl hits her arm, “You’re going to scare the poor girl.”

You look at her and fold your arms around you as if shrinking away from them, evidently uncomfortable.

“He’s just…” The other girl begins, “Very outspoken. He’s not exactly the nicest guy at Hartley.”

“He’s a grade A cunt,” Amerie adds, “And you seem like way too good for him.”

“Alright, we’re gonna go before Amerie says anything worse,” The other girl confirms, “Have a good night yeah?”

They both walk past you and you stand stuck in your spot, repeating over everything they had said. Spencer had been the nicest boy ever since you’d known him. He was thoughtful and funny and he was who you looked forward to seeing every shift. But everyone here seemed to be talking about a different boy when it came to him. To the girls, he was like the worst guy they’d known. And why had he lied to the boys about how he knew you?

“(Y/n)?”

You turn in your spot to see him stood behind you, far enough away that you can only make out his silhouette in the dark.

“You’d been a while, I was just making sure you were okay,” He speaks so softly you feel your heart skip a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” You clear your throat, walking towards him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer offers, “I reckon the coppers will be here soon.”

“Yeah,” You smile at him lightly, “I’ll probably book an Uber-“

He holds his cup out towards you, “I’m not drinking. I’ll drive you home.”

Spencer tugs his jacket off from his shoulder and places it around yours his hand slipping down beside your arm until his hand is hovering beside yours. You interlock your hand with his and he smiles once more, like he’s relieved at the contact.

———

The drive back isn’t far, and the empty roads make it even quicker. Spencer still indicates every time he needs to, drives the limit rather than anything over, glances at you every so often to make sure you were okay in the passenger seat.

He pulls up in front of your house and shuts off the engine.

“So, will you be rushing back to a graveyard party any time soon?” He leans his head back against the headrest and turns it towards you.

“I think I’ll stick to the beach or a house party for now,” You nod, running your hands over the cold skin of your thighs.

Spencer laughs, “Yeah I-“

“Can I ask you something?” You interject, the thought practically spilling from your mind.

He frowns, nodding slightly.

“Why did the boys think I was your neighbour? Did you not tell them we worked together?”

Spencer swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t tell them about the job.”

You furrow your brows, “Is working at a movie theater really that bad?”

He lets out a deep breath, “It’s not that.”

There’s a stillness in the air between you. That sort of tension that he always managed to dissipate. He’s calm and yet the air seems to be full of all the nerves he could muster in your presence.

“I don’t really talk to them about anything with my Mum, or home, or anything. And I guess I figured if they knew about the job they’d start asking questions and it’s just… not something I tell people.”

“You told me.”

Spencer chuckles a little, “You’re easier to talk to.”

You smile at him and the tension in his shoulders seems to relax a little, “I guess I can pretend to be your neighbour next time.”

“Next time?” He raises his brows, “So you did like the graveyard.”

You laugh, your gaze averting to the darkness looming over your house, not a single light on.

“So, my parents are away,” You say quietly, like you’re now the one holding all of the nervous energy, “Do you want to… I mean you could…”

“Yeah.”

You laugh, unsure at what point in your time knowing him had it become so easy for Spencer to make you nervous.

———

He sits at the end of the bed whilst you get ready in the bathroom. You take off your makeup, wash your face, tie back your hair and change into your pyjamas. They were one of the cuter sets you owned - different to the normal baggy t-shirt you’d wear. But if there was ever a time to wear a nicer set, it was whilst Spencer would be the one you were sharing a bed with.

When you walk back in, he looks up from the book he had in his hands - one he’d taken from your nightstand.

“Didn’t think that would be your kind of thing,” You nod towards it, walking over to your side of the bed.

“Too many big words,” He smiles, setting it back down and shuffling backwards on the bed.

He was wearing only his t-shirt and boxers now - his other clothes folded in a pile on the chair in front of your vanity.

“Okay we’ve got a problem here,” You comment, looking down at him.

“What’s that?” He asks, swinging his legs around so that he’s sat at the side of the bed facing you, his knees bumping against your legs.

“This is my side of the bed,” You mention.

“Oh is it?” Spencer cocks a brow at you and you hum in response.

His hands reach out and gently brush the skin of your thigh, trailing upwards towards your waist as if drawing you towards him. You let him guide you, shifting until you are straddling his lap. Neither of you speak, Spencer’s hand moving around to hold your back, one remaining on your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes focused on his like you’re seeking that comfort.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer whispers, the words seeming to tumble from his lips.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, “Yes.”

The corners of his mouth upturn just slightly, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. And then, he closes the gap just enough. His lips press against yours, soft and cautious but somehow so certain of themselves. His hand moves to cup your jaw, drawing more of you to him as his fingertips tangle into your hair. When he pulls away, his lips curl into a smile, forehead pressing against yours.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that,” He whispers, as if not wanting anything else to ruin the moment.

You laugh, leaning into him, “This is still my side.”

Spencer chuckles, holding one arm tightly around his waist to shuffle you both back across the mattress. He shifts to lay you down on one side of the bed before settling down on the side beside you, his arm outstretched to pull you into his chest. You can feel his heart beating against your ear and you’re relieved for a second he is sharing in the same adrenaline that you are.

His fingertips trail up and down your arm, the most delicate touch he could muster.

“I’m sorry I lied to the boys about you,” He speaks the words quietly into the air of the room.

You tilt your head upwards just enough that you can see his face, “We already spoke about this, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah but I didn’t apologise properly and I should do,” He nods, “It shouldn’t be your problem to have to lie to them too.”

“Would it really be so bad if they knew you had a job?”

Spencer shakes his head, tucking his other arm beneath his head on the pillow, “No, it wouldn’t. I just don’t like the thought of them knowing everything that goes on at home. It’s easier to go into school and act like none of that exists.”

You lean up onto your elbows and turn to face him, reaching up a hand to run through the hair falling at the side of his forehead, “Would it not be easier if you could talk to them about it?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, his eyes flitting between each of yours, “I don’t think I’d even know what to say.”

Spencer leans up just enough to kiss you again, gentle and fleeting.

He pulls you back down to his chest and tugs the blanket up over both of you. The pair of you stay there, like that in each other’s arms, until his breath starts to even out and he falls asleep - though, even then, his arms don’t loosen from around you.

———

Spider is back at school on Monday morning. He’d spent all of Sunday with you - waking up at your house, driving you both to work, and then taking you to dinner afterwards. It was the first time he’d ever woken up and instantly wanted to text someone, sending you a quick ‘good morning’ along with his complaints for not wanting to go to school today. He felt like a child with his first crush. Though, when he thought about it, maybe this was the first proper crush he’d had. No other girl had made him feel like this. And he’d savour it for as long as he could.

“Oi dickhead, are you listening?” Dusty interrupts his thoughts, the two of them walking towards the locker room to get changed.

“No,” Spider shrugs, “Do I need to be?”

“You missed a killer end to the party man,” Dusty points out, pushing the door open to where the rest of the boys already were, “I can’t believe you left early.”

“Oh come on I think Spider had other things on his mind,” Ant points out as soon as he overhears the conversation.

“Yeah who the fuck was that chick?”

“Does it matter? Either way Spider was going to fu-“

“Cut it out,” Spider snaps, to nobody in particular, just hoping for anything that would stop the topic of conversation.

“Aww is Spider precious about his latest conquest?” Ant frowns, “You’ll be onto the next one by this weekend.”

“Have you ever just thought of shutting up Ant?” Spider questions, reaching down to tie the laces of his trainers, “I mean, seriously, is it so hard to think (Y/n) might just be a good person? Someone I actually like hanging out with?”

“I don’t think that’s what they’re doubting,” It’s Malakai that speaks this time.

Spider looks at him, uncertain.

“If she’s a decent person, the last guy she should be around is you.”

For a moment, he feels the silence around him. The same tightness in his chest that he got at every dinner with his Mum. The same voice in his head telling him it was impossible for him to be good.

“Well,” He clears his throat, standing up from the bench, “Good thing I don’t need to listen to you cunts.”

When he walks out onto the field, the girls are already crowded around in conversations with each other. Spider walks over, crossing towards the opposite side of the field.

“Oi Spider!”

It’s Amerie that yells after him. He turns around to see her and Harper making their way over.

“You know we told that girl from the party to stay away from you,” Amerie states strongly, offering him her most judgemental look.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You might be able to put on an act for her but she deserves to know how shitty you are.”

“Are you kidding?” Spider scoffs, “You don’t even know her, why’s it your place to say anything?”

“We don’t know her,” Amerie shrugs, “But we know you. And no girl deserves that.”

He glances around at the rest of the people on the field, across to where the boys have just started filtering outside too. Not a single person here thought well of him. Even the boys, his friends, they saw him as the boy that said what they wouldn’t say. He was funny to them before he was good. He was someone to laugh at before he’d ever be someone to talk to. He’d become a show piece at this school. The controversial one that said what nobody else would.

“Ever thought that I might want to be a decent guy? That if I actually liked someone it’s genuine?” Spider shrugs, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Oh fuck off Spider, are you even capable of that?”

“Maybe.”

———

You’d been on Spider’s mind for the whole day. And, as soon as the final bell rang, all he could think of was getting to you.

It’s not a far drive, just the other side of town. But he speeds as if it’s some sort of last ditch attempt to get to you. He hadn’t thought to text, or ask where you were, or ask if you were free. He just knew he needed to get to you. And when he pulls up in front of your house, he realises this is as far as his thoughts had taken him, he wasn’t sure what that meant now.

He knocks on the door, harshly as if he’s channeling his nerves into the sound.

It’s not you on the other side. Instead, an older woman, bearing some resemblance to you in the brightness of her eyes.

“Hi, can I help you?” Her brows furrow but she smiles at him welcomingly, warmly.

“Um-“ He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “I just-“

“Are you (Y/n)’s friend?”

Before he can respond, you come up behind the woman and grasp her shoulders, “I’ve got this one Mum.”

You glance to Spencer and smile, instantly relaxing the tension in his shoulders.

“It was nice to meet you,” Your Mum nods to him, turning to you and giving you some sort of knowing smile as if exchanging silent words.

You step out of the front door and pull it almost-closed behind you;

“What are you doing here Spencer?”

“You didn’t tell me what the girls said to you at the party.”

“I-“ You wrap your arms over your chest as a breeze courses past both of you, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” He half laughs, his shoulders dropping, “They practically told you to get as far away from me as you could.”

“Yeah. And that doesn’t mean I believed them.”

Spencer smiles at you just a little, but it falters quickly.

“Why do they hate you so much Spencer?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath as he looks at you like even the sight of you is enough to calm down all of the worry coursing through him.

“My whole life it’s just been me and my Mum. I didn’t have siblings, my Dad was never in the picture. And so I had this one person left that was meant to love me. You know? That was her job, right? She’s my Mum, she just needs to love me and we’d figure the rest out. My Mum treats me every day like I’m the worst guy on the planet. I’m a guy and she thinks that’s enough for me to be someone she should hate. To her, I’m destructive and thoughtless and I have all this potential do a world of wrong. She reminds me of that every day, with everything I do. She’s reminded me of it so much that I started to believe it. That’s the guy I am to them at school. That’s the guy they know. And I’d hate me too if I was them.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, wanting to reach out for him and tell him everything he needed to hear. To heal all those years of hurt that sat on those young shoulders.

“I don’t want to be that guy when I’m with you.”

You feel it then. The way your heart skips a beat once more.

“I want to be better.”

Your face breaks into a small smile, an instinctive response.

“I believe you,” You practically whisper the words, “Everyone else might have a lot to say about you but I know the person that you are with me.”

You step forward towards him.

“And I don’t think that guys so bad.”

You watch as he visibly relaxes, grasping out for you as soon as you are within reach, his hands snaking around to your waist. Your hands move up to his chest, linking around the back of his neck.

“You deserve a chance to be better Spider,” You smile, reaching up onto the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his lips.

He hums against the contact, pulling away to say, “I prefer Spencer.”

You chuckle and he wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He breathes in the scent of you in his arms, feeling his heart slow in your hold. He’s sure he could stay there forever. And you’re sure that you would let him.

[slavghoul]

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was     painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

[honeytama]

Please Please Please

Matt Dierkes x Musician!Fem!Reader

A/N: Sabrina Carpenter reference? Likely. I’m always writing Matt things when I should writing something else. Enjoy!

Summary: While at the Rock Sound Awards afterparty, you’re alerted that a frontman from another band is throwing a tantrum over your band’s win. You’re pissed, but level-headed knowing you shouldn’t do anything about it. One of your friends, not so much. You relieve him of the stress the best way you know how.

Content and Warnings: Reader is in a metalcore band, friends to lovers, smut 18+, bathroom sex/semi public, raw p n v, squirting, facial, aftercare

Word Count: 2.7k

“Y/N,” your bandmate sings in your ear as you dance with Courtney LaPlante on the Rock Sound Awards afterparty dance floor.

“What’s up?” You ask him while keeping hold of Courtney’s hip as she sways with you to Fergie.

“Our favorite band is pissed at us, again,” he sings again while shamelessly pointing his thumb over to the corner of the room.

“Our favorite band?” You whip your head around to the corner and spot them. They’re huddled together, as always, with the frontman looking angry and annoyed as all hell. “Oh. Them. What now?”

“They don’t like that we won Best Live Act for the second year in a row,” he starts dancing with the two of you. “Frontman is throwing a hissy fit as always and calling you out by name. He says your production ideas and things you came up with for us to do onstage are a joke.”

You let go of Courtney and they both can see you’re beginning to fume. “Well, if he wants to talk about me, then he might as well come say it to my face. I’m not here for drama! I’m here to have fun!” You yell over the music.

“Y/N,” your bandmate says your name in a tone that tells you you have to get ready for what he's about to say next.

“What?” You hiss.

“They’ve started a rumor that we only won because you’ve started to show more skin on stage,” your bandmate says, cautiously.

You let out a gasp and turn to give your rival frontman a harsh glare. You want so badly to give him the finger or to go storming over there to give them a piece of your mind. But you can’t. You have to remain professional for many reasons; most importantly, the cameras that float around are held by Rock Sound hires.

“What I do with my body is none of their fucking business!” You start to walk towards the restroom in the back of the venue, “I’m going to go take a breather.”

“Let me come with you,” Courtney urges while holding your forearm.

“It’s ok, babe,” you pat her to reassure her and she lets go. “I’ll be back later.”

Your feet take you as fast as you possibly can go in your chunky heels. It doesn’t help that your short, black strapless dress keeps riding down your chest.

“Hey, buddy, where are you going so fast?” Matt steps into your beeline towards the back hallways. “Congrats on your win, by the way. I knew you would get it,” he smiles wide down at you.

“Thank you, Matt—” you give him a sheepish smile back before noticing what he’s wearing. You don’t bother hiding your eyes looking him up and down. He’s wearing a tuxedo and dress shoes, still with a black cap on his hair, but he looks so good. “I haven’t seen you all night. I’m sorry.” You pull your friend into a hug.

“It’s okay?” He notices you aren’t completely there. Usually, you were ecstatic to see Matt, he’s probably your closest friend in the industry. He and Bad Omens put your band’s name out there; you had him to thank for this award. Coming to your side, you two walk together to the back hallway. It’s quieter. No cameras. There are no other bands. Just you and Matt. “What’s wrong?”

“Fucking, ugh!” You clench your hands in front of your eyes. You want to punch something so bad. “That fucking band I told you about! The one from last year! They started a rumor that the only reason we won tonight is because of my stage outfits,” you grunt out while pulling the lapels of Matt’s tux jacket.

Matt’s face twists from concerned to heated. “What? Like, slut shaming you? Are they being fucking real?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes out of anger and shame.

“How can they say shit like that when both their drummer and bassist play with their shirts off the entire show?” He barks.

“I know it’s fucking hypocritical. They’ll never realize that.” You rub his lapel soothingly. You’re glad he understands, but oh, God, what have you started?

“Maybe they need my fist in their jaws to realize it?” His eyebrows furrow and his eyes turn a shade darker. His lips purse like he’s holding himself back from saying something else.

“Matt, it’s okay,” you try to get through to him. “Just talking to you is helping me.”

“I’m gonna go do something about it.” Suddenly Matt is out of your grasp and you're jogging to catch him by the waist.

“Please, please, please,” you plead him while hugging him from behind. You use all your strength to tug him back with your hands pressed firmly on his pectorals and stomach. “Matty, please, you’ll embarrass me.” He halts in the middle of the hallway and it gives you enough time to wrap around to his front and press your hands into his chest, pushing him backward. “If you go out there and start something with him, then his band will know it was me that told you about the issue. I don’t need you to fight for me.”

His eyes peer into yours as you look up at him pleadingly. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this yourself! Those fucking assholes deserve what’s coming to them.”

“Matt, no,” you urge him with a pout in your lip.

“If I don’t go out there and defend you, then I’ll be thinking about it all night,” he hisses. “You don’t get it, Y/N. I need to do this,” he grabs your hands from his chest planning to storm out into the party again.

You step into him one last time, hoping what you’ll say next will get him to stop, finally. “Then take it out on me.” The words sound like they’re blaring in your ears, but you know they came out as a whisper.

His feet unmoving now, he holds your wrists to your sides. “What was that?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

“You heard me,” you roll your eyes and clench your fists. Why did he have to be such a tease?

“I know,” he smiles. “Just say it, again.”

“Take your frustration out on me,” you gaze into his eyes. “We can go to the bathroom.” You nod behind him at the empty women’s restroom.

His dominant hand makes its way to the small of your back and leads you down the hall to the sleek door of the bathroom. You do your best to keep up with his eagerness while in your heels.

You both push into the pristine, pearlescent room lined with shiny counter-to-ceiling mirrors, white marble countertops, and quartz flooring. Your heels click against the tiles as you make your way to the sink counters. You watch as Matt removes his jacket and locks the restroom door behind him.

He comes to you, quickly, and presses your body into the counter. The square edge of it digs into the fat of your ass as he makes his first move on your exposed chest. With hunger, he kisses, sucks, and licks the skin between your breasts up to your neck. Your whines reverberate in the empty room and you hope everyone is too distracted at the party to hear you. Your hands find themselves behind Matt’s neck, interlacing your fingers in his hair to fully pull him in. You wanted him to mark you.

Matt moans at the feeling of his dick pressing into your clit as the dress has ridden up in the process of him feasting on your skin. He undoes his belt buckle and the sound of the jingle makes your thighs quiver. Matt pulls his dress shirt from his pants and rolls up the sleeves. The sight of his toned forearms and tattoos always turns you on. He zips down his slacks before commanding, “Turn around.” You do so and lift your dress over your ass for him to see you barely covered by your tiny thong. “I want you to see yourself in the mirror when you cum on my cock.” He hooks his index finger through your thong to pull it to the side.

You gulp as you watch him tug the front of his brief down and pull his half-hard dick out. Shamefully stealing glances at the imprint of dick as you two changed next to each other on a past tour, you still would have never guessed he would be that girthy. “Matt, please, go slow. You’re bigger than I expected,” you admit.

“I thought you wanted me to take my frustration out on you,” he shakily breathes out while rubbing his tip along your slick slit.

“Didn’t think I would actually be sore in the morning,” you taunt him. He forces a moan out of you when his hard tip finds your pulsating clit. He teases you with small circles and slaps your cunt with his cock, before going right back to soft circles again. You didn’t think his dick could get harder and bigger as he played with your pussy, but it does. Your breath hitches when you feel his tip tickling your entrance.

“You’re not going to snap back from this,” he taunts as he presses himself into you. “You’ll fit me like a glove,” he groans. Luckily, with the height from your heels, your pussy is at the most perfect height for him to enter you with ease.

Matt watches your face twist in the mirror as you adjust to his size. You try to grip onto anything: the marble countertop, the polished sink, the faucet hardware? But to no avail, you keep slipping. Your legs already feel like jelly. Luckily, Matt puts both of his strong hands on your hips and supports you. You notice from his hard grasp that he’s still pissed, and you ignore the pain to urge him, “Matt, fuck me.”

He grunts and pulls your hips fully into his dick, bottoming himself out.

You moan in unison.

“Fuck—“ “Baby,—“

Your chest rubs against the cold counter as he fucks into you mercilessly. Whenever you whine or moan on his cock, the noises bounce off the mirror and you sound like heaven to your own ears. Matt smiles down at the reflection in front of him that has drool coming down her lips and hands that are searching for something to grab onto. You leave fingerprints on the mirror in front of you during your search.

The squelching and wetness of your cunt is the worst. You believe that if anyone outside of the room could hear anything, it would be that. Matt revels in the sound of his hips meeting yours as he fucks you as no other man has before.

His dick hits every spot, too. Especially the soft, bumpy spot at the roof of your cunt. His mauve tip hits it so perfectly that it makes you squeak with every thrust. The pressure building up in your lower stomach is something you’ve never felt before. It’s scary and makes you want to push Matt away, but the punishingly delicious feeling forces you to fuck Matt back.

Matt watches in awe as you gain the energy to press your hips to meet his while he pumps into you. “So. Fucking. Hot,” he grunts as he slaps your ass with each word.

“Matty, I’m gonna cum—,” the broken words come out of your moaning mouth.

“Go ahead,” he reaches around your head to grip your chin, lifting you higher up the mirror to see you clearly.

“Matt—!” Something is different than usual. Heat builds up fast and you feel like you want to pee. Without thinking anymore, you relax and let go. Something sprays your lips and trickles down your leg as Matt continues to pump himself into your sopping pussy.

You two moan in tandem at the realization of your actions. He allows you to ride out your high as he slows his thrusts. “Did you just squirt?” Matt chuckles as he pulls out slowly. His fingertips trail down your soaked cunt and thighs; it makes you shutter.

“Yes? I’ve never done that before,” your heart feels like it’s racing itself as you face yourself in the mirror. His dark eyes meet yours as he grins deliciously; he makes you feel proud of yourself.

“Where do you want me to come?” He breathes out while stroking himself languidly.

“Anywhere,” you nod your head as if saying “yes” to any place he can think of.

“On your knees, then. Let me ruin your makeup some more,” he suggests.

You take one last look in the mirror and notice your makeup is fucked. Spots of your foundation on your chin and cheeks are gone from being pressed into the counter, your eyeliner and mascara have smudged, and your lip combo has gone to nothing. It’s mixed with your drool and now dried on your chin. Fuck it.

You take his hint by slowly turning and dropping to your knees before him. Usually, no man could ever convince you to kneel before him on a bathroom floor, but Matt just gave you the best dick of your life, so…

Whatever power you have, you let it go for him. The way his demeanor changes when he wants to defend you and show he cares for you is not only heartwarming, but it turns you on. So tonight, he can have whatever he wants.

You stick your tongue out below him and bat your eyelashes as he strokes himself. You act like you're thirsty for his cum, because you are. You want to know what he tastes like so bad. This works on him. He growls as he unloads his cum in sprays that hit your cheek, forehead, and on your open lips. It just misses your eager tongue.

Matt hums when you lick your lips to try him. The salty tang isn’t amazing, but what is is the satisfying look on his face. He’s so impressed by you, in so many ways.

“Ready to stand?” He asks as he tucks his dick away and hikes his pants up.

Your head is hazy and you look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Mhm,” you hum softly. You take his extended hand and slowly get up. Nearly slipping again, he catches you with an arm around your waist.

Once you're supported by the counter again, he lightly wets a paper towel with warm water to clean you up.

“Do you feel better?” You ask him as he carefully wipes his relief from your face.

“I do, thanks…” he kisses the cheek he’s not cleaning. “Do you feel better?” He reaches into your purse which you’ve thrown into the sink earlier and grabs two makeup wipes.

“So much better,” you respond while wiping away the sad remnants of your makeup. “Fuck them!”

“Fuck them!” He agrees with a smile.

“Either way, we should avoid them tonight. They don’t deserve our attention,” you tell Matt. “Will you come to dance with me to celebrate my win?”

“You know I don’t—,” he starts. You both start to walk towards the door.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him with your hands clenched together as he unlocks the door and ushers you out of the restroom.

“Fine, just one song,” he agrees with a huff and takes your hand in his.

The familiar tune of Sabrina Carpenter's ‘Espresso’ plays over the speakers in the main room and you hear excited screams.

“C’mon!” you yelp and scurry in your heels with Matt in tow to the dance floor.

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (26)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none, next couple chapters a bit lot.

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz). IT IS MY BIRTHDAY TODAY (10/16) I went to the zoo and had a great time. However I did start to feel down. But I remembered I still had you guys to tell me all about what you think of my stories lol

While you were left to clean up the rest of the breakfast dishes, you allowed the boys to go about doing their daily chores. You kept an eye on Jongho, who had asked the boys to move him outside of his tent for the day. There were some arguments and snarls coming from him as San and Yunho dragged him out. 

“Hello, Honey.” You looked up to give Yeosang a smile.

“Hi, Yeosang.” You answered him.

“I see you're feeling better.” He spoke up, getting closer to you. “Would you take a walk with me?” He asked, nodding his head out of the camp.

You placed the last of the dishes away, drying your hands on your slacks. “I'd love to.” You skipped over to him, linking your arms together. 

You both quietly walked along the trees, slowly moving to find a place where you both could enjoy the nature that surrounded you. He had led you to the spring where you had showered yesterday, making room on the rocks at the shore to sit. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked you when you both got settled. 

“Yeah.” You gave him a confused smile. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“Can I be frank?” You gave him a nod. “I know about you and the boys.”

You tried not to think the worst, but it was the first thing you could think of. They were a band of friends who probably told each other about everything. While you knew they weren’t going to talk about you in any negative way, your first thought was that maybe they felt you were leading them on. 

Mingi had been the only one to explain to you that they always spoke about you together but talking about it with one of them was much different. You cared deeply about what they all thought of you, so having Yeosang start up the conversation about kissing the other boys really made you anxious. 

“Should I think the worst?” You took a deep breath. 

“From me?” He smiled at you. “Not at all. You're worried about what we will think, aren't you?” He added. 

“Every one of you has tried to tell me not to worry about it, but I do.” You told him. 

Yeosang took a moment to think over what to ask you. It had been a while since he had gone back to his real home. But he knew that the world viewed these kinds of things as nothing sort of strange. This was a different place that didn’t understand how the feelings of people worked. Especially not women. 

“Is it because you don't think it's right or because others don't?” He asked you.

You immediately turned to him. It seemed like all the boys knew what you wanted, but were holding back. They weren’t going to judge you. They weren’t going to call you names, you already knew all that. And hearing it from them only made you start to think they were right. 

“Do you think it's okay? To feel what I feel?” You asked. 

Yeosang’s lips turned up in a smile. “Where I'm from, there is no limit to the kind of love you can feel. People who judge you still because no matter what you do there will always be that one person.” He explained. 

He suddenly looked into the water in front of you both, looking lost in thought. “Maybe it's not common yet, but that doesn't mean it's not real. You should follow what your heart wants.”

“But what about you?” You asked him. 

“What about me?” He laughed lightly. “I only want what's best for you.”

You sighed, thinking back to your family. You could only think about how crazed they were at the moment, trying to find you. There was an anxious feeling building up in your chest every time you were reminded of how you left your family. 

You hadn’t told any of them anything, you knew they were probably hysteric. But you couldn’t face them yet, not when it was still fresh in your mind what they were thinking about you. Here these boys were supporting you much better than your family when you started to change your outlook on life. 

“That's more than what I can say about my family.” You pulled your knees up to your chest. 

“I'm sure they want the same.” Yeosang spoke up. “If you tell them, maybe they'll understand-”

“I seriously doubt it!” You scoffed. “They-They called me names.” Your bottom lip trembled as you thought about what your dad had called you. “They would rather believe in others than their own daughter. As if I haven't spent my entire life doing what I'm told. Being the good daughter everyone wants.” 

Tears started to build up in your eyes, so you aggressively wiped at them. 

“This isn't about your feelings, is it?” Yeosang asked, shifting closer to you. 

He brought his arm around you, pulling him down into his chest. Your legs stretched out, rubbing your cheek against his shirt as you got comfortable. 

“It was at first.” You began. “I believed their name calling-made myself think that they were right.” Your lips trembled from the smile wanting to make its way onto your face. 

You thought about the boys and how they all seemed to take care of you. Seonghwa and Wooyoung always teased you, but you find it endearing. It made you blush and become shy, but you didn’t want to hide from their words. Yeosang and San both always knew what to tell you. They made sure you always spoke what was on your mind and didn’t bottle it up. 

Yunho and Mingi were there to protect you from harm. One saved your life literally, while the other wanted to keep you from shutting down mentally. And Hongjoong and Jongho, while they didn’t want to see you live the life they had, they showed their own ways of caring. They were hard on you, but they still couldn’t find themselves to part with you.

“But I can't hide what I feel; what I want to feel. After speaking with all of you, it changed to me, realizing that they truly sided with nobodies.” You sniffled. 

‘It's a different time.” Yeosang squeezed your shoulder. “There are a lot of things that create chaos just because one person spreads a rumor that isn't true.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “I think you should still talk to them. Maybe they'll understand you better if they know how you feel. It's a parent's job to take care of their children. Until the very end.”

You looked up at him, being reminded that his family was one of the richest in the entire country. He had everything in the palm of his hands, and yet he was running around as a secret criminal. 

You wondered why it was he left his family to do what he did. You were sure he enjoyed it–all of them expressed it multiple times, they wouldn’t want to do anything else. But here he was talking about family when he left his own.

“Are yours still taking care of you?” You spoke out loud.

“Not anymore.” He shook his head sadly. “I love my family just as much as the next. But sometimes you have to tell them the truth in order to grow.”

Would telling your own the truth fix the problems you had? Or would it only create more by having them think the rumors about you were true?

“Is that what you did?” You asked. 

“I did.” Yeosang looked down at you.

Your eyes drifted to his birthmark, wanting to reach out and trace it at that moment. “Is that why you're with the boys?”

“They wanted things from me that I didn't.” Yeosang explained. “I wanted to be my own person.” He sighed and turned back to look at the water. 

Yeosang had hidden feelings over his parents that you knew you wanted to know more about. The rich you knew in Cromer were all people who seemed stuck up and had their noses up-turned. They didn’t care about the well-being of others and allowed their greed in money to be their downfall from society. 

Was that how Yeosang’s family was? Yeosang was nothing like those people. He worked for what he wanted–he strived to reach that point. Yeosang was a person who knew hard work was what made the reward so much better. 

“Don't let that change your mind.” He quickly told you. “Your parents are not mine. They seem to really care about you. I'm sure they'll change their minds.”

You grew up with parents who cared for each other and gave their kids the best things life had to offer. They did always work themselves to the bone, but in your eyes they were your role models because they still tried their best to spend time with their children. 

Even at the age where everyone else their age would start to become grandparents, they would still try to spend time with your youngest brother, who was 6. They weren’t giving up yet, but somehow it seemed like they gave up on you. 

You knew you had to go back soon before they entered an early grave from trying to find you. You didn’t want to lose them, but you knew that if you needed to, you would have to leave them to find the person you truly wanted to be.

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @araknoid , @starjoongi1117 , @chel-awingcherry , @puppyminnnie ,

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 7: Heart Attack]

A/N: Hello all! Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥰 Thank you so much for loving this fic and giving all my eccentric AU ideas a chance. I’m currently in Washington DC visiting one of my best friends, so if I’m a little bit tardy replying to your comments/messages then that’s why. Don’t fear!! I will check in as soon as I can, and I am still amazed by and will forever cherish your support. 💜

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Shelby being a bigger plague than the locusts of Egypt, mental health struggles, references to violence and abuse, New Jersey, pregnancy, mini golf, lots of content for the Cregan girlies.

Selected Chapter Quote: “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​@doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @bhanclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​ @mariahossain​ @echos-muses​ @padfooteyes​ @minttea07​ @queenofshinigamis​ @juliavilu1​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @lauraneedstochill​ @wintrr13​ @r0segard3n​ @seabasscevans​ @tsujifreya​ 

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You type into Google as you hide in the public bathroom stall, pink tile walls and mint green porcelain, very 1950s, phantom drips of water and humming florescent lights: Can Plan B make your period late?

You scroll through the results, clutching your iPhone with both hands. Faintly, you can hear the rest of the band outside, chattering, laughing, slurping on Slush Puppies, smacking trees and rocks with their golf clubs. Yes, the consensus seems to be; Plan B can delay your period. Incidentally, so can pregnancy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You peer down at your panties, as if you can force bloodstains to appear: sparce rosy threads of warning, dark red splotches like rust, you aren’t particular. You’ll take anything. “Fuck,” you say again, defeated. You get dressed, wash your hands, and head back out into the cloudless afternoon sunshine.

“Stargirl, it’s your turn!” Aegon shouts as you trot over to them: tenth hole, shaped like an L, featuring an intimidating loop de loop. The course is dinosaur themed; Rhaena picked it. Aegon points to Jace. “This deformed bastard wanted to skip you.”

“I told you,” Jace moans. His speech is garbled and lisping, his face comically swollen, bruised yellow-emerald-indigo and drooling blood, stitches above his left eyebrow. He just had his dental implants placed yesterday; the four teeth that he lost at Club Camelot could not be readily located for reattachment. “I can’t keep track of who’s next. I’m on like four different opiates.”

Baela frets over him. “Shh, shh, baby. Try not to talk.” There’s something about watching someone get almost-murdered that makes you want to forgive them, you suppose.

You grab your club and golf ball, dark blue, from where you left them by a tree. Rhaena gives you a covert little thumbs up and raised eyebrows. Everything good? You smile—too widely, insincere, a liar—and nod. Technically, you have yet to obtain concrete evidence to the contrary.

You take your turn, somewhat awkwardly due to the splint that still encumbers your dominant hand. You are thinking about anything but mini golf. Your ball goes halfway through the loop de loop and then comes rolling back. How many strokes? Four, five, you lose count, it doesn’t matter. Aegon is snickering, though not in a mean way, never in a mean way. Aemond is watching you. He does this constantly; you can feel his eyes—river water, otherworldly atmosphere—on you all the time, you can see him on the periphery of your vision. But when you glance at Aemond, he looks away. You’re wearing flip flops, a black NSYNC t-shirt, and bright pink shorts that Baela insists are of the very short variety. Aemond is staring a little extra hard today. Shelby alternates between glaring at him and at you.

Jace putts next. He misses the ball twice. On the third try, he hits it into a nearby pond. Golden koi fish scatter beneath the rippling sheen of the water.

“Loser,” Aegon declares mildly. “Criston, why the fuck are we in New Jersey?”

“Because you’re playing three shows at the MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford,” Criston says as he putts; his green golf ball sails through the loop de loop, bounces off a wall, and then rolls straight into the cup, a hole in one. “One Direction did it, Taylor Swift did it, and now you’re going to do it too. And if you don’t make it too unbearable for me, I’ll even take you to the beach while we’re here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Aegon agrees. He slurps on his Slush Puppie. “Oh, Aemond, I need the Netflix password.”

“You forgot it again?!” Daeron says. Jace, groaning softly, lies down on the ground in a patch of shade. Baela gets a bottle of Orajel rinse out of her purse and starts pouring it into his mouth.

“Get your own account,” Aemond snaps at Aegon. “I think you can afford it.”

“Bruh, that’s not the point! I don’t know where I left off in Grey’s Anatomy!”

They keep bickering. You stop listening. You can only hear the sounds of rustling leaves, squawking seagulls, the whistling of the warm August wind. You can only feel the weight of Aemond’s half-fascinated, half-resentful gaze on you. He wouldn’t believe me, you think. If I really am pregnant, he would never believe that it was an accident. He would never believe that I was that guilelessly, unambitiously stupid. Hell, I did it and I barely believe it.

You steal a glimpse of Aemond—black shirt and black sunglasses, white shorts, Adidas sneakers—and he turns away, pretending to pick dirt off his golf ball. Interestingly, he will talk to you about things not related to that night in Tokyo; perhaps it would be too suspicious not to, a neon sign for the rest of the band to read. But he never allows himself to be alone with you. And he never touches you, not even a grazing of hands or an absentminded bump as he passes you in aisles or hallways.

Bump, you think miserably. An inauspicious choice of words.

“We should watch Se7en,” Aegon is saying now. “Comet fam movie night.”

You mutter: “We’re not watching Se7en.”

“What’s Se7en about?” Rhaena asks.

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s in the box?!” Aegon shouts dramatically—quoting the beautiful yet doomed David Mills, a name he once borrowed to schedule a Zoom meeting with you—and then cackles. It’s his turn. He clobbers his golf ball and sends it flying through the loop de loop; it pops over the barrier and disappears into a bush. Startled squirrels dart out of the leaves.

“Loser!” Jace slurs as he lies sprawled across the ground, vindicated.

“Stop spitting blood everywhere,” Aemond says. He putts next, and badly: poor depth perception. “You’re getting it on my sneakers.”

“Watch it, cyclops.” Jace points to his own stitches, bruises, surgically replaced teeth. “I let you have this one. Now we’re even. But next time I won’t be so charitable.”

“You’re not even,” Aegon tells Jace, abruptly severe. He whips off his aviator sunglasses, crouches over Jace, glaring and thunderous like a storm. Baela observes this warily. “Not even close.”

Jace is intrigued. “No?”

“No. Your face will heal.” Then Aegon pokes him in the jaw and Jace screams, tears slithering down his puffy, mottled cheeks. Cregan yanks Aegon away before Baela can scratch his eyes out. Criston repossesses Aegon’s blue raspberry Slush Puppie as punishment. Luke wins the game, five under par.

Comet’s first shows in the United States this tour start just like the last few in Asia: Jace is iced, painted with concealer, thoroughly medicated, numbed into semi-consciousness. He does lines of coke in the bathroom under Cregan’s supervision. He can’t perform without it. Criston tried to negotiate a month off for Jace, but the label’s message was clear: get him on stage, we don’t care how you do it, we don’t want to know about it, here’s a blank check, figure it out or we’ll find another manager who can. Now Criston watches Jace with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes wounded and anxious, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of what he believes is failure.

The story released to the press is that Jace fell down a flight of stairs but is recovering smoothly. He can barely sing; his mic is turned up, and during Jace’s verses Cregan or Luke layer their voice with his. He wobbles and flubs his way through Night 1 in East Rutherford. You spend the show staring up at the stage without seeing it. Baela and Rhaena are with you, but you aren’t really with them; you feel like if they reached out to touch you, their hands would find only translucent emptiness like a mirage. Shelby is flocked by fellow influencers that she’s invited in from New York City. Aemond is somewhere, somewhere: lurking in shadows, brooding, avoiding, musing, suffering, jotting down starlight-colored judgments in his black-paged notebook.

Per tradition, the band and their entourage coalesce in Jace’s suite after the show. Jace himself, the gracious host, promptly collapses on a couch and lies there senseless as the party spins around him like the planets of a solar system. Baela is perched dutifully beside him, holding ice packs to his jaw, wiping away drool the color of one of Aemond’s Brambles. A tattoo artist is inking a goldfinch, New Jersey’s state bird, to the top of Jace’s right foot. Criston is across the room and speaking—rather tensely, it seems—with cigar-smoking label executives. Shelby is snapping photos with her friends; they take turns posing each other out on the balcony, adjusting elbows and wrists and knees, swiping away stray flecks of mascara, rearranging hair, recommending plastic surgeons. Aegon is typing WhatsApp messages—mostly emojis, from what you can see—to Miley Cyrus. At Luke’s prompting, Aemond begins sharing his comments to the presently sentient members of Comet. He puffs on one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes as he reads aloud. He kindly skips over any criticisms of Jace’s performance.

You can’t stand hearing Aemond’s voice; not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because there isn’t, because you can’t stop remembering what he said to you in that florescent-white bathroom at Club Camelot in Tokyo, because he uses his words on so many people who aren’t you, because sooner or later your time with Comet will be over and you’ll only ever hear him again through Spotify songs and YouTube clips from before the accident, because he will one day be a ghost who haunts you, rattling doorknobs and chilling pockets of air but never speaking. You escape to ask the bartender: “Can I get a Coke?”

“A rum and Coke?”

“No.”

“Like…white powder coke?”

“No, a Coca-Cola. With nothing else in it.”

“Okay, whatever,” the bartender says, perplexed. He fills a glass with ice and dark liquid that pops and fizzes with carbonation, then slides it across the counter to you. You meander out into the hallway where you can be alone, where you don’t have to pretend to be okay.

The carpet is gold but frayed, the walls adorned with faux marble columns and scuffs from recklessly handled suitcases. Even the hotels are worse in New Jersey. You sip your soda—nonalcoholic, huh? you think, then push it aside—and roam past suite doors and vending machines until you reach the cove of elevators. There’s a full-length mirror hanging on the wall there, gilded, gaudy. You frown at yourself, a reflection that suddenly looks a bit like a stranger. You’re wearing a short seafoam green dress, gold earrings and sandals, and an eerily vacuous expression. You turn and move your hair aside so you can peer over your shoulder at what’s been indelibly penned there since Rome: the tiny comet, the lyrics that encircle it.

I wanted to remember this band forever. To remember Aemond. You can feel your stomach drop as it grows heavy with dread. The pulsing music from Jace’s suite has followed you down the hall, Sugar by Robin Schulz and Francesco Yates. I think I might just have more than a tattoo to remember him by after all.

One of the elevators dings and opens. A man lumbers out, towering, broad, monstrous. You gape up at him: brown threadbare coat, heavy boots, unruly dark beard, grey eyes like a bleak winter sky. There is a miasma that colors the air around him with smoke and alcohol, sweat and earth.

“Hello there,” he says, politely enough. His voice is such a baritone rumble that it’s difficult to understand. He has a British accent, but not like Aegon’s, not like Aemond’s. He reminds you of someone you can’t quite place. “I’m looking for a certain young gentleman. I’m hoping you can point me in his direction.”

“Sure,” you reply, trying to disguise your shock so you don’t offend him. He could be someone important. He could be an eccentric producer or a consultant. Or a drug dealer. “Who…uh…who was it you were hoping to speak with…?”

He smiles: sharp canine teeth yellowed by nicotine, glinting eyes like silver coins. “Cregan Stark.”

“Okay,” you stammer. Drug dealer?? “Okay, okay, I’ll…uh…I’ll go get him.”

You hurry down the hall and into Jace’s crowded, smokey suite, clinking glasses and flirtatious titters in dim lighting like late twilight. You return your empty drink to the bartender, then tap Cregan on the shoulder and inform him that someone out in the hallway is asking for him. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear this. Drug dealer, you think confidently. Cregan gulps his vodka shot and follows you out of the suite. He steps through the doorway. He turns towards the stranger. And then he stops dead. His eyes go wide. The blood drains from his face. And Cregan—immovable, inscrutable, unflappable Cregan—shrinks until he is a child again.

Immediately, you know you’ve made a mistake. You reach for him. “Cregan, wait—”

“My son,” the monstrous man sighs. And of course now you’ve realized exactly who the mirrorlike grey of his eyes reminded you of. “My son.”

You can’t stop him. How could you stop him? Faster than you can think, he has crossed the space between you and entombed Cregan in a stifling embrace. Cregan stands paralyzed, his eyes shifting, searching for escape. Tentatively, appeasingly, his hands slowly rise to hug the man in return.

“Criston?!” you shout. But within the suite, he cannot hear you over the music and the berating of smoke-veiled, bejeweled label executives.

“Did you forget about me, huh?” the man asks Cregan gruffly. And as he steps back he grips one of Cregan’s shoulders: not like Criston would, not like a father, like a vice, like a bear trap. He shakes Cregan once, not too hard. “You can fly your private jet all over the world but you can’t call your own father back? Huh? Huh?!” He shakes Cregan again, harder.

“Criston!” you scream. “Security! Somebody!”

Nobody can hear me. Nobody is coming.

You sprint into Jace’s suite, seize Criston by one hand, drag him out into the hall. On the blurry periphery of your vision, you can see Aemond getting up off the couch to follow you. The second he spots the monstrous man, Criston is roaring. “No no no, get away from him!” He pushes between Cregan and the giant, terrifying, wrathful. The man dwarfs him. Criston doesn’t seem to know it. “You can’t be here. We’ve been over this, you’re not allowed to be here—”

The man tries to reach around him to clutch at Cregan’s shirt. Aemond pulls you away from the scuffle. Criston hits the man in the solar plexus; he is momentarily stunned, wheezing. By the time he straightens up, Criston—louder than you, bellowing and fierce—has summoned security. They are swarming the man and escorting him back down the hallway towards the elevators. Aemond goes to Cregan. Criston looks at you. You’re quivering, penitent.

“I had no idea…he asked for Cregan…I would never have…I thought maybe he was a friend of the band…”

“He’s on our no fly list,” Criston says. His voice is tired yet patient. “But you wouldn’t know that.”

You try to apologize to Cregan, but he isn’t listening to you. He’s listening to Aemond. Aemond is speaking to him, low and calm, too quietly for you to hear. “I’m okay,” Cregan says unsteadily. “I’m fine.”

“It’s alright if you’re not,” Aemond tells him.

And you know that right now you are unnecessary, intrusive. Criston goes downstairs to figure out how Comet’s security guards in the lobby didn’t catch this and—presumably—to ensure that the invader is properly dealt with. Aemond slings an arm across Cregan’s shoulders and leads him back to the party where he is cared for, welcome, valued, safe. You hide in your own suite and try not to think about the dates on the calendar—missing blood, summer days ticking down towards zero—as you steep in a hot bath and attempt to scrub everything you’ve done wrong, today, yesterday, ever, off your skin. Then you change into an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants.

You try to sleep but of course you can’t, surrounded by a silence that only gets louder. When you hear the swipe of a keycard and the creaking of your door, you don’t know who to expect: Cregan, Criston, Rhaena, Luke, Baela, Jace, Daeron, Shelby, Aemond, ghosts. The clopping of his Crocs gives him away, neon pink to match his tank top. “I’m really not in the mood for anything resembling sex.”

Aegon replies as he kicks off his Crocs: “Did I ask, succubus?” He crawls into the bed, throws an arm casually across your waist, rests his head on your belly as your fingers thread through his chaotic blond hair, fond and tender. He burrows into you, into your softness and your warmth and your truth and your mysteries. Sometimes you feel like you’ll give until he falls into you like a trapdoor, the bones of his hands tangling around your spine, his blood vessels spilling into all of your rage-scarlet cavities, hollows of the flesh, hollows of the soul. “You’re sad.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what. That’s the strange thing. Usually I can tell.”

“You’ve been gone.”

He looks up at you, confused. “I’ve been right here.”

“You know what I meant.”

Aegon doesn’t argue with you, doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t make promises both of you know he could never keep. He only lays his head down on your belly again and pulls himself closer to you, closer, closer, melting into your melancholy, dissolving into dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I was eleven when he broke my arm. Thirteen when he cracked my skull for the first time. Then I got big enough to hurt him back.” Cregan looks out over the waves: blue currents, white froth, sunbeams like glinting blades. As Criston promised, Comet is spending an afternoon in Seaside Heights. You and Cregan are sitting on the sand together twenty yards from the others. “I grew up in a two-bedroom cabin with no electricity or running water. We had a metal wash tub outside, ate deer and squirrels and rabbits, never had clothes that fit, never saw a doctor except when what was wrong might kill us. We had a woodstove and chopped down trees to burn in the winter. I had eight siblings, six of whom are still alive. Barnett overdosed. Courtland drove his friend’s Nissan into a brick wall. I’m not sure it was accidental.”

Your words are soft like a whisper, like gentle hands. “Cregan, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not…” His voice breaks. He stops for a while, composes himself, begins again. “It’s not something I talk about. Not because I’m trying to forget it. I can’t forget it, I’ll never be able to, I understand that, believe me. There’s just nothing to be gained from talking about it. I never feel better afterwards. I always feel worse.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

You wait, watching him. There’s something he needs to say. Down the beach a ways, Baela is doing yoga, her bare feet sure and agile in shifting sand. Rhaena, Luke, and Aemond are flying kites in the breeze: black dragons, green dragons. Shelby is, predictably, filming them from where she stands on Aemond’s good side. Aegon and Daeron are swimming so far out that you’re beginning to worry about sharks. Criston is parked under an umbrella with an unconscious Jace, reading Memoirs Of A Geisha and eating a sandwich full of something called pork roll.

“After Comet happened, I got all of them out,” Cregan continues. “My mum, my siblings. Good houses in safe neighborhoods. Security in case Dad makes an appearance. He does, every once in a while. He’s locked up, he’s free, he’s locked up again. He has nothing else to do but haunt us. I’ve been waiting for him to die since I was old enough to understand what a graveyard is.” Cregan looks at you. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” you answer immediately.

“The thing is…” He holds out one large hand, palm down, like he’s resting it on a table. Then he shakes it. “Nothing ever feels stable. Nothing ever feels safe. No matter how much money I see stack up in accounts, I lie awake at night wondering what I’ll do if it disappears. So many people rely on me. I can’t stop worrying I’ll end up back in that cabin somehow. I can still hear drops of rainwater seeping in through the gaps in the roof. I can still smell burning wood.”

“The fact that you feel this way, given your history, is completely logical…even if the fear itself is not. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Cregan says. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you think it would help if we sat down and looked at the numbers and did some math? Because I suspect that even with a hundred dependents, you’d easily be able to float them for the rest of your lifetime just using the money you already have. And there will be royalties from Comet’s songs forever. Maybe if we can show you exactly how improbable your worst case scenario is, that fear will begin to fade a bit. Not go away, not completely, maybe not ever…but I think you’ll be able to quiet it down.”

“I’ll give it a try. If you recommend it.” Cregan lights a cigarette and takes a drag. Criston glances over and then pretends he didn’t notice. “I have a daughter,” Cregan says; and you can’t stop the shock from hitting your face like a fist. He smiles faintly, wistfully. “I know. I’ve worked very hard to make sure she is kept away from…” He gestures broadly. “All of this.” Fame. Debauchery. Tabloids. Reddit threads. “I was way too young. And her mother and I…we were never really together. It was contentious for a while, but we’ve sorted through things. I support them financially, obviously. And when I’m not on tour or in the studio, I disappear up to Lancaster for a few weeks at a time and no one is the wiser.”

You study him as wind tears in off the Atlantic Ocean, as seagulls swoop and screech overhead. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate how you’ve protected her once she can understand.”

“I don’t know how to be a father. Not a good one. But I try. I don’t just show up for movie nights and birthdays. I take her shopping for school supplies. I put her back to bed when she has nightmares. I take her to the dentist, to the park, to the library. She really likes pigs, so I adopted a few from a farm animal rescue and we learned how to raise them together.”

“You caring about being a good parent puts you ahead of a lot of people already,” you say. “Nobody in Comet knows?”

“Just Aemond. Once, years ago, her mother needed something and I was out of the country. I had to let somebody in on the secret, somebody I could trust. I chose Aemond. I chose right.” Now Cregan is amused. “He’s the one who suggested the pigs.”

“Of course he did,” you say; and you can’t help but smile. “How old is she?”

“Six and a half. Do you want to see a picture her?”

“Absolutely. If it’s alright with you.”

Cregan pulls his iPhone from his pocket, swipes around for a while, and then turns the screen so you can see. She looks like him, a lot like him, but with round cheeks and long dark lashes. And Cregan is beaming as he says: “Her name is Iris.”

“So you didn’t have to do the Maury paternity test thing.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I knew from the second I saw her she was mine.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

Cregan shrugs, pensive, evasive. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” And he believes that you mean it; you can see it on his face. Aemond is watching you and Cregan, you notice now. He glances over, pretends he didn’t, glances again. You gesture to the crashing waves and say to Cregan: “If Aegon gets attacked by a shark, will you jump in and punch it or something please?”

Cregan chuckles. “Yeah. That’s my main job here, I think. Stopping people from dying.” And then, seriously: “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything that warrants it.”

“No. Really.” Cregan reaches out, takes your uninjured hand, squeezes it briefly before releasing you. “Thank you, Stargirl.” Then he stands and walks to the water’s edge, letting the surf rush up over his ankles, for just a moment feeling nothing on his shoulders but the sunlight.

Aemond gives Shelby his kite and, as she glares bitterly, makes his way over to you. He takes off his sunglasses so he can see you better and hooks them on the waistband of his swim trunks: black, of course, his usual color. You’re actually wearing black today too, a flowing coverup over a pink swimsuit. You feel very much like hiding. When Aemond speaks, there is perhaps a hint of envy, green like leaves of poison, gleaming like snakeskin. “What were you and Cregan talking about?”

“Fatherhood.” And then you realize how it might sound.

There is a split second where Aemond looks startled; then he remembers Iris. “Right. Not so easy for people like us to navigate.”

People like us. Celebrities, boy band members, haunted men. You scramble for a nonchalant way to feel out the subject with him. “How does Louis Tomlinson handle it?”

“He’s a saint,” Aemond says. And you think: Patron saint of baby daddies? “Freddie was very, very unplanned. The mother was a nobody, a rebound. And a lot of people assumed she did it on purpose to try to keep Louis. Or to get eighteen years of a luxury lifestyle out of him. Or to just get fame in general. Personally, I believe it was all of the above.”

“Right,” you say, sweating heavily beneath your coverup.

“But none of that is the kid’s fault, and Louis is a good enough guy to realize it. So he plays nice with Freddie’s mother and they don’t go to war through tabloids anymore.”

“So, uh…” How can I put this? “You’re good with kids too. Cregan told me you had the pig idea.”

And the look that crosses Aemond’s face, the look: caustic, incredulous, night-dark, self-loathing. “Are you insane? Have you met me? I terrify kids. And I should, but not just because of the eye and the scar. What the hell do I know about being a decent father? What do I know about being a decent anything? I’d have no idea where to start. I’d fuck it up even if I tried desperately not to. I’d end up with kids like Aegon: addicts who hate themselves, people who are irrevocably lost.”

You say meekly: “I think Criston is something like a father to you. He could be a role model.”

“I’m not half as good a man as Criston is.”

Change the topic, change the topic, before Aemond gets suspicious. And there’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask him. “Aemond…after you almost murdered Jace…when we didn’t know if or how he was going to be able to perform until he healed…did anyone ask you to come back to Comet and fill in for him?”

“No,” Aemond says. And he’s thunderstruck by the thought, appalled, petrified.

“You don’t think that it might have been a good idea? That it might make sense?”

“No,” he says again instantly.

“But…in Tokyo…when Daeron made that speech at the last show…I think the crowd’s reaction was pretty powerful, don’t you? People still care about you. They love and respect you. And I think…maybe…it might help you with what you’ve experienced. To get back on stage—even just one last time—and prove to yourself that you still have what it takes. To know that if you do leave Comet, it’s your choice, not anyone else’s.”

“They love who I was,” Aemond says. “Not who I am now. And that’s easy to do. They don’t have to look at me.”

“Goddammit, there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Aemond!” you burst out. “You look fantastic. I never get tired of looking at you. I want to look at you all the fucking time. I’d hang life-sized portraits of you on every wall in my apartment in Kansas City. That’s how much I enjoy looking at you.”

He thinks you’re joking, he thinks you’re trying to make him feel better. You can’t stop him from thinking these things. And yet still, as he turns away, he is smiling: just a whisper of a curl at the corner of his lips, secretive, fragile.

As Comet is leaving the beach, you stop at a souvenir shop on the boardwalk to buy your keepsake for this tour destination. You settle on a pink frisbee that has I love the Jersey Shore! embossed on it in large, abrasive letters. You think your parents’ Australian cattle dogs will enjoy fetching it when you get home. Home feels so much closer—both literally and figuratively—than it did just a few weeks ago.

Criston is browsing through the t-shirts. “Hey, what size is your mom, Aegon? Medium?”

“How the hell would I know? Probably.” He holds up a pair of red, white, and blue bikini bottoms that say Firecracker across the ass. “You think my dad would mind if you sent her these?”

Criston is blushing. “Aegon, stop.”

“You could get her a bikini top too. Oh look, that one over there is red, it matches. And it says MILF across the tits. So that’s pertinent.”

“Stop!” Criston cries, distressed, and flees the store.

Halfway through the hour-long drive back to the hotel, Aegon insists that Criston stop the Escalades so he can get a hoagie from a Wawa. Aegon has never had a hoagie before. He says he cannot truly experience America without one.

At the ordering counter, Jace—slightly less bruised and swollen today, and thus in better spirits—taunts Aegon: “Are you sure you need all that bread? You’re going to be wearing a muumuu on stage by the time we get to the Midwest.”

“You know, just because you said that, now I’m going to get two hoagies…”

On the television mounted inside the Wawa, CNN is reporting on a group of tornadoes that just struck Wichita. And it occurs to you that tornadoes don’t have trajectories to calculate like hurricanes or airplanes or comets; they are climatological sharks. They strike quickly, indiscriminately, and then they’re gone again. They aren’t named. They aren’t enshrined. They don’t even have a belly to cut open and retrieve pieces of your loved ones from. If they take someone, they’re just gone.

While the rest of the band is in line to order their food, and Aemond is scrutinizing the dried fruit and nuts selection, you sneak through the other aisles.

It’s time. I have to find out eventually. I have to know.

You pluck a pregnancy test—cute, pink, nausea-inducing—off a rack, purchase it with truly impressive speed at the checkout counter, and race to the bathroom. It’s surprisingly difficult to piss on a tiny stick of doom, especially when your primary hand is in a splint and only partially useable. Eventually, you manage. You put the cap back on the pregnancy test, set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser, and stare at the metal door of the stall. The Wawa speakers are playing The Fray’s Over My Head.

It won’t be positive. It can’t be positive.

You think of pregnancy test commercials you’ve seen: happy couples rejoicing, happy single women getting negatives. How are you supposed to react to bad news? Nobody ever tells you. Do you scream, sob, beg for forgiveness, schedule an appointment at Planned Parenthood? Do you kick the bathroom stall door down in mindless feminine fury? Do you throw yourself off a balcony?

There’s no way it will be positive. It was one time. Just one goddamn time.

And who knows if that will ever happen again with Aemond. This does not improve your mood.

You pick up the pregnancy test. It is unequivocally positive.

You shove it into the small rectangular trashcan for pads and tampons, things you won’t be needing in the immediate future. You get dressed, leave the stall, go to the sink and wash your hands. Then you grip the cool, slick, white porcelain and gaze at yourself in the mirror under nowhere-to-hide florescent lights. What do you feel? Everything, nothing, things you can’t name yet. You’re a raw nerve, you’re completely numb.

The bathroom door swings open. Shelby enters. She squares up with great purpose. Your eyes roll to her, slowly, with no tolerance left, not a drop of it. “Stay away from Aemond,” she demands.

“Make me.”

She is in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

You turn all the way towards her. “Fucking make me, Shelby.”

“I knew you wanted him,” she says, she seethes. “I saw you in those paparazzi photos from Reykjavik and I knew you were already twisting your claws into him.”

You hold up your hands to show her; your thoughts are fuzzy, dazed, without inhibition. “I have no claws whatsoever. If I did, you’d know about it. Believe me. You’d be able to look down and watch your heart beating through the gashes.”

“You don’t belong here. Some Midwestern farm girl running around in flip flops and Cookie Monster pajama pants? You’re trash. You’re a user. You’re a nobody. And if you’re trying to steal a taken man, then you’re a whore too.”

“I’ve been called worse things by better people.”

“I can make them hate you,” Shelby says indignantly. “Comet. The world.”

“Good luck with that, Malibu Barbie. Nobody even knows I exist.”

“Stay away from Aemond,” she says again, trembling with her futile bleach-blond rage. “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

“And yet no future.” You smile sweetly, breeze past her, step on one of her perfectly pedicured feet with a thoroughly unpretentious flip flop. By the time you return to them, the band is almost ready to leave Wawa.

You’re not hungry, but Aegon coaxes you into taking a few bites from his hoagie. You’re not able to focus on what people are saying, but you hear Aemond mention that he wishes Comet had time to visit a planetarium in some nearby town called Toms River. You think about what it would be like to lie side by side with him under the stars, under the sky where comets appear again after vanishing for centuries. You wonder if there’s anyplace where you and Aemond could ever be truthful with each other.

At night you can’t sleep. There is no shortage of reasons why. You wander from your bed to the gold-carpet hallway to the vending machines, where you stare brainlessly at the options. Am I supposed to not be drinking caffein? Did I get any Vitamin D today? How much sugar is too much? You buy a bottle of apple juice—surely a safe bet—and head back to your suite.

As you walk by Aemond and Shelby’s door, your steps slow. Some nights you can hear them in there arguing: Shelby reiterating all the reasons why they’re perfect for each other, clearly a rebuttal to an accusation you weren’t privy to. Some nights you hear muffled casual conversation or episodes of Cosmos. Some nights you hear nothing at all. Some nights your imagination colors in the gaps before you can stop it: his hands on her, his mouth on her, things you know you have no right to dread and yet you do. But tonight, Shelby is momentarily removed from the scene. You can hear the distant pattering of the shower, and then Aemond alone in the living room gathering up plates and glasses. He’s singing something very quietly, so quietly it takes you a while to recognize it. It’s not even a Comet Donati song. It’s Through The Dark.

You sit down in the empty hallway, your back to his door. And you lean your head against it as you listen to Aemond singing softly to himself, doubt sinking into you the same way that trapped blood fills a bruise: Maybe it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. Maybe he doesn’t talk to me because he doesn’t want to. Maybe I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I’ve invented a history that we don’t really share. Maybe he didn’t mean it when he said he loves me.

“What am I going to do?” you whisper, scalding tears brimming in your eyes, shivering hands settling on your belly. In a few months, you’ll be showing. “What the hell am I going to do?”

[yogurtkags]

❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

— 02. sweet nothing

“they said the end is comin', everyone’s up to somethin', i find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings. outside, they’re push and shovin', you're in the kitchen hummin', all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'”

series masterlist | prev | next

“join us for a jam sesh later? we can show them the song, rest of the boys are going to be there.” the end of that sentence is laced with a tinge of bitterness, and eita likes to think that it’s hidden behind a forced cough and a minuscule amount of cellphone static.

he wants to show off what you’ve been working on because he’s proud, he always is, but as much as he refuses to admit it, he wants you all to himself just as it’s always been since the beginning. if inviting you over to band practice (“we’re not a band, we just play together sometimes and perform my songs at gigs”) with the guys is what it takes to see you, or hell, even just hear from you, he’ll make do.

the lyrics of the song are really sweet, he thinks it might be the first love song you’ve written fully. a part of him wonders what, or rather who, inspired you to write it, but perhaps it’s not his place to know. it won’t stop a part of him from wishing it was him though, and frankly he’s not sure what to make of that information just yet.

you had a rough skeleton of an idea for the instrumentals but pretty much gave him free reign with this one which he’s not going to say no to, making sure to sprinkle in a little bit of his own taste into it — heavier instruments are more of his forte, having countless alternative and rock musicians listed as his personal inspirations. the final product's a fine mix of you and him, perfectly balanced and no more of one or the other. he’s very proud of it, proud of you, as with everything that you do together.

his thumb hovers over the send button, the preview of his short voice message looping while he contemplates deleting it. it’s starting to get grating with how long it’s been going for, his pathetic voice doing nothing but making him overthink even more. he doesn’t know if he’s being presumptuous to imagine it but it seems like you’re... avoiding him?

it’s been more than a week with barely any texts or random voice memos, you're usually blowing up his phone with silly memes and song demos, or even as simple as asking how his day has been. nothing since the last time he came over and finished the song with you. he noticed something seemed up at the time but didn’t press, now the guilt eats at him for not at least trying to ask. you always did keep your troubles to yourself, preferring to handle them on your own and keeping him in the dark about it until it either got too much and eventually bubbled past the surface, or fizzled over and only coming out casually in conversation once it’s a thing of the past. but who's he to judge, he's not any better.

maybe he’s reading too much into it, you’ll tell him with time as you always do, right? maybe he’s blowing it out of proportion, maybe you just had a bad day before seeing him, or you’re just tired, or— enough, now i’m just overthinking again.

finally releasing his bottom lip from the onslaught of his teeth, he bites the bullet and hits send, tossing his phone on his nightstand. as he lays back down on the stiff mattress, the arm thrown over his face shields the glaring sunlight breaming down on his face. it’s way too bright in comparison for the thoughts swirling in his head and with a sigh, he uses the foot hanging off his bed to tug the curtains close.

give her time, she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

i just hope she’s okay.

well shit.

the realisation that there even a slight possibility that you're in love with eita hits you like a splash of ice cold water to the face. you won’t lie and say that you didn’t have your suspicions, but it’s been just so long, brushing it off as the closeness of childhood friends. he’s your best friend, the first one you contact with good news, the first name that comes to mind when asked to invite a plus one, the first person you think of when you see those tiktoks of lovesick poems captioned “who do you picture when you read this?”, the list goes on.

in some way or another, this is what you always wanted, someone who understands your ins and outs and to spend your years with. eita was always the only option you’ve considered, but god you’re scared.

you feel a little sick to your stomach, the thought of it all weighing too heavily on your mind. there’s just too much at stake here, and you’re hell bent on not letting whatever the hell these damned feelings are jeopardise years of what you’ve built together. unknowingly in a similar spot, you find yourself curled up in bed, head swimming with worst case scenarios and make-believe narratives that say this is doomed for disaster.

light knocks on your door gently pluck you from the stirring storm in your head and with an muffled “i’m coming in!”, hitoka shuffles into your room and audibly coos at your deposition.

“hey, you left your phone out on the counter and it went off a couple times. i think semi messaged you too, thought you might want to see it.”

speak of the devil.

with a small smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching your eyes, you take your phone from her hand with a mix of gratitude and dread, “thanks hitoka. i- can i ask you something?”

“yeah what’s up? everything okay?” she sits by your side, her pretty, youthful features plagued with concern.

the posters on your wall suddenly seem like the most interesting things in the room, your eyes meekly darting around and refusing to meet hers. a wave of embarrassment washes over you from head to toe as you mull over your thoughts, collecting and trying to put them into words without sounding like a total idiot. this is stupid, you open your mouth for a moment and close it in the next, the words stuck in your throat and you’re already regretting bringing it up. you’re not ready for this conversation as much as you want to and it festers and grows and feeds on the seeds of doubt sprouting.

her small, smooth uncalloused hand closes over the back of yours in assurance and comfort, the small action causing a surge of peace and calm to flow through you, “it’s about him, isn’t it?”

nodding in shame, you hesitantly speak up, quietly, “hypothetically if i did have feelings for him—what if he doesn’t feel the same way? i won’t be able to look at him again.”

hitoka sighs dramatically, “first off, it’s a hundred percent not hypothetical who are you even kidding, surely not me. second, have you seen the way he looks at you? i’m surprised you haven’t caught on sooner.”

when you remain silent, she takes it as a cue to continue, squeezing your hand, “listen, i don’t know him as well as you do by a long shot, but i know feelings when i see it, and that man is very into you. and don’t even come at me with that ‘but we’re best friends’ bullshit, you don’t act that way with kenma and vice versa.”

you stifle a laugh at that last part, feeling a little tension release from your muscles after listening to her perspective. she’s nothing but truthful and supportive especially when it comes to anything (especially serious) concerning you and your heart swirls with warmth that you have someone like her to talk to about these things, the boys aren’t much help but you still love them dearly.

“i’ve been running away from him for days, i haven’t spoken to him since the last time he came over.” you mumble, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling, eyes fixed on the rotating fan and letting it blur in your vision as your hand still remains clasped in hitoka’s.

you feel the weight of guilt on your shoulders for shutting him out so abruptly, the sudden rush of feelings leaving you dumbfounded in its wake. your instinct was to hide and let it pass, hoping he wouldn’t catch on, but you never stopped to consider what it might look like to him. truthfully, the longest you’ve ever been apart was when your family went on holidays overseas, never if you could help it — you miss him.

remembering that he sent a message, you opened it up, letting the sound of his voice flit through the still air within your four walls. it sends a tingle down your spine and causes a soft involuntary smile to stretch across your lips, it’s like music to your ears.

“i swear to god, you two are disgusting.” hitoka lightheartedly complains as she rolls her eyes, getting up to leave you be. “go see your man before i throw up.”

“shut up, it’s not like we’ll be alone!” you retort, flipping her off as she’s shutting the door with a click, hearing a yeah yeah yeah echo down the hall.

taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @cheesypuffkins87 @peachyugoose @tetzoro

@twiishaa @samuel1004 @blueparadis

notes. hi it’s been a while since we've seen our two blindly lovesick pals :3 no fun facts this time, just a little filler chapter !! they’re so stupid and lovesick PLEASE— also band lineup in the next one ! big love to @mikiruie for beta reading < 3

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[artandshid]

“Eddie it’s one in the morning why are you calling.” You say groggily into the phone.

“I’m sorry sweetheart we’re you sleeping?” He says with a laugh and you roll your eyes

“Of course not I was getting ready to start my ten mile run.”

“Let’s go for a drive.” He says ignoring your sarcasm. He knows you’re grumpy when you’re tired.

“Eddie, like I already said, it’s one in the morning. Where are we going to drive to? If I leave my house my parents are going to be pissed.”

“You don’t have to tell them, sneak out the window. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” He says to you.

“Eddie seriously why are you being so persistent? You’re acting crazy man.”

“Y/n, please, as your best friend I am asking you to just come with me.” You’re silent over the phone, because of course you want to go with him, he’s your best friend, but you don’t want to get caught by your parents. “Y/n please.” His serious tone makes you change your mind immediately and that’s how you find yourself getting ready to go for a drive wherever your best friend has in mind.

You hear the knock on your window just as you put your jacket on and see your frizzy haired friend with a smile on his face. “You ready to go?” He mouths to you and you nod your head.

In his car, he has his music playing lowly and he’s rubbing circles on your hand. Which isn’t an abnormal occurrence, but the gesture always brings you a sense of peace.

“So why are we going on a drive again?” You question him and you see him swallow thickly.

“I just needed to get out of the trailer. Couldn’t get out of my own head you know?” You nod your head because you know that he gets like that.

Eddie is a very creative person and with being a creative and innovative person, you have a lot of thoughts. Those positive thoughts are what he turns into art, unfortunately, your best friend hasn’t mastered how to turn those negative thoughts into art, too. That’s why he has you.

“Where are we off to anyway?”

“Where do you want to be off to Sweetheart?”

“Let’s take the drive to Chicago.” You tell him with a smirk, knowing that you guys both love the city and it’s only about an hour and a half away.

“Chicago? You were just complaining that you didn’t want to get in trouble by your parents, if we go to Chicago there’s no way I’ll have you back before they wake up.”

“Then I get in trouble, so what. Let’s go to Chicago.”

He turns to you and smiles, “What have I turned you into?” and you laugh.

————————-————–——

You guys are walking around the city hand in hand, just like you used to do when you were kids.

The topics have ranged from his band, to DND, to Motley Cure’s new album and how dreamy Tommy Lee is, to what you would name your pizza shop if you had one. They could talk about anything and everything together.

Suddenly Eddie got serious and you asked him what was wrong. He shakes his head and kicks a rock, you choose not to push the topic and instead welcomed the comfortable silence.

All of a sudden he stops and you turn and look at him, “How are you and Caden?” Caden was your on and off again boyfriend for about 8 months. Eddie doesn’t like him, he thinks you deserve better, and you know you do, you just stay with him because you were too scared to tell the one you really want that you love him.

“We’re okay right now, but if you ask me again tomorrow the answer might be different.” You say with a laugh and try to get a read of his face.

He takes a step closer to you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “You deserve better than him.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, even though you can feel your face burning at his touch, “I know Eds, you only say that every single time he gets brought up.”

He lets out a small laugh but then looks serious again, there’s something behind his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint which worries you because you always know how he’s feeling.

Your eyebrows pinch in concern and you search his eyes, “Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and steps even closer to you, your faces barely an inch apart and he whispers, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your breath hitches and the screen in front of his eyes was pulled away and all you can see is love and you’ve never been happier.

“Eddie you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words from you. I’m in love with you, too.”

He smiles the widest you’ve ever seen him smile and he leans closer to you, you’re about to kiss him, too, but then you remembered Caden.

You push a little on Eddie’s chest to get him to stop and he looks at you confused.

“I can’t cheat on him, I’m in love with you, but I can’t physically cheat on him.”

He looks hurt, but he backs away and puts his head down.

“I’ll break up with him tomorrow, for good. Because I want to be with you, forever and ever. But I can’t be a cheater, I’m sorry.” You tell him with tears running down your face.

He smiles at you and brushes your tears away. “Until tomorrow then. Let’s head back to the van, yeah?”

You smile back at him, “Yeah, until tomorrow.”

Guys, i’m really in the writing mood, and I don’t know how long it’s going to last so here’s another one.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

It’s A Long Way To The Top 🎸 | Pete Maverick Mitchell / Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic) Hondo (platonic)

Content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 13.5k

Social Media matching HC

Premise: The Dagger Squad didn’t know much about their former instructor turned friend, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. Only Rooster had insight on all there was when it came to the famous pilot, and his love life certainly fell into that. When the squad shows up unannounced to Maverick’s San Diego home for his birthday weekend, they are greeted with the shock of the lifetime when it’s revealed Maverick’s lady once ruled the radio of the decade they were born in. And what better way for them to properly meet one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist than by attending the bands reunion concert that night.

Note: So TC was born in 1962 and that what it also says for Maverick (although with his rank I doubt it lines up but Imma just go with it), so for this imagine you were born in 1964 and were the front woman of a famous 80s rock band who Mav meets after the events of Top Gun. I love rock music and have been listening to it nonstop the past week and this inspired me. At first I was gonna do this with Rooster or Phoenix with a modern day rockstar, but then I thought Mav was better suited for what I had planned.

Also in my research I found that the Staples Center (which is going to mentioned a lot) opened in 1999 and is now called Crypto.com Arena, but for this just imagine it opened in the 80s and is still called the Staples Center. Personally I will always refer to it as that even though it got a new name. Last thing, my favorite band is AC/DC and i use two of their songs as ‘your’ songs verbally said. The album/era names are ones I thought of off the bat, and feel free to imagine your friends as your bandmates, I just gave them names to make it easier when writing. And the photo on the collage is to show the outfit reference—I don’t write with any indication of race/ethnicity/etc unless it’s for an OC. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

————————————

“Are you guys sure about not warning Rooster we’re coming?” Bob voiced from the passenger side of Nat’s car. In the backseat were Mickey and Payback while Hondo drove the car behind them containing Hangman and Coyote.

“Bradshaw will spoil the surprise,” Fanboy reminds him, “And the whole point of this is to surprise Mav. We haven’t seen him in months and this is the first time we’re all together again.”

“I know,” Bob sighs, leaning back into his seat before glancing at Nat, “How did you even get his address, Nat?”

She doesn’t stray her eyes from the road as she responds, “I may have convinced Admiral Simpson to give it to me, saying we all wanted to send Mav a birthday gift but didn’t have his permanent residence. I know he’s often in the Mojave desert during his vacation, but Cyclone gave me his San Diego home address.”

“Hondo didn’t even have Mav’s address?” Mickey says more to himself, surprised the man did not. He was Mav’s closest friend and had been with him since the Darkstar project.

“Hondo only had his Mojave camp—which isn’t really an address when you think about it. It’s quite literally on an old airstrip that’s not even used by the Navy anymore,” Nat tells him, “Mav lived there during their assignment so it makes sense why he only had that one.”

“So what I’m hearing is you deceived Admiral Simpson so we can show up on Mav’s doorstep like ‘surprise! We’re here!’ And Cyclone just gave it to you with no questions asked?” Payback raises a brow, catching her eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Not entirely,” she defends, “I mean we are sending him a birthday gift…..it’s just we are the birthday gift.” At the laughs from the men Nat rolls her eyes, “Y’all are in this too, so I don’t know why you’re laughing. We’re almost there. GPS says ten minutes.”

The Pacific Ocean was to their right, the sun high in the sky as the time reached one o’clock. They noticed as they traveled down the road that the houses were becoming more distant and eye-catching. “Damn,” Fanboy whistled under his breath at one point.

When they got to the turn to enter the neighborhood, they were greeted with a closed gate and security. Nat mentally cursed, not anticipating Mav lived in a gated community.

Now the jig was up and they were gonna have to call Rooster.

While Nat spoke with one of the security guards Bob was already dialing Bradley, who answered with a confused, “Hey, Bob. What’s up?”

“Rooster, hey, I’m sorry to bother you but the squad and I were planning to surprise Maverick for his birthday tonight and well….we’re kinda at the entrance to his neighborhood. We didn’t think it would be gated and needed confirmation from the resident to get in.”

“Ah damn,” Bradley said with a laugh and Bob could hear him fiddling with his keys. “I wish y’all would’ve told me, but then again I know I probably would’ve ruined it.” It was the truth, Rooster could not keep a secret if his life depended on it. Last year he unintentionally spoiled Nat’s surprise party when she got promoted. Soon it became a running joke amongst the group. “Just hang tight, I’ll be right there.”

“Wait, are you at Mav’s house?” All eyes in the car turned to Bob, the WSO catching the sound of Rooster’s Bronco starting up.

“Yeah, I’m on the list and can get y’all in. Hang on, imma tell him I’m running out to get beers.” There was a pause on the receiver before a car door shuts and Rooster says, “I’ll be there in two minutes.” Bob stayed on the line before hanging up when they caught sight of the bright blue vehicle approaching from the other side of the gate. Rooster pulled off to the side, exited the car and approached the security hut where another officer met him in the middle. The team watched as they exchanged words before the guard Nat spoke with was called over.

When he returned seconds later he said, “we’re gonna open the gate and if you could please pull off to where my buddy directs you and step out. We have to check the cars.”

“Sure thing,” Nat says with a wave as he goes to relay the same to Hondo. Passing the gate, she parks the car where the guard instructs and all four step out from the vehicle. Hondo pulls up seconds later with Hangman and Coyote coming over to stand with the group as Rooster approaches.

“Well this sure is some special treatment,” Hangman jokes when an officer comes up with a metal detector to begin scanning the squad while the two search their cars. He notices one of the officers writing down the car information, including the license plate number. “Never seen this before when I’ve been to a gated neighborhood.”

“It’s just precaution since it’s your first time” Rooster says, dabbing up the guys when they are finished being scanned. “It’s good to see you guys.”

“It’s good to see you too, Bradshaw,” Nat gives him a hug and appears apologetic. “Sorry we didn’t let you know in advance.”

“Ah it’s all good. Like I told Bob I probably would’ve ruined it.” They all laugh, some muttering sounds of agreement. It was all in good heart though, Bradley wasn’t offended. He was just happy to see his friends again and celebrate Mav’s 60th with them.

The only thing….they were in for their own surprise when they got to the house.

“Does the governor of California live here or something?” Javy jokes, but judging by the way Rooster reacts he’s certain there is some truth to it.

“All clear!” The main guard shouts, nodding to Rooster. “Y’all are free to go, just make sure to call in if you leave the area and return later on.”

“Will do,” Rooster salutes, shaking his hand afterwards. “Thanks again, Frank.” Telling his friends to follow behind him, they all got into their respective vehicles and headed down the road leading to the neighborhood.

“Sheeeesh,” Mickey says in awe at some of the houses they passed. They looked to be a million bucks. Literally. They were distanced quite a bit like something you see in Calabasas and had long entrances. “Mav should be on MTV’s cribs. How the hell does a naval Captain get something like this?”

“Probably by saving for that perfect retirement home,” Nat comments, eyes lingering on one house that caught her eyes.

“Nah,” Payback shakes his head, “I’ve seen Admirals with places not even to this extent. No offense to Mav, but I don’t see how an O-6 could afford a place like this.” About a minute passed before they were turning into a long driveway, all four jaws dropping at the sight of the home.

Yeah they needed to know Pete’s secret.

It was a gorgeous two-story mediterranean style home with an iron gate surrounding the perimeter. The exterior was beautiful, with flowers and various plants on the grounds. A front enclosed patio was the first thing they could see connecting to a foyer where the front door was located. Only one word could describe the home: marvelous.

The driveway was crescent shaped and could fit at least four cars with a side entrance leading to the garage. Rooster pulled up to the furthest spot allowing Nat and Hondo to pull up behind him. “Holy shit,” Fanboy says in awe, hopping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

Shutting his own door, Hangman whistles, “If this is what retirement looks like, I can’t wait.”

“C’mon,” Rooster chuckles, nodding his head to the entrance. “Mav’s in the garage working on his bike.” The squad all rushes to get the gifts, beer, and food they had brought for the pilot, following behind Rooster while trying to not make it look like they were gawking at the home. They hadn’t even seen the inside yet but could already tell it was going to be as incredible as the outside.

Putting a finger to his lips, the group remains quiet at Rooster’s command as they ease their way into the garage. It was very similar to the one at his camp hangar in the desert. Pictures hung on a wall with several plaques. Motorcycles lined up and sitting in the corner was a gorgeous 1966 Dodge Charger. Coyote had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making a sound when he saw it.

“That you, Bradley?” Mav said with his back to the group, unaware his practically surrogate son was not alone. He was dressed in a greased up white tee with some old light washed jeans and boots. Playing on the radio was the 80s on 8 channel from SiriusXM.

“Yeah it’s me,” Rooster places a case of beers the squad brought on the counter near the fridge. “I brought some strays too while I was at it.”

“Strays? What—?” Mav laughs, moving to turn around which resulted in his mouth dropping and wrench clinking to the floor.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted, grinning widely at their former instructor who was completely speechless. “Happy Birthday, Mav!”

“Wha-oh my gosh!” The pilot's feet moved before he could stop them, embracing Phoenix first since she was closest before doing the same to the others. As he pulls away from Hondo, patting his back Mav goes, “What’re you doing here?”

“Surprising you for your birthday, old man,” Hangman lightly punches his shoulder. “You’re turning the big six-zero, there was no way we were missing it.”

“Aww thanks guys,” the man blushes, grinning when they bombard him with gifts. “It’s so good to see you all—I-I wish I would’ve known you were coming.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, Cap,” Fanboy points to him with a knowing look.

“True,” Mav laughs, directing the crew to put the bags and all on the counter in the garage where the sink was located. “Thank you all so much, you really didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen ya, Mav,” Phoenix tells him, accepting the beer Rooster offers her that was already in the fridge. He passes them out to the crew, except Bob and Mav who kindly decline. Phoenix waves a hand, “Quite the place you got. Rooster had to come save us at the gate.”

Mav raises a brow at Rooster, “You didn’t know about this?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “I’m sure you can guess why.” It takes Mav a moment, but then he chuckles, thinking back to the many times Bradley did ruin a surprise. Nat’s promotion party, Hondo’s birthday dinner, and the tickets the group got Mickey to attend SDCC’s Star Wars reunion panel.

“We hope we didn’t catch you at a bad time,” Bob says. “Dropping in unannounced. We weren’t sure if you had anything planned this weekend, but we all took a few days off—got rooms in TLF back at Fightertown, so we would love to take you out for dinner or something this weekend.”

Mav glances at Rooster, who gives a knowing look to the pilot while sipping his beer. The two share a silent exchange of words before he scratches the back of his neck….a few catch the reflective metal of a gold on his left ring finger. Phoenix and Bob’s eyes widen, looking around to see if anyone else spotted what they did.

“Um, well we did have plans tonight—but I can make a call and figure something out. Tomorrow for sure I’m free all day so whatever you guys want to do I’m game.”

“What kind of plans?” Coyote asks before Payback and Hondo nudges him for being nosy. “Owwww.”

Hesitant to reply, Mav gives Rooster another look before nodding his head to the door, “why don’t you guys come inside. Make yourself comfortable while I make a quick call.”

“Are you not going to—,” Mav is quick to cut Bradley off with a wink. Confused, the entire squad look at each other with the same expression before following behind Mav while Rooster is the last to enter and shut the garage door.

Pete doesn’t have to turn around to know they were all gawking at the interior of the home. The first rooms closest to the garage were the laundry room, open kitchen and dining room. Sounds of approaching steps alerted the group and several audibly reacted to the adult Dalmatian, white husky, and golden retriever puppy racing after them.

“Oh my gosh,” Javy kneeled down to pet the Goldie pawing at his legs. “Your dogs are adorable.” The husky was licking at Jake’s face while Phoenix and Bob were occupied with the Dalmatian before each dog inspected each of the guests. “What are their names?”

“That’s Ice,” he pointed to the husky first then the Dalmatian, “Bella.” Lastly he pointed at the puppy, who was kissing up on Mickey, “and Goose.” They spend a good three minutes right there in the kitchen allowing the dogs to receive attention from the squad before Mav directs them to the living room.

And that’s when they pass the cabinet.

A cabinet that was just one of many.

“Uh, Mav,” Payback stops, causing those behind him to do the same, gaze locked on the floor to ceiling glass cabinet—if you could call it that, it was more like a shrine.

Dedicated to one of the world's most renowned rock bands.

“Yeah?” Mav already knew what they were looking at. And that was only scratching the surface compared to the others in the house.

“Say, uh—,” Payback tilts his head, pointing to the cabinet, “Are you like, obsessed with ‘Y/n & the Romantics’,” several eyes trailed along the various shelves lined with actual Grammy awards for ‘Best Rock Performance by a Duo/Group’, ‘Best Rock Album’, ‘Best Rock Song’, ‘Record of the Year,’ & ‘Album of the Year,’ going back as 1980 to 2021 as the most recent. Other awards included almost a dozen in MTV Moonmen, Billboard Music Awards, American Music Awards, and an Oscar for ‘Best Original Song’. Framed photographs of the band hung on the walls and perched on the shelves. Some included them with famed music legends like Cher, Prince, Micheal Jackson, Cyndi Lauper, Lionel Richie, Def Leppard, and Duran Duran….those of which the squad could make out the signature on the photograph itself. An eye catcher was the USA for Africa signed photograph of every artist, including the Romantics, featured in Michael Jackson’s “We Are The World.”

One shelf pretty much was reserved for all the times they were the musical guests on SNL. Four times to be exact. Another shelf, that had their eyes boggling, was dedicated to their 1999 Super Bowl Halftime performance with a football signed by the band and head coaches of the teams that played that year.

Fanboy nearly shit his pants when he saw the guitars mounted on the wall. Not only were they signed by absolute icons, including Elvis fucking Preseley, but one of which was the iconic checkered neon pink Fender Stratocaster frontwoman Y/n L/n played in the 80s.

Y/n L/n. Dubbed the ‘daughter of Rock ‘n’ Roll’ with a voice that had people say she was what an angel would sound like if they rebelled from God to become a rockstar. Together with some of her best friends from high school, formed the group ‘Y/n & the Romantics,’ signing with a small label in Atlanta, Georgia in 1978 at aged 14 after being discovered on the corner of a street playing covers of Elvis, The Beatles, and Billie Holiday. What had the producer write up a contract right there was when he heard Y/n’s rendition of ‘Crybaby,’ by Janis Joplin. It was as though Janis had been reincarnated. Her voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard.

They released their first single on New Year’s Day of 1979. That first single that had RCA Records knocking on their door and shot them into becoming one of the best selling rock bands of all time. When MTV launched on August 1, 1981, their music video for their Grammy Award winning single was the third to be played after ‘Video Killed The Radio Star,’ by the Buggles, and ‘You Better Run’ by Pat Benatar. Y/n & the Romantics became teen sensations, dominating the 1980s and 90s before going on hiatus in the early 2000s. Y/n was not only known for her recognizable, unique voice but also her split dye hair, leather outfits, stage presence, and signature pink guitar she named, ‘Dirty Shirley.’

And it was in Maverick’s house.

“Holy shit,” Phoenix breathed out, patting Payback to look to the left. That’s when he noticed the wedding picture hung on the wall not too far from where they were standing. The bride, kissing Maverick in the photo, was the same woman holding a Grammy with her bandmates.

Eyes bulging out, Payback whistled and asked what they were all thinking, “Or…. you got something to tell us?”

August 15, 1989. Los Angeles, California. Club Electic Idol

“Tell me, Pete—or do you prefer Maverick?” The blue light shining above her in the bar had the glitter on her face reflect. She was dazzling. Unlike any woman he’d ever met. And Pete met a lot in his career, though they never captivated him like she was now. He wanted to dance with her forever

Arms around his neck, their bodies pressed together as they swayed to the beat of ‘When Doves Cry,’ by Prince. The leather adorning her body was smooth against his fingertips. Completely ignorant of the flashing of cameras from the side and envious gazes of both men and women around them. Never did the pilot think when he, Ice, and Slider agreed on coming to that bar after the concert that he would end up with the frontwoman in his arms. They were just looking for a place to grab a quick drink, maybe dance with a girl or two, and chill before heading back to their hotel.

Guess Y/n & the Romantics were looking to do the same. Fate seemed to bring them together.

“Either is fine, sweetheart.” She smirked at the nickname, finding it amusing. God, even her smirk was sexy. Everything about her was.

“You do that little show of yours each time you see a pretty lady? Or am I just special?”

Damn she caught him.

Truth be told it scared the shit out of him to even think about doing it. Had it not been for the light buzz from drinking a couple beers and encouragement from Ice saying, “You’re the only bloke in this bar who could probably get her into bed if you tried, Mitchell. I saw her eyeing you when you went to pick a song on the jukebox.”

At first he refused. It was Y/n fucking L/n of all people. And there were plenty of people, men and women, who were taking a shot at swooning the rockstar. Left and right they were offering her drinks and asking her to dance. Mav would only go up to her if Ice and Slider sang with him. There was no way in hell he would embarrass just himself. Especially if it didn’t turn out the way he wanted.

The fact it actually did work had the pilot thank his guardian angel, who no doubt had to have been Goose.

“I’ve only done it a few times. The first crashed and burned. Second time actually got me a date,” his lips curled up, “Now I’m hoping the third time’s a charm.”

“I see,” she hummed, never taking her eyes off him. The silence that indicated she was deep in thought. “What are you hoping to get out of it?”

“Honestly, maybe a kiss when the night comes to an end if you’d allow me the honor. But if not I would want you to never forget me. Just like I won’t ever forget you.”

“After a performance like that, Lieutenant, I’ll remember you till the end of time. And about that kiss….” She brings her mouth closer to his, but still enough distance to keep them apart. Pete felt his heart skip at the proximity, the perfume she wore filling his nostrils. “Keep impressing me and it just might come true.”

Present Day

“Wait-wait-wait,” Phoenix laughed with the guys as Maverick finished telling the story of when he went with Slider and Iceman to see Y/n & the Romantics perform at the Staples center in 1989. They were all seated in the living room—which had more framed photos of not just Y/n and her band but also of her and Maverick over the years and Rooster as a child.

Jake took photos of that on his phone to hold for blackmail. Now it made sense why Rooster was always singing their songs on the piano when they would go out.

After giving a quick tour of the first floor of the home, they all settled in the living room with his dogs as Mav sent a text to his lady to call him after soundcheck. Beers were brought out and some snacks, the crew still processing the news as they took it all in. Eventually after a quick explanation, Pete answered the many questions they had, including just how the hell he managed to pull one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist.

Whose band literally had a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and were being inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame in just a few months.

“So from what I’m gathering,” Nat points to her forehead, as though she were deep in thought, “If my brain is right on track here….you were, to put it lightly…a groupie?”

“Now hold on—.” Mav tried to say but was cut off by the obnoxious laughter that was Javy, Mickey, and Jake while Bob and Hondo just shook their heads, although they were grinning wide at the insinuation. Rooster was smirking like, ‘told you so.’ Mav sighed, but he was smiling as the laughter died down. “I was not a groupie. Okay—yeah I had the hope I would meet her after the show, but I didn’t go out of my way to make that happen. They just happened to come to the same bar that night—I swear!”

“That literally sounds like what a groupie is, Mav,” Hondo pats his back. “You just got lucky it went in your favor.”

Blushing, Mav coughed lightly as he laughed with the group before adding, “I’d like to point out that nothing … you know, happened, alright? We simply had some drinks, danced…I may have tried serenading her with my rendition of ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling,’” the laughter got louder, making his blush deepen, “and then we exchanged addresses to send each other letters—because that’s what you did back in the day or call on the landline. It was history from there.”

“Don’t forget, Mav,” Rooster points at him. “You guys made out and then you exchanged addresses before leaving.” Mav has to cover his face to hide his blush when the group hollar and cheer.

“So how long y’all been together?” Rueben asks, finishing off his beer.

“Since 1990. But we didn’t get married until 2002 after the band went on hiatus.”

“How come?” Phoenix tilted her head curiously.

Though Phoenix and most of the guys were not die hard fans of Y/n & the Romantics, they were familiar with their music of course. As one of the most influential rock bands of all time everyone had heard of them in some way, shape, or form. Their parents often played their records, or they’d hear them on the radio and in movies. The squad were all born in the 1980s & early 90s so by the time they got into their teenage years the band had already stopped releasing music. It wasn’t until late 2020 they announced a reunion with the release of their latest album and were currently on tour across North America. During the hiatus however, Y/n still wrote songs for other artists and even released a few solo records. Some of the Grammy’s in the case belonged to only her and not just with the band.

Personal lives of the band members were not something they knew too well. The only people in the group who had knowledge of some details were Mickey, who was a big fan growing up, and Hondo. Bob was also a fan, having played the drums as a teenager and cited them to be a big influence. On google information showed that the group consisted of Y/n, the lead vocalist who also played guitar, Maya the bass player, Evan the lead guitarist, Danny the drummer, and Ronnie on keys. All of them provided backup vocals on tracks.

Maya and Evan ended up falling in love, confirming long time rumors they were together in 1987 and had three kids over the course of the 90s. Danny married a famous actress in 2000 with whom he had a son. Lastly Ronnie was once married to the lead singer of another rock group before divorcing and finding love with a movie producer from when she landed a role in a tv drama, the two adopted a son and daughter in the early 2000s.

Y/n’s information did actually include the fact she and Maverick met in 1989 when they played at the Staples center, that he was a Captain in the Navy being the only man to shoot down five enemy planes in the last 40 years, and were together for over a decade before finally getting married. They did not have kids and the text read how they liked to keep their personal lives private.

Rooster of course knew everything. The first time he met Y/n was in 1991 when he was 7 years old and looked at her like a second mother growing up. She taught him piano and guitar, let him attend shows when the group were on tour in Virginia, and was always a phone call away even after he and Maverick were at odds. Since she didn’t have kids, Bradley was the closest to what it was like having a son. There was no way she was going to let them drift apart after vowing to Carole she would take care of him. They spoke almost weekly with Rooster updating Y/n on his career and asking when she was getting the band back together, knowing she missed going on the road and performing.

“Soon,” she would tell him with a laugh, “I’m working on some songs in the meantime. We all agreed once the kids are older that we’ll come back.” That was in 2012. Now it was 2022 and finally Y/n & the Romantics were on stage performing for a sold out crowd full of people from all ages. They were all in their late 50s but still knew how to rock n’ roll like the good ole days. Y/n never lost her stage presence, the audience thrived on it. Over the years she took care of her voice so she would sound exactly like she did in the 80s. It was her staple after all.

Answering Nat’s question, Mav gave a light shrug, “It just sorta happened that way honestly. We were happy with how things were—marriage was not for us until then. I should say legally married actually, because here in California the relationship was viewed as common law marriage since we had been together for so many years,” Mav explained before taking a sip of water, “Around the time they disbanded the others had young or were starting to have children so they decided to take a break until the kids were grown up.”

“I think that was the first time I saw my mother cry,” Bob chuckled, fixing his glasses as all eyes turned to him. “My mom was—is a huge fan. Anytime we went on road trips she’d play one of their albums. I think she even saw them live when she was in college—said it was one of the best nights of her life. She had a crush on Danny if I’m not mistaken.” Mav smiles, not surprised it was Danny. In the 80s the man was quite the heartthrob.

“How come you never told us?” Mickey cut in. It was a question all were curious to know. Hondo knew Mav was married, but not to whom. He and Penny had history and were friendly at the Hard Deck so they assumed they were together or possibly going to. Finding out he’s been in a long time relationship with Y/n L/n was the shock of their life.

“We like our privacy. It’s why we waited to get married also, because of how big they were in the 80s and 90s. I got followed by paparazzi in the beginning—which was causing problems with my job. We actually pretended to break up in the late 90s to get them off my back,” Mav shrugs again, “I also don’t like the idea of bragging that my wife is Y/n L/n. I love and respect her so much. Yeah I was a fan of her music, but what made me fall in love with her was getting to know her for who she was. Not Y/n the rockstar, but Y/n the girl who replays her favorite songs if someone talks during it. Who can quote every single line from ‘Dirty Dancing’. Who will scold me for leaving seven half filled water bottles on my nightstand.” Laughs rang out at that. “We personally enjoy letting people discover it on their own, rather than telling them upfront.”

“I still can’t wrap it around my head,” Jake waves a hand to emphasize his point. “That you pulled pretty much the woman all our dads, maybe even moms, had a crush on. Your game is on another level. Like please tell me your secrets, pops.” Phoenix playfully slaps Hangman on the shoulder.

Before he could answer the pilot, Maverick’s phone rings causing him to jolt from the couch. “Give me a moment guys,” excusing himself he goes around the corner into the hallway before answering, “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, is everything good? Your message sounded urgent.”

Mav heard sounds in the background, possibly the crew setting up the stage for the night’s show. “Everything is great….uhh-say is tonight’s show sold out?”

“Yessss,” he could hear the confusion laced in her tone. “At least that was what I was told by Hank. Why? Did Bradley want to bring a friend? I’m sure I can get a pass.” Mav let out a sigh, scratching his chin.

“If it’s too much to ask then don’t worry about it, I know you gotta get back to soundcheck and have a few hours until the concert starts. But my former students from a few years ago surprised me today to celebrate my birthday. They’re here at the house—Bradley didn’t even know they were coming, honey.”

Y/n laughed, “I wouldn’t have bet money on him to know,” they laughed together, Y/n following with, “But that’s so sweet of them! I know how much you’ve missed them since you retired last year. How long are they in town?”

“Just for the weekend. They all got rooms on base and were hoping to take me out either tonight or possibly tomorrow. I told them I had plans tonight….”

“But you didn’t tell them what plans, huh?” Mav could picture the smirk on her face. “Do they know?”

“About us? I just finished telling them why I never mentioned anything. They seem to understand and were apologetic for dropping in unannounced. But…..I have not told them that the last stop in your tour is tonight at the Staples Center and Bradley and I were going to be leaving in a few hours.”

“Who all is it?”

“My buddy Hondo from when I did the Darkstar project—I think I’ve told you about him, the two foxtrot teams I did the uranium mission with and two of my reserves. So seven total.”

“I see,” Y/n humed, finding her husband’s situation amusing. He let out a groan, apologizing but she just laughed and said, “Well since it is your birthday and I’ve been wanting to meet your little dagger ducklings forever now,” he smiled at the nickname Y/n had given the pilots. They really were his ducklings. “Let me talk with Hank and the venue manager. Show doesn’t start till seven so there’s plenty of time. Just hang tight and I’ll call you back, okay? I know you're probably losing your mind because you don’t want to miss tonight’s show knowing it’s the last of the tour, but you also want to spend time with them while they're in town. Imma make sure you get both, pretty boy…..and maybe a little something more when the night comes to a close.”

Fuck that got Mav blushing, knowing exactly what she was implying. “Y/n…”

“Love you, Pete. Wait for my call.” Telling her the same, Mav hangs up the phone and reenters the living room. Rooster immediately meets his eye, lifting a thumbs up to which Mav returns with a gesture to signify he was working on it. For the next thirty minutes the squad makes small talk until his phone rings again. “Hey.”

“Would it be okay if you put me on speaker?”

A smile forms on his lips, “Sure thing,” he looks at the group to catch their attention, “Someone wants to say hi,” they all, minus Rooster who’s smirking, watch with confused expressions as Mav hits the speaker button and places the phone on the table. “What have you got for us, honey?” The second the pet name leaves his lips, Mav sees Fanboy drop his now empty cup of water, Phoenix slap a hand over her mouth, Javy pushing Jake and vice versa muttering ‘holy shit.’ Everyone else pretty much does something similar when Y/n’s voice echoes through the receiver, “Hello hello, aviators.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yo this ain’t happening right now.”

“Guys, guys, shut up—holy shit.”

Y/n laughed at the reactions. “It’s so nice to finally—even if it’s over the phone at the moment—meet you guys! Pete talks about you all everyday.”

“I-I wish we could say the same about you, ma’am,” Payback nervously laughs. “We didn’t even know the man was hitched until an hour ago. Also we apologize for the fanboying-fangirling, it’s an honor to speak to such a legend. You’re an icon.”

“Oh you’re too kind,” she awes, “thank you so much. I hope you guys can forgive him for not saying anything—he meant well.”

“We understand,” Phoenix says on their behalf. “We’d also like to say sorry for showing up to your house uninvited—your home is beautiful by the way. We-we just wanted to surprise Captain Mitchell since it’s been so long since we were all together and he’s done so much for us.”

“I think that’s so amazing you guys did that! I wish I could’ve been home to greet you guys and see the look on his face. Did he cry by any chance?”

“Honey please…” Mav pleaded, causing everyone to laugh.

“I’m sorry, babe. Anyways, Pete tells me you guys are in town for the weekend and well……tonight the Romantics and I are playing our last show in L.A at seven. Bradley and Pete were set to leave San Diego around four to make it on time and if y’all are up for the short drive…..I have seven passes reserved with your names on them.”

The reaction of the dagger squad could only be described with a singular word: chaos.

First it was more of denial, but then they saw Maverick and Rooster’s face and realized Y/n was in fact serious. She was inviting them to her concert. The final show in her band’s reunion tour. The soon to be Rock n Roll Hall of Famers.

Yeah, they about lost their minds.

“I gotta call my mom—she’s gonna flip!”

“How the hell am I supposed to continue living life after this?”

“This is your birthday Mav!” Phoenix pointed at him while Bob had his hands in his face, expression unreadable. “You’re not supposed to be giving us anything, it's the other way around!”

“Nat, I would love nothing more than to spend my birthday with you guys at the concert tonight.” That just about made her tear up.

“Yo so this is legit?” Coyote held up a hand, trying to calm his excitement. “We’re actually going?”

“Hell yeah!” Jake said, Rooster and Payback agreeing with a high-five. “What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.”

“Y/n, thank you so much,” Hondo said on their behalf. “I’m sorry if you can’t hear over these clowns in the background, but I’ll speak for everyone when I say that we are so grateful for you to invite us to experience your show together and celebrate Mav’s birthday. I don’t think we’ll stop thanking you so be warned.”

After a few more minutes of mainly the squad bombarding the rockstar with words of gratitude and thanks, Y/n informs Pete of where to go when they get to the venue and she’ll meet them backstage to give them the passes. When they say their goodbyes and hang up, Coyote goes, “Okay so I don’t know about y’all…but I cannot walk into a rock concert dressed like this,” he gestures to his gray Navy t-shirt and torn jeans, “How much time we got, Cap?” The question has Pete check his watch.

“If we wanna get there before the doors open, I’d say we should leave in about two hours. It’s gonna take at least two hours to get to L.A, and we gotta consider traffic.” Mav thinks for a moment before saying, “I may have something that can help. Follow me.”

In one of the many closets used as a storage place, Pete removed a box from the self and opened it to reveal a bunch of vintage t-shirts of Y/n & the Romantics.

“Oh my gosh this is so cool,” Fanboy awed. Some of the shirts were literally from the 80s and 90s but looked to be in new condition, meaning they must have been extras Y/n kept for safekeeping. Nowadays it was hard for someone to get their hands on anything with the classic logo of Y/n & the Romantics unless it was from Etsy or a private seller. Stores like Hot Topic, Spencers, and those dedicated to the 80s or retro-like were the only places to buy the new style of merchandise. But these in the box, they were classic.

“Look through and see if you can find anything. There’s several sizes and styles—most of these were from their ‘Heartbreaker’ era but you may find some from ‘Love is the Eighth Deadly Sin,’ or ‘Rock ‘n’ Rolling to Heaven.’ We have some leather jackets I’d be happy to lend you guys—and Nat, Y/n wanted me to tell you that you’re more than welcome to borrow anything you’d like.” Her eyes go wide.

“Oh I couldn’t possibly—.”

Rooster claps his hands excitedly, cutting Nat off much to her annoyance, “Time to turn you guys into rockstars. Fuck yeah! This is gonna be the best night ever!”

So that’s how the famed naval aviators ended up in their vehicles on a two hour journey to Los Angeles. It was far from what they expected when they set out to surprise Pete Mitchell, but in Maverick fashion things take a different turn when one least expects it. The couple’s dog sitter was called to tend to their animals since it was likely they would not be coming home till the next day. Just after 3:30pm the squad, now dressed like they were straight from the 80s by cutting holes in their jeans and wearing leather jackets and chains Maverick provided, gathered in the cars and hit the road. Maverick and Rooster ended up driving, with Hondo, Coyote, Hangman and Payback in Mav’s SUV and Fanboy, Bob, and Phoenix with Rooster in the Bronco.

Upon instance from Y/n after chatting briefly with her on the phone to make sure it was okay, Nat relented on wearing the red leather Prada two piece set the rockstar wore at the 1994 MTV video awards. It fit like a glove on the pilot, jaw dropping when she looked at herself in the mirror, “Damn.” While in the car she applied some black eye pencil and smudged it out to give her that 80s grunge appearance, to which she made Fanboy and Bob do the same, “Bradshaw, I expect you to rock this too.” At a red light he applied it like a pro, like he’d done it many times before not even needing to fix it.

The entire way both vehicles played Y/n & the Romantics decades worth of music. It surprised a lot of the crew when they recognized some songs from movies and tv shows they had no idea were by them. “This was in Stranger Things!” Coyote shouted over the sound, head banging his head along to the beat. Another song had Bob go, “Wasn’t this in the Guardians of The Galaxy?”

By the time they got to L.A the city life was at its prime. Traffic was insane as usual but thankfully they made it to the Staples Center just before six o’clock. The sign outside the venue glowed bright with ‘Y/n & The Romantics—Rockin’ Down Memory Lane Reunion Tour. TONIGHT ONLY—SOLD OUT.’ Pete pulled in front of Rooster to speak to the guard when they got to the back gate. After speaking through a radio for confirmation they allowed the two cars to enter and directed them on where to go.

When they get in the building it’s buzzing all around them. Crew members of both the band and the venue run past and speak into radios. They could barely make out the words combined with the faint rumble of the crowd inside. Before a security guard could ask why they were there, Y/n’s managers, Hank and Tasha Robinson noticed them and rushed over. “Pete! Great to see ya!” The pilot exchanged hugs with the couple. They then greet Bradley, who they’ve known since he was a child, and the squad, “You guys must be the pilots! It’s nice to meet you all—are you excited for the show?”

“Absolutely.” “Can’t wait!” “We’re so excited.” “Thank you for allowing us to come on such short notice.”

“You all look great!” Tasha grinned, gasping when she saw Nat’s outfit, “Oh my goodness. Hank, look! You recognize this?” Blushing immensely, Nat didn’t know how to react besides laughing nervously as they complimented her. “You look fabulous, darling.”

“Thank you. It’s an honor to wear it—I-I hope I did it justice.”

At that moment Y/n came around the corner, a slight skip in her step until she was lifted into Pete’s arms causing her to break into giggles. They hadn’t seen each other in almost two weeks while she was touring the west coast cities. It filled the squad with warmth seeing their mentor/friend so happy. Nerves filled them, they were about to meet one the greatest voices of rock music.

Mav spun Y/n around before setting her back down, the two sharing a sweet kiss. “Missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too,” he says against her lips, kissing them once more before guiding her to the group. Bradley is the first to hug Y/n, who squeals in delight since it had been months since they last saw each other.

“Hey sugar, look at you! It seems like every time I see you, you got a new look going on,” she fluffs his hair which was now lighter in tone after he got some highlights. “You look good, Roo. Is this a new shirt?” she gestures to the Hawaiian shirt beneath the leather jacket Bradley was wearing.

“Had to pull it out for the special occasion,” he gives her a sweet kiss to the cheek while handing her the bouquet of flowers he and Mav got. Thanking him, Y/n grins at the sight of the group standing behind him.

“And you fellas must be the famous dagger squad I’ve heard all about!” They were literally speechless as they stared back at the singer. She literally was what one would envision when they thought of a rockstar. Smudged eyeliner with sparkly eyeshadow framed her eyes, dark red lipstick and her outfit was black leather that showed a bit of skin due to some cutouts, but was still modest. Where the skin showed they could make out intricate tattoos and both her arms had half sleeves of ink. She had on a harness with silver chains, thigh high boots with studs along the sides.

She was THE rockstar.

Though in her late 50s, Y/n was still breathtakingly beautiful. Yeah there was some grayness to her otherwise shiny, healthy hair, and some age lines around her eyes and mouth that poked through the makeup, but Y/n could literally pass for mid to late 40s. Same with Pete who just turned 60 and looked amazing for his age. Standing next to each other, they were one hot ass couple.

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you guys—in person now! Ah I’ve been buzzing with excitement since we got off the phone earlier,” she clapped her hands, moving to Fanboy who was internally losing it like his namesake.

“I-I hi, w-wow. I’m Mickey Garcia—or talk about irony, you may call me Fanboy. It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. L/n—Mitchell uh-I’m sorry. I’m a big fan.”

Y/n giggled, shaking his outstretched hand before bringing him into a friendly hug. “Oh honey, I don’t even know what to call myself sometimes. But, please call me Y/n. You guys are family now.” She goes down the line to meet each pilot, shaking their hand and hugging while saying their name back to instill it in her memory. Of course she knew their names and faces from photos, but meeting them in person was completely different and Y/n wanted to make sure she would remember who was who. When she gets to Natasha’s she can’t help but shriek, “Yay you wore it! You look amazing-oh my gosh!”

“Thank you so much,” Nat blushes again, this time because the owner of said outfit she wore was gushing over her. “Thank you for letting me wear it—I will do my best to not let anything happen to it.” Y/n assures her to not worry about it and the two have the band photographer take a couple photos of them. The guys video the whole thing causing Phoenix to flip them off at times which has the married couple laugh. Soon the band comes out, causing Fanboy, Bob, and Coyote to almost lose it and before they know it everyone is conversing like it was an ordinary Friday night. Hondo, Mav, Y/n, Phoenix and Payback are off to the side with Maya, Evan, and their kids while the others are chatting with other members and their families who came to the show.

“It’s unreal to think this year marks forty-four years,” Evan said, sitting on one of the chairs with his hand on Maya’s lower back who stood beside him.

“Yeah,” she agreed with a smile, “just a group of kids we were then. With a dream only the effects of good ole weed could give us the confidence to have our asses out at that park and hope someone would hear us.”

Y/n drops her head laughing, aware of the somewhat surprised looks of the aviators and Hondo. “Wait-really?” Y/n was known for her exhilarating stage presence. She was like Elvis, Janis Joplin, and Micheal Jackson, always captivating the crowd and keeping them hype. When watching the performances it was like Y/n was in her own little world and thrived on the energy.

“It was the 70s,” she shrugged, still smiling which made her eyes crinkle. “Believe it or not we all used to have stage fright—especially in the beginning when we first started performing. We were….gosh fourteen when we signed, fifteen when we performed on Johnny Carson. Good Lord I was shaking in my boots in the dressing room,” she gave a mock shake of the shoulders, reliving the memory, “The only way I could get up there and sing was if I had smoked. Took the edge off.” Maya and Evan nodded in agreement, Y/n leaning into Maverick’s arms as he stood behind her chair. “I think it was after we toured in ‘85 for ‘Love Is The Eighth Deadly Sin,’ that I could perform without anything. Though I still did it at times,” her smile fell into more of a sad expression, adding, “and unfortunately being in the industry at that time, and being so young, we were exposed to other things.”

She didn't have to explain to the aviators, for it was public knowledge when they read up on the band during their drive that Y/n, Ronnie and Danny had admitted to experimenting in the 80s with cocaine. It was common in that era, with many artists and actors in Hollywood able to get their hands on it easily. For Y/n, it was the frontman of another rock group she’d been romantically linked to who introduced her to the drug. Thankfully nothing ever happened that caused a big scandal or had the members needing professional help. They had their family, the support of their crew and each other so they never let anyone fall too deep to where they couldn’t get back up.

“But we survived,” Maya emphasizes, beaming at her husband, “and it sure has been one hell of a ride since. I can’t wait for November—I think I’m more excited for the induction ceremony than I was for the Super Bowl.” Evan goes on to playfully reject the claim, insisting his wife was way more excited about getting that call over 20 years ago than the news just last month about the Hall of Fame.

Y/n just shakes her head with fondness, leaning more into Maverick, who kisses the top of her head.

“Brings back memories, huh? Here at the Staples Center again after so many years.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, his friends chatting with the guitarist and bassist. “I just wish Ice and Slider were here. Then it would really be a blast from the past.”

“I saw Slider when we played in Florida. He brought the whole family—it was amazing.”

“Yeah he called me afterwards. Said you guys put on the best show of the year,” his lips curled up, leaning more towards her ear, “he also told me you threw in a song in the set I was going to get a kick out of.”

Y/n mirrored his smile, eyes full of mischief, “Oh you will, but I ain’t saying nothing, hot stuff. You’ll have to wait for when it comes up.”

“Can’t wait,” he chuckles, kissing her cheek lovingly.

Roughly ten minutes later the stage manager was rushing over, “We’re down to t-minus twenty till showtime people—we gotta start clearing!” Immediately the band are hurrying to say their goodbyes. Y/n practically runs to find the person needed to take the group to their seats. When she does, they hand out the passes to each person, “Julius is going to take you all up to the room. It’s gonna be one of the VIP boxes, the closest to the stage I believe, and it should have sodas, water, alcohol, and food. But if you need anything then just run it by him.”

They all spit out words of gratitude, blown away by the special treatment they were receiving. Y/n takes her time to hug each one of the pilots, who wish her good luck and thank her again for everything. Rooster lets his hug linger a bit longer, as does Maverick who brings the woman into a passionate kiss. “Thank you for doing this, baby. I owe you.”

“It’s your birthday, Pete. You know I would do anything to make you happy,” she lowers her voice into his ear, kissing the area just below, “Sorry it couldn’t be like the good ole days when I would sneak you into my dressing for some fun.” His hands squeeze her hips, sighing at the memories as she giggled.

“There’s still the after party,” he warns her, tone thick with something she knew all too well.

“I’m well aware, hot stuff.”

They share another kiss. And another. And another before Y/n pushes him away at the teasing shouts of everyone around them, Pete bidding good luck to her and the band before he sets off with the group. Rooster nudges him, smirking at the retired pilot, “well that kiss sure would motivate anyone about to go on stage.”

“Don’t start, Bradley.”

By the time they reached the room, they could literally feel the rumble of the crowd when the lights in the arena shut off. “Holy shit,” Mickey said, the first to open the balcony door of the room where they would view the show. Inside were couches, chairs, tvs, and refreshments. Coyote had his phone out, videoing the scene for his instagram story as they all grabbed beers and water before taking spots on the balcony.

The sight was surreal. The stage was to their left and extended out, splitting the floor in half. Approximately 20,000 people could fit in the Staples Center, and from the looks of it 20,000 people were in attendance. It was a sold out show after all. People from all age groups were there. Hell Bob swore he saw some young kids on the shoulders of their parents. The most were obviously the older crowd who likely grew up in the 80s, but there were definitely college kids and Millennials.

It got louder and louder when the two minute countdown appeared on the Jumbotron, along with a video montage of the band. Some clips showed them when they were first starting out up to them preparing for the reunion tour. As it drew closer to zero, the video showed a pre-taped montage of each member taking their place on stage. Maya wrapping the strap of her bass around her shoulder, Evan with his guitar. Ronnie taking place in front of the keyboard and Danny sitting at his drums. Lastly Y/n strutted up to the microphone, the clock hitting zero the moment her hand raises in the air and the arena goes black.

Not even a second passes before Evan’s opening guitar riff sends the crowd roaring. It was the opening to, ‘Thunderstruck,’ a song that literally was in almost every modern day action movie known to man. It was hilarious to see the guys and Phoenix lose their shit, recognizing the iconic song. There was a black curtain keeping the actual stage hidden from everyone's view, but chills came onto everyone’s arms when Y/n’s voice filled their ears

“I was caught in the middle of a railroad track.” The crowd echoed the ‘Thunder,’ with the band. “I looked ‘round and I knew there was no turning back.”

“THUNDER!” The squad shouted, fist pumping and beginning to dance. Already they knew it was going to be the best night of their lives.

When the curtain gave way as Y/n hit the chorus of the song, the audience literally exploded, increasing in volume when she shouted into the mic, “Los Angeles let me hear you!!!!” The camera’s were glued to her as she strutted down the middle of the stage where it split the floor. Her voice carried with each lyric, living up to the hype and sounding as though it was still 1985.

Nat—scratch that all of the guys, especially Maverick, were in awe. Jaws dropped, except Rooster who was living his best life having experienced a Y/n & the Romantics show as a teenager. Now as an adult man the aviator was overjoyed seeing his second mom performing on stage again with her best friends.

“Cap, your wife is the coolest person on earth!” Hangman shouted against the loud music. Maverick simply beamed, eyes never leaving his wife, “I know.”

When the song came to an end, Y/n sighed lovingly, “Ahhh it’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all dearly. Did you miss us?” She paused, screams igniting before adding, “That’s what I’m talking about, baby. It’s been twenty years since we last performed here at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, and we’d like to thank you all immensely for welcoming us back. We’ve worked hard the past two years putting this show together for you, the fans. For all of you regardless if you’re just discovering us, or have been rockin since 1979.”

The energy was off the charts the entire concert. Y/n was feeding off of it on stage, and in turn her presence was feeding the crowd. In between sets she interacted with her friends/bandmates, often coming close to those on the floor to ask how they were.

“You having fun tonight?” Everyone nodded frantically, a woman close to the stage shouting, “So much fun! We love you!”

“We love you too, doll. Don’t worry the night is just getting started.” After the first couple songs Y/n informs the crowd, “I hope you all don’t mind, but as you know this is the ‘Rockin’ Down Memory Lane’ tour,” cheers erupted from every angle, “so as a treat for you fine folks this evening, we won’t just be rockin down our own memory lane. We wanna give some shoutouts to some of the greats rock music has ever seen, and some of the friends we made being a part of this world thanks to all of you. And what better way to start than by kicking it off with the song that got us discovered in the first place.”

The audience was going crazy, die hard fans knowing damn well what song the rockstar was referring to. “Whoooo!!!” Coyote felt the chills when Y/n belted out the opening of ‘Cry Baby’ by Janis Joplin. “Damn girl, sing it!” One of the hardest songs to sing, Y/n had so much emotion it nearly brought a tear to some of their eyes. Rooster brought his finger to his mouth to whistle when the song finished.

The band would do three more of their songs or a medley before covering another artist/group. “Y’all may have heard the rumor…..of the special club we’re being invited to join this fall,” Y/n smirked, hand on her hip next to Maya. Cheering indicated the crowd were aware of the news. “We’re not the only ones. Some friends of ours were also invited. You may have heard of them….Duran Duran?” She pauses to let them scream, the woman chuckling before bringing the mic back to her lips. “They just played recently at the Garden and gave a special rendition of our ‘Highway To Hell,’….so we thought to return the favor,” pausing again, Y/n nods to her band where they begin their cover of ‘Hungry Like The Wolf,’ sending the audience into a frenzy.

“I fucking love this song!!” Nat screams excitedly, passing her beer to Rooster so she could freely dance without worrying about spilling it. The outfit she wore likely cost more than her college tuition. She’d be damned if she let anything happen to it.

“Darken the city, night is a wire,” The smile never left Y/n’s face, “Steam in the subway, earth is afire.” Chills happened along her arms when the entire stadium echoed, “do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do.”

She couldn’t wait to see how the guys of Duran Duran, who she and the Romantics were lucky to call friends, react to them singing their song. On Twitter she hinted at wanting to do another collaboration after seeing the video of the band perform their ‘Highway To Hell’. In 1988 the two groups released a single together, topping the Billboard charts for nearly 30 weeks. Plus both were being inducted in November to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame. Surely it would the collab of the century if they did.

Halfway through the show they took an intermission. During that time everyone had a bathroom break, ate some of the food provided and grabbed more drinks. Thankfully Mav did inform them Y/n’s managers got them hotel rooms not too far from the venue so they didn’t have to worry about driving back to San Diego late. When the band returned on stage for the second half of the show it appeared they had changed outfits. Y/n now sported black leather shorts that ended midthigh with fishnets tucked into her leather knee-high boots and a cropped Def Leppard shirt. The sides were cut out showing off her lace bodysuit beneath it. They went straight into songs from their ‘Love & Thunder’ era that took place in the early 90s.

Not too long after she was flagged down by the stage manager, Rick, who was in front of the floor barricade. “What do we have here?” She hummed curiously, taking the two evelopes from him. Rick shouted that it was from the couple directly behind him, who were waving frantically at the singer. The envelop on top said ‘read first.’ Confirming she could read it aloud, Y/n brought the audience to a low tone so everyone could hear.

“Dear Y/n, Maya, Evan, Ronnie, and Danny,” she read off into the mic, glancing to her friends who appeared just as curious as her. “Our names are Damien and Alana Michaels, we’re both 31 years old and met six years ago because of our shared love for your music,” Y/n awed, beaming at the couple then laughed when the letter followed, “We met at a record store and practically fought over the last copy of your limited edition vinyl of ‘Rock n Rollin to Heaven’. We were over the moon when you announced the reunion tour and feel we’ve come full circle tonight seeing as that we fell in love because your music has been an influencial part of our lives. Alana is five months pregnant with our first child,” cheering erupted, causing Y/n to speak louder into the microphone with a giant grin, “Would you do us the honor in revealing the gender of our baby?”

Y/n let the crowd scream for a moment before calming them down again, settling her gaze on the couple, “This envelope right here,” she holds up the unopened document, “has the gender of your baby?”

“Yes!” Alana shouts in glee while Damien nods, mirroring his wife’s expression.

“Give me one moment, honey—don’t go anywhere.” The stadium watches the rockstar rush to her friends, calling them over away from the mics to have a quick chat. Opening the envelope, the camera catches their reaction for the screen and they all talk for a moment before taking back their respective places.Y/n runs over to the couple again, a little out of breath, “Alright! Alana, Damien, congratulations are in store. You are bringing a new life into the world, and the Romantics and I think the best way for you to welcome them is by singing this song when they arrive,” she then looks to the crows, “To anyone who knows the words, feel free to sing along. On three guys,” she points to her friends and counts off, “One…two…three!”

“Isn’t she lovely?” Alana visibly broke into tears while Damien jumps up and down in joy. The band where harmonizing with the frontwoman, the stadium so loud it was hard to hear at times, but thankfully the speakers were at full amp to hear them sing. The couple embraced each other, consumed with happiness at the news. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

“Isn’t she precious?” Staples Center practically echoed with 20,000 people singing Stevie Wonder’s song. Y/n grinned, loving ever second of the coordinated tune. “Less than one minute old.”

“I never thought,” Y/n belted out, “through love we’d be.”

“Making one as lovely as she.”

“But isn’t she lovely, made from love,” Drawing out the ‘love’ Y/n finished the verse by shouting against the screams, “IT’S A GIRL!” Handing back the envelope with the gender to Rick, Y/n asked if she could keep the letter to which the couple agreed. Pocketing it in her shorts, Y/n says, “Congratulations Alana and Damien! Thank you for allowing us to be a part of this exiting moment. On behalf of the Romantics and everyone in attendance, we wish you the absolute best on bringing your daughter into the world and may she be blessed with joy all her life….and maybe unleash her inner rockstar from time to time,” laughter erupted, “give it up for Alana, Damien, and Baby girl Michaels!!”

Fifteen more minutes pass of the band performing their songs before taking a five minute break to set up for their next cover.

“Alright,” Y/n takes a breath, walking down the end of the extended stage. “This next trip down memory lane, has me want to ask you all a question. Ready to hear it?” When they respond with an echo, ‘yes!!’ Y/n allows the smirk to appear, “Do you guys have that one song…that you would call, your stripper song?” A laugh escapes her by the increase in volume from the sold out arena. She could just picture what looks her husband received from his former students. “You know that one song that has you thinking, ‘Gosh give me a pole and I will work it better than anyone has before,’ that kind of song?” Y/n stops halfway through the long stretch of platform, glancing around to the various sections of people.

“I would like to sing for you my stripper song—o-oh okaaaay that’s a nice reaction,” she chuckled, winking at a few spectators on the floor who were like, ‘Hell yeah!’ Pointing a finger out to a random direction, she says with a knowing look, “Now if this happens to be your stripper song too, don’t you get naked—this ain’t that kind of show,” laughter fills her ears, “Plus there's children here tonight, so technically this is a family show. So I would like to apologize now to the parents, but then again, this is a fucking rock show,” the cheers escalated, agreeing with the woman on what she was about to say, “So if you didn’t want them to see us in our element, you should’ve left them at home. But please, for the love of God, keep your clothes on if this song happens to get you in the same mood it gets me. Ready guys!”

“We're ready, babe!” Maya shouts with Evan, Danny and Ronnie giving a thumbs up.

“Step inside!” Y/n yells into the mic.

“Walk this way!” They shout into their own.

“You and me babe!”

“Hey! Hey!”

unworldly, was the way best to describe the Staples Center when the opening chords of Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ sounded through the speakers. No wonder she wore the band’s shirt, hinting they were going to cover one of their songs at some point. Fans went crazy when Y/n did some of her iconic moves like crawling on the floor, flipping her hair back and forth and even usuing the mic stand as though it was a pole. She was in her element, the stage was truly where she shined.

Some of the guys were hollaring, patting Maverick on the back with knowing looks. The older man was blushing mad when they realized something was on his mind with the way he was staring at his wife. It didn’t help Y/n was biting her lip, running her hands along her body during the ‘Sugar me sweet,’ line. The camera was glued to her the entire performance.

“I know that look!” Hangman pointed out the Captain’s expression.

“Yeah, Mav, if you plan to sneak off to the dressing room after the show, don’t worry we won’t say anything.”

The band went straight into ‘Hollywood Nights,’ by Bob Seger as way to pay homage to the fact they were performing in Los Angeles, Hollywood not too far away. Jake was a big fan of the song and Rooster videoed the pilot dancing his heart out, spinning Nat around at times as they belted the lyrics.

Coming down to the final 30 minutes of the show, Y/n called the crowds attention, “This next song….is dedicated to someone very special in the audience. He’s turning 60 tomorrow and I’m celebrating twenty years of marriage with him in October.” Her smile became wider at the cheers, walking to the side of the stage closest to where Pete and the gang were.

“That’s you, my man!” Rooster playfully shakes Mav, the squad cheering when the camera pans to him. Giving a little wave, Pete blows a kiss to Y/n, who pretends to catch it.

“Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell everyone,” she pauses lightly, “With him tonight is someone who is practically our son—Lord knows I treat him like one,” Rooster does a little dance, the camera zooming out from Mav to capture the aviator next to him. “And some of his former students, the Navy’s finest fighter pilots, who I like to call his, ‘Dagger ducklings.’” The squad awed at the nickname, Fanboy and Coyote hugging up on the man.

“Does this mean you’re our papa duck, Mav?”

“Imma let y’all in on a little secret,” Y/n leans into the mic with a whisper, “That whole thing about us breaking up in the 90s? Yeah, it didn’t happen.” Laughing, Y/n stands back straight, “Right now I’m feeling a little sentimental. Pete and I actually met at a bar about two blocks away after we played here in 1989. It was there he….to put it lightly, swooned me like nobody had ever done before.” Dropping his head onto the railing, Pete’s shoulders shook as he laughed, the memory of that night replaying in his mind. “Maya knows what I’m talking about.”

“Sure do,” the bassist replied. “I think he put on better show than we did.”

“Oh God,” Maverick put a hand to his mouth to cover his grin. So many emotions were flooding him. Mostly warmth, but a tad of embarrassment.

If only Ice and Goose were here to see this.

“He sure did. And tonight I wanna take him and I down memory lane. So ladies and gentlemen, this is for anyone who’s lost that lovin’ feeling.”

Words couldn’t describe what Pete felt listening to Y/n sing, ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling.’ Maya and Ronnie provided the back up vocals, harmonizing with Y/n during the chorus. The entire time she sang Y/n was swaying and keeping her body faced to the section Pete was at. The two connected eyes at times, lost in each other’s gaze causing the two to feel the love radiate one another.

She sounded so beautiful. Of course it was well known Y/n was very versatile with her music and voice. She could take it high and low, mellowing out for a slow tune. There was a lot of soul in her and the band, which is not surprising since they starting in Atlanta. They grew up on blues, jazz, and classic rock. Inspired by the greats like Billie Holiday, B.B King, Janis Joplin, Elvis, Little Richard, and the Mama’s & Papas.

Pete cheered the loudest in their group when the song came to end, whistling along with Rooster. Y/n blew him a kiss, “Never lose that lovin’ feeling with me, honey.”

Not too long after it came time for the final number. “Imma need ‘Dirty Diana’ for this one,” Y/n announced, moving to the middle of the stage where the mic stand was. A crew member appeared from the side, handing over a neon green Fender Stratocaster. She pulled the strap over her shoulder, “Los Angeles, as we come to tonight’s closing I want you to know you all have, without a doubt, been the best crowd ever. L.A, you know how to bring the energy and we can’t thank you enough for what a blast it’s been playing for you all. What a way to end our tour—can’t believe it’s already over, but fear not…we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Evan, Maya, Ronnie, and Danny all say a few words, then they all thank their managers, crew, friends, and family for allowing them to put on a great show. Lastly they thank the fans in an tearfelt speach, finishing it off telling everyone to have a safe journey back home and to keep rockin n rolling. Y/n closes it out with, “Los Angeles sing this last one with us. It’s been a long way to the top,” the screams got louder, “but worth every damn second.”

Staples Center erupted, Y/n letting her hands work magic on the guitar as she played the opening riff of ‘It’s A Long Way To The To (If You Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll) .’ Then Evan came in his riffs followed by Danny’s drums. Maya and Y/n banged their head together, leaning toward one as they feed off each other’s energy.

“Oh shit!” Payback whistled, shaking his shoulder along to the beat. This was a song he used to dance to in college with his buddies. It brought back memories for the pilot, nostalgia filling him just like it was to many in the crowd.

“Ridin’ down the highway. Goin’ to a show. Stop in all the byways. Playin’ rock ‘n’ roll.”

“Gettin’ robber, gettin’ stoned, gettin’ beat up. Broken-boned. Gettin’ had, gettin’ took. I’ll tell you, folks, it’s harder than it looks.”

Pretty much everyone shouted the lyrics in the chorus, one of the most recognizable ones in music history.

“It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll!”

“It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll!”

It went crazy during Y/n’s solo that had all the pilot’s, minus Mav & Rooster, jaws drop. The entire show she hadn’t played the guitar much save for maybe two songs, but it was not to the absolute greatness she was displaying now. Evan guitar solos were off the chain, as were Danny’s drums. Then they had Ronnie tearing it up on the keys with Maya crowning herself the queen of the bass. The voice of the band, Y/n showed she was as talented with the instrument as she was putting lyrics to paper and belting them out for her heart’s desire.

They truly were one of the greatest rock bands to exist.

Even after the song ended they were going hard on the instruments, finishing the show with a literally bang. Lights were flashing, every single person on their feet, Danny and Evan hitting one last solo and instilling the moment as one for the history books.

“Thank you, Los Angeles!! We’ll see you next time! Good night and keep on rockin’!!”

11:58 pm, two blocks away at Melvin’s Planet Enterprise Bar

“Feels like deja vu,” Y/n laughed, dancing with Pete to the tune of ‘When Doves Cry’ in the familiar bar. Though it had a new name and owner, it still gave the same effect as it did in 1989. This time, however, there were posters of Y/n & the Romantics, one of which was signed and framed just above the jukebox playing classic hits and even some of theirs.

Y/n had changed out of her clothes again, wearing black jeans and tank top with a blue leather jacket that had studs and chains attached to the sides. Her makeup had been touched up, hair pulled in a ponytail. It was almost comical how the scene was just like that night in ‘89 with blue strobe lights shining down on them, making her look illuminated.

The dagger squad were in their own little world, dancing and drinking with each other and the band’s crew members. Jake was getting along quite well with someone from Y/n’s glam team, Nat chatting with a member of the security. Then there was Coyote dancing with the oldest daughter of Maya and Evan. They had rented out the place after the show, everyone hauling ass to celebrate the end of the tour. All grown up, the children of the Romantics could enjoy the night as well, not having to worry about being underage now that the youngest of the bunch had turned 21 the previous month.

When they arrived the party was in full blast, Rooster pulling Y/n to the dance floor to share a dance. Then they duetted ‘Great Balls of Fire,’ with him on the piano. Everyone sang at the top of their lungs. Pete held Y/n, head banging with her at the ‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’ bit and sneaking kisses during, ‘kiss me, baby!’

When her feet started to hurt from standing, Y/n sat in Pete’s lap and nursed a cocktail while they chatted with Hondo and Ronnie’s wife. Over in a corner Bob was on the phone with his family after his sister saw Phoenix’s instagram story, “You saw Y/n & the Romantics tonight!?! How the hell did you manage to get tickets—they were sold out!”

“Uhh….you remember my instructor from that mission awhile back? Turns out he’s marrried to Y/n L/n.”

“WHAT!?! Pete Mitchell was your instructor!?” Bob swore his mother about went into cardiac arrest, screaming when Y/n appeared on screeen after he politely asked if she would mind saying hello to his mother. The rockstar of course said yes, she loved interacting and meeting supporters. They were the reason she got to live her dream. Bob nearly cried seeing his mother in tears, overcome with emotion at the fact she was meeting her favorite singer of all time. After the call ended Y/n gave the WSO a tour program she had all the members sign, “give this to your momma for me. Tell her I hope to see her on the next tour.”

The dagger squad were literally becoming Y/n’s adoptive children by the second. Mickey couldn’t believe he got her to do a tiktok with him, then she had a shot of tequila with Reuben. As Nat danced the woman hyped her up with Maya and she had a semi dance off with Javy. Throughout the night stories were told about meeting Princess Diana in 1995, playing in New York on New Year’s Eve of 1999, the Super Bowl, and their iconic performance at the first MTV video music awards in 1984. They were like children gathered by the Christmas tree listening to her read a book. All they could think was how cool she was and the fact the band had truly changed the world of music over their spand of 40 years.

Prince’s iconic ‘When Doves Cry’ started to play just before midnight and it was like slow motion for the rockstar, moving to her husband who was already staring at her with the same expression. Now they really were back in 1989.

“It does,” Mav beamed at his wife, the song hitting it’s second verse. “Only thing missing are the cameras flashing, Ice and Slider sending me a thumbs up, and jealous looks from patrons.” His words make her giggle, throwing her head back slightly.

“Ice is definitely giving you a thumbs up with Goose,” her voice turns soft, stroking the side of his neck, “Bradley’s got his phone out. No doubt videoing us as I speak. He knows how significant this song is.”

“Remind me to have him send me it,” he tells her, dipping her suddenly causing her to squeal. Lips press to her cheek when he pulls her back up.

“Wanna know something though, hot stuff?”

“What?”

The light hitting her eyes shows off the mischief matching her smirk, “This time ‘round, you won’t just be getting a kiss goodnight. You actually get to take me home.” Thank god the lighting hid the color of his face, otherwise she would get a good look at how red it was.

It didn’t stop her from seeing the smile however, Mav shaking his head playfully. He didn’t have to reply for her to know what he was thinking. Just his laugh was enough.

As the clock stuck midnight, Y/n brought him into a sweet kiss, “Happy Birthday, Pete. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Thank you.”

The rest of the night was filled with celebration, not just for the epic end of the tour and impending induction as Rock ‘N’ Roll hall of famers, but also the life of the Navy’s most famous pilot. Until it came time to leave, not a single minute was wasted in having the best night of their lives.

All of which happened because two souls decided to go to the same bar after a concert. One a spectator, the other the performer. Both who made names of themselves in their own right, embedding their legacy forever for generations to come. It took a hell of a time to do it, but as one knows….it’s a long way to the top you wanna rock ‘n’ roll.

……………………

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry

[supercap2319]

Can you do an Archie Andrews x Male Reader where it’s a few years after the graduate and they share an apartment and for Valentine’s Day Archie takes him out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and then proposes to him? Thanks! I love your work!!

Y/N was in the living room with his socks peeking over the couch as he watched the Hallmark's list of romantic Valentine's Day movie marathon. He laughed at the cheesy plotline of each movie. It was always the same thing. Two strangers falling in love, or two enemies to lovers etc.

As Y/N laughed and threw popcorn at the TV screen as his roommate, Archie Andrews came into the room. After graduation from Riverdale highschool, they moved to New York together and got an apartment together. Archie was trying to make it with his music, and Y/N was an ace reporter for their local newspaper. He saw the mess on the floor and sighed.

"Dude, you're messing up my carpet." He chuckled.

"Dude, this is my carpet too. And you mess up our bathroom with your stinky socks and jockstraps. But you don't hear me complaining." Y/N smirks.

Archie grinned and looked at the TV. "Hallmark Rom-Coms? You've hit rock bottom."

"I feel like it too. Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I was thinking we should go out for Valentine's Day tonight and celebrate."

Y/N stopped mid-air of popcorn as he looked at Archie and laughed. "You're serious, Arch?"

"Very. So, you should start getting ready."

"But, but. We'll be giving into the cliche. It'll be packed. And I don't have anything to wear." Y/N said, trying to make reasons not to get his ass off this couch.

"I've got dinner reservations for 8:00. You've got an hour to get ready. Now, move your cute ass and get ready. I know you've got something in your closet." Archie winked and left the room.

An hour later they were both dressed in nice suits and ties as Archie took Y/N to a fancy restaurant. The ones you see in the movies. The ones only celebrities and their moms can afford.

Y/N looks around. "Arch? This is nice and all. It's very high-class, but it's too expensive. I can't let you pay for this."

Archie looks at him and gives him a sheepish smile. "Come on. We've been through a lot together. You've been there through my dad's passing. My parents' divorce. My indecise on Veronica and Betty. It's the least I can do."

"That's honorable, Arch, but I would have been happy with just burgers and shakes from Pop's."

"I miss those days. Sitting at Pop's diner for hours just you, me, Veronica, Betty, Jughead." Archie said as he blushed. "But there's another reason why I asked you here."

Y/N frowned. "What other reason would you have for bringing me here?"

Archie stood up. And looked around the room before he got down on one knee and pulled out a ring. "Y/N L/N…"

Y/N looks at him in shock as people turn to look at them. He's not going to propose, is he? "Archibald Andrew, what are you doing?"

"We've known each since we were kids. And you've always been my best friend. I have always loved you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"

Y/N wasn't sure what to say. He was so shocked and happy at the same time. He couldn't believe how vulnerable Archie was right now. He was putting his heart in the line, and just confessed in front of this whole restaurant that he loved Y/N and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

He looks at him, tears streaming down his face as he nods. "Yes! Of course I'll marry you."

There was an eruption of cheer from the crowd of people listening and watching as Archie slipped his dad's wedding band on Y/N's fingers and kissed him.

[swiftgreatest]

Everything Has Changed | Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

request by anon: "hi!:) i dont know if you take request but i would love to see eddie’s blurb where he mets his old friend from his hometown on tour and falls in love with her"

a/n: hello, thanks for request. i love your idea!! i loved write this, i really hope u like this, give me your opinion about it!!!

words: 2.3k

After hours and hours on the rond the band finally arrived in Seattle for one week with three shows in the city. All the audience was excited for this, as it was the first time Daisy Jones and The Six would be in the city and the three shows were sold out, this was one of the most talked about subjects at the moment.

Eddie was accustomed with this commotion in the cities where the band performed, hysteria everywhere, people following the bus of the band and camping at the front of the hotel, it wasn't something new for him, the band was on tour for several months.

The travels from one city to another were very tiring and boring sometimes, there wasn't much to do on the bus aside from look at the landscape, drink sth, smoke or take drugs. Sometimes Eddie used the travels to write letters and make melodies for his bass, he always wanted to write his own lyrics but he didn't have much confidence in himself, until his childhood best friend helped him with this. She encouraged him and said she was his number one fan.

The bassist catches himself remembering her sometimes, he misses her and all the things they did together, she was his favorite thing in Pittsburgh. He constantly wonders what she is doing now.

– – – –

Eddie sat in one of the empty booths of a snack bar, he and the band got off the bus and he was starving for some real food then ran out to find a snack bar and entered the first one he found.

As he looked at the menu, a waitress appeared to take your order.

"Welcome!! What would you like to order?"

"I would like some-" Eddie couldn't speak anymore after looking at the waitress who was looking at his order book. "Y/n? It 's you?" He recognized her, it was her! His childhood best friend, sweet Y/n!

"What?- Oh my God, Eddie jt's you!!!" The girl opened a smile that filled her face. She couldn't believe it, it was like a dream, her childhood best friend and secret love was there, in front of her. It's Eddie, her Eddie. O mean, he was taller now, long hair, expensive clothes, looked more confident but he still being the boy she ran away from home with to go to rock concerts in the early hours of the morning.

"I can't believe it!" Roundtree said while standing up and hugging the girl. She was taken aback by the hug but put her arms around him. Eddie couldn't even explain how much he missed it.

"Dude, how long! You're in Seattle all this time?? How I never found you??" You asked him, you've so many questions.

"No, I live in Los Angeles. I've come to work, in truth it's a long story and I-" They were interrupted by the rumbling of the bassist's stomach, oh he was so hypnotized by you that he had forgotten how hungry he was.

You laugh and he blushed with shame "Let's take it easy, sit and tell me what you want to eat and when I come back we can talk, right?"

"Right!" He sat down again and said his order to the girl.

"I'll be back in a few minutes!" You left and Eddie didn't take his eyes off you, you caught his attention, he couldn't believe he found you, you were so different, but what could he say, it's a long time, you two were different now but some feelings are still the same and still making his heart speed up.

– – – –

You was watching the boy in your front devour the food you brought, you worried about him because of all this hunger but he explained the reason to you. He also explained everything that had happened to him after you moved from Pittsburgh with your parents. The Dunne Brothers, new members, The Six, Billy, Daisy Jones, Honeycomb, Aurora and he tell about the others, Camilla, Graham and Warren, you are close in the past.

You're so happy for Eddie, he did it!! Realized his dream and looked so happy with the band, you remembered all the times you listened to him write or play something on the guitar and bass, it was so good, just you and him, listening to him sing to you and only for you.

"Eddie I'm so happy for you, that I don't even know how to express this. I'm so proud of you, you did it" You had a proud smile and looked at him with admiration.

This was so precious and valuable to Eddie, no one ever looked at him like that, no one ever admired him like you did, no one ever encouraged him as much to follow his dreams as you did, you always supported and helped him, he would never get over it or forget it. He entwined his hand in yours, it was so good to be with you.

"I'm so happy to give you prod, you always support me, and you make many things for me Y/n, you help me to be who I am and I will always be grateful for it" He cuddled your hand.

"You don't have to thank me for being who you are. You're talented and it comes from you naturally"

"And you? What have you been doing?"

You explained what happened after you moved from Pittsburgh. You spent some years in a small town with your parents until you got tired and moved alone to Seattle, you wanted new air, and the air of the big city was what you needed. You became a waitress, but you were also doing other things. You are a dancer in a dance academy and you were trying to win a scholarship to some college to become more professional in dance.

"That's amazing Y/n!! I always knew that you would be a star of dance one day"

"Oh let's not exaggerate, I'm still a little star who is getting to know this world of big stars and constellations"

"To me, you are and always have been a big star. My big star"

Oh God, didn't he realize how much he messed with you, how the way he looked at you and the things he said made you have an outburst. How could he never realize how in love you were?

"Thank you, I don't know what to say" You were going to say something but were interrupted by your boss telling you to get back to work. "I need to go Eddie, the work calls me".

"When is your turn ending?"

"At five" It was still three o'clock in the afternoon. "There are two hours left, you don't have to stay here waiting for me"

"I don't have any problem, I have been waiting for this for years, some hours won't kill me" He smiled and you smiled back. Your smile lights up his life since childhood and still.

– – – –

After two long hours of work, you finally end with your work, take your things to leave. At all this time Eddie was still sitting at the same table, sometimes he asked something to drink but only to talk with you. You smiled every time you passed by him or when you caught him staring at you, have been many times.

You both left the snack bar and walked the streets while talking, telling new stories, thoughts and problems too, it was as if everything was in the right place now, just you and Eddie keeping each other company and being honest.

Everything has changed. You and Him may have changed on the outside, but you still had a lot of your old version of the past inside of you. The same feelings still haunted you both and you still don't know how to deal with this like when you were young.

Every smile, word, memory, joke and thought connect you more and more, as in the past, or even stronger than that, you didn't want to leave this. After that reunion, Eddie promised he would never go away from you again.

– – – –

And he kept his promise, for the first he called you to go to a concert of his band, he didn't have to insist, you were crazy to see your friend on the stage and the band too.

While at the concert you admired him, you can't take your eyes off him, Eddie got a special place for you in the front of the stage. You loved the concert, they've so many good songs and the energy was from another world, unexplained.

After the end of the show, you met Eddie on the backstage, you hugged him even with him sweating and he hugged you too, holding you so strong as if he was afraid you would go away from him.

"I have some people here who need to see you" He led you into a hallway with dressing rooms and you were so involved that you didn't even realize that you entwined your hand with his. He led you into a room where Graham, Warren and the keyboard player, Karen, were.

The boys ran to you when they recognized you, you hugged both. They're so different but at the same time still were your friends from school. You introduced yourself to Karen and she was really nice with you, you like her.

"So you mean Eddie found you and didn't tell us? You were keeping her from us just for you weren't you brother?" Warren joked and Eddie gave him the middle finger.

"We have to make up for all this time" Warren said "And you know what's good for bringing people together?" He asked and after no one answered he shouted "A party!".

Everyone got excited and shouted together with him, and that's how you ended up at one of the famous band parties. You have fun all night, talking with several people, drinking, dancing and especially you did all this with Eddie who didn't leave you at any time and you didn't leave him either.

– – – –

It was like this all week, you went to the band's second concert and you see Eddie everyday since you reunited. You give him your address so he comes to see you everyday. He came early and his excuse was he didn't want to stay away from you. He took you to your work everyday.

When he didn't show he stayed with you in your house, you cooked together, Eddie was so good in the kitchen. You and him do other things like play games, watch movies, listen to discos or just talk and admire each other.

You didn't realize that, but anyone besides that can realize this, the way you look at each other, how you act towards each other, is like you have your own language and your own world.

You were so used to each other that you didn't even think about what would happen when the last show of the band was done and they left town.

One day before the last concert, Roundtree realized what was coming and that almost drove him crazy. He got nervous and so many thoughts appeared in his mind. What would you two do? Are you still friends? He didn't know what to expect, but one thing he knew. He couldn't lose you again, he couldn't live without you anymore and he was determined to do something to let you know about it, even if it changed everything.

– – – –

This is the last concert of the band in Seattle and you were there like the others, but this is different, is the last time Eddie would be in your city, you pretended it wasn't affecting you. When you realized that, you cried, you didn't want to let him leave, but what could you do? This was his dream and you couldn't ruin it just because you love him more than anything and didn't want to live without him.

The bassist noticed you were different, quiet and thoughtful, and he knew the reason, he tried not to show that it affected him too. The concert went so slowly for him. He didn't want it to end but he also needed to talk to you and couldn't hold back any longer.

After the show he took you away from others, nothing of parties or drinks for you two today, he has something different for today, something that will change your lives, for the better or worse. Roundtree took you to the roof of the concert hall, this is like a flashback from when you climbed the roof of his house to see the stars and smoke. All these memories come to you, just make you more sensible and you were holding yourself to not cry.

"I know I'm leaving tomorrow and this could change everything between us, but this doesn't need to change, I still with you, I'll be far away but I'll call you everyday, send letters and come to see you every chance I get, I won't let nothing keep us apart" He held your face with his hands " I was stupid enough to let you go once and I will never make that mistake again. Everything has changed. But I still love you. I love you all this time, keep this love with me and now that I've found you it has come back strong and clear, nothing will change my mind and if that's going to change all between us, even if it's for something worse, I'm sorry but I won't hide it, not anymore.

You didn't realize at what moment the tears started to fall down your face, you're so happy and emotional that you couldn't contain yourself. He looked at you worried, cleared your tears and when he goes try to say one more thing you kiss him. Nothing could change this, nothing could separate you now.

And this only proved that even though everything had changed, you two were still the same, and still loved each other in the same way.

– – – –

hello people, if u like reblog and like pls? my request still open and i loved write thisss

masterlist

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I have an idea but it’s not very happy end-y and I’m not sure if you are ok with including a musician who’s not in Metallica… anyway I’ll submit but it’s your blog, your rules so if it’s not your cup of tea, just ignore it, no offense)))

I was thinking Lars x reader where she’s his childhood friend but he never noticed her feelings, always chasing the girls who are traditionally “hot”. So she gives up and maybe get a job as an lawyer for Guns n Roses (with all the staff Axl pulled out, I’m quite sure they needed someone like that at every concert) and she and Slash get together? He even slows down on drugs and they get married? And she and Lars meet again at Freddie Mercury tribute concert and he asks her for a date (cause he realized everything after all) but she’s like “sorry, too late, I’m married?”

It may sound strange, but I like the stories with a sad ending. Apart from that, I can write for guns n roses ( they were my first rock band and have a special place in my heart) so if you have any request about them, don’t hesitate to ask. Having said that, I hope you like it❤

Goodbye, my first love

I had always been in the background. Growing up, I was the girl next door—the one who played tag with Lars Ulrich, the one who stayed up late talking about our dreams, our fears, and everything in between. I was his childhood friend, the girl who could always make him laugh. But no matter how many times I tried to hint at my feelings, he was oblivious, chasing after the “hot girls” who caught his eye.

In those early days, I wore my heart on my sleeve, hoping one day he’d turn around and see me for more than just a friend. We’d sit in his garage, surrounded by the cacophony of his drum practice, and I’d watch him with a mix of admiration and longing. The way he immersed himself in music, the passion in his eyes—it was intoxicating. But he was too busy flirting with girls who had long legs and flashy outfits to notice the girl sitting right beside him, the one who cheered the loudest at his concerts.

As we grew older, I realized that I was falling for him in a way that transcended friendship. I loved his wild laugh, the way he lit up when talking about his favorite bands, and the depth of his kindness. But every time he brought home a new girlfriend, it felt like another piece of my heart shattered. I was always supportive, cheering him on as he chased after one beautiful girl after another, even as I quietly wished he’d look my way.

Eventually, the weight of my unreciprocated feelings became too heavy to bear. I decided to put my energy into something more productive—my career. I immersed myself in my studies and eventually became a lawyer. My job with Guns N' Roses felt like a dream come true, a whirlwind of rock and roll chaos. For the first time, I felt like I was carving out my own identity.

In the midst of that whirlwind, I found a deeper connection with Slash. He was different from Lars—mature, grounded, yet still playful in his own right. Our late-night conversations evolved from casual banter to heartfelt discussions. He became my confidant, the one who understood my struggles, both personal and professional.

One night, after a particularly chaotic concert, Slash opened up about his own battles. “You know, it hasn’t been easy,” he said, leaning against a wall backstage, his voice low. “The drugs, the parties... it all gets overwhelming sometimes.” His vulnerability shocked me, and I felt a surge of compassion for him.

“It must be tough,” I said softly. “But I admire how hard you’re trying to make a change.”

“I’m working on it,” he replied, a hint of determination in his eyes. “But it’s been a struggle. I don’t want to let the band down, or you.”

“Slash, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” I said, taking his hand. “You can talk to me anytime. You deserve to find peace, and I want to help however I can.”

In that moment, I realized how much I cared for him. I admired his strength and the way he was trying to rise above his struggles. With my support, he began to slow down, finding healthier ways to cope. When he proposed, it felt like my past had finally been put to rest. I had moved on from Lars, embracing the life I had built with Slash—a life filled with love, understanding, and mutual support.

---

Now, standing at the Freddie Mercury tribute concert, my heart raced with a mix of excitement and nostalgia. Slash was beside me, his arm wrapped around my waist, the warmth of his body grounding me in the electric energy of the crowd.

“Ready for this?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Absolutely! It’s going to be amazing,” I replied, feeling a thrill run through me. I couldn’t wait to soak in the music and celebrate the life of an icon.

As we made our way through the throngs of fans, I spotted a familiar figure in the distance—Lars. My breath caught in my throat as memories rushed back, flooding my mind with echoes of laughter and shared secrets. He hadn’t changed much; his wild hair and infectious energy were still unmistakable. But there was something different about him—a maturity that hadn’t been there before. I felt a strange mix of nostalgia and apprehension.

“Hey, I’ll grab us some drinks,” Slash said, giving me a soft kiss on the forehead before slipping into the crowd. I watched him go, my heart swelling with love, but my attention was quickly pulled back to Lars, who was now walking toward me.

“Y/N?” he said, disbelief etched across his features.

“Lars! Wow, it’s been a while!” I replied, forcing a smile that felt a bit shaky.

“You look incredible,” he said, genuine surprise in his eyes. “I didn’t know you were working with Guns N' Roses!”

“I am,” I said, a hint of pride slipping into my voice. “I’m their lawyer now. It’s been a wild ride.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! You were always the smart one,” he said, his tone nostalgic.

“Thanks,” I replied, brushing off the compliment. I could feel the air thickening between us, an unspoken tension that stirred old emotions I thought I had buried. “And you? Still drumming up a storm with Metallica?”

“Yeah, you know it,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “We’ve been working on some new stuff. It’s exciting.”

��I can only imagine,” I said, trying to keep the conversation light, but memories of our past hung heavy in the air. “It’s great to see you doing well.”

“Thanks! And what about you? It’s nice to see you’ve found your place in all of this,” he replied, nodding toward the stage, where the atmosphere crackled with energy.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing,” I said, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “I love being part of this world.”

Lars looked at me for a moment, his expression shifting. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About how I never really saw you, you know? Back when we were kids.”

My heart raced at his words. “Lars, I—”

“Would you want to grab dinner sometime?” he blurted out, his eyes wide with hope. “I’d love to catch up more. Just the two of us.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. Memories of my long-held feelings for him rushed back, but they were tinged with the realization of how far I’d come. I glanced over to where Slash was chatting with some friends, a smile on my face as I thought about the life we had built together.

“Lars,” I said softly, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I’m really flattered, but... I can’t. I’m married.”

His expression shifted, surprise and disappointment flickering across his features. “Married?”

“Yeah,” I replied, gesturing toward Slash. “To him.”

As Lars turned to look at Slash, a wave of realization washed over him. I could see the gears turning in his mind as he took a step back, a mix of regret and longing in his eyes. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I’m really happy, Lars. Slash and I have built something special together.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of the moment settling around us. “I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Lars,” I said, meeting his gaze. “And I hope you find happiness too. You deserve it too.”

He smiled softly, the tension between us easing just a bit. “I guess I just—”

“I know,” I interrupted gently. “You didn’t see it back then. But I’ve moved on, and I’m grateful for where I am now.”

Just then, Slash returned, drinks in hand, his presence a grounding force. “Everything good here?” he asked, slipping his arm back around my waist.

“Yeah, just catching up,” I said, forcing a smile.

“Nice to see you, man,” Slash said to Lars, who gave a tight smile in return.

As we turned to watch the stage, I felt a sense of closure enveloping me. The past was behind me, a collection of memories that shaped who I was but didn’t define me anymore. I was exactly where I was meant to be, right here, with Slash at my side.

The music swelled around us, and I leaned into Slash, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. I stole a glance at Lars, who was watching the performance with a contemplative expression, and I realized we had both moved on.

Sometimes, love takes unexpected paths, and it was in that realization that I found peace.

[jewishbarbies]

random but can I vent about something that’s been bothering me?

So there’s this band I’ve loved throughout my childhood called Linkin Park (you’ve probably heard of them because they’re not a small band lol) and in 2017 the most popular member and lead singer, Chester Bennington, committed suicide. This wasn’t exactly surprising considering that he was very open about his mental struggles and in their music, mental health is a topic that’s very prevalent, as seen in their most popular song “Numb”.

But Chester himself went through a lot, he was raped/sexually abused by an older male friend when he was a kid and had other traumatic shit happen to him.

Unfortunately a lot of their music was very relatable to me in this sense and I grew very attached to the band due to it.

Now imagine my shock when Mike Shinoda and the remaining members of Linkin Park decided to come together and reunite as a group! That’s so amazing, right? And they got a female singer!!!! That’s so cool, right? Wrong.

It is a slap in the face from Mike Shinoda and the rest of Linkin Park to Chester, me, and all other victims of sexual abuse and mental issues for them to elect a Scientologist who does not believe in the concept of mental health issues as well as a defender of the convicted rapist Danny Masterson to be their new lead singer.

I’m so disgusted. This is like spitting on Chester.

It’s not that they decided to continue the band, that’s not the problem. It’s quite common for bands to continue on after a member has died or left.

Queen still continues with Adam Lambert long after Freddie Mercury has died. AC/DC replaced Bon Scott (who passed) with Brian Johnson afterwards and even Axl Rose of Guns N Roses sang in there. Journey, Motley Crue, Iron Maiden, etc.

When it comes to replacing frontmans, the genre of rock and its many sub genres are not new to the concept, and that was never the problem.

We WANTED new Linkin Park. But not like this. This is disgraceful.

I’ve been hearing about this. apparently there’s some speculation because she’s openly lesbian which is heavily frowned upon within scientology and all we have to say she’s defended Masterson is an old article saying they used to be friends and she was at the trial. that doesn’t necessarily exonerate her because to be scientology at all is concerning at best, we just don’t know 100% what the deal is, because it honestly makes no sense to me why the band would pick her if they knew all that, yknow? but i can definitely understand where everyone is coming from and why the fans are so angry, that’s totally valid. it’s all such a confusing choice for the band members to make. surely they knew the public would find out all of this? it’s just weird.

[berrymoos]

MY BABY MY BAAABYYYY .... YOURE MY BAAABY SAAAAAY IT TO MEEEEEE .... im on s13 of ninjago & he has not left my mind since s1 oughshdjshdj he's so baby

𓂃 ．．🍪🐻🧡🏵🧃

🎂 — regressor cole headcanons!

the rock of the group deserves to have some small time sometimes. what more can i say? rocks can crack too, specially ninja rocks (。-`ω-)ｰ

stress regressor, 100%. he rushes to be the responsible one of the team whenever something goes wrong, worries himself sick over mistakes, pushes himself to make up for them no matter what bc if he doesn't something could go wrong again and someone could get hurt and then his friends won't like him anymore– and all that weight on his shoulders is rough

all of the ninja r his caregivers to some capacity. every single one. all of them r strong too – kinda comes w being elemental masters / ninja n all – so they can carry him whenever they want <33 cole loves it too, they're so cozy (o^∀^o)

i don't think wu or misako know directly, but if cole ever told / regressed around them, they wouldn't be v surprised – like they know smth is up, but they won't confront him bc that's his business

lots of ppl hc cole having a kindergarten to middle / teen regressor headspace & that's SO big-brained, i eat it up every time – BUT baby cole my sweet sweet boy. infant ages to like 2yrs old. give him a rattle; he likes rattles kenwkdek

the eepiest baby ever, partially bc of how young his headspace is, partially bc he's the master of earth – it takes up a lot of his energy when he's big, but since he's so used to it, it doesn't rlly register how wiped he actually is until he's sitting down, his brain is whirling to a stop ... & then it's like “mmnn woa m eepy..” hes also very prone to regressing when he's tired; doesn't happen all the time, but it's become more often than not

(jay has, in fact, taken a picture of a sleeping cole on the couch, meme-ified it w the “why he so eepy” caption , & sent it to the gc. they went loco /pos)

on that note, he can fall asleep p much anywhere: on the couch, on the floor, over a bowl of cereal, literally anywhere. his favorite places (aside from his bed) r his friends' laps <3 he's being held? out like a light

that earth master strength Does Not magically go away when cole is small, meaning his tantrums could cost them a wall & possibly new flooring. not that he has tantrums often bc he's v chill & low-energy!

(... it happened once & jay refused to babysit for a good week. for unrelated reasons ofc /j)

OOUHEJSH loves bears sooooo much it's almost silly. he's got a black bear onesie w ears on the hood, a tiny tail on the butt, & a dark brown teddy bear to match - his fave. "we bare bears" & "little bear" are his go-to shows. he can devour a box of teddy grahams in two sittings. glamrock freddy his absolute beloved. bears bears BEARS bears bears!!!!

kai called himself a papa bear once & cole went nuts jahdkajdkw “’apa bear ’apa bear!!!! ʕ￫ᴥ￩ ʔ” — “yup, that's me, don't wear it out! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧”

ok guys wait here me out: bearcub regressor cole. makin grororgroo noises to communicate. cute little snuffles n nose wrinkles when he smells smth good. loooong naps in a blanket fort. honey added to his bottle. bearcub regressor cole

the teddy's name is muffin btw. he & mr. cuddlywump are best friends & they always have playdates together 🫶

speaking of — jay is older than cole by a few years (maybe 4-7?), so he's consistently playing the older playmate / big brother role for cole. YES he will absolutely drag the baby into mischief, but if anyone dares to try separating them he IS throwing a fit about it. also he's the only one who can turn a laid-back baby cole into a zoomin 2y/o. watch out for them.../silly

back to the rattle thing for a sec – jay has a toy drumset & nya has a toy guitar, so the three of them put on a music show for the rest of the team! they're always asked for encores & they always deliver! their band name is The Mudshockers & kai is their biggest fan👍🏾

he likes dancing but since he's unsteady on his feet the younger he is, sometimes he'll just sway his body o, bop his head, or shake his rattle to whatever beat there is – even if said beat is just in his head. other times he'll get nya or zane to dance with him when he's able to stand!

omigosh wait ,,,, zane picking cole up & bouncing him to the beat ,,,, im gonna MELT they're so cute 🥹

cole adores fuzzy / fluffy material. his element requires him to summon rocks from the ground, & rocks are hard - he deserves some soft things in his life ( =^×^= )/ᰔᩚ if any of the ninja have something visibly fluffy in his presence, they'll very quickly have a small in their lap, nuzzling them & humming contentedly. muffin & his bear onesie r his favorites because of that!

ALSO remember the casual outfit he wore in "child's play" (the ep where the ninja got turned into kids)? he managed to find the adult-sized sweatshirt of that shirt & it's now a staple regression outfit ... whenever he's not in his onesie

he's still got a MASSIVE sweet tooth, bc who would cole be w/o it? (/j) ,, the only difference is that, instead of it manifesting in “oooo chocolate cake & cookies & ice cream!!!” it manifests as “mmm baba w sugar n hunny.....” ��� not to say cole doesn't have his moments where he craves a cakepop over warm chocolate milk. zane usually is in charge of preparing his bottle bc he always gets it juuuust right

THE NINJA HAVE A BABY BAG IN CASE HE DROPS ON LONGER MISSIONS AAAAA ,,, cole's a lil embarrassed @ first & fervently insists that he won't be regressing on the mission, but it proves to be incredibly useful when he gets hungry in the middle of like, nowhere & there's a section completely dedicated to snacks & drinks

(... & when cole actually regresses bc of stress / sleepiness & they have the majority of his stuff on-hand)

jay can never escape being called a dingus no matter what. baby cole catches him doing something stupid? “ ‘ingus...”. a joke too corny for his taste? “ ’inguuus.” jay complains abt this unfair treatment, how he's being bullied by a baby & he is slandering him ... but no one comes to his aid. zane'll scoop up cole & say “hm, are you sure that was an unprovoked statement on his part?” while kai will just spout nonsense like “wooooow jay ... a power outage in ninjago city and bordering countries?” by your hands?” w/ lloyd n nya just shaking their heads. jay's like “GAAAAAAAASP, NOBODY is on my side??? coco is being a BULLY & you guys are just ALLOWING it???? i see how it is.......”. cole's laughing hysterically throughout all of this 🫶

honestly jay's the funniest person to cole when he's small. he could be being Himself & cole's losing his mind over it. nobody can compete against his hilarity no matter how hard they try. best way to tell when cole's dropping is if he's laughing way harder at one of jay's stupid jokes /silly

mmmhmdhsjshsi ,,, jay coming up w the nickname "coco" & callin him that as a joke while he's big, but cole just gets super fuzzy-brained bc ,,,,,,,, coco ........ ohohohohoh ,,,,,,, & jay is like “oh! mkay then!” now he uses it all the time when he's regressed hdksjdk

ON THAT NOTE, nya came up w "pebble", & just like "coco", it spread to the rest of the team like butter on a warm stack of pancakes. nowadays they very rarely use "cole" when he's small – why should they, when they have "pebble" & "coco" under their belts!

... kai calls him "coco pebble(s)" sometimes 🫢

spoiled to the max. he breaks the handle to his paci? don't worry, zane just ordered 6 more. he loses a stuffie? jay's giving 3 of his to him. he's hungry? nya's got several different flavors of milk in one arm & baggies filled with teddy grahams in the other. absolutely spoiled rotten

he doesn't have any of those fancy deco pacis bc hes v prone to dropping them in his sleep & doesn't wanna mess them up, so he gets the printed designed ones or the plain-colored ones & slaps some stickers on them :] he rlly likes his black-stickered paci but he's not picky!

lloyd loves joking abt how he's no longer the youngest on the team whenever cole drops. he'll walk into the room & say “guys, i'm not the youngest anymore!” without warning while cole's in his arms, half asleep w a paci

sometimes he feels like he shouldn't be regressing bc of his status as "the rock of the group" & gets hit with an influx of negative thoughts. like – he's their anchor, their strength, the glue that holds everyone together when things go south ... so what is he doing regressing of all things? if they don't have a rock, the team won't make it! all of that negativity :( hes prone to pushing down his regression & busies himself w other things until he just ... breaks. wooo :((

after day of the departed (read: cole gets his physical body back), he literally launches himself into his friends & snuggles them like there's no tomorrow in sight. for a good two weeks he's the clingiest baby boy to ever exist: holding everyone's hands, leaning against the nearest person, cuddling, sleepy cuddling – the most common occurrence bc sleepy cole is sleepy. GOODNESS hes so clingy!! if he's in the right (or ig wrong) mood he gets fussy if his human pillow moves away from him kdnfoendk. nobody minds at all; they got their baby boy back & that's all that matters <3

self-indulgent pkmn au hc: cole's midnight lycanroc may look scary (...and kind of is hssjskdje), but it's soooo sweet & gentle with him omg. it has special mittens it puts on its paws to keep from accidentally hurting him w its claws & 100% will help zane make a bottle or lloyd prepare a snack. the fur on its neck is mad fluffy - there have been many, many times someone's walked in on cole with his face stuffed in lycanroc's fur, fast asleep on its back while roc's layin there with him, tail slowly awag <3

[michelle-is-writing]

The Best Gift, Ben Hardy

Word Count: 1.6k~

Months without Ben were hard; however, I understood the reason for his time away and was happy for him. Bohemian Rhapsody was going to be one of the biggest biopics to come out in recent years, and I couldn't have been prouder knowing my husband would be in the film as one of the members of the best band to rock this earth. Even though he lied about knowing how to play the drums, he still managed to pull through and match the look and style of Roger Taylor whom he became good friends with while doing so.

Unlike some of the other films he had been in, he was allowed to take a week off every other month and come home to see Frankie and me. The last time he came home, we managed to have too much fun with each other, causing me to be in my current predicament with a sheet of hospital paperwork in my hand, informing me of my current pregnancy.

Thankfully, he's coming back this week for one last time as the filming of the movie ends this month. I was so happy to receive the text from him, telling me of his flight to come and see me, but I was also in a mix of worry and excitement at the same time. Do I tell him about the pregnancy and cause him to become anxious, therefore making him less focused on his current acting project? Or do I wait to tell him until filming is over and risk upsetting him over not telling him for so long?

While thinking about the questions, I found myself unable to decide on an answer as the sound to our apartment door opening reaches my ears. Following that is the sound of Ben dropping his heavy duffel bag on the floor before he speaks up. "(Y/n)?" I hear his familiar voice calling my name, making me smile and practically forget about my worries as I walked from our shared bedroom and into the living room.

By the front door, he stands dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans with a teal t-shirt and thin black coat. I know he's fresh off the plane, going by the luggage ticket still attached to his bag. At his feet, Frankie jumps wildly in an attempt to grab his attention which she earns as Ben reaches down to pet the overly-excited beagle's head. She's probably missed him just as much as I have.

Walking toward the two, I subconsciously place a hand over my stomach before quickly moving it to Ben's shoulder as he rises back up, pausing in his actions to stare at me with an almost dopey smile for a few seconds. Furrowing my eyebrows together in slight confusion, I go to question him, but before I can, Ben moves closer and holds me close to him in his arms. Nuzzling his head into my neck, I hear him let out a peaceful sigh followed by his tired, yet relieved voice.

"You have no idea how much I missed you, lovie," Ben tells me, gently swaying us in his hold. "I don't know how I survived the last month without you."

Giggling, I pull back in his hold to stare up at his face, his under-eyes dark with exhaustion. "I've missed you too, honey," I tell him, reaching a hand up to rest on his soft cheek. "It's late, darling. Would you like to head to bed?"

"But I just got here," Ben argues, only to yawn right after. Smiling, I stare up at him as he finally gives in, nodding at my question before walking us toward our bedroom and tossing his jacket and shirt to the other side of the room. "Alright - you dragged me in here."

With his final words, he flops onto the bed and lands on his stomach, a soft groan following. Laughing at his goofiness, I slide onto the bed next to him and lie beside him before resting my arm against his muscular back. Just with the touch of my arm, I can feel how tense he is.

"Does your back hurt, babe?" I ask, leaning up to hover over him a little.

"Yes, the bed is a little hard to sleep in when you're not in it," Ben tells me, turning his head toward me with a sly smirk. "It's my shoulder blades that hurt, that's all," he explains, shutting his eyes as he sighs. "All the drumming and such takes a toll after a while."

After a few seconds of thinking, I smile and move to crawl on top of Ben's back, my legs on either side of him. Turning his head farther toward me, he raises a questioning brow. "A massage will help your tense muscles," I tell him, placing my hands down on the soft skin of his back before gently kneading the tough flesh. "Just relax."

As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel Ben's tense body soften beneath me, and despite him loosening up, my brain reminds me of my earlier dilemma. Should I tell him about my pregnancy this early on? He deserves to know - hell, he has every right to know as he's apart of this with me.

"You are a miracle worker," Ben nearly moans out, making me smile with a laugh. Biting my lip, I ponder my options for a few more seconds, and despite wanting to save him the worry of me being pregnant, almost every part of me is shouting to tell him.

"You know," I begin, letting out a silent shaky breath. "Soon enough, I'll be too heavy to climb on your back," I tell him, gently climbing back onto the covers so I can see Ben's face.

Sitting beside him, I watch as Ben turns his head to curve another eyebrow at me in utter bewilderment. However, I continue smiling and place a hand on my barely risen stomach as I say my next statement with happy tears forming in my eyes. "The doctor told me you're supposed to gain weight during pregnancy."

Almost immediately, Ben realizes the obvious truth behind my words and jumps up to sit on his knees, grinning like crazy. "We're pregnant?" He asks, placing a warm hand over mine on my stomach. His words cause the tears in my eyes to overflow as I nod, my heart beating like crazy. Without a second to spare, Ben pushes his lips onto mine as his other arm slides around my waist to pull me against him, his chest firm and warm.

"Are you happy?" I ask Ben, pulling away to resume gazing at his face overflowing with emotions. It's almost like my question shocks Ben as he lets out a small elated laugh, his excited face never changing in the slightest. It's almost like watching a little boy on his birthday.

"Of course, I'm happy!" He exclaims, pressing his forehead against mine. His arm around me tightens a little, only to relax before moving his hand to rest beside his other hand on my tummy. "How far along are you?" Ben asks, his voice using the gentlest tone I have ever heard.

"Twelve weeks," I answer him, watching as his happy smile turns into a small frown. By the looks of his hurt face, I know Ben thinks I've been holding back on telling him, but I haven't. Ultimately, I'm glad I didn't, and his face right now makes me thankful I chose to tell him now instead of later. "But I just found out last week."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asks, making me smile. I am really happy I told him now instead of waiting.

"I wanted to surprise you," I explain to him, pressing my face closer to his to lay a kiss to his cheek. "And even though this wasn't the best way to surprise you-"

Ben promptly cuts me off, pulling back a little to face me with an incredulous smile. "Are you kidding me?" He asks with a chuckle in disbelief. "This is the best surprise I have ever gotten!" He further exclaims, moving his hands to hold my smiling face. For a few seconds, the air around us grows quiet and the only thing I feel is Ben's gentle, but slightly rough thumbs running against my cheeks.

"And I have you to thank for it," Ben speaks up after a few moments, moving forward to press a kiss to my forehead. His lips linger there for a moment before pulling back to look down at my barely risen belly. "What should we name her?"

"Ben!" I say his name with a laugh, making him turn back up to me with his bright blue eyes and an equally bright smile. "It's too early to decide that, and besides, we don't know what the sex is yet," I remind him, but Ben just continues staring at me with the same joyous stare. "What?" I ask him, amused by the way he's acting.

Sitting back up straight, Ben lets out a happy sigh. "When I walked in, I noticed something different - good different - about you," He explains, "It was like you were even more beautiful, and looking at you now, I know why," With that, Ben smiles again before moving close and placing his lips back on top of mine, love and passion filling the kiss as I feel one of his hands resume their place on my belly. "Pregnancy glow looks good on you~"