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kingkatsuki · 1 year

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— babysitting

Just a silly little piece about Bakugou looking after his nephew when Kirishima and his wife are both working, and him being the cutest little wingman.

Warnings: fluff!, implied!older Bakugou, Bakugou’s behaviour could be construed as stalking but it’s not really, he just proper fancies you.

Pairing: implied!Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 2.1k.

“Please, Kats. I promise it won’t be for long, we didn’t realise we were both working this afternoon and I can’t take him on patrol with me—” Kirishima pleaded on the phone.

“I’m busy,” Bakugou replied bluntly.

“Busy doing what?” His best friend almost whined, and Bakugou could tell the hulking tank of a man was pouting on the other side of the line.

“None of your damn business.”

Bakugou didn’t want to admit the real reason he was busy today. It was the same reason he was now busy every day he was off.

A few weeks ago he’d made his way into Musutafu mall on his lunch break to pick up a copy of a new romance book his favourite author had just released. And while he was checking out he noticed you filling up one of the displays near the back of the store, giving him the cutest smile when he’d passed you to leave.

Since that day he’d come back every week on one of his days off, just to get a simple “hey” from you as he bought yet another book. Bakugou was certain he’d soon have so many unread books in his house that he’d have to build an extension to store them, but he couldn’t help it.

And today was going to be the day that he was actually going to talk to you— possibly.

“Can’t you reschedule? It’ll only be for a few hours until I can get off patrol and he can spend the afternoon at the agency with me.”

“What about Mina?” Bakugou offered.

“She’s got that photoshoot with Hero Weekly today, remember?” Of course she fucking does, “And Sero’s out on patrol with me.”

“Denks?” Bakugou was certain he already knew the answer to that one though, as he ran a palm down the length of his face.

“You know I’m not allowed to leave him unsupervised with Denki anymore, Bro.” Kirishima groaned, “The wife still hasn’t forgiven me for them almost setting the kitchen on fire.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but snigger at the memory, the panicked phone call that he’d heard coming through on the central emergency line that there was a fire in Red Riot’s neighbourhood, and when Backdraft had turned up at the scene he’d found a singed Denki standing inside a murky kitchen with some burnt cookies. Kirishima had to replace two cabinet units and the oven after that debacle and it was no wonder his wife no longer trusted Denki as a babysitter.

“Please, man. I already told him, and he’s real excited to spend the day with you.”

Bakugou couldn’t deny he missed spending time with his little nephew, and Kirishima knew his best friend couldn’t deny the pleas of his son. Silently fist pumping the air in relief when Bakugou finally responded on the other end of the phone.

“Fine, I’ll pick him up now.”

“Uncle Kats, let’s get these!” His nephew picked up a water gun from a wire dumpbin of toys outside the toy store, turning around in a crouched motion with eyes squinted as he pretended to shoot Bakugou.

He put his hands up in mock surrender as he grabbed at the plastic barrel, holding it in the air as he took it out of his nephews hands to place it back inside the bin.

“Your parents don’t like you having guns, remember squirt.”

“But what if I need one for protection.”

“You don’t need that shit for protection,” He shook his head, “I’ll be there to protect ya.”

“But wouldn’t it be cool to have a water gun fight outside. It’s summer.” His young nephew whined as Bakugou began to lead him away from the toy store, noticing that your work was approaching on the right side of the mall.

“I’ll talk to them about it.” Bakugou reached down to ruffle his hair as his nephew shouldered his leg wrapping an arm around one thick thigh to squeeze him into a hug in thanks, “How about a book? You like reading, don’tcha?”

“Not really,” He shook his head, immediately making a beeline for the confectionery inside the shop.

“What? Why not.” Bakugou raised a brow before he began to search the store for you, hoping that you weren’t on your lunch break.

You were usually in one of the back aisles around this time of day, tidying the shelves as he pretended to flick through the various hero books that you sold. Like he’d ever actually buy one of them— perhaps the book Miruko had released on unabashedly being yourself despite the critics, or the memoir Edgeshot had put together before he passed away, but never the unofficial Deku books that seemed to line the shelves of your Pro-Hero section and were always on sale. Bakugou snorted when he noticed a large bright red “half off” sticker covering Deku’s face on one.

“It’s too many pages.” His nephew scoffed, picking up a chocolate bar as Bakugou placed a palm on the back of his neck to lead him away from the sweets.

“You just gotta find a book that doesn’t feel like too many pages, that’s all.” He began to walk towards the manga aisle, wondering if there might be something there that would interest the young boy.

“You like reading, uncle Kats?”

“Course I do,” Bakugou scoffed, “Way better than TV. That shit’ll rot your brain.”

He had an entire bookshelf of his favourites lined up at home. All in alphabetical order by author and spines outward facing, a few of his favourite covers turned forward to show off the artwork. Some spines were more worn than others, an indication of the sheer number of times he’d sought comfort in those stories after a long day at work, or a lonely night at home.

“What kinda books do you like?”

Bakugou chewed on the inside of his cheek before answering. It would be so easy to lie and say action or fantasy, certain that half the people who claimed their favourite book was Lord of the Rings or a Game of Thrones had never actually read them. Or the pretentious people who would pretend their favourites were non-fiction books about bettering yourself or hyper-specific topics that would never come up in normal conversation. But there was a part of him that didn’t want to lie to his nephew— the boy was always so open and honest with him, even at his young age.

“Romance.” Bakugou shrugged, leaning forward to pick up one of the new manga books that sat on a top shelf.

“Eww yuck,” Bakugou’s nephew immediately scrunched up his face, making a show of sticking his tongue out in distaste, “I didn’t think you’d like books like that.”

“What did ya think I’d like?”

“I dunno, like action or kicking villain ass.”

“Don’t say ass.” Bakugou frowned, his eyebrows narrowing as he glared down at the young boy.

“But you say it all the time, I hear you.”

“Yeah, because I’m an adult.” Bakugou grinned, “I see enough of that crap when I’m at work, don’t need to read about it too.”

“You say ‘shit’ a lot too.”

“Oi, you little—” Bakugou lost his train of thought the moment he saw you past a corner, words disappearing into nothing as he noticed the same focused look on your face as you sorted through a delivery of new books.

Bakugou was certain you were wearing a new pair of jeans today, or at least a pair he’d never seen before. You looked real good in them. He felt his heartbeat increase when you placed a book back on the shelf, stopping to talk to one of your colleagues as your lips curled in to the prettiest smile, and he couldn’t stop himself as he felt himself beginning to mimic your smiling face.

“Oh,” The kid nudged his thigh, shamelessly standing around the shelves to stare at you, “Is that the real reason why you brought me into a bookstore? Not because you want me to read.”

“What?” Bakugou wasn’t even sure he heard the question as he kept his gaze on you. Feeling his cheeks begin to heat up as you bent over to pick up more books, the angle had your jeans tightening against the curve of your ass and he felt like a pervert for ogling you so shamelessly.

“The lady you’re staring at.” His nephew snorted, pointing over at you “You’re so obvious.”

“Piss— shut up,” Bakugou caught himself, grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt to tug him back behind the shelves, “I ain’t starin’.”

“Yeah you are!” His nephew sniggered, “You’re giving her the same look my dad gives ma.”

“No I ain’t.” Bakugou almost pouted, crimson eyes still peeking at you through the shelves in the aisle he was down as you continued to place more books onto the table in your section.

“You so are,” His tone increased, and Bakugou had to stop himself from slapping a palm over his big mouth to shut him up, “You’re so obvious. Look how red you are!”

Was he that obvious? Bakugou had done everything he could to be subtle each week when he visited your bookstore, trying to stick to the same shelves and strategically picking up books so he didn’t seem like was just staring at you all the time. Not that it was his fault anyway, you were so fucking pretty.

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?”

“She’s workin’.” Bakugou replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He’d probably said a total of five words to you since he’d started coming into your book store a few weeks ago, and the thought of saying any more had a ferocious pit growing inside his stomach.

“So? If you like her you should tell her,” His nephew tried to nudge him towards you, “That’s why my dad asked my ma out.”

“That’s different,” Bakugou grumbled, “This is…”

Kirishima knew his wife liked him back, they’d been friends long before they started dating so they had a foundation to build upon. This? This was completely new to him, and the thought of being rejected, especially by a girl as pretty as you, petrified him.

“Wait, you read all those romance books and you don’t know how to ask a girl out?”

“I do know,” Bakugou sneered, “I ain’t a total dumbass.”

“So why don’t you?”

Because he was a coward, that’s why.

Not that he’d even be able to talk to you long enough to do it if he could. His throat seized up and his heart practically ricocheted off his rib cage whenever you were near, your perfume lingering in the air as it had him wishing he could bring you into a warm embrace. He’d ask you out one day, just not today—

“Because I told ya, she’s workin’.” Bakugou began to steer his nephew away from the manga section, trying to get him to leave the store.

It had been a bad idea to still come to your store on his day off even though he was babysitting, but he couldn’t help it. The routine he’d settled into on his days off no longer felt complete if they didn’t include you, the small time he’d spend in the bookstore each week were enough to become the highlight of his day. And he would ask you out— just not today.

“Don’t tell your parents about this,” Bakugou grumbled, “Your dads too frigging nosy.”

“Alright,” His nephew practically sung the word, and Bakugou knew exactly what was coming, “But it’ll cost you.”

“I’m sure it’s a crime to blackmail a Pro-Hero, squirt.”

“So I’ll just tell the pretty lady you fancy her then.”

“Fine, fine,” Bakugou snarled, the corner of his lip curling to bare his gum, “Whaddya want?”

“That water gun we saw at the toy store.”

God, Kirishima was gonna kill him.

“Fine.” Bakugou groaned, walking towards the cash register to pay for the candy that he’d picked up.

“But you have to get one too so we can play together, alright?”

Two guns. Kirishima’s wife would definitely kill him before he even attempted to sweet talk his best friend.

“I was going to say the loser has to tell that girl from the bookstore that you like her, but you’ll probably lose because you’re old.”

“Oi, you cheeky little shit,” He ruffled his nephew's messy black hair, “Watch who you’re callin’ old, squirt. I’ll kick your ass and ask her out.”

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #soft bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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derpy-dogs-n-cats · 4 months

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Ignorance

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Man whore! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sexual themes, sexual thoughts, irresponsible parenting.

Summary: Gojo never cares about any of his hookups, it was only a matter of time until he made a mistake.

W/C: 1.4k+

A loud ringing pierces through a pair of ears that triggers a grunt to elicit from parted lips that’s quickly followed by more groans of annoyance, a hand reaching for the nightstand next to the bed to search for the ringing phone only to knock it over. Gojo throws his bed sheets off of him with a louder grunt and swipes his phone off of the floor to set his eyes on the brightness of the screen that cuts through the darkness of the room with an even louder groan falling from his mouth with an eye roll.

It was the fourth time you were calling him, in just one day, and in the dead of night. A string of curses leaves him as he’s quick to decline your call again, this time having had enough and immediately going to the settings of your number to block it. He lets out a raspy sigh and drops his phone back down before tossing over on his bed to lay on his back, desperately trying to catch whatever sliver of sleepiness was left in him.

It’d been two weeks of your incessant calls, two weeks of nonstop work, back and forth, work, calls, work, more calls, he’d been so busy he’d been forgetting to block your number, and now that he was finally going to be able to sleep in, wake up when he wanted to, you called. He could’ve silenced his phone, but what if there was an emergency? He could only do so much when it came to disconnecting from his work, in his type of work line, one could never fully disconnect.

He admits you were a good fuck, though he thinks that’d be putting it mildly, and he hadn’t had a virgin in a while, and you took longer than he initially thought in calling him at all, but ever since the first call, it’s just been nonstop. First, two weeks of nothing, and then two weeks of calls, one after the other, the first of which he was going to answer, maybe… but he was just so busy with work, and when you kept calling him, he thought that maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to go back with you.

If you were losing it after just one time with him, he didn’t even want to think of twice. “Damn.” He curses under his breath. “I forgot virgins could be so clingy.” He mutters, managing to blink some drowsiness back into his head, taking in a few slow breaths as he feels his body grow heavier, making him feel as though he sinks deeper into the mattress until he manages to fall back asleep again.

One Year Later.

A beep is heard at the doors of the grocery store opening with Gojo walking in and moving past the produce section onto the aisles at the back. He doesn’t usually come in this store, but this was the only store still open this late at night given that it’s a 24-hour store and that he had only barely finished with his latest task given to him by the higher-ups, one that he would’ve finished sooner if he hadn’t been pushing it off for so long.

He walks by the aisles and checks each one in search for the snacks aisles, just wanting to eat something quick before he gets back to his place and passes out on his bed. Walking by the aisles, he sees a few people lingering by, some seeming to be grabbing their entire weeks-worth of grocery shopping at almost midnight but other than that, none of them really seeming to catch his attention, none but one in particular.

Just as he’s passing by the cereal aisle, he nearly passes onto the next one before stopping and backtracking to said aisle. He raises one of his hands to dip a finger behind his blindfold and pull it down slightly to peek at the only person standing in the cereal aisle with his own eyes. He sets his eyes on a woman from a side angle and rakes his eyes from the pair of legs leading up to the swell of the ass, and slowly trailing higher up to you.

His eyes widen at the sight of your familiar face and briefly widen even more, taking in how much you’ve changed. Your breasts… are visibly bigger, they even seem somewhat swollen, he knows you were young when he bedded you, but could they have really grown that much in a year? He didn’t think it was possible but how he ached to bury his face in the pair of tits, hold them in his hands to press them tight as he fucks them…

The ¾ profile from behind you provided him with perfect view of the swell of your tits and hips, which seemed fuller as well. Your hips must’ve grown in the past year, and were just begging him to grip at them hard enough to bruise while he held you still to fuck into your sopping cunt. And your ass… the added fat on your ass would bounce on his hips when he decides he wants to pull at your waist for you to meet his thrusts from behind.

Your legs had gotten thicker as well, it made him wonder how it’d feel now to have them wrapped around his head, waist, pulling him in deeper with your soft legs wrapped around his him, would you press them against his behind to keep him from pulling out? The same way everything seemed to have grown to a pleasant size, your stomach looked like it had a few more pounds than last time too, it made the challenge of reaching deep enough into you until the print of his cock was prominent sound all the more entertaining.

He wonders if you’ll let him pound you until he’s ever so slightly stretching the skin of your stomach to slightly poke his dick through after having ignored you for a whole year. It shouldn’t be too hard to get you to spread your pretty legs for him again, after all, it wouldn’t be the first time he managed to get back in the pants of someone he had already ghosted, and he’s sure you’ll be begging him to rearrange the insides of your plush tummy.

A small cry interrupts his fantasies much to his annoyance to which he rolls his eyes only to stop mid eye roll, seeing you instantly set the cereal in your hand back down and bring out from your other side a newborn baby. The baby lets out a louder cry as you quickly embrace him with both arms to hold him against your chest and press a kiss on top of his head. As soon as the kiss is placed on his head, the crying starts to fade into small grunts and moans while Gojo’s head is overwhelmed with questions.

A baby? Why did you have a baby? What were you doing out so late at night? And with a baby? Did you not know how dangerous it could be at night? And the baby, is it… his? He doesn’t really have much to go by, the baby barely even has any hair yet except for a light peach fuzz that hardly shows any color. “Mm.” The baby wiggles in your arms before sniffling against your shoulder and finally opens his eyes.

Gojo’s body stiffens and he freezes in place, his eyes widening and staring into the pair identical to his. The baby stares back at him with his own bright blue eyes, slightly glossy from the crying and after staring for a few seconds, he lets out another cry and turns away. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” You smile at the newborn and gently rock him in your arms, your words drawing his attention back up to you and finally noticing your actual appearance.

There’s deep dark rings under your eyes that make him wonder when was the last time you’ve slept, if maybe that’s why you’re at the store at midnight, because time’s so short. The thought of how back when he first met you, you were just barely starting your first year of college makes his heart clench, were you even able to get through it? Did he really just… ruin your life? Did he keep you from furthering your studies? Do you even have a job? … Anybody to help you?

If you did, you wouldn’t be out all alone.

He watches as you bring the baby up in your arms and press a kiss on his cheek to which he lets out a small giggle, and despite how sleep deprived you look, you still smile at the little being in your hands, and Gojo decides he won’t leave you alone again.

#smut #satoru gojo imagines #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #gojo imagines #gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru imagines #satoru smut #satoru x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

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rafe being an aggressive lover headcanons <3

words: 800

warnings: mentions of violence, rafe being controlling a bit lol

“i love you so much, baby. i would kill everyone on this fucking island for you.” you know he’s serious, but you can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you. rafe pouts, hands tightening on your hips. he goes to duck his head in slight embarrassment, but you stop him, “i love you too baby.” you kiss him. “while i don’t want you to kill anyone, i will definitely keep that in mind if someone is pissing me off.”

“if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to go.” rafe says, admiring your dress as you smooth it out in the mirror for the hundredth time, nervous about dinner with your parents tonight. they’ve never been the biggest fans of rafe, but what upsets you more is how overly critical your dad is of you. he never gives you a break, and rafe knows how his words cut like a knife. “if he starts that shit again, i will deck him in the fucking face.” you roll your eyes, but know rafe absolutely would do that for you.

rafe has been at your back all day, arms around your waist or hands on your hips. it’s cleaning day at the house, and you find it really satisfying to move room to room, organizing and sanitizing, but it’s a bit hard when you have a lovesick rafe following you around. “baby, ow.” you wince in pain as he squeezes you too tightly. rafe backs away quickly. “i’m sorry.” you turn around and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “it’s okay, handsome. just too tight.” you peck his lips. “i know, sorry, just wanna squeeze you until you pop.”

“you’re never allowed to leave me.” rafe says seriously. you roll your eyes as you swipe on your lipgloss. “honey, i’m not leaving, i’m literally just getting dinner with the girls.” rafe pouts as you grab your purse. “you’re going to be gone for hours.” rafe whines. “you’re not going.” you turn to rafe, placing your hands on your hips. “excuse me?” rafe shakes his head, holding firm, “you’re not going.” “i’m going.” you head for the door, but rafe grabs your hand. you interrupt him before he can speak, “and you’re coming too.” rafe gives you a puzzled glance. “i already told the girls that you’d be joining me.”

“call me every hour.” rafe says, kissing you again, moving slightly closer to the door. “rafey, aren’t you gonna be in meetings and stuff?” you ask. rafe has been putting off an important business trip for weeks, and it can’t wait any longer. he really wanted you to come with him, but you insisted you were fine to stay at your house, you’re an adult after all and it’s only three days. “doesn’t matter. let me know whenever you’re leaving the house, i’ll be watching the cameras.” rafe had cameras put up in all of the common spaces, coincidentally a couple of days before he left. “i will call you.” you nod. “annie is coming over tomorrow evening, and i will probably go to the grocery store when you’re on your flight back so i can make you dinner.” rafe kisses you, pauses to open the door, and kisses you again. you’re glad you convinced him to leave an hour early, knowing that rafe actually leaving the house always took forever.

you’re sitting in bed together, having spent the whole sunday just lazing around the house. rafe pulls you onto his lap, pressing your body close to his. his teeth suddenly sink into your bottom lip, making your eyes shoot open. rafe doesn’t let up, gently biting down on your lip, tugging it slightly. you moan against his mouth, letting him know how much you like it.

“chicken?” rafe asks, and you shake your head no, a sour look on your face. “pasta?” another shake of your head. “chips? ice cream? pretzels? baby, you have to eat something. pizza? i’ll order from any restaurant.” “raaaafe.” you stop him, “i’m just not hungry, babe. it’s fine.” rafe runs his hand through his hair, chest puffing up and down, “it’s not fucking fine, honey. you can’t just skip a meal.” rafe pauses, clenching and unclenching his fist. “are you sick? should we go to the doctor?” “not at all honey… why don’t we order in pizza? that sounds good.” rafe can easily tell that you’re lying, but if it’ll get you to eat, he doesn’t care.

“get down!” rafes sudden yell startles you, making you wobble on the ladder. rafe is quick to grab you, literally pulling you off your feet and into his arms. “what do you think you’re doing?” rafe shakes you. “rafe!” you let out a little squeal. rafe sets you down on the couch, pacing the living room, “do you know how easily you could have fallen? whatever you’re doing, next time wait for me to get home and let me do it okay? i can’t have you hurt.” he kneels down in front of you. “you scared me.” you whisper. “sorry, bunny.” he squeezes your knees. “but please, no heights. nothing even a little dangerous. i- i can’t lose you.”

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yelena-bellova · 1 year

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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Someone’s Something

Plot: Joel, Y/n and Ellie meet Henry and Sam, who try to convince them to team up to find their way out of Kansas City together.

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: tlou ep.5 spoilers, languge, implied smut, guns, mention of death, sa and loss of a child (16+)

A/N: Happy Valentines, y’all!! My gift to you is some light heartbreak with some fluff to soften the blow 😉

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless your age is specified in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

Y’all have blown this lil’ ficlet idea up so much, I’m still shocked it’s this loved. I’m so excited to finish out the second half of the season with you guys. Hang onto your butts 🤍

——————

July 1st, 2002. Austin, Texas.

Y/n had integrated perfectly into the Miller’s life. Sarah adored her, Tommy loved her, and Joel couldn’t get enough of her. He’d never admit it to Sarah, but he was thankful that she’d taken matters into her own hands and snuck down to the hardware store that June day.

In the beginning of July, Sarah went away to a two-week summer camp. Joel and Y/n had seen her off on the bus, Joel fussing over whether or not she had everything she’d need. He didn’t do well when she was gone for more than a day, a combination of missing her dearly and parental worry. Y/n had made it her goal over the course of her trip to distract him as much as she could.

They’d made a dinner date at Joel’s house the day Sarah left, the first of fourteen that Y/n had to keep him busy. His days would be consumed by work, but his nights belonged to them. Y/n knocked on the front door of the house, carrying a six pack she’d picked up on the way.

Joel hurried to the door, swinging it open and enveloping Y/n in a hug. She laughed, clinging to his neck as he literally dragged her into the house. Joel’s lips were on her the second the door shut.

“Missed you,” he mumbled between kisses.

“You saw me, like, six hours ago,” Y/n managed to say.

“Way too long,” Joel smiled against her lips.

Y/n chuckled, “Yeah, well, if I die from lack of oxygen,” she wiggled a hand between their smushed chests, “You’re gonna miss me a whole lot more.”

Joel wrapped an arm around her neck, smiling so big his cheeks hurt. That was the effect Y/n had on him. She’d turned his curmudgeon qualities, plying them like clay until they were soft. He was a new man with her in his life.

“Joel,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” He was barely taking in her words, focused on how her lips were starting to swell from his attention.

“What’s burning?”

It didn’t register at first, then he remembered the food was still in the oven. “Shit,” he muttered, letting her go to run back to the kitchen and save their dinner.

Y/n chuckled, kicking off her shoes and heading in to help him.

Joel’s attempt at a simple roast chicken and potatoes turned out slightly crispy, but good, all in all. They’d eaten it at the table, Joel’s hands stretched across the surface to hold Y/n’s.

After their meal, they retired to the living room. Joel turned on the stereo and fell onto the couch, Y/n laying her legs across his lap.

“Well, day one’s almost over,” she said, “How’re you feeling?”

Joel sighed, “She called earlier when they got there. Sounded real excited.”

“And you could not sound happier about it,” Y/n chortled, “Joel, she’s going to be fine.”

“I know that, it’s just,” Joel strroked his hand over Y/n’s calf, “It’s been me and her for…ever. When she’s off it just…”

Y/n watched her boyfriend with soft eyes, waiting for him to say more.

“I know she’s growin’ up, she’s always been independent, but,” he paused staring down at his hands, “It gets easier and easier for her every year to get on that bus. Makes me think about the day she’ll leave for good.”

“You know that no matter where she goes,” Y/n offered, “She’s always coming back here. She loves you too much.”

Joel gently smiled, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s leg. She always knew the right thing to say.

“And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she kinda loves me too,” Y/n smirked.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot to work with there,” Joel winked.

Y/n giggled, her eyes drifting over Joel’s shoulder to the corner of the living room. An acoustic guitar sat propped up in a stand.

“Y’know, I still haven’t heard you play,” she said, nodding to the instrument.

For as much as he loved music, he still got a little bashful about his talent. “I sound like everyone else,” he replied.

“Yeah, nice try,” Y/n wasn’t so easily discouraged, “Play me something.”

Much like his daughter, there wasn’t a lot Joel could deny Y/n. If it was going to make her smile, he’d gladly do it. He lifted her legs off of him and went to retrieve the guitar.

“Does the audience have any requests?” Joel asked, settling back down beside her and fiddling with the tuning pegs.

Y/n tucked her legs into her chest, barely containing her grin, “Something sweet.”

Joel finished tuning the guitar and took his position. He hadn’t played for anyone other than Sarah in a very long time.

The first pluck of the strings relaxed them both, Joel settled into the piece quickly. Y/n watched his fingers dance up and down the string, a series of movements only he knew. It sounded like an old folk song, the kind that told the tale of doomed lovers torn apart by tragedy. She had enough musical knowledge to know it was in a minor key. Sweet, it was not, but it was brimming with passion, and the way Joel watched the strings so intensely only added to it. Y/n was taken aback by the simple beauty of him, pouring himself into the music.

When it was over, a few final notes slowing the tempo before stopping entirely, Joel looked over to Y/n, a whisper of a smile playing upon his lips. Their eyes connected, the ever present flame between them stretching the distance between their bodies. In that moment, Joel was thankful they were alone.

In the same set of seconds, Joel blindly set the guitar down to the side and Y/n surged forward, the two of them meeting in a heated kiss. Y/n held both of Joel’s cheeks in her hands while he maneuvered her on top of him, their lips never losing their connection. The sadness of the song had drawn them together, both needing to feel the fullness of each other’s devotion to counter the loss that the notes had grieved. That wasn’t them, they said with each touch, it could never be them.

—————————

September 28th, 2002. Austin, Texas.

Fall had hit Texas, as much as it could affect the south, anyway. Sarah and Y/n were in the backyard of the Milller home. Sarah had her first soccer game of the season that weekend and she wanted to get in some extra practice.

“Okay,” Y/n called from the goal, “Don’t go easy on me.”

“Yeah, right,” Sarah scoffed, she was never afraid to show the full force of her talent on the field. Faking Y/n out, she broke to the left before making a sudden right turn and shooting the ball through the goal.

“Yes,” she exclaimed, pulling her fists down in celebration.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Y/n smirked, coming up beside Sarah as she did a little victory dance, “Don’t get too cocky. Let’s work on your goalkeeping.”

Sarah grooved her way back to the goal, “Okay, but I’m kinda spectacular at that too.”

“Well, we certainly don’t need to work on your confidence,” Y/n remarked. Sarah had the same cockiness, reserved only for things she was truly great at, as her father.

Joel materialized then, coming through the back door and watching his girls from the deck. “How we lookin’?”

“Today, Taft Middle School,” Y/n replied, catching the ball with her heel as Sarah kicked it, “Tomorrow, FIFA.”

Joel smiled proudly, both at Sarah and Y/n. Most women would have kept distance between them and their partner’s child. Y/n had jumped in headfirst, determined to be there for Sarah as much as she wanted her. She was the feminine influence his daughter had been denied all her life.

“Alright,” Y/n announced, “Good?”

Sarah nodded, “Good.”

Joel saw an opportunity and couldn’t pass it up. He carefully made his way down the steps of the deck, sneaking through the grass and up behind Y/n just as she was about to make her shot. As she wound her leg back, Joel wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her into the air.

Y/n shrieked as she was swung around, “Joel!”

“Sarah, steal it,” he yelled, smiling as Y/n wriggled in his embrace.

Sarah surged forward, avoiding Y/n’s flailing legs as she fought against Joel, and snatched the ball. She moved through the grass effortlessly and landed a perfect kick into the net.

Laughing heartily, Joel finally released Y/n back to the ground. He shared a high-five with his daughter as she bounded back to them.

“You two are awful,” Y/n gave Joel a shove to his chest, her wide grin contradicting her words.

Joel hung an arm around his girlfriend’s neck, pressing a kiss to her temple. “C’mon,” he separated from Y/n and clapped his hands, “Two-on-one, girls vs. boys.”

“We’re gonna destroy you,” Sarah teased, coming to stand beside Y/n.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he quipped, standing in front of the goal.

The three of them stayed out until sunset, practicing plenty, but laughing more than anything.

—————————

December 25th, 2002. Austin, Texas.

The Millers didn’t do anything spectacular for Christmas. A church service on the 24th, a simple dinner on the 25th, and presents.

It had been decided that both Tommy and Y/n would spend the night, it would make waking up and opening gifts easier than waiting for them to drive over. Tommy had taken the collapsable cot, his body was still used to military accommodations, while Y/n had gone for the couch. Joel and her were still hesitant to spend nights together, sleeping over at the other’s only when Sarah was away at her own sleepovers. Christmas didn’t feel like the time to test any boundaries.

Just past midnight, Y/n was still wide awake, tossing and turning on the sofa. There was a light snowfall happening outside and she hoped if she watched the flakes flutter through the air long enough, she’d drift off to sleep. So far, she’d had no such luck.

She took stock of the living room in its entirety. A fresh pine tree sat in the corner, a modest stack of presents surrounding the trunk. Two stockings were hung on the walls, Sarah and Joel’s names stitched across each. The room still faintly smelled like the batch of cookies her and Sarah had baked earlier in the evening. Even in the dark and completely silent, the house felt warm.

Footsteps down the stairs drew Y/n’s attention away from the decorations. She expected to see Sarah tiptoeing in to sneak a peek at the presents. Instead, Joel’s broad shadow entered the room.

“Can’t sleep?” Y/n asked from the couch.

Joel shook his head, “Nope.”

Y/n gave a small nod, pretending like the silence wasn’t as full of asking as it was. Joel’s posture had purpose in it, he wasn’t leaving until he got what he came for.

He tipped his head back towards the stairs, his eyes never leaving Y/n’s. “C’mon,” he said, his voice raspy with near sleep.

Y/n smiled to herself, throwing off her blanket and crossing the room to take Joel’s hand. The two of them tiptoed back up the stairs, trying not to wake Sarah or Tommy. Y/n knew the walk to Joel’s bedroom like the back of her hand, navigating in the dark made no difference. She certainly didn’t need Joel’s hands on her hips to guide her, but she welcomed them anyway.

Once the door shut, their routine commenced. Joel went to his dresser, blindly reaching into one of his drawers and tossing Y/n one of his flannels. Y/n slipped it on over her t-shirt, the sleeves ending way past the tips of her fingers. They made their way to their dedicated sides of the bed, Joel closest to the door because he felt better being a wall of protection between Y/n and the world.

“We have to get up before Sarah,” Y/n reminded him.

“We’ve got a 50% chance of makin’ it down before her,” Joel said, his hands gliding around her body to pull her into him, “Christmas morning, she’s up at the crack of dawn.”

Y/n drew closer to Joel, resting one hand on his chest and the other gripping the back of his neck. Already, she could feel her body relaxing in a way the couch just couldn’t coax out of her.

All the tension Joel had been carrying in his spine went lax the moment Y/n’s fingers grazed his skin. He was finding it harder and harder to sleep without her.

“Thank you,” she said out of the blue.

“For what?” Joel asked.

Y/n’s fingers danced along the line between the ends of his hair and the base of his skull. “For letting me be a part of all this,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s heart swelled, he took one of her cheeks into his hand and let their lips drift towards one another. Six months in, and he wasn’t sure if he could fall any harder in love with Y/n. She wasn’t just his, she was theirs. She was a permanent fixture in their home, the house a little less bright when she was absent from it. She had become a confidante to Sarah, a best friend to Tommy and everything to Joel. How could he not want her in every part of their lives?

“‘M afraid you’re stuck with us, Rosebud,” Joel smiled after he pulled back, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone.

“No place I’d rather be,” Y/n returned his grin.

Pressing one final kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked Y/n against his chest, his chin resting atop her head. She let her hand drift around to his back, her fingers spreading across the expanse as she tried to hold as much of him as she could. They fell asleep within minutes, the gentle snowstorm outside creating beauty that would only enhance the magic of Christmas for the Miller family.

—————————

2023. Kansas City, Missouri.

“Eye on me! Eyes on me!”

Joel’s eyes slid to the other side of the room, to the man with the barrel of his gun pointed at Ellie. Her and Y/n both had their hands raised high.

“You don’t have to worry about what to say,” the young man said, “We don’t wanna hurt you. We wanna help you.”

Joel watched him, he was shifting his weight between both feet, no expert marksman was that nervous to threaten someone’s life. Joel felt significantly better about his chances.

“Okay.”

“Okay, um…” the young man paused, “I don’t know what the next step is with something like this, but if I lower my gun…we didn’t hurt you…so you don’t hurt us…right?”

Joel stared him down, “That’s right.”

“That’s a weird fuckin’ tone, man,” their enemy replied.

“That’s just the way he sounds,” Ellie interrupted, first looking to the stranger and then back to Joel, “He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he’s okay.”

Joel stared, nearly a hint of a smirk at his lips, “Everything is great.”

“Dude…” Ellie muttered.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Y/n intervened, looking to the man, “Now drop the fucking guns before I second guess myself.”

“That wasn’t any better,” Ellie exclaimed.

“Fuck! Okay, listened,” the stranger started, his voice practically trembling, “I’m gonna trust you.”

He then stopped to signal something to the child, Y/n recognized it as ASL. They communicated something none of them could understand.

“But if any of you guys try anything,” the man kept his gun aimed at Ellie, nodding to Joel and Y/n, “Yeah? Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ellie whispered, her heart was in her throat.

The child backed away from Joel and Y/n’s mattress, his aim still firmly locked onto them. Y/n was trying to get her heartbeat back down to a normal range.

“Can I sit up?” Joel asked, his voice was still on edge.

“Yeah,” the stranger conceded, “Slow. Get up slow.”

Joel obeyed, rising to a seated position without any rush. He raised his hands, the left one grazing Y/n’s injured right. Shockingly, the fleeting touch made her feel a little less nervous. If Joel was good for nothing else, at least he was a good fighter. They could get out of this easily, if necessary.

“Who are you?” Joel asked.

“My name’s Henry,” the now-named stranger answered, “That’s my brother, Sam. I’m the most wanted man in Kansas City. Although right now,” Henry finally lowered his gun, “My guess is you’re running a close second. Her too.”

Y/n and Joel looked to one another, that ambush was going to come back to bite them in the ass, one way or another.

“Henry,” Y/n spoke up, lowering her hands and laying them palm up in her lap, “We’re gonna need a lot more than that.”

The five of them ended up huddled around a lantern, snacking on their dwindling food supply and waiting for the rest of the story to unfold. Henry had made it clear that he had to get some food in his brother first. It had been Ellie’s idea to share what they had left.

“Where’d you get these?” Henry asked, chewing on a cracker.

“From Bill,” Ellie answered, “He’s dead.”

Y/n and Joel had been watching Sam, digging into what they’d shared with him as if he hadn’t eaten in days. There was a real possibility of it, or something along the lines. They both wordlessly handed what was left of their portions to the boy, who in return, signed something to his brother.

“He says ‘thank you,’” Henry relayed, “I’m guessing you don’t have much so, this means a lot.”

“How old is he?” Ellie asked.

The brothers talked amongst themselves, with Henry answering, “He’s eight.”

Ellie nodded, “Cool. I’m Ellie.”

“Y/n,” Y/n spoke up, wanting to try and make the child feel as comfortable as the circumstances would allow.

Henry spelled out the names for Sam, who responded with a sign that both Y/n and Ellie assumed meant ‘cool.’

Ellie smiled before smacking Joel on the knee and waiting for him to introduce himself.

“I’m Joel,” he swallowed his last bite, “Look, you ate, we didn’t kill each other, let’s call this a win-win and move on.”

Henry dusted off his hands, “Well, I’m betting that y’all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun’s up, I’ll show you one.”

Joel and Y/n thought it over separately before glancing over at one another. If Henry hadn’t killed them by now, he wouldn’t. He already knew their supply was low, the only reason he was sticking around was because he needed something from them.

“Okay,” Y/n answered for them, earning a quick turn and glare from Joel, “Sam can take our bed. As soon as morning hits, you show us the route.”

Henry scoffed, “Just like that you’re gonna trust us?”

“I know the eyes of a liar, Henry,” Y/n leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, “And you don’t have ‘em. You weren’t even going to kill us in the first place, and you certainly weren’t gonna make him do it.”

Joel was ready to jump in at any second, but Y/n spoke with such precision and intention, he couldn’t come up with any reason to stop her.

“So how about we get some sleep,” Y/n continued, “And tackle this tomorrow?”

Henry’s eyes focused in on Y/n, someone as calculated as she was was either the most honest person on the planet or so calcuating and conniving, they could deceive the worst of humanity.

“Okay,” he landed on trust, “First thing.”

Ellie and Sam settled onto their makeshift mattresses, while the adults sat against the walls of the apartment. Henry on one side, Joel and Y/n on the other.

“What happened to equals?” Joel asked, the edge to his words undercutting the softness of their volume.

“Would what you have said been any different?” Y/n countered, watching as Joel tried to come up with an answer that differed from hers, “Exactly.”

The two of them stayed close to one another, without actually touching. Y/n was still slightly rattled from waking up with Joel’s hand over hers.

“Although my fucking neck’s gonna be messed up all day,” Y/n mumbled, trying to find a comfortable position to rest her head against the wall.

While they trusted an already sleeping Henry enough not to kill them, instinct told both Y/n and Joel to not leave themselves in such a vulnerable positon again. Sleeping sitting up was the only option that would allow them a little bit of rest.

And Joel hated what he was about to offer.

“You can…” he pointed to his shoulder, “If you want.”

“I don’t want” Y/n quickly replied.

Joel sighed in exasperation, “Forget I offered.”

He crossed his arms and settled against the wall, shutting his eyes and shutting down his momentary lapse into generosity.

Y/n inhaled, trying to get over herself. She was getting way too much up close and personal time with Joel to feel comfortable. But it was either another dose or a hideous day of lingering discomfort without the blessing of Ibuprofen.

She awkwardly scooted closer to him until their thighs were touching, causing Joel to open one eye. He looked down at their parallel bodies and back to Y/n.

“Just don’t grab my hand,” she grumbled, laying her head down on his shoulder and praying that her stomach stayed unaffected.

Joel’s body stiffened as she rested on him, a quick shot of adrenaline running through his extremities. He wanted to pretend to be unmoved, unbothered by her touch, but it was impossible. He would never fully be without affection for the way she felt against him.

“Go ahead,” Y/n said, sensing his discomfort but mistaking it for simply physical.

Joel hesitated a few seconds before shaking himself out of his doubt and resting his head on top of Y/n’s.

When the weight of Joel’s skull fell on hers, Y/n’s natural instincts took over and she almost, almost, tucked into him more. It was by the grace of God that she caught herself before she did it. No matter how hard her mind loathed him, her body would have accepted him back in a heartbeat.

The two ex-lovers sat against the wall, still trying to convince themselves that they were miles apart.

—————————

Just as the night before, they woke up so much closer than intended.

Y/n had fully curled into Joel, snuggling into his chest at some point during their glorified nap. When she woke up to the rough scratch of his flannel agaisnt her cheek, drowsiness did not immediately remind her she was in the year 2023. In her sleep-adled state, it was winter of 2002.

When consciousness pulled her back to the land of the living, she lightly groaned. Why were their sleeping selves making everything so complicated?

Y/n rolled off of Joel, causing him to sharply inhale. He blinked a few times, rubbed a hand over his face and evaluated the room. Henry was still asleep, but Sam and Ellie were already awake and sitting on the edges of their beds.

Y/n was beside him, at least twelve inches of space between them.

“I do anything in my sleep?” Joel asked.

Y/n shook her head, sucking on her bottom lip, “Nope.”

Joel wasn’t buying it, “Then whydya got that look on your face?”

“I know why,” Ellie teased in a sing-song tone.

Y/n let out two loud claps, startling Henry awake, and got to her feet. “Rise and shine, time to work.”

Joel stayed on the ground, watching how fast she moved around the room. Something had happened and it had messed with her. He ran a hand over his right shoulder, noticing that it was warm when the rest of him felt cold. He peered back over at Y/n, rifling through her backpack to find Ellie and Sam breakfast. He watched how she crouched down and handed the kids what was assuredly the lion’s share of her rations. How she held up a questioning thumbs up to Sam, who in return, smiled and copied the gesture. How she cared. She still cared so much.

It was killing him.

But there were bigger things to worry about than the stirring in his heart for the woman who perhaps, hadn’t changed that much at all.

————————————

Once fed and watered, the group of five headed a few floors up to the apartment building’s conference room. Henry had promised it had the best view of the city.

“Welcome to Killa City,” he announced, showcasing the place in daylight through the massive windows.

“No FEDRA,” Joel observed.

“Not as of ten days ago, no,” Henry replied.

“We always heard KC FEDRA was-“

“Monsters? Savages?” Henry finished for Joel, “Yeah, you heard right. Raped and tortured and murdered people for twenty years.”

Y/n looked down at her shoes, “Fucking hell.” It was stories like Kansas City that were one of her reasons for joining the Fireflies.

“And you know what happens when you do that to people?” Henry continued, “The moment they get a chance, they do it right back to you.”

“But you’re not FEDRA,” Joel stated.

Henry paused before answering, “No…worse. I’m a collaborator.”

Joel shook his head, “I don’t work with rats.”

Y/n wasn’t so quick to walk away, Henry had too much of a heart it seemed to be a true collaborator. He had a story.

“Yeah, you fucking do,” Henry said, “Today you do, ‘cause I live here and you two don’t. That’s how I followed you here. I know this city and I’m gonna help you out.”

Joel watched Henry as he spoke, trying to see through him, “Why help us?”

“I saw what you two did,” Henry answered, “The way you killed those men. Now I know where to go, but I don’t know how to make it through alone, not if it’s just Sam and me.”

“You seem capable enough,” Joel replied, “You’re armed.”

“You’re wrong and wrong,” Henry said, “Never killed anyone. And pointing an unloaded gun at you was the closest I’ve ever come to being violent.”

Y/n nodded, no one let their hand shake that much when holding a loaded gun.

“So that’s the deal,” Henry stated, “I show you the way, you clear the way.”

Joel didn’t need anyone else slowing them down or making them more noticeable. And partnering with Henry would only make them bigger targets.

At the table behind them, Ellie and Sam were seated, reading from Ellie’s pun book. The energy was divided down the room; the grown-up side was deathy heavy while the kid’s side was warm and uplifting.

“Haven’t heard that in a long time,” Henry smiled, watching his little brother laugh.

Joel turned back to the window as he tried to put distance between him and the moment. Y/n glanced over at him, watching as the cogs in his mind turned. Her mind was already made up, it would have been wonderful if they could avoid an argument.

“So how’re we getting out?” Joel relented, turning to Henry.

Henry fetched a piece of paper from one of the drawers, office supplies had never been in high demand post-pandemic. He sketched out a square, writing down the names of the roads that cut through the city.

“Highways…” he pointed to one section, “Downtown,” then to the other, “Us. This whole area belongs to Kathleen.”

“And she is…?” Y/n asked, standing between Joel and Henry.

“Leader of the resistance,” Henry answered, “You can see the way we’re bounded by highways. They got people posted all around the inside perimeter. If we get close, we get caught. No question.”

“So how do we get across?” Ellie asked.

Henry banged a fist against the table to get Sam’s attention, signing something to him after. Sam went to drawing on his magnetic erase pad, Joel wasn’t made to feel any better about a kid being involved in the planning of their escape.

Sam held up his pad, having written the word ‘Tunnels’ on it.

Henry snapped his fingers, “Boom.”

“Kansas City has a subway?” Joel asked.

“No,” Henry answered, “But they do have maintenance tunnels. There’s a bunch of buildings all put up by the same developers. And they share these tunnels, including…” he pointed down to a specific section of his sketch, “A bank building here,” he began to draw their route, “So we enter the tunnels here, travel underground, and pop up here. Westside North. Residential. There’s an embankment on the other side of the houses. We head down, pedestrian bridge over the river,” Henry dropped his pencil, “Free as a bird.”

“You’re right,” Joel admitted, “It’s a great plan. So what do you need us for?”

Henry hesitated a moment, “You notice anything strange about this city? I mean, other than the strange shit you’ve already seen?”

“No Infected?” Ellie guessed before Y/n and Joel could.

“Oh, there’s Infected,” Henry replied, “Just not on the surface. FEDRA drove them underground fifteen years ago, and never let them come back up. It’s the only good thing those fascist motherfuckers ever did.’

Joel looked between Y/n and Ellie, “So you want us goin’ into a tunnel?”

“Everyone thinks that it’s full of Infected,” Henry quickly corrected, he sensed Joel’s doubt, “Including Kathleen, which means that we’re not gonna be running into any of her people. But you see, what I know is…it’s empty.”

“You know this?” Y/n questioned, “You’ve seen it? With your own eyes?”

“No,” Henry replied.

Joel took a deep breath, hands on his hips again. Y/n sighed and rested her elbows on the table. Henry was losing them both.

“But the FEDRA guy that I worked with told me that it’s clean,” the young man continued, “Completely clean. They cleared it out. All of it.”

“How long ago?” Y/n asked, shutting her eyes as if it could shut out their problems.

“Like,” Henry shrugged, “Three years ago.”

Joel scoffed, glancing to Ellie as if asking if she was believing this either.

“Okay, maybe there’s one or two,” Henry quickly said, “But you can handle it.”

“You’re making this sound a whole lot simpler than it is,” Y/n responded, looking to Joel, whose eyes were already expectantly waiting on her. “We need a minute.

Y/n pushed open the glass doors, bringing them outside the conference room and giving them a sliver of privacy.

Joel pointed a finger behind them, “You still feel good about this?”

“Not exceptionally, no,” she answered truthfully, “But we don’t exactly have a lot of other options, now do we?”

“If this guy’s gonna endanger our lives more than if we were on our own,” Joel argued, “Then we’re better off-“

“Fighting our way through a city we’ve never been in with targets the size of Texas on our backs?” Y/n finished for him, “Look, I don’t wanna go down there either. But we’re guaranteed a very slow, very painful death if we go it alone. I’d rather have allies and stand a chance, at least.”

Joel wanted to fight tooth and nail, but he knew she was right. She’d always had a talent for being right.

“Plus, it’ll give you plenty to lord over Tommy’s head when we get to Wyoming,” Y/n quipped, her mouth still frowned but her eyes were lit up with humor.

Joel huffed, he’d have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. The thought of seeing his brother and his ex together again was a sight he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to see.

Without another word, and a silent concession from Joel, the two of them marched back into the conference room where the debate was still being held.

Henry pointed to Ellie, “She says y’all fought off two Clickers. Is that true?”

Joel and Y/n uncomfortably shifted, the dread sweeping over them.

“And you’re still alive,” Henry stated, “You see? You’re the right people. If it gets bad down there, we turn around, and run right back out the same way we came.”

Joel was about one poorly constructed sentence away from giving the whole idea up, “Oh, that’s your great plan?”

“No, that’s my dicey-as-fuck plan,” Henry fired back, “But as far as I can tell, it’s our only shot.”

Sam signed something to Henry.

“They’re saying,” Henry narrated as he signed back, “They’re going to help us escape,” he turned back to the party, “Right?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “That was a low fuckin’ blow, man.”

Henry didn’t seem bothered at all by the manipulation.

Joel’s jaw twitched as he thought it all over. Y/n could practically feel his unease. She craned her neck back, muttering more into his body than at him, “Lesser of two evils.”

With every fiber of his being, Joel wanted to fight. But instead, he let his hands fall against his legs, admitting defeat.

—————————

The team got across the city with minimal close calls, every once in a while there’d be a truck or patrol group to avoid. They got to the bank building intact and only slightly out of breath.

“We need to get outta sight,” Joel said, every entrance/exit of the place was structured in a glass wall.

“Uh, I-I-I think it’s this way,” Henry pointed towards one of the halls, the rest of them following.

They trailed through the building till they hit a back door, hopefully leading to the tunnel entrance. Joel and Y/n entered it cautiously with their guns drawn.

“This should be it,” Henry announced, “You ready?”

Joel looked to Ellie, “Get your gun out.”

Rebelling in her own small way, once again, Ellie pulled out the gun from her jacket pocket. At this point, Joel wasn’t surprised in the least that she wasn’t heeding his advice. Him and Y/n marched forward regardless and took the lead. They entered through another door, delivering them into the tunnel system.

“You see?” Henry proved, “It’s empty. The plan is good.”

Joel and Y/n quickly shushed him. “‘The plan is good?’” Joel repeated, “We’ve been down here two seconds. We don’t know anything.”

Henry looked to Ellie, “Your dad’s kind of a pessimist.”

“I’m not her dad.”

“He’s not my dad.”

“He’s not her dad.”

Joel, Y/n and Ellie’s protests overlapped.

“Just point your light forward,” Joel instructed, tightly gripping his own, “And be ready to run.”

Y/n steadied her breathing and began to move beside Joel down the underground maze.

They walked for around an hour, snaking down the sets of tunnels, holding their flashlights and handguns as if they were life itself. Eventually, they turned down a hall with child’s art painted all along it. The door was even painted as castle. All of them examined the walls in quiet confusion.

Sam bounded forward, wanting to go through and explore. Joel threw his hand out to stop him, “No.”

Y/n tucked her flashlight under her chin and gripped her pistol, sharing an affirmative nod with Joel that they were ready. He slowly turned the doorknob and it creaked open, revealing a room that looked…civilized.

The whole place looked like a daycare center. There were toys scattered throughout storage bins, art and books against the walls, small cups, and a faded soccer goal painted across one of the cinderblock walls.

“I heard about places this this,” Joel commented, taking stock of their surroundings, “People went underground after Outbreak Day. Built settlements.”

“What happened to them?” Ellie asked.

“Maybe they didn’t follow the rules and all got infected,” Joel replied.

While Ellie and Sam sat down, playing with a few of the toys, Y/n, Henry and Joel scanned the room. Whoever had been living there, they’d been gone long enough for a layer of dust to settle across everything.

“Hey,” Joel called to Ellie who was being a little too loud, “Keep it down. We’re not out yet.”

“Ah, c’mon,” Ellie groaned, “Can we just rest here for a while? There’s, like, actually shit to do here.”

“Wouldn’t be so bad to wait the light out a bit,” Henry agreed, “Safer in the shadows when we pop back out on the other side.”

Joining Ellie and Henry, Y/n tilted her head in a slight shrug to Joel. It was a smart decision and he was just going to have to get over himself.

Joel shrugged back to the group, raising an eyebrow and going back to checking out the room.

Ellie and Sam occupied themselves by reading comic books and messing around with some of the toys. Henry, Joel and Y/n rested at a table, putting their feet up without actually relaxing at all. At some point, Ellie and Sam switched to kicking a soccer ball around on the makeshift field. Y/n watched carefully as Ellie interacted with the boy, she was so caring and patient. She’d confided that she didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but the glow coming from her radiated big sister energy.

Y/n scooted her chair back and walked across the room. “Can I join?”

Ellie enthusiastically began to switch the ball between her feet, trying to fake Y/n out. Y/n rotated to stand alongside Sam at the goal.

“That’s not fair,” Ellie argued, “There’s two of you.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you can’t do it,” Y/n teased.

Ellie’s determination set in, jumping slightly in place before kicking the ball in between Sam and Y/n’s legs quicker than they could stop it.

“Oh, shit,” she exclaimed, shooting her hands into the air.

Sam and Y/n shared a laugh before Y/n got down on her knees, “Can you teach me something?”

Sam watched her lips and nodded, showing her a sign. To her, it looked like he was pulling something out of his mouth, before bringing his two thumbs up and splitting their directions at his chest.

Y/n mimicked it, “What does this mean?”

“Oh, that’s from Savage Starlight,” Ellie exclaimed, copying the gesture with them, “‘Endure and survive.’”

The three of them continued to sign it over and over. It seemed to make both Ellie and Sam extremely happy, which meant Y/n would do it as many times as they wanted.

Joel and Henry watched from their seats. To say Joel’s heart ached would have been an understatement. His soul was barely holding together, a new piece of it dying off every day. But Y/n and Ellie had somehow kept the last few from withering. It was so subtle, he hadn’t even figured the phenomenon out yet. He was barely self-aware. But seeing Y/n, crouched down on the floor with the kids, still with the innate need to make the world around her better, he came to fully realize his thought from earlier in the day.

She was still his Y/n.

Smiling, laughing, loving, caring, kinder than the world deserved. Underneath all the anger was the woman he had loved with all his heart.

And that fucking terrified him.

As Y/n made her way back to them, Joel pulled himself back to reality, switching gears and channeling his energy into focusing on the kids. Specifically Sam. He was eight years old and in survival mode. No child deserved that. It was making him rethink his stance on the things he’d said earlier.

“If you were collaboratin’ to take care of him,” he said to Henry, “I…I shouldn’t have save what I said. I don’t know your situation. And I’m not sayin’ they should let it go, but all things considered, seems kinda cruel—to send a whole army after you for that.”

Henry waited a few seconds, Ellie’s cheers filling the silence, before speaking. “You know, I wasn’t, uh…exactly telling you the truth before…about me not killing someone.”

Y/n and Joel’s attention turned to him exclusively.

“There was a man,” Henry began, “A great man. You know, he was never afraid…never selfish…and he was always forgiving. Have you ever met someone like that? Kinda man you’d follow anywhere.”

Y/n tensed up, forbidding her eyes from flicking to Joel.

“I mean, I wanted to. Well…I would’ve,” Henry gathered strength for the rest of his story, “Yeah, but, uh…Sam, he, uh, he got sick. Leukemia,” he scanned Joel and Y/n’s somber expressions, “Yeah, anyway, um…there was one drug that worked and, whoa, big shock…there wasn’t much left of it, and it belonged to FEDRA. And if I wanted some, it was gonna take something big. So I gave them something big. That one great man. The leader of the resistance movement in Kansas City. And Kathleen’s brother.”

Understanding washed over Joel and Y/n. All the firepower, the tanks, the trucks, it all made sense.

“Yeah, so, you still think they should take it easy on me?” Henry asked rhetorically, “Or am I the bad guy?”

Y/n stayed silent, weighing morals against necessity. Joel pulled his lips down, barely shaking his head before Henry cut off what he would have said, “I don’t know what you’re waitin’ on, man. The answer’s easy. I am the bad guy because I did a bad guy thing.”

“But you did it to keep him alive,” Y/n spoke up, “You’d go to the ends of the earth for him. That’s not evil, that’s family.”

Henry’s eyes cut through the space between Joel and Y/n, “You two get it,” he nodded toward Joel, ”You may not be her father, but you were someone’s. See, I could tell.”

There it was. The big, dreadful, terrible thing that Joel and Y/n had gotten this far without talking about. It was the unspoken wound, the one deep enough to kill yet shallow enough that it didn’t show. It was a constant phantom pain in both their chests and it broke them all over again to have it brought up.

“You too,” Henry smiled at Y/n, nodding to Ellie, “That is, if she’s not yours.”

Y/n didn’t think the blade could slide any deeper into her heart. She had been something to someone once, and it was as much a part of her still as the air she breathed.

“Uh,” Y/n tearily began, clearing her throat quickly, “No, she’s not mine.”

Joel had had more than he could handle just by Henry’s assumption about him. Referring to Y/n as the word he couldn’t bring himself to utter in that context had sent him over the edge. He picked up his gun from the table and practically jumped to his feet, “We’ve waited long enough.”

Y/n stayed still at the table, holding back her tears took so much strength, it was stealing her ability to move. If she allowed herself to cry in front of Joel, she didn’t think she’d ever recover.

Henry didn’t ask questions, he didn’t bring up the very visible sorrow etched across Y/n’s face. Some hurt was palpable without ever being touched on, and it was painfully clear that Joel hadn’t been the only one to lose a child…

————

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #twenty years later #the last of us spoilers

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bbrissonn · 9 months

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐳𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬

summary: in which trevor broke up with you at the end of the season because of his own insecurity, but what happens when he's back in anaheim and he's had a little too much to drink

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

warnings: slight smut, angst, fluff, swearing (i think), not proofread

pairing: trevor zegras x reader

wc: 4.9k (including lyrics)

a/n: based on the song bad idea right? by olivia rodrigo

guts masterlist

Hey

You’re eyes scanned the bar as you, along with your group of friends, walked into the place. The loud music filling your ears, making you grimace slightly. This was your first time going out since your break up with Trevor at the end of his first full NHL season, back in April. He had made the decisions to end your relationship only hours before going on his last road trip of the season, and when he came back home a couple of days later, all your things were gone.

You hadn’t tried to reach out to him when he left, instead choosing of just leaving and moving back into your parent’s house for the summer. Your friends were with you everyday, not wanting the end of your year long relationship to destroy like your previous breakup did. They understood that you were in the mood to go out every night, or any night at all, so movie nights, walks on the beach, ice cream runs were a daily thing.

Eventually, in early July, you started moving on from him, he hadn’t bothered to reach out to you either, so you had no choice but to do so. Slowly but surely, you started spending more time outside of your house, something your parents were grateful for. Then, you found yourself your own apartment, still close to home, but not too close to where Trevor lived so you wouldn't have to run into him in the store or on the streets.

Now here you were, October only a couple of days away, standing at a bar with a bright smile on your face as your friends talked about all the drama they heard from your high school days, which couple were still together, which ones weren’t, some of them were now married with kids, something that shocked you a bit since you were only 21, but if that’s what they wanted, good on them, you thought.

Haven’t heard from you in a couple of months

But I’m out right now and I’m all fucked up

And you’re callin’ my phone and you’re all alone

And I’m sensing some undertone

And I’m right here with all my friends

But you’re sending me your new address

And I know we’re done, I know we’re through

But, God, when I look at you

As the morning hours approached, it was safe to say you were completely drunk, somehow this casual night out, had turned into you guys celebrating going into your last year of college, meaning way more drinks were bought than expected.

You were all sitting in a booth, laughs echoing, when you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans shorts. You struggled a bit, but eventually, you got your phone out, squinting your eyes to see who was calling you.

❌trevor❌

You let out a sigh watching your phone ring until his contact disappeared, and then voicemail notification popped up. You knew you couldn’t do this to yourself, you shouldn’t, but you wanted to. So, you excused yourself, claiming you needed to use the bathroom, of course some of your friends suggested they came with you, not wanting you to be alone. But you assured them you’d be fine.

“Hey, it’s me. I… Uh, it’s been a while.” His voice echoed through the speaker of your phone, making you bit your lips as you heard his voice for the first time since you two broke up. “I hope you’re doing good, I really do.” He continued, his voice shaky a bit. Before he said anything else, you heard him sip on a drink and let out a sigh. “I don’t know if you’re busy or whatnot, maybe you’re having a night with your parents or something.” He added, sipping once again on his drink, and now you could tell he was a bit tipsy by the way his words were slurred a bit. “But I was wondering if you’d wanna meet up? Talk a bit about what happened. I’ll text you my new place, come if you want.”

And then it went silent, but he hadn’t hung-up, after about ten seconds of silence, you decided to hang up, telling yourself he was probably done and just miss clicked the red button on his phone. You stayed in the bathroom stall for a bit, wondering what you should do. You wanted nothing more than to see him, talk to him, get some closure about why he ended your relationship, but you didn’t want to get even more heartbroken than you already were.

When you made it back to the booth, you knew what you were going to do. Was it a smart decision? No, absolutely not. But did it seem like a good one to your drunk self? Yes, absolutely.

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

As you announced your departure to your friends, a lot of them suggested to go with you, make sure you stay safe, but you convince them you’d be fine, only having a couple of minutes to walk and promising them you’d call them if anything happened.

As you started your adventure towards your desired place, your brain started to come to it’s sense. This was horrible idea, but you didn’t care. You craved to hear him, see him, smell his cologne that you adored so much, you need him. So, you just ignored what your head was telling you, choosing instead to follow your heart and what it wanted.

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

Fuck it, it’s fine

As you got closer and closer, the anxiety of seeing him again started to settle in. What if he decided you took too long and left? What if he had another girl over and asked you to come just to rub it in your face? No, he wouldn’t that. Trevor could be an asshole on the ice sometimes, and to other guys in the bar if he saw them let their eyes linger on your body a little too long for his liking, but he wouldn’t do anything like that.

That’d be such a dick move from him, plus, you were still in contact with Jamie, and from what you understood through the boy’s weird texts, Trevor hadn’t seen any other girl yet. So, truly, what was the worst that could happen, right?

Yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

The biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

I just tripped and fell into his bed

Deciding that at least informing your parents of where you were going, or more like who you were going to see was the least you could do. That way if your friends went over to check on you, they’d call your parents to see if you had gone to their house, they’d know of the horrible decision you had made the previous night.

Your mother wasn’t too fond of your idea, but she had met Trevor, he was a sweetheart, he knew you weren’t in any danger. If anything, she was over the moon that you had decided to finally go see the boy and talk about what had happened.

Trevor had met your parents countless of times during your relationship, your dad being a big hockey fan, even though his favorite team was the Kings and not the Ducks. Every time you’d mention coming to visit them for the day, Trevor coming along with you, they’d almost jump from excitement, happy that their daughter had finally found a good boy for herself. They were a little cautious of him at first, doing their researches online before meeting him and seeing not so good things about him and his reputation of being a playboy, but all that worry quickly washed away when they caught the two of you sitting on the front porch watching the sunset. The window in the living room giving them a perfect view of the two of you, wide smiles on your faces as they saw Trevor looking at their daughter the way your father looked at your mother, pure love in their eyes.

No, your mother was more scared of you walking the streets of Anaheim all alone in the dark, and you understood her. The world wasn’t a safe place, neither during dark or light, especially for young woman your age. The fact that you were drunk didn’t help either, so you decided to stay on the phone with her until you made it safely to Trevor’s place.

Now I’m gettin’ in the car, wreckin’ all my plans

I know I should stop, but I can’t

And I told my friend I was asleep

But I never said where (in his sheets)

And I pull up to your place on the second floor

And you’re standing, smiling at the door

And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter men

But I really can’t remember when

Your hand were shaking slightly as you knocked on his door, making sure not to make too much noise to wake up his neighbors, but enough so he could hear you. You heard movement behind the door, along with the sound of the TV getting paused.

Then, the next thing you knew, Trevor was standing in front of you, a beer bottle in hand. A wide grin appeared on his face as your eyes meet for the first time in months. He had gotten a haircut, thankfully, the last time you saw him, his hair kept covering his eyes and he was always complaining about it, but refused to get it cut anywhere other than his hairdresser back home.

Suddenly, all the emotions you had been holding for the past couple of months rose within you. All the anger, hurt and love you felt towards him were all present inside you, making you extremely confused as to how you felt.

“You came.” He stated, his eyes growing wide as he realized what was going on, you were here.

“I did.” You confirmed, more to yourself than to him. Suddenly, you regretted coming here, but at the same time, you were so grateful to see him. Almost as if seeing him just confirmed that you’re relationship truly happened, that it was real and wasn’t just something you made up in your sleep, that he was real.

“Come in.” He said, opening up his door completely for you to walk in. There was still a couple of boxes in the corner of his living room, and there was barely any furniture, meaning he hadn’t been back for a while.

As the two of you walked into his living room, it was the first time you truly saw him. The lights in the hallway were dimed down considering the time, and all the lights in his kitchen and entry way were turned off. His skin was tanned, his muscles were more defined than they were back in spring, but one of the first thing you had noticed was his arm, more specifically his left one. It was now home to not one, but two tattoos.

You knew he was planning on getting some soon, it was something he talked about a lot during your relationship, but he never figured out what to get.

“A spider? Seriously?” You laughed as the two of you sat down on his couch. He gave you a weird look before realizing you were looking at his tattoos.

“Spiderman.” He answered with shrug, making you roll your eyes with a smile before letting your eyes drift over to the TV. Your heart dropped slightly as you realized what he was watching, Shameless, your favourite show. He had never watched it before the two of you started dating, and you quickly made sure to make him watch all the episodes, gasping when he informed you he’d never seen it before. You were about to mention it to him, but the screen went black before any words could leave your mouth.

“So, how you been?” He asked, his words a little slurred. You looked over at him, only to see he was already looking at you with a way too familiar look. A look he always had on his face when he’d be talking to you, or at any moment really, one that was reserved just for you and no one else. Only making you wonder even more why he had ended things between the two of you.

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

“Seriously? You break up with me for no reason, then five months later you call me, drunk, asking me to come over to talk, and all you have you say is ‘how you been’?” You asked, the anger in you taking control. Trevor looked down at his lap at your words. He knew calling you was a bad idea, he didn’t even know why he decided to do it in the first place. Sure, he had been thinking about it ever since he walked out the door in April, apologize to you a million times and do anything you’d want him to if he meant he could be yours again, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t break your heart even more than he already did.

“Listen, Bug, what I did, what I said, it was the worst mistake of my life.” He started, the nickname he had given slipping past his lips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened and I was so stupid to end it. And, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and during our relationship, but being your boyfriend was never one. I am so in love with you―”

“Then why’d you end it, Trevor?” You cut him off, your voice stern as you avoided his gaze, scared that tears would start to form in your eyes if you looked over at him.

“Because you deserve better than me. You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met, and I know that you don’t think you are, but to me you are. You’re kind to everyone, you’re smart, you care about everyone even if they’ve done bad things, you’re perfect. And I am… am just me. I fuck up everything good that happens in my life, I hurt people without even realizing it, I am not a good person, Y/N/N. You deserve better than me.” He confessed, his voice low, almost scared that you’d hear him. After he was done, he chugged the rest of his beer before adding one more thing. “I am not good enough for you.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone. Every time you’d meet someone I know, they’d always say they didn’t understand what someone like you saw in me, like I wasn’t good enough to be your boyfriend. All my family and friends, they all love you, but they don’t understand why you’re with me, and honestly, I don’t either.” He admitted, the tone and volume in his voice not changing. You knew Trevor was a bit insecure about himself, scared that he was too high energized that people wouldn’t want to be around him, but you never knew it was this deep.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Trev?” You asked him, your voice shaky a bit. You start to wonder how long he had been feeling this way, suddenly feeling guilty for not noticing it. The boy next to you scoffed a bit before answering as he opened another beer.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my stupid problems.”

“Trevor… you could never burden me. I care about you, so much―”

“You care about everyone.”

“Yeah, maybe I do, but I don’t care about them the way I care about you, Trevor. You’ve made me feel the best I ever have in years, you’ve helped me over come so many challenges in the last year, you’ve been there for me through everything. The way I care about you, Trev, I can’t even explain it. And I am so, so sorry I didn’t realized that something was wrong and hearing you talk about it makes me feel guilty that when you needed someone to help you, I wasn’t there.”

“You couldn’t of had known―”

“But I should’ve. I should’ve realized, Trev, and I am sorry I didn’t. You were there for me every time I was hurting, and when you were, I wasn’t.”

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

Fuck it, it’s fine

Then, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, one of his hand cupping your cheek as your eyes grew wide. After a couple of seconds, the boy pulled back, his eyes focused on yours, and you waisted no time pulling him back in for another one.

Minutes later, your tongue met his in the middle, a small gasp leaving his mouth as you bit down on his lip. His other hand was now resting on your waist, holding you close, as one of your hand was holding onto the collar of his shirt tightly while the other was holding onto his neck. Then, both of his hands started making their way down to your thighs, softly rubbing them before picking you up and placing you on his lap, your lips never leaving each other’s.

Soon, his hands made their way back up your body, slipping under the shirt you were wearing, pulling you closer to him. Your mouths separated for split second and you took the opportunity to lift his shirt over his head, wasting no time to attack his necks with small kisses and love bites.

Groans slipped past Trevor’s mouth every time you bit down on the skin under his ear, and even more when you started moving your core over his. Your shit was next, joining his on the floor behind the couch, and this time he was the one to attack your chest. Your hips accelerating every time his mouth got closer and closer to your breasts and soon your bra joined the small pile of clothes.

“Trev!” You moaned as his lips attached around one of your nipples, pulling the hairs on the back of his neck as he did so, a loud groan echoing through his living room. Eventually, his lips left your body, your foreheads now leaning against the other’s, mouths inches apart, as you both grinded on each other, moans leaving both of your mouths. Then, you uttered the three words he had been dying to hear in since April.

“I need you.”

Yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

The biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

I just tripped and fell into his bed

A grunt left your mouth as your back hit his mattress, his body soon leaning over yours as your lips attached, his hips meeting yours as you whined. You wanted nothing more in that moment than for his pants and underwear to disappear, as well as yours.

“So inpatient.” He mumbled as your lips parted, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Trev.” You whined, your hips leaving the comfort of the mattress to meet his, his smirk only growing even more. The forward waisted no time baring the both of your of your bottoms, creating a new pile of clothes, now in his bedroom instead of the living room.

As the morning hours rolled in, the two of you gave your everything to the other, your bodies, your wants, your heart. It was like you were back to last year, one of the happiest times of your life, spending each second that you could with the love of your life.

It was like April never happened, you had been stuck in time in March, the familiar sent of his cologne filling your nose as you feel asleep in his arms, your head tucked into his chest as his arms wrapped around your figure protectively, scared that you’d disappear and he’d lose all over again. In that moment, you felt true happiness in months, all the heartbreak and tears the boy had caused being forgotten by your undying love for him.

He was yours again, well at least for the night, but you didn’t want it to be just for tonight. You wanted him to be yours forever and always, you didn’t want to go back to how you were mere hours before, heartbroken and hung-up on the boy of your dreams. You had him right there, in your arms, and you weren’t ready to let go, not again. You lost him once, and you weren’t about to lose him twice.

At that moment, you decided that whatever happened when the two of you woke up, no matter how hard Trevor tried, or didn’t, to tell you to just forget it even happened, that it’d be best if the two of you didn’t see each other again, you weren’t gonna let him slip out of your grip without a fight like last time. You didn’t care if it took him days, or weeks to understand that there’s not other man you’d rather be with, having already decided that if you couldn’t have him, you were the spend the rest of your life alone. But, you needed him to understand that he was perfect for you, and that he was all you ever wanted.

Maybe he’ll never be yours again, but you’ll always be his.

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

Can’t two people reconnect?

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts

“Morning!” The Zegras boy exclaimed as you walked into his living room the next morning, well almost afternoon. All he was wearing was a plain pair of grey sweatpants, his boxer peaking over his waistband slightly. You had allowed yourself to dig through his closet, finding the pair of sweatpants and hoodie that were yours for most of the relationship before leaving his bedroom.

“Hi.” You whispered as you sat down on his couch. The boy sent you a small smile before throwing one of his arm on the back of the couch, something he always did.

“I just ordered breakfast, got you the same always.”

“Thank you.” You responded, and then a silence settled between the two of you as a news channel played on the TV. “How’s your head?”

“Huh?”

“You… you looked like you drank a lot last night.” You mumbled, keeping your eyes focused on the TV as you felt his looking at you.

“‘M fine. Had a little headache when I woke up, but I took an advil.” He answered, his eyes still looking at you as you nodded. “This is the part where you tell me we need to talk, isn’t it?” He added after a couple of seconds, another nod coming from you. He had a feeling about what you were about to say, and it wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

He had spent the whole morning prepping himself mentally to not break down if the words “mistake” and “forgot” left your mouth, telling himself he couldn’t just believe you’d come back after how he ended things previously. One of his solutions was avoiding eye contact, so he looked at the same place as you did, straight ahead.

“I get, I get that opening up and talking about things like insecurities is hard, Trev. It’s scary, you think people will judge you or making fun of you, of use it against you, trust me I know how it feels, but when you’re in a relationship with someone, that’s the kind of you stuff you can’t just hid from them. Especially if it makes you want to break up with them. That’s what I am here for, I am a safe space, Trev, nothing you tell me about how you feel or how you think will ever make me see you differently.

I love everything about you, Trevor, every little flaws about you just make me love you even more than I already do. To me, you’re perfect, Trevor. Everything about you is perfect to me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, you’re the one for me, I know you are. And I get that hearing people say that you’re not good enough for me can be hard, but trust me when I saw, you’re perfect for me.” You stated.

His heart dropped as your words filled his ears, in a good way of course. You remembered, even though you were drunk, you still remembered his confession from the previous night. Just as he was about to say something, the doorbell rang and he quick to push himself off the couch, but before he could take a step, your hand gripped his. His head turned to look at you, only when his gaze met yours, tears were pooling in your eyes.

“Don’t runaway again, Trev, please.” You begged, your voice shaky and broken. You knew him, if he walked away right now, your conversation would never continue, he’d come back in the living room and pretend that it never happened, he’d runaway from it instead of facing it, just like he did last time. He hesitated for a bit, your eyes staying locked together, before he nodded slightly and sat back down.

“It hurts. When people say all those things about me not being good enough for you, or that you could do so much better than me. I hate it.” He admitted, his eyes looking down at the floor, your hand still gripping his as you moved closer.

“Trev, look at me.” You said, and when his head didn’t move, you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were watering as he blinked repeatedly, trying to hold his tears in. “I don’t care what people say about us, you’re way more than enough for me, and yeah, maybe I could do better, but I don’t want better, I want you.”

“Maybe you could do better?” He questioned, a little confused as to why you would chose to say that to him.

“Someone that doesn’t have only three functioning brain cells.” You joked, making the boy laugh a little.

“You love it.”

“I do. I really do, Trevor. Everything about, all your flaws and everything, I love.” You spoke, your voice soft and low. Your hand that previously grabbed his chin now cupping his cheek, a soft smile appearing on his face.

“I am sorry.” He said as a tear fell from his eyes, which you were quick to wipe away before wrapping both your arms around his neck, his going around your waist as you held each other close.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, love.” You whispered in his ear, only making his smile grow wider. In that moment, he realized that no matter issue he was dealing with, either from hockey or his personal life, you’d always be there for him, just like he always wanted to be there for you.

“Girlfriend?” He asked, making you pull your head away from his neck, but keeping your arms around him.

“Boyfriend.” You confirmed with a wide smile on your face, an identical ones plastered on Trevor’s face before the two of you leaned in and your lips locked together. Unlike all your kissed from the previous night, this one was slow and full of love. It wasn’t a quick, rushed and hungry one, no, it was one that only true lovers shared.

Thoughts

Blah

Thoughts

Blah

To say your mom was excited when you told her the news that you and Trevor were back together would be an understatement. A loud squeal came from the speaker of your phone, making you pull your phone away from your ear quickly as Trevor sent you a weird look. Before you even had time to say anything else to her, she hung out, claiming she had to go tell the good news to your father.

As for your friends, they were a little iffy about the situation, scared that the boy would break your heart once again, but eventually, they came around, realizing how in love the two of you were.

Trevor no longer ran away from his insecurities, now confronting them and talking about them with you, something you were extremely grateful for. All of his friends were over the moon when they heard that you were back together, tired of always hearing the Zegras boy mop over you.

As for you, you were the happiest you had ever been, everyday Trevor made sure to tell and show how much he loves and appreciates you, spoiling you with hugs and kisses.

Your life was perfect again.

#bri writes #trevor zegras #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras angst #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras imagines #guts series

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helterskelterhazel · 20 days

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𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒚

Summary: fetus!Alex and you hate each other, but not that much.

Warnings: sub!alex, dom!reader, oral(m receiving), p in v, crying?, grinding?

Word count: 4.7k

a/n: the fandom is so dead right now so I took matters into my own hands… enjoy!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You and Alex had an interesting living situation. You met through a mutual friend, and the mutual need for cheaper rent. The both of you hated paying ridiculous prices for the smallest flats ever, especially without the help of parents' money. Unfortunately, you both also hated each other. The night you met was at a noisy, packed club, and after a long day of university, you both needed to let loose. Your mutual friend invited the both of you along with a few other friends. He hadn’t been seen by your friend all night, but you saw him. As you had unsqueezed yourself from the mass of bodies dancing to the music to go to the bar, you felt a person knock into you. You turned to the side to tell him off, but your voice was caught in your throat as you looked at the boy in front of you. He was a fairly small boy, with thick hair that stuck up in the back. He wore a polo, with the color popped up, and baggy jeans. But what really stood out was his eyes, big and round and confused looking. The confused look quickly went away as he studied you.

“You y/n?” He asked loudly, attempting to strain over the loud music. His voice was higher pitched than you’d expect.

“Yes, I am, and you must be Alex, you fit the description I was told about. You also just ran into me, if you didn’t notice,” you respond, annoyed at his casual tone.

He smirked slightly, “I noticed.” What a dick.

You and him proceeded to have a strained conversation. He was clearly gone, sloshing his cheap beer around in his hand, accidentally splashing you with it at one point. At least he got you a napkin. You disagreed on almost every level, your personalities clashed in a frustrating way. Eventually, you got to the topic of university. He was an English major, surprising, considering his slurred speech and odd wording. Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t afford university combined with rent. That was the one thing you could agree on. You're not sure how, but In your drunken haze, you ended the conversation disgruntled but with a plan to room together in a new apartment. You managed to follow through with minimal talking, and moved into an apartment in the next few weeks. The circumstances weren’t the greatest, but it was the easiest option for everyone.

He put posters of the strokes, oasis and the libertines up on his side of the bedroom, and had his records stored next to his record player. Your records sat opposite to his. The first days were filled with arguments about things like who can take a shower, what type of coffee to make, and who can control the tv. He called you pretentious, you called him annoying. You’d complain about his habits of staying out late, and how he didn’t even try to be quiet when getting ready for bed. The yelling turned into grumbling, and the grumbling turned into silence as the both of you fell into some sort of routine.

you wake up hours before he does, and take a shower first thing. Typically getting dressed in outfits that consist of tights, sweaters, flats and denim or leather jackets. You pour yourself a cup of black coffee, and head to your first class of the day. By the time you got back from your early morning class, he was usually awake in his bed, sipping on an iced coffee. Iced, vanilla, coffee. You made him keep it in the fridge. There was always the lingering smell of the cigarette he had enjoyed on the balcony. You ate whatever pastry you had purchased from the bakery close by campus while he took an obnoxiously long shower. You would leave as he finished for the rest of your classes, just missing him stepping out of the shower wet and disheveled. Luckily your days didn’t overlap until late at night as Alex liked to go out, and he also liked to play in his band. He would clamber into bed after stripping to his boxers, and you would resist the urge to turn over to his side of the room and look. Then you would wake up and do it all over again.

One Sunday night, as Alex walked in the door earlier than usual, the routine changed. It was 9, and you both were puttering around the small kitchen trying to prepare separate microwaveable meals. Seemingly out of nowhere, Alex cleared his throat and asked,

“Do you wanna watch a movie, together I mean.”

Not knowing what to say, you kept your back facing him and nodded. You couldn’t see it, but his cheeks heated up to a bright pink, and he smiled softly to himself while continuing to prepare his noodles. The two of you settled down onto your beds, and you tossed the remote over to Alex.

“You can pick,” you told him quietly.

“I actually have some dvds that I brought from home, Al Pacino movies and stuff if you're into that,” he replied softly. The cocky boy you thought you knew seemed gone.

“Yeah that sounds good.”

He nodded, and slid off his bed to grab a big leather case from under it. After popping it open, you saw there must have been at least 80 dvds.

“Big into movies?” You asked, genuinely curious. His plush lips parted into a small smile at the question.

“Yeah, big time.”

He selected one and popped it into the dvd player beneath the tv before settling back into his flannel sheets. The two of you sat eating your food and watching “Donnie Brasco” through the rest of the night. The movie was dotted with Alex’s little interjections about the actors or cinematic qualities. You slowly drifted off to sleep with your bowl at your side, on top of your sheets. When you woke up the next morning, you were tucked into your bed, and your dishes had disappeared.

From then on, it seemed like you two had an unstated agreement. On the nights the both of you are in the flat, you would share a film. There was more talking as well. He asked you about your day and you asked about his. Sometimes he’d even prepare your meal, and make you a drink. You found out that you both actually were quite similar. When you had rented a French dvd, Alex responded excitedly, watching intently through the whole thing. Turns out he liked them as much as you did. You also found out little things about him that didn’t really matter, but meant a great deal to you. For example, he ruffles his hair on purpose, (he wants to look like Julian Casablancas.) He also began to get more comfortable engaging in small touches with you, touching your hip as he passed by you, light pats on the shoulder when you told him about a paper you did well on, and once tucking your hair behind your ear before scurrying away nervously. You didn’t mind it.

At the beginning of one normal movie night, Alex proposed that you sit in his bed.

“Y’know I just figured, it-it would be easier to see for you I didn’t mean anything by it,” he stuttered, blushing furiously. You laughed softly at his nervous behavior and moved over to his bed, settling onto the soft comforter. He tensed up as your shoulder touched his, but relaxed quickly after. He turned his head to you and said,

“If you want to get under the covers, I don’t mind, it’s pretty cold anyways,” he trailed off, eyes casting downwards, making the shadow of his lashes more prominent. You nodded in response, slipping your legs under the sheets.

As the movie progressed, you noticed his eyes starting to flutter closed, and his small frame slumped against yours. Slowly, you leaned back further, easing him to lay with his head in the crook of your neck. He didn’t say anything, allowing it to happen. You could tell he was still awake from his hitching breaths and pounding heart beat against you. Testing the waters, you took your hand up to rake through his soft hair. You got in response a shiver from him and a small hum, but no protests. You played with the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly. You could feel him smile against you. This Alex was not the Alex from the bar the night you met. This Alex was soft and vulnerable, and absolutely sweet. You allowed yourself to drift to sleep, him in your arms.

The night after was filled with nerves creeping up on you. You spend the whole day thinking about Alex wrapping himself tightly around you, not able to focus on any work at all. You know Alex wasn’t going to be home early that night, he had a late shift at the bar to cover. You wished he was here with you, watching films, listening to records, or just simply talking, but you know it was best to have a bit of space. The two of you hadn’t exchanged any talk in the morning, both far too timid to share any feelings. So there you sat In the darkness of your shared room, unable to fall asleep or think of anything other than Alex. Your thoughts of Alex were interrupted not a moment later by the sounds of the boy himself. You keep your body turned over so he can’t see your face, just listening to his breathing and sounds of him putting down his keys.

When you hear him settle onto his bed, the last this you expected to hear was him softly crying. It was quiet, but the sound was unmistakable. Without thinking, you sat up and turned around, in which Alex responded by lifting his head quickly. His hair was hanging over his eyes, which are red and puffy. His doe eyes are soft, and his lashes are slick with tears. Responding on instinct, you immediately jumped off your bed and hurried over to his, wrapping one arm around him. He responds by leaning into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You pet his hair lightly while he sniffles, trying to distract him from whatever was happening. Eventually he lifts his head up and averts his eyes away from yours. He takes a deep breath and then suddenly all of his words come pouring out at once.

“I’m so sorry for being weird all day y/n, I was worried I made you uncomfortable last night because I really like you and I don’t want to mess up us being friends, because you're like, one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I’m sorry for crying all over you and you can leave I understa-”

You shut up his rambling by leaning into his bitten lips. He made a noise of shock into your mouth, before he began to kiss back enthusiastically. He was one of the most eager kissers you’d ever encountered. His kisses were filled with an urgency you hadn’t felt before. He tasted like cigarettes and cheap beer. Unable to resist yourself, you reach a hand up and rake it through his hair, before tugging softly. In response he whines into the kiss, before pulling back and looking at you in shock. His lips are red and swollen, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

“I didn’t think you liked me like that,” he says quietly. You didn’t respond, just continuing to look at his perfect face.

“I guess I just overthink things too much,” he replies to himself. This you respond to.

“I can make your mind go quiet, if that’s what you want.”

Even you were shocked by your boldness. He couldn’t form words, just nodding furiously, shaking his hair around. You lean back from him, sitting against your pillows and opening your legs. He looks confused at what you were doing. You pat the spot between your legs and say,

“sit.”

His eyes got impossibly wider as they flicked between the space between your legs and your face. “You mean like how girls normally do?” He asks, looking insecure.

“I guess so, but really it’s just so I can take proper care of you,” you respond, smirking at his innocent expression. “We don’t have to do it like that if you don’t want to.” You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“No,” he responds quickly, voice straining a bit. “I want to.”

“Then come here.”

He lifts himself up off the ledge of his bed and settles his back against your chest. You instantly wrap your arms up to cradle his little waist. His body shivers a bit against yours. You push your hands under his shirt and feel his soft skin, while beginning to lean down to kiss his neck. His body is shaking a bit, so you pull back slightly and say softly in his ear,

“Are you okay? You're shaking honey.” He blushes deeply at the nickname, before shaking his head and responding, “Yeah, I’m-I’m just not used to this.”

You nod in response before continuing. As you begin to kiss down his neck, you decide to take a risk.

“Can I leave marks?” He whimpers lightly before hurriedly nodding.

You lick over his pulse point before sucking a small love bite into his pale skin. He tilts his head back further, exposing more of his neck to you. Between bites and kisses you whisper in his ear.

“No ones ever properly taken care of you, sweetie.” He looks embarrassed at the words, letting out little whimpers and deep breaths as well. You continue to run your hands over his stomach under his shirt. Your hands drop lower, caressing his defined hip bones. At this, he lets out a quiet whine and squirms a bit.

“Need more.” he says while looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. His fists are curled at his side, and his chest is heaving with need.

“if it’s what you need sweetie.”

You take the edge of his shirt and pull it over his head, ruffling his hair even more in the process. You trail your hands down to his jeans, feeling the edge of them before asking, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.” he breathes desperately. You unzip them and let him do the rest, unable to reach from your position. Now here you were, with Alex Turner between your legs in nothing but his boxers, looking delicate as ever. Deciding to be bold, you take your hand and palm over his crotch. The fabric feels wet with precum, and you can almost feel him pulse under your touch. His response is immediate, bucking up into your touch and desperately pawing at your other hand that was resting on his tummy. You trace one finger around his cock, feeling the surprisingly long length of it. He silently hopes you can’t feel his heart beating out of his chest, but of course you can. You decided to surprise him by reaching your hand down to wrap around the base of his cock. The sound he made was something out of a porno. A broken, high pitched moan that seemed like it resembled an “oh god.” The sound went straight to your core and you felt wetness start to pool in your panties. You begin to move your hand along his raging erection, eventually getting to the tip, just lightly swiping your fingers over it to tease. You would think he’d never even jacked off before from his reaction. All he could do is squirm and push himself into your touch desperately.

You remove your grip on him to just lightly take your finger and run it up and down his cock, moving the precum leaking out of him along it. As you teased him, you couldn’t help but lean down to suck a hickey into his collarbone. The need to see him as disheveled and marked up was unbearable. You couldn’t help but trail your other hand further up his stomach to his chest to his nipples, lightly ghosting over one to see if it was okay.

“Please, please I want it.” The boy who was nervous about being submissive was definitely gone.

You take his nipple between your fingers, rolling it before pinching lightly. He looks overwhelmed at the action between his legs and chest. You switch between the two of his nipples, almost overstimulating him. His chest and cheeks are flushed, and you're honestly interested in seeing if anything else is.

You take your hand off his cock, leaving him whining in disagreement.

“Why’d you stop?” He chokes out, pouting like a kid who dropped his ice cream.

“Because I wanna taste you.” you smirk in his ear.

You can hear his voice catch in his throat, and before he knows it you're releasing your hold on him and crawling between his legs. From this angle, he looks downright sinful. His puppy eyes are trained on you, watery from being on edge. His lips are bitten and his hair is messy and covering his face making him look somehow innocent despite the current situation. Trailing your hands up his legs, which were just as delicate and pale as the rest of him, you settle on where his v-line meets his boxers.

“Can I suck you off.” You ask bluntly, trying to get that pretty blush to rise up to his cheeks. It works.

“Yes-yes please do whatever please.” He begs hands fisting the sheets by his side, frustrated by the lack of stimulation on his painfully hard cock.

You take this as an opportunity to pull down his boxers to reveal his dick. You almost gasp at the sight of it, big, flushed a deep red almost purple, leaking a steady stream of precum against his tummy, with a vein going up the side. He looks embarrassed at the sight of you between his legs, staring at his cock.

“Can you please touch me, please?” He whimpers quietly, averting his eyes from yours.

“I don’t know, do you think you deserve it?” You tease, rubbing the milky skin of his bare thighs.

“Yes! Yes I do please, I need you so bad.” He whines in desperation, the pressure getting far too much for him to take.

“I guess you have been good for me. Is that what you wanna be? My good boy?” You didn’t think he would react as strongly as he did, it was really just to tease him even further, but he replies by gasping softly and saying “I’m your good boy I promise, just touch me, ple-”

You interrupt his pleas by taking the head of his cock into your mouth. In response he lets out a high pitch whine. The neighbors probably hate us right now. you take the entirety of what you can in your mouth, trying not to gag as the tip hits the back of your throat. He shudders and starts to let out a continuous stream of “fucks” and “yes’s” and whimpers. you take whatever you can't fit in your mouth and pump the base of him. You hollow out your cheeks to make the sensation even better for him. In response he bucks up his hips uncontrollably and takes one hand and tangles it in your hair. He doesn’t try to pull or control your movements, it’s just an attempt to keep his body under control. It’s clear it isn’t really working, as his back arches off the bed like a cat, and he has to raise the hand that’s not in your hair to his mouth to attempt to quiet his noises. You reach your hand up and swat him away from his mouth. “I wanna hear your pretty noises honey.”

“Oh-okay.” He whispers shyly in response, giving you a little smile.

the smile quickly drops as you attach your mouth back to the swollen head of his cock, licking into the slit at the top. His unrestrained mewls are the prettiest sounds you’ve heard. You continue to massage his thighs, occasionally reaching a hand up to ghost over one of his nipples, leaving him an overwhelmed mess. His trembling legs and increasingly louder whines are a clear sign of him getting closer. He was desperately trying not to cum so quickly, but he couldn’t stop his shaky thrusts of his hips.

“oh god, you feel so-so good.” He whines desperately, sounding on the verge of pleasure induced tears. You look up to admire his sweet face, and you're met with a surprise. He doesn’t just sound like he’s crying, he is crying. Lip quivering slightly, and his eyes are rolling back to his head, as tears run down his cheeks. The sight of him so ruined has your cunt clenching around nothing, suddenly unbearably empty.

“I’m not gonna last, please plea-.” You cut off his begging by promptly pulling him out of your mouth and removing any stimulation he was getting. The cry he lets out sounds almost pained, even more tears stream from his eyes.

“Why’d you stop, I was almost there.” He pouts at you, disheveled hair paired with red cheeks and teary eyes making him look angelic.

“Because I want you inside me,” You reply, leaning your face against his thigh, “do you want that?” You finish.

“Yeah, yes I want it. I want it so bad please.” He gasps out desperate to get some form of stimulation back in his aching cock.

As you slip off the shorts and panties you were wearing to bed, you can practically feel Alex’s eyes staring at your puffy folds. He gulps as you climb over his lap, hovering over his dick. You lower yourself to grind your pussy against his cock, feeling it slip between your wet folds, nudging just right at your clit. As you begin to move up and down along his dick, his hands grasp desperately at your waist, mewling at the feeling of your plush folds sliding along his dick.

“I swear you're gonna kill me.” He chokes out, eyes focused on your soaked pussy spreading your wetness around his cock.

“Do you like this baby, you like feeling me.” You say, leaning down to his ear, before attaching your mouth to the spot under his jaw.

“Love it, love it so much, I need more.” He moans, hands trailing from your waist to squeeze the flesh of your ass.

“More? Don’t you think that’s a little greedy?” You tease, licking and biting along his collar bone. He whimpers and shakes his head, burying it in your shoulder, shuddering softly. His fingers are toying with the edge of your shirt, too nervous to ask to take it off. Luckily you get the hint.

You pull the shirt over your head, allowing him a moment to look at your bra, before promptly pulling that off as well. His big, brown eyes dilate at the sight of your tits.

“Can I touch them, please?” He says, looking up at you hopefully. You nod into his neck. He immediately reaches his hands up and gropes at your tits, squeezing them in his delicate hands. You continue to grind against him to make him more desperate as he suddenly leans forward and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking desperately. You gasp softly and begin petting his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“You like having your mouth full sweetie?” You ask, a rhetorical question of course. All he can do is let out a muffled whine. His tongue swipes along the bud, nipping gently in an attempt to get you as desperate as he is. Suddenly he releases you from his mouth and stops the movement of your hips against him with his hands.

“I can’t anymore, I need to be inside you. I’ll be good for you, I promise I swear love!” He whines finally, breaking under the teasing.

“Okay honey, you’ve been a good boy.” You reply while lifting up to your knees and grabbing hold of his cock. He’s been hard for so long he swears he’s going to bust any second now. You line up the fat head of his cock to your leaking cunt, before slowly pushing him inside. You groan low in your throat as you feel his thick cock stretch you out just right, the tip brushing your g-spot. You almost don’t notice the way he throws his head back in euphoria, sounds caught in his throat from the way your plush walls squeeze him perfectly, and the way he can feel your cunt gush around him. You grab hold of his face, admiring his lust blown eyes for a moment, before leaning in to connect your mouth with his. It’s rough and messy as his tongue slides along yours, his mouth sweet and soft. You begin to slowly move your hips, the first few movements have him shaking again. You let him sink into the bed, so overwhelmed that he was pawing at anything he could get his hands on. Your tits, your ass, your waist, anything to keep him grounded.

But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way your tits bounced with every thrust. He couldn’t stop hearing the wet noises coming from your pussy every time you bottomed out of his dick. He couldn’t stop looking at how your pussy enveloped him, leaving his dick wet and glistening.

“God you're so good!” He cried out, tears trailing down his face again.

you were right there with him, trailing a hand down to your clit to circle the puffy bud, but he was there before you were, desperate not to embarrass himself by coming too early. It only took a few swipes of his calluses fingertips on your clit to have you coming around his length. You gripped your hands on his slender shoulders as your orgasm shook through your body, unknowingly breaking him enough to have his own orgasm suddenly coaxed out. You feel his hot release hit your walls, and watch his hips jerk uncontrollably as the tears shed more than ever before. His fingers don’t let up until you collapse on top of him, sweaty bodies melded together.

It takes a moment for you to realize his crying and shaking hasn’t stopped. You lift off of him, still straddling him, his cum starting to leak out of you.

“Are you ok al?” You ask.

He doesn’t respond, a fuzzed over look on his face, trying his hardest to give you a little nod. You grab his fragile body in your arms and slowly lift him out of bed, walking him to the bathroom slowly. You take a damp cloth and wipe him down softly as possible. You wipe yourself down as well, still cradling him in your arms. Grabbing his hand, you lead him over to your bed, wanting to lay him in clean sheets. You help him into the bed and slide in beside him. He buries his head in your chest, still shaking but not crying anymore. You pet his hair, hoping to calm him down. After a few moments he slowly lifts his head up, making eye contact shyly.

“I’m sorry for all that.” He says softly. “I sometimes get a little unresponsive when I get a little too into it.” He looks nervous, anticipating your reaction.

“That’s okay Al, it’s kinda sweet.” You reply, watching his cheeks flush lightly. You lean down and kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“I had a really good time.” You say, smiling at him.

“Me too.” He gave a long pause before asking, “do you maybe wanna go out sometime.”

You almost giggle at his shy demeanor. Still so nervous.

“Of course I do honey.”

The both of you lay In comfortable silence for a while, arms wrapped around each other. You noticed his eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay awake.

“Go to sleep Alex, I’ve got you.” You whisper, stroking the side of his face. He hums in agreement nuzzling into your neck further. You stroke his hair and face until you feel his breathing stabilize. The both of you fall asleep entangled together, your lips pressed against the crown of his head

#alex turner smut #sub alex turner #Alex turner fanfic

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callsigncurse · 6 months

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meet me in the woods (jake seresin x reader)

Evergreen Falls, Oregon. A small town with a mysterious past and strange folktales, surrounded by forest and ocean. You're here because of your best friend, Natasha Trace, but it feels as though something else drew you to this picturesque little town. Pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem!Reader Warnings: This is an AU where mythical creatures exist. Werewolves are the main characters presented, but others are mentioned and may make an appearance later in the series. There are mentions of death (parental; reader's and Rooster's) and use of pet names, such as "pretty girl", "sweet girl" and "darlin'." Words: 4.7K

[part one of the evergreen falls series]

From the moment you crossed the border from California to Oregon, you knew that this was where you belonged. The forests, the skies, and the overall vibe were different from anything you'd ever known, and you wanted more than anything to stay.

However, it was easy to get lost. Your GPS had all but given up on you, and it took you until it was nearly too late to find your exit. It was hidden in the trees, and when you merged onto it, you wondered if this was a mistake and if it was leading you right off a cliff or something.

Despite that, you kept driving. The highway exit ended up leading you to a gravel road, and that gravel road led you to a sign. It was white with dark green writing, pointing you forward.

Evergreen Falls, 3 miles ahead

Population: 5,135.

A Great Place to Be!

You'd breathed out a sigh of relief, because this was exactly where you'd needed to go. You were excited; you had been driving for hours, and your body ached from sitting in your car for too long. You couldn't wait to get to town and get out of your car.

Thankfully, those three miles streaked by, and a break in the trees led you to the most beautiful little town you'd ever seen.

Nestled beneath the Pacific Coast mountain range, Evergreen Falls practically sparkled. The buildings all looked like they'd been freshly painted, with red brick inlay that hinted at them being a little older than this century. The streets looked new, but the streetlamps were definitely older and well taken care of.

The road took you to a street sign labeled Main Street, and you pulled your Jeep to the side of the street to park. After taking a moment to study your surroundings, you noticed the little businesses up and down the street. A boutique, a coffee shop called Top Bean, a realtor's office, and what looked to be a vintage record store. It really was a lovely little town, and you smiled to yourself.

Climbing out of your car, you grabbed your bag and stretched. It was cooler here than when you'd gotten into your car to leave California, but it wasn't too bad. Refreshing, even. It was a change, and that's exactly what you needed. You let yourself relax for a moment, feeling the wind ruffle the skirt of the sundress you'd thrown on back in California.

"Well, I've never seen you around before."

You whirled around, pressing a hand to your chest as your heart leapt inside your chest. You hadn't seen anyone on the street when you'd gotten out of your Jeep, so the voice had startled you.

He's standing with his hands in his pockets, a rather lanky gentleman wearing a godawful Hawaiian shirt over a white t-shirt. The ensemble was completed by a pair of grease-stained blue jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. You knew from your best friend's description of her friends that this was Bradley Bradshaw.

His lips twitched, making his mustache move in an amusing way. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. We just don't often get folks traveling through here. 'Specially not beautiful ones."

Cocking an eyebrow, you studied the man for another moment before you spoke. "So, you're Rooster." You had the pleasure of watching him narrow his eyes, staring at you suspiciously. "Or do you prefer Bradley?"

"How in the hell?" He steps closer, peering at you like he's trying to figure out who the hell you are. "How do you know my name? Have we met before?"

You just laugh. "It's nice to finally meet you, Bradley." You take a look around, your eyes drifting back over to the coffee shop. "Natasha told me all about you and your flirty ways."

"Goddammit, Phoenix. And you," He points his index finger at you and says, "You little shit, you scared the hell out of me." He gripes and then gestures for you to follow him. "She's working at the coffee shop today, and so is Coyote."

He opens the door for you, and you're met with the scent of coffee and the sounds of soft chatter. Natasha is behind the counter, and when the bell above you chimes, she finally looks up, locks eyes with you, and says your name. And then she's coming around the counter to launch herself at you, and the two of you almost tumble to the ground in a mess of flailing limbs and excited screams.

Bradley and the other barista are watching all of this with amusement, and neither man makes a move to get between you two.

"I can't believe you're finally here!" Natasha pulls away first, looking at your face like she's afraid you'll disappear if she looks away. "When did you get in? How are you? I thought you were still in California; you're weeks early!"

"I wanted to surprise you!" You explain excitedly. "I just couldn't wait anymore, so I packed everything up and headed straight here. The movers should be somewhere behind me; I think they said they're like forty minutes behind."

Nat's face is bright; she's basically glowing as she pulls you tight to her. It's the first hug you've gotten in days, and you tuck your face into the crook of her neck. She smells like baked goods, coffee, and the perfume she always wore in college when you first met her.

"God, I missed the way you smell. It's like the best thing ever." You tell her, pulling back so you can see her face again. "I'm so glad I'm here. I missed you so fucking much."

She laughs, and Bradley clears his throat from behind you. When you turn around, his arms are crossed over his chest, and he's looking at the both of you with amusement. "Guessing you two go way back?"

The barista that Nat was working with—Javy, it says on his nametag—snorts. "Obviously, Rooster." He smirks when Rooster's answer is a quick flash of his middle finger.

"We went to the same college." You explain, "Nat was studying business, and I was studying to become an English major. We bumped into each other at the campus coffee shop and became study buddies for the rest of our college years. I recently went through some changes, and I wanted to find somewhere new to live. Start over fresh, you know? So I decided to come here so I could live near my best friend."

Nat's hand slips into yours and squeezes gently. "It's seriously been way too long. That was mostly my fault; I got so busy trying to get this place up and running that I never had time for anyone or anything else."

"I can forgive you if you make me a Red-Eye Special." A concoction the two of you had come up with your junior year, the Red-Eye special was a latte with two extra espresso shots, mocha sauce, and topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

She lets your hand go, a big smile on her beautiful face. "That's actually one of the most popular drinks here. I put it on the menu to make sure I always remember the best friend I ever had."

Bradley huffs indignantly at that, and it sends you both into a fit of giggles. While she goes to make your drink, you move to the bar top to sit and watch her. Bradley follows, taking a seat beside you. "I'll take a mocha frappe, Phoenix."

"You got it, Rooster."

You sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, taking in the coffee shop. It's exactly Nat's aesthetic, you think to yourself. There's band posters everywhere, a vintage jukebox in the corner, and the walls are all painted different and funky colors. The furniture is all well-worn but clearly loved. The pictures she'd texted you when she first opened didn't do the place justice. It was amazing.

"Hey Nat, how come you never told me about your absolutely gorgeous best friend before?" Bradley pipes up from beside you, prompting an eyeroll from you and Nat.

"I've mentioned her a lot over the years since I got back from college, Rooster. You're just a terrible listener."

They were still squabbling amongst themselves when the bell above the door suddenly chimed, announcing the arrival of a newcomer. Curious, you lean back on your chair slightly. Peering around Bradley's back, you catch sight of the person walking in through the door.

He's tall—ridiculously so. Like way over six feet, taller than Bradley's type of tall. His golden hair gleams under the soft light coming in through the windows, and his skin is a beautiful shade of tan. He has a slight beard, and the hair is a few shades darker than the hair on his head. More honey-colored than gold, you think to yourself. He's wearing a gray t-shirt with a dark green flannel; the sleeves are rolled up, and you take a moment to study his strong arms. His hands are massive too, and you know they'd dwarf yours. He's incredibly attractive, nearly angelic in his perfection.

Nat looks over her shoulder, offering a bright smile to the absolute god that just walked into her coffee shop. "Hey, Hangman. Want your usual?"

The man they call Hangman nods as he steps up to the counter, already pulling money out of his wallet. He slides a small stack of bills across the counter to Javy, dropping another bill into the tip jar afterwards.

He doesn't say a word as he passes behind you to the very last bar stool to wait for his order. You can't help but turn slightly in your seat, watching as he walks past you. Something about him seems so familiar to you, but you know you've never seen him before. You'd remember that face.

It's like he can feel your eyes on him because he turns his head, and suddenly you can see his eyes. They're green, a gorgeous shade of worn seaglass, or maybe green like the evergreens the forests around here were thick with. But whatever shade they were, they stole your breath.

He doesn't say anything at first; he just watches you, and the corners of his perfect pink lips lift. He's not totally smiling, but it's enough to get your pulse hammering wildly.

Your own answering smile is sweet, and he swallows thickly as he studies you. He seems to be contemplating something, and then his beautiful lips part. "Hi."

Everyone around you freezes. Bradley and Nat stop their good-nature squabbling, and Javy is openly staring with his jaw dropped. They'd only heard this man talk a handful of times in the last few years, and here you were, the newcomer, drawing him into a conversation.

You're paying zero attention to what just happened around you because you're too busy looking at him to notice. "Hi."

"I've never seen you around before." He remarks, his voice soft. It's got a nice gravel to it, deep and warm. "Are you new to town?"

You find yourself nodding, "I just got here. I came from California. San Diego, to be more specific." Your heart is still thrumming, and it's almost like he can hear it because he smiles. It's wide and boyish, and you're breathless.

"Will you be staying for long?" He gets up from his seat at the end of the bar and moves closer. You have to tilt your head back in order to see his face, but you don't mind.

"I'm moving here, actually." You explain, "I'm now the proud owner of the cottage over by the river. The one on Meadow Lane."

He nods slowly. "I know it. Nice place, not too far from the falls. I remember when the previous owner moved away to a bigger town; he just gave the place to the realtor, Beau Simpson. His office is across the street, in case you need to talk to him about anything."

Nat clears her throat, sliding your coffee across the countertop to you. "That place is nice. But are you sure that's where you want to live? There are plenty of houses here in town that aren't surrounded by the woods, you know? That place is kind of creepy looking at night."

You shrug, breaking eye contact with the beautiful man to look at your best friend. "I fell in love with the house, Nat. It's perfect for me—just the right amount of secludedness, but close enough to town that if I need anything, I can just run and get it. So yeah, I'm sure."

You turn your head again, and he's still watching you. The small smile returns to his lips when your eyes catch his once again. Holding your hand out to him, you say your name, and that smile widens. It's devastating in its beauty.

His hand dwarfs yours when he takes it, and it's unbelievably warm. His palm and fingertips are rough from work, you assume, and you love the way it feels against your soft skin. "Jake Seresin, but sometimes the others call me Hangman. I think I'd like it if you called me Jake."

There's a moment where you're so lost in his eyes that the rest of the world fades away. Something between you snaps into place—something entirely ancient and primal. It almost feels like something is now tying you to him, like a silver, shining chain stretching from somewhere in you to a similar point in him.

It feels like you loved him before, in another life.

"Hello, Earth, to space cadets." Javy is snickering, and Bradley is waving a hand between your faces to catch your attention. "The two of you just went someplace else."

Something that sounds eerily like a growl comes from Jake's direction, but when you look back at him, he just offers another soft smile. He looks suspiciously innocent, but you don't comment on that fact.

Nat comes over just then, sliding a small bag and a to-go mug across the counter over to Jake. "There, here's your order, Hangman. The scones are fresh, just how you like them."

Jake makes a sound like a happy little hum. "Thank you, Phoenix. Much appreciated."

He stands up from his seat next to you, the bag and cup cradled in his large hands. "I have to be getting back now. I'll see you around, right?" He's looking down at you, those bright green eyes searching your face. His expression looks strangely anxious, like he's afraid he's never going to see you again.

"Yeah, of course." You stand too, looking up at him. "Maybe you can show me around town sometime?"

He quickly switches the coffee cup into his other hand, balancing his to-go bag of baked goods on his arm. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out what appears to be a partially crumpled business card.

Jake Seresin Woodworker & Carpenter Office: 75 South Pine Ave. Evergreen Falls, OR

"Here, my cell is on there. Call me when you get settled, or if you just get bored and need a break from Bradley's terrible jokes."

Bradley makes another sound from behind you: "Fucking rude."

"That sounds good." You answer softly. "I'll see you around, Jake." Your heart flutters when his smile grows wider, and you think maybe you'd like to keep seeing that smile every day for the rest of your life.

"Bye, darlin'." He murmurs, turning away and making his way out of the coffee shop.

When he's gone, you turn back to the stares of your friends.

"What?"

It doesn't take long for you to receive the keys to your new home. The realtor that Jake had mentioned, Beau Simpson, "Cyclone to my friends," he'd said with a wink, was a helpful guy. He'd made the process of buying your cabin extremely easy, and you'd bunked with Nat for a few days while he got the place ready for you. You had the keys in your hand just four days after arriving in Evergreen Falls.

Night was falling, and you had just brought in the last box of your things from the moving truck. Nat's friends—Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Reuben, and Bob—had introduced themselves to you and offered to help you move in. Even Bradley's godfather—Maverick, he'd told you to call him—had taken a quick look around the place in case anything needed fixing.

Luckily, the place had come somewhat furnished, so you didn't really need to buy anything besides a new mattress. The rest of your stuff from your tiny apartment fits easily in your new home.

Bob and Bradley had already carried your new mattress in; Javy and Mickey were arguing over the way your bed frame was supposed to be put together; and Reuben and Maverick were looking over a leaky faucet in your bathroom. Nat and Maverick's wife, Penny, were putting away dishes in the cupboards of the kitchen.

Bradley was perched on your couch, trying to figure out how to get your WiFi to connect to your smart TV while Penny's daughter watched. She was giggling at him while he was muttering something to himself about 'stupid fucking technology' when your phone chimed.

Jake: It sounds like a circus over there.

What Jake had failed to mention was that when you moved in, the cabin half a mile down the road was owned by him. Not that you particularly minded, but it was nice to know that a friendly face was close by in case you needed something.

You'd texted him your number the night you'd met him, and it was a nice surprise to see him reach out. You smiled to yourself, worrying your lower lip between your teeth for a moment before you answered.

You: They mean well. I'm almost all moved in; I just need to get my bed together and fix the hole in the floor of my front porch, and I'll be all good to go. Jake: I can fix that, if you want. I can drop by tomorrow morning after my run. You: That'd be great! Thank you so much, Jake. Jake: No problem, pretty girl. You: Pretty girl, huh? That's sweet. And thank you again; that was sweet of you to say. See you tomorrow, Jake. Jake: Sleep tight.

The rest of the evening was spent tidying things up, sharing pizza, and goofing off with your newfound friend group. It had been pretty late when they all filed out of your new home, and you'd dragged yourself to your room and onto your new mattress for some rest. It had been a long week.

Maybe it was just the whole 'being alone in a new home' thing making you anxious, but before you fell asleep, you could've sworn you heard howling from somewhere out in the forest behind your new home. Before you can really think anything of it, sleep grabs ahold of you and drags you down deep.

The sound of knocking ends up dragging you out of a dream. You can't quite remember what it was about, but then you remember the howling from the night before, and you wonder if it has to do with that. The sun is filtering in through the window, but from the look of it, it is definitely still early.

You're still sleepy-eyed when you go to answer the door, and your hair is a little messy. You assume it's Natasha, or maybe Bradley, coming over to bug you. But when you open the door, you're met with the strong and tall frame of Jake Seresin, standing right there in your doorway.

Shit. You'd forgotten he was coming over to fix the porch.

You brush a lock of hair away from your left eye and tilt your head back, immediately melting when you see his face. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." He answers. He looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but he's smiling faintly. And then you watch as his gaze falls to your shoulder. Your too-big sleep shirt had slipped down, revealing more skin to him. His gaze is appraising as his eyes drift over your form, down to your bare legs. He must've liked what he saw, because the apples of his cheeks were pink now.

After clearing your throat, you could feel your own face heating up. "I woke up a little late and forgot you were coming. Sorry about me looking all, you know, messy."

"You look beautiful." He says in response. "I like this just as much as I liked that sundress you were wearing the first day I met you." He says it sweetly, and you can feel your pulse fluttering in your throat.

"Thank you, Jake." You murmur, "You're very kind." Your face is shy and pink. You wonder where this guy has been hiding himself all your life. "Um, I'll just run upstairs and get dressed. Feel free to come in if you want."

You don't wait for him to come inside; you just open the door a little wider and scurry away toward the stairs. It's not that you distrust Jake—just the opposite, in fact—you trust him a lot. Probably too much, considering the fact that you'd only had 1.5 conversations with the guy. Standing around in your little PJs is probably not the best move. You know you should probably look semi-decent while a man is working on your home.

You hurry into your bedroom, quickly swapping out what you're wearing for a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a t-shirt. It's the middle of summer and warm this time of year, but it's not nearly as bad as California. You hurriedly tug a brush through your unruly hair, trying to get it to settle down, and then hurry into your bathroom to brush your teeth. Your face is flushed when you look in the mirror, and you do your best to settle the sudden onslaught of nerves you're feeling.

When you come back down the stairs, Jake is standing in front of your fireplace with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He's studying the photographs on the mantle above it—the photos of your family. Your mom and dad were in the majority of them, and Jake muses over how much you look like them both.

"Are you close with them?"

Stepping into the living room, you wrap your arms around yourself. It hurts you to think of them; the pain is still fresh even months later. "I was." Your voice is tinged with sadness, and he turns his head when you come up beside him. "They died earlier this year in a car accident. They were on their way home from a concert when a drunk driver hit them head-on."

After a long moment (where you think you've said the wrong thing), he slowly wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently toward him. You go to him without question, resting your head against his chest while his hand rubs your back in slow, soothing circles. You can feel his sorrow; he doesn't pity you, but he is sad for you.

You let yourself be comforted. You've only known him a few days, but it feels like he's always been with you. It's strange and probably insane, but you feel like there could be something there.

You really hope there's something there.

There's a feeling of light pressure against your skull, and you tip your head back so you can see his face. The smile he gives you is sweet, and your heart feels a little less heavy than it had a moment before.

"I should get started on the porch. Maybe after I'm done, I can take you out to breakfast? The hole isn't too big; it shouldn't take me more than an hour to fix it." He's smiling at you, and you can tell that he's nervous, too.

You nod, your eyes meeting his, and there's that feeling again. That pull between you is like a long chain connecting you to him, and it feels like it's always been there, even though you just met him for the first time a few days ago. You can't help but wonder if he feels it, too.

You let him go, and he grabs the tool bag he'd left by your front door. Not knowing what else to do, you drift out behind him with the intention of sitting on the porch swing. You just want to be near him, plain and simple.

You settle down on the swing, one leg bent on the seat while the other works to push you slowly back and forth. Jake is already at work, measuring and cutting things with a precision that amazes you. He's shed his flannel, leaving him clad in only a black t-shirt that looks worn and soft. You watch the way he moves, his arms when he lifts, and the way his chest and back fill out that t-shirt in a way that makes your mouth dry.

You haven't dated in a long time. You had so much going on with school, finding a job in your field, and then your parents' deaths that it was hard to make a solid connection with anyone around you. Plus, a lot of the time, the guys you met were either total jerks or just really weird. But Jake? Jake seemed different. He was quiet, kind, and helpful, and there was something there. Something deep-seated and amazing is just waiting to be unlocked.

Your phone chimes from where it's sitting on the porch swing next to you, and you pick it up to see a new text from Bradley.

Bradley: Hey, you. Are you up yet? You: Yeah, I'm awake! What's up? Bradley: The group is planning on going on a hike this afternoon to the falls, maybe swim a little, and have a picnic. You interested? You: Sounds awesome. Who all is going? Bradley: Everyone, just about. Maverick sometimes tags along, but he's taking Penny and Amelia out for their own day trip. You: Jake's with me; should I ask if he wants to come with me? Bradley: Good luck with that. Jake is kind of a lone wolf. Bradley: Also, why is Jake Seresin with you??? You: Carpenter services. He's fixing my front porch. I bet I can convince him to come with us. Wanna meet up at my place so we can all walk there together? Bradley: Yeah, we'll get there around 12. Javy and I are bringing food; Nat's bringing drinks. Think you could pick up some paper plates and napkins? You: On it.

"Hey, Jake?" He hums, looking up from his handiwork to meet your eyes. "The group is planning on coming over today at noon so we can all go to the falls and swim. Do you think I could convince you to come with?"

He looks like a deer in headlights for a moment, his eyes wide when he stares at you. "You... want me to go with you?" He asks slowly, his tone strangely disbelieving. It was like he couldn't quite believe that you'd extended the invitation to him.

"Well, yeah. Of course I do. And I'm sure everyone else would love to see you, too." You stop swinging, your head tilted in a way that kind of reminds him of a little deer. "Please? It'll be a good chance for you and me to hang out for a few hours. Plus, socializing would be good for you. I hear that you can be quite the recluse."

He snorts but doesn't say anything for a long time. You're almost afraid that he's going to say no to you, and then he sighs. "Alright, I'll go. But as long as you make me a promise,"

"Hm?"

"Never go into Evergreen Forest by yourself, especially at night." He seems anxious when he says it, standing up from where he's been working to cross over to you. "It's easy to get lost if you're not familiar with the area. People have up and gone missing because it's so easy to get turned around in there."

He crouches down, laying his hands on your knees. Even crouching, he's so tall that he's face-to-face with you. You're a little distracted by his eyes, and by the way his hands are deliciously warm and rough against your skin. "It's okay to go if at least one of us is with you, but you should never go alone. Okay?"

Normally, if a man tried to tell you to do something, you'd immediately roll your eyes and do it anyway. But there's an edge to his voice, and it sounds strangely desperate. So you look him in the eye and nod. "I promise."

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun!au

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cryonme · 2 years

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚

—Steve Harrington x fem!reader

—summary: it's the first year steve decided to leave his family out of his birthday plans, and for some reason, it hurts. based on Matilda by Harry Styles.

—word count: 2.1k

—tw: mentions of abuse, swearing, mentions of alcohol, shitty parents,

—a/n: family isn't always blood, i love you all.🖤this one's for any of you who can relate.

═════════════════

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels

Nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

The first birthday Steve can remember, his parents didn’t care. His father gave him a couple bucks so he could ride his bike to the corner store and pick out any snack he wanted, barely even sparing a glance at his son as the older man threw the green bills on the side table, grumbling something about how birthdays are a scam.

Steve remembers the sidewalk in front of him being blurry as he rode his bike, trying his best to blink away the tears and stop the quivering in his lip.

Steve remembers his parents' car absent from the driveway when he got home.

They came home hours later, insisting he get up and get ready for family dinner at his Aunt’s house, where of course he was showered with gifts and his favorite dinner, and a green and blue birthday cake with candles and his name on it, and Steve almost felt special.

Until his uncles drank too much champagne and his older cousins left early to hang out with their friends and his mom and dad fought. He just felt like another reason to eat fancy dinner and get drunk.

And that’s how it went. Year after year.

Eventually he drove himself to the corner store, and eventually he used his own money, and eventually, he brought his new girlfriend to the family birthday dinner.

You.

And man, was Steve proud to bring a beautiful gem like you to family dinner. And it was completely perfect. His younger cousins sat on your lap, his Aunts gushed over how gorgeous you were, his Uncle’s nodded with raised eyebrows, impressed, as you talked about your studies, his mom and dad even laughed at a joke you made.

But it was his birthday, and the Universe would always find a way to ruin his birthday.

Steve and his father both had one too many glasses of champagne, and it only started as a small, even humorous argument, something about a movie quote, or which band sang a certain song, and it ended in far too much yelling, and screaming, and eventually a sharp hand to Steve’s cheek.

Steve remembers you crying and fussing over it when you arrived back to your shared apartment, you felt so guilty that you weren’t aware of how bad it was. He also remembers never being that embarrassed in his entire life.

“You’re never going back there.” He remembered you saying, and he agreed.

He’d do anything you thought was best.

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh

“Oh, happy birthday sweet pea!” Joyce gushed, pulling Steve in for a hug as soon as she swung the front door open.

“Thanks, Mrs. Byers.” Steve replied, wrapping his arms around the much smaller woman.

She pulled away and put her finger in his face in mock annoyance, “Joyce. You call me Joyce. Or mom. Oh! Honey!” Joyce was immediately distracted by you behind Steve as she pulled you into a hug of your own. “Oh you just look so beautiful. Come in, come in!”

You and Steve shared humorous smiles before stepping into the Byers’ home, immediately welcomed by several bright, smiling faces, all wishing your boyfriend a happy birthday. Dustin, Lucas, Erika, Max and Mike immediately ran to your boyfriend and tackled him to the ground in a giant group hug, a chorus of “happy birthday”’s ringing from all of them and you laughed before pulling the kids off and helping your boyfriend off so he could greet everyone else.

You opted to stand back for a minute and observe, and your heart nearly exploded as you watched him awkwardly embrace Eleven as she handed him a homemade birthday card, and ruffle Will’s hair after he handed him a messily wrapped gift. You watched as Robin embraced him tightly and planted a kiss on top of his head right before Nancy gave him a gentle hug and a sweet smile, wishing him a happy birthday, and finally he moved on to Jonathan, Eddie, and Hopper who gave him firm handshakes and pats on the back, except for Eddie who fully koala’d him and messed up his hair.

You laughed and wiped a stray tear from your face as fast as possible, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or embarrassed if he turned and saw you crying.

You pretended like something was in your eye as Joyce approached and bumped her shoulder to yours, shooting you a knowing smile, which you returned.

“It’s his first birthday without his family.” You said, and Joyce sighed.

“I know they aren’t great, but it has to be hard.”

You nodded, it was hard. You could see the internal battle through his eyes. Feeling guilty, then feeling stupid for even feeling guilty, it was a constant back and forth, and you could see it.

“I’m really happy he has you guys, though. My family’s no picnic basket either, I don’t know what either of us would do if it wasn’t for all of you.”

“Well luckily,” A deeper, much gruffer voice sounded from behind you as a long arm draped around your neck, you looked up to see Hopper, unlit cigarette between his teeth and an opened beer in hand. “You don’t have to think about that.” He finished his sentence with a wink as he handed the beer, which you took gladly.

“Touche.” –

It was about an hour into the party when you couldn’t find Steve, your mind was slightly clouded from the buzz from all the beers Hopper kept handing you, and you were trying your best to focus and find your boyfriend, when you felt a light squeeze on your shoulder and you turned to see Robin, who was pointing towards the closed door to the kitchen.

“Kitchen.”

“Lifesaver.”

You wasted no time heading to the kitchen, where lo and behold, revealed your boyfriend. His hands were grasped onto the kitchen counter, his knuckles turning white, with his head hung low.

“Baby…”

“I’m a shitty son.”

“Steve, you know that’s not true.”

He didn’t respond. He still hadn’t looked up at you, fully focused on the flooring in the Byers’ kitchen.

“Steve-”

“I know.”

The silence hung heavily in the kitchen, and it continued that way for a while. You didn’t want to push him to talk about anything he didn’t want to on his birthday.

“Why do I feel so goddamn guilty?” He finally said, pushing himself off of the counter and looking at you, his eyes brimmed with tears and his voice shook.

“Steve…” You cooed as your feet carried you to your boyfriend so you could pull him into you, and once your skin touched his he broke, and his body shook with sobs in your arms.

“I want them to be here.” He cried, “I want them to want to be here.”

You tried to hold back your own tears as you pulled him closer, his face buried into your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist, holding onto you as tight as he could.

“I know, my love. I’m so sorry.”

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

Steve eventually pulled away from you, hastily wiping the tears from his face and taking a deep breath.

“It’s fine, it’s not even a big deal.”

You rolled your eyes and planted your hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at you. He says it’s fine, but you can see the hurt, it’s plastered all over his pretty face.

“It’s okay to feel sad. Every year, you’ve done the same thing for your birthday with your family, whether or not it’s happy memories, it always hurts to cut ties.”

Steve nodded and you placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

“STEVE!!” You heard what was most definitely Robin’s voice screech from the living room and you chuckled.

“I think it’s time for cake.”

If anyone took notice to Steve’s absence or overheard his muffled breakdown through the kitchen door, they didn’t mention or acknowledge it, they simply carried on with the party, which you knew Steve appreciated greatly.

You couldn’t help but reminisce on all you and Steve had been through together as you watched him with his friends, his family, with the biggest smile on his face as he held his mouth wide open for Eddie to throw M&M’s into.

When you first started dating Steve, you were in a bad place with your family too, you had just graduated from Hawkin’s high, and your family was ready to move on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go with them. The abuse from your father and the manipulation from your mother and the constant nitpicking from your brother was all too much, and you didn’t know how much more of it you could take. Steve helped you find the courage to stand firm, and tell them something you never had before, “No.”

Of course, it didn’t go over well. Your father fought you, your mother cried and claimed you were breaking her heart, but with Steve by your side, and some surprising help from your brother, you gathered up your things, and moved in with Joyce, until you and Steve were both financially ready for an apartment of your own.

He’d never know, and he’d never believe it because of what his family made him believe of himself, but he was your sun. He showed you peace, and solace, and brightness that could pull you out of your darkest days, and he didn’t even know. He would never be able to wrap his mind around just how much you adored him.

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast

You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh

You don't have to go

You don't have to go home

Oh, there's a long way to go

I don't believe that time will change your mind

In other words

I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

“Man, those kids look at you like you hung the moon, Steve.”

The two of you had just returned to your apartment, stacks of leftover food piled in your hands, and hearts full.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Eh, they’d look at anyone who’s slightly older than them and saved their asses multiple times like that.”

You shook your head, “You’re special, baby. They don’t look at Robin like that.”

“They love Robin-”

“Of course they do, but you’re something else, Steve. That’s your family.”

Steve nodded and rolled his lips into his mouth, you could tell he was holding back tears.

“Hey,” You grabbed the wrapped leftovers from his hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, before grabbing his hand and leading him to sit with you on the couch.

“Your blood family may be absolute shit, in fact they are. But your chosen family, those kids and your friends and Jim and Joyce, are wonderful. And they love you, and they want you to accept them as family. The assholes can’t hurt you anymore if you just let them go, honey.”

“It’s hard.” Steve’s voice broke as a tear slipped from his eye, which you were quick to get rid of with a swipe of your thumb.

“I know. I know because I’ve done it. But you helped me, Steve. They all helped me. Let us help you, baby, please.”

Your hand cradled his face and he leaned into your touch, leaving a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand as he brought his own hand up to hold your wrist. His breaths were getting shorter by the second, so you situated yourself into his lap and laid your head on his chest, maneuvering his hand that was previously holding your wrist to rest above your heart, so he could feel you, feel that you were right there.

“You can let it go.”

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taglist: @waszuka @icarus-star @stariightjoyy @dava-demoan @athenapotter @moonlitmeeks @maddisoninnit @moonlighy @mirclealignr @jellycolors @milkiane @tiaamberxx @kashee-h

and tagging @sortagaysortahigh cuz something tells me they wanna read some angsty steve...

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic rec #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #stranger things masterlist

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part five

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

and then it all comes crashing down.

a/n: outbreak day! plus the time leading up. I couldn’t bring myself to write joel’s side of the tragedy, but here we are. the start of “during”. potentially a little bit of canon-divergence from here until the “after”, but I’m trying to stick with that information we have, while filling in the gaps for reader’s story. (“after” will be when they leave boston with ellie)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, fluff, a super brief mention of 9/11, this is definitely not as sad as part four but it’s also involves outbreak day so there’s that, canon-typical violence, death, yes I am turning reader into a badass and I will not apologize.

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You never really stop thinking about him. And he never really stops being apart of your life, not truly.

He’s the first person you call, when the Towers fall in New York, not a week after you’ve started your internship. You see it on television, standing in line to get your boss his daily latte, and you pull out your cell phone without a second thought, dialling Joel’s number. “Have you seen the news?”

A freak snowstorm stops you from getting home for Christmas that year; the airport is a disaster to get through after everything that’s happened, so you take a few days off to drive it instead, but you can’t even get out of the state, let alone across the country. So your holidays that year are spent with local friends you’ve made at work, calling your family on Christmas Day and New Year’s.

You try to call Joel on New Year’s, to wish him a good year as the clock strikes twelve, but the call goes to voicemail, and your friends are counting down the ball drop as you ramble into the phone.

Hey, it’s me! Just calling to say Happy New Year, hope you’re having a good night. And hope I get to see more of you in 2002. That year sounds so funny, doesn’t it? Talk to you soon, Joel Miller. Bye.

You almost say it, the words creeping up the back of your throat. The missing him hasn’t abated, even with the time and the distance. You sleep in one of the flannel shirts you’d stolen every night, and you’ll admit that you cried a little when you had to wash them, realizing that it would wash the scent of him away almost completely.

The phone calls get more sporadic, and you don’t blame him. There’s only an hour time difference between Texas and Massachusetts, but it feels like much more. You’re off-kilter from one another, always seeming to catch each other’s voicemail instead of the real person.

You manage to make it home for the Fourth of July the following summer, your internship having turned into a real job, but a real job that’s kept you busier than ever for the first half of the year. Your boss is, blessedly, understanding, and lets you take two weeks to go back to Austin.

He meets you at the airport, your name scrawled on a piece of paper, a bouquet of daisies in his grip, and you nearly burst into tears right there in the terminal. Your entire two weeks is filled with him, though you try to split your time between the Miller’s house and your own, letting your sister talk your ear off more than she already does on the phone, taking a few afternoons to help your dad around the hardware store. But almost every night finds you in Joel’s bed.

You all go to the park for fireworks on the Fourth. Your parents are re-introduced to Joel, though you’re both adamantly just calling each other “good friends” — which earns you an eye roll from your sister. Sarah runs around the field with the other kids, waving sparklers and giggling like mad. You stick close to Joel, the three of you sitting on a blanket in the grass, and you watch the firework together, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm swung around your waist. Sarah’s too preoccupied with the firework display to notice.

When you get home the next morning, your sister hands you a polaroid, the words July 4th 2002 written in sharpie along the border. It’s you and Joel, backlit, your head on his shoulder as a gigantic white firework explodes in the night sky. You don’t know what to say.

“I know you never wanted to leave him,” she says, and you nearly burst into tears as you hug her.

It’s another tearful goodbye when your two weeks are up, and you’re a fool to think it’d be any easier than the first time. You say goodbye to your parents first, and Joel picks you up in his truck, taking you to the airport. He kisses you deeply outside, burying his hands in your hair and squeezing you tight before letting you go.

And always the same farewell, the same thing he said when you first left, the same thing he’s said at the end of every phone call.

“Take care of yourself, baby.”

You meet Dean through a friend of a friend.

It’s almost Christmas, 2002, and you haven’t been home since July. Your phone calls with Joel have dwindled to almost non-existent; you just don’t have the time. Work is busy, to the point where you find yourself still sat at your desk until nearly midnight some nights. And you’re still missing each other, voicemails left occasionally, the missed calls stacking up through the week until it’s the weekend and you feel too tired to put yourself through the heartbreak of hearing his voice.

Hey, darlin’, it’s me. I keep missin’ ya, I guess. Hope you’re doin’ okay. Don’t work too hard, yeah? Been thinking about you a lot and I just…Take care of yourself.

It felt like a goodbye. Standing in your kitchen, takeout spread out on your counter, chopsticks in hand. He hadn’t said it, not specifically. There was no I can’t do this anymore, no this hurts too much, doesn’t it hurt you too? But it still felt like a finality, of sorts.

You took the takeout to bed with a bottle of wine.

That weekend, your friends drag you out to some party. A housewarming thing for someone you don’t know, a fancy loft on the other side of the city. It’s as good a reason as any to get out of your head, throwing on a new dress and a bit of makeup. You do shots in your apartment before piling into a cab, tipsy by the time you get to the party. There’s lots of faces you don’t know, your friends pulling you through the crowds, one of them grinning at you.

“You have to meet Dean.”

He’s tall. Sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes and he’s a lawyer. He laughs at your jokes and gets you another drink when you finish your first. He’s from Boston; a pure-bred, he tells you, and chuckles when you ask to see his pedigree.

You wake up in his bed the next day, your dress and shoes scattered on the floor of his stupidly nice apartment, head throbbing with a hangover, guilt bubbling up on your tongue like bile. Dean makes you coffee and calls you a cab, gives you a business card with his number on it. “God, this feels like a business deal,” he says, shaking his head, nearly taking the card back. “I can find a takeout menu or something, write my number on that instead.”

“No, this is good,” you laugh, and the guilt mixes with something strangely giddy when he kisses you goodbye.

When you get home, you wrap yourself in the flannel you’d taken from Joel, and weep. Part of you whispers that you shouldn’t feel guilty, that Joel’s all the way across the country, that you two aren’t technically together to begin with, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest.

Your friend calls in the early afternoon, and when she hears the crack in your voice, she’s on your doorstep not thirty minutes later. You spill your guts — recount the story of you and Joel, show her the polaroid from the Fourth of July, tell her everything, until you’re crying on your couch again.

“Honey, maybe you should talk to him,” she tells you, and you know she’s right, but the idea of talking to Joel just makes your chest hurt more. “This isn’t good for either of you, holding on like this when you can’t be together. Talk to him.”

Joel beats you to the punch, calling you shortly after your friend has left. “Hey, finally got you instead of your voicemail.”

“Hah, yeah,” you reply, sinking a little deeper into the couch. “Sorry I keep missing you.”

“S’okay,” he mumbles, and it only hurts more when you can almost see him in your head, sitting on his couch or at the edge of his bed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” you lie, wiping the wet from your cheeks. “Just busy lately, y’know?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, then pauses. “You sure you’re okay?”

You inhale deeply, feeling the air rattle its way through your lungs. “Joel, I met someone.”

It’s a long moment, before he says anything, so long you think you’ve lost him for a second, that he hung up. But then, “That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“No,” he says instantly, and you both let out watery laughs. “No, but it…It is good. You’re all the way out there and I’m here and…Missin’ you, not havin’ you around, it hurts, y’know?”

“I do,” you agree, biting into your lower lip when it wobbles. “I miss you too, Joel, it’s just—”

“I know, baby,” he replies, and the tone in his voice makes your eyes slip shut, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I gotta go, I promised Sarah movie night. We’ll….we’ll talk soon, alright?” A pause. “Take care of yourself.”

The line goes dead for real then, and you launch your phone across the room, groaning when it lands on the carpet and doesn’t smash to pieces. You bury yourself in the pillows on the couch, and just cry.

Dean calls the following week, and asks you out to dinner. Dinner evolves into more than that, more dates and more conversation. He works two blocks down from you, and brings you coffee every morning on his way to his office. He takes you to museums and art galleries and introduces you to his friends. It’s easy to fall for him, and you let yourself do it. He kisses you at midnight on New Year’s, whispers that 2003 is going to be the best year of your lives.

You have no idea how wrong he will turn out to be.

It’s September 26th, 2003. It’s your twenty-fifth birthday.

It starts out like a normal day; as normal as it can be, lately. You’ve made a point to ignore the news as best you can, letting Dean recap it for you when he gets home each day, filling you in on the water cooler talk that you only half listen to.

Dean’s up and gone when you wake up, but there’s a birthday card beside your pillow, a cartoon cake with a silly face. You’re another year older… And the inside reads: and other year cuter! Happy Birthday! It’s cheesy and you scoff out a laugh, getting up and going about your morning routine. A fire truck screams down the road when you walk out of the building, cop cars trailing after it, but you think nothing of it; sirens are a common occurrence in the city.

It’s a short walk from your apartment — the apartment you now share with Dean, the pair of you having relocated somewhere that was closer to both your jobs — to work, and you stop by your favourite coffee shop, only slightly disappointed when they don’t have the raspberry scones you like. “It’s a supply chain thing,” the girl behind the counter tells you with a shrug. “They haven’t been able to get ingredients in for weeks. I’m just glad we have coffee.”

“That makes two of us,” you agree, taking your cup with a nod. “Have a good day!”

“You, too!”

There’s a big bouquet of roses waiting on your desk, the card signed with Dean’s name, and the other girls ooh and ahh at the arrangement. One of them asks you if you think he’ll propose, and you have to resist the urge to sprint in the opposite direction.

Dean calls on your lunch break, tells you he’s already pre-ordered from your favourite Thai place, and it’ll be waiting for you when you get home from your post-work drinks with your friends. When he tells you he loves you, it still makes your chest ache, just a touch.

You still think about Joel. It’s hard not to. After that last call, when you told him you’d met Dean, you called back a few days later, unable to stop yourself. There were apologies, from both him and you, and the conversation ended with a promise that you’d still stay in touch, that it would still be friendly between you, and that maybe someday could be an option, if the time was right, but you wouldn’t stand in each other’s way.

So you’ve stayed in touch. The phone calls are still more sporadic than anything, but it’s always nice to hear his voice, and he always has a joke to crack. And, consistent Joel Miller, at the end of every phone call: “Take care of yourself, darlin’.”

You get a surprising amount of work done that day, your friends appearing at five o’clock on the dot and dragging you away from your computer. You let them buy you happy hour drinks and put a Birthday Princess tiara on your head, laugh your way through the evening until it’s almost nine. You thank you friends and leave the bar, and think as you walk past one of the little corner store grocery shops that you could really use a chocolate bar.

You’re walking down the toiletries aisle, the basket hanging from your elbow filled with not just chocolate, but a few other things you couldn’t resist, when your phone rings, an Austin area code flashing on the screen.

“I didn’t know today was your birthday,” Joel says by way of hello, and you giggle. “How have I known you this long and not known that you and I have the same birthday?”

“You never asked,” you answer, reaching for a tissue box with a fun pattern, “and it never came up, really. Wait, today’s your birthday too?”

“Thirty-six and still breathin’,” he confirms, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “I stopped by the hardware store today for a few things, your dad told me.”

“Ahh.” Your parents had called you just before you’d left for work. “That store must be so boring without me in it.”

“It really is,” Joel agrees, and then his voice drops. “No one around to make out with in the aisles.” A beat, and then. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say quickly, shaking your head even though you know he can’t see it, the memory of being pressed between the shelves of paint cans and Joel Miller making your face heat. “It’s a good memory.”

“It is,” he agrees, making a little humming noise. “So, boyfriend got big plans for you tonight?”

“Thai food and a movie,” you tell him, grabbing a bottle of toilet cleaner. “Just left the bar, had some drinks with my work friends. Never really been a big birthday person, y’know?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, darlin’.”

“What about you, Joel Miller?” you ask, heading down the next aisle. A lot of the shelves are empty, and it makes your brow furrow. “What big birthday plans do you have this evening?”

“Hah, none,” he replies. “Working a double with Tommy, just took a break now. Told Sarah I’d be home by nine, but I don’t know if that’ll work out. They gave us the wrong size for the headers and…” He trails off. “That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

“I’d listen to you read the phone book,” you joke. “At least get yourself a cake? Something like that? If I’d known we shared the same birthday I would have had my sister bring something over for you.”

“Sarah made me breakfast, got me out of bed on time. That’s all I need, really.”

“Is it?”

You don’t mean the question to sound as heavy as it does, and silence hangs between you for a long moment before you stutter out an apology. Joel’s quick to change the subject.

“Boyfriend is still your boyfriend, right? No ring on your finger yet?”

“You know, you’re the second person to bring that up today,” you say, heading down the next aisle. It’s just as empty as the one before, and your confusion deepens. “You want the truth?”

“Generally.”

“If he asked, I don’t think I’d say yes.” Heat rises in your face, and you stutter again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies, and there’s a softness in his tone that you recognize, making warmth spread through your chest. “I’m always here for you, darlin’. I know things are different now, but I’m still here.”

“I appreciate that.”

You hear Tommy’s voice in the background, and Joel curses under his breath. “I gotta go. Enjoy your night. Happy Birthday.”

“You, too. Happy Birthday, Joel,” you reply, a smile in your voice, and then the line clicks off.

You loop through the rest of the aisles, sliding your phone back into your pocket. When you ask the cashier about the empty shelves, you get the same answer you’d gotten at the coffee shop. “Supply chain issues.”

The apartment is quiet when you get inside, tossing your keys into the bowl beside the door. The Thai food is sitting on the counter, as promised, and you set your grocery bags down beside it, stealing a few noodles before calling for Dean. “Honey, I’m home!”

There’s no response, and you assume he must be in the shower, so you pad down the hall. The bedroom light is off, moonlight flooding through the window, and as you step into the doorway, you see him, standing there, facing the window. His hands are at his sides, and as you watch, his hand twitches, the movement making your brow furrow.

“Dean?” you call, taking a half-step forward. In an instant, something feels wrong, and worry rises in your chest, makes your heart racket against your ribs. “Babe, what’s going on?”

He turns then, so fast you can’t even blink before it happens. And he just…stares. There’s no light in his eyes, just a dead look that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You say his name again, the worry seeping into your voice, and then he snarls.

“Fuck.”

You don’t understand what’s happening, but your body seems to react of it’s own accord. Dean lunges toward you, an inhuman sound falling out of him, and your eyes skirt around, looking for something to protect yourself with as he scrambles over the bed, limbs flailing, those dead eyes boring into you. Your hand flashes out, curling around the leather-wrapped handle of the baseball bat, and as you’re knocked to the ground, you use it as a barrier, shoving the metal against his chest.

His face is all wrong. It’s not just the dead eyes; his teeth are yellowed and his gums blackened as he snaps at you, trying to claw at you. White marks have risen all over his face, spreading out like a map beneath his skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You manage to plant your foot on his chest, and shove with all your might, yelling as the movement makes your knees twinge. He doesn’t go far, but it’s enough to get him off of you, and you scramble backwards, throwing the door shut as you run for the kitchen, the bat held tightly in your grasp. Heart racing, you find the biggest knife you can in the kitchen, sucking down hurried breaths. You’re in shock.

There’s a flash of red outside the balcony door, and you turn to see flames explode from the building across from yours. On the streets below, cars start to crash into each other, the sound of sirens twice as loud. You can hear people screaming, even through the glass.

A loud bang pulls you back into the apartment, and you turn just as Dean comes sprinting down the hall, losing his balance and skidding across the carpet. You throw the kitchen knife as he lunges for you, but it misses, the blade bouncing off his chest and sliding beneath the coffee table. A guttural growl echoes through the apartment, and when he leaps at you, you swing.

Your first hit smacks his shoulder. It doesn’t do much, but he lets out a pained yowl and when you swing again, there’s a sickening crack. He swipes at you, lunging again as you stumble backwards through the living room, the couch toppling over as you both fall onto it. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you scream, pain radiating through your arm, but you tighten your grip on the bat and ram the end of it into his face.

Another growl, another swing. You manage to get to your feet, blood pouring down your arm, painting your blouse crimson, and you put the kitchen island between you and him, moving quickly, keeping the bat held high.

When he jumps again, you swing. Hard. The bat connects with his temple, his neck cracking loudly as his head snaps to the side, and he slumps to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth. The metal rings as you drop the bat, collapsing onto the kitchen floor a moment later, blinding grabbing for one of the dishrags hanging from the stove, covering your shoulder with it and clamping your hand over the wound.

Why is this happening?

You’re not quite sure how long you’re sat there, curled against the cabinets. The bleeding on your shoulder slows, but doesn’t stop completely, and you’re starting to feel lightheaded. Not just the blood loss, you know, but the shock. Dean’s body has stopped twitching, but there’s something seeping out of his mouth, curling across the tile. When you spot the movement, you’re on your feet in a second, blinking past the momentary wooziness, grabbing the bat again.

When you click on the television, a loud beep echoes, nothing but a black screen, and you try to change the channel, but it’s the same on every one. Finally, the beep ends, and a robotic voice takes its place.

…indoors. Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions. Stay indoors…

Over and over again.

Your arm is pulsing, the rag on your shoulder wet with blood. You need to clean it, you think. You need some water, you need to—

The phone starts ringing. Your phone. Cell phone. Where you left it, in your purse. Your purse is by the door, across the apartment. You have to walk around Dean to get there, and you go slow, your eyes glued to his unmoving form. The bat is still in your hand, the end of it dragging over the carpet as you walk towards the door. Another metallic noise when it hits hardwood.

Your eyes are still on Dean as you dig in your purse, on the thing still coming out of his mouth, crawling along the grout lines in the tile. Out, out, out, you need to get out, you need to get away, you need to—

Your fingers close around your cell. Hit the button, bring it to your ear.

“Are you safe?” Joel barks, and you nearly drop the phone, the sound of his voice slamming you back into your head, your breath hitching so hard you almost choke. “Baby, where are you?”

“Home,” you cry, leaning against the wall, gripping the bat so hard your knuckles hurt. “I-I got home and Dean, he just…he…I…” You wheeze, your breath not enough, your head feeling lighter, your vision spotting with black. “He’s dead. I’m bleeding.”

“It’s everywhere,” he says, his voice low, and he keeps talking, but you don’t think he’s talking to you. You space out, your gaze glued to the body on your floor, until Joel says your name. “Why are you bleeding? What happened?”

“He…” you trail off, your eyes focusing on Dean’s bloody knuckles, limp on the kitchen floor. “He grabbed me, he…he was trying to bite me.”

“Did he?”

“No,” you say, your voice sounding a bit more sure. You shake your head, pressing your palm against your shoulder. The pain spikes, but it helps, clears your head a bit. “It’s a scratch. Deep.”

“You need to clean it, you hear me?” Joel says. “Patch yourself up, baby, all right? You have a first aid kit?”

You drop the bat, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead. You’re shaking. “In the bathroom.”

“Good, go, do it now. I’m not hanging up until you do.”

You reach for the bat again, use it as a prop to get back to your feet. You cast Dean’s still form one more glance before retreating down the hallway. He’d burst through the bedroom door, and wood splinters cover the floor, the door still half on its hinge, split down the middle.

“Joel, why is this happening?” you ask, your voice climbing, fear taking over. You get into the bathroom, momentarily shaken by your appearance in the mirror. Your hair wild, the blood smeared along your chest and neck, your stained and torn blouse. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, and the thread of fear in his voice makes tears spring in your eyes. “But I want you to listen to me, okay? You patch yourself up, you grab what you can, and you run. You understand? Get in your car and get out of the city, as fast as you can. You don’t wait, you don’t stop for anyone, and you just keep going.”

You nod for a moment before you realize he can’t see you. “Okay. What do I…?”

“I’ll find you, baby,” he says, and the surety in his voice makes everything in you ache. “I’m gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, I’m—”

Static. Dead air. Gone.

“Joel? No, come back, Joel, please—” You stare at the phone, try to redial the number, hit the button over and over and over and over. No signal, the screen informs you.

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat, the rapid pulse against your ribs, the breaths that seem to rattle through your lungs. Outside of that, silence.

You slam the phone down, slam your hands against the bathroom sink.

“Joel!”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers

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baby-yongbok · 9 months

Text

˳·˖✶ ⋆Midnights: Pt.1˳·˖✶ ⋆

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Non idol

✨Masterlist ✨

Warnings: Mentions of the pandemic (COVID-19)

Notes: Third Person POV + Okay, so, When I started writing this I intended for it to be a sweet drabble but then I just kept typing and typing and TYPING... I think that this has potential to be a series. There will definitely be a part 2 but I'm not sure if it should just be two parts or more. Let me know what you think please? This was also written pretty fast so I'm sorry if the quality isn't the best, but then again I say that about everything I write. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy!

Word Count: 1366

Summary: The two of you are best friends, You know each other like the back of your hand, so why does this new version of Hyunjin give you a feeling you've never experienced before? His smile is all the same but somethings changed... What could it be?

You and Hyunjin have been best friends since you learned how to walk. You’ve done everything together for as long as you can remember and the fact that the two of you are next door neighbors made it even easier to spend an insane amount of time together. Around the time that you turned sixteen and he turned seventeen the two of you decided that spending eight hours of your day together wasn’t enough so naturally he started sneaking into your window late at night to hang out with you. The two of you would play games, watch movies, and anything else that your heart desired all while trying to stay as quiet as possible. Even though your entire family loved Hyunjin, you knew that having a boy in your room at 1:45am would not go over well with your parents. He’d sneak in for any reason and at any time. He got into a fight with his parents? He’ll be at your window at two in the morning. You’re feeling sick? He’ll be at your window with snacks and anything else he grabbed at the store to make you smile.

Unfortunately, your late night hang outs came to an end when the two of you went off to college. Well, when he went off to college. Hyunjin made the decision to stay on campus but you weren’t sure that you were ready for the responsibility of basically living alone. Hyunjin begged you to stay on campus, promising that he’d take care of you and keep you on track but you just weren’t sure. Fast forward a month after that conversation when the two of you found out that you both got accepted… to different colleges. It took a lot for the two of you to say goodbye but you knew Hyunjin would only be a phone call away.

Months went by and your nights were silent. There was no dark haired boy climbing up the tree next to your balcony and knocking on your window anymore. No more late night movies or whispering the lyrics to karaoke at three in the morning. The two of you kept in contact with video calls and texts but you both ended up being way more involved in college activities than you thought you would be thus leaving very little room for meeting up or even texting back some days. As your lives got busier the two of you slowly drifted apart, that was until the pandemic hit. Suddenly your extremely active world was quiet again, all of your classes were now either canceled or strictly online. Hyunjin had no choice but to move back home since his dormitory was closing down to enforce social distancing. It all felt like a mess but there was a silver lining to it all, Hyunjin was coming back home and the two of you would finally see each other after nearly five months of being apart, now all you had to do was wait.

It was a regular Thursday evening, you sat on your front porch listening to music and laying on your bench swing with your dog, Miffy. The smooth voice of the artist you were listening to was suddenly drowned out by Miffy barking and running off of the porch. You sat up, startled by the sudden noise and immediately started searching for the cause of the commotion. That’s when your eyes landed on him, his hair was a bright red which stuck out from his black muscle tee and black sweats. You went over to your front steps and watched him for some time as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk of his fathers car. ‘There’s no way that that’s Hyunjin right?’ Your thoughts were racing as you tried to remember what he looked like five months ago but your memory sadly failed you. Just as your eyes fix on the muscle of his toned arm he turns towards your house. His gaze is cast upwards towards your balcony, he’s clearly trying to see if you’re home. Your heart skips a beat as it all sinks in, that is Hyunjin. Just as you’re about to scream his name to get his attention Miffy reaches him and jumps up on him earning a smile and a happy laugh to fall from his lips.

“Miffy! How are ya girl?” He wildly pets the dog like he hasn’t seen her in years but in his defense it’s felt like forever since he’s seen you and your family. Finally, he puts two and two together and looks up towards your front porch where you stood with your dress blowing in the autumn wind and a bright smile on your face. “Y/n!”

Hyunjin runs over to you immediately with Miffy following close behind. You rush down your front stairs with your arms out in front of you ready to hug your best friend. His arms snake around your waist quickly like you’d disappear if he were a second slower, yours find a home around his neck and he spins you around earning a giggle from you. “Oh my gosh, I’ve missed you, angel”

“I’ve missed you more.” He sets you down and pulls you closer to his body. His chin rests on the top of your head and your cheek rests comfortably on his chest. You don’t know what it is, call it your best friend spidey senses but he feels different than he did five months ago…what’s changed? You both pull back and look at each other, smiling like your lives depend on it. You lift your hand and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re…red”

He laughs at your comment and looks away from you for a second. “Do you mean my hair or my face?”

“Your hair… well actually, both.” You both fall into a fit of laughter before stopping and staring at each other again.

“I dyed it a month ago, I thought I sent you a picture.” Shaking your head Hyunjin’s smile slowly turns into a frown. “I’m sorry I haven’t kept up with talking to you… It was just so busy on campus and I joined way too many clubs and -”

You bring your hand up to stop him with a smile still pulling at your lips. “It’s fine, I sucked at communicating too, what’s important is that you’re here now.”

The guilt he felt for not contacting you melted into a reassured smile. “There’s so much I want to tell you, angel, but I think I have to go.”

He looked over to his house where his father was waiting by the car with his arms crossed. You furrowed your eyebrows with worried eyes and Hyunjin bit his lip slightly. - Fuck why was that hot? - He leans down to your ear and whispers.

“My parents aren’t too thrilled about the red hair, I think I’m in trouble.” You giggle and he does the same. “I figured that once I turned nineteen that I had a bit more freedom but that clearly isn’t the case.”

He rolled his eyes and you sighed. “You know how your mom is, I say that you did this on purpose.” He sticks his tongue into his cheek slightly and smiles.

“You’re not wrong… but listen, I don’t want to make my case any worse so I’ll see you later?” You glance down at his wrist knowing for sure that he has a watch on him.

“Hyun, it’s already seven o’clock. You’re gonna get scolded for about an hour and everything is closed due to the pandemic so we can’t go anywhere.” Just as Hyunjin was going to reply, his father called him to come home. With a sigh he starts walking backwards away from you.

“Leave your window open, yeah?” With a wink he turns and runs off towards his house. He gives you one last glance and smiles before he disappears through his front door leaving you in your walk way. For some reason you felt nervous about Hyunjin coming to your house tonight. Sure it would be just like old times but something has changed… What in the world was causing this feeling?

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

The Seventh Day Of Christmas

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.5K]

Working overtime at the diner during the lead up to Christmas had you somewhat frazzled. Your feet hurt from standing all day, you were too tired to do much after a double shift and you were severely behind on your Christmas shopping.

In fact, you’d completely forgot about the get-together everyone was having that night until you bumped into Robin outside of the grocery store, cereal bar and lukewarm coffee in hand.

Hawkins was covered in a thin layer of frost, the air cold enough to see, the trees covered in string lights rather than leaves. The girl had reminded you of the movie night in the Wheeler’s basement, the secret Santa that had been arranged almost three week ago and how you were on snack duty.

And despite the way you’d nodded your head and tried to smile, promising you’d be there, Robin had grinned and seen right through your panic. ‘Cause with another twelve hour shift ahead of you, when were you supposed to buy your secret Santa present?

Who’s name had you even picked out of the hat?

You found the strip of crumpled paper at the bottom of your purse, just as you were finishing for the night. Your apron had too many stains on it, your feet ached, Mr Loretti had let you take home a couple of boxes of pizza and your boyfriend's name stared up at you in Nancy’s neat print.

Steve Harrington.

You’d decided on what to do before you even got home, rushing from your car into the house with a brand new burst of energy. If you were quick about it, you could pull it off before you needed to be at Nancy’s with the food, ready to watch bad Christmas movies with the rest of your friends.

You showered the grease and the smells of the diner from your hair, your skin, closing your eyes just briefly as the hot water washed over you, a smile on your lips as you thought about the boy.

It had been a few days since you’d properly spent time with Steve, both of you busy with work and the holiday rush, making do with whispered phone calls between dinner and bed, voices tired and words spoken a little longingly. Every night he told you he missed you and every night a new need and want clawed at the back of your throat.

It was too late to go to the mall, to find one of the fancier lingerie stores that sold the kind of outfit you had in mind. One that was all red velvet and white trim, short skirts and a dirtier version of what you’d find at the little grotto that was set up in the middle of the food court.

So you decimated your underwear drawer instead, reaching into its depths to pull out lace and silk, hunting until you found that set you were always a little too scared to wear — delicate and ruby red, lacy and with more pieces to it than your normal choices.

But you thought of Steve and the way he’d look at you, boyish smile turning into a full on grin, eyes lighting up with an excitement you hadn’t had a chance to see in a while. So you slipped on the bra, the matching underwear, the soft stockings and suspenders that made your legs look longer than normal.

You hid it all under a too big sweater and some old jeans, grabbing the pizza boxes and your car keys as you set off earlier than you needed to, only stopping to pause in your hallway, eyes cast over the Santa hat that was hanging from the bannister — a Christmas carolling prop that no one seemed to use anymore.

You grabbed it, grinning, and set off for your boyfriends.

Steve’s car was the only one in the drive when you reached the Harrington’s, his parents between deals before the year finished up for the holidays, both of them somewhere between Illinois and Kansas. The front door was unlocked, the fire in the living room barely still crackling and you could hear the dim of running water from above.

Steve’s en-suite door was cracked, a little light and a lot of steam coming from inside, the soft sound of the boy’s singing barely heard from under the roar of the shower but it made you smile all the same. You called out to him as you toed your shoes off, sweater catching in your hair as you struggled to get yourself undressed.

“Hey, babe,” you tried to sound casual, nonchalant, as you stripped off your jeans, the denim catching at your ankles. “S’just me.”

You heard the rustle of the shower curtain, the silence as Steve stopped singing and god, you could even hear the smile in his voice when he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sounded so happy. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you before movie night, Loretti let you out early?”

You made a noise of agreement, stumbling a little as you opened up the rucksack you’d thrown over your shoulder, pulling out the heels you’d stolen from your mom’s wardrobe, the Santa hat that you tried to sit prettily on your head.

“Yeah, he can be nice sometimes!” You called back, trying to keep your breath even as you bent to check your hair in Steve’s mirror, fluffing your hair and untwisting the bra straps that wouldn’t quite coordinate.

Was red lipstick too much?

“S’not like you’ve worked sixty odd hours for him this week,” Steve commented mildly. The shower shut off, the water dripping as the pipes squeaked. “I’ll be out in a sec, babe.”

Fuck it, it was Christmas — you swiped on a layer of red across your lips, pressing them together as you tried to keep an eye on the bathroom door.

“Take your time.” Did you sound out of breath? Did you sound nervous? You felt nervous.

“Take my time?” You heard Steve huff, humour lacing his voice. “You kiddin’? Been dying for a kiss for da— oh, fucking hell.”

You panicked at the sound of Steve approaching, the bathroom door swinging open and letting more steam and light spill out. Steve stood in front of you, skin still damp and jeans unbuttoned, showing off the band of his boxers, the little trail of hair that led into them. He was clutching a towel to the back of his head, stopping mid scrub as he dried his hair, staring at you instead.

You’d perched yourself on the edge of his desk last minute, stocking covered legs crossed as daintily as you could, the Santa hat a little askew on the top of your head. But you’d painted your lips crimson to match all the lace, smiled shyly and waved when Steve still hadn’t said anything else.

“Surprise,” you managed to whisper, your voice undeniably shaky with nerves? Adrenaline? Anticipation? God, you’d fucking missed him. “From your secret Santa.”

“Jesus Christ, babe,” Steve breathed out, towel dropping by his bare feet as he leaned back, pressing himself against the door frame. His eyes were everywhere, roaming over you, one hand clutched dramatically to his bare chest. “Baby. Fuck, fuck, you look insane.”

You preened at that, eyes glittering in the low light that came from the bathroom vanity. You watched the boy move forward, eyes on him, gaze heavy and heated. “Yeah?”

Steve nodded, close enough to smooth his hands over your thighs, calluses catching at the lace hems of your stockings, thumbs tucking themselves under the straps of your suspenders.

“I’m about to lose it just looking at you,” he breathed, words hitching into a gasp and a groan at the end as you hooked your fingers into the band of his boxers, tugging him forward. “The things I wanna do to you—”

You grinned, heart racing for all the right reasons under all that red lace. “I heard something about a kiss,” you reminded him sweetly.

Steve’s hands went wandering, one warm palm smoothing into the inside of your thigh, gently coaxing your legs apart so he could step between them. His pupils were blown wide as he gazed down at you, lips parted, breath coming a little heavy.

His fingers pressed themselves to the seam of your cunt, sliding up enough to find your clit, the pressure just right to get you gasping.

“Yeah, honey?” Steve whispered, all sticky sweet and wrecked sounding. Your lashes fluttered when he leaned in, nose pressed to your cheek and he kept talking all low for you. “You want a kiss?”

You nodded, head tilted back, hands reaching up to curl into the mess of his still damp hair, holding on for dear life. His thumb pressed down again, pushing lace against you so he could feel how wet you were already.

His lips ghosted over your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

“A kiss where?” He asked.

You both missed the first hour of the movie, the pizza forgotten on Steve’s kitchen counter as he turned up at the Wheeler’s front door with his hand in yours and red lipstick marks on his neck.

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