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mintmatcha · 6 months

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Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

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When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day.

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love.

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin.

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

“Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints.

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly.

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.”

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him.

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point. You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks.

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please," he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is.

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today. “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

“Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind.

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day.

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall, meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.”

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink.

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful.

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers.

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you.

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way.

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too.

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

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frogchiro · 1 year

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okay wait why am i now just hearing about butcher/slasher ghost, and why am i foaming at the mouth!!!???! like ripping apart pillows, tearing down walls, doing flips—RAHHH i am officially OBSESSED!!

i read it and thought of texas chainsaw massacre, but it’s the 2006 one so like simon is an absolute menace but he sees a pretty lady who’s new to town and his cold killer heart just can’t help but swoon :((( and she’s so polite, nervous, and timid because it’s so different in this town and simon with his cursed blessed keen sense of smell

OH MY GOD BUT SLASHER GRAVES IN A SMALL TOWN DOWN IN TEXAS!!!?

so sorry if this is a lot!! 😣 i’m just a little obsessed 🤭🤭 either way, have an amazing day!! stay hydrated and make sure to eat 🩷🩷

HOW THE FUCK DID I NEVER THINK OF SLASHER GRAVES

My dear, I know that you probably expected Butcher!Ghost but I'm highjacking this ask now and writing slasher Graves because oh my god-

The setting I imagine to be in a small southern town in Texas, and I imagine it to be like one of those creepy, small southern gothic towns with the old abandoned churches, houses and old beaten up signs that say "His return is near" or "God is watching you", you get the idea.

And there we have Philip Graves who owns a big ranch passed down for generations in his family, and by big I mean HUGE. Enormous pastures, corn fields, cows, horses, pigs and all that which means he and his name is quite well know in the area which admittedly makes his...hobby a lot easier than you'd think. Graves has friends in high places and he's buddy buddy with the town's sheriff, basically the golden child of the town which means that both the police and the sheriff will turn a blind eye to the "sudden disappearances" of people, be it locals or newcomers to town.

But the thing is that Philip Graves is bored. Bored out of his mind and nothing seems to excite him anymore, not even the desperate hysterical screams of his victims do the thing anymore. Sure he definitely has the money, the looks that refined well with age, he's respected and liked in the community but the truth is-he doesn't give a shit about it.

I imagine that Slasher!Graves is an incredibly arrogant man, and while he may put on a pleasant facade, his accent a thick and purring drawl and his southern charm do the trick he's a whimsical and capricious prick who gets easily bored and when he does...Well let's just say that it doesn't end pretty.

So imagine how surprised he was when he was in town once in his pickup truck, cowboy hat low on his brow as he watched the cars go by when suddenly his eyes were caught by a bus, one of those that travel for very long distances and the only person who got out was you. To say that Philip's interest was piqued would be an understatement; what's a pretty soft little thing like you doing in this bumfuck nowhere in Texas?

A pretty young lady, seemingly around 20, who looked like a lost little lamb, but just what were you doing here? Everything about you screamed that you're obviously not from here and while he could see even from a distance that you tried to act confident, his sharp blue eyes saw right through that act-you were scared shitless and more than lost. Were you here to visit someone? Or maybe...you are running from something? Whatever the case was, you definitely caught his attention in more than one way.

You just looked...so soft, so pretty, lovely he'd even say and I'm sorry but this Graves that we're talking about would definitely be a little misogynistic :(( He's old fashioned, maybe it comes with his age or maybe due to how his pa raised him but the further he observed you the more he he couldn't help but think about how such a pretty young lady like yourself should be married off already to a nice gentleman, getting provided for like you deserve and in return takin' care of your husband too; bringing him beer, cookin' and popping out a kid or two :((

His train of thoughts got interrupted only by a loud booming voice calling out his name cheerfully and when he turned around annoyed to see who was interrupting him, it turned out to be old Michael, an old friend of his pa. He greeted him politely but when he turned around to watch you a little more it turned out that you already wandered off, sneaky girl.

Philip cursed under his breath but on the other hand he decided to just ask the sheriff about you since he knows that the man has access to all the information about any newcomers to town. It looks like his bored streak came to an end <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #this is literally godsend #slasher!Graves #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves

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msookyspooky · 1 year

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Goin' Hunting

You've been running from Bo all around Ambrose for the last hour...And he finally catches you in the woods.

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader • CNC • Dubcon • S/M • Master/Submissive • Primal Play • Outdoor Sex • Rough Penetration VP • Fingering • Humiliation • Domination • Degredation • Praise Kink • Later; Established Relationship and Brat Dynamic from Reader

No Word Count. Not proofread.

Your heart pounded as you sprinted to the woods. God damn it, you were so close! So fucking close to escaping.

Gasping for air, legs aching, knees weak and stumbling as you kept running...You heard a long...Low... Whistle...Somewhere behind you in the woods.

You froze, plastering yourself up against a tree. Sweat was dripping down your face and into your eyes as you blinked it away. It was pitch black outside except for a Quarter Moon. Bryer bushes scrapped exposed skin except for your jeans and flannel. It was October in Ambrose...Still warm for Louisiana but there was a damp heaviness in the air that made a chill ghost over your skin.

"C'mon out, darlin'....Ya ain't gettin' away. Ya know this...YER JUS' MAKIN' IT HARDER ON YERSELF!" He yelled out with both amusement and frustration lacing his thick Southern Accent. He was a predator. Through and through. He looked at you not like a human but like some scared little rabbit running from him.

You knew what he'd do if he caught you.

You covered your mouth, eyes wide to try and not say anything. Trying not to whimper as your eyes darted to the side.

He was in blue coveralls and that hat that read sweetbird 69. His tall broad shouldered frame crept past your tree and you felt your heart drop out. Trembling with anxiety as he looked around and looked the other way before huffing to himself and walking away from back where he came.

You felt your shoulders untense as you finally took a tiny, quiet breath you were holding. Slowly releasing your mouth and waiting a few moments. You snuck a peek seeing he wasn't there. He must have went back to the road or to Ambrose to hunt for you.

You took the risk to make a run for it. Lester! If you could get to the road, if he saw you, he could get you out of here and you could win this.

You shoved off the tree taking off before releasing a scream when you got tackled to the ground.

"GOTCHYA!"

You struggled and he slammed you down with a grin. "Shh, shhhh." He told you as you fought him. Trying to crawl away from under him with fistfuls of leaves and soil in your fingers as he just grabbed you by your thighs and dragged you back to him.

"I don't think so, honey." He growled out and with a slight grunt flipped you onto your back where you had even less leverage.

"Get the fuck off me!" You yelled, teeth gritted as you tried shoving him off. "Motherfucker, get off!!"

He just chuckled at your attempts to shove his big self. He was well over 6'1, probably close to or was 180 lbs of muscle mostly and had an aggression in him that just spurred him on.

He grabbed your jaw and squished your cheeks. "Shhh...Shh, it's okay. It's over now. Ya aint gotta fight no more."

You kept struggling, grunts and cries escaping you as you screamed.

"Go ahead! Scream all ya want, sweetheart. Yer gonna be doin' plenty of it tonight...Ain't nobody around to hear ya." He mused with a sadistic smirk.

You tried to use your hand to shove him off by his face and he just grabbed both your wrist and jerked them down. Pinning them to your sides. Your heart hammered, your body trembled, a tingling went through your whole body at realizing just how strong he was. No matter your strength, he was stronger and had the upperhand...He could do whatever he wanted and you were helpless.

He smiled down at you. A bit of sweat curling his hair near his forehead as he caught his breath a bit from chasing you. "Yer a fun one, ain't ya?" He shoved you down more as you flinched with wide eyes. "Gave me quite a workout chasin' yer fine ass all over town. But I won. And now? I think I deserve a prize for winnin'."

He came foreward and tried to kiss you and you tried to bite him. He just laughed heartily in amusement at you. "Biting are we? I didn't take you for a feral dog...More like a sweet lil toy I get to use...Is that what you are? My toy I get to use?"

"Fuck you!"

"Don't you worry bout that. Imma do plenty of it out here." He retorted with a dark chuckle.

"You'll never get away with this! You don't have to do this, I won't tell, please!" You tried to reason as you felt him switch your wrist so he had you by one hand, pinned over your head. The other large hand of his roamed with that black and silver ring reflecting off the moon every so often. You could see his veins in his hand as he jerked at your belt and you whimpered and shook your head.

"Hey." He sternly told you before his voice became sweet and mocking once more. "You're gonna be a good lil thing for me, ain't ya? It'll only hurt for a lil bit. Jus' a few minutes of pain, nothin' too bad. I'll be done before ya know it."

He unsnapped your belt with one hand and worked on the button of your jeans as you fought and struggled in a panic. "N-No! No, don't-"

He cut you off by shhing you again. His blue eyes gleaming down at you with his pupils dilated. A sick smirk on his face. He was enjoying seeing you almost in tears, seeing you scared, feeling you fight him. He was a sadist, that was for sure.

You screamed and used your last bit of strength to knee him in the lower side as hard as you could. He grunted as you got away. But just enough to get a foot away before he grabbed you while you both were still on the ground.

He shoved you into a sitting position against the base of a tree. "Now, why ya fightin' for? Yer jus' makin it worse on yerself!...That knee kinda hurt, sweetheart. " He grinned that lopsided grin of his with his brows furrowed a bit. "The more ya fight, the worse its gonna get. I was gonna go easy on ya but now? I think you need tore up a lil bit. Need those sexy thighs to have some bruises even a few welts on that nice ass too-" He smacked the side of your ass through your jeans with a smirk. "I think you can handle it."

You stared at him with wide eyes as he held you by the throat up against the tree. On his knees while you sat. Everytime you raised an arm he squeezed tight enough to make your vision blurred. Once your arms fell to your sides he loosened it just enough to let you get tiny breaths of air. "Good...tha's a good toy for me."

You had tears in your eyes, gasping for air, sweat dripping off you as you could do nothing now. He was in control and he knew it. You felt small, helpless, vulnerable.

You whimpered with a cut off cry as you felt his calloused fingers dip into your jeans and feel your pussy. Running along the outers lips and just barely dipping in.

He pulled his hand out with a giant grin and a laugh at how wet you were. Coating his fingers in long slick trails of wetness from...The excitement? Adrenaline? Your body just reacting to this situation? Either way, you jerked your head away with shame.

"Ain't that jus' beautiful... It's like you know jus' how to turn yerself on...." He ripped your jeans off and then ripped at that flannel to expose you more. "I think yer startin' to like this, baby...Do you like this? Do you like knowing I can take whatever I want from your body and you can't do nothin' to stop it? Ya like the rush of fightin' an' runnin' from me?"

You furiously shook your head and gasped when you felt his thumb make rough circles over your clit. Jolting and trying to squirm away with no where to go. He used his hand to jerk your head to look at him while he kept rubbing your now hardening clit. "Ah, ah. Yer gonna look at me and tell me how much this is turning you on."

You shook your head with his fingers still digging into your jaw. You grit your teeth trying to ignore the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. "No...No, I don't."

He smirked. "Really? That why yer pussys so wet?" He jeered. "Now...Say it."

You refused stubbornly and he pinched your clit lightly hood and all. Your back arched and jolted in pain and pleasure at the same time. But the pain was a bit more as he did it again harder this time as you forced out with shut clenched eyes. "I enjoy it!"

He chuckled and gently rubbed soothing circles over your aching clit. "There ya go...Oh sweetheart. That is so sensitive! I can't wait to make ya scream for me." He grabbed your chin roughly again and forced you to look at him while he rubbed you there.

You tried so hard not to give him the satisfaction of seeing your body betray you. But your brows rose up and your mouth parted as he smeared some wetness over your clit and used two calloused fingers to rub underneath and all around your aching bundle of nerves.

He smirked that lopsided toothy grin at you. "I don't know about you, Sweetheart, but my bodies tellin' me to take somethin' from this lil situation...What's yer body tellin' you?"

You whisper to him, face hot and tears in your lashes. "P-Please, don't."

A dark brow rose as his fingers dipped down lower. "Yer beggin'? Funny, I don't remember askin'. Ya need to realize somethin' here, darlin'...I'M in charge. Not you. And I don't remember askin' for permission or askin' if you wanted this...This is allll for me."

"P-Please-"

"Hush." He jeered, seeming to get short with you as his thick masculine digit barely went in before he took it out and did two. Your mouthed opened in a shaky gasp as he kept talking. "Now we're gonna do this my way. You just need t' shut up and let me enjoy this moment without all that bitchin'."

His fingers stretched you but there wasn't too much resistance with how wet you were. Just a short moment of discomfort with the sudden stretch before he started curling his fingers and twisting them up into that cushioned frontal wall. The man was the devil.

You couldn't even contain the whimpering moan as he kept a firm grip on your chin so he could see your face at all times.

"Oh God, don't." You softly moan out as he just picked up the pace on your already adrenaline high turned on body.

"I don't think ya get it, darlin'...This is happening one way or another. Here in Ambrose, yer gonna learn what I say goes and if I want to make yer body get an ounce of pleasure before I have my fun then that's jus' how it'll be...Just relax." He cooed the last part with an evil smirk.

This wasn't for your benefit. He just loved forcing it out of you. Loved seeing the shame on your face as your own body betrays you.

You released a sobbing sort of moan. He leaned forward. "Just...Give in Sweetheart." He chuckled and got closer to whisper in your ear. "I'm sure you'll enjoy yerself. Jus' let it feel good."

His fingers kept doing that upward tickling motion on your g spot as your thighs started to quiver. A gasp escaped you as he kept coaxing you with his fingers and his words to cum.

He grinned when you moaned louder, feeling your inner muscles clench his fingers a bit as that heated started pooling in you. "Oh, no more fight in ya, huh? Where did that fiesty lil fighter go?" He pulled his fingers out as you whined in protest. So close you could almost taste it. "Oh so you liked that. Well you ain't enjoying nothin' without me." He started undoing the fly on his coveralls.

You tried to have some resistance. Some form of pride left as you felt tears running down your cheeks and you numbly shook your head. In a pleading tone. "No."

He sternly told you in a half sneer half smirk. "I don't remember askin' you a damn thing about what you wanted." He pulled himself out. Hard as can be and even leaking a bit as he pumped his cock a few times "Whaddya think this dance is for? Yer in Ambrose now. This is what we do to sexy lil things like you that get in over their head."

He grabbed your arms and pushed in. Your head reeled back and...God damn...He felt...Good. He shouldn't! But his was such a perfect size and shape to you in your nervous, excited, fearful and turned on body. You could feel a second hearbeat in your clit and your inner walls ached. They ached so bad from his teasing that the stretch felt like much needed itch that had to be stratched. It hurt a little at how forceful he pushed in but it hurt so good at the same time as your head snapped back and your hips bucked at the sudden intrusion with a strangled cry from your lips.

He chuckled, not moving for only a few seconds. Grinning in pure sadistic pleasure. "Oh you like that, don't ya?" He pulled out thrust forward with a harsh grunt while gripping your hair; forcing you to look at him. "If I remember correctly, this whole thing!-" He thrust harshly again as you saw stars and felt a deep aching soreness in your lower abdomen that hurt but fuck it was a good hurt. The type of pain that was easily overlooked for the building pleasure you were feeling. "-Started from you trying to fight me so hard!" He grunted again through clenched teeth as he thrust hard into you, this time it hit deep and you cried in pain a little. "Well how you like it now, huh? Ya like it rough?"

You tried to bite your lip and shake your head and then the bastard switched it up. Pulling out halfway and doing short but fast trusts right on your g spot and you groaned low in your throat. He laughed at that.

"Oh yes you do, darlin'. All that fighting in the beginning? You just wanted me to get this out of your system." He kept thrusting grunting a bit as he leaned in and nibbled at your ear. "You like it when I'm in charge. Yer just too shy to admit it."

You gasp and tremble as that thrusting is so damn firm and hard and fast and the fucker angled his hips upward. He knew what he was doing as you felt your inner muscles involuntarily clench around him.

"There we go, beautiful. Now ya ain't thinkin' bout it s' hard." He raised your chin to look at him. "Ya don't wanna ruin this moment. Cause this might be the best moment of whatever time you got left...So just enjoy the ride." He let go of your chin and shoved your thighs upward while thrusting deeper and fadter. "Oooh fuck, baby...Shit." He grunted out with a tiny moan himself as he went hard in you.

Your eyes rolled back and a tiny grunt of 'no', 'please', 'I can't' escaped you every thrust as your inner muscles betrayed you. Starting to do a milking motion around his cock on their own as he moaned a bit.

"Oh, that's it. S' good for me...It's alright, sweetheart. Nobody has to know ya like this. This can be yer dirty lil secret."

"I d-don't." You forced out not even believing it yourself as your face screwed up in pleasure the deeper he went.

"Hah, there's that face again." He grunted out with a slight smirk. Sweating and face flushed as he drove into you. "Ya can't hide it, darlin'. I can see it in yer eyes. I know you like this. Your sweet pussy keeps suckin' me in...Sopping wet....Urgh!" He groaned when you involuntarily clenched and it made his face screw up into a sneer as he pounded you on the forest floor against the base of that tree. He jerked your head back by your hair. "You love this. It's why I can make ya do anything. You're mine in Ambrose. You do what I say and you love it or learn t' love it."

"Noo-" You moaned out feeling yourself getting closer as tears kept pricking your eyes.

"Yes!" He laughed out through a moan while his blue eyes stared into yours. "You're doin' such a good job of makin' this fun for me. What a good toy you are, fightin' me and actin' like you don't like it. Yer goddamn pathetic, darlin'. A filthy, naughty lil liar whose pussy is betrayin' em."

You trembled, high pitched cries escaping you. "Yess-" You shook yourself realizing with shame you just said that. "No." You gasped.

He grinned while he kept thrusting a spot you seemed to like. "Yeah, ya like it. I think this whole chase was jus' you puttin' up some walls so you didn't look so desperate...You're so pathetic darlin'. Don't try to fake it. You love this. Maybe I'll keep ya around a lil longer and walk ya around Ambrose on a leash? Show anyone and everyone what a good pet I can make you be...You'll get addicted to this, sweetie...Good lil whore-"

You couldn't contain it any longer as those wonderful tingles and seering heat just washed over you. You hung your head back and yelled out in orgasmic bliss as he kept fucking you. He was right, you did scream. You couldn't even hold it back and you didn't want to. This was too damn animalistic and primal and wrong not to cry out.

He stuttered his hips a bit at how hard your pussy was clenching him as your hips bucked. "Fuckin' shit, honey." He gasped out. As soon as you calmed down and your muscles where just contracting every so often he huffed with a smirk. "Ooh you are such a lil freak, darlin! I haven't had one like you in too damn long. Maybe I was wrong...You're not pathetic, yer disgusting. Yer body doesn't lie as much as yer mouth does." He leered with a sadistic grin as he panted while thrusting.

You laid there satisfied. The adrenaline gone...The game over as you gave him a lazy smirk while he kept thrusting.

He looked a bit perplexed while moving slower in you. "What's that face for? Ya finally ready to admit yer nothin' but a naughty toy for me?"

You grinned and leaned forward to kiss his nose. He completely stopped thrusting. Looking with wide eyes and a faint tinge to his face before giving you a wry smirk. "Hey, jus' cause the games over for you don't mean it is for me....Stop bein' sweet, damn it."

You chuckled, blissed out on cloud nine. God Damn that was the type of orgasm that...You need a nap, a drink, a cigarette. Fuck. All you could do was with tear streaked cheeks and watery eyes and a heated face just give him that dumb satisfied grin.

He thrust a few more times before you decided to help a bit. Tired of the game and wanting your lover to hurry up so you could go shower and cuddle in bed all night. You used those inner muscles to clench and unclench while swiveling your hips the best way you could. He gasped out. "Hey! Heey, I'm in charge!... Urgh, fuckin' damn it YN!" He screwed his face shut and groaned low in his throat as he thrusted a few more times before panting and staying in one spot. "...Shit....Uh fuck." He panted out before looking back up at you. Giving you an annoyed look.

"...We'll have to think of a better punishment for you. Yer too damn freaky and I'm gonna have to be creative. Yer such a bad lil thing." He finally cracked a smile himself.

You were out of subspace. The chase and fighting and roleplay was over as you huffed with a coy smile. "I am not."

He pulled out of you and just held you for a moment. "Oh, yes you are. It's okay to be naughty jus' don't be so stubborn bout it." He looked at you before kissing your forehead with a sigh. "But it does make it more fun. You're such a perfect toy...Still gotta make you work for it though."

I scoffed. "Why?"

He smirked down at you. "Cause you'll be the most spoiled brat if I let you get whatever you want whenever you want. You're insatiable. I'll never get anything done around here!"

"Oh no, spoiling me? How awful." You chuckled and he smiled fondly down at you in return.

He stared down at you, using his thumb to caress your cheek. This was...It was interesting. You WERE a victim...You and him bonded during your time in that room. What started out as a supposed Master/Slave dynamic quickly became something more the more he got to know you. He fought it hard but after a while he couldn't deny his caring for you. You were that missing piece. It helped your inner freak matched his. You brought out his sadism to the point he rarely got other victims. You were too fun. And he brought out that side of you that wanted to be dominated and taken care of. This chade thing was your idea after you taunted him he was gonna get too tired to chase victims eventually anyways. All it took was a 'wanna bet?' and that predatory sadistic look in his eyes and you took off in both fear and glee making him work for it the last hour. You playing like you hated it and fighting him was all part of the game.

"What?" You asked as he gazed down at you.

"...Thinking how much I hate you. How damn soft you've made me." He had his hand around your throat. "Should've killed ya months ago. Ain't never let a toy get this comfortable."

You knew he was bluffing as you gazed up at him with soft eyes. You quickly found a look that made him weak and you pulled it out when you really needed it. His eye twitched in irritation as he kissed you. "Damn you..."

You kissed him chaste and sweet before telling him pleasantly. "You love me."

I tiny smile tried tugging his lips. "I tolerate you." He lost the smile, sighed, then just let it come back again. "...I do care for ya quite a bit though, honey. I ain't felt like this in too damn long."

"Sounds like love but you're too stubborn. C'mon, say it. 'I love you'."

"Glad to hear you admit it, brat." He huffed in bemusement while giving mock anger. "You ain't in charge here."

"Come oonnn, it's just us in the woods! Ain't like you haven't said it before. " You teased softly.

He groaned, rolling his eyes and acting more annoyed then you knew he was. "Fine. I love ya, ya fuckin' pain in the ass....Should've left the glue on yer mouth when I had you tied to that chair." He sighed with a slight smirk. "Come on. Let's go home." He helped you up. His body language of steadying you and his eyes roaming over you to make sure he didn't hurt you as much as normal victims; betrayed him. You were so tempted to retort 'something something...Body's not lying as much as your mouth does-" But you relented. Getting your pants back on.

You flinched when moving.

He looked pleased with himself. "Sore?" All before looking at you tenderly. That look reserved only on rare occasions for you. "C'mon, baby. Let's get you home...This was fun."

You let him lead you, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

You finally said once you got out of the woods. "I almost made it to the road. You know the rules...If Lester or some car picks me up to lead me back to Ambrose? I'm in charge. You will be MY toy for a change."

He let out a hearty laugh. "That ain't happened yet and it ain't gonna."

You gave him a determined smirk. "Wanna bet?"

"Are you challenging me? Yer gonna lose, darlin'. Remember your place...But fine. Jus' cause I know I'll win. How bout we do this again tomorrow night if you can walk properly."

You chuckled. A bit sore but too satisfied to care. "You're on, Bo...What collar do you wanna wear when I win?"

He smacked your ass while walking with an amused chuckle. Clearly not thinking you could win. "Oh shut up. I'm just gonna make that punishment even worse next time, smart ass." But he pulled you close and bent down to kiss your forehead as you both walked the empty Ambrose streets back to the house.

#Here my children. I have brought food. 🤲#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #bo sinclair #bo sinclair house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair smut #afab reader #afab reader smut #house of wax imagine #how 2005 #how imagine #house of wax (2005)#house of wax imagines

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harrywavycurly · 2 months

Note

I’m nervous for her to meet Jeff😬😬

Hiii lovey!! I mean…yeah I would be nervous as well but it’s gonna be okay! I hope you enjoy💖

-find everything Southern Comfort here✨

A/N: You and Jeffery have things to discuss while Harry doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do so he does what he does best…slightly panics while trying to steal a brownie, don’t worry this starts off rocky but ends on a good note✨

“I’m just curious how you didn’t know him at all?” Harry rubs his lips together as Jeff looks at you from across Harry’s kitchen table, breaking the silence the three of you had found yourselves sitting in for the past few minutes. You raise an eyebrow at him as you lean onto the table, making sure your elbows are hanging off because even when you’re a little annoyed you still have proper table manners. If Harry’s being honest he doesn’t know when the shift in the atmosphere took place, all he knows is that the moment Jeff walked in the door and didn’t offer you more than a handshake and a tight lipped smile as a greeting and the three of you sat down for lunch the two of you have been somewhat glaring at each other from across the table.

“Would you know Ronnie Dunn if you ran into him in Target? Just by looking at him or by his voice alone?” Your accent is thick as your tone comes out harsh while you glare at Harry’s manger. “You probably wouldn’t and you want to know why? He’s a country music singer and you don’t strike me as a country music man Jeffery. So believe it or not I really didn’t know who Harry Styles was just because I had heard his voice a few times on the phone and then ran into him in a grocery store.” You explain as you feel Harry’s hand gently rest on the top of your thigh so he could give it a soft squeeze in a sad attempt to calm you down.

“True I don’t know who that is and maybe you didn’t know Harry but everyone knows One Direction.” He answers and you roll your eyes and you can’t help the annoyed laugh that escapes your mouth making Harry look slightly on edge as his eyes go from you to Jeff and then back to you.

“I told Harry I had heard of One Direction I just didn’t know any of their names. I knew that one song-”

“She knew What Makes You Beautiful.” Harry cuts you off because he knows you never can remember the name of the song and he just shoots you a playful wink when you look over at him with a soft smile.

“You know it’s not always easy being Harry’s girlfriend right?” Harry swallows hard as he feels his heart begin to beat faster at Jeff’s almost threatening tone of voice.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it but thanks for the warning.” Jeff and Harry both raise their eyebrows but Jeff is looking at Harry while Harry is looking at you.

“Are….you not my girlfriend?” He asks as you turn your head to look at him and you just give him a reassuring smile as you place a hand over his that’s on your thigh.

“This isn’t a conversation for us to have in front of someone else sugar but we can talk about it later okay?” You lean over and place a kiss to his cheek making his cheeks turn pink while Jeff is still staring at Harry with a confused expression written all over his face.

“How many people know about the two of you?” You turn your attention back to Jeff as he crosses his arms over his chest making you roll your eyes at how intimidating he is trying to come off and if you weren’t raised any better you would’ve told him it wasn’t working so he could drop the act but lucky for him you know how to handle yourself in situations like this, for the most part.

“What you’re really asking is if I’ve told anyone about Harry and I right? That’s what you want to know?” Harry feels his nerves begin to rise as he glances at his bestfriend who is clearly not enjoying the tone the girl sitting across from him is using but in her defense Harry isn’t exactly sure why Jeff is being so hard on her especially since this is their first time meeting. “I’ve told three people.” Harry turns to look at you and he can’t help but feel a little shocked at the low number, he thought for sure you would’ve told more people than that but then again he also thought you were his girlfriend up until two minutes ago.

“That’s it?” You give Harry’s hand a little pat as you look at him so you can explain why you’ve only told a few people, you know him well enough now to know by the tone of his voice that he’s a little upset and you know all the wild thoughts that are swirling around that head of his are all probably negative and telling him you’re not proud to tell people about him.

“Well now honey I told my momma and that means she told my dad but then my brother called because he saw some photos of us on the internet so I told him so he wouldn’t fly over here and cause a scene and you met Kathy so of course I told her about us.” Harry feels his nerves about the possibility of you not wanting people to know about him wash away as you speak to him in that soft extra sweet voice he swears you only use on him. But then a whole new set of nerves begin to creep up on him at the realization that you told your mom and older brother about him.

“I’ll happily tell more people about us sugar when there’s uh well…when there’s something more to tell them..you get what I’m saying?” Harry understands what you’re saying so he just nods as he leans over and before he can stop himself he’s placing a quick peck to your lips making you smile as he pulls away, you give his hand a little squeeze as you turn your attention back to Jeff, that’s your way of letting Harry know it was okay that he kissed you in front of someone seeing as that’s the first time that’s ever happened because normally he saves the loving touches and smooches for when it’s just the two of you.

“I just hope you don’t get too comfortable with this schedule you have with him right now.” Jeff uncrosses his arms and leans on the table as he glances at Harry quickly before looking at you. “He won’t always be avaible whenever you want him like he is now once his album is done and a tour is finalized.” Harry bites down on his bottom lip as you take in the words Jeff just spoke and before he knows what’s happening he feels his hand fall from your thigh as you stand up so you can turn and face him with your hands on your hips.

“Harry Edward Styles what in the hell have you told this man?” Jeff’s eyes widen as you say Harry’s full name meanwhile Harry finds himself fumbling over his own limbs as he tries to stand up but you just give him a hard glare that makes him stop his movements.

“I just told him we see each other a lot.” He answers as he reaches for your hand but you ignore him and turn so you’re now facing a very confused looking Jeff.

“I feel like my little sugar plum has gotten this whole thing more tangled than a fishing line in a tornado.” Even though he knows you’re upset with him Harry can’t help but smile at your little expression he’s never heard before. “From the moment I hit him in the ankle with my buggy at the grocery store this man has been trying to spend every single moment with me and if he had it his way he’d be with me from sunrise till sunset so I don’t like the way you’re making it seem as if I’m just calling him at all hours of the day trying to steal him away from you and his work because it’s the opposite of what’s actually going on between us.” You motion towards Harry making Jeff look at his bestfriend in shock because he knows Harry can be a bit clingy but this is a new level that he’s never seen before.

“I don’t under-”

“You see Jeffrey this man right here.” You point to Harry who lets out a sigh when he realizes you’re about to expose all the things that may or may not make him seem like an obsessive creep to his manager bestfriend. “He sent me flowers to my work the day after we met in the grocery store and I know you’re probably like oh that’s nice well let me tell you something right quick…I never told him where I worked he just saw the name of the school I worked at on the shirt I had on when we met so he googled it and then got the address and sent them to me.” Jeff leans in as you speak, you’re still standing but now with just one hand on your hip the other down at your side. “Then the next day he invited himself to a yoga class I was going to and from that day on he tried to wiggle himself into my plans every chance he could get until he finally asked me on a date and then it just got worst so we now have the-”

“One date a day rule…hate that stupid rule.” Harry mumbles as he reaches over towards the plate of brownies on the table, he figures he deserves one since he’s in the middle of getting called out for being excessively clingy.

“Now don’t get me wrong I love every little minute I get to spend with him.” You never take your eyes off of Jeff as you quickly lean over and smack Harry’s hand away from the plate making him huff as he brings his hands into his lap. “But just know I’m not the one who needs to be reminded that this flexible schedule is temporary.” Jeff has to hold back the laugh that wants to escape when he glances over to Harry who is now sulking in his chair with his head down as he messes with his rings on his fingers.

“You’re a teacher?” Jeff asks as you finally sit back down and get comfortable and before Harry can do it himself you reach over and grab one of his hands and bring it into your lap making him smile.

“Yes.” You feel Harry run his thumb over your knuckles as Jeff gives you an odd look. “Does it shock you that Harry isn’t the only one at this table that has a damn job?” Jeff can’t help but laugh and shake his head at your question and if he was being honest he enjoys the fact you’re not afraid to be blunt with him, it makes it easier for him to know what’s really going on.

“No not at all I just meant that you must be on summer vacation right now then? So when school starts your schedule is going to change?” You just nod your head and Harry can see you begin to relax a bit when he looks over at you.

“Yes and I’ve already warned him of that and I’ve already told him he isn’t gonna be flying me out places all willy-nilly because I don’t operate like that because I love my job and I’m not going to just drop my responsibilities to my kids like a hot potato because he wants me to come see his show on a random Monday.” Jeff just nods as you speak and he has to admit he respects your decision because it shows you and Harry are alike in the way both of you love what you do and have good work ethics.

“But if I need her for something important she will do her best to be there for it.” Harry adds as he looks at you making you turn to look at him with a smile as he squeezes your hand, he knows you didn’t miss the way he said the word need instead of want because he always wants you with him but sometimes it’s greater than that and it truly is a need.

“Of course honey I’ll always be there when you need me.” Harry smiles as you turn to look at Jeff who now looks like he’s ready to let out a sigh of relief as he looks at the two of you.

“Can I just say something really quick?” You just nod at Jeff looks more relaxed as he glances from you to Harry and then back to you with a small smile on his face. “I’ve known Harry a long time and I’ve never seen someone make him so panicked but so happy at the same time and you’re not even his girlfriend yet.” You laugh as Harry rolls his eyes at the girlfriend part but he’s glad the tension in the room is almost gone and the atmosphere is a little lighter.

“She just makes me nervous that’s all.” Harry explains as you look at him with a reassuring smile.

“So can you tell me the real story about his brownies? All he told me was that you didn’t like them.” Jeff asks making Harry let out a groan as he leans his head down so his forehead is resting on the table, you pay his antics no mind as you turn your attention back to Jeff.

“Bless his heart he tried so hard.” You give Harry’s hand a little squeeze. “He accidentally used salt instead of sugar.” Jeff laughs and shakes his head as he looks over at Harry who still has his head on the table so he doesn’t have to see the look on his bestfriend’s face.

“And you still agreed to go on a date with him?” Harry picks his head up at Jeff’s teasing question so he can shoot him a glare.

“Of course I did.” You smile as Harry leans over and kisses your cheek. “Besides there’s not room enough in the kitchen for two bakers anyway.” Harry chuckles as you give him a playful wink.

“You know when he says he used to be a baker he just means he worked the register and cleaned at a bakery right?” You raise and eyebrow as you turn to look at Harry who’s eyes are shooting daggers at Jeff from across the table.

“Thanks Jeffery you can go now.” Harry states making Jeff laugh as he watches you glare at Harry.

“Like hell he can.” You look away from Harry and over at Jeff who was getting up from his seat. “You sit back down and tell me everything about my sugar’s bakery days.” Jeff does what you say because he already knows better than to not listen to you and Harry lets out a sigh of defeat as he runs his free hand through his hair.

He knows you’re not mad, he just knows you’re going to be using this against him for the foreseeable future when it comes to teasing him and he knows he’s going to deserve it. Harry feels his mouth form a frown when he watches you grab the plate of brownies and put it in front of Jeff so he can take one. The rest of the afternoon is filled with Jeff telling stories about Harry and you filling Jeff in on the things you and Harry have been up to and every time Harry looks over at you he can’t help but grin because two of the most important people in his life are getting along and that’s all that matters.

#southern comfort extras #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #Harry styles x southern!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #strangers to lovers #my little lanky baby

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ladylooch · 6 months

Text

Strictly Pleasure - [Timo Meier]

A/N: So color me stunned when I went to the roster of Team Switzerland in 2019 and did not in fact see Timo on it……. Because the Sharks were in the playoffs…. LMAO But you know my entire AU timeline is built on 2019 so we go with it. As promised, the full fic for our unanimous poll winners 🥹

As a warning, I literally was clawing my fingernails into the bench seat editing this morning. Holy fuck. Apparently I was feeling extra smutty this weekend.....

Word Count: 4.3k

The coolness of my white wine glass chills my palm while I bring the liquid to my lips. I take a sip, lips curling up in appreciation of both the wine and the stunning sunset before my eyes. I sit on the patio of a cafe in Bratislava, Slovakia awaiting the arrival of my little brother. I am the only member of my family who has been able to make it over to Slovakia in time to see him compete for our country at the IIHF World Championships. His previous international experience has been at the U18 level, but this year he is competing in the big leagues. We are so proud of him and I feel honored to have the flexibility to see him live his dream this week.

Crowds from various countries line the streets of the capital city, surrounding Ondrej Nepela Arena. Various teams are represented- the three crowns of Sweden, the lion of Finland and one man with the red and white of my home country. I smile at the familiar crest on his chest. He wanders down the sidewalk with sunglasses on, hair perfectly styled in a swoop to the left. Mirrored aviators hide his upward gaze to the awning that spells out the restaurant. He flips his sunglasses up, looking down at his phone, then at the name of the restaurant again. Once confirming, he puts his phone back in his pocket, then stalls his footsteps at the podium explaining the menu options for tonight.

“Go Swiss!” I cheer in my native language at him. He looks up from where he had been studying the menu, nodding in my direction.

“You from?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

“I assumed so. You have the accent.”

“You… kind of do?” He chuckles, questioning. His head tilts to the side slightly, thick eyebrows pulling lower over his eyes. “Where are you from?”

“Close to Bern.”

“Ah… that southern dialect can be troublesome.”

“Maybe you just haven’t heard it enough. Should get out of the big city.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Zurich. Clearly.”

“St. Gallen.”

“Same difference.”

“Okay.” He chuckles, shifting as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “This place any good?”

“Wine is good.” I cheers my glass in the air at him. “But other than that, I don’t know. My brother picked the place.”

“Yeah, I am meeting someone here too.”

“Would you like to wait with me? I can buy you a drink.” For some reason, he laughs.

“Buy me a drink?” He nods. “Sure, if your boyfriend won’t mind?”

“No boyfriend. I’m sure your girlfriend will not be much longer though?”

“No girlfriend. If I did, sitting next to a beautiful Swiss woman would likely get me into big trouble.” He murmurs, reaching for the back of the empty chair across from me. As he pulls it out, my brother comes hustling up next to us.

“Oh great! You did get my text about Timo joining us. I’m glad you found each other.” We both pause, connecting the pieces of who we are to each other. I would not have pegged him as a hockey player. He presents so different from the others I have interacted with over my brother’s playing career. “Timo, this is my older sister Emma.”

“Nice to meet you.” He murmurs as he shakes my hand. Our hands fit perfectly together in a polite shake. His fingers drag along every inch of my palm as he pulls his hand back, creating an electric jolt up my arm.

“Yeah…” I trail off, answering my brother. I gulp down a sip of wine. “He was easy to spot.” Nico grins as I stand, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Hi.” I haven’t seen Nico for a few weeks. He came home to Switzerland after his season ended, but was running off with all his friends with his new found freedom.

“I am glad you could make it. Mama and Papa are coming tomorrow?”

“Yes, it was the earliest they could get here. I was able to get on a flight from my conference in Berlin.”

“Good. More time together.” I laugh, glancing at Timo who studies the menu across from me.

“Seemed you liked the way the last few weeks were.” I murmur. “Your big sister always coming in last.”

“I’m sorry.” Nico sighs regretfully.

“It’s okay. As per usual, your time is pulled in every single direction.”

“Yes, but you’re important to me. I’ll do better.”

“Good! You can start by buying me dinner. You make the big bucks now!”

“Yeah, you can buy mine too. You make 1st overall money. I’m slumming it down at 9.” Timo and I share a look, chuckling together at Nico’s red, embarrassed cheeks.

“With a flick of a pen, you instantly made more money than your sister has her entire career. You can buy my dinner.” I pile on.

“Stop.” Nico shakes his head with a shy smile. “I will buy you dinner because I love you and that’s it.” I shake my head, looking over at Timo.

“Nico always has to be so sweet to make me feel bad for teasing him.”

“You need to get meaner Nico.” Timo laughs. “Your sister is more intimidating than you.” I scoff at him, then smirk.

“Certified man eater.” I confirm. “You better be careful.” He sucks his cheeks in for a moment, scanning his eyes along my body. Then he shakes his head.

“I like a challenge.” He winks. I pause, recognizing his interest, sliding my gaze over to my little brother who seems to be contemplating between two entrees. I lick a drop of wine off my lips after taking a sip. Timo’s blue eyes stay there, then fall back down to the menu in front of me.

The rest of dinner, these small, wordless interactions happen. He brushes my hand while handing me back my filled water glass. We steal looks at each other whenever Nico isn’t looking. Most of the conversation is driven by us towards each other. Nico seems content to listen, happy to see us getting along so well after inviting a stranger to sibling bonding. I am thankful he did. Timo and I are vibing, conversing and joking like we have known each other for years, not less than two hours.

Nico pays the bill, making a huge show of treating us with his black Amex.

“Flaunting your wealth is tacky Nico.” I scold. He scoffs at me, waving me up out of my seat. I toss my arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for a forced hug. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you, buddy! Thank you!” Timo says too, coming in to the other side so Nico is sandwiched between us. I giggle hard, tilting my head back towards the dark sky while doing so. Timo’s hands grip my sides as we squeeze Nico harder. I fold my fingers over his arms too, feeling the soft material of his sweatshirt. When I open my eyes all I can see is Timo. His beautiful blue eyes sparkling with joy. His big smile and scrunched nose indicating how much fun he is having with us.

“I could use another drink.” I hear myself say to him directly. He nods immediately, releasing from our packed hug.

“We have a bar in our hotel. Are you staying there too?” Timo asks casually.

“Oh! Yes! Let’s go.” I exclaim. “Neeks?”

“Maybe. I’m tired, but I’ll see how I feel when we get there.”

“Okay.” I shrug. No offense to Nico, but I wouldn’t be disappointed if he didn’t come.

“How are we feeling about the game tomorrow?” I ask the boys as we walk the cobblestone walk way.

“Good. We’ll get it done.” Timo says confidently. Nico echos that though a yawn.

His yawning continues through our first round of drinks until he is almost falling asleep sitting up in his chair where we sit at a space in the bar, backing up to the lobby.

“Nico, just go to bed.” I chuckle.

“Yeah I am going to head there.” Nico sighs after a yawn. He looks over at me. “You too?” I bite my lip, shaking my head.

“I’m not tired. I stay up late for a living.” Nico shrugs his shoulders. “Goodnight.” He stands up.

“Goodnight baby brother.” I tease him as he heads across the lobby to the elevators. “Sleepy good!” I take a sip of my wine, then settle my brown eyes on Timo who still watches with those interested eyes. “Are you tired?” I wonder.

“No.” He says then takes a sip of his drink. “A lot more interesting things are happening down here than in mine and Fiala’s room.” A shiver runs from the base of my neck down my spine pulling my chest tight with flattery.

“You like to stay up late?”

“Mhm.” He answers around another sip of his drink. He licks at his top teeth afterwards, bringing my eyes back to his lips. “Kinda have to in this job. What do you do?”

“I own an event planning business.”

“Oh fancy, Ms. Entrepreneur.”

“I went to college and everything.”

“Impressive. Maybe I should hire you to run my charity golf tournament.”

“I could do that. But it depends.”

“On?”

“What happens between us tonight.” A slow and sexual grin rolls across his lips. He likes my boldness. My heart fluters excitedly in my chest. I love this part, getting gorgeous and powerful men to give into what has been brewing between us. “I have a strict line between business and pleasure. I’m sure you can understand that in your line of work.” Timo nods, looking lost in a previous mistake.

“That is fair.” He tilts his head. A few teammates walk through the lobby, shouting a hello at Timo. He gives a brief wave, then focuses back on me.

“Any chance I could convince you to go somewhere private to discuss further your personal and professional qualifications?” There is nothing professional about his request.

“Where would you suggest?”

“Maybe your room?” I pretend to contemplate, leaning back in my chair while studying him with scrutiny.

“What would we do there?” I ask him, dragging out the vowels in my words. I slowly run my tongue along my lips, gathering his attention there.

“You can tease me some more with that mouth.”

Forward. Bold. Going in for the kill, just like I hoped.

“Our drinks?” He pulls his wallet out, tossing cash onto the table. He stuffs his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and stands. He holds his hand out for me. I stare at the warm, welcoming skin of his palm. I know what taking that hand means. I know this is dangerous territory, but Timo is a temporary teammate of my brother. It’s not like he is in New Jersey with him full time.

I slide my fingers gently into his hand, then clasp it as he lifts me into a standing position. He weaves our fingers together, palms cupping each other as we walk silently to the elevator. He pulls me in behind him, then turns expectantly at me.

“Four.” I tell him. He presses the button and the doors close.

“You do this often?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Plenty.” His eyes drag ravenously from my face down my body. He nods in surprised appreciation. “I won’t tell you I love you after, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He chuckles.

“You look harder to get than that. What are the rules?” He asks as he turns towards me. His hand drops mine, so he can pull my hips flush with his. My eyes flutter at what I feel. Big. Hard. Ready.

“Wrap it up. Don’t you dare finish before me. No butt stuff. And…” I insist, stepping closer. “Nico never knows.” My foot goes between his, rubbing my thigh against his zipper. He exhales a little heavier, hinting at the desire building in his body. The elevator doors open and we step out. I lead the way, sliding the key through and pushing the door open. I walk in first again. He shuts the door behind us then crosses the slim space between us. He whips me around by my wrist, crowding my space immediately. My heartbeat skyrockets in dangerous and needy passion.

“Anything else?” He asks, sliding a hand to the side of my neck. He holds it tight, thumb stroking my cheek. His blue eyes are fierce, ready for whatever waits for us on the other side of my answer.

“What are yours?”

“I don’t want anything serious. You understand that?” He strokes my cheek as he says it as if to soften the blow. He’s clearly had this conversation before with other women. He’ll figure out I’m not like them soon enough.

“Completely.”

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yes.” I laugh. “Are we going to fuck now or keep playing 20 questions?” I slide my hand down to the button on his pants. He laughs too, pausing as he bites his bottom lip.

“What are your thoughts on cuddling?”

“Hell no.”

“My kinda girl.” He whispers then closes the gap between our faces.

His lips on mine create an explosion that rocks me to my core. I exhale into his mouth in a moan. He runs his hand through my hair then down my body. It wraps around my waist and he lifts, practically tossing me up onto the hotel desk. The lamp shade rattles against the wall. His hands come to my shirt, lifting. Our lips part for a moment, then reconnect with tongues. Wetness pools in my panties, almost soaking them through.

One of his hands comes up to my breast, squeezing it, then finding my nipple and thumbing it over my bra. I sigh happily into his mouth, then fist his shirt in my hand. His shirt joins mine on the floor, then I reach for the button on his pants. It snaps apart easily. I jerk his zipper down until it’s completely open. His cock is hot and seeping in his underwear. I pull back from his mouth, looking down as he unclasps my bra. The straps slack along my arms. He pulls them the rest of the way off, then takes me in.

“Beautiful.” He mumbles, tugging my hips so I slide closer to him on the desk top. “So, so beautiful.” He repeats against the warm skin of my chest. His lips kiss down vertically, until he gets to a tight nipple. He makes eye contact with me as he sucks it into his mouth. His tongue strokes upwards too, making my jaw unhinge for a moment. “You had so much to say earlier, now you’re quiet? Gonna have to change that.” He whispers, then sucks my nipple deep into his mouth, working it over, sending darts of pleasure to my clit. It aches to be touched, missing out on his skilled mouth and fingers.

“Oh.” I pant. He smirks into my breast.

My fingers find the waistband of his underwear, tugging it back from his skin so his cock rises to rest on his belly. His red tip is oozing down the edge of his head. I bite my lip, then my head knocks back into the lamp as his tongue strokes my other nipple into submission.

Fuck, this is incredible. He knows exactly what he is doing. When to push, when to pull away, how to tease and reward. He will be worth any future punishment. My hands shove at the waistbands of his bottom layers until they work down his strong hips. He steps out of them, grabbing a condom in his jean pocket, then kicks them off to the side. I lean back on one palm grinning. He lets me take him in, every delicious curve and edge of his muscular body made perfect from hockey and hard work. His big hands cup my breasts, rolling his thumbs over the stiff peaks in unison.

“Oh that feels sooo good.” I moan appreciatively. I run my free hand through my hair. He watches my face, playing with me more until I am embarrassingly close to coming without him even being inside of me. “I need you to fill me up.”I demand breathlessly. He bites his lip.

“You’re so fucking sexy. You can tell me what to do all night, Emma.”

“Just call me Em.” I laugh. “Emma is so formal.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

He unbuttons my jeans, then pulls them off my legs. He admires my black, lace panties, seeing the creamy wetness pooling there just for him, then he works them off my body so we are both naked. He picks me up, setting me to the very edge of the desk, then he hands me the condom. I rip the package open with my teeth, gripping the tip, before easing it down his shaft. His eyes close and he sways slightly forward at my hands on him.

He crowds my space, our breath combining together, still smelling like the minimal alcohol we had tonight. One hand goes to my left hip, then the other goes to grip his shaft. He rolls his head through my folds, collecting my soaking juices before he nestles his head at my entrance. Together, we watch him disappear between my swollen lips. He lets out a shaky exhale. He grabs my wrists, putting them on his shoulders, then he lifts me slightly up off the desk, beginning to pump into my pussy.

Tingling explosions burst out down my body. Gooseflesh covers my arms and legs as I take each hard thrust with enthusiastic greed. I kiss along his jaw, grinning at the way I jerk in his arms with each pump. He isn’t handling me like a fragile doll, he is fucking me just like I knew he would. Hard, fast, deep, showing he was built with power and strength for a reason.

“Fuck, Em, your pussy is so good.” He growls into my neck. The sound of skin slapping together increases, becoming disgustingly obvious in the room as he rocks hard into me. “So wet and tight.” He hisses through gritted teeth. My nose bumps into his jaw as I moan on his throat. He turns his face, capturing my lips then fucking up harder and faster into me. My whole body goes tight and rigid, then I fall into my orgasm. Timo fucks me through it, not wavering in his thrusts at all until I collapse onto his chest in surrender. He slows then, kissing my neck as he takes me to the bed. He lays me down, then work himself out of me. I look down at the condom, wondering if we are done.

“Your turn. Show me what you got, Hischier.” I laugh loudly. He sits down on the bed, then falls backwards. He takes my hand in one of his, fingers folding together, helping me maneuver to straddle his lap. I work my hair to one side, then reach behind me to grab his cock in my hand. He hums, then sighs happily as I swallow him whole in one press of my hips. Timo’s eyes literally roll back into his head as I start to move. His hands come behind his head fingers lacing together on the pillow below.

“That’s right. Just lay there princess.” I smirk, throwing my hips back on his cock.

“Funny… gorgeous… talented… where has Nico been hiding you?”

“Practically under your nose.”

“Ah, that’s why I didn’t see it. It’s a little big.” I giggle, then set my hands on his shoulders, rolling my hips.

“Ooo. You know how to fuck.” He praises me. “So good….” He bites his lip, exhaling heavily. “Little more, gorgeous.” He encourages. I comply and he groans. “Mmmm.” His hands snap away from the back of his head. He grips my hips, feeling the roll of them on him. Then two fingers find my clit. I shutter. His other hand comes to my breast, pinching my nipple. “Fuck me until you cum.” He whispers. I moan shakily, then keep bucking my hips down into him. When he senses I am about to release, he works his hips up in little thrusts to help me over the edge.

“Oh!” I cry out, pinching my other nipple.

He gently eases me down, pulling his feet up closer to his butt so his thighs create support for my back. I slump into them. I pant, looking at him on the pillow as he smirks.

“Shit.” I hiss as he forces his cock up deep into me, lifting my weight with his hips like it’s nothing.

“Doggy?” He asks, wiggling his large eyebrows. I nod eagerly.

I’ve never come so hard or had so much fun with a one night stand before. Usually, it’s awkward, bumping into each other and trying to find the right tempo. Not with Timo. It truly feels like we were made for each other. Gone is the insecure way I try to move my body so my partner can see the best angles. Usually, I stay away from doggy. But I am desperate to feel the hard slapping of his balls against my clit.

We both stand. Timo kisses me, tongues flirting within my mouth. Our lips are puffy and red by the time we pull apart. He twists my hips, working his cock between my legs as I bend over in front of him. He lines his latex covered head with my entrance, then pulls me back on his dick. We both groan loudly this time, appreciating the stretch and arousal of each other.

“Gonna be dreaming about this pussy tonight.” He groans, starting to buck his hips again. The delicious slapping has me deliriously groping the bed sheets. His thick cock crams into me thrust after thrust, feeling like he is rearranging my internal organs. A big hand comes to the back of my neck, forcing me down. I groan loudly, shrieking an inhale at how good this angle feels.

“Please.” I hear myself beg.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please make me cum. Please. More. Um! That! Yeah!” I yelp out as his hips snap harder into me. My ass shakes with his powerful thrusts. I turn my face into the comforter, then scream hard into it as a powerful orgasm grips my core and turns me inside out.

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum. Feels so fucking good when you cum.” I shake against his thighs as he finishes in the condom. His hand releases from the back of my neck. He grips the edge of the condom then works his way out of me. Wordlessly, he heads to the bathroom, striping himself and cleaning off. I collapse forward into the bed sheets, curling into the fetal position while my heavy breathing continues. Timo brings a towel back with him, tossing it to me. Afterwards, I throw it onto the floor while he lays back next to me in bed.

“Good job.” I murmur, holding my hand up. He slaps it firmly, then sighs happily.

“That was amazing.” He turns to look at me when he says it. I nod, meeting his gaze. “Any chance you’re available for more of that this summer?”

“No strings?”

“No strings.” He agrees.

“Then yeah. I’m available.” He chuckles.

“We make a good team, tho. Damn.” He rubs a hand over his head. He turns his wrist, looking at the time on his expensive, silver watch. “I gotta go. It’s almost curfew.”

“Yeah, I want to go to sleep.” I admit, stretching out, pushing at his thigh under the covers to move him off the bed. He dramatically rolls off like I kicked him full on. I giggle as he rests his chin on the bed from the floor. His blue eyes soak me up. His hand comes up, poking at my left cheek.

“Your dimples are cute.”

“Thank you.” I murmur.

“How long are you here?”

“Wanna see me again already?” He laughs.

“Yeah. Sex that great is rare. I want you again tomorrow.” Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I roll my bottom lip in my mouth, watching him pull his clothes back on. His last article is the Team Switzerland sweatshirt he zips up to the middle of his chest.

“Okay.” I agree. He smiles gently, then walks towards me.

He kneels one knee on the bed, hovering over the body he wrecked tonight. He kisses me quick, then pulls away. He smells seductive and sultry, like his expensive cologne and me.

“Sweet dreams.” He whispers.

“Goodnight.” I respond. He walks out of the room, closing the door softly during his exit.

I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling above me. The butterflies in my stomach expand up into my chest until it feels crammed full. I put my hand over my face, watching back the reel of the night against my black eyelids, ending with the mutual agreement of more.

More this weekend. More even this off-season too. More, more, more because it will be months before I will have had my fill of him.

I’m not sure how we will make it all work. Sneaking around once is one thing, but doing it continuously is another.

I guess this planner is going to have to figure it out.

Because It’s going to be a long, hot summer with Timo Meier.

More Timo and Emma can be found here.

#tm: loving & leaving #Timo Meier x oc #timo meier smut #Timo Meier imagine #hockey fan fiction #nhl fan fiction

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pedrosdameron · 1 year

Text

Treat You Right || Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: When you and Joel get into an argument, your first instinct is to shut down and cry. Joel shows you how to come back to life in a very sinful way.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Porn with very little plot, Angst, reader has a bipolar disorder (unspecified), mental health issues talks, mention of medication, reader flinches when he moves once, arguing, hurt/comfort, slight dissociation, established (kind of toxic) relationship, unspecified age gap, unprotected piv (come on, you know the drill), oral m and f receiving, ruined orgasm, multiple orgasms, cumshots, aftercare, comforting!Joel, daddy kink, use of pet names, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her and is afab but has no physical descriptors

Word count: 2.6k

Recommended song(s): Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood

Crush - Danny Fischer

I Hope You Understand - Del Water Gap

Still Don’t Know My Name - Labrinth

Note(s): Hi everyone!! I'm so nervous to post this. This is my FIRST Joel x reader fic and one of my first rare attempts at second person, first tense so I'm sorry if there are mistakes. I also rarely write smut! I wrote this as a vent piece and I hope you like it or it can help you. Enjoy and follow my main blog: @delliestattoo

The sound of the rain splattering against your living room window is nothing compared to the harshness of his tone. Joel’s yelling at you, finger raised and pointed with that same, sly smirk on his face; he knows what he’s doing, he’s making you weak.

And not in the good way.

You can feel tears threatening to spill over your waterline, fresh and hot and not at all helpful to the situation. You want to speak, you want to scream, you want to yell right back at him; but you find yourself completely mute, barely even able to process the words he’s throwing at you. He doesn’t get like this often - the first time was when you brought up Sarah the first time, and the only other time was when you threatened to leave him; but those times were both understandable now, sole misunderstandings that you had caused.

This time, however, was honestly just stupid. You two had been arguing about where to go for dinner, and he called you indecisive, which your brain translated to immature and here you were.

“J-Joel,” you whisper, though you know he can’t hear you. He’s still shouting, and you know you have to do something. You have to say something. You have to get out of this.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time, “P-Please -” you stop yourself from continuing, bowing your head with a muffled sigh. You didn’t want to argue anymore, you didn’t want to fight.

You just wanted him to stop yelling at you.

Silently, the tears begin to fall, and it quickly turns to broken sobbing, a hand covering your mouth to try and stay quiet. Quiet - which is what Joel is now, silent and staring at you while you try to compose yourself. You know he’s hating himself for the screaming, but you know you deserve it, and you think deep down he does, too.

“I’m s-sorry,” you manage to stutter, and you glance up at him, and that’s when you notice Joel has gone not only silent, but also still, his face completely changed from the moment before. You’re puzzled for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, when he walks towards you.

On instinct, you flinch.

“Joel-?” It’s more of a question than a statement, because now you’re just confused, though your tense body relaxes underneath his touch, his calloused and rough hands reaching for your shoulders, fingers dragging down your arm, and despite being relaxed, you freeze. You don’t know what he’s doing, and all you can do is look up at him with unsure, teary eyes, as a few tears still fall.

“Oh, baby, -” Joel says then, and you blink, mouth suddenly dry with a sense of something else entirely. Suddenly, you’re not crying anymore.

Everything’s fine. He’s talking to you. He’s looking at you and touching you and he has that sweet, thick southern accent - everything seems okay now; and you know it may only be for a moment, and you know you missed your medication this morning, but it’s okay now.

“Darlin’,” Joel begins, and you know this is about to be good, “Why’s my pretty girl cryin’ like that? Come on now, chin up for me,” he says, and you obey, raising your chin and wiping your tears. You have the sudden urge to call him daddy - the way he’s looking at you, the way he was yelling at you. It fits. It fits so well and so would he.

“That’s my girl,” Joel praises, and you feel your mood shift, already having gone from upset to nonchalant; but now it’s something different, now it’s a yearning you know only the man in front of you can fulfill.

“Joel-” you huff, biting your lip. You don’t know what to say to him to make him understand what you need now.

What if he wasn’t interested? What if he didn’t want you? What if he was just trying to fix what he had started?

“What is it, pretty girl?” he whispers then, and you feel your core burn hot. You want to sit down, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere but his arms. You feel mute again, silenced, but then Joel rubs your arms again and you’re fully there.

“Need you, daddy,” you mutter, and your pussy throbs with want, with need. You need him to kiss you, to put his mouth on your neck; and you want him to shove you against a wall, throw you around, praise and degrade you at once. He’s staring deep into your eyes, like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to give in, and you open your mouth to say something but…

You’re cut off by movement, his hands falling from your arms down to your hips, and fuck, fuck, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Goddamnit, Joel,” you curse, though you’re sure he knows you don’t mean anything by it. You grunt, moving backwards, and pull your blouse over the top of your head with ease. The remainder of your clothing consists of your black biker shorts and a black, lace bra that you know damn well Joel wouldn’t be able to take his eyes - or hands - off of.

“Goddamn, you,” Joel grunts back, and just like you thought, his hands are immediately on you, fingers laced underneath the hem of your bra like he wants it off already. You smirk. The tears on your face have dried, and you no longer have bloodshot eyes, no, now they’re full of lust and longing that belongs to Joel and Joel only. “Need me already?” you ask teasingly, and you expect him to laugh, play it off like he usually does, but you’re met with a sudden force, throwing you up against the wall just like you had wanted. “Fuck, Joel,” you can’t help but moan, the force making your panties wet, heart skipping beats and core throbbing with a desperate need. “Joel,” you mutter, as you move to wrap your arms around his neck, “Please.”

He seems to understand what you want by the look on your face and the pleading sound to your begs, hands reaching around to undo your bra strap. You don’t have time for that - you move away from his hands, instead your body presses close against his and you can feel his cock hard in his jeans. “I wanna get you off,” you whisper, leaning close to his ear. Your hand moves down to cup his balls underneath the fabric and you give them a gentle squeeze, a gesture that was almost like asking for permission for you. Joel’s breath had already been heavy but now it had picked up, and his fingers were thumbing over your nipples, and you knew that was an okay.

You drop to your knees, not wasting any time with Joel’s belt. He helps you, and before he seems to know it your mouth is on his cock, lips wrapped tastefully around the tip as you bob your head back. His arm is hovering over your head, his hand pressed against the wall as he resists the urge to thrust his cock into your mouth; you know that’s what he’s thinking, because you’ve talked about it.

And you want him to.

“Come on, daddy, fuck my mouth,” you say, as you pull away for a moment to spit. You take his cock whole, and Joel cries out, hips moving to fuck your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head, mouth dripping with saliva and pre-cum as he fucks into you. Your panties have to be fucking soaked by now, you’re so needy, you’re grinding down into nothing. There’s no sound in the room except for the wet slapping sounds of Joel’s balls against your cheeks and you don’t mind it one bit, muffled and strangled heavy breaths coming from your end and rough, heavy grunts from Joel’s.

He’s getting close, you can tell by the way he’s breathing now; you’d been together for so long you had gotten accustomed to every sound. “That’s enough,” you say, voice hoarse now, as you pull away from his cock, which still thrusts towards you even after the loss. He’s not saying anything, and you know he’s pissed, but you know that would just make him fuck you better.

“Come on, daddy,” you murmur, your legs moving to stand, “Come fuck me.”

The two of you manage to make it to the bed, but you don’t manage to make it much farther. Joel’s got his hands on you again, and you can see the remorse from earlier reflected in his eyes, but you see way more lust. He throws you down onto the mattress and you let out a soft sigh, body going pliant. This is what you wanted, what you seemed to have needed. You just needed a man to throw you around and fuck you right. Treat you right.

You don’t bother helping him with your pants. He makes quick work of ripping them off of you, revealing your matching black, lace panties, and the sound he makes upon sight of them is comparable to a wolf’s snarl.

“Like what you see?” you ask, smirking as you position yourself for missionary - it was your favorite position, your go-to, and if you were being honest, you needed the honest connection right now. You needed to really feel him make love to you.

“‘Course I do, pretty girl,” Joel confirms, pulling his own shirt over his head. He’s completely naked now, and you feel overdressed. You shimmy your hips. “Take ‘em off me, daddy,” you purr, and Joel can’t resist you, diving for your cunt. You scream and fall back, a laugh falling from your lips as he drags your panties down to your ankles and then off fully. You can’t even take a breath before he’s got his mouth on you - and he’s eating you real good, tongue flicking up and down and swirling around your clit in perfect motions. It’s not often he does this, either; Joel never really seems to enjoy it, but right now he’s all in. You’re left wondering if he’s even breathing while his tongue attacks your pussy. Your back arches and you feel an orgasm approaching, and it’s coming up fast, your breathing now labored and your hips bucking up into his mouth for more, more friction, more anything.

You need his cock. You need it deep, nestled inside of you, holding you together.

“J-Joel,” you pant, a hand reaching down for his hair. You try to pull him off of you, but Joel only presses his face deeper into your cunt, leaving you breathless and out of energy. Your core is burning hot, ready to cum, and you need to. You need to release. You need it so bad.

“Fuck, fuck - gonna cum,” you manage to mutter, pulling at his hair again. Joel’s lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, and you scream, your orgasm rippling through you at the speed of lightning. Joel doesn’t pull away, either; he helps you through it, licking your folds gently as you try and breathe, cunt twitching underneath his tongue. You still want his cock, more than anything now, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes again as he continues to stimulate you.

“Joel… p-please,” you whisper pleadingly, with another tug, “Please.” He pulls away then, looking up at you, and you swear you could see the devil in his eyes, he looked that sinful. His hair was messy, his chin dripping with your juices and lips red and puffy. You almost wanted to grab your phone and snap a photo, but you know he’d kill you.

The both of you take a minute to just breathe. Joel reaches to wipe his mouth before kissing you but you stop him and pull him forward anyways, wanting to taste yourself. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, the sickly sweet taste covering your tongue, “Need it, baby. Need you.”

Joel pulls away, only to look you in the eyes. “Need me that bad, darlin’?”

You nod in desperation. Your eyes are filled with tears. All Joel does is let out a chuckle, and then he pushes you back down into the mattress. “Alright,” he mutters, “be a good girl for me and stay there, alright? Gonna fuck you nice and right,” he says, and you go pliant once again, body completely relaxed on the mattress. Your juices are flowing out of you and soaking the sheets but neither of you seem to care. They can always be washed.

Once you’re fully relaxed and ready, Joel climbs on top of you, and you instantly wrap your arms around him to bring him closer, his cock rubbing against the folds of your cunt. “Fuck,” the both of you say in unison, and then you both laugh a little, too. You’re always glad you can laugh with Joel in moments like these, serious or not.

“That’s my girl,” Joel praises, his breath coming to a halt as he presses his cock into you slowly. The both of you adjust for a moment, and then you’re grabbing at any part of him you can reach. “Fuck me,” you beg, “Please, Joel. Fuck me.”

He obliges quickly, shifting his weight to his hands to begin thrusting his cock into you. It’s a quick pace, balls slapping against your thighs every other second, and you feel so fucking full.

“Feels good,” you moan, “Feels - feels f-full, Joel.”

“Yeah? Fuck, darlin’, takin’ my cock so good,” Joel praises in return, and you feel your core start to heat up again and your heart swell. You’re going to cum again, and you’re probably going to do it quickly.

“Harder,” you huff, fingers digging deep into Joel’s shoulders. He grunts at the pain but says nothing, allowing you to take hold of him. If anything, it spurs him on to fuck you harder. “Harder,” you repeat, throwing your head back, “I’m gonna fuck - I’m gonna fucking cum,” you warn him, moving your hand to reach down and rub at your clit quickly. You swirl your finger around the little sphere and cry out in pleasure, bucking your hips up to meet Joel’s pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cry, breathing strangled, and Joel didn’t even have his hands on your throat.

“Yeah? Come on, darlin’,” Joel pants, his own orgasm approaching, though his focus remained on you, “Come for me. Come for me, pretty girl. Come on this fucking cock.”

He doesn’t have to say it twice - only once and you’re crying out again, overwhelming pleasure taking over your whole body. You’re trembling underneath him as you cum, fingers digging deep into his shoulder, so hard it could possibly draw blood; and despite the pain, Joel enjoys it, and it floods his own orgasm through him, streams of his seed spurting into your pussy. You can feel him filling you up and it feels better than anything you could ever imagine, and you’re way too dreary now to care there was no condom.

“Did so good,” Joel praises, as he pulls his cock out of you, and you whine at the sudden loss. You find yourself reaching for him, but he’s already shifting to move off of the bed. “Where - where are you going?” you whisper, sadness taking hold of your voice; was he leaving?

“Nowhere, my sweet girl,” Joel whispers then, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “Gonna get a towel, clean you up, ‘n we can lay together. Okay, baby?”

You can feel your eyes closing from exhaustion; between the fight and sex, you were beat. “Okay,” you whisper quietly, “Baby.”

DT: @swiftispunk @gracieispunk @ilyltm @darkroastjoel

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #smut #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal #troy baker #pedrohub #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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morning-star-joy · 1 year

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speak to me until your history's no mystery to me

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 15

Pairing: friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: Tommy approaches you about an idea for Joel's birthday, and you have to distract the man by getting drinks while your friends prepare for a surprise birthday party. When the night winds down, you and Joel share a peaceful moment where you open up to each other more than ever before.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Death (Reader's younger sister and Sarah), Grief/Depression with some Catharsis/Healing, Mentions of Sexual Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Alcohol Use (including Underage Alcohol Use but they are supervised by Responsible Adults), Language

A/N: We're caught up to ao3 now! New chapters will be posted here on the weekends when I update on ao3. Ty guys for all the notes, asks, kudos, and comments!!! Words can't describe how grateful I am for the support! I hope you all have an amazing week and I'll see you for Chapter 16, most likely on Saturday!!

Wordcount: 13.1k

chapter 1 || chapter 14 || chapter 15 || masterlist

ao3 link

“I have an idea.”

You pause in your actions, the rattle shaking in your hand stopping as you glanced up from the crib to Tommy’s face next to you.

“No.”

“What?” Tommy asked, baffled at how you already turned him down. “I haven’t even told you yet!”

“I don’t like it,” you said plainly, looking back down at Hope as you began to shake the rattle for her again, much to the baby’s apparent glee judging by her increased babbles.

“But I haven’t even—”

“Or your face,” you added, raising your free hand to point at the stupid, smug Miller look he still had on, and he glared playfully at you.

“Now, that’s just uncalled for,” Tommy drawled, his smooth Southern accent blanketing the words, and you rolled your eyes as you realized the sound of it meant he was laying on the charm thick.

“You think you can work that good Southern boy charm on me, Tommy Miller?” you scoffed, giving him a look of mock disapproval. “You grossly overestimate your ability.”

“Nah, I just grossly underestimate your ability to call my bullshit from a mile away,” he sighed as he crossed his arms, leaning them on the top of the crib to smile down at his daughter, and you can’t help but snort at his remark.

“Seems like you’re finally learning. Guess you can teach an old dog new tricks,” you teased with a cheeky grin, satisfied with the glare Tommy fixed you with.

“Fu—”

“The child!” you interrupted him with a fake gasp, and Tommy rolled his eyes, even as he couldn’t stop a chuckle at your mock offense to his colorful vocabulary.

“She doesn’t even know what’s going on,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand, before his expression melts further when his daughter laughs at your continued shaking of the rattle. “She likes you, though.”

“She likes her rattle,” you brush the compliment off with another shake of the toy, unable to help your own small, fond smile as she laughs brightly again.

You saw Tommy roll his eyes at you from the corner of your eye, but he didn’t say anything further on the subject.

“So, you really ain’t gonna let me tell you my grand idea?”

You sighed heavily, pulling the rattle out of the crib when Hope’s eyes began to droop, a sign that a nap time was approaching.

“Well I know you won’t shut up about it if I don’t,” you reply as you move to set the toy down on the dresser. “So tell me your brilliant idea, oh mastermind Tommy Miller.”

Tommy winced at that, leaning back on the balls of his feet.

“Alright, I like it better when you’re bruising my ego, not inflating it,” he said, and you laughed while you followed him out of the nursery.

“Come on,” you tease, gently smacking him in the chest as you walk to the stairs together. “Now I’m actually curious.”

“Because you like what you can’t have,” he teased, and you let out a disbelieving scoff, even as the words hit a little too close to home. Especially as he added, “Okay, so, Joel’s birthday is coming up.”

The mention of him directly after that previous comment threw you off a bit too much, your foot hovering in the air for a moment as you recollected yourself before you finished descending the staircase.

“How soon exactly is ‘coming up’?” you asked with an inquisitive arch of your brow, trying to not let it show that the topic had actually piqued your curiosity.

“Friday,” he said flatly, and you scoffed.

“Tommy, that’s in three days.” You set your hands on your hips, your other eyebrow raising to join the first as you glanced over him. “Whatever you’re planning for him, it better come together quick.”

“Well, see,” Tommy said slowly with a grin, and you began to shake your head, already knowing where this was going.

“No—”

“That’s where you come in—”

“No, Tommy—”

“All you gotta do is distract him for a bit—”

“Tommy—”

“Take him out for a drink or something, it wouldn’t kill you,” Tommy continued to delve into his great big plan for Joel’s birthday, despite your protests, and you threw your hands up in the air with a defeated sigh when you realized he wouldn’t stop explaining it now, “so then Ellie and I can get the house all decorated—”

“Your house?”

“Your house.”

“Tommy!” you exclaimed, eyes wide with genuine shock. ”What the fuck—my house?”

“He’ll never expect it,” Tommy replied as if the answer was obvious, his tone as cheeky as the grin on his face.

“He’ll never come,” you try to convince him, even if you were the only one who knew that wasn’t exactly true. “Tommy, seriously, Joel and I—”

“Got some real bonding time in,” Tommy interrupted, arching a brow at you as he moved into the living room to flop back onto the couch. “Remember? Said it yourself.”

You paused, taken aback as he flung the words you had spoken after you and Joel had been in the nursery back in your face.

“I mean, we—”

“Are getting along better than you used to,” Tommy said with a smile that turned from cocky to kind, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’ve noticed.”

Your body stiffened at the observation, but you tried to cover it up by collapsing onto the couch next to him. Dropping your head back onto the cushions, you stared at the ceiling, wondering just how you had gotten into this kind of conversation with Tommy.

Maybe you were the one who had underestimated him.

You resisted the urge to shift or look over to try and read his face. Instead, you kept staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to say something.

But it seemed like your friend was also waiting for you to say something, and you fell into an uneasy game of trying to wait the other person out, to get them to talk first.

At least, it was uneasy for you.

When you finally gave in and looked over at Tommy, he looked downright fucking thrilled.

Those fucking Miller brothers, you thought with a roll of your eyes before straightening.

“Yeah, okay,” you admitted, tossing your hands in the air like you were giving up. “Fine, Joel and I are…friendly.”

“Fucking finally!” Tommy exclaimed with a wide grin that lit up his dark eyes like stars in the night sky, and you sighed, unable to stay mad at the sight of his happiness. “Told you that you’d get along! God, you’re both so fucking stubborn. Why didn’t you just admit it?”

You shrugged, crossing your arms as you turned away from him again.

It wasn’t often that you felt guilty about the second rule of your arrangement with Joel, but in the face of Tommy’s glee at the revelation that you were friends with his brother now…

You did feel a bit ashamed.

“Because—” you paused, realizing that the conversation was beginning to sound dangerously close to the one in your kitchen, when Tommy was interrogating you about who you had been fucking.

You shifted, your arms tightening across your chest, ignoring the confused glance Tommy sent you at your sudden hesitation.

“Because we thought it’d be fun to fuck with you.” The lie came out easy, and that guilt grew a bit deeper in your stomach, even as Tommy let out a loud guffaw, finding the fake revelation entertaining.

“Fuck you guys,” Tommy sighed, though the words were affectionate as he shook his head at you. “Goddammit, wait, you two might be a couple of menaces together. I don’t think this was a—”

“Too late now!” you interrupted cheerfully, pushing yourself to your feet to pace away from your friend. “So, what, I just gotta distract him for a bit, then bring him back, right? You’ll take care of the rest?”

“Bingo,” Tommy enunciated each syllable with his reply, pointing at you as he did so, and you rolled your eyes as you began to walk out of the room.

“Joel’s going to fucking kill you—you know that, right?” you call back over your shoulder, tugging open the front door before sending one last glance to your friend as he stood to see you out.

“Yeah, probably,” Tommy admitted with a shrug. “Hey, don’t forget a gift, though!”

You turned on the porch, eyes wide and mouth agape at Tommy’s sudden request.

“A gift?” you repeated, holding your hands out wide, as if to demonstrate how empty-handed you were for this event. “Where the fuck am I supposed to find a birthday gift for your asshole brother in three days—”

“Be there!” Tommy interrupted gleefully before shutting the door right in your face.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, glaring at the closed door for a moment longer before spinning on your heel to go try and figure out what the fuck you were going to get Joel Miller for his birthday.

Three days came and went in a carefully contained panic.

You really tried not to stress out about the fact that not only did you have to find Joel a present for his birthday party within the short timeframe, but that you were hosting said birthday party at your house.

And he had no idea.

The more you tried to contain your emotions, the more they seemed to boil over. When it became obvious to Dina, you had told her about the party plans, and invited her to attend before she could even ask when you saw the way her entire face lit up at the idea—not to mention it would take the place of your typical Friday game night.

Joel noticed your increased awkwardness too, something you tried to distract him from with mind-blowing sex. Afterwards, you were much more relaxed than before, and he was too satisfied from your stress relief session to try and press you about it.

But even then you couldn’t leave it alone completely, since you had been tasked with the arduous task of distracting him during party preparation the next day.

You were laying back on the couch, head propped up on your hand as you lazily watched Joel move into the dining room to prepare your typical post-fuck drinks after he had cleaned you up. The drinks were a habit that had become fairly regular after your nights spent together, but the aftercare was new, something he had started doing since that night he had showed up at your house drunk and jealous.

When Joel returned with the drinks in hand, he passed one to you before gently patting your legs, a gesture for you to pull them off the end of the couch so he could sit. You pulled your legs up, curling them underneath you as you watched him with slightly furrowed brows, trying to figure out how to trick him into wasting time with you tomorrow.

Getting him to your house wouldn’t be the hard part—although you would have to ensure he wasn’t too…eager to participate in your usual activities, given the audience that he wouldn’t know you were going to have when you arrived.

No, the truly difficult part would be getting him to spend time with you beforehand.

In daylight.

In public.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through the side of my head.”

Blinking a few times, your vision focused back on Joel, realizing you had been zoning out while staring at the side of his face, which had now turned to face you directly.

Off to a great start.

You took a breath, trying to weave an intricate plan so you could subtly trick him into being distracted for a few hours, your eyes narrowing slightly as you tried to plot it all out in your head.

Your mouth opened to flawlessly execute your master plan, “Uhh—”

Fuck.

You snapped your mouth closed, your eyes narrowing further, but in annoyance this time as a look of faint amusement crossed Joel’s face while he watched you hedge.

“You wanna get drinks tomorrow?”

Joel blinked at the question that came out of the blue, his amusement shifting into concealed surprise, and you winced internally.

Well that was fucking awful, you remarked internally, trying not to seem too awkward as you watched Joel watching you. Shit.

Slowly, Joel raised the glass in his hand, and you understood what he meant even before he replied, “We are having drinks?”

“Yeah,” you assented, giving a short nod, because he wasn’t wrong.

You did have drinks regularly after fucking, as you were right now, so why would you ask him to get drinks tomorrow, without the fucking? How was that supposed to be normal and not really fucking weird?

“Yeah,” you repeated, wincing externally this time at how you only repeated yourself without advancing the conversation at all. Shit, this really wasn’t going in your favor, and you had barely even started. “But I meant—well, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Joel said with an arch of his brow. He glanced over you before asking slowly, “Are you feeling okay?”

You kicked him in the thigh, making him recoil with a barely held-back chuckle, and you couldn’t help but smile as you heard the sound get trapped in his throat.

“Well,” you almost groaned as you realized you were hedging again, before deciding to just go for it, “I just meant as friends. Because we are friends now, right?”

Joel was still staring at you as if you had suddenly grown a second head, even as he slowly replied, “Right.”

“And friends go out for drinks, right?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, glancing over you again as he probably tried to figure out what the fuck you were getting at, even as he nodded in confirmation.

“Then there you have it,” you replied simply, throwing back the rest of the drink before passing the empty glass back to Joel. You hopped to your feet, smiling widely at him and moving towards the hallway. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Wait—”

You continued to walk towards the front door, only sparing one glance back towards Joel’s face that was scrunched up in utter confusion. It was impossible to hold back a laugh at the sight, and his expression smoothed out momentarily, shifting into something else you couldn’t—or didn’t—want to decipher before turning back around.

“The Tipsy Bison at sundown!” you called back as you swung the door open, only allowing your nervousness to show after the door had closed behind you.

Groaning quietly, your footsteps automatically began to take the most hidden path back home, a route that had become well-worn by your own shoes night after night.

“Well, great fucking job,” you groaned to yourself, rubbing your hands over your face and through your hair. “Just strong-arm him into it without an explanation. Real subtle. Really fucking great.”

You would like to say that you didn’t immediately look at the skirt or the heels in your closet within minutes of arriving back at your house, but that would be a lie.

You would also like to say you didn’t stare at the tube of lipstick that Dina had conveniently forgotten on your bathroom counter, but that would be a lie too.

But what you definitely would never admit was how you had fallen asleep that night staring at the side of the bed where Joel had laid for only minutes after he had briefly called you his only weeks before.

You didn’t wear the skirt.

Or the heels.

Or the lipstick.

What you did wear was one of your nicest shirts, a soft long-sleeved one that was in rotation for the clothes you wore to dinner with the Millers each month. Paired with one of your less faded pairs of jeans, you were ready to head out and meet up with Joel, even as a strange nervousness you couldn’t explain settled in your bones.

That feeling lasted up until the point when you stepped through the doors of The Tipsy Bison and saw Joel sitting at the far end of the bar.

The nerves shifted into something else as you watched him sitting there, a full glass of whiskey in front of him, his hands wrapped around it as he stared down at the amber liquid. You realized with a start that he was wearing one of his nicer flannels—nicer meaning less worn and threadbare, one of the ones that he typically wore to dinner at Tommy and Maria’s.

Something about the sight of him sitting there in that shirt, brows furrowed as he stared at his full drink without taking so much as a sip from it, filled you with a newfound confidence. Your back straightened, taking steps with steady purpose as you strode through the bar towards him.

When you saw him begin to turn as you got closer, you glanced away, getting the bartender’s attention for a drink before you sank down in the spot next to Joel. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face when you rested your chin on your hand, your other fingers tapping a rhythm out against the bar counter.

You could only hope Joel hadn’t picked up on the tapping being a nervous habit of yours yet.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, and you only glanced over at him once you felt his eyes finally move off of you. He was back to staring into his full drink, only taking a sip from it once the bartender returned to place your own drink in front of you.

You paused in the middle of raising your own glass for a sip, glancing over your companion as he swallowed and placed his drink back down.

He was…waiting?

Clearing your throat, you turned back around, taking a large drink from your glass before your fingers moved back to tap against the bar faster.

Suddenly, it was like you were back at the start of your budding friendship. Any conversation that had become easy between you in recent weeks seemed far out of your grasp now, your legs crossing as you searched for something to say that wouldn’t sound totally fucking forced and awkward.

“What, no skirt for me?”

The low murmur drew a surprised laugh from you, your eyes finally flashing back to Joel’s face as his own eyes moved from the movement of your crossed legs up to your face. He shot you a sly smirk that was nearly imperceptible behind the rim of his glass, one you couldn’t help but return.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, keeping your voice equally low to avoid any eavesdropping patrons, even as the bar was emptier than it had been in the height of summer, “that’s a luxury few can afford, cowboy.”

It was a bad comeback, really. Outdated and overused, but Joel quietly chuckled at it anyway, his brow arching in response before replying, “Oh yeah? Like Mike can?”

You blinked in surprise for a second before quickly recovering, but Joel had noticed—of course he noticed, stupid perceptive bastard—his smirk widening just a fraction in satisfaction that he had caught you off-guard with the comment.

“And if I said he could?” you murmured, your voice dangerously toeing the line between friendly and sultry teasing.

Joel shook his head as he looked back at his drink, his pinky finger tapping against the glass. You could tell by the look on his face he had caught your intent of trying to goad him now, but his jaw still ticked slightly. A familiar heat curled through you at the sight of what may just be a hint of that jealousy you had gotten a taste of weeks before.

“Well, not many eligible bachelors in Jackson, right?” he finally said through a sigh, repeating your words from the nursery a month before. Joel still didn’t look at you as he drank before adding, “Guess you take what you can get.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you looked down into your own drink. There was something about the words that caused an unfamiliar feeling to grow, twisting uncomfortably in your stomach before settling to the bottom like rocks weighing you down.

So distracted by the unsettling intensity of the feeling, you almost missed it as Joel muttered, “But you could do better.”

Just like that, the feeling was gone in the blink of an eye, even as it was accompanied by surprise so strong that it made you freeze.

That was the second—third?—time tonight that Joel had managed to stun you, and in less than two minutes at that.

And this time your cheeks began to heat to accompany your shock.

You turned your head away quickly, glancing towards the other side of the bar to pretend you were looking over the room as you composed yourself. His gaze was impossible to ignore on the back of your head, but you tried anyway, mentally scolding yourself to get it the fuck together.

This was just Joel. The conversation between you was no different than any others—just because you were out in public instead of one of your houses didn’t make any difference.

So then why the fuck was your heart running a marathon right now?

You cleared your throat, turning back to face your drink again once you felt your cheeks cool down.

There were a multitude of remarks running through your head, ranging from friendly to seductive to something that you didn’t even want to think about.

Eventually your mouth opened and the words came tumbling out, “Yeah, somehow I get the feeling he couldn’t take me home and leave me satisfied.”

You looked at Joel from the corner of your eye, watching his lips turn up in a cross between a familiar knowing smirk and a smile that felt too real to be directed towards you.

Still, you shot him a quick wink before downing the rest of your drink, an action that was quickly followed by him before he ordered another round for the both of you.

That round was followed by another, and another, the drinks accompanied by quiet jokes and laughter that grew a bit louder the more alcohol that you consumed. Eventually you had to cut yourselves off, not wanting to be anything more than tipsy as you remembered the real purpose of the night.

So that was how you found Joel walking you back to your house, the both of you a little more mellow from the alcohol, and snickering a little too loudly at comments that weren’t even that funny. You noticed that he sidestepped the intermittent street lights leading you back, and you stayed by his side, sticking to the shadows with him as he rolled his eyes at you.

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” you drawled, elbowing him in the side and laughing at how he stumbled just slightly from it. You noticed he didn’t wince, and you felt a small sense of relief at the realization that his injury had probably healed. “You gonna tease me like that and not follow through?”

“I didn’t tease you,” Joel replied, shaking his head at your mock exasperation. “You eavesdropped.”

“You were the one yelling about guitar lessons!” you pointed out with a laugh, eliciting a scoff from him at your word choice.

“Yelling—”

“Come on,” you said again, taking a step closer, nudging his shoulder with yours this time, “you can’t hide all that talent from me, cowboy.”

Joel snorted at that, the sound loud and full of genuine amusement, and you brightened at the lightheartedness of it.

“Hardly,” he drawled, shooting you a lopsided bemused smirk that did things to you that you would take to the grave. “Haven’t you ever heard that ‘if you can’t do, teach?’”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you shot back, “Somehow, I don’t believe that applies to you, Miller. You are absolutely holding back from me, and I won’t rest until you play me a song.”

Joel shook his head again, his gaze sharpening on you as you shifted so you were standing in front of him.

A smirk grew on your face as you added under your breath, “Besides, you can’t lie to me. I already know how talented those fingers are.”

He made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, his eyes lighting up with surprise at your blunt innuendo that quickly shifted into a familiar dark intent. It was a look that would’ve been so easy to become trapped in if you didn’t remember the situation you were trying to trick him into tonight.

So you took a step back, still smirking up at him as you walked backwards in front of him for a few more steps before spinning back around. You hummed a satisfied little tune to yourself as you heard him sigh behind you, followed by quick footfalls as he caught up to you.

“What about you?”

You turned at the question, looking over at him in confusion until he clarified, “Any special, secret talents I don’t already know about?”

“Other than stabbing, shooting and fucking?” you asked bluntly, making him laugh again.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered that you were still walking down Jackson’s streets, even as you took the road less traveled by. Anybody could stick their head out their doors and hear you if they listened hard enough, but you were too buzzed to care.

You couldn’t help but join in Joel’s laughter as you glanced away with a shake of your head. “Nah, not particularly.”

“Bullshit,” Joel replied quickly and quietly, making you turn back with a scoff. “Come on, you haven’t spent thirty—”

He stopped suddenly, glancing over you with a frown. His eyes shifted into an analytical look you hadn’t seen from him for a while, but it didn’t hold the detached, frigid chill you had witnessed upon first meeting him.

“What?” you asked, a grin growing on your face as those familiar brown eyes darted around your face, and you realized what he was looking for. “Joel Miller, you must know that asking a woman’s age is dangerous territory.”

“I just—” he stopped, reaching a hand up to run through the hair on the back of his head, brows furrowing while he continued to look at you. “Thirty, right? Thirty something?”

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement before turning away, quickening your steps to keep ahead of him, even as he kept trying to catch up.

“Thirty two? Thirty three?” Your laughter only grew as he continued trying to throw out numbers until one stuck. “Shit, not—twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”

Seeing that you were enjoying his floundering far too much to give him an answer, he quickly gave up. When you turned around to walk backwards again, he was shaking his head with a sigh, and you couldn’t help a small smile at the exasperation that you had caused.

“What about you? Is the grumpy old bastard old enough for a cane yet?”

Joel just kept shaking his head, a familiar glimmer in his eye as he replied in a low tone that was almost a murmur, “You sure have some weird kinks, you know that?”

You laughed, your head tilting back with the sound, and you swear you saw something flash through Joel’s eyes before he looked away.

“No, but seriously,” you said as you stopped in front of him, causing him to also stop walking suddenly so he didn’t run right into you. Still, it left a distance between you so short that your chests would be grazing each other if one of you took a couple steps forward. “How old?”

Joel sighed, staring at you blankly for another moment. When you didn’t budge, he stated flatly, “Fifty si—seven. Fifty seven.”

“Forgetting already?” you asked, raising both your eyebrows as you turned around to walk by his side again. Even though you knew it was because he must have remembered that today was his birthday, he didn't know that you knew that, so you teased, “Damn, already going senile. What a shame.”

Joel elbowed you in the arm, and you looked back up at him as you snickered.

“Shut up,” he muttered, hands shoving in the pockets of his jacket, gesturing with the same elbow to your left.

You turned, realizing with a start that you were right outside the familiar picket fence of your house.

Suddenly, you were hit with the startling feeling of deja vu. You could vividly recall the first time you had stood outside that gate like this together, staring at your house while not saying a word. The only thing that was missing was the fall of snow around you and a comment about the color of your house.

Holding back a sigh, you glanced over to gaze at Joel’s side profile as you marveled at how much had changed between you in what was almost a year. You had gone from strangers to…

To what, exactly? Friends with benefits, yes, but did you really know anything more about him than you did then? Hell, you didn’t even know his age until today. He still didn’t know yours.

You rolled your shoulders back, pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind with a shake of your head. Right now, you had a mission.

One that was made harder than it should have been by the heat you could feel simmering in Joel’s gaze as it dragged up and down your body from beside you.

God dammit, how did you get him inside your house without him instantly tearing your pants off?

“Well,” you sighed, pushing the gate open to stroll through. “You gonna stand here like a jackass, making me ask you to come in for a drink from my porch?”

You shot a smirk back over your shoulder at him, one that was matched by his as he shrugged before walking through the gate behind you.

“Depends,” he drawled, even as he followed you up the pathway to your porch steps. “Do you have my preferred poison?”

The repetition of the words you had spoken the first time you invited him inside your house last winter made you bite your lip to hold back a smile.

“Oh, I have all of them,” you replied as you reached for you front door, biting your lip with a wince as you realized you were doing an absolutely fucking terrible job of getting Joel to keep it in his pants the moment you opened that door.

A groan escaped you as you spun around.

To hell with it, you thought as your mouth opened to let Joel in on what lay just beyond you in your house, when every thought flew from your mind as the man stepped close enough that you were chest to chest.

His hand reached out past you to grab your door handle, pushing the door open as the other one reached for your hip.

You reeled backwards faster than you thought yourself capable in your tipsy state, back hitting the door as Joel continued to advance. He didn’t seem to catch on to your sudden evasiveness, and you nearly tripped over your own feet as you continued to back up down your dark hallway, desperately feeling along the side of the wall for the lights.

“Uh, well, you know,” you said loudly, eyes wide as you dodged Joel’s hand reaching for your hip again before finally finding the lights, “I really think that—”

“Surprise!”

The shouts drowned out your panicking, and Joel’s loud curse of surprise overtook your quiet sigh of relief.

He stumbled away from you, completely taken aback and staring wide-eyed at the sight over your shoulder. You turned, following his gaze to glance over the sight of your atrociously decorated, packed living room.

It wasn’t a crowd, per se, but it also wasn’t a large living room. But each face was smiling—one was smirking, you realized with a passing thought of damn you, Dina—and watching as Joel tried to recompose himself.

His gaze flicked from face to face; to the old, discolored birthday decorations that were torn up in places, strewn across the room; and then back to you. You saw his chest rise and fall in a heavy, silent sigh, any sound it would have made covered up by the loud sound of a birthday noise maker that was quickly followed by Ellie hacking and muttering “oh, that’s disgusting.”

You gave Joel a tentative smile that was part oops and part please forgive me, and he only shook his head before moving past you, presumably looking towards Tommy as he asked, “The fuck is all this?”

“What do you mean?” you heard Tommy answer brightly, and you turned to see him grinning widely at Joel with an absolutely ridiculous, shiny blue birthday hat on his head that was definitely way too small to be comfortable. “Don’t tell me you’re so old you forgot your own birthday.”

“Tommy—”

“Nuh-uh,” Tommy interrupted with a shake of his head, wagging his finger as he wrapped his other arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Look, I know, but you deserve some happiness today, okay?”

You shifted, brows furrowing as you looked over the faces of the two brothers as they communicated something silently, arguing over an unsaid meaning to those words.

After a short moment, Joel sighed, and Tommy squeezed his shoulder when his older brother gave a slight nod.

Even though it was the closest thing to an okay that Joel gave, Tommy apparently took it as a success. The younger brother seemed positively delighted to be hosting this small party in your house, and it didn’t take long for his infectious cheer to spread to the rest of the partygoers.

Combine him with Dina, and it wasn’t much longer until the drinks were flowing and laughter was filling the rooms that you had gotten used to being so empty over the past years.

The three teens in attendance—Jesse being dragged along by Dina, since they were back to the “on again” part of their relationship—were even allowed one or two drinks. Or three, you realized as you saw Ellie swipe one of the smaller bottles of alcohol from the corner of your eye.

Her gaze caught on yours as she tiptoed back towards her friends, and she froze for a moment with her hands hidden behind her back. She hesitated as you pretended to glare at her, before your face immediately lightened up with a roll of your eyes and a look that said to be at least somewhat responsible.

Ellie grinned at you in response, turning quickly to hurry towards the kitchen where she had taken up residence with the other two teens for the past hour or so.

You turned back around, watching as Eugene laughed with a couple other patrolmen in one corner of the room, even as Mike stood there staring at whatever joke the old man had undoubtedly made with thinly veiled disapproval.

Shaking your head, you took another sip of your drink, unable to believe that Tommy had invited the man he had tried to set you up with into your home. Your gaze darted back to where your friend stood with his brother on the other side of the room, knowing that he was probably keeping careful tabs on Mike’s every move to see if he showed any signs of being your mysterious fuck-buddy.

A groan threatened to escape you, but you held it back, looking over to where Maria and Bonnie sat on your couch with Hope held securely in her mother’s arms. Bonnie was cooing over her, and you couldn’t help but smile, considering joining them for a moment before you glanced away from them too.

Silently moving towards the fireplace, you leaned against it, appreciating a moment to yourself in the midst of the busy night. For all intents and purposes, it didn’t seem like Joel was having a terrible time, so you guessed Tommy could consider his foolhardy plan a success.

When you felt a presence settle by your side, you expected Tommy when you looked up. Instead, you were surprised to see Joel looking down at you as he leaned against the mantle next to you.

“Should’ve worn your skirt,” he muttered under his breath, his mouth covered by his glass as he lifted it for a drink.

You held back a laugh, covering your smirk of amusement with your own glass as you saw him glance towards Mike from the corner of his eye.

“Shut up,” you muttered back, shaking your head at his quiet chuckle, taking a sip from your drink to continue to hide your mirth at the teasing.

As more of the evening passed, and Eugene followed the last of the patrolmen out with a fond pat on your shoulder accompanied by a wink, you settled back against the fireplace mantle again, watching with amusement as Dina and Maria chatted on the couch. The teen was now gushing over Hope, her eyes shining bright as she praised how gorgeous the baby was, each word eliciting laughter and fond smiles from Maria.

Dina was definitely tipsy, to put it lightly—as were the other two teens, but you elected not to comment on it. You were pretty sure everybody left in the room was at least slightly buzzed at this point—well, minus the baby, but that went without saying—and the atmosphere became considerably more relaxed now that it was your small group of close-knit family and friends.

You paused, glancing over the room from where you were still leaning against the fireplace mantle, something cold and hardened in your heart melting at the sight of your living room bustling with more life than you had ever seen.

Jesse had just said something that had elicited roaring laughter from Tommy and infectious snickering from Ellie. Even Joel’s chest was moving with a deep chuckle. Maria and Dina shared a look, the former rolling her eyes before both of them became distracted by bright, bubbling laughter from Hope that matched her father’s in how cheerful it was.

That same word you passed through your mind again as you watched them all.

Family.

For a long time, you didn’t think you had any left.

Even when you had known what Tommy and Dina meant to you, a part of you still resisted. You were so bitter, so broken that you couldn’t let yourself be happy with the family you had found. The family you had chosen.

You were just so terrified of losing it again. You were still terrified, even now, standing in the safety of your home and surrounded by their presence.

After losing so much, you couldn’t bear to lose this, too.

But another part of you began to reach out, a voice speaking out to echo through the dark crevices of your mind. It struck a single match and emitted a small source of light, a small flame of hope that, even with all your cynicism, you didn’t have the heart to blow out.

Because even if you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it, you also couldn’t bear the thought of not holding on to it now.

What was the fucking point of all this love, all this life, if the only thing you could think about was dying for it?

Maybe resigning yourself to that fate of dying for them, dying before them, wasn’t enough anymore.

Maybe instead of being committed to leaving them for that final act of love, you should dedicate yourself to coming home to them instead.

The familiar picture frame caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You turned your head slightly, gazing at the picture that your Little Star had drawn of the two of you surrounded by Washington's tall, evergreen trees.

It was one of two signs in your house that somebody actually lived here, along with the photograph on your bedside table. The only signs that you had actually had a life before you arrived in Jackson.

How old had she been when she drew this? Six? Seven?

You remembered her hair tied in a braid, falling down her back as she laid on her stomach and scribbled the crayon stubs across the paper, feet kicking happily in the air behind her. When she had finished, she presented it to you with a flourish and a bright grin that reached her eyes. It was a light that shined throughout her life, up through the last time that you saw her.

She was so warm, and you were so cold, only getting colder when she was taken from you. A part of you couldn’t help but feel ashamed, wondering what she would think if she could see you now. You had always taken on all the hardness of the world so she didn’t have to, to protect her warmth, her spirit. Now she was gone, and you kept taking on all that cruelty to punish yourself for not being enough to keep her alive.

Every memory of her was wrapped in barbed wire, and you realized now that you didn’t want it to be that way. You wanted to tear the pain off of those memories, even if it made your hands bleed at first. You wanted to remember her with the brightness she deserved, the brightness she had always been. She didn’t deserve to be remembered with winces and tears, but with smiles and laughter, like those that surrounded you in this room now.

It wouldn’t happen overnight. Maybe it would take months, or even years, to give her memory the justice it warranted.

But for what was perhaps the first time, you recognized what her memory deserved.

And you wanted to try.

“Hey.”

Your gaze snapped over at the soft word, seeing Maria standing in front of you with a babbling Hope in her arms. A smile quickly snapped onto your face, trying to cover up your inner musings, but the drop of a tear down your face told you it was already too late.

Reaching a hand up, you wiped at your cheeks, sniffing quietly before crossing your arms and looking down.

“I’m fine,” you murmured with a shake of your head. “Sorry.”

Maria’s hand found your shoulder, gently stroking it with her thumb, and you leaned into the comfort. When you looked back up, you realized she had stood in a way that blocked you from the rest of the room, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for her thoughtfulness.

She didn’t say anything about it, only giving you a small, reassuring smile before Hope babbled again. You both looked down at the baby, Maria’s smile growing as a quiet, choked laugh full of fondness escaped your lips.

When Maria looked back up at you, silently offering the baby to you, you only hesitated for a brief moment before giving a slow nod.

As Hope was passed into your arms, a quiet exhale was pulled from your lungs with a whoosh, as if some invisible string was tugging at your soul towards your goddaughter. You looked down into her dark eyes with a growing smile as you held her for the first time. She looked back up at you, those small baby teeth showing in her own bright smile that warmed your broken heart.

When you began to bounce her a little, and her babbles turned into laughter, you realized that maybe it wasn’t so broken after all.

Maria squeezed your shoulder gently, giving you one last smile before moving back to her spot on the couch next to Dina. You glanced over at the teen to see her and Ellie with their heads bent together, giggling over something, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly before looking over at the other group.

It seemed Tommy was in the midst of some kind of story, his hands moving and gesturing with his words, Jesse leaning forward and nodding along intently. You didn’t know how it had happened—maybe it had something to do with your rescue from the hunters—but somehow the teenager had really come to look up to the Miller brothers in recent months. He hung onto Tommy’s every word, even as Joel’s attention was less fixed on his brother.

Those familiar dark brown eyes were moving between both of them before they slid over to you, and you tensed as your gaze met his.

For a moment, you almost felt embarrassed at being caught staring, until his brows furrowed, and his eyes shifted into a look that you hadn’t seen before.

But even as it was unfamiliar, you could somehow tell exactly what it meant, and it eased the burden of your emotions just slightly as you heard the question he was silently asking.

Are you alright?

You tipped your head just slightly in a subtle nod, one that Joel returned before looking back towards Tommy at the same moment the man reached the crescendo in his story. Jesse broke out into loud laughter, and Joel followed the cue well, giving his own quiet chuckle even as you knew he hadn’t been listening.

The thought made you shake your head, lips turning up in a half-smile, even as you felt eyes on you from where the girls were. You didn’t know who was looking at you, and you didn’t care to entertain any suspicions you’d rather not deal with in the moment, instead looking down at Hope again when she waved her small hand through the air.

You let it wrap around your finger, and this time you didn’t pull back.

Even as the night went on, none of you made a move to leave the rare, comfortable peace you had all carved out together in this moment.

A batch of cookies made by Jesse and Dina was passed around the room in a Tupperware container. If you were lucky, you would get one of the cookies that was not horribly burnt—Jesse’s handiwork, no doubt.

Much to Joel's exasperation, the container had been placed in his lap first as you all sang an off-tune, off-beat Happy Birthday to him. His withering glare was hard not to laugh at, but you couldn't contain the grin on your face when Ellie and Dina dissolved into giggles at the sight of his annoyance.

Then came the gifts. The first one was also from the young couple, a new flannel that Jesse had found on patrol. It was sweet and a little bit funny as Dina explained that her boyfriend had shown her at least four options over the past couple of days, and how that one was the least ugly of them all.

Joel’s face twisted into the briefest of grimaces as Dina unintentionally—or maybe with complete intention, knowing Dina—dissed Joel’s taste in fashion, and you and Ellie had to cover your mouths as you both were about to break into cackles at the insinuation, combined with the look on Joel’s face.

The gift from Tommy and Maria—and Hope, whose name had been added to the old, weathered birthday card Tommy had also found on patrol—was a new vinyl record that looked like it was before even Joel’s time.

Still, Joel looked as close to being excited as you think he could manage as he glanced over the title and track list on the cover.

“Is this—”

“Yeah, the one Ma used to play,” Tommy finished Joel’s line of thought with a laugh, and Joel’s lips tilted up into a smile so shockingly bright that it made you smile yourself. “In the kitchen when—”

“She would make dinner, yeah,” Joel finished his brother’s sentence this time, another chuckle escaping his throat, shaking his head as he continued to glance over it. “Damn, where’d you find this?”

“Got lucky,” Tommy said with a grin, turning his head to shoot you a wink, much to your surprise. “Second time that’s happened, now.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes even as you couldn’t dampen your smile as you knew he was alluding to your own “birthday” gift of music from your youth.

Then it was your turn.

You unceremoniously tossed the small box to Joel, who caught it easily as he shot you a look which was a cross between bemusement and genuine surprise that you had gotten him something.

The only response you gave him was a shrug, and he looked down at the box as he tugged the top off, glancing down at the contents inside.

His surprise only grew, shooting you another look that you merely shrugged at again before he picked up one of the guitar picks inside.

Joel turned the small, finely carved wood over in his fingers, his eyes widening a fraction for just a moment before he put it back down inside.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and you nodded before gesturing towards the other pick inside.

“It’s not just for you,” you pointed out, watching as Joel’s brows furrowed in confusion before he picked up the other one.

He turned it over again, his brow smoothing out, lips twitching into a small smile before he held it out for Ellie.

“Who, me?” she said in surprise, though it quickly turned into glee as she grabbed the guitar pick from Joel. “Fuck yeah, Joel’s birthday is the best.”

Laughter filled the room from more than one person, and Joel nudged Ellie gently with his arm. She glanced towards him before sighing and turning back to you.

“Thanks,” she said, the word coming out easier than it had for Joel, her smile bright and contagious as you nodded in reply.

“No problem,” you waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Eugene’s good at that kind of stuff, and I figured since he was returning a favor, I might as well let him work for it.”

The favor thing was a big fucking lie. Eugene had not owed you a favor—in fact, you now owed him one or two for crafting the guitar picks with engraved initials for Joel and Ellie.

But nobody needed to know that.

When it was Ellie’s turn, she bounced up from her seat, hurrying into the kitchen and returning with a small journal she must have brought with her. She flipped through it, cursing loudly when a page came flying out, grabbing for it until she caught it in the air.

With a sigh, she smoothed out the paper before jutting it out towards Joel’s face, holding it much too close to his eyes for him to see with a blunt, “Here.”

Joel gingerly took the paper, pulling it away from his face so he could actually look over it.

When he did, the man softened more than you had ever seen. A warm smile flickered onto his face, one that didn’t fade as he looked back up at the girl who swayed awkwardly, waiting for his reaction.

“Thank you, kiddo,” he said gently, reaching out to bump his fist against Ellie’s arm, which she rubbed at awkwardly before she shrugged the shoulder.

“Eh, whatever,” she muttered, though her smile matched Joel’s as he looked back down at the paper.

You were able to catch just a glimpse, seeing what looked to be a drawing of him with Ellie's signature in the corner, and you couldn't help but smile yourself.

Joel was careful not to crease the drawing, forgoing folding it to instead hold it flat against his chest while the party finally began to wind down.

Jesse and Dina were out the door first, the boy straightening as you sent him off with a glare and a scolding to keep her safe and to not do anything stupid. Dina punched you in the shoulder, immediately drawing a warm smile from you that was directed towards her alone.

You ruffled her hair, giving her a playful shove to send her off along with a call of, “That goes for you too, troublemaker!”

She flipped you off over her shoulder as they walked off, and you rolled your eyes with a quiet chuckle. Leaning against your doorway, you glanced back to watch Tommy adjust a sleeping Hope in his arms, following Maria as she walked up to give you a short but warm hug.

“I’ll be by in the morning to help you clean up,” she said when she pulled back, and you returned her gentle smile with one of thanks.

“It should be him," you drawled, shooting Tommy a look that he shifted away from.

“Hey, divide and conquer, right?” he said, smiling back over his shoulder at you as he walked out onto the porch with his wife. “I put it up, she takes it down—sharing the power and all that good communist crap.”

“Communist crap?” you repeated with an arch of your eyebrow, and you heard Ellie cackling from somewhere behind you before Maria tugged her husband down along the pathway to your picket fence gate.

You turned back, directing your questioning gaze towards Joel and Ellie now as she gathered his gifts up, as Joel was still holding the paper she had given him close to his chest.

“Is anybody ever going to explain the whole communist thing to me?” you asked with a sigh, drawing nearly matching smirks from Joel and Ellie that you couldn’t help but smile at.

Neither of them chose to respond, and you rolled your eyes as they moved to walk past you.

“Thanks for letting us hang!” Ellie called behind her before crossing the porch, bounding down the steps as Joel paused for a moment beside you.

Your gaze darted towards him, seeing he was glancing towards you from the corner of his eye, even as he wasn’t saying anything.

After a moment of opening your mouth and closing it, you eventually stuttered out, “So, uh—”

“Tonight?”

It was only one word, but it caused something akin to excitement to course through you, and you bit back a smile as you nodded in confirmation to the meaning behind the simple question.

Joel nodded back, his gaze snapping back in front of him as he hurried to catch up with Ellie as she walked down the path. She looked up at him, her small smile drawing a wider one from Joel while they leisurely walked out of the gate together.

“You know, you can take your shit and I can put that back in my journal—”

“No way, this is my gift,” Joel scoffed, pressing the paper closer to his chest, and you smiled warmly as you watched them walk away into the cold autumn night.

“These are your gifts too!” Ellie spoke with exasperation, and you swear you could hear the chuckle in whatever Joel’s response was, even as they got too far away to hear clearly anymore.

You let the door close behind them, ignoring the mess that was your living room and kitchen as you moved into your bedroom, trying to find a way to waste time for a few hours until you met Joel again.

As you waited, your fingers tapped against the tube of lipstick Dina had abandoned in your bathroom before you tossed it into the back of a drawer and slammed it shut, trying to ignore that the temptation had even been there to begin with.

When you knocked on Joel’s front door a few hours later, he didn’t answer.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair that you definitely had not brushed through more than once as you had waited for the hours to pass until it was truly the dead of night.

“Fucking asshole invites me over and doesn’t even answer,” you muttered to yourself with a huff, even though your words were tainted with more nervousness than annoyance before you knocked again.

Still no answer.

You bit your lip, the situation too similar to when you had found him injured to give you comfort. Even though you knew there was no reasonable way for him to get hurt after the party, it still felt too familiar, and the way it set your nerves on edge led you to open the door.

Letting it close behind you, you took a moment to kick off your boots before moving further into the house. It was a habit Joel had gotten into months ago at your house, and one you had recently picked up on in his house as well.

He wasn’t in the living room, the dining room, or the kitchen, so you moved towards the staircase with a gnawing feeling of fear growing in the pit of your stomach.

There’s no way, you told yourself as you hurried up the steps.

Thankfully, there was no familiar jacket or blood on the floor, and that caused your nerves to lessen slightly.

There was a sound that was drifting from down the corridor, one that made you step forward slowly in confusion, hesitant until you realized what it was.

Music.

You couldn’t place the era of music exactly from the hallway, but you had a pretty good guess as to what it was as you walked closer to Joel’s bedroom door, where the music was drifting through. Your gentle knock nudged the halfway-opened door to creak open further, and you resisted the urge to peek your head through as you called out to him.

“Joel?”

There was a shifting sound from inside, followed by quiet for a moment until his gruff voice replied, “Yeah, in here.”

You huffed out a silent sigh, forcing yourself to overcome your hesitation and enter at what you guessed was an invitation to come in from the stoic man.

Leaning against the archway that led to the main part of his bedroom, you let your gaze wander over the room just briefly, noting the spinning record in the little vinyl corner before it landed on Joel.

He was laying back on his bed, a knee propped up as he rested a glass of whiskey in his hand on top of it, the back of his other arm thrown across his face.

Your brows furrowed, a different kind of worry sweeping through you at the sight. You glanced from him to the nearly empty decanter on his bedside table, chewing your bottom lip as you thought over what you could possibly say in a moment that felt almost…vulnerable. Like he was letting you see a side of him that didn’t show often.

When you finally opened your mouth to try and find some words to speak, Joel asked quietly, “You know what today is?”

You leaned back slightly, your lips turning down into a frown at the ambiguity of the words.

“Your birthday?” you said slowly, earning a quiet huff of laughter from Joel, but it didn’t sound particularly humored.

“The date,” he clarified, and when you realized you didn’t know, you began to count it through in your mind.

It had been September 23rd when Tommy had told you about his idea, and that was three days ago. So—

“September 26th?” you replied, hesitant as you double-checked your math in your mind. When you were sure that you had gotten it right, you turned your confusion back to Joel, watching as he brought the whiskey back to his lips for a sip without moving the other arm from his eyes. “What does—”

Suddenly, it hit you.

Today was September 26th.

Which meant tomorrow was the 27th.

Outbreak Day.

An image flashed through your mind, the names and dates on Tommy’s memorial shrine coming back to you clearly, and you sucked in a breath as you realized what Joel meant.

Suddenly, the look on Joel’s face when he had walked into the surprise party, the “I know” from Tommy, finally made sense.

Jesus fucking Christ, he had lost his everything the day after his birthday.

Your heart ached, stomach sinking as you leaned against the archway. Looking down at your feet, you struggled for something to say, because what could you say to that? What would you want someone to say to you?

At that thought, you looked back up at Joel, thinking back to what he had said to you when you had been the one mourning, the one wallowing, not that long ago.

No, not what he had said to you.

What he had done for you.

You walked around the bed so you were on the side with the decanter, giving Joel a gentle nudge for him to move over.

Finally, his arm pulled away from his face, looking up at you with confusion. When you saw how those brown eyes, a comforting sight at times, were rimmed with red, your chest tightened.

“Move over,” you mumbled, nudging him again, and he sighed quietly before he shifted to the other side to give you room to lie down.

When you did, you gently eased the drink from his grip, finishing it off yourself before placing it back on the bedside table next to the decanter.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to. Instead of trying to make the pain go away with meaningless words, you chose to sit with him in it.

Laying side by side, you and Joel stared at the ceiling in silence that was filled only by the vinyl record that continued to spin, the vinyl from Tommy that sounded like it might be from the 60s or 70s drifting through the air. While neither of you uttered a word, you hoped he understood what you were trying to silently communicate to him, because you didn’t think you could explain it yourself even if you tried.

You were trying to tell him that it was okay to let himself feel it. It was okay, and he wasn’t alone in it. He didn’t have to be, not if he didn’t want to.

After a few more minutes of letting it wash over him and listening to the music continue to play, you felt Joel’s pinky finger graze against yours from where they rested next to each other on the bed.

Your heart lurched in your chest, but not from discomfort. In the back of your mind, you heard Eugene’s words echoing clearly.

Maybe it’s your turn to hold onto him.

And for once, you didn’t hesitate.

This time, you were the one who took that leap—the one to reach out when Joel was pulling away. Your hand shifted, grazing over the back of his before snaking underneath it. Your palm laid against his as you held his hand, and you squeezed it gently once.

After another moment when the needle began to hit the end of the record and skip back over and over, creating an endless scratching sound on repeat, Joel squeezed your hand back.

You didn’t have the heart to be annoyed by the record, or the strength to get up and put the needle back, as Joel’s fingers intertwined with yours.

Letting your gaze roam across the room, you couldn’t help but laugh at the simple wood carving on the wall, one that you narrowed your eyes at to make sure you were seeing it right.

“What is that saying?” you mumbled, drawing Joel’s attention from the ceiling down to you, even as you didn’t meet his gaze in favor of looking at the wall décor in the shape of Texas. “‘Can't take Texas out of the man’, or something like that?”

Joel laughed quietly beside you, even before you felt his gaze shift from you over to the carving you were talking about.

“Surprised you’ve heard of that,” he murmured, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Come on, I was alive for a hot minute before the world ended, you know.”

“Right,” Joel said almost casually. “Because you’re…thirty?”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile, still not saying anything even as he continued, “Thirty-one?”

When you still didn’t reply, he huffed out a sigh, shaking his head before muttering to himself, “I’ll get it one of these days.”

Your gaze shifted back to the ceiling, as did his. The record continued to scratch, but neither of you pulled away from where your hands were joined between you on the bed.

“How about this,” you started quietly, shifting slightly to get more comfortable on the bed. Your head tilted a bit more towards his, but you still evaded his gaze as you asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

You didn’t need to look at Joel to know his dark eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, because you could hear the puzzlement in his voice as he mumbled an eloquent, “Huh?”

“Come on, I’m not asking you if you believe in god or whatever cosmic powers there may be,” you said dryly with a roll of your eyes, finally rolling over to meet his gaze straight-on. “Favorite color. Go.”

Joel’s brow was just as furrowed as you had expected when you looked at him, the brown depths of his eyes swirling with uncertainty at what you were getting at.

“And don’t say something stupid like black or white,” you added, trying to draw some comfort out of him with your trademark sarcastic wit. “A real color.”

He huffed, shaking his head at you before looking back up at the ceiling. For a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you, and you were ready to pull away, your palm starting to slip out of his when his hand tightened around yours and he answered, “Blue.”

Your lips twitched, a smile tugging on them at the admission. His gaze flashed down to you, then to your smile, before he quickly looked back up at the ceiling again.

There was a quiet moment as you gazed at the side of his face and he avoided your eyes.

“What about you?” he asked finally, turning his head fully now to return your gaze. When you opened your mouth, he quickly added, “Wait, no. Your house.”

The words made you pause, your heart thumping in your chest with an emotion you couldn’t name as he said it probably in the same moment that he remembered your words from the day you had met.

Interesting color.

He had made the comment about your house color then without animosity, but there had been some definite confusion, maybe a bit of judgment in the remark.

But Joel was looking at you now without a hint of that skepticism or analysis.

Just watching, waiting for your confirmation.

“You said it was your favorite color,” he added, the words so quiet they sounded almost hesitant, and your brows furrowed as you glanced over his face, that feeling in your chest deepening.

“It’s not,” you said quietly, the admission slipping from your lips before you could think twice on it.

Joel’s face was puzzled again now, and your gaze darted away from him.

“It's…it was hers,” you murmured, staring down at where your fingers were still intertwined with his. “She, uh—she always wanted it. The cozy house, the picket fence. All of that.”

You shrugged, pressing the side of your face further against the blue sheets on the bed. Blue, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind, tempted to smile even as you felt the familiar wave of pain wash over you at what you were admitting for—shit, maybe for the first time to anybody. You didn’t think even Tommy knew this, even as he didn’t question why you had turned down the offer of a larger house in Jackson years ago for the small one you still lived in.

“That was her dream,” you whispered, eyes drifting shut as you focused on the scent that was embedded in those blue sheets. Clean soap and something earthy, something heady that made your muscles relax. Familiar. Comforting. “I told her that we’d do it someday. When Tommy and I got here, I figured—well, I figured I’d try, I guess.”

A shaky sigh left your lips as they began to quiver, and your eyes squeezed shut tighter as Joel’s thumb stroked across the back of your hand. Not because it was uncomfortable, but the opposite—it was so goddamn fucking soothing that it threatened to break you with its gentleness.

Who would have thought the thing to make you finally crack was something so tender?

“Sarah wanted pancakes.”

Your eyes blinked open, gazing up at Joel at the quiet words to see he was staring back up at the ceiling.

There was a moment when he said nothing, and you almost wondered if you had misheard before he added, “For my birthday. She wanted to make me pancakes, but I forgot the mix. So I promised her I’d get a cake, but I forgot that too.”

Joel rubbed a hand down over his face, leaving it there for a moment as he inhaled deeply. The breath was slightly shaky, and this time you stroked your thumb across the back of his hand.

“It seemed so trivial at the time,” he murmured, finally letting his hand drop. His face seemed as stoic as always, but you could see the way his eyes wavered, and you held his hand tighter at the sight of it. “And maybe it was but, shit, I—I just—”

He floundered for the words, hand gesturing blankly in the air, and you finished quietly, “You miss those trivial things the most.”

Joel looked back at you, the brief surprise softening into something else, a look that spoke a sentiment along the lines of oh, of course you understand.

Of course.

You had matching wounds, after all.

“The songs they sang, their favorite jokes,” you continued just as quietly. “What food they hated. Seeing something and thinking ‘oh, they’d love that.’”

“I still do that,” Joel murmured, and you smiled softly up at him.

“Yeah, me too,” you admitted, and a small, gentle smile of his own broke across his face.

Another moment of silence as you stayed there like that. Hands still joined, you didn’t even notice the record scratching anymore.

“You know, my sister loved the stars,” you said softly, your smile growing as your eyes glazed over with the memories. “Like, she was borderline obsessed with them. We used to try and find the constellations back in the Seattle QZ. It was hard with all the lights and shit, but when we joined the Fireflies—oh, man.”

You laughed to yourself, and you were so distracted by the warmth of the memory and the way Joel’s smile grew as he listened that you didn’t even realize you had said the words my sister for the first time in years.

“When we first began to travel with them, and we were in all those open outdoors, she would not go to sleep. She’d stay up most the night, trying to find as many of those constellations as she could, tracing them over and over again.”

A sigh slipped past your lips as you shook your head. “Don’t know why she was so in love with the stars when she knew they were dead.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but you didn’t mind that. You also appreciated how he didn’t press you about more information now that you had directly mentioned losing your sister, even as you began to struggle under the weight of what you had said out loud.

“My daughter, she uh—” Joel started, breaking off to clear his throat before continuing, “she played soccer. And she was a fucking natural at it too—I’m not even doing the proud dad thing, you can ask Tommy.”

You laughed at the remark as it pulled you from your silent spiraling, unable to ignore the warmth that bloomed through your chest as Joel mentioned asking Tommy about Sarah. Even though it was akin to a joke, the thought of being that trusted, that included by Joel made you smile.

The quiet sound of your laughter earned a small smile from Joel, even as you replied, “I wasn’t gonna say you were.”

Joel chuckled under his breath at your comment. He turned back up to stare at the ceiling, his gaze far-away as he added, “When she was younger—like, eight or nine—she was on this soccer team of all boys. She was the only girl on the team.”

His gaze shot back towards you, and you saw a glimpse of that proud dad by the way his eyes lit up, his voice brightening while he continued, “Every single boy on that team cried at least once. But not my baby. She was tougher than any of them. Scored the most goals, too. God, she had so many awards cluttering her room.”

Your smile grew, your gentle laughter joining the chuckle that rumbled from his chest at the fond memory.

Joel’s thumb rubbed across the back of your hand again, slowly caressing your skin in gentle circles when you both fell silent, content to let the happy memories ease the pain, at least for tonight.

When a particularly loud scratch of the needle echoed in the room, you jumped, and Joel finally pulled his hand away from yours with a sigh.

You watched him stand and move towards the record player to pull the needle off, your hand that was still warm from his touch flattening against the bed for a moment, spreading across the sheets that were full of his familiar scent before you pushed yourself up.

“I should probably go,” you said quietly, swinging your feet off the bed to place on the floor.

Joel’s eyes moved back towards you, glancing over you as you sat on the edge.

“Yeah,” he murmured with a nod, picking up the vinyl to carefully place back into its sleeve.

You watched Joel for another moment as he set the record back to its proper place amongst the rest of its collection. Your fingers tapped against your knees, hesitating for a few brief seconds before you pushed yourself to your feet.

When you moved past him, you almost thought he was just going to let you go, but then his voice rang out behind you, “Uh—”

You wished you hadn’t stopped so quickly just at that simple sound he made. You wished your heart hadn’t skipped a beat, or that you didn’t instantly turn back to face him, letting his gaze search yours to find god knows whatever was hidden in your eyes in that moment.

Joel cleared his throat, his gaze not breaking from yours even as you both stayed silent. You saw his eyes waver and knew he wanted to look away, but he didn’t break your locked gazes.

Eventually, he finished, “You want a drink?”

Your lips tilted up in a half-smirk, shaking your head in bemusement before replying gently, “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight, cowboy.”

Joel sighed, his gaze finally slipping from yours, and you felt like you could finally breathe again while he murmured, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Your eyes lit up at the words you’re right leaving Joel’s lips, tucking that little victory away for later.

His hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans while he leaned back slightly, looking up to meet your eyes again as he said quietly, “Well, see you around, then.”

You nodded, your hands fidgeting in front of you. “Yeah, see you.”

Neither of you looked away.

Finally, after a moment that was much too prolonged for your comfort, you forced yourself to turn. The moment your gazes were no longer locked, whatever tension that had been slowly building between you since he put the record away shattered.

You heard Joel clear his throat again behind you before his footsteps backed away from you, and you resisted the urge to look back, even as you loitered in the archway of his room, your hand grazing against the frame.

When you heard the bed creak as Joel sat back down on it, you let your hand fall from the archway, moving towards his bedroom door before his voice softly calling out after you made you pause.

“Thanks.”

It was such a simple word.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

It wasn’t even the first time you had heard it from him.

But it still caused a wave of emotions to crash through you, and you stiffened under them. Clearing your throat, you considered the nearly overwhelming temptation to just run out of there without saying anything.

It was hard to resist your natural reflex to outrun anything that made you feel too deeply. But after what you had said tonight; the way he had opened up to you, how he had smiled so genuinely at you when you spoke of your sister for the first time in years…

Your mouth opened, planning to brush it off, to mutter another simple it’s not a big deal so you could bring that counter up to four.

But that would have been a lie.

And somehow, you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to lie in that moment, even if you had been able to find a convincing enough one.

So instead, you found two words slipping out of your mouth before you could even consider them.

“Of course.”

Again, it was such a simple sentiment.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

It was basically the same as no problem, or even the it’s not a big deal you liked to throw around.

But there was a weight there. Something unspoken in those two words, even though you couldn’t hear it through the blood rushing in your head.

At that point, the instinct to run was too strong to ignore. But you resisted it for just one more moment, if only to murmur a quiet, "Happy birthday, Joel."

After that, your feet carried you quickly out of the room. You walked down the hallway and down the stairs in what was almost a haste, eager to outrun whatever he was making you feel.

Only once you were outside of the house did you relax, leaning heavily back against the front door as it shut behind you. Eyes sliding shut, you winced at your awkwardness at the end there, placing a hand on your chest as your heart had yet to calm down.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath, forcing yourself to take each step away from the house, your thoughts continuing to race even when your heart finally did settle.

Unlike the first time you had been in his bedroom, you had allowed yourself to look around the room that time; seeing how he decorated the most intimate place in his life, taking in the things he chose to wake up to every morning. You had seen the windows opposite the bed, overlooking the street you walked down now.

Resisting what had become a natural habit, you took the path under the streetlights back home this time, wondering if he was watching.

He was.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller hurt/comfort #a stranger's heart series

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loveesiren · 10 months

Text

𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍 (𝖯𝗍. 2)

Disclaimer: I absolutely fucking hate this chapter but atleast it gives some background I guess. I'm sorry I made ya'll wait three weeks 😭 Also, I'm using the Sturniolo's as characters, in no way shape or form am I trying to convey that this is who they actually are.

Synopsis: Y/n finds out her best friends might not actually be the friends she thinks.

Warnings: Language, attempted SA (not from the triplets), scars, heroin use, police

Word Count: 2.7k+

I made my way down the dimly lit street. I was freezing and pissed off and high out of my mind off whatever my asshole date had given me. I met some loser named Marcus on Instagram and met him in downtown Boston to hangout. We took some pills and drove around but when I wouldn’t put out, he kicked me to the curb.

So here I was, walking in the ghetto streets of Boston at 2am. No sixteen year old should be out here in this area, especially at this hour, but I thought I was invincible. My only mistake was not charging my phone before I left. The only person who knew where I was was Alahna. Everyone else assumed I was spending the night at Alahna’s and I made her swear not to tell anyone. My parents would ground me for the rest of my life and Chris, well, Chris just worried. A lot. He was my best friend after all.

I clutched my purse close to my body, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone that was out at this hour. I noticed what looked like a gas station a couple blocks ahead so I picked up the pace, hoping they would have a place I could charge my phone or atleast a phone I could use to call a taxi.

I heard whistling nearby and I froze. “Well good evenin’, darlin’!” A man shouted out and I prayed to God he wasn’t talking to me. I continued walking, quicker now but it wasn’t long before I heard footsteps catching up with me. Two large men surrounded me and I froze once again. “Don’t ya know it’s rude to ignore a man when he’s talkin’ to ya’?”

His southern accent was thick and they both smelled of cheap booze and cigarettes. “What do you want?” I ask nervously, cowering under their dark stares.

“You look a little too nice to be from around these parts. Where ya off to at this hour? Maybe me and my friend here could help ya out,” the man smirked. “For a small fee, of course.”

“If it’s money you want, just take it!” I yelled, thrusting my purse at the man and trying to push past him but his goon was quick to grab me. “Let me go!”

“Oh I don’t think so, Princess. We wanna have some fun.” The men let out a haunting laughter and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I should have just fucked that stupid boy. I should have just stayed home.

I began thrashing around as hard as I could, desperately trying to squirm my way out of the mans’ tightening grip. “HELP!” I screamed out. “PLEASE! HELP!”

Before I could get another word out a blunt object struck me across my head and I collapsed to the ground in a dizzy heap. I tried to feel where I’d been hit but my vision was blurred. I could feel a wetness running down the side of my face and landing on the concrete below. I let out an agonizing scream before consciousness completely escaped me.

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n?” A familiar voice repeating my name in the darkness.

“Chris?” I attempted. I couldn’t feel my lips.

“Y/n, wake up!”

I opened my eyes and drew in a sharp breath, realizing quickly that my lungs were desperate for air. I clutched my chest as I fought to catch my breath.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Just breathe.” Chris’s soothing voice was like music to my ears

“Fuck, what happened?” I ask after finally steadying my breathing.

“You were screaming in your sleep.” Chris said. “Did you have the nightmare again?”

I sighed, remembering that God awful night. “Yeah, I think so…” I touched the scar on my head. It was almost three inches long, sitting partially on my forehead but most of it was covered by my hair thankfully. I looked over at Chris, he was looking down, twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip. He hated remembering that night. But I owed my life to him.

I crawled into his lap and wrapped my arms around him. I felt him let out a sigh of relief as he snaked his arms around my waist and squeezed me tight. I know how much anxiety he got about my safety after finding me like he did.

What I didn’t know that night was how amazing my friends truly were. Alahna had been tracking my phone the whole night to make sure I was safe and when she realized I was no longer moving by vehicle and instead walking in some sketchy part of downtown Boston, she immediately called Chris and his brothers. Alahna tracked my phone all the way up until it died and then Matt drove up and down the streets of the area I was in. When Chris saw the two guys picking up my limp, bleeding body in an attempt to get me out of my dress, he jumped from his brothers’ moving vehicle without warning to save me. Luckily he had back up. Matt drove up onto the sidewalk towards the men, scaring them off.

I mean, I don’t remember any of this since I was bleeding out and unconscious. But it’s the story I’ve been told. I do faintly remember Chris’s panicked voice calling out my name. I tried desperately to respond to him but I’m not sure if any words made it past my lips.

Since then Chris has definitely been a little overprotective. But I can’t blame him. I’m grateful to him. To Matt, Nick, and Alahna too. If it wasn’t for them I would’ve been raped and most likely dead. Unfortunately, the men who did it were never caught. I tried my best to give a description but the drugs mixed with fear and partial memory loss from my head injury wasn’t enough information for the cops to find them. So the second I turned eighteen and graduated highschool, I was ready to pick up my life and move across the country. Luckily, Chris, Matt, and Nick were blowing up on Youtube and agreed that Los Angeles would be a great place to further their career. So we all left to start a new life.

“I love you.” I told Chris.

“I love you too, Y/n. Are you feeling okay? You were pretty drunk last night.”

I pulled back to look at him with a guilty smirk. “Yeah…sorry about that..”

He gave me a warm smile. “No biggie.”

I looked down at his hand that was now resting on my knee, noticing it was wrapped in a blood soaked bandage. “Fuck Chris! What happened to your hand?!”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He said, attempting to hide his hand.

I could feel the frown forming on my face. “It was my fault…wasn’t it?”

“No! No, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is. It always is.” I said, climbing off of him and off the bed entirely. “I always do something to fuck up and worry you and you can’t just let me ruin your fun all the time, Chris!”

“What do you mean? You didn’t ruin anything.” He said, standing up to meet me.

I worked on changing out of Chris’s clothes and into some of my own I had laying around his room. “I just…I just can’t have you worrying about me all the time. When we go out I want you to have fun, let loose, meet girls…” the words tasted bitter on my tongue. Chris almost winced at the sound of them. “I don’t need you to spend all your time and energy taking care of me, okay?”

Chris grinded his jaw, visibly frustrated. “You know I can’t just not do that, Y/n.”

“But why not, Chris?”

“Because you almost died!” His voice was angry now. No, not angry. Hurt. Scared. I could see tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I-I just can’t let that happen again. I’ll never forgive myself for letting it happen in the first place.”

“Chris…” My heart broke. How could he ever think that was his fault? “You didn’t let anything happen. I was the one who snuck out and didn’t tell anyone. I was a stupid kid and I learned a hard lesson. None of it was ever your fault.”

“But-”

“No buts!” I interrupted him. “It wasn’t your fault. Period. And I owe you my life for saving me that night. But you don’t need to waste yours looking after me. It was seven years ago. We’re adults now. We deserve to be happy and have fun, yeah?”

Chris nodded hesitantly. I could tell he didn’t want to but I hated the idea of him spending all his time focused on my safety and missing out on experiences that could make him truly happy.

“Good. Let’s go get some grub.” I say, offering him a soft smile. He attempts to smile back but the sadness remains in his eyes.

Chris followed me upstairs to the kitchen. “Morning boys!” I greet Matt and Nick.

“How the hell are you so chipper?” Matt asks. “You were absolutely faced last night!”

“She got it all out of her system in our front yard.” Nick chimed in, giving me a fake smile.

“Yeah…sorry about that…” I say, scratching my head.

“Your dress is good as new too, Princess.” Matt adds, motioning to your gold dress hanging from the door to the laundry.

I cringed at the Princess. But decided to ignore it.

“You guys are the bestttt!” I whine, giving them both timid hugs in hopes they’ll forgive me.

“Yeah, yeah. We know.” Nick says, hugging me back. “Here, eat up. We’re going to another party tonight.”

I sit down and nibble on some of the bacon Nick had made.

Chris sat down beside me, quieter than usual but his brothers don’t seem to notice as they go about their morning banter.

The knock on the door surprised us all. The four of us rarely got up before noon. Why we were today is beyond me but our friends wouldn’t have shown up at this hour either.

We all looked at eachother with confusion before Nick went downstairs to open the door. I heard a brief back and forth but couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. Nick made his way back up the stairs and two cops followed him. My stomach dropped.

I stood up out of my seat, instinctively putting myself in front of Chris. “Christopher Sturniolo?” The larger officer said.

“Yeah?” Chris asked, stepping out from behind me. Nick, Matt and I all held our breath.

“You’re under arrest for the assault and battery of a Mr. Cameron Jacobs.”

“What?!” My voice came out as a squeak. “Assault and battery?! It wasn’t Chris! You’re mistaken.”

“Christopher Sturniolo. The Youtuber? We’re well aware of who he is.” The cop said. Chris stepped forward and the second cop pulled out his handcuffs. I couldn’t believe Chris was just submitting to this. “There have been videos uploaded among various social media platforms of the assault.”

I was at a loss for words. Chris and I had been in trouble before but never charged with something like this.

“Well, we can just bail him out right?” Matt asked.

“Bond won’t be set until Monday morning after he sees the judge. Until then, he will remain in custody.”

I watched as Chris put his hands behind his back. Still in his wife beater and pajama pants he wore to bed. He bit his lip and looked at me with remorseful eyes but remained quiet. I could feel tears welling up in my own eyes. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” He hummed into my neck, unable to hug me back. “I love you.” He mumbled before the piece of shit cop pulled him away from me.

The other cop handed Nick his card and I watched as they manhandled Chris down the stairs and out the door. It was like the world was moving in slow motion. My best friend was just ripped away from me in a matter of minutes and I felt so lost, like a part of me was missing.

I palmed my face, wiping the tears away from my eyes before I fished for my phone in my pocket. I opened Instagram and searched Chris Sturniolo. The video from last night was all that came up. I clicked on the first one and watched it. I saw myself leaning on Madi’s shoulder in the background, unaware of the events taking place. I saw Chris snapping and wailing on the dude I almost went home with.

A sob escaped my lips. I was so grateful to Chris for getting me out of that situation but it landed him in jail. If I wasn’t such a mess he wouldn’t fucking be there…

“Okay, so I have some money saved up. I think first thing Monday morning we should-”

“Y/n enough!” Matt yelled. I stopped talking and looked at him with confusion.

“What do you mean? We have to get him out…”

“Yeah! We-” He said, motioning to himself and Nick. “do need to get him out. We need to call our parents. We need to figure out a plan.”

“Matt…” Nick started.

“No! I’m sick of all the shit she drags Chris into!” Matt said before taking a few steps towards me. “All you do is cause him problems. Put him in situations he doesn’t want to be in because he feels like he has to take care of you. You’re the reason Chris did drugs. You’re the reason Chris snuck out. You’re the reason Chris fucked up! He would be so much better off without you! And now look what you’ve done?! He’s in fucking jail cuz you wanted to be a slut!”

I slapped Matt hard across the face. I didn’t mean to. It was just a reaction. He took a deep breath, as did I. He turned to look at me, his blue eyes staring daggers into mine. “Get out.” He said.

I bit back tears and turned on my heel, running down the steps and out the front door to my car. As soon as I was locked inside my car a screamed at the top of my lungs. Letting every single emotion out. I thought they were my friends. I grew up with them. They were like brothers to me. If Matt and Nick felt this way then Chris probably did too. I’ve overstayed my welcome in their lives…

I started my car and sped off down the street. I drove the ten minutes to my apartment complex. It was nowhere near as nice as the Triplets but it worked for me.

I made my way up the stairs, ready to drown myself in a bottle of vodka and rot on my couch but I ran into Danny on my way up.

“Princessss,” He dragged on. “What’s got you so upset?”

That fucking nickname made my blood boil.

“Fuck off, Danny.” I said, walking past him.

“The Sturniolo kid again?” He chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette. I swallowed. Just thinking of Chris made me sick. “Ya know those pretty boys will always break your heart, honey.”

“You’re a loser, Danny.” I said before heading up the steps once again.

“I have some product! If you’re interested!”

I paused again. I swore to Chris I’d never use hard shit again. But did Chris really care? With the way his brothers treated me today, it couldn’t have come from nowhere. I grew up with them and rarely had an issue. But if his brothers hated me that much then maybe Chris did too…

It doesn’t take a whole army to convince an addict to go back. The war you fight is in your mind and when you have no soldiers on your side, joining the enemy may be the best choice.

So here I sit, with a needle full of heroin pumped into my bloodstream, feeling the best I’ve felt in years.

Chris who?

Tags: @strniohoeee @daisysturniolo. @justangelheree @flowerxbunnie @recklesssturniolo @lustfulslxt @mangosrar @bluesturniolo333 @christinarowie332 @kenzieiskoolaid @sturniolopepsi @mattenthusiast @ilovecrazymen @sturnphilia @poopydroopt

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #siren says #love siren #stardust

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lambiewrites · 8 months

Text

got this idea from @xxshadowbabexx hehe ✨

Warning: none, fluff tho

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Would they like me? Part 1

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Captain Price: well yes and no. I’m polite and well mannered but, I am very loud and obnoxious. Not in a whiny, bratty way but in a “I have no thoughts and no singular brain cells” way. Book smart not common sense smart. I have called this man “papaw” since I met him and even though he’s like 40, he’s still papaw. I consistently ask to come to his office because I feel like it’s a comforting little place, minus the cigar smoke. Price has asked about my southern/Appalachian accent more than enough times. I can tell him about mountain life. But he needs a break from me, are you kidding?! I talk way too much and ask stupid questions so, it’s 50-50. But at least I do what I’m told and well mannered.

Gaz: it depends. I really like Gaz and he seems so sweet and kind and polite. I feel like we would get along very well, until I don’t stop talking and he doesn’t know how to shut me up. I get this really strange vibe that he’s a marvel fan and so we can talk about that. I feel like he really likes Spider-Man (all of them) and so we could talk about that. Definitely would call him and say, “did you see that new trailer?” We like each other’s instagram pictures and we wish each other a happy birthday on our socials. I’d bake for him. We’d have sad boy hours together so, yeah I really think so but, I know I’m too loud for him.

Soap: bestie you already know the answer to this one and my answer is 100% yes. We both have big families (everyone headcannons him as having a giant family yeah?) lots of nieces and nephews we could bond over. We’d both try to understand each other thru our thick accents. (Him being Scottish and my southern one-) and it would be a delight! We both ramble and I’d listen to all his fun little stories. I’d follow him around like a lost puppy until he told me to give him space. I’d share a Dr.Pepper with him and cook for him. It would be the best time ever. Bestie for life. We gossip together and doodle together.

Ghost: hmmm, see here’s the thing. I have this feeling that’s like “yeah you’d hate me at first” and we’d just assume we hated each other at first until we have sad boys hours and just sit in absolute painstaking silence for hours. He’d hate me, I know he would because I’d get all “counselor” on him. (Hey I paid lots of money for that degree okay?!) and he wouldn’t be able to get rid of me but, I’d respect his boundaries (obviously) and give him his space (obviously) but he’d find little stupid notes with my handwriting on it being like, “you’re my hero.”, “take it easy”, “have a good day.”, “love you.” (Platonically), “you’re worthy” blah blah blah. He’d hate it so much. He’d throw them away at first but, later on, he’s kinda like “I hate this kid but why is she the way that she is? How can she see something or someone like me and actually like me?!” It gets the gears turning. Would I be a therapist? I would.

Laswell: I follow her around like she’s my own mother. She hates me for it but, it’s good to have another set of eyes. (Mine don’t work) we’re chill. That’s all we do is just chill and relax. It’s hard having so much testosterone around 24/7. We’re out and about. Having mommy-daughter day. Am I crying? I am, how’d you know? We talk about married life. She tells me about her wife, I tell her about my husband. We have dinner at each others house. We show each other our pet pictures.

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A/n: I am very much an extrovert and very loud and bubbly. I am an ENFP and I do have my counseling degree so, combine that into some sort of personality as you will and make your own assumptions ❤️ this was all for fun and feel free to comment or something that would be fun and great! Please be nice though 😭❤️.

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#call of duty #cod #call of duty nonsense #would they like me?#captain john price #Captain price #gaz #kyle gaz garrick #soap #john soap mactavish #ghost #simon ghost riley #kate laswell #Laswell #friends #platonic #enemies to friends #grumpy x sunshine

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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Okay so I had the most random thought for a love interest for Homelander and I just had to share! I think he’d adore a little southern Belle. I’m talking thick accent and southern hospitality! I fully believe Vought would have a cooking show on their streaming services to push the traditional American woman motif- maybe a little slice of the south would do that? Idk I’m spiraling here!

i'm sorry i'm so late to answering this but my GOSH this is so cute! i love any dynamic where Homelander has a very specific idea of who someone is, only to be thrown for a total loop. he wildly underestimates her because she's beautiful and she's domestic. but god, i live for that moment she gives him a keen look after he says something, and she says, "Bless your heart." in a way that takes him a second to realize sounds an AWFUL LOT like "You idiot." he likes the way she sets something straight because it was cattywampus and how she always seems to have an anecdote for everything. her wit is sharper than he gave her credit for, and she doesn't take his bullshit. he says something snide under his breath and she calls him out instantly, says "Quit bein' ugly." which! just about shocks him to his core! how dare she!

but then she calls him precious and suddenly he doesn't know what to do with himself. i love Homelander getting worked up about people he doesn't really know what to do with, or how to categorize. eventually he starts to slip into that dangerous headspace of wanting her approval before you know it he's making guest appearances on her show, wearing an apron over his suit and glowing with pride when she tells him how well he whipped those stiff peaks. cheeks covered in flour and experiencing baking for the first time. imagining how maybe this is what it would have felt like if he'd grown up with a family. it's good, even if it also has to be manufactured and televised for him to experience it

#god i cannot stop laughing i need homelander guest starring on a cooking show IMMEDIATELY #homelander x reader #homelander x oc #idk this could go either way hahaha i LOVE this #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #i've been digging through my asks and i'm SOOO sorry that y'all have sent in so many wonderful ones and i'm only just getting to them

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combeauferre · 3 months

Text

and i cut my hair (because i'm worth it)

les miserables, rated t, 4.5k words

“Hey,” Courfeyrac says, standing. Enjolras and Combeferre turn to look at them. “You wanna do something stupid?” Enjolras’ anxious face piques in interest, and he smiles softly. “What d- do you have in mind?” Courfeyrac holds up the scissors. “You want your parents to see a son? Gotta start somewhere.”

read on ao3

21:45 – Sébastien: Can I please come over?

Courfeyrac looks up when their phone pings, and frowns. It’s not unusual for Enjolras to come to them for advice, to be cheered up, or for general gender-talk. But a plea to come over is a Combeferre text, surely. A best-friend-of-God-knows-how-many-years text.

Nevertheless, Courfeyrac will answer the call for aid. If this is a best-friend-of-six-months kind of text, they will be the best best-friend-of-six-months they can be.

Downstairs, their parents are still up, talking in rushed Italian over the phone to Courf’s eldest sister.

Vivina is still settling into life in Marseilles, still struggling to find friends, which continues to take Courf by surprise. Back home, she could charm anyone. And it’s not like their French is broken, it’s not like they can’t communicate. But the Marseilles accent is thick and difficult to understand without longer-than-natural pauses while the brain catches up, never mind other people trying to understand them through their own Ligurian accents.

Courf and their four sisters have collectively decided to blame their southern French-born father; somehow, despite living his whole childhood in the city, Frédéric never passed the accent on to his children.

On top of the language barrier, the bustle of Marseilles is so far removed from the everyday peacefulness of their grandparents’ farm and vineyard, even from the busiest parts of Genoa. Courf has to admit, it feels more foreign here than they expected it to. They feel foreign.

But at least they’ve found Enjolras and Combeferre.

“Mamma!” Courf calls from their bed. From the room next to their own, a grumble to quiet down comes from Theresa.

“Jules?” their mother answers, walking to the bottom of the stairs. “Come where I can see you.”

Sighing, Courfeyrac hauls themself up off their bed and into the hallway, where they drape themself over the banister to look at their mother.

“Can Sébastien come over?”

She gives them a look.

“It’s a school night, Jules.”

“I know, but-”

“It’s almost time for bed.”

“Mamma, it’s urgent.”

She sighs and folds her arms.

“How urgent?”

Five minutes later and Courfeyrac’s best bullshitting attempts at a situation they know nothing about out the way, a text is sent back.

21:53 – Jules: come right over. what happened?

21:54 – Sébastien: I’m already on my way. Gabriel is coming over too.

No closer to understanding the situation at hand, Courf groans. They decide against going through the whole song and dance again to get Combeferre in the house. If the three of them are quick, their mother need never know.

Their great plan to smuggle both boys upstairs to their room is foiled by Geovana hovering by the door when the bell rings. Sheepishly, Courf opens the door to reveal Enjolras and Combeferre. The breath of a mother about to scold her child is cut short by the tearstains visible across Enjolras’ face, and Geovana is only human.

“Oddio! Come in, you two,” she says, hurriedly taking Enjolras by the hand and leading him inside. “Jules told me there was a bit of a situation, let me get you boys some tea, okay?”

Enjolras softens immediately and Courfeyrac understands. Under this roof, Enjolras is Sébastien. The de Courfeyracs have no intention of meeting the Enjolrases, so there is no reason to keep up the pretense of deadnaming their friend around Geovana and Frédéric; and Courfeyrac knows from personal experience how accepting their parents are of genders they do not understand.

The Combeferres, on the other hand, have known the Enjolrases for years. Under Ferre’s roof, Enjolras continues to be Noémie. The Combeferres adore Enjolras, but here, he can just be a man. And right now, it looks like that is exactly what he needs.

With weary eyes, Enjolras approaches Courfeyrac and all but falls into them. Courf's arms come up around him and hold him close, a thumb gently rubbing up and down his back.

"What happened?" they ask quietly.

"T-t-tell you in a." He pauses and takes a breath, fists scrunching around the back of Courfeyrac's shirt, forehead creasing against their neck. "In a bit."

"Okay."

Courfeyrac only has time to share one concerned look with Combeferre, one that tells them he doesn’t know what’s going on either, before Geovana is back in the hallway, gently pushing Enjolras' shoulder back so she can place a mug of tea in his hand.

"Th-thank you, Madame de Courfeyrac," Enjolras says quietly, avoiding her eyes as he focuses on getting each sound out right. No matter how many times Courf tells him Geovana would never judge him on his stammer, he continues on with short sentences that he can keep under control.

For her part, Geovana just smiles and squeezes his shoulder gently.

“You guys wanna come up to my room?” Courf asks their friends, dodging Geovana’s eyes in the hopes they’ll miss the lecture if they’re quick enough. Catching the hint, Enjolras and Combeferre turn and head right up the stairs, Courf hot on their heels.

"Jules," Geovana calls sternly after them. Of course, she knows every trick in their book. When Courf turns back, though, her face is soft. "If they're staying the night, you'd better have the air mattresses blown up before Theresa goes to sleep."

Courfeyrac still rolls their eyes.

"I know, Mamma."

She holds them in a firm stare a second longer, but says nothing more.

“I got most of that,” Combeferre says quietly as they climb the stairs, “but what was that she said about materassi gon…”

“Gonfiabili,” Courfeyrac finishes for him, laughing, “air mattresses, for you two to sleep on.”

“Oh,” he nods, smiling softly, “I’ll remember for next time.”

Learning Italian for school these last six months has become a way for Enjolras and Combeferre to impress Courf’s family, and Ferre is slowly on his way to twisting Courfeyrac’s arm into teaching him Italian, in exchange for obscure Marseillais slang. Maybe he’s not as good at persuading people as Enjolras is, but Courf is soft on him, anyway.

In the six months they've lived here, Geovana has been more accommodating to Courfeyrac's two new best friends than she ever was to their friends back home. Sometimes Courfeyrac wonders what their life would have been like if they'd stayed in Genoa, kept working on the vineyard, hung out with the same group of people at school that Geovana kept insisting were no good for him. Of course, she had been right, in the end.

Whatever she'd thought about them, she must feel the exact opposite towards Combeferre and Enjolras. Her no boys in the bedroom rule completely fell through after Enjolras came out to her and Courfeyrac had begged her to continue letting them have sleepovers, to be allowed to invite Combeferre to them as well, ready with their argument of, it doesn't even really make sense when I'm pansexual, does it, Mamma? And she had to admit, they had a point.

Combeferre is more sensible than any of the friends she'd had at that age, in any case, and she trusts them all together. They're smart, and they're good influences on Courfeyrac, and they care about each other. And who is Geovana to get in the way of that?

Closing the door on the rest of the house, Courfeyrac sits down on the bed next to Enjolras. Combeferre stands in the corner, leaning on the wardrobe, mug cupped in both hands.

"Tell us what happened?" Courf asks quietly, a hand coming to rest on Enjolras' knee.

He sighs.

"I-I-I-I just want to." The ‘t’ sound is hard, and lingers in his mouth. He pauses. "I want t-to be t-tr-trea-tr-” he takes a deep, frustrated breath, “To be normal." He puts his tea down forcefully on the bedside table and stands. "My parents ac-act like I- I can't do shit."

He takes a deep breath, then another, and pushes his thumb into his opposing palm.

"I tol-told them today that I joined th-the- the debate team." He sighs. "I- I was go-going to show them I can do it. I wanted to prove- prove th- them-” his hand twists, his nail replacing the pad of his thumb, “wanted to prove them wrong." Restlessly, he sits again, crosses his legs, uncrosses them. "I- I- I didn't e- ev- even get- didn’t even get th- that far.”

"What did they say?" Combeferre asks quietly. He's leaning forward, brow furrowed, jaw set. Courfeyrac's never met anyone so protective of their friend, as Combeferre is of Enjolras.

"They-they said I should h- have asked, and th-th- I need to- to get my voice under control first." He curls in on himself. “Never mind that- that my speech th- ther- therapist said it would be- be good for me.”

As much as Courf knows that seeing Enjolras in this light is a sign of their friendship and the trust they are slowly growing together, it is painful to watch. Larger than life, unapologetic Enjolras, making himself as small as he possibly can. Enjolras, who can stand on a stage and tear apart any opposing argument with no preparation, who just wants to please his parents.

“But you’re already doing so well,” Combeferre says, frowning. “If they just came and saw you – everyone says they’ve never seen anyone take an argument apart as thoroughly as you can.”

“I’m just-” he takes another deep breath, forehead creasing, “I’m ti- tired. Everyth- th- everything is such- such hard work.”

“They’ll come around,” Courfeyrac says gently, desperate to say something useful – although Enjolras’ eyes squeezing shut tells them it was the wrong thing to say, and they mentally kick themself for it.

“I- I’ve been waiting s- so- so long f- for- for that,” he says, voice raising slightly, words beginning to mangle together in his frustration, “I just em- embarrass them.”

“Are they going to make you leave the team?” Combeferre asks quietly.

Enjolras shrugs.

“St- stupid stammer jus- just- just gets in the way of all m- my shit,” he mutters. His nails dig into the flesh of his forearm, and Courfeyrac gently reaches over and twines their fingers together. They get a small, sad almost-smile in return.

“As long as- as long as I- I- I talk like th-this,” his voice wavers, the words getting more difficult to say as he gets worked up, every sound catching on his tongue, “They- they’ll never see me as someone who can- can- can get anywhere.”

“You’ll show them,” Combeferre says, sitting down on the other side of him. “Regardless of what they think, you’ll still be wiping the floor with everyone else.”

“But I want them- wan- want them t- to th- think- think I can do it!” Enjolras near-shouts, standing again, hand ripping away from Courfeyrac’s, coming up to tug at his hair. With every correction, his fist pulls tighter. “I want them to- to look at me, and… not see a disappoint- pointment.” He sighs. “I’ll al-always have a stammer, I- I- I’ll always be autistic… God knows what they- they’ll think of me wh- when they find out I’m trans too.”

Combeferre tentatively gets up and holds his arms out. Slowly, Enjolras retreats into them, folding around Combeferre the way he has for years. Courfeyrac hears a gentle, quiet, “I’m sorry, I know, I’m sorry.”

Something in their chest pulls every time they’re reminded of Enjolras and Ferre’s closeness, and of their own place as second-best. It doesn’t hurt often; they can live with it. But watching this – it’s private, and they’re a trespasser.

“I don’t wan- want to be their- their perfect little girl,” Enjolras says quietly, “It would be so easy, if that- that was what I- I wanted. But I want them to- to look at me and see their son. And th- they never- never will.”

Feeling helpless, Courfeyrac looks around the room, anywhere but at their friends. Their eyes fall on the old pair of scissors that sit on the dresser, and a sly smile creeps on to their face.

“Hey,” they say, standing. Enjolras and Combeferre turn to look at them. “You wanna do something stupid?”

Enjolras’ anxious face piques in interest, and he smiles softly.

“What d- do you have in mind?”

Courfeyrac holds up the scissors.

“You want your parents to see a son? Gotta start somewhere.” They raise an eyebrow at Enjolras, challenging him. He grins back, just like Courfeyrac knew he would.

Combeferre looks between them and shakes his head, half in fondness and half in desperation.

“You’re a terrible influence, Jules.”

Courfeyrac just smirks and shrugs.

“You love it.”

Giggling quietly, they make their way into the bathroom. Enjolras is first, immediately frowning and looking in the mirror. His hair is a point of pride for his parents, long and near-platinum blond. It’s only ever been trimmed to tidy it up, and it hangs down to his waist.

He hates it.

Courfeyrac is next, behind Enjolras, playing with his hair like they’re a stylist. Combeferre comes in last, a twisted, uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Enjolras might regret this, when he goes home to his parents tomorrow and they flip their shit. But the last thing he wants is to spoil this; Enjolras’ face is set and determined, and any kind of visible discomfort from Ferre could pull him back. He needs his friends’ support right now, to do something very minimal, and very brave.

“So,” Courfeyrac begins, still grinning, watching Enjolras in the mirror. His nerves have disappeared, and he grins back, a fierce glee in his eyes. “What would you like us do to?”

“I just-” he pauses, thinking about it a second. “Just get rid- rid of it.”

“Yeah?”

Courfeyrac looks at Combeferre for approval, and Combeferre shrugs and picks up the scissors. When he met Enjolras, he would never have agreed to something like this. He was the good kid, once, but he’s learnt a lot since then. He knows better.

“Just, start anywhere?” Ferre asks, reaching out and running his hand gently through Enjolras’ hair. He has to admit, it is beautiful – soft, luscious, and healthy.

Watching them now, Courf can only guess the amount of effort Enjolras takes to maintain it. It doesn’t suit him.

“Get it gone,” Enjolras says, nodding firmly. “Alth- though, may-maybe we can keep it,” his eyes drop from the mirror, and he looks at his hands. “I- I want to- to donate it.”

Courfeyrac begins rummaging in the cupboard, and produces a hair tie.

“Let me?” they ask gently, stepping in to gather all of Enjolras’ long hair into one handful, tying it. “Like this.” They make a scissoring motion above the hair tie and look at Combeferre. “After that, I guess we just wing it, right?”

“Sounds good to me,” Combeferre says, “Don’t expect anything amazing from us though, Bas.”

“It- it’ll be amazing to- to have it gone,” Enjolras replies, finding his own eyes in the mirror. They are firm and sure. Courfeyrac thinks, in that moment, they’d probably trust Enjolras in anything, if he had that much surety in it.

It’s Combeferre who takes the scissors, holds them above the ponytail, gives Enjolras one more questioning glance. He receives a firm nod back, and grins.

The hacking through Enjolras’ hair that follows is far from glamorous. If only a hairdresser could see them now, those scissors would be taken away and never given back. The line is jagged and Enjolras hisses in pain a couple of times, but Combeferre persists.

“I think,” Courfeyrac says, folding their arms as they watch, “That maybe you should never become an executioner.”

Moving the scissors away from Enjolras’ hair, Combeferre gives them a look over his glasses.

“Well, there go my hopes and dreams,” he says, dryly.

Enjolras giggles in front of them, shaking his head.

“I- I- I really d- don’t know what we’d be- be with- without you, Jules,” he says fondly, looking up at them in the mirror. His words still struggle to form correctly, but right now, he doesn’t care. Courfeyrac beams back.

Combeferre turns back to Enjolras’ hair, and with a few more haphazard slashes of the scissors, the ponytail comes loose in his hand. Grinning, Combeferre passes it to Enjolras. He holds it gently, victoriously.

“Now what?” Courfeyrac asks. “My turn?”

Standing back, Combeferre folds his arms and inspects Enjolras’ hair.

“Should we watch a Youtube video, maybe?” he says, running his hands gently through the messy ends. “You know, so it… doesn’t look like we did it at home?”

Turning his head, Enjolras looks at his hair in the mirror and considers.

“I kin- kind of want it to- to look like we did it,” he says finally, turning around to properly look at his friends. “I want my parents- parents to know I- I came to you guys and we ju- just- just sliced it off.”

Courfeyrac grins at him, before turning to Combeferre.

“May I?” they ask, holding out their hands for the scissors.

Combeferre’s answering smile is a shade Courfeyrac has never seen before, and it sends a thrill through them. Every day, they learn a new facet of their two best friends.

“Do your worst.”

“Well,” Enjolras says from below them, grinning, “Really, I- I- I could do with- with it being somewhat pre- presen- sentable.”

Courfeyrac places a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder.

“I promise not to completely destroy your hair,” they say with as much sincerity as they can manage amidst their grin. In the mirror, Enjolras laughs, eyes flicking between meeting Courf’s own eyes, the hair on his head, and the hair in his hands.

“What do you think?” Courfeyrac says, running their fingers through the hair around Enjolras’ forehead, “do you want bangs? Side bangs?” they take a handful of hair on the left side of Enjolras’ head and pull it unceremoniously across his forehead. “Emo fringe?”

Laughing once more, Enjolras bats their hand away.

“No fringe,” he says, “I ac- act- actually kind of like my- my forehead.”

Before they can stop themself, Courf leans down and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Me too.”

From the side, Combeferre watches quietly. The Enjolras in front of him is so different from the Enjolras he met seven years ago. Small, ten-year-old Enjolras, who’d never had or needed a school friend, who he never saw smile, let alone at anyone else, who took weeks, months, to really understand that Combeferre was his friend.

And maybe he’s not so different; he still doesn’t give a shit what other people think, and as much as he values Combeferre and Courfeyrac deeply, he doesn’t feel the need to fill the gaps with more people. But here, he’s happy. He’s loose and starting to relax and he’s free, and Combeferre takes a moment to just drink that in.

“I should do that thing,” Courfeyrac says, pulling him from his thoughts, “you know, where hairdressers…” they trail off in favour of concentrating, pulling a section of hair through two flat fingers and haphazardly hacking at it on an angle. “Like that, right?”

Enjolras laughs and shrugs.

“I can’t- can’t act- actually see you,” he says, “but- but yes, sure.”

Courf continues on this way for a little while, quietly chipping away at sections of hair with no system, but somehow, the hair begins to take shape. Around the chair, piles of golden hair settle and Enjolras is yet to realise how much of it is clinging to his shirt.

“You know,” Courf says, after a while, “Your hair’s so pale, I bet you could dye it any colour you wanted.”

“Dyeing it might- might be a lit- little too far, th- th- thi- today,” Enjolras says, catching Courf’s eyes in the mirror once more, “but may- maybe another time.”

A knock on the bathroom door makes them all jolt and look around.

“Jules,” Geovana calls, “remember what I said about the air mattresses, it’s nearly eleven.”

Courfeyrac groans, rolling their eyes.

“What are you three doing in there, anyway?”

“Nothing!” they call back, too quickly. Combeferre sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s not entirely sure on what Geovana asked, but he can guess.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he says, “how mad is your mother going to be?”

“Probably, like…” they think about it a moment, “a six?”

“Right.” Sighing again, Combeferre opens the door slightly. “I’ll go sort the air mattresses.”

Geovana makes way for him to come out the bathroom and smiles at him gratefully. But when Courfeyrac tries to close it behind him, she catches the door.

Swallowing, Courf lets the door go, giving Geovana a sheepish smile.

“Hey, Mamma,” they say nervously.

She takes one look around the room and sighs.

“Jules,” she begins, now in French, “why do I feel like you three don’t have permission from Sébastien’s parents to be doing this?”

“It’s my h- hair,” Enjolras grumbles quietly.

Shaking her head, fighting the fond smile on her face, Geovana turns around.

“I saw nothing, understood?”

Behind her, Courfeyrac beams.

“Thank you, Mamma!”

She turns back, fixing them with another stern look.

“You’d better clear this up first thing tomorrow, before school,” she says, “and Sébastien, love, give me your shirt to wash when you’re done, okay? You can borrow something of Jules’ for tomorrow.”

The tension in Enjolras’ shoulders ebbs away.

“Thank- thank you, Madame de Courfeyrac,” he says quietly.

She shakes her head, this time letting the smile cross her face.

“One day, you’ll drop that formality,” she tells him, “You’ve been coming in this house long enough. All this ‘Madame de Courfeyrac’ makes me feel very old.”

Enjolras offers her a nervous smile by way of apology, and she turns around, softly closing the door behind her.

“That could’ve been worse, huh?” Courf laughs. Enjolras flashes them a nervous smile. “Anyway,” they continue, patting him on the shoulder, “what do you think so far?”

Enjolras lifts a hand, running his fingers through his hair. It still looks feminine, objectively, but as he ruffles it with his hand, it sends a thrill through him.

“I love it.”

Courf grins and wraps their arms around him.

“Good. Is there anything else you want me to do to it?”

Enjolras turns his head from side to side, considering.

“I th- think it-it’s perfect,” he says, smiling softly, “will your mamma be mad if- if I- I take a shower this- this late?”

Courf shakes their head.

“Not at all,” they say, kissing his forehead one more time. “I’ll grab you a towel and some fresh PJs, yeah?”

Nodding, Enjolras continues to look at himself in the mirror. Courfeyrac turns to leave.

“Jules?”

They turn back to look at him expectantly. He smiles, sincerity shining out from his eyes.

“Th- thank you.”

Courf smiles back widely, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Anything for you.”

In Courf’s bedroom, Combeferre has set up the two air mattresses and pushed them together. With some blankets that Geovana gave him, he’s made them look cozy and inviting, and Courfeyrac almost wishes they were going to be down there with Ferre and Enjolras, instead of in their own bed.

“Hey,” they say quietly, making their way to the bed. Combeferre smiles warmly.

“Hey yourself,” he says, settling down on one side of his makeshift double bed.

“Thanks, for helping us do that,” Courf says, looking at their hands, “I was kind of worried you were gonna tell us to stop.”

“So was I,” Ferre confesses, giving Courf an almost shy smile. Combeferre is one of the least shy people they’ve ever met. “I’m really glad we’re friends, Jules,” he says, after a beat, “you make us have more fun.”

Courfeyrac grins.

“Happy to be of service,” they say, giving a mock bow. Combeferre chuckles.

“Really, though,” he presses, “I think you complete us.”

It’s cheesy, but Courf knows exactly what he means.

They’ve never told Enjolras and Ferre what their friendship circle was like back home. They were a harsh, nasty group who Jules got swept into thanks to their close friend’s new, horrible boyfriend. Jules came out to the lot of them only a week before moving to Marseilles. It was left so late because they knew, in their heart of hearts, that it was going to be awful.

At best, they were met with comments about how all the cute girls end up being lesbians; at worst, it was a “don’t worry, we’ll help you grow out of it”, followed by a fist to the stomach and a spit in the face. They still remember the look on their best friend’s face, like she was helpless, like she didn’t know if she wanted it to stop. Like she was more shocked that her friend was queer, than that her partner would beat them to the ground for it.

Suddenly, correcting them all on not, in fact, being a lesbian, became the least of Jules’ worries.

They never told their parents; the bruises visible on their face and arms spoke for them. But leaving behind Chiara, their second-oldest sister and best friend in the world, had swiftly become unbearable. Clinging to each other in the moments before leaving, she promised to visit soon, and made them promise to come back as often as they could.

Chiara is yet to meet Enjolras and Combeferre, but Courf knows she’s going to adore them.

Enjolras emerges from the shower ten minutes later, hair short and shaggy and dripping, cozy in Courf’s warm pyjamas, beaming.

“You like it?” Courf asks, jumping up to take a closer look.

“I- I love it,” he confirms, letting Courf run their fingers through it. Ferre is right behind them, inspecting their handiwork. It’s far from professional; it couldn’t be clearer that two teenagers with no experience did it. But Enjolras is happier than either of them have ever seen him, and the rest fades away.

While Enjolras finishes towel drying his hair, Courfeyrac grabs the camera they’d gotten for their birthday last year. Before they moved to Marseilles, it had only taken a handful of photos of people, Courf instead using it for landscapes, the mountains, the vineyard as the sun set. Since meeting Enjolras and Combeferre, the camera has filled up with grinning faces, laughs, memories Courf will cling to for years.

Ferre sees them setting the timer and grins, tugging Enjolras down to sit on either side of Courf, where they are positioning the camera as best as they can.

“Ready?” they ask, looking at each of their friends. After two quick, excited nods, Courf clicks the trigger and gets into place, wrapping one arm around Enjolras’ shoulders and the other around Combeferre’s waist. The other two lean in, grinning, and the shutter clicks.

The photo is one of the first to go up in the shared Triumvirate flat, two years later, as they begin their first year of university. It takes pride of place, in between the first Triumvirate sleepover and their first outing as a four, when Enjolras introduced Courfeyrac to Jehan, a trip that left them close and crushing on each other.

Next will go the photo of Enjolras and his high school debate team, following regional championships, alongside one of Courf’s favourite photos of Enjolras, mid-debate, arm raised, hair a scruffy, untamed halo behind him.

There’s a solemnity to the photo wall, Courf thinks when he walks past it every day, of feelings and experiences and time gone by. But there’s nothing Courf would change about those experiences. And there’s plenty more space on the wall.

#les amis de l'abc #triumvirate #enjolras #combeferre #courfeyrac #enjolras/combeferre/courfeyrac #les mis #les miserables #fanfiction #fanfic #ollie has a life #ollie writes #mine #this fic is my current pride and joy pls enjoy <3

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harrywavycurly · 16 days

Text

Southern Comfort Part 28: Some Kinda Alright

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @wedontknowherorhimorthem @blckburd @daphnesutton @fangirl509east @styleswithaseaview @stylesfever

Disclaimer: In this series your older brother Grant’s face claim is Glen Powell and if you don’t know who he is or what he looks like just look here

A/N: Harry finally gets to meet your older brother and while Grant may terrify him he’s determined to get his stamp of approval, enjoy some sibling bickering and nervous Harry✨

Harry doesn’t know what to do with his hands, at first he had one resting on the top of your thigh while the other holds his drink but then he thought having his hand on your thigh in front of your older brother would be inappropriate. So now it’s resting on top of the table and he can’t help but begin to tap his fingers to the beat of the song that’s softly playing on the speakers of the little outdoor area of the bar you picked to meet at. He knows any moment now Grant will be arriving having opted to just meet the two of you here instead of at your house where he’ll be spending the majority of his week and a half while in town, saying he had to make a few stops after his flight and while you seemed to know what that meant it left nothing but an anxious feeling in the pit of Harry’s stomach because what if one of those stops was to go pay his manager a visit like he had threatened a few weeks ago?

“Is that my sister I see over there?” Harry’s head snaps in the direction of a southern accent that’s almost as thick as yours but not quite. He watches a grin spread across your face as you stand up and push your seat back so you can make your way across the room. Harry stands up but doesn’t follow you, allowing you to have a moment with your brother.

“The one and only.” You answer as Grant just smiles and opens his arms so you can wrap yours around him in a tight hug. “I missed you.” You mumble as his arms wrap around you so he can squeeze you in a bear hug making you laugh.

“I missed you too.” You smile as he pulls away just enough so he can look down at you a bit and when you see him raise an eyebrow at you before he looks over your shoulder towards the table you know Harry’s at you quickly unwrap one of your arms from around him so you can poke a finger into his chest as a warning making him roll his eyes. “So that’s him?”

“You be nice to him Grant Matthew-”

“Hey now no need to go all full name on me okay? I’m always nice.” You roll your eyes as you glare at him when he finally looks away from Harry and back to you. “I’m just gonna see what he’s all about that’s all.” You look over your shoulder and you can’t help but smile when you see Harry standing there looking down at his hands messing with his pinky ring. You know he’s nervous but that doesn’t make him look any less handsome in his jeans and short sleeved button up letting a lot of his tattoos be on display, you know your brother is going to grill him but you won’t let it get too out of hand.

“He’s a good guy.” You state as Grant releases you from his hold as he watches the way you look at your boyfriend from across the room. “I like him.” Is all you say before you look at your brother with a smile before you loop your arm with his so you can lead him to the table so he can finally meet the man that’s been taking up so much of your time the last four months.

“You the dude that’s obsessed with my sister?” Harry’s eyes go wide as Grant’s loud voice makes him flinch slightly as he looks up from where he was messing with his rings. You instantly smack your older brother’s chest with the back of your hand making him take his eyes off of Harry so he can look down at you with a raised brow.

“What? It’s true? The dude sent bluebonnets from the middle of damn no whereville Texas all the way to Malibu…ya ain’t doin that just for some random pretty smile you ran into in the mini mart I’ll tell you that much.” Harry feels his cheeks get hot as your brother brings up the flowers he sent to your work the day after he met you in person, of course you’d share that bit of information with him or maybe you shared it with your mom who then told your brother? Either way it’s not a shock to Harry that your brother knows about it.

“You been here for all of two minutes and you’re already workin every single one of my nerves.”

“Oh I’m sure there’s one I’ve missed but don’t worry the night is young…now where are your manners huh? Aren’t you gonna introduce us?”

“Harry,” Your smile is warm and your eyes are soft as you look at Harry and when he looks back at you he feels a little more relaxed. “This is my older brother Grant.” You motion towards the man standing next to you and Harry looks away from you and towards Grant who gives Harry what he can only assume is a smile he uses on everyone he doesn’t know that well, it’s not fake looking it just doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Nice to meet you.” Grant just nods as Harry reaches out a hand for him to shake making Grant look at it briefly before reaching his own hand out.

“You always wear so many rings?” Grant asks as he shakes Harry’s hand, quite aggressively you notice by the way Harry’s smile falters ever so slightly but you know Harry has a strong grip because he’s had to hold you steady so you didn’t fall when he’s caught you climbing to reach something in his kitchen or a grocery store shelf a few times so you try not to worry about it as you look between to two men.

“Uh yeah I wear them pretty much everyday.” He answers without hesitation making you smile because you knew your brother meant it an an insult but one thing about Harry is he takes pride in his appearance all the way down to his accessories that include all his rings that you’ve grown quite fond of. Harry uses this moment of Grant standing right in front of him to really take in his appearance.

If Harry didn’t know him he would still be able to tell he was from somewhere in the South maybe not Texas exactly but somewhere boots are mandatory much like the dirt covered ones he has on, as is the shiny silver belt buckle that’s visible since his black t shirt is tucked into his tight fighting jeans, the only thing that makes him sort of blend in is the short sleeved white button up he has on over his shirt that he decided to keep unbuttoned. But what catches Harry’s eye is the hat he’s wearing, it’s a simple SnapBack with a football teams logo on it that he has opted to wear backwards and Harry is honestly sort of surprised he’s still wearing it since he’s inside a restaurant and about to sit down at a table, surly he’s going to take it off any moment now because even Harry knows the hat rule. But even with this more casual look your brother is going for he doesn’t look any less intimidating and honestly the short sleeves showing off how toned his arms are only make Harry more aware just how easily he could probably kick his ass and he wonders if that was the goal he was going for when he picked his outfit out.

“So you never answered my question.” Harry runs a hand through his hair as Grant gets comfortable in his seat, right across from him. Harry looks at him for a moment and all he can really focus on is his hat, that’s still on his head so he blinks a few times and shakes his head as he leans forward a bit towards Grant.

“Oh I’m sorry what-”

“Are you obsessed with my sister?”

“Grant Matthew you better take that damn hat off at this table.” Your voice is a harsh whisper as you lean across the table and Harry has to hide his smirk behind his glass as he picks it up to take a sip of his drink, he knew it was going to happen the moment he watched your brother sit down with it still on his head.

“You may work in a barn but you sure as shit weren’t raised in one so I’m gonna need you to act like it okay?” Harry watches as your brother quickly reaches up and slides the hat off his head and then it disappears under the table, Harry has learned that it’s probably resting on his knee that seems to be the place people put their hats while at the table because even Niall put his cowboy hat there while having dinner at your house last month. Harry can feel the annoyance radiating off of you and honestly he’s a little shocked at the words that have come out of your mouth since normally you don’t like to cuss unless you’re extremely upset but it seems your brother just knows how to push all your buttons.

“I left momma at home okay? I don’t need you takin her place while I’m here.” He snaps as he runs his hands through his hair and Harry looks at you as you sit back in your chair and just shrug as you reach for your wine glass to take a quick sip and place it back down on the table.

“Then maybe stop doing stupid shi-you know what? I don’t much appreciate how you’ve got me all riled up right now.” You point your finger at your brother and Harry looks across the table and sees Grant crossing his arms over his chest as he stares his sister down.

“You have me cussin up a storm in front of my sugar here,” Grant’s eyes land on Harry as you place a hand on his arm making Harry look over at you but you’re still glaring at your bother. “And I don’t do that very often so I’m gonna need you to start actin like the southern gentleman I know you are or I swear I’m gonna lay a whoopin on you the size of our home state do you understand me?” Your voice has lost all its gentleness as Grant leans forward so his forearms on resting on the table but Harry notices he makes sure to keep his elbows hanging off, that’s a good start he thinks.

“Yes ma’am.” Harry can tell by the way Grant smiles as he speaks the words to you that this is a normal thing that happens between the two of you because you just give him a smile in return and with the hand you used to point your finger at him you just simply pick up your wine glass and take a sip from it.

“To uhm answer your question from earlier,” Grant shifts in his seat as Harry struggles a bit to maintain eye contact with him from across the table. “I am obsessed with your sister but I don’t see how anyone could meet her and not become at least slightly obsessed? She’s sort of amazing.” Harry feels your hand on his arm slide down to his hand so you can interlock your fingers with his and he doesn’t have to look at you to know there’s a smile on your face as you run your thumb over his knuckles.

“She’s so amazing it took you damn near a month to even ask her on a date and then a stupid amount of dates after that to ask if she’d let you be her boyfriend?” Harry swallows thickly as Grant slightly squints his eyes as he leans forward onto the table and quirks a brow at Harry. “Now I may be a little country boy but I know when something ain’t adding up and let me tell ya Harry…this shit ain’t addin up.” You grip your wine glass a little tighter as you sit there and try not to get in the middle of the conversation, you had warned Harry this was something Grant might bring up because like you had mentioned to him yourself the pace Harry decided to take with dating and asking if he could be your boyfriend was slower than you’d been used to but he had his reasons and now he just needs to explain them to your brother.

“I just didn’t want to rush into anything with her I uhm I made her feel uncomfortable in the very beginning so I didn’t want to make that mistake again I just didn’t want to do anything to make her want to leave me or uh to end things so I just took my time letting her get to know me and getting to know her so when the time came and I asked her out she’d know for sure if this was something she uh wanted or not.” Harry knows it doesn’t make sense, he knows to anyone that’s not you that the words he just said won’t mean anything and if anything they just bring up more questions but he knows you tell your brother everything, well most everything so he’s hopeful that he’ll understand what he’s trying to say.

“She made you nervous as hell didn’t she?”

“Extremely.”

“Good. You need someone who can make you sweat a bit.”

“Oh yeah she’s uhm good at making me kinda freak out.”

“Let’s cut the pleasantries for a moment okay?”

“Pleasant-”

“I’m not gonna lie to you Harry I googled you.” You roll your eyes as Grant reaches for his drink and brings it up to his lips for a quick sip. “Your music is whatever but what I’m really concerned about is why are there photos of my litter sister leaving her apartment and her work or out at the beach all over the internet and more importantly what the hell are you going to do about it?” Harry nods as he listens to Grant’s concerns because it’s normal for an older brother to not want photos of his sister all over the internet, Harry also doesn’t like it so he understands why there is a slight harshness to his tone.

“I can’t do anything about it really. I wish I could stop people from taking her photo when I’m not there but I can’t but I have managed to at least talk her into the idea of full time security.” You give Harry’s hand a nice squeeze because you know how much he wishes you could just walk down the street and not get bothered but it’s not so much the case anymore now that the two of you have been seen together so often the last few months, you get recognized a bit more easily now.

“And what’s that mean? Like a bodyguard?” Harry nods and Grant just looks away from Harry and over to you and Harry knows that look on your brother’s face, it’s the one that’s silently asking you if you’re okay with the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“His name is Travis and I handpicked him.” You answer with a smile and Harry chuckles at the memory of you and Jeff arguing in his living room over who was more qualified, Travis or this man named Zach. You wanted Travis because he was from Texas as well and that was important to you and while Zach didn’t know who Brooks & Dunn were he had more experience but needless to say Jeff left annoyed and you left with Travis as your new full time bodyguard. “He’s from Austin.” Grant seems to be more than pleased with this information because a smile forms on his face as he nods his head in what Harry can only assume is in approval of your choice.

“You’re a braver man than me Harry I’ll tell you that much.” Harry raises an eyebrow as Grant takes a sip of his cocktail before looking him in the eyes with a smirk on his face letting Harry know whatever is about to come out of his mouth isn’t going to be good.

“Ain’t no way in hell I’d let a Texas boy from Austin no less…be around my girlfriend all damn day..those are some smooth talkin slippery fuckers over there Harry..that’s our state’s capital you know that right? That means politician type men…which means they look damn good in a suit all while telling you everything you wanna hear and next thing you know you’ll be all teary eyed and heart broken getting Kevin Costner-ed watchin Travis the bodyguard run off with your girl.” You let out a loud laugh as you place your wine glass down on the table causing both Harry and Grant to turn and look at you.

“You’d have to get a girlfriend first Grant in order to let another man be around her all day and you know damn well ain’t no man from Austin gonna come in and swoop me away from what I have right now so no one will be getting Kevin Costner-ed you jackass.”

“How do you know that I don’t? You’re not home anymore and you can’t keep up with my love life online like I can with yours.”

“Oh so you’re not just itchin to ask me how Kathy is doin? If she’s free while you’re in town?”

“Kathy? Like Niall’s Kath-”

“Who the fuck is Niall?” Harry looks away from you and slowly turns to face your brother who looks like he is a second away from breaking the glass in his hand if he grips it any tighter.

“Uh he’s my best mate and uhm Kathy’s boyfriend.” Grants eyes dart to you and you just smile and shrug making him once again look at Harry with a hard glare.

“And his name is Niall? Niall what?”

“Horan..we were in One Direction together.”

“Niall Horan? That’s not a real fucking name.”

“Grant don’t be an ass.”

“You got Kat out here dating a fucking ex boyband-er?” You roll your eyes as your brother glares at you while Harry has officially lost all hope of Grant leaving this bar not wanting to kick his ass because not only is Harry dating his little sister but now apparently Harry has set up his bestfriend with the girl he likes to spend time with while in town. “She needs stability in her life.”

“Oh and you’re gonna give her that are you? The traveling ranch hand huh? Who lives in Texas while she lives in California? Yeah sounds real stable Grant.”

“I only travel when dad and them tell me to so I gotta home base and you damn well know it besides…I’ve seen those documentaries about what happens to members of boybands after they break up…shits not pretty..she deserves more than some washed up singer that’s all I’m sayin.” Harry raises an eyebrow as he looks at Grant because surely he can’t be serious because him and Niall were in the same band so does he think these things about him as well? And the thing about calling Niall washed up? That’s got to be a joke? But then again based on the look in Grant’s eyes he can only assume he’s jealous of his friend being the one Kathy is spending time with so of course he’s going to say things he doesn’t mean but Harry doesn’t exactly know Grant so he can’t be too sure.

“Washed up singer? You don’t even-”

“I’ve got it sweetheart.” You look over at Harry who is giving you a reassuring smile as he reaches over and places a hand on your arm. “Why don’t you go get another drink?” You just look at your wine glass and let out a sigh when you see it’s empty, Harry gives your arm a little pat at he leans over and kisses your cheek making you smile.

“Okay but I swear Grant if you say one more thing about my puddin pop I’ll drag you out of here by your ear and make you apologize to his face.” You threaten as you stand up and point a finger at your brother who just laughs and shakes his head as he leans back in his chair. Harry just turns his head and gives you a smile as he watches you head towards the bar, he doesn’t turn to look back at Grant until he sees you walk up to the bar and tell them what you want.

Grant won’t admit it but he’s almost sort of impressed with how Harry sends you off so he can talk to him in private, he knows what he said about his friend was uncalled for but he wasn’t exactly prepared to hear that Kathy is dating someone. Not that it really matters since Grant has no real intentions with Kathy he just likes having someone to be flirty with when he visits his sister. The look on Harry’s face when he does finally turn back to look at Grant is a serious one, it tells him all he needs to know really, that Grant crossed a line and Harry intends on setting him straight but Grant just smirks in response because he doesn’t scare easily but he’ll hear the pop star out for a moment or two.

“So firstly those documentaries you watched about boyband members? Yeah that’s not the case for most of us…and secondly Niall isn’t washed up he’s actually on tour right now-”

“Listen man..I respect you sticking up for your friend and I’m glad he’s not some joke but I care about Kathy the same way I care about my sister so…save it okay? He’s never going to be good enough and that’s that.” Grant interjects as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You care about her like you care about your sister? Really?” Harry asks not believing him for a minute that he doesn’t have some sort of feelings for Kathy.

“I mean yeah I like to flirt with her but she’s just nice and…cute.” He answers with a causal shrug and Harry just nods as he watches Grant look over towards the bar to check where you’re at and then he slowly begins to lean onto the table, leaning on his elbows and looking Harry in the eyes making all of Harry’s toughness he had just a few moments ago fade away as he begins to get that very familiar intimidating uneasiness as Grant’s stare only intensifies.

“So listen here pretty boy…I’m gonna go ahead and get this outta the way okay? She likes you and you seem to make her happy so I’ll tolerate you for now. But the moment you break her heart or make her cry…or better yet the moment you let one of your asshole friends make her cry…I won’t hesitate to handle it and just know that eventually even though you’re Harry Styles…they’ll stop looking for you..and honestly the won’t even know where to start…you understand what I’m saying?” Harry feels his palms get sweaty as he takes in every word your brother says, he’s honestly not sure if it’s the accent or how calmly he says it that makes it more threatening but either way Harry understands exactly what he means.

“Uh I uhm-yes yes I understand.” Grant just smiles as he sits up and uncrosses his arms so he can reach over and give Harry’s arm a playful smack making Harry flinch.

“Good I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Oh and uh Travis…he’s married.” Harry spits out making Grant quirks a brow as he grabs his drink to take a sip while Harry quickly looks over his shoulder to check your whereabouts and he smiles when he sees you heading back towards the table. “I may be dumb but I’m not stupid.” Harry explains when he looks back at Grant and when he watches your brother’s face break out into a smile before he leans his head back and laughs he feels like he could just melt into his seat with the amount of relief he feels.

“Well I’m be damned…pretty boy has some smarts to him after all.” Harry just shrugs and laughs to himself as he picks up his drink. “You might just be some kinda alright.” He states as he gives Harry a little nod of his head just as you sit back down at the table with a full wine glass, Harry feels a proud smile take over his face as you reach over and grab his hand pulling it into your lap.

“What’d I miss?” Grant looks at Harry and then to you with a smile and a shrug making you roll your eyes as Harry gives your hand a squeeze.

“Nothing important love.”

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