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writingsfromhome · 2 months

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Dos and Don’ts IV

A/N: hello my loves this final part to this fic completes the birth of one of my favourite fics I’ve written. Thank you for reading and enjoying it just as much—every like, comment, and dm meant the world <3

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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We have an extra day in Barcelona and the team is buzzing to enjoy their nightlife since we could sleep all day tomorrow. I’d visited here while I was a uni student so I give some suggestions.

Harry’s a little on edge the whole time. Earlier today some headline from a musician Harry worked with was taken out of context and thus took the internet by storm. Now he was being flooded with people wanting to know his thoughts and feelings. It was a hot topic.

With a joint effort of me, Jeff, and Graham, we tried to keep the spotlight on his Barcelona show. Well my role was mostly to screen Harry from seeing any further discourse online.

The show itself was one of the loudest I’d been to—I was glad I had my own ear protection. The tense Harry falls away and he’s electric on stage. Even coming backstage he’s on a high; he hugs the crew and thanks everyone like he usually did at the end of shows and disappears into his dressing room with Jeff. They look like they’re talking intensely.

“So,” Sarah slides in beside me. “We noticed you’re a bit different coming back. What’s happened?”

I try to play dumb but the girls keep pushing.

“Me and my fiancé ended things,” I confess. They gasp, Claire’s eyes actually fill with tears.

“Shh!” I shush them. “Keep it on the down low please I don’t want anyone to know.”

“But y/n why are you even here!? Is it because of tour! I’m sure Harry could have rearranged things-“

“No no,” I appreciated their support but I didn’t want to hash things out. “It’s just…I think it was a long time coming. God, I don’t wanna cry. I’m good. For now. And I want to be on tour I need the distraction.”

“I get it,” they sympathize. “We’re gonna make you forget so hard tonight.”

“Okay but don’t,” I look around us to make sure there was nobody else around. “Please don’t tell Harry. Seriously please. I don’t want him to know especially. I don’t want him to treat me differently or something.”

“Lips are sealed.” Sarah zips her mouth. “But we can all tell you’re off. It’s hard not to practically living together these last couple months. If he asks we’ll say…”

“Just say she’s on a break?” Charlie suggests.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Things are complicated, I’m on a break, whatever that’s fine.”

The girls lean towards me and envelop me in a hug. It reminds me of my friends I’d said goodbye to.

“Thanks,” I say through tears.

And the girls hold me to their promise.

After we get dressed for the night—I chose a corset-style top and trousers—we head out. The sun dips below the horizon and the old city is cast in a warm orange glow that could inspire anyone who set eyes on it. String lights come on and music plays from various doors; the city is alive.

We tease each other about looking so glam as we wander the narrow cobblestone streets. Aside from the shows we all wore sweats and tees.

Every place we pass sets my senses alight. We grab tapas from a place that smells irresistible and chat over each other about tonight’s wicked show. I continue avoiding Harry by sitting as far away from him as I can get.

As we wander off in search of the club I can’t help but feel a twinge at how incredibly romantic the moonlit streets felt.

The club is loud and alive, the noise levels even feel normal after the roar of the last few of Harry’s shows. My mood starts shooting up steadily as I drink in the energy around me.

We join the crowd and I give away my worries and my annoyances to enjoy the music. I feel it in my chest and for a blissful moment I’m grateful for my whole damn life despite everything.

“Cute guy!” Someone shouts in my ear.

Charlie nudges me to one of the guys dancing nearby. “Get distracted!”

I shake my head no.

“Do it!” She cheers. It barely travels to me. She grabs Claire’s hand and tugs her, letting her in on the plan and they goad me into going for it.

I motion a drink. I’d need another shot for the courage.

We trail back to the bar and do a round of shots, and they grin with thumbs up as I hesitantly enter the crowd again.

The dude they pointed out is tall and beautiful. Like beautiful not even handsome. I get stuck looking up at him in awe, he wasn’t really my type. A tad too pretty boy but when he notices me looking he smiles and I’m won over. I couldn’t deny a good smile.

“Hey!” He turns his body to me. At least I think he say hey.

“Hey!” I shout back.

“Que pasa?”

“What?!” I couldn’t hear a single thing. What did I expect.

He smiles and takes my hand that had been anxiously playing with the edge of my top. The other has a hand splint that I’d received in Madrid. Apparently I sprained my fingers.

The stranger wriggles both my hands to loosen them, raising his brow at the splint. I laugh.

He asks in my ear but I don’t understand. It sounds like a question, something bylar. When I scrunch my brows he laughs, “Dance! We dance!?”

“Dance!” I laugh. He was cute! “Yes! I want to dance with you!”

“Vamos,” he pulls me in. I understood that at least.

I used to do this in uni, I think. I should be able to do it again.

He teases me a little because I’m so tense. His hands knead down my back to my waist to get me to relax. It feels nice, being touched by a man that looks like he was carved from marble but filled with music.

I begin to find my rhythm and sway with him, eventually letting go completely. He compliments me as I start to move with him and pretty soon I’ve channeled my 20-year-old self. It feels pretty spectacular.

When his lips ghost my cheek I don’t protest. Right now, I felt good. Everything was on the back burner’s back burner and I felt grounded in this nighclub with this random stranger who was paying attention to me, just me. And it’s just us. And it’s just temporary. And I feel good.

When I turn around, my back to his chest, he moves my hair to the side and kisses down my neck. It felt good.

I run my hand up into his hair and he moves lower murmuring foreign words on my skin, our bodies still dancing in the same language, his hands still gripping my waist and my hips. I feel blissed out.

It ends in a split second.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s suddenly tugging me towards him. His mouth makes the words I just fill them in with his annoyingly bossy voice.

“Hey man,” the guy I’m dancing with tries to get in between us.

“What are you doing!?” I snatch my hand away from Harry.

Harry puts his hand on my partner’s chest and says something to him, maybe in Spanish. He looks at me with puppy dog eyes and I look at Harry. What had he said.

“What did you say?” I ask. I try to call back my dancing partner but he just salutes me with a smile and fades into the crowd. No wait, I’m being dragged away.

“Y/n what are you doing out there?”

“What am I doing?” I shout. “What are you?! I was having a nice time with that guy what did you say to him?”

He walks away, further back into the edges of the club. There’s a few people milling about with a number of them involved in heavy makeout sessions.

Harry turns to face me finally. “You’re engaged y/n, Claire and Sarah said things are complicated at home is that why you’re doing this?”

“What!” I throw my hands up, tears prick my eyes. What the fuck was his problem! Since when did he care? “Why do you care?! Yes, things are complicated and I was getting my mind off of said things—what is your issue? You want to drag me back here and remind me of how shitty things have been?”

“This isn’t the way,” Harry insists. “You don’t even know that guy!”

“Whatever I’m over this convo.”

I turn to leave but Harry grabs my hand, the one in the splint, and pulls me back.

“Sorry,” he lets go of the splint. Then picks it up again. “Look. I’m worried about you. This isn’t you, you’re not the girl that goes home with another guy when your fiancé is back at home! I just don’t want you making any regrets.”

“Oh is that it,” I step towards him so my hand isn’t so outstretched. He stands still but on my second step he inches back. “Since when did you get a high horse huh? Don’t tell me who I am and who I’m not. You barely know me! If I want to make decisions I regret I can do that. They’re mine to make.”

“No. Y/n, as mad as you are don’t go home with a stranger.”

“As if you don’t!” I scoff. “What’s your real agenda here? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” He insists.

“Why do you suddenly care so much about my chastity?”

“It’s for your own good!”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying and I don’t know why he pulled me away from my beautiful Spanish dance partner but I was actually relaxing and now he’s put me right back into this crazed and tense headspace I kept finding myself in.

Fine, I decide. I could make him regret it.

“Really? You care about my morality that much?” I ask.

With my hand flat on his chest I’ve pushed him further into the wall behind him. He watches me with a guarded look.

But I want him unguarded, vulnerable. The same way he’s made me feel. I lean in, “Are you really worried about the technicalities of me cheating on my fiancé?”

I hover a half foot from his lips. Finally his eyes flicker down to my lips and I know I’ve got him.

I slide my hand up his chest and when my hand inches up the skin of his throat his eyes grow unguarded and heady with lust. He doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t say no.

Hypocrite.

I drop my hand.

“That’s what I thought Mr. Styles.”

I watch for a wonderful moment as the lust clears from his eyes and he realizes what happened. Shame, embarrassment, resignation, and then anger.

I spin on my heel and head away from him. He could deal with the consequences of his actions all on his own.

I’m half-afraid he’ll come after me but luckily I make it out of the club alone.

“He’s such a dick,” I say more to myself. Just to get it out because I’m pissed. “Who the fuck does he think he is!?”

My night is over. I just want to take this all off and forget about it. Maybe I can lock myself in my room and raid the mini-fridge, get drunk and cry myself to sleep. Those seemed like the best options right now.

I take an uber to the hotel. As I walk up to it I notice a weird crowd outside. For nearly 2am I wasn’t expecting this and my instincts kick in that this wasn’t normal. Especially when I notice all the camera straps.

“Excuse me,” I ask the front desk. “Why are there a bunch of paparazzi outside?”

“Is there?” The man behind the counter asks. “Sorry we will tell them to leave. Are you staying with us?”

“That’s a privacy concern out there, and a concern with your staff because they’re here. How do they know who’s staying here?!”

It seems to dawn on him I wasn’t just asking out of curiosity. He promises me he’ll get management. In the meantime I call Jeff and explain the situation. He starts to panic the way I hated, looking for something to blame. He calls Graham who sounds like he’s driving in nascar. It’s a very noisy and over-stimulating conversation.

“Call Harry!” Jeff orders. “Tell him he cannot go back to the hotel no matter what! Fucking vultures man!”

“Y/N,” Graham says in a calmer voice. “You need to go back to where Harry is with some sort of disguise. A hat or sunglasses. That sort of thing-“

“It’s night.”

“Yes night. No glasses. Book the closest hotel you can find. Tell his band they can come back, but to go through the back. They might get spotted but they’re trained on dodging questions. That will keep the vultures there waiting for Harry and we can pick you two up back to the airport tomorrow morning. Where’s after this?”

“Glasgow,” I bite my nail as I think. I had to call Harry asap. What if he was on his way back. “I gotta go now to call him though. Talk later.”

I hang up and call Harry. He picks up the second time.

I explain the situation and he reacts the same way as Jeff, swearing and cursing the papps. I tell him what I was going to do and tell him to go right back into the club. To pass on the word to the team even though I was going to send them a text.

I head up to my room and grab what fits in my bag. I didn’t have Harry’s room key so I decide he’d have to wear my hat and head back out. The vultures stay waiting, now just a few feet further away from the entrance.

I speak briefly to management—I figured Jeff could talk to them and give his classic earful.

On the drive I find a nearby hotel to the club and collect Harry to get him there. We’re too tense to talk when we meet up. Once inside again, I tell him to sit in the lounge while I go up to the desk.

Act above it all, I channel a rich bitch. We needed privacy and we needed nobody to know Harry was here.

“Hi I need a room.” I say.

“Of course, how many night will you be staying with us.”

I glance back to see where Harry sits. He’s in a wingback chair that’s mostly turned away and with his hair stuffed in the baseball cap you can hardly tell it’s him.

“Just a night. I need your best room please.”

“Absolutely,” the woman smiles and I feel bad for only giving a tight-lipped smile back. I wait as she clicks away, finally looking back to me with a slight frown. “So miss unfortunately we are very booked tonight. There are a couple events going on in the city making things very popular.”

“The best room will do. Preferably large.”

“Well,” she hesitates. “A lot of our larger rooms are taken um. I can offer you a bed with one king, it is a bit smaller because it’s by the elevators. I also have one with a queen that is tucked away in the corner with a better view.”

I wanted to be as far away from Harry as possible but by an elevator was asking for trouble.

“Well, I’d rather stay far away from noise so we’ll take the queen.”

“Is that just you or…” she glances at Harry.

“Yes. Two. We’ve had a rough day of travel he’s just resting.”

I hand over ID and my card, trying not to balk at the total. At least I’ll get reimbursed.

“Do you have any bags?” The concierge swoops in as I get the key card.

“No! No. Like I said, bad travel day. We just need somewhere to sleep and we’ll reunite with the bags once they arrive tomorrow.”

They leave us alone after that. I hoped it was because I’d been standoffish enough and not plain weird.

The elevator ride up to the 8th floor is stony and I spend the spare second to text Jeff and Graham the hotel’s address.

The room itself is pretty sub-par and the adrenaline of getting Harry here safely wears off.

I drop my bag by the door and pull out my toiletry bag.

“I don’t have clothes for you to change into, I didn’t have your room key.”

“Yeah. S’fine. I’ll just sleep shirtless unless that bothers you.”

We stare at each other for a tense moment.

“I’m fine with that, you’re the one with the high horse.”

After doing all this for him I wasn’t going to be easy to deal with if he wasn’t going to be easy to deal with.

He chooses to ignore me.

“How the fuck did they know I was staying there? We were under a-“

His phone rings and he answers. Sounds like Jeff.

I use the time to go to the bathroom and finally take off the makeup. I realize I should have grabbed my pjs from my bag too. I take my hair down and massage my scalp with my fingers, letting myself calm down despite the aggressive voices outside.

“Yeah whatever. Keep me updated.” I hear. Great. That was done with.

I leave the bathroom and Harry’s still pacing the floor.

“You’re gonna wear the carpet down if you keep doing that.”

He stops and looks at me, his eyes trail down my body.

“You didn’t bring yourself a change of clothes either?”

“You wish,” I head for my bag again and grab the tee and shorts. “I just forgot them out here.”

“Do you always have to be so snarky?”

Oh, so he wanted to fight. Good news for him, so did I.

“Depends. With you? When you’re being a dick? Yeah. I do.”

“It’s really quite unbecoming.”

“Is it?” I mock his accent. “It’s not proper for a lady to be snarky?”

“I don’t sound like that. You just never let anything go.” He continues.

“I never let anything go?” I repeat.

“Yeah! Ever!”

“What do you want me to let go?” I ask.

“Everything. You’re bothered by everything just let it all fucking go.”

“No like specifically what should I let go?” I turn on him and with each question I stalk towards him. “Being treated like trash by you? Being told I’m replaceable and unnecessary? Getting bossed around about who I can and can’t dance with because you suddenly decide to be the morality police!?”

“Jesus take it down a notch y/n.” We’re fuming as we square off. “I’m not your bloody fiancé.”

“And thank fuck you’re not!” I throw the clothes in my hand on the bed. “You’re my employer Mr. Styles and I’ve been nothing but a good fucking employee for the last year! I try to keep my patience and do everything I can to do my best! You’re the one always trying to blur lines! You’re the one always getting in my damn business when I don’t pay you to!”

With every accusation I poke my finger into his chest and it’s like literally pushing buttons. His face gets stonier and stonier until I’m sure he’s going to crack.

“You wanna know what your fucking issue is?” He swipes my hand away.

“Oh sure tell me, wise Harry Styles who definitely has no issues at all. Tell me.”

“This. This is your fucking issue,” he spits. “You’ve always got such a temper on you! I’m not blurring any bloody lines I check up on you and you get all offended over nothing!”

“Over nothing?” I ask. I laugh sarcastically and walk away from him. I was seeing red. “Over nothing?”

“Yes! I don’t do shite and suddenly you’re trying to bite my dick off.”

“You fucking wish,” I turn on him. “It’s crazy you don’t realize what an absolute jackass you are! We should be refunding all those fans who’ve come out to see you because the man they’re paying for is a fake! You’ve treated me like nothing and embarrassed me countless time-“

“Embarrassed you,” he scoffs.

“Yes!” I go on. “What do you call what you said on our way to Paris huh? You can be so cruel! So if I have a temper it’s justified because you’re one of the worst people I’ve met!”

“What did I say?”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to make me repeat it?” He was crazy. He was depraved and absolutely insane. Or he just hated me.

“I’m not playing a game just tell me!”

“You said I could have skipped the whole tour and nobody would notice.” I say the words that had looped through my head. And of course, he has the audacity to look surprised. “Thanks. A lot! It makes it even worse that you were so casual with your cruelt-“

“You need to stop being so sensitive,” he has the nerve to say. “Then maybe you can manage your temper.”

“I can manage my temper any time but you’re moody like a pre-pubescent teen and that looks to be a lifetime fucking problem!”

“What’s your fucking problem Y/n! What is your problem with me!? Why do you still work for me if you are this angry all the time!”

“I’m not this angry all the time, you just makes me this angry! And I hate you for it!”

“Then quit!”

“Maybe I will!” I had to. After tonight and this blowout I had to. How could I work for Harry like this.

“Great! Then you can take your problems with you.”

“Don’t gaslight me,” how dare he. “You’re not innocent in this! You create my problems and blame me for being this way.”

“Whatever y/n.”

“No.” I wasn’t letting him off the hook. I get in his face again. “Why did you stop me tonight? Why did you keep me from doing what I wanted tonight?”

“What? I told you I was looking out-“

“Bullshit!” I cut him off. “That’s a bullshit excuse, I want to know why!?”

I feel like I’m made of flames and in desperate need of a lobotomy. How could one guy make me this crazy. How could it all revolve around him.

“I was doing it for your own good! But clearly I understand why it’s so fucking complicated with your partner-“

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” I seethe. I was mad. Fuming. I want to get physical, I wish I could throttle him or at the very least access one of the pillows from across the room and smash it to the floor. I want him to see how angry I am because my words are twisted with every angle Harry could find. I wanted him to admit to something he’s been skirting for a long time. “Tell me.”

Harry stares at me with hate in his eyes and I know I have the same look. I wasn’t going to let him get away.

“You don’t even have the balls to admit it,” I poke. “Is this why you’re so hard-headed to anything I say? Because you can’t even admit something like this to yourself?”

“Just shut the fuck up y/n and stop being so mental.”

“I refuse to shut up. I want you to talk.”

His breathing gets faster and I watch him flex his hand. He was as angry as I was. Good.

“You’re a fraud. And I hate you.” I step into his space. Our bodies are a hair’s breadth away from each other’s. I want to show him how mad he makes me. I want to do something. I want him to admit this thing he’s been dancing around. It makes me so mad!

When he starts to shake his head at me I lose it. Instinct takes over where I want to physically show him how angry he was making me. I grab his face in my hands and push my mouth against his. I meet teeth.

But it doesn’t take long for him to respond. To correct the unadulterated anger with purpose.

He pushes back, kissing me harder whilst pushing me against the wall. I feel sandwiched, my chest crushed against his and I bite down on his lip trying to get back some control.

My hands are all over him, grabbing his shirt, running through his hair, pushing under his shirt to touch skin. Harry does the same, pulling at my hair and lifting me onto him.

Our tongues clash together, his hand grabs my ass, squeezing and moving up. His hands feel hot on my skin, his metal rings an icy contrast. Neither of us want to give up control. We keep fighting, just now with our bodies.

“Why can’t you ever just let it go,” he traces his teeth over my collarbone. It all feels too much.

In response I push him back, he stares at me for a heated second before we crash into each other again. We don't care where we are. All that mattered was here and showing the other who was in control. Who hated who the most.

Harry pulls away, his mouth a deep pink from our fight. His eyes are half lidded, his pupils dilated. I can tell he wants this but a part of him hesitates.

"We're doing this," I commit, not taking my eyes off his lips.

"I’m doing this," he growls and lifts me up, any hesitancy washed away. I wrap my legs around him, not thinking about anything but what I was going to do.

He whirls me around and deposits me onto the bed, and his body covers mine while his mouth attack my neck.

He wasn't gentle or slow, but then again, I didn't want him to be. I pull off his shirt, not wanting anything between us, not caring that my nails would leave marks down his back. Leaving something permanent on him sounded exactly what I needed.

I tug on his hair as his teeth come down on my chest. I feel heated as he swears, “Teasing me with this top all night was a fucking sin y/n.”

“Fuck off,” I gasp as he figures out the row of clasps at the front and the icy rings of his fingers presses against my sternum. I grit my teeth, “I didn’t wear this for you.”

His abs contract as he pushes himself back up, his eyes dark as his hands find the clasp on my trousers, undoing them with ease and tugging them off. His other hand comes back up to tilt my chin up.

“D’you really hate me?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond with zero hesitation.

He moves his body, covering mine with his own again. My breath catches in my throat as he presses his lips to my neck, slowly moving down. He drives me crazy with anticipation and I wriggle up to keep up the pace but he holds me in place. I let out a moan as he kisses my inner thighs, his fingers gripping the tops of them. I'm squirming under his hold, the heat pooling inside of me.

“Do you hate me?” He asks again.

“Yes,” I cry, not wanting to relent to him.

“Good,” he says and that’s the last thing I remember.

The rest is a tangle of limbs, an out-of-body sensation, and seismic wave after wave coursing through my body. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before; the fury we felt with each other fuzes to the passion of the moment and it blitzes every damn thought out of my head.

Hours later, or maybe the whole night later—I don’t know but all I do know was that my body was spent and I was barely hanging on.

“I can’t,” I plant my hands on his shoulders and nearly pitch forward just from pausing. His hand splays on my back, keeping me in place as he turns us around.

“Okay?” He asks low.

I nod, grateful that he was taking over.

And after riding out what I know would be my last wave he rolls off of me, and we lay there just trying to catch our breaths.

After a few minutes, I sense him tilting towards me, his eyes on my face. When he stares for so long it becomes obvious, I look back at him.

His eyes are not the same ones that started this mess, they’re breezy meadows of green compared to the icy sea glass from before. But it’s not surprising. With each round and each minute we spent with other tonight, things had grown softer. Not gentle, but softer.

And as we look at each other with the awareness that the anger had bled into the threads of these tangled sheets a long time ago, we’re left with something neither of us want to distinguish. At least I don’t.

His gaze holds something too real for a place like this and I quickly look away and back at the ceiling. I feel his eyes on me a moment longer before he himself turns away to stare at the same ceiling.

“Y/N,” someone suddenly calls my name, tapping my cheeks with a gentle pat. I have to pull myself from the depths of wherever the fuck I just went to open my eyes and look up, at Harry. He looks concerned and asks me a question that I don’t register—I was truly out of it. I must have dozed off.

I push his hand away and grab the closest piece of clothing to wrap around myself in which ends up being a sheet. I take myself to the bathroom to clean up.

I hardly recognize the girl in the mirror. My eyes are blown out and my neck looks like it was rammed by a bull. I can hardly look at the rest of me. I would need to buy something high necked before we got picked up tomorrow morning and use all the concealer I had. I know I marked every inch of him I could find too.

I had never felt that level of passion with anyone. It was unnerving.

My knees collapse under me as I sit on the toilet and try to count the tiles on the opposite wall, just to come back to earth. To my body.

I sense a shadow under the door after I’m in there for a while, I watch it move from one side to the other and then move away. I wait longer, nearly falling asleep there before going back out.

The bed looks a right mess and most of the duvet is twisted to the side. I don’t bother with it, I use the sheet I’m wrapped in and crawl right into bed. Harry seems to have fallen asleep too but as I near sleep I feel the bed dip and the heavy weight of the duvet drapes over me.

I don’t have enough clarity or energy tonight to think about what any of this meant but I know I was right about leaving.

***

We return to London on a Wednesday morning and nearly kiss the ground. Harry was still playing two shows here but getting to go back home instead of a hotel room was enough to make us weep.

I didn’t really have a home to go back to. I’d been thinking about that a lot as the tour took us closer and closer to London. I had texted Gray yesterday and we agreed I could crash there until this weekend to get my stuff together.

London had a metaphorical grey fog over it in my mind. Nothing felt appealing about it and the only thing on my mind these days was home—my childhood home.

I already knew I was going to give in my resignation letter to Harry after tour but I had a 3 week period under contract. I don’t think I could afford a hotel for three weeks and staying with any of my friends is out of the question.

These thoughts kept me preoccupied.

It helped me not to think about that night though. I avoided Harry unless it was for work, returning to the solitude of my first few months working for him. He does the same: curt and avoidant. I know others notice but nobody dares to ask.

It was the most intense thing I’d done in my whole life and that was saying something. There was a way that Harry got under my skin that nobody else could. And it was hard to find a balance after the scales had shifted so far in that direction.

I felt like I had to block it out until I could have space to process it. And yet memories still seeped through when I was quiet for a moment too long or when he’d walk past me with the same cologne as that night and I’d catch a whiff. I was doubly sure this chapter had to close.

When I get back to the flat on Wednesday Gray has vanished as he promised. He told me he’d drop by that evening to talk. Surprisingly, I felt calm about it. I don’t know if it was getting all of that ferocious energy out that had been churning for months, but I feel level-headed and I appreciate the space to myself.

Gray texts me before he arrives. Like this wasn’t the flat he was now paying for alone.

I know what he wanted to talk about—we were all supposed to go to Harry’s last show at the o2 since I had tickets for everyone. Josie was stoked and based on the way she’s been texting me leading up to the day I don’t think she knew. Gray confirms it.

“So,” he rubs the back of his neck. He looked nice in a beanie and corduroy jacket. I wonder if any of the effort was for me, then vanish the thought.

“So,” I echo.

We stand awkwardly across from each other—him propping himself up behind the couch and me leaning against the dining table. Like we needed to get as much furniture between us. Like we hadn’t shared a bed a few weeks ago.

“We should sit?”

“Yeah,” he attempts a laugh and sits on the sofa. I choose the closest chair and turn it to face him. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know how you feel about Saturday. But I haven’t told Josie yet. I haven’t really told anyone.”

I nod, “Me too. Not really. People at work think we’re on a break.”

“Right. Good.” He says. “I’m not tryna lie to people but I don’t really want to get into it…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So Josie?”

“I’ll let her know once…once you move out?”

Move out. Of this flat. It’s been home for nearly 3 years.

Gray had surprised me with it when he found it—I had been broke and only been able to pitch in for utilities and groceries but he’d been gracious. He’d been supportive once. But I guess his support had boundaries too. I didn’t entirely blame him for that.

“Sounds good. Or later, maybe when she’s done her exams.”

He leans back on the couch, arms spread over the back and sighs as he studies me. “Yeah of course. I should’ve thought of that. You’re always good at that stuff. She’s gonna be gutted.”

I nod. Not sure what to say to that.

“So you’ll be out on Saturday yeah?” He asks after a while. It seemed both of us had a lot on our minds. But his question stings a little.

“Yep. I’m off for most of the week so I’ll just pack things up. Uhm, with Josie and whatnot I guess we’re still acting like a couple? Will that be weird?”

“Yeah. It will be but we’ve got no other option.”

“Right.” I respond. His voice grows an edge I’m not a fan of. “Well. Thanks for letting me stay here. If you need anything else I guess you can grab it now.”

I want to ask how he’s doing, who he’s staying with, and just hold his face one last time to really remember. But his cold apathy grows like frostbite over the room and creeps into my heart. I always thought where there was love there would always be love but I’m not as sure tonight.

I stay busy and when I can’t sleep at night; I map out a dream, an exit plan home. I write up my resignation letter, I look at flights and rentals and talk things out with my family, I cancel wedding and couple shit, and grieve a fair bit.

On Friday afternoon, my only formal shift this week, I head to Harry’s with an anxious weight in my chest and a buzz in my head from the hope. Hope that this chapter of my life could end soon, and I can head home and recuperate and plan out what my life was going to look like.

Harry’s on a call when I get in. He spares me a glance but I head to the office with my stack of mail. Today was mostly for some housekeeping/admin but I hope to avoid Harry for the most part like I’ve done since that night. My letter sits like a bar of gold in my bag.

I hear him move about the flat. I restock some pantry items, and we speak as little as possible. Going with him to his meeting was my final task for today so I decide it’s a good time to hand in my letter.

I find him sitting in the studio, tapping a pen against the table.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Hm?” He drags his eyes away from his screen to look at me.

“So we’re heading to your meeting in 10. Before then I just wanted to hand this in.”

The envelope stays outstretched in my hand and he eyes it, not taking it.

“What is that?”

“Can you just take it?” I shake it a little, like a bag of treats for a puppy.

His muscles move one inch every ten seconds, that’s how slow he is to sit up in his seat and finally take the letter from my hands. I almost let out a big sigh of relief. The process was finally in place.

“What is it?” He asks again, tearing the corner and down the side like he usually did.

I wait for him to unfold the thirds before answering, “my resignation letter.”

His eyes scan the sheet left to right right to left and when he looks up at me it’s hard to say what he’s thinking.

“Is this a joke?”

“No? Obviously not? I’m handing in my 3 weeks. I’ll also email a copy to Jeff and you.”

“Why are you doing this?” He stands, his tall frame rigid.

“Why? Because I’m…I’m quitting? I think I’ve learned everything I could here a-and it’s time to move on.”

By here I don’t mean working for Harry Styles and co but just here as in London. I’ve learned a fuck ton of life lessons here, and it was time to process them elsewhere.

“Is this to get back at me somehow? I don’t understand,” the papers crinkle in his fist as he grips it tighter. “Do you want a raise? Can we talk about this?”

“No.” I say and even though there’s so much more I could say I think that sums up my answer.

He looks puzzled, then annoyed. Just then my phone buzzes. The car was downstairs.

I grab my laptop and we head down. I was coming along to take minutes and then head home. In the car I reassure Harry,

“I plan on wrapping things up in the next three weeks and making sure everything is set up for an easy transition. I’ll leave continuity notes and reach out to people I regularly communicate with to break the news. The next couple months are pretty easy anyway coming out of tour and going on holiday so there should be plenty of time for the new PA, whoever your hire, to catch up.”

He doesn’t say a word. It reminds me of our first drive to the studio together. How naïve I was. How things changed.

He continues staring out the window, resting his face on his fist. I remember my teeth dragging over that jaw. I blink the image away; this was why I had to go.

When we get to Graham’s office Harry tells Jeff, “we don’t need minutes.”

Jeff looks over at me for answers and I shrug. I guess I came here for no reason but at least I had my laptop to work.

“Uh y/n please come i-“

“She’s fine working out there,” Harry cuts Graham off. Graham looks offended, his gaze drawing between Harry and I. Again, I shrug. I wasn’t leaving today I don’t know why he was acting like it.

For the next hour or so I sit at a spare cubicle and do just as I said in the car. I type out lists for upcoming interviews and studio days. I send emails for information to note for whoever the poor person was to replace me.

I had been keeping the Dos and Don’ts updated over the last year and it feels like a baby the way it came together with so much thought. I was almost sad to part with it.

Nobody tells me the meeting is over. The door simply opens and Harry breezes past.

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters. Any faster and I would have to hold down the papers around me.

When he’s gone beyond sight, I turn back to the open door.

“What’s the matter with him?” I hear Graham asking inside.

“You keep pushing him,” Jeff responds with irritation. “That’s not his brand Graham.”

“Well that’s a different tune. Prior to this you were singing my praises with these new ideas.”

“I don’t know. Something’s been up with him for…a while-“

“Since that article isn’t it?” Graham references the Harry Styles slander when we were in Spain. Little did they know other things had also happened.

“We dealt with that article.”

Shit, I think. Has he been any different? I think I was keeping too much distance from him to notice.

“Y/n,” my name snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Mhm?” I’m beckoned to the meeting room. “Yes?”

“Find out what’s wrong with him. Or better yet just convince him to be a bit more alive at his last show tomorrow with his usual charm? He hasn’t been his full capacity the last few shows has he?”

Shit. “Um. Burnout?”

The two men look at each other. They make a face like that couldn’t possibly be why. I tell the men what they want to hear, that I’d try to find out and get him back to his charming self (yuck) before joining Harry in the car.

“Jeff and Graham aren’t all that happy with you,” I say when we start driving. Harry was giving me a lift home. “They’re insisting you do it right at your final tomorrow. Be your charming self.”

He grunts in response, head facing the window again. Was he allergic to look forward in the car or something?

“Are you coming?” He asks after a good ten minutes of silence.

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. I gave my extra tickets to…my fiance,” my brain fumbles my words as it remembers what he was and now is. And the lie I had to keep up. “And his sister and her friend.”

He just nods in acknowledgement, somehow stonier.

When the car pulls up to my familiar building I thank his driver and begin my shimmy out but Harry puts a hand to my knee to stop me. His touch sears right through my stockings and he must feel it too because he slides his hand back.

“Answer this,” he looks at me for the first time tonight. Wow, this really did feel like my first week on the job.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Is it because of that night?”

It’s the first time it’s been mentioned, and his gaze burns brighter than a forest fire. It’s mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

Wait, he wanted an answer.

“It’s because of a lot of things,” I answer truthfully.

He clenches his jaw. Leans back in his seat. The seatbelt reverses to hold him in place again and he’s no longer looking at me. I take that as my cue to go.

***

Josie bursts into the flat dressed to the nines in a groovy floral jumpsuit and boas in her hand. “Don’t worry. I have one for each of us.”

Her friend trails behind her in an equally 70s inspired look.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Josie judges her brother’s hoodie and jeans. “You’re lowering the vibe Gray do better. Y/n? Why didn’t you brief him?”

“I did!” I eye Gray. “Don’t blame me.”

This was way more awkward than I thought. Or I really was not as good of an actress as I wished.

“What am I supposed to wear?” Gray asks. “I’m not wearing a jumpsuit.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “Y/n please drag him back and find a decent tee or something?”

“Yes ma’am,” I take Gray by the arm and take him back.

“This is kinda weird hey?” I whisper when we close the door.

“I don’t really like it either,” Gray scratches his head. “But it’s for the best.”

I nod and then louder announce, “Well it’s Jo’s night so find something a tad more retro?”

We end up with a red tee and find a belt to tie the look. Josie hugs her brother with thanks when she sees it.

I had on a pair of black bellbottoms paired with a blank tank. My hair was in spacebuns and Josie plucks a few boa feathers to accessorize my hair. It’s cute.

We head off and I have to make a conscious effort to remember my mannerisms with Gray before all this. I feel woozy while I slide my hand into his on the ride there, as Josie snaps our pics on her disposable, as she tells us to get one of us where Gray’s kissing my cheek and she’ll save it to show our kids. It makes me sick.

He keeps an arm on my waist as we walk. I want this night to be over so bad but every time I look Josie’s way I perk back up a little. I wanted her to enjoy this.

And she does. I’m sure she’s lost her voice by the end of the concert. At one point we drift away a little and breathe easier to drop the act but when she’s back Gray wraps his arms around me from behind and we act like a happy couple. Again, I felt sick.

Being in Gray’s arms held none of the spark it used to. I just feel awkward and sad.

At one point Harry looks my way, I don’t know how he spotted me in such a big crowd. It’s between songs and he looks at the group I’m with. I give a pathetic wave and he nods ever so slightly, his gaze sliding off soon after. Gray’s arm tightens around my shoulder and my heart gives a squeeze in response. I’m reminded: this era was ending.

The band told me to meet them backstage at the end, to join in on the final-show celebration. Josie and Gray would wait at a local pub and with the way Josie’s Instagram stories were glowing I could imagine her sitting there uploading it all.

“I couldn’t have done it without any of you,” I catch Harry saying as I slip behind stage with my pass. “I know I’ve not been the easiest to be with but you all sit in my heart. This is our Euro tour, concluded.”

Somebody pops bubbly and I congratulate the whole team as they drink. They insist on going out for proper drinks and I’m denied not going. They tell me to invite my guests to party with them and I know, based on where we were going, Josie was going to flip.

Juniper, a club that gets us all in on Harry’s face card, is opulent and lively on the inside. Josie is buzzing about with her friend—Gray had opted to go home, claiming he had early morning sessions. Josie didn’t think twice about him, but we pretended to go back and forth with a final warning from Gray to Josie to behave.

“He’s a broody one,” Charlie comments on Gray as we chatter while we get drinks. “Sister?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t know yet though so,” I put my finger to my lip.

“So no Barcelona dancing tonight?” Sarah teases. I laugh and tell them to keep me tamed. “We gotta do some shots with the team though where is everyone?”

We gaze around the room and manage to get everyone together. After one round of shots and another that Harry forced on all of us I feel the tension I’ve been carrying with me most days slide away.

We end up sticking together as a group and dance together, laughing and cheering each other on. Even Harry’s in a cheery mood—I suspect the alcohol. I catch him watching me at one point and when I raise my brow he takes my hand and spins me in a friendly twirl. I trip on my wide-legged pants and he catches me from behind. With my back to his chest I have the urge to turn around and kiss him and feel the peculiar comfort I had received from him before. That thought drives me away from him again. Despite the tight knit group there’s too much between us to even attempt being close.

I call it quits when Josie finds me and announces she was going home. I hug the newfound family I had made over the last few months one final goodbye, knowing I might never see them together like this again.

***

Jeff’s reaction to my news surprises me the most. He’s visibly upset and tries to sell me anything to stay. I tell him there was nothing to keep me at my job but I would rely on him for a good reference. I think it’s the first time he’s ever reassured me.

Between Harry and I it remains curt. Sometimes even edgy. I post my own job replacement and Jeff keeps me updated on potential candidates. By the time my last week rolls around I’m host to a roil of emotions.

The first week homeless, Charlie had let me crash on her couch and promised not to say a word to anyone. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome and so I had checked into a hotel and called it home for now.

I’m on my way back home to the hotel after being at Gray’s. We’d invited Josie over for dinner now that her exams were over and she’d been suspicious from the start.

We had told her the truth and she refused to believe it, hurt and betrayal in her eyes as she looked at me and realized she had been kept in the dark for the last week. I felt worse then, than I did when Gray and I called it quits.

I promised her a lunch together this week to talk more. Just because I was out of Gray’s life didn’t mean I had to be out of hers. I thought I could also tell her then that I was leaving to go back home.

On my second last day at work, Harry sends me on an errand near the end of the day. When I get back there’s a small group of friendly and familiar faces waiting to surprise me. I’m touched by the gesture, and I try to corner Harry to say thank you but it feels he avoids me at every chance, always in a larger crowd.

I finally catch him while I’m heading out of the bathroom and he’s heading down the hall.

“Oh hey,” I step in his way. He looks cornered. “I just wanted to say thanks for throwing this.”

“Yeah,” he gestures it was nothing. “It was Jeff’s idea.”

Ouch. I hide the sting. “Well. Thanks regardless.”

He nods, staying mute, but his eyes speak a thousand words—just none that I can read. They stay trained on me, communicating whatever.

Slowly the furrow between his brows eases and the sharp edges of his face give way to a softened expression. I’m scared to move in case I break the trance and don’t get to hear whatever his racing thoughts spit out. Just when it looks like he’s about to say something, a guest turns the corner up the hall.

“Anyone in the toilet?” It was Mitch. Damnit.

“Nope,” I step out of the way, inadvertently brushing Harry. A shiver runs up my spine and I try to act casual but he stiffens beside me. Was it that awful being around me, jeez.

I give up. If he wanted to continue staying moody, so be it. I leave to go back to the party and don’t look back.

My final days in London are hard. The same way I arrived, I go: alone and unsure of what’s ahead.

I always thought here was where I would stay forever. And maybe one day I would return but there was a little too much friction between me and the Capital.

I finish work on an unremarkable note after going through processes with the new hire, and dotting all of my i’s. Harry is nowhere to be seen and I’m gone before he gets back. I’m frustrated that he’s behaving this way but there’s also too much between us for the simple goodbye I yearn for.

I visit all of my old favourites, have one last drink at my old local pub somewhere in between Gray’s flat and Harry’s. I shed a lot of tears on my pilgrimage through the city’s veins. I promise the paved and cobblestone roads I would be back one day.

The walls of my lungs ease open on the flight home. Still, tears cascade down my face silently as the plane sleeps. Eventually I do too. When I wake the sky is filled with bright blinding sunrise, and American soil peeks out below me: I was finally home.

••••••••••••••••••••

Present (2 years on):

My heart flutters seeing Harry here, I chalk it up to anxiety. But it annoys me that despite all the distance and the growth, he still had an effect on me.

Harry’s head turns and before I can be smart about it our eyes lock. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before his face falls into a nonchalant facade again. I don’t even want to know what my face looked like.

Then he gets the nerve to smirk, hang his head, and then grab his drink and walk towards me.

“If I had a cross I would be holding it up right now.” I have to shout a little so he hears me before he gets to me. He was an emotional vampire feeding on all of mine.

“Now why’s that?” He continues towards me. My emotions swirl through me. “I thought time heals all wounds. Why the unfriendly welcome Mrs. Duran?”

I grit my teeth at the name, he was still filled with poison. “Right, the timeless wisdom of clichés.”

“I like to think I’m pretty timeless.” He smiles.

“I’ve found that time may heal wounds, but scars make sure you never forget.”

“Well, scars aside, you look good,” he moves on and I feel like an idiot the way I was used to feeling around him.

“Of course I do.”

“What are you doing in London? Last I checked I was getting a reference check from America.”

I debate not answering him but I was trying to straddle the line between indifference and confidence. It was like walking a tightrope.

“I’m in London for a little while,” I give vaguely.

“Ah,” he smiles and damnit I forgot how handsome he could be. How handsome could then turn into seductive so quickly. I had to remember: Still a devil. “Are you looking for a new employer? Because I could be hiri-“

“No.” I cut him off. “I finally have a job I love so I’m good.”

Something flickers in his eyes but surprisingly he stays quiet.

“What are you doing here? At The Violinist?” I ask. I sort of wish I still had a drink in my hand, they feel awkward and clunky and I want to avoid playing with my hair. Gah. “Global star drinks alone at his local bar?”

He laughs but I can tell I hit a minor nerve. “Here I’m just a local. Always have been—it’s nice to be anonymous for a little bit.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t believe that for a second. He loved his fame and everything that came with it.

Plus I used to come here all the time, I would’ve known if my employer was a local too. He was lying for some reason.

“Mr. Styles if there’s one thing I remember about you, you’d choose death over anonymity.”

“Firstly,” he leans in and I get a whiff of his usual cologne with a hint of malt. “A person can change a lot. So maybe you don’t know me as much as you think you do-“

“Oh I don’t think anyone can change that drastically in only a year-“

“You seemed to have.”

His words take mine out of my mouth. I hadn’t changed, not really. I’d always been this y/n but the further I got away from him the more reassured I had gotten being that y/n.

“And secondly,” he continues before I could think of a response. “You no longer work for me. Harry is fine.”

The smile he throws me is almost sweet if I didn’t know the cruelty that could hide underneath. I don’t return the smile, I only raise my brow and look back down at my phone. My cell service hasn’t gotten any better and I’d missed the wifi password.

I could connect to Harry’s wifi, ask him so that I could order an uber.

I’d rather van gogh my ear.

I weigh all my options and consider the last one again. I look up to see what Harry was doing in the silence and find him looking at me. A shiver runs up my spine as our eyes clash. So much history and words unspoken fall in between. A very specific night flashes through my mind. I wonder if it does him because he looks down first. Damn.

“So I’ve gotta get going,” I say.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He says at the same time.

He laughs awkwardly and repeats, “One drink?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not drinking buddies.” I pull my purse to my chest, wanting to hop off this stool and run home if I need to. Put as much distance between myself and this man that was put on this earth to confuse me.

“Then what are we y/n?” He asks, his voice silky smooth as he leans in. The voice that whispered sweet nothings into my ear in my worst nightmares, nightmares of cotton sheets and heated limbs, of passion and shame.

“Ex-employer,” I point to him. I point to myself, “Ex-employee.”

“Exes have drinks together,” he grins full well knowing the double meaning.

“Never ends well,” I eye the door.

“Just as stubborn as I remember.”

“And you were saying people change?” I raise my brow.

He drops the smile and sighs, “I’m not gonna be able to convince ya am I?”

I shake my head. He should know that by now.

“Can I walk you out at least?”

I shrug, couldn’t hurt.

“What is this?” I ask as he opens the door for me.

“What?”

“This? Why are you trying to be so friendly?”

“I thought we could be friendly exes.”

And when did he get so cheeky.

“Something weird is going on,” I watch him stay in step with me as I walk up. With no service I was going to take the tube. “And I don’t like it.”

“Nothing weird is going on don’t get all paranoid on me.”

“Don’t call me paranoid! You never call a woman paranoid.”

“I thought that was conspiracy theorists?”

“Nooo. You’re being weird.”

"Alright, no need to get all Freudian on me. Just trying to be a decent human here."

I shake my head, somehow in our exchange my face had decided it was okay to smile. To forget what he put me through and remember instead that when things were good between us we actually got along.

Damnit. The devil knew how to play tricks. I wipe the smile off my face while he continues walking with me.

“So…what have you been up to?” He asks.

“Working, you know me.” I say after trying to figure out what his angle was but unable to find one.

“Oretta Smith I hear, how did you manage that?”

“I’m just that good Harry,” I say. His name is weird in my mouth. Sure I called him that in my head but I usually used Mr. Styles. I can tell he feels the same with his quick glance my way.

“How do you like that?”

“Yeah, she’s a great employer like I said. Very professional. Lots of flexibility.” Each praise is a knock to his ego. But it was all true, plus with Winnie joining the team I had a friend my age that felt great.

But there was also a darker side called burnout that I barely admitted to myself. Ever since we landed in London and I had time to orient my new self in a city that molded my old self, I felt the familiar singe of purposeless. But I keep it to myself of course.

“Great.” Harry responds curtly. “What about yourself? How’s your life, are you finally married?”

My instinct is to raise my defences and chew him out, he must know Gray and I were done what with me living in the States.

And yet, when I peer past the defences and take a long hard look at him I realize he is asking earnestly and without another angle.

We’re nearing the tube now. I hesitate in lying or telling the truth.

“We broke up,” I choose to confess. I peek at him and he looks surprised, even sorry.

“I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“I’d hope not,” I reply. “Otherwise you’d be an asshole calling me Mrs. Duran.”

He huffs an awkward laugh.

“Anyway this is me—

“I can give you a ride home—wherever that is right now?” He asks.

We’re stood in front of the glass doors. There’s not a lot of people this time of night. And as tempting as his offer was, the way he looks at me right now sends poisonous butterflies to my stomach and I think it’s best I get home for the big day tomorrow and not make any regrets.

“I’m not too far,” I lie. I point a thumb to the doors behind me. “I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah. Yeah right.” He’s awkward, which is a first. He clears his throat and stuffs his hand into his pocket. I watch him with a removed sort of curiosity. Eventually he coughs out his question. “How long are you in London for?”

“A few weeks,” I reply.

He finally meets my eyes again—and there goes my stomach. He was supposed to have zero effect on me, I was supposed to stay mad at him. Why was my body betraying me? Why did it continue to loop memories from that night and remind me of the things he whispered in the dark?

“A few weeks,” he murmurs back.

His gaze travels over my face openly, no longer holding back the barely-hidden expressions from before. Because I told him Gray and I weren’t a thing? Because I was entertaining whatever bullshit this was?

“Yep,” I nod. Awkward. Nervous. Cautious.

“My number’s the same,” his eyes snap back to mine. “If you want to go for that drink later.”

“Harry,” I try to break it to him another way. I wish I could just say I never want that drink. “I don’t think-“

“Don’t think,” he cuts me off. He laughs when I furrow my brows. “I mean, I’m right here for most of the next few weeks. When you feel like you want to have that drink just give me a call. Or text.”

Why, I want to ask him. Why, after all this time, after everything that happened? And it’s like he reads my mind in the silence.

“I know you left on a pretty poor note.” He shuffles his feet. “I know a lot of that was my fault. I apologize for that. Um, but I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and…you are missed. Even Jeff remembers you fondly. Which is saying something.”

This was some sort of prank. Or Harry had gotten so famous he now had a doppelgänger roaming the streets as him. It couldn’t be that Harry, my Harry, would say something so sentimental and so…genuine.

“So uh yeah, I would love to see you again while you’re in town.” He says when I don’t respond.

“Right.” I choke out.

He shrugs when I can’t bring myself to say anything more. “We do change, whether you believe it or not y/n.”

I swallow, hoping to lubricate my vocal cords and find my voice. “I-I really do have to go.”

Crestfallen, he nods. His hand comes up to touch my elbow. “Yeah ‘course. Just…think about it?”

I look down at his hand and he lets go, we stay in another bubble of silence. His eyes flicker down to my lips and I feel a wave of warmth as I try not to do the same.

“Goodnight,” I blurt and get to the other side of the glass doors. He watches me go.

On the escalator down I risk a glance back and he’s still there, watching until I’m out of sight. That ended incredibly awkward.

Leave it up to Harry to confuse me in coming back into my life. Damn him, he could never be consistent.

***

Waking up super early to catch the train out to Cambridge is so worth it because I get to watch Josie walk the stage and graduate with distinction wearing her famous smile that beams over the vast room.

Despite what happened with Gray and I, Josie and I have kept in touch steadily over the last year. It started as weekly facetimes which reduced down to monthly calls and have now become a steady stream of texts and memes swapped back and forth.

When she found out I’d be in London around her graduation dates she gave me no choice but to show up, sending me a ticket without asking.

I knew I’d see Gray, and a part of me was nervous and curious how that was going to go. But mostly I was grateful to still be in Josie’s life and spend time with her in person. She was the part of this life I missed most.

I’m sat somewhere in the middle of the room and Josie was smart enough not to seat me with the rest of her guests. But I know I would see everyone during photos and the dinner we were having later on. I try keep my focus on the ceremony however.

“Y/N!” Josie rushes towards me when she sees me after the ceremony. The group she departs from I recognize is a mix of her girl friends, her family, and a few others.

“Josie!” I return the same energy and she leaps into my arms. I squeeze her tight to me. “I’m soo proud of you my girl.”

We sway side to side, until we get enough hug.

“Look at you!” She exclaims when she leans back. “Your hair looks amazing and you are glowing. Please tell me you have a boy in your life.”

“No,” I laugh.

“A girl?” She asks hesitantly.

“No! I’m just…happy where I am right now! How about you look at you! You look phenomenal as per.”

“Oh thanks,” she takes the compliment and giggles. “I asked my dad to grad gift me a salon and spa visit so I am rejuvenated and blown out.”

“Aren’t you ever,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Congratulations.”

“Eek!” She squeals. “Finally finished this hellscape! I can’t wait to never write an exam again—ooh wait I want you to meet my boy…”

“So that’s why we’re actually glowing,” I tease as she tugs me towards the group. That definitely has Gray. My stomach drops the closer we get, he doesn’t seem to notice. He looks busy talking to one of Josie’s friends.

“Anyway,” she deposits me in front of a 6 foot something guy made of angles. “This is Jax. My boyfriend. We met during a Friendsgiving Myles threw last year.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jax smiles. “Y/N right?”

“Yes!”

“I was supposed to get around to that,” Josie huffs.

“Sorry she talked about you a lot when she found out you were coming. She was really excited.”

“Ugh,” she turns to me like she was embarrassed but her face is glowing. Josie was in looove.

“You two are so cute,” I tease which just makes Josie blush a little harder. “So are we getting any pictures?”

“Oh yeah,” Jax swivels his head. “Liliya has the good camera if you want to get-“

“Oh we can use our phones,” Josie cuts him off.

“No get the high res one—Liliya, camera?” Jax motions a shuttering action to the friend Gray was talking to. He’s so tall above the crowd that both look up at him and comply.

“Y/N,” Josie drags my arms back and takes me on the outskirt of the crowd. “I’m so sorry I never mentioned because I thought you wouldn’t come if I did tell you but you-“

“Y/N?”

Josie’s rushed whispers are cut short when Gray notices me and calls my name. He looks stupefied. I spare a glance to Josie and she’s paled.

She didn’t tell him.

“Hey,” I force a friendly tone. I was going to kill that girl.

“Did you all want a photo?” Josie’s friend Liliya shoulders her way back into the circle with the camera on a strap. She turns to Gray, “Babe?”

It’s an odd sensation, like all oxygen has left my lungs and they’re being squeezed as if tightened in a vice. Gray’s eyes drag away from me to his…girlfriend? Definitely not Josie’s friend.

It shakes me in the moment how much I realize I still cared, still carried a shred of hope for…something. And not consciously knowing this makes this moment feel a little like a slap in the face.

What did I think? I was going to leave this country for a year and people were going to pause where I last left them? Of course Gray’s moved on. Aside from the end he was a great partner and anybody would want that.

These thoughts race through my head in the few seconds Gray responds to his girlfriend and I look at Josie. She looks guilty as charged.

“I tried to tell you just now?” She whispers.

Deep breaths, I remind myself. You’re not the hot-headed y/n these people knew last. This day is not about you. It’s about Josie.

“It’s cool. Let’s get some photos,” I smile. “Don’t want to miss having them with you.”

She sighs but keeps her eyes on my face as we walk farther out.

“I am really sorry,” she whispers.

“Hey it’s alright,” I lie. This was the worst of it—Gray had moved on, had a great girlfriend, and I was living the life I wanted. No harm and no foul. “Honestly Jo I get it, you wanted me here reallllly bad.”

“I did!” She says. “But I’m also gonna kill Jax.”

I laugh and we straighten up when we realize the camera was already pointed at us. Josie flashes her degree and a few of her friends join the pictures too. We hustle back to Gray to see them and flipping back on the first few makes my breath catch in my throat. There’s one in particular where Josie is turned to me talking and my mouth is in a big grin because I’m laughing.

I catch eyes with Gray in an uncomfortably intimate second.

“Send me that one for sure wow Gray that’s a really good shot.”

“Oh wow,” his girlfriend peers over. “That’s a great candid.”

“Yeah,” I agree. I’d love a copy too. And of course that’s when Gray’s girlfriend notices me and introduces herself.

“I don’t think we’ve met—is that an American accent I detect?”

“It is,” I smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh!” Two spots of pink appear on her face. It seems she’s heard of me. “Well it’s nice to meet you—nice that Josie invited you! I’m Liliya but Lily works too.”

“C’mon!” Josie interrupts the awkward by grabbing her brother’s arm and pushes him in the direction of where her friends are posing for photos. He takes some shots but Josie hates the look of them and gives the camera to Lily instead.

With just Gray and I left behind it grows very awkward.

“I thought Josie told everyone I would be-“ I say just as he says, “I didn’t realize you would be-“

We stop and chuckle awkwardly.

“Sorry,” I shake my head.

“No,” he shrugs. “It’s cool. It’s cool you’re here actually.”

“Okay,” is all I can say. Until the awkward silence stretches. “So…Liliya?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Liliya. You?”

I want to lie, but I shake my head. “No. Sorta needed the year to breathe a little.”

“Fair. How’s America?”

“Oh y’know, still super-sized and politically a guessing game.”

“Have you turned on our news while you’ve been down at all?” He raises a brow. I laugh because he was right. It was all a shitshow everywhere.

He asks me about my family as Josie jogs up to us.

“Okay, tell me the truth is my hair going flat?”

“No,” I look behind her where her friends are hovering over Lily and the camera going over their photos.

“Good. Where’s mum and dad?” Josie asks Gray. “Dad was just here 10 minutes ago he said he’d come by for—oh there’s mum! Look!”

We turn to where she points. Michelle—what I’ve always called Gray’s mom, spots her daughter at the same time and waves. She starts to walk towards us.

It’s nice to see her but I also feel a bit nervous; going cold turkey on relationships you only had because of an ex are always weird to come back to. Especially ones you were fond of.

“Mum! You’re missing all the pictures!” Josie says. “Where’ve you been!?”

“I just saw somebody I knew back from my first job as a librarian can you believe that?” Michelle says as she joins the group.

“Crazy. Well mum look who got to show up today! Isn’t that crazy too?”

Michelle looks at me and the bright smile that was intended for her daughter dies like a flower in overnight frost. The look wipes the anticipation off my face.

“Who?”

That one word shades the sun from the sky and brings forth a gust of western winds through the group.

“Mum,” Josie look between me, her mum, and Gray. She’s confused. “Y/N?”

“Hey Michelle,” I croak. Maybe my hair was too different for her to recognize me, or maybe she had early onset alzheimers. Surely this woman who I’ve had a better relationship with than her own son has wouldn’t be treating me like your worst frenemy at your high school reunion.

But Michelle looks right through me. I can’t explain how it feels, not in the moment. I’m gutted, and feel an unexplainable wave of sadness.

“Mum…” Josie sounds hurt and Gray finally decides to swoop in.

“Mum let’s check out the photos we took already. We gotta get some of the three of us.”

They walk away and I feel seven inches tall but I turn to Josie with a brave face and face her teary one.

“That was kind of awkward,” I downplay.

“Y/N I’m honestly so sorry I-,” Josie blinks rapidly.

“No it’s ok!”

“I don’t know why she acted like that-“

“Hey It’s natural for her to feel that way I’m alright don’t get upset-“

“It’s not alright though! That was such a…she never acts like that.”

It was true. Michelle was a free-spirit as she called herself. That’s why Gray had such a hard relationship with her; in his words, she was too emotional and ungrounded for him.

Yet apparently, she was able to find enough ground to stand on when it came to treating me like a nobody. I wonder if it’s because she heard Gray’s biased side of the story or she was hurt herself—still, the way she’s always talked about herself never struck me as someone who would believe a one-sided story. Or be a bitch to someone they previously called their daughter. It hurt like a mofo.

I didn’t want Josie to find out this way, here of all places, that her mom was just human after all. She idolized that woman.

So even though it hurt, I comfort her instead.

“She probably just feels betrayed by me leaving and stuff since we were close too. Imagine if Jax broke up with you and she gave him the cold shoulder—wouldn’t you feel justified?”

Josie scrunches her brows to think about the simplified story I’ve just fed her to feel better. I can tell it still doesn’t sit well with her but she nods in acceptance, “I guess.”

“Yeah, just forget it Josie. Plus you’ve got pictures to take so dry those eyes.”

“Shit I know,” she blinks some more. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to invite you here and twist the knife at every bloody turn.”

“Jo I’m honoured to get to be here and see all your hard work pay off. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“It’s unfair,” she says before she drifts to her group of friends. “I feel like nobody understands how…how understanding you are. But I’m really glad we’re still in touch. And you came for me.”

Her words bring tears to my eyes and I nod, afraid that talking would bring them forward. I watch her crash her group and start instructing photo coordination. I help hold things for people while they take photos and feel like a stranger outside the crowd. If it weren’t for Josie, I think I would have regretted coming here. I feel homesick and unwanted. A tough combo.

I was supposed to crash on someone’s couch tonight and do brunch with Josie tomorrow before going back to London but from the last half hour alone I know I’m going back to the city no matter how late it gets tonight. I think of the hotel room that was home right now, of how lonely that was going to feel to go back to too.

Home right now was in America, in the same time zone as my family, and comfortable in my shared apartment with one of my high school best friends who I reconnected with after going back home. I miss it so bad. And I feel like I’ve bitten into an unripe fruit coming back to the UK before I was ready apparently. My experience feels soured.

I shake off the doom and gloom when the party breaks. We were all going to meet at the restaurant at 6–my plan was to explore the university city and find a place to kill some time in. Maybe go outside to a park with lunch. Josie tries to convince me to join her and her friends for their mid-day celebration but I lie and tell her I had some work to do.

I call Winnie on my stroll through the city. I insist she update me on last night first, and she has more to tell—the guy had a yacht and he was inviting her to a party tonight. She tells me to join if I came back early and we cross our fingers that Oretta wouldn’t need her before then.

I originally called her to rant about Michelle and Gray but I don’t, I didn’t want to kill her vibe. So I scroll through my other contacts but don’t want to worry my mom and it was too early back home to reach anyone else.

My eyes catch on Harry’s name, he was at the top of my texts currently because he sent me a link this afternoon asking me for thoughts on it. I hadn’t opened it yet, I wasn’t sure what to think about this new persona he was wearing or that he thought yesterday’s run-in went okay enough to casually message me for my thoughts.

I remember the weird electricity of yesterday and shove my phone back into my pocket.

He genuinely wanted to have a drink? And talk??

I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and you are missed.

Was he trying to make up for his cruel words? But he also seemed a lot more mellow than before. Maybe that was just because I didn’t work for him. What did he want? And was I twisted for believing the new schtick?

Most curious of all was him at the pub in the first place. He was not a local there—that was a big lie.

I try to conjure up my previous hatred, calling him the Devil in my head. But it’s harder to do. Seeing him yesterday, he was just a man standing in front of a woman with a head full of cautionary tales and bad experiences.

Without warning images from that night come back and I feel my heart flutter. I shut them down just as quick. Not all bad, my body tries to remind me. I tell it to shut up.

I’ve barely stepped foot in this country again and already my mind was running circles around my heart. How exhausting.

***

I’m early to the restaurant, before anyone else apparently. As the hostess finds my name on her floor plan Josie comes in behind me with Jax.

“Oh! Y/n you’re early!” She seems flustered.

“Yeah I didn’t think I would be,” it was only a few minutes to 6.

We make small talk while we’re led to the table, Josie’s eyes keep darting to where our table might be.

“Sorry I was hoping to do this before you came,” she says when we get there. There are name cards along the 7 seats and she picks the one in front of me. “I’m just gonna move mum to my other side so it doesn’t get weird. Which means she’ll be closer to dad but…I think he’s bailing since his girlfriend doesn’t want to do this.”

Josie shrugs, I know how she feels about her dad’s girlfriend. She begins explaining the plans she has to do dinner with her dad later this week and the more she talks the more I can tell that she feels awkward. And I hate that it’s because of me. At one point Jax and I catch eyes and pass an awkward smile.

“Josefina Duran,” I walk up to her fiddling with the name tags. She stops talking immediately. I grip her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. I wrap my arms around her and she melts into me.

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a disease.”

We let go with a laugh and she seems more stable. “This is going to be fine.”

Famous last words.

It’s definitely not fine and very awkward. Jax ends up sitting in front of me, and even though Liliya’s name tag was beside mine it’s suddenly swapped as they slide in and Gray sits beside me. I guess it might be too awkward for her but not awkward enough to fit someone we both dated between us.

I can sense Michelle’s pinched face as she notices us sitting beside each other and I feel badly for Josie the most as she tries to play the gracious host. At one point I sense Jax laying a hand on her arm and taking over, asking Michelle questions about her yoga and getting her talking.

“Did you need more?” Gray turns to me with the wine bottle, it’s the second thing he’s said to me tonight. Otherwise he mostly just watches me talk and leans back enough when others are talking so I can be involved.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. I didn’t want to draw any attention while Michelle was talking. She hadn’t said a peep to me, even when Josie tried to involve us both in a shared memory. She continued acting like I was Casper the ghost.

I can feel Lily’s eyes on us as Gray offers wine, of course they would be. No wonder Gray barely spoke to me all night. Fuck me, what was I doing here.

Jax is a sweetheart, asking me about my job and encouraging conversation between the both of us. I’m so happy for Josie that she found a partner like him.

By the time dinner is over I mostly want to cry. I feel spent. But I also feel like I crashed an intimate dinner and everyone’s polite enough not to mention it. Despite Josie, I do actually regret coming.

As we pay the bill and shuffle out, Josie grabs my arm.

“So I have two friends where you can crash at their place or Jax can sleep over at mine and you can sleep at his or-“

“I think I’m gonna head back to the city.”

Her face falls. But it’s like she knew I was going to say that.

“Sorry Jo. I think you should come to the city next week—maybe visit your brother? And while you’re down we’ll do brunch then. I’m mostly free while I’m here. I’m just pretty tired and have to help Winnie with something tomorrow.”

“Really?” She says in the smallest voice I’ve heard out of her. Salt to my wounds.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know we were looking forward to getting time together.”

She juts out her lip and I’m reminded of the girl I met when I first started dating Gray. How she’d taken to me so quickly. How the whole family had. How things could end up like this.

And suddenly I see the future laid out in front of me. After tonight it would be hard to keep this relationship going—Josie and I. She’s just seen her mom be an unreasonable bitch for the first time, I can tell she’s been trying to compensate all night but the cracks won’t go away. It’ll always be a sitting duck between us.

We might try to stay in touch, maybe I’d reach out if I was ever in London or if she ever visited the west coast. But this would fizzle out.

She was still young and naive enough that her mom hung the moon and stars; mom’s beliefs were gospel, her opinions were rulings, and she’d just delivered my ultimate sentence: I was a black sheep to the family. How could sweet Josie walk through a mess like that?

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her as I fight tears. “Congratulations again and thank you for inviting me.”

“Thanks. And you don’t have to be so nice. I know it was kind of a shitty invite.”

“No,” I insist. “I loved being here. I don’t regret showing up for you. I can’t wait to hear what you get up to.”

“I’m going to make sure to make it to the city next week,” she squeezes my arm. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Exactly,” I look over at the rest of the group, where her boyfriend waits for her. Her family. “And I really like Jax, so good on you for that.”

“He…” she twists her lips, swallowing what she was going to say before vomiting it out. “I always aspired to have a relationship like yours and Gray’s. I never wanted to settle for anything less so that’s…that’s why Jax.”

“Hm I think you made us the bar and you leapt over it babe,” I wrap my arms around her again. I ache with the loss of what we used to be.

“See you soon,” she says before she drags herself back to the group.

I stand off to the side, awkwardly ordering an Uber. The group begins to walk the opposite way waving bye to me. I breathe easier without the weight of them around.

As I tap my foot in anticipation of the ride to the station arriving, I feel a hand tap my shoulder.

“Y/n,” it’s Gray. “Hey I…I just wanted to say something before you left.”

“Oh. Hey yeah. Shoot.”

What was it with everyone wanting to say something to me.

“Uh…ok give me a minute,” he laughs in the way I know to mean he was feeling nervous. “I just sort of jogged back impulsively.”

“Yeah well you have,” I glance at my phone. “4 or so minutes.”

“Damn,” he ruffles his hair. “Alright. I think I just wanna say sorry.”

“Oh.” That was it. Everyone had something to say to me and the something was apparently sorry.

“Yeah I’m sorry. I…when we broke up I was so upset and caught up in my own head. I blamed you for everything. I think it only hit me when you just up and moved out of the country how things actually went down.”

I hadn’t told anyone but Josie that I was leaving.

“Yeah you were just like gone.” He continues. “I guess a part of me thought we’d get some space, maybe circle back later…”

“You really betrayed me,” I remind him.

But even I know what he means. He hurt me bad and it might be crazy stupid but on some level we were both aware we were in an ugly place and maybe with some space we might come back to the place that was good for us again. Maybe bump into each other one day, strike up a conversation, find there might still be a small amount of love left. Enough to water and grow again.

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. I hate that I hurt you like that. I regret…I actually don’t really hang out with that group of friends as much anymore. I sorta have myself to blame but I didn’t like who I was with them.”

I listen, letting him speak. It hurt too, knowing this was the Grayson I had fallen in love with. Kind and supportive, and now apparently he’s learned to communicate. Maybe that was a Lily thing.

“I guess,” he blows the air out of his cheeks. “I want to say I’m really truly sorry. I missed you a lot after you left. Nothing was the same and life was fucking hard. I wish things didn’t end the way they did and I stayed mature but I was just jealous and angry.”

I nod to acknowledge what he’s saying and watch him take a breath to continue.

“And I always appreciated how you never let us shake your relationship with my sister because she bloody loves you—I don’t think how mum treated you was right today but I never really understood her in the first place. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” is all I can manage without making it obvious how emotional this was all making me. How one year could make me feel like a completely different person. How this man I loved, and still love in some way, could stand in front of me talking about us as something in the past. Because we were. Long past.

My phone dings with a notification that my ride would be here. We glance down and out into the street.

“Anyway,” he swallows. “I just wanna apologize. And say I genuinely hope you find love y/n. Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are. I hope you can forgive me one day. And I hope you’re successful as hell in whatever you pour yourself into.”

“Thank you Gray,” I want to say I was sorry too. For what it was worth. But my car pulls to the curb.

I wave at the driver to let them know I’d ordered it and we walk the few feet to the back door.

I face Gray and open my mouth to say it. Say something more: how I appreciated his words, how I was sorry for how things ended too, how I hope he is happy. But nothing comes out of my mouth. I just stare at him, my eyes welling with tears instead.

Gray holds out his hand and I look down at it. I knew those hands well and it’s like walking into a place you used to frequent in the past and have memories rush towards you as you remember: those hands held me and wrapped around my own and comforted me, they made me food and stroked my hair, and carried my bags when they got too heavy. They once wore an engagement band I gifted, they once held a small box with a life-changing question I had said yes to.

Now it was just a hand.

I clasp it and he squeezes.

“I know,” he says, his eyes trained on my watery ones. He squeezes again and lets go.

I rush into the car, those two words nearly cracking me in half. I wave goodbye through the tinted window and feel a wave of despair that pulls me down into the depths of darkness.

Too much was happening at once.

My emotions spiral out of me and I feel alone in this foreign country; I needed comfort where none could be found.

I don’t mean to. Or maybe I do. But on the train back to London I text Harry: is it too early to cash in on the drink?

His response is immediate: no, I was waiting for this text last night

I smile, despite myself.

Can I come over? I text with shaking hands.

H: For drinks?

Y: For drinks

H: Ofc.

***

The taxi drops me in front of the familiar building. I feel an echo of anxiety pierce through me as I go through the familiar doors. I nod at the concierge, the night replacement was new and I’m grateful nobody can recognize me making this potentially stupid decision.

For a brief second I wonder if Harry had other plans tonight but decide not to overthink it. He’d invited me openly. And maybe I was making a decision based on sadness and loneliness and grief and needing to be wanted but I make it. And I would make it like a grown woman—ready to accept the consequences.

I didn’t want to go back to my lonely hotel room. I didn’t want to call anyone and talk about what just happened. I didn’t have words. My body was taking the beating, feeling everything under the sun and now bruised and battered for it. I just wanted my body to forget that. And there was only one person in this godforsaken city that could help.

I’m let up to the penthouse and I forgot it had a distinct smell, wood-like and something indescribable. Weird that it felt comforting.

“You made it,” Harry comes into view in a simple pair of shorts and a long-sleeved white tee pushed up to his elbows. It’s the sleeves that really do it.

“I did.”

I leave my bags beside the elevator next to the umbrella stand, keeping my eyes on him. He doesn’t take his off mine either. I’m glad he doesn’t. Now I know he knows we both said drinks but meant something more.

He reaches out for me before I even get to him, and I know I would think about that later. A lot. But right then in the middle of his entryway I wrap my arms around his neck and lean up on my toes to reach him too.

His lips are soft against mine and he tucks me into him, his hand splayed out on my lower back. It feels like a return to a lover, someone who knows you, like I would’ve thought seeing Gray again would feel. But it’s just Harry, and the thought of baseless familiarity freaks me out a little.

The next time I feel his lips they’re on my jaw and neck and down to the base of my throat. He murmurs my name as he makes his way down and my body reacts immediately. He takes me by the waist and backs me up against the nearest wall, and I have a feeling I might fall.

I had made the conscious decision to walk into the devil’s lair because it was the only place I could get what I needed.

My fingers dig into his shoulders. My body wants this. Every part of me wants to pull him close and hold him and never let go. I wanted all of it tonight.

But I am so tired.

I put a hand on his chest and press gently. I can feel the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his muscles and the beat of his heart as he pauses.

“Sorry, I should have started with a hello. That was too fast was it?” He whispers, looking me straight in the eyes.

I have a million answers, but nothing comes. He puts his hand over mine and I feel it as a shiver runs up my spine.

"Is this too fast?" he asks again, and I hear the worry in his voice.

I shake my head.

He gives a breathy laugh, "Then tell me."

"I think I-“

“Don’t,” he covers my mouth with a laugh. “Please please. Don’t think.”

I smile under his palm and he drops his hand, I can tell he’s proud of lightening the moment by the sheen in his eyes. The moment is tender in a way that takes me back.

He brushes back my hair and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes, breathing in his cologne.

“That’s not where I want to be kissed,” I tell him.

“Then where?” He plays along.

“Anywhere but there.”

He kisses my nose. “There?”

“Not there,” I open my eyes to look up at him. “I’ll have you know that was very snotty just an hour ago.”

He groans, “you really have a way of taking the desire out of a situation.”

But his brows furrow and he watches me even closer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I respond to his unasked question.

With that statement he takes a painful step back and I nearly slide down the wall without his support.

“What?” I ask.

“We should take that drink first.”

I feel the loss of his body pressed against mine, I realize miserably.

“What do you mean? I thought the drinks were just an excuse?” I ask.

He laughs a little, “Maybe tonight, but I really did want to have a drink with you. And talk.”

“Harry,” I groan. “I’m all out of talking tonight. Truly.”

“As much as I want to say forget talking and take you to bed I need to do this…just follow me,” he leads me and my flushed body through to the main living area which I was well familiar with but it’d gotten a facelift. I make commentary on the changes and he tells me more about it as he pulls a wine he wants out for us.

“I changed things around a little after you left,” he says as he hands me the wine glass. “I needed it. The change.”

“Oh.” Is all I can muster. I follow him to the sofa, tonight he doesn’t leave as much space between us but it still feels like a weird parallel to the night I landed in the hospital; a confrontation with Gray leading me to wine with Harry. “Look Harry I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“I…I’m at minimal capacity right now I just-“

“Just let me talk then.”

“Why does everyone want to talk!”

“I need to tell you what I should have said a long time ago and I want to apologize-“

“You already did-“

“Properly.”

I cross my arms and sigh.

“Y/n bloody hell I forgot how quickly you can get under my skin.”

“So this isn’t a great thing then.”

“Y/N,” he says my name like a warning and I want to comply. I roll my eyes and knock back my glass of wine, the buzz from the glass at dinner has long since worn away.

“Part of me wants to top you up but another part remembers what happened last time.” Harry eyes me.

“No I’m okay with just one glass. Drinking when I’m upset doesn’t end well.”

“Yeah…I don’t want you concussed on my watch again.”

“No we don’t want that,” we smile at each other, a soft and sentimental smile that gets the anxious stuttering of my heart to calm down a little. He just wanted to talk, so what?

But the anxious voice runs through the scenarios he might want to—his recent text, or something I did as his PA he wants to take up now. Gah.

“I really have missed having you around,” he says softly.

“Didn’t feel like you would with how you treated me.” I raise my brow.

“I know.” He pauses then mumbles something before talking to me directly. “You must have heard about the PA before you? Maybe from Riley?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Hmmm this feels like a trick question.” I say but he tells me he just wants to know what I knew. So I rip the bandaid off. “You had a fling with her.”

He hangs his head back over the seat of the sofa and sighs. “I knew that piece of…Riley makes me really mad when I think about him sometimes.”

“Does he?” I raise my brow. “I can think of someone else who makes me madder.”

“I know that’s supposed to be me. And I don’t know what to do about that except come clean right now.”

“And why is that?” I ask. “Coming clean? I came here just to get distracted in bed with you. I never thought I’d live to see the day where a guy like you wants to talk instead.”

“Y/N,” he says with such an intense look my way my stomach flips. “Trust me. I want to have you in my bed more than you do. But I told myself if that day ever somehow happened it would be after this.”

I shrug, let him continue. In reality his words make me weak and I can’t speak. Which kind of annoys me—why did he have such a strong pull over me? How did he so easily admit he’s thought about me, about having me in his bed!?

My heart flutters amongst other things.

I remember a brief conversation I had with my mom last year when she asked me why I wasn’t putting myself out there and dating again and I told her I just didn’t have the heart for it. She had said it seems I left my heart in London—my passion and my heart. Sitting here with Harry stirs something inside of me, scares me, and I want to distract that with more wine. But I manage to control myself.

“I was fairly new to the industry when I hired Riley and it was his second proper job or something so we were both a bit young and we ended up being friendlier than we should have.” Harry starts. “But he was great at his job and never gave me any issues. I stayed naïve that people in this industry would look out for my best interest-“

“That’s really naïve,” I can’t help but comment but he throws me a look and I zip my lips. “Sorry.”

“I was lucky that the first few relationships I built as I got my foot in the door were genuine but I realized too late that it wasn’t a norm. Everyone wanted a piece of me and they all wanted me to be someone else. Some angle. Shit hit the fan pretty quickly. So when I needed more help I decided to create a new role for Riley and hire a PA. She was seasoned and came highly recommended.”

I nod along to his story.

“Long story short, she started out good but she kept trying to get me alone and get me talking. And back then after being friends with my old PA I didn’t have the wisdom of setting boundaries—don’t give me that look.”

“What!” I raise my hands. “I’m just listening.”

“You’re judging me.”

“Just continue,” I encourage. I was judging a little.

“Anyway, where I thought we were just friendly she thought I—I dunno I was falling for her or something. And one night she was working late so she had dinner here. She kept refilling my drink I didn’t realize she wasn’t drinking as much. It’s not much of an excuse but by the time she came onto me I was pissed and it didn’t take much.”

He continues the story like it was nothing but his voice catches a little and he doesn’t look me in the eye. My insides grow colder. I want to reach inside of him and hold the old Harry, the naive one who didn’t know better.

“Please don’t feel bad for me,” he cuts my sympathy short. “I didn’t turn into a great person after that. Especially with how I treated you.”

“That’s right.” I pretend to be unaffected by his story like he wanted me to be. But it’s near impossible.

“So that’s how I decided it was best for me to play the asshole. I couldn’t fire her after that—it would look awful and she could report me and screw me over. But I could make working for me a nightmare and so I did. A few months later she quit.”

He sighs and takes a swig of his wine, “Then you came along and I thought ‘I should play the asshole from the get go.’ I had gotten good by then at compartmentalizing my personality in the industry.”

“Hmph,” I raise a brow. He has the decency to look embarrassed but he continues.

“But the more time we spent together the worse I felt. You were nothing like the previous PA. You were genuine and down-to-earth. Pretty fiery but I wouldn’t find that out until later,” he grins. I roll my eyes. “I tried to ease up a little but things kept happening to push me back into the asshole box.”

“But you were so snappy, and a dick.”

“I know. I didn’t know how to tell you you worked too hard without dropping the asshole act and making you feel even shittier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to be the villain in your story-“

“What?” What was he talking about?

“Yeah like, you were working all the time even though there were some times I told you to wrap it up for the day.”

I remembered that, thinking he was kicking me out.

“But you took the job so seriously. I appreciated everything you did but you were dogged at making sure you did the best at any cost.”

“What do you mean? At any cost?” I ask, a cold sensation running down my back.

“For example take that one time a few months in when I asked you to call me because you forgot to order wine. You bloody came all the way back to hand deliver it-“

“Yeah because you said to call you and you were gonna be pissed if I-“

“No, y/n,” he lays a hand between us. “I just wanted you to call to know where you usually ordered from so I could order that for myself. You weren’t in any trouble! But I could only blame myself for playing the hard asshole too well.”

I think about that night, Josie’s birthday party. How I left early and upset Gray. How I didn’t need to but I had been following the Dos and Dont’s list.

Shit, the lists. They were added onto by the last PA who, now I know, was having her life made into hell just so she would quit. Some of those lists were on an extreme I didn’t even have to follow. Fuck. That was on me.

My face must be a painting of regret because Harry apologizes again.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t want you to…I just felt like I had to play the villain so you could do what you had to do. So you could continue hating me and we could establish the clear boundary.”

“Right.” I have a bitter taste in my mouth.

“But I genuinely liked you, I thought you were funny and sensitive-“

“You don’t like my sensitivity.”

“I do. I just hated how angry you were-“

“Because of you.”

“I know. I created a monster, I’m Frankenstein.”

“Damn straight.” I agree and we pause a beat before laughing.

“Anyway,” he continues. “You were funny and sensitive and resilient, passionate and smart, and you cared so deeply. It was rare meeting people like you in this field. I wanted to wrap you in bubble wrap but I think I shattered you instead. I’m sorry for the way I just let my past colour your time here. I feel like you left because of me-“

“It was really a lot of reasons.”

“I know but I was part of that and I felt no good. After you left I was a miserable son of a bitch for a while. I couldn’t even enjoy my holiday because I kept thinking of you. I was miserable so I barely even said goodbye—I didn’t realize you were going to run away so far. But I also didn’t want to say goodbye because I was scared I would convince you to stay by spilling my truth.”

His words sit on my chest and they slowly sink down to my stomach. I don’t know what it meant, what he wanted me to do with this confession. It’s too much.

“Mostly,” he continues, shifting closer to me on the sofa. He lowers his voice, “Mostly I’m sorry about Barcelona.”

I flush at the mention of it. At the heat and passion from that night. His eyes roam my face.

“I’m not that guy. I should have treated you nicer, should have been the one to keep my patience.”

“I didn’t make it easy,” I admit.

“No,” he chuckles. “You really fucking did not.”

We smile.

“But you’re so much more than anger y/n. I could barely sleep that night, I kept regretting giving into the anger and not being slow and soft with you the way you deserve. I regret it all the time.”

His confession pulls the veil off my eyes and I see a sharper image of my past. Of everything. It all comes at once and I can’t sort through it in the moment but I know what I want to do.

I shuffle over until I’m up against Harry, I hold his face in mine and he cups my face in his hand.

“You drove me crazy,” I tell him. “Made my life hell.”

“I know. But you drove me crazy too. Nobody got under my skin like you did.”

“Same.”

His hand snakes down to my thigh and he nudges it over his lap so that I’m straddling his body. I feel vulnerable and scared—not the first time these emotions have coursed through me in this very room. But today I don’t feel powerless.

His lips are soft against my cheek, my jaw, down my neck. Unlike the first time he’s slow and deliberate like someone who’s waited so long to unwrap a cherished gift and can’t stand ripping even the gift wrap. He pushes my hair out of the way and trails his fingertips down the back of my neck.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers in my ear. The more he talked the more nervous he was making me. I turn my head to capture his lips, run my fingers through his hair which is too short to really grasp. I missed his old hair.

We break apart for a breath and I can feel the tension. The desire to have him near clashing with the need to go slow. To savour this. Somehow we both feel it.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Harry promises me, his finger trailing down my arm. “Just having you here is enough.”

Oh god. How did he know just the things to say. This man was way too suave. He really was the devil.

But I needed him. It’s scary to admit but I did. I wanted to be here, I really did. I needed to be in this moment with him. Fulfill some shut-out desire that had grown dusty in the corner of my heart.

“I want to do this.”

With a gentle kiss he gets us up and takes my hand. I feel myself being pulled through the living room and towards the bedroom. The sheets are cool, but not cold and when he crawls in beside me I forget that I had ever been anywhere else.

He’s attentive and deliberate and I’m buzzing with anticipation. I decide to pick up the pace, propping myself up to take off my blouse. I watch his throat bob up and down like he’s never seen me like this before even though he has. It’s endearing.

The way his hands fit in the curve of my waist makes it harder to breathe. He moves his hands up my torso and to the straps of my bra. He pauses, as if asking permission, and when I nod, he kisses me. He unhooks it and slowly slides it off my shoulders, eyes fixed on mine.

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming.

I pull him close to kiss him again, and he pulls me under him so I can feel the full weight of him against me. This is what I needed. To be physically present and not stuck in the after tremors of the earthquakes of my past. Not that he wasn’t part of my past but this is different. A non-verbal agreement to just be present. I knew his ways with women, it could be a one-night thing and that’s what I needed.

But that’s why the moments of tenderness and adoration nearly take my breath away. I don’t know where to put these things.

He kisses down my shoulder while his hand trails down to my trousers. He hooks his finger into the belt loop and tugs gently, looking up at me for consent.

I nod.

He slowly takes them off, and when his fingers brush against my bare legs, my breath hitches.

It happens again when he presses his lips against my hip bone.

He stops for a moment, and I can almost see the cogs in his brain whirring.

He moves up to press his forehead against mine.

"I don't know how to do this right," he says quietly, and his eyes search mine.

“What do you mean?”

“This is always how I should have treated you,” he whispers. “I want you to know-“

“Harry,” I smooth out the lines on his forehead.

"No," he grabs my hand and kisses it. "I don't want you to feel like I don't care because I do. I don’t want to hurt you. I'm not good at saying these things. But I want you to know how much I value you. That I like you as a person. I respect you. I want you to be okay.”

“I-“ who was this Harry, seriously!? “I get it. I’m okay. I am.”

He smiles at me tentatively and my heart does a somersault.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing my lips against his. I could taste the sweetness of the words he had said.

I tug at his shirt and it flies into the darkness of his bedroom. His skin is heated against mine.

It feels like an eternity before he finally reaches the band of my panties, and my heart thumps wildly.

"May I?" he looks up.

"Please," I whisper.

For the first time since I’ve met him he doesn’t make it about himself or what he needs. It’s almost intimidating how intense he is as he looks after me and it’s hard to reconcile this man with the man in my head. We’re of one mind and it’s like he knows everything I’ve been through in the last 24 hours; he just attends to my every need reminding me that I was here, right here, in his arms and in this body.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you staying the night?” He asks later with a final kiss to my shoulder.

“If that’s alright?” I ask. I didn’t want to be alone in a cold hotel room.

“I’d love nothing more.” He says earnestly.

Love. I brush the word away.

He warns me that he was a slug if I stayed and he’s not exaggerating, with his arm draped over me and tucked up against him he’s like a child with a plush. He falls asleep just as quickly.

I should too but can’t. I feel so intensely about this body laying beside me, I want to crawl inside of him, understand him, understand us and how this worked.

Or maybe I wanted to just understand me, and why I felt a piece of myself sliding back into place tonight. I had to be the most fucked up person in this city.

Instead of sleeping I lay awake thinking about everything and I can’t help it. I go over this morning—god it felt like weeks ago. Josie’s graduation. Josie. Gray. Even Michelle.

I feel slightly paralyzed by everything that transpired today—it truly felt like peering through a glass window into a life I used to have. I try to break open the glass, sort it all out.

On one side is me and everything I’ve done this whole year to move on from the crumbs of my life here in London. I don’t know why but I really did think that coming back I would be 100% untouchable by my past. I was an idiot for thinking that because I was bothered that Gray seemed to have a steady girlfriend. Why did I think anything would rekindle between us?

I dig deeper, did I even want that to happen? Or did I just want to prove to myself that I was the one Gray let get away because I was too scared to face the possibility that I was the one who let Gray get away.

But clearly something didn’t work with us, I think bitterly. A few months with his new girl and he found the balls to open up with me and communicate his grievances and his apologies.

Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are, he had said. Was I too much for Gray? Is that why we were made to burn out? It hurt too that he had damaged all my relationships I made in my life here in London only to cut those same people out of his life immediately after I left. The more I think about it the angrier I feel.

And his mom, I still feel bruised by her acting like she didn’t even know me. It stokes the anger higher. Her own son has called her crazy on multiple occasions, I was always nothing but kind to her. Gray was the one who put the final nail in our coffin yet the woman who called me her daughter and claimed to love me had been cruel. Even in the face of getting along for Josie’s sake she had put her petty feelings in the forefront.

These people made me so angry.

How did I ever think I could rekindle anything with Gray? As much as I was to blame, I realize, Gray couldn’t even be kind in the end. Just because the year apart was good to him didn’t mean he would still be good for me.

I think about the man laying beside me, in a hypothetical situation if things got ugly I instinctively want to say he would be cruel too. But I have to push past the persona he claimed to have put up and think about the glimpses of the man I saw underneath. Something tells me he would be just as fiery in letting me know how he was feeling. But with his recent apologies I’m not as convinced he would go out of his way to hurt me again.

Even in the bar last night, I just assumed he called me Mrs. Duran to be cruel but he hadn’t known. Or when I had assumed at Josie’s birthday party I would be fired for forgetting wine because he was an asshole when really he just acted like one so I wouldn’t feel worse.

How many times had I judged people because of how skewed my own lens was? It’s a sobering reminder.

Josie’s face flashes through my mind and I tear up at knowing we were going to cut each other out. No matter how much we loved each other staying in touch at this rate was no longer sustainable. For her best interest.

I think of my younger brother back home, my older sister, our family of 5. When I went back home there was so much to catch up on and eventually, apologize for. I had missed out on so much of my family’s life because I believed I needed to leave to grow. Well, life sure handed me a lot of lessons but I needed to go back home to plant them and let me grow.

Harry stirs beside me, nuzzling my neck in his sleep. I feel myself go teary eyed for no reason.

I wondered if this was just a one-night thing. If we would see each other again while I was in London. Did I want to see him? My heart sings yes immediately.

Damn.

What was it about him that pushed my emotions to the highest highs and lowest lows. How did he know every button to push and every bruise to kiss. This had to be toxic, we couldn’t just take our great big baggage of a past and see each other casually while I was in London. It couldn’t be that easy.

What if it was, hope whispers. I squirm. Could I forgive Harry for everything he’d done?

“Y’sleeping?” Harry mumbles to my left. Shit.

“Yeah,” I say which invokes a throaty chuckle from him. I check the time, it was nearly 4. Double shit.

“Liar,” he tugs on my hips and I turn to face him. “Talk to me.”

I couldn’t. Half of my thought were about him. And how could I tell him I was thinking about my ex after spending the night with him. So I just shake my head.

“Please?” He brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You need to sleep.”

“I-“ I try to say I can’t but the words get stuck in my throat. The emotions of everything I’d been thinking in the last couple hours threaten to dislodge the words from my throat so I close my mouth. But it doesn’t work.

A sob bursts out of me and before I can reel it all in the floodgates swing open and it carries all the pent-up sorrow and confusion, grief and anguish I had bottled up.

Harry freezes for a moment, probably very confused to wake up and have me reacting this way. But he recovers and pulls me into his warm chest.

“What is going on in that head of yours love,” Harry murmurs. Love. I sob even harder.

He murmurs reassuring words whilst stroking my back and I cry an embarrassing amount in the same bed where just hours ago I was blissed beyond comprehension. Life moves fast.

Finally when I gain enough composure I lean away, covering my face because crying into him was one thing but seeing my ugly cry face was another.

“Here,” I feel his body move and then tissues pressed into my hand. I’m grateful for them but I wasn’t going to blow my nose here. I sit up and try to dry my nose. His hand reaches out and the tips of his fingers rest on my spine like he was tethering my lost body to him. Somehow even that is reassuring.

“Don’t go trying to kiss my nose this early on again,” I try to joke through a stuffy voice.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he tugs my arm a little and I fall back beside him. He holds me in both his arms and I watch in horror and affection as he kisses the tip of my nose.

“Stop being so nice,” I laugh and cry a little too.

“You’re actually complaining about me being nice?”

“No I just—I’m not used to it,” I press the tissue to my eyes again.

“Well get used to it,” he peels the hair off of my face and pushes it back. “I don’t want to be the one hurting you. I swear to never ever be the reason you cry like this to anyone.”

“Don’t say those sorts of things if you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” he caresses my face. “You’re breaking my heart y/n, I don’t know who hurt you but I never want to see you like this. Especially not because of me alright? I’m sorry if I ever-“

“Stop,” I put my hand to his mouth. Which is kind of gross since I just blew my nose but I’m pretty sure him kissing my snotty nose means he didn’t care.

“But-“ he says behind my hand.

“I’m embarrassed right now,” I admit.

“You have seen me in every compromising situation,” Harry says. “And we have been through too much together to be embarrassed right now.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “It is tiring.”

“Maybe you can finally sleep now that it’s…almost 5?”

“Sorry,” I sigh. “I hope you don’t have something early?”

“Nope,” he kisses the top of my head. “And even if I did it wouldn’t matter.”

So we both try to go back to bed and I manage to fall asleep, all of those tiring racing thoughts washed away by a good cry. I feel warm and cared for and vulnerable and protected. A stark change from how Harry has made me feel before. Maybe this was temporary or maybe this was the start of something new. I’m just taking it minute by minute while all I can think is Do I or Don’t I?

***

It’s my final week in London and if you’d asked me a couple weeks ago if I was looking forward to going back home I would have said without hesitation yes.

But that night at Harry’s and putting my past to rest brushes away an old and tired film I had been viewing the city with since I landed.

We had seen each other a couple times a week since—I’ve been cautious despite my body saying otherwise. There were many days I had been free but I had made up some excuse not to see him, I was scared of getting too attached and having to leave.

But I can’t deny how nice it was to be with Harry without any labels. Most of the time I went over to his, it was tricky going out somewhere too public and risking getting papped. Together we just talk about life and work, my life back in America and my relationship with my family, his life growing up and his relationship with stardom. We watch movies and listen to music and make jokes and I open up a little about what had been weighing on my mind that night.

Winnie teases me that I was lighter than she’s ever seen me, that London looked good on me. I tell her she’s crazy. But even Oretta admits it when Winnie brings it up to her.

Harry makes the effort to make up for how he acted until it’s not just words. I believe what he was saying. And I admit to my faults too.

We still get under each other’s skin.

The thing we argue about the most is an opportunity Harry tries to get me to sign off on. The link he texted me when I was in Cambridge was an upcoming single one of his friends was releasing and he wanted to get me to bid on executing a music video for it. I tell him he was nuts and that I had no experience, plus I had a job. But he persists. He thinks I should explore putting my creative skills to use and not just my organizational skills. The arguing continues.

I have a date with him tonight, at the same bar we bumped into each other that first night. I have a question I’d been meaning to ask him.

“You aren’t actually a regular here are you?” I ask when we’ve settled.

“Of course I am,” he says but I know he’s lying. I raise my brow and he looks everywhere but at me. “Fine. I’m not.”

“So how the hell did you end up here that night?”

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

“I’m an honest man.”

“Truth please?”

“You’re embarrassing me here let’s move on.”

“Nuh-uh,” I’m enjoying his bright cheeks and darting eyes. “Did you stalk me or something?”

“I…I knew this was a local spot for you. Or was.”

“Really? How?”

“You mentioned it a few times? And I dropped you off here once after work.”

He might’ve. I’d met many friends and especially Gray here. I motion for him to continue.

“I might’ve known you were in town, might’ve found out you were here and…”

“So you did stalk me,” I gasp. “Oh my god ladies and gents he is obsessed.”

“That’s a strong word.” He argues.

“You. Stalked. Me.”

“Oh fine, I’ll confess: I’m used to the stalkers and I thought it was high time I did some stalking and see what the fun was all about,” he joins in on making fun of himself.

“Someone get me a restraining order,” I say just as someone approaches our table with drinks. As soon as they leave we burst out laughing.

“So have you given the music video any more thought?” Harry asks as the evening continues.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” I ask.

“I just think you should give it serious thought. I know you want to go into PR, be somebody’s Graham, but you have a really good eye for this thing. Before you pursue what you think you want, try this out.”

“You’re one dude,” I say again. “Who believes I can do this. You want me to throw away the career I’ve worked on for years to dabble in this and potentially waste time instead of getting to where I want?”

“Firstly, if you love doing something it’s not time wasted. And secondly you only ever need just one person to believe in you, angel.”

His fingers brush mine on the table, the familiar electricity courses through me just through the small touch. And of course, his use of pet names always turned me to putty. I hated how malleable he made me.

“Consider it. Just write a proposal y/n, it’s not betraying Oretta or anything. I can talk to her if you want if they choose your idea.”

It was scary putting myself out there for something I didn’t believe in myself for. But my echoes of burnout grow towards the idea of doing something less demanding than being an assistant just like a sunflower to the sun. It basks in letting my creativity flow.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Not for too long,” he taps my fingers again. We were cautious about being too touchy in public, even in a place like this where people genuinely didn’t care who he was. “Proposal’s due at the end of next week.”

When I would be back home in America. Away from here. Him.

We hadn’t talked about it, if we would try to keep in touch. I can’t really imagine a long-distance thing with Harry. Not at this stage. Mostly we enjoyed being in each other’s company and I was scared forcing labels just because we would be apart would ruin this fragile thing.

“Fine.” He’d worn me down and I submit. “Fine I’ll get something in for you.”

He pulls back with a shocked expression. “Did I just convince the stubborn y/n y/l/n to do something she didn’t want to do?”

I scowl. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he laughs, waving his hands around him like he was fanning in an aroma. “I’m soaking this in though.”

“Whatever,” I say with a smile.

“You make me work hard,” he smiles back. “For everything y/n. That’s one of the things I l-I-that I really like about you.”

We ignore the near slip of something far too serious for what we had going. We move past it but it sets my heart racing.

“So this friend of yours,” I change the subject. “With the music video. Didn’t you guys have like, beef when you were on tour? All that article stuff?”

“You of all people should know not to believe what you see online. It was all manipulated and put out of context.”

“I know but you were all moody for all your shows afterwards. I remember Jeff and Graham complaining. I assumed the articles had worn you down a bit.”

He raises a brow like he’s waiting on me to figure something out.

“What?”

“Really? You think it was the artcles?”

“Well what else happened that-“

Oh god. Was I that stupid?

Of course it wasn’t the articles, it was me! Us.

A smile stretches over the contours of his face as realization dawns on mine, “Twice in a row I’ve got you today, I should buy a lottery ticket.”

“I’m off my game today is all, don’t get used to it.”

I can’t believe it. Not that I didn’t believe Harry after the last few weeks but I—that night—really meant that much to him that his feelings over it had affected the rest of his tour? I had affected his tour?

“Why didn’t you say anything if it was weighing on you so much? If I recall I tried to talk to you a couple times.” I ask.

“What could I say,” he snorts. “You were engaged and my loss of control was why you cheated. Then you were quitting and I knew if I said anything you might have stayed. I didn’t want to keep you where you didn’t want to be.”

His words tug at my heart. He really had thought up a storm.

“Harry,” I lean back. “Gray and I broke up before I joined you guys on tour again. We weren’t cheating.”

His forehead creases, “What?! But you were together at my London show. I thought you two broke up after you moved back home?”

“No,” I guess in the last few weeks I’d just mentioned we broke up a long time ago. He didn’t know any specifics. “We were fake-together because he hadn’t broken the news to his sister then. But that’s why I was all…y’know in Barcelona-“

“Fuck me,” he groans. “No wonder you thought I was an ass for pulling you away-“

“Well you were-“

“Yeah alright-“

“Why did you really pull me away though?”

“I…I was feeling a bit possessive.”

“What?”

I wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. He smiles sheepishly, “I thought we already came to terms with that.”

My stomach does a few somersaults. Until tonight I don’t think I’ve really focused on the magnitude of how Harry felt back then. Parts of my mind were still remembering him as a prick just because it was easier to remember my side of things. But this spins things in a brighter light.

“I was just your assistant though.”

“Y/N,” he tilts his head to the side. “Did I not already tell you what I thought about you that night in my flat?”

“Yeah but-“

“I’d never met anyone like you, I really liked you. I couldn’t have you though and I had to push you away constantly. And that drove me a bit crazy sometimes.”

I let out a noisy breath, wondering if how he felt about me was just as intense now as it was then. A part of me knows it must be. Feelings like that didn’t fade. But here I was, barely knowing what it was I felt for him. All I knew was that it was nice when we were together.

Why me, I want to ask. But I hold back. It wasn’t a question I could ask my ex-employer current-lover part-time-asshole.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Was that a bit strong?”

“No,” I sigh again and he laughs. “Fine. A little. But it’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he believes me. “So you broke off your engagement and didn’t tell anyone?”

“Kinda, we weren’t in a place we could come back from. We decided that mutually after things blew up. He didn’t even know I was leaving the country actually.”

Harry whistles. “You ran out on all of us.”

I scratch the side of my head, “Maybe?”

“Well I’ve enjoyed having you again, here.” He says with sincerity. “I’m really relieved to be able to get to say everything I wanted to your face.”

I agree. Neither of us mention I was leaving later in the week.

Even by the night before I’m leaving London we still hadn’t discussed a thing. But there’s a heaviness to us as we have dinner at his, as we pretend to watch a movie only to cuddle on the couch. We lay there facing each other and I trace his eyes, his nose, his wonderful mouth. It’s so odd to me that this was the same Harry Styles performing in sold out venues and on the walls of teenage bedrooms. That I got to have him in these quiet moments and be present.

I feel so grateful for this. That I didn’t have to carry around these draining stories within me anymore, that it felt like it happened to someone else. In a way even if nothing came from all this, I got closure. I was able to move on now.

I imagine my heart and it feels like when you take a stroll mid-March and realize nature was healing from winter’s blues. Warm and blooming the earth was growing again—my heart was growing stronger. Now the idea of a date or a partner didn’t seem so daunting and exhausting. I would never have guessed that it would take the man who almost broke me to come into my life again for me to see how to fit those pieces back in place again.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do not having you in town anymore,” his lashes flutter as I run my hand through his hair. It was still shorter than I was used to but it had grown in the last three weeks.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ve worked on your schedule before: meetings and studio sessions and photoshoots and interviews.”

“A busy life isn’t always a full one,” he whispers. And it’s the closest thing to a confession we were going to get to. I cover his mouth with mine and we indulge in each other one final time.

There is a symphony of unexpected but undeniable intimacy woven between the beats of our entwined hearts. I know I would probably never feel this way with anyone and I don’t think I’d want to. Being with Harry was passion. It was losing myself and finding myself at the same time. It was being vulnerable and guarded and cherished and known.

My flight out tomorrow is around noon but I can’t stay the night as I’d have to help Oretta in the morning to make sure everything gets to the airport in time. Harry walks me down to his lobby and we stand there for a few, just holding each other tight. He doesn’t ask me to stay and I don’t ask him to come.

“This isn’t goodbye y/n,” Harry says when we part. His hand rests on his heart. I know the feeling, mine aches so hard I want to press my hand to it just to tell it everything would be fine.

“No,” I shake my head. My eyes had been teary ever since he squeezed me to him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“You’ll be directing music videos soon.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m still working on the proposal.”

“I have a good feeling about it.”

“That makes one of us. But…thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for believing in me,” he whispers. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

I’m glad I did. The only time in my life not paying attention to the warning bells had paid off.

“I’ve been working with this new producer and he wants me to come out to a studio in Cotati?” Harry mentions. “How far is that from where you are? Are you still in m Burbank?”

“Burbank’s where my parents are,” I shake my head. I look up what he’s talking about and feel a thrill when it’s less than a couple hours. Still, I try to maintain neutrality. “A little over an hour?”

“Well,” he brushes my hair over my shoulder and keeps his eyes looking just over it. “Depending on what you’re doing—maybe if you’re free…we can see each other again?”

I would love that. My heart is bursting just thinking of getting to have him in the place I called home. Of this meaning something. Of him wanting to see me again.

“Of course if you have a boyfriend by then and he doesn’t want you to see me that’s…I mean, live your life and if it works out we-“

“Yes,” I cut him off. “Yeah. Let’s see but that sounds good.”

He meets my gaze and I laugh a little, he was nervous and that was rare.

“Good,” he smiles with. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” I step into his arms and it’s a quick affair before he steps away. I turn to head out the door, shielding my eyes from him. Not wanting him to see that this was stupidly hard to say goodbye.

He waves me off and I head back to my hotel with a heavy heart. But I think about him asking to see me again. Who knows when that would be. And I know this wasn’t the end of our story.

***

I’m happy to land in SFO the following evening, happy to busy myself with Oretta’s business, happy to have Winnie chattering away. I spent parts of the flight I wasn’t sleeping working on my MV proposal and it awakens a familiar passion inside of me I’d been afraid I’d lost.

I send out a silent thanks to Harry for knowing what was good for me.

I think of Harry often, Gray even less until I don’t think of him at all. I dream of London weekly; I missed it this time around. And as life resumes again I anticipate the change I sense on the horizon.

So when life gives me lemons I stop asking Do I or Don’t I. If one thing the last year has taught me was I had to listen to my gut and look at the signs. I had to start asking what I wanted and go after it. Even though Harry and I barely talk, I remember the lessons he’s taught me.

I stop looking to others to make decisions. There’s no guidebook or lists to help me make my decisions either. I take deep breaths and I believe in myself.

I build a new life on the remains of my old. I don’t let it dictate what I did anymore, I simply leave it as the foundation to elevate me even higher. I reach for the sky with my feet planted firmly on the ground. And I grow with reckless abandon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77 @harryspirate

🤍

Epilogue

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bogkeep · 2 months

Note

Would you recommend the SSSS comic? I know little of it beside the very beautiful artstyle and premise

to answer the question of if i would recommend SSSS as a comic: yes, yes i would.

a description for those who don't know: Stand Still Stay Silent is a post-apocalyptic horror + adventure webcomic set in the nordics (norway, sweden, denmark, finland, iceland) that have been isolated from the rest of the world and gone back to their old gods. the the world outside of safe zones is full of trolls and beasts - humans and mammals that got infected by a horrible virus and turned into monsters. the story follows a ragtag crew that ventures into the old world (derelict denmark) on an expedition to collect books.

the comic updated every workday until it concluded in 2022, and consists of two Adventures. the creator had plans for many adventures with these characters in this world, but ended it after two when she wanted to take a new direction with her life.

what i love about it:

- the art is GORGEOUS. it's been a huge source of inspiration for me. open any page and it's a masterpiece, and you will ask yourself "how the FUCK did she update this FIVE DAYS A WEEK"

- the characters are wonderful and endearing. i just, i love them so much. i am so thankful lalli hotakainen exists he is one of my #1 blorbos forever

- the world is so cool. the blend of chunky sci-fi and norse mythology fantasy magic slaps. it goes so hard. i fell so hard for this comic when i got to the big ferry ship with a viking style dragon head prow added to it. it's everything

- it really really gets nordic cultures. it's difficult to explain all the dynamics and nuances but it just gets it. it brings me as a scandinavian a lot of joy to read a story that speaks to my heart this way. the attitudes, the language barriers, the cultural differences... it was so refreshing to me in a media landscape dominated by american stories. when the pandemic hit, i decided to reread the comic because i found such an odd comfort in seeing how it depicted the scandinavian countries reacting to, well, a pandemic.

- there's kittycats

what i don't like about it:

- the most glaring and obvious flaw is that everyone in the comic is white. there's not a single character of color anywhere, not even i background shots or the prologue. there's no mention of the saami people (the indigenous people of northern europe), either. i believe this was done in ignorance more than malicious intent, but the implications are Extremely Bad and it's been bothering me (AND MANY OTHERS) since day 1. that is the number one caveat i will give to anyone wanting to check this comic out. i've been in the discourse trenches and i am not going to excuse this. it's just bad!

- you can tell in the middle of adventure 2 that the creator has kind of lost interest in the work, around the time when she found jesus i guess. like, very few people can keep up work on the same creative project for years and years and years and i think it's fine that she wanted to drop it, but it's a bit sad to see the comic dragged to its end like a limp corpse, and feeling like the creator no longer really cares about the characters.

- minna sundberg has said and done some questionable things, presumably gotten somewhat radicalised over time, and has also converted to hardcore christianity which is what her new works are about. there's nothing about this in SSSS - there is a moment of christianity represented in the story in a sort of mythological sense, just like the other religions, but this was written before minna's conversion. her new works... are a Choice. i have much to say about them, and i have, and im not gonna rehash it now.

SO YEAH hopefully this will help you take an Informed Choice! i got into this comic in 2015 and was deep in the fandom and it's for better or for worse part of my soul foundation now.

i also recommend A Redtail's Dream, minna's "practice comic" before SSSS, based on finnish mythology and the kalevala.

#stand still stay silent #might as well tag this if i wanna dig it up later

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

hellooo!

i have a request - i’m obsessed with your writings (truly a god’s gift to this fandom) 🥹 i’m thinking grey’s anatomy inspired jake x (aviator)reader them having a conversation along the lines of ”stop looking at me like that” ”like what?” ”like you’ve seen me naked” after they hooked up and see each other at work or something ughh 🥵

hope all is well and that u have an amazing day <3

𝟖 𝐎'𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

"If you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to read you the entirety of Title IX on our lunch break."

"That sounds like more work for you," Jake says with a chuckle. He lets all his weight rest on his cocked hip, tutting. He's chewing on a tooth pick, watching your nose scrunch as you squint at the sun to watch them work on your jet. "Besides--what's the harm in me getting a good look at you?"

The sun beats down on your face as you stand on the tarmac before Jake. You're watching your jet get inspected, your helmet tucked under your arm, and Jake won't leave you alone. You can't say that you mind it all that much--but there are appearances to keep up around here, especially around the other flyboys that are horsing around further down the tarmac. You're not supposed to get along with Jake--no one is, really--and the way he's making googely-eyes at you is surely going to give everyone the opposite idea.

But you can't help the certain elation that captures your chest when you feel his aspen-colored eyes outline your form from the point of your jaw to the lift in your boots. Usually, it would be easier for you to effectively tell him to fuck off. After last night, though--things feel a bit muddled.

"The harm is that everyone's gonna know we fucked if you keep looking at me like that," you say curtly, taking a shuddering breath.

Jake barks out a laugh.

"Look at you like what?" He challenges.

You finally turn towards him, trying to maintain that sour look on your face.

Fuck, if he isn't a beautiful creature. He looks even more beautiful than he usually does, entirely sun kissed and proud as he stretches to his full height beside you. The tooth pick he's chewing is making his jaw flex so deliciously, the way you know it had when he was sucking mercilessly on your clit last night in the darkness of your bedroom.

And he is looking at your eyes, the way they dazzle in the unforgiving sunlight, the way you're frowning up at him even though he knows you don't want to. He's thinking about last night, too--of course he is. God, he doesn't know if he'll ever stop thinking about last night. The way your hips felt when they were flush against his, the way your warm walls squeezed him. He filled you up just right--both of you knew it.

The two of you even woke up together this morning--on accident, of course. You pretended not to be embarrassed as you hastily got dressed, but he couldn't help the ease and contentment he felt just from being in your presence so early in the morning. He loved how flustered you were as you tried to roll your eyes and groan through the whole morning-after thing. And he loved that you had little bits of mascara under your eyes and what your hair looked like in the morning--soft, very soft.

Your eyes widen and you poke him in the chest with an indignant pointer finger.

"Like that!" You hiss, locking your jaw. "Like you've seen me naked!"

Jake just grins--something in your chest softens. You fall back on your heels and think fuck. Last night definitely wasn't the last time despite what you told him when you woke up this morning.

"But, honey!" Jake says, stroking your cheek before you can dodge his touch. "I have seen you naked."

You all but growl--he keeps grinning, even pinching your cheek.

"I'm gonna shoot you down myself," you tell him. You turn, determined to have the last word. But then something--you're not sure if it's lust or affection or pity or insecurity or all of the above--stops you. You turn and look at him over your shoulder and he's still watching you, grinning. "Eight o'clock."

He salutes.

"Idiot," you call.

But as soon as your cheek is turned, you're smiling.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞!! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!! 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬!!

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millersdjarin · 1 year

Text

Religion's In Your Lips

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: E (SMUT, 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.4k

Tags: smut, joel's Skills(TM), oral (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected piv, a bit of mandhandling from joel, dirty talk, begging, praise kink, all that good stuff

Full Masterlist

Request: "Joel hearing how unsatisfied you’ve been left in the past and he wants to show you what it means to really get off..." (rest of request here)

notes: thank youuuu for this request, it immediately inspired me. fun fact: i was out for dinner when i read this ask and i was like, my thoughts are not appropriate for my current environment. hope u like it! (as with all my joel fics, i write for pixel joel rather than live action, but you can picture him however you wanna❤️)

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you say. “Jesus, Joel, you have no idea how badly I want to.”

With a smirk, Joel slides his hands to your hips. “You could tell me how badly you want to,” he teases. “I’m all ears.”

You smirk too, roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s just. It’s never been, like, amazing for me. With other men. And I really don’t want it to fuck this—us—up if it’s not…if I don’t…”

His eyebrow twitches up. “Is it because you’re not interested in it, or because those other men were terrible at sex?”

“Definitely the latter,” you answer with a surprised laugh, settling a hand in his hair. “And I’m not saying you’ll be bad, for the record. I just. I’ve never been all that satisfied before.”

“Well,” he wraps his arms all the way around your waist, tugs you in closer, “if you’ll let me, darlin’, I’d like to show you what it can be like.” He leans in and kisses you, then keeps his mouth up against yours when he says, “What it means to really get off. God knows you deserve it.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

As if you could ever say no to that.

He’s propped up on an elbow beside you, and you’re lying flat on the bed, looking up at him. He rubs circles over your stomach, the fabric of your shirt bunching up a little. You feel open beneath him, vulnerable.

“You know how you like it?” He asks lowly. “You like it rough, slow…?”

You swallow, just a little nervous. It’s new to be talking about this so openly. It’s always just been something that gets done, that your partners have just assumed what you like and done that without much thought. “Kinda rough,” you say, putting a hand on his chest. Your fingers find the little bit of chest hair that pokes up from the top of his button-down. “But not, like, too rough. Not until I’m used to it.”

He nods. His hand slides up from your stomach, around to your ribs and the curve of your breast. “I’m gonna start slow,” he tells you softly, “get you real worked up for me. You tell me if something’s too much or not enough, alright?”

Already feeling arousal pulse between your legs at both his touch and his voice, you nod. “Alright.”

“Good girl,” he leans down, kisses you.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but admit it, “I like that.”

He looks at you with a soft smirk. His thumb lifts and strokes over your cheekbone. “You like bein’ told you’re good?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“Alright, darlin’. Good to know,” he says before leaning back in for another kiss. It’s slow, his mouth opening deliciously against yours, catching your top lip between both of his over and over and over. His hand stays on your cheek for a minute, but slowly slides down your arm, takes a gentle hold of your hand. You feel yourself starting to keen up into him, just wanting more of his mouth, his breath, his warmth. Your hand comes up to hold the back of his neck, fingers pushing into his hair.

Gently, his palm on your hip tugs at you. Unsure what he means, where he’s trying to put you, you pull away from his kiss but keep him close, and raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Roll towards me,” he says gently, his tongue darting out to wet his lip.

You do as he says, and his hand slides down the edge of your thigh, carefully coaxing it up towards him when he grabs the underside of your knee. You keep your eyes on him as he lifts your leg, settling your thigh against his, your knee over his hip. He watches your face as he shuffles closer and puts his thigh right against your centre, and he seems pleased by the slight whimper that escapes you at the sensation. He smiles, leans in to kiss you again.

Your hand finds its way back into his hair, nails running lightly over his scalp. He pushes in closer, fitting his body right against yours, your hips flush together and his leg pressing even harder into your cunt—

As his hand runs around to your back, his fingers splayed to touch as much of you as possible, his lips start to trail down your jaw and your neck, open mouthed and wet and delicious.

You tip your head back, allowing him better access. Your hand moves from his hair to the back of his neck, down over his shirt, grasping a fistful of it over his waist. He chooses a spot on the side of your neck and stays there; you feel him suck, hard, drawing a gasp from your throat as you cling more desperately to him. His tongue darts out, soothing the mark he’s made.

“Joel,” you gasp, because it feels so good, and his hand is running down your back, down to your ass, taking a handful of it. He squeezes. On instinct your body bucks up into him, and you feel him smile against your shoulder, his beard scratching your skin.

Then he’s moving you again, back onto your back, keeping his hand hooked under the bend of your knee. With both hands now free, you grasp each side of his face, pushing your fingers through his beard as he comes up to kiss you again. His mouth is just so warm and perfect, he’s breathing into your lungs, sweet and familiar and you just want more.

But then he’s moving away, lips trailing all the way down your clothed torso, tongue darting out to taste your skin through the gaps in your button-down. You keep your hands on the back of his head for as long as you can, but when he gets low enough, starts to nose at your hips…

“Joel,” you say, stopping him.

He looks up without moving his head and meets your eyes, his chin pressed into the dip of your pelvis.

“Are you going to…?”

With his chin, he gently pulls down the waistband of your leggings, presses a soft kiss there. “If you want me to,” his voice is a vibration on your skin, and it goes straight to your pussy, “but if not, I won’t.”

Fuck. “I’ve—I want you to, I just…I’ve never…”

He looks up at you again, this time with a frown so sincere that it actually hurts. “No one’s ever tasted you before?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No, they have, it’s just…”

“It wasn’t good?”

“It was alright,” you say with a shrug, one of your arms straining down to hold his hair.

He kisses your stomach again, this time pushing up the hem of your shirt with his nose. “I can make it good for you,” he promises. The feeling of his breath on your navel, his beard against your skin, so close to your pussy and not close enough—“May I? If it’s not good, we can stop.”

You nod. Despite other people’s failings in the past, there’s no way you’d say no to him.

Like a seal of approval, or even a sign of gratitude, he kisses the spot just below your belly button and then brings his hand up, starts tugging at your leggings. You lift your hips, helping him pull the fabric off and over your ankles. He throws them on the floor, not taking his eyes off your panties. You can feel that you’ve already soaked through them, and you’re not sure if you should be embarrassed by that or not.

He looks pleased by it, though.

In fact, as he settles on the bed between your thighs, gently pushing apart your knees with his elbows, he looks pleased. “Look at you,” he says, almost to himself. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. A shot of need pulses through you from your head to your centre, your clit already throbbing, aching for some pressure. He glances up at your face, gives you a smile. “You tell me if it’s not right, darlin’, and I’ll make it amazing for you. We’ve got all night, and I only want you to feel good. Just relax, okay?”

You can’t reach his hair anymore without craning your neck, so instead you reach out, silently asking him to take your hand. He does; threads your fingers together, then settles them beside your hip, his thumb smoothing over yours.

And then, warmth. The press of his face against your panties, right over your cunt, his nose nuzzling into the hood of your clit. It’s barely anything, it’s not enough, it’s not even skin-to-skin, and yet it feels beautiful, just the warmth of him down there, so close, the promise of what’s to come—

He presses kisses over you, all the way from one side of your hips to the other, across the top of your panties, down to where the wetness is gathering. He takes his spare hand and hooks his thumb over the fabric, then starts to tug, gently pulling them down your legs. It takes a bit of work with his hand still in yours, to manoeuvre the very wet panties across your ankles and off onto the floor, but he doesn’t let you go for even a second, knowing that you need to hold him.

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes now on your naked pussy. You can feel your wetness cooling in the air, and you already miss the warm feeling of him pressed up against you. “Look at you. So wet, darlin’. All this for me?” He looks up at you, earnest.

You nod, staring up at the ceiling. “All for you, Joel,” you whisper. You’re feeling a little self-conscious, not used to being bare before him—before anyone, really—but the hand not in yours lands gently on your knee, squeezing reassuringly.

“Hey,” he says softly, calling your eyes back to him. “You ready?”

You lick your lips. “Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

He smiles. Gives your hand and knee one last squeeze, then he’s back between your legs again, and you feel his hot breath just a split second before his nose presses to the hood, pushes it up, revealing your clit—

He wastes no time. The flat of his tongue laves right over your clit, firm, sending a shocking pulse of pleasure up through your very insides. He does it again, gives a few long, languid swipes, and hums at the sounds you’re making, the gasps that come from your throat, the way your hand tightens in his. Your other hand grasps at the sheets as you feel his tongue moving down to your entrance. He takes his time with it now, lapping up every inch of your wetness, all over your folds, gathering every drop he can.

Your knuckles are going white as he takes his hand and uses it to hold your folds open, granting him more access, letting him lick and eat you up in more detail, like he just wants to get every single part of you that he can in his mouth. You glance down at him and see his eyes closed, bliss all over the half of his face that you can see.

His beard scratches against you, you hear the wet sounds of his mouth working into your wetness. It’s downright filthy, the way he moans, the soft frown of concentration—determination—on his forehead.

His tongue reaches your entrance. You expect him to just lick you there like he did everywhere else, to taste you before moving back to your clit. But suddenly he’s inside you, breaching you with the very tip of the muscle, his lips closed around it like he wants to stay attached there forever.

“Jesus—Joel!” You cry out as he thrusts inside you, hot and wet and thick and strong, fucking you on his tongue like he would his fingers, his cock—

He pulls away and you almost whine at the loss of him, “That alright?” He asks, his wet cheek pressing into the inside of your thigh.

You nod, scramble with your spare hand to take hold of his head, desperately trying to get him back where he was, “Please don’t stop, that’s—”

“I got you,” he says simply before he’s diving back in and resuming the fucking delicious thrusts, so far up into you like he wants to get as much of his tongue up there as possible, as much as he can without grazing you with his teeth. His hand moves from holding your folds open, and slides up the wetness, catching on his nose before it’s pressing into your clit, rubbing in firm circles with each hard push of his tongue inside you. Then, he curls it, hitting that spot, sending sparks into your vision.

Your eyes are closed now, and all you can do is focus on how he feels. The sounds of his heavy breathing, and how you can feel those breaths against your core, going inside your hole, heating you from the inside out. Every time he moans is like he’s eating the best meal he’s ever had, like he doesn’t think he’s ever going to love something as much as he loves doing this. He’s so earnest. He brings his hand away from your clit for just a second so he can hook his arm around your thigh, bring it up onto his shoulder. He keeps his arm there and manages to reach for your clit again. It’s heaven. It’s fucking heaven.

You don’t know when your hand found its way under your shirt and to your breast, but you tweak your nipple in your fingers, imagine that it’s Joel doing it. Not that what he’s doing now isn’t plenty good enough.

“Mm,” he hums against you, pulling his tongue out for just a second to lick his lips, “Goddamn, baby, you taste so fucking good,” he looks up at you and you meet his eyes, arousal shooting through you at the sight of your wetness soaking his dark beard.

“Jesus, Joel,” your head falls back against the pillow again. His thumb is still on your clit, working earnestly. It feels good, so good, but your pussy is clenching around nothing now and it needs something else, it needs more, it needs him—“Please keep going,” you beg him.

He obliges, of course. In a second he’s back where he was before, his tongue pushing inside you hard and fast but also languid, pressing against every millimetre of your walls, feeling the ridges and drawing sounds of pleasure from your throat.

It’s never been like this. Nothing has ever been like this.

It’s building in your core, the heat, a spring about to snap. You’re writhing on the bed beneath his mouth, the only thing keeping you down his arm around your thigh, clamping you to him. Your thighs press against his head, and at first you try to stop yourself, not wanting to make it weird or hurt him, but then he’s moaning, pulling your thigh closer to him, encouraging you.

So you clamp tight around him and he groans. Distantly you notice the bed rocking beneath you; Joel’s grinding into the mattress with each thrust of his tongue, and that alone is enough to send you closer and closer to the edge—

It comes so quickly, so suddenly, washing over you like a wave—“Joel! I’m gonna—!”

“Come,” he says, so simple like he barely wants to pull away long enough to speak, all muffled in your pussy and your hair and your wetness.

You do. It hits you, rolls over you, drops you. His tongue is relentless inside you, really proving the fact that it is, in fact, a muscle, and his finger on your clit doesn’t let up, using his thumb to spread your lips as far as he can, creating a pull just tight enough to sting.

You’re coming down, panting heavily. He starts to slow, gently pulling his tongue from you, lapping up the wetness around your entrance.

“Holy shit,” you curse in a breath, opening your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. It takes a second for your vision to clear.

His finger goes still on your clit. You can feel the aftershocks pulsing in it, and deep inside you, inviting him back in for more. There’s sweat on your chest, your legs ache from how hard they’d clamped against his head.

Speaking of. You release them, letting yourself relax.

With the newfound freedom, he lifts his head from your pussy, and you’re too distracted by the fact the entire lower half of his face is covered in your wetness to even look him in the eyes. His hand moves from your clit, sits instead on your hip. “That good?”

You laugh. “Uh, yeah,” you say, because obviously. Then you let go of his hand and make grabbing motions towards him. “C’mere.”

Only too happy to oblige, he does. Climbs up your body, presses himself on top of you and dives in to kiss you. You taste yourself on his mouth, his tongue, run your fingers through the wet hairs on his beard. Against his lips you gasp, whimper, feeling the hardness of his cock through his jeans pressing into your thigh.

You grind up into him, “Joel,” you say, not sure where you’re going with it; just wanting to say his name.

“Now, I’m only gonna ask one thing of you,” he says, pulling away from the kiss to press your foreheads together.

“Anything,” you grasp at the back of his neck.

He kisses you again. Just once. Then kisses your jaw, trailing his soaking mouth down your neck, leaving a shiny trail in its wake. He puts his lips to the shell of your ear, and his breath his hot, vibrating into your skin when he says, “I want you to beg for me.”

Oh, shit.

A shudder runs through your entire body, the throbbing in your pussy getting faster again, aftershocks turning back into renewed desire. “Joel,” you whimper.

He runs his hand over your cheek. Looks down into your eyes, so deep and searching in the dim light of the room. “Will you beg for me, darlin’?”

Your mouth opens and closes and you try to speak, but it’s taking too long for your brain to catch up. You hook your still-shaky leg over his, hitch it up to his hips as far as you can get it. Then, finally, “Please,” you whisper. You lean in just close enough that he could kiss you by merely pursing his lips, making sure he can feel the heat of your breath, the desire in your very core. “Please, Joel, I need you.”

“Hm? What do you need?”

Your leg pulls him further down onto you. “I need you to fuck me,” you whine. “I need you inside me. Please, I need you.”

He hums in approval, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. “How do you want it, sweetheart?”

And, God, his cock is still offensively clothed and pressed against your thigh, just brushing closer to your core, to where you’re still wet, probably messing up the denim of his jeans. “However you want to take me,” you tell him, panting already, “Fuck me as hard as you want.”

He chuckles, low. “You sure?”

“I can take it, Joel,” you plead. “Please.”

“Alright, baby,” he kisses the apple of your cheek, “I got you. You sound so goddam pretty when you beg. You gonna make some more of those sounds for me, while I fuck you?”

Holding the back of his neck, anchoring him to you, you nod. “Whatever you want.”

“This is meant to be about what you want,” he reminds you with a smirk as he reaches down to unfasten his belt. It sounds loud beneath the sound of your heavy breaths mingling with his. He throws it on the floor, makes quick work of removing his pants.

Without permission your hands find their way to his shirt, tugging on the buttons, pressing into the little patch of chest hair that pokes up from the top. “Please?” You ask, meeting his eyes.

He smiles. “Go on, then.”

You get to work undoing each button. Your fingers are shaking, a mixture of the earth-shattering orgasm he just gave you and the anticipation of him inside you, but you manage it. Before even shrugging the shirt from his shoulders you push your fingers into his chest hair, running them over his pecs. He’s hard, his chest and shoulders strong, muscular, scarred—

You lean up and kiss the first scar you can get to, one just a few inches above his nipple. Your hands find their way down to his stomach where he’s softer, just a little rounder. You want to kiss him there, too, hold him so tight that he never forgets how fucking perfect he is.

He chuckles again, fond, and finishes the job himself; shrugs out of the shirt, tossing it to the floor. When he looks back down at you his eyes are sparkling. Your hands roam over his torso, getting to know him like a map.

“You alright there, darlin’? Just giving me a good feel, huh?”

“As much as I can get.”

He laughs. It’s so fucking beautiful to hear. Crows feet appear deeper around his eyes and if you could reach you’d lean up and kiss them, run your tongue through each wrinkle. But he’s tipping his head back a little, and all you can get to is his neck, so that’s what you go for. Messily, your mouth explores him, catching his Adam’s apple as it bobs down and up again.

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you?” He smirks, running a hand over the top of your head.

“I hadn’t forgotten,” your head falls back to the pillow, and he’s still smiling when you look up and meet his eyes. You smile, too, running a hand over his cheek.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. He leans in, leaves a quick kiss on your lips, and then pulls away to take off his boxers.

Then, he’s naked.

Holy shit. Hard, rock fucking hard, the tip of his cock already shining with a little bead of moisture. You want to cover it in your own, let him fuck you until he comes, let him do whatever he fucking wants.

But before he does anything else, he leans over you again, and pulls a little on the hem of your shirt. “Do you mind?” He asks. “I wanna watch your tits while I fuck you.”

You’re pulling it off before you can form words.

“Jesus,” he breathes out as you settle back down underneath him. Self-consciousness starts to creep in his as his eyes wander all over you, one of his hands reaching out to give an experimental tug to your nipple. “Gonna make you feel so goddam good,” he promises lowly. “Make you forget it could be anythin’ else. You want that, darlin’?”

“You already know I do.”

He reaches down with one hand and takes a hold of himself, his eyelids fluttering closed. “You tell me what feels good,” he says, “I’m gonna take you apart.”

You fucking believe him.

After what he’s done already, how could you not?

With wide eyes, you grind up into him, absolutely aching for him to fill you up, to take you, to fuck you into the mattress until all you can feel is him. For the first time ever, you trust that it’s going to be fucking good. And if it’s not, you know that he won’t rest until it is.

He lines himself up. Then, not taking his eyes off you, he sinks inside.

It’s beautiful. The stretch of him, the heat of him, like his tongue but bigger, so much bigger, better—he’s pulsing, throbbing, or is that you?—

“Jesus, darlin’,” he curses as he bottoms out, the curls between his legs pushing against yours. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So wet for me.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever been wetter,” you tell him, earning a chuckle, pressed right into your neck.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Your leg hitches around his hips again. “Please, Joel,” you whisper into his ear. “Fuck me. Take me.”

He starts slow, steady, getting you used to it. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, down your chest as far as he can go without it disturbing where you’re joined. “Wanted this for so long,” he says into your clavicle, “wanted to fuck you so bad. You’re so fucking sexy, baby.”

You moan, your hand finding purchase on the back of his neck. Your other is on the pillow beside you, and Joel sees it, lifts his own hand to thread your fingers together, sliding his palm up and over yours before grasping hold. It’s so tender, so soft, it makes your chest hurt.

“You want it harder, baby?” He asks.

“God, Joel—yes,” you gasp.

He hums, amused, and then gets to fucking work.

Bracing himself on his elbow, hand still in yours, his thrusts get harder. Fucking deep and rough into you, his cock hits your cervix so hard it feels like he’s fucking your actual stomach, like you’d be able to look down and see him through your navel.

Your head tips back on the pillow, gasps and whimpers of pleasure-pain coming from your throat. He dives in, attaches his mouth to it, like he wants to eat your sounds like he ate your fucking pussy.

His other hand is down on your clit in a second, rubbing gently, gentler than he’s fucking you.

“Shit, Joel, that’s good,” you tell him, but then, “harder. On my clit. Please.”

Without a word he obliges, pressing in hard and downright rough into the already-swollen bundle of nerves, using his thumb to hold the hood out of the way, pull it up so high it creates pressure in itself. “Like that?” He asks into your ear.

“Fuck, yes…”

“Atta girl, tellin’ me what you need,” he praises. “So good for me.” Then he pulls back, looks into your eyes.

It’s all you can do to look up into them. To just take it. You’re bouncing on his cock, your tits shaking with each movement, each rough thrust into you. His balls slap against you, and you hear it, skin against skin, wet and squelching as he pistons in and out of your aching heat. He’s frowning, concentrating, like he’s trying to hold himself back and fuck you as hard as he can all at once.

Your hands cling to his back, nails scratching so hard they’re probably leaving marks. He doesn’t seem to mind. His eyelids are fluttering, pupils blown so wide you can’t even see colour anymore.

“Oh, shit…” you feel it building again, that heat, coiling tight low in your belly—

But then he stops, and he’s pulling out, and you’re about to complain, to ask what’s wrong, when he takes hold of your hips and flips you to the other side of the bed, leaving you on your stomach. He soothes your surprised yelp with a kiss to the back of your neck, brushing your hair away from it. “’S gonna feel good, baby,” he promises, “gonna get deeper inside you. You want that?”

“Fuck—yes!”

“Good girl,” he kisses your shoulder and then pulls back, lifting up your hips so you’re angled down towards the bed, and you shuffle to press your forehead into your arms. With one hand he pulls apart your cheeks, stretching your folds in front of him. “So goddam wet,” he says, almost to himself. “Just throbbin’ for me, aren’t you?”

“Joel, please…”

He chuckles. You feel him line himself up at your entrance, not needing to gather any more wetness but doing it anyway. “I got you, baby,” he promises. This time, he doesn’t sink in slowly. He pushes in, right to the hilt, just as deep as he was a second ago—

It pushes you up the bed; you almost lose your balance. But he’s holding your hip and then leaning over you, draping himself over your back, his other hand coming down to press against your clit again, just as hard as you had it before.

“Oh, fuck,” you curse, your eyes screwing shut as pleasure shoots painfully through every inch of you, his cock at this new angle changing everything, making it better. He’s pressed to your back, so close you could probably feel the beat of his heart if he wasn’t pounding so hard into you that it’s all you can think or feel.

“That good?” He checks in, opening his mouth on the curve of your shoulder.

You nod. “Uh-huh,” is all you can say, dumbly, and you’re getting spit all over your wrist, dripping down onto the bed. You can’t close your mouth. You’re just moaning, panting, saying his name under your breath like a prayer.

“Shit, baby,” he says. “Want you to come for me. Wanna hear you. Come on, baby, takin’ it so good. So good. Just for me, huh?”

“For—for you, Joel—” your words are cut off with a strangled cry as you feel the pleasure building again. The press of his fingers on your clit is so hard but not hard enough, your wetness making it too slick, not enough friction.

But he’s fucking you so roughly, so earnestly, that it makes up for it. The hand on your hip comes down to brace on the bed, then he pulls yours out from under your head so he can place his palm over the top of your hand, threading his fingers through the gaps in yours.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers into your ear. He’s bracing on your hand, pushing it into the mattress. “So perfect. Come for me, darlin’. Let me hear those pretty sounds.”

“I—Joel—”

“Yeah, that’s it, take it just how you want it. Can have whatever you want. Just take it, use me, come on…”

You’re tumbling over the edge, head-first, pleasure coiling and sparking and climbing and peaking—

It drops over you with a long, helpless moan, and his thrusts are starting to stutter, he’s getting close too, feeling the pulsing of your pussy around his cock.

“Joel!” You cry out as it lingers and lingers and lingers, the high lasting longer than it ever has, clenching over his length. “Oh, fuck, Joel…Baby…”

“Yeah,” he grunts, still thrusting just as hard, but slower, knowing you’re sensitive. “Shit, baby. Gonna come.”

“Come for me,” you request, then, “come inside me. Please.”

“Can I?” His mouth and breath are hot on the place where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Please, Joel, I want it—”

That’s all it takes; he’s spilling inside you, whispering your name into your ear like he’s never going to say anything else again, like this is all he’s ever wanted. His finger comes off your clit, instead wrapping his arm under and around you, holding you right to his chest. You lean up into him, feeling him spilling inside you, his release spurting out from your pussy and onto your thighs.

His kisses on your neck are messy and uncoordinated as he comes down, his thrusts slowing.

“Sweet Jesus,” he says, so Southern that it makes you chuckle, all breathy and shaky. He’s still got his arm around you. Your back and his chest are sweaty. You don’t care. You couldn’t possibly care less.

He’s inside you still. “Fuck,” you curse. Your hand wiggles out from under his, instead reaching behind you to take hold of the back of his neck. You tilt your head, pressing your cheek to his sticky, lovely forehead. “Joel, that was…”

You can feel him smile. “Good?”

“Better than good.”

He kisses your ear, takes it in his mouth for a second. “I’m a man of my word,” he says, all low and sultry and teasing.

You laugh, feel him laugh too, the vibration in his chest. “Oh, yeah. Joel Miller the Saint, fucking me so good.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling, and a warm flood of affection comes over you at the sound. You open your eyes, turning to look at him as best you can, seeing amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“It’s never been like that before,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.

He kisses you. “You deserve for it to always be that good,” he whispers.

“Mm. That another promise, Saint Joel?”

Another kiss. Longer this time, then his forehead is on yours, and he’s hugging you in even tighter to him. “I promise,” he says. “On my life.”

You’ll hold him to that.

notes: hope you enjoyed! all interactions are appreciated, but reblogs help my engagement, and i'd love to hear your thoughts if you can :)

(if you want to be on my taglist for all future fics (not just joel miller), just ask me here)

take care of yourself!

oh also, title from "false god" by taylor swift because i'm apparently incapable of not titling a fic with a taylor lyric. so. i can't help it that she's the first artist that comes to mind when i think "what song can i title this after?". the woman has like 200 songs on her discography. THERE'S ONE FOR EVERYTHING. anyway

taglist

@your-slutty-gf @brilliantopposite187 @iwantjoelmillertoultraviolenceme

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #my fic: joel smut #my fic: joel #my fic #my post #gif cw

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runninriot · 3 months

Text

Inspired by the prompt ‘Love is helping them unwind after a rough day‘ by @lihhelsing for @steddielovemonth day 19

I’ll take care of you

wc: 1,946 | rated: M | tags: Steve is stressed, Eddie takes care of Steve, Established Relationship, Domesticity, Smut (under the cut)

Eddie looks up from where he’s busy peeling potatoes for dinner when he hears Steve entering the apartment.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Eddie calls into the hallway, excited to finally have his boyfriend back home after another day of him working late.

He continues to prepare the remaining vegetables, smiles when he feels a heavy weight slump against his back and two arms wrap around his middle.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

Steve sighs deeply.

“I hate my boss.” He sounds exhausted.

Eddie chuckles, doesn’t comment on the double meaning (Steve’s boss is his dad. But that’ll change as soon as they’ve saved up enough money to make their way out of this town).

“That bad, huh?”

He tries to move to put the casserole in the oven but Steve’s arms are still clinging to him, only loosening their grip enough for Eddie to turn around in his embrace.

Steve has been working overtime every single day this past week. They’ve barely spent any time together besides sleeping next to each other, with Steve being too exhausted to do anything after work.

He’s working on a big project right now, something ‘crucial for the future of the firm’. Eddie doesn’t know the details, just knows it’s draining Steve of every last bit of energy. He hates it. Hates that he can’t do much to help take away some of the pressure weighing on his boyfriend’s shoulders. Knows how hard Steve always is on himself, always has the tendency to overwork himself, always giving 110 percent and more.

Thank god it’s Friday, Eddie thinks, looking forward to a weekend with not much to do, already making plans in his head how to spoil Steve in all the ways he deserves.

He pulls Steve’s face up with a hand on his chin to properly greet him with a long and tender kiss.

“How about you go take a nice hot bath while I clean the kitchen. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s chest and tightens his arms around his waist like he doesn’t want to let go.

“Hmm nah, just gonna have a shower. I don’t want to risk falling asleep in the bathtub.”

They kiss again, once, twice, before Steve relents and peels himself off.

Steve returns to the kitchen 20 minutes later, looks refreshed, still tired but at least a little more alive than before.

“Can I help with anything?” Steve asks, looking over Eddie’s shoulder where he pours each of them a glass of water.

“All done. You just sit down and let me take care of you.”

“Ugh, you’ve been taking care of everything this week. I didn’t even remember to start the damn washing machine this morning like you asked me to. I only now remembered when I saw the piles of clothes on top of the dryer. I’m sorry.”

He sounds genuinely upset but Eddie will have none of it.

“Babe, stop it. You’ve been working your ass off all week. Cooking dinner and doing some household chores is the least I can do.”

Eddie snags another kiss from Steve’s lips before he prompts him to sit down at the table.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Aww, I know. But what can I do? I’m but a fool in love.” Eddie sing-songs and feels like he’s completed an important mission when Steve laughs wholeheartedly at his words.

“You’re such a dork. God I love you.”

“Love you, too. Now shut up and eat. I didn’t burn my hand for this to go cold again.” This earns him another laugh and an appreciative kiss on the back of his hand before they dig in.

An hour later they’re lying in bed. Eddie is reading a book while Steve is going over some papers – despite Eddie’s protest not to bring work into their holy chambers – rubbing his forehead and eyes every now and then while groaning frustrated.

“Okay, enough.” Eddie says too loud for the overall silence in the room, snaps his book shut and lays it down on the bedside table.

He then turns his attention to Steve who looks at him startled and confused.

“I said... enough,” Eddie repeats, voice stern and determined.

He takes hold of the papers in Steve’s hand, pulls them out of his grasp, quickly but careful not to accidentally cut him, and lets them drop to the floor next to the bed.

“Eddie! Those are imp-“

Steve doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Eddie is on top of him in one swift motion, dragging him closer with a fist in his shirt, silencing him with a kiss.

“What was that for?” Steve says breathlessly when Eddie releases his lips again.

“I told you I’m gonna take care of you. And right now, what you need is to stop thinking about work.”

“Ooh, okay,” Steve smiles up at him, all flirty and smug, “and you think you can help with that?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Eddie plays along, “Guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we.”

He grips the hem of Steve’s shirt and pulls it over his head, dropping it purposely down on top of the offending papers on the floor – like covering up their existence will make it easier for Steve to forget about them.

Eddie pushes Steve back down into the pillows, hands gliding over his boyfriend’s chest as he makes himself comfortable in Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, fingers digging into the sides, goading him to move. And Eddie does, slowly rolls his hips over Steve’s middle, delighted at the soft little Ahs flitting over Steve’s lips.

There are three layers of fabric between them – two pairs of boxers and a cover – but Eddie can already feel the effect of his grinding motion as he drags his cock over the hard line of Steve’s.

“Close your eyes, baby. Relax. Let me take care of you,” Eddie coos, voice soft and low.

He leans down to kiss Steve’s neck, starts right beneath his ear, goes along the side and over the column of his throat. He makes his way from Steve’s collarbone to his chest, stops at his right nipple to suck at it. Twirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, encouraged by Steve’s breathy moans. With his teeth busy nibbling at one side, his hand blindly finds the other and starts rolling it gently between his thumb and finger, pinching just hard enough to get Steve talking.

“Ah! Yes, baby. Feels so good, Eddie. More, please.”

Eddie releases both nipples, kisses his way further down over coarse hair, licks over his boyfriend's defined muscles and bites the soft parts of his tummy.

He sucks purple splotches into Steve's skin and beneath him Steve shivers, digs his fingers into Eddie’s hair as if to tell him to move on.

Eddie listens to his silent pleas, climbs off his lap only to pull the cover away and get rid of the remaining barrier. He peels his own shorts off before gripping the waistband of Steve’s, doesn’t need to tell him to lift his hips to drag them down.

Finally free, in all their naked glory, Eddie takes his place between Steve’s legs and doesn’t waste anymore time before dragging his tongue over the length of his cock. He starts at the base, licks a long stripe to the tip.

“Oh, baby.”

Steve’s voice reaches him from above his head but he doesn't look up, his attention is somewhere else. He parts his lips, wraps them around the swollen head and begins to suck. Teases Steve with a wet tongue curling around the crown, lets saliva pool all over the tip before sucking it back into his mouth.

The noises Steve makes are an obscene soundtrack to Eddie’s performance. Lower and lower he sinks down on Steve’s length, taking him deeper inch by inch until he can feel him on the back of his throat.

“F-fuck, Eddie! You feel fucking amazing!”

He’ll never get tired of hearing Steve call his name as he slowly loses his mind. Desperate and whiney and oh so sweet it sends a tingling sensation right to Eddie’s dick.

Eddie comes back up, pops off with a wet sound, much to Steve’s disdain, who protest loudly at the loss of Eddie’s mouth.

“I’m not done, baby. Don’t worry.”

He reaches for the drawer on Steve’s side of the bed and takes out a bottle of lube, klicks the lid open and pours a generous amount on his fingers. Steve startles when the cool gel connects with the skin between his cheeks, two fingers spreading the lube in circles around the rim.

“God, fuck, yeah!”

Steve’s enthusiasm spurs Eddie on to slide the tip of one finger against the tight muscle, slowly pushing inside until he’s two knuckles deep.

“So pretty, baby. Fuck, Steve. I love how greedy your hole is.”

Without looking up, Eddie knows that Steve is flushed red from the tip of his nose down to his chest. Always a little ashamed of how much he secretly enjoys the dirty talk.

“Gonna stretch that pretty hole so good, make you ready for my cock. Do you want that, baby?”

Steve moans loudly as Eddie thrusts his finger in and out and it’s all the answer he needs.

He keeps up his loving torture for as long as he needs to make Steve loose, until he’s literally begging him to stop the teasing and fuck him.

When Eddie sinks into his boyfriend, he nearly loses his mind at how good it feels. They haven’t had sex all week and Eddie just now realises how much he missed it. The burning heat of Steve’s body, the slick noises they make when Eddie fucks into him with rough but loving force. The way Steve trembles underneath him, breathlessly chasing Eddie’s lips for a kiss. How fucking perfect it is to watch Steve come undone, pounding him into the mattress while stroking his leaking cock. How the stinging pain of Steve’s nails digging possessively into Eddie’s flesh alone nearly sends him over the edge.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and the sound of their moans and it’s heaven.

“Come on, Steve. Come for me.”

With a last, desperate cry on their lips they both crash and fall, succumbing the crushing wave of their orgasm.

And then the world goes quiet around them.

The only sound is their heavy breathing, both trying to catch their breaths as they slowly come down from their heights.

“That was-“ Steve starts but gets distracted by the sudden movement when Eddie pulls out and drops down beside him.

“Phenomenal.” Eddie ends Steve’s sentence for him while pulling him close to his chest.

They are both sticky and sweaty and should probably clean up before they’re too tired but Eddie can take care of it later, doesn’t want to break the moment.

“Love you so much, Eddie.”

Steve’s breath tickles on his skin and it’s too hot to be holding each other so close but he’d rather drown in his own sweat than not hold Steve in his arms.

“Did it help?” Eddie asks jokingly, a wide, knowing grin on his face Steve can’t see.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, exhausted and blissed out.

Eddie draws Steve closer, feels the way his body relaxes in his arms, melts into his embrace like he's made of warm candle wax.

“Love you, baby.”

And if they fall asleep like that – sweat drenched, and cum stained, and on top of dirty sheets – that's okay.

They can take care of that tomorrow.

#steddielovemonth #love is...#day 19 #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie

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zarla-s · 10 months

Text

Man it's been a long time since I've done an ask cluster! Let's see if I can get some down...

He's an extremely fun character to write for and play with! So in that sense I'm fond of him, haha. He's such a huge disaster of a person, there's always something fun to do with him. Well "fun" in a relative sense.

I don't have anything to forgive him for, he didn't hurt me. |D He hurt the brothers!

I do have an idea for a cute feature inspired by Six-Eared Macaque! I should really sit down and do that already... and finish the one I half started but never finished...

I don't think my opinion on any of them changed! I love them all, haha. Which ones I drew comics about just depends on which ones I get ideas for really. Sometimes I get Alphys ideas and sometimes I get Goatparents ideas! Inspiration is fickle!

I don't have any solid plans or anything. :B Just gonna keep chugging along with silly comics and art! Work on Defrag and such. I'd like to finish a Ladyverse comic I've had lying around forever, and I had vague plans for doing a doujin for them too I could work on... and also seeing if I could format Handplates into a book format... I've always got a bunch of projects, haha.

It works on that level! It wasn't intentional though. |D

I do enjoy speculation! I don't really have much of my own though, I didn't predict anything in chapter 2 so now I'm assuming I can't predict anything in the future chapters either, haha.

Emesis Blue is great! Some really beautiful visuals in there, very striking! Love the mood of it too and a lot of the surreal imagery. I think it helped spur me back into TF2 again, haha. Medic and Scout's relationship was so cute.

I have thought about this! It has its share of challenges though... I outlined them more in this post. A pdf would be more doable though... could even include some extra stuff as well! Hmm...

I can see that! He'd probably spend as much time out in the rain as he could just doing whatever to stay outside.

It was pretty much always going to end like that. I always wanted it to end on a hopeful note! Which might seem weird with how dark it is at the beginning. I DID for a brief period at the very beginning of Handplates think about stopping with the Pacifist run, but that was only because I thought going where I wanted to go would take too long and already the project seemed so dauntingly huge at the time, haha. But it was always going to end in a positive way!

Gaster talks about what he originally intended to create here, and he explains a bit about the physical experiments he runs on the brothers here. They aren't really a solution in and of themselves so much as tools to try and find a way to break the barrier. Really though, Gaster got stuck in the sunk-cost fallacy lol.

I don't really have opinions about what canon Gaster would be like. |D Handplates Gaster is his own thing really. Canon Gaster, who knows! Deltarune Gaster, who knows! I will say I hope Gaster stays a mystery in Deltarune and never actually shows up but I think the odds of that are really low at this point.

I thought about doing a script along those lines! I did a few rough drafts of one, but it never really went anywhere... it'd end up dead-ending or kind of meandering off. I might see if I can get an actual script down for a side-comic or something in the future... it might be better suited for a fic.

I was just thinking about this lately! I was picturing Gaster totally forgetting about that until he sees Papyrus squinting and is like OH GOD YOUR EYES THAT'S RIGHT D: and goes to get him looked at lol.

I couldn't come up with a good idea for Flowey which is a shame, I do like him, haha. If one comes to me though I might make a little side comic about it!

Gaster's LV is complicated... his stats in-game are ludicrous if I recall correctly. Did he carry the damage from his murders into the void, even if those murders weren't his in the new timeline? Deep thoughts.

He fed them anything he could find, haha. Which is why sometimes they just ended up with chocolate bars (which he intended as dinner for himself). He probably fed them more often than he fed himself lol. He did feed them fairly regularly though.

Not about skeletons, probably. |D

Man I know I had an explanation for this but it was so long ago... it's hard for me to remember. It could be that the Riverperson is just weird and has weird insight into elements of things, had a prophetic dream... I don't know! It bugs me now that I can't remember this, haha.

#undertale #handplates #asks and answers

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jakesguitarsolo · 3 months

Note

happy Sexy Sunday!! I know it's a bit late but I just need to get this out. I always get INCREDIBLY horny before my period. (well I mean there're several other signs like mood swings and incredibly thirsty) and let's just say Jake, being the ✨fertility god✨ (and the amazing boyfriend) that he is, can always tell from the little things. for example you are being moody and just snapped at him but immediately felt bad afterwards, and he just understands and "takes care" of you in every way

(not me being frustrated and yes, horny, with this thought plaguing my mind and so grateful that it's sexy sunday so I can vent it out, thank you😂

I got this submission back in December, started writing, and then lost all motivation to write. BUT I AM BACK! Happy Sexy Sunday everyone.

SWEET BOYFRIEND JAKE LETS GO…

Warnings: blood (it’s not what you think…), dirty talk, and fingering (f!receiving).

There you were, angry and insanely frustrated that you were the one standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes after the dinner you just made for yourself and Jake. He had been taking his last bite when he jumped up and grabbed his guitar because a melody popped into his head, and he absolutely couldn’t forget it. This left you stuck with dishes… again. Maybe you were just moody because you were about to start your period in a few days or maybe you were sick of Jake’s sudden “inspiration” leaving you with the house chores way too often lately… Either way, you were over it.

Sitting at the table, Jake is ferociously scribbling note after note on the legal pad in front of him between intermittent strums of his acoustic guitar. He couldn’t see your face from where he was sitting and he dare not glance up from his work, but you rolled your eyes anyway hoping with some small part of you that he would realize that you were upset.

Your attitude clearly got the best of you because you accidentally slammed a glass onto the drying rack, shattering it to pieces. “Fuck!” You shouted, noticing the blood that trickled from the fresh cut to your right hand. Jake rushed over to you, turned on the sink and put your hand under the running water. “Baby, you okay? How did you manage to do that?” He inquired. You blurted out, “Oh gee, I don’t know Jake… Maybe if I had some fucking help once in a while, this wouldn’t have happened!” You closed your eyes and sighed with regret as soon as the words spilled from your mouth.

Jake brought the palm of your hand up to his mouth as he licked up the drop of blood about to fall and gave your palm an open mouthed kiss. Your heart rate started to slow and the anger you had let bottle up and explode started to fade. “I’m sorry, love. I know I’ve been neglecting the house work lately. I’ve just been so stressed about getting this new music done… That’s no excuse though. I’ve been neglecting my girl too… Let me bandage this up for you. Let me find a way to make it all up to you.”

Grabbing your waist, Jake led you to the couch before running to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. When he returned, he applied disinfectant and gauze to the wound and gently wrapped your hand with tape. Once completely done, he kissed the palm of your hand again and continued peppering kisses up your arm to your shoulder…. In between kisses he cooed, “So… sorry… baby. Gonna… take care… of my…. girl… I… promise…”

Ascending his way up your neck, he took his time lightly sucking a love mark in that special spot right beneath your ear. This spot made you weak, and Jake knew that as he memorized every inch of your body like he memorized his guitar. Your head involuntarily fell back to allow him more access to you. He inched his lips up to your jaw then hovered centimeters away from your mouth as he cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip, opening you up to him. Swiping his tongue across your lip, he paused for a moment before devouring you. The way you melted into his kiss… No one ever made you feel like that and ever could.

A wave of heat washed over you and your breath hitched when you felt his hand lightly trace over the waistband of your leggings. He released his lips from yours to gaze at your face while he toyed with your leggings, pulling them down lower. Something between a sigh and a whimper escaped your throat when he finally made contact with your pussy. His skilled fingers teased your entrance, collecting your juices before rubbing slow, soft circles on your clit.

“Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. Okay? I promise. Just relax for me…” Jake gently pushed you back onto the couch with his body weight pressed against you, again attaching himself to your lips. His kiss started getting sloppy and desperate when he felt you buck your hips up into his hand silently begging for more. He groaned as he swallowed down all your pretty moans and whimpers that you just couldn’t hold back. Jake took that as permission to sink two fingers into you, curling them upwards and hitting that sweet spot inside you that only he had been able to find.

“Fuck, Jake… right there, ah it feels so good. Don’t stop…” you pleaded. Jake chuckled as he said, “You like that, sweet girl? I can feel you dripping into my palm. Gripping my fingers like the needy girl you are, huh? I knew I was neglecting my pretty girl and her pretty pussy.” When he started massaging your clit with his thumb simultaneously, you knew you were done for.

You squeezed your eyes shut and your pussy clenched as Jake continued to work you expertly. “Come on, doll. Let go… Give it to me. You look beautiful when you unravel just for me.” As always, his words were all it took for your body to succumb. Your orgasm hit you so hard you couldn’t breathe or move. Jake didn’t stop though, he was prolonging the ecstasy that was washing over you. Drowning you in it until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your vision was blurry as you opened your eyes.

Jake slowed and finally stilled his movements, leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet, angel. I’m just getting started… First, you got my fingers. Now, m’gonna make you fall apart on my tongue until finally you’re squirming and begging to come all over my cock. I think that’ll make you feel better, don’t you?” He whispered with a smirk.

Oh yeah, you were in for it tonight… and you literally welcomed him with open arms.

#GVF sexy Sunday #impure Jake thoughts #greta van fleet #jakedown #jake kiszka #jaket kiszka #greta van smut #greta van fic #greta fic rec #jake gvf #jake kiszka fic #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic

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majestyeverlasting · 2 years

Text

Old Times' Sake

Pairing: Eddie Munson x College Fem!Reader

Summary: School’s out for the summer, and after making a surprise trip back to Hawkins from the Big Apple, you reconnect with the person who made leaving ten times harder. (contains 18+ content)

A/N: Had a lot of fun with this one. It's not often that I write smut, but given the prompt inspiration, I figured I’d give it a go. Hopefully it serves to enrich the story (lol)-- we shall see. There’s plenty of fluff as well.

A shrill telephone ring awakens Eddie to golden sunlight in his eyes and his leg hanging off the couch. It takes a few good blinks for him to remember that he’d crashed as soon as he made it back home from school. At the sight of Wayne hunched over the kitchen sink with a wrench in his hand, indifferent to the sound, he fumbles to his feet to go answer the call himself.

His eyes are still bleary as he yawns and puts the phone to his ear, half expecting it to be a telemarketer. There weren’t many people who called their trailer. And given the fact that it was a Friday—not Saturday—he wasn’t expecting it to be you.

But you always had been the type to defy his expectations.

“Hey, stranger.” He can already hear the smile in your words, the giddiness curling around the edges. “Guess where I’m calling from?”

He relaxes against the wall and starts toying with the phone cord, smiling at the sound of your voice. “I dunno—Fifth Avenue…Times Square…off somewhere having fun?” The semester had ended for you, after all.

“Nope,” you pop the p. “But I could be off having fun if you come pick me up.” A few beats of silence stretch on his end of the line, and you bite back a laugh.

“What do you mean?”

The sweetness of your laugh finally washes over him. “I mean you can hop in that trusty van of yours and swing by my parents' place,” you say. “Because I just might be back in Hawkins.”

Eddie immediately clutches at his left pocket to see if his keys are still stuffed in it. “I swear, if you’re just messing with—”

“I’m not messing with you,” you promise. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up for no reason.”

It’s his turn to laugh, a sound mixed with relief and that charming tinge of mischief that hardly leaves. “How do you know my hopes are up, huh?” He fishes out his keys so they’re at the ready.

“‘Cause I know you too well. Which is exactly why I’d bet all my money that you’ll be pulling up soon, rockstar.”

When the line clicks dead, he puts the phone back on its base with a disbelieving shake of his head. And if it was even possible, his smile stretches wider and the excitement buzzing beneath his skin intensifies. Wayne looks on from the kitchen, and can’t help but smirk as Eddie combs his fingers through his hair a few quick times, and steps into his Rebok hightops before calling out, I gotta run.

It’s not even ten minutes later that his van turns onto your street going a couple miles too fast. He slows to a stop along the curb of the sidewalk you’re standing on. Right after the cute little wave you give him, the pale blue skirt resting at your thighs is the next thing that catches his attention.

Upon hopping out and rounding to you, he wraps you in a strong hug that makes you stumble backwards. But he steadies the both of you as you giggle and secure your arms around his neck, breathing him in. He pulls away to get a better look at your smiling face and still can’t believe that after ten months, you’re finally back from New York.

“Told you so,” your tone is light and playful.

“You did,” he breathes. “God, I missed you. Did you miss me?” He wants to hear you say it.

“Maybe a little bit,” you tease. “It’s not like there’s a reason why I sent you postcards, and Polaroids, and bothered calling you on the weekends.” Everything you’d relayed to him practically screamed I wish you were here.

“When’d you make it back in?”

“Last night,” you tell him. “And I’m well-rested and ready to go, so what are we gonna do first?”

A sudden flicker of realization crosses his features. “Shit. I’ve got Hellfire in an hour,” he remembers, running a hand down his face and rubbing his chin. “But I can come get you afterwards and we can hang at my place?”

“Or just take me to Hellfire with you,” you shrug. “Then you won’t have to make an extra trip back. I’ll even bring a change of clothes if you don’t mind me spending the night with you.”

“I’d never mind that. We’ve got some catching up to do anyways, don’t we?” He looks you over with those big brown eyes and wants to know even more about who you’ve become. There’s a certain glow to your face that wasn’t there before you left.

He’s sure you’ve met new people and tried new things that you haven’t gotten around to telling him about yet. But even then, he hopes to find that the girl he met in 12th grade English—who shared her annotations and shushed him although she was smiling—is still there. Because she was the one who knew how to have a good time and make him feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

Luckily, he could already see her shining through just fine.

•••

“Make sure you guys hold on,” you playfully say to the two boys seated in the back.

Night has fallen, and the moon is out along with faintly shining stars and a few clouds that look like thick clusters of wisped smoke.

Dustin gives you a thumbs up. “Noted.”

“Dually,” Mike adds.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he starts the engine.

The Hellfire meeting had gone well. Sitting next to his throne made you feel important, despite only half understanding what was playing out before you. Getting to see him in his element with his friends reminded you why you’d sat through some of his campaigns in the past. There was an energy about him that never dwindled.

By the time Eddie pulls onto the main road, the two younger boys are quietly talking about a girl named El. Eddie’s eyes are focused ahead, and your gaze is cast out the window as a guitar solo softly drones on the radio.

Various shops and restaurants pass by, illuminated by their respective signs and the streetlights out front. There are even a few people out enjoying what little nightlife there is to indulge within. Hawkins was nothing like the city, with its sea of lights and innumerous thrills. The small town had always been quiet, calm, a little strange. But nevertheless a place with undeniable charm if you knew where to look.

You turn to Eddie, and he must sense your gaze because he glances over at you with upturned lips. He doesn’t say anything, just shoots you a wink before redirecting his attention back to the road. A set of chunky rings adorn his left hand, and a lone snowflake obsidian one rests around his right ring finger.

With a curious hum, you pull his hand into your lap, leaving him to steer with his left. “This one’s new. Don’t remember it.” You run a finger over the speckled stone of the ring.

“Yeah. Got it a couple months ago,” he says. “Pretty metal, huh?”

“So metal,” you humor him. “Just like this hair of yours. I’m just now realizing how much it’s grown. Jeez, Eds.” You reach out to run a hand through his curls, nearly making him melt.

“Guess he shoulda got a haircut a couple months ago too,” Dustin quips.

“Actually, all of you guys are looking pretty shaggy. I dig it, though.”

You work your fingers to Eddie’s scalp in a gentle scratch, making the two boys in the back shoot each other a questioning look at the rather intimate exchange.

“Gonna make me pass out at the wheel,” he warns, leaning into your touch until he remembers the extra pairs of eyes watching.

Your hand returns to your lap as he slows for a stoplight. A red glow pours into the van from the brake lights of the car in front, illuminating your faces in an unexpectedly picturesque way. You remember so many late nights with him when he’d be able to cruise through lights and signs because nobody else was out on the road.

“Hey, guys?” Dustin speaks up. “I don’t mean to pry or anything, but were you two ever, like, a thing?” Because without so much as trying, you had their dungeon master loose and playful all evening. It only made sense to ask.

The light turns green, but due to the weight of the question lingering in the air, Eddie’s reaction time is delayed by a couple beats.

You hesitate yourself because of the small pang of guilt that arises.

“Uh, no. We’re just close.” There’s a hint of dejection in his tone if you strain to hear it. But to the boys’ untrained ear, it sounds more like nonchalance.

You two could’ve been a thing if apprehension hadn't once weighed down on your shoulders.

“Oh.” Dustin clears his throat. “Okay. Cool. I just thought since—yeah, never mind. I’m just gonna be quiet now.”

When you make it into the suburbs, small lights hang in front of each house and each cookie cutter lot is no bigger than the next. Mike shuffles around in the back to collect his things, and hops out when Eddie pulls up in front of a cozy, two-story home.

“Later, Wheeler,” Eddie calls.

“Later, guys.”

He shuts the door, and the night's drop offs continue.

Eventually, it’s just you and Eddie like old times. A comfortable silence settles between you, and he cranks down his window to let some cool air flow in. It feels like being caressed by the night. You wiggle in your seat to get more comfortable, only for something to dig into the skin of your rib cage.

A groan escapes you, making a sliver of concern etch between his brows.

“I’m okay. I just gotta…”

After briefly unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip your hands into your shirt sleeves to lower your bra straps from your shoulders. And before he can fully grasp what’s happening, you’re digging under the hem of your shirt to unhook your bra and pull it out from beneath.

“Oh,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling.

“You don’t even know half of it.”

“Lucky me.”

Though he doesn’t overtly mean to, his gaze flickers to your chest. Despite how quickly he looks back to the road, it still feels like he’s staring because the image of your now pierced nipples linger in the forefront of his mind.

You notice the way his grip tightens on the steering wheel, but you don’t ask why.

•••

Not much has changed when you pull up at Eddie’s trailer. Not even the fact that Wayne’s truck isn’t parked out front at this time of night. A few of his neighbors are sitting outside in a ring of lawn chairs, chatting and smoking. A small dog across the street barks from where it’s confined behind a fence.

The smell of pine mixed with a hint of tobacco encompasses you when you walk inside, making a flood of memories rush back: watching TV on his couch after school, sitting in the kitchen and trying the weird snack combinations he liked, coaxing him to play your favorite songs on the living room record player. The decorations on the walls still look the same too; framed pictures, baseball caps, colorful mugs lined along the shelves near the ceiling.

Eddie locks the door behind you two, and finds himself smiling at the way you look around the dim space. It’s as if you’re expecting a drastic change to suddenly stick out. But his place, just like the rest of Hawkins, seems to have stayed fairly true to the way you left it.

It was good to be back within these four walls.

“Fair warning,” he says, “I would’ve cleaned my room if I had a more advanced notice.”

You give him a look.

“What?—I would’ve. You’re the one who decided to pop into town without telling me,” he says. “Could’ve got it all nice and tidy to make you think I became more refined while you were away.”

“Good thing I like you a little rough around the edges.” That makes him bite back a smile. “And it wouldn’t have been a surprise if you’d known. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he drawls, leading you to his room.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting. The bed is made, but it appears to have been done with haste. Clothes aren’t haphazardly lying around, though a couple things spill from drawers. There’s minimal clutter on his dresser and nightstand. You set your overnight bag in the corner after looking over the posters covering the walls. There are a few new additions that compliment the old.

What you relish most of all is the fact that it smells like him; musky spiced undertones and a smokiness that’s not overbearing.

“So,” he says as he kicks off his shoes, “ready to tell me more about your fancy city life?”

“You already know about the major stuff.”

“I wanna hear about the little things too.” He grins, proud of the fond way he makes you roll your eyes.

For someone whose mind seems to move a million miles a minute in different directions, Eddie proved himself to be a good listener when it came to you. He knew just how to get still and offer his attention in a way you could feel seeping into your skin. As much as it warmed you, it was also a peculiar type of burden.

While it reminded you of how good it felt to have someone so curiously invested, you were also forced to remember your own foolish response when he’d asked you if you wanted to be more than friends. Dustin’s question had made you think about it too. Because even after rejecting Eddie, he told you it was okay, that he understood why you were apprehensive. You remember the pain in his eyes, and the sad smile he hoped would distract from it.

But as with most things, time had soothed over that day to the point where the two of you were able to carry on as the way things were. That never stopped you from thinking what if. What if things had’ve been different?

“I’m ready when you are, hotshot.” He crawls onto his bed and motions for you to join him. “Don’t leave out any details ‘cause I’m all ears.”

So you try not to as you begin to tell him about all your lesser adventures in the city that never sleeps.

•••

A cackle escapes Eddie when you whip around to look at him with annoyance and relief on your face. Conversation had shifted to him and taken a turn. He’s stretched out on his back, fiddling with a rubix cube, and you’re standing at his dresser with his most recent progress report unfolded in your hands. You’d hopped to your feet to look at it the second he told you things weren’t looking too good in terms of finally being on track to graduate.

But his grades were okay, all things considered. He wasn’t acing any subjects, but wasn’t failing any either. And he’d actually managed to crawl up to a C in Ms. O’Donnell’s.

“Don’t play around like that, you scared me.” You slam the paper back down as he grins. “You’re too smart to have to go through that hell again.”

“I don’t know about that.” A laugh bubbles past his lips. “I haven’t managed to solve this thing a single time.” He wiggles the cube at you before starting to toss it up. “It’s my arch nemesis at this point.”

“At least you’re graduating. I’m gonna scream your name so loud.” Then your tone grows more sincere, and something about your expression shifts. “I’m really proud of you, Eds.”

Those words are enough to make him blush, a rosy color that reminds you of the way the sky gets on soft mornings and around sunset. He murmurs a small thank you, and continues tossing the colorful cube into the air.

He catches it every time until the moment he doesn’t. It falls onto his nose with a dull clunk, and he winces before retiring the toy back to his night stand.

Despite the snort that escapes you, your legs still carry you to the side of his bed to see if he’s okay. One of his hands has raised to touch the now tender area, and you can see that it’s turned a faint red. He groans when you take a seat on the edge of the bed, and move his hand to get a better look. It’s a sound of embarrassment more than anything, but you’re nice enough to give him a smile that’s at least somewhat sympathetic.

“You okay, Rudolph?”

“No,” he groans. “M’gonna die. I can already see the light.”

As you look down at him with amusement in your eyes, you find yourself studying his features; long lashes, big beautiful eyes, plump lips. A familiar warmth stirs in your stomach that, up until this point, had been fairly at bay. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time.

Carefully, you lean down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I think you’re gonna make it,” you murmur.

He grumbles out a few words of disagreement just to see if it’ll prompt you to do anything else. He can see your resolve breaking—he wants it too. His own had been hanging on by a thread, unraveling since the moment he saw you standing on the curb in that pretty blue skirt.

Taking the bait, you press your lips to his, granting him a few sweet seconds of the taste of your chapstick and the warmth of your kiss.

He revels in it until the moment you give his bottom lip one last gentle bite and slowly pull away. It feels like you take a piece of him with you, but he knows you’ll keep it tucked somewhere safe.

“Better?” You’ve gone soft on him now, he can see it in your eyes.

“Mm-hm. Much.” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, and a faint red tint rubs off. “Strawberry?”

You nod, not realizing your own fingers have wandered under the hem of his Hellfire shirt. But he feels them brushing along the skin of his waistline, passing through the thin hair beneath his naval. It prompts him to sit up to peel it off in a swift motion. His curls become more disheveled in process, but your eyes travel right down to the tattoos beneath his collarbones.

With a palm to his chest, you push him backwards to lay down again, crawling on top of his hips. It’s muscle memory that comes all too easy.

“You should get more of them.” You trace a finger over the dark ink, then proceed to draw thoughtless patterns down the rest of his milky torso. The gentleness of your touch makes his muscles quiver. “I’ve got a couple ideas, actually.”

“I hope your name isn’t one of ‘em.”

“Why? You don’t want it in big letters right here?” You run your finger in a straight line just beneath his pecs.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Absolutely not.”

Both of you share a laugh and you find yourself leaning down to kiss the easy sound from his lips. Butterflies flutter through you at the way you can still feel him smiling.

Eddie hums when you pull away to place soft kisses down his neck, lips pillowy and warm. He watches through dazed eyes as you make your way to the waistband of his jeans. Gaging his reactions all the while, you unbuckle his belt, pop the button, and pull down the zipper.

Just when he finds himself short on words, you straighten up to pull your shirt over your head. You’re oblivious to the way you arch your back in the process, causing your chest to push forward. The dainty steel barbells pierced through your nipples make him swallow thickly, hands itching. They look even better than the mental image he’d constructed the back when you’d taken your bra off.

You have the nerve to giggle and tilt your head. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Yeah,” he rasps in awe, a smile tugging at his lips. “When’d you get ‘em?”

“A couple months after I moved away. Just never said anything.”

Eddie hums, then props himself up onto his forearms. You understand to get off of him then, mattress shifting as he scoots up so that his back is against the wall. A giddy smile starts across your face as he motions for you with a curl of his finger.

You crawl between his legs, this time sitting so that your back is flush against his chest. There’s a security in the warmth of him, a promise of care within his touch. He drops a kiss to your shoulder as his warm calloused hands slide up your stomach to cup your breasts in a gentle knead.

He never pegged you as the type to go out and get them pierced, but seeing the glint of the small barbells and feeling them with his own hands, he can’t help but think they’re perfect.

“I’ve missed nights like this,” he murmurs into the back of your neck, sealing the statement with a kiss. Nights when spoken words eventually ran dry, and your bodies still had plenty to say.

His hands soon slip under your skirt, teasing over the damp fabric of your panties and making your legs bloom open for him as if he were the sun. He toys around like that for a while; snapping the waistband against your skin and tucking his fingers into the leg openings to make squirm and murmur his name.

Warmth kindles in your core, and just when you move to guide his hand towards where you need him, he speaks, “I’ll get there in just a second, angel. I promise.” The small smile he’s wearing drips off each word.

You jolt when he gives your nipples a gentle tweak before his hands return to your inner thighs. His fingertips stroke along both of them, up to your raised knees and then back down towards the sweet ache in between.

It’s a featherlight motion he does over and over until your skirt is bunched at your waist, and you’re impatiently pressing back into him.

You realize then, just how much you’ve missed this. How easy it is for him to have you open and wanting. It was always that way when it came to him because he had a knack for knowing what you needed. The entire evening had been a testament to that. He’d listened to you, made you laugh, and drove you crazy in a way you never wanted to escape.

The same was true of him back when you attended Hawkins High. But you were younger and dumber, and the impending threat gossip had intimidated you from being his girlfriend. If you had the chance to do it all over again, you wouldn’t care what anybody else thought about the absolute bundle of life and energy that was Eddie Munson. You wouldn’t have looked into his doe eyes and choked out the words I can’t when you longed to say yes.

And maybe there was still a chance looming in the distance.

When his fingers dip into your panties to trail reverently over your folds, you shudder and murmur, “I’m sorry.”

He thinks you’re referring to your impatientince. “You’re okay. Don’t gotta apologize.” His lips find your neck again and you shake your head.

“For being stupid,” you clarify, breath catching as he begins to rub slow, deliberate circles around your clit, “before I moved away—” a soft gasp cuts you off when he uses his free hand to roll a nipple between his fingers. Then he does the same to the other.

Eddie gets it then, but continues working your body. You’re left anticipating his next words, growing wetter and warmer with each second that crawls by. It takes everything to contain some of the undignified sounds that rise up your throat, and you weakly grip his thighs as they rest on either side of you.

Somewhere along the line, the remainder of your clothes end up on the floor, leaving you bare and exposed against his frame.

With his thumb against your clit, he slowly begins pushing his two middlemost fingers into your entrance. Your body’s already prepared for the stretch.

Once they’re knuckle deep, he pulls them back out to grace over your folds with an explorative gentleness. When he pushes them back in, he curls them in a way that makes your face scrunch in pleasure.

“Don’t say that about yourself,” he finally says.

You hadn’t been stupid. You were scared. And if it was one thing he knew well, it was the feeling of being afraid.

Your eyes slip closed as he begins pumping faster, creamy sounds ringing out softly. He can feel you clenching around his fingers, rutting into them. A heated coil tightens within you, threatening to snap and sear right through.

But you still attempt to continue your apology.

“You didn’t deserve—ohmygosh, oh gosh.” He applies more pressure to your clit and draws tighter circles, fingers still sliding in and out. Occasionally lingering at your entrance to collect your slickness.

“Is that right?” Eddie murmurs into your ear. He nips your shoulder and soothes the spot with a kiss. “You feeling good?”

He knows you are. That’s why he’s growing harder in his jeans, face flushing at the way you’re falling apart.

You nod insistently, leg muscles tightening and relaxing in succession, overwhelmed.

The pleasure is radiating.

“Oh, God—Eds,” you mewl and arch your back, head falling onto his shoulder.

“I know,” he coos. “I’ve gotcha. Do your thing, angel.”

Everything fades away when you let go.

All you feel is fluttering, pulsing, a pleasant ache that runs deep and leaves you trembling against him. Murmuring praises interwoven with his name, and barely hearing the airy pitch of your voice. But he doesn’t miss a single word or twitch of your body as he coaxes you back down, slowing his fingers and pulling them out in all too heavenly drag. Massaging over your nub a few final times before you close your legs with a sealing whimper.

The next time you open your eyes, his arms are wrapped around your middle.

“Are you back on Earth with me?”

Your chuckle is breathless, blissed. “I hope so.” You crane your neck to press kisses to his jaw. “Should’ve smuggled you to New York with me.”

He snickers and squeezes you tighter. “Why, ‘cause I’m good with my hands?”

“You would’ve made the whole experience ten times better,” you tell him genuinely. “I shouldn’t have said no. I was wrong.”

Eddie lifts his hips when you reposition yourself and grasp at the waistband of his jeans with needy hands. Once they’re at his ankles along with his underwear, he kicks them off to join the other clothes on the floor. There’s purposefulness to your movements that suggest you’re trying to make up for something.

Molten runs through him when you crawl back up to kiss him, ghosting a gentle hand down his hardened length. When you peek over to his nightstand—where condoms have haphazardly rested in the past—there aren’t any.

“Check the drawer.” He holds your hip steady when you lean over to do so. “We might have to go on a scavenger hunt.”

You snort just as you spot one amidst the random items inside.

Nerves alight with anticipation, you assume this time will be similar to those that came before it. But it’s not. You realize that the moment you ease down onto his length, welcoming him in to make your two bodies a whole. Eddie’s on his back again, and you’re on top staring down at him. You watch his brows pinch and his lashes flutter over his beautiful eyes. There’s a new intensity that wasn’t there a year ago.

Bracing yourself on his chest, you slowly roll your hips. His large hands find the back of your thighs before you repeat the motion. It isn’t long before a rhythm emerges, composed by the innermost parts of you that are in tune with each other. You rise and sink back onto him again and again, unsure if you’re flying or falling.

The fullness feels too good. Like it should be impossible for him to reach a place within you that’s so thoughtfully tucked away from the world. But he does, with each trust of his hips and word of praise.

It feels like you’re racing towards a rising tide, daring it to wash over you and take you out.

Eddie hears the eventual way your breaths grow shallower and sees the way you’re beginning to shake in your attempt to remain upright. A light sheen of sweat glimmers on your forehead.

“Lemme get on top, angel.” He isn’t sure how he manages to get those words out, but he’s certain they sound wrecked.

It takes a few seconds for you to transition onto your back, and the stars realign when he pushes back into you. Eddie braces his hands on the mattress, caging you in, and you wrap your legs wrapping around his waist. As his trusts grow deeper, you paw at his shoulders and slide your hands down to squeeze his biceps, one of them gripped over his bird tattoo.

He lowers himself to capture your lips in a messy kiss. A beat later, his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, ragged breaths fanning against your skin. You move your hands up to tug his soft curls before raking your nails down the smooth expanse of his back.

“Jesus,” he rasps, thrusts growing more desperate. “You feel so good—so fucking warm.” He pushes himself up so that he can look into your eyes, finding your gaze dreamy and blissed. “Oh god, m’gonna come.”

He feels the pressure building, the heat weeling, and knows it’s about to overcome him. So he slows his pace until it borders on torturous in hopes of lasting a little while longer.

“Eddie, move. Please move,” you breathe, arching up into him. A deep sound loses from your throat when he reaches between you to rub your swollen bundle of nerves.

The sight of you begging has him dizzy. Maybe it’s the hopeful depth in your eyes, the desperate way his name sounds rolling off your tongue. All he knows is that he likes it, revels in it like it’s heaven-sent.

“I am moving, angel.” He gives you a pointed thrust that makes you writhe. “See?”

“Yeah, but…” you try digging your heels into the back of his thighs, but it does nothing to spur him on. “M’close, Eds, c’mon. Please,” you whine. “I’ll do anything you want, I swear.”

The breathiness of your voice makes a small smile quirk onto his lips, and you groan at the sight. Had pleasure not been rippling through you, the scowl you attempted would've actually looked like one.

But he sees that he’s driving you crazy—right along with himself—and finally decides to issue reprieve. He steadily gains his momentum back, earning a euphoric sigh that’s mixed with a moan. His thumb traces over your lower lip and you pucker your lips to kiss it lazily.

The precipice grows closer and closer until you’re both at the edge, panting each other’s names. Eddie swears it’s going to be him, but you’re the first to tumble over, warm waves washing over you in bouts that take your breath away. Your walls flutter around him in strong pulses that pull him right along with you. Eddie comes with a low groan and rides it out.

You’re trembling when he relaxes on top of your frame, burying his face into your shoulder as his body twitches with aftershocks.

Still nestled inside you, he lifts his head to give you a tired, lopsided grin.

“Welcome back to Hawkins.”

And as you blink up at him with heavy eyelids, you realize that it wasn’t really Hawkins that you’d come back to. It was him.

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