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#hot roy summer
cody-helix02 · 9 months
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I love these wonky fast sketches I did of the bois...uuurgh
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bobparkhurst · 1 year
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Watch and learn, kids. Wanna live? Jump ready to fight.
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almost-a-class-act · 10 months
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choosing violence 1 and 8
The character everyone gets wrong:
Well, it's Hot Roy Summer, so I would be remiss if I didn't talk about Roy Cobb. I would love it if everyone would stop making him a misogynist villain-type who is terrible for no reason in their OC stories. I get the instinct but I think Hanks did this man dirty. Did y'all know that real-life Cobb had been in the army since 1933 and fought in North Africa before he joined the paratroops? On his way home his troop ship was torpedoed but he survived and still went on to put his hand up for the ETO. Genuinely so much more interesting than this guy is a dick for no discernible reason. When he got hit in the plane over Normandy, it's because he switched seats with Luz, who had asked him to switch because he was paranoid about getting hit in the plane. Webster also described him in his book as good-natured. What the fuck, Hanks.
I'll shill for show!Cobb, too. He's obviously super emotionally affected after Market Garden in that scene in the truck with Ramirez(?) and of course, after the patrol in Haguenau. Cobb would've been thirty years old at that point, so imagine you have a bunch of young guys - kids - joining up at your career job and keep getting themselves killed over and over and there's nothing you can do about it. Fucking grim, man.
It's not an excuse but at least it's an explanation for why he's a jerk to those replacements in the bar (see also: the fact that he was wounded in the plane over Normandy and didn't get to jump, the culmination of two years of hard work out the window, for the rest of his life the Guy Who Didn't Fight On D-Day - a part of him feeling like he has to do something to separate himself from these replacements, these other guys who didn't fight). His buddy Hoobler gets it in the Ardennes and then Web skips blithely up, having missed the worst part of the war, and asks about him. Of course he's pissed (notably, so are the other guys). My guy Roy is having a nightmarishly long, brutal, no good very bad war and he's in a shitty mood about it. I would be! I think everyone should consider cutting him some damn slack.
Common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about:
I think Basilone is more interesting than people give him credit for. I know but hear me out. The next time you watch the Pacific, watch his scenes as if you were going to write a character meta about him. I did this a little while ago because I wanted to write more postwar Lena fic and you can't write postwar Lena without acknowledging John and his absence. Yes, he's Tom Hanks' war hero fantasy character but there is substance there. I think the sections where he's training his marines later on in the series are particularly good.
Thanks for the ask, you're a star.
From this post.
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sillypinkboy · 2 years
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Dumb DC Headcannon #3
Jason is just a walking deep freeze. Roy is a walking space heater. They have the same kinda relationship as Elsa and the gecko in Frozen 2
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<- this is what I mean
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jasontoddssuper · 9 months
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Unpopular hc /opinion:Roy Harper is autistic
@nerdytextileartist
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mienaime · 2 years
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probably roy’s insta update if he had one
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bitch-butter · 8 months
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tagged by @im-chinese-believe-it-or-not for the WIP game, and I'm just manic enough rn that I Will share
(excerpt from pretty on the inside (pretty from the back) (au!web's grimdark origin story) below feat. my Contribution to Hot Roy Summer, ambiguously motivated sw, and implied sexual content).
thank you for the tag ~
tagging: @airsignss (post a letter from the alphabet postaletterfromTheAlphabet)
That got him through his first month of summer in Cambridge, providing nighttime distractions to the guys who didn’t go home for break, for the friends of those guys in Boston, for the friends of those friends and the acquaintances of those others. But it wasn’t until he fucked Roy Cobb that it was ever suggested he make a website to advertise his services.
“If you Harvard brats were as smart as you say you are you’d be doing more than getting passed around the same group of assholes all summer,” the other man had said, pulling up his sweatpants as David watched him with a raised brow, skin cooling down from its violent flush and ass as raw as ever. Cobb wasn’t a student at Harvard, but he knew guys who were, and as such knew that for the right price he could get David to come out to this moderately priced hotel room for a whirlwind Saturday night fuckfest. David had never been a working man himself, but he understood these were the kind of weekend getaways that needed actual saving up for, and as such he was obliged to let Cobb speak to him however he liked. Even if the guy hadn’t proved to be the most long lasting screw he’d ever had. 
“Is that so?” he’d drawled, wishing absently for a cigarette.
Cobb perched a pair of Unabomber-esque reading glasses over the bridge of his nose as he sat against the edge of the bed. “Do you want to be a big fish in a small pond?”
David smirked, easing himself across the mattress until he could lay his head against the other man’s clothed thigh. “What kind of fish do you want me to be?” he asked coyly, gazing up at the unamused man with lidded eyes.
“You’re worth more than $500 bucks a pop,” Cobb answered, undeterred by David’s antics, even as he reached to comb a hand through his mussed curls. “And I think you know it.”
Humming, David moved into the touch. “Even if I was, I don’t think I’m going to do much better than that given the current state of my clientele being college boys eating off daddy’s money.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Cobb said irritably, giving his hair a tug. “Do you know The Social Network?”
Rolling his eyes, David huffed. “I’m familiar with the work of David Fincher, yes.”
“Well, you know in that movie when they move Facebook to Stanford?” he prompted annoyingly, as though David hadn’t been made to watch the fucking movie by everyone he’d come across in the last few years who knew he was bound for Harvard. “That’s because they wanted to be seen by the right people.”
Breathing in a deep breath, David reached to brush an errant speck of dust from the other man’s cheek. “You’re saying I need to transfer to Stanford?”
“You need a website,” Cobb clarified, accepting the touch without a thought. “You should be seen by the right people.”
The laugh startled out of him as fast as anything, and he bent into it gratefully, finding it the most genuine expression he’d had in almost a month. “Oh, really?” he’d pressed, more curious than anything else at the way Cobb just looked unerringly down at him. “Are you going to make it for me?”
Cobb shrugged. “That’s what I do.”
“Really?”
“Development, design,” Cobb said easily, his face blank behind his glasses. “It’s my passion.”
David had been stunned by his generosity. “You’d do that for me?”
“Well,” he’d trailed off, using his grip on David’s hair to turn his face into the burgeoning bulge in his crotch. “For a price.”
It had ended up being a more productive weekend than he had expected, the two of them on the bed before Cobb’s laptop as he divulged more about his sexual proclivities than he’d ever shared with another person before. It would have honestly been halfway sexy if Cobb had not been as clinical with it as he would be speaking with any other potential client. By the end David had been presented with a discrete, classy looking interface describing him as every old, rich closet-case's wet dream, and after a quick hook-up with a reputable but moderately priced photographer he had a miniature faceless portfolio of risque pictures to match. 
David had the sense of a door opening, but what was behind it was something he really couldn’t guess. 
His first date with a man he officially considered to be a client had been with a man named Michael who ran a hedge fund. He had booked a room for them and paid for a long, long night with an envelope embossed with creamy, silvery initials stamped in the center. The sex itself was not anything particularly memorable, but David found the longer he did it the easier it became to do things he’d never done before, and for the very first time he’d been asked to get on top. Finding that he liked it just the same wasn’t even the wildest revelation of the night, as he found that Michael had perused his site carefully and had taken note of the things David would be willing to do, seeming to almost take it as a challenge to have him do nearly all of them.
If he hadn’t considered himself experienced before he certainly did in the light of the dawn: bruised, sore in good and bad ways, skin tacky with fluids. He had pressed his mouth to the seal on the envelope and thought of how his father would feel if he knew his son enjoyed being fucked, enjoyed being paid. 
He had sat at the desk in the room after Michael had left and wrote it all down on the notepad beside the phone, the hotels seal a blue ribbon over his words, feeling relaxed, sated even if that had barely been the point.
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naynay316 · 2 years
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Really just tryna post and express myself since I haven’t in a long time ! ):) 
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remuslovebot · 4 months
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hii, could you do something where reader is family friend and visits every summer so she’s there when Ollie is too, and he senses reader and felix’s tension and tries to ruin it or come between them? And like some angst, drama, tension and just pent up frustration between Felix and reader
ooh yes! angst and drama, this is perfect
i hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!
☙☙☙☙
pairing: felix catton x fem!reader
warnings: use of y/n, angst, toxic relationships, manipulation, ollie being ollie, jealous!felix, possessive!felix, language.
a/n: I’m really proud of this
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☙☙☙☙
You had spent every summer with the Cattons since you were 15 years old. Your father, Henry Roy was best friends with Sir James Catton. Once you met the Catton siblings— Venetia and Felix you came to Saltburn every summer.
Felix Catton. How would someone describe the human embodiment of the Greek god Apollo? That was Felix. He was tall and lanky. When his brown eyes fixed on you, it was like he was staring into your soul.
You couldn’t help but feel attracted to Felix. There was a spark between you two, that burned every summer.
When you turned 18, the Catton sibling’s cousin Farleigh joined in your summer adventures.
The four of you would run through that maze, figuring out its intricate design. Drinking every night and running naked through the tall grass that grew around the castle’s edge.
The summer before you went off to college, Felix and you shared your first kiss. It was a hot sunny day, Farleigh and Venetia were drinking by the pool. Felix had taken you off into maze for a walk.
When you came upon the statue in the middle of the maze, you and Felix were laughing. He leaned in and kissed you. Surprised at first, you pulled away. Then you planted your lips to his and kissed him until dark.
Then the summer ended and you had to go to University in Paris. You told the family you would come back every summer. And you kept your promise.
Now after your first year at college, you came to Saltburn for the summer. Hoping to see Felix. Neither of you had talked about your kiss last summer. It was a moment of passion and you doubted Felix would want to be with someone like you.
You’d heard from Elsbeth that Felix was bringing home a friend. You dreaded the thought of it being a girl, until Elsbeth clarified it was a poor boy from Liverpool.
The day before Oliver arrived you came to the house. Elsbeth was overjoyed to see you, giving you a hug and her usual kind compliment. Venetia said hi and pulled you aside, letting you know that would be staying on her side of the castle.
Farleigh and you exchanged jokes, although really happy to see eachother. Sir James asked you about your father and told you that he planned on inviting your family for dinner one night.
But you wondered where Felix was.
“Where’s Felix?” You asked Venetia, she was like a sister to you. You knew to trust her and she would always have your best interest at heart.
“He’s hiding and also preparing for his new friend Ollie to come over tomorrow. It’s annoying, he won’t stop talking about him. And you, christ, Felix is so nervous to see you,”
You blushed when she said this. But as if he heard his own name, Felix was walking into the room. You looked up at him, a smile spreading on your face.
You walked to him and he pulled you into a hug. Felix had missed you and he wanted to tell you how he felt. After he kissed you last summer he realized how in love with you he was. Felix spent the entire school year pining after you, figuring out a way to tell you.
When he became friends with Oliver, he always talked about you. How you were a friend but could definitely become something more.
Oliver was jealous. He was madly obsessed with Felix and had plans of his own this summer.
“I’m so glad you’re here, y/n,” Felix smiled charmingly at you.
“I’m glad too,” you replied, looking up at him with heart eyes. Venetia gave Farleigh a ‘let’s hope they get together this summer’ look.
After a night of pleasantries, you went to your room excited for what the summer had to bring. Little did you know, this was the calm before the storm.
☙☙☙☙
Oliver arrived the next day. You met him and heard all about his sad backstory. He was nice to you. Felix introduced you to him and immediately Oliver saw how much he loved you.
It made him sick with jealousy. So he planned to tear you two apart.
Later that day, you walked back to your room to change for dinner when you stumbled across a note.
‘Meet me in the garden tonight after everyone goes to bed — Felix ♡︎’
You blushed, closing up the note and planning to meet him. When you got to the garden, you waited. You didn’t see Felix anywhere. You sighed in frustration and confusion. You were cold.
But then you heard foot steps and in the dark you could see a figure. But it wasn’t Felix, it was Oliver.
“What are you doing out here Ollie?” You asked, your arms wrapped around yourself.
“I saw you, from my window. I wanted to know if your okay,” he said.
“Thanks, Ollie but I’m fine. I’m waiting for Felix. I thought—never mind,” You said.
“What?” Oliver asked, his plan unfolding just as he imagined.
“Felix asked me to be here. I thought he was going to tell me he wanted me, after last year,” you explained vaguely.
“Ah well. I don’t want to hurt your feelings but Felix has someone. Well multiple girls. He can’t keep his hands off them at Oxford. It’s ridiculous,” Oliver lied straight to your face. And you believed him.
Tears came to your face. Felix wasn’t interested in you and he already had someone, someone that wasn’t you. “No it’s alright. Thank you for telling me,” you said, wiping away a tear.
“I’m cold, so I should return to the house,” you said, walking past Oliver. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close.
Leaning in, he kissed you softly. You pulled away from him.
“Ollie no,” you said, looking into with eyes with warning. He let your hand go and you walked back into the house.
As you walked back into the house, you didn’t know that Felix saw you and Oliver kiss. As soon as he saw it, his heart broke and he turned away from the window. He didn’t see you pull away and leave.
The next morning, breakfast was awkward to say the least.
You were mad at Felix for not telling you he was involved and for standing you up. Felix thought you’d gotten with Oliver and was extremely jealous.
He was also angry with Oliver, as he knew how Felix felt about you.
Later that day, Oliver tried to find Felix. He was sulking in the sun.
“Felix? Is everything alright?” Ollie asked innocently. Felix just huffed in response.
“What do you think?” Felix asked passive aggressively.
“I’m not sure. I want to know what’s made you so upset?” Ollie asked innocently.
“How could you get with Y/n? I saw you two last night in the garden. You kissed her,” Felix said, sounding hurt.
Oliver frowned. “She wanted me to kiss her. I didn’t know what else to do. She left me a note to meet me and I was going to turn her down because I know how much you like her,” he said.
Felix’s face softened but his heart was breaking. Did you not like him? Obviously not if you wanted Oliver to kiss you, he thought.
“I’m sorry Felix,” Oliver apologized.
Felix turned to his friend, “It’s alright mate, it’s not your fault.” He reassured.
☙☙☙☙
You and Felix were not speaking to each other. Just glaring at each other across the room. Venetia was confused and Farleigh was too busy worrying about his own situation to notice.
“What happened between you and Felix?” Venetia asked, one night before bed.
You huffed, “Nothing, I guess. We kissed last summer and now, well he doesn’t want me anymore.” You explained.
“I find that very hard to believe. He talks about you all the time when you aren’t here. And Farleigh said he couldn’t stop thinking about you during school,” she laughed.
This confused you. You wanted to confront Felix. Angry, you took the note. “Right, I’ll be back,” you told Venetia.
You practically stomped to Felix’s room that night, banging on the wooden door. Felix opened the door, his hair disheveled and only wearing his boxers and maroon robe.
“What do you want?” He asked coolly, leaning against the door.
You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t take that tone with me. You have been nothing but aggressive towards me this entire week. You won’t look at me, except when you glare. As if I’ve hurt you in some way,” you ranted.
Felix looked at you confused as you continued to speak. “Which is ridiculous, because you invited me to the garden. Not the other way around. I know you have loads of woman just lining up to fuck you. So I will do you the favor of fucking off,” you said, pushing the note into his hands.
You left in a huff and Felix was utterly quiet. He opened up the note and recognized the hand writing immediately.
Why would Oliver lie? He thought. Why did he pretend to be me and write you a note?
Felix walked next door and into Ollie’s bedroom. “Hey mate, I have a question.” He said, shortly.
Oliver looked up from his book, “Yes Felix?”
“That note that Y/n gave you. Did it look anything like this?” Felix said angry.
Oliver looked at the paper that he’d written and slipped under your door. He gulped. “I can explain,” Oliver said, albeit timidly.
“I don’t need an explanation Ollie, you’re a fucking liar. You took advantage of our feelings. Why would you do that?” Felix said.
Oliver couldn’t respond and when he didn’t, Felix left the room going out to try and find you.
You were crying on the bottom of the staircase, drinking a bottle of champagne that you’d snagged from the kitchen.
Coming down the stairs, Felix heard you and came to you quietly.
“Y/n, don’t cry,” Felix said. Hearing his voice, you stood up and turned around.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, wiping away your tears.
Felix walked towards you. His thumb landed on your cheek and wiped away a fallen tear. “I’m sorry about Ollie, he manipulated us. Told me that you wanted him. It made me jealous, because well…because I love you.”
You looked at him in surprise. Felix loved you. “You love me?” You asked, to which Felix nodded, a soft smile on his face. “And you aren’t seeing anyone?” You wanted clarification.
Felix furrowed his eyebrows in worry, “No, no im not. I only want to see you,” he said, leaning in incredibly close.
You nodded, “I love you too, very much,” you smiled softly, looking up into him.
In a heartbeat, Felix kissed you. At first it was soft and sweet. It became heated as you kissed him back. Felix moved his hand around your waist, to hold you up and close to him.
When you pulled away for air, Felix smiled softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that again since last summer. I don’t like it when you’re away. You’re mine, you know.” Felix smirked, pulling you into his hips.
“Am I now?” you grinned, liking the sound of him calling you his. Felix nodded, leaning into kiss you.
“Felix….” You heard Oliver say from the top of the stairs. Felix’s grasp on your waist tightened protectively. You both turned to Oliver.
“Go away Oliver,” Felix said warningly. You gave Oliver an angry look. You wished he would leave.
“I need to talk to you, Felix. We need to sort this out,” Ollie practically whined.
Felix shook his head, “I can’t have you here mate, it was a mistake inviting you.” He said.
☙☙☙☙
The next morning in a dramatic fashion Sir James and Elsbeth led Oliver out of the grounds. You, Felix, Venetia and Farleigh watched from the top of the staircase as it happened.
When the door closed, Sir James clapped his hands together. “Alright. The Henry’s are coming to dinner tonight, everything must be perfect.” He said.
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audiemurphy1945 · 2 years
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Flame in the Streets(1961)
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k-star-holic · 2 years
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'Itaewon Klath' reveals the appearance of Japan's edition of Park Sae-sae
Source: k-star-holic.blogspot.com
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cody-helix02 · 8 months
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Throwing this in here cause Cobb deserves more love! And even tho him and my OC Benji aren't boyfriends...they are cute together...they're comforting each other cause they're tired 'old' men lol 😌 ( I also rushed this drawing...woops)
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bobparkhurst · 1 year
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roy cobb
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almost-a-class-act · 10 months
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It's Hot Roy Summer, baby!
I wrote some Cobb/Hoobler, because why not?
For the Gremlin Town group chat, who do nothing but enable.
--
They are all so accustomed to the sound of Sobel’s voice by now, and the fact that it’s never good news to find yourself within earshot, that nobody winces anymore unless they specifically hear their own name. It's situational self-preservation, as much as they're learning to work together as a team, including - maybe especially - where Sobel is concerned. As Roy frantically rummages through his things looking for the PT shirts that apparently never made it back from the laundry, he keeps an ear out for familiar syllables in the tirade.
“Hey.”
Someone speaks beside him, but the sound of everyone fumbling into their gear and muttering to each other is so loud that Roy assumes it’s not directed at him until someone knocks his arm. He half-spins, aggrieved and ready to dole out some hell, when a white t-shirt hits him in the chest.
He looks down at it, and then up at Don Hoobler, who sleeps a few beds down.
“Swap me back when you get yours back from the laundry,” he says with a shrug. He doesn’t say, you could’ve asked. Maybe he already knows that’s not Roy’s way.
There’s no time to question it, though. Roy yanks the white fabric over his head. By the time he can see again, Don has vanished and the room is emptying. He turns, stumbles, and hurries for the door.
“Thanks,” he says later, when he drops a clean t-shirt onto Hoobler’s bed.
Don glances up from whatever card game he has going on with Perconte. “Don’t mention it. Couldn’t leave you at the mercy of Sobel. You play poker?”
Roy has been in the army a while. Everyone plays poker. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll take your money.”
Don grins, shifting to make room. He might be the easiest friend Roy has ever made.
--
Showing up after Normandy is not the same as having been in Normandy, not that anyone holds it against him. Roy has been in a brittle mood since North Africa anyway and sees no reason to stop now, fresh out of an English hospital and listening to war stories already so incredibly embellished that he doubts they’ll be recognizable by the time they’re told back home.
“Anyone seen Hoobler?” he asks, whenever he can get a word in.
As it turns out, Don finds him rather than the other way around. He sets a beer in front of Roy mid-movement as he climbs over the bench to sit next to him, jostling their shoulders together accidentally-on-purpose.
“Cheer up, buddy,” he says, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard over the noisiness of the pub – not meant for anyone else.
Roy pulls a faint face, but he does pick up the beer, nearly burying his nose in the foam as he takes a few quick, angry swallows.
“I didn’t even get to jump,” he mutters, which is not a sentiment he has expressed aloud to anyone else. He is not in the mood to see their faces if he did.
“I know,” Don says. It’s not pity, and he’s not trying to jolly Roy out of anything. He’s just sincere, as always. “Don’t worry. There’ll be other jumps.”
Roy’s scowl deepens.
Don knocks his knee gently against his. “Not a one-beer problem, huh?” He braces his hands on the table, already getting up. “Alright. I’ll be back.”
--
Don gets along with the kids better than Roy does, because it doesn’t seem to occur to him not to.
Roy pins it down to the fact that Don doesn’t worry about dying after Normandy any more than he did before it, which is a marked difference from most of the rest of the company. His own death doesn’t haunt him and neither does anyone else’s, so he doesn’t look at the eighteen-year-old replacements and make those gloomy prognostications like the rest of the men do, without even keeping their voices down – I give it a week, or, don’t even bother learning their names. Roy wonders if a person can learn to put things away in the back of their mind the way Don does, or if you have to be born that way.
He therefore gives the kids shit less often in front of Don, mostly because Don seems to find unkindness in it. He tries to explain it, once, after Don tells him to go easy on them.
“They’re going to get themselves killed,” he says, the two of them going through the process of finding and lighting their respective cigarettes, almost in lockstep. They are not long for England; everyone smokes more than they used to.
Don shrugs, his face mostly in shadow under a smattering of stars. “You’re gonna hold that against them?”
“Yeah.” Roy says it pointedly. “I might.”
Don reaches out and taps his shoulder knowingly, twice. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” he reassures him. “Don’t worry.”
Roy pulls a face. “Who says I’m worried?” He doesn’t say: keep an eye on yourself. Roy has assigned himself the role of watching Don’s six, just because someone should.
--
Scouting is synonymous with scrounging, the opportunities too good to pass up when the houses they pass are deserted and the streets eerily quiet. Don laughs, jubilant, when they find the bottles of beer on the table in the farm house, and quickly stows them in his pack as Roy rummages through the handful of cupboards.
“You think they left these for us?” Don asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I think they left these for us.”
“I don’t know,” Roy says distractedly, trying to read the labels of cans as he pulls them out of the pantry.
“Hey.” Don corners the edge of the table and reaches out to knock his knuckles against Roy’s arm. “I don’t think we should take anything else.”
“Why?” Roy asks, glancing at him. “Because they left beer for us?”
Don shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. He’s not going to explain any further. Sometimes Don has a conviction about something and it’s for Roy to make sense of it. “Maybe.”
Roy eyes him for a moment. Don grins, that jubilance again, and Roy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, alright,” he agrees. “Fine.��
They end up sharing the bottles out amongst the kids. It seems like it’s in the spirit of things.
--
A lot of places have been the worst place Roy has ever been, until he goes somewhere new.
The assault landing in North Africa had been enough to instill in him that the next time he does this, it will definitely be from the air. The acrid saltwater taste of being evacuated from a sinking troopship, weak with fever and in the company of a several hundred other men in an equally and understandably shitty mood, is nearly as unpleasant, and as it turns out, so is being in a dark, rattling plane over Normandy, bleeding and furious that he hadn’t been able to jump, as anti-aircraft fire split the night far too close for comfort.
By the time they get to Bastogne, he almost feels a curious sense of acceptance about it. Sure, okay. The worst place I’ve ever been. He’s good at being in the worst place he’s ever been by now.
Don volunteers to go on patrols out of a need to do something; when he’s huddled in his foxhole next to Roy, their helplessness drives a hunch into his shoulders, makes him quieter than usual. Roy tucks an arm around him and curls over him every time the shelling starts up again, pushing his helmet down under the safety of Roy’s body, and they wait it out like that, gritting their teeth against the rattle and roar of explosions that rock the earth itself. Don never says anything about Roy protecting him, his first concession to fear since Roy has known him, and Roy is reminded every time that he’s twenty-fucking-two, that Roy has eight years on him and they are an eight years that make a difference.
Don says, the way they all do, that he never gets any sleep out here, but he often passes out in the small hours when exhaustion wins out over the cold and the anxiety, slumped into Roy’s side. When he wakes up gasping, minutes or hours later, he never says what he’s been dreaming about, and Roy doesn’t ask.
“Can’t wait to go home and forget all about this place,” Roy mutters, when the siege finally breaks.
“Everyone knows it’s bad luck to talk about after the war,” Don tells him, in a tone of voice that suggests he knows exactly how hard it will make Roy roll his eyes. He almost sounds like his old self.
--
1944 has bled into 1945 so seamlessly that it’s hard to remember what day it is, one icy winter morning dawning much like the next. Don carries on cheerfully volunteering himself for patrols, and Roy carries on scowling at the snowy landscape as though it has personally offended him. When Don clambers down into the mostly-dug foxhole on one of these unremarkable mornings, he doesn’t leave Roy guessing as to what’s got him in such a good mood.
“I got my Luger,” he says, presenting it proudly, like a boy at school.
Roy dutifully examines it. “What’s the story?” he asks, because of course there is one.
Later, after Don has wandered off to seek the suitable amount of awed approval from anyone who will listen, Roy finishes squaring away his foxhole and straightens, dusting the snow from his gloves. He is craving a cigarette, but he’ll have to scrounge one; Hashey, not far off, seems a likely target.
When the shot rings out, the sound of it rocketing through the trees, Roy flinches and then automatically does what he always does when things go sideways, and looks for Don.
--
The trucks that trundle into Haguenau have hard, freezing seats and apparently no shocks to speak of, and the soldiers in them smell like unwashed uniforms and the cold. They are all so tired that they could sleep for a week. It is nevertheless such an improvement on everything that came before that most of them just clock out mentally for a little while, mutely passing around cigarettes and eyeing up the bland white sky without really looking at it.
Roy hunches his shoulders and doesn’t think about anything. There is too much to think about, and it is easier than you’d think to pile it together and shut it away. He can still feel it – grief, loss, the shut-away thing – sitting like a hard knot under his sternum, but it is quiet, and subdued. It is a thing that is happening to him, but he’s not listening to it.
Webster, clean-faced and clean-shaven, wearing a uniform that doesn’t smell like anything, says something like, what about Hoobler? Where’s he?
Roy has been in a shitty mood since North Africa. He sees no reason to stop now.
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beybaldes · 5 months
Text
Karma is the guy on AFC Richmond, coming straight home to me!
summer sleepover masterlist
roy kent × gn!famous!reader (loosely inspired by Taylor swift and Travis Kelce)
summary: “kisses with a height difference” requested by two anons <33
an: okay you can actually thank the queen of my heart @onceuponaoneshotfanfic for my sudden (although potentially one night only we’ll see if I get my uni essay done lol) return because she reposted a celebrity prompt list and it got my mind whirring oops love you tally thank you for breaking my writers (and reading) block <33
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“Hot.”
One simple word had sent your 68 million instagram followers into an absolute frenzy, and half of them, you were pretty sure, didn’t even know who Roy Kent was.
“‘So nice of them to put this football player on the map?’ They do know I was famous long before you ever were, right?” You only laughed as Roy grew more frustrated, allowing him to scroll through your Twitter account while you made the both of you some breakfast.
“Hey, maybe they have a point?” You tried to stifle your laughter, knowing Roy’s eyes would be sending daggers into your back, though only for a moment so he could continue winding himself up over the things people were tweeting. “I mean Richmond tickets have now sold out for the rest of the season.”
Roy knew you were only joking. Well, kind of. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, recently celebrating your one year anniversary, but besides the odd article about each of you potentially seeing someone, no one knew you were together - let alone that you even knew each other. Keeley had been blowing up Roy’s phone since she saw the comment demanding to meet you, her favourite superstar, and you’d woken up to 37 missed calls from your dad, furious you hadn’t told him you were dating Chelsea legend Roy Kent.
Above everything, you’re still in disbelief Roy tried to hard launch your relationship in the comment section if your most recent instagram post on a random Tuesday evening.
“Hmm, and I’m sure your next tour is going to sell out 10 times faster now the world knows you’re with the great Roy Kent.” Roy had given up on reading tweets speculating about what his comment meant and if the two of you were together, instead choosing to press his bare chest agains your back, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you finished up breakfast. Fortunately you knew, Roy Kent or not, your next tour was going to sellout. Though you’d rather have Roy be by your side for it.
“Maybe if I’m lucky.” Putting down your fork, you turned in Roy’s hold to face him, standing on the very tips of your toes to press a lovingly slow kiss to his lips. Since dating Roy, you were certain early mornings were for breakfasts that take too long to cook and kisses that end too soon for your liking. Roy’s grip on you tightened and he dipped his head slightly, making the kiss as easy on you as possible. When you began to pull away, he only ducked his head further to press his lips back against yours. “Mmm, although I’d already consider myself very lucky.”
“That you are.” Roy murmured against your lips, immediately pressing them flush against yours when he’d said his piece. “And so am I.”
an: okay short and sweet but I’m hoping to get back in to writing and get up to date with my requests now that I’m settled at uni and with my new job. Missed you guys hope you all are well <33
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writingsfromhome · 1 month
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Dos and Don’ts II
A/N: the story kinda got away from me so it’s getting a part 3. Would love to know what you think of the characters/choices!
Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
—————————————————
It’s a beautiful morning; the late summer heat is right around the hour but for now the morning clouds keeps the city cool. I’m sat at Harry’s dinner table with stacks of paper around me, sorting out paperwork whilst on hold with a private venue he was playing in the fall to sort out some details his manager asked me for.
I had become good at my job, multitasking like a pro and not having to leave the room to make a call. After all, it had been nearly half a year of this.
And yet, my relationship with Harry Styles had stayed the same. Sometimes it felt like it got worse.
My other relationships, in the rest of my life, had definitely gotten worse.
“Riley just called said he’s sent over some prints I bought for the bedroom,” Harry pops into the room. “Can you call someone to put them up?”
“Yeah, where do you want them?” I get up so he can show me.
“Somewhere that looks good in there,” he waves his hand. “It’s pictures of me.”
“Of course they are,” I know how big-headed he could be. “Above the bed?”
“Hm,” he heads off to the bedroom so I follow. He examines each wall of his bedroom which was pretty neutral and relaxing to be in. “Why not? Yeah. Above the bed’s good.”
“Great.” With that I head back to my makeshift office.
I wondered why Riley didn’t message me directly about the prints considering we avoided getting Harry involved in these minor decisions.
Maybe I’d ask him tonight. We were having drinks—we tried a bunch of times to get together seeing we were “coworkers” but our timing rarely worked out. Since Gray was out of town the next two nights I’d reached out to Riley.
Evening comes quicker while I’m still buried behind paper. I start tidying up after 7.
“Going home?” Harry asks. He’d been out most of the day at voice lessons.
“Yes, your dinner’s in the oven and Roy said he left cocktails in the fridge.”
“Lovely Roy,” Harry rubs his hands together. “He makes the best drinks.”
I smile and go back to work.
“There’s enough for two,” he calls with his head in the fridge. “You want to join?”
Of course the one night Harry asks me to join him personally—a time I could use to get on his good side, I’m going out.
“I’m actually heading out for drinks myself.” He’s already placed the jug on the marble countertop.
“Oh.” He freezes awkwardly. “With your fiancé?”
“No,” for some reason I feel flustered at his mention of Gray. “With Riley actually. We’ve been meaning to get together for drinks since…I started. Wow. That’s been a long time.”
“Riley,” Harry purses his lips. “Does your fiancé know?”
“It’s a friendly drink,” I feel my temper flare. “I don’t need to report to my fiance.”
“If my fiancé was going out to drinks with a man with loose hands, I’d worry.”
“Well it’s a good thing we’re not engaged,” I mouth off before I can stop myself. He raises a brow and the single movement has me backpedaling. I was such a coward. “So you don’t have to worry.”
“Y/n you get away with a lot but I’d remember who’s working for who.”
I clench my teeth. Just seconds ago he was inviting me for a drink and now I’ve dug myself a grave. I couldn’t be stopped.
I grab my bag and head to the elevator.
“Don’t turn your back on him once he’s got a few drinks in.” Harry calls out.
Asshole, I think.
***
God, Riley talked a lot. He’s got 3 drinks to my 1.5 and really got the gift of the gab.
That is until he starts asking me about Harry.
“Do you find him hot? He’s kind of a lady’s man yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” I laugh. “Got ‘em all lined up.”
“And you?” He asks casually. “Has he got you yet?”
“Riley! I’m engaged,” I flash my ring.
“Didn’t stop the last girl,” he mutters.
“What? What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” I poke him, knowing he wanted to talk about it anyway.
“Just that the last PA he had for…less than a year? She had a boyfriend and everything but one time I pop in early to set up for this masseuse right—I’m there and I hear someone in the bedroom with him. No big deal whatever. Then Harry comes out and he’s fuming just seeing me. Tells me to get out and leave the rest, that I should have called him. All this shite. And then I see her jacket, she wore a very specific jacket, and her shoes off the way. He was angry cuz I caught them.”
“Woah,” I think about the way Harry treats me. “Well I don’t have to worry about that. He can be a right dick with me.”
“He can come off that way. Until you get to know him. Well. He used to be nicer. It’s changed a bit since I started.”
“How long?” I ask, curious.
“Uhh I was his PA for a year and now this for one and a half?”
“Wow. That’s a long time.”
“I know. Too long. Well, big things are coming for me I can feel it. How about you? Are you staying long? I hear the way he talks to you, I don’t know how you put up with it.”
I thought he talked to all his PAs that way. Maybe he was different when Riley was his. Of maybe it was that Riley was a guy. Maybe the fame got to his head. “Uhm. I want to stick around for at least a year. What do you mean the way he talks to me?”
“He’s rude.” Riley runs his hand through his hair. “Don’t you find him rude? You’re surprisingly…graceful, but he’s always bossing you around and then ignoring you.”
I feel a pit in my stomach. So I wasn’t imagining it. “I thought that’s just the way he is.”
“No, you should have met him a couple years ago. A really cool guy. He taught me a lot.” Riley suddenly sobers as he looks off into the distance. “I grew a lot with him. I’m thankful for that y’know?”
“Right,” I nod. “Yeah. I dunno. I’m hoping to learn a lot here.”
“Well if you want to stay connected, keep my number. When you wanna jump ship just let me know.”
I’m surprised Riley is talking so openly about helping me leave. I would have thought he was a Harry die-hard.
“Yeah. Hey are you the one that’s created all those notes on the phone? They’ve been a life saver.”
“Notes? Oh the lists. I made them when I was his PA. I don’t know if the last girl updated any…”
I think of the snarky additions. She definitely did.
“Well I owe you my first-born because without them I’m pretty sure I would have been fired.”
“No you wouldn’t have,” he smirks.
“Uh yeah, I forgot to bring his bloody tablet to the studio the first day. He was so mad.”
“He wouldn’t fire you y/n,” he cocks his head to the side. “Not with the way I see it.”
“Huh?” I ask but Riley’s turned to the bar to ask for another drink.
I excuse myself and freshen up, checking my phone for messages. Gray’s sent me a picture of his hotel view and I send him a quick text back. I wish he was here. Maybe it was time I got home, I was starting to feel tired.
“I’m thinking of heading home,” I tell Riley when I get back.
“Now?” He looks at his watch. “Night’s still young y/l/n.”
“I’ve been up since 6 I’m dead.”
“Fine, I’ll walk you outside.” Riley knocks back half his drink and stands, swaying slightly. I put my hand out to steady him and he smiles down at me.
The pub is crowded as we walk past people, shoulders brushing against strangers. It takes me a second to feel the hand on my back sliding down to my ass.
I whip around to chew out whichever stranger thought he could get a grope but the only person behind me is Riley with a cocky smile.
“You alright? Let’s keep going.”
I can hear the blood pumping in my ears and I stumble back, Harry’s words echoing in my ear.
“I’m alright.” I try to put distance between us. “I’ll walk myself out you should look after your drink.”
“Nah c’mon,” he reaches for me again and I inch back.
“I said I’m okay,” I know my voice comes out harsh due to the fear coursing through my body. But I don’t care.
“Bloody hell alright then,” Riley shrugs. “Night y/n.”
I wait for him to turn and leave before I get out of there. The night air cools down the flush in my cheeks but I can’t get my heart to stop racing. Harry was right and for some reason it makes me angry at him. I’m furious.
All these men just made me feel small and confused all the time. Is that what I had to accept working in this industry? Was I just naïve for thinking things could be decent? That people could be decent?
I wish more than ever that Grayson was here. I imagine him on his own in another city. Then I imagine him alone, at home, while I’m working all the time. It felt like we were on a piece of ice drifting through the ocean and the middle was cracking leaving us to drift alone. My heart feels like it’s cracking with it.
I call Gray on the ride home just to see his face. I listen to him talk about his day and slowly my grip on the anger loosens. Slowly with his voice in my ear, I come back down to earth.
***
It’s a couple weeks after the Riley incident. I’d come into work the next day and managed to ignore Harry for most of it just like he did me.
Today I’m back at the dining table waiting for Harry’s publicist to call me to take me through what was left for this upcoming weekend for a small awards show Harry had been nominated in that was happening Sunday. Riley would be on the call too, the first time I’d seen him since that night. I just hoped my pokerface was good enough to move on past any awkwardness.
“Let me get your thoughts on this,” Harry sits down across from me with a yoghurt. He’d just come from the gym and seeing him shirtless now was just another Thursday afternoon.
He’d taken to using me as a soundboard lately which started out interesting and got old quickly. He loved to hear himself talk, I’ve concluded. And I was forced to listen. And he always lied. He never wanted my thoughts on anything, just an ego stroke.
And just like usual he launches into a song he’s working on and something about string progression and inversion. I nod along until my phone rings and I pick it up instantly.
Graham and I speak about the details of event and I reassure him everything would run smoothly. When I’m done Harry’s nearly done the smoothie he grabbed while I was on the phone.
“Austria tomorrow, everything’s prepped?”
“Yep, for you.”
“Not for you?”
“I have the rest of the week off?” I remind him just like I’d been doing for the last two weeks. So this wouldn’t happen.
“You do? I thought that was next week. What am I gonna do without you there it’s 4 days.”
“I reckon you’ll survive,” I say with a light tone but I’ve learned the art of backhanded jokes. It felt like the only way to get some of my aggression out. “Plus Riley’s joining you Saturday afternoon.”
“So I’ll be alone on Friday?”
I look up from my laptop, “Are you ever really alone?”
“I guess I’ll just have to invite one of my girls to keep me company,” he continues watching me. “Keep my bed warm.”
“If you’d like,” I hated when he tried to make me uncomfortable. “Let me know which one and I can cut her a ticket.”
He clenches his jaw and levels me with an irritated look. “I’m sure Vienna has many beautiful people to choose from.”
Ignore ignore ignore. I go back to my screen and leave him on heard.
***
“It’s been too long,” Gray clinks his glass with mine. It’s Friday night and we’re having an early anniversary celebration.
This whole weekend I promised Gray I would be his from Friday though Sunday even though our actual anniversary was on Monday.
Our relationship that was once so strong, supportive, and loving had started treading rocky grounds. I felt jostled and very close to being kicked right off the ride altogether.
I look at my fiancé’s face, his dark features and serious looks made him look intimidating but a flicker of his smile and you felt like you were on the ins with him about something. I had missed him.
The last time we did anything together was at the beginning of summer. I had a long weekend off and he’d driven us to lake district, soaking in the sun and hiking along the peaks. We’d had a serious conversation about our relationship but a lot of it had felt like me apologizing and him accusing.
“You look radiant,” Gray reaches for my hand. “How are you?”
I didn’t think he wanted the real answer. I hold back a sigh and replace it with a smile, “Alright. Better now to be with you.”
He kisses the back of my hand and my stomach flutters. “Me too. I’m excited for this weekend.”
“Let’s see we’re seeing friends tomorrow for brunch, then doing old school movies and dinner in the evening.”
“That was one of our first dates don’t make fun.”
“I’m not! It’s a classic I’m excited. It’s been so long since I saw a movie with you.”
With Harry, I’d seen a few. I was always told to tag along on premieres Riley passed on.
“And Sunday we’re just being lazy bed bugs.”
“Mmm that sounds amazing.” I could use a day in bed. A week in bed would be even better.
The night is perfect and romantic and it soothes the heartache I’d been carrying, the guilt that I was killing my relationship. Gray is attentive and we laugh like we always did.
I don’t mention work. It makes me anxious knowing I had to put the biggest part of my life on mute in order to keep the good vibes going with Gray.
Saturday brunch brings me back to life. I’d missed our friends and catching up on their lives, all the chatter and the laughter. Gray keeps reaching for me at the table and I feel like I belong.
“So how’s the tyrant?” My friends had started calling Harry that since he always kept me from most of our social outings.
“The usual,” I try to keep it short for Gray’s sake.
“Grayson was complaining that you spend more time with him than your actual fiancé!”
“Is that so?” I turn to Gray with a teasing expression but he’s serious.
“I wouldn’t have helped her with the job if I knew,” Gray jokes when I nudge him. The table laughs but I fake it, knowing the kernel of truth in it.
“He can’t be all that bad?” Another friend asks.
“Nope. Pretty consistently bad,” I tell them. “I’m just telling myself it’s vital experience. It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”
“When she sleeps at all,” Gray slips in another passive joke and I try to distance myself from it.
“Just wait, in a couple years I’ll be living my best life.” I raise my glass.
“To y/n’s best life,” the table cheers.
On the walk home from brunch Gray and I swing hands in between us. I want to bring up his passive comments but it feels stuck in my throat. His hand feels like lead in mine.
“Gray-“
“I’m sorry. I got a bit salty at brunch,” Gray admits. I nearly deflate completely with the sigh that comes out of me.
“That’s okay,” I kiss his cheek. His hand feels like an extension of mine again. “I know there’s a lot of things we don’t talk about, I know my job doesn’t make you happy. But I appreciate that you still support me and keep the peace even when I can be a bit of a dick sometimes.”
“Hey,” Gray stops and tugs me to him. “I love you. Nothing changes that.”
“I love you too,” he kisses me with the same passion he did last night, our first intimate night after a couple months. With the urgency in his kiss I can tell it wouldn’t be another couple until the next.
***
We get back in around 8 and I happily kick off the dress and boots I wore to dinner to snuggle in my pjs. I watch Gray remove his contacts as I comb through my hair.
“I still can’t believe that ending,” Gray says to me in the mirror.
“Same, I feel like everyone’s kept it so hush I didn’t even know there was going to be a plot twist!”
“I kind of saw it coming-“
“You did not!” I flick Gray. “Why do guys love to brag about seeing a movie ending coming.”
“It’s our roman empire,” he grins.
“You’re using that in the wrong context,” I roll my eyes. “Josie would be so disappointed. Oh I didn’t even turn my phone back on after the movie, Josie had texted me something.”
“Just leave it,” Gray calls out as I go back into the room to get my purse. “Let’s keep our phones off, stay unplugged tonight.”
“Too late,” I grin as my phone powers on already.
I know Gray stayed nervous about any call I got during our down time because he always thought it was Harry. To be honest I was surprised he hadn’t bothered me more than asking for a password yesterday.
As my services connect my phone vibrates with a dozen oncoming messages.
“Y/n,” I hear Grayson say in warning but my eyes stay glued to the screen that flicker with notifications.
I look up once they settle, my eyes are as wide as saucers and Gray’s watch me through the mirror, heavy and resigned.
“Please, ignore it,” Gray pleads just once.
“I just…I need to know what it’s about.” I plead back.
“It’s going to spiral,” he warns. “You can’t just look y/n you’re gonna get involved.”
“What if it’s an emergency? He wouldn’t message like this unless it’s an emergency!”
“Like the documents on Josie’s birthday? Or the hospital appointment that one bank holiday? Or his empty fridge on-“
“I get it. But Gray I have 14 notifications. And it’s from his manager too it’s gotta be an-“
“You have a life y/n!” Gray turns around quick like a pistol whip, I stumble back into the doorframe. “He has other people in his life other than you they can figure it out! Why do you keep putting your job, this man, before me? Before us?!”
“I’m not trying to! I’m not!” I stutter.
“What’s the worst case scenario huh? He tries you, and you don’t answer because you’re off. And he’ll find someone else to help—those type always have someone else.”
“You don’t get it-“
“I get it.” Gray lowers his volume. He looks around for his glasses and slides them on. “I get it clearly. You’re just scared you’re replaceable to Harry Styles.”
His words stun me a little. All I can do is watch as he puts on jeans and grabs his phone.
“Do you ever wonder who else in your life’s replaceable?” Gray says before he slams our door shut.
I sink back and my mind races with everything Grayson just said. I was awful, he must feel even more awful and I-
My phone vibrates. Jeff.
“H-hi?” I answer.
“What the fuck y/n! I’ve been trying to reach you for the last 2 hours-“
“My phone was off-“
“Have you even gotten any of the messages we’ve left you-“
“I’m not working today-“
“Obviously,” He cuts me off for the hundredth time. “Harry’s in Vienna alone with god knows who!”
I don’t point out the contradiction in his sentence.
“Isn’t Riley supposed to be with him?”
“Riley quit.”
“What?! When?”
“Today. Apparently the sneak’s been cozying up with one of Harry’s supposed friends. He’s left us high and dry!”
“Is that why you’re calling me?” My confusion grows.
“Jesus no. Just look at your bloody messages.”
I put him on speaker and check the link to the photos he sent me. I gasp.
Harry looks a mess, one in a bar and another right outside it. With a questionable choice of friends.
“He’s not answering his phone,” Jeff continues. “Nobody can reach him and Riley decided to courier the stupid phone back to the penthouse so we don’t have access to his gps. But you do. That’s why I’m trying to reach you y/n. You’ve gotta go there and get him home.”
“Get him home? He’s in another country!”
“Yes, for that niche fucking awards show. You gotta get him back to his hotel and sober him up. We paid some fucker way too much money not to leak these photos and I don’t want to find out some other fucker took more.”
“Isn’t this something his publicist should be doing? Or you?” I’m starting to get angry. Why was Harry like a big fucking toddler that I had to go get when he was misbehaving. “I took the weekend off-“
“Listen. Y/n. We will pay you 5 times your rate if you just get on a plane and sort him out. I’m in Iceland right now. On holiday! Nobody is paying me 5 times the amount to deal with this and I don’t get back to the UK until tomorrow.”
“His publicis-“
“And Graham is the one that caught all this but he doesn’t fly out until tomorrow. So that leaves you. Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”
I think about Gray, should I call him? Let him know? Fuck. Fuck Harry and his ability to ruin my whole life.
“I don’t have a choice here do I?” I ask wearily.
“Sure you do, one gets you a nice pay check. The other doesn’t.”
“Fuck,” I swear just loud enough for him to hear. “Do you know when the next flight is.”
“There’s a private jet that can leave within the hour I’ll text you the address can you make it?”
I map it. 30 or so minutes away. I look around my room—I had my emergency duffle with my passport the Harry Survival Guide told me to keep so I didn’t need to pack much.
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
***
“Out of all the fucking nights,” I swear as I take the elevator down. The flight had been under 2 hours and I’d kept my eyes glued to Harry’s phone locator. He’d moved one location so far. The hotel wasn’t too far from this location so I drop my bags off on the en-suite and head out into the beautiful city.
It’s buzzing despite the hour and I wish it was a calmer trip so I could take pictures and soak in the beauty of Vienna.
Instead I trudge on to the little dot on my phone and avoid thinking about Gray and how much he would love this city. And how badly I betrayed him tonight.
What to do when he won’t answer the phone: track his gps, get good at lock-picking and don’t be shy to call whoever he’s out with to get ahold of him. Harry not answering his phone unexpectedly usually means bad decisions.
I find Harry in a kitschy club but it’s not easy. In the flashes of blue and purple lights I sort through all the men about the same height as him. None of them are him.
I knew he was here. I scan the room a second time, he had to be in one of the private sections.
I walk the perimeter until I see a flash of a familiar laugh.
“Harry!” I shout but a man in a suit steps in front of me.
“Private area,” he says in a rough accent.
“I’m his assistant I need to see him!” I point to Harry but he just steps in my way again. I shout Harry’s name and on the second try he looks up.
“Heyy!” He lights up and picks his way over the people sitting around him. He loops his arm around the brick wall in front of me. “That’s y/n! Y/n you came let her in!”
“Thank you,” I shoot the man a dirty look even though I knew he was just doing his job. He was the difference between a PR disaster and no disaster. “Harry we-“
“Have a drink!” He slurs. My heart quickens when I get a glimpse of the table with an assortment of drugs all over it. “Relax. C’mon c’mon!”
Harry pours me champagne and leads me by the hand to where he was just sitting. A couple shift away to make room for me but I stay standing as Harry sinks into the cushion.
“Mr. Styles we-“
“Ms. Y/L/N,” Harry says seriously before bursting into laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this uninhibited before. One part of me is nervous and another part finds it intriguing.
He tugs me down and I tip into the couch, the champagne sloshing over the rim. What the-
“Relax,” he whispers into my ear. It goes straight to my stomach. “Have some champagne and enjoy the night!”
“I want to-“
“Your fiancé won’t let you drink with me? Is that the issue here?”
“No,” I bite. “I am taking you back-“
“I,” Harry sits up and hovers over me. “I am not speaking to you until you drink! Good god woman, lean back! Relax! What do Americans say take a chill pill?”
“I don’t need a chill pill.”
Harry mimes zipping his lips closed.
I roll my eyes and bring the champagne to my lips to take a mock sip but he must anticipate this. Using his finger he tips the glass even further. Half of it drips down my chin.
“Agh!” I jerk the glass away but Harry just laughs. “This is so not funny.”
He leans in smiling. I expect him to stop but he continues moving into me until his lips are on my jaw. His mouth coasts over my skin before he buries his head in my neck where the champagne had dripped down leaving a pool of heat-
“Harry!” I jerk away and push my hands into his chest to prop him up. His eyes are half-closed but as intense as ever as he looks into mine.
What the fuck. What the fuck just happened.
My hands are shaking, steady only because of the force of Harry pressing into them. I feel the tears springing to my eyes, why the fuck did he just…
“Sorry,” he smiles, his finger brushing my cheek. “Y’had some champagne there.”
It was nothing, I tell myself. He’s drunk and taken god knows what. He’s out of his mind. And he was going for the champagne, not me.
I loosen my arms but he comes back towards me again.
“Fuck this,” I mutter. I push him back into the sofa and get up. “We are going back to the hotel. Now.”
“Just stay a little longer here. It’s life. I’m bloody famous!” His hands come around my waist to pull me towards him but I dig my heel in.
I grab him by the shirt and haul his lanky body up, it’s like lifting a slab of marble. We nearly fall into the table but I catch us on my back leg in time.
I get us outside and call a taxi. Harry sways into me and I help keep him up.
“S’cold,” he complains.
“It’s really not.” I look back to him but he doesn’t look good. I lean him against the wall gently. “Harry look at me.”
He eyes stay closed but his head bobbles and he starts to tip forward again.
“Harry!” I nearly slap him. Instead I push him against the wall and use my body to keep him propped upright. I grab his face in my hands. “Harry look at me you’re scaring me.”
“You’re scaring me,” he slurs.
I shake his face a bit and try to pry open an eye which makes him laugh.
“I was alone,” he mumbles.
“I am not carrying you into or out of that car so you better stay conscious.” I tap his cheek.
“You’re no fun.” He says and I ignore him. “I was alone but you came.”
“Not out of any choice,” I mumble.
Our taxi arrives and I’m shaking him every few minutes to keep him conscious. At the hotel I get some help to his room when they recognize his face.
I drop him in bed with a sigh of relief. He looked pathetic like that. And I wanted to cry out of frustration.
I take his shoes off and then his shirt, deciding to keep his trousers on. I leave a bottle of water on his bedside with painkillers and head to the bathroom. For the second time tonight I get ready for bed.
I scrub the sticky champagne out of my neck and block out the feeling of his lips on me. Block out the confusing feelings that arose.
I grab my phone and pray for a text from Gray but there’s nothing. I update Jeff and he sends me a thumbs up. All that and just a fucking thumbs up.
***
Still no text from Gray the next morning.
Harry’s still in bed when I get up. I crack on and order both of us breakfast, ordering the most expensive things just to get something out of being here.
Harry wakes to the smell of coffee, groaning as soon as he sits up. I don’t know what he took last night but it serves him right.
“Y/n?” He sounds just as confused as last night.
“In the flesh,” I nearly growl.
“I thought Riley’s s’pose to be here?”
“So you do remember I’m supposed to be off all weekend.” I can’t hold back on the sass. I’m too mad at everyone.
“Yeah…what?”
“Riley quit.”
“Riley…quit? That’s why you’re here?”
“No.” I want to throw my cup of coffee in his face. “I’m here because you weren’t answering your phone last night and the only updates we were getting were compromising pictures of you absolutely pissed.”
“You sound like my publicist.”
“Your publicist had to pay the photographer off.”
“It couldn’t be that bad,” Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed and winces. He notices the painkillers and pops them. “Did you undress me?”
I pull the photos up on my phone and show them to him. He throws the phone down on the bed after a glance.
“Okay so he sent you to get me back to the hotel?”
“Jeff called me.”
“Jeff’s on holiday.”
“So was I.” My anger brews over. “I had 2 fucking days off Harry and I couldn’t even get that! You had to go to Vienna and get pappd doing the stupidest shit and of course I have to come in and save your ass because I can’t get any time these days to just be!”
He groans as he gets up and shuffles towards me. My heart picks up speed but he simply reaches for the coffee and takes a big gulp. The silence stretches out after my outburst and I wait with an anxious anger for what comes out of his mouth.
“You didn’t have to come. I could have lived with the consequences of being an idiot last night-“
“Jeff didn’t give me a choic-“
“There’s always a choice,” he holds up his finger to my face, hovering an inch from my lips. “Jeff can’t do shite. If he fired you he needs my final say. So again, I didn’t ask you to come here.”
Fuck him, I think. Does he really think I could have said no and gone on with my night? Since it didn’t come out of his mouth, he vanishes any accountability? He’d totally at fault here.
“Secondly,” he wasn’t finished I guess and his eyes are like laser beams into my soul. “It’s Mr. Styles.”
Anything I was about to mouth off on disappears. Like a sinkhole it all collapses below the surface and I’m left feeling as I always did—humiliated.
“Now,” Harry puts his cup down. “That’s not to say thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. I don’t remember a lot of it so I’m not sure what happened but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.”
I don’t answer. I bite my tongue until it falls right off and I can swallow it. I wish I could also swallow the memory of his lips that spring to mind.
“It is a Sunday, if you’d like to take it off feel free. The stylist team is coming around 4 to get me ready for tonight.”
“Well, you’ll need me to coordinate this evening since that was the point of Riley being here,” my voice comes out smoother than I felt.
“Ok,” he dismisses me. “I need a shower.”
He leaves and I clench my fists to keep from throwing everything within range at him. How could he flip the script like this? Turn my life upside down and then act like he did nothing wrong?
I go to my phone and hover over Grayson to call him but i have a notification from him. He’s sent me a message, it’s a link.
I click it. It’s a small article in a tabloid about Harry Styles and his mystery woman. You can’t tell it’s me but our pose looks intimate from last night—him leaning against the wall with my knee in between his legs and my body propping him up while my hands hold his face.
But Grayson knows its me.
I get my other phone and message it in the group with Harry’s publicist.
He responds casually: It’ll blow over don’t worry. Can’t see your face plus romantic is better than looking fucked up like the other pics.
It would blow over for Harry but not for me.
I try to call Grayson but he doesn’t pick up.
I close the room door and bury myself in bed, aching so hard it was hard to believe I was still breathing. It felt like an end, I know I could talk it through with Grayson and explain once he saw the other photos. But something feels like it died tonight.
***
“Y/n?” A voice sings outside my door. “Helloo?”
I feel hungover as I open my crusty eyes. I’m in an unfamiliar room and-
“Hello hello?”
I sit up. I was in a hotel suite and I had to help get Harry to his show. Shit.
I look at the time, it’s nearly 5.
“Sorry!” I shout at whoever was behind the door. “Sorry one sec!”
One look in the mirror and I know I had to throw my hair up. I swish some mouthwash around and exit to the lounge.
“Hi,” a woman I’ve never met smiles kindly at me.
“Sorry. Did you need something from me?”
“Yes,” she takes my arm and leads me towards where Harry was getting his hair done. He looks amused as he watches me. “I need you here. We need to get you ready.”
“Oh no,” I say but sit where I’m told by this commanding woman. “Oh I’m just helping coordinate so you just focus on Mr.-“
“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice cuts me off. “Riley comes with me to these things when Jeff isn’t around. Since neither are here you’re joining me and Graham.”
I look for his publicist but I’m told he was running late. Great.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” I say as the woman takes a wet wipe to my face. “I thought I had Sunday off.”
“You reminded me you’re replacing Riley,” Harry says. “And I got the team to get you a few things but I don’t know your size. I’m sure one of them will fit. Kit can tailor it if you need.”
“Wha…” my face is positioned to the side and cream is dotted all over. I shut my mouth and glance at Harry which becomes a glare when I realize he’s enjoying this.
“Lighten up Y/N, it’s not the end of the world.”
He didn’t know. It was the end of my world.
***
The red carpet or whatever this imitation of it was is a sensory nightmare. Graham had explained on the car over I was to stick to the shadows with him and his security detail. I don’t know why they stuck me in this beautifully tailored pantsuit just to be in the shadows. But apparently I could keep it so I was happy about that.
While Harry gets his name shouted and photos taken I watch from the side, hiding behind Graham’s shoulder so I don’t get caught in any pictures. The flashes still make my head hurt.
Again, we stand off to the side as Harry gets interviewed by labels I recognized and others that must be local. One woman has the nerve to ask,
“So Harry the whole internet is dying to know who your mystery woman is. Would you like to give our viewers a hint?”
I stiffen and Graham glances my way with a warning look. He’d already prepped Harry in the car but I couldn’t believe someone would be so bold as to ask. But that was show business.
“Ah you know what the media’s like, all out of context. I love the theories especially the one about this being my secret fiancé but I would like the viewers to know I’m not engaged, very much single, and not to believe everything you see online.”
I hold my breath as Harry answers but he’s a natural, I had to admit. He went off script a little—he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge the content of the photo, but he did so with grace and humour. Wow. I could learn a few things.
Graham relaxes beside me once the reporter laughs and asks if he sees himself not being single any time soon. When we finally move on Graham wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder and gives it a shake.
“You did good kid,” he kisses his cheek with all the leftover adrenaline from the carpet. “I’ll see you in there. I see some friends I want to catch up with first.”
Then it’s just Harry and I, and his shadow of a security detail who Harry dismisses while he’s inside the room.
“So I guess now’s the part you go to your seat?” I ask. There was no What to do at an Awards Show so I was clueless and I decided I would create one myself to keep the legacy of all these dos and don’ts.
“It is,” Harry looks…nervous? His eyes flicker around the room and his jaw twitches. I do a sweep of my own, there’s a lot of people I don’t recognize and those I do I’m just about dying trying to stay casual.
“I thought that reporter was going to propose after you cleared up how single you were.”
“Hm?” Harry looks at me—in heels I was finally near eye-level to him. His gaze clears as he takes in what I said and I consider it a win getting him back down to earth. “Oh. Her, yeah she was cheeky with those questions wasn’t she?”
His smile makes me stomach dip. “Yeah she slipped them in so expertly. I thought ‘I have to take some tips from her’. And you, you were good dodging the question.”
“I didn’t lie,” Harry’s now fully engaged in our conversation. I give myself a pat on the back. “It was just you and I am still single.”
Just you. I fake a laugh, “Yeah. That photo is proof that I’m stronger than I look because you were deadweight and I managed to get you to bed y’know that.”
His green eyes flicker up and down my face for a beat. “I know that. I…hope that picture didn’t get you into any trouble.”
I look away, unsure how to answer. He brings a hand to my arm. “I can talk to someone if it helps?”
“Oh no,” my cheeks flush. “No I don’t think that would make anything better but thank you. I…appreciate the-“
“Harry? Oh my god it’s you!”
I retreat in a quarter of a second, invisible once again for Harry to shine with his colleagues. It’s a singer I recognize but I only remember her stage name, Dragon something. I watch them embrace and I try to wind up the spool of thread I’d released when Harry showed some kindness.
I think I had some issues, I became unrecognizable every time Harry was nice for a moment. I had to remember that it was temporary and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross.
Yesterday flashes into my mind. God, was it just yesterday?
Harry starts walking with the other musician arm in arm. It comes to me as I follow why I knew her. There were rumours shortly before I interviewed with Harry about seeing him on the town with this woman. So they had history. Of course.
By the time Graham joins me in our seats I’ve become part of the wallpaper and I feel like I’m being torn away when he acknowledges me to ask if everything had gone ok. I stay invisible for the rest of the evening and I try to remember that’s how it would be.
***
We’re sat on the tarmac for the ride home and I try to refresh my messages over and over but Gray hasn’t responded after I’d told him we had to talk. He was stupidly good at the cold shoulder and I felt like a needy bitch whenever he got like this.
“Could I get a water y/n?” Harry asks from across the aisle. He has his head tipped back and he looks awful—consequences of an after party where he drank himself silly again and relied on me to get him home. I did make friends with some other PAs who were roped to the party so that was the only highlight.
“Sure.” I go to the front of the jet where Graham is typing away on his laptop, oblivious to the rest of us. I grab Harry a coffee too. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
Harry accepts it graciously and I go back to refreshing my phone.
I thought he’d fallen asleep an hour into the flight until he unbuckles his seat and slips in beside me.
“Can I get your phone?” He holds his hand out.
“Why?” I ask suspiciously.
“You’re driving me crazy refreshing that thing it’s like you’re getting paid per refresh.”
I was lost in a trance doing it. I put the phone facedown on my lap but he takes it from me.
“Hey-“
“I’m keeping this until we land. I promise you if you haven’t gotten any messages by now you won’t get any at all.”
His patronizing tone wriggles something loose and I have to look away, out the window, so he doesn’t see the tears.
“My offer still stands,” he says quietly after my silence. I shake my head.
“Thanks,” my voice wavers. “It won’t help. He just gets…quiet. Any time there’s an issue he just goes quiet and it drives me f…crazy. I feel crazy.”
“You kind of look it.” I’m ready to throw him a dirty look but Harry’s smiling when I look at him. I was rarely on the receiving end of such a handsome look that I forget I was going to be mad. “What? You do, hunched over your phone pressing down over and over. My neck hurts just looking at you.”
I sigh and leans back into the seat, trying to straighten myself out.
“Sorry,” I sniffle. “I just need some sort of proof of life from him. He knows it drives me crazy when he ignores me but he does it anyway. He could be dead for all I know. Anyway, I’ll stop now you can give me my phone back.”
“Mmm no,” Harry pats the pocket he put it in. “You listen to me. It stays here.”
I don’t fight him. It was for my own good.
He sits with me for the rest of the flight. It should be uncomfortable but having another person’s presence beside me—knowing there was a shoulder pressing against mine, makes me feel a little less lonely today.
He probably didn’t intend that, I rethink the thought. Harry wasn’t thoughtful like that, he was probably just too lazy to move back.
We take the car home when we land but Harry tells me to take the rest of the Monday off even though it was already 2.
“And y/n,” Harry stops me before I exit the car where it stalls outside my complex.
“Yes?” I wait for the other shoe to drop—I had the day off but…
“If he knows it drives you crazy, and he truly loves you, he should respect you and give you a chance to talk. You deserve that.”
My breath catches at the unexpected words. I feel my defences go up.
“You’ll work it out,” he rushes on when I don’t respond.
I’m left feeling slightly reassured and mostly confused.
“Thank you,” I look at him a beat too long and it feels awkward so I scramble out and head up. To someone I hope was willing to listen like Harry said.
***
Like a baby calf out of the womb, my relationship stays on shaky grounds. It feels like building a foundation all over again after thinking that was already done with, but Hurricane Harry had caused a lot of damage.
Now 9 months into my new job I wasn’t always so on edge. But I was busy.
With no Riley, the team had decided to hold off on hiring anyone new and my work load had tripled. I’d brought it up casually and just as casually Harry had let me know I would be compensated.
I thought about Vienna a lot. Things were done and said there that should change our dynamic but didn’t. Not much. Harry was still an ass, he still demanded most of my time, and I still suffered from major anxiety about my life falling apart.
So maybe I was still on edge, just about different things.
“G’morning,” Gray whispers to me. I wanted to sleep in and cuddle with my fiancé but I’d already snoozed my alarm and I knew I had to get to work. I had errands to run all over town.
“Morning,” I burrow my head into his warm body. “I don’t wanna work.”
He kisses the top of my head. “How about I join you on some of those errands you mentioned? We can get coffee?”
I’m suddenly excited about going to work.
Gray laughs when I climb over him and kiss him like a lunatic, and we’ve been together too long to be embarrassed about morning breath or pillow face. I can’t believe I almost lost him.
The day is perfect as Gray and I move around town doing odd bits. We get to grab lunch together and I’m so glad what a good sport Gray had been about it all since I’d forced him to carry any heavy items.
“I’ll see you for dinner,” Gray drops me off at Harry’s. We linger in the lobby for a few minutes. “I’m cooking.”
“Mmm can’t wait,” I kiss him before taking the load from him. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“I had fun, I hate to admit it.” He grins as I walk backwards to the elevator. He takes my breath away.
Grayson’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something but I collide into a body behind me before he can warn me.
“Oh shit sorry I-“ I turn and Harry stands behind me with Jeff walking off the elevator. He was probably headed to the studio and I was late. Dammnit!
“Y/N,” Harry says.
“I’m so. Sorry,” I look between Gray, Jeff, and Harry. Do I introduce everyone? Do I apologize and rush to drop these things off so I could join them like I’m supposed to?
Jeff makes it easy, walking away on his phone. Then it’s Harry and Gray.
“I’m sorry I meant to be upstairs five minutes ago.” I tell Harry who’s expression is hard to read. “Uhm…this is Grayson my fiance I don’t think y’all have met he was just dropping me off since I had my hands full. Um. Gray this is…well you know who this is I-“
My blabbering is cut short as Harry steps forward to shake hands and I nearly die at the steely look Gray gives him. Also, why the fuck did I say y’all?! I wasn’t even southern.
“Grayson Duran yeah? Nice to meet you,” Harry says. I’m surprised he knows his full name. He must have asked his friends.
“Yeah,” Gray drops his hand. “The infamous Harry Styles—I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” Harry says, glancing at me. Why would he say that. “As much as I’d love to chat, y/n you’re late and we’re heading to the studio. Can you give all that to the concierge?”
“Yes,” I nod. “Have you got-“
“I grabbed my things yes. I’ll see you in the car.”
Harry nods to Gray and leaves an air of cologne and annoyance behind. Gray and I lock eyes and I burn with embarrassment.
“What a dick,” Gray mumbles.
I’m offended, wait, why am I offended? It’s not like Harry wasn’t a dick.
“Yeah, I gotta go sorry babe.” I rush to the concierge and explain the delivery.
“Y’all?” Gray asks when I rush back to him.
“I know I know,” I cringe. “It just came out. I gotta go but thank you so much for today. Loveyoubye!”
I give him a quick peck and rush out, nearly collapsing into Harry’s car.
“Sorry about that, being late. That won’t happen again I meant to be there before you left-“
“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Harry says stiffly, staring out the window. He was a dick, Gray was right. But why was I so offended at him saying that right after meeting him?
Things felt so confusing these days and I just wanted time to catch my breath and figure things out. A few more weeks and I’d get some time off for the holidays at least, I was looking forward to that.
***
Even though I planned the intimate holiday party and spent countless hours on the phone making sure every detail would be perfect I can’t help but criticize it as I join.
“Maybe I should have gone with a live band,” I mutter as someone takes mine and Grayson’s coats. Tonight I was supposed to shut my brain off as Harry said, and enjoy the party as a guest. But that part was hard to shut off after nearly 10 months of re-wiring it.
Grayson was tough to convince but finally he’d agreed to come to the party. Things were mostly back to normal with us. I tried to be home by 7 most nights and didn’t talk about work too much.
But sometimes it felt like a volcano lived inside me with how much I had to compartmentalize and keep in and when times got really tough, I wanted to spew everywhere.
“Josie told me your mom’s doing bohemian Christmas?” I ask Gray as we hover by the foyer. I’d just had a catchup with her yesterday now that she was finished exams. “Do you know what that means.”
“Mum’s crazy,” Gray sighs. His relationship with her was always followed by a sigh, an eye roll, a heavy resignation for who she was. I never quite understood it.
Josie, on the other hand, loved their loud and free-spirited mother. As for me, I thought she was the most interesting woman I ever met and we’d gotten along instantly.
“She’s always got some new idea up her sleeve,” I try to make things more positive. “What do you want a bet it’s going to be vegan?”
“I don’t bet when I know that’s what she’s serving. That’s why we do dad’s for lunch and hers for dinner. We’re too stuffed once we get there to care what she’s serving.”
“Remember when I tried to get you to go vegan and-“
“Y/N! Hi,” I’m interrupted by a friendly face in the crowd and end up chatting with people I’d worked with the last few months. We introduce our partners and they chat but I keep an eye on Grayson, in case anything changes.
I watch Harry’s friends trickle in and Gray lights up when he sees Liam and a few other people he trained.
I flit around the room with ease after that, knowing Gray had friends to keep him company. I make sure drinks are filled and catering is setting up. Until a hand stops me.
“You’re not supposed to be working tonight,” Harry reminds me.
“Yes. Right. Well…”
“Y/N,” he warns.
“Okay!” I throw my hands up. “Not working, here look I’m enjoying myself!”
I pick up a random drink and take a big sip. Champagne. Suddenly I remember the last time I drank champagne in front of Harry and I nearly cough it back up.
“Ugh,” Harry hands me a napkin and I try not to bristle. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “Yeah sorry just…just not a fan of champagne.”
We lock eyes and I’m gripped with the sudden and very real possibility that Harry may actually remember parts of that night.
When his eyes flicker down to my neck, it’s confirmed. Oh god.
“Well! I’m off to find a better drink!” I turn too quickly, nearly taking out the caterer who was setting up hors d’œuvres on the table. “Sorry!”
Oh my god. Harry remembered.
Did he remember this whole time? Was he pretending to forget that night? Did he ever remember the moment randomly in my presence like I did?
I had to stop freaking out. It had been months!
Where was Grayson.
I locate my fiancé in a random group but his eyes are already on me. I raise a hand and he smiles, raising a finger to tell me he’d be there in a moment.
My mind races in the meantime, wondering if I should mention the incident to Harry and tell him I was fine. Or maybe that proved the opposite. No. I should just keep it unspoken like we had this whole time. Oh my god!
“Quite a turnout,” Grayson comes back to me. Two drinks in his hand. “I saw you talking to Harry why did you look so scared? Did he say something?”
“Oh!” Of course Gray saw. “No. I just…almost choked on my champagne the fizz y’know? And then I didn’t want to make a scene so I left.”
“Hm,” Gray wraps his hand around my waist. “Hey I see a mistletoe I’m going to nudge you in that direction.”
“You don’t need a mistletoe to kiss me babe.”
“It’s supposed to be romantic.”
I let him lead me to it and he kisses me with a knee-bending passion.
“Woah,” I feel dazed when we finally part. “That was fucking romantic.”
“Yeah?” He grins.
“Excuse me!” Harry’s voice rings over the crowd and the room hushes slowly. “Uh hiya! Thank you all for coming tonight and making me feel like I have friends during the holidays.”
A quiet laugh rumbles over the crowd. Harry looks magnetic on his makeshift podium, he’s in a cozy red sweater that I know cost more than my month’s salary and a collar peeks out from under it. He’s got on navy slacks and tinsel thrown over his shoulder. I’d bought that sweater, I remember. But he managed to pull the rest of the outfit together well.
“…a few people.” He continues. I’d zoned out. “My manager Jeff of course—this year has been a roller coaster and you’ve managed it all. Charlie, Claire, Niji, Elin, Sarah, and Mitch. We had a ball playing our hidden shows this fall but we have so much planned for the year ahead. I’m beyond grateful that you all came into my life and we get to make music together!”
A few whoops in the crowd and the people he mention raise their hands and shout out their own praises to Harry.
Harry thanks a few more people and says some more kind words. I don’t expect him to zero in on me.
“Last, but not least folks, I want to thank somebody who joined my team this year. She’s seen a lot—she’s been in the trenches my friends, she has. But she’s stuck with me. She’s planned everything tonight so really you’re all here because of her. Y/N, please make yourself known and everyone should give her a thank you if you talk to her tonight for tonight.”
Oh god. I am as bright as Harry’s sweater and with every single eye turning on me I’m sure I also turn every shade of the rainbow. I paste on a grin that feels like I’m the Joker and hope it looks normal.
I wave awkwardly and make eyes with Harry across the room who looks like he’s having a ball putting me in the centre of everyone’s attention. I was really going to wring his neck but he winks at me and finally turns the attention back to him with a few closing words, then starting the music and food.
“Am I alive?” I ask Gray beside me whose hand had dropped from my waist during the last few minutes. “I think I died of embarrassment and turned into the ghost of Christmas’ present.”
I turn to Gray and he looks around me. “Hello? Is someone talking to me?”
“Gray!” I push his shoulder and he laughs. “I hated every second of that.”
“I know,” Gray laughs again. “You hate attention.”
“I do! I swear Harry was up there gloating didn’t you notice? Ugh I hate him.”
Gray’s expression shutters for a second. “Yeah, he definitely knew what he was doing.”
“Y/N, quite a shoutout.” A voice says from my right. It’s Liam who I hadn’t seen myself in ages. I go in for a hug and hope my embarrassment clears away as we catch up.
As the night goes on I ease up a little, enjoy the mingling and the drinks. Especially the drinks. The evening’s embarrassment and everyone coming up to me knowing my name was hell so I drink to keep up the liquid courage.
Coming out of the toilets for the tenth time that night with all the drinks I was downing, I notice a light on in the room.
I go to it, in case it was a guest in a place they shouldn’t be.
I don’t spot him at first, flicking off the lights only to see a shadow move. Harry.
“Oh! It’s you. Is everything alright?” I lean in the doorway. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in this office actually. He always hovered outside it like I was now.
“Yeah yeah, just came for some air.” He walks up to me and I step out of the way so he can leave. But he stays just inside so I move back to my spot.
“Air? In the smallest room here?”
“Yeah,” he smiles like he’s been caught. “I was looking for you. We ran out of ice I just don’t remember where you stored the rest.”
“Well I’m not working remember? So I don’t know.”
“Touché. I guess the guests will just have a shite time with their lukewarm drinks.”
Ugh. He knew me too well.
“Fine. I’ll get the bag. By the way, that wasn’t funny. What you did earlier.” I put my hands on my hips, ready to give him a piece of my mind for embarrassing me.
“What!? It wasn’t meant to be funny. I’m expressing my gratitude y/n.”
“In front of a whole room of random people who are all looking at me? You know I would have hated it!”
“Let’s just say I’m trying to get you out of your shell,” Harry teases. He smells of his usual cologne, the fresh soap he used, and scotch. I spot the empty glass on my desk.
“I’m plenty out of my shell thank you. You know, you could have just said it to me privately. That would have meant more.”
His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He inhales sharply and turns around.
“What?” I ask his back.
“Nothing.” He turns back around. “You do good work y/n, people should know.”
Now it’s my turn to go quiet. I only seemed to do this when Harry was nice. Because otherwise I knew how mean he could be. Why couldn’t there just be a balance.
“Why are you so randomly nice to me?”
Oops. All those drinks made for some loose lips.
“What?” He’s taken aback.
“Yeah,” I feel fired up now that it’s out. “You ignore me half the time—not that I expect to be bffs but at least a hello now and then would be nice. Then when you do talk it’s grunts and clipped answers. You’re pretty mean to me! And suddenly out of nowhere it’s like-like this 180 and you’re really nice. And praising me in front of a crowd. What’s up with that?”
His expression retreats the more I talk and I know I’ve dug myself into a hole. Forget the whole speech just now I’m pretty sure I’ve just written my own termination notice.
“I have to be,” he says simply after an awkward pause.
“Have to?” I demand. “You have to be mean to me?”
The long deleted Dos and Dont list when I first joined flashes through my mind. Did that have something to do with it?
“Because when I spoke to Riley that one time for drinks, he told me you weren’t always this mean. So is it me? You just said to a whole crowd how helpful I am so I just don’t get why you’re so mean sometimes!”
“What else did Riley say?” Harry hangs on to that.
“I…a lot I dunno! Riley faffs a lot. He’s also a creep but that’s neither here nor there I-“
“What do you mean he’s a creep?” The room feels even smaller as he zeroes in.
“I-“ I try to stutter something to change the subject but he stays on, asking me again. “It’s nothing. He was drunk and he made a pass at me-“
“He did?! Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s zero space between the two of us now.
“Why would I? It was something that happened outside work hours, plus you warned me and I didn’t listen-“
“Y/n you should have told me,” he swears. “I let that little shite get away with way too much.”
“Yeah well he’s not the only person working here who’s made a drunken pass at me so let’s not make it a big deal okay?”
I guess I wasn’t holding back.
Harry closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. One mississippi two mississippi three-
“You’re right.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I want to get out of this room, find Gray, and stay in the light. Because this small, dimly lit space was becoming too intimate. And yet, I can’t seem to will myself to move.
“I am?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It doesn’t cut it—what I did was incredibly wrong. Being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse and I promise I don’t go around doing that to everyone-“
“I know,” I say before thinking. It was weird of Harry to do but I never felt unsafe with him. I understood what he was trying to say.
“You can make it a big deal if you want. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again.”
I feel weird having the roles reversed—Harry apologizing to me. Promising not to do something again. I recognize what he’s doing is right but I don’t know what to do with myself. My breathing’s shallow with Harry so close to me, practically hovering over me. I should’ve worn higher heels to really equal the field.
“Thanks,” I finally manage. It’s low and raspy and I barely get in enough air to speak it. He doesn’t respond.
We stay in the tableau, our breathing irregular, in between a single decision that both of us knew wouldn’t end well. Yet neither of us are strong enough to end the frozen display.
“You clean up nice,” he says, eyes never leaving mine as he compliments my getup. I’d worn a simple cowl-necked slip dress and strappy shoes with my hair in an up-do. I was definitely underdressed after seeing the other guests but I believe Harry means it.
“Don’t look as haggard as I usually do, you mean?” I find my voice again. I barely have to whisper for him to hear.
“You never look haggard,” Harry says as he brings his hand up and traces the curve of my dress strap. My heartbeat was loud and surely showing through my dress.
“You should go,” Harry adds in a whisper.
My head feels like it’s filled with carbonation as I nod in agreement. This was bad. With a capital B. I had to go.
“I…should go.” I repeat. Slowly I inch sideways on the wall and Harry leans away. We stare at each other for another long moment before I scurry away, my heart in my throat and my guilt where my heart should be.
“Don’t forget the ice,” I hear Harry call out from the room. Miraculously this is exactly when Grayson turns the corner.
“Y/n? Where were you?”
“Oh I-“ I imagined I looked fucked up. Because I felt high and out of my mind. The white lie comes out, attached to a thread that unstitches something within. “I drank too much, so I was in the toilet.”
“Oh,” Gray looks relieved and I’m sinking with guilt. Technically I did nothing wrong. I didn’t even have feelings for Harry. But whatever physical magnetism he seemed to have nearly made me do something I’d seriously regret. “Did I hear someone say something about ice?”
“Yeah!” I laugh and it comes out like I had never learned how. “I just bumped into Harry, we ran out of ice. So much for not working huh?”
“At least everyone knows how hard you work,” he jokes.
I stick to Gray’s side for the rest of the night, not touching a single drop of alcohol. I had to forget everything in that room ever happened if I wanted to keep my job and my sanity. I had to be a better person, the devil was handsome and I had to stop playing into his tricks.
I call it quits a few hours later when I notice Gray low on energy.
“I’ll get our coats,” I tell him. The relief on his face is palpable.
I go through where the spare closet was but hear voices in Harry’s darkened room. The door’s open so I go to investigate. I regret it instantly.
Harry’s inside with a woman, I don’t see much of her as she’s on the bed but I know it’s Harry with the tone of his voice as they exchange words.
My stomach drops and it’s like an accident on the side of the road, I’m mortified but I can’t look away.
I watch him kiss her and I feel like I’m sinking through the floorboards.
“Oh!” The woman notices me when she turns her head and pulls the sheet up. She whispers, “you didn’t close the-“
“Oh it’s fine,” Harry laughs. He sits back on his legs and looks at me, his expression void of anything he was tonight. Like the moment in the room didn’t even happen. “It’s just y/n.”
Of course it didn’t matter to him, I scold myself. I was the one with fucked up issues that couldn’t make up my stupid mind about how I wanted to feel about this man who literally paid me to be around. Who treated me like shit most of the time. Who was nice to me sometimes and I misconstrued it to mean a whole lot more.
What was I thinking? Did I think suddenly this man who’s known to be a player had a single one-sided intense moment with me and that would change him?
I was an absolute idiot.
“Could you get the door?” Harry asks so casually, so nonchalantly, that it punches me in the chest. It was closer to some combination of humiliation and self-inflicted hurt but for now it feels like my chest aches.
“O-of course.” I shut the door and stand there, taking in deep breaths as I try not to think about everything that just happened. Tried not to think of all the million ways I was the worst girlfriend in the world. Tried not to think about the fact that I had to quit sooner than later because things were getting tangled up and it was not okay.
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TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld
I’m trying to make part 3 the last—it includes your final decisions and returning to the present to find out what happens (from the beginning of the story). Thank you, as always, for reading <3 xx
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