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yelena-bellova · 1 year

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

Chapter Two: Strangers in the Night

Plot: Joel and Y/n try their hardest to ignore and avoid their past while waiting on the cover of night to leave the QZ.

Warnings: M for violence, gore, language, allusions to sex, alcohol, unwanted advances (16+)

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Okay, let me just say, did not expect such a big reaction to this little 2.2k fic I thought up randomly. You guys wanted a series, so here’s a series. It’ll be 16+ from here so please specify your age in your bio if you’d like to be tagged. I’m really excited to write this one, hope y’all enjoy it! It's gonna be a wild frickin' ride...

——————————

May 9th, 2002, Austin Texas

It was unseasonably warm for spring in Austin. Summer was making an early entrance and driving everyone indoors. The bars were packed each night, but especially on the weekends. Something about the heat always inspired people to drink more.

The Miller brothers were seated at a table in the far corner of Dane’s, each nursing a Budweiser. Despite it being a Saturday, they’d worked overtime on a garage apartment conversion. It was in Joel’s neighborhood and he needed the money. Jobs hadn’t been ripe for picking lately, in going the extra mile with the clients he did have, he could bank on a few referrals.

“We’re runnin’ short on the 2x4s,” Joel told his brother, “And it wouldn’t hurt to-“

“Dude,” Tommy made a slicing motion with his hand, “You’re off the clock. Switch off for a while.”

“I’m just trying to get ahead,” Joel replied.

Tommy smiled, lounging in his chair, “Look, you’ve got two modes: work mode and dad mode. And guess what? You never come out of either. It’s a Friday night, you’ve got a sitter, why not just try being a single, not-offensively unattractive, guy?”

Joel’s eyebrows were permanently furrowed, especially around conversations like this. Tommy meant well, but he’d been trying to get Joel to find something outside of work and his daughter for years. It wasn’t happening.

“So you’re sayin’ I should focus less on keeping a roof over my daughter’s head and makin’ sure she’s happy?” Joel asked, leaning back in his chair, “I get that right?”

Tommy chuckled and shook his head, “I’m just saying…you’re gettin’ more and more like an old man the longer you’re by yourself. Wouldn’t hurt to find someone that makes you happy.”

It was easy to ignore Tommy’s ramblings, but Joel couldn’t deny there was some truth to what he was saying. After Sarah’s mom up and left them, he kept his heart guarded from the world. Sarah and Tommy were the only ones he had the space to love. No, not the space. He had all the capacity in the world to hold someone else close to his soul, he was just too afraid of getting hurt again.

A few feet away at the bar, Y/n twirled her wine glass in her hand. Navigating a new city and a new job was taking it out of her. There had been no catalyst in her decision to move to Austin. She wasn’t running from a bad relationship nor did she need space from her family, she’d just wanted a change. So far, aside from the random heat wave, she was enjoying herself. The people were friendly, the neighborhood was quiet…she could see herself eventually calling the place home.

As she enjoyed her own company, a muscly man approached the seat next to her. He didn’t even do her the courtesy of asking if it was taken.

He flashed a pearly smile at Y/n, “Havin’ a good night?”

“Mm-hm,” she nodded, not looking up from her glass.

“Haven’t seen you around here,” the man continued, “You new to town?”

Y/n politely smiled, wishing he’d taken the hint. “Sure.”

“Findin’ your way around alright,” he put his elbows on the bar, indicating he wasn’t going anywhere, “Or are you thinkin’ you need a tour guide? Someone to show you around? Help make you feel a little more comfortable?”

Y/n was fighting the urge not to laugh, she’d seen dogs in heat more subtle than this guy. “I’m doing fine on my own, thanks,” she replied, her will to smile fading with each second he stayed.

“I don’t know,” the guy dragged his fingers up and down the condensation on his beer bottle, “You seem a little lost to me, darlin’. I got a hog outside, we could head out…night scene’s pretty wild here.”

Y/n took another sip of her wine, “Not really a wild kind of gal.”

The man’s lingering stare was beginning to make Y/n’s skin crawl. It was like he was staring straight through her clothes. He leaned in to her, his arm grazing hers, as if the close proximity was imperative to what he was about to say.

“I got this theory that inside every woman,” he lowered his voice, “There’s a wild girl just waitin’ to come out. She just needs the right cowboy,” he paused, a smile spreading across his lips, “To let her loose.”

Concealing her annoyance, Y/n looked down at her glass bashfully. She peeked back up out of her eyelashes, “What’s your name?”

“Jacob,” he answered.

“Jacob,” she repeated sweetly, leaning in closer to him, “Going around trying to prove how big your dick is ain’t gonna make any woman want to touch it.”

Jacob pulled back a little, shocked at both the comment and how easily being foul mouthed came to this woman. Y/n scrunched her nose and gave a sugary smile before moving to get up from her stool.

Jacob grabbed her shoulder, not prepared to lose the battle. “Hang on there, sweetheart.”

“Let go of me,” Y/n was quick to say.

“I don’t think you quite understand what I’m offerin’ you here…”

“Let,” Y/n gritted her teeth, raising her voice slightly, “Go of me.”

Jacob began to close the space between their faces, “What’re you gonna do if I ain’t ready to say goodbye to ya yet?”

“Hey.”

Y/n turned to the two men who had approached while she was fending Jacob off. The one with the mustache swung his fist and landed a shiner on Jacob’s nose. The whole bar gasped as he stumbled backwards, clutching his now bleeding face. The mystery man placed an arm in front of Y/n, making himself the barrier between Jacob’s advances and her safety.

Once Jacob caught his footing, revealing just how tipsy he was, he clumsily stalked back towards them. The second man stepped forward and effortlessly threw a punch to Jacob’s abdomen, knocking him off his feet and to the ground. The other patrons actually clapped and cheered at the knockout.

The man shielding Y/n and his friend grabbed Jacob’s arms and pulled him to his knees. Dane, the owner, came out from around the counter and marched towards the door. The men dragged Jacob through the bar, taking no care to his hands and feet as they knocked into chairs and tables. With Dane holding the door open, they threw him out, earning another round of cheers from the bar.

Y/n watched it all with a hand over her mouth. The whole thing had left her more anxious than she cared to admit.

Her two saviors made their way through the room, earning pats on the back from most of the patrons.

“Are you okay?” The man with the mustache asked when they reached her.

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, trying to hide how her hands was shaking, “Are you?”

“Not the worst we’ve seen,” the clean shaven guy smiled, flexing his bruised hand, “But I think you’re gonna have to take a shower to get that creep’s touch off ya.”

Y/n chortled, the feeling of his fingers digging into her skin hadn’t left yet. “I’m really sorry you had to step in,” she said earnestly, “I’m not great with following through on my smack talk.”

“Nah, you were holding your own,” the cheerier of the two men laughed.

“Hey, can I buy you guys a round?” Y/n asked, “It’s the least I can do.”

“There’s no need,” the quieter guy shook his head.

“No, I want to,” Y/n insisted, looking between the two of them.

The one who had done most of the talking so far was the first to relent. “Fine, but we’re spotting your next glass. Just to try and restore the ever-deteriorating reputation of men.”

Y/n laughed heartily for the first time of the night. She liked them.

“Hey, Dane,” the talkative man flagged down the bartender and turned to Y/n, “What’re you drinking?”

Y/n held up her dwindling glass of rosé.

“Another rosé for the rosebud,” the man finished, winking at Y/n in a way that felt more playful than flirtatious, “I’m Tommy, by the way.”

“Y/n,” she took his extended hand and shook it before turning to the other man.

“Joel,” he pressed his palm to hers.

Y/n smiled, her eyes lingering on the man as they shook hands. There was a peace to him that she already knew she liked.

Y/n ended up at Tommy and Joel’s table, each of them sipping a victory drink and talking up a storm. It was one of the easiest conversations any of them had ever had.

“So you just picked up one day and,” Tommy made a swooping gesture, “Came to Austin?”

Y/n shrugged, “Just needed a change.”

Tommy whistled, “That’s brave.”

“I mean, it’s Austin,” Y/n chuckled, “It’s not New York,” she took a sip of the free rosé, “What about you two?”

“Nah, we’ve been here forever,” Joel answered, holding his beer to his lips.

Tommy raised his bottle to his brother, “Can’t even get this fucker to take a vacation somewhere.”

“Workaholic or homebody?” Y/n asked.

Joel was inhaling to answer when Tommy spoke up, “Both.”

“Nothin’ wrong with working hard or staying home,” Joel replied, throwing back a swig.

“Nah,” Tommy replied, smirking, “Only when you do it.”

Joel glared out the sides of his eyes at his brother. Y/n laughed against the rim of her glass.

“Well,” Tommy leaned against the table, “If you ever need a tour guide, we’re at your disposal. We’ll show you the real grimy hole in the wall places. Best food or beer in the city are always in the places you’d least expect it.”

Contrary to Jacob’s thinly veiled advances, Y/n took Tommy and Joel for exactly how they presented themselves. They were funny, they were gentlemanly, and they were the first people in Austin she’d met who she felt truly comfortable around.

Joel, who was naturally more quiet than his brother, had never felt more lost for words. He was trying to keep himself in check considering the happenstance of their meeting, but all he wanted to do was look at Y/n. When she laughed, something inside his stomach twisted. When their eyes met, his chest tightened. There was something about being around this girl that felt very, very different than anyone else.

“Well,” Y/n checked her watch, catching the late hour, “I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow and I can’t be too hungover. Thank you both for the company and the wine,” she smiled at Joel, “It was a big improvement on how the night started.”

“Yeah, we’d better go too,” Joel announced, rising to his feet with Tommy, “Gotta get a head start tomorrow before the storm moves in.”

Tommy gestured to his big brother, smiling at Y/n, “What’d I tell you?”

“I gotta side with your brother here,” Y/n smiled, scrunching her face a little, “Everyone needs a break. That’s kinda what weekends are for”

“See?” Tommy said, “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”

Joel was on the verge of busting out in to a grin. “Not my problem if you two are lazy,” he shot back.

Y/n and Tommy each gaped with laughter. Joel smiled, he’d wanted to hear her laugh one more time before they parted.

“Well, you two have restored the name of ‘men’ quite admirably,” Y/n grabbed her purse, “Thank you for what you did, really. If you hadn’t stepped in, tonight would have ended much worse.”

Tommy shook his head, “Don’t mention it. Just learn how to throw a punch,” he slapped his hand against Joel’s shoulder, “And I think we’ll both sleep better at night.”

“I’ll get on that,” Y/n chuckled. She wasn’t sure if it was the kinship she felt or the rosé had simply relaxed her, but she reached over to Tommy and gave him a one-armed hug.

“See ya around, Rosebud,” Tommy said, keeping his hand respectfully high up on her shoulders.

“See ya,” Y/n replied, pulling back to look at Joel. She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen, only that she wanted to memorize his face before she left. “Goodnight,” she said with a small smile.

Joel tried to ignore how his heart was thudding in his chest. “‘Night,” he replied.

His eyes followed her all the way to the door, till she stepped out into the steamy evening air. He wasn’t sure why he had to urge to follow her.

“You,” Tommy gripped Joel’s shoulder a little tighter, “Are fucked.”

Joel rolled his eyes at his little brother’s laughter, “The hell’re you talking about?”

Tommy fell back down in his chair, a hand resting on his chest, “You were fuckin’ smitten with her.”

“‘Smitten?’” Joel cringed, taking his seat and his beer, “What’re you, 14?”

“Fine, hot for, taken with, enamored, mesmerized,” Tommy chuckled, “Whatever you wanna call it…you liked her.”

Joel shrugged and took another drink, “‘Course I liked her. You liked her too.”

“Not like you,” Tommy shook his head, still grinning, “I think she liked you too.”

Pushing down the way his stomach jumped when Tommy said that, he glanced over at the door again. He looked back to the table, checking to see if she’d left anything. Maybe she’d have to come back. What would he do if she did? Would he ask for her number? Or was that too forward? He didn’t want anything he did to remind her at all of the asshat they’d tossed out-

“She didn’t leave anything, dude.”

Tommy’s voice brought Joel out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at Y/n’s empty seat. There was no reason for her to come back.

“You’re fucked,” Tommy brought the conversation full circle, patting his brother’s shoulder and taking a drink.

Joel hid his disappointment, just like his infatuation; well, but not well enough. He looked down at his bottle, “Doesn’t matter. We’re not gonna see her again.”

Tommy shrugged, “Austin ain’t that big.”

Outside, Y/n was making the three minute walk down the street to her apartment complex. Her mind was no longer focused on the douche whose name she was already forgetting, all she could think of was how Joel smiled like he had a secret. How his laughter was reserved only for when he found something hilarious. How whether he was sitting beside his brother or punching out a handsy creep, he was completely relaxed. How his brown eyes were so warm, one gaze into them had given her goosebumps…

Y/n shook her head at herself, completely thrown for a loop. One encounter with one guy and she felt like there was some invisible string tugging harder with every inch of distance she put between herself and the bar. The chances of bumping into Tommy and Joel again in a city as big as Austin were slim. It was a reality she had to face. It was just one of those meetings that left you feeing like you’d experienced true magic. She was saddened at the thought of never sitting across from Joel again.

Into the night, with a total distance of seven minutes unbeknownst between them, Joel and Y/n each retired and prepared for their respective early mornings. Joel paid the neighbor who’d watched Sarah, Y/n called and checked in on her sister, who’d just had a baby. Joel kissed his daughter goodnight, Y/n finished up a load of laundry. They each changed into their pajamas, brushed their teeth, and turned out the lights. It was then, in the sweet space between sleep and consciousness that they let their minds drift back to each other….

—————————

2023, Boston

Of course it was raining. Rain made everything easier.

Joel, Tess, Y/n and Ellie trudged through the streets of what was once downtown Boston. Y/n kept a hand on Ellie’s back at all times, untrusting of both the people around them and the ones they were traveling with.

Even with the utter chaos they were in the middle of, Y/n’s mind was overtaken by the holes being burned into the back of her head. Joel’s stare was unfaltering. She wanted to turn around and scream at him, but that would garner the attention they were trying so hard not to attract. That was fine, she had more than enough anger and more than enough time to let him feel it.

Joel, whose every move was made with vigilante like precision, was struggling to keep his thoughts in order. The past was so easy to put behind you when you never had to look at it. Faced with the person who knew it all, had seen it all…the second he’d laid eyes on Y/n, it had all come flooding back. He had to get himself in check. Y/n’s unfiltered hatred was helping him there.

They made it to Joel and Tess’ apartment without any trouble, the four of them filing down the narrow hallway. Y/n pulled as far away from Joel as possible while they waited for Tess to unlock the door, which wasn’t very far. Once it was open, Joel impatiently waved for Ellie to enter, saving the same glare for Y/n. Ellie entered apprehensively, while Y/n knew enough to know that they were Joel and Tess’ leverage. Without them, they couldn’t get their battery. They were safe, for the time being.

“Give us a minute, all right?” Tess stated more than asked, heading back out to the hall.

“What the fu-“ Ellie started, the door silenced the last two letters.

Y/n put a finger to her lips, standing beside the door and listening to the other side of the door. Tess and Joel were discussing which route to take, something that infuriated her. There was only one child in their party, she refused to let Joel make her anything other than an equal.

She threw down her backpack and threw the door open. “If you two are planing on excluding me from the planning side of things, let me know now so I can strangle you both,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You wanna tell us what we’re really doing with this kid?” Tess fired back.

“Not particularly,” Yn replied.

“Then you don’t get a voice here,” Tess looked to Joel, “We leave after dark. Stay with them.”

Joel took a step forward as his partner walked off, “Wait, why do I have to — Tess! Tess!”

Tess turned the corner of the hall without ever breaking stride.

Joel sighed loudly, eventually looking over to Y/n.

“She’s lovely,” Y/n snarked, earning a signature Miller scowl.

Joel nodded towards the door and Y/n slipped back inside, he kept an overly safe distance between them. Y/n unzipped her backpack and grabbed her first aid kit, sitting down at Joel’s table to tend to her bullet wound. Joel shrugged off his pack and threw himself on the couch. Ellie was splitting the distance between them, holding a large book in her hands.

“So,” the girl started, “Who’s Bill and Frank?”

Joel looked up confused, as if he couldn’t imagine how she could have possibly heard anything from the other side of the door.

“Oh, come on, Tool Time,” Y/n chortled, as she opened the bottle of disinfectant, “This whole place is paper thin.”

“The radio’s a smuggling code, right?” Ellie asked, “60s song, they don’t have anything new. 70s, they got new stuff. What’s 80’s?”

Joel got off the couch and ripped the book out of Ellie’s hands, throwing it to the side. He glanced over at Y/n, who was struggling to keep her grunts quiet as she cleaned her wound. A twinge of pain ran through his chest as she scrunched up her face, trying to keep her breaths steady. His fingers automatically twitched to help her, but it wouldn’t actually help anyone. Instead, he fought his instincts walked back to the couch and laid down.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked.

“Killin’ time,” Joel said, his drawl particularly noticeable.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out,” his eyes were already closed, just like the conversation.

Y/n began to use a q-tip to spread antiseptic cream over the wound, the cooling sensation dulling the pain.

Ellie took back the book and walked past Joel, “Your watch is broken.”

Four little words froze Y/n, hunched over the table with her supplies. She didn’t have to look to know that Joel’s eyes were open again. It was the second time today that they’d been perfectly in sync. The first was pulling their guns on one another and, to be honest, Y/n would have preferred to stare down the barrel of his pistol. Bullets were simple and easy to dodge, memories were more cunning and hurt significantly more.

Y/n finished dressing her wound, zipping the kit back up and throwing it in her backpack. She laid her jacket out to dry on the back of the chair and finally took a good look at her surroundings. She couldn’t have chosen a place more opposite to Joel’s 3-bed 3-bath in Austin. The floors creaked, the walls were stained, and the ceilings were uncomfortably low. Home was a fluid concept in the world they lived in, and the kind Y/n was thinking of was lost entirely.

“He’s fun,” Ellie grunted from her seat at the window.

Y/n scoffed, “You have no idea.”

If they’d be using the cover of night to travel, Y/n knew Joel had the right idea to sleep now. She pulled out a sweater from her backpack, bunched it up and set it on the ground across from the couch. Without any blankets, she made the call that a nearby rug would be the next best thing. She shook it out and placed it below the sweater.

“Try and get some sleep,” Y/n instructed Ellie, “You’re gonna need it.”

Ellie simply hummed and continued paging through the book. Y/n slipped under the dirty rug and sighed, she’d slept in worse places for much longer…

She took the moment of peace to finally take a good look at Joel. His eyebrows still furrowed as he slept, as if he was in a constant state of disapproval with the world. The rest of his face was softer, a strange contrast, but so very him. His chest rose and fell in a perfect rhythm. It was hard for Y/n not to remember how it felt to lay with her ear against his heart, lifting and lowering with him…

The QZ was small, and stories got around. Y/n had known for a while that Joel was in Boston. She’d also heard the stories of the things he’d done, the people he’d killed, and just how far he’d go to guarantee his survival. Despite not owing him anything, Y/n had refused to believe them. She adamantly denied the possibility that she could have ever loved a man capable of such hideous acts. The Cordecyps had changed them all in different ways, but she had to believe that Joel was still Joel…

————————————

“Hey.”

A mumble and a boot kick to the shoulder had Y/n startling awake. She rolled over to see Ellie, still sitting by the window with the book in her lap.

“How do you know him?”

Y/n squinted and sat up, her joints cracking as she stretched her limbs. The sky outside was pitch black, clearly she’d needed more sleep than she thought.

“He’s an…” she began to say, the complexity of the situation hitting her all over again. There was only one answer to give that wouldn’t invite any more questions. “I was friends with his brother a long time ago.”

Ellie’s seemed to accept it, “Where’re you from?”

“Texas.”

The girl’s eyes widened, “You lived in Texas?”

“Just for a little while,” Y/n replied, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes,

Ellie looked down at her hands and then out the window, “I’ve never been out that far.”

Y/n sighed, thinking about what it might be like to grow up never having known what the world used to be like. “You’re not missing much, kid,” she lied. She’d have gone back to Austin in a heartbeat, if it was at all possible.

“What’s ‘rosebud?’”

Y/n’s body went cold, as if she’d just been plunged into ice water, memories slamming into her like waves. A glass of rosé and belly laughter, a backyard game of football, soft lips whispering sweet nothings against her ear…

She looked over at Ellie calmly, “What?”

The girl nodded towards Joel, who was still peacefully sleeping. “He kept mumbling the word ‘rosebud,’” she replied, “Thought maybe it was a code word or something.”

It did serve as a codeword, containing secrets, laughter, and all the love that had once existed in Y/n’s world. Now the mere utterance cut her worse than any blade could.

“If it is,” Y/n got to her feet, not wanting to be anywhere near the word, “I don’t know what it means.”

Joel woke then, startling without any real physicality. He stared up at the ceiling, dazed from his dreams. No, nightmares. That’s what they were.

“You mumble in your sleep,” Ellie said, announcing her presence, “Something about ‘rosebud.’”

If that didn’t wake him up, nothing could. His eyes flitted across the room, looking for the woman who owned every inch of the word. When Joel couldn’t find her, he pushed up on one arm and found her sitting at his kitchen table with her back turned to him.

In his subconscious, he’d seen her as she used to be. Her eyes full of light, her smile like pure sunshine, laughter pouring out of her with a freedom so few people allowed themselves. He’d felt her soft skin against his, felt her lips pressed to his jawline, right between his neck and his ear. He’d known her for the first time in twenty years, only to wake up and find her ghost.

Joel swung his legs over the couch and rose, his knees and back aching. Getting older in a post-apocalyptic world felt extra cruel. He ventured over to the table, ready to test the waters and see just how bad of a time he was in for.

Y/n sighed in annoyance as Joel took the chair next to her. She needed distance she wasn’t going to get, from him and all that he reminded her of.

They sat in the most awkward silence either of them had ever known.

Joel was the first to break it, “You get some sleep?”

Y/n glared out the corner of her eyes at him, the first words he spoke to her after their confrontation and that was the first thing he said?

Joel’s chest tightened at her poisoned stare, he wasn’t going to get an answer. “Wound okay?”

“This whole thing’ll go a lot easier if you stop pretending to give a shit about me,” Y/n said quietly, the sharpness of her tone cutting through the volume, “We both know you don’t.”

The walls weren’t coming down. Joel knew that. He didn’t want them down. But after seeing her, full of energy and joy, he had to check and see if there was any bit of that woman left. His eyes scanned her skin, so many scars and scrapes where there had once been a smooth surface. Her hair was dry, streaks of oil laced like highlights through the strands. Her nails were chipped and caked with dirt underneath. But most noticeably, there were two prominent frown lines across her cheeks. That let Joel know that the woman he’d once loved was absolutely gone.

“What happened to Tommy?” Y/n asked. She couldn’t help herself, but she kept her tone frosty.

“Sent a message three weeks back,” Joel answered, his fist fidgeting against the table, “Haven’t heard anything.”

Y/n didn’t want to take any strolls with Joel down memory lane, but Tommy was…Tommy. She couldn’t deny that she still cared about him deeply. “Do you know where he is?”

“Wyoming,” Joel answered, looking past her eyes at the wall. He didn’t think he could handle speaking about his brother to her, of all people.

“Oh,” she said, “So you’re completely crazy now.”

That earned her a hardened gaze, as if Joel had anything else for her.

“I’ve never been on the other side of the Wall,” Ellie spoke up, “Look how dark it is.”

Y/n got up first, smoothing her tank top back down and leaning against the wall near the door. Joel followed, retaking his seat on the couch. They both pondered the same thing separately: how much life Ellie had missed out on just by being born in the wrong decade.

“You guys go out there a lot?” Ellie asked Joel.

“I guess,” he answered.

“When was the last time?”

“Maybe a year,” Joel quickly replied, he wasn’t enjoying all the questions, “What’s it matter?”

“But you know where to go,” Ellie clarified, looking too much like a kid, “So we’re gonna be okay.”

It was a fair question, and Joel couldn’t fault her for being scared. Fear was all she’d ever known.

“Yeah,” he answered, significantly softer than his last one.

Y/n’s eyes grazed the window, spotting the plastic butterfly that clung to the glass. After all these years, Joel had managed to keep it. It took all the self-discipline she had not to let her tears fall.

“So what’s the deal with you anyway,” Joel asked Ellie, “You some kind of bigwig’s daughter or somethin’?”

Both Ellie and Y/n knowingly smirked to themselves. “Something like that,” Ellie replied, “Oh, the radio came on while you were sleeping.”

“What?” Joel snapped to attention, leaning forward, “What was the song?

“He kept sayin’ like, “wake me up before you go-go?” Ellie answered, making Y/n and Joel feel much much older.

Joel knew what that meant, and it was nothing good. “Shit,” he whispered to himself.

Ellie’s smirk spread across her face, “Gotcha. 80’s means trouble. Code broken.”

Joel got to his feet, having used his patience up earlier in the day. “Listen-“

Y/n was between him and Ellie in a flash, sticking out a hand towards Joel. She was off limits, even for a light scolding. Luckily, the door opened up before anything could be said. Tess had returned.

“The spot under Lancaster looks good,” she reported, turning to Ellie after, “You got a jacket in your pack?”

“Yeah,” Ellie responded.

“Okay, get it. It’s time to go.”

Y/n stuffed her sweater back in backpack and went to retrieve her now-dry jacket. It had been a long time since she’d gone outside of the QZ, she couldn’t decide whether she was terrified or happy to step outside the fence.

Joel on the other hand felt like he couldn’t move. Between the fear over his brother’s safety, being close to Y/n once again and the daunting task ahead of them, he wanted to pause it all for a moment. Tess throwing his jacket at him was a good reminder that he didn’t get to take minutes.

As Y/n went to the window to check Ellie, her eye caught the butterfly in the window again. Much like ‘Rosebud,’ there was another name that she never said. She could practically see it weaved into the fine details of the creature, the bright blue against the dark black. When Joel’s back was turned. Y/n pulled the cling off the window and shoved it in her backpack. If they were going to do this, she needed to feel strong enough to do it. She’d give it back to Joel and face his wrath when the deed was done.

The four of them made it out and into the underground tunnels, landing in a lesser frequented area of the QZ. Joel climbed out first and scanned their surroundings, helping to pull Ellie out after. Y/n came through next, though Joel knew better than the extend his hand to her, and finally, Tess.

“Holy shit,” Ellie remarked, spinning around to take it all in, “I’m actually outside.”

Not half a second later, a helicopter made its round over them, searchlights shining off it. Tess pulled Ellie in and crouched behind a large piece of debris.

“Okay, we’re gonna take the left edge around the buffer zone,” Tess explained, “You stay close and you follow my lead.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Ellie nodded in understanding, glancing over to Y/n as if to get approval. Y/n nodded back, placing momentary trust that Tess would protect the girl.

“Same goes for you,” Joel said from beside her, his voice low.

Y/n glared over her shoulder, “I really don’t think you want me where you can’t see me.”

“Let’s go,” Tess ordered.

The four of them crawled under an abandoned school bus with Joel bringing up the rear. Walking while crouched was hard, but they managed their best and paused behind a car when a FEDRA patrol vehicle passed by. Once it was clear, they made their way through a rusted, metal pipe, stopping when the chopper passed over them again. Y/n caught a peek at Ellie’s face as the light shone on them, she looked terrified. Through her own nerves, Y/n reached over and took Ellie’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Joel watched the whole thing, if he wanted a glimpse of the woman he’d once known, he’d gotten it. Her heart was still there.

Their team hurried out of the pipe, rushing to hide behind another big piece of debris. A storm was starting, the lightning acting as temporary lighting for their path. Joel was leading the way when their presence was detected.

“Hey,” a FEDRA soldier shouted, “Hey! Don’t, don’t, don’t move.”

Joel hurriedly looked around for more, pushing Ellie behind him. He held his hands up in surrender, along with Y/n, Ellie and Tess. If they wanted to get out of this, they needed to play along.

The FEDRA soldier opened the visor of his helmet, getting a look at Joel. “You gotta be shittin’ me…”

“Okay, let’s talk this out,” Joel said calmly.

“Turn around,” the soldier ignored him.

“Hold on-“

“Get on your fuckin’ knees,” the soldier yelled, “Get on your fuckin’ knees!”

Joel wasn’t giving up, “Now, hold on-“

“What did I fuckin’ tell you, man? I said stay the fuck home,” he pointed to the ground, “Get on your knees!”

Y/n knew if he fought any harder, he was going to get them all killed. Taking matters into her own hands, she dropped. “Ellie,” she said calmly, “Get down.”

“Just get on your knees,” Tess said to Joel, “Just get on your knees.”

Joel listened and kneeled between Ellie and Tess, turning his back to the soldier. Ellie finally followed Yn’s directions and got down next to Y/n.

“Listen, you let us do this run,” Tess bargained, “We’ll split the cards with you.”

The soldier wasn’t having it, “Oh, will you?”

Y/n’s breaths quickened, knowing their chances of escape were slim. There had to be something to do. If she gave herself up, would he let Tess and Joel leave with Ellie? She didn’t particularly feel like dying, but Ellie was too important to compromise. They could get her the rest of the way.

“Hands on your head, eyes forward,” the soldier instructed. It was the eyes forward bit that bothered Joel the most. They wanted to control what they couldn’t even see.

“Hands on your head,” the soldier screamed, startling them all into doing it. He came up behind Tess, holding a device to her neck. Checking to see if they were infected.

Y/n’s heart stopped in her chest. Shit.

“Really, man?” Tess complained.

The soldier was undeterred, “Yep, we’re doin’ this by the book.”

Ellie nudged Y/n with her boot, signaling she knew what was coming. Y/n wasn’t sure how to offer her any assurance that they’d be okay.

“Unauthorized exit,” the soldier reported, “They’ll hang you for that.”

“Fine,” Joel tried again, “Everythin’ off this run and half off of all the pills.”

Their voices faded in Y/n’s ears. If she could move quick enough, she could spin around and shoot the soldier before he knew what was happening. It would give Tess and Joel a few seconds to get away.

Before Y/n could make a decision, Ellie stole her move and stabbed the soldier in the leg.

“Ellie!” Y/n and Tess cried in unison.

The soldier was momentarily dazed, stumbling backwards and trying to figure out where the injury was. Y/n took the opportunity to shove Ellie behind her. Joel did the same, jumping to his feet and standing in front of Y/n. It was pure instinct.

“Get out of the fuckin’ way,” the soldier yelled, aiming his gun past the adults.

Joel could talk his way out of a lot, but this looked grim. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“We can fix this,” he tried, holding up his hands as a barrier between them and the soldier.

The soldier was done listening to their pathetic attempts. “Move.”

Joel didn’t budge.

“Move.”

Y/n had been on the recieving end of a lot of guns, held by people who thought that God had abandoned the post-apocalyptic warland and it was their job to fill His seat. But the military regulated weaponry, the uniform, the expressionless face that wouldn’t fill with guilt the moment its body pulled the trigger.

It transported her back twenty years.

And she knew Joel was there with her.

He surged forward, letting out a gutteral cry as he tackled the soldier to the ground. He climbed atop him, pinning him, and began to throw one merciless punch after the other. The crunching of bone and squishing of flesh formed an awful, perfect, rhythm.

While Ellie watched and felt something awaken within her, Y/n felt something die. She watched the man she’d known in her past life as loving and tender become a necessary monster. People thought mourning was only for those who left the earth, but there were plenty of dead souls still breathing. If there was any debate as to whether or not her version of Joel Miller was truly gone, the proof was now and forever burned into Y/n’s mind. Someone else now inhabited in his body.

When the job was done, Joel sat heaving over the man’s body, looking down at his bloody and bruised fist. It was the closest he could ever come to avenging her. When he looked up, his eyes first fell on Ellie, who didn’t seem to mind the violence at all. It seemed she actually liked it.

Y/n’s eyes told a different story.

A well-timed lightning strike lit her up, and Joel saw tears pooling below her y/e/c pupils. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anxiety mixing with terror. Joel knew exactly what she was thinking about him and for a singular second, he felt guilt. He felt guilt for causing her pain, for forcing her to see him as anything other than the man she’d known.

It passed as quick as it came. It had to.

Tess grabbed the dropped scanner and read the bright red screen. Y/n hurried back to the present pulled Ellie by her jacket away from Tess.

“No, no,” Ellie yelled, “No, I’m not sick!”

“Joel,” Tess called, beginning to panic.

“She’s not sick,” Y/n backed Ellie up, “She’s clean!”

“Joel,” Tess yelled again, putting space between Y/n and her.

Ellie pulled her jacket sleeve up to reveal her arm, “Look! Look! This is three weeks old! Nobody lasts more than a day! Does this look a day old to you?”

Tess examined the bite site, it looked more like a bad scar than an infectious wound.

“You would have fuckin’ killed me!” Ellie said in horror.

“I should fucking kill you,” Tess bit back, looking up at Y/n, “What the hell’s Marlene trying to pull?!”

“It’s true,” Y/n said, keeping one hand over her pistol in case Tess didn’t listen, “She’s clean.”

She looked past Tess’ shoulder and over to Joel, who was still watching her. It was a long shot to get him of all people to listen to her, but now, she was happy to bank on their history in hopes that he’d believe her.

“I swear it,” Y/n held a hand up, her eyes digging into Joel’s, begging for him to not raise his gun.

Joel stopped short at Y/n’s vulnerability, he was shaken in every direction just from the last thirty seconds. He felt his will to argue with her slipping away.

“They’re gonna catch us if we don’t run,” Ellie stated, she wasn’t wrong. They could argue elsewhere and keep their lives.

“Joel, we gotta move,” Tess called, interrupting the stare-off between Y/n and him, “We gotta move, Joel.”

Ellie and Tess were already making their way to the fence, but Y/n and Joel stayed a second longer. Neither one had much credibility with the other, not after the last time they’d been together. But at the moment, Joel had two choices. He could either die at FEDRA’s hands, or he could follow the woman he’d once trusted most in the world and believe her one more time.

He chose the latter, though he was far from believing.

Joel picked up the soldier’s rifle and gestured for Y/n to move, the two of them ran after Tess and Ellie, who were already slipping through a hole in the chained fence. Y/n pushed through it, coming to stand on the other side of the QZ’s limits and pausing for Joel. She knew he trusted her as far as he could throw her and she wasn’t totally confidant in turning her back to him. She waited till he came through and the two of them ran after Tess and Ellie, into the night and into the unknown…

————————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking (for anyone whose tag isn’t working, change your settings to ‘show up in search results’)

Joel Miller Taglist: @xsnak-3x @xmoonknightlyx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #twenty years later

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greazyfloz · 1 year

Note

Getting into a fight with jack in front of Quinn and Luke and you both go to take some breathers and Quinn and Luke both go up to jack and are like “you’re an idiot” “I hope y/n doesn’t forgive you”

Not Like That

w/ Jack Hughes

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 1.3k

Jack and I along with the rest of his family were at a family get together at his lakehouse. We were sitting with his brothers under a gazebo watching his younger cousins jumping in the pool. They kept climbing out yelling ‘watch this’ gaining our attention before doing a cannonball into the pool. We would clap or cheer when they resurfaced from the water. I cuddle into Jack’s chest and just listen in on the brothers conversation.

As we are sitting there conversing with each other, their cousin comes and sits down on the chair beside Quinn. “Hey buddy, awesome stuff out there” Quinn says, “Thanks Quinn! Wanna come in the pool wif me?”, “Not right now buddy, maybe later”. His little cousin continues the conversation asking us a bunch of questions like young kids do then he looks at me and Jack, “when you guys havin a baby?” he asks Jack. Jack awkwardly laughs and both Quinn and Luke laugh waiting for Jack’s answer, “I don’t know bud”, “Mommy said when people love each other they have babies”, I smile at how cute his cousin is until Jack says “Yeah, we don’t love each other like that buddy”. My face completely drops, Quinn and Luke both stop laughing realizing the sudden change of expression on my face. I took Jack’s arm from around me and escaped from his grasp. Moving over a little bit on the sofa as Jack gives me a dirty look because of my relocation. His cousin stayed and chatted for a bit before leaving to jump back in the pool.

“What’s up with you” Jack turns to me, “nothing” I say quietly. “Why did you move away from me then?”, “We were really close, I didn’t know if we loved each other enough”, “What are you talking about?” Jack says starting to get louder. “Shh. It is really not a big deal” I say trying to be civil. “No, you started this shit”, “Are you serious?” I say. We began to argue a bit about what he said but my tipping point was when he said “Come on Sienna, you are overreacting”, “My name is not Sienna” I say standing up, “I am not Sienn-”, “I know your not, Sienna is a model” Jack says getting defensive. “Fuck. you.” I say before disappearing into the house. Once I reach Jack’s room, I slam the door and lock it behind me before falling on the bed and crying until I fall asleep.

[Jack’s POV]

“You’re an idiot” Quinn says to me as I watch Y/n enter the house. “She is the one that came after me because apparently I said I didn’t love her” I defend myself. “He is like 6 years old, even if he remembers what I said later on it doesn’t mean anything” he continued. “No man, you are an idiot for bringing up Sienna” Luke joins in. “It was an accident, you think I meant to say my ex girlfriends name?” I say. “No, but you definitely meant to tell Y/n that your ex was a model, as if that mattered at the moment” Quinn says. “She’ll be fine” I answer.

Luke suddenly stands “I hope Y/n doesn’t forgive you” he says before walking away. I see my mom come over and I know Quinn is going to tell her what just happened so I leave so I don’t have to hear it. I go in and sit at a barstool in my kitchen since my bedroom is occupied. I sit there scrolling through instagram for a couple minutes until the back door slides open, “Jack.” my mothers voice echos sternly across the kitchen. “I know mom, I messed up. I don’t want to hear it right now”. “Well” she says grabbing a seat beside me, “What are you going to do about it, and I don’t think ‘she’ll be fine’ is the correct answer” she says. Quinn has such a big mouth. I bring my hand up to rub my eyebrow. “I’ll go up in a bit, I’m going to give her a minute”

[Y/N POV]

I wake up to a faint knock on the door, I roll over hugging the pillow hoping they go away. “Y/n, open up please” Jack says. “No, go away” I respond. I hear the doorknob wiggle a bit before the door opens revealing Jack with a screwdriver in hand. “I said go away” I say to him as he enters his room taking a seat on his bed. “And I said open up” Jack replies. “What do you want?” I say, “Come on, Let’s go for a drive.” Jack says looking at me before pleading, “please”. “Fine” I say getting up. I look at myself in the mirror and clean my runny makeup off before following out to the car. I realized the sun had gone down quite a bit ago once I hoped into the Range Rover with the time reading 9:45pm. Jack pulled out of the driveway and reaches over for my hand. I pulled my hand away and faced the window. “Look I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean what I said when I said we didn’t love each other enough to have babies. It came out wrong and I was just frustrated that you didn’t see that I didn’t mean it that way”, I nod at his explanation but don’t say anything. “I meant that we aren’t at that stage yet, I didn’t know how to express that to a kid Y/n. I love you, and I can see myself having a kid with you but not right now. I thought you felt the same.” Jack continued, “I do feel the same about kids. The way you said it hurt me. I felt like I was wasting my time being with you if you didn’t see ourselves having kids in the future.”, “I know babe, and I am sorry” Jack says again pulling onto the highway.

“Where are we going?” I ask, “Into the city, I figured you would be hungry since you missed supper” Jack says, “I’m definitely not hungry after you comment today” I snap back, “Turn around” I snap again. “No, I was just frustrated. You are my girlfriend not her”, “It hurt Jack” I say before tearing up. I bring my sweaters sleeve up to brush the tears away, When Jack pulls the SUV over to the side of the road.

He turns resting his palm on my cheek, “I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world, I don’t care if you a model, or a astronaut, I love you.”, He says as I look into his eye resting my hand on top of his. He leans in kissing my lips, then looks at me again “Can you forgive me?” he says, I smile nodding my head. Jack puts the car back in drive and continues into the city. “Really though it is late so I will just have a snack at the house” I say, “Are you sure?” Jack asks slowing down so he can turn around if he needs to, “Yes, besides I really am not that hungry”. Jack turns around and heads home.

We get back to the house and Jack opens the front door for me. I enter and walk to the kitchen. With Jack following behind me. Ellen is there sipping tea talking to Quinn and Luke who are both leaning on the counter at opposite ends of the kitchen. “How are you feeling hun?” Ellen says as I enter the kitchen giving me a hug, “Better” I say hugging her back. “You forgave hi-” Luke starts until he saw Jack enter behind me. Jack just gave him a look before he looked back at Ellen and I, “Is there any leftovers I can heat up for Y/n?” he asks his mother. “Should be some in the fridge. Jack went to the fridge taking the leftovers out of the fridge and heating it in the microwave before handing it to me. I look down at the huge plate. “Um- you think I can eat all of this myself?”, “You think I ate knowing I hurt my girlfriend, we are sharing” Jack says as we brought the plate to the living room and cuddled while watching movie and eating leftovers.

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #hughes brothers #quinn hughes #luke hughes #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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lunatiqez · 9 months

Text

“PICNIC DATES” — Texas McCormick

PAIRING: Texas McCormick x GN!Reader

GENRE: Romance

SUMMARY: Texas decides that your first date should be a picnic date.

WORDCOUNT: 1.8k

A/N: I LOVE TEXAS MCCORMICK!!!! I will say though,, don’t rlly like this fic tbh. Anywho!! Requested by @mictodii and proofread by @lu-vin-it !!

YOU AND TEX HAD BEEN DATING FOR A month. And, this being Tex’s first relationship, he didn’t want to screw anything up. He wanted everything to go perfectly, especially dates.

“Mace, me and Y/N been dating for a month! Can you believe that? One whole month!” Texas exclaims to his brother, his crooked smile showing how proud he was. Mason doesn’t pay much attention, instead he continues on reading the newspaper.

“Yeah? You take ‘em on a date?” He asks.

“A date? Of—“ Tex thinks for a second. “Of course I took them on a date already, c'mon man!”

In reality? Texas McCormick had never taken you on a date, not yet at least. It hadn’t even crossed his mind until then.

“You ain’t a very good liar, Tex.” Mason looks up at his younger brother, a smirk plasterer across his face.

“What’re you talkin’ about? I’ve taken Y/N on a date! Why don’t you believe me?” He pouts slightly.

“Well first off, if you did already you didn’t tell me, and I know you woulda told by now. You’re head over heels for Y/N, so if anything, you’d be braggin’ about it.”

Tex looks away, embarrassed. Mace goes back to reading nonchalantly.

“Well, well just watch! I’ll take them on a date!” Texas says as he stomps off to his room.

The next day, Tex walked up to you in the hallways at school and started a conversation, as always.

“Say, Y/N.” He says after you move on from your most recent topic.

“Yeah? Everything okay?” You ask him.

“How ‘bout we go on a date tonight, huh? For our one month?” He suggests. You smile widely.

“Of course we can! Whatdya wanna do?”

“Uhh,” he thinks for a moment, nervously rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Let’s go on a picnic! Down at that meadow, a little ways away from my house.” You nod and set a specific time— tonight at 8PM.

“Am I bringing the food, or are you?” You ask.

“I could, but—“

“I’ll bring it.” You interrupt him, already knowing that he's going to make up an excuse as to why he can’t bring the food.

“Wha- no, I will! I can do it!” You chuckle in response.

“Alright, but I’m bringing at least somethin’” you say. It was mostly so you don’t feel bad that Tex had to provide everything.

After you finished your painfully boring day at school, you went home. By then, it was about 3:30PM; you had 4 hours and 30 minutes.

Your mom came out of her room, so you decided to ask her now before it was too late.

“Hey, mom!” You said, catching her attention. She looked at you, wondering what was the matter. “Can I go out with Tex tonight? Like, at 8? He wants to take me to a picnic.” She placed her hands on her hips and sighed.

“We won’t be back late, I promise! ‘N dad won’t have to take care of Banjo at all this week, I’ll do it all myself!” You said, trying to convince your mother to let you go.

“You’re supposed to be doin’ that already. She’s your horse.” You shrunk slightly.

There was an awkward silence until your mom broke it by sighing once more.

“Go ahead, but if you ain’t in this house by 10 I’m havin’ your father lock you out, you’ll sleep on the porch.” She rolled her eyes. You chuckled at her remark.

You let a few hours pass, and by now it was 6:30. You decided that you would get ready now, because you wanted to look and feel your best for your first date with your boyfriend. Suddenly, you got an idea to make cookies for Tex.

Cookies were his all time favorite food. Sometimes, you think he loved them more than he loved you. He would always go on about how much he craved cookies, and how his favorite cookies were chocolate chip. So that’s what you made.

You got all of your ingredients in order and began to make the dough. After that was done, you rolled them into small balls and placed them on a sheet. By now, it was getting close to 7, so you popped the cookies in the oven, set the timer for 20 minutes, and went to go get ready.

You hopped in the shower, making sure you used your best smelling body wash. After about 10 minutes, you got out and went to get dressed.

You took a while deciding on what to wear, but ultimately decided on your nicest pair of riding jeans, a navy blue button up, and Tex’s denim jacket that you stole from him a while back.

After you were done, you went to the kitchen and, right on time, the kitchen timer dinged— indicating that the cookies were done baking.

You grabbed an oven mitt and put it on, pulling the cookie sheet out.

The cookies looked delicious. They were a perfect golden brown, and not too hard, but also not too mushy. You smiled proudly and set them on the counter to cool off.

You threw the mitt on the counter next to the cookies and turned the oven off.

Then, you found a wicker basket. After another 10 minutes, the cookies were cooled off and ready to be eaten. So, you took a spatula and after getting them off the cookie sheet, you placed them delicately on a plate from your cupboard and then put the plate in the basket, leaving it on the counter and going to get Banjo ready.

You rushed out to the stable, excited to see your horse.

“Hey, Banjo!” You greeted the animal. She neighed in response.

After giving her some praise, you began to get her ready. You placed her saddle on her and tightened it around her stomach.

“Ready to go see your boyfriend, huh?” You asked her, chuckling at your joke. “Yeah, me too.”

After getting your horse saddled up, you went back inside to grab the basket. Before heading out the door, you grabbed a handful of carrots from your fridge and tossed them in your basket as well.

You went to the stables again, basket in hand, and balanced the food carefully on a thick fence, jumping up onto Banjo. You had her walk to the fence where the food was sitting and grabbed it, holding onto it carefully.

It was getting pretty close to 8, so you had Banjo hurry to Tex’s house, it only being a little ways from your house— since you both had horses, you both had to live out of town, making you essentially faraway neighbors.

Banjo trotted to Tex’s house, making it annoying to hold the basket still.

“You’re so stubborn, Banjo, can’t you just hold still?” You asked her as if she knew what you were saying.

Before you knew it, it was 7:58 and you were entering Tex’s yard. Mace was on the porch talking with Lem, Banjo walked up past the cars and you stopped her.

“Hey, Mace!” You said to him. He stopped his conversation with Lem and stood up to talk to you.

“Hey, Y/N, been a while huh?” He asked you.

“Mhm! Is Tex here?”

“Oooh shit!” Lem said. “Tex got someone? Huh?” You giggled.

“Uh huh,” you said as you subconsciously pet your horse.

“I don’t think we ever met,” Lem says as he walks over to you. “I’m Lem— one of Tex and Mace’s buddies. Bet you already figured that though, huh?” You smiled and nodded.

“I’m Y/N! Y/N Y/L/N.” You introduced yourself. Mason then informed you that Tex was getting Rowdy ready to go right now.

You went out to the back and shouted for your boyfriend.

He then came out of the dark stable on Rowdy, a basket in hand just like you.

“Hey, babe.” He said, his smile widening. “Was gettin’ scared, I didn’t think you’d show up.” You scoffed.

“You really think that low of me, Texas McCormmick?” You asked

“Well, no, I just— Y’know, it was getting near 8! I just thought you forgot or somethin’.” Tex rambled off, making you laugh.

“Let’s go, you got a blanket?” You asked him.”

“Uh huh.”

With that, you said your goodbyes to Lem and Mace and went off to a nearby meadow. On your ride there, Tex took notice of your basket.

“What’s in there?” He asked you, pointing to it.

“Surprise.” You smirked at him. He scoffed.

When you reached your destination, it was nice and quiet, the only sounds being a stream of water and crickets chirping.

The two of you hopped off your horses and Tex laid the quilt out on the ground, making sure it was perfect. To your surprise, he also pulled out 2 candles and a lighter. You giggled when you saw them.

“What??” He asked innocently. “It’s gonna get dark out, we need them!”

When he lit the candles, you sat down with him.

“Did you bring food?” You asked him.

“Course I did, see?” Tex showed you the food he brought.

Grapes, potato chips, and sliced apples. You laughed aloud at the assortment of food. Tex furrowed his eyebrows.

“What’s so funny??” He asked you, confused.

“Nothin, nothin.” You said as you stopped laughing and pulled your basket near you.

“I made us cookies!” Tex’s face lit up and he smiled wider than ever.

“Hell yea! I love cookies!” He cheered as he dug through the basket, throwing the carrots aside.

“Oh yeah, those are for Rowdy and Banjo.”

Tex immediately dug into the cookies, taking about 3 at a time.

“Hey, hey!” You shouted at him. “Geez, save some for me!” He laughed as he bit into his first sweet.

“These are real good, Y/N. Thanks for bringin ‘em.” He thanked you as he laid on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. You mirrored him so that you were facing each other.

“Tex, what made you think of a picnic, out of all things?” You asked out of genuine curiosity.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I just thought it would be somethin’ you liked. And of course we had to bring Rowdy and Banjo along.” Texas motioned to the horses as they grazed next to the two of you.

“I see.” You then changed your position so you were laying flat on your back and looking at the stars. Tex followed your eyes and that brought him to the sky, aswell.

“Stars are nice and bright out, huh? No clouds.” He commented. You nodded in silence.

Tex then brought himself to lay with you, placing his head gently on your stomach. You instinctively grabbed his hair and began playing with it. It was nice and silky, his hair was one of your many favorite things about him.

There was a moment of silence before Texas asked you, “How’s this for a first date? Did we do good?”

“I love it, Tex.” You responded softly. “You did good. I love you.” Texas chuckled.

“A lot of people do.” You flicked the side of his head.

“Ow! Cut that out!”

#tex 1982 #tex movie #tex #Texas McCormick #Texas McCormick 1982 #Texas McCormick x reader #Texas McCormick x you #Texas McCormick x y/n #Matt Dillon #Matt Dillon 1982 #Matt Dillon tex #Matt Dillon x reader #Matt Dillon x you #Matt Dillon x y/n #📝 — liv’s requests ★.#📂 — liv’s writings ★.

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

Note

hiii 47 and 7 for angst hotch

i love ur writing btw <3

Drunk

gif by hoe-tchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings!: mentions of abuse, stalking, and death, past abusive relationships, normal criminal minds things, angst, crying, pining, but a fluffy ending

Promtps: Angst #7 "Are you drunk?", Angst #47 "You flinched"

Author's Note: Thank you so much <3, hope you enjoy reading!!

---------------

In hindsight, it probably wasn’ the best idea to get drunk at a bar. Especially alone. But you weren’t exactly thinking straight when you had stepped off the jet after a long case. And it had been a LONG case. Nearly a week of going through the same evidence over and over again scouring for a lead. Finally finding a lead, and coming to a dead end.

The eventual lead that you did catch, led to the unsub already standing over her next victim’s body. At least you got a full confession. But you had been the one that had found the unsub. If that wasn’t enough, this case had already been hitting way too close to home.

A woman was murdering victims of domestic abuse to “save them” because her mom was never “saved” from her father’s abuse. She had grown up watching it. Her victims had all had y/h/c hair, with y/e/c eyes. The same height as you, same style, just overall very similar. The only difference the team saw had been that you were never abused. At least that was what your file had said.

You had been able to keep it on the low for as long as you had been at the BAU. But you were terrified one of them would figure it out. That you would flinch at the wrong time, or you would do something to give it away.

You had gotten lucky and no one seemed suspicious. You ended up hiding in the back of the jet, curled up. No one bothered you. They all assumed that the case had just hit you harder. The one thing you hadn’t known though was that Hotch had been keeping a very close eye on you.

You two had become close, and would often hang out at each other's apartments. Spending tjme just talking about nothing and everything for hours. He had quickly become one of your best friends. You always went to him when you were upset.

But tonight, you just needed to get away.

Which is how you found yourself in this bar, downing your fifth drink. In the back of your mind, you knew that you wouldn't be able to drive home, or even walk without tripping over your own feet. You needed to call someone, and your drunk self called Hotch. While the phone rang you checked the time. 3 am. He was going to kill you.

“Hotchner.” You giggled drunkenly at his formal response.

“Why so serious bossman?” He recognized your voice immediately.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“M’great. Havin a blast.” You slurred.

“Are you drunk?” He asked and you giggled again.

“Mayyybe.” You slurred, concerning Hotch even more.

"Where are you?”

“Mabel's I think. But let me tell you. I think you need to come get me because there is no way m’drivin home.” He huffed as you heard noise coming from the phone.

“I'm on my way, stay there!” But you hung up. You were so excited to see him. Truth was you had definitely developed a crush for the man. Telling him that was going to be difficult, mainly because of your past, but also because he was your boss, and about 12 years older than you.

You waited for about 10 minutes before you heard the door ring as it opened and Hotch ran inside, frantically searching around. He found you and was quickly at your side.

“Y/n, are you okay?” You nodded sleepily. You always did get sleepy after your sixth drink. He gave you a concerned glance before reaching for your arm. You flinched slightly, but Hotch didn’t say anything about it. He picked you up because there was no way that you could walk, and carried you out to his car.

“You’re staying with me tonight.” He had said once on the road. You lazily watched out the window as buildings went by.

“M’kay.” You mumbled. Hotch sent you another concerned glance. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Usually when a case hit you hard, you would spend the night talking with him. He had been surprised when you hadn't shown up at his apartment. Even more shocked when you had called him drunk. He cared about you and it hurt him to see you like this.

Soon he found himself pulling into his driveway. He parked and quickly ran to your side of the car to help you out. He opened your door, and reached his hand over to unbuckle you when suddenly you shifted back. Your arms came up as if to block a blow and a whimper escaped your lips.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise!” You let out, sounding much more sober now. Hotch stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to do.

“Y/n, it’s me, can you hear me, its Aaron?” You moved your arms from your face, peeking out wide eyed. You pulled your arms the rest of the way down.

“Sorry Hotch. That was just, um, that w-was-” But he cut you off.

“You flinched.” He paused looking at the tears in your eyes, realizing that he needed to get you inside before you broke down in the car. “C’mon, let's go inside.” You bowed your head and nodded.

“Okay.” You said softly. He helped you out of his car slowly, and walked you up to his apartment. Once there, you plopped on his couch, sobering up for the conversation you knew was going to happen. He walked in the room, a glass of water in hand. He handed it to you, sitting next to you. he waited a few moments before beginning the inevitable conversation.

“Y/n, why did you flinch?” He asked hesitantly. He didn't want to push you, but he was concerned and he wanted to know. So you told him. Every detail, every heartbreaking moment. The bruises, the scars, the hospital trips. Everything. The reports, the disbelief, the arrest, the divorce. Then the even worse parts. The escape, the stalking, the attack, the death. Every little thing. You could feel the tears falling down your face as you spoke about your ex-husband.

Hotch sat as he watched the beautiful woman sitting in front of him break down. He didn't know any of this, none of it was in your file. He knew that Strauss had to know though, because you never would have been accepted without background checks and psych evals.

His heart broke a little more every time you shared another detail. On one side it felt so nice to get it off your chest. On the other hand, it was weird opening up to Hotch like this. He was seeing so much more of you than you had ever allowed anyone since your husband. He sat in silence once you finished speaking.

“Y/n. I'm so sorry. You never should have had to go through that.” And the tears came even faster, until they were silent sobs. Hotch, well he was more Aaron in that moment, brought you into his arms holding you tight, bringing you a comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay to cry.”He silently whispered into your hair. You looked up at him then, sighing softly at the beautiful man before you.

“Thank you Aaron.” He loved the way his name sounded coming from your lips. But before he could tell you, he looked down to find you asleep in his arms. And that's how he stayed until morning.

* * *

The next morning you awoke to a strange bed, with strange sheets, in a strange room. But one sniff and all you could smell was Hotch’s cologne. You soon recognized that there was a warm body behind your own, an arm wrapped around your middle.

You almost didn't remember what happened last night, but once you did, you began to panic. What if he hated you? What if he was disgusted by you? He probably had just pitied you.

He must have felt you shift, because he was waking up. His arm tightened around you, and he leaned up looking you in the eyes. He saw your panic and was alert rather quickly for someone who had just woken up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quickly, eyes scanning you frantically.

“You must be disgusted with me.” You paused taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry Hotch. I ruined your night and then cried all over you with my pathetic life story. And you probably just pitied me. I'm sorry.” He shook his head.

“Y/n, look at me.” You looked into his eyes. “I am and never will be disgusted by you. I am amazed by you. You are so strong and beautiful and you never deserved a thing that disgusting man did to you. I don’t pity you, not at all. All of this has just made me fall more in love with you than I already was.” You looked at him wide eyed.

“You love me?” He leaned a little closer.

“Of course I do. It's impossible not to.” You dared closer still as he moved a piece of hair from your face. The loving gesture warming your heart.

“Thank you. For everything. I love you too Aaron.” And he sealed your lips. It was intimate and explosive at the same time. And in the most cliche way, fireworks exploded as you kissed him.

You moved together passionately. Your noses bumped ever so slightly as he kissed you deeper than you had ever been kissed. He was an amazing kisser, to say the least. He broke away a moment later, smiling down at you.

“Give me a chance to show you what real love is, what it's supposed to be.” You nodded.

“Of course Aaron.” And you kissed him again, sliding your hands around his neck into his hair. It was the happiest you had been in a very long time.

So in hindsight, maybe getting drunk wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

---------------

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If i don't get to yours, I'm sorry!! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#aaron hotchner x reader #imagine #angst #fluff #hotch x reader #reader insert #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine

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softboywriting · 3 years

Text

Meet The Parents | Billy Russo

Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesn’t go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.

---

The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.

"Hey sweetheart."

You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.

"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"

"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."

"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"

Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."

You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"

"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"

"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"

"She tried. Even sat on my lap."

"In front of her dad?"

"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."

You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."

He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."

"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."

Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.

You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."

"Bullshit."

"Your bullshit."

Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.

"C'mere."

"No, Billy."

"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."

"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."

"Always such a good girl."

"You like it."

"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment."

"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."

"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"

You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.

"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."

"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."

You smile innocently. "See you later."

"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."

"Love you too Billy."

"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."

"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"

"Being you."

"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.

_____________________

"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."

Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."

"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.

Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.

"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.

Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."

"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."

"Gotcha."

"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.

Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"

Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."

The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"

"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."

"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."

Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."

"Well you know I-"

"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."

"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.

"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."

"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"

Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."

"Your fault."

"Usually is."

____________________

You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.

Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.

It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.

The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.

It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.

The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"

"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."

"I'm sorry."

Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."

"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."

"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"

You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."

Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.

"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."

You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."

"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."

"You know it's a little true."

His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."

"It is."

"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."

You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."

"I know."

"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"

"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"

Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"

You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.

"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."

"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."

"T-thanks."

Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."

"If you can get a word in."

"I have my ways. Don't worry."

You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"

"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.

Your parents are still bickering.

"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.

"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.

Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."

"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.

"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.

You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"

Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."

Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"

"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."

"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.

"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."

Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."

You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."

"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."

"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.

Dad raises his eyebrows.

"Dad, don't start."

Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"

"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."

You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."

"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."

"Mom!"

"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."

"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"

"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."

You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.

"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.

"I'm s-"

"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.

"Thanks."

"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"

You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"

"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."

"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."

Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"

"I think I already have it."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."

_____________________

Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.

You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.

The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.

"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.

You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.

"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.

Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"

"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."

"Grab me a bottle?"

"Sure."

You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.

Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.

"Hey."

You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.

"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."

"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm."

You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."

"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."

"Oh."

"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.

You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.

"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."

The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.

"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."

Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."

"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Being here when I had a nightmare."

"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."

"Me too."

"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."

"Love you too."

_____________________

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

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Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

#billy russo #the punisher series #the punisher #the punisher netflix #billy russo x reader #ben barnes characters #the punisher fic #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic

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aka-indulgence · 3 years

Text

Well I saw the self-ship week thing late??? But it seems fun, so I thought to participate!

This one’s for day 3-Playing Games!

(Notice: this will contain... FLUFF!!)

---

“ok ok, i’m on, can ya hear me?”

You giggle. “There you are! You sure took your time.”

“i told’ja, m’bro was givin’ me a… talk. ya know how he is. he knew we were havin’ gaming night and he said how it’s fine to game but that i should go to bed at ‘A REASONABLE HOUR.’” Sounds Sans’ Papyrus impression, and though it isn’t exactly the same, the similarities were perhaps, slightly uncanny.

And then in the background-

“I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW!”

“shut up!”

“Pff- oh my gosh, why are you both always like this??”

You hear the sound of shuffling, a far-away knocking noise… Sans had went to his door and was having a conversation with his brother, right now. A few scoffs from Papyrus, a couple of ‘rrrghhhh’s from Sans, and you hear the door slam, probably in Papyrus’ face, before Sans comes stomping back to his computer.

If you had been calling any other person, you’d be worried about their home condition.

“sorry ‘bout that doll,” you hear Sans’ voice after a heavy ‘omph’ on what you presume is his computer chair. “i swear, sometimes he forgets he’s not my mom… i’m a grown ass adult, i’m the older brother, i can do whatev’r the hell i want.”

You snicker. “Ok, now you sound just like a pissy teen… going against your mother’s wishes to play Minecraft until 3AM?”

“i-!! well i mean, we haven’t decided what t’ play yet! i mean… we could play minecraft if you wanna…”

His tone sounds bashful, and it reminds you of a kid trying to trick you into giving them what they want. And hey, you’re not gonna complain having some quality time with your boyfriend… currently far away from you. You do find yourself wishing you could see his face though…

As if reading your thoughts, Sans speaks.

“hey, uh… sweetheart… ya mind turnin’ video cam on?”

“If you turn on yours! But I mean… we’re gonna be staring at the game th-“

Your mouth closes when Sans’ face appears in the calling program you’re using. The room’s dark, the most light around’s probably just his computer screen, and maybe a desk lamp on his side? He almost looks ominous in the lighting, being a skeleton with glowing red eyes and a shark-toothed grin, but…

You find yourself smiling, getting to see his face again. Was it because you’ve been separated from him a while, or did he somehow become even more handsome?

“here i am. now turn on yer camera.” He demands, his teeth twisting in a bit of an impatient frown. “i know ya love what’cher seein’, but i’d rather it go both ways, too…”

“Oh, Sans!” You breathe a laugh, “ok, ok!”

You do as much, clicking on the video icon and seeing your camera light up. You see your face in the corner of Sans’ feed, and you kind of blush. The lighting isn’t the best here either, though the hotel looked nicer in real life. It wasn’t exactly flattering you and your face was slightly dark, but…

“oh wow. i’ve missed that face.” Sans murmurs, looking like he’s honest to god, stunned just by looking at you.

You automatically slap a hand over your face. “Sans…!”

“jus’ as cute as ever, too. actin’ all shy… c’mon, pretty girl, lemme see…”

“Sans, we’re supposed to be playing, aren’t we??” at this rate, you’ll never get to play anything with this flirty bastard!

Sans guffaws, headphones almost falling off his skull when he throws it back, but thankfully(???), he does get the ball rolling.

“ok, so, what’cha wanna do tonight? like ya said, there’s always minecraft… or we could bust out the switch and play mario kart… oh, ya said ya wanted to tetris right? or also, those… board games..? wow doll, after choosin’ to date me, i’d think yer taste would be a little bit wilder than this.”

“Oh shut up, classic board games are great! Papyrus always liked them!”

“psh, of course papyrus would like ‘em. i-“

Somewhere in the distance, “I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!”

“fuck off, yer listenin’ in on my private conversation with my babe!”

“Pfghgh- hahahah! Ok, ok, stop! I’ve chosen what I want to play first, I’ll prove you it’s fun! Let’s play find-four!”

You see Sans roll his eyelights, but his smile widens at you. “whatever ya say, doll….”

#sanship #im too afraid to @ right now dhskjl #sans x self-ship week 2021 #its fun!!!#ive been yearning for soft fluff for a few days and this seems perfect #so yea #i was gonna post this earlier but #its gonna be the end of day 3 right???#so here #im worried that i posted it early but where i am its.. well past day 3 sjhdk #i'll probably post all of them at once on ao3 when its done

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Note

marriage of convince perhaps Ford finally getting the nerve to talk to his mother about the situation once he, Jimmy, Angie and Stan have settled down and are more comfortable with their current situation?

Ford stared at the phone sitting in front of him on the table. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up.

“You need to call her, Stanford,” Angie said. “It’s past time.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts,” Angie said firmly. Her hand slipped from his shoulder and she sat in the chair next to him. “No excuses. The kids are out fishin’ with Jimmy, Stan took the quads to the library. It’s just you ‘n me here now.”

“Yes,” Ford said faintly. He put his hands on the table, bracing himself. Angie smiled. She took ahold of Ford’s right hand, interlacing her fingers with his. The gesture was familiar and comforting.

Ford was brought back to all the other terrifying phone calls he’d made to his mom. News of delays in his education and career search, of marriage and children and divorce. For each one, Angie had been by his side. He squeezed her hand. Still smiling, Angie squeezed back.

“Call, dear,” she said. Ford nodded. He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, dialed, and turned speaker on. With that, he set it back down on the table.

It rang twice before someone on the other end picked up.

“Pines residence, Caryn speaking, who’s calling?” Ford knew his mom’s signature rapid-fire line well.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Stanford! How are things in Oregon?”

“They’re going well.”

“Those kids of yours behaving?”

“Yes, actually. Far better than I expected, given the upheaval in their lives.”

“Well, you come from a long line of survivors. Makes sense they’d adapt better ‘n average,” Ma Pines said idly. “So, why are you callin’? I know you, you never call unless you have some sorta big news.”

“You’re correct, I did call because I have something important to tell you,” Ford said. Angie raised an eyebrow in a silent question. After years of marriage, Ford could read her like a mathematical equation. He knew precisely what she was asking.

“Do ya want me to say somethin’ so she knows I’m here?” In response, Ford shook his head. Bringing Angie into the conversation would only delay him telling his mother why he called. Ma Pines adored Angie and could chat endlessly with her.

Which has been excellent in the past, but I don’t want to prolong this conversation. Angie nodded. She sat back, slipping into her old role of silent supporter.

“All right, spit it out, then,” Ma Pines said impatiently. Angie squeezed Ford’s hand again.

“Do you recall what you said when I told you of my divorce?”

“I believe I asked you it you were leavin’ Angie for another woman. You said you weren’t.” There was a pregnant pause. “You’re not callin’ to tell me you lied, are you?” Ma Pines asked dangerously.

“No, I-”

“‘Cause if you lied to me, when all I did was support you durin’ your divorce-”

“No! Mom-”

“Did you get this other woman pregnant?” Ford looked helplessly at Angie. “Stanford, I don’t like to throw the term ‘disown’ around lightly, but-” Angie leaned in.

“Hey, Caryn,” she chirped.

“Angie!” It was like a switch had been flipped, Ma Pines’ furor was so quickly replaced with delight. “Sweetheart, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Angie said. “I was just walkin’ through the room when I overheard this conversation. And I have to say, I think yer goin’ down the rabbit hole again.”

“But-”

“There is not and never has been another woman,” Angie said smoothly. “Please, let Stanford explain ‘fore ya jump all over him.”

“All right,” Ma Pines said begrudgingly. Ford breathed a sigh of relief. He was able to handle his mom on his own, but Angie could always do it faster. “Explain, then, Stanford.”

“I mentioned what you told me after my divorce because I have in fact found someone.” Angie nodded encouragingly. “But rest assured,” he said quickly, “I met him quite some time after the divorce.” Angie’s eyes widened.

“…Him?” Ma Pines asked. Ford closed his eyes.

Dammit! He’d planned on easing her into the news. But I was so frantic to dispel her misconceptions that I blurted it out!

“Yes,” he said quietly, deciding to just get it over with. “I’m in a romantic relationship with a man.”

“I see. Well…” Ma Pines trailed off. “I understand better why you divorced, then. I knew there was more to it than what you said.”

“Mom…”

“Gimme a moment, Stanford.”

“Okay.” Ford swallowed. Silence stretched on uncomfortably. Just as Ford was about to say something to break the tension, Ma Pines spoke.

“All right,” she said finally. “I accept this.”

“Pardon?”

“I accept it. I won’t deny it. Honestly, now I think about it, I’m not too surprised.”

“You’re- you’re okay with it?” Ford asked, astonished.

“I wouldn’t go that far yet. Gimme a few days. I’ll call when I’m ready, and when I do, you better tell me all about this man of yours, okay?”

“Okay. But, ah, in the meantime-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to your father.”

“Thank you,” Ford said gratefully. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Stanford.” There was a click.

“She hung up without sayin’ goodbye to me!” Angie said in shock. “Wow. She must be more shook than she came off as.”

“Even taking that into consideration, her reaction is infinitely better than I feared.”

“Yes, it went very well.” Angie smirked at Ford. “So well that she wants to hear about Jimmy.”

“Oh, Moses.” Ford dragged his hands down his face. “Don’t remind me.”

“I’d recommend havin’ Jimmy on that call so’s she can talk to him.” Angie cocked her head thoughtfully. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind bein’ ‘round m’self.” She grinned mischievously. “I have to see how she reacts to learnin’ yer new beau wears a leather jacket and drives a motorbike.”

#uhh I don't have much more to say but I hope you like it nour!#even if Jimmy is only mentioned and doesn't really appear lol #Marriage of Convenience AU #Stanford Pines #Angie McGucket #Ma Pines #ficlet #my writing #ask #nour386

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Five: Like Real People Do

a/n: hellooo and welcome to the next part of ybmh!! i am sooooo excited about this next chapter (and upcoming chapters😏 ). Thank you again for all of your kind words and wonderful feedback! It's always so much fun to hear from you all, so as always, feel free to come chat in my inbox once you've finished this next part. I have a feeling there will be much to discuss👀 Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content, mentions of drowning

Word Count: 5.6k

read parts one, two, three, and four

“I’m not going,” Alani says finally, discarding the outfit in her hands onto a pile on her bed. The clock reads 7:55 pm, only five minutes before she was supposed to be at the studio. She still hadn’t selected an outfit, but her hair and makeup were still relatively intact from her shift at the café.

“You have to!” Pua whines. “You told him you would!”

“Then I’ll tell him I’m sick or something—food poisoning. Period cramps, maybe,”

She begins placing the clothes on hangers to put back in her closet, but her sister reaches for her wrists to stop her.

“You’re just nervous,” Pua says calmly, getting eye level with her older sister. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go,”

“Go where?” a woman’s voice calls from the door frame. Their mother, Estrella, peeks her head through the cracked door.

“To a party with a cute boy,” Pua explains.

Alani shoots an icy glare at her sister before turning back to her mom. “It’s not a party. I’m working on a piece about a local musician and he’s recording some music tonight and said I could go. You know, to write about it,”

Estrella nods, not convinced. “So why don’t you wanna to go?”

“Because they almost kissed—”

“Pua!”

“Hey, hey,” Estrella cuts in. “Mija, you’re twenty-two years old, I don’t expect you to stay single forever. If you want to go out and see a cute boy, you don’t need to lie about it,”

“But I’m not lying,” Alani defends. “It’s just… complicated, and I’m trying to be professional about it.”

Estrella steps away from the doorframe and envelops her daughter in a hug. “Sometimes, you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best,”

Alani is grateful for the piece of wisdom from her mother, feeling a small weight lifted off her shoulders.

“But if I were you,” her mom continues. “I would wear the black strappy dress with those wedges.”

********

8:10. Harry checks his phone for the third time in one minute, growing more disappointed each time the same three numbers stare back at him, almost mocking. He doesn’t feel any better when the time reads 8:11.

“Can I interest you in a piña colada?” Mitch pipes up, sauntering over with a glass in each hand.

The choice of drink seemed perfect when Harry had suggested it earlier in the day, but he deeply regrets it now. Despite the tightening at the back of his throat, Harry accepts the drink and chooses to nurse it in a different corner of the room. A part of him feels guilty for being such a buzzkill around his friends these days, and he wishes more than anything that he could just enjoy living in this moment with them. Being away from Alani had produced a strange feeling in him similar to the sickness experienced when leaving home on a long vacation; Harry didn’t know exactly how to cure it, but he hoped that lots of alcohol would do the trick.

When the clock reads 8:20, he accepts that she isn’t coming and decides to make the best of a shitty situation. He drains another piña colada and joins his friends who are huddled around various instruments and sound equipment. A few more of Harry’s writer and producer friends had joined the trip temporarily, and he’s grateful, now more than ever, for their presence—it distracts him from the overwhelming emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Jeff hands Harry a microphone and some headphones while Mitch plugs a white electric guitar into the amp. The guitarist begins with some chords that the crew has been messing around with for the past couple of days: an upbeat riff reminiscent of some of Harry’s favorite 70s rock pieces. His head is spinning mildly, but he uses the feeling as inspiration. He pinches his eyes shut and tries to let the lyrics flow, but the only words coming out are “she’s driving me crazy”, so he starts with that. The group also runs with it, adding a few yells and lyrics of their own. The song isn’t coherent in the slightest, filled mostly with laughter and choppy melodies, but it’s the best Harry has felt all night. He traded the piña coladas for a glass of tequila fit snugly in the palm of his hand, and true to Mitch’s word, the giggles emerge. At one point, he shouts the words “I’m havin’ your baby”, which makes zero sense to anyone in the room, including him, but they decide that it sounds cool and keep it going.

“It’s none of your business!” Mitch calls back, voice raised in his best soprano to mimic that of a woman. The shoddy attempt makes Harry laugh even harder and his hand clutches his stomach.

They continue on for what feels like hours, but in reality has only been forty-five minutes. At 9:05, Jeff Azoff heads outside to catch his breath and cool down. As he takes a seat on the steps, a yellow Ford Bronco pulls into the lot and Alani steps out once it's parked. She emerges in a black dress that falls mid thigh and a baby pink leather jacket, making her way nervously up the steps.

“Alani,” Jeff greets warmly with cheeks flushed. “Welcome. Party’s inside.”

She shoots him a grateful smile and reaches for the studio door, slipping inside cautiously. The music had been audible a mile down the road, but it’s even more overwhelming inside. Standing on a small coffee table in the center of the room is Harry with an arm draped around a shorter man wearing a black and white Adidas shirt. His dimples are on full display and his warbled words carry over the speakers to attack her from all sides. She recognizes Mitch hunched over a guitar and Jeff Bhasker spinning in an office chair, but she can’t put names to the other faces lingering around Harry. Alani feels extremely out of place, not knowing where she belongs in all of the chaos—it all seems to her like a living Jackson Pollock painting that she can’t look away from. In the middle of his off-key rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Harry’s eyes land on Alani and his smile grows ten times wider. He puts one foot in front of the other, completely disregarding the small size of the table, but he catches himself just as Alani lunges forward to help him. This results in their two bodies pressed flush against one another, the coolness of her leather jacket versus the warmth of his intoxication.

“You made it,” he slurs.

Alani takes a small step back and clears her throat. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late,”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Harry shrugs, his eyes lighting up when he remembers something. “There’s piña coladas! In the kitchen,”

The fact that he remembered such a detail from their previous conversations and made an effort to incorporate it into this night makes her cheeks warm.

“Okay, cool. Thanks,”

Harry scans her appearance and his stomach flutters.

“Y’look really pretty,” he offers. Alani can tell that it takes every ounce of effort to do so.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice small.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them slip out through a side door and into the backyard, stopping just before the pier. Alani doesn’t know how much of these next moments Harry will remember in the morning, which makes her feel a little more confident to share what she’s truly thinking.

“Harry, I—”

“God, you’re so pretty,” he interrupts, running a hand through his hair.

Her cheeks heat up, but she pushes past the feeling. “And you’re drunk,”

“Yeah, true. But you’re still pretty. Always think so,”

Alani searches his eyes, which are sleepy and bloodshot, but there isn’t a trace of insincerity. In this moment, she also feels the overwhelming urge to be honest—about the butterflies in her stomach that only set flight when he’s around, and the way she constantly wonders what his lips would feel like against hers. But there’s an intensity behind Harry’s gaze, despite his intoxicate state, that stops her.

“You’re making this so hard,” Alani laughs lightly, more to herself than him.

“‘M sorry,” he offers. “Don’t mean to,”

She smiles at Harry’s completely innocent reply, not knowing what to do with all of the pent up affection she has for him. A part of her simply wants to scream in his face to stop being so goddamn endearing. Instead, Alani turns on her heel to put some space between them, but stops when she feels a warm hand tug at her fingers.

“Why d’you always do that?” Harry asks, his expression a little more sober.

Alani takes a deep breath. “Do what?”

“Pull away when I get close. Did it in the car that one time. And the other time at the beach,”

There’s a beat of silence where Alani isn’t sure how to respond, but before she does, Harry releases her fingers and takes a step back.

“Wait, that was stupid. ‘M sorry if I did anything—”

“No,” Alani interrupts, taking a step closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong,”

“So why?”

She releases a breath and swallows. “I don’t know,”

It isn’t the answer Harry is looking for, but he accepts it with a slow nod. Suddenly feeling the need to flee, he takes a step onto the railing of the pier and Alani’s heart rate speeds up.

“What’re you doing?”

“S’hard to tell,” he shrugs before letting himself fall into the water below.

“Harry!” she screams, heaving over the edge of the railing to find him. The drop, unbeknownst to her, is only six feet and he’s done it many times before.

After a few seconds, Alani sees him reemerge at the surface, shaking his wet hair out. There’s a small strip of sand along the shore below, so she bolts down the stairs to meet him at the bottom.

“What the fuck?!” She cries, panic welling in the brim of her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he deadpans.

“You could’ve hurt yourself,” Alani croaks, her limbs shaking. “You—you could’ve—”

Harry reaches out to comfort her but she steps back.

“I gotta go,”

“Alani,” he says gently, but she doesn’t respond. “Alani, wait!”

She walks briskly back to the front lot, Harry close behind.

“Alani, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t follow me.” she orders.

Her words are like a dagger through his chest, but he respects her wishes and stops dead in his tracks. Harry stands soaking wet under the moonlight, feeling helpless as he watches Alani disappear into the darkness.

********

She wakes the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, still wearing the same black dress from the night before. The warm water of a morning bath eases some of the tension in her muscles, but she knows it will take a lot more to soothe the tightness in her chest.

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

Pull away.

Their conversation from the night before lingers like a nasty bruise in Alani’s mind, but she senses a bit of harsh truth in Harry’s words. She did have a bad habit of walking away when things got hard, especially concerning matters of the heart. Her instincts were all flight and no fight, so even if Alani had stayed, she isn’t sure how she would’ve explained her reasons for panicking. How do I gently pepper in the whole almost dying thing? she wonders, a lump forming at the back of her throat. Alani was only eight years-old when she nearly drowned, and though almost fourteen years had passed since then, she still vividly remembers the helplessness of sinking further under the strong tide. On nights after a particularly stressful day, Alani’s sleep is often disturbed by the sensation of her lungs slowly filling with water only to wake up drenched in sweat and clutching the sheets. She had worked hard for several years after the incident to overcome her fear of the ocean, but a part of her still couldn’t shed the debilitating need for caution. After all, it was easier to avoid the water altogether than to wade in blindly and get sucked under. Watching Harry sink into the unknown stirred the same sense of panic that Alani had felt all those years ago and threatened to undo her progress, but she quickly realized that it was the idea of losing him that had sent her into flight mode. She imagines the hollowness she would feel at the sight of waterfalls and the scent of vanilla; piña coladas—the drink and the song—tainted in her memory forever. The thought of Harry's absence was all too much to bear, but it’s how she knew that his presence must mean something. He meant something, and she couldn’t let him go.She ends her bath quickly and sifts through the first pair of clothes she can find. Suddenly none of it mattered: what she wore, how she looked, Rolling Stone—nothing but him. Alani thinks back to her mother’s words: sometimes you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best. All she needed to do was see him and the words would find themselves. The sky is overcast when she steps outside, so she quickly puts the top on Stevie and pulls out into the road, deciding to make one quick pit-stop before setting off to find him.

********

Harry’s head pounds and he feels as if the sun has been set to maximum brightness. His clothes reek of saltwater, his skin feels like sandpaper, and his mouth is the Sahara desert. None of this compares, however, to the sense of impending doom that settles in when the memories of the night before, particularly those of Alani, resurface. I’m so fucked, he groans. Harry doesn’t quite remember every detail, but he remembers enough; he remembers how pretty she looked, and reminding her of it. He feels the temporary warmth of her fingers and the coolness of her jacket pressed against his chest. There’s a bit of fuzziness between the Spice Girls and piña coladas, but then Harry remembers crashing through water and his memory gets clearer. He fucked up. He had upset Alani in some way and although he doesn’t quite know how, he knows that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Harry sits up suddenly and the whole room spins, but he makes an effort to stand anyway. Need to see Alani, he thinks with determination, I just need to see Alani.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Mitch comments from the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“What time is it?” Harry croaks.

Mitch takes a sip of coffee and checks his phone. “10:30,”

“And last night was…”

“The party?” Mitch fills in the gaps. “Yeah,”

Harry rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and takes a seat at the table. “Did...did you see Alani?”

“No. I don’t think anyone did, actually. Did you?”

“Yeah,”

“So… I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

Harry’s throat tightens and he hopes that she at least got home safely. He can’t bear to think about anything bad happening to her on his watch.

“No,” he confirms with a sigh. “No it didn’t,”

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” Mitch prods.

“Dunno if I should. She was pretty pissed,”

Mitch thinks for a second, taking another sip of coffee. “What would Noah Calhoun do?”

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be very amused by his friend’s reference to The Notebook, but right now he’s too focused on making things right with Alani. He devises a plan of action and stands.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he starts. “How shitty do I look?”

Mitch scans his best friend over, head tilting from side to side as he considers the question. “About a 7.5.”

“Good enough.”

Harry swipes the keys to the Cadillac off the counter and slips his feet into a pair of beat up vans before heading out the door.

********

The restaurant is fairly empty, as far as Alani can tell from the back. The kitchen staff are gathered in the break room for the time being, which allows her to tiptoe around unnoticed as she grabs the necessary ingredients for her peace offering to Harry. She hurries out through the employee entrance as soon as it’s complete and the key is already turning in her car’s lock when she hears a voice over her shoulder, calling her name.

“David?” she responds, turning to face the brawny man leaning against the car that is parked beside hers.

“Hey,” he starts, offering a flash of pearly white teeth. “I know I’m not supposed to be back here, but I just wanted to talk to you,”

Alani swallows, the icy chill of the drink in her hands reminding her of what needs to be done.

“You know, now’s not really a gr—”

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” David interrupts, taking a step closer. “Since the other day when you stopped by. I mean, I think about you all the time but…” he trails off and Alani waits awkwardly for him to finish his ill-timed confession. David takes another step towards her and rests his forearm against the hood of her car, practically boxing her in with no escape route.

“We were really great together, don’t you think?” he asks, scanning her face with his prying eyes. “I don’t even remember why we broke things off,”

Alani’s brow furrows, her mind failing to come up with a logical explanation for this very sudden and uncomfortable conversation. She hadn’t lied when she told Harry that David wasn’t her ex, but she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. They had started hooking up during her senior year of high school—mostly because he was the star swimmer on their team that all the other girls fawned over, and despite all the attention, he had wanted her. It made her feel momentarily special, though she knew he wasn’t the boyfriend type. “Just a bit of fun” is what they called it, and the arrangement worked out well until Alani’s freshman year of college when she realized that there was an entire world of opportunities waiting beyond the confines of high school. A world that had brought her Harry, who was probably going to leave just as soon as he’d arrived if she didn’t make amends quickly.

“No,” Alani says decisively, nudging his arm away. “We weren’t ‘great’ together, we weren’t even good for each other,”

“Alani-”

“We were really young,” she continues. “And we did what we did, but that’s all in the past-”

“If you would just give me a chance-”

“I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself back then, let alone what I wanted out of a partner. But I do now,”

She doesn’t have to say Harry’s name, but they’re both thinking it. David steps back, arms crossed, and though he had always been somewhat intimidating, he looks small standing before her now.

“It’s because of that British guy, isn’t it?” he asks, despite the feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alani lets out a light laugh but she doesn’t confirm his suspicions. “We have nothing in common, David. We want different things out of life, you’ll see,”

“And he,” David continues, an accusatory tone on the word “he”. “Wants everything you do?”

She thinks for a moment, her heart pounding as she considers what Harry’s response will be to her confession. “I hope so.”

********

Harry had considered going to Alani’s house first, but he wasn’t sure who else would be home and didn’t particularly want his first interaction with her parents to occur whilst hungover. Sitting parked on the back road behind the café, however, he wishes that he had stopped there first to save him the painful sight ahead. Harry recognizes the other man from the restaurant he had taken Alani to the first time they had hung out, a name that started with the letter “D," though probably not the one flashing angrily in his mind. His arm is draped comfortably along the roof of her car, their bodies inches apart in what appears to be a very intimate moment. While he still can’t remember the exact details of his actions that had upset Alani so much, he fits this piece into the puzzle and it becomes much more clear. She has a boyfriend, and no amount of apologies could reconcile this fact, however tempted Harry may be to try. The word “boyfriend” sits uncomfortably in his mind, but it suddenly puts everything else into perspective. It explains why she fled his car so quickly when his wandering eyes had hinted their desire for her kiss—both times. He could have sworn that it would have happened had her phone not interrupted them the second time, but perhaps it had all been a trick of the rose-colored light. The sudden realization makes Harry feel sick, and a bit foolish, so he speeds off before he can be spotted.

He drives aimlessly for a while, mind still racing with the image of the other man’s depraved hands on Alani’s soft skin. The uneasiness boiling in the pit of his stomach is pathetic—he’s well aware—but he can’t stop himself from wondering why not me? It’s a selfish thought, but it eats at him, nonetheless. It should have been me. But the reality is that it wasn’t him, and it never would be. Despite any feelings he’d had that Alani was the one for him, he was not the one for her, and it’s a fact he must learn to live with. If this thought were a rock, he’d turn it over in his fingers until they bled.

********

Alani pulls up to the studio hesitantly and waits a beat before making her way up the stairs. She knocks twice, but there’s no answer, so she presses her ear to the door in search of any sound. Silence. There’s no trace of the cars Harry usually drives when she wanders to the back lot, either, so she figures that he must not be here. Alani racks her brain for other possible locations, but it’s a dead end. She doesn’t know what hotel or house he could be staying at, and her heart begins to race at the idea that he might not even be in Hawaii anymore. For all she knows, he could be on a return flight to L.A. or London, gone forever with the same instructions she had left him: don’t follow me. Alani lifts her phone with trembling fingers and searches Harry’s name, pressing the phone to her ear and praying like she had never prayed before. It rings three times before she’s sent to voicemail. The sound of his voice on the recording brings temporary relief, but it’s gone as soon as the message ends and she is prompted to respond. She clears her throat gently and speaks as if he is at the other end waiting to hear the right words and pick up.

“Hi, it’s Alani,” she starts slowly. “I, uh…. I’m at the studio. I don’t think you’re here though,”

She walks in small circles around the backyard and lets her eyes roam to the pier where it all went wrong. It sends a pang of guilt through her spine, but it fuels her next words.

“Listen, I really wanna talk—about last night. I shouldn’t have left, I know that now. It wasn’t you, it was me, and I know that sounds cliché but it’s true,”

Alani swallows down the emotion bubbling at the back of her throat and wishes that she could just see him, face to face, one last time. There’s so much more she needs to say, but it’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with his answering machine.

“Please just call me when you get this. I wanna explain everything if you’ll let me.”

She hangs up and nearly throws her phone into the ocean. Though her trauma response wasn’t completely in her control and it isn’t something she should feel guilty about, she wishes she had been able to explain. Alani hadn’t always been comfortable sharing that part of her life, but there was a security in Harry’s presence that made her feel okay to do so. She wanted to share everything with him, the good and the bad, but she needed to find him first.

Only twenty minutes had elapsed at the studio when Alani decides to head out; there was still no word from Harry and she needed to be anywhere else beside the site of their potential last meeting. She drives with no particular place in mind, the windows rolled down to let in the chilly, overcast air. It isn’t until she’s halfway in the opposite direction that she gets the urge to visit one other location. There’s an extremely small chance that Harry will be there, but she goes less in search of him and more for her own personal wallowing.

When Alani pulls up to the lookout where the two of them had spotted the rainbow, there is another car already parked: a pink Cadillac. The sight makes her entire body freeze.

“Harry?” a small voice calls behind him. He almost thinks that he had hallucinated it until he reluctantly turns his head and sees a timid Alani emerging from her car. A million emotions run through his mind at once, starting with confusion and elation and ultimately ending in grief.

“Hey,” he responds, weakly, still leaning against the hood of the Cadillac.

Alani slowly makes her way over, not entirely sure that he’s actually there. Once she gets closer, however, she can smell the faint scent of vanilla and her chest swells.

“I left you a voicemail,” is all she can say.

Harry’s brow furrows as he tries to remember any phone calls, but he suddenly figures that in all of his rush to see her, he had forgotten to grab it from his bed.

“Left my phone at the house,” he offers.

There’s a brief silence where the two of them size each other up, weighing their own motives against what they assume to be the other person’s. Harry speaks first.

“Alani, ‘m really sorry,” he says gently, stepping away from the car and towards her. “I know I fucked up—”

“Harry—”

“But I understand now,” he continues. “I know why you were upset,”

Confusion settles into Alani’s body and she wonders how he could possibly know about her accident. Or if he didn’t know, what else he could be referring to. She doesn’t have to guess for long because Harry continues despite her silence.

“I saw you with him—your boyfriend, I mean. Derek?” he explains. “But not in a creepy way I just.. wanted to talk. Bad timing,”

“Wait,” Alani cuts in, her brain finally sorting out the pieces. “You saw me and David..today?”

Harry feels as if the knife in his chest has been twisted further at the mention of the other man’s name, but he nods. An uncontrollable bubble of laughter finds its way up Alani’s throat, and the sound would typically bring butterflies to his stomach, but it only exacerbates the heartache.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alani clarifies. “He’s delusional. And a huge pain in the ass, but I think he finally got the hint when I turned him down earlier,”

Harry’s ears perk up at the news, but he’s still wary.

“But you two were—”

“Ancient history,” Alani reassures him, taking another step closer. “He might as well be Socrates,”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he feels a wave of relief wash over his body. The news is music to his ears, but he still wants to know what he had done to make her walk away that night.

“So you weren’t upset because you have a boyfriend and I tried to make a move?”

Alani takes a deep breath, knowing that she has avoided saying her piece long enough. Before she can start, though, a rumble of thunder interrupts her thoughts.

“Can we talk in Stevie? I don’t feel like standing in wet socks again,” she asks, which Harry obliges.

The two climb into the truck and settle in, the atmosphere quickly becoming more intimate than Alani had planned. His vanilla cologne has also become more perceptible in the confined space, and there’s a whiff of spearmint, most likely his gum, that briefly draws her attention to his mouth. She snaps her mind back to the conversation at hand and clears her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, reading his eyes carefully. There’s a faint reassurance behind the emerald surface, so she continues. “For everything that happened last night. You did nothing wrong, please know that,”

Harry wishes he could reach out and comfort her, but he gets the feeling that whatever she’s about to say is important so he doesn’t want to dismiss it.

“It’s hard for me, sometimes, to be around the water,” Alani continues despite the prickling feeling in her eyes. “Because when I was eight years old, I almost drowned,”

The revelation hits Harry like a ton of bricks and all at once he understands. He hadn’t even thought twice about jumping into the water that night, so it didn’t occur to him to rule that out as a possible offense. He understands now that he couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“And I know that has nothing to do with you,” Alani explains, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Except that it terrified me to think about, you know… if you hadn’t been so lucky,”

Her composure quickly cracks, a single tear spilling down her cheek before she wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater. This time, Harry does reach a hand out and Alani accepts it gratefully; the warmth of his fingers are a welcome contrast to her icy appendages.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he murmurs as his thumb rubs small circles over the back of her hand.

“But I do,” she sniffles. “Because—”

Alani pauses, unsure of how to finish her thought. Just do what feels right and hope for the best.

“Because I care about you,” she says finally, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobs at her words.

Harry's jaw tightens at her confession and every muscle in his body longs to bring her close, leaving no inch of space between them, but he lets her lead despite his instincts.

"But it’s also because I care about you that I can’t let this go any further,”

Alani’s words surprise herself just as much as they terrify Harry, but she knows that it’s the right thing to do as soon as it’s done.

“Alani—” Harry starts, all of his worst fears crashing down on him.

“Please, don’t make this harder—”

“Don’t I get a say?” he questions, tightening his grip on her hand, though she still manages to slip away.

Alani runs the free hand through her still damp waves and lets another tear roll down her cheek. “What is there left to say?”

“How about ‘I care about you, too’? How about ‘I want to be with you’?”

“It’s too messy—”

“Everyone has baggage,” Harry defends. “God knows I do, and I would never ask you to carry all of that,”

Alani lets her eyes meet his again; they’re bloodshot and glossy, which sends a pang of guilt and sorrow through her entire body.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she reasons, this time thinking not only about her own issues, but about everything—the lies she had told and the ambitions she was still nurturing. She hadn’t given up on her dreams and unless Rolling Stone had suddenly changed their mind about the Joni Mitchell piece, there was only one way she was going to achieve them. Alani hadn’t yet reconciled the fact that she would have to put aside her own feelings for Harry to get what she wanted, but she knew that time would heal the wounds.

“All I want,” he continues. “Is a chance. And I know nothing I do will ever change the past, but two hands make the load lighter. So, please, let me carry some of that with you. Give me a chance,”

As she studies the pleading in his eyes, something stirs deeply inside Alani’s chest. She had started the day thinking only of him, but with selfish intentions. Now, she was trying to do right by him, having realized that she couldn’t have both him and the story that would launch her career. Something would have to give, and Harry deserved more than that. He deserved more than her. Despite all of this awareness, there is something else nagging in the back of her mind that she can’t ignore. Don’t walk away, it screams. If Alani ignored her true feelings for Harry and refused his plea, she would be walking away from someone who believed in her, someone who cared deeply for, and wanted to understand, her. Perhaps the universe truly had brought Harry for a story, but to be a part of hers instead of the one she had been so eager to publish. There would be other chances, just like Dr. Hudson had said, but there would never be anyone else like Harry. So with this in mind, Alani decides to stop walking away and stand still, right in this very moment, with the boy who shined brighter than the sun itself and who had only asked for a chance to make her happy.

“Okay,” she breathes and it’s like the weight of the universe has been lifted from her shoulders.

Harry leans in, their foreheads pressed together gently, and cups her cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Alani nods and nudges the tip of his nose with her own. “Please.”

Their lips meet like electrically charged magnets, with a force so natural and strong it sends bolts of electrons through their entire bodies. Harry’s mouth is warm and gentle against hers, and the coolness of his mint gum soothes the searing touch of his kiss. Alani’s fingers glide up his chest and along the sides of his neck, pulling him closer as if he’s the anchor keeping her from floating away into the dark clouds above them. Over and over again, their lips collide fervently, breaths mixing and filling each other’s lungs. Their hands eagerly explore the curves of each other’s faces, the softness of hair, and the occasional heat of exposed skin. Harry is the first to break the kiss, panting lightly as he pulls back to search Alani’s face.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Never been better.”

next chapter

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #solo harry #one direction #ybmh

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sunflowerandco · 3 years

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After the Fact: Act VII - The First of Three

Hey everyone :) here's another chapter, and we're back in present times. i wanted to thank Andy@straighttxhell for being a bilingual queen and helping me with the Spanish dialogue in this chapter you saved me!!

I hope you all enjoy <3

Courtney had her head buried in her textbook when she heard Duncan arrive home from work. She didn't mean to sound defeated in her delivery. "Oh, good. You're home."

He headed toward her study nook. "Missed me that much? What's wrong, Princess?" He questioned her, her look of frustration apparent on her face.

"I just can't get past this scenario in my textbook for my criminal law class."

"Sounds like my thing."

Courtney scoffed. "Hardly..." Duncan looked at her in utmost offense. "Oh, don't get offended. I just consider you...retired."

"That's more like it. I retired for a life in peace with my lady."

Courtney agreed playfully to appease him. "Yes, definitely." He leaned down, pecking her on her lips.

"But, yeah, what was the problem-thing?"

She turned her head over her shoulder to explain the dilemma, eventually turning the chair toward him. "Basically, they're asking me if this scenario requires prosecution: Person A shoots Person B in an attempt to kill them. However, Person B was already dead before Person A pulls the trigger. My question is: where does the line between motive and convenience become blurred? When does the defendant become a total liability for the damage done?"

Duncan hadn't felt this lost since he attended his Pre-Calculus class on accident. All he knew was that he has been referred to as 'defendant' a couple times in his life. "Well, the defendant could still be a good liar."

"...What?"

"You said he'd become a liability? But, how could that mess up his ability to lie?"

She closed her eyes as she tried to make sense of his statement. "Duncan... that has to be the most incoherent thing I've ever heard you say." She shamefully side-eyed to herself. "Why was that so hot?"

"Oh?" He smirked, egging her on. He still had no idea what he was talking about, but he liked flustering her in any way he could. He couldn't keep a straight face as he continued on. "I'm serious, babe! I've been a defendant enough times to know about lying abilities."

Courtney shook her head slowly, unbuttoning her shirt, but didn't let it fall. "That was so stupid. Fuck me."

Courtney never had to say those words more than once. They became one, an unconstrained, vocal Courtney flush against the wall with her legs wrapped around Duncan's waist clawing at his back.

***

Courtney groaned at the very last task she and Bridgette needed to complete: setting the table for the dinner both her and Duncan's parents were invited to in celebration of their engagement. A good amount of time had passed since the news broke. But, it was still an opportunity for everyone to meet and spend some time together.

"I'm just so freaking tired. I couldn't get out of bed this morning." Courtney handed the other end of the table cloth to Bridgette. "Duncan had to carry me to the shower."

Bridgette and Courtney lifted the cloth into the air, one losing sight of the other. Bridgette spoke as it slowly rested on top of the table. "Is he really that good?" She smirked as she smoothed out the edges with her hands.

"Please. Like his ego could use any more inflation..." Bridgette still waited for an answer, making Courtney give in. "Yes. But, he never tires me out to that point."

"Maybe you've been too stressed lately?"

"I suppose so. Planning this dinner, getting our families to come together all on the same day sure did wear us the hell out." They were done setting the table when Courtney raised the question. "Are you sure you don't wanna stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to, but..."

"But?!"

"I'm starting my fertility treatment today. Geoff and I have been trying for over a year, and we need the extra help."

Courtney pulled her into a hug. "I hope everything goes well. You know I love you. If you need to talk about anything, I'm here."

Bridgette took in her words before changing the subject. "Thank you. I love you, too, Court. So, what about you guys?"

"What about us?"

"You know... have you and Duncan talked about babies?"

She and Bridgette each sat on a dining chair in unison; Courtney sighed louder than she meant to in exhaustion. "I mean of course! But, I have this three year plan: finish law school, become a prosecutor, get married, and move out all in three years."

"That's quite the plan."

"Oh, that's nothing. I haven't even gotten to the two-year within the three-year plan."

"You have a plan for your plan?" Bridgette's head spun trying to wrap her head around Courtney's obsession with organization. "Never mind, the word's lost its meaning."

***

After their parents had done their formal introductions to each other, they settled into their seats for dinner. Besides story exchanging and pleasant conversation, Courtney had to deal with an occasional all-knowing stare from her mother. She tried her best to ignore it for the sake of a successful dinner. She was also coping with the fact that she was still hungry after eating her serving.

"Are you gonna finish that, babe?"

"Uh... no. Here, take it."

She smiled, scraping the last of Duncan's pasta on her plate. "Thank you. I just haven't eaten all day."

Courtney's mother called from across the table. "Can you help me with something in the kitchen, honey?"

Courtney nodded, getting up from her seat. They walked in together while her mother pulled her into a closer corner of the kitchen, speaking in a hushed tone.

"¿Por qué no me dijiste?"

Why didn't you tell me?

Courtney gave her a confused look, encouraging her to explain further.

"Que estás embarazada."

That you're pregnant.

Courtney furrowed her brows at her incredulous statement. "Qué? ¡No estoy embarazada!"

What? I'm not pregnant!

"Conozco a mi hija."

I know my daughter.

"Mamá! No digas tonterías!"

Mom, stop talking nonsense!

"No tienes que creerme. Pero aléjate de la champaña."

You don't have to believe me but stay away from the champagne.

Courtney rolled her eyes as Duncan walked into the kitchen.

"Everything okay in here?"

"Sí, mi amor- yes, everything's fine. Mamá just wanted me to take out this stack of plates."

"They're too heavy, cariño-"

Courtney widened her eyes and spoke through gritted teeth, signaling for her mother to stop this in front of Duncan. "I got it."

They all returned to their seats with Courtney demanding everything to be resumed to normal without her mother's theories.

***

Courtney stood in front of the mirror assembling her outfit for her very first mock trial. While she still struggled with her energy level hitting a new low, Courtney had been looking forward to this assignment for weeks. She brought out her favorite suit jacket and skirt to match, trying to slip it on with ease when she hit a snag at the button on her waist. Courtney tried her hardest to slip the button through until it eventually popped, landing on the floor.

"Goddamn it!"

Duncan called from the hallway as he approached their bedroom. "What happened?"

"My favorite skirt... I popped the damn button. I must've gained some weight." Courtney knew it was nearly impossible to stay the same weight she was five years ago, but was still sad to see her skirt go.

Duncan shamelessly eyed her backside. "Maybe there are consequences for havin' a fatty."

Courtney sighed defeatedly. "Now what am I gonna wear?" He gingerly held her by the waist, his arms wrapping around her torso, and eyed her through the mirror when he reassured her. "You would look amazing in anything, babe."

A smile crept the corner of her lips as she held the hands he wrapped around her. He let her go after pecking her on the cheek and she settled for a newer pantsuit that aligned with her figure. She was seconds away from heading out the door when Duncan called out to her; she only used her head to turn back to him.

"Hey! You forgot something."

"What?"

His hand swiftly slapped her ass and she yelped. She would've kicked him if she wasn't already about to miss her train.

"I'm going to kill you later!"

"I love you, too, Princess!"

***

She figured if she distributed her energy into the testimonies she'd ace the mock trial with flying colors.

Her body had other plans by the end of the trial.

Courtney tried to muster up the energy she had to give her mock closing argument. She used her arms to lift her up from the chair and she sauntered to the fake jury.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, the evidence lays out right in front of you: the bloodied bat, motive, and an eyewitness that places the defendant right at the crime scene. Do not let Alicia become a statistic. Put her sadistic killer rightfully where he belongs."

She took a deep breath before she turned around to head back to her seat. Her head spun and she tried to focus on the seat she was getting to until it was too blurry to see. Her eyes shut as she fell onto the floor. She fell in and out of consciousness as she heard fragments of voices around her.

...an ambulance!

...she have a pulse?

Stay with me, Ms. Courtney.

***

Duncan received a call from the hospital and rushed out of the tattoo shop without much thought. When he reached Courtney's hospital room, Duncan found her mother standing outside exchanging pleasantries with the doctor. He assumed she had just made it there as well.

"Now, you're Mom and..?"

"Boyfriend," Duncan answered.

"Boyfriend." The doctor reiterated while shaking his hand. "I'm Doctor Holt and I've been taking care of Ms. Courtney. She's going to be fine. We're just monitoring her blood pressure, making sure she's getting some rest. Fainting is a common occurrence in the first trimester."

Duncan nodded, accepting the verdict until he realized the last three words that came out of the doctor's mouth. He furrowed his brow in confusion and disbelief. He took pauses, stammered over his words as he tried to catch his breath the last three words stole from his lungs. "Th-the first trimester? ...Of pregnancy?"

"Yes...?"

"I knew it!" Courtney's mother exclaimed in victory over her intuition. Duncan whipped his head to the left of him in shock.

"You knew?!"

"Well, not knew, per se. A mother can just tell." This time Doctor Holt chimed in realizing his mistake.

"I'm so sorry. I couldn't ask her about the possibility of her being pregnant. She kept falling in and out of consciousness and I just decided to draw her blood for a test. I needed to know to care for her properly. If you don't know, then that means she definitely doesn't know she's pregnant."

"If it's not too much, I'd like to tell my daughter the news."

"I'm not against that," Doctor Holt declared. "I just need to be in the room when it happens. I'll be back in about five minutes to see if she's awake." He turned to enter another patients room down the hall. Lorena looked over to her future son-in-law being uncharacteristically silent, looking at Courtney through the door's window.

"How are you doing, Pobrecito?"

He didn't divert his gaze. The longer he stared, the more he was able to accept the fact. A small smile crept upon his face seeing his girl so sound asleep. For once, Duncan didn't feel resistant to change. When he looked at Courtney he didn't doubt either of their abilities; only relief took over as he ascertained that she was his partner in this journey. The only thing bringing him out of his thoughts were the angry exclaims from Lorena.

"Now you decide to show up after all these years?!" Duncan turned to see a tall man with graying hair in a suit.

Courtney rarely spoke of her father. Duncan had an idea why she didn't; the words exchanged between her parents confirmed his assumptions and her apprehensiveness when he asked. There were some things Courtney just didn't talk about with anyone and Duncan felt he needed to respect that no matter the circumstance. Her father answered, his tone devoid of any emotion. Every sentence suggested his presence was strictly business and contrasted her Lorena's emotional articulation.

"I'm still on her emergency contact card, so I'm entitled to know the status of my daughter's health."

"You can't just decide to be a father whenever you want! She and Kate are past the age of needing their father, if you couldn't tell."

"Because, of course, you're doing a fine job." He retorted, gesturing to Courtney's state.

"What happened to her is no one's fault. Not even her own." Lorena crossed her arms in frustration, defensive over him undermining all of her work. "Courtney and Kate have their mother. I knew I didn't give our daughters your last name for a reason!"

Duncan intervened when he saw Courtney staring through the window. "Please! Stop. She's awake." He turned to her father. He knew nothing about him, not even his first name. Still, he immediately wanted to diffuse the situation to diminish any stress Courtney could be feeling. Duncan tried his best to steer him away without revealing any information. "It's your best interest to leave. The doctor told us Courtney is fine and we've got it under control, but she doesn't need any more stress as it is." Lorena had the last word before her father left Courtney again.

"If she needed you, she'd call you herself."

***

Courtney's eyes fluttered open to offending voices. She knew she was going to the hospital from what the EMT told her while she lied in the ambulance. She just didn't know how much time had passed between then and now. Courtney enjoyed the feeling of being well-rested before she sat up, squinting her eyes to catch a glimpse of the arguing pair in the hallway. Her eyes widened when she witnessed her mom pointing her finger at her dad while he stood there completely composed and unbothered. Courtney froze and could only stare at them in their usual mode of communication.

It took her back to the little girl watching her father make his yearly visit, her mother denying him access for the emotional protection of her daughters. She remembered watching from the top of the stairs, hoping her sister wouldn't wake from the sound of their parents fighting. At the age of ten Courtney promised herself she wouldn't let herself feel that helpless ever again. That she'd never let her father ever make her feel unwanted.

Their yelling ceased when Duncan interrupted the both of them, signaling to them about her being woken up. The next thing she saw was her boyfriend inaudibly addressing her father rather seriously. His hand gestures and facial expressions indicated he was dismissing him. It seemed to work. Her mother spoke again, but she didn't want to ask her what was said. Whatever she said made him walk away. Courtney's stress levels seemed to be more manageable as she waited on her family to enter her room. No less than a few minutes later Duncan and Lorena entered her room with her mother attaching herself to Courtney in a worrisome hug.

"My baby! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay." She felt like she was comforting her mother more than anything. She patted her on the back as she gave Duncan a small smile while he let the two of them have their moment.

A doctor unfamiliar to Courtney followed along and introduced himself to her. "I'm Dr. Holt. Glad to see you're awake." He checked her blood pressure on a monitor before continuing. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine..." Courtney didn't feel comfortable with the diverse expressions strewn across the three of their faces. She turned to her mother who seemed to be eager to speak. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She couldn't tell the nature of her diagnosis that she hadn't received yet. Duncan seemed be to readying himself while her mother looked to the doctor for an 'okay' to give her the news. Doctor Holt nodded to confirm.

"Mija, you are pregnant."

Courtney looked up at her mom again, slightly embarrassed. She doubled-down on their discussion at the dinner party last weekend. "Mom, I told you to stop this in front of Duncan-"

"Baby," Courtney stopped and turned to him. He made eye contact with her and her face softened when his hand ran up and down her calf covered by the blanket. His eyes were reassuring as he tried to prepare her for his statement. "It's true."

Doctor Holt began to speak about how it's an early pregnancy, but any details disclosed by her doctor came and went as an abundance of thoughts pervaded Courtney's mind. She tried to pay attention to the advice he gave her. Manage stress, drink water, set a sleep schedule. She felt this news would be an added amount of stress to a mound caving in.

***

Courtney sat on a stool near Bridgette's kitchen island. She barely spoke out of nervousness, letting Bridgette handle most of the conversation.

"So, my test came out negative." Bridgette poured a hefty amount of wine into her glass. She held up an empty one to signal her offering Courtney some.

"Oh... I'm so sorry, Bridge." Courtney's nervousness raised after hearing the news. She noticed her nonverbal offer and tried to answer simply. "Oh, no thanks. I need to drink more water. Doctor's orders."

"It's okay. Maybe I was destined to have the exact problems my mom had. You know, I dread waiting for the results now. It's like I'm manifesting seeing only one line on that stupid, goddamned stick."

"Come here." Courtney pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back. The tears began to sting resting atop the brims of her eyes. Her initial reason for stopping by took a backseat in her mind. When they broke apart Bridgette immediately took to her defeated demeanor.

"I didn't notice before, but you look really worried. What's wrong, Courtney?"

"Nothing. I had something to tell you, but I don't think it's the right time."

"No... I ranted. Now it's your turn. It's not a friendship if only one person gets to unload their emotions." Bridgette reassured her. "Tell me."

"Okay." Courtney took a deep breath, instinctively clutching her stomach. "I just want to preface by saying I am in no means trying to make your day worse."

"...Okay..." Bridgette crossed her arms in confusion, but pointed to the hands on her stomach. "Are you...?"

Courtney nodded silently. Her expression became unreadable at her conflicting emotions. "Yes..." Tears started welling up into her eyes and she couldn't tell if she was happy or sad to bring those two words into her reality. She was practically whispering, hoping this change wouldn't bring any destruction to her realm. "I'm pregnant."

Bridgette smiled in shock. "Babe?? Congratulations!" Bridgette quickly brought her into a hug. Her reaction surprised Courtney given how upset she had been. "How far along are you? How did you find out?"

Courtney felt she should be smiling. She felt she should be incredibly happy at the fact. Instead a tear fell down her cheek. "A month. We just found out at the hospital." Courtney was adamant no one knowing about her stint at the hospital. "I only wanted to tell you, because I-I'm just trying to make sense of this and you're my best friend..."

Bridgette noticed Courtney was increasingly feeling less than thrilled the more she explained. "Are you keeping the baby?"

"We don't know, yet. Duncan was excited, but I'm just...- This was not my plan, you know? I haven't even finished school, yet. We can't afford a bigger place because I haven't started my career. This was supposed to come after. After the wedding, after school."

"I understand your feelings, and I'm with you no matter what decision you make. But, there's no set plan for life. Take a lesson out of whatever choice you make, and do what you think is best for all involved."

***

Courtney opened the apartment door and noticed a distinct smell coming from the kitchen. It reminded her of her favorite chicken her mother made for her and Kate when she got home from work early. She curiously walked into the kitchen to see Duncan in full chef mode. He greeted her

"Hey, babe. Are you hungry? I'm making this recipe your mom wrote down for me the other day."

She only stood still as she watched him stir the contents of the pan.

There was nothing Duncan could get out of Courtney after the news broke about their pregnancy. She had completely shut him out for the rest of the week, burying herself in her homework, studying, and whatever else she could distract herself with. She couldn't look at him when they talked and her answers were shortened to simple, one-worded responses, or sometimes none at all.

He opened the refrigerator door behind him to fetch her a bottle of water. "Did you drink enough water today?" He held it out for her to take.

Courtney dropped her bag and rushed into his arms crying. this time she's wailing. Duncan is purely shocked; he's never seen her so emotional. He spent the better half of this week trying to get her to speak. But, he didn't expect this kind of response from her. He placed the bottle on the counter and wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he tried to console her in a hushed tone.

"Hey, hey, no... What's wrong, Princess?"

She was barely coherent, still sobbing over her words. "You're just... too nice. I haven't been nice at all ever since we found out. And you seem so ready and calm and I'm just neither of those things. What if I suck at being a mom? What if I can't make them happy?

"I'm calm because, one, I still wanted to treat you like I normally do. And, two, yes this is shocking news, but... it's you. if I'm gonna embark on this part of life, the only person I trust enough to do the best job is you." She faced him this time, still sniffling but calmed, and he continued.

"You're incredibly smart, ambitious, and beautiful. I'm cool, strong, and hot. Our kid wins the genetic lottery."

Courtney shook her head, half smiling. "Of course you'd point that out." She buried her head in his chest again, letting him run a hand through her hair.

"'Cause it's true," he said chuckling. "Whatever decision you make, I'm with you every step of the way. Okay?" She nodded and he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. When they parted, he ordered her to relax in the living room while he continued cooking. In his mind, he knew everything would be alright; as long as he didn't burn the chicken.

A/N: hello and thank you for reading :) there will be more; hopefully soon. also

fatty=big butt don't worry duncan's not calling her a mean insult i swear lol

#duncney #td courtney #td duncney

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hotchscotchh · 3 years

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The Milk Cooler

Hey y’all! I’m not sure how much I like this one, I also have absolutely no idea where the idea for it came from lmao

Summary: Spencer meets a strange man from the other side of the milk cooler

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Warnings: FLUFF

Word count: 1.5k

Read on AO3

Spencer Reid absolutely, positively, hated his job. It wasn’t that he wanted to work here, he just needed the money and nowhere else was hiring. Now, he wasn’t worried about paying for his classes at Georgetown, he was worried about being able to keep him mom in the Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas. Spencer often had a hard time believing he allowed himself to move so far away from his mother and his hometown. Though he didn’t have many good memories of the town, he often found himself missing the warm weather and going into the city to outsmart anyone he could at the casinos.

Anyway, Spencer had found himself working at a local grocery store that was only a few blocks away from his current apartment. The work was seemingly meaningless busywork. But, if he was making money, he was making money. And that’s what mattered, right? Spencer had just turned 20 last week. He finished his second doctorate, which was in chemistry, the month before. He already had one in math and was about to begin a third in engineering. He also had a few bachelor’s degrees under his belt and was now working on one in psychology. He had big dreams of working the FBI’s renowned Behavior Analysis Unit. His mother was always good at reading people and it was a skill he had gratefully picked up.

Spencer’s favorite task at the grocery store had always been and will always be restocking the milk cooler. When he was doing that, he didn’t have to face any other people. Spencer had tried being a cashier for a while, but he was just too socially awkward to be able to interact with that amount of people on a daily basis. So, his manager decided he would be better off stocking shelves. This made Spencer’s life a little easier and a lot less stressful. The work was easy, mindless, he could let his mind wander and not be seen as crazy for just thinking and not responding to things around him. He had to talk to a lot less people this way. Sure, the odd person would ask him for help finding something sometimes, and of course he would help them. He didn’t mind little interactions like that.

Spencer’s world was spun on its axis one day while he was stocking the milk cooler. He never had to interact with people while he was there. But one day, he noticed there was an entire row of half-gallon bottles of whole milk empty. He silently thanked the workers from the shift before, as it gave him an excuse to be in the cooler for longer than normal. It took him a few minutes to locate the half-gallons, but when he did, he set right to work. As soon as he had set the first carton of milk in the slot, the cooler door opened, and a hand reached in to take it out. Spencer didn’t notice this and jumped when the next carton slid all the way to the front of the slot.

“Well, hello in there,” a deep voice said from the other side.

“Uh, h-hi,” Spencer stuttered out, shocked that the strange man had noticed he was in there.

“Havin’ fun back there?”

Spencer gave a breathy laugh. The voice was attractive, and he was unusually flustered by it. “Sure,” he replied, “If you consider picking up on your coworker’s slack fun.”

It was the other man’s turn to laugh. Spencer shifted his position, wondering if he could get a good look at the mysterious man who was talking to him through a milk cooler. “Tryna get a look at me, Pretty Boy? I can see you back there.”

Spencer jumped. “Um, n-no, just uh… trying to get back to work,” he managed to sputter out. He reached up to place another carton of milk in the slot. The man on the other side chuckled and reached out to grab Spencer’s hand softly. “I’ll see you around, Pretty Boy.”

The milk door closed. Spencer tried to shake off the interaction and get back to work, but he ended up being flustered and distracted for the rest of his day.

----

Derek Morgan also happened to be a student at Georgetown. He didn’t have three PhD’s and two BA’s though. He was just working on a bachelor’s in psychology. So, when he went to get a half-gallon of whole milk from the grocery store, he was surprised to find the cute little quiet boy that sat in the back of his psych class stocking the cooler. Derek kind of had a thing for the boy, not that he would admit it. He’d never even spoken to the kid (he didn’t even know his name!), and before today, he was fairly certain he wouldn’t. But after that encounter, how could he not? The kid had been so flustered, just by the little not-even-a-conversation conversation they had. Derek wanted to see him blush in full light, and not half hidden by the shelves in the cooler. He decided that night that he would not go another day without properly talking to this kid.

----

The next morning, Derek got to class early, hoping the boy would already be there and he could talk to him for a minute or two. He wasn’t surprised to see that Spencer was the only one in the room, even before the professor. He slid into the seat next to him. Spencer was lost in a book and didn’t hear the door opening or the man sliding into the seat beside him.

“Good morning, Pretty Boy,”

Derek said quietly, smirking. Spencer jumped, again, and looked over at Derek, finally realizing that there was someone else in the room. “I- what? Pretty Boy?”

“You seemed to like it when I called you that from the other side of the milk cooler last night.”

Spencer’s eyes widened and he blushed a furious shade of red. “That was you? Wait you, someone who looks like, well, that, thinks I am pretty?”

Derek chuckled. “Sure thing, Pretty Boy. Do you have a pretty name to go with your pretty face?”

“I’m not pretty,” Spencer insisted. “But my name is Spencer.”

“Oh, you definitely are pretty. It’s almost a crime that anyone would let you think otherwise. My name’s Derek. Any chance you would want to get coffee with me after class?”

“I’d love to Derek, but I have plans to go sit in on Alex Blake’s linguistics lecture. Unless you want to come with me, that is.” Spencer couldn’t believe how easily the words were flowing from his mouth. He had never been able to speak to someone like this before. There was something about the way Derek looked at him that put him at ease.

“That sounds wonderful, Spencer.” Spencer blushed redder, if that was even possible, and ducked his head. Their professor starting his lecture ended their conversation.

----

An hour and a half later, Spencer found himself sitting in a coffee shop with two caramel lattes and Derek Morgan in front of him. He still couldn’t believe that someone that looks like Derek Morgan would be attracted to someone that looks like him.

Derek pulled him out of his thoughts by saying, “so, what are you studying at Georgetown?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Spencer replied with a small giggle. “I have two PhD’s, one in mathematics and one in chemistry, I’m starting one in engineering next week. I also have a couple odd BA’s, and obviously I’m working on my psych one right now.”

“What are you, some kind of genius?”

Their conversation continued like this until their lattes were gone, and then some. Derek asked Spencer if he could walk him home. Spencer blushed and nodded. When they made it out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his.

“This okay, Pretty Boy?” Spencer nodded again and squeezed Derek’s hand.

They walked the few blocks back to Spencer’s apartment building in silence, enjoying the company and the beautiful day, only stopping when they reached Spencer’s door.

“I’d love to do this again sometime, Derek,” Spencer said, surprising himself. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote his phone number on Derek’s arm.

When he was done writing, he looked back up at Derek and gave a big grin, proud of himself. Derek reached his hand up to Spencer’s face and cradled one cheek.

Spencer leaned into the touch. Derek came a step closer. “Can I kiss you?” Instead of giving an answer, Spencer leaned forward and pressed his lips to Derek’s, giving him a soft, chaste kiss. “No more until you call me,” Spencer said after he pulled away, slipping into his apartment and leaving a shocked Derek Morgan outside.

Taglist: @peachpitfics @wheelsup @endingsbeginnings @ssa-kassidyhughes @criminalmindsfan13

#Moreid #Derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #fluff #to the max #spencer reid #derek morgan #spencer gets a kith #eee #i thinks its cute #idk

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lunatiqez · 9 months

Text

“BAD DAYS” — Texas McCormick.

PAIRING: Texas McCormick x fem!reader

GENRE: Romance

SUMMARY: Texas was having a bad day, and you took notice. So, being the good girlfriend you are, you invited him over to your house to talk about it

WORD COUNT: 0.6k

A/N: Short and sweet !! Tex gets some princess treatment tbh,,, he deserves it !! Requested by @viviannagiorgini !! not proofread!

TEXAS WAS SO COMFORTABLE WITH YOU smell, your feeling, your presence, just you. That being said, his way of calming down would be quality time with his girlfriend. Tex would never outright admit to it, but you were one of his only ways of calming himself down, other than Rowdy.

You and Tex had only a few classes together, but in the ones you did have together, Tex would try anything to be near you.

“Tex, sit down!” Called your teacher.

“What? What?? I have to sharpen my pencil!” Texas argued.

“Mhm, and you choose the one all the way across the room? By Y/N, coincidentally?” Your teacher placed her hands up her hips.

Texas smiled cheekily. “Heh, yeah. That one by my desk don’t work as well as this one.” He shrugged, making you snicker.

“Sit down.”

But today, Tex was acting differently. He was reserved, and for once, actually working. He didn’t talk to Johnny, or Jamie, he didn’t even talk to you.

He ate his food in silence at lunch— despite your efforts to make conversation. Something was definitely wrong.

After lunch, he dumped his tray and hurried to his locker. You rushed up behind him and tapped him on his shoulder.

“Tex, is everything alright?” You rested your hand on him, comforting him. He looked at you, his eyes softening at your face.

“Just havin’ a bad day is all. I’ll be okay.” He muttered.

“Tex, you wanna come home with me after school? My mom won’t be home ‘til 5.”

“I was gonna go dirt biking with Johnny after school, b—“

“Oh! Okay, that’s fine. Have fun, yeah?”

“No! No— I wanna go home with you, I’ll go home with you.” You giggled.

“Alright, I’ll see you later handsome.”

You calling Tex handsome was his absolute Achilles heel. He was weak in the knees for you.

After school, you rushed to his last class of the day and waited for him. He came out, not smiling until he got a glimpse of you.

“Hey, babe. Ready?”

“I’ve been ready, Texas.” He chuckled and threw his arm over your shoulder, leading the way out of the building.

The two of you weren’t very talkative on your way home, but you could tell he was still being bothered by whatever it was that had ruined his day. You always could read him like a book, and it was no different now. You just had to get to the bottom of why he was feeling the way he was.

When you unlocked the door to your house, Tex kicked off his boots and started walking to your room. He flopped face down on your bed and sighed, taking in the smell of your freshly washed blankets. You sat beside him, rubbing his back.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really goin’ on, huh?”

You turned his head to face you, it still being flush against your mattress. He knew that you wanted to help him get through whatever it was.

You scooted back against your headboard and Tex placed his head in your lap. You instinctively brought your hands to his soft and silky hair, twirling it around your fingers and scratching his scalp.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I think I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Texas said as he leaned into your touch.

“You think I believe that, Tex?”

“I’m serious! I just didn’t feel like myself today. Can’t I have bad days? Huh?” You giggled.

“Hey, I never said that. I’d just prefer it if you didn’t. Makes me feel bad for you.”

“Maybe I should have bad days all the time. I never get treated like this on my good days!”

“You never ask to get treated like this, Tex.

#tex 1982 #Texas McCormick 1982 #texas mccormick x reader #texas mccormick x you #texas mccormick x y/n #texas mccormick headcanons #Matt Dillon #matt dillon 1982 #Matt Dillon Tex #matt dillon x reader #matt dillon x you #Matt Dillon x y/n #📝 — liv’s requests ★.#📂 — liv’s writings ★.

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

8. Changes

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 8.6k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK TO JOIN THE TAGLIST

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: this chapter includes mention of an unreleased song of Harry’s, Already Home. there are no known lyrics, and so i wrote my own. i have no knowledge of the actual lyrics, the meaning of the song, or anything of that nature - i just like the name of the song. xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Shortly after they arrived back in the states, Y/N finally called her mom back. She had needed the time to think, to process, to figure out what she wanted to say. But the minute her mother answered the phone in tears, a flurry of apologies and please forgive me, Y/N knew she didn’t have it in her to tell her mom all the things she had prepared. Her mom knew how she had hurt Y/N, and Y/N didn’t feel the need to fight again. So her mom came down to visit, spending time in their house, staying in the guest bedroom down the hall. The more time she spent with Harry, the more she let go of her preconceived notions of him, of the father he would be, and saw the Harry that Y/N had fallen deeply in love with. By the end of the long weekend, her mother had apologized to Harry too, and he had accepted. It fixed a fragile place in her heart to see her mother who, despite everything, she loved endlessly, and the man she loved mend the bridges between them.

Y/N celebrated her birthday in their house, a small party for just their close friends that doubled as an announcement of their baby and as a celebration of her 24th year. Harry had decked the whole house out and even wrote her a special birthday song that her crying by the end of it. And that night, curled up in bed, Harry gave her his birthday present, dressed only in his boxers, his eyes teary as he sang her the song he had written about their child.

“When you told me/

I love you/

I couldn’t leave/

I was already home/

When you told me/

We were havin’ a baby/

I couldn’t leave/

I was already home/

You asked me where was home/

I didn’t know how to say/

I was already home/

Home in your arms/

Home in your lips/

Home in your voice/

Home with our baby/

Oh, I was already home.”

His voice crooned in her ears, soft and gravelly in the echo of their room. Y/N didn’t know how to even describe the way it felt to have him sing her a song he had written about her, about their child, about their life. When the song ended, the words “I was already home” on a loop in her mind, she reached out her hand and pulled Harry down onto the mattress so their faces were inches apart.

“You know,” she whispered, fingers brushing against his jaw, “I’m happy every single day that I let you take me out.” He leaned over and captured her lips in a kiss that stopped her heart. Fingers threading through her hair before coming to rest on her neck, keeping her close to him. “Love you so much,” she murmured against his lips. “Love that you’re the father to my baby, love that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he replied, tugging her bottom lip with his teeth. “All yours, baby.”

They moved her furniture out of her apartment slowly, filling the empty spaces in Harry’s place with bits from hers. Her tea kettle on the stove, jackets hung up in his closet, favorite throw pillow on the back of his couch. Now that she had moved into Harry’s home, the fact that they had designed it together made it feel even more like her home. She loved lying out on the back patio at night with Harry curled up next to her, a fire in the fire pit that he had gotten installed, and throwing out baby names. So far they hadn’t settled on anything, but they had decided to keep the gender a surprise.

Once the holiday season was over, they scheduled their dreaded conversation with Jeff. They knew it couldn’t wait any longer, the bible of their joy and happiness without worries coming to a definite end. Harry didn’t tell Jeff what it was about, only to gather the main people in his team, that he had an announcement to make. Y/N’s presence was going to be a surprise.

Jeff and the team sat around a large board table, the florescent lighting hurting Y/N’s eyes as she walked in behind Harry, the conversation halting at her presence. “Y/N,” Jeff said, standing from his chair at the head of the table, “I didn’t know you were coming. Marilyn,” he said to an assistant who poked her head in at the sound of her name, “can you grab a glass of water for Y/N?”

The assistant disappeared and Harry gripped Y/N’s hand, as if to remind her that she was meant to be here. He had told her in the car and in the elevator up to the meeting room, telling her over and over again that she was his family now, that she had every right to be in the room. With Jeff and the team staring at her, though, she wasn’t so sure.

“I want her here,” Harry told them, voice firm. “And every other major meeting after this if she’s available.” That was news to her. He wanted her to be in the room, to be a deciding voice in his career and his life. It meant more to her than she could even express, so she settled with a brush of her finger against his wrist.

“Well,” Jeff said, sitting back down as Y/N’s water glass appeared, “why don’t you have a seat, then.”

Harry sat down in the chair closest to him, and Y/N took the seat next to him, raising the seat slightly. The sound of the squeak of the chair made her grimace, hating the extra attention she had brought to herself.

Jeff leaned forward, hands clasped as he studied the two of them. “Harry, what’s this all about?”

Harry’s eyes flickered to hers, and she nodded. She had already given him the go-ahead to be the one who broke the news. She wanted to let him lead this conversation, to only speak up if she felt the need to. This wasn’t her space, she didn’t know the players, she didn’t want to offend anyone or make everyone think she was just some girlfriend trying to get shit out of him. “We’re having a baby,” he announced, the word We making Y/N smile.

Jeff spit out the water he had just swallowed, eyes flickering between Y/N and Harry. “You—what?”

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N said. “Due in June.”

Harry took her hand on the table before looking back to Jeff. “We need to talk about the tour.”

“Are you sure it’s yours?” One of the other execs said—Y/N didn’t know his name, this having been the first time they met.

“Yes, I know it’s my child,” Harry said, seething as he said the words. He didn’t acknowledge the fact that he hadn’t taken a paternity test, but the thought of it made Y/N’s skin crawl. Of course it was his baby.

“Did you take a test?”

Harry gave Jeff a stare that could’ve started wars. “I am not taking a fucking paternity test, Jeffrey. This is my girlfriend you’re talking about, the mother of my child, having cheated on me. Which did not happen, considering I remember exactly when I got her pregnant. So I’m going to ask you to shut the fuck up about a paternity test, because it’s not happening.”

Y/N didn’t think she had ever been more in love with him than the moment he defended her to his management team, stood his ground and fought back.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Harry said, “we need to talk about my tour.” She could see the tension in Jeff’s shoulders, the anxiety rising in the room as Harry pushed into the part that was going to cause a fight to break out of massive proportions. “I am cancelling the US dates.”

Just as Y/N expected, arguments immediately broke out, all of the execs in the room talking over one another, Jeff’s hands curling in on themselves as he tried to cycle through what was happening around him. The words that were uttered—disappointment and just a baby and no way—made her want to vomit. Harry was gripping her thigh and she didn’t know which one of them he was trying to reassure.

“Shut up!” Harry finally burst out, the chatter ceasing immediately. A sigh left his mouth and he rubbed a hand down his face, Y/N knowing the look of utter frustration on his face. She had seen it many times before. “I’m sorry for yelling, but can we please just talk about this civilly? I know this is not what anyone wants to hear, but I have a kid coming in June, and I’m going to be here. That is non-negotionable. I don’t want to cancel tour any more than you do, but my life, the life of my family, that comes first. Always.”

The execs didn’t say anything, and Y/N could feel the weight of their stares on her, it making her skin crawl. Finally, one of them, a woman, broke the silence. “You’re okay with the rest of the tour, though?”

Harry nodded. “Y/N is going to most likely be with me for the first bit of it until she can’t travel anymore. But otherwise, the rest of it will be as planned.”

They had talked about it yesterday over dinner, Harry wanting to make sure for the final time that it was okay with her that he went on tour in the first place. It wasn’t at the top of her list of things to do, but it was that or he would be doing it later, and she wanted that even less.

“What about rescheduling the US dates?” Jeff offered.

Harry shook his head. “I’m supposed to record next year, be in and out of the studio. And I’m not going on tour just after our baby is born—I’m going to be here as much as possible.”

Jeff considered this before grabbing a pen and paper. “I’ll handle it. But we’re going to need to put out a statement otherwise the fans are going to lose it and the press will have a field day.”

Harry’s eyes moved to Y/N and she nodded. They had written something already, when they were on the plane back from England after the holidays. The hours were long and gave them plenty of time to think through the words, consider every nook and cranny of the announcement. “We, uh, wrote something already,” he said, pulling out his phone. “For my social media.” He tossed his phone down the table, letting Jeff look over the language they had decided on.

Baby Styles, coming June 2018.

Y/N and I are eagerly looking forward to becoming parents, and as a result, I have decided to cancel all US tour dates for this year. I can’t wait to see you all again soon—next time as a father.

All our love, the Styles family x

They had considered making it longer, but ultimately they decided to keep it short and sweet. Harry wasn’t overly expressive on social media anyways, so this fit as much as possible. He had been the one to add the Styles family to the end, rather than just his name, and it had made Y/N kiss him across the armrest on the plane.

“Photo?” Someone asked, probably a PR person.

“We’re going to do a family photoshoot,” Harry piped up. “Already got a date set.” Two weeks from today, Y/N thought to herself. He was already in talks with Harry Lambert over what they were going to wear, Lambert eager at the prospect of dressing her.

“The language is good,” Jeff conceded, “and I like the idea of a photoshoot.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes trained on them. “I’ll handle the tour. It’s going to be shit, but I’ll make it happen.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, squeezing Y/N’s thigh as if to say We won! “I appreciate it.”

Jeff nodded. “I’m not going to tell you to miss the birth of your child, H. Even if it would make my job easier.” Harry let out a soft chuckle, the tension cracking slightly in the room. “We’ll need to talk about paparazzi photos, security, all that. Are you two living together?” Harry and Y/N nodded and Jeff seemed to soften at that. “That will make it better, we already have some restrictions around your home. Are you planning to be in LA after the baby is born?”

“Yes,” Harry replied. They had also talked this over on the plane ride back from LA. Harry wanted Y/N close to her family in the months after, knowing she would need all the support she could get. Not that his family wouldn’t help out, but it wasn’t the same. Anne and Gemma could come to LA—he was happy to fly them out for the birth—but Y/N would want her mom around for a while. The possibility of moving to London eventually was on the table, but Y/N’s job was in LA, while Harry’s could be done anywhere. He recorded in LA mostly, anyway, so they could stay at least until he finished recording the next album. It was easier to stay put, at least for the first few months, before they considered a long-term plan.

“Good,” Jeff said, shuffling some papers. “You get spotted more in London, anyway. Y/N, do you have any questions or thoughts you want to discuss?”

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair at her name. “I just want you all to know that I’m in this for the long haul with Harry. For those of you who don’t know, my dad is a musician, so I know what I’m getting myself into here. And, thank you for doing what you can to make this easier on our family.” She settled back into her chair, smiling at Harry when he squeezed her hand.

The conversation swirled around her, logistics and questions and cities a mess in her brain as she tried to follow along. Papers slid in front of Harry, contracts and things requiring his flicker of a signature across the bottom of the page. He kept looking at her, searching her face for reassurance that she was okay, which she gave. She was always okay with him there. Eventually, the conversations slowed, a list of actionable steps having been made, the PR announcement outlined, everyone’s responsibilities clear. The meeting drew to a close, Jeff pushing back his chair, and Harry rose, Y/N right behind him. Immediately his hand found her back, the press of his skin on her clothing making her warm. Since he had been home from tour they had spent practically every waking moment together, and yet the feeling of him touching her still sent electricity through her body.

“Y/N.” She turned and saw Jeff standing behind her. “I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean any disrespect, I—“

“Was just doing your job,” Y/N finished. “I know. It’s okay. Thank you for everything you’re doing to make sure he’s home with me in June.”

Jeff smiled and let Harry lead her out of the room and towards the elevator. When the doors closed, leaving her and Harry finally alone, Harry curled a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Almost made me cry in there,” he murmured.

“Me too,” she replied, fingers curling into the sweater he wore. She’d gotten it for him for Christmas and he had barely taken it off, loving the baby blue color and the soft material. “I liked hearing that your family would come first.”

He smiled at her and she poked at his dimple, a chuckle escaping his mouth. “You’re my family now, yeah? You and little Peanut. Only ones who matter in this whole world.”

Her arms wrapped around his waist and she tucked her head into his chest, inhaling his cologne and shampoo that lingered in the air. When the elevator doors opened, he led her to the car, one arm around her waist, a soft kiss in her hair.

The month of January passed swiftly, but the highlight of it was when they woke up in the morning and as Y/N was getting dressed, Harry came over, hands on her belly and looked at her with wide eyes. “Got a bump,” he whispered. “That’s our baby, Y/N.”

For Harry’s birthday, she got him a bunch of books about fatherhood and a rocking chair, one that she told him would be perfect for holding their baby while he sang to them, just as she knew he would do. He started crying in what they had decided would be the nursery, a ball of tears on the floor just holding onto her legs, overwhelmed at the thought. It was just one of the things that made her remember that she couldn’t have asked for a better man to raise her child with.

Shortly after his birthday, the statement was released, the posts went up on social media, and for a while all hell broke loose. Her Instagram was flooded with follow requests and she ended up turning her phone completely off for a while to ignore the texts from old friends suddenly wanting to reconnect now that it was public information that she was carrying Harry Styles’s child. Harry did the same, and they spent the week after the announcement wrapped up in one another. They got their family photos framed and hung in their house and sent them to their parents. When he resurfaced, it had calmed down a bit. Fans were frustrated, but ultimately they understood, and the comments on his posts were widely loving and happy which was a relief to them both.

She told her boss a few weeks into February, since at that point her bump was noticeable—she could still fit into some of her clothes, but not nearly as comfortably as before. Her boss told her that her job was safe, and that Y/N was welcome to be a part of their search for a temp to pick up the extra slack when she was gone from the office. She also broached the idea of working remotely while she toured with Harry, and once she explained the situation, her boss’s eyes softened. Of course, she had said. We’ll figure it out. It was reassuring to have a boss who was willing to work with her at least, who placed importance on the work/life balance of her employees, since so many did not.

That news took a weight off of Y/N’s shoulders, and Harry could feel it in her presence. She was freer, sillier, worried less about work, about the baby. She giggled when he talked to her belly, sucking gooseberries into her skin that had her tugging at his head to get him off of her in a fit of laughter. Harry loved seeing her body change, loved waking up in the morning and running his fingers over her swelled skin, talking to their child before she woke up and knew what was going on. He found himself watching her move around their house, absentmindedly touching the bump where their child lay, muttering to herself.

She was well into her second trimester, her appetite increasing both in the kitchen and in bed. Harry loved how her hands were on him the second she was home from work, begging him to touch her, that she had been thinking about him all day. Their bed got more use than ever, Y/N’s fingers twisting in the sheets as he pressed deep inside of her, murmuring how beautiful she looked in her ears because it was true. Something about her lying naked on his bed, her pregnant belly between them, the glow on her skin, had him falling deeper and deeper in love with her.

Dr. Crawford recommended that she do some light exercise to help with the aches that had settled into her body, so Harry took it upon himself to do it with her in addition to his normal routine. They went on hikes and were left largely undisturbed as they climbed through the hills, Y/N in a pair of leggings that still fit and an old shirt of Harry’s. Their evenings were spent looking for nursery furniture and baby clothing, although at the rate people were sending them onesies (friends, family, and designers) they had a feeling they would barely need to buy any.

The spent their second Valentine’s Day together with a picnic in Harry’s backyard, still trying to keep a low profile. It wasn’t their dream, but it would do. They rigged up an outdoor movie screen using a projector Y/N borrowed from Hanna and watched old romance movies, Harry feeding Y/N chocolate covered strawberries in an attempt to be cheesy, their limbs twisted up under the blanket. The night ended in a less than PG way, and Y/N loved every second of, especially because it was with Harry.

As February drew to a close and the tour loomed in front of them, Y/N kicked into high gear.

“We need to get the nursery all set up,” she told him as they drove through LA after going to the farmer’s market, their usual Sunday morning routine. “I don’t want to come home after tour and feel all stressed about not being ready.”

Harry took a sip of his coffee they’d gotten at a local stand and nodded. “What all do we still need?”

“Loads.” Y/N pulled up the note she had on her phone and began to read off items until he shushed her.

“I got it,” Harry said. “Do we need to go shopping then?”

She had been avoiding going in person as much as possible, but she had yet to be able to make the plunge on a crib online. There was something holding her back, the fear that it would be wrong and then having to deal with the logistics of sending it back. “I think so. I know that it’s not best, but I—“

Harry just shook his head though, turning on his blinker to turn off the road they were on. “Hush. Let’s just go now, okay? Already out and about.”

“What about the stuff from the farmer’s market?”

“It’ll be fine for a bit,” he told her, turning left in the direction of the buybuyBABY, the store they both made fun of constantly, and yet here they were. “We’ve got the list, right? Don’t have to get everything today, but let’s at least put a dent in it.”

That was easier said than done. They had been in the store for three hours, overwhelmed at the sheer number of options of every item on their list, and yet somehow their cart was already half full with bibs, burp cloths, milk storage containers, a breast pump, multiple bottles and nipple brushes, and a couple nursing pillows because Harry didn’t want her to have to go upstairs to get them every time Y/N needed one. There were diapers and waterproof covers, baby ointments they had spent fifteen minutes discussing the chemicals contained in them, disposable wipes, toys for the bath, baby shampoo, brushes. Now, they were standing in the crib section, staring at the choices. Harry had a list up on his phone of “Best Baby Cribs of 2018”, hoping that would help, but half of the specs and advice under each item meant nothing to either of them.

“What if we just get like, a classic one?” Y/N asked, pointing at a simple white one with wooden slats. It looked cute, simple, and would fit well into the nursery.

Harry considered the option before pointing to another, one three times the price. “This one is more convertible,” he said, “and gets great reviews. It’s supposed to have some cool technology too, to help the baby sleep.”

“H,” she said, giving him a pointed look, “it’s just a crib.”

“It’s what our baby is going to sleep in! We can’t make the wrong choice—they need to be as safe as possible. Can’t them falling out of it or somethin’.”

“I don’t think they’re going to fall out,” she huffed before looking back to the furniture. “What if we get a furniture set? A bunch of these are parts of sets. That way everything matches and we knock out everything in one stroke.”

He leaned over the cart, forearms on the handle and surveyed what she was looking at, the details of the rest of the set for a simple crib with great reviews. “Okay. But we’re getting the best bassinet on the market.”

“Fine.” She grabbed the sheet for the set they wanted, the collection knocking out the crib, dresser, and changing table. They headed for the bassinets next, of which Harry was already looking up the top rated one.

“We should get this HALO one,” he said, showing her the picture on his phone. “It swivels.”

She took his phone, getting a closer look at the picture. “Why is that important?”

“So that they can sleep close to you no matter the angle of the bed, it seems.”

“Oh.” The more shopping they did, the more Y/N realized she had absolutely no idea what she was looking for. She hadn’t done a ton of research—she didn’t realize how many brands were out there, how many elements of each item she needed to pay attention to. It was quite daunting, to be honest. “Well, then we’ll get one.”

They turned down the aisle and Y/N stood with the cart while Harry found the one he wanted, grabbing the box and heaving it to the cart. “Stroller is next, yeah?”

She nodded, and they made their way over to the aisle. They were active parents, so they needed something hat could convert easily, Y/N thought to herself. And something easy to use on the airplane—there would be a lot of flying involved in their child’s life, considering not only Harry’s job, but also that they would be visiting London frequently. “H,” she said as they turned down the aisle. “I haven’t done enough research on all this stuff.”

He turned to look at her, stopping the cart in the empty aisle. “What d’ya mean?”

His green eyes were tired—they hadn’t slept until late last night, up late discussing tour logistics and making plans. As tour grew closer, the more they had small arguments, the frustration of having to leave the safety and comfort of their shared home weighing on them. Y/N knew she wanted to be with Harry on tour, but another part of her wondered if it would be easier for her to just stay behind, have more time to prepare. “I just…”

“Hey,” Harry said, pulling her close and brushing at her cheeks where tears had dripped. “You’re going to be an amazing mum, Y/N. All this stuff,” he waved a hand around at their surroundings, “is just stuff. It’s what you do that matters, and you’re going to be incredible. Maybe not perfect, but none of us are, okay? So try to stop putting so much pressure on yourself, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her against his body, their embrace feeling out of place in the florescent lights of the buybuyBABY, but she decided the store had probably seen weirder things.

“You’re going to be a great dad too,” she told him, squeezing at his back. “Already doing so good.”

He tipped her chin up so she looked at him and gave her a tired smile, the one that reminded her how much he had going on and yet still made her a priority every single moment. “We’re going to be a great team, you and me. I’m right here with ya.”

She nodded, before pulling away and turning back to the strollers. “So, I’m thinking we need one that is the most versatile we can find. And it needs to be able to be checked onto an airplane.” Harry chuckled, made some joke about planes, and followed her down the aisle with the cart loaded down with baby supplies, the ever supportive father that he was.

They were in the nursery trying to figure out how to put together all the baby furniture that had finally been delivered, Harry on the floor with a screwdriver and hammer, when Y/N felt it for the first time. A flutter in her stomach that had her gasping and looking down at her now very pregnant belly. She was in maternity clothes after resisting it for weeks, pants with a stretchy waistband that made her feel so fucking pregnant and a big sweatshirt of Harry’s since he insisted on keeping the house freezing cold.

Harry looked up at the sound of her gasp, eyes running over her body to make sure she was okay. “Y/N?”

“H,” she said, hand on her belly in awe, “Peanut kicked!”

“Oh!” He scrambled to his feet, rushing over to her immediately, hands pushing up his sweatshirt and down her pants so her belly was fully exposed. “Peanut, do it again, bubs.”

Peanut, however, did not seem to get the idea. They waited for minutes, Harry sitting on his knees in front of Y/N with his hands on her belly, murmuring at their baby to get a move on so he could feel. “Might be asleep, baby,” she said, brushing at his hair.

Harry frowned. “But why wouldn’t they do it for me?”

“Like me more, I guess.”

He scoffed. “I mean, I would too. But still—I’m their Papa! I deserve to feel the kick, too!”

His utter frustration at Peanut not kicking for him made Y/N smile, the frown on Harry’s face no shifting as he pushed away from her. “I’ll tell you if it happens again,” she told him. “Go finish Peanut’s crib, though.”

“Bossy,” he replied, but moved back to the crib without another word.

Peanut kicked a few more times over the next couple of day, and each time Harry was seconds too late to feel it, his frustration growing. He just wanted to feel his baby, he told Y/N over her one allotted cup of coffee in the morning that he measured out precisely to make sure it wasn’t too much. She felt for him, she really did, but Peanut seemed to be a sleeper—not that she minded. The kicks were a bit annoying, always making her stop what she was doing and breathe in and out at the foreign feeling inside her body. Sometimes she forgot that she was genuinely growing a human inside of her, but then Peanut would kick and remind her all over again.

Hanna and Jamie were over on a Saturday afternoon for a grill out, Harry manning the grill station like it was his full time job. Jamie brought beer for him and Hanna, and Y/N had never been more proud when Harry shook his head at the offer. “Not drinking in solidarity,” he said, which had Hanna cooing and Y/N rolling her eyes. It was a beautiful Spring day in LA and they all decided to go in a dip in the pool. Y/N was upstairs trying to figure out which of her swimsuits would contain her boobs which kept on growing, Harry was in the bathroom putting on some sunscreen.

She walked into the room, tugging on the baby blue triangle bikini so it would cover slightly more of her breast. “None of my bikinis fit,” she huffed out and Harry stopped rubbing the sunscreen into his face at the sight of her.

“Fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathed out and Y/N’s mouth turned up at the sight of his blown out irises. “You tryin’ to get me to fuck you?”

Y/N slid her hands up his back, massaging at the tense muscles in his shoulders. “I don’t have to try, baby.”

“That’s for sure,” Harry replied, bending down and kissing her hand that rested on his clavicle. “I think they fit just fine.”

She scoffed and took the sunscreen from his hand so she could put some on herself. “Well when my left boob pops out, don’t get all pouty if Jamie sees it.”

The frown that crossed Harry’s face at the thought made her smile. He could be such a jealous boy, her man. But she loved him anyways. “’S mean.”

Suddenly, a flutter came from her belly. “Oh!” She grabbed Harry’s palm and practically slapped it on her skin, right over where the kick came. Their eyes met when she felt the flutter again, Harry’s face lighting up at the sensation.

“That’s them?” He asked, voice syrupy sweet. “Little Peanut.”

“Mhm,” she replied, leaning her head against his arm.

He rubbed his hand on her skin, entranced by the fact that his baby lived inside of her. “What does it feel like for you?”

“Like a flutter,” she tried to explain. “Almost like a butterfly in your stomach, but more intense?”

Harry bent down and kissed her belly, right over where the kick had come from. “Givin’ Mama butterflies, little Peanut. Be careful, hmm? Don’t want you to hurt her. She’s pretty important to me.”

She brushed her fingers through his hair, loving his locks in the space between them. “You’re all mushy today, aren’t you?”

He stood up straight and cracked a smile at her. “If you didn’t want me to be mushy shouldn’t have gotten pregnant.”

Y/N slapped at his chest and he laughed. He snatched the sunscreen from her hand and twirled his finger as if to ask her to turn around, which she did. With a dollop of sunscreen in his palm, he began to rub it into her back, massaging at the achey muscles as he did. Her head lolled at the feeling, pliant under his palms. “Feels good,” she murmured.

“Remind me to pack a heating pad for tour,” he said. “Lots of travel, don’t want you to get too achey. Maybe we should get a masseuse on tour, too.”

“Harry, you are not getting a masseuse just for me.”

“If I want to get you a masseuse, I will get you a masseuse.” She leaned her head back and captured his lips in hers, Harry pressing a series of pecks to her lips.

“Hurry up you two! You’re already pregnant, you don’t need to fuck all the time too!” Hanna’s voice floated from downstairs and Harry chuckled against Y/N’s lips.

“Better go, don’t want your friends to get too restless,” Harry said, pulling away. “Cmon.”

She followed him out of their bathroom, his yellow swim trunks making her wish they had stayed in the bathroom for hours.

Y/N didn’t know what to expect from touring with Harry, but it sure didn’t let her down. It was a flurry of activity, the first show of the tour getting everyone excited backstage. They were in Basel—Y/N had never been before, but Harry obviously had, he had been pretty much everywhere in the world—and she couldn’t get the screams she had heard when they pulled up outside the arena out of her head. The way Harry had grinned, eyes on the long line wrapping around the arena, the doors not open yet, and started jabbering to Mitch about how much he loved Switzerland. She loved seeing Harry like this, fully in his element, doing everything he loved.

Now she was sat in Harry’s dressing room lying down on the couch, watching as Ayae blow dried his hair, Harry on the phone with Anne, leaning back in the chair. Harry was just in a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt tucked in, a pair of Vans on that Y/N had picked out for him when he expressed that he needed some casual comfortable shoes. Y/N was just texting Hanna, who was out with Jamie and getting absolutely trashed, and resting on the heating pad that she was thankful Harry had insisted they packed. Her back was sore from sitting on a plane for so long.

“I will. Okay, bye Mum.” Harry set down his phone and glanced at her in the mirror. “Mum says hi. Told me to tell you to send a photo of me on stage tonight so she doesn’t have to scroll through insta.”

“I’ll send it in the group,” she replied, referencing the group chat she had in WhatsApp with Anne, Gemma, and Harry. “I’m hungry—when are we eating?”

“I wasn’t planning too—too nervous. Should be some stuff down the hall. I can come with after I’m done with Ayae, right?”

Ayae gave him a pointed look before grabbing the tin of pomade. “As long as you don’t mess up your hair.”

“I promise,” Harry replied, crossing a finger over his heart, and Y/N snorted at his complete lie. Harry ran his hands through his hair every five seconds, there was no way it wouldn’t be ruined the minute Ayae stepped away. “What, you don’t believe in me, baby?”

“Not for a second,” she replied. “Now let Ayae do her job so I can eat something. Your pregnant girlfriend is getting hangry.”

After another twenty minutes, he was finally done. They walked down the hall to the food and Y/N grabbed a sandwich, curling up on the couch in the green room as Harry spoke to his bandmates, the plate with the sandwich balanced on her belly. It was one of the few perks she had found from her massive pregnant belly—it was a great table top for all of the food she was constantly eating. Stage hands and sound guys kept popping in, asking different people questions and then heading out. The soundcheck was earlier in the day and Y/N had sat in the crowd so Harry had someone to sing to, sending videos to Anne so that she felt in the loop. It was sweet, Y/N thought, how proud Anne was of her little boy, how active she stayed in his touring life, and how present Harry was in his relationship with her. She could only hope to have the same relationship with her own child.

When she was done, Harry pulled her from the couch and they want back to his dressing room, the time for him to change rapidly approaching. Harry laid his head on her lap on the couch when Helene came into the room, camera at the ready, and snapped some photos of them, promising to send them when she uploaded them.

“Help me get my suit on?” Harry asked, poking at her cheek from where he laid on her lap.

“Sure.” He helped her up and they walked over to the clothing rack in the corner, where it had been hung earlier. “Do you wear anything but Gucci?” She asked him, thumbing along the label of the suit jacket.

He blushed, slipping the blouse off of the hanger. “Just like it. They give me half this stuff anyways.”

“Not complaining,” she said, helping him unbutton the buttons on the blouse. “Just jealous.”

His eyebrows quirked as he let her slide the material onto his body, just the black blouse and his briefs. “Oh? You want some Gucci, baby?”

At his urging, she buttoned the buttons all the way up to the collar. “Maybe.”

The trousers were next and he stepped into the velvet material with ease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She jabbed a finger into his chest, Harry’s eyes following her finger. “If you get our kid Gucci onesies, though, I’ll kill you.”

He grabbed her hand and lifted her finger to his lips, parting them and biting on the tip of her index finger, a shiver stretching down her spine. “I make no promises.”

He was magnificent on stage. Seeing his captivate the crowd, their screams just egging him on more and more, it made the reality of him having a serious praise kink fully settle into her brain. She stood backstage as he drew the set to a close, the echo of the bass drum and Harry’s voice finishing out Kiwi, the crowd cheering at full volume. Helene stood next to her, snapping photos from the angle, having been out in the crowd for most of the rest of the show. Y/N planned to be out in the audience for some of the shows—the sound was way better anyways—but she liked the safety of backstage. She liked Harry being able to come to the side of the stage she was on and give her a wink, or for the crew to filter around her and chat with her about anything that popped up. It made her feel part of the tour, rather than just his girlfriend there for a night.

They were in Hamburg tonight and Y/N and Harry had gotten a few hours to themselves after they arrived to wander around the city. They’d tried the fish and chips, dreamed of a time when they could both drink beer again, and done a tiny bit of shopping. She was exhausted from the day, honestly—she had wanted to see a bit of the city, the walking around combined with the travel from Oberhausen had left her worn down. However, she stood fast during Harry’s set as she did every night, shifting back and forth on her feet to keep back from hurting too much.

The final notes of Kiwi blew through her ears and then Harry was rushing off the stage, straight toward her, a sweaty and exhilarated mess. He stumbled over a loose mic cord taped to the ground and chuckled before throwing his arms around her, kisses all over her face. He was like this most nights—the energy he got from the stage quickly became affectionate, all it aimed straight at her. Not that she minded too much. “How was I, baby?” He asked, arm around her shoulders as they walked backstage.

“Good,” she told him, leaning her head on his arm. “As always. I liked the suit tonight.”

“Yeah?” He tugged on the gold pattern material, the pink lapels standing out against the color. “Wasn’t sure if it was too much or not.”

She rolled her eyes. He didn’t know the meaning of “too much” if he tried. “Lies—you know you look good.”

A mischievous smile fluttered onto his face, and Y/N knew she was in for it. He was in a mood tonight, but she didn’t know if she had the energy for it. “Just good?”

“Hot, sexy, gorgeous,” she mumbled. Her feet were aching from standing for so long, her upper back in need of a good twist to let out the tension. She just wanted to lie down on Harry’s couch in his dressing room and take a nap while he showered and dressed so they could go to the hotel.

“That’s better,” he said, directing her towards the green room.

“I’m going to go to your dressing room,” she told him, pulling away. “Come find me when you’re done.”

Harry furrowed his brows, but let her go. “Be there in a bit.”

She knew it would be longer than a bit—he was radiating energy that she knew he would need to work off by talking with the crew, working through tomorrow’s schedule, look at Helene’s photos and approve the posting for his Instagram. But she didn’t have the energy to sit through all that, not tonight. So she shut the door to Harry’s dressing room, thankful for the quiet after the bass had throbbed in her ears all night, the edge of a headache coming on. A glass of water sat on Harry’s dressing table and she snatched it, taking a long swig before setting it back down. She pulled his throw blanket from the ground and laid down on the couch on her side, letting out a sigh at the easing of the ache in her back. She shut her eyes, knowing Harry would wake her up when he was back.

When Harry walked into his dressing room, his suit jacket already off and held in his hand, he was met with an exhausted Y/N, asleep on his couch. He immediately felt like shit—she was exhausted and he had completely missed it, all wrapped in his post-concert energy wave. He decided to let her sleep until he was done, and stripped off before heading for the shower, the sweat and grime from the show falling to the drain feeling delicious on his skin. The only shampoo he could find was hers from the shower she had taken earlier, so he used it, knowing she wouldn’t mind too much. He pulled on a pair of sweats and a random tour shirt from the suitcase of clothes in the corner, slipping on his Vans from earlier before rousing Y/N.

“Hey,” he said, brushing her hair back. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in his body in front of her. “Ready to go?”

“Mhm,” she replied, still groggy from sleep. “Help me up?”

“‘Course.” Harry pushed back the throw and helped her up from the couch, her body’s new shape making it hard for her to get her balance always. A sweatshirt was hanging over the back of the couch and he pulled it on, the air still nippy in March in northern Germany. He guided her out of the dressing room, their phones tucked into his pockets and her purse over his shoulder, one arm around his girl as they walked towards the exit where a car waited for them.

She fell asleep on his shoulder on the car ride, curled into his body in a way that made him just want to kiss every inch of her skin it was so cute. She was so cute. Adam texted him as they were driving, wondering where he was, and Harry just replied that he was heading back to the hotel with a sleepy Y/N in tow. When they pulled up at the hotel, he helped her out and in through the back entrance. Usually, he might have slept on a tour bus, but with a pregnant Y/N he wanted her to be as comfortable as possible, so they had defaulted to hotels in almost every city when possible. They would drive tomorrow, the day off the perfect time for the drive across the country.

He collected the key from his assistant who was waiting for him and guided Y/N into the elevator, murmuring in her ear about how they were almost there. The elevator climbed floors, Y/N tucked into his chest, her sleepy head resting on his pecs, smushed into his sweatshirt. “You feelin’ okay, love?” He asked, running fingers up her back. She nodded her head against him and he relaxed, happy that she was feeling okay. He was mad at himself for not noticing that she was tired, the busy day probably getting to her. They would talk tomorrow about her taking it easier, maybe not standing and watching all of his shows, taking more naps. She was still so insistent that she could be up and around, but in the process she had a tendency to ignore her own wellbeing at the expense of not wanting to miss anything.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open, and Harry guided her down the hall, hand clasped in hers, counting the rooms until he reached theirs. They shuffled inside, Y/N sighing at the sight of a bed. “Lemme get you into pajamas,” he murmured against her cheek as she tried to pull away. “C’mon love, you’ll feel better.”

“Just want to sleep,” she mumbled, her sleepy voice making Harry smile.

“I know, I know,” he said. “For me, though?”

Finally, she nodded and leaned against the wall as he rooted through her suitcase which was situated against one of the walls. He pulled out her favorite pajama shirts and a massive shirt of his that she had opted to sleeping in, it being one of the only ones of his that still fit her. He peeled her maternity jeans down her legs, kissing at her calves and making her giggle, and then her underwear, since she hated sleeping in them. He nipped at her waist slightly, the rise of his belly never ceasing to make him want to love on her.

“Gotta let Mama sleep, eh bud?” He murmured into the skin of her belly, talking to their kiddo.

He felt Y/N’s hands in his hair, the thing he loved most and she knew, doing it all the time. He loved when she touched him like this, absentmindedly, just desperate to feel him. “Not his fault,” she mumbled.

Harry said Peanut’s being mean under his breath which made Y/N chuckle, and pulled her top off, then her bra, releasing her breasts from confinement. He kissed the rise of each of them, nosing at the skin of her collarbone, and then helped her with his shirt over her head. “Got enough energy to brush your teeth?” She nodded into his neck and he helped her to the bathroom, grabbing their toiletries bag on the way.

He grabbed her blue toothbrush and his purple one and wet both before putting on toothpaste, placing his in his mouth and then giving Y/N hers. She did a half assed job of it, so he took it, gently scrubbing at her teeth and tugging her mouth open so he could get her back ones. It made her giggle and he smiled at her, loving these simple moments of being with her that he got to experience on tour. Usually these were the ones he missed the most, the ones of seeing her laugh or her nuzzling into his skin, her desire to be close to him always making him smile.

With the scrunchie on her wrist, he tied back her hair and washed her face for her, pressing a kiss to her lips when she puckered them for him, not minding getting the face wash on himself. Then he rubbed her moisturizer into her skin and lifted the shirt he had put on her, putting on the moisturizer she used to lessen the stretch marks on her belly and hips. She murmured appreciatively at him and then let him help her into bed, tucking the covers around both of them. Their phones were plugged in to charge and he set the alarm for eight, pulling her body into his.

“Sorry I didn’t see how tired you were,” he said into her skin, bushing at her neck. “Should’ve known.”

“S’okay,” she said, tucking her leg around his. “Not your job.”

He kissed her forehead and she hummed into his skin. “It is, though. You’re mine, remember?”

“Couldn’t forget it.” She slotted their lips together, a soft and drawn out kiss that made Harry want to never let her go. “What time do we have to get up?”

“I’ll wake you,” he told her. “Sleep now, love.”

Y/N snuggled even closer to him, her belly between them, his arm resting over it. He loved sleeping like this with their, their child between them, their heads tucked together on the pillow. It made him feel the closest to her, seeing how much she trusted him in her most vulnerable state. When he shut his eyes, he dreamed of their child, their life together, a dream that when he woke up, was thankful to know was going to soon become a reality.

TAGLIST: @smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo @harrysclementines @meetmeinfleetwood @kakaym @harrystyles-concepts @harrymoncheri @berrynarrybanana @samjo1986

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mistymazzello · 4 years

Text

Illicit Affairs | part one

Joe Mazzello x reader

summary- Y/N, a failing actress in New York City, is offered an internship as Joe Mazzello’s assistant on the set of a movie. Her seemingly small crush on her boss could get her into trouble, but what does she have to lose?

warnings- cussing

word count- 3.7

a/n- i’m sorry i promised this like 2 months ago and i’m just now posting it, but i’m so excited for you guys to read this!! please let me know what you think and if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

based on illicit affairs by taylor swift

You were finally starting to understand what people meant when they said “New York Minute”. It might seem like a silly phrase people use to describe when time is going fast, but now you’re sure that time is going faster than usual as you ran down the busy New York streets. You quickly wove through people as rain pounded on your hair and your brand new outfit, but you had no time to worry about your now drenched blouse. You were on the verge of tears as you ran down the steps to the subway, checking the time to see that you had 19 minutes.

You fished through your purse to retrieve your metrocard, shivering from the surprisingly freezing august rain. You swiped the card and the machine let out a loud beep at you. The card was declined. With only 18 minutes until your audition, tears finally began to well in your eyes.

“Please no. Please not now.” You groaned out loud, swiping the card again only to get the same result. “Please please please just work.” You whined.

“Havin’ some trouble there?” A man standing behind you observed.

You laughed sarcastically and tried the card again. “Yeah, seems like it. I think the universe just hates me today.”

“Maybe try swiping it the other way?” He wondered.

You tried. Nothing.

You groaned and put your face in your hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Hey, sweetheart, calm down.” He reached forward and swiped his own card twice. “See? All good.”

The small gate opened and he gestured for you to walk through. Your eyes softened and you sighed lightly. “Thank you.” He nodded as you walked through. “You didn’t need to do that.” You said as he walked through to join you on the other side. You crossed your arms as your hair dripped onto your shoulders, causing you to shiver again.

“I think I did, you were holding up the line.” He joked with a smile on his face. “I’m Joe.”

You let out a small laugh as you turned towards him. “Y/N.” You stated.

“Well, Y/N, your fucking soaked.” He laughed.

You nodded and looked down at your clothes. “I’m gonna have to go into an audition looking like this.”

He looked your body up and down and then met your eyes again. You watched as he began to take his jacket off of his shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that, seriously.” You stated.

He pulled the jacket fully off of himself and held it out to you. “Well I’m going to. Here.”

You gave him a small smile and took it from his hands. Slowly putting the jacket on, you looked at him. “It’s weird meeting a nice New Yorker.”

“Rare, I know.” He laughed.

You pulled the jacket over your shoulders and wrapped it tightly around your waist.

“Better?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You hummed. “I’m like, never gonna see you again, are you sure you wanna give this to me?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Your train was announced over the loudspeaker and you screwed your eyes shut.

“Shit, I’m sorry I have to go!” You said, backing up quickly.

“Good luck!” He shouted back, watching you disappear into the distance, a small part of him wishing he was 10 years younger so he could ask you for your number without seeming like a creep.

The second you turned around, you wished you had just ditched the audition and taken the same train as him, giving yourself 15 extra minutes with him. New York is a big city, and you knew you’d never see him again, but you couldn’t help but hope that there was some kind of invisible string that will pull the two of you back together. A small smile rested on your lips as you boarded the train, trying to remember the exact details of his face. Taking a seat, you drew in a breath, subconsciously wrapping the jacket tighter around your waist. Usually, you would find it weird and uncomfortable if a random stranger paid for your train ride and gave you his jacket, but something about him made you feel comforted and safe.

You soon realized that skipping the audition to stay with him would have been a much better decision. The audition lasted maybe 90 seconds, ending with a blunt, “That’s all we need, thank you.” It wasn’t much different from any of your other auditions, nobody showing any real interest in you. There’s hundreds-maybe even thousands-of girls who are in your exact situation. An aspiring actress using money she doesn’t have to stay in New York, no real roles to your name, struggling to keep your head above water. After graduating from NYU the previous year, you thought that this would be your time, but it’s anything but that.

By the time you arrived back at your apartment it had stopped raining. You were relieved to be back to the comfort of your bed, ready to go straight back to sleep (maybe in Joe’s jacket) but the second you walked in the door, your phone began ringing. It was your dad. You didn’t even have to pick up the phone to know what he was going to say. “What are you doing today?” “Do you have a job yet?” “What are you gonna do with your life? I can’t pay for your apartment forever.”

You couldn’t even be mad, either. He paid for your share of the rent in your preppy uptown apartment. He also sent you money weekly, claiming it’s to help you until you’re able to “Get on your feet.” You didn’t think it’d be taking over a year long to get there. Despite being upset about your career choice, and the fact that he could get you a perfect, well paid job at his company in a few cities over, he wanted his little girl to be happy.

I mean, who else was gonna pay for you to live in the most expensive city in the country? Your failed auditions?

With an over-dramatic sigh, you answered the phone. “Hi dad.”

“Hello Y/N. Whatcha doing?” He said.

“I just got back from an audition.” You said, walking into the living room, the eyes of your roommates Cameron and Jessica immediately falling on you, perking up as you set your bag down on the table.

“How’d it go?” Jessica asked excitedly.

“Whose jacket is that?” Cameron shouted.

You furrowed your eyebrows and pointed to your phone, both of them sinking back down into their seats.

“And how was that?” He asked.

“It was… okay. Not exactly how I wanted it to go.”

“Seems like that’s how they’ve all been going.” He said. You just knew he had a disappointed frown on his face. It almost made you wince.

“I mean, I think I’m gonna get there, dad.” You stepped into your room and shut the door behind you.

There was a silence on the line. “I don’t know, Y/N. I hate to be the wet blanket on your big city dreams but I think you’re being unrealistic. You should come back home and I can get you a job here in 5 seconds. I just-”

“Dad, we’ve had this conversation. I’m staying here.” You said, stuffing your hands into the jacket pockets. You pulled out a gum wrapper and a few quarters. It almost made you giggle.

“On my dime?” He shot back.

Your shoulders slumped and you sighed. “Nobody’s forcing you to pay for me.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s gonna pay for you if I don’t? Certainly not yourself.”

Now you were embarrassed. “Dad… Can you please just trust me? I’ll get on my feet, I don’t know, soon, okay?”

He sighed. “6 more months.” He said.

“What?” You asked.

“I’ll pay for you for 6 more months. If you don’t have some source of income by then, you're coming home and working here.” He knew that paying for you to live in the city wasn’t a financial burden for him, he owned a company. But, he wanted you to learn how to do things yourself, and he knew if he kept spoon feeding you through life, that you would never get there.

A bit taken back, you registered that there were no other options. “Okay. That seems… fair.”

“It’s not what I want to do, honey, but I want you to be productive. To do something with yourself.”

That stung.

“Okay.” You closed your eyes.

“Alright. I’ve got a meeting, so I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye dad.”

You set your phone down on your bed and set your chin on your elbow. You had better think of a better plan than going to an audition every week if you wanted to stay here. “Shit.” You mumbled.

Cameron burst into your room and you looked up at her. “Whose jacket is that?” She asked again.

“Nice to see you too, Cam.” You raised your eyebrows.

Cameron was a bold person. You had met in college, and you immediately clinged to each other’s sides. You grounded her, and she pushed you out of your comfort zone. Cameron was also kind of scary. You had seen what she’d done to people she didn’t like, how she’ll step on people to get where she wants. You’re just glad she likes you.

“Sorry, how was the audition?” She said, pushing the door fully open and leaning on your door frame.

You sighed and set your forehead in your palm.

“Oh, well.” She said, getting the message.

She came and sat on the bed next to you. “So… Now can I ask about the jacket.” She asked softly.

“Some random guy on the subway. It was raining and I was cold, so he offered it to me.”

“Ew! What if it has a tracking device or something in it?” Jessica asked, walking in the room.

Jessica came into the picture Junior year of college. She fit in perfectly between the two of you, bringing some sort of responsibility to the group. She was the stereotypical mom friend, but you loved her for it.

“Was he hot?” Cam asked. The difference in reaction made you chuckle.

“It was just some nice guy. We talked for like 20 seconds.” You stated.

“Did you get his number?” Cam asked.

“No, Cam, he was way older than me.” You said.

“Why does that matter?”

You flopped back onto your bed and sighed, the other two girls exchanging looks as you covered your face with your arms.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica asked as she walked over to sit on the other side of you.

“Nothing, I just… My dad. He says I need a job or else he’s gonna cut me off.” You said, flopping your arms down by your sides.

“Yikes.” Cam said.

“What’re you gonna do?” Jess asked.

“Get a fucking job I guess. What other choice do I have?”

They were both silent as you checked the time on your phone. It was still way early in the morning. “Guys, I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.” You said.

“Alright, babe. I have an audition at 11, so I probably won’t be here when you wake up.” Cam patted your leg.

You nodded. Cameron had already established herself as an actress. She mostly does theatre, but she did do an episode of Law and Order and a few smaller parts in other tv shows. You tried not to be jealous, but in situations like this, you couldn’t really help it.

“I have work too. I’ll be back at 4 though.” Jessica said. She worked as a journalist for a magazine, making way more money than either of you, so it made sense to be jealous.

“Ivy’s here though, don't know if she’s leaving or not.” Cameron said. Ivy was the fourth roommate, who wasn’t friends with any of you when she moved in. She needed a place to live and you guys needed one more roommate.

She was really reserved, and she didn’t talk to any of you much. This bothered Cameron, since she’s a chatter-box, but there wasn’t much anyone could do. She was going to business school in the city, so she was a few years younger than the three of you, but she didn’t start problems, so nobody paid too much mind to her. Coming up on a year of living with her, and you didn’t really know much about her.

You nodded and climbed under your comforter, still in the jacket and your audition clothes. The two girls stood up and walked out, Jessica turned off the light before she blew you a kiss and left.

Within minutes, you passed out. You woke up a few hours later to your phone ringing. Groaning, you picked it up.

“Y/N!” Cam shouted.

“What?” You said, sitting up in bed, all at once realizing how uncomfortable your pants and blouse were. Why did you sleep in these again?

“Okay, so I was at this audition right, and they’re like, ‘You’re so great but you just don’t have the look we’re going for for this role.’” She said. You could hear cars, horns, and the general bustle of the city in the background, so you assumed she was on her way home.

You ignored her subtle brag as you got out of bed to change. You put the phone on speaker and set it on your night stand as you slowly began to undress.

“And so then they were like ‘but, we love you so much, would you be interested in a paid internship as a film director assistant?’ And I would have done it except the 2 of the 5 months that it lasts for, I’m working on that off broadway production, you know the one wit-”

“Yes, I know the one.” You said.

“Okay, well I told them that I know a girl who would want it.” She smiled.

“Are you serious?” You said as you hung the jacket on the back of your door.

“Yes I’m serious! They said you’d have to apply though, so I have the application with me, but I put in a really good word for you, and pretend I didn’t tell you this, they basically said you have it in the bag.”

You smiled as you picked your phone up again and took a deep breath. “Cameron, thank you.” you said.

“Don’t mention it.” She said smugly. “And guess who the director is?”

“I don’t know, who?” You asked.

“Joe Mazzello.” She smiled.

“Remind me who that is?” You asked.

She groaned. “He’s an actor, Y/N, like a big one. This is gonna be a big movie.”

You let out a breath of happiness. “Thank you so much Cam.”

“I’ll see you when I get home.” She said “I’m about to get on the subway.”

“Ok,” You agreed. “See you.” You smiled.

The second she hung up, you had the overwhelming urge to call your dad. But you didn’t. It felt like he wouldn’t care, or he wouldn’t think that this was serious or that he would think you’re stupid for being excited about an internship.

But it didn’t matter. You had your source of income.

No one could have prepared you for how nerve-wracking your first day would be. You’re stomach had been churning all day, from when you woke up, to when Cam wished you luck and told you to mention her to the director, right up until you were walking into the large glass building that hopefully held your future as an actress.

After a 32 floor elevator ride, one of the producers met you and another boy your age at the front desk. You gave him a weak smile, trying not to let your jaw chatter from nervousness. He looked away.

“So this is where business is done, basically. Everything that’s not done on the set is done in this building. You guys, of course, will be spending a lot of time on set and here. I’d suggest familiarizing yourself with the surroundings.” The producer explained. She was older than you by quite a bit, with silver hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a few days and a kind smile that eased your nervousness. She led you down a hallway that looked like it never ended, never mentioning where she was taking you. “The set is about 45 minutes out of town, and unfortunately, we can’t offer you on set living, like the director and actors get, so you’ll have to travel back home every night.” She never looked back at the two of you as she walked, but it didn’t matter because neither of you said anything.

She stopped outside of a door, with a small plaque on the front that read “Director; Joseph Mazzello”. Her smile faded quickly as she turned around to look at you both. “This is a serious job. As directors assistants, you are to do whatever he tells you. He calls all of the shots. Hundreds of people applied for this position, and we chose you two. I could replace both of you in 5 seconds.” You gulped and glanced over at the boy, who seemed to stand a little taller when he heard how competitive this was. “He’s in here, he’s going to discuss expectations, and he’ll let you know what this job will consist of. Address him as Mr. Mazzello and whatever you do, don’t mess up.”

You nodded and she scanned both of your faces. “Alrighty then.” She smiled again, as if she hadn’t just made two 22 year olds question every decision they’ve ever made.

She knocked on the door and then opened it to poke her head in. “Joe? You assistants are here.” She opened the door to reveal the two of you, stiff as boards.

“Great! I’ve been so excited to meet the two of you!” He exclaimed, standing up from his desk. The second that he made eye contact with you, you realized who he was. Joe from the subway. You’re mouth nearly dropped open at the realization. A deep blush covered your face as you begged the universe to not let him remember you, you could hardly bear the thought of your new boss knowing that you have one of his jackets hanging in your closet right now.

He smiled as he walked around his desk to shake both of your hands. “I’m Joe.” He said as he took your hand. You smiled, keeping in mind that this wasn’t the first time he had introduced himself like this to you.

“Y/N.” He nodded, and as far as you could tell, he didn’t recognize you.

He moved on to the boy, who had neatly styled brown hair, light eyes, and broad shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Mazzello, I’m Beck.” He said hopefully, putting your mere ‘Y/N’ to shame.

Joe smiled. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Mazzello, seriously. That goes for both of you, call me Joe.” You promptly nodded as he looked between the two of you.

“Sit down, sit down.” He said.

The two of you sat down and he went back around behind his desk. “You look so nervous. I promise I’m not mean.” He pleaded with an awkward laugh.

He went on to tell you that you probably wouldn’t be doing much in the actual film production, which you were bummed to hear, but what did you expect? “So basically, directing is a big job, and I’ll need help with day to day things. Technical things, running stuff around for me, just random tasks that I don’t have time for.”

He explained more, and the whole time he spoke, you couldn’t help but think of meeting him on the subway. How sweet he’d been, how he had given his jacket to a complete stranger and paid for you to get on. You had let your mind wander to how handsome he was, how good his arms looked in his shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. Immediately, you scolded yourself. You weren’t going to mess up your first job by getting a stupid crush on your boss. Were you really that dumb?

“Mr. M-” He raised his eyebrows as you spoke “Joe. Sorry.” You laughed.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled. “What’s up, kid.”

“We haven’t gotten much information about scheduling, how is that gonna work?” You asked.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess you’ll need to know that. Do you guys have your phones with you?” He asked.

You both nodded and you pulled yours out of your purse.

“Ok, my number is 501 333, 7689.”

You were a bit taken back at the fact that he was giving you his phone number, he hardly knew the two of you and he’s a famous actor. But, you weren’t complaining.

“I’ll just text you where to be and when to be there, alright?” He asked.

“Ok.” You both agreed.

“Alright.” He clapped his hands together. “So, first, I need someone to take these to Alex in I.T. and-”

“I’ll do it.” Beck blurted out as he stood up.

“Oh, ok.” Joe said, just as startled as you were.

“Then I need you to tell him to email me a copy of the call sheet.” He said.

“Got it, Mr. Mazzello.” He said, starting towards the door.

“Come on, call me Joe.” He smiled.

“I prefer to keep things, you know, professional.” Beck sent you a nasty side glance as if to say you weren’t professional.

“Alright then, Mr. Beck.” Joe nodded.

Beck stepped out of his office and you turned back to Joe. “Who pissed in that kids cereal?” He said under his breath, sifting through a few papers on his desk

You giggled and Joe smiled, looking up at you to meet your eyes and then back down at his papers. “So you’re from New York?” He asked.

“Well, yeah. Rochester originally, but I went to college here and I plan on staying here.” He nodded.

“Do you wanna do film production or something else?” He questioned.

“Well, the goal is to become an actress.”

“So you’ve been auditioning for things then?” He looked up at you expectantly. You prayed that he wasn’t trying to figure out if you were the girl from the subway.

You were just opening your mouth to answer when Beck opened back up the door. You both turned to him.

“That was quick.” Joe said.

“What can I say.” He shrugged cockily.

Joe sent you a glance along with a small smile. You looked at your lap, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to show.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x reader #borhap boys x reader #joe mazzello headcanon #borhap boys imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #fan fiction #borhap cast #fan fic #illicit affairs #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon headcanon #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody boys

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violetwolfraven · 3 years

Note

Prompt: "You don't have to hide your tears from me" for Redfinch

Mkay! Angst time! Let’s go!! I’m writing this the week after Valentine’s Day!! Woohoo!!

Anyway this takes pre-canon. So... spoiler alert they do get together later along this timeline, but right now it’s angsty and the boys aren’t together yet.

Tw: mentioned abusive parenting, toxic masculinity, unrequited crush.

...

Finch didn’t really understand blood ties. The concept of owing something to your biological family the way some of the other boys seemed to.

He didn’t understand why Albert, Elmer, and Buttons kept going back to their families even though all three of them always came back tired and usually a bit ticked off at best, genuinely upset at worst.

But then again, Finch didn’t remember his family beyond his father’s fists and his mother’s voice yelling at him. He’d run away when he was 6 and never looked back, and now he only thought of them when he was working through a nightmare or an old scar twinged in the cold weather.

The newsies weren’t exactly a family, he guessed, considering most of them weren’t blood, but they were like one. Better than most families, in some ways, with how Jack and Crutchie took care of the others and though sometimes jokes were at friends’ expense, it was never in a mean way. They were ride or die for each other.

Maybe that was what a family was supposed to be, but Finch knew he’d never seen blood family that was like that. He sure knew that the only people he was ride or die for were the ones he’d chosen.

He really hated seeing the people he’d chosen hurting. Especially when it was because of their so called ‘families.’

He hated seeing when Elmer came back from his parents’ house reserved and quiet, acting surprised when his friends actually paid attention to him, and he hated how exhausted Buttons always was, practically falling asleep on his feet.

But most of all, he hated how defensive and angry Albert always was when he came home from his dad’s house. How he acted for a good couple days afterwards, like any emotion other than anger was weakness.

This morning seemed to be an especially bad day, and everyone could see it. Even Wiesel and the Delanceys wisely avoided antagonizing him too much, knowing by the look in his eyes how bad of an idea it would be to mess with him today. The other newsies were giving him space, and honestly, the fact that they were letting him on the streets today at all was a little questionable.

Finch knew Albert. He knew how that boy’s words could be just as dangerous as his fists, and could get him into more trouble. It was useful sometimes, Albert’s uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing to start a fight. It was good for causing distractions if they were running from someone or to divert away from a topic he or a friend didn’t want to talk about. Finch actually was impressed with how he could always do that without fail.

But he really didn’t feel like helping his friend escape the Refuge again. Not today.

So, after a morning of watching him seethe with anger over... something involving his dad and brothers, Finch pulled him aside in an alley, putting his papes down on a crate and blocking the way out to keep Albert from leaving.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do ya mean ‘what’s wrong?’ Nothin’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Albert tried to shove past him, clearly getting more annoyed when he didn’t let him.

“Move.”

“No,” Finch crossed his arms, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“We’re gonna miss the mornin’ rush cause you’s seein’ things,” Albert urged, trying to escape again, “Nothin’s wrong, Finch. Move.”

“No.”

“Move!”

“No.”

“Just cause you’s sweet on me don’t mean you gotta care ‘bout my problems,” Albert hissed.

Well, that was... unexpected.

Finch still didn’t know how Albert had even found out about his crush—he hadn’t bothered to ask how—but since that time a month ago where Al tried to kiss him and Finch made it clear that he wouldn’t settle for being his rebound guy, they hadn’t spoken of anything involving that. He was pretty sure Albert had been being his friend as a way to make that incident’s thoughtlessness up to him, but neither of them had actually acknowledged that conversation happened.

Bringing it up now was a dick move. Especially considering Finch could tell Albert was still hurting over Race, because he was still in love with him, because of course he was because Finch’s luck was shit.

Well, at least it looked like it was dawning on Albert—albeit slowly—how much of a dick move that was.

“I shouldn’ta said that. Sorry. Still, move.”

Finch let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and shook his head, “No.”

“Please?”

He was a little surprised to hear him say that, but he still refused to move.

“No,” he insisted. “No, cause I know what you’re gonna do if I let ya leave this alley without talkin’. You’ll just bottle it up like ya always do, and then eventually you’ll snap on somebody and pretend you’re mad when you’re actually scared or sad. And besides the fact that you can’t last like that—it ain’t healthy—that ain’t fair to the others and I’d rather it be me you yell at than one of them.”

Albert scoffed, “I do not bottle—“

“Yes, you do,” Finch interrupted, “And it used to be Race who made ya let it out before ya snapped on someone who couldn’t handle it, but you and him don’t talk no more lately for obvious reasons, so I guess it’s gotta be me.”

It hurt that Albert didn’t trust him enough to talk the way everyone knew he used to with Race, but Finch didn’t let it show. He knew firsthand how secrets could burn holes in you. He himself confided in Henry, Tommy Boy, and Sniper when he needed someone to talk to. And he would like to be able to confide in Albert someday, but...

Trust went both ways. Admittedly, he had trouble with trust some days, so maybe it wasn’t fair that he was asking Albert to trust him.

Maybe he needed to give a little to show it was okay.

“Look, I... I know what it’s like to get hurt by somebody who’s supposed to care ‘bout you,” he admitted, “My mom and pop weren’t exactly... they... I know what I went through ain’t the same as what’s goin’ on with you now, but I’m only gonna ask you one more time: what’s wrong?”

Albert was still staring him down like he thought he could get him to back out, but Finch did see a flicker of surprise at the little piece of his past he’d confessed.

Nobody in Manhattan knew his past. He’d made sure he left all that behind in Flushing. He was sure plenty of the fellas—Albert included—had guessed the general idea, but no matter how bad the nightmares got some times of the year, Finch always tried to focus on just the right now’s problems.

He had that in common with Tommy Boy, Henry, and Sniper. Their ‘just the four of them’ talks always danced around what they were actually upset about, because openly talking about families or parents or home lives, past or present, was just too painful. That was why they gravitated to each other. Because they were the only ones who could figure out what the others meant by what they actually said. Sure, Jack took care of everybody, but he was too busy with taking care of the whole damn borough to have time to figure out their mind games. Crutchie was still trying, but he had duties as one of Manhattan’s seconds, too. Everybody else had either given up or didn’t care enough to try in the first place.

Albert knew all that. Or... he knew how much Finch was letting down his guard, openly telling him even that little.

He gave up on trying to make him back down and looked at the ground with an angry huff.

“It don’t matter, okay? Nothin’ Ben and John ain’t said to me before.”

“So it’s not a problem with your dad?” Finch asked, relieved. Sure, Albert’s brothers were technically adults, but they weren’t a big threat.

He scoffed, “No, of course not. Dad’d have to actually look at me to give me problems. Which he don’t. Practically ever. I remind him too much of Mom, as if that’s my fuckin’ fault.”

The anger in his voice was dripping with sadness, and it broke Finch’s heart. Albert didn’t deserve that.

But that was more of a long-term problem. Right now, it wasn’t what he was most upset about.

“So... Ben and John?”

“Oh, yeah,” Albert said sarcastically, “Y’know, they both had their first sweethearts by the time they was my age, so it’s hilarious to dump on how Albert’s gonna die alone. John’s gonna marry Thea, so it’s a great time to laugh ‘bout me not havin’ anyone to bring to the wedding like how Ben’s got Elizabeth. And it’s all in good fun, so I’m too goddamn defensive for gettin’ mad about it! Yeah, I’m the irrational one despite how I ain’t the one who started it!”

If he was this upset about a few little jabs from his brothers, that meant it wasn’t actually about them at all, and Finch probably should have tried to make him talk before now.

If the heartbreak he was trying to hide by keeping his face turned to the dirt was any indication, this was about Race. And that stung a bit, but it was clearly still burning at Albert.

Finch could deal with his own unreturned feelings. Sure, it hurt, but it was nothing he hadn’t been feeling for months. And he’d gotten rejected before, so it wasn’t anything new.

But Albert had never felt this before. He was volatile and emotional and he didn’t know how to express it any way but with anger because that was how he’d been raised. To his credit, he’d tried to push the others away, knowing his own tendency to lash out, but Finch hadn’t let him push him away.

Finch prided himself on his ability to read people, so he could tell exactly how gone Albert had been over Race. He could tell how much that was hurting him now, how much it was tearing him apart, and...

And Albert was crying.

“Al—“

“Shut up,” Albert snapped, even though his voice trembled.

Three years since he’d come to Manhattan. Finch had seen most of his friends cry in that time, but not Albert.

Admittedly... he wasn’t sure what to do. The others usually gave him a sign whether to leave them alone or try to comfort them, but the thing about Albert was that he craved affection but would never be caught dead admitting it. He hated letting anyone see him as anything other as unshakable even if he was on the verge of collapse.

They were just standing there in that alleyway, a couple feet apart, Albert staring hard at the ground as his shoulders shook and tears dripped off his face and Finch frozen, no clue what to do.

“Al,” he said hesitantly, “It’s okay to cry.”

“No. It ain’t right for a boy.”

“Really?” Finch risked taking a step closer, reaching out a hand slowly.

Albert clearly saw him, but didn’t back away or stop him, allowing Finch put a comforting hand on his arm.

“That ain’t what you told me,” he pointed out, “That time when I woke ya up with a nightmare. You just hugged me till I could breathe again.”

“That was different,” Albert shot back, finally looking back up to look him in the eyes, “You was hurtin’.”

“And you’re not hurtin’ now? Al, look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not breakin’ up inside.”

He didn’t. Or... couldn’t.

“Albert,” Finch said quietly, “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

He still looked like he wanted to hide them, but instead, he leaned forward, kind of head-butting Finch in the shoulder except he left his face there, his tears soaking through the fabric.

Finch would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t skip a beat at the contact but he shook it off, focusing on how that was a pretty clear signal that this was okay.

“It’s okay, Al,” Finch whispered, wrapping his arms around him.

He didn’t say that it would get better or that Albert would find someone else who’d love him back. He knew that saying those things didn’t make heartbreak any better.

Just being there, being a friend, being a shoulder to cry on, was better for now.

#newsies #redfinch #albert dasilva #finch cortes #angst #toxic masculinity tw #abusive parents tw #unrequited crush tw #violet’s writing

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