thinking about rockstar!steve harrington falling for the hollywood actress who the press says can’t keep a man.
everyone had told him to stay clear of you. that you were an actress—untrustworthy, fake even. that you couldn’t hold down a boyfriend for longer than a few months, that you were just going to break steve’s heart like you had so many guys before.
but then he met you—at a mutual friend’s party—and steve realised that people could not have been more wrong about you. you were sweet. kind. you weren’t this bombshell the media had painted you out to be. you were just—you. and steve liked that. he liked it a lot.
it didn’t take him long to ask you out. you said yes with a sweet smile that devastated him in the best way possible.
steve took you out to a small, family run restaurant. one that meant a lot to steve. he had arranged for the both of you to go through the back entrance so you wouldn’t draw any attention. he couldn’t help but notice how surprised you were by that.
the date had been nothing short of perfect. it was no surprise that there had been a second date after that—then a third, a fourth, a fifth.
it didn’t take steve long at all to make things official. the press started to catch on. people noticed you at steve’s gigs. they noticed him quietly slip into the seat next to yours at premieres.
and the press did what the press do best—they tried hard to tear a good thing apart.
they went to an ex boyfriend of yours and had him talk in detail about your sex life, they made comprehensive lists of all the relationships you had over the years, they encouraged people to make bets on how long the relationship would last. they were cruel.
and you began to wonder when steve would give up on you. when it would become too much for him. when you would become too much for him. it wouldn’t be the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
but steve—he didn’t falter. not for a second. he held his head high and held onto you tighter. he showed no signs that he was giving up on you.
another thing that took you by surprise.
“i don’t know if i’m worth all of this trouble, steve,” you say quietly after an attempt of a beach outing had resulted in you and steve being hounded by paps. it had been a struggle getting back into the car safely with the crowd of people who had surrounded you.
steve frowns, glancing at you before focusing back on the road—the beach now abandoned as steve drove you back to his for an evening in. “baby, you’re worth all that and more.”
“but—”
“no buts,” steve interrupts, reaching for your hand so he could grab your hand and lifting it to place a kiss on your skin. “you’re worth it, baby. i mean it.”
he says it so firmly, so sure of himself—of you—that you can’t help but smile. can’t help but believe him.
“if you say so,” you murmur as you squeeze his hand once, twice, third times. a silent i love you.
I wrote this post, and then a request sparked the idea to build out the life of the six nuggets these two would have!
Time period taking place - 2006/2007
I'm thinking for now just keeping this series as request only, so if you have any, please feel free to send them in 🫶🏻
About the Nuggets:
I don’t like giving names to kids in x reader imagines (just a personal preference - you can come up w/ what you’d like!!) but here’s what I’m thinking their ages are.
Steve & Reader started having their babes young, so they’re only like 38.
Boy - 17 years old
Girl - 16 years old
I’m thinking the reason for the next age gap between kids would be bc reader thought two was enough, but then the twins end up being a happy accident.
Boy & Girl Fraternal Twins (reader was twins w/ Billy so it runs in the fam) - 10 years old
Another age gap because four is already a lot, and then Max & Lucas start having kids of their own - which makes reader have insane baby fever that leads to…
Boy - 4 years old
Girl - 2 years old
In order from oldest to newest!
Summary: Steve's struggling to accept that his little girl has turned into a rebellious teenager. Link to read
Summary: Watching his little girl go through a breakup nearly crushes Steve's own heart. Link to read
Summary: When your oldest boy gets into one of the most prestigious music colleges in the nation but doesn't tell you and Steve - you spiral, and Steve's there to help pick up the pieces. Link to read
Summary: You and Steve navigate how to tell your girl where babies come from. Link to read
Summary: Your oldest kids catch you and Steve in a compromising position, but it leads to them realizing they're thankful to have parents who are disgustingly in love. Link to read
Summary: In the heat of the moment, you make a comment that strikes Steve heavily - and your kids are left wondering where their parents stand. Link to read
Summary: Your eldest son brings home a girl for the first time - things quickly go south when your kids get an attitude with each other and then with you - which Steve doesn't tolerate. Link to read
Summary: Summer break means soaking up all the time with your babes, but that also means being needed, all the time - and Steve makes sure your needs are met too. Link to read
i don’t know who keeps sending messages to my inbox on my fic recc account but please send them here instead! i only respond to ones on that account if they have to do with fic reccs and i don’t want you to think i’m ignoring you :)
Your ex-boyfriend Gator begs for your forgiveness.
pairing: gator tillman x reader
words: 2.3k
contains: angst, ex boyfriend!gator, gator tillman on his knees, gator tillman being terrible at feelings but trying anyway, slight toxic relationship, no use of y/n, female reader, she/her pronouns for reader.
author's note: day 3 of the 2k followers special! my first gator fic! oh, i have been excited for this one. especially as the request comes from my girl @sorryharrington! the reader is a nurse since i just really love the idea of gator being with a nurse (plus i have been really obsessed with the pitt recently). i don't write a lot for Gator (but i do want to write more) so please let me know what you guys think!
to be added to my taglist | masterlist | requests page
It had been thirty six days since you broke up with Gator Tillman. Thirty six days since you had finally had enough of his bullshit, called him an asshole and walked out on him.
It had also been thirty six days since Gator realised how much he loved you.
He knew he was a colossal prick for only realising that after you had broken up with him but Gator Tillman had a lot of prickish tendencies.
He tried his best to get you back. He showed up to your apartment the very next day but you never answered the door. He called you, texted you but you never replied. You didn’t block him either which he took as a good sign. He even started sending you flowers which Gator had once told you were ‘bullshit’ but were now showing up at your door almost daily. He showed up to the hospital you worked at and glared at your male colleagues until you told him to piss off. He went out to bars he knew you would be at and threatened to beat the shit out of any man who looked your way.
He knew he was being even more of an asshole now. That he was making it difficult for you to move on. But of course, the very last thing Gator wanted was for you to move on.
And Gator had tried. He had told himself he could be okay without you. He had tried convincing himself that he didn’t need you. That going out with a girl like Heidi would make him forget all about you.
The only problem was Heidi wasn’t you.
Heidi didn’t call him out for his bullshit. Heidi didn’t make him laugh like you did. Heidi didn’t roll his eyes when he had kept his cap on during dinner. Heidi was clearly just trying to get into his pants and Gator almost let her. In fact, he went home with her. But the moment her lips touched his, Gator felt dirty. Like he was doing something incredibly, incredibly wrong.
He ended up running out of Heidi’s apartment. She hadn’t even cussed him out for it. You wouldn’t have done that—you would have probably yelled at him and called him an asshole.It had been thirty six days since you had broken up and Gator had had enough.
“Are you fucking kidding me—” you mutter to yourself as you drag yourself out of bed. You grab a nearby sweatshirt and pull it over your head before stomping out of your bedroom.
Someone—undoubtedly Gator—was banging at your door, apparently not giving a fuck that you had neighbours or that you had to be up in four hours for a shift at the hospital.
“Could you fucking stop that?” You snap at Gator through your apartment door, teeth gritted as you grab your keys. “Or I swear to god Gator, I’ll leave you out there all fucking night—”
“—please don’t.”
The sound of his voice makes you pause. Despite the fact he was banging at your door, he didn’t sound angry. He sounded desperate. Sad even.
You falter. Your keys clatter to the floor but you don’t rush to pick them up.
“Please, baby—just open the door. Please. I just wanna talk.”
You should say no. You should tell him you had work in a few hours. You should tell him to fuck off. That you broke up with him for a reason, that he was a selfish asshole and he should leave you alone.
But you don’t do that.
Instead you open your front door.
You barely recognise the man standing in front of you. You knew it was Gator because you’d know that gorgeous face anywhere. But it was the defeated, almost broken look on his face that you didn’t recognise. And it was that look that made you step aside to let him into your apartment.
He doesn’t say thank you as he steps inside. He just nods and steps into your space as though he never left.
“It’s one in the morning, Gator,” you say as he sinks down onto your couch, legs spread and large hands resting on his thighs.
“I know,” he mutters, kicking his boots off. “My truck has a clock.”
You take a deep breath in through your nose as you fight the urge to yell at him for his attitude and for taking off his boots like he was expecting to stay. You were starting to remember why you had broken up with him in the first place.
“You wanted to talk,” you begin after a moment. “So talk and make it quick. I gotta be up in like four hours for a twelve hour shift.”
Gator looks up at you properly then, his big hazel eyes looking up at you in a way he never had when you were together.
“You’re wearing my sweatshirt,” he murmurs, pointing at the camouflage sweatshirt you had grabbed before leaving your room.
You look down at the sweatshirt and swallow. Because he was right. It was his.
“Don’t overthink it,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest and trying your best to keep a straight face. You don’t tell Gator that you had been wearing that damn sweatshirt for almost thirty six days. That you had only washed it once and cried when it no longer smelt like him. You definitely don’t tell him that. Instead, you tense your jaw and look back at your ex boyfriend and try to remind yourself of all the reasons you had broken up with him. You remind yourself that he only started buying you flowers after you had broken up. That he hadn’t wanted to meet your family despite your attempts to have him do so. That he had left you hanging when you had finally said ‘I love you’.
“But still. You’re wearing it,” Gator says. “That means something.”
“It means nothing. It’s just a sweatshirt—”
“—but it’s my sweatshirt. It means something.”
You wanted to throw something at him. Maybe one of his boots. He was such a smug asshole and you just wanted to smack him for it. But you don’t.
“Could you just go?” You ask him, rubbing your temples before gesturing towards your front door. “You clearly just came to piss me off and you’ve done just that so go—”
“—I can’t just go.”
“Why the fuck not—”
“—because I’m fuckin’ goin’ crazy without you!” Gator snaps, his voice cracking the last word. It’s enough to make you look at him. “I’m—shit—I sent you flowers for fuck sake, d’you know fuckin’ desperate I have to be to send you flowers like some fuckin’ sap?”
“The flowers mean don’t shit to me if that’s your attitude about it, Gator,” you retort. “You’re just trying love bomb me and—”
“—I’m not, I’m just—”
“—just what? Just trying to remind me that you never—”
You cut yourself off, your eyes betraying you as they start to well up. You have to look away.
Gator says your name but you don’t look at him. You’re too busy trying to fight the tears that were threatening to fall.
“Are you crying—”
“—could you just fuck off?” You snap, finally looking back at him. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see that he is no longer sitting on your couch but instead, standing right in front of you. “Seriously Gator, could you—”
“—No,” Gator says firmly with a shake of his head as he takes a step closer. “M’not going to fuck off. Not because I want to piss you off anymore than I already have but be—because—I love you.”
The silence that followed was one of the loudest you had ever heard. You blink, wondering if you had misheard Gator until—
“I love you,” Gator repeats, his voice still unsteady but the look he gave you was unwavering. Certain.
You let out a shaky breath before you lift a hand to wipe your eyes, shaking your head.
“No you don’t, Gator. You love stringing me along and you love that I challenge you but you don’t love me—”
“—yes, I do—”
“—no, you don’t—”
“—yes, I do,” Gator practically snarls as he steps right into your space. “I—I fucking love you. I really do. I love you so much that I—I would do anythin’ just to make you smile. I feel like the biggest fuckin’ sap for admittin’ it but I would. And I’ve tried movin’ on but everytime I try I just keep fuckin’ wishing’ it was you on the other side of the table. And I—m’sorry. I’m really fuckin’ sorry for not sayin’ it back t’ya and treatin’ you like I did. For never spoilin’ you like I should’ve. For not going to meet your parents but I—I figured they wouldn’t like you being with an asshole like me and I—I really wanted them to like me—”
“—and you didn’t think to just tell me that?”
Gator rubs a hand over his face in frustration before taking off his cap so he could run a hand through his hair too. You notice how it wasn’t gelled. You once told him you preferred his hair without gel, apparently he had listened.
“No, I didn’t,” Gator admits quietly.
“Gator, I don’t know if I—”
“Please,” Gator croaks out desperately, reaching for one of your hands and squeezing it. “Please don’t—don’t give up on me. On us. I can do better, baby. I know I can.”
You falter just slightly when he calls you baby. It makes you feel warm, makes your insides feel as though they were made of goo.
But still, you say nothing.
And Gator doesn’t know what else to do.
“Please,” he repeats, his voice desperate once again and you watch in complete shock as Gator Tillman, still holding tightly on your hands, drops down onto his knees in front of you. “Please baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good t’ya.”
“Gator—”
“—I mean it, baby,” he continues, pressing his lips to your knuckles as he remains on his knees. “I’ll tell you every fucking day that I love you. I’ll meet your parents. Grandparents. Whoever the fuck else you want me to meet. I’ll get you flowers. I’ll make you coffee every mornin’ before your shift. Maybe even breakfast in bed. Whatever you want just don’t—please don’t give up on me.”
You were speechless. Genuinely speechless. Because Gator Tillman was not the type of man to beg for anything. He could probably count the amount of times he had said ‘please’ on one hand but the fact he was on his knees begging you for forgiveness? Well—it made you think twice about kicking him out of your apartment. You were still undecided on throwing a boot at him.
You look down at Gator, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment before you give his hands a gentle tug, silently telling him to stand up. He obeys because of course he does. Because he loves you. Because he really would do anything for you.
Gator stands—looking back at you and waiting for you to talk. His hands are still holding yours. Still hoping, praying that you’ll trust him.
“Breakfast in bed,” you ask him quietly with a faint smile. “Really? You're gonna wake up at five in the morning just to scramble some eggs?”
The corner of Gator’s mouth twitches, his hazel eyes sparkling just a little as he looks back at you. “I also make omelettes."
You try not to laugh but it somehow escapes you.
Gator’s eyes soften, he gives your hands another squeeze before he lets go in favour of cupping your cheek with one hand, the other resting gently at the side of your neck.
“I meant every word, baby. I love you and I—”
Whatever he was about to say, whatever speech he had rehearsed, you don’t get to hear. Because your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence. Gator takes a second, maybe two, before he responds and when he does, he lets out a low groan before kissing you back.
Gator kisses you like he was starving, like you were an oasis in the desert, like even the thought of pulling away from you might cause him physical pain.
The hand cupping your face was soft but firm, tilting your head back so he could deepen the kiss. Your hands tangle their way through his ungelled hair as the hand that had been brushing over the side of your neck trails down to curl an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. His mouth was so eager that it made you feel a little lightheaded, your body humming with need for the man in front of you.
And had it not been nearing half one in the morning, you may have given in. May have fallen into bed (or even the couch, you weren’t picky) with him. But the thought of being up in a few hours was the thing that finally pulled you away from him.
Gator whines at the loss and the sound sends heat rushes through you like molten lava but you shake your head, pulling yourself out of it. Not tonight.
“I’ll be expecting my omelette and coffee bright and early,” you tell Gator with a soft smile as you gently comb a hand through his hair.
Gator hums, leaning in to press his forehead against yours and closing his eyes for a brief moment before nodding. “I’m gonna make you the best damn omelette baby, I promise you.”
It wasn’t perfect and you had more to talk about, a lot more to work out but for now? An omelette, coffee and Gator Tillman loving you? It was more than enough.
moon dividers and support dividers by @saradika-graphics
okay wait u remember how joe said one time a fan gave him a polaroid that has a picture of her and her number.
WHAT IFFF like a fic where joe ended up texting the number because he thought she was like really pretty and they like are constantly texting and hitting it off and reader can believe what’s happening and it’s just a bunch of fluff and them hanging out and pretty much leading to a relationship. and it’s just the reader being blown away the whole time because she can’t believe the polaroid worked.
idk if that made sense but i trust your input and your creative talent. ALSO LOVEEE UR FICSSS OMG
POLAROID GIRL
joe keery x reader
desc - what's the harm in giving that hot guy joe keery a polaroid with your number on it?
val speaks - we r gonna ignore the fact i tried to do a text thing! please! anyways i hope u love !!!
the room was already too warm before joe even came out.
you could feel it in the air, that low buzzing kind of excitement that made everything louder than it should be. people pressed shoulder to shoulder, phones half-raised, the stage lights bleeding soft orange across the crowd. somewhere behind you someone kept shouting his name like he could hear them.
you told yourself you were normal about it. mostly.
you liked the music. that was the official reason you were here. the fact that the singer also happened to be joe keery was… secondary. technically.
the show had been going for a while now, long enough that the room smelled like spilled beer and sweat and cheap perfume. your ears were ringing a little, but you didn’t care. you were close to the barricade, which already felt like winning.
he finished the song with that half-smile he always did, pushing his hair back from his face as the crowd roared.
then he hopped down from the stage.
that was when things got chaotic.
security walked beside him as he moved slowly along the barricade, leaning down to high-five people, taking phones to snap blurry selfies, laughing at things fans yelled up at him. he looked a little flushed from performing, sleeves rolled up, still holding his guitar pick between his fingers.
you hadn’t really planned anything.
not exactly.
the polaroid had started as a joke between you and your friend while you were waiting in line outside the venue. you’d taken it hours ago, sitting on the curb, squinting into the sun. on the white border at the bottom you’d written your number with a marker, adding a small smiley face next to it.
you didn’t think you’d actually give it to him.
but now he was getting closer.
one fan down.
two.
someone next to you was practically crying.
joe kept moving along the barricade, relaxed and easy, like he had all the time in the world.
and then he was right in front of you.
up close he looked a little different than you expected, taller, for one thing. and his hair was messier than it ever looked online.
he glanced over, smiling automatically, hand already lifting for another quick high five.
instead, you held out the polaroid.
for a second he just blinked at it.
then he took it, turning it slightly so he could see the picture.
his eyebrows lifted.
you felt your face getting warm but tried to keep your expression neutral, like this was completely normal behavior.
“is this-” he looked back at you, amused already, "this your number?”
“maybe,” you said. “depends if you’re cool.”
he laughed, a real one, head tilting back a little, and glanced down at the polaroid again.
“this is bold” he said.
“i believe in efficiency.”
the people around you had started paying attention now, a few phones pointed in your direction. joe didn’t seem to notice. or maybe he just didn’t care.
he slid the polaroid into the back pocket of his jeans.
“well,” he said, grin lingering as he started moving down the barricade again, “i respect the confidence.”
then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd again, already waving to the next group of fans.
your friend grabbed your arm immediately.
“did you just give joe keery your number on a polaroid?”
you stared at the place he’d been standing a second ago, heart still beating a little too fast.
“yeah,” you said.
and honestly?
you didn’t think about it again.
not until your phone lit up two days later with a text from a number you didn’t recognise.
your phone buzzed again while you were still staring at the picture he sent.
So what’s your name, polaroid girl
you huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back against the kitchen counter. the pizza in the microwave had long since finished beeping, forgotten.
polaroid girl.
it started small after that.
a few texts that night. then a few more the next day.
you half expected it to fizzle out quickly, like one of those random interactions that felt funny for a second and then quietly disappeared. but it didn’t. he was easy to talk to. way easier than you expected.
sometimes it was just stupid stuff, pictures of whatever city he’d woken up in, complaints about gas station coffee, random music recommendations. other times you’d end up texting for hours without really noticing.
somewhere along the way you told your friends.
that part… did not stay calm.
“you’re lying” one of them said immediately, staring at your phone.
“i’m not lying.”
“there’s no way joe keery is just casually texting you.”
you slid the phone across the table so they could see the conversation.
they read silently for about ten seconds before looking back up at you.
“oh my god.”
“i know.”
“oh my god.”
you groaned, grabbing the phone back. “can we please act normal about this?”
“no” they said instantly.
fair enough.
but the weird thing was, after the initial shock wore off, it didn’t really feel like texting a celebrity. it just felt like… texting joe. he asked questions. actual ones. about your job, your friends, what you liked doing when you weren’t at concerts handing out polaroids.
and you asked him things too, about touring, about music, about the random cities he kept bouncing between.
you just got along. like you’d known each other longer than a few weeks.
a couple weeks later your phone buzzed while you were at work.
you glanced at it during your break.
joe: Random question
joe: Will i see you at the show tonight?
you frowned a little at the screen.
tonight?
you’d completely forgotten he was coming back through your city.
ugh i wish you typed back.
im working late today
there was a short pause.
then-
joe: Worst news i’ve heard all day
you smiled a little at that.
yeah yeah
try to survive
the typing bubble appeared again.
then disappeared.
then came back.
joe: Wait
joe: Can i see you after?
you blinked at the message.
after the show?
joe: Yeah
joe: If you’re not too busy
yeah you typed after a second.
yeah you can
your shift ended later than usual.
by the time you pushed the door open and stepped outside the street was already dark, the air cool enough to make you pull your jacket tighter. you were halfway down the sidewalk before you noticed someone leaning against the brick wall across the street.
hands in his pockets.
messy hair.
familiar face.
you slowed down a little.
“…joe?”
he looked up, breaking into a quick grin when he saw you.
“hey.”
you walked closer, still a little surprised he was actually there.
“don’t you have like… a show you just played?”
“yeah.”
“and you’re just… standing outside my job?”
“well,” he shrugged slightly, “i said i wanted to see you.”
you couldn’t help smiling at that.
for a second neither of you moved, just standing there on the sidewalk like two people who’d somehow skipped straight past the normal introduction part.
“hi” you said finally.
“hi” he said back.
then he pushed off the wall.
“you walking home?”
“yeah. it’s not far.”
“mind if i walk with you?”
you shrugged casually. “sure.”
so you started down the street together.
it was weird at first. not bad-weird, just the kind where your brain was still catching up to the fact that the person you’d been texting for weeks was suddenly right there beside you.
he kept glancing around like he was checking the street.
“you hiding from fans or something?” you asked.
“a little,” he admitted. “also i don’t have a ton of time. we’re leaving tonight.”
“rockstar life.”
“tragic, i know.”
you walked in comfortable silence for a minute.
then you nudged him slightly with your elbow.
“so.”
he glanced over.
“get any new polaroids tonight?”
he laughed under his breath.
“no.”
“none?”
“none.”
you looked over at him suspiciously.
“really?”
he shook his head.
“even if i did,” he said, “i wouldn’t take it.”
“wow.”
“what?”
“polaroid girl replaced already”
he glanced at you again, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“no,” he said. “i got you now.”
you tried to act normal about that.
failed a little.
“bold statement” you said instead.
“i believe in efficiency.”
you laughed quietly, recognising your own words.
your building came into view a minute later.
“this is me.”
he nodded, stopping with you.
for a second it got a little quieter again, that same strange pause from earlier.
but this time it felt easier.
joe rubbed the back of his neck lightly.
“i’m glad i came” he said.
“yeah?”
“yeah.” he glanced at you. “i’ve really liked getting to know you.”
you smiled a little.
“same.”
another small pause.
then-
“can i see you again soon?”
you raised an eyebrow.
“wow.”
“what?”
“you’re asking my permission now?”
he laughed softly.
you leaned back against the door for a second.
“yeah,” you said. “of course.”
his smile widened just a little.
“okay. good.”
neither of you moved right away.
finally you gestured toward the street.
“you should probably go before your band leaves without you.”
“probably.”
but he still lingered for another second before stepping back.
“goodnight, polaroid girl.”
you rolled your eyes, smiling.
“goodnight, joe.”
and as he walked away down the sidewalk, you had a feeling this probably wasn’t the last time he’d show up outside your work.
-
it wasn’t the last time he showed up outside your work.
not even close.
the next time he was back in the city, your phone buzzed sometime mid-afternoon.
joe: What time do you get off today
you stared at the message for a second before typing back.
why
joe: No reason
joe
joe: Okay fine
joe: Can i walk you home again?
you smiled to yourself before answering.
7:30
joe: See you then
and he did.
he was leaning against the same brick wall when you stepped outside, hands in his jacket pockets like he’d been there the whole time.
after that it just kept happening. whenever he was in the city, you’d get some variation of the same text.
What’s your schedule like today
or
Are you working tonight?
sometimes even just
Polaroid girl are you free after work?
and if you were, he’d show up.
it turned into a quiet little routine without either of you really talking about it. you’d leave work, and he’d be there somewhere nearby, pretending he hadn’t been standing around waiting for ten minutes already. then you’d walk home together.
sometimes you stopped for coffee. once you grabbed late-night takeout and ate it on the curb outside your building because everything else was closed. other nights you just wandered the long way back, talking about whatever came to mind.
tour stories, your coworkers, music you both liked. the dumbest possible things. it was weird how natural it felt. like you’d skipped straight past the awkward part people usually had when they were still getting to know each other.
your friends noticed it immediately.
“so… you and joe keery just take romantic walks now?” one of them asked one night.
“they’re not romantic.”
“he literally waits outside your job.”
“he’s just being nice.”
“he asks for your schedule.”
you tried to ignore them.
mostly because they were a little bit right.
you and joe started hanging out outside of the walks, too.
if he had a day off in the city, he’d text and ask if you wanted to grab coffee. sometimes you’d meet up before your shift instead, sitting in some random café while he tried to convince you that gas station coffee wasn’t that bad.
once he dragged you to a tiny record store he’d found because he “needed a second opinion.” another time you ended up wandering around a park for two hours because neither of you wanted to go home yet.
the walks were still your thing, though.
your little tradition.
and every time he left for another stretch of tour dates, the texts kept going.
random pictures, late-night conversations, voice messages when he was too tired to type. it was subtle at first, the shift.
the way your conversations started lasting longer. the way he’d remember small things you mentioned weeks ago. the way he’d look at you sometimes when you were talking, like he was trying to memorise something. like it meant something.
you weren’t really sure when it stopped feeling like two people casually texting and started feeling like something else.
but it did.
and neither of you had actually said it out loud yet.
but it was definitely starting to feel like the kind of thing that turned into a relationship if you weren’t careful.
not that either of you seemed in a hurry to stop it.
-
when joe left for south america, nothing really changed at first.
you were used to the distance part by now. touring meant different time zones, weird hours, the occasional day where one of you fell asleep before answering the other. it happened.
so when his texts slowed down a little, you didn’t think much of it.
the first day, you just assumed he was busy.
he’d told you they were traveling between cities, something about a long flight and then a drive out to some place where they were hiking before the next show.
you sent a quick message sometime in the afternoon.
hope the hike doesn’t kill you
no response.
later that night you sent another one.
did you survive
still nothing.
you went to bed thinking he’d answer in the morning.
he didn’t.
the next day you texted again.
you alive over there?
the message delivered.
but there was no typing bubble. no stupid joke about gas station coffee in another country. no blurry picture of whatever random place he’d woken up in.
by the end of the second day, it started feeling off.
you checked the conversation more times than you wanted to admit. reread old messages like maybe you’d missed something.
you tried to be normal about it.
he was busy. touring. different country. bad signal.
all very reasonable explanations.
still, by the third day, the quiet felt a little louder.
you typed out another message during your break at work.
hey. everything okay?
you stared at it for a second before hitting send.
the little delivered notification appeared underneath.
and that was it.
by that night, you stopped texting.
in some twisted way, you’d kind of expected it eventually. he was famous. his life was chaos and traveling and thousands of people in every city. you were just… some fan he met at a concert. someone who handed him a polaroid as a joke.
the whole thing had always felt a little too good to last.
you were sad about it.
more than you thought you would be.
but you also tried to be realistic. people got busy. people drifted away. things ended without a big explanation all the time.
so you told yourself that was probably what happened.
and eventually, the ache of it settled into something quieter. something you could ignore while you worked. something you could push aside when your friends asked if you’d heard from him lately.
you just shrugged and said he was probably busy. after a while, they stopped asking.
a week later you finished your shift and stepped outside into the cool night air.
you were halfway down the steps before you saw him.
at first your brain didn’t process it.
someone standing across the street near the brick wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly messy like it always was.
you blinked.
then blinked again.
“…joe?”
his head snapped up immediately.
and the second he saw you he straightened, crossing the street so fast it almost looked like he’d jogged the last few steps.
“hi- okay- hi,” he said quickly, slightly out of breath.
you just stared at him.
your brain was still trying to catch up.
he ran a hand through his hair, already starting to ramble.
“i know this is going to sound like the worst excuse in the world, but i swear i’m serious- i lost my phone.”
you said nothing.
“like actually lost it,” he continued, words tumbling out too fast. “we were hiking and i had it in my jacket and then at some point it was just- gone. completely gone. i didn’t realise until later and by the time we went back it was- yeah.”
he gestured vaguely, clearly flustered.
“and i know it probably looked like i just stopped answering you,” he added quickly, “but i didn’t, i swear. i didn’t even have your number memorized or anything, which i should’ve, honestly-”
you were still just looking at him.
processing.
three days of silence.
and now he was standing in front of you talking so fast he was almost tripping over his own words.
joe hesitated when you didn’t respond.
his expression shifted slightly.
“i’m sorry,” he said, softer now. “i know it probably seemed like i just-”
you stepped forward and kissed his cheek. just a quick, simple press of your lips.
when you pulled back, he looked completely thrown off, like his brain had stopped working.
“i believe you” you said with a small smile.
his face flushed almost instantly.
“oh.”
he blinked.
“okay.”
there was a short pause.
then he looked at you again, a little nervous, a little hopeful.
“can i kiss you?”
you let out a laugh before you could stop yourself. the bluntness of it caught you completely off guard.
joe laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck slightly.
“too direct?”
“a little” you admitted.
but you nodded. that was all the encouragement he needed.
he stepped a little closer, one hand hovering uncertainly near your arm before he leaned down and kissed you. just warm and soft and a little tentative, like both of you were still figuring out if it was really happening.
when he pulled back he was smiling in that slightly disbelieving way you’d seen a few times before.
“hi” he said again.
you rolled your eyes a little.
“hi.”
you started walking toward your building, and he fell into step beside you automatically.
after a minute he glanced over.
“i missed you” he said.
you looked down at the sidewalk for a second before answering.
“i missed you too.”
a small pause.
“i thought you blew me off” you added.
he shook his head immediately.
“i wouldn’t.”
then, after a second,
“i really like you.”
you looked back at him, smiling.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
you reached your building a moment later.
you leaned against the door for a second, looking at him.
“are you in a rush tonight?”
he shook his head.
“no.”
“good.”
you pushed the door open.
“do you want to come up?”
his smile widened instantly.
“yeah,” he said. “i’d like that.”
the rest of the night was quiet in the best way.
you ordered food and sat on the floor of your living room because neither of you bothered moving to the couch. you talked about his trip, about work, about the fact that he apparently needed to start memorising important phone numbers.
at one point he leaned back against the wall beside you and nudged your shoulder lightly.
“i’m still sorry about disappearing.”
“i know.”
“it wasn’t on purpose.”
“i know” you said again.
he glanced at you.
“good.”
you smiled, resting your head briefly against his shoulder.
and somehow, without either of you really planning it, the night stretched on longer than expected. like neither of you were in much of a hurry to say goodbye this time.
-
when joe finally got off tour, things got quieter in a good way.
for months it had always been pieces of time. late night walks after your shifts, random afternoons between soundchecks, texts sent from airports and tour buses and cities you couldn’t even keep track of anymore.
now he was just around.
the first week after he got back, you saw him almost every day without really planning it. sometimes he’d text in the morning asking if you wanted coffee. other times he’d show up near your work out of habit.
“you know you don’t actually have to wait outside anymore” you told him one evening as you walked down the street together.
he shrugged.
“it’s tradition now.”
so you kept the walks.
but there were other things too. normal things. the kind you never really got to do before.
lazy afternoons where you both ended up on opposite ends of your couch doing nothing in particular. trips to the grocery store because neither of you wanted takeout again. wandering through record shops without a schedule waiting for him somewhere.
sometimes you’d catch yourself looking at him and thinking about how strange it all was.
a few months ago he’d just been a guy on stage.
now he was standing in your kitchen arguing with you about what movie to watch.
somehow it all felt very normal.
your friends had stopped pretending this wasn’t turning into something obvious.
“so… are you guys dating?” one of them asked one night.
you hesitated.
“i mean… not officially.”
they stared at you.
“he basically lives at your apartment.”
“that’s dramatic.”
“he has a toothbrush there.”
you didn’t have a good response to that.
the thing was, neither of you had actually said it yet. not properly.
you spent time together. a lot of it. he held your hand sometimes without thinking. you’d fallen asleep next to him more than once after long conversations that stretched too late into the night.
it just hadn’t been labeled. not until one evening a few weeks after his tour ended.
you were walking home again, the familiar route from your job, the one that had started the whole thing. the air was cool, the street quiet except for the sound of your footsteps. joe had been a little quieter than usual the whole walk.
you noticed it after a while.
“what are you thinking about?” you asked.
he glanced over at you.
“nothing.”
you raised an eyebrow.
“that’s never true.”
he laughed softly.
“okay, fine. something.”
you stopped walking, turning to face him.
“should i be concerned?”
“no,” he said quickly. then he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little nervous. which was new.
“i just realised something.”
“what?”
“i’ve known you for months,” he said. “i’ve walked you home like fifty times. i’ve basically moved into your apartment.”
“basically?”
“and technically,” he continued, ignoring that, “i’ve never actually asked you out.”
you blinked.
“…oh.”
he shifted his weight slightly.
“so i figured i should probably do that.”
you tried not to smile too obviously.
“probably.”
he looked at you for a second, that familiar half-smile creeping back.
“would you like to go on a date with me?” he said, mock-serious,
you laughed.
“joe.”
“what?”
“we’ve been doing that already.”
“yeah,” he said. “but now it’s official.”
you pretended to think about it for a second.
“okay.”
his eyebrows lifted slightly.
“okay?”
“yeah,” you said, smiling. “i’ll go out with you.”
he let out a quiet breath like he’d been more nervous than he wanted to admit.
“good.”
you started walking again, and after a second his hand slipped into yours like it had a hundred times before.
this time, though, there was something a little different about it.
like the whole thing had finally caught up with what you both already knew.
and as you reached your building, joe nudged your shoulder lightly.
desc: you’re the quiet one in town, not really known by people, just kinda there at the towns favourite diner. and gator? well, gator has that reputation that bleeds from his fathers. your coworkers warn you, the customers look at you weird, his coworkers make fun of him. that doesn’t change your opinion about him though, cause you know him. really know him. he tells you things he doesn’t tell anyone else. and thank god it stays between the two of you.
cw: nothing really just some language but basically all fluff
wc: 3.5k
a/n - i’ve never written primarily like fluff or normal stuff sooo again feedback is appreciated MWAH and thank you to this request for the idea i feel like it didn’t rlly fit but whateva… hi eva…
————————————————————————————————
it starts before the diner, before you, before anything that could be called a pattern.
the station’s quiet in that stretched-out way it gets toward the end of the day, not much coming in, not much going out, just the low hum of voices and the occasional scrape of a chair against the floor.
gator’s got himself leaned back like he’s settled in for something, boots out, chair tipped just enough to make it look like he doesn’t care if it gives out under him.
he’s half-listening at best.
someone’s talking about a call from earlier, something small, already turning into a story bigger than it was, and he lets it wash past him until his name slips into it, casual as anything.
“you still goin’ over to that diner all the time?”
it takes him a second to realize they’re talking to him.
he doesn’t move right away, just lets the chair rock forward onto all fours again, slow, controlled. “what about it.” he says flatly.
there’s a pause, the kind that fills up quick in a small room.
“nothin,” one of them says, but there’s already a look being passed across the room, something easy and knowing. “just hear things.”
gator’s mouth presses thin for a second. “yeah? from who?”
“people.”
that’s all it takes. it’s always all it takes.
another voice cuts in, louder this time, not bothering to keep it quiet. “that girl still workin’ there?”
gator looks up properly now, his eyes moving between them, slower than necessary. “what girl?” and god, his words are not convincing. not really.
someone huffs out a laugh. “c’mon, gator.”
he holds the look for a second longer than he should, then pushes up out of the chair like he’s done with it. “she’s just a waitress.”
“sure she is.”
there’s something underneath it, something that sticks, even after he turns away from them. he doesn’t give it anything else. just grabs his keys and heads out before it can turn into more.
it follows him anyway. it always does.
the air outside’s colder than it looks, that dry kind of cold that sits in your lungs a little too long. he crosses the lot, gravel crunching under his boots, jaw set tighter than it does to be over something that shouldn’t matter. but it does.
and he knows it does, which makes it worse.
he gets home and finds his dad out back, like he expected, like there was never a version of this where he wouldn’t be there. roy doesn’t look up right away, just stands there with his hands resting easy, like he’s got all the time in the world.
gator tries to pass him without stopping. but obviously that doesn’t work out.
“you been spendin’ a lotta time in town.” and it’s said lightly. like it’s almost nothing.
gator slows anyway around him. “work.” he says simply.
“that so.”
“yeah.” he keeps walking, but not far.
there’s a small pause behind him, just long enough to settle in. “that diner’s got you workin’ late, then.”
gator exhales through his nose, something sharp behind it now. “what’s your point.” he says flatly.
roy shifts his weight, finally looking at him proper. “no point.” another pause. “just hear things.”
same words as before. they land heavier.
gator turns this time, not all the way, just enough to meet his eyes. “people talk.”
“they do.”
roy studies him, not hard, not obvious, just enough to make it feel like he’s already decided what this is. “girl like that,” he says after a moment, voice even. “don’t seem much.”
it’s not an insult. not exactly. but it sits wrong.
gator’s jaw shifts. “she’s just–” he stops himself, doesn’t finish it, figuring that he doesn’t have anything that sounds right.
roy notices that. of course he does. he hums once, quiet, and leaves it there, which is worse. his scrutiny, the way that he would’ve told him how a real man should treat a woman, all of the bullshit he carries in his brain.
by the time gator’s in the truck, again, the sky’s already gone dull at the edges, the light flattening out into something gray and thin. he sits there for a second with his hands on the wheel, not moving, like he’s waiting for the feeling in his chest to settle into something he can name.
and it doesn’t.
so he starts the engine anyway.
the diner looks the same as always.
bright in a way that feels a little too clean, a little too steady, like it doesn’t change no matter what happens outside of it.
you’re halfway through wiping down a table when the bell above the door rings, and you don’t turn right away, because you don’t need to. you already know who it is. you’ve already noticed the way the room shifts, even if it's small and subtle.
but it’s there. that’s for sure.
marlene catches it first, glancing up, then over at you. “oh, great.”
you look at her, not stopping what you’re doing. “what?” you say softly.
she tips her chin towards the door with a half smile. “your friend’s back.”
you follow the gesture just enough to see him coming in. same as always.
same pace, same expression, same way people go a little quieter without meaning to.
“not my friend.” you say it like it doesn’t matter.
“mhmm,” marlene hums like she doesn’t believe you.
he heads straight for the booth he’s taken to using, sliding in like it’s already his.
you grab a mug before thinking about it and of course marlene notices. “you don’t gotta do that.” she says.
“it’s fine.”
“i can take him.”
you shake your head once. “i got it, marlene. seriously.” you smile.
“god bless you.” she whispers almost to herself as she watches you go, something unsettled in the way she doesn’t say anything else.
gator was the talk of the town for all the wrong reasons. his dad’s reputation, his own reputation, but that all flew past your head every time you spoke to him.
you set the coffee down in front of him.
black.
he looks at it, then up at you. “didn’t order yet.”
“you don’t need to.”
it’s not said like anything. just a fact.
he leans back a little, one arm hooked over the back of the booth, eyes still on you. like always. “you just decide things for people, or–”
“just you.”
it comes out easy. and it’s not like you mean anything by it. but it lands anyway.
he goes quiet for a second, like he wasn’t expecting you to answer him like that. “yeah?” he smiles a little, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he looks you up and down quickly.
you shrug, already shifting your weight. “you don’t change it.”
“guess not,” he says slowly. like for the first time ever, he's actually thinking about it.
the place settles back into itself after a while, or at least tries to.
you move through your shift the same way you always do, keeping your head down, keeping things moving, not letting anything linger long enough to turn into something else. but of course it does anyway.
it always does.
marlene corners you near the counter later, voice lower this time as she says, “you should stay away from him, hon.”
you don’t look at her, continuing to wipe down the counter as he continues to sit in that damn booth. “why.” you say almost flatly.
“because that ain’t normal.”
“what isn’t?” you ask.
she gestures, not subtly at all, towards the booth. “that. him. you. the whole thing.”
you glance over. luckily, he’s not looking at you right then. but, there’s a tension in the way he’s sitting, like he’s aware of everything happening around him even when he’s not showing it.
“he just comes in.” you say with a soft sigh, looking at her now.
“yeah,” she says, a little sharper now, “for you.”
you shake your head, small. “no.”
marlene studies you for a second, a little taken aback. “you really don’t see it, y/n?”
you don’t answer, because you don’t see it. not in the way she means. sure, you guys have sat in that booth together talking about shit, but not in the way she means.
he stays late again. later than most. later than makes sense. who’s surprised.
by the time he stands, you’re already by the door, your shift has ended, shrugging your jacket on, ready to leave. and of course he notices.
he always notices.
“you headin’ out?” he says, already by your side, looking down at him, shoving his hands into his pocket.
“yeah,” you say, nodding, glancing up at him.
he hesitates, just for a second, like he’s working up to something he doesn't usually have to think about. he’s nervous, for what seems like the first time in his life.
“you walk?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know your schedule, the way to your home… shit. stalkery-ish, but you can’t really blame him. he’s the sheriff and all that anyway. and to be fair, he’s taken you home twice before. but nothing’s happened. this time feels different.
“most days.” and there’s another pause.
he shifts on his feet, glancing toward the door, then back at you. “i can take you.”
it’s different from how he usually talks. hes quieter, almost less sure. you notice it, the people still left in the diner notice it, even if they pretend not to. the whole fucking town notices it.
you think about it for a second, your gaze meeting in. then–
“okay.”
outside, the cold hits sharper now, the kind that settles into your fingers even through fabric. his truck’s parked right out front. he opens the door for you without saying anything, waiting until you’re in before shutting the door in an uncharacteristically gentle way.
he goes around to his side, hopping in, closing the door behind him. it’s quiet in the truck once the door shuts. the only sound coming from you rubbing your hands together to keep any sort of warmth.
“you cold?” he asks, starting the engine, heater kicking in low, the air carrying that mix of smoke and… his cologne?
“i’m fine.” you say, turning your head to look at him, just to see him giving you a look that says really? with a small smile on his face. “really, i’m good.” you say, a shiver passing through you at the worst time.
“jesus.” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle, leaning forward to shrug off his jacket before moving to place it around your shoulders. “don’t want you to get sick or anything.”
he doesn’t pull away after that. “y’know, they– they… they say things.” he exhales deeply at the silence. “people, i mean.”
you glance over and nod with the smallest shrug. “they always do.”
he taps his fingers once or twice against the wheel, the stops. “don’t listen to ‘em.” it’s not advice. not really.
you look out the windshield, leaning your head against the headrest. “i don’t.”
that seems to settle something in him. just a little. he pulls out of the gravelly parking lot after that, turning onto the main road.
the drive’s quiet. not empty, but steady. he keeps glancing over every few seconds, quickly too, like he’s simply just checking you’re still there. making sure you didn't fall out the car or something like that.
“you don’t think it’s weird.” it sounds like it’s supposed to be a question, but it’s not quite one.
“no.” you shrug.
“why not?”
you think about it, but not for long. “you’re just… you.” it’s simple. nothing behind it. but it hits him anyway. “i’d like to think i know more about you then the others do.”
you can see it in the way his grip tightens slightly on the wheel, in the way he just doesn’t respond, letting you continue to give him directions to your place.
when he pulls up outside your place, the engine doesn’t cut right away.
it idles low, steady, the headlights stretching out across the front of your house, catching on the edges of things you don’t really notice this late – the uneven steps, the railing that leans just a little to the left, the patch of ground that never quite grows grass.
you reach for the handle like before. he doesn’t say anything this time. but he doesn’t move either.
you pause, hand resting there for a second, then glance over. surprise, he’s already looking at you. not in that sharp, watchful way he usually does. something quieter. like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do.
“you don’t gotta just drop me off,” you say with a soft smile. not accusing, not anything, just putting it out there.
it takes him a second. then he nods once, like he needed the permission more than he expected to. “yeah…” he says quietly, weakly before following it with a more solid, “yeah.”
he kills the engine and the cold hits harder when you both step out, the night settled deep now, quiet in that way that makes every small sound carry – the shut of the truck door, the crunch of gravel under your shoes, the faint hum of something far off you can’t quite place.
he falls into step beside you without thinking about it. he’s not too close but not far either. just… there.
you walk up the short path together, neither of you saying much at first, the silence not heavy, just filled with the kind of things that don’t need to be said out loud.
halfway up, he glances at the steps. “that one’s loose.” you look down to look at what he’s looking at. “the second one.”
you step over it automatically with a more bold smile now. “you noticed that.” not a question.
“yeah,” he pauses lightly. “you always step around it.”
you don’t respond right away, just keep walking with his jacket around your shoulders. but there’s something in what he said, something quiet and real. he’s been paying attention, more than you thought.
more than anyone usually does.
you guys reach the door, keys already in your hand but you don’t unlock it right away. he stops just behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him through the cold air, but he doesn’t crowd you.
doesn’t rush it. never. no, definitely not with you.
“they still say things,’ he says after a second, voice lower out here in the cold, like the night calls for it.
you glance back at him. “when do they not?”
“it’s about you.”
you turn a little more, leaning back against the door instead of opening it, looking up at him, arms crossed behind your back. “they don’t know me.” you shrug.
“no,” he says, softer now. “they don’t.”
there’s a small pause letting you study him for a second, head tilting just slightly. “you listen more than you act like you do.”
he frowns. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he says, arms crossing over his chest, hand rubbing at his exposed wrists.
you nod toward him, like it’s obvious. “you remember things.”
“everyone remembers things.”
“not like that.”
you glance down at his sleeves, then back up. “you always roll your left one higher.”
he glances down automatically, tugging at it a little like he’s been caught doing something he didn’t realize he did. “that don’t mean anything.”
“means you’re paying attention.”
“what? how does that make sense?” he says with a soft chuckle.
“‘cause it just does.” you shake your head. “you pay attention but not where people expect.”
he exhales through his nose, something almost amused flickering in his gaze. “you always do this?”
“do what?”
“talk like you know things you ain’t sayin’ all the way.”
you think about it, just for a second. “maybe.”
that earns you a look. a real one. then, quieter, he adds on, “you ain’t like how they say.”
you tilt your head, arms crossing at your front now like you just can't stop moving. “what do they say, then?”
he shifts, glancing to the side before looking back at you again. “like you’re… not all there.” he almost hesitates to say.
your brows lift, just slightly. “that’s rude.”
“yeah,” he mutters, jaw tightening a bit. “it is.”
“you believe it?”
“no.” he answers too fast.
you nod once, like you already knew that. “good.” a small beat passes, then you add, just a little lighter, “be embarrassing for you if you were wrong.”
he lets out a short breath, something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah?”
“yeah.” you glance at him, just a hint of something playful now. “you’ve been comin’ around too much to be wrong about me.”
he looks at you then, properly, something in his expression shifting again, but not closing off this time. just loosening. “maybe i just like the coffee.”
you hum. “you don’t even drink it half the time.”
“tch. that ain’t true.”
“it goes cold.”
“that don’t mean i don’t like it.”
you smile a little, barely there. “sure.”
he watches that, like it’s something new. cause for the first time it’s not something he thought he saw, he actually saw your smile.
“you notice things too.” he adds on quieter.
you nod. “see, i told you.”
“yeah, well,” he shifts his weight, closer now without making it obvious, “don’t go tellin’ people that.”
“what, that you’re observant?”
“that i’m anythin’ but.”
you tilt your head slightly looking away like you’re considering it. “your secret’s safe.”
“good.”
“wouldn’t wanna ruin your reputation.” you add on softer like a little jab which earns you another small huff from him, but it’s easier this time. less sharp. more real.
the space between you feels different now. it just feels closer, not tense at all, but aware.
his hand lifts like he’s going to do something with it, then hesitates halfway, like he’s not sure where it’s supposed to land.
and obviously you notice.
so you reach out first, fingers brushing lightly against his wrist, grounding it here. “you can relax, you know,” you say quietly.
“i am.” he says, earning a look from you. he exhales, something softer breaking through now. “tryin’ to be.”
“better.” your thumb shifts slightly against his wrist, absently like you’re not really thinking about it, causing him to still for a second.
he lets himself stay there. lets himself lean in slow, giving you time to move if that's what you wanted for whatever reason. at this point he was just praying that he wasn’t reading this wrong.
and thank god you don’t.
he leans in more, the kiss brief and soft. his lips meet yours gently like he’s testing the waters, just scared shitless that he’s going to do the wrong thing.
he hand cups the back of your neck just right as the kiss deepens barely. just enough to taste you, enough to satisfy him and you for the night.
you pull away just for a moment before leaning back in, the kiss still soft, still light, still gentle. your hands reach to hold his shoulder as you two continue to kiss.
then he pulls back, not going far. just enough to look at you. “you always do that?” he asks, his voice just a whisper now.
“what?”
“make things feel easy.”
you act like you’re thinking about it. “not on purpose.”
he nods, like that makes sense. “figured.”
there’s a small pause as he removes his hand from your neck hesitantly, running it over the back of his neck like he’s working up something to say again.
“um, there’s a place out past the highway,” he says, a little uneven but pushing through it anyway. “not much there. just quiet. nobody really goes.”
“you takin’ me somewhere no one goes, gator?” you grin.
“didn’t say it like that.” he gives you the best attempt at a held-back smile.
“kinda sounds like that.”
“it ain’t”
“okay.” you nod.
“okay?”
“yeah.” you shift your keys in your hand. “when?”
he answers quicker this time like he's scared you'll change your answer if he takes any longer. “tomorrow.”
you glance up at him, your amusement showing on your face now. “you plan things that fast often?”
“no.” he shakes his head, his tongue running over his top teeth as he fixes his hat.
“just with me?”
he hesitates, then… “yeah.” and that lands softer than anything else.
“okay.” you nod once.
that settles something in him, properly this time. you can see it in the way his shoulders ease, the way he finally takes a small step back, even if he doesn’t really want to.
“night. goodnight, y/n.”
“night, gator.” you smile, unlocking the door and opening it. you lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips, his jacket still over your shoulders. “i’ll return this tomorrow.”
“keep it ‘till the weather gets better. or forever. doesn’t matter. okay, shit. goodnight.”
you chuckle softly, a grin on your face now as you step inside, sparing him one last glance before shutting it behind you, the warmth of his jacket and house enveloping you.
SUMMARY: your best friend’s best friend took an interest in you quite a while ago but never made a move in fear of messing things up for everybody. at a party where he’s desperate to see you, things go terribly wrong, resulting in you in the emergency room where he finally confesses.
PAIRING: uni! harry styles x fem! reader
ⓘ WARNINGS: mentions of parties and alcohol, swearing, blood, getting knocked out, hospital trip, fluff.
WORD COUNT: 3.7k+
gracie speaks .ᐟ
i actually wrote this months ago but never finished it, and i was looking through my notes earlier and decided to continue it! if you guys would like to see this as a mini series, let me know ❣️
Harry leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Louis set up the drinks on the counter opposite him.
“She’s not coming, man,” Louis says for the millionth time. “She doesn’t like parties.”
“Well, you invited her, right?” Harry responds, brows pinching together with a slight panic that Louis didn’t invite his own best friend to his party.
“Yes, I invited her,” Louis chuckles. “She’s my best friend, why wouldn’t I invite her?”
“You just said she doesn’t like parties,” Harry replies.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to invite her.”
“Okay, well then don’t say she’s not going to show up even if you invited her.”
“Jesus Christ, Harry,” Louis laughs, turning his body around to face his friend. “Look, I don’t know if she’s coming. You know her, she’s spontaneous, she might show up, she might not. Don’t stress too much about it.”
Harry sighs, running a hand through his freshly washed curls.
“There’s gonna be heaps of girls for you to talk to tonight,” Louis says, turning around and grabbing the plastic packet filled with stacks of red solo cups.
“I don’t wanna talk to other girls,” Harry mumbles.
“Well, you’re gonna,” Louis sighs. “You can’t complain about not making any progress with Y/N if you won’t actually make a move on her.”
“But, I-“
“And don’t use the excuse that you don’t want to upset me,” Louis says pointedly, looking over his shoulder at the boy. “You know I’m all for this, but you can’t continue being upset about her if you’re not going to do something about it.”
Harry lets out another sigh, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. He’s liked you for as long as he could remember. All throughout primary school, he’s known Louis. The two of them were on the same soccer team and still are, so obviously he’s close with Louis. Being one of his best friends, obviously he’s met you.
You’re another one of Louis’ best friends. You’ve known each other since you were little. Your mum’s knew each other and were best friends who used to see each other constantly, so obviously you and Louis hung out too. He was three years older than you so you’ve always seen him as an older brother. It probably didn’t help that he had a bunch of little sisters, so he took that older brother role pretty naturally.
Harry met you at Louis’ eighteenth birthday party. He could legally drink, so he invited all of his friends for a party at his house. That was the night that you met Harry. He was immediately enthralled by you. He liked the sound of your voice and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled. He found the house night finding excuses to keep talking to you.
The next week, he asked Louis about you. He explained that you’ve known each other your whole lives’, and Harry briefly worried that maybe Louis wouldn’t be okay with him liking you, that he’d get protective and territorial. “Yeah, she’s like a little sister to me,” Louis had said as he rolled the soccerball back and forth beneath his cleat as they stood on the grass waiting for practise to start.
Harry remembered feeling relief when he said that, that there was no way he could ever want you. But then he was worried that he’d get protective in an older brother way. That maybe he’d think Harry wasn’t good enough for you.
“You should totally ask her out, mate,” Louis told Harry later that day, clapping him on the back as he shoved his shoes into his backpack. “You two would be good together.”
That was four years ago. Harry still hasn’t asked you out.
He just never built up the courage. What if he asked you out and you said no? You’d tell Louis and then it would be weird. He didn’t want to ruin anything, so he chose to stay quiet.
Not quiet enough, because everybody knows but you.
You’ve been quite oblivious.
You’d met Harry countless times but never hung out with him one on one. You thought he was perfectly nice. He always made you laugh, but you never noticed the way he’d look at you after he said a joke to make sure you laughed. Most of the time, you did, and that always made his day.
“What’s got you all upset?” Zayn asks as he walks into the kitchen, patting Harry on the back.
“I’m not upset,” Harry grumbles.
“He’s complaining about Y/N possibly not showing up to the party that hasn’t even started yet,” Louis tells him and Zayn chuckles.
“She doesn’t like parties,” Zayn shrugs.
“That’s what I said,” Louis nods in agreement.
“But that doesn’t mean she won’t come,” Harry responds.
“I’ll tell you what,” Louis says as he finishes stacking the cups, turning around and crossing his arms. “If Y/N shows up, I’ll let you slap me.”
Harry’s eyes widen a little bit, a slight smile on his lips. “Really? You mean it?”
Louis’ brows pinch together. “Why do you seem excited about that?”
“I’m not excited about it, I just like the idea of slapping you.”
“That’s weird, Harry.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It is.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never wanted to slap me?”
“So you do want to slap me?”
“I kinda want to slap you, Louis!” Niall calls from the living room where he’s putting away some valuable-ish things. Louis rolls his eyes.
“No, I don’t want to slap you,” Harry shakes his head. “I’d rather Y/N shows up over slapping you.”
“Well now I’m praying she shows up,” Louis murmurs as he leaves the kitchen.
Harry stood by the front door all night, a drink in his hand while he greeted everybody when they arrived at the party that’s not even his. He briefly scanned every group that walked through the door, looking for your familiar face.
He had just started to lose hope when it reached 11pm and you still weren’t there, he figured maybe you weren’t actually coming.
But at last, you arrived.
His face quickly lit up and he smiled when he saw you, standing up a little bit straighter as you walked through the front door.
“Hey,” he smiles.
“Hi,” you respond with a small, polite smile of your own. “Have you seen Chelsea?”
“Uh.. maybe, I don’t know,” Harry replies as he shakes his head. He looks around the party for a brief moment before he looks back down at you. “I haven’t seen her.”
That’s a lie. He had seen her. He greeted her at the door when she arrived. He just didn’t want you to know he’d been standing at the front door for hours waiting for your arrival.
“Okay, well I’m gonna go find her,” you say and Harry nods, a slight look of disappointment on his face that he tries to hide.
“Hey,” he says before you walk away, grabbing your attention. “Can you tell Louis if you see him that I’m looking for him?”
“Of course,” you respond with a smile before turning around and walking away.
He keeps his eyes on the back of your head as you make your way through the crowded house, only looking away when you’re out of sight.
“Y/N said you were looking for me?” Louis spoke over the loud music as he walked up to Harry, who was now in the kitchen with Niall, making himself a drink.
Instead of responding, Harry reaches up and slaps Louis across the face.
“Hey!” Louis exclaims, holding a hand to his pink cheek.
“She came,” Harry smiles, excitement evident on his face as he takes a sip of the drink in his red solo cup.
Louis rolls his eyes as he remembers the deal he made with Harry earlier. “Okay, well you didn’t need to slap me that hard,” he murmurs as he rubs his sore cheek.
“I personally thought it was funny,” Niall responds.
“Shut up,” Louis says before looking back to Harry. “Did you speak to her?”
“No. Kinda. She only asked me if I knew where Chelsea was,” Harry shrugs his shoulders. “And then I asked her to tell you to come find me, but apart from that, no.”
“Well, she’s talking to Luke, if you wanna go find her,” Louis says with raised eyebrows.
Harry’s eyes widen at the mention of Luke. “Really? Where?”
“By the stairs, I believe.”
Before Louis can speak again, Harry’s off to find you. He makes his way through the busy house, apologising to anybody he accidentally bumps into along the way.
Luke was a dick. Harry remembers when they first started university, he was just cocky and arrogant. He watched Luke use girls and throw them away like they didn’t matter. He made them feel like they might be wanted when they weren’t, and Harry didn’t want that to happen to you.
He checked everywhere for you, yet he still couldn’t find you. He checked by the staircase, in the living room, in the backyard, everywhere.
He’s been getting increasingly more frustrated everytime he leaves a room without finding you, starting to think that maybe you left with Luke. All he really wanted was to talk to you tonight and now he’s losing hope again.
After about half an hour of searching for you, he gave up. He chose to drink instead. It didn’t take very long for him to get up on the coffee table, drunk out of his mind. He’s singing and dancing along to a Nirvana song that’s blasting throughout the speakers.
He’s unaware that you’re stood in the doorway, a drink in your hand as you watch him make a fool of himself.
“That things gonna break, mate!” Liam shouts over the music. “Get down, you’re gonna injure yourself!”
Harry doesn’t respond, he just continues jumping and singing.
His face lights up when he sees you coming towards him in the crowd, a concerned look on your face.
“Harry, I think you should get down!” You call up to him, waving your hand to signal for him to get off the coffee table.
“Come up here!” He shouts back, grabbing your hand and pulling you up there with him.
Instinctively, your arm wraps around his waist as his does the same to yours, holding your body close to his so you don’t tumble off the table.
He brings his face close to yours, his lips brushing against your ear, causing your breath to hitch as he murmurs softly but lough enough so you could hear him over the loud music. “Can I tell you a secret?”
You open your mouth to respond but all that comes out is a screech when the coffee table collapses underneath the both of you, sending you toppling to the floor.
Niall manages to catch you since you were the closest to him, but Harry fell forward, smashing his face on the floor and knocking him out cold on impact.
“Harry!” You gasp as everyone does the same, rushing over to him.
You roll his unconscious body over, seeing his eyes closed and mouth open as blood pours out of his nose. His face is covered in blood, leaking down his chin and neck and onto his black shirt. There’s a big gash on his forehead with a piece of wood from the coffee table lodged into his skin.
“Shit,” Liam sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks between you, Harry and Niall who’s currently slapping the unconscious boy’s cheek, trying to wake him up.
“What- what do we do?” You ask, looking frantically between Niall and Liam. “Do we call an ambulance?”
“I think we should just bring him to the hospital,” Liam responds.
“I’m gonna go get a towel,” Niall tells you, standing up and pushing his way through the crowd.
Louis comes barrelling into the room as Niall leaves, bumping shoulders with the boy. “What the fuck happened?” He asks, brows pinched with concern as he reaches you and Harry on the floor.
“Louis, I’m so sorry about your mum’s coffee table,” you say, looking up at him. “I was trying to get him down but he’s so drunk, he wouldn’t-“
“It’s fine, love,” Louis responds, shaking his head. He winces as he takes a closer look at his friend’s face. “Shit, that’s bad,” he murmurs.
“Okay, everybody get the fuck out!” Liam suddenly yells, standing up and ushering everybody out of the living room. People abandon their red solo cups and leave, murmuring apologies and quiet goodbyes as Louis and Liam urge everybody to leave the crowded house.
Niall comes back a moment later into the empty living room with a wet towel, crouching down next to you.
“Do we take that out?” You ask, looking up at the blonde.
“I.. I don’t know,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “I think we should leave it in for the doctors,” Niall responds as he starts gently cleaning up Harry’s face.
When he touches Harry’s nose, which is definitely broken, a soft groan leaves his bloody lips as he starts to wake up.
“Ah, fuck!” Harry rasps, his face scrunching up at the pain filling his face. “Fuck.”
“Sorry, man,” Niall murmurs, keeping his focus on cleaning up the mess. “We’re gonna take you to the hospital, okay?”
Harry doesn’t respond but his eyes move to you, seeing the concern written all over your pretty face.
“What happened?” He mutters, squinting his eyes from the bright ceiling light above him.
“The coffee table broke and you fell,” you murmur, moving some hair out of his face. His eyes close when you gently touch his cheek. “You hit your head on the ground and broke your nose and.. you’ve got wood in your forehead.”
“Fuck,” Harry lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Are we taking him to the hospital?” Louis asks as he re-enters the room after kicking everybody out of the house, which is now trashed, by the way.
“Gonna have to,” Liam nods his head, his hands on his hips as he looks down at Harry.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Harry murmurs with concern evident in his voice, checking over your face.
“No, I’m okay,” you respond, shaking your head slightly. “Niall caught me.”
Harry nods a bit, still checking your face just in case. You look pretty much unscathed. He’d much rather he all broken and bloody instead of you.
“I’m fine,” you assure him.
“Should we get going?” Louis asks, grabbing his car keys from his pocket.
“Yeah,” you murmur, moving away from Harry as Zayn and Liam start helping him up. The boy cries out in pain as his friends hold him up, his hand clutching his ribs.
“Fuck,” he groans.
Hours later, you’re in the emergency room with Harry. He’s sat on one of the beds in the small makeshift room where you’re surrounded by curtains. You’re sat on a chair beside the bed, watching Harry sit there idly.
Liam and Zayn went home, but Louis and Niall are still here. They just left to go get some food for everyone. They want to keep Harry overnight for evaluation since he’s got a concussion.
The cut on his forehead is all patched up and clean, but his nose is broken and currently has some tape on it. It’s pretty bruised and tender. He’s got a few minor scratches scattered around his face and a few broken ribs, but nothing else that needed urgent medical attention.
You haven’t left Harry’s side as he’s still a little intoxicated and you don’t feel right about leaving him alone. And you have a feeling he doesn’t want you to leave too.
“How’s your head?” You ask, watching as he stares at the foot of the bed blankly. When he hears your voice, he looks up at your face. He’s quiet for a few seconds as he just takes in your details, admiring your pretty, untouched face.
“It’s fine,” he replies softly. “Bit of a headache, but I’ll be fine.”
You nod slowly, keeping your eyes on him.
There’s been something on your mind for a little while now. It’s nagging at you, but you can’t figure out if now is the right time to ask about it. You decide to just bite the bullet.
“Can I ask you something?” You ask again. You watch as Harry nods. “Before.. you know, all this happened.. and we were up on the coffee table, you said you wanted to tell me a secret.”
Harry’s breath catches a little in his throat. Despite the concussion, he’s not forgotten what he wanted to tell you. He’s been preparing it in his head for years now. He couldn’t forget it even if he tried.
“Uh, yeah..” he murmurs, picking at a loose thread on his skinny jeans. He doesn’t say anything else.
“What was it?” You ask curiously with a small tilt of your head. The room falls silent for a moment. You can only hear the sounds of the machines beeping and the hum of the hospital.
“Um,” Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Just..”
You stay quiet, keeping your eyes on his face as he nervously looks away, avoiding eye contact with you completely.
“If this is, like.. too weird, just stop me,” he tells you. A tiny smile pulls at your lips as you nod a little bit. “But, uh… I like you.”
You blink at the confession. You don’t say anything, you just stare.
You certainly weren’t expecting that.
“Quite a lot, actually,” Harry sighs like he’s embarrassed about it. “Since we were, like.. fifteen. Since I met you, actually,” he rambles as he continues to avoid eye contact with you.
After moments of silence where you don’t say anything, he finally looks back up at you. For a second, he starts to think that he made a mistake telling you that. That now you’ll think he’s weird for having a crush on his best friend’s best friend.
“You like me?” You ask, your voice quieter than it was before.
“Yeah..” Harry mutters under his breath.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to think it was weird,” he murmurs with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I mean.. you’re Louis’ best friend. He’s like your brother. And we don’t know each other that well. I just figured it would be kind of odd if I just randomly told you out of the blue that I had a crush on you.”
You listen to him talk. His voice sounds different to how it usually does. It’s still got that deep smoothness to it, but now he just sounds nervous. Like he’s trying to appear cooler than he actually is.
“It’s not weird,” you tell him.
Harry’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “It’s not?”
You shake your head a little bit. Your eyes stay locked in his green ones, watching the nervousness fade as it turns into hope.
“I think you’re pretty cool,” you admit with a small smile.
Harry scoffs out a quiet laugh as he shakes his head, keeping his eyes on yours. “Cool, huh?” He questions. “Sitting in a hospital with a concussion and a broken nose doesn’t feel very cool.”
“No? Well, you look cool,” you tell him sarcastically.
“Shut up,” he chuckles.
The smile on your face gets a little bigger as you continue to look at him.
“So.. you think I’m cool?” He continues. “Does that mean… I’m cool enough to go on a date with you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you try to hide your smile but it doesn’t work. “I’m pretty cool, too. Might be a little too much.”
Harry just smiles.
“I’m still a little drunk, so you’re gonna have to give me a yes or no answer.”
You laugh at that, your eyes crinkling in the corners. It makes Harry’s heart flutter.
“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you,” you tell him. Harry feels a weight be lifted off his shoulders immediately as he relaxes. Suddenly, his head doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.
He doesn’t even have time to respond before the curtain opens and in walks Louis and Niall with a plastic bag from Subway. Niall hands Harry and Louis their sandwiches before walking over to you and handing you yours. He plonks himself down in the chair beside you, his shoulder bumping into yours. He grabs his own sandwich and digs in.
Louis looks at Harry, noticing that he didn’t seem as dull as he did earlier. He’s got a big smile on his face. Louis glances over at you and notices how you’re already having a conversation with Niall.
“You’re very smiley for a drunk, concussed guy,” Louis says observantly.
“Yeah, well,” Harry just shrugs his shoulder and takes a bit of his sandwich. “Things change.”
Louis tilts his head and squints his eyes at Harry, trying to figure out what happened. Then it hits him.
“You asked her out, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“And she said yes?”
“Maybe.”
“You fucker!” Louis says a little louder than he meant to, causing you and Niall to look over at him. There’s a big smile on his face as he pats Harry on the back, and then he notices you guys staring.
“What?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders as he tries to remain nonchalant. “I like my sandwich.”
A small smile pulls at your lips as you watch Louis take a bite of his sub, before your eyes flicker over to Harry’s.
He’s already staring at you with a tiny smile on his face, but it only gets bigger when you smile too.
You definitely weren’t expecting this outcome, but you’re not complaining.
SUMMARY: harry’s friends always tell him that his girlfriend is crazy, and he’ll agree. but he’s exactly where he wants to be. you spend the night with harry at a party and prove all of his friends right.
PAIRING: uni boyfriend! harry styles x crazy girlfriend! reader
ⓘ WARNINGS: mentions of drugs and alcohol, swearing, harry being absolutely WHIPPED. fluff :)
WORD COUNT: 1.7k+
gracie speaks .ᐟ
randomly came up with this idea yesterday and wrote it but i can’t tell if i like it
The first time Harry met you, he immediately knew he was fucked. Something about the way you smiled up at him and the slightly frenetic look in your eyes made him want to know more about you.
Harry’s usual type in girls before you, was not you. He liked blue eyed blondes who were sweet and kind to everyone. Maybe he’d have a brunette here and there, but never did he think he end up dating a girl who terrified him in the best way possible.
He remembers talking with Niall at a party, the two of them idly standing on one side of the kitchen as they looked at you on the other. He remembers the way his heart rate picked up when he watched you yell at a guy with no hesitation when he tried to talk to you.
“Oh my god, she’s crazy,” Niall breathed out, shaking his head before he took a sip of his drink. “Who just screams at someone like that?”
“I know, right? Isn’t she so hot?” Harry responded, his mouth agape as he stared at you. Niall almost choked on his drink, whipping his head around to look at his best friend.
“What-“ Niall cut himself off with another shake of his head, deciding to nod even question it.
Harry made it his mission that night to talk to you, and he did. You got his name and number, and by the next morning you’d already found his whole family’s FaceBook accounts. You learnt that his hometown was Holmes Chapel and he had an older sister called Gemma, and that Harry was blonde when he was little. It also didn’t take you very long to find his all of his ex girlfriends’ accounts. A lot of them still had photos up with him and that made your blood boil.
When you told him on your first date that you already knew so much about him even though you’d only ever had one conversation, he was terrified. But it turned him on. He really liked it. A lot.
Soon, the two of you were dating. He’d learned to appreciate your crazy, sometimes off-putting behaviour. He found it endearing, how you always wanted to know exactly where he was and what he was doing.
You
harry why did you turn your location off
harry
harry
baby
are you with another girl
harry
i’ll castrate you right now if you don’t answer me
i swear to god harry
Harry
Baby it’s 4pm?? I’m at practise, I’m not cheating on you
And my location is still on, I haven’t touched it
You
oh sorry ❤️
enjoy practise! i’m waiting outside your dorm
“Dude, aren’t you scared of her? I’m terrified,” He remembers Zayn asking when he saw the texts you were sending Harry.
“Oh, me too. I’m really turned on though,” Harry sighed, putting his phone away and then looking at Zayn who had an expression that could only convey pure confusion on his face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not joking.”
“I know you’re not,” Zayn shook his head.
Anyway, it’s safe to say Harry loves you despite your slightly crazy nature.
Tonight he brought you to a party that one of his friends threw. The house is absolutely packed with drunk teenagers with their sweaty bodies pressed together like they don’t know what personal space is. The air is filled with smoke, both cigarette and marijuana and it’s starting to give you a headache.
You’re currently sat on a couch beside Harry, your cheek resting on his bicep as you fiddle with his free hand. His other one holds a beer bottle that he takes leisurely sips from as he talks with his friends. You mindlessly twist his rings and trace the creases on his palm as you try to keep yourself occupied, but ultimately it doesn’t work.
You’re bored.
Without even really thinking about it, you pinch Harry’s forearm. Not too hard, but hard enough to get a reaction out of him.
“Ow!” He yelps, his body flinching a bit as he turns his head to look down at you, brows slightly furrowed with a look in confusion on his face. His friends turn to look at you too .“What was that for?”
“You’ve been talking for so long,” you murmur, using those puppy eyes that you know always get him. “I’m bored.”
“Okay, but you don’t have to pinch me. That hurt,” he tells you, shaking his head.
You shrug your shoulders a little bit. “Can we go outside?” You ask.
“Yeah, sure,” Harry says with a sigh, finishing his beer and putting the empty bottle on the coffee table before standing up. He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers, gently pulling you behind him through the crowd of people towards the front door.
You stay close behind him and keep a tight grip on his hand, not wanting to accidentally let go and get sucked into the crowd of strangers.
Just as you’re about to reach the front door, a short brunette girl accidentally bumps into Harry. You watch a smile appear on her face as she looks up at Harry.
“Harry, hi!” She greets him, going in for a hug.
“Stephanie, how are you?” Harry asks, unaware of the way your eyes narrow at the girl.
“I’m good, I’m good!” She responds, nodding her hair. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Yeah, it’s been pretty—“
“Are you fucking her?” You ask Harry out of the blue, your eyes now holding that tiny little flame that appears every now and then. “Is that who she is? A girl you’re fucking?”
“Baby, what?” Harry asks, shaking his head. “No, this is—“
“You know what? No,” you shake your head, crossing your arms. “I don’t wanna know about the girls you’re fucking. Clearly you don’t know how to be in a relationship.”
You turn away and immediately storm off. Harry tries to follow after you, but a group of drunk guys suddenly appear, blocking his path as they laugh and yell. He folds his lips into a line and runs a hand through his hair, looking back at Stephanie to give her an apologetic look.
Harry’s friends watch from the couch you just left. They’re not really surprised at the way you reacted, since it’s definitely not the first time they’ve seen it.
“Isn’t that.. kind of toxic?” Liam asks Louis as he takes a sip of his drink.
“I don’t know,” Louis sighs in response, shrugging his shoulders as he glances from Liam and then back to Harry. “Never seen him happier, though.”
It’s true. Harry’s never been happier than he is when he’s with you.
His girlfriends in the past were good, sure. You could say that. They were nice and friendly, but the relationship always lacked something. They didn’t know him well enough, and he didn’t know them. There was no spice. It wasn’t exciting.
But with you.. God, do you keep him on his toes.
You know him better than he knows himself. And that’s a first for him. Something he really likes. You make him feel wanted, whether that’s by getting insanely jealous over a girl who was doing nothing at a party, or just by cuddling with him at the end of the night.
Either way, he loves it. He loves you.
About fifteen minutes after the Stephanie incident, Harry found you sat on the steps of the back porch, your knees pulled to your chest with a small pout on your face.
He closes the door behind him with a soft click, but it doesn’t do much to block out the loud music of the party inside. He glances around the porch for a moment, making sure there’s no one out there with you before he sits down beside you.
He leaves a couple of centimetres between you two, but he’s still close enough that you can feel his body heat close to yours. He stays quiet for about a minute and neither of you move before finally, he speaks.
“That was Stephanie,” he tells you, his voice holding that soft tone that’s only ever reserved for you. “She’s one of Gemma’s friends. I’ve known her since I was like ten or something.”
You stay quiet, unmoving.
“I’m not sleeping with her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he gently reassures you. “I hope you know I’d never do that to you. You mean too much to me to just throw it away for somebody else.”
Still, you don’t move. Stubborn is another word people would use to describe you.
“You didn’t need to yell at her, though,” Harry tells you, gently placing his hand on your knee. “She didn’t do anything, she was just saying hi. You acted a little crazy in there.”
“Crazy?” Your brows pinch together as you finally speak, turning your head to look at Harry. “I’m not crazy. When have I ever acted crazy?”
Harry lets out a soft breath, trying to figure out a way to keep this conversation going without you lashing out at him again. He lifts his hand from your knee and gently drapes it over your shoulders, pulling you closely into his side.
“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry. That was mean,” he tells you before he lightly presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I just meant that you didn’t have to yell at her. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She was hitting on you,” you murmur.
“She wasn’t, sweetheart,” Harry says softly. “She was just saying hi. If she was hitting on me, I wouldn’t have spoken to her.”
You feel your shoulders relax a little bit when you hear his words.
If there’s one thing you know for sure about Harry, it’s that he’s extremely loyal. You’ve watched him turn down girl after girl at parties and social gatherings. He would never do anything to jeopardise your relationship. He also knows what you would do to him if you ever really thought there was even a possibility him being with someone else.
“I know,” you mutter under your breath. “I was being silly.”
“Just a little bit,” Harry agrees with a soft chuckle, followed by another forehead kiss. “You’re my girl, okay? I don’t want anybody else but you.”
You nod a little bit, keeping yourself tucked into his side. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder as you stay cuddled up in his arms.
“Are we good?” He asks, gently tilting your head up to look at him.
“Yeah,” you murmur, nodding slightly again. “We’re good.”
He smiles softly and bends his head down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmurs against them.
It feels like you’ve been studying for hours. Well, you have. Harry’s insisting on finishing his assignment tonight, but it’s not even due for another two weeks. You plan on finishing it the night before and that idea makes Harry feel itchy.
Anyway, you’re bored. You’re sat cross legged beside him and you’ve been staring at him for the last ten minutes, watching how entranced he is as his fingers move quickly across the keyboard. You let out a sigh, wishing they were doing something else.
“You alright?” Harry asks when he hears your sigh, but he doesn’t lift his attention from his screen. “You’ve been sighing a lot.”
“You’ve been studying a lot,” you respond, leaning forward. You rest your hand on his thigh and he stops typing, his eyes darting over to yours. “We should do something else..”
“But.. but I need to finish this,” he mutters as your hand creeps further up his thigh. He watches your hand as it smooths over his crotch and his breath hitches. He whispers your name, looking back up at your face. There’s a small smile on your lips as you gently palm him over his sweatpants. You can feel him getting hard.
“You wanna?” You ask, quirking a brow. Harry swallows thickly and nods his head, and you waste no time in pulling on the waistband and reaching inside, gently grasping his hard cock. His breath catches in his throat as you start to slowly stroke him.
“That-“ he stammers, swallowing and letting out a breath. “That feels really nice.”
“Yeah?” You murmur as you keep slowly stroking him, he just hums in response. You shift your position, moving to lay down on your stomach in front of him with your face in front of his crotch. Your tongue pokes out of your mouth and you gently swipe it across his tip, collecting some of the pre cum that had collected there.
You laugh softly when you see the look on his face. “Oh my god..” he mutters, his eyes closing briefly but then they snap back open when he feels your mouth wrapped around his cock. “Oh-“ he claps his hand over his mouth, muffling the moan that threatens to leave his lips so his mother downstairs doesn’t hear.
Your head bobs up and down as you take him deep in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. It only takes a few minutes for him to cum, and he has to bite down on his fist to stop from moaning loudly. He unloads on your tongue and his mouth stays permanently hung open as he watches you, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
There’s a smile on your face as you sit back up on your knees, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You laugh softly when he closes his mouth and swallows, trying to appear normally and as if he hadn’t just gotten his first ever blowjob. From his best friend.
“You may proceed,” you say casually, pointing towards his forgotten laptop that got cast aside as you lay back down, grabbing your phone as Harry just stares at you, trying to get that image out of his head.
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