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livinginshambles · 6 months

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I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.

Probably part one of two again.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.

Masterlist. Part two. Part three

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You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.

You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.

James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.

It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.

Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.

If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.

A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.

Maybe she will.

You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.

That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.

In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.

Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.

But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.

Who are you?

You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.

You’d be disappointed.

I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.

James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.

He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.

But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.

Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?

You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.

No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.

You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.

“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.

“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.

His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.

“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”

“No.”

“Well I did.”

“So it seems.”

“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.

“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.

“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.

“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.

You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”

“Do I have to pay rent?”

“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”

“So not then.”

You huffed.

“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”

“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement.

Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.

You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.

“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.

For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.

You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”

It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.

James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.

His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.

“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.

“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.

You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.

Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.

“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.

“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”

You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.

Maybe he was a twat.

Am I a twat?

What the bloody hell are you on about?

Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.

Did you deserve it?

Sort of.

Sort of?

I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.

You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.

Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.

You reckon?

Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.

On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?

If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.

Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?

James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.

Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.

It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.

Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.

“Out with it.”

You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.

“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.

“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”

It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.

Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”

You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”

Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.

“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“

You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”

Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.

“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.

“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.

“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”

James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.

It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.

There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.

James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.

For two different reasons.

James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.

James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.

Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.

You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”

James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”

Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.

But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.

“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.

James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”

“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”

Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”

“You know you can call me James, right?”

“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”

You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”

“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”

His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.

“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.

“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.

“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.

“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”

The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.

James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.

“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”

“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.

James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.

The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .

“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.

You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.

“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.

“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.

“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.

You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.

By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.

You got up as well.

“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”

James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.

“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.

In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.

Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.

James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.

A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”

When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.

Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.

“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.

You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.

I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.

Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.

James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.

Preview of part two

Part two

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gurugirl · 11 months

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A Good Boy | 1. Surrender

Summary: Harry's got the hots for his young stepmom and she's pretty fond of him too. But they're both trying really hard to be good. Loosely based on this ask.

A/N: This is stepmom!reader x virgin stepson!harry. There is a 7 year age gap and Harry met her at the age of 19. He is 21 in this story.

Word count: 21.4k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, inappropriate relationship between a stepmom & virgin stepson, smut

A Good Boy Masterlist

Her husband, Leonardo, was the kind of man that could only be described as a provider. Not a lover, not a sweet man, not a gentle soul. Just a provider. Her mother asked her why she was marrying the older man, “Y/n he’s 15 years your senior! It’s preposterous! He’s rich but you can find real love…” She’d heard it all. But she was interested in having nice things. Being able to finish her art and history degree and go to the tennis club and shop with her girlfriends.

He also bought her the cutest little red Mercedes and the biggest diamond ring. And his house was- well it wasn’t just a house. It was an estate sat in the Hollywood hills near other celebrities and affluent humans (or robots she sometimes thought). She even had her own bedroom. It was an odd setup for sure, but a setup nonetheless.

Leonardo made it clear. He wasn’t looking for love. He was looking for a pretty thing with a good head on her shoulders that he could fuck when he needed and buy nice things for. Someone to bring with him when he had to show face at events and parties who could hold a somewhat intelligent conversation. She could do that. And he wasn’t a bad-looking man either. He was fit and tall with a deep voice and his deep pockets were just the cherry on top.

Did this make her a gold digger? She supposed that yes, it did. But what of her husband? This was what he wanted too. No one was being tricked. Everything was very simple and clearly defined. Down to the fact that she could sleep with anyone she wanted as long as she was discreet and didn’t give him the details. The same went for Leo.

Though Y/n hadn’t been interested in sleeping with anyone else, she was certain Leo did on his business trips and “boys-only vacations” he often took with his friends.

Y/n wasn’t bothered by the lack of love or the fact that her marriage wasn’t conventional. She was getting everything she wanted and she was happy. Sure a little intimacy was nice but she had close friends and so far, that was all she needed.

. . .

“Leo! Marla is here with the Uber! I’ll see you later!” She shouted toward his study as she made her way out the door. It was Friday night. Girl’s night. Every other Friday she, Marla, Cyndee, and Gina met at Murphy’s Lounge to dance and drink a few too many martinis. It was always fun. Sometimes she flirted with some man who wanted to dance. But never anything more. She could have if she wanted. More. She could have done more but she never felt the need. No one interested her enough to make that sort of leap into partaking in the open aspect of her marriage.

The bar was full, as it usually was at 8 pm on a Friday night. Gina and Cyndee had already secured a table and had cocktails in hand when she and Marla got there.

And just like every time the four of them got together, they acted as if they hadn’t seen one another in ages. Sometimes they could be overly dramatic in their greetings but they genuinely appreciated one another.

“Okay. The first round is on me, but the rest is on Daddy Leo,” Cyndee bubbled out her words in laughter.

Y/n playfully smacked Cyndee’s arm, “Oh so now you’re calling my husband Daddy?!” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I am. He’s a Daddy, Y/n. Like, there’s no way you don’t call him Daddy when-“

Y/n placed her hand over Cyndee’s mouth, “Oh my god you’re too much sometimes! No more talk of Leo! The rest of the drinks are on him and we’ll leave it at that,” she laughed.

That was usually how it went. Leonardo picked up their girl’s night tab and paid for their taxis or Ubers.

“Okay. We’re just gonna get our drinks and we’ll be right back.” Marla swept Y/n off to the bar so they could order their usual drinks. For Y/n it was a nice stiff lemon drop martini.

Marla ordered a whisky sour, with extra orange slices and then rambled on about Ryan, her on-again, off-again boyfriend. They were on again at that moment but she was wearing thin, once again.

“Why do you do it to yourself, Marla? If you want to be done then just be done. You’ve tried and it hasn’t worked. I feel like you could do better anyway. Ryan’s nice but I think you two have run your course.”

“Ughh… I know, Y/n. God do I know. Easier said than done. There’s so much history, and friends in common. And we have a fucking dog together! I just… I don’t know.”

The bartender handed them their drinks and then Y/n gave the guy her credit card, “Please put this card in place of Cyndee Daniels tab. We’ll use this one instead.”

Josh was the bartender that evening. A cute college-aged young man with a bright smile who always remembered her name.

“Of course, Ms. Y/n. Will swap these out. As usual.” He winked.

She leaned over the bar as she took a quick sip of her martini while Josh went to retrieve Cyndee’s card. She looked down the bar at the faces of other patrons and suddenly was met with the clear green eyes of Leo’s son, Harry. Her stepson. She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her and it wasn’t as if Y/n had done anything wrong but she just hadn’t expected to see him there.

She leaned up again, peering around the woman sitting on the stool to her left and her eyes landed on the young man. Freshly shorn dark curls and a soft pink smile crooked up as he spoke animatedly to the guy sitting next to him. And just as she assumed he hadn’t seen her he turned and looked at her squarely, his lips moving as he spoke something to his friend then nodding in acknowledgment at Y/n before pulling himself off the stool he was on and making his way across the bar to her.

“Is that Harry?” Marla spoke as she leaned in.

“Yes, it is.”

Harry was a nice young man. He was polite, sometimes overly polite she thought, and he was charming. Y/n liked Harry. She didn’t know him all that well. He lived on campus at the university so she saw him rarely. But she did recognize that he’d cut his hair. He had long dark curls when she first met him. He looked like a bad boy, covered in tattoos with a permanent smirk on his face. But once she got to talking to him, she realized, he was a big sweetheart really. The long dark hair and tattoos were just a look. A style. Harry was a nice young man.

The truth was, all the girls joked about how attractive Leo and his son were. Both men were quite handsome. Y/n couldn’t deny that. Harry was tall like his father and built nicely. Long legs and a well-muscled chest. A great jawline and crystal green eyes that allured.

“Hi, Y/n. Marla,” Harry spoke as he looked from Y/n to Marla.

And that was another thing about him. He always remembered everyone’s name. He had met Marla maybe twice, yet here he was drinking beers at a bar and remembering the name of Y/n’s best friend whom he barely knew.

“Hi Harry,” Y/n smiled up at him, “Like the hair,” She reached up and whisked a finger into a short curl before bringing her hand back down into her own space.

Harry smiled broadly, a glorious dimple digging into his cheek as he raised an arm and ran his long fingers through his soft dark hair, “Oh! Yeah. Thank you. Got it cut a few weeks ago. Still getting used to it. Um, how are you doing?”

“Good. Girl’s Night, you know,” she shrugged and looked over at Marla who stood next to her, “We’re here every other Friday for some dancing and drinks,” when she turned her gaze back to Harry’s his soft eyes were intently watching her as she spoke. “Um, yeah. How are you? How’s school?”

Harry tipped himself forward to his toes and then lowered back down to his normal height, “Good. S’good. Already looking forward to Spring break,” he chuckled.

“Oh yeah! Me too. I’m not even in school anymore and I’m already making plans,” she chuckled.

Suddenly something dawned on Y/n. Her eyes went wide and then she squinted as she looked at her stepson, “Wait. You’re not 21. You’re too young to be here, Mister.”

Harry snorted a laugh and nodded, “I know. I know. But I’m turning 21 in two weeks. Figured I’d try out my fake ID once in my life. Before it’s too late,” he grinned.

“So you’ve never done this before?”

“Nope. First time. And of course, my stepmom is here when I do. Just my luck.”

Y/n laughed and her smile almost hurt her cheeks it was so wide.

A small jab to her side reminded her that Marla was still standing there, “Oh, sorry. Yeah. We should be heading back. We’re just over there if you want to stop by and say hi to the girls.” She pointed to the table where Cyndee and Gina were already watching the scene.

“Sure. Yeah. Of course. Um, it was really nice to see you, Marla,” Harry smiled gently at her and then looked back down to Y/n, “I’ll come by and say hi before I leave.”

The moment Y/n got to the table Cyndee pulled her arm, “Your stepson. Oof. He’s really attractive. Have you and him ever… you know?” She joked. Of course, Cyndee knew better.

“Oh stop it! Of course not! He’s a 20-year-old kid!” Y/n spoke in exasperation.

“You’re only 27, Y/n. You’re not much older. In fact, you’re closer to his age than you are to Leo’s,” Gina said.

Now Gina was usually the voice of reason so to have her on Cyndee’s side was ludicrous. Of course, she knew Cyndee was teasing but still.

Y/n took her seat and rolled her eyes as she took a healthy gulp of her sweet and tangy martini.

“And his haircut. God, he’s adorable like that. Damn,” Marla spoke next to her.

The music eventually began to grow louder and the martinis were going down far too easily. Especially after dancing and working up a sweat away from her seat. But one thing that didn’t change through the night was that her eyes kept finding Harry’s. It was like she couldn’t stop glancing over at him. But it didn’t help that every time she dared to peek he was looking at her already.

She couldn’t be sure that he was watching her dance but there was something about just the idea that he might be that had her swaying her hips a little more sensuously and using her hands to rub down her body like she was some kind of sexpot. But in truth, her dance moves were definitely subpar. But three martinis will tend to make one feel unnecessarily bold.

Y/n decided on just one more drink. A fourth martini to round out the night, plus she wanted to walk up to the bar near Harry and talk to him a little bit more. Just a friendly little tease about how he was only sitting and not dancing. Even his friend had gotten off the stool and danced with a young woman on the dance floor for a bit.

“You’re not really making the most of this special night, Harry,” she elbowed at his arm gently as she leaned over the bar to wave at Josh.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s eyes were a little red and he was quite obviously a little drunk.

She looked down at his wetted lips and back up to his pretty eyes, “You’re not even dancing. Just sitting here like a lump drinking beer after beer.”

“Ms. Y/n, another lemon drop?” Josh spoke as he put his hands on the bar top in front of her.

“Yes, please, Josh, and close it out too. I think all the girls are done for the night.” She laughed.

She turned back to look at Harry, “So no girls here you want to dance with? Even your buddy got out there a little bit. Where is he by the way?”

Harry turned around and looked over his shoulder for his friend and shrugged, “Maybe shagging in the bathroom. Haven’t seen him in a while now that I think of it. And no. No girls here I want to dance with.”

Y/n pouted and tilted her head as she reached up to touch his hair again, “I’ve seen a bunch of pretty girls around your age here, Harry. Some even checking you out. You should get out there and dance a little. Really fully experience Murphy’s Lounge,” she looked over her shoulder and then leaned in to speak quietly, “It’s your last chance with your fake ID,” she smiled as she tugged his curl the smallest bit.

Harry smirked, “Child abuse!” Craning his neck away from her fingers, he patted at his hair as if the tiny tug had hurt.

She rolled her eyes as Josh returned with the drink and her card, “See you in a couple weeks.” He smiled at her before returning to the other customers.

Harry’s features became serious again, “You know him?”

Y/n sipped her martini and nodded, “Yeah. We’re here often enough. So, yeah.” She shrugged keeping her eyes on her adorable stepson. Okay, maybe it was more like adorably handsome stepson, but still.

“Come. I’m gonna put this away,” she lifted her card upward as she motioned him to follow her, “And you and I are going out there to dance a little. We’ll find you someone cute to groove with a little.”

She expected Harry to protest a bit but he didn’t. He stepped in behind her and followed her to her table with his beer in hand. He stayed close to her as she bent down to slip her credit card into her purse. The security in the room always watched their table so no one took their things or tampered with their drinks (and the nice little tip Y/n, by way of Leo, didn’t hurt either).

“Leave your beer here. We’re gonna need our hands free!” she giggled as she pointed at the table.

“You’re okay to leave your drinks out like this? Thought that was a big no-no.”

Y/n looked in the direction of the man standing a few feet away, “He’s watching over the table. Now come on!”

The floor was packed with warm bodies moving and gyrating. The music was loud and the rhythmic base could be felt underfoot. She’d long lost sight of the girls as she began to sway and raise her arms upward.

Harry stayed close to his stepmom’s side and shuffled around a bit. His body was a bit stiff but he laughed when Y/n grabbed his hands and made him spin, “Loosen up a bit! Come on, Harry!”

Rolling his eyes he grinned and began to dramatically move about, trying to feel the beat and push down how awkward his movements felt.

Y/n kept her hands on his to encourage him to move with her and they both laughed as Harry began to relax into it a bit. His big smile only widened as the song was switched up to something that felt quite naughty and suggestive.

She released his hands because it felt like he was getting the hang of it. Not to mention she was beginning to enjoy the way his big hands fit around hers. And that couldn’t happen.

She turned around and continued swinging her hips and, moving with the rhythm as best she could. Long moments went by and she closed her eyes and allowed herself to get back into the swing of dancing and feeling the freedom and excitement of her night.

A hand pulled at her hip from behind and she opened her eyes and turned to see her stepson towering over her from behind. She hadn’t expected the sudden grip he had on her so she turned in confusion causing his palm to fall away. Harry looked over her shoulder and then dipped down to speak into her ear, “A man came over and was just about to try something with you. Wanted to discourage him a bit. Sorry.”

Y/n followed where he was looking and there was indeed a man there looking at her. And it wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary for this to happen. She dealt with these things well usually. Sometimes she’d dance a little and flirt a little but that was it. It didn’t bother her. It was all in fun.

She chuckled and pulled at Harry’s shoulder to speak in his ear, “You don’t have to worry about me, Harry. I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl. But thank you.”

Harry licked his lips and turned his face toward her to speak, “I know you’re all grown up. Just didn’t want to see that with my own eyes is all.” His words were spoken close to her ear, his deep baritone vibrating from her neck and over her ear as she turned to look at him, only he didn’t move his face away and their gazes connected for a moment longer than felt innocent.

She swallowed and a small smile plucked upward on her lips, “Okay. Do you want to stay close then? Protect from the predators while I dance?” Her smile widened and she laughed but Harry’s smirk felt like something just the opposite of funny as he looked down over her face and to her neck and then over her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” his smirk remained as he shook his head and then in a surprise motion turned her around to face away and put both hands at her hips as they began dancing together.

She could feel his heat from behind her and his fingers held onto her hips possessively but she liked it. Especially when her hips moved to the beat and Harry’s hips moved behind her. He wasn’t pressing himself into her backside but she could feel him moving with her. He was keeping a polite distance. Though, everything that was happening was very inappropriate.

It was inappropriate because she liked it. Because this attractive young man behind her was looking at her in a way she noted was not innocent. Because she’d been obviously flirting with him at the bar. Because Harry was her stepson.

When the beat dropped low and the song slowed to something even more provocative and playful they both slowed and she felt Harry’s thumbs on the bit of skin exposed between the bottom hem of her blouse to just above her skirt’s waistline. His grasp on her skin was burning into her flesh, his fingers gently brushing and then squeezing at her.

“You’re not a bad dancer,” Harry remarked into her ear and she felt his chest press into her back.

And without thinking too deeply about it, or perhaps it was the martinis that left her so uninhibited, she dropped her head back and toward his mouth and felt his lips at her ear, “I’m a terrible dancer. But thank you anyway.” She laughed.

Harry chuckled into her ear, not backing away from how she’d leaned into him but instead pulling at her just enough that his fingers pinched her waist and she could feel him smile as he spoke against her ear, “Nothing about you is terrible, Y/n.”

His deep tone gave her a chill and goosebumps traveled down her neck and over her bare arms. Her good sense had been momentarily suspended as she smiled and dared to move her bottom into his hips.

When she heard his groan in her ear she closed her eyes and placed her hands over his, pressing his hands flat over her waist so she could feel his long fingers under hers, feel his warm palms digging into her skin.

“Better stop. I’m getting a little,” Harry suddenly backed off, his hands releasing her hips and she turned to look up at him as he ran a hand through his hair. He was flushed and his pupils were large, making his soft greens appear dark and heavy as he looked at her with an unmistakable glint of lust. She was sure she looked the same.

“Of course. Yeah. It was fun, though,” she smiled as she began to head back to the table. Harry followed.

They slid into the booth and took their drinks, letting the music of the bar fill in the gaps of their silence.

Y/n realized she was wet. She scolded herself inwardly. Her stepson was off-limits. Hell, to her most men were off limits because she was married (despite her open marriage). But especially Harry. She didn’t know if she should apologize or just let everything that had happened slip away without acknowledgment.

They were both drinking and so that had something to do with her behavior. With his. But mostly hers because she was the stepmom. She should have known better.

“Sorry we didn’t find you a cute girl to dance with,” she offered as she rounded her eyes and grinned, trying to make light of everything and ignore what had just happened between them.

Harry shook his head and looked down at his beer, then shifted his eyes to hers, “I think we did find me a cute girl to dance with,” he licked his lips and huffed a laugh shaking his head again as he lifted his beer.

“I’m done done done! Some guy bought me two shots. On top of the four cocktails I had. I’m fucked. I need to get out of here so I can crash into bed. You okay to leave with me?” Marla was suddenly plopping down at the table as she slurred her speech.

Y/n laughed, glad for the interruption. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Harry’s comment, “Yeah. We can get out of here. Where’s Gina and Cyndee?”

Marla pointed at the edge of the dance floor. Two men flanked them with drinks in hand.

“As you can see, they’re fine.”

Marla, Y/n, and Harry stopped by to say goodbye to Cyndee and Gina before leaving the loud bar. The night air was sobering as she used her Uber app to call for a taxi. Harry stayed with them, like the gentleman he was until their ride showed up.

Marla flung herself into the car as Y/n squeezed Harry’s arm, “Thanks, Harry. I’ll see you… I don’t know when, but this was fun! Yeah? Oh! It’ll probably be for your birthday, right? Party at our house. That’s right,” Y/n was mostly talking to herself. They were throwing him a party. Of course, it was going to be a big bash. Tons of college kids and family and drinking since he was turning 21.

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Weekend after next. Saturday. I think I’ll come over Friday night and stay the whole weekend.”

. . .

Harry had always liked Y/n. She was sweet to him from the start. Right off he could tell she wasn’t like Leonardo’s other girlfriends. He’d gone through a lot of them and when he decided he liked Y/n enough to keep around, Harry was genuinely happy about it. His dad was kind of cold and overly structured at times but he always took care of his family and Harry wouldn’t mind having Y/n around. He was 19 when he met her.

Harry’s mom left Leo when he was just a boy. She remarried years later and Harry hadn’t seen her so happy ever. He chalked it up to his dad’s standoffish behavior. He barely showed Harry, love, even. But It was okay for Harry that way. His mom was warm and raised him well. She showed him more love than he’d ever need in a lifetime. She made up where his dad lacked.

So for that, Harry did feel a bit sad, for Y/n, who had such a bright smile and contagious laugh, to marry such a cold creature as his father. The kind that his mother left. His friends joked that Y/n was a gold-digger and they urged him to try and mess around with her. See how far he could take it. But that was out of the question. Not because his stepmom wasn’t smoking hot, but because she was his stepmom. There was just so much wrong with that.

It did irk him, though, that he found her so pretty. But it wasn’t just that. She was smart too. She was easy to talk to and she could keep up with Harry’s little goofy jokes and she never took herself too seriously. Despite having her lips painted red and wearing high-fashion couture courtesy of Leonardo Styles, she was fun and kind.

Harry also benefited from his dad’s money, though. Just because he opted to live with his mother until college didn’t mean he didn’t have everything he wanted. A nice car, nice clothes, vacations with friends, concerts, sporting events, the newest cellphone. Leo didn’t bat an eye if Harry wanted something. And eventually even gave him a credit card to use for anything he wanted.

Yeah, Leo Styles was fucking wealthy. Dirty wealthy. The kind that people hate to see because it’s so excessive and unnecessary that it’s ugly.

But what could Harry do? His dad was a little cold and filthy rich. He didn’t control how his dad dealt with his money, though plenty of people also lumped Harry in with all that. Assumed he was some spoiled rotten brat who’d grow up like his father.

And that was just the thing, though. His dad wasn’t mean or bad per se. He was just rich because of the Styles’ family fortune. And he rarely showed any emotion. His dad did do nice things for the community and donated to good causes, threw fundraisers, and funded schools for children with special needs and gymnasiums for the local children who didn’t have a place to go and play freely.

And he wanted a wife that was smart and pretty. Someone with a brain who could handle a good conversation with grace. Harry understood the arrangement well. There was no love involved but it was a marriage of convenience for both of them. No harm, no foul. Harry didn’t mind it. Others seemed to have heavier opinions about it, though.

“Damn, Harry. You gotta do something about that. She keeps looking over here at you. While she looks like that? Let’s get your v-card taken care of once and for all.”

“Stop it, Jay. She’s my stepmom.”

“So? You told me yourself she’s just married to your dad for the money-“

“No, that’s not what I said. And it doesn’t matter what kind of thing she and my dad have going on. It’s not gonna happen.”

“God look at her. She’s fucking fine, Harry. She wants you too. I can tell. Look you don’t have to take my advice but this one,” he said as he gestured toward Y/n, “She’s a tiger in bed. I guarantee. Look at her move. Bet she could show you a thing or two.”

Harry shoved Jay and shook his head as he looked away before he was caught staring at his stepmom again.

She was hot. Her skirt was short and her little top kept riding up so he could get the tiniest peek of her waistline each time she raised her arms. Harry didn’t want to let his mind wander to those kinds of places. He’d already recognized how gorgeous she was. Liked her personality and how funny she was. If she were younger and not his stepmom, maybe. Maybe.

“Rebecca’s over there. I’m gonna go dance with her a bit. Sheila is too. You should come out and dance! Meet someone! Get laid!”

Harry sighed and sipped his beer as he leaned away from Jay’s arm, “No thanks.”

He did want to get laid of course. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have found a willing participant. It just hadn’t ever happened. He’d messed around a bit but in all honesty, Harry had a hard time wrapping his mind around a quick fling or something that was only sex. He liked connection and love. Wanted that whole thing with someone before getting to that point in the relationship. He knew it was silly to take it so seriously. And it wasn’t like keeping his virginity was his goal. It was just that he wanted it to be with someone special. Yeah, he was a bit of a sap like that.

But no one would know it really. That Harry was a big sap. A virgin at almost 21. Only his closest friends knew and they were sworn to secrecy. People assumed Harry had had lots of sex. That he was fucking people left and right. Because Harry was a flirt. He was super smooth and confident and charming. The kind of man people would imagine just had tons of sex. Plus he was incredibly attractive.

When Y/n was suddenly stood next to him at the bar, sweat at her hairline and soft lips with a cute smile as she spoke to him closely about how he was just sitting at the stool, not making the most of his first time in a bar with a fake ID, he felt his stomach twist. Maybe it was her scent, or the alcohol coursing through his veins, or the way she kept looking at him while she was dancing. Whatever it was, he knew he’d just moved into dangerous territory in his mind.

But she pulled at his hair and licked her lips and stood close so she could speak in his ear and he was easily convinced to finally get up and go dance with her.

Dancing wasn’t really a big deal to him. He wasn’t shy to dance. He honestly didn’t care all that much what people thought of him. He just didn’t want to get out there and dance while she was dancing like that. While she was looking at him in that way. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her. Something had slipped out of its normal position for Harry that night. He was thinking of his stepmom in very inappropriate ways and he was powerless to stop the indecent thoughts he had about her body and her lips and her voice. It was so wrong.

When he turned her around and put his hands on her hips he allowed his fingers to wander over her skin to the very spot he’d been watching each time she lifted her arms. But this time he pushed the material up to give the pads of his fingers access. And she didn’t stop him.

Her hair smelled good and when he spoke against her ear she got goosebumps. Fucking goosebumps from his voice in her ear.

But then the unthinkable happened and she pressed herself into his front. And luckily she was just off to the left a bit because had she been to the right another inch or so she’d have felt him. He was thick under his dark jeans and it was because of his stepmom.

Her skin and her lips and her hair and the way she smelled and reacted to him. But he had to stop. He backed away knowing that it was the smart move. Hating that it was the smart move.

He came down the shower drain imagining Y/n on her knees with his cock down her throat, gagging and urging him to go in deeper that night after the bar. He closed his eyes and yanked himself and he orgasmed so embarrassingly fast to the image of her. His stepmom. That was the first time he’d masturbated to Y/n’s image. And it felt dirty. It felt forbidden and disgusting.

But then he did it again the following evening in his bed. He was thankful for having his own room in the frat house. Stroking his cock as his thighs quivered and his head was thrown back into the pillow under him, imagining Y/n riding his cock and showing him what she liked had him gasping as he came all over himself.

He tried to move on and get things back to normal in his brain about her. The way they were before that night at the bar. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Part of that was because of how she responded to him, flirted with him. The way she was looking at him and how she danced with him. He knew he didn’t imagine it. She was into it. And now that he knew that… well, the result left Harry tugging one out to his stepmom every night thereafter.

. . .

The party was going to be big. Leonardo told Harry to invite everyone he wanted. And of course, he and Y/n invited their friends too.

There was a DJ, a catering staff with bartenders and lots of presents.

Y/n was helping with the setup. Friday was busy for her, the day before the party. She’d almost forgotten about Harry mentioning he’d be coming on Friday to stay the whole weekend. Almost.

In fact, she hadn’t forgotten at all. She tried pushing that memory down but it was still there, underneath everything. Her nerves were wild as she helped direct some of the landscapers and people bringing gifts in from the guests. Tables and chairs, and a dance floor laid near the area where the DJ would be set up. Speakers were placed all over the estate so music could be heard no matter where anyone was.

She was in sweat shorts and a tank top and tennis shoes with no makeup. She had wanted to shower and get freshened up a little at least. Before Harry arrived. Though, she wasn’t entirely sure he actually would come that evening as he said.

But then she laughed at herself worrying so much over how she looked to her stepson. A silly silly girl, she thought to herself. Who cares? Why should she care? She was doing all this for his birthday party anyway. And she was his stepmom.

Looking down at the placement of the dance floor tiles being installed she allowed her mind to drift to that night at the club. His warm skin, his deep voice. The way he handled her like he knew what he was doing… She hated that she had been allowing those kinds of thoughts to trickle in about him. Hated, hated that two days ago when she had sex with Leo it was Harry she was thinking about.

She felt like a nasty and disgusting woman. A pervert.

In the early afternoon, the landscapers had gone and the garden looked like it was ready to be filled in with hundreds of people ready to party. She was proud of the way it turned out. It all looked great.

But she was hungry. She’d eat then shower. Hopefully, before Harry arrived. If he arrived that evening.

The chef’s kitchen had a lovely granite island with unstained walnut and wide plank hardwood floors. The refrigerator was ridiculously large. Opening up the state-of-the-art appliance she peered inside trying to find something quick to eat. She planned on having cheese tortellini later on. Leo was out for the day and told her not to wait up. That he would be back late. Some conference or something. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be gone for hours or days. She enjoyed the quiet and loved to eat simple dishes when he wasn’t around. Things that she craved like macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, or cheesy tortellini, and a bottle of wine.

She settled on yogurt and a double serving of granola as she sat at the island. She just needed an in-between lunch and dinner snack to tide her over.

Just before she scooped her last bite into her mouth she heard footsteps and then his voice, “Anyone home?”

She quickly scrambled off her stool and stood up just as he entered the kitchen. His dark curls were perfectly placed on his head and he wore a colorful Hawaiian-style shirt and black jeans with leather Chelsea boots.

“Hi! Yeah, was just eating a snack. Uh, make yourself at home, Harry!” Her tone was a bit too perky and she cringed at how silly she sounded.

Harry smiled gently and nodded as he dropped his gaze to her legs and back up, “Yes ma’am. Just gonna take this up to my room first.” He lifted his duffle bag, “Looks really good out there,” gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, “Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, so glad you like it. It was some work to get everything just right. The guys setting up were so great, though. There are still a few more things to finish up tomorrow but I think for now we’re on track. But um…” she walked to the sink to rinse her bowl out as she looked over her shoulder at Harry, “I’m, uh… just headed to take a shower, though. Haven’t had the chance yet today. So…” she trailed off her sentence. None of what she was saying mattered to him at all. She was sure of that.

Harry puffed out a quick little laugh, “Okay. Yeah. Well, I’ll be in my room.”

Her shower was delightful but her nerves weren’t soothed. She was wound up tight and now that her stepson was here in her house, alone with her… she closed her eyes to compose herself. A ridiculous woman. A dirty and perverted creep. Who thinks of their stepson in this way? It’s absolutely disgusting. Immoral. Depraved. Evil. But it had all begun with that night and the way he danced with her. Innocent. Until it wasn’t.

She stayed in her room for a while. Not sure how she should go about acting casually in front of Harry. After that night at the bar, how could she? They had crossed a line. She had crossed a line. She took responsibility for this whole mess in her mind. She was the one at fault. Harry was only 20. Well, 21 now. Technically his birthday was today.

Fuck! She’d forgotten to wish him happy birthday!

Pulling her leggings up and slipping on a t-shirt she huffed as she paced the room. Well, now she had to go and tell him and also apologize for the state she was in when he arrived and how she’d forgotten and…

Calm down. He probably doesn’t even care, Y/n.

Knocking at his cracked-open bedroom door she peeked in to see that Harry wasn’t in there. She looked down the hallway and for some strange reason she stepped into his room and her eyes landed on his laptop that was open.

Porn.

He was watching porn. Y/n let out a surprised laugh and shook her head. She was overstepping so many boundaries. She looked at the screen as she moved away, intending on leaving his bedroom and going to find him when her eyes landed on the title of the video he had up.

Stepmom and Stepson Share a Bed

Her pulse grew fast and her palms began to sweat. Of course, perhaps that meant nothing. Perhaps that was just something he was watching that he found hot and didn’t realize it was stepmom porn or something…

She backed herself out of the room quickly but when she felt his hands on her shoulders and his voice, that fucking voice that sounded like sex, “You okay? Nearly ran me over-“

But he stopped short, a sharp inhaled breath into his lungs cutting off his words. He looked at the bed where his laptop was open and realized what she’d seen. He’d been saving his favorite stepmom porn videos lately. This one was just up. He wasn’t actually watching it before he’d stepped out of the room. It had just been on the screen when he closed out the Word doc he was working on for an essay at school.

“Fuck.” He whispered and released her shoulders, “Y/n, I… look that was just-“

Y/n turned with wide eyes and held her hand up quickly, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have come in here. I was looking for you to um… I was gonna wish you a happy birthday, and I… I’m the one that should be sorry. That…” she pointed toward his bed, “I shouldn’t have seen that.”

Harry was embarrassed. He felt like crawling under the bed and staying there til the day he died. Never to be seen or heard from again. He was so careless to leave that up like that.

He swallowed and ran his hands over his face and shook his head, “Oh my god. Fuck.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Y/n placed her hand on his forearm and pulled one of his arms down, “Look at me.”

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her like she asked, “No worries okay? That was just nothing. It’s just porn. Everyone looks at porn. It’s normal. Okay?”

“Watching stepmom porn is normal?”

Y/n swallowed. She didn’t think he’d directly come out and say that, “Well… I mean… sure. If there’s a category on Pornhub for it that means someone likes it. You’re not the only one.” She tried to laugh but it died in her throat when Harry clenched his jaw and tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling.

“And besides,” her fingers tightened over his arm, causing him to look back down at her, “it’s not like that’s about me anyway. Come on… it’s just porn. So don’t-“

“Of course, it’s about you, Y/n. Why else would I be interested in that kind of thing?”

She let go of his arm and she felt like she could faint. She grasped onto the door jamb and wobbled as she looked down at her feet to steady herself and then back up at Harry.

“Are you okay? Here, let’s sit.” Harry took her arm from the door jamb and slowly guided her to her sit down on his bed where he promptly shut his laptop and moved the forsaken thing away from them, hidden from view.

“I’m okay,” she put her hands up and blinked her eyes as she turned to look at Harry next to her on the bed. “I didn’t expect that is all. That it had anything to do with- I just…”

“But that night at the club. That was… well… haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I know that’s inappropriate.”

Y/n bit her bottom lip and nodded before taking a deep breath, “Yeah. I guess. Me too.”

“You too? What?”

She turned to look at his verdant crystal eyes, “I can’t stop thinking about it. And it is inappropriate. And I take all the blame. It was my fault that it even got as far as it did. I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry shushed her and took her hand, “No. Don’t be sorry. This isn’t just on you. I’m an adult too, Y/n. This is on me just as much. So, I’m sorry. I feel like I probably pushed it that night. I was the one that touched you and made up that story about that guy.”

She recollected that night and the short conversation they had about the guy that was trying to dance with her when Harry had put his hand on her hip. The man was looking at her so she thought what he said was true. She hadn’t even questioned it, “You mean that man… that he wasn’t… you did…” she couldn’t finish her thought. It was. A lot. That revelation felt dense with just enough muscle to peel away some kind of layer of wool that had been placed securely over the situation in safety.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I don’t know what got into me that night. I really didn’t mean for any of this- It’s… my fault. I started it. I’m really sorry.”

She felt like they were somewhat on even ground now. He’d done that. She wouldn’t absolve herself of blame. No, not at all. She was still the heavy in this situation. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel exonerated by his admission. She was seven years older and his stepmom. She was ultimately to blame.

“God, Harry. Please. I’m…” she paused. His gaze on hers was hard to break. His soft mint eyes made him appear so pure and blameless. But then his deep raspberry lips, darkly pigmented against his face were seductive. Harry was like a siren. An enchanter. He was beautiful.

“No. You’re… amazing and I’ve just gone too far. It’s okay. This is silly,” he laughed and disconnected their eye contact as he looked downward, “This is-“ he looked back up at her and felt his heart thrum hard in his ribs, “silly.” His last word, just a whisper. A word he didn’t believe.

She shook her head, keeping her eyes on his, “And you surely have other options anyway. It’s just a phase. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to pick from. The charmer you are,” she chuckled lightly trying to lighten the mood and suggest it was temporary. That he could be with any young college girl he wanted. Probably had someone lined up for his birthday party even.

Harry’s brows cinched together and he shook his head, “No. I don’t. You don’t know this about me but… I’m actually…” he sighed and looked upward not wanting to see her expression when he told her, “virgin.”

That was not what she expected. Not at all. First of all, Harry Styles was beautiful. He was a sight! A paragon on legs with a gorgeously calming voice and the sweetest disposition anyone could ever dream of. He was perfection if there ever was such a thing. His beauty went before him but his grace and kindness were what made him so appealing. So utterly attractive. How was it that this astonishingly amazing man, absolutely as nice as anyone could ever be, was a virgin? Not to mention he had his dad’s money at the helm. There was nothing about Harry that wouldn’t get him laid in an instant.

“Virgin? Seriously?” She stuttered, “Umm… but not that there’s anything wrong with that…” She almost didn’t believe him as she asked. They’d never discussed this of course, but in her mind, it was quite impossible that he had never had sex.

“It’s true. Yeah. S’embarrassing but I really want it with… not just anyone. I don’t know. It’s not like I haven’t done anything… but I’m not like I’m sleeping with whomever I can.”

Y/n nodded. She got it. As a female that was a conundrum she had as well.

Well, it was slightly different but the basics of why she didn’t just go and sleep with anyone was the same when she was his age. It was because she felt deeply about things. Wanted it to mean something. It didn’t always after she learned that others didn’t feel the same way she did. She learned that getting hurt was sometimes part of relationships. Part of sex. As sad as that was.

“Oh.” She smiled at him and spoke softly, “That’s how I used to feel too. Thought it should be special. But then when I thought it was going to be, the guy didn’t care so it turned out it was only special for me. I realized it didn’t really matter what I wanted. I can’t control what everyone around me wants.”

Harry felt his heart pinch at her words. That wasn’t fair. And that was exactly what had him so worried. That he would give it his all only to have the other person feel as if it was nothing important. Just a moment in time.

But it was a big moment in time. It should mean something. Both people should feel its presence and its significance.

They remained silent for a moment as Harry threaded his fingers in between Y/n’s and licked his lips, “Are we alone?”

She turned her head to look at the man. The whole scenario was unbelievable to her. They’d both admitted attraction and that they’d overstepped boundaries. They also both felt bad about it all. But what did that mean? Did that mean she should just stand up and tell him not to worry about it and not to bring it up ever again? Tell him she won’t say anything if he doesn’t say anything? Give him a hug and a pat on the back?

Yes. That is exactly what she should do.

Unhooking her fingers from his she leaned in and hugged him before standing up from his bed, “Your dad will be home late. So, it’s probably better if I go downstairs and do something to keep me busy. This,” she moved her fingers to point at him and then herself, “we can just chalk up to some bad timing and hormones or whatever. Don’t worry about it. I think it’ll be better for us to just pretend it never happened.”

Harry stood up abruptly, his height overtaking Y/n’s significantly with how close he stood, “Just like that? Just forget that we both said those things?”

She took a step back as she kept her eyes on his, “Yeah. Don’t you think that’s for the best? I mean, Harry… I’m your stepmom.”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and frowned as he put his hands on his hips and moved away from the bed. He walked toward his door and turned back, “You can forget it and pretend it never happened if you like. I won’t be, though. I’m not going to say anything but I’m not going to pretend this didn’t happen either.”

Her heart dropped. She hoped he’d just brush it all off and try to move on. That was the best way to go about all of this. It’s not like they could have some kind of affair anyway. He was too young and his dad was her husband. It would be crazy to do such a thing.

“I mean… what did you want here? I feel like moving on is the best thing for both of us.”

Harry breathed out an incredulous laugh and shook his head, “I don’t know. Honestly. Thought…” he looked down at his shoes, “No one needed to know. No one would know.”

“No one needed to know what?”

Harry lifted his gaze up to Y/n’s, “If we… kissed or… anything. It would be easy. Dad’s never home. And you’re so-“ he blinked his eyes and she watched as he honed in on the spot where her breasts were under her t-shirt. She hadn’t put a bra on before slipping the shirt on in her haste to wish him a happy birthday, “Kind and patient. Feel like that would be really nice.”

She felt like her jaw was on the floor. Felt like that would be really nice. She couldn’t argue that. It would be really nice. A man with a warm heart in her bed. Someone she could show what she wanted without worry that he’d be offended. A man that looked like Harry. Young and with all that stamina. She imagined that he probably would want it a lot, especially now that she knew he was a virgin. That he’s been so neglected and that the moment he got a taste of it he’d never want to stop…

She shook her head before she allowed her mind to go too far into that hole, “We can’t, Harry. You understand that right,” she bit her lip. She wanted to grab him by his hips and smear her mouth over his as she pushed him into his bed and had them reenact the stepmom and stepson share a bed porno he had up on his laptop.

Harry nodded, his face set in an unreadable expression, “Of course, Y/n. I wouldn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want. I’m sorry.”

She hated that he kept saying sorry. That he felt bad for any of this when it was on her as well, “Please, Harry. Stop saying you’re sorry. You’re not to blame. I just think we should keep level heads here. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

His breathing deepened so much that Y/n could see the way his chest rose and fell under his shirt. She noted his gaze taking her in, not just her eyes, but her lips and her neck, her hips where the shirt stopped and her leggings showed under, “Oh… Y/n…” he shook his head, “I’ve definitely not been innocent. If my porn history isn’t enough to apologize for then my dirty thoughts surely are. You’d certainly agree that I should be apologizing if you knew the sorts of things I fantasize about with you.”

Y/n looked down. She couldn’t take his saturating gaze and these admissions any longer, “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. It’s okay that it’s private and as long as it’s not acted on… you shouldn’t feel bad.”

“Of course.” Harry gestured toward the hallway as he looked at Y/n. There was nothing more to be said on the matter. Harry knew she was right.

She nodded as she exited his room and heard him close the door behind her as she stepped out into the hallway. All she wanted to do was to tell him happy birthday. But instead, she left confused and frustrated and far more guilty than she had been before. She had no idea how to navigate this. But she only knew that no one could know their secret.

. . .

The caterers arrived before everyone else to get things set up. Small little aluminum warmers lit to keep the food warm. The bar was set up with a washing station and glassware (none of that plastic stuff Leo had said). The sound equipment was tested. Everything was going to be amazing, Y/n thought. For Harry’s 21st birthday party, this was surely going to be a great time.

She hadn’t seen Harry after their encounter in his bedroom the day before. He’d been quiet the rest of the evening. He didn’t even come down to eat.

Leo arrived home just after midnight and today he was working a little, tying up loose ends for something Y/n didn’t bother to pay attention to. Her mind was elsewhere anyway. Her thoughts kept wandering to Harry. Was he okay? Certainly, he wouldn’t be too upset. They hadn’t even really done anything. And they shouldn’t! Plus he was so young and he would have plenty of time to find someone special. She couldn’t be that for him. Certainly not.

Just before she’d had the chance to run upstairs to her room to get her party outfit in order she caught a glimpse of Harry as he was leaving the kitchen. His dark curls were messy. He looked like he had just gotten up.

She laughed to herself. A typical 21-year-old. Sleeping half the day away so he could stay up late and party with his friends tonight. She felt like that was a good sign.

Her dress was modest and what she deemed appropriate. She had originally selected something different for the party, but after her talk with Harry the night before, she went a more conservative route. Perhaps he’d ignore her when he saw the other pretty girls his age that he knew at the party. She hoped there would be someone else that caught his eye. Someone that could make him forget all about whatever it was that happened between them.

She pulled her hair into a low bun, smoothing the bits that always tended to poke out from a sleek do. It was easy to keep her hair this way. And it was more mature too she felt. Rather than keeping her hair down in styled waves or curls, the low bun was a nod to her stage in life. The married woman with a stepson stage.

She decided to not wear perfume or lipstick either. She wanted to do anything she could to fade into the background for the party. She’d be running around anyway, at the beck and call of the people working the party should they need anything. She knew it was probably unnecessary as the people they’d hired were all professionals and some of the best in the industry. But she felt she would need to keep herself busy.

The first to arrive were Leo’s parents (Harry’s grandparents) and then Harry’s mom, Anne. Anne had been around a lot for the last few days helping Y/n get everything sorted. Y/n was actually quite fond of Anne. Harry’s mother was a saint. She loved that her relationship with Leo’s ex was so good.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Anne smiled as she backed away from the hug Y/n had given her.

“Oh! I think he might still be getting ready. I believe he slept in late. Saw the back of his head about an hour ago and he appeared to be half asleep,” Y/n laughed.

As more of the guests arrived, Y/n noted the young women and men Harry had invited. Plenty of attractive and exciting college kids.

The music was started and drinks were being served but she still had not seen Harry. Nor Leo for that matter (though she wasn’t surprised to have not seen Leo – probably absorbed in his work).

Going inside and tiptoeing her way up toward Harry’s bedroom to urge him to come out and join his own party she found that his door was closed. She applied two knocks to the wood as she put her ear in close to hear anything.

When it was silent and the door didn’t open, she knocked again. Harder, “Harry? You in there? Party’s getting started without you!”

Suddenly the door was pulled open and before her was her stepson looking like he was ready to kill. Not kill in the way that was violent, but kill with his looks. Kill with the way he’d dressed and left half his buttons undone at the top, a sheer milky white shirt with cream embroidered flowers draping away from his chest and allowing peeks of his tattoos. Black, well-fitted jeans and black Chelsea boots. His signature cross necklace hung between his pecs.

“Wanted to be fashionably late. You know… birthday boy and all,” he raised his brows unamused at Y/n and she felt the condescension drip from his words, “After you… step mummy,” he gestured for her to lead the way.

She was stunned by his tiny attitude. It wasn’t much. He hadn’t been particularly rude but his tone and his cheek were new. He was normally very polite with her. Very sweet and all smiles.

She nodded as she began to head down the stairs, Harry behind her. The moment they walked out to the garden Harry headed in a direction away from her. Without a word. But that was good. He should go and have fun with his friends.

Y/n had invited Marla to the party, which she was thankful for. Marla kept her mind off the tall young man of the hour.

“I can never get over how fantastic this place is. And look at all this,” Marla waved her wine glass above her head as she gestured toward the decorations, “This looks magical! When I fall in love and get married, can I have my wedding here?”

“You have to find the right man first. Ryan’s not it.” They laughed together.

Y/n wasn’t nearly as busy as she thought she’d be. As she hoped she’d be. She drank a few glasses of wine and checked on the guests but Anne had most things under control as did the staff that were taking care of everything.

She kept wishing she had more to do because her eyes kept searching for Harry. She spotted him over and over again. He was drinking whisky, with his friends laughing, and of course, there was one girl he was talking to.

She scolded herself at the touch of jealousy she felt. The girl was Harry’s age. Lovely young thing. But when she saw just the two of them talking as Harry had a hand flat on the bench behind the girl she hated how close they were standing. How flirty he looked. She especially didn’t like that the girl would reach out for his buttons and pluck at them every so often.

But why should she be jealous? He was a 21-year-old guy and he was her stepson. It was quite silly to feel anything other than happiness for him.

The cherry on top was after Leo gave his speech and everyone toasted and then the DJ began to play house music. The dance floor was packed and Y/n watched on as Harry and the young girl danced together, much in the same way he’d danced with her two weeks prior. His lanky body moved behind hers, his hand at her hip, his face close to her ear as he said god-knows-what to her.

She wanted to go out and dance too. There was no reason for her to not dance. Just because Harry was out there, enjoying his time, she didn’t need to wallow at the edge and watch the fun.

“Let’s dance!” Y/n pulled Marla with her to the dance floor.

It was just like their normal Friday night outings and since the night before they didn’t get to go out because Y/n had been busy with the party setup, tonight would be girl’s night for her and Marla.

The two laughed and moved their bodies to the beat, holding their wine glasses as level as they could so it didn’t slosh out.

She was finally having fun. Finally felt the anxiety and the guilt melt away as she danced and drank a little more wine. She had been silly to be jealous or upset. There was no reason for any of that.

But then she saw his eyes on hers. He hadn’t been looking at her all night. She figured that was for the best. But now he was watching her as he danced with the girl in the white mini-dress. His gaze was cold. His face set in a glowering smirk as he spoke something to the girl. She watched as the young woman leaned her head back to look up at Harry and his lips nipped at the space just below her ear.

She felt she could vomit. It was too much. She thought she was okay but she didn’t want to see that. Didn’t want to watch as Harry kissed anyone else and looked at her with such disdain. Was he mad at her?

She excused herself to Marla and rushed into the big house, moving into the kitchen to set her glass down. There were people in the house. Chatting, laughing, and some even dancing inside.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she leaned over the island and tried to calm her brain. What was she doing? What was wrong with her?

Warm hands covered the tops of her shoulders and the deep rasp of her stepson was in her ear before she could even open her eyes, “I need to talk to you.”

She jumped in surprise and turned around quickly as Harry ticked his head toward the stairs and he began heading toward them. She followed behind, moving up the steps with him and she assumed he would want to talk in the hallway or his room but he continued walking past his door and to the other side of the house toward her bedroom.

Without even a pause he opened her door and entered her room as if he owned it. As if it were his room.

She followed in behind him, her face set in confusion. She couldn’t know what he was going to say or what he wanted to talk about.

“Was offered a blowjob,” he blurted out as he paced. “From Leslie. She’s cute and I’m… anyway… I wanted to tell you,” he stopped and looked at Y/n, moving toward her, “in case you wanted to… maybe you’d changed your mind or-“ he ran a hand through his hair.

“What?” She was stunned, “You… why are you telling me?”

“Because I want… you, Y/n.” He said with finality.

Harry was stood close with his pink lips parted as he looked down at Y/n. He was serious. He was dead serious and she was surprised. The young girl was pretty and she wanted to give him a blowjob… “Me? What about… Leslie? She’s so cute and-“

“Not as cute as you. Ever since that night, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He cocked his head and smirked, “And I like this look,” Harry moved his hand to the material of her dress gently before letting his hand drop down to his side, “Perfect length so no one gets any ideas about you. A modest silhouette. Your hair falling out of this bun you tried to hold it in,” his hand moved upward again to push the hair off her shoulder that had indeed come undone from the bun.

“You must have had too much to drink. I’m not what you’re looking for-“

“You are. You are exactly what I’ve been looking for. And I’m not drunk, Y/n. Not even close.”

Her breaths deepened as Harry’s hand stayed at her neck where he’d pushed her hair. His thumb rubbed over her pulse point slowly. And he was suffocating, crippling her resolve. Making her question her sanity. She couldn’t allow this. Could she?

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I can’t. We… we can’t.”

Harry licked his lips, “We can actually because no one would know. Want it to be you. Want you to show me. I trust you.” He didn’t lose his composure as his palm moved upward and his thumb brushed the outer corner of her mouth.

She closed her eyes and allowed her mouth to part the slightest. She didn’t know what she was doing. Letting him stand so close. Letting him speak to her about this. Letting him touch her lips. Letting his words sink into her core.

“Harry…” she breathed out his name as she felt the pad of his thumb press over her bottom lip. Her eyes remained closed. This wasn’t happening. If she kept her eyes closed she wasn’t here and this wasn’t happening. It was just a fantasy.

The trouble was though, that it was happening. And even with her eyes closed she could feel him and how he was standing so close she could smell the whisky on his breath and feel his body heat next to hers. Feel his thumb push past her lips the slightest as her tongue poked out to taste the tiniest bit. Felt his hand grip her face and his smooth mouth on hers and his hand on her waist and his chest pressed to hers.

She forced her fingers into his hair and moaned into his mouth but then- in a sudden moment of clarity, she pushed at his chest and shook her head, “This is wrong. We can’t, Harry. You get that, right?”

Harry backed away and looked down at his feet, “I do. You don’t want me.”

She nearly blurted out to him that that was incorrect. That she did want him. That she’d fantasized about him far too often but it was unhealthy and it could only lead to disaster.

Instead, she stayed quiet. He needed to drop this. She needed to stop this. It had gone too far.

When he left her room she sat down on her bed. Now she’d gone and kissed him. Tasted his lips and the way he kissed her felt so real and so passionate. She’d missed that bit of passion. That sort of enthusiasm. It wasn’t something Leo gave her at all. She didn’t even know it was something she was missing. But Harry had woken something up in her. Ever since that night. And now the kiss had felt like she was beyond getting back to ignoring that need she’d buttoned up and pushed down. She wanted more. But that couldn’t happen.

She was surprised by Harry’s gall too. He was quite pushy, which she hadn’t expected of him. Harry, who was so gentle and thoughtful and sweet was really adamant about pursuing her.

Her tummy was still warm and filled with butterflies. He’d kissed her. And she wanted to take it further but she couldn’t. That was out of the question.

. . .

When most of the guests had gone and the house grew quiet Y/n sat outside under the twinkle lights. She’d turn them off before going in and calling it a night but she wanted a few moments of peace with the last bit of the bottle of wine she’d worked her way through after Harry had gone and scrambled her good sense.

Good sense. What a laugh. As if she had any good sense after that night at the bar. It should have never gotten as far as it had.

Y/n was also sitting outside in hopes of making sure Leslie left before she went back in. Or at least gave Harry enough time to get his blowjob or whatever it was that was going on in his bedroom.

Because Y/n was well aware that Harry had her in there. He made a show of it in fact.

When she’d gotten back outside after calming herself from the kiss, Harry had Leslie against the side of the house with his tongue down her throat. And as much as she tried to ignore that and pretend she wasn’t bothered by it, she was bothered. It hurt her feelings but she shouldn’t feel hurt. Harry should be doing things with girls his age and losing his virginity to anyone that wasn’t his stepmom.

But she kept looking over at them and when she caught Harry gazing back at her as he kissed Leslie she could almost feel her hair singe in anger. He was doing it on purpose. To make Y/n jealous.

And before he brought her into the house he casually introduced Leslie to her and then leaned in to whisper to Y/n with his whisky breath, “Last chance.”

So, not only was she a little hurt she was a little pissed. Because he was being downright bratty with it.

Half of her hoped that Leslie would take his virginity and he’d get it out of his system and that would be that.

The other part of her, the depraved, nonsensical evil bit that she kept pushed deep deep down away from anyone, wanted to make him pay for being a little jerk to her. She imagined spanking him even, which was ridiculous because he was so much larger than she was. As if he’d somehow fit over her lap and bare his ass to her for a spanking. She laughed at her thoughts but they didn’t end there.

The more wine that wound its way into her bloodstream the filthier her fantasies got. He’d grow hard after she punished him and then she’d show him what a real blowjob was like. Make him forget all about Leslie. She’d let him feel her throat on him but wouldn’t allow him to come. Instead, then she’d pull him down by his hair between her legs and guide him over her, giving him specific instructions for cunnilingus. And he’d keep licking at her and begging for more of her even after she’d come. He wouldn’t want to stop tasting her but then she’d tell him to stop – that only good boys deserve more.

Of course, the fantasy ends with him begging her to take his virginity and then making him eat his come from her pussy since he came too fast, like the virgin he is.

Depraved. But god was she turned on just thinking about it. She bet he’d like all that too.

Plucking her bottle of wine up she flicked the lights off and went into the house. No sense in staying outside and hoping Harry was quiet enough when she went inside. Plus she was quite tipsy and just needed to be put to bed.

Putting the bottle down on the counter she heard Leo sitting in the living room on a call.

It was nearly 2 am so she was surprised he was chatting with anyone but she could tell it was something for work. Plans for a business trip.

Instead of waiting and talking to him, she made her way up to her bedroom. She slowly passed Harry’s room and noticed that there was a light on but no noises to be heard, thankfully.

And she wasn’t jealous. Of course, she wasn’t. What was there to be jealous of?

After a warm shower and slathering her body in lotion, she opened her ensuite bathroom door and stopped dead in her tracks.

“What are you doing in here?”

Harry was lying on her bed, sprawled out on top of her comforter wearing the clothes he wore at his party minus his boots.

Harry lifted his head and snorted a laugh, “Wanted to say g’night to my stepmom. But then I laid on your bed,” Y/n could hear the slur in his speech and saw the way his eyes floated in his sockets as he looked at her, “and it’s so comfortable.” He pressed his palms down and moaned at the feel before plopping his head back onto her stack of feather pillows.

She stood over him and placed her hands at her hips. She was thankful she’d put on her robe before stepping out of her room. Half the time she opted to walk around her bedroom naked.

“Well, goodnight, then Harry. It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed and the grin on his mouth widened as he spoke, “Mmm… but this feels so good. S’cozy right here.”

Y/n sat at the end of the bed and sighed. He was clearly drunk. Earlier he hadn’t been when she kissed him. Now, he was very clearly inebriated.

“Your bed is cozy too, though. You should go back to your room. Get some rest.”

Harry propped himself up by his elbows and planted his eyes on hers, “You’ve been in my bed? When?”

Shaking her head and laughing at the absurdity of this whole scenario she spoke, “I know your bed is comfortable because I helped Leo pick out your new mattress. It’s the same one as this.” She patted the bed under her.

Harry nodded slowly and she noticed his gaze at her cleavage so she tightened her robe just as there was a knock at her door.

A gasp fell from her lips and she shoved Harry off the bed, whispering, “Under the bed! It’s your father!”

Harry huffed a laugh and put his hands up in surrender, “Yes, ma’am.”

She hushed him as he scooted himself under her bed and Y/n ran to her bathroom door, “Yes!”

The door opened and Leo stepped in, a suitcase left in the doorway, “I just wanted to let you know I’ve got a sudden meeting tomorrow late morning so I’ve got to take the 5:00 am out to Savannah.”

Putting the towel up to her hair to act as if she’d just gotten out of the shower (she sort of had) she walked across the room to him, “Really? When will you be back?”

“Day after tomorrow. It’s a morning meeting, then golf, then dinner. Then the next morning I have a flight that gets me back in LA at noon.”

She smiled and slid her arms over his shoulders to bring him in for a quick hug and he caught her off guard by kissing her cheek and squeezing her back before pulling away, “Car’s outside waiting,” he ticked his head toward the door, “Tell Harry when he emerges tomorrow for me, will ya?”

When she shut her door and turned toward her bed she let out a breath of relief. She was glad Harry stayed quiet. But then she realized as she lifted her bed skirt that he’d fallen asleep down there.

Rolling her eyes she contemplated what to do. Leave him there? Wake him and help him back to his room? She really didn’t want to deal with getting him into his bedroom. Nor did she want to deal with a drunk Harry by waking him up. But ultimately her guilt wouldn’t let her leave him there on the floor. He deserved to sleep in a bed.

“Harry… come on… wake up. Leo’s gone,” she pushed at his arm gently, “Harry…” she said tunefully, elongating the yyyyyy at the end of his name.

Pulling at his arm she got him part of the way out from under her bed and lifted his arm up, “Come on… wake up,” she lightly patted his face and that seemed to do it.

Harry’s eyes opened up and landed on hers. Sparkling and green and soft. And drunk.

“Let’s get you up. Come on. Time for bed.” She helped him sit up and tucked herself under his arm and began to stand to help him upward. But he was dead weight.

“Can I please stay with you? Please, Y/n? Your bed is so soft.”

She looked at him as he spoke and she realized he was not going to make it to his room. He’d have to sleep on her bed.

But that was fine. She’d just put him in her bed and then go sleep in any of the other guest rooms. It was better than letting him sleep on the floor or attempting to walk him to his bedroom.

“You can sleep in my bed. That’s fine. Can you lift up with me?”

Harry’s smile took over his features and his pink lips looked wet and soft. He was super cute when he was drunk.

“For real?” Harry raised an arm and steadied himself with the edge of the bed, the other side assisted by Y/n as he was pushed upward to his feet.

“There we go. Okay…” Y/n nudged him to sit and Harry’s full weight fell onto the bed and he laughed.

He immediately went to grab at his pant button and Y/n paused and put her hand on his shoulder, “Uh, just lie down. I’ll go and get you some water. Be right back.”

She was doing her best. Truly. She was quite tipsy herself and her bed had been calling before Harry showed up in her room. And now here she was traipsing across the massive home to get her stepson a glass of water. She figured he’d appreciate that when he woke up in the morning. And she had hoped that by the time she returned to her room, he’d be asleep and she could sneak out and go to the nearest guest bedroom and crash there. She was tired.

But when she returned to her room, Harry had successfully pulled his pants and sheer button-up shirt off and was left in nothing but his grey boxer briefs. And he was not asleep.

Placing the water next to the side of the bed he was on, which was where she’d normally be sleeping she noted, Harry stretched his arms behind his head and smiled, “Hop in.”

She shook her head and laughed as she pulled her charger from the wall and grabbed her cell phone, “No, Harry. That’s not a good idea,” she turned off the lamp on the far side of the room and began to walk toward the door.

He sat up quickly, “Wait. You said… You’re not staying with me?”

Y/n turned to look at him, handsome and messy.

And her stepson she reminded herself.

“I’ll just be next door. Think it’s best we’re not sleeping in the same bed, Harry. Just lie down and-“

“No. Please,” Harry tried to pull himself out of the bed but his motions were lethargic and clumsy, “want you here. Just… stay with me. Please. I swear no funny business.”

She sighed and began to shake her head and repeat herself but when Harry started to place his long legs down onto the floor she rushed back to him so he wouldn’t hurt himself. That was her logic anyway. She didn’t want him to fall or crack his skull open.

Steadying him by his arms she pushed him back toward the bed, “Stay. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Harry hummed and reached up to put his fingers in her hair, “I’ll stay if you stay. If you go to the guest room I’ll just follow you like a puppy dog, Y/n.” His words were watery and his gestures were clumsy.

She closed her eyes and groaned. She was so tired. So tired. And she just wanted to lie down. And she certainly couldn’t have Harry attempting to follow her to another room and hurt himself by falling down the stairs or something.

“Fine. But you just go to sleep. I’ll stay here with you but you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep and behave.” She pointed at him.

Harry’s exaggerated grin returned as he laid his head back onto the pillow and watched her cross the room to turn off the last lamp.

Fuck, she cursed to herself under her breath. She’d forgotten to put on pajamas. She was naked under her robe.

But okay. No problem. She’d just leave her robe on and it would be fine.

Climbing into bed, on the odd side, she stretched her limbs as she laid flat and closed her eyes. She was just so tired.

“Thank you. For staying. I promise I’ll behave.”

. . .

Y/n’s alarm woke her up and she groaned and reached over to turn it off but instead, her palm found a bare, solid chest. She popped her eyes open and the events of the previous night had come rushing back. She let Harry sleep in her bed and she was reaching over toward where her phone normally was but she’d been on the opposite side of the bed.

Rolling over to press the alarm off she sighed as she snuggled back into her pillow. 6:45 am was too early to be up for a Sunday. She contemplated moving herself to a guest room since Harry was still asleep but her soft bed lulled her back into a deep sleep where her dreams were vivid and she found herself kissing Harry again. But this time, her dream took it further and she was on his lap and then they were in his bed. By any standards, it was a very good dream. A very good one.

So when she woke up for the second time that morning things were… different. Her head was not on her soft pillow and there was a hand on her bottom. She slowly came out of her easy dream state, still reeling from the kind of dream she’d just had of her stepson when she realized her cheek was smushed on Harry’s pec and it was Harry’s big palm on her bottom slowly, slowly, slowly moving down toward her thigh. He was awake.

Her dream-riddled brain mulled over what was happening. It was a slow rise but her awareness steadily stirred. Her robe had come undone and her thigh was over Harry’s. His chest was rising and falling gently and she realized her palm was over his heart, which she could feel thudding underneath. She had cuddled up to him like he was one of those body pillows.

It was nice. It felt soft and lazy and sweet to lie in her bed on a Sunday morning in the arms of a man. And the leftover remnants of her dream had her still feeling wound up.

Hesitantly, she moved her head to look upward and Harry’s hand halted when her gaze met his.

She could see him swallow and he spoke groggily, “Sorry. You were… I didn’t want to wake you.”

The way his sonorous voice reverberated from his chest against her skin and her shoulder made her meltier than she already was.

Her hand was still over his chest and she could feel his heart rate increase as he kept his eyes on hers, “It’s okay. Thank you for letting me sleep.” She was going to move. To get up and pull her robe securely around her body so he didn’t catch a glimpse of anything but she didn’t want to move. She wanted to bask in the heat of him for a little longer. To feel his fingers on her bare bottom for a few more moments. Perhaps to even feel him caressing her again. And maybe… just maybe…

She slid her palm up and scooted herself fully into his arms, her chest over his, and laid her head down against his shoulder, “Let’s just stay here a little longer. If that’s okay?”

Harry blinked his eyes and knew Y/n could feel the way his heart was lobbing around behind his ribs. His cock was already hard but she hadn’t figured that out yet and he didn’t want to scare her off because he did want to stay like that for longer. With her.

He pulled his arms around her, removing his hand from her bottom and bringing it up to wrap around her back, “That sounds perfect.” He was just glad she hadn’t moved too far up or her thigh would have come into contact with his erection and surely would have ruined the moment.

Y/n closed her eyes and indulged in the way his arms felt around her. Her bare hip was against his and it felt so salacious. So tender. Her breasts were pressed into his chest, with one of them uncovered and warm against his skin.

“Dad left for a meeting? On a Sunday?” Harry suddenly inquired. He had always been suspicious of his father’s frequent trips.

She nodded her head over his chest, “Yeah. Sometimes he has weekend meetings. It’s more like a golf outing than anything. Probably just some buddies getting together for some fun.”

“Hmm… You’re okay with him just heading out like that last minute?”

“Yeah. It’s normal. I’ve gotten used to it.”

He wasn’t sure that his father was a good husband to Y/n. He found it odd too that they had separate bedrooms. But he didn’t usually question it. However, this morning he was feeling soft toward her (well, soft emotionally… physically he was anything but soft) and wanted to protect her in some way.

Harry didn’t know how he was going to survive. His boner was only growing thicker and with the way she was wiggling over him, her thigh was nearly brushing against his –

Too late.

When she nudged at it, feeling him stiff against her thigh, she smiled to herself. She hadn’t looked down over his body but she half wondered if he was as turned on as she was. It was easier for her to hide what her dream had done to her and what being in his arms was causing to slip out from between her legs, but this pleased her.

“I’m sorry. That’s… I can’t help it.” Harry explained and Y/n lifted her head up and glanced down at where he was straining under his boxer briefs. It nearly startled her too. She hadn’t expected… that. And even though he was covered up with his underwear she understood that what he had going on there was… well she’d say he was a lucky guy and it was truly an outrage that there hadn’t been a lucky girl to try it out.

“Don’t apologize,” she looked back up at him and realized he’d been looking at her boob. The one not covered. And with the way she’d lifted herself upward to look down at him, her nipple was out for him to peek at.

She licked her lips and brought her hand down over his pec to lift herself further. Bot tits made their appearance and Harry groaned and looked away, “Sorry. Trying not to look.”

Gently putting her hand up to his jaw she turned his face to look at her, “Do you want to look?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he nodded, “Well, yeah. But I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“You’ve seen breasts before right?” Y/n laughed and slid her thigh against his thickened cock, this time on purpose.

Harry kept nodding, “Yes. Quite a few. But just not yours.” His eyes danced over her nipples and back up to her eyes, almost to make sure it was okay.

She loved his deep, raspy morning voice. Loved how gentle and intimate the moment felt.

“Did you see Leslie’s breasts last night?” Y/n teased with a smile as she lowered herself down, her naked nipples pressing into his warm skin.

Shaking his head no he laughed, “Nah. She passed out. If you thought I was drunk last night, should have seen her. Nothing happened. Wouldn’t have been able to even if we wanted.”

When Y/n felt Harry’s hand timidly return to her low back and then ghost over her ass she let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t remove her eyes from his. He was so pretty and he deserved to be put out of his misery she thought. A bad idea, yes. But to hell with it.

Sliding her thigh further over him she pushed herself to straddle him and sat up over him. Biting her lip and looking down at his chest and smoothing her hands over the smattering of hair he had and the dark tattoos… he was sexy.

Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from taking her in. Her robe was draped over her sides but was open so he could see her breasts and her tummy, her belly button and he glanced back up at her and parted his lips as he risked moving his hands over her bottom. With the way she was looking at him and touching him, he felt the risk would be worth it.

“Squeeze a little,” she whispered as she put her hands over Harry’s and directed him to take a handful of her bottom in each palm. Harry swallowed hard and panted.

“Oh my god,” his words were spoken in a quiet breath as he relished in the feeling.

When she rocked her hips forward and dragged her core over his fabric-covered cock Harry gasped and his chest rose and fell in heavy breaths.

“I had a dream about you,” she spoke as she moved her hands back up his chest and to his face as she leaned over him, putting herself directly over his erection and ground herself over him, “It was really naughty. And I’m still worked up over it. Just tell me if you want me to stop,” her pussy was wetting the fabric of Harry’s crotch and he groaned before lifting his face upward and pressing his lips to hers. He definitely did not want her to stop.

The haste of the kiss was hectic and chaotic. Harry pushed the robe off her shoulders and she flung the thick cotton down onto the floor before placing her fingers into the band of his underwear, “Let’s take a look.”

She sat back and pulled his underwear down so his cock sprung out. She continued lowering the material until his balls were free and she moaned, “It’s really pretty. Can I suck you off?”

Harry brought a hand up to his arm and pinched his skin, wincing when he felt the sting. He wasn’t sure he was really awake. Not only was Y/n completely naked on top of him, she was licking her lips and asking if she could suck him off.

“Fuck. Please yes.”

“Do you like to beg, Harry?” She grinned as she crawled herself backward to put her face above his lovely cock.

“For you, I will.”

“Mmm… such a good boy,” she looked up at him as she licked along the underside of his shaft and Harry choked out a moan. His thighs were already quivering. She figured he wouldn’t last long but that was fine for what she had in mind.

Her mouth was watering so wetting him properly wasn’t too hard as her tongue slid over his hard prick. She dotted kisses along the way and looked up at his eyes and then down to his pretty dick.

Using her hand, a palm she licked and wetted, she gently massaged his balls as she finally pulled his tip into her mouth. She lowered over him as much as possible on the first go before bringing herself off of him, “Want you to come down my throat. Okay? Want to taste you.”

Harry’s face was twisted up in ecstasy already and she hadn’t done that much, “I’m gonna come too fast.” He whined.

Shaking her head and licking over his tip she whispered against his throbbing cock, “Be a good boy and come down my throat, Harry. It’s okay if you come fast. Just feel my mouth and my tongue on you and enjoy it. Can you do that for me?”

“Ffuck…” Harry threw his head back into the pillow as she drew him back into her mouth and began sucking, “M’gonna be your good boy. Yes.”

Harry’s voice was shaky and his groans were progressively louder as she took him deeper. He clutched the blankets tight as his stepmom fondled his balls and sucked on his cock.

He’d been given blow jobs before. But already this one was far and away the best he’d ever had. Y/n was sensual and confident and she knew what she was doing. When her eyes found his every few moments that was his favorite. Watching as she looked at him dreamily with his cock in her mouth was a picture that would be seared into his mind for all eternity. Better than porn. Because it was real.

“Ahh! Shit! M’coming, please!” Harry shouted and moaned as his hands finally found their place in her hair out of instinct.

He’d pressed on her just enough that her nose was pushed into his pubes and she felt his twitching prick beating and pumping as come gushed from his tip. He came a lot. She couldn’t breathe or move but she kept her jaw wide and gagged around him as he crammed himself further into her throat and he cursed and moaned and rolled his hips upward in orgasm.

When he’d finally drained himself of everything he had he loosened his grip on her hair and she pulled up, gasping and coughing.

Harry’s fucked out gaze was adorable, she thought. A small smile on his face with pink cheeks and a splotchy red chest from the exertion of his orgasm.

She leaned over him and grasped his jaw, causing his mouth to fall open as she spit down over his tongue, “Swallow.”

Harry gulped down her mix of saliva and his come before his pink lips curved up into a big smile, “Yes ma’am.”

Y/n chuckled and then kissed him before pushing herself upward to climb off but Harry caught her arm before she could get too far, “Wait. You don’t want me to like…”

“Of course I do. But only if you want to. Have you ever eaten anyone out before?”

Harry pushed himself up by his elbows and nodded, “Yeah. Wouldn’t say I’m any good at it. Not sure I could make you come.”

There was a thrill that filed down her spine and to her toes. She didn’t need to come. She just loved how it felt to have someone with their face between her legs. It had been a while. Leo didn’t often give her cunnilingus.

“But do you want to?” She asked pointedly. She wouldn’t dream of having him do something he didn’t like.

“Fuck yes. Just show me what you like and I’ll do it.”

Harry released her wrist and she put her bottom onto the mattress and stuffed pillows behind her so she could sit up and watch. She loved the way Harry was watching her body and how dark his eyes were. He’d just orgasmed but she was confident he’d grow hard again soon. And then perhaps she could give him what he really wanted.

“Take your underwear off the rest of the way.”

Harry got up to his knees and nodded, “Yes ma’am.” A sly smirk on his lips at the new nickname he’d been using for her.

Y/n had never been a fan of being called ma’am. She felt she was too young to be a ma’am but when Harry did it in this context, it got her blood pumping wildly through her veins.

When Harry’s boxer briefs were long gone she pulled at his wrist as she opened her legs up, “Start off just exploring. I’ll guide you if you want. Use your fingers, lips, tongue… and try to keep your eyes on mine.”

Harry licked his lips and knelt over her, his hands finding her outer thighs first and spreading her wider as he looked over her glistening pussy, “So wet. Is this for me?”

His question was a surprise to her. But it was definitely lined with something innocent. Almost as if he hadn’t expected her to be in the state she was in.

Nodding her head slowly and smiling she spoke, “All for you. That’s what you did to me and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

Harry’s dimples poked into his cheeks as he shyly smiled, “Just trying to be a good boy for you ma’am.”

He jutted his tongue out and licked upward from her seeping entrance to her clit and she moaned softly as she watched him. He kept his eyes on her pussy at first. She wanted him to look up at her but she allowed him a moment to get acquainted.

He used one of his hands to gently spread her labia and lick upward again, stopping at her clit and flicking it just the tiniest bit.

“God. You know where the clit is, don’t you? That’s really good, Harry.”

He finally looked back up at her as he mouthed over her pussy and sucked gently. She keened and smiled, “Yes! Keep doing that.”

So he did. He sucked and licked, giving special treatment to her clitoris and he moaned over her as he closed his eyes and lapped at her, and kissed his way around her cunt slowly.

“Finger me. Put two in. Like this,” she reached down to his hand and twisted so his palm was upward and then pulled on his pointer and middle finger, nudging the pads of his fingers to her entrance.

His long digits inside of her didn’t disappoint. He pressed them in and pulled out slowly as he continued lapping and sucking and she gasped into the room.

She looked down at him after the initial recovery of his fingers inside of her for the first time and he was already watching her. She slid a hand over her body, stopping at her breasts for a moment before pushing her fingers into his hair, “You’re so good for me, Harry. Just like that…” she was breathless.

Harry clamped his eyes closed at her praise and used his free hand to reach up and touch her left tit. He kneaded at her flesh and then circled the pads of his fingers over her nipple slowly and she mewled, “Come up here. Suck on my breasts,” she pulled at his hair a little to lift his face, “Keep your fingers inside of me.”

Harry did as she said, pumping his fingers into her as he moved up over her body and latched on to the breast he’d been fondling. He was a star pupil. His tongue laved sensually over her areola and he continued looking at her as he stuffed his fingers knuckles deep.

Sucking on her nipple and pulling away he moved to the other side and a muffled moan vibrated over her chest and she felt his cock against her thigh. He was aroused. Thick and full once again. She knew this would happen. Or at least she hoped it would.

Harry drew his tongue to the underside of her breast and sucked in tightly, pinching her skin and she gasped as she watched him work. He moved to her other side, repeating his gesture and bruising the underside of her boob with an intense suckle that had her flesh turning purple nearly instantly.

“Fuck, Harry.”

She had little need to guide him much. He was passionate enough and horny enough that everything he was doing was just right by her standards.

Harry popped off her nipple and looked up at his stepmom with eyes that brimmed with lust and need, “I want you so bad. Please…” his dark pink lips were wet and set in a pout as he pulled his brows together. He looked like he was in pain. But he didn’t cease fucking into her with his fingers.

Y/n carded her fingers into his hair and cooed at him, “What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

She was aware of what he wanted. But somehow she was getting off on having him tell her and ask and beg with his big puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.

Harry’s hips dipped down so his prick sat in the spot right next to her pussy. She was wet all over and there was a nice little bit of glid for Harry right there as he removed his fingers from her cunt and pushed them into his mouth. He was holding himself over her with one arm as he licked her essence from his digits before pulling them out to steady himself with both arms, “You. Want to… be with you. I’m so hard again.”

She knew what he wanted. And maybe it was the haze of the dream she’d had or a sudden lack of inhibition on her part, but she wanted the same thing. And his pretty cock would feel nice wrenching into her insides and poking deeply into the viscera.

Y/n nudged at him to move back so she could sit up further, “Are you sure? Because that means you won’t be a virgin anymore. I don’t want to have you regret anything.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t care about being a virgin. The stigma. Never mattered. But,” he put his palm over the top of her thigh and looked at her with hooded eyes, “I know you’ll show me how good it is. I trust you. Only if you want me.”

The sting of warmth shrouded her neck and then her heart. He was sweet and he was convincing.

Nodding her head she put her palm over his cheek and smiled, “I do want you. And I trust you too. Which means this has to stay between us. No one can know.”

Harry nodded. The tiny bit of scruff on his face scratched at her skin as he turned to kiss her palm and grasp her wrist in his hand, “Then, please. Just tell me what to do and how you want it. I’ll be so good for you.”

Intertwining their fingers, Y/n pulled at him to give him a soft kiss. Wet. Trembling. They both were. This was either the biggest mistake of their lives or the beginning of an extraordinary secret. They both knew it. It would change everything. It already had. They’d already given in.

Whispering as she scraped his scalp and dotted kisses at the edge of his mouth, “Do you want a condom? Will that make you feel better? I can’t get pregnant so that’s not an issue and everything else is good in that regard. Up to you.”

Y/n always wore condoms with Leo, at his insistence. Because of their agreement. An open marriage if you will. But with Harry, she’d forego the barrier knowing he was a virgin.

“Do you want me to wear one? I do have some that I’ve never used,” he laughed as he spoke the word used.

“I’d like to feel you just like this,” she lowered her hand to his throbbing shaft and inhaled sharply at how warm and thick he was in her hand, “If that’s okay.”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, “More than okay.”

“Good. Now. When you fantasize about having sex. What position are you in the most?” Y/n wanted to have him start off with what he fantasized about. She knew he’d like any position, most men did.

The edge of Harry’s mouth quirked up as he breathed out a laugh, “Just… all of them. But, normally I’m on top,” he swallowed.

“That’s good. Let’s start there.” She lay back and spread her legs, gently pulling at him to follow.

Harry put himself between her thighs and brought his palms down to the mattress on either side of her shoulders.

“Push your hips down and line up over me,” She took her hand and guided him so that his heavy cock was slipping through her labia, getting coated in her slick, “Yes, now, move back and forth and just feel how wet I am like this. How it’s getting all over you before you even need to push inside. Feels good right?” Harry’s mouth was dropped open and he nodded, “Yes.”

“Mmm… feels good to me too. When you do that, your tip is hitting my clit. See?” She looked down between their bodies, urging Harry to do the same.

He groaned as he continued gliding through her wet pussy lips, “Fuck. So pretty.”

The sound alone was sexy. Her pussy was really wet and the noise that his dick caused with each pass through her folds was pornographic.

“We’re pretty together, aren’t we?”

He nodded and moaned, moving himself a little faster.

“Such a good boy. Now, I want you to kiss me. Keep your mouth on mine and then when you’re ready, put your delicious cock inside of me. Okay?”

Another moan fell from his lips as he lowered himself to kiss her mouth. Y/n licked over his lips and Harry opened up and used his tongue against hers as he slowly pushed his engorged dick up and down, nudging her clit on each upward thrust. His mouth was watering as he got himself into position, putting his knees down to steady himself and rearing back to align his pink tip with her puffy, wet entrance.

Never removing his lips from hers as he continued kissing her and sipping at her tongue he dipped gently into her. First, his wide head barely smoothed into her until he was met with resistance from the small muscle of her vaginal opening.

She could feel him hesitate, knowing he wasn’t sure if it was too much. She smiled into the kiss and spoke, “Just push. It’s like that on purpose. A little tight on the first go but once you’re in there it’s so good. You’re just a little thick so this is gonna be normal for you. Gotta just press in past my tight opening.”

The whimper that fell from his mouth before he pushed his lips back to hers made her head spin. But what really got her was when he did as she said and pushed in through her muscle and slid himself in half way.

They both gasped, parting from the kiss. There it was. He was inside of her. He moaned into her mouth as he pulled back so his tip was pulled out and then reentered, pushing past that tight muscle again as he licked into her mouth.

It was good. She knew it would feel good. His hard cock was heavy and thick and as he pressed himself in until he couldn’t push any further she gasped at how deep he was.

Harry was on a different plane of existence in that moment. He’d given his virginity to the hottest woman he’d ever met and now he was allowed to fuck her. She’d given him permission and he’d given her permission and his dick had never ever felt so good.

He’d had his cock sucked and he’d used toys with lube that mimicked pussy, but this was… warm and real. And it smelled like her and his mouth still tasted like her and she was moaning as he moved into her. She was enjoying it too. And that… that was the best part.

He continued moving his mouth over hers as he thrust his way into her as deep as he could get until his balls were pressed into her bum. He was more than thankful that he’d already come so he could last a bit longer. He’d still come embarrassingly fast, he was sure, but now he had a little advantage. Instead of three minutes, possibly ten? He hoped. At minimum. Because he didn’t want this feeling to ever end. He’d fuck his stepmom for the rest of his life if it felt this way. They could just stay like this in her bed, slipping together and kissing and being connected.

A knock at the door and the voice of a female was heard from behind the wood.

Harry stopped his movements and Y/n grasped onto him with one hand to keep him still and put her finger up to her mouth, “Who’s there?”

“I’m Harry’s friend, Leslie. Sorry to bother you. I didn’t know where he went.”

Harry’s breaths were rapid as he stared down at the pretty woman he was inside of. He’d totally forgotten about Leslie.

“Uh… I think he left? Maybe? Not sure hon! I’m in the middle of something and…” she didn’t know how to get rid of the girl. She didn’t want to be rude but she was truly very much in the middle of something. Something very good. She was just thankful that the door was locked.

Harry slowly began thrusting again as he kept his eyes on Y/n’s, holding himself up over her.

“That’s okay! Sorry! I’ll be leaving. Just tell Harry I will talk to him later!”

The smirk on Harry’s face as he began to press in harder had Y/n’s tummy on fire, or perhaps it was his lengthy cock pushing into her guts, “Thank fuck she’s gone. In the middle of losing my virginity here,” he laughed as he rocked his hips sharply and Y/n grunted at the harsh thud.

“Oooh… fuuu….” Y/n moaned with a smile as he did it again, “So good like that. You gonna fuck me a little harder now? Be a good boy and make it hurt a little.”

Harry was a good listener. Had always been. This time was no different. He began to plunge into her with a dizzying drag, forceful and trenchant. Just like she liked. Especially when it was Harry doing it.

“Like that? You want it like that?” He punctuated his words with each rut of his hips.

“Yeah, just like that,” she scraped her nails over his back and keened as her body was rocked upward on each of his thrusts, “How do you feel? Tell me what it’s like.”

Harry’s hips stuttered as he brought the cadence down so he could speak, “Fuck, it’s good. So fucking nice,” he wanted to say more about how it felt. Wanted to tell her he could do this with her forever and that her pussy was the only one he’d want to fuck from now on (he was sure of that). Wanted to blurt out that she was so pretty and how perfect they looked together. But he held back with the understanding that his lust was clouding the things his heart was feeling at that moment.

“Tell me mmm… oh yes! Right there!” She closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from shouting loudly when Harry ground into her just right, not sure if Leslie was still in the house or not, “Tell me what it feels like inside of me.”

Harry’s panted words were slow and deep, “Like I’m gonna come harder than I ever have. It’s so warm and smooth. Gripping me so tight. Never want it to stop…” his hips smacked against hers as he moved into her with a hungry force.

Her mouth was wide open as her breaths were being knocked out of her lungs and her tits swayed under him.

Harry looked down at his sexy stepmom with her lusty face and body and he lowered down to wrap his lips around hers. She brought her legs over his back and pushed at his bottom with her heels to urge him deeper.

Using his forearms to hold himself up he rolled his hips into her slowing down his pace to make it last. He wanted to feel her like this for a little longer. He knew he could come soon.

Wet squelches between their bodies where they were connected and sliding together with no barriers and tiny creeks from the mattress filled the room. The sound of illicit sex. The sound of something happening that was so wrong that it was good. So good.

Y/n could tell Harry was going to come as his breaths heaved and his thighs trembled against her each time he pushed in, “Harry… you feel so good filling me up. I want to come too,” her words were panted as Harry sliced into her deeply and stilled his hips as he looked down at her.

“Want you to come too. What do you need, Y/n?” Harry’s chest rose and fell quickly as he pushed his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Is it okay if I get on top and ride you how I like? Always come when I get on top.”

Harry smiled and licked into her mouth for a good moment, pulling at her lips and grinding into her further so she could feel him as deep as he could possibly go before, pulling back and gently bringing her thighs down as she placed her feet flat onto the mattress.

Y/n sat up and ogled Harry’s body as he turned and moved to his side. She crawled over him, pushing him down to his back, and sat over her knees between his legs. She brushed her palms up his sturdy thighs up to his hips, never touching his throbbing prick before leaning over him and kissing his right thigh upward to the apex of his thigh and crotch, careful to leave him wanting. Repeating the same worship on his left thigh but taking a little time over the tiger tattoo. She looked up at him as she licked over the ink and then continued kissing her way up, devastatingly close to where he needed her. So close.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Harry. All of you,” she brushed her hands up over his laurels and to the butterfly that was rising and falling with his breath, “I’m surprised you haven’t found someone special already.” She praised. As she lowered her lips to his belly button he felt her hair ghost over his cock and whimpered.

Y/n smiled into his skin as she grazed her teeth gently upward to the butterfly licked around the lines before dotting hot kisses over his pecs, “Please… please…”

Raising her face and looking up at her stepson, “Please? What is it, baby? What do you need?” Her smirk was devious. Harry loved it. He fucking loved every single thing she was doing.

“Wanna feel you on top. Gonna burst.”

Lowering her lips back to his pecs she sucked a nipple passed her lips and nipped. Harry threw his head back into the pillow and coughed out a loud groan, “Ask me nicely. Like a good boy. You’ll get anything you want from me if you’re good, Harry.” Her words were breathed out over his skin and the spattering of chest hair. Her lips made their way up to the swallows.

“Please, ma’am. I want to feel you on top. If you… ffuck… please.”

Her grin did not disappear as she licked and pecked her way up to his neck, “I’m dripping for you, Harry. Such a sweet boy with such a big cock for me to play with. Isn’t that right?”

Harry was going to lose it. This was his fantasy. No. It was better than anything he imagined. Y/n was better. He loved being put in his place because most of the time no one ever challenged him. Or made him feel this way.

“Y…yes. Just for you.”

Y/n sat up and straddled him, placing her knees down on the mattress to the sides of his hips. Finally. She placed her messy cunt over his shaft and slid herself up toward his frenulum and down toward his base, “Just for me. That’s right. Gonna let me play with your cock and fuck myself on it and make myself come, yeah?”

Harry nodded frantically and placed his palms on her hips as she leaned forward and placed her hands over his pecs, “When I start to ride you I’m gonna go slow, up and down like this,” she demonstrated by repeating the motion of her hips, tilting her pelvis down and letting her clit drive up and down over him as she panted, “so I can keep my clit in contact with your pelvis and I’m gonna come pretty fast. I need you to let me come before you do. And if you want you can come inside of me. That’s up to you. Just let me know what you want.”

Harry nodded, “It’s okay if I come inside of you?”

“Yes, it is. Would love it if you did but it’s your choice in the end. Can come in my mouth again if you want, or my tits. Whatever you like.”

“Inside of you, please. That’s what I want.”

“Mmm… such a good boy,” she tilted herself down so her breasts ghosted over his chest as she kissed him softly, lips moving with his and small sips of tongue before she slowly sunk down over him. That same mouthwatering initial push of his wide tip into her opening snapped and then spread her apart, “Hhharry! Fuck your dick is so fucking good!”

He couldn’t speak. It was so intense. His fingers gripped her hips as she shifted over him slowly. Her nails pinched into the flesh over his muscled pectorals and he felt his balls tighten. Her moans and pretty mouth with her tongue peeking out had him leaking steadily with pre cum, “I’m trying…” he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Her tits swayed as she rode him and the way she felt on him had him tipping too fast, “Fuck… Want you to come first…”

She cooed and slowed her hips, sitting upright and changing the position of him inside of her. Deeper yet as she leaned back gently and looked down to where his cock was buried into her.

Harry chanced a peek, not wanting to miss it, and he was not ready for the sight. He groaned and brought one hand from her hip to her clit and then looked up at her before focusing back on the way his cock spread her pussy lips as he thumbed over her clit.

“My sweet boy. Just hang on. This feels so perfect. Just want to soak it in with you.” She lowered her hand over his fingers where he was circling over her button and she hissed, “Gonna make me come so hard Harry,” she swayed her hips back and forth, keeping herself upright so they could enjoy the lurid show of their connected bodies.

Currents of hot arousal coursed through her body as she clenched over him and felt his cock nudging her cervix. It was a tight fit but it had her body leaning into an orgasm.

She leaned back forward, Harry’s fingers pushed away as he placed his hand back onto her hip and she slid up and down, dragging her clit into his pelvis and her gasps and fluttering walls signaled to Harry she was coming.

He closed his eyes and felt sweat at his temple as he felt her squeezing and pulsing as she moaned his name and he felt her thighs shaking, “Yes… yes! Harry! I need you… need this… Hhaaarry… fuck! Fffuck!”

The mattress moved and creaked under Harry’s back as his stepmom got off on his cock and Harry was certain he was already filling her up with gushes of his pre-come. He was doing his best but he’d never experienced a cunt squeezing around him in orgasm. It was witchcraft and he was obsessed. He’d never be the same.

“Come! Harry, come inside of me baby…” she moaned as she continued rocking over him, everything slick and smooth between them.

Harry choked out the loudest moan and he was so far gone he couldn’t be bothered to care how vocal it was. He didn't care if anyone heard it. He was coming and his sight dimmed as he pumped into his stepmom’s pussy as she milked him with her spasming muscle. Together their moans were the music of relief.

Y/n could feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of her as he released his sperm into her aching and slippery inner tissues. He was punching into her so deep from below her it made her quiver in euphoric pain. She leaned over him and attached their mouths as he finished himself inside of her. She grasped his head on each side, her fingers in his thick hair to keep his head tilted up so their lips could move together.

He'd come undone completely. Tears pricked at his eyes and slid down his cheeks as he whined into her mouth and attempted to kiss her in return. He moved his hands to her ass and pressed her down as he lifted his hips so he could burrow in deep causing her to gasp and then squeak at the punishing plunge.

“Fuck, Harry!”

They were both shivering and heaving and kissing with saliva-covered lips and moans and wildly beating hearts.

When he’d calmed he sucked in a sharp breath as she collapsed over him and snuggled her face into his neck. They were sweaty and sticky and hot but it felt precious and perfect.

Harry closed his eyes and basked in the way Y/n felt on top of him, her warm breath at his neck, her wet pussy soothing his softening cock as his heart calmed. He dragged his hands up from her bottom to her back and rubbed along her spine, the pads of his fingers slipping through the layer of sweat that had formed.

He felt her lips pucker at his neck and then her nose push upward until her lips were at his jaw and then she pushed up to look down at him.

“Are you okay?”

Harry couldn’t imagine not being okay as long as he was getting fucked like that. But the issue was that Y/n was not just some girl he could date and then fall in love with. There would be no possibility of them being together. In fact, he was unsure that this would ever happen again and that had his heart sinking before he could even answer her.

She noticed the look of unease over his features and she swiped at his cheeks with her thumbs, “Hey… what’s wrong? I’m sorry, was that-“

“No. That was everything I ever wanted it to be. It was perfect, Y/n. I’m… fine. I’m okay. Just thinking.”

She nodded as she moved herself off of him and lay on her side to talk to him. He followed her and rolled to his side, his hands not leaving her hips, not yet ready to be rid of this moment.

“Tell me. What are you thinking about it? You can talk to me.” Her fingers brushed over his arms and up to his shoulders as she watched his glassy eyes closely.

Harry smiled sadly and shook his head, “It’s stupid. It’s not your problem.”

Y/n sighed and lifted her leg to drape her thigh over his, “Talk to me. Please. We just did something very risky and now we’re treading in dangerous water. Let’s keep open with each other. Okay? Because there’s no one else to talk to about this,” she grazed her knuckles along his cheekbone, “Pretty boy. Please talk to me.”

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes to gather the thoughts brimming from his head.

“I don’t know how I’m ever gonna forget about this and move on.” He opened his eyes to look at her and slowly smoothed his palm over her side and to her breast, “I really like you. I’m feeling things that maybe I shouldn’t.”

Y/n nodded and swallowed. She loved the way his fingers ghosted over her nipple and how glassy his green eyes were, how gentle, “Me too.”

He blinked his eyes, all shiny eyelids and damp lashes covering and then revealing his pretty irises, “You do? Feel things?”

She grinned and closed her eyes. It felt like a lot. She wasn’t in love with him or anything and this had been a mistake for sure. An epic error. But she was feeling something. His warmth and his heart and his excitement. It transferred over to her veins and her skin and the roots of her hair and sparked a longing for something. When she opened her eyes again she licked her lips, “Yeah. I like you a lot. Wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t.”

“Would you… consider doing it again? With me? Like,” he clenched his jaw and brought his hand up to her clavicle, “a thing just for us. Our secret?”

He was sure she’d say no.

Biting her lips she lifted herself and pulled Harry’s bottom arm under her head so she could draw in closer to him. She just wanted to be as close as possible. She brought her hand to lie flat over his heart and tilted her head back to look up at him, her thigh still braced over his hip. He moved his hand down her body to the back of her thigh as she adjusted herself in close.

“It’s so bad. What we’ve just done. It crosses a line. So many invisible lines,” she whispered as she traced her finger upward to his neck, “But… I guess I don’t care. Because I wanna keep doing it. I guess that makes me a terrible person.”

Stitching his brows together he frowned, “You’re a beautiful person, Y/n. So kind and smart,” he squeezed her hip and pulled her up to his mouth so he could kiss her. His stepmom, his lover, his paramour. He pulled back, his nose pressed to hers, “If you’re a terrible person then I’m right there with you. Let’s be terrible people together.”

They both laughed at Harry’s words and grinned widely.

It was ludicrous. A wild suggestion to continue their illicit affair. Of course, it would be easy. Too easy. That is as long as no one ever found out.

“Do I have you for the rest of the day?” Y/n tucked herself in closer as she asked.

“That you do. And I think there’s so much more for you to teach me. Might be a really late night for us.”

“Oh definitely, until the wee hours. So many things you need to learn before I let you leave.”

Next part: 2. No panties? | A Good Boy Masterlist

A/N: What did you think? I have so many ideas for this story but I didn't want it to get any longer than it already is. Would you guys be interested in seeing more? Let me know!

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @daphnesutton @michellekstyles @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysmimi @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345

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intomusings · 5 months

Text

ೀ ﹒﹒ favorite names compilation !

ur fav musings girly again here with the first of my christmas goodies . my favorite thing to do is these name compilations so i decided to create another masterlist of my absolute favorite ones ( some old , mostly new ) anyways all i ask is that if u found this useful , u like or reblog to show ur support . i hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season ♡

- a : abella, ardella, ares, aire, arden, ayla, arie, alder, august, aymes, atlas, alina, alora, aryn.

- b : beau, babette, belle, blake, briar, bronte, banks, boston, bishop.

- c : cassiel, clara, celeste, camden, chandler, collins, clay, cartier, chanel, cosima.

- d : dove, dream, danica, delaney, drue, denver, dacey, delcy, darcy, dahlia.

- e : elodie, emory, emrys, elio, elowynne, emerson, evie, edie, estoria, esme, effy, evans.

- f : flora, faye, fallon, ford, forbes, finnick.

- g : gaia, geles, greer, gensen.

- h : hera, hudson, hampton, heath, harlowe.

- i : isla, inara, ilia.

- j : juniper, josefine, jane, jovie, joey.

- k : kiersten, kairo, kaia, kian, kouvr, keanu.

- l : lysander, lanie, lorena, lawson, lux, ludo, lourdes.

- m : marla, marigold, maren, maeve, marlowe, miller, monet.

- n : neah, north, nola, nell, noel, nariah, niamh, nami.

- o : ozzy, orion.

- p : presley, posy, pearl, porter, pacey, paxon.

- r : reed, ruelle, raya, romey, ryker, rhode, reign, rafe, rohan, raiden, remi, rion, rhiannon, reece, river, raine, rumer, reem, rhys.

- s : selah, soraya, sarifya, savion, sloane, sol, soren, scout, saint, striker, serafina, sabina, sutter.

- t : teal, twila, tristan, tobie, tripp, teague, tate.

- v : vienna, vega, vera, vincenzo.

- w : wren, winter, winona, winnie, wilder, weston.

- x : xaverie, xylah, xiomara, xander.

- y : yves, yara.

- z : zephyr.

#resources #rph #rpt #m:masterlist #name masterlist #name help #rpc

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0oolookitsme · 7 months

Text

Daddy of Three

Type - A One Shot again!

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n

Word Count - 2.2k

Warnings - None that I can find! (other than the fact that this is pure smut ofc)

A/n - Lowkey hate the title (you will too when you find out the context) but I just hope you enjoy this hahah <3

Kinks - Daddy kink, Face Fucking, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

Y/n was chopping up the vegetables she'd need for the meal she was going to cook tomorrow morning for Harry and Karan's lunch. Her eyes remained on her iPad's screen, on which she could see the page Carla was presenting in the meeting.

Clicking on the little mic icon by her knuckle, she unmuted herself. "Marla, don't you think that we should use red and yellow undertones? It's going to be a violent and a sad scene, I think it would work better," she said, not exactly agreeing with her idea of using green undertones.

"I agree," a few people wrote in the chat.

"But ma'am, we probably wouldn't have as much screen time for that scene. Plus, we have a scene inside the hotel's bathroom after that, which they tell us would give off green hues," Marla said, sliding photos till the bathroom set was on the screen.

Y/n hummed, laughing at how she'd absolutely forgotten about that. "Then I'd say that we do put green undertones but less. We need the switch between the scenes to be slightly puzzling – nothing like 'what the hell are they doing in the bathroom now' though," she said, making the other woman laugh and other people text the laughing emojis.

They agreed on trying the directory for the same the next day, and planned out a few more things before bidding goodbyes. Right at that time, Harry and Karan also got up from the couch as the show they were watching just ended.

"Are you done?" Harry asked her, walking behind Karan who seemed to be growing taller and taller everyday. It still mesmerized her, the resemblance between the two – same green eyes, same curly hair, same nose. Only his mouth matched with hers, other than that, he was a ditto copy of Harry.

"Yes," Y/n groaned while getting up, stretching the moment she was on her feet while taking a big yawn. "Not really, just a bit tired from all the screen time," she said when Harry asked her if she was feeling sleepy.

"Serve the dinner, will you? I just quickly need to wind my stuff up." She looked at Harry with pleading and slightly guilty eyes, kissing the corner of her mouth once he mumbled an 'of course.'

"Don't take too much time, though!" He yelled as she hurried up the stairs.

Karan climbed up in his chair on his own with a bit of struggle. He'd finally grown tall enough to be able to sit on the main dinner table, but still he needed a taller chair to sit on.

"Look at you going, already a big boy," Harry grinned at the little one, who was about to turn four this year. A breathy chuckle escaped his mouth when the boy's ears turned pink, he was born a shy persona but that never deterred him from speaking up when he wanted to.

Y/n watched from atop as Harry talked to Karan about the show they were just watching. It had shown some wild animals tonight, from what she could hear. She couldn't help but swoon a little bit on the inside as Karan climbed down the chair with a bit of grunting and helped Harry serve the table.

"Bring me a glass, please," Harry asked the kid just because he was eager to help. "Thank you," he appreciated him once the glass was on the table.

"Y/n –" Harry was about to call for her when he saw her watching him from the doorframe of their room. "C'mon, what are you waiting for?" He laughed, feeling a tad bit of shyness creep up on him when he realized that she'd been watching him.

They've known each other since childhood yet she still manages to turn his ears pink by just her gaze – it was yet another trait that Karan got from Harry.

"Could watch you be a baby daddy all day long. Just makes me feel so hot," she whispered in his ears, grinning when he slapped her bum sneakily.

"Did you tell daddy about the puzzle we solved today?" Y/n asked Karan and melted on the inside when his eyes lit up and he sat upright, suddenly excited and eager to tell Harry all about it.

And Karan's energized talking about the animals was how they spent their time eating dinner. Talking about Karan's puzzle, Harry's practice routine for the next day and Y/n's plans for visiting the set for a run-through were some add-ons in the talk here and there. Once they'd finished, Y/n took Karan up to his room to read him one of his nightly-stories, and lull him to sleep – it was Harry's turn to do the dishes tonight.

The toddler was extra tired today. He'd had football practice for a small upcoming match in his school, solved a lot of math problems and a whole puzzle in one day. So, it only took about four paragraphs of the story in the calming voice of his mother for him to pass out.

Y/n climbed down the stairs as silently as she could and pressed a feather-light kiss on Harry's neck, who didn't get scared in the slightest – probably because he heard her jam her toe in the leg of the dining table.

Harry hummed to acknowledge her presence, loading the last plate into the dishwasher. She stood back patiently, and once he was done, Harry turned around and leaned his bottom on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Then, y/n leaned in to press a chaste kiss onto his lips.

"Mm, someone's feeling needy," he smirked when she pulled back, pulling her in again by her waist when she nodded. "What do you need, love?" Harry asked her, pecking her lips again with a soft smile on his mouth.

"Need to taste you, daddy – been so long," she mumbled, slowly and slowly relaxing into his body.

He continued tracing the outline of her lips, "Is that so?" He asked again, and when she nodded he released her lower lip from under the weight of his thumb, watching it rise back to its place.

"Then we'll put that mouth of yours to a good use," he rasped, reaching for her mouth again as he slid one of his hands on the back of her head, pulling her hair back to give him space to litter her neck in kisses.

When her mouth met his skin, she left open-mouthed kisses on it and bit on a few spots before Harry started pushing her down on her knees. Once she was down, she pulled down his sweats on his command and watched as his cock stood up, already hard. She spit on her palm, lubricating his length as she stroked him.

"Hands behind your back," Harry told her, and started lowering her head on his length when she took him in his mouth. "Fuck," he breathed, watching her as he pushed her lower and lower on him slowly.

He cherished the feeling of her warm mouth on him, and when she reached his base, he let out a groan as the feeling of his tip touching the very back of her throat.

Y/n could taste his salty pre-cum that had started to leak from his slit. It would've been more convenient for her if she could've placed her hands on his thighs, but somehow, this position was only making her panties wetter.

When Harry asked her if she was ready to go, she quickly showed him a thumbs up before holding her wrist behind her back again.

Slowly and slowly, Harry started bringing her head back and forth by his grip on her hair. Her lips wrapped around him felt every vien as he brought her head up till his reddened tip. She managed to take a lick at his slit before he brought her down again, faster this time.

Now, her head was bobbing faster on his cock and with the way her saliva was starting to dribble down her chin, she could feel him pulsing in mouth as she hollowed out her cheeks when she hit the base.

She gagged a bit when Harry pushed in till the back of throat. And then, he quickened the pace.

He held her head in one place as she tried to swallow some of his arosual fucked into her mouth, the sounds of her gagging filling the kitchen. "Fuck- you're doing so well, darling," Harry moaned above her, creating a pace again – his eyes unable to move from the sight of strings of her saliva and his arousal moving with each bob of her head.

He fucked her mouth with a fast pace, his tips dragging along her tongue before hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. "Jesus- fuck," he choked, his hold on her head getting tighter as he began ruthlessly fucking into her mouth.

"Breath from your nose, baby," Harry told her, continuing to thrust his cock deep down her throat by now. She started gurgling on her own saliva and his precum, her arms starting to ache as tears leaked out of her eyes and she clenched around nothing, her pussy feeling like it were ready to be pounded.

"Oh lord," he grunted, slowing down his pace just when Y/n thought he was close to releasing down her throat, he brushed his hand through her hair.

Gradually, Harry pulled out of her mouth and just when she was beginning to think that something had gone wrong, Harry helped her get up on her legs.

She stumbled a bit, her legs a bit numb, and knees hurting because of the hard floor. She freed her arms then as well, holding onto his biceps as she balanced herself.

"Fuck you're such a wreck," Harry breathed, wiping away at her damp skin – not able to tell the difference between her tears and her sweat. "And because of me too," he chuckled, brushing her hair back as she caught up with her breath.

"C'mon, wanted to come down your throat, but I need something else more than that right now," Harry said as he picked her up bridal style in his arms, the veins in his biceps popping out.

"What is it?"

"Need to feel your pussy, darling."

When Harry dropped her on their bed, she immediately got up on her elbows, her knees touching but feet wide apart. "Fill me up, daddy? Want another baby," she whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry groaned, climbing up on the bed while stroking himself. "Fucking hell – 'course I will," he told her as he sat back on his calves in front of her. "Gonna make me daddy of three, aren't you -- since you clear need one at all times, as well?" Harry teased her.

"Open your legs for me, wanna see ya." Y/n did as Harry told her and he swiped his middle finger through her folds, realizing that she was already soaking wet, ready to take him.

"Gonna give you all my babies, darling. Gonna fill you up to the brim and get you pregnant again," he rasped, lining himself against her hole, wetting his tip. "Fuckin' missed watching your belly swell up with a baby – my baby, " he said while watching himself disappear inside her pussy.

Beginning to thrust into her, Harry's hand came to knead one of her boobs. "Need to see you breastfeed a little one again – see those leaking nipples," he choked out, so turned on that he already felt close to climaxing.

"Gonna come for daddy, love?" Harry cooed at her, feeling her thighs begin to shake around his hips already. "Give it to y' husband."

Y/n lied there under him, shaking and moaning as the knot in her belly moved lower and lower. "Gonna cum- fuck –" she coughed, shaking harder as her skin felt like it was on fire when Harry started rubbing her clit.

"Come for Daddy, darling. Doing so good," Harry praised her, increasing his pace as he felt his own balls tighten. As he thumbed tighter and faster circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves, he felt her walls clenching around him.

"So good for me, so fuckin' good around me – fucking made for me," Harry grunted, feeling like he was going to combust.

"Co-coming daddy – O-Oh I'm cuming fuck-" Y/n stuttered, her back arching as Harry fucked into her pussy mercilessly. She could feel him pulsing inside her, and once he hit her g-spot again, she felt like she had been electricuted as she came on his cock.

Her cum went everywhere as Harry continued fucking into her, the bed creaking under his pace. "So good for daddy, look how much you came," he chuckled breathlessly, looking down where she had soaked him and the mattress, white strings of her cum sticking to his base.

Y/n intionally cleanched around him again, lying fucked out of her mind and breathless.

"Good girl- that's a good fucking girl," Harry cursed before he shot ropes of his cum deep in her pussy. Ramming into her pussy until she had milked him dry, he finally stopped when some of his cum started spilling out of her.

"Gonna fill you up again, make sure I put a baby in you," Harry told her as he wiped sweat off his forehead – grinning down at her when she hooked her arms under her knees, giving him full access to her pussy.

"Daddy's gonna give it to you good, sweet girl," Harry said gleefully, laughing when Y/n managed to swat at his chest.

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eff4freddie · 26 days

Text

Touch | Part Five

You struggle to re-establish a purpose in Jackson. But the Miller brothers will always keep you on your toes.

Words: 5.2k

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Four

Warnings: smutty smut smut, oral (m receiving), kind of subby Joel maybe?, like shades of subby, whimpers and groans, carpentry

Minors DNI

You envied people who didn’t remember their dreams. Yours lingered with you, so much accumulated horror for your brain to draw upon. The crunching of dried-out fungus under boot. The squelch of blood running over clenched fist. The screams of your sister, reverberating with the screams of your dad, of your mum, of yourself. Formless and vacant of hope, a belligerent and unrelenting slideshow.

You woke with a start in your own bed, alone and trying to piece together how you got there. After Joel had taken care of you on the coffee table you had slumped towards him, head on his shoulder, and took in all the air your lungs could get. The exhaustion was overwhelming and you had felt yourself go limp in his arms, dimly aware of him lifting you, carrying you up the stairs. You’d had enough presence of mind to worry he was going to hurt his shoulder before he had you wrapped up in your blanket. You didn’t hear him leave.

You supposed you should be happy, but you had long started to suspect that it wasn’t really an emotion you were capable of. Even before outbreak day you’d had too much to worry about. You had already come to terms with the fact that happiness just wasn’t something your mind could do. Terror, though. That was your speciality.

At the bottom of the stairs, you peered through the front window at the rest of Jackson going about their day. Ordinarily, you would have been setting up for your first client, but you’d already cancelled them. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into the treatment room, hadn’t been in there since your table collapsed. The excitement of Maria delivering, the thrill of being somewhat useful, had allowed you to forget for a second that your vocation, the one thing that had got you into Jackson and probably saved your life in the process, was over. Without the table you were limited to straddling grumpy men in your kitchen, and that was a whole different job.

You glanced in at the living room, eyeing the coffee table suspiciously. You were running out of safe rooms in your house.

—

You kept your eyes down at the mess hall, only glancing up once or twice to ensure that the coast was clear. You weren’t surprised to see that Ray wasn’t there, assuming that he was manning the radio with Simon trying to scout any danger for Marla and the crew. The expedition was expected to take several days, longer if the weather turned. There was no cause for alarm, no reason to assume anything was amiss. But you knew Ray, and that that wouldn’t stop him.

Halfway through your porridge a tray dropped onto the table in front of you, and you startled, snapping your head up. You felt your stomach flip, the rolled oats no longer sitting comfortably beside the acid and bile in your stomach.

‘Mind if I sit?’ Ellie asked, already settling into the chair. You shook your head, swallowing heavily.

‘No, course,’ you said.

‘You looked lonely, you always look lonely.’

‘You’re very observant,’ you said, not sure if this was truly a compliment.

‘We just got back to Jackson,’ Ellie said, undeterred.

‘So I hear.’

‘I think we’re staying for a while,’ she went on largely without you. Her eyes had drifted to the middle distance, and you could see that she was thinking.

‘And how do you feel about that?’ you prompted. Her gaze shifted back to you, and she shook her head as if the thoughts were clinging to her clothes.

‘I’ve seen you around,’ she said, and you got the feeling she was starting the conversation over again, to see if she could improve it a second time. You let her.

‘Yup,’ you said.

‘You touch people,’ she said simply, and you blinked, had no idea what to make of it.

‘Umm…’ you started, and she interrupted you.

‘Dina says it helps people feel good,’ Ellie continued, as did your concerns.

‘What exactly did she day I do?’ you desperately tried to clarify.

‘You rub people and they feel good.’

Nope. Not better.

‘Massage,’ you spat out abruptly, ‘it’s a kind of therapy, physical therapy…but not like, it’s not…it’s good for your muscles, for your spine.’

‘Right,’ Ellie said, as if this was obvious, and you were very relieved to have got that sorted out at least.

‘You massaged Joel,’ she went on, and you wondered how hard it would be to jam your butter knife into your eye socket and remove yourself from the conversation, if not the planet, completely. ‘He told me it helped. Well he didn’t tell me, but he was all angry and sore…more than normal…then Tommy made him see you and he was better after that. He was his normal grumpy self, not his sore grumpy self.’

‘I’m happy to have helped,’ you said. You had given up trying to predict where the conversation was going, and now you were just tagging along behind her.

‘You did help,’ she said, leaning forward on her chair, up on her elbows on the table. ‘I want to help, too.’

‘You…do?’

‘Yeah I thought I could…I thought I was going to but, it didn’t…’ She looked around the room, flustered, and dipped her head lower to murmur underneath the sounds of the other tables. ‘I thought that I could help people one way, but it didn’t work out, and I just want to see if there’s another…fuck it actually, this is stupid.’

‘No, it’s not stupid,’ you said, and you reached out to put your hand on her arm, but she pulled it back like you had burned her.

‘You probably think I’m too young,’ she said, rolling her eyes but also really seeming to mean it.

‘I was your age who I started learning,’ you said, and watched as her eyes lit up, finally rising back to meet yours.

‘You were?’ she asked, and you nodded, grinning at her.

‘I think so, yeah. I mean, how old are you, Ellie?’

Like a shot her smile dropped, and she slunk backwards and away from you, receding into the chair and appearing to you to deflate to half her size. ‘What, what did I…’ and then you realised, cursed yourself and your remaining three brain cells. She hadn’t told you her name.

‘Who’s been talking about me?’ she asked, so quietly you only just heard. You swallowed. You remembered what it was like to be a teenager, to be relentlessly comparing yourself to your peers, to the women in magazines and on tv, to be relentlessly self-conscious, to be convinced everyone is talking about you and also worse, that no one is.

‘I asked Maria who you both were who you arrived,’ you said, deciding it was safer to talk about Maria then it was to talk about Joel. ‘I saw how Tommy reacted to Joel, and to you, and I didn’t understand what was happening so I asked.’

Ellie nodded, considering this, and you could see she had already worked out that it wasn’t the whole truth, but you hoped it was enough truth that she didn’t disappear on you.

‘What did she say?’ she asked, and you thought very hard and very fast to think of a good answer. You would have preferred a minefield.

‘Just that you were Joel’s kind of adopted daughter and that you’d been out of town for a while…and that she was super happy to have you back.’ You prayed the last part would ring true in some way, that it would be enough to reassure her. ‘Maria cares about you a lot.’

‘Maria doesn’t know me,’ Ellie replied. I don’t trust that he’s not keeping her in the dark.

‘She doesn’t need to, she just cares anyway,’ you said, and you meant it.

A loud group of teenagers, slightly older than Ellie if you had to guess, pushed into the mess hall and you watched as she pulled away from you even further, taking up residence about three centimetres back from her own skin. Her eyes were hard, vacant. You had seen the same look on Joel, and you knew then that she was a quick learner.

‘Ellie-‘ you started, but she was pushing her chair back.

‘Never mind,’ she said over her shoulder as she hurried away.

—

The mood in the town shifted over the next few days. Neither Marla nor any of the other crew had radioed in since reaching the third checkpoint, and there had been heavy, low-hanging clouds threatening the mountains. You had wondered about going in to see Ray, but you weren’t sure what you could say that would be any consolation. You worried, perhaps unfairly but also perhaps not, that you would say the wrong thing, that in your haphazard if well-intentioned way you would lose him, too. Instead, you stayed away.

You also avoided Joel. You felt the urge to keep a respectful distance, to try and pretend like it had never happened, like you hadn’t grasped his shoulders and come harder than you had in literal decades. You weren’t sure if you remembered ever having felt the way he had made you feel in an embarrassingly short period of time, but also you weren’t sure what it meant, if anything. If this was just something that Joel did, how he kept himself busy at the end of the world. You didn’t want to be his distraction, and you didn’t want him to distract you, especially when you had so much to pointlessly worry about.

You’d had boyfriends, one before outbreak day and two and a half in the years after. A lot of the time it was convenience, sometimes protection, but never passion. You’d read that during times of national crisis birth rates skyrocket and you’d never been able to understand why. Nothing about a brain-obliterating fungus was all that attractive to you. You wondered if what had happened with Joel was just about you finally feeling safe. If it was less Joel and more Jackson. You felt better about things, if that were true. You hoped it was.

You took the short walk to Maria’s, a tray of lasagne in your hands that you’d begged and borrowed at the mess to be able to make. There wasn’t any oregano or basil, so you just got generous with the salt and hoped for the best. You thought about your mum’s cooking, which wasn’t really all that great either. Her method was throwing Italian herb mix in to any pasta sauce in the hope that it would make it taste better than the sum of its parts. It rarely worked, but you couldn’t blame a girl for trying.

You stood on Maria’s porch, not sure if you should knock. You were worried about waking the baby, or waking Maria, or that the wrong Miller brother would be home. You worried that you wouldn’t be welcome, that you’d done too much at the birth, that you had overstepped in some way that you weren’t aware of but that would make it impossible for Maria to now be your friend.

Just as you were about to leave the lasagne on the front porch and make a break for it, the door swung open, and you were met with Tommy’s surprised face.

‘Umm, hi,’ you said, taking a step away from the doorstep without even noting. Tommy looked down at your hands, took the lasagne from you and put it gently on the console inside the door, then wrapped his arms tight around you and pushed all the air out of your lungs. You couldn’t even gasp in surprise.

‘You…’ he said, and he trailed off, and you felt the warmth and the comfort of his arms, and you suddenly thought you might cry. You pulled away, fast.

‘How are they?’ you asked, and Tommy beamed. Looking at him now, you realised he was absolutely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

‘Come see,’ he said, pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. You could hear humming, contented gurgling, and followed it into the lounge room. Maria was sitting up on the couch, son at her breast. She smiled when she saw you, and you looked down at the baby in her arms, and felt love physically enter your body.

‘Oh Maria,’ you whispered, and she grinned back at you.

‘I am so fucking tired,’ she stage-whispered, and you had to try hard not to laugh too loud. His little fist was balled up and resting on her chest, and you could see the tiny thumbnail, purple and deep red, and it was too small and too precious for the world around it.

‘I have to go…run an errand,’ Tommy said quietly from the doorway. ‘Will you two be OK?’

Maria waved him off.

‘I ran off the other night before I asked you his name,’ you said, coming to sit beside Maria so that she didn’t have to turn her head to talk to you. She leant into your shoulder, and it was peaceful and warm and the kind of thing you do with a good friend, and you wondered if she’d object to adopting you.

‘We were going to go with Joel Junior,’ she said, and you wrinkled your nose.

‘Too alliterative,’ you said, and she nodded.

‘Also still not convinced about him,’ she said, and you felt something shift in your belly.

‘He was good the other night, with Tommy.’

‘He saw a lot of me I never intended him to,’ Maria said, and your heart sank. Should you have got rid of him? He was there for Tommy, you realised, not Maria. Should you have objected, said something? Had Maria been trying to telepathically tell you to do something, and you missed it? ‘It’s OK,’ Maria said, sensing the way your body had tensed. ‘I wasn’t really paying much attention to him, in fairness.’

‘You were kind of busy,’ you agreed. You listened to the baby suckling quietly, little contented grunts coming from his throat. ‘So, it’s not Joel Junior,’ you prompted.

‘Robin,’ Maria said. ‘There are so many here in Spring, and I love their little songs.’

You reached a hand out to cup his head in your palm. ‘That’s perfect,’ you said. For a long moment you just watched him, the peace of him, so wrapped up and warm and safe in the arms of his mother. You ached for your own for a second, before you pushed the thought away, told yourself this wasn’t the time.

‘It feels different out there,’ Maria said. ‘I can even tell, and I haven’t left the house in days.’

‘Vibes aren’t great,’ you agreed.

‘Tommy’s worried, but he won’t tell me.’

‘The expedition is just taking longer than it should,’ you said. ‘If there was anything to tell I’m sure he would.’

Maria regarded you for a long moment, and you realised she wanted more answers, but you had none to give her.

‘He’s like Joel, like his big brother,’ Maria said eventually, and you felt heat up the back of your spine. ‘Protective,’ she added. ‘To the point of locking you out in the cold to save you from the monster under the bed.’

—

You kind of wished Maria would stop dropping truth bombs on you, then leave you to work through the rubble on your own. You walked the long way back to your place, down behind the hall and past the lake, just to see if you could push her words out of your body through your feet.

It meant that you arrived back on your front step just as the sun was setting, and you were surprised to see the lights in your house on. You were sure you wouldn’t have left them on in the daylight. You pushed the door open, trying to remember if you’d locked it. No one did in Jackson, but you liked to when you were going to bed, partly to believe that you could do anything that might prevent some kind of harm.

‘Hello?’ you called down your hallway, thereby alerting any potential attackers to your exact whereabouts. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Jackson had definitely made you soft.

There were no weapons in your entry way. You considered whether taking your boots off and throwing them would cause enough of a head injury to get away, but it would be harder in your socks. In Chicago you’d kept a baseball bat beside the door, and used it only once.

‘That you?’ you heard a voice call, and you paused. Were you ‘you’?

‘Maybe?’ you called back, and you heard two sets of laughs. One deep and huffy. You’d recognise it anywhere. Your feet moved all by themselves.

Joel and Tommy were standing in your treatment room. The broken table was gone, and in its place a brand new, clearly custom made, massage table stood. Thin enough so that you didn’t need to climb on top of it to rearrange the towels, and just the right shape to give a body a warm and safe place to rest.

Your hand flew to your mouth, and you felt tears pushing hot onto your cheeks. Tommy grinned at you while Joel watched, careful and reserved. You didn’t have words, could barely wrap your head around what you were seeing.

‘You helped so well with Maria, kept her going when anyone else would have quit,’ Tommy said, while you were trying hard to breathe. ‘You did so good, so we wanted to say thank you.’

You let out a gasping, gulping, tearful laugh, nodding your head at him. ‘That’s OK, you’re welcome,’ you said, but you were laughing and crying simultaneously, so it was hard to know if you’d made any sense.

‘It was Joel’s idea,’ Tommy said, smiling at his older brother, who promptly blushed and looked ready to murder him. ‘Come look,’ Tommy said, extending a hand towards you and pulling you by the arm further into the room.

The massage table had built-in padding under a leather cover, that was attached to the wood with studs along the edges. The leather had clearly been something else in a past life, the stitching haphazard and criss-crossing over the base, but you would cover it with towels anyway. You pushed a hand out and pressed down on it, finding it delightfully spongey, and soft. You wanted to lean down and put your nose to it, inhale the leather, the warm sunshine on swatches of yellow and green fields. Inhale a different life, an older one long passed.

‘And here, this is the headrest,’ Tommy said, continuing his tour. ‘It sits in its own little track carved in here, see? So you can remove it or slot it back into place. Maria said that’s what the proper tables used to have, so you could lie face down.’

You nodded, confirming that this was indeed true. You reached out and put your hands on it, let your fingers reach underneath to feel the joins in the wood. They were smooth, carefully crafted. You knew they were Joel’s, carried his strong but gentle touch, his precision, his care.

You gazed at him, completely blindsided by the craftmanship and the generosity. The moment hung in the air, the two of you watching each other. You wanted to tuck your head under his chin and cry into his chest, wanted to rip his shirt off him and shred it with your teeth so he could never wear anything ever again, wanted to hold his face in your hands and keep it, not let the moment pass, let your hands on his skin secure the warmth there, hold the look on his face, for eternity.

‘I should head back,’ Tommy said, and you pivoted immediately towards him and threw your arms around his neck. He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. ‘Now we’re square,’ he said, and you gurgled your acceptance.

After he left, you worried Joel would go, too. Worried that all of this had been obligation, had been at Tommy’s insistence, had been a way of winning Maria over. Worried at how badly you wanted him to stay, worried that it wasn’t just Jackson but that it was him, that it was always going to be him, and that right now every nerve ending was on fucking fire just because he was looking at you. You waited for him to grunt or nod at you and turn his back, but he stayed standing, his brows knitted together, one hand on his hip.

‘It’s beautiful,’ you said, because the tension was starting to mount now that Tommy had gone, and if he kept looking at you like that you were going to combust. Your voice wobbled, and you swallowed glue and razor blades to try and steady it. ‘Where did you get the leather?’

‘Found an old couch lying around, no bother,’ he said. His voice was low, like he thought you were going to run from the room, but in that moment you didn’t trust your legs. You nodded your head because words were failing you, but then suddenly you had too many of them, and they were all going to come out right now, all at once.

‘Its just that the massage table, I know it’s silly…but it was what I used to do before outbreak day, and it was kind of who I am or maybe I just think of it as that, but I just worry that if I don’t have anything to offer no one will keep me.’

Jackson. You’d meant to say you were worried they wouldn’t let you stay in Jackson. But that wasn’t at all what you’d said.

Joel took two steps forward, grabbing your face and rubbing at the tracks of tears on your cheek with one hand, the other snaking behind you to hold your back. You gasped, staring up into his brown eyes, the salt and pepper of his beard, the lower lip you wanted to nip with your teeth. You waited for him to say something, anything, but holding you was also enough. Under his patient gaze your breath slowed, you stopped feeling your heart thundering in your chest, felt your shoulders drop.

‘Joel…’ you whispered, and he was on you then, head dipping down to bite at the skin behind your ear, hand roaming over your hips to cup your bottom, grind you into him, where you felt him hard and heavy against your core.

‘Let me-‘ he started, but you stopped him, gripping him by the shoulder and pulling away.

‘No, let me,’ you said, suddenly bold under his wanting touch. ‘Table’s fixed now, so there’s no excuses.’

He cocked and eyebrow, blinking at you. ‘You want me on that?’

‘What’s the matter, don’t trust your craftmanship?’

‘Baby, a massage isn’t exactly what I-‘

‘Down to your boxers and face in the hole,’ you said, grabbing a towel from a nearby stack and putting it down on the leather.

‘You could at least help,’ he said, grumpy again, and you grinned happily at him.

‘I’ll step out and let you get ready,’ you said, in full-blown professional mode, just to fuck with him. He sighed, but he did as he was told, and you really fucking liked it, actually.

Once he was on the table you draped him, making sure he was comfortable. You rubbed your hands together to make them warm, then poured some cooking oil – the best substitute you’d found so far even if it did make the residents of Jackson smell like fried chicken – into your hands.

‘This might be cold, I’m sorry,’ you warned, and Joel grunted. You were glad he was face down so you didn’t have to see the expression on his face.

You started with his left leg, draping the towel over his hip and tucking it between his thighs. Straight away you could feel the tension there, the tightness of the calf, the hamstring ready to snap. You ran your hands in a vee-shape, thumbs tucked one over the other, up the back of his leg, stopping just below his glute, which you briefly considered leaning over and sinking your teeth into.

Joel’s skin was soft, and unbelievably hot to the touch, and you had to try hard to focus on what your hands were doing so that you could ignore the little whimpers, the little gasps, as you found and massaged away a knot. You ran your hands up the outside of his thighs, felt the muscles jump and tremor under you, dug your fingers into his hip flexors and heard him exhale, an almost sigh, as they released.

You got into trouble when you got to his back. You were aware of the fact that you were soaking your panties, worried that he would smell your arousal, worried that if he kept making noises like that you were going to drown yourself. You worked hard to keep your breath steady, remembered your lessons and imagined dousing yourself in freezing cold water, jumping from your back porch into the frozen lake below Jackson, hoping that might give you some relief.

The wide planes of his skin were marred by scars, by shadows of pain and hurt and memory. He carried a scar, an old one, on his right side, a graze that looked like a bullet, that you decided to ignore. As you pushed hard along his spine he grunted, the muscle seizing under your touch, and you worked against it, kneading at them like dough, lifting the fascia and breaking it down, working the adhesions, until it was buttery and smooth. You focused on Joel’s breath, saw the way his chest expanded as he inhaled, felt the enormous man, so scary and so gruff, so mean and so soft on the inside, gradually give in to you. You felt him relax, the tension leaving his shoulders as you worked them, careful to release the deltoid, to ease off the trapezius now that you could finally get at it properly.

You were tempted to leave him there, relaxed for maybe the first time in years, but you roused him, rolled him onto his back, put a folded-up towel under his head and another over his eyes to protect them from the light. With his face covered you could take your inventory of him. The scar on his right side, jagged and angry and new, the reason he’d been favouring it finally clear to you. The soft smattering of chest hair leading down to a light trail on his pelvis. The towel covering him, but not enough to hide the fact that he was hard, that he had tried to tuck his cock into the waistband of his underwear but that it was too thick, too long to stay fully hidden.

You moved up to his head, to his salt and pepper hair, and carded your hands through it, lifting his head and holding it in your fingertips. You watched as his eyebrows knitted together again, unsure, but then releasing, his mouth dropping open, as you heard his breath, ragged, escaping through his teeth.

‘Let me take care of you, baby,’ you whispered to him, right above his ear, mimicking what he had said to you on the coffee table, what had made you instantly wet and aching. You gazed down his body at the way his cock jumped. ‘Let me take care of this body.’

You let your fingers dig in a little to his scalp, a quiet little moan escaping him, the covering over his eyes giving him a sense of privacy as you unravelled him. You wanted to lean down and suck his bottom lip into yours, wanted to climb on top of him and sink your pussy onto his Roman nose. Wanted to come on his face and his fingers, wanted him to splash his come onto your chest.

‘This body that protects us,’ you whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead, on his cheek beneath the towel. Putting his head back down and moving to massage his left arm, lifting it by the wrist and rubbing your hands over his bicep and onto his chest. He glistened, the oil mixing with his sweat under the overhead light, and you couldn’t stop yourself, then, couldn’t help but to bend and place a kiss on his clavicle, licking up to nip at his neck. You felt him shiver, a soft whimper escaping with his breath. You moved your hand from his wrist to his palm, held his hand with yours.

‘This body that serves us all so well,’ you said. ‘Let me take care of this body.’

He gasped when you kissed his belly button, licking and nipping down his happy trail to where his cock was now straining hard against the towel. You pushed it away, taking his cock out of his underwear and pulling them down on his hips, so that you got your first proper look at him.

As you expected he was thick, the veins on the underside pulsing, straining against his want for you. The head was so red it was almost purple, and you wondered how long it had been since a woman touched him like this, since he’d been touched at all. His hand grasped yours, the other fisting the towel underneath him.

When you slipped him into your mouth, inviting him into you, he groaned, grunted obscenities flowing from him. His cock was hot on your tongue, salty as he dripped pre-come into your throat. You kept your eyes on his face, his still covered, as his stomach rippled and his body tremored underneath you. With your other hand you steadied him, reaching up and holding the shaft while you bobbed, sucking hard on the head. You took a second to breathe, leaving little kitten licks on his frenulum, feeling his free hand let go of the towel and grip you by the hair.

‘Fuck, baby’ he grunted, his hips thrusting, pumping up into the air.

‘So strong, Joel,’ you said, before reattaching your mouth to him. He threw his head back, and you considered the irony of him breaking the brand-new table he’d built just for you by coming so hard he splintered the wood beneath him. His body was quaking, his hips bucking up into your wet, warm mouth and it was everything you had dared imagine it would be, right down to his gasping encouragement, down to his needy little whimpers that turned into moans of outright pleasure, of the feeling hot and electric right down to his toes.

‘Jesus, you’re gonna make me…’ he gasped, and you looked up at him, the towel having fallen from his eyes and him staring down at you between his legs, his hand on the back of your neck gentle and guiding, supporting the muscles as you worked him. You kept your eyes on his and your mouth on his cock as he shook, hips rolling, rutting against your pumping hand.

You slipped him from your mouth. ‘Just let go, baby. I got you,’ you said, covering him again as he did just that, shooting ropes of hot salt and desire across your tongue, holding your hand, groaning at the relief of it, at the release, and in that moment you had him, in that moment he was yours, gasping for breath and so soft and languid, looking down his body at you in awe and in wanting, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@littlemisspascal

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller

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mandarinmoons · 2 months

Note

hiii! aaa. OKAY. so, what abt reader (or spencer) finally getting a new puppy after seeing that is possible to have a lovely dog and work at the bau thanks to luke, lol. and then the other one coming to their shared flat and they are like (spencer or reader, up to you who decides to get the puppy) but sweetheart- (sighs) alright we can keep it because it's cute. hehe. just tons of your lovely spencer fluff! mwah.

You were used to having animals. Growing up you had several pets from goldfish to dogs and cats and when you moved to D.C. having a little loving animal by your side was something you terribly missed. You knew that it would be hard to keep a pet by yourself, especially if it was a dog who needed to be taken out regularly. However, you no longer lived alone, you had your lovely boyfriend Spencer and you were slowly wearing him down on the topic of getting a pet.

After one night of begging, pleading and showing your best puppy dog like eyes at Spencer to go to a kennel sometime soon to look at the puppies they have up for adoption, all that Spencer said was “We’ll look into it, okay?” and that was it for the whole night. The topic wasn’t brought up again for a few days until a better offer came up.

One of your coworker’s dogs had puppies recently and was looking for a home for them. After seeing pictures of the little furballs your eyes landed on one of them and knew you needed to have it in your arms. It was a little spaniel puppy with golden fur and a brown nose, it was adorable.

After finishing a shift you picked up the needed supplies for your newest family member and headed over to pick it up.

A few hours later you were at home and playing with your new love. The puppy was energetic and was gnawing on a toy you got him, holding onto it with its paws as he kept on going. You were so distracted with the dog that you didn’t hear the front door open and close. Spencer walked in and furrowed his brows as he heard the squeak of a chew toy, it couldn’t be what he thought it was. Spencer walked to the living room and was met with you sitting on the middle of the carpet, holding a small dog in your arms.

“Sweetheart…”

“Oh Spence! Come here, I want to introduce you to someone,” Spencer walked over to you and sat down next to you, the puppy immediately crawling over to him and sniffing him. A smile crept up on Spencer’s lips and he gently petted the puppy.

“Isn’t he cute?”

“He is, but where did you get him?”

“Marla’s dog had puppies some time ago and they needed homes, so I thought why not?”

Spencer sighs and tries to hold back a chuckle as the dog bites on his fingers playfully.

“You should’ve talked to me about this first, you know.”

“I know, but you were so hesitant and I really wanted him, Spence. I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you first, but…”

The puppy crawled back over to you and licked your hand, even if Spencer wasn’t too keen on having a dog right now he was going to have a hard time keeping you two apart.

“Well it’s a bit sudden, but I think I can come around to him. Okay, let’s keep him.”

“Really?”

Spencer nodded and you jumped into his arms and kissed him, making the dog bark and jumping up to join in on the fun. Both of you chuckled and Spencer cleared his throat,

“What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one yet, I thought that maybe you could do the honors.”

“Okay um… Spock?”

“Spock? Really? Any other name that isn’t after a Star Trek character?”

Spencer chuckles, “I don’t know um… Sunny? I mean he does have a golden coat.”

“I love that, do you like it Sunny?”

The dog licked your face which made you giggle, “Sunny it is.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @indigosamsblog @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Designated Person | Chapter 5

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 5: Fever

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 8.7k+

Content / Warnings: Reader POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, food, viral infection (influenza), respiratory infection, hospitalization, asthma, inhaler, bb girl gets sick, frankie gets to mother hen a little, fever dream, alcohol, bar, heavy angst, not a universe where covid-19 existed, manipulation

Notes: Hey, buddy. If there are any inaccuracies in the realm of medical science and hospitals and all that jazz, let's collectively ignore that, ok? Perfect. Thank you for reading!!!

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Yesterday afternoon, after Emmaleigh returned from school, she complained that her whole body hurt. Alarm bells went off in your head. You studied her face and noticed that her cheeks were rosy and she looked dazed.

“Are you feeling ok?” you asked, pressing the back of your hand to her hot, sweaty forehead. A grimace rolled across your face, “You’re burning up, Em.”

She barely mumbled a response, then trudged over to the couch and laid down.

The boys were soon to join her, getting lethargic as their temperatures skyrocketed. All three Howard children took turns coughing their sickness into the air. You did your best to stay away from their germs while you accommodated them, but should have known that the future was already percolating in your immune system.

“I’ll work from home tomorrow,” Marla told you when she got home, “I just hope they didn’t get you sick.”

Well, guess what?

They got you fucking sick.

It started with small things: a tight soreness in your throat, aches shooting from deep within your muscles like you did a full body workout the day before.

When Frankie walked through the front door, he took one look at you in your blanket cocoon on the couch, then at the TV playing King of the Hill, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I think my kids got me sick,” you informed him. The words tickled. A coughing fit erupted in from your chest.

His boots clunked to the floor, one at a time, as he probed, “You ok?”

“I’m fine,” you shook your head, then swallowed the thickness in your throat.

“Are you sure?” he took a few steps towards you, narrowing his gaze, “You look like shit.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you deadpanned.

He approached the couch, brought the back of his hand to your forehead, and grumbled, “You feel warm.”

“Oh my god. I’m fine,” you groaned, pulling the blanket over your head, “Go away before I get you sick.”

Frankie sighed and retreated into his bedroom.

When you woke up this morning, the sky outside was still dark. You were still on the couch, wrapped up in your blanket. A layer of sweat lined your skin, but you shivered from the perceived cold.

It felt like a fucking Mack truck hit you.

The first deep morning breath to stretch your lungs caused them to seize. A fit of coughs ripped your body in half. You sat up, struggling to draw breath between each new wave of coughing.

Frankie wobbled into the living room, wearing just a pair of navy blue boxers, his hair all sleep-mussed, as he sat down beside you and smoothed his palm against your back. His groggy morning voice rumbled from his throat, “You ok?”

Your entire respiratory tract felt constricted. The tempo of your heart hastened. You shook your head back and forth, shoulders jumping with each cough, and put one hand up in the shape of an L, curling your pointer finger down repeatedly.

“Do you need your inhaler?” he asked.

You nodded and managed to gasp out, “Purse—room—”

He jumped to his feet and rushed out of the room and returned a few moments later, elbow deep in your ratty canvas tote bag, muttering under his breath, “How the fuck do you find anything in here?”

Finally, he pulled the inhaler out and you snatched it from him, shaking it for a moment before popping the cap off and sealing your lips around the mouth piece. You inhaled a few puffs of albuterol and felt it start to take effect, lungs calming, shifting their violent spasms into smaller, more manageable hiccups.

Frankie sat down next to you and rubbed your back in slow, soothing motions. It should have felt good, but the gentle touch sent ripples of pain across your skin. You whimpered, “Everything hurts.”

“You’re not going to work today,” he declared.

“No,” you confirmed, “Marla is with them. Don’t have to go.”

“I’m staying with you,” he said then.

You pouted, shoulders slumping as you looked over at him, “Don’t—”

Sternness creased his forehead, “It’s not a question.”

“I can take care of myself,” you protested weakly.

He raised his eyebrows and blinked at you, as if to reaffirm that this was non-negotiable.

“Fine,” you murmured in defeat.

A small, victorious smile crossed his face, “Atta girl.”

> MARLA: > We all tested positive for Influenza B, FYI. How are you feeling?

< ME: < I think I caught it :(

“It’s the flu,” you inform Frankie in a croaky murmur.

His eyes don’t part from the TV when he says, “Told ya.”

You want to shoot a glare at him, but find your energy reserves depleted. The bones in your wrist cry out when you tuck the phone beneath your pillow. A whine squeaks from your raw, tight throat.

“Do you wanna lay down in your room? Might be comfier there,” he suggests.

“No TV,” you grumble.

His mouth folds into a thoughtful frown. He taps his fingers against his lips, then looks over at you, “I can set it up in there.”

You study his face, “Really?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, then rises to his feet, “Need help getting up?”

“No,” you insist, but when you sit upright, your head starts to spin and throb. With a pathetic whimper, you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Frankie stares down at you expectantly, but a spin cycle tumbles your brain in its centrifuge. You can’t stop it. He holds his hand out, a wordless offer of assistance.

You swat it away.

Frustration boils your blood. A wave of wet coughs bubbles up your throat.

I don’t want your fucking help. I can do this myself. I don’t fucking need you.

You try to stand, but your legs are wobbly and collapse under pressure. Your hands ball into fists and you hit the couch cushion on either side of you as hard as you can, which isn’t very hard, then choke out between coughs, “I—fucking—hate this—”

Frankie’s face sags with pity, “Do you need—”

“No!” you try to yell with authority, but it comes out this pitiable, gurgling, wheezy word that crushes your spirit.

Your shoulders shake from the force of your coughing. You slump over into yourself and bury your face in your hands.

Frankie returns to his seat beside you and hands you the inhaler from the coffee table. You grab it and take a few puffs, then try to calm down as the albuterol works at your inflamed airway.

“We should go see the doctor,” he says quietly.

You manage to meet his gaze and pout. His eyes are pleading, but you shake your head, “I’m fine.”

“You can barely breathe—”

“I’m fine,” you repeat.

His jaw cocks to the side and he grumbles, “You’re so fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Never heard that before—” you take a gulp of air, “in my life.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he chuckles, then stands again, “Ready?”

You nod and get to your feet, the sweat-drenched throw blanket draped over your shoulders like a cape as you tiptoe through the house, to your bedroom, where you collapse on top of your covers.

Frankie talks to you while he gets everything set up, muttering things about fevers and breathing. Your eyes follow him as he does this, but you ignore his reminders to drink from the water bottle on your side table and take the Tylenol he set next to it, because you’re pretty sure he’s not even real.

After getting the TV set up, he turns it on and resumes your King of the Hill marathon. He makes you sit up to take the Tylenol and chase it with a half a bottle of water, then leaves for a few minutes. He returns holding your phone in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

You grimace at both items, but take your phone. Frankie sets the steaming bowl of soup on your nightstand and asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

“Aren’t you—” you yawn, cough, then finish your sentence, “worried you’ll get sick?”

He frowns and shakes his head, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “I got a flu shot.”

Your skepticism must be etched into your face, because shifts his weight to one leg and explains further, “Angie makes us get them every year.”

“She’s so responsible,” you admire.

He shifts his weight to the other leg and runs a hand through his messy hair. Your head swims, and again, you’re struck by the sense that this isn’t real. You’re flattened into 2D. A flipbook cartoon. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion and far away.

“I get it. Why you chose her,” you mumble breathlessly, snuggling in closer to your pillow and blanket, letting your eyelids flutter closed, “So pretty, and fun, and has her shit together,” a cough interrupts you, and when you regain your stamina, you hum, “She’s awesome. I get it.”

Frankie doesn’t say anything, but as you’re drifting to sleep, you feel him tug your covers out from underneath you and tuck you into bed.

When your eyes open again, the room is much darker. You sit upright and look around. Everything seems familiar, yet completely foreign. Your bedroom, but veiled. Hazy, almost.

And quiet.

So fucking quiet that your pulse echoes in your head.

“Frankie?” you call out into the darkness of your open doorway.

He doesn’t respond.

Unease settles in your gut, heavy and hard. A boulder lodged in your intestines. You swing your feet over the side of your bed and press the soles of your feet against the hardwood floor. The floorboards creak when you tiptoe across the dimly-lit room to the doorway.

Then you pause and study it.

It looks ominous for some reason. Bigger than it should be.

As you step through it, you move through a slick, shiny membrane, which gives way to your entry with little resistance. It leaves a gummy residue on your skin. You try to wipe the remnants from your arms, grimacing at how viscous the clear fluid feels against your hands.

This is when you notice your surroundings are no longer dark. You squint up and look around.

Sunlight pours in through a windowed dome that stretches high above you. Beyond it lies a long, glass tunnel. Moisture from the humid air settles on your skin atop the layer of doorway residue.

Trees and bushes of all shapes and sizes fill the space. Some with thick, waxy leaves. Some adorned with colorful, blooming flowers. Crowds of faceless people mull about on a terracotta path that winds through the enclosure. None of them seem to notice you standing there in your pajamas.

The butterflies notice you, though.

Monarchs, tiger-like stripes sectioning off orange, their wings tipped with a thick black outline and dots of white. Paper Kites, their chalky white wings appearing luminous in the sunshine, black spots and stripes contrasting the bright glow. Owl butterflies, huge by comparison, their wings decorated with circular patterns in many shades of brown.

Dozens of others flutter around you, a wide variety of species, each one breathtaking in their own right. A few land on your arm when you hold it up.

You smile, then the familiarity of this place dawns on you. The butterfly house.

Frankie took you here occasionally when you were still together. Sometimes with Sarah, sometimes without. Far enough away from Kissimmee and Orlando that he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew.

When the two of you were here, it felt like you were a normal couple. He held your hand while you walked the paths. Murmured sweet nothings into your ear as you marveled at the foliage and butterflies.

Your attention snags on something in the path ahead of you, yanking you from your bittersweet nostalgia.

A white t-shirt stretched across his broad, hunched-up shoulders. Dark curls poking out from beneath his ragged hat. His slightly off-kilter, halting gait as he pushes a stroller in the opposite direction.

“Frankie!” you call.

He doesn’t react. Nobody reacts.

You start after him, calling his name over and over again, but he doesn’t turn towards your voice. Your stomach starts to churn. Swollen, gray clouds roll across the sky and tone the conservatory a dim, moody gray.

“Frankie, what the fuck?!” you pant when you catch up to him, vocal chords wavering, giving away the state of your frayed nerves. You grab his arm and spin him around, then take a step back.

It’s not Frankie.

The older man before you has a thick white mustache brimming his frail, wrinkled lips. His shortly-trimmed white hair stands straight up from his scalp. You have to crane your neck up to meet his cold, gray eyes.

The smile that stretches across his face churns your stomach. Goosebumps prick your skin.

Your eyes flick from his to the stroller.

It’s empty.

You shake your head, taking another step back. Hot tears pool in your eyes and turn the world around you blurry.

When you look back to the man, he seems even taller. Your heart hammers in your chest. One message broadcasts through your brain: GET THE FUCK OUT.

You retreat backwards. Only a few slow steps at first, but your feet pick up the pace quickly when you see his arms.

His fucking arms.

They stretch after you, but his body doesn’t move.

Panic spikes your bloodstream.

You sprint in the opposite direction, away from him, your feet pounding against the empty pathway. Everything is dark now. Like the sun burnt out.

His slender fingers dig into your arms. He clenches down, pulling you back towards him, dragging you over the terracotta pathway as you struggle to escape, screaming, “No no no, No! NO! N—”

Your body starts to shake, then your eyes snap open and meet Frankie’s, all wide and glazed with distress. He’s hovering above you, hands on your shoulders, his voice hoarse as he whispers, “Hey, are you ok?”

When you meet his gaze and understand that he’s real, your face crumbles, and you try to sob with relief, but your breath catches in your throat. Your hands fly to your neck. The gasps that are able to pass through the constricted airway are shallow.

It feels like you’re a fish out of water.

He grabs your inhaler from the nightstand and shakes it, flinging the cap off with one hand as the other guides you to sit up. You take a few puffs, and it makes it easier, but your throat is still tight. Lungs still feel three times too small.

“We’re going to the hospital.”

It’s not a plea, or a question, or a request like it was earlier. He’s making a statement of fact.

He marches from the room and comes back with the straps of your purse held up in a stranglehold, “Is your insurance card in here?”

You nod and swallow hard. It hurts like your throat is an open wound. Tears burn behind your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Your breaths come in short little wheezes that unleash a flood of adrenaline into your heart.

“Ok,” he says, strides to the nightstand, throws your inhaler and cell phone inside, slings the cross-body strap over his shoulder, and looks at you.

His face droops momentarily and his eyes get all watery and red, then he hardens his features and tells you, “It’s gonna be ok, sweetheart, ok?”

You shake your head and open your mouth to let your worries spill from your lips, but nothing comes out except a gasp for oxygen.

“Right now I just need you to try and stay calm. I know it’s hard but you have to try, alright?”

His voice is low and quivering. You search his face and understand that he’s worried, too, so you nod.

“Ok, let’s go, mamacita,” he rumbles.

You want to tell him that he can’t drive. That he can’t risk going to fucking jail because of you. But you don’t. You can’t.

Frankie pulls the blankets back and the air feels like ice against your skin. Shivers shoot across your body, making your teeth chatter. He lifts you from the bed with a groan. You hook your arms around his neck and try your hardest to hold on.

When you get to the Emergency Room, you’re barely coherent, so Frankie fills out the intake paperwork for you. He talks to the triage nurse, who brings you back to be checked out.

Everything sort of blurs from there.

The nurses check your vitals, take some swabs, and ask a bunch of questions that, between your foggy mind and Frankie, are mostly answered. A doctor comes in and talks to the two of you, returning shortly thereafter to advise that you’re being admitted to the hospital for overnight treatment and observation.

You’re wheeled to another department and hooked up to an IV, an oxygen tank, and all kinds of different monitors. Your hospital room is like a revolving-door of medical personnel, but Frankie holds steadfast by your side throughout the chaos.

During a moment of quiet, when just the two of you remain in the room, you look at him.

He sits in a squeaky armchair he pulled up next to your bed, elbows resting on his knees, chin propped up in his palm, staring up at the TV as he flips through the limited channels on hospital cable.

You swallow, then clear your throat and croak out, “Frankie?”

His eyebrows shoot up and he turns to meet your eyes in question.

“Can you—hand me—my phone?”

“Yeah,” he leans over to grab your purse off the couch, sifting through it for a moment before fishing out your cell phone and handing it to you.

When you grab it from him, your hand drops to your side. You blink slowly at the sight, unable to comprehend why you can’t lift it. Your brow furrows and you frown at Frankie, whose features are all creased with concern.

“Do—do you need help?” he asks.

It’s like your bones are both weightless and infinitely dense. Your head is swimming but a deep fatigue keeps you pinned to the bed. You manage to nod.

He plucks the phone from your tenuous grasp and probes further, “Do you… want me to text people to let them know?”

You nod.

“Sisters, brother, Mom, Dad, all them?”

You nod.

“Marla?”

You nod.

“Rory?”

You scrunch up your nose and shrug.

“Anyone else? Friends?”

You pause to think about this, but mostly you’re just thinking about how sad it is that your only friends that aren’t family are him and Marla. You shake your head, then furrow your brow and rasp, “Ralph?”

“I told him what’s going on already,” he informs you, then inquires, “What’s—uh, what’s your passcode?”

Your shoulders slump and your guts twist when you realize you have to tell him this embarrassing information. Something you never thought he’d have an opportunity to discover. You swallow hard, wincing at the pain from your tight throat muscles, then admit, “07–25–19”

He searches your face as his brow creases, eyes softening into a pained expression, “Sarah’s birthday?”

All you can do is shrug. A testament to how pathetic you feel.

He holds your gaze for another beat, then drops it to your phone and starts tapping away. You let fatigue curl around your consciousness and drift off into sleep.

Occasionally you wake and hear him talking to someone, either to a person on the phone or to hospital staff in the room. Once, you wake and think he’s talking to himself, his forehead pressed against his clasped hands.

Later, you swear you hear a doctor tell Frankie, “Your wife seems to be stable, but we will have to keep her for a few days to continue treatment.”

Your eyes blink open and you see Frankie nod in acknowledgment, then ask, “Is she gonna be ok?”

“She’ll be just fine,” comes the response, and you watch tension melt from his shoulders.

You want to stay awake, to ask him questions like: A few days? and Did the doctor just call me your fucking wife?

More so, you desperately want to reach out and hold his hand. You want to tell him you’ll be ok, to thank him for taking care of you. To thank him for caring at all.

But your body holds you hostage. Your joints are all super glued in place. Muscles disconnected from your brain. A weight bears down on you, tugging at your eyelids, lulling you back to sleep.

The next time you wake, the room is dark and quiet.

First, you hear the equipment hooked up to your body. The faint beeping of monitors. Gears whizzing and turning, the buzz of machines at work.

Then, you hear a snore. You turn and see Frankie still sitting in the armchair at your bedside. Your heart jumps in your chest and your throat lets out a little yelp of surprise.

Frankie starts awake at the noise, his legs jerking upwards in reaction, falling from their place propped up on your hospital bed. A stiff beige blanket falls from his chest as he sits up straight. He takes a deep breath, which you envy, and looks around the room, then blinks sleepily at you.

“Hi,” you whisper. It comes out scratchy and dry. The tickle in your throat makes you start coughing. Every heaving, choked breath shoots a wave of pain across your body.

He grabs a hard plastic water bottle with the hospital’s logo printed across the center and holds it in front of you. You lean forward to seal your lips around the straw, take half a dozen big swallows of ice cold water, then lay back.

“That was fucking awesome,” you gasp. For the first time since you’ve been admitted, it doesn’t feel like something is actively squeezing the air from your lungs.

Frankie chuckles at this, then brings himself closer to meet your eyes in the darkness, asking you in a low, quiet voice, “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I could run a mile,” you joke.

He smiles wide and genuine, dimples pricking his cheeks, and shakes his head, “There she is.”

Warmth spreads across your chest and you hum, reaching out to him with your non-intubated hand. He takes it in his own, grazing his thumb across your knuckles as he sighs, “You scared the shit out of me today.”

“Sorry,” you murmur. Your eyes meet his and hold steady. There’s a spark of something in the space between you. It’s sweet and meaningful and makes your bones buzz. Like a battery clicks into place and completes the circuit.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then shuts it when a nurse toddles into the room. Your heart jumps like she caught you in the middle of doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. On instinct, you drop Frankie’s hand and look at her with wide eyes.

The plump, middle-aged woman just gives you a cheery smile and says, “Oh, you’re up! Do you mind if I turn the lights on and check you out?”

You shrug, “Sure.”

Frankie excuses himself to go to the bathroom. The nurse takes your blood pressure and presses a stethoscope to your bare back through the parted hospital gown, humming and noting her findings in your chart. She checks all the readings on the machines you’re hooked up to and jots those down as well.

She leaves for a moment to get a new bag of IV fluid. You glance around the sterile, sad looking room. It holds an air of faux comfort. Mass-produced landscape artwork framed on the wall, furniture all upholstered in a shiny, pastel green fabric, countertops and floors as white and spotless as porcelain.

You squint at something on a tabletop in the corner. A vase of yellow roses. The nurse re-enters the room and hangs the bag of clear fluid on your IV pole.

You blink at the flowers a few times, just to make sure you’re not imagining them, then ask her, “Are those for me?”

The nurse’s face twists up in amusement at your question, and she snorts, “No, they’re for the other sick girl.”

Her sarcasm is justified.

Frankie walks back into the room then, and you ask, “Who sent those?”

“Rory,” he tells you, crossing paths with the nurse as she leaves.

Your lip curls, “Oh.”

“Christ, do you even like him?” he chuckles, but studies your face in a serious way that makes you think he genuinely wants to know.

The answer would require more breath than you’re able to give at the moment.

Rory.

You should like him. Hell, you should be falling head over heels for him. He’s dedicated, confident, loyal, respectful, and attractive. His dick is big and he knows how to use it. He takes you out on dates and performs chivalrous gestures, like holding doors open, pulling your chair out, and bringing you flowers.

He checks off so many boxes. But you don’t feel that spark, that thing, that Diane Barrows talked about in It Takes Two:

That can't eat, can't sleep, reach for the stars over the fence, world series kind of love.

That’s what you want.

And every time you see Rory, you think maybe it’ll change, that he’ll grow on you, but your discomfort in his presence only seems to get worse. You think you should probably dump him, but you’re not sure if it’s the right call or not.

Because what if you’re just so used to the exhilaration of your toxic relationship with Frankie, that you don’t yet understand how it feels to be treated right? What if you’re just in need of repair? What if you just need to learn to be in a normal relationship?

Because what if Rory is the last chance you have for someone to love you?

So, instead of answering Frankie’s question, you observe, “That chair looks uncomfortable.”

“Correct, it’s really fucking uncomfortable,” he nods and lets out a little chuckle.

Your teeth catch on your tongue and you clamp down on it a few times as you consider this, then release it and tell him quietly, “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know,” he leans forward, pressing his fingers to his lips, and shrugs, “I—I want to, though.”

Your heart skips a beat. Heat bubbles up the middle of you, creeping up your neck, onto your cheeks.

You reach out and take his hand in yours, then pull it closer. He lets you do this, and his brows knit together as he stares down at your interlaced fingers. Neither of you say anything. You wriggle onto your side and yawn. Fatigue sinks into your muscles and tugs at your eyelids.

“I don’t think I’d trust myself to be there while you're here,” he admits after a while.

You blink your eyes all the way open and study his face, “Why not?”

Frankie shrugs, “You’d be here alone. I’d have no idea what the hell is going on with you,” he scoffs and shakes his head, “Fuck that.”

A sleepy smile stretches across your face, “You’re sweet.”

He doesn’t say anything, just grins and holds your gaze. Your stomach flips and you ask, “Wanna sleep up here?”

“I’m good here,” he responds with a yawn, pulling the scratchy looking blanket up to his chin as he kicks his feet up onto your hospital bed, “Thanks, though.”

It sort of makes you sad, but your eyes flutter closed and you murmur, “You’d get tangled up anyway.”

“What?” he laughs.

“The tubes,” you explain, “Fuckin’ everywhere.”

He snorts and squeezes your hand. Silence settles over the room. Your mind wanders to the fragments of conversations you overheard between intervals of sleep.

“Frankie,” you murmur.

He grunts in response.

“Did you tell them—that we’re married?”

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re not sure he’s still awake, until he says, “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want them to make me leave,” he says.

You hum in acknowledgment. Ignore your heart’s stuttering beat.

“Wha’d my family say?”

“Everyone said they hope you feel better soon. Asked us to keep them posted. Leah’s gonna call to see how you’re doing tomorrow.”

You yawn and nod, then ask, “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me?” he chuckles softly.

“Mmm no,” you tug at your clasped hands and tuck them under your cheek, “But, Sarah—”

“It’s fine, mariposa. Just get some rest.”

The nickname twists your stomach like a dishrag. You haven’t heard it cross his lips in ages. The one he used in those tender moments where you felt him let you into his heart. Only to be shoved away at the next given opportunity.

Fuck, it was like clockwork.

There was one day you were laying next to him in his bed, in the spot his wife slept each night. He traced your naked body with his fingertips and rumbled, “You’re the only one who understands me, mariposa.”

His eyes were warm and glowing in the sunlight streaming through the window. When he met your gaze, you saw something there. Adoration etched into his features, radiating through his touch as it skated across your skin.

“Really?” you breathed.

He searched your face and nodded solemnly. Drew you closer and kissed your lips. Your chest ached deep and wide with love.

Not a crush. Not lust. Not infatuation.

Real, true, pure fucking love.

So you told him.

“I love you.”

His touch ceased. He pulled back, furrowing his brow. You watched his face shift from confusion, to surprise, to worry.

Then he shook his head and whispered, “I… can’t.”

It felt like you were dropped from a 10-story building and pancaked onto the sidewalk. Your nerves started to buzz and twist. You didn’t know what to do, how to convey the panic building in your chest. So you stared at him.

“You—you know we can’t be together like that,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring like the words he was saying weren’t ripping you apart, his wide eyes frantically scanning your face, “Right? I mean, I’m—I’m married, and Angie—I love her—”

The knife in your gut twisted.

“I know,” you nodded, flashing a reassuring smile, but rolled out of bed and started to get dressed, facing away from him so he couldn’t see the tears brimming your eyelids.

“Come on, you knew what you were getting into when this started.”

Salt in your wounds.

Obviously you knew he was married, and he never made you promises of running away together. But you really thought that this was more to him than sex.

You swore you felt it.

When it was just the two of you, he would joke with you, and cuddle with you, and kiss your forehead, and hold your hand, and tell you things… intimate things.

Things about his upbringing. About his absent, alcoholic father, and his mother who did her best but struggled desperately. How he was an only child split between households when his mom finally had enough and divorced his dad.

He told you about his time in the service, time he spent overseas fighting a war for his country, then for the highest bidder. How he took lives, destroyed communities, and sold years of his life to make the rich even richer.

He told you about how, just a year prior to that afternoon in his bed, he went on an independent mission to South America with his brothers in arms. It went tits up. He watched one of his best friends get shot in the fucking head. They had to drag his body through the Andes, along with millions of dollars seized from a drug kingpin. Most of the money was lost, and the residual earnings of this expedition were given to the deceased’s family.

He told you about how, he realized afterwards, the cost wasn’t worth it. The value of his friend’s life exceeded that of anything they would have brought home.

He told you this in a matter-of-fact way. His voice was calm, shoulders level, back straight. And his eyes… they were so far away. Like he was there again.

You recognized yourself in his detached gaze. In the subtle tensing of his body.

You thought his telling you these things meant he trusted you with them. You thought him telling you these things meant he was placing his heart in your hands.

And there were other things.

He held you like he was abandoned at sea and you were a life-preserver buoying him to the surface of choppy waves. He kissed you like he was starved for affection. Fucked you like it was his last day on Earth.

You thought it meant something to him.

This is it, you thought, this is love.

That can't eat, can't sleep, reach for the stars over the fence, world series kind of love.

You were astounded that you could have read him so wrong. Of all the things you’ve been uncertain of in life, you genuinely didn’t think this was one of them. It flipped your worldview upside down.

You felt naïve. Foolish.

Of course he can’t love you.

Of course he doesn’t love you.

“I know,” you managed to choke out while pulling your shirt over your head.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to get you to look at him.

“It’s ok, Frankie, really,“ you shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ear, then tiptoed into the bathroom, where you allowed yourself to cry silently for five minutes.

When you emerged, he was sitting on the couch drinking whiskey. Sarah was still napping. You sequestered yourself in the kitchen, painfully aware of Frankie’s presence in the next room.

When Angie got home, he kissed her hello right in front of you. Made a big show of it.

And you hated her.

Envy is probably more accurate than hate, you think, in retrospect. At the time, all you knew was it seared your insides like hellfire when he touched her. You wanted to dig your fingernails into her cheeks and rip her pretty face right off of her skull.

You picked up your purse and plastered on a mask of neutrality, “Well, I’m off. Have a good weekend, guys.”

It almost slipped when your gaze caught on Frankie’s. He wore this pained expression like this hurt for him, too.

You broke eye contact and rushed out the door to your car. Once inside, you screamed at the top of your lungs into the steering wheel. Your throat burned raw with territorial rage, and rejection, and heartbreak.

You kept thinking of that fucking look on his face. That fucking nickname. His faux intimacy. Your stupidity in thinking he felt the same as you.

On your way home, you went to your favorite spot, Bubba’s.

The establishment’s owner and namesake, Bubba, was working, as he often was on Friday nights. You selected one of the many empty barstools and sat down, running your hands over your face, releasing a deep sigh.

Bubba nodded in your direction, “Whiskey coke?”

His voice was gravelly and carried bass from deep in his chest.

“Yeah,” you muttered and dug your phone from your purse, then sent a text to Leah, and another to Marlene, telling them about the recent turn of events in your pathetic life.

Bubba kept his sharp blue eyes on you as he made your drink, burning a hole into your profile. You noticed, and bunched your fist against your face, trying to conceal your puffy eyelids, your wet cheeks, your shaky breath.

“Do I needta kick someone’s ass, er what?” he asked as he placed your whiskey coke on a coaster in front of you. Bubba laced his wiry gray eyebrows together and leaned against the bar, beer belly pressing into the counter.

You snorted at him and shook your head, avoiding his gaze by looking up at the sports news show on the TV, “I’m fine.”

“Ok,” he shrugged in a disbelieving manner, “You just let me know if you need anythin’, darlin’.”

“Sure thing,” you murmured, raising the straw to your lips.

When your phone started ringing, you were three drinks deep. Your mind was starting to bend and blur, the booze supplying a much needed reprieve from reality.

Your heart stuttered when you saw his name populate your phone screen. Then your face flushed with indignation.

“What?” you answered in an icy tone.

“Where are you?” he asked. His words were all huddled together. Spoken too close to the speaker. He was drunk.

“Why do you care?” you scoffed.

“Needta talkta you about somethin’,” he mumbled, “Where are you?”

“You sound shitfaced, Frankie,” you frowned at your empty drink, stabbed the ice with your straw, then looked around and locked eyes with Bubba. He nodded in acknowledgement and started to make you a new drink.

“Jus—jus—jus, shut the fuck up and tell me where you are—”

“Hey, fuck you,” you yelled in return, unable to stop the rage from bubbling up inside you.

A big sigh crackled over the speaker, then he adjusted his tone to something less severe, “Sorry—soooo sorry, sweetheart. But I needta talk to you, please.”

“You’re talking to me now, Francisco.”

There was a long pause, then he mumbled, “I wanna see you.”

“You’re not driving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I miss you.”

Tightness radiated across your chest. Heat tingled up your throat, into your sinuses. You swallowed hard.

“Please, baby,” he croaked, “Please.”

“Bubba’s,” you sighed, then hung up.

Frankie strode through the door ten minutes later. His movements were overly fluid, spilling over the edges of his body’s limits when he came to sit next to you, “Hey.”

Bubba eyed Frankie from afar, but didn’t approach him to ask if he wanted a drink.

“Please tell me you didn’t drive here,” you hissed, searching his face.

“I didn’t drive here,” he grinned, crossing his arms, leaning forward onto the bar.

“Frankie—” you protested.

“No, wait—wait, listen,” he grabbed your hand and kissed your palm.

You winced at the sharp pain that twisted your heart. He didn’t notice, just pressed your unresponsive hand against his cheek, against the grain of his patchy beard, and drew his eyebrows together, “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that,” you blinked.

“Don’t be mad at me, sweetheart,” his voice was raspy and low as he searched your face with those puppy dog eyes that tugged at your heart strings, “Please, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

You released a heavy sigh, “I’m not mad at you, Frankie. I just—I don’t know, I thought…”

Your shoulders slumped as you dropped your gaze to your drink.

“Hey,” he squeezed your hand, kissed your palm, and pressed it against his cheek again, “What we have’s really special to me. But I—”

“Can’t, I know,” you mumbled and pulled your hand away.

He cocked his jaw back and forth, then leaned closer and asked, “So is this it then? Are you done with me?”

You knew that if you said yes and he’d accept it. This would be over and you could walk away with your dignity still intact. You could find a new job and gracefully bow out of the Morales household.

You knew that if you said yes you’d never have him again. Never again would you feel the heat of his desire, or hear the joy of his laughter, or taste the sweetness of his affection. You knew that you’d be forfeiting any chance to make him fall in love with you.

It was so desperate and raw, the way you wanted him to love you.

“I should be the one asking you that,” you rolled your head on your shoulders to look at him.

He held your gaze and furrowed his brow, “Why would I be done with you?”

You scoffed, “Because I’m apparently a fucking idiot.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re not an idiot,” he groaned, then draped his arm around the back of your barstool, leaning close, “You are clever, and—and beautiful, and—”

His compliments flipped your stomach upside down. You raised your eyebrows, “Ok—”

“Shhh,” he pressed a finger to your lips, “Let me finish.”

You swatted his hand away playfully, while he just grinned and leaned closer, “And sweet, and generous, and funny, and kind of a fucking brat, honestly—”

“Excuse me?!” you gasped.

“—But I like that about you! I do. You’re fucking amazing,” he told you, and by now his breath was hot against your cheek, and he murmured, “I don’t want you to go anywhere, sweetheart. I mean that.”

You met his gaze and held it. A palpable energy flowed between his body and yours. His eyes flicked down to your lips and a rumble sounded from the back of his throat.

Then he kissed you. It was this slow, lingering kind of kiss that only made you want more. You balled his shirt in your fist and tugged at it, kissing him deeper, harder, more urgent.

Kissing was like that with him. Hungry. Passionate. Thrilling.

He stood from the barstool to get closer to you, to get a better angle against your lips. His fingertips dug into your waist and filled you with a hot, gooey ache.

“Stay with me tonight,” you breathed against his mouth, “Please.”

He nodded, “I can do that.”

It would happen almost every time. You would misread his affection and lust for love, get too deep, pry yourself open. Only for him to remind you of your place in his life: a mistress.

That’s all you were.

And now… you’re friends.

These heated sparks of something more you think you feel from him, it’s wishful thinking.

You let go of his hand and roll over to face the opposite direction.

When you’re sure you hear his breathing slow to a pattern indicative of sleep, you release the hurt held hostage in your body. The way you allow yourself to cry is cautious and guarded. Quiet, metered sniffles as tears roll hot down your cheeks. Only once do you lose yourself, choking out an audible sob that thankfully doesn’t seem to wake him.

You’re not sure exactly when, but eventually, exhaustion wins over your agitated body and you drift into unconsciousness.

Leah calls you sometime after breakfast and your AM antiviral infusion, but before lunch. When she calls, the room is vacant. Frankie is out with Benny, who’s giving him a ride to your house so he can grab some things.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hey, how are you?” Her voice is honeyed and sympathetic. It makes you crinkle your nose.

“Good,” you answer reflexively, then backtrack, “Well, not good. Y’know.” You laugh nervously and it catches in your throat, making you cough.

When it ceases, Leah asks, “Do you know when you’ll get discharged?”

“Probably tomorrow. If I keep getting better,” you tell her, looking up at the old game show playing on TV, then admit, “It was spooky.”

“It sounds like it. Frankie was freaking out when I talked to him.”

You frown, “He was?”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, then stops and says, “Sorry, it’s not funny.”

“No, it’s hilarious that I–couldn’t breathe,” you scoff and roll your eyes, then inquire further, “How was he freaking out?”

“Well, I told him I’m a nurse, right? And he just starts asking me all these questions about asthma, and the flu, and asking if he waited too long to take you, all that,” she stops and takes a sip of, what you’re assuming is, coffee, then continues, “It was kind of sweet.”

You hum and nod, even though she can’t see you.

“I was expecting him to be a total dick from what you’ve told me about him. He’s the married guy, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, glancing over to the armchair he slept in last night, “Since he stopped drinking, it’s… been different. I think. I don’t know,” you shake your head, then bring your attention back to the TV screen, “I can’t trust my judgment with him.”

“Are you guys—”

“No,” you interject.

“Did you tell him about the—”

“Nope,” you cut her off again.

She grumbles in frustration on her end, then sighs, “Are you bringing him to Rachel’s wedding?”

“Maybe. If he wants to,” you frown as you consider this, “I might have to, actually. With the… parole thing.”

“Since she wants us all there for the whole stinkin’ week, yeah, probably,” Leah scoffs, then adds, “I’m so ready for it to be over with. She’s being a total bridezilla. You know how she gets.”

“Do I ever,” you mutter.

The door opens, and your eyes flick towards it. Frankie walks in with a backpack slung around his shoulder and nods at you in greeting. His dark curls look damp under his hat, and his gray t-shirt clings to his body in a way that makes heat creep up onto your cheeks.

Then you notice a brown paper bag crinkled up in one of his hands. The scent of deep-fried food fills the room.

“Is that Leah?” he asks.

“Is that Frankie?” Leah asks.

“Yeah,” you respond to both of them, then ask Frankie, “Did you bring me food?”

“Yeah,” he grins, holding the bag up like a trophy. Your mouth starts to salivate.

“I can let you go,” Leah says, “Just wanted to check in with you and see how you’re holding up.”

“Thanks,” you look down at the IV implanted in your hand, “I’ll keep you posted, ok?”

“Tell Frankie I said hi.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hang up and toss the phone aside, “She says hi.”

“I like her, she’s nice,” he drops the backpack to the ground and hands you the bag of greasy food.

“Fuck yes,” you groan as you pull out flimsy containers of french fries and chicken strips.

“You did not look happy to have oatmeal for breakfast,” he chuckles, then sits in the armchair next to your bed and unzips the backpack, “I brought your book, your notebook, and, um…”

He pulls out a stuffed panda bear. You momentarily forget the fragile state of your lungs and gasp, which pulls a cluster of coughs up through your respiratory system. Through the fit, you reach out and snatch it from his hands.

It’s plush and squishy and fills you with joy when you hug it to your chest.

Frankie’s face simultaneously lights up and creases with concern. He leans forward and rubs your back, “Ok, ok, settle down.”

“It’s,” cough, “so,” cough, “cute—”

“I’m under strict orders to tell you Benny helped me pick it out,” Frankie reclines in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

Once you catch your breath, you smirk and waggle your eyebrows at him, teasing, “Oh, really? Benny did that—for me?”

“You’re hilarious,” he rolls his eyes and grabs the TV remote, then kicks his feet up onto the hospital bed. While you eat chicken strips and snuggle your new stuffed animal, he flips through channels, eventually settling on NASCAR, which lulls you back to sleep.

Tonight, family dinner is taking place in your bed.

Which sounds sexual, but it’s not.

You’re freshly discharged from the hospital, and Frankie spent the last two nights sleeping in an armchair, so you agreed that some intensive comfort time was needed. The TV has been playing movies back to back all day, and now the two of you lay under the covers, in your pajamas, with a big pizza box between your bodies.

When the credits for Fantastic Mr. Fox start, Frankie pauses it and rolls on his side to face you, “We’re still doing this part, right?”

“Yeah,” you yawn and follow his lead, wriggling onto your side, nuzzling against the stuffed panda bear. Your nose crinkles at the greasy pizza box and its remaining 3 slices.

“Hang on,” he mumbles, then sits up and moves the box onto the floor beside him.

When he returns, he settles closer to you. His dark irises flick about your features, then anchor onto your eyes with intensity. Your stomach flutters and heart swells.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat like he’s preparing it for the words he’s about to say. He takes a deep breath, then confesses, “I really thought I was gonna lose you,” he shakes his head, “And I was… so fucking terrified.”

The proof is in his voice, low and trembling and unsure. It occurs to you then that this man has faced critical situations, of which the overwhelming majority of people never dream of facing, with the kind of certainty and bravery that got him out alive. He’s not easily shaken.

But he was scared of losing you.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” you search his face and reach out to him.

He takes this offering, interweaving his fingers with yours, laying your clasped hands in space between you, “I know that now, but… fuck, I keep thinking about what would have happened if I wasn’t here. If I had gone to work, or—or if I didn’t live here, and things were still...”

His jaw clamps shut and gnashes from side to side as he averts his gaze, “I don’t know. If things were still… bad between us,” his eyes flick to yours and he shakes his head, “I don’t think I could live with that.”

Desperately, you want him to say more. You want him to deconstruct his carefully curated statement and lay it out for you. You want to ask: And what the fuck does that mean exactly? What are you trying to tell me without telling me?

But you’re still weighed down by the pull of fatigue’s gravity. Your throat is raw and lungs are cramped. Every muscle in your body still holds residual aches and pains.

Your lips part to speak, but you recant the words in your throat. Instead, you whisper, “Thank you for taking care of me, Frankie.”

“No problem,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sad kind of smirk, before folding down into a frown. His gaze is far away. Thoughtful. He runs his free hand through his mop of dark curls and releases a heavy sigh, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I care about you a lot. And… these past few weeks, they’ve been really hard,” he furrows his brow, then meets your eyes, “But they’ve also been really good, because I’ve been able to spend them with you.”

All the air is sucked from your lungs. A cough surfaces from deep in your chest and you smother it in your stuffed panda bear. He watches you and waits patiently for you to recover.

When you do, you admit quietly, “Did you know that you’re like… my only friend?”

“I am, really?” he raises his eyebrows.

A self-deprecating smile stretches across your face as you nod, then shrug, “I mean, Marla and my siblings don’t really count. They pretty much have to tolerate me.”

“And I don’t?” he teases, flashing you a playful grin.

His comment pokes at a tender spot in your brain. Your lip sticks out in a very real pout and you whimper, “Ouch.”

“Oh, come on,” he chuckles and scoots closer, beckoning you into his arms. You take this olive branch and wriggle into his embrace, letting your forehead rest on his chest as he hugs you and murmurs into your hair, “You know I love you, right?”

Both of your bodies go rigid the second it leaves his mouth. You feel his heart start pounding rapidly against your skin and he stammers, “I—I mean—like a friend—”

You wince at the pang that shoots through your damaged heart. The words you’ve always wanted to hear him say. With a caveat.

So typical.

Maybe it’s because the flu still has you in its clutches and you’re fucking exhausted, or maybe you’re just becoming numb to it all, but you let out a little snort and say, “I know what you mean.”

He seems to relax at this.

Neither of you move from the comfort of this embrace. In fact, you nuzzle in closer to him, letting your heavy eyelids drift closed as you yawn, “I love you, too, Franklin.”

His tongue clicks against his teeth and you feel him shake his head in feigned annoyance. You just know he’s rolling his eyes, too. His irritation makes you grin with satisfaction.

A heavy fog settles over your bodies. When you start to succumb to it, and you’re right on the edge of sleep, Frankie presses a kiss into the top of your head, then mumbles something unintelligible.

But before you can respond, dreamland has consumed you.

[ Next Chapter ]

MORE NOTES: Big inspiration for this chapter from the songs "SEVEN" by Rainbow Kitten Surprise and "Nobody Gets Me" by SZA.

#designated person #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales angst #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character

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befuddled-calico-whump · 5 months

Text

Total$hit$how: Barricade

in which Jericho does what he can

cw: electrocution, fear of death, adult language

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×~×~×

“Go! Go! Go!”

Everything devolved into chaos as soon as the realization hit, that maybe it wasn't just training and maybe Vic was willing to blow them to bits if they failed.

Jericho didn't want to believe it. Why go to the trouble of recruiting and training them if only to let them die now? But even if it wasn't super plausible, he wasn't taking chances. He sprinted to the obstacle course with the rest; concrete cubes towering over them like giant building blocks.

Okay, so the alleged ‘bomb’ was somewhere in there. He couldn't see an obvious opening, which meant they'd probably have to start by climbing up the cubes, the bottom tier of which looked to be eight... maybe nine feet high. Easy enough for Jericho to reach, but the others might have trouble.

“Joy!” He dropped to a knee beside the closest cube. “Need a boost?”

“Thanks, Jer!”

He suppressed a wince as she vaulted off his thigh, catching the concrete edge and hauling herself up.

“Benji?”

The other man was a little more gentle than Joy had been, but it seemed more due to nerves than care. Joy helped yank him up once he found stable footing on Jericho’s leg.

“Harbor?” he said as he watched Benji disappear over the edge, but when he glanced back, he saw the lanky man was already gone. Not that surprising. Harbor seemed like he'd rather do his own thing, and that was usually fine. Some people just weren't social, and Jericho could respect that, but right now seemed like a good time for a united effort. To… probably not die and all that jazz.

Speaking of not dying, he hoped Sahota was okay, whatever mission he was on. Their trainer could be a little harsh at times, and Jericho didn't like some of his more brutal methods, but he didn't seem all bad. Once he'd learned there was no way to get in contact with Marla and Ari and his mom, he'd begged Sahota to at least let him send a letter.

“I have a kid. I don't want her or her mom thinking something bad happened to me. Just one letter. You can even read it first. I swear I'm not spilling any secrets.”

“The risk is too high.”

“Please, man. My mom’s gonna be worried sick.”

Jericho hadn't thought it was possible for stone to soften, but the hard edges in Sahota's expression had somehow lessened at that.

“I'll… see what I can do.”

That was the moment that Jericho decided maybe Sahota wasn't as scary and soulless as he looked. Maybe they could learn to get along after all.

Kaius darted towards where Jericho had knelt, taking the offered boost without a word or a smile. Which was okay. Nobody owed him friendship, and at least Kaius was mostly willing to be a team player. Once the smaller man had made it, Jericho climbed up himself, taking Joy's offered hand even though he wouldn't have had much of an issue on his own.

“Where would we be without you?” Benji said, offering a nervous smile.

“On the ground,” Kaius replied. “Now let's go. We have a bomb to find.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Benji muttered.

“Anyone see where Harbor got off to?”

“I'd say we have a bigger problem. One we can solve without Harbor.” Kaius moved to the next tier, this one a few feet shorter. “We should climb higher. Get the best vantage point and see if we can find the device visually.”

“On and up then,” Jericho said, trying to keep his tone optimistic. From what he could tell, the maze of cubes was huge and asymmetrical, but not so big that they couldn't find the thing in an hour.

…right?

They began the slow climb upwards, tier by tier, rounding corners and peeking past ledges and finding nothing.

“You know, I'm starting to think it's better if we don't find the bomb,” Benji panted as they climbed the final tier. “This is all concrete, right? If there are real explosives, we'll be safer the further away we are.”

“And fail the test?” Joy said. “That's how we'll end up back in training limbo. Or jail.”

Jericho pulled himself up and ran to the edge. How long had it already been? Not more than ten, fifteen minutes, right? This was the highest point. They should be able to scan the maze and find the target, like Kaius said.

Only when he reached the ledge, he saw nothing, just empty concrete on all sides. Like a giant, uneven layer cake.

“Shit,” Benji muttered. “Shit, where'd it go? Was this a prank? Is Vic pranking us?”

And where was Harbor? From up here, Jericho should've been able to see him. Unless he'd just left, but he wouldn't do that, would he?

“Maybe it's not here at all? Maybe it went somewhere else in the room and the blocks were a red herring,” Joy offered, but Kaius shook his head.

“I don't see it, and its trajectory suggested this area.” He narrowed his eyes. “I think… the structure may be hollow. We may need to find a way inside.”

Jericho hadn't seen anything on the climb up, but maybe it was on the other side? Or maybe it was concealed? Shoot, would they have enough time to find it?

“Everyone split up. Shout for the others if you find an entryway.”

Ah. Yeah, that was definitely a better angle. They didn't have to stick together through the entire trial.

Jericho slipped off the edge, checking the next tier down. He didn't know what he was looking for, but it had to be somewhat obvious, right? He knocked on the side of the concrete, tapped his foot on the ground, and scanned for seams, but nothing really stood out.

“Yo guys! Over here!” Joy's voice came from the second tier, the exact opposite side from the one they'd climbed up initially.

When he made it to her, he saw what must've been the most obvious door in the world. Plain wooden brown, only missing a doorknob. From the ground, they would've seen it immediately.

“I guess the learning point here is ‘look around the exterior before going in’ ?” Joy said, giving it a test push. It swung inwards. Benji let out a heavy sigh at that.

“Why am I even here.”

Jericho gave him a consoling pat on the back on his way inside. The interior looked like a branching corridor, poorly lit, but at least he could sorta see.

“Looks clear,” he said. “Should we just… run inside?”

“We should at least start moving. We've burned through half our time limit,” Kaius muttered, moving in to join him. Jericho shot him a questioning look, and the smaller man held up his wrist.

“I suppose no one else wears watches anymore.” He moved to the first fork, peering down each path. “I don't know how much of a labyrinth this will be. If we split up, we'll cover the most ground.”

“No way,” Benji said. “I'm not going in there alone, not when there's murderbots on the loose.”

“Taserbots,” Joy corrected him. “But I agree. If it's a maze, it'll be hard to regroup.”

“It will also be hard to find our target if we’re moving as a large team,” Kaius insisted. “If you're so afraid, you take Ruebin. Davis and I will take the other corridors—”

“Ah, I think I'm on Joy's side here,” Jericho said. What if only one of them found the bomb and all of their skills were needed? What if someone ran into the drones and got hurt because they had no backup?

Something twisted in his stomach when he realized that may well have happened to Harbor. Shoot… they needed to get moving. Not just for the bomb, but for their reluctant teammate.

“And if the bomb is real, I'm sure you'll all be happy to die together when we don't find it.”

“Oh don't be so fucking stubborn—”

“Maybe we should just leave?”

“And then Vic will excuse us from the mission and all of you will go to prison. Is that what you want, Ruebin?”

“I'm sorry not all of us have rich parents to bail us out—”

“You don't know a thing about my parents—”

“Guys,” Jericho cut in, and in the split second of silence when the two turned their glares to him, he heard it. A faint hum, coming from—

“Shit!”

“Taserbot!”

Jericho dropped to a crouch just in time for one of the drones to go whirring past his head. He realized too late that it was making a beeline for Kaius, and the smaller man didn't react quick enough to avoid its deploying weapon; a thin metal line that extended from the body like the tongue of an anteater. As soon as it reached Kaius, latching onto his neck, he went rigid, his eyes wide.

Jericho’s first instinct was to punch it away, and it mostly worked, his knuckles smarting something terrible as the drone rocked to the side and Kaius collapsed. He lunged forward, scooping up the smaller man.

“Okay, run time.”

He took off down the left corridor, Joy and Benji close behind.

“What the fuck—?”

“Cattle prod, my ass.”

The hall twisted and turned every few feet, now and then branching off into more paths that Jericho chose at random.

“Is it… did it follow us?” he asked when they'd at last come to a stop.

“I don't think so,” Joy muttered, leaning on the wall. “Shit, those things pack a punch.”

“What now?”

Jericho didn't know. He wasn't even entirely sure he'd be able to retrace his steps back to the start of the maze.

“You can put me down now,” mumbled the man in his arms, and Jericho lowered him.

“Can you stand?”

“Yes,” Kaius said, though he seemed unsteady, keeping one hand firmly on the wall.

“Did it hurt?” Benji asked.

“Yes,” Kaius said again, the word much sharper this time.

“We'll worry about the bots later,” Joy said. “Maybe we should split up. Not all the way, just… teams of two.”

“Fine by me,” Kaius said, glancing up at Jericho. “Davis? With me.”

Jericho smiled. It was probably the closest he'd get to a thank you.

“Guess we'll play Marco Polo if we find it first,” Benji said, giving a half-hearted wave before following Joy into the corridor.

Well. He and Kaius could retrace their steps, maybe check out some of the halls he'd ran past? This place couldn't be that huge, and they should have plenty of—

“Twenty five minutes,” Kaius said. “We need to move.”

Shoot.

The two of them jogged back through the corridor. Jericho was careful to match Kaius's speed; the smaller man still seemed a little shaky, even if he didn't seem willing to admit it.

“Do you have a plan to find it?”

“No,” Kaius answered after a moment. “I'm not wholly convinced it isn't an impossible task.”

They turned into another corridor, this one seeming to go deeper into the structure, its floor angled downwards.

“Why would Vic give us an impossible task?”

“Either to see how we handle failure…” Kaius began, looking between another two paths, one that evened out and one that continued the decline. He chose the descending hall. “...Or the bomb is real, and this is the quickest way to eliminate all of us at once.”

Sheesh. “Seems a little extreme.”

“People will go to extremes to protect their secrets.”

Well. That didn't exactly give him a warm fuzzy.

Kaius let out an irritated sigh as they came to yet another fork in the path. “We should keep going deeper. If I were Vic, I'd put the target as far from the entrance as possible, in order to—”

“Wait.” Jericho squinted down the level corridor. There was something on the ground, its shape irregular, like a spilled laundry basket, or…

“Shoot. Harbor.”

“What?”

Jericho didn't take time to answer, taking off towards the figure on the ground. He must've run into the drones, and without anyone to fend them off or drag him away… shoot. He dropped to a knee beside the lanky man, pressing two fingers into the skin of his wrist and letting out a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse.

“Hey,” he said, giving his shoulders a shake. Harbor groaned in response, but didn't open his eyes. He looked younger like this, and Jericho found himself wondering, not for the first time, how old he really was.

“Is he dead?” Kaius said from over his shoulder, not sounding like he cared what the answer was. Then again, he usually sounded pretty monotone, so Jericho didn't hold it against him.

“He should be okay.” Jericho shook Harbor by the shoulders again, and this time, his eyes fluttered open, though they were half-lidded and unfocused.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuckin… robots.”

“Can you sit up?” Jericho said, wincing when Harbor practically threw himself onto his feet, falling against the wall with enough force he might've dented it if it wasn't concrete.

“Not my fault,” he said, starting to trudge away from the other two. “I couldn't see them. Trying to find the fucking bomb, so I couldn't see 'em coming. They don't… they don't have the color like humans do.”

Jericho wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. “Uh… color?”

Harbor glanced backwards at him, still looking like he was about to pass out again. “Neutrals. People have them.” He jutted his chin out at Jericho like he was gesturing. “You're purple.”

“Implant effects?” Kaius said.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Jericho jogged after him. “Hey. You said you're trying to find the bomb. Are you… using the implant?”

“No, I'm fucking using elocation.”

Jericho knit his eyebrows together. “Echolocation?”

“Whatever.”

Kaius hadn't moved, and was standing in the center of the path, his arms crossed. “This is a waste of time.”

“Then get lost,” Harbor said. “I can find it on my own.”

“Well… we're supposed to be working as a team,” Jericho said. Harbor didn't turn around, and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Harbor,” he tried again. “We need your help.”

The lanky man didn't say anything, but he did stop walking.

“This place is a maze,” Jericho continued. “I have no idea where to find this thing. But you might. You might be the only one who can find it in the next…”

“Fifteen minutes,” said Kaius.

“Fifteen minutes,” Jericho repeated. “We can't do this without you.”

Harbor was quiet for a moment, but then he shrugged. “Fine, I guess.” He pushed himself up from the wall, his stride quicker than it had been as he took off down the hall. After a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Kaius was coming too, Jericho followed.

Harbor took turns seemingly at random, sometimes pausing at a fork and squinting down each corridor before choosing one. Trusting in whatever artificial clairvoyance Harbor had felt a little weird, but what else did they have to go off of?

“There.” Harbor at last came to a stop, leaning on the wall. His hand was clutched to his temple, a wince in his expression.

“You okay?”

“Head hurts.”

“From the implant?”

“We don't have time,” Kaius said. “Seven minutes.”

Jericho nodded, pressing his lips together. As much as he hated to ask, this could still be a do or die moment.

“Harbor… can you—?”

“Yeah. Fucking sure. Let me see what I can see.”

They rounded the corner, and there it was, sitting at just over six minutes, true to Kaius's count.

“Okay. Shoot.” Jericho glanced over his shoulder, then back at all the screens and knobs, most of which didn't even look like they were connected to anything. “Either of you ever do something like this?”

“You're the hacker, aren't you?”

“I'm not a bomber. Pretty sure there's a difference.” Still, he moved closer to the device, cautiously tapping on each screen to see if they'd at least light up. And… nothing happened.

“Harbor?” Kaius said, but the other man shook his head.

“S’too many things. I don't know.”

Jericho let out a small puff of air, braced himself, and carefully picked it up. The timer didn't stop, but it also didn't just blow up in his hands, so he'd consider it a win. Now what? Should he pry it apart and get a look at the inside? What would that do to it?

“I'm really not sure—”

“Drone!” Kaius said, and Jericho looked up just in time to see the metal sphere hurtling towards him. He tucked the bomb under one arm and dealt an uppercut to the bot, sucking in air through his teeth at the sting in his knuckles. The drone wobbled in the air, but didn't fall. Jericho moved to put himself between it and his teammates. They'd both been shocked already, they didn't need—

“Davis, watch out!”

He dodged, but not quick enough, and its thin metal tongue caught him in the upper arm, spewing electricity into him like poison. Every muscle tensed so tightly it hurt, pain arcing across his vision like bright spiderwebs until he at last collapsed, falling out of the weapon’s reach.

Jericho groaned, trying to bring himself back to awareness past the buzzing in his ears. The drone was still here, the bomb was still here, everyone was still in danger. He needed to get up, but his body was slow to obey.

“Five minutes,” Kaius was saying, but he sounded muffled, and from the corner of his eye he saw Harbor swing at the drone, only to be met with another electrical shock.

Get. Up.

He forced himself to his feet, aiming a clumsy blow at the bot. It didn't land, but its weapon receded. He was too far to catch Harbor, and could only watch as he hit the ground. Damnit, what could he do? He was still dazed from the shock, too slow to put up a fight, had no clue what to do with the bomb, and they were running out of time.

Jericho dodged the drone's tongue by an inch, stumbling as he did, rolling when he hit the ground to give himself more distance. He came to his knees beside Harbor, once again forming a Jericho-barricade between him and the enemy, though he doubted he could do much besides take the shock himself.

Behind him, there was another low hum.

Damnit!

“Harbor,” he shook the unconscious man's arm, keeping his eyes on the drone in front of him. “Harbor, wake up.”

Across the room, Kaius set the bomb down, and aimed a kick at the encroaching drone. The toe of his shoe just barely grazed the metal, but it was enough to make the thing turn around. Jericho turned himself, ready to attempt to face drone number two.

The round metal chassis poked around the corner, but something was wrong. It was low, and misangled, and attached to—

“Joy!”

She was wearing the drone half over her fist, like an oversized set of brass knuckles. Jericho wasn't too surprised. If anyone was gonna manage that, it was gonna be her. Her triumphant smile turned to a snarl as she spotted the first drone.

“Drop, Manak!”

Kaius didn't need to be told twice. Joy lunged forward, filling the room with a crunching clang as chassis hit chassis. The hovering drone smacked into the wall, still flying, but definitely flying a little less straight. Undeterred, Joy's bot-fist slammed into it again, and the thing spun out, landing on the ground with an uneven whir.

Benji came up beside Jericho, offering a hand up, which he took gratefully.

“I can't believe you two,” he said with a grin. “How'd you get the drone?”

“Well it started coming at us, and—”

“Bomb,” Kaius said.

“And I'll tell you later,” Joy finished.

“We're down to three minutes.” Kaius held it towards her, eerily calm despite the fact that this thing still might be real.

“Three minutes?” Benji said. “Shit, do you know how to—?”

“No.”

“Let me see.” Joy took it, fidgeting with the screens and dials.

“Any ideas?”

“I don't know. It's definitely not like any of the bombs I've seen.”

“Maybe it's just a hoax?”

“At least we'll all die together,” Benji mumbled, sliding onto the ground next to Joy.

What if they did? What if Vic really did just want to get rid of them?

“Don't say that,” Jericho said. “We'll figure it out.”

“In three minutes?”

“Two and a half now,” Kaius put in.

Two and a half. Not nearly enough time, even if he did know where to start. Joy didn't seem to be making progress, Harbor was still passed out on the floor…

“Give it to me,” Jericho said.

“Just a sec,” Joy said, prying at one of the screens.

“There's no time.” He sighed. “I'll take it and run. If it is real, maybe I'll get far enough for you all to stay safe.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Maybe. Just…” he held out his hands.

“Absolutely not. Like Benji said, we'll die together.”

“Well I'm not married to the idea…”

“Okay, fine.” Jericho moved to Harbor, getting an arm around the unconscious man and hauling him up. “Benji, Kaius, take him and go. Get as far as you can. We'll try to solve this.”

Kaius frowned. “Davis—”

“No point in everyone getting blown up. Go.”

Two minutes left.

The two of them got on either side of Harbor and started dragging him back the way they'd come. If it was real… Jericho just hoped they'd have enough time to clear the blast. He dropped to his knees beside Joy.

“What are you thinking?”

“I don't know. At this point, we just gotta tear it apart, right?”

“Might be our best shot.”

“Wish I had a fucking screwdriver.” She managed to get her fingers under a screen and jerk it away from the device, but underneath was only smooth metal.

“Fuck!”

“Try another one.”

“Or…” Joy clenched her fingers around the broken drone and began to slam it into the device, again and again until it started to come apart, but the clock kept ticking.

“Jer, just run. Like you said, no point in both of us—”

“We can figure it out,” he insisted, pulling at the cracks she'd created. Inside was an excessive amount of wires, tangled like rainbow spaghetti. Ari loved spaghetti. God, please let the letter get to them, if I don't make it, just let them be okay.

Thirty seconds.

No time for finesse. Jericho started ripping out wires, not getting so much as a beep from the device. The more he pulled, the more he found, almost like the whole thing was just wire.

Twenty seconds.

No matter how much he ripped apart, it was still steadily counting down, and how much explosives did it take to kill you anyway? Was the charge small enough that he could throw it across the room and they'd both survive? He didn't know.

Ten seconds.

Maybe they all should've ran. If they abandoned Vic's mission, he'd hand them over to the law, but he could still write his daughter letters from jail, still get visits, and Joy had a family too. Why hadn't he forced her to leave, why hadn't he just snatched it from her hands and ran in the first place?

She'd run after you. She'd never let you get that far.

Hell. There were worse people to die with.

Three.

Two.

One.

Both of them jerked back on instinct, arms flying up to shield their faces as if that would be enough to save them.

But…

Nothing happened. The device was emitting a high pitched whine, almost too faint to hear past the blood rushing in his ears.

Joy laughed, falling back onto her elbows. “Holy shit. It was a hoax after all.”

“Knew it,” Jericho said with an uneasy laugh. He had, hadn't he? Why was his heart beating so fast, then? Why did he feel like he was about to cry, that he needed to hug Arabella right now or his chest would burst?

Joy threw an arm around his shoulder, and he settled for hugging her instead.

“Here's to stupid bravery,” she said. “Fuck, I need a drink after that. My hands are fucking shaking.”

She helped him to his feet, and he found he was shaky too. No matter how implausible a real bomb was, that small chance…

Shoot. Yeah, he wouldn't mind a drink right about now either.

Above them, the concrete began to shift, cubes unstacking and reforming until they were standing on open ground, in the training room as it had been before the challenge.

Vic was standing beside the other three, hands clasped behind his back. Harbor looked dazed, but at least he was up and blinking. Jericho gave a little wave.

“Sloppy, but not entirely incoherent,” Vic said, strolling over to him and Joy. “Your cohesion was above what I'd anticipated, and I must say I admire your refusal to quit.” He turned back to the other three. “Mr. Manak, I appreciate your willingness to take charge. And Hunter, excellent work locating the device.”

Joy's hand went up. “Was there a better way to defeat it? Something obvious that we missed?”

Vic chuckled. “There wasn't a way to defeat it at all. In fact, I'm surprised you even found it.”

So the ‘mission’ was a success?

“I was worried about what would happen when I had all of you working together, but I'd say this team has some real potential,” Vic continued. “Good work. Go on and take the rest of the day for yourselves. I think you've earned it.”

Sure felt like they had. Jericho wouldn't have considered the bomb hunting much of a workout, but he was exhausted. As Vic left the room, he and Joy moved to rejoin the rest of the team. Even after Vic said they could, none of them had moved to leave. Not even Harbor.

“So,” Jericho began. “Not a real bomb.”

“No shit,” Harbor said, but it didn't sound half as bitey as his usual comments. Neither him nor Kaius seemed like they wanted to make eye contact. Benji, on the other hand, hugged Joy, then detached himself from her and hugged him.

“You're an actual badass and I love you,” he said, to which Jericho responded with a chuckle and a pat on the back.

“Good job getting Harbor out.”

“We both know I didn't do shit,” Benji said with a laugh.

Joy gave an exaggerated stretch beside them. “Normally, I'd invite everyone out to a bar after an event like that, but seeing as we're all stuck inside… I dunno. Wanna head to the kitchen and whip up some pancakes? I'm sure I can figure them out this time.”

Joy turned to go, and Benji joined her. Harbor shrugged and trailed behind them. It was just Jericho and Kaius left, trapped in an awkward silence.

“So,” he said lamely.

“You're an idiot,” Kaius replied. “If it had been real—”

“It wasn't. Everyone's fine.” His own fear seemed ridiculous now. He felt like an idiot for believing it for even a second. Kaius let out a huff.

“You're not a human shield, Davis. You're some of the only brains this team has.”

That nearly sounded like a compliment. “I can’t help it,” Jericho shrugged. “If I can help, I'm going to help.”

“I've gotten fairly good at watching my own back,” Kaius said, and it almost sounded like that was the end of it, that the smaller man would turn on his heel and saunter away, but then…

“You could've left me in the maze. After the drone attack. You could've left Harbor.”

Jericho shook his head. “No. No, I couldn't have.” He rubbed the back of his hand, knuckles still throbbing from the hits he'd dealt the robot. “We're a team now. Gotta stick together and all that jazz.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Would you have left me?” Jericho asked.

“Yes. If it was pragmatic, and the mission could still go on without you. Now that you know that, would you still say that you—”

“Yes,” Jericho said. “Yes, I still wouldn't leave you behind. It's not a transaction, Kaius. It's just what's right.” He sighed. Is this what he’d stayed back for? To start an argument that might ease his bruised pride?

“I'm gonna go get some pancakes,” he said, turning around.

“Davis—”

“Hm?”

“I…” Kaius bent his head. “Thank you. It was stupid, everything you did was stupid, but I can't say I'm not a little grateful.”

Jericho felt a smile forming. Well what do you know?

“You're welcome,” he said. “And call me Jericho.”

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations

#he tends to let his own heart get ahead of him #total$hit$how #electrocution #writing

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bxtchycaprisun · 10 months

Text

♡ hello everyone ♡

✧ marla ✧ she/her ✧ 18 ✧

♡ my requests are open ♡ minors dni ♡

✧ masterlist ✧

♡ obstinate (a. anderson) 1 2 3 4 5 6 ♡

✧ let it be me (a. anderson) ✧

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livinginshambles · 5 months

Text

Hear me out, please |James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out. A tiny twist.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Timeline might be a little off, but magic so whatever i guess? Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys will think it was worth it!!

Masterlist Part one Part two

___________________________________

A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmuring started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He asked incredulously. His voice raised in volume. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He screamed and looked around; his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it opened finally James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James's sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James 'brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words his. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

You stared at the glass slippers in your hand. It felt cool to the touch and looked so beautiful, but you couldn’t help the bitter taste left in your mouth. With one smooth movement, you threw and smashed one of the slippers against the wall opposite of your bed. It shattered in pieces, and you had to smile at that. Even with every spell to reenforce the glass so you could actually walk on it, it broke. Then you gathered every bit of frustration you had in you, and you screamed as hard as you could, tears flowing in frustration.

You hated that you were crying. But the sheer defeat and powerlessness that you felt was too overwhelming, your voice cracked mid-scream and you threw the other slipper to pieces in anger as well. It wasn’t even about the gossiping amongst the students anymore.

You were so tired; you actually couldn’t bring yourself to care about what everyone must be thinking right now. But your sisters and James. You dug your nails into your palm.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and straightened your posture. With your hands, you smoothed out your frown, fixed your hair and put on a wide smile. All in all, you looked psychopathic, but anything was better than pathetic. You turned on your heel and got ready for your first morning class.

James watched your empty seat in Divination class. This was the only class in which the last two years were put together. He wondered if you would show up. But he knew you. Possible more than anyone. So, he knew that you would never miss a class, because you wanted perfect grades and a perfect attendance rate. You were just like that. Ambitious.

James mind replayed your words again. He was every worst characteristic of Gryffindor; you had said to him. ‘Arrogant, prideful, and reckless’.

Next to James, Sirius was also lost in thoughts. Your words resonated in his head as well. Prejudice creates a vicious cycle. It was true. Sirius’ eyes flickered towards the other empty seat where Regulus was supposed to be. He had completely abandoned Regulus, giving his brother the cold shoulder, and despising his elitist thoughts, undoubtedly created by his mother. Because he had abandoned Regulus.

Sirius wondered what would have happened if he had tried to maintain a good relationship with Regulus after having been sorted into Gryffindor. He wondered if he would have been able to convince Regulus to run away with him.

There was a knock on the door and Regulus walked in with a blank face. He nodded his head in apology at the Professor and took a seat. The door opened again, this time with a little more force.

“My sincere apologies, professor.” You wore a smile that sent chills up James’ back. His body almost involuntarily shot up to go up to you, but he caught himself, and he longingly looked at you as you passed by instead.

After having gotten used to your discrete gestures of acknowledgement in the form of waves, smiles, nods or even winks, James’ heart tugged when you didn’t spare him a glance. You graciously took a seat and motioned at Professor Trelawney to continue.

James jumped up when class was over. His belongings had long since been packed, and he dashed towards your leaving figure.

“Y/N!” he called out to you.

You turned around and looked him in the eye. All the words that James had prepared during the rest of class escaped his mind. James felt those chills again and he finally understood that in all his years with fights between the two of you, you had been petty, threatening to take points away. You had been angry, throwing insults back at him, and you had very much been a major asshole in general. But you had never been this hostile.

“Let me say this once, so we can all be done with it, and never talk about this again, Potter,” you sharply stated. “I am sorry that I wasn’t who you wanted me to be. However, let me make it clear that this was my secret and mine to share. And I made perfectly clear that I was not going to, so your blatant disrespect to publicly call me out the way you did, is simply appalling.”

Remus called James’ name and James made the mistake to look back. When he turned to you again, you were already further down the hall, turning the corner with a steady pace.

James didn’t see you around anymore until Thursday morning. His eyes basically lit up and he repeated his apology in his head. “L/N, wait,” James tried, and he chased after you. Unlike last time, you didn’t stop. Curious students watched you two pass while James tried to match your pace.

“Hear me out, please.”

“I said all I wanted to say, Potter. Let’s stay out of each other’s way from now on.”

“After you let me explain,” James pleaded.

You laughed. “Nothing you tell me will change my mind. I won’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” You gave him an annoyed look.

Still, James was not planning on giving up. You weren’t the only determined one here. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into a room. Your eyes squinted and gave him the dirtiest look they could. James immediately let go of you, hands up in defence, a string of apologies following suit.

You glared at him and went to walk straight out of the room when James pulled you back again, and this time, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment, you hesitated, utterly confused and surprisingly rather okay with the unwarranted kiss. And then anger hit you. Did he bloody think this would woo you, and sweep you off your feet and make everything alright? How dare he kiss you in attempt to manipulate you. You slapped him across the face in shock less than a second later. James blinked back at you in horror at his own actions.

“Godric, no- I- I am so bloody sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m- I don’t know what went through my head, please wait-” You slammed the door in his face when you left. James hit his head softly against the door. And then he hit it again but a bit harder as he cursed. “What the hell is wrong with you mate,” he groaned to himself. “You bloody git.”

He stared at the dark wood of the door in front of him reluctantly. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind just staying in the room to rot away, how was he going to face you now?

“Lily, please go in my place,” he begged the redhead. “I’ll take your Tuesday shift, I promise.”

Lily shook her head. “Stop being a baby, James. You reap what you sow and I’m not patrolling tonight.” She walked past James and then turned back around.

“Some friendly advice, James, stop being so pushy. No is no, and it might have been cute as 11-year-olds, but not anymore. We’re no longer kids. But good luck.”

James reluctantly dragged himself towards the Great Hall where he could see you pick your nails in front of the door. He felt ashamed, guilty, and absolutely not ready to look you in the eye.

“Hi,” he awkwardly managed. “So about-“

“You’re late. Let’s get a move on it.” You cut him off.

“Right, yeah, we should do that- patrolling.”

It was quiet, not a word spoken between the two of you as James trailed half a step behind you. He glanced at the side of your face. Shadows and light flickered across your face every time you passed a torch.

The silence of the castle did him good, he realised. He’d much rather walk in silence next to you, than be in the midst of all that chaos that was going on right now. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket happily.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked, a frown on your face.

“Hm? What? Oh, sorry.” The smile dropped of James’ face.

“Well, you don’t have to stop smiling because I said so,” you shot him a strange look. “I just wanted to know what’s so funny.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” A beat. And then, “Lily told me to stop trying to apologise to you if you don’t want to hear it.”

You considered his words. You supposed you mostly wanted someone to be angry at. You didn’t want to hear James out and then maybe see that your anger was misdirected. You wanted to stay bitter.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to apologise, and nothing had been cleared up between the two of you, both of you felt yourselves relax a little more. You continued to roam the corridors in silence.

The next three patrols were spent in the same basked silence, occasionally one or two words exchanged. James had so many things he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t want to ruin anything. And then you suddenly spoke up again.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

James perked up at your words. “Thank you,” he grinned at you gratefully. “Are you going to watch the game?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be helping out in the infirmary.”

“Did you finish your herbal research then?”

Your eyes flickered up at him in surprise. “Yeah, Madame Pomfrey and I will put it to test.” James nodded along.

“Well, if you ever need a patient, I’d volunteer,” he joked. He watched in triumph as you shook your head in amusement.

“Better check your broom for hexes tomorrow,” you replied. “wouldn’t want you to fall off your broom and break a bone or two.” James snorted.

You pulled the curtain to the side with an exasperated expression. “I was only kidding Yesterday, Potter. What on earth are you doing here.”

James gave you a weak smile, trying to hide the pain in his arm and ribs. “Volunteering to be your very first patient, of course.”

“Tell me you didn’t break your bones on purpose,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“I didn’t break my bones on purpose,” James obediently replied. He shifted in curiosity as you rummaged through a cabinet. “Is this not fixable with any spells?” He pondered when he saw you pull out several vials.

“Externally, yes. But you’d be in the same excruciating pain as if they were still broken. You motioned towards the vials. “Hence the herbal potions.”

“Is that the one with the Nettle and Dittany?” James nodded his head to the bottle on the left.

You hummed in approval, not bothering to hide the fact that you were impressed. “Who knows, Potter. Maybe you have a future of a healer as well.” James beamed in pride at your compliment.

“Just keeping my options open.” James sighed happily. He was glad that he could joke around with you again. You tapped a bottle against his cheek. He let you pour the potion into his mouth.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” You pulled out a stool and sat down with a notebook in case you needed to take notes of the effects of the potion. At one point, you must have fallen asleep with your face buried on James’ infirmary bed. A strand of hair was tickling your nose and you huffed to get it out of the way. James shifted to tuck it away with his non-injured hand.

You opened your eyes and jumped up. You looked around disoriented and when your eyes landed on James, who had tilted his head, you felt embarrassment creep up on you. “I’m terribly sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Are you feeling any better?”

James nodded. He sat up to prove it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “All better. And if you get to apologise, so do I, right?” He looked at you hopefully, internally praying that you wouldn’t just march out straight away. “Will you hear me out?”

You sighed, knowing what would come next, but this time you sat down on the stool again instead of walking away.

“I didn’t know.” When you didn’t respond, he repeated himself. “I didn’t know it was you, and I didn’t know it was going to be published in the newspaper because I wouldn’t do that- you know that I wouldn’t.”

He looked at you and saw you staring back at him. He took it as a sign to continue and cleared his throat. It felt so dry all of a sudden. You quietly reached for a cup of water and handed it to him. James took a sip, a deep breath, and started to ramble on without breaks.

“Sirius found your parchment and then you sisters found it too, but I didn’t. I really didn’t. Sirius said they had already run off and he tried to fix it on his own, so he didn’t tell me, and I only found out right before you did and I would never have written such a mean article about you, because we’re friends- well, at the very least I considered us friends- and I just wanted you to like me because-” James stopped.

“What, you fancy me?” you rhetorically commented.

James’ heart stopped and his face flushed. “No, of course not! I just- Well, I don’t know- It’s, uh I guess I just,” James tried to form a coherent answer, trying to weigh what answer would scare you away.

You frowned and let your eyes flicker across his face. “Stop it,” you shook your head in denial.

“Would it be so bad?” James murmured. “I didn’t know. But I know I liked the girl behind the paper. And I know I liked my patrol partner.” He hesitated and took a step forward. “I think you liked me too, before you knew my name.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Before I knew your name. Once I learned it, I no longer did,” you lied. “Because we would never work. Every student said so. All the whispers and comments, insults and rumour were right.”

James shook his head.

“So, date me to spite them. Prove them wrong,” It was a pathetic attempt, but he saw the consideration flash in your eyes, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to get convinced that this was a decent idea.

“You’d have us enter a fake relationship to spite everyone?”

“It wouldn’t be fake to me,” James shrugged, getting more confident by your open attitude. “And who knows, maybe I can convince you that the guy from the paper is still inside of me.”

“This is so stupid,” you shook your head.

“Guess what,” Sirius asked Remus, he covered the page of the book Remus was reading to capture his attention.

Remus slapped Sirius’ hand away. “What,” he replied curtly. Sirius moved to sit on the table of the library. “Are you angry?”

“Mildly annoyed, yes.”

“Because…” Sirius trailed off unsurely. He hoped that Remus would finish the sentence for him, which, luckily for Sirius, Remus did.

“Because I think it’s time you guys stop pestering her. I know you planned to get James in the infirmary. Leave her be, you’ve done enough damage as it is.” He sounded disapproving. Sirius dropped himself back on the table, laying across it as if he was a sacrifice on an altar.

“Prongs likes her.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s handling it terribly,” Remus drily remarked. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them with the hem of his sweater. Sirius patted his pockets, reached into his left one and handed Remus a cleaning cloth for glasses.

“Why are you guys nice to me,” Remus asked quietly.

“What are you talking about Moony, you’re our best friend?”

“I know, but why?” Remus lowered his voice. “I’m a werewolf, aren’t I? I’m a literal monster. So why are you nice to me. But somehow feel the need to keep pranking and bullying Slytherin students? We’re in our last year. Don’t you think we should grow up?” And with ‘we’, he meant ‘Sirius and James’.

‘I know, Moony.”

“Do you now?”

“I think I’m going to talk to Regulus.”

Remus choked on his spit. “I’m sorry, Pads, you’re what?”

“I just don’t want to be like L/N’s siblings. I know I sort of am, but I don’t want to be. And you said we should start being nicer right?”

“Pads, last time you said something to him, he literally hexed you.”

“I insulted him,” Sirius heard himself say and he felt weird for a moment.

“He’s after your ass during every Quidditch game, trying to knock you off your broom.”

“Well, that’s just the point of Quidditch,” Sirius defended again.

Remus smiled at Sirius. “Alright, just be careful. Mid-terms are coming up and I’m too busy with studies to fix you up again.”

Sirius grinned. “If all goes well with Prongs, I could ask L/N to patch me up.” Remus threw a quill at him. “I think I’ll go find L/N later, see if she knows where my brother is.”

The door opened and Remus looked behind him. He did a double take and put his glasses back on to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sirius was still laying on the table, looking at the ceiling.

“I think I’ve found her,” Remus remarked, uncertainly.

Sirius sat up and gaped at the sight on you and James, walking into the library together while talking. James was holding a pile of books and by the colour of the cover, he knew that those were not James’.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

You looked up in alarm at the words and found Sirius and Remus sitting at a table in the corner. “We talked it out,” you nonchalantly mentioned. Remus gave you a smile and Sirius just stared at you. Then; “Hell yeah, Prongs, I knew you had it in you to confess.” Sirius jumped off the table and patted you on the back with a grin.

You laughed back uncertainly and looked at James with questioning eyes. James looked back at you, reassuringly. He moved all of your books to one hand and guided you to a seat with the other.

“Where’s Regulus,” Sirius asked immediately as soon as you sat down.

You raised your eyebrows. “He’s in the astronomy tower. Didn’t want to join James and I to the library.” You smiled at recollection of the younger Black’s reaction to you and James.

“No way.” He had replied. “What are you two planning?” James had looked at Regulus with an offended look. “What are you talking about? I fancy Y/N and she fancies me, so we decided to make it official.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe you fancy Y/N, but there is just no way she would enter a relationship with you of all people. What’s the deal.”

Sirius nodded. “Well,” he started, “I mean, if he wants to, he uh, the library is a public space, so he could join. If he wants.” Sirius awkwardly sat down on a chair. You squinted your eyes at him. “I’ll be sure to let him know,” you said. You watched as Sirius puffed out a sigh in relief.

You glanced down at the messy scribbles on Sirius’ paper and raised your eyebrows. You’d imagined that the elder Black would have a better handwriting than that. “Anyway, do you need help with Transfiguration as well?”

The news of your relationship spread like fire. Your sisters both received it with a sour look on their faces. “He’ll see we were right, and he’ll leave you again,” they said, purposely loud enough for you to hear it. James had just entered the room and walked straight past them towards you with a flower. He dropped it next to you and sat down beside you.

Against your will, your heart made a small jump and the corners of your mouth tugged upwards. James’ eyes flickered towards your lips and quickly looked away happily. Then he leaned in a little and whispered, “We’re not breaking up if it’s up to me.”

He shifted in his seat, subtly scooting over closer to you. “Go on a date with me tonight,” James whispered.

“We don’t have time tonight. Patrol, remember?” You argued back.

James grinned and shook his head. “Afterwards.”

“It’s past bedtime afterwards. I will not-”

“Sneak around the castle and get caught, I know. But you forget that I have an invisibility cloak.”

You laughed this time. “I’m almost tempted to take 20 points off Gryffindor for your outrageous plan.” Your eyes twinkled and James joined in. He put his hand over his heart in fake shock. “You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend,” he squinted his eyes, challenging you.

“If he misbehaves,” you answer amusedly. But then you hummed in thought. “Fine, I’ll bite, what do you have in mind.”

James’ grin widened. “The lake’s still frozen,” he whispered. You deadpanned. “I can’t skate.”

James leaned his head against you. “Exactly, it’s the perfect chance for me to show you my gentlemanly skills and woo you.” You turned your head and breathed in the smell of James’ shampoo. "You just want an excuse to hold my hand," you mumbled in his hair. You could feel James smile against your shoulder. “I’m your boyfriend, I don’t need excuses,” he joked.

James swore his heartrate sped up an unhealthy amount when you confirmed, “No you don’t.”

He was absolutely beaming next to you as you were patrolling down the corridor, hand in hand. Your eyes flickered over to James once in a while. It was suspicious to you that he’d been quiet the entire time. James on the other hand was just looking at your intertwined hands with interest.

“Never held hands with a girl before, Potter?” You laughed, but no venom was found in your voice.

James nodded. “Never held hands with a girl before,” he confirmed, not ashamed at all for it. Why should he. You looked at him with curiosity. “What about Lily?”

James snorted. “Have you ever seen us hold hands?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’.

“I was stressing a lot about being a good boyfriend, my hands got really sweaty,” James bashfully explained. You lifted both your hands and squeezed his hand a few times. “You don’t stress about being a good boyfriend for me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You immediately groaned internally and looked straight to the floor, intently watching your feet as they simply fascinatingly put one in front of the other. I mean, have you ever seen something so-. James wasn’t having it.

“’m not stressing with you. I have a pretty good feeling about us.” He sighed contently. You huffed. “Well, I have high standards, and I’ve been told I’m pretty high maintenance, Potter.” You stuck your nose in the air haughtily.

“First, you should stop calling me Potter,” he remarked.

“James,” you nodded. A chill ran up his spine. “And second?” you inquired.

“Second?”

“Second,” you looked at him expectantly.

“Oh! Right, second; I didn’t know you had a relationship before?” And just as soon as those words left his lips, he cussed himself out in his head. Great, now he seemed either a twat as if he couldn’t believe someone like you could have a relationship, or a twat who was jealous and obsessive. And it’s only the first week. James averted his eyes to the wall on his left. Ah yes, the wall seems to be made of stone. Very sturdy, very wall-like-

“No, I’ve been single pretty much my whole life.” You put on your usual sour face, and vaguely gestured to it. “Not very approachable, as I prefer.”

“Then who calls you high maintenance?” James thought bitterly, feeling the need to defend you. “Calm down, prince Charming,” you reassured him with a laugh. Maybe you could see the charm in his recklessness. “I can fight my own battles. And basically, everyone calls me high maintenance.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence again, making your way to the prefect room. You rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a document and started to fill it in. James leaned against the table. “Where do you go during Spring Break? Do you stay at Hogwarts? Because I can also stay at Hogwarts to keep you company, you know.”

“I have my own apartment.”

“You’re not even of age yet,” James pointed out, trying to hide his disappointment unsuccessfully at a missed opportunity of spending time with you.

“Professor McGonagall vouched for me,” you replied. James’ eyebrows flew up. “McGonagall?” He asked in disbelief. You just hummed in reply while you flipped the page to continue filling in the report.

“Well, if you want you can come with me?” You stopped writing and looked up at him intently. As if you were searching his face for any hidden intentions. When you didn’t find any, you gave him an apologetic look.

“That’s kind of you, James,” you smiled. “But I have Regulus staying with me.”

“He doesn’t stay at the Black manor?” James was surprised. You tilted your head. “Tell me, does Sirius stay at the Black manor?”

James quickly shut his mouth as realization dawned on him. Oh.

“Well,” he awkwardly shifted. “You’re both welcome,” he offered. You shook your head in laughing at the mental image. The thought of Regulus and Sirius living together for two weeks was just hilarious.

“I’m done, we can go.”

“Alright, I just need to pick up my invisibility cloak from the Gryffindor common room.”

“I’ll wait here,” you nodded. James offered you a strange look.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You’re not going with me?”

“What all the way up to the third floor? I think not,” you snorted, plopping down on a chair, and making yourself comfortable.

James huffed and didn’t move. “But what if something happens to me on the way there?” He dramatically sat down next to you on a different chair.

“What on earth could happen to you on the way to your room. This is Hogwarts, you know. The safest place in England probably.”

“What if a monster attacks me, and then I can’t come back, and you’ll think that I stood you up?” James retorted with a pout.

You shook your head and pinched the bridge of you nose. “There are no monsters in this castle, James, where do you think we are? You’re not going to run into a Basilisk on your way.”

James squinted his eyes at you. “But can you promise me that with 100% certainty?” You rolled your eyes in response. “Of course not, but would you take me with you and expose me to such dangers?” you sarcastically retorted.

“Well, technically speaking, and I’m not saying all Slytherins,” James held up his hands at your narrowed eyes. “Snakes are kind of your thing, right?” You closed your eyes. “Charming, you are. Let’s just go,” you sighed.

James grinned in victory as he held the door open for you. “For the record, I would totally protect you from a Basilisk.”

“If you say so.”

Sirius sat up in bed when the door opened, but no one came in. “Hey Prongs, how was ice skating?”

James removed the invisibility cloak to reveal your shivering form. Both of you drenched from head to toe, water still dripping from the locks in front of his eyes. “Got pulled under,” he stressed. “I didn’t know where to take her, I couldn’t let her clean record be tainted for being out past bedtime because of me, and I don’t know the Slytherin password, so I brought her here,” he started to ramble in a loud whisper.

Remus grumbled as he sat up too. “Bloody hell, Prongs, did you take her to the black lake or what?” And when James didn’t respond, “Mate, what is wrong with you.” He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a few dry towels to wrap you in.

James discarded his soaked clothes and dried himself off before putting on pyjamas. Then the three of them stared awkwardly at each other. “Well, she needs to get out of those cold clothes,” Remus remarked. Sirius stepped back. “Yeah, not my girl, not my duty,” he walked over to his bed and dropped down on it.

“Right.”

You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the red colours all around you. You sat up suddenly and blinked a few times. What happened? Oh, right. A hand had broken through the ice, wrapped itself around your ankle and harshly pulled you down into the freezing depths. So that means you’re either dead, or James got you out and brought you to the Gryffindor dorms instead of the infirmary because he kept your clean records in mind. Your heart filled with appreciation at the thought of that.

You looked around and found James on the floor next to you. He was curled up in an extra blanket, but it must be uncomfortable. You went to pull out your wand when you realised that you were wearing his sweater. The little shit changed your clothes, you huffed.

You quietly got up, found your clothes drying in the bathroom and slipped out your wand. With a quick levitation spell, you gently tucked James back into his own bed. Your eyes fell on the two parchments on the nightstand, and you allowed a nostalgic smile to adorn your face. You moved his hair out of the way and let your eyes rest on his peaceful face. Realising you were being creepy, you hastily turned around and snuck out of the room with your clothes and a rolled-up parchment.

“And where have you been,” Regulus sat on the common room armchair in front of the door. He looked like he hadn’t properly slept, and his tone was sharp. “And what atrocity are you wearing. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“You’re my brother, Regulus, not my mother,” you teased him. You pulled out a chair to sit next to him. “And no, I went skating, fell into the water, blacked out and woke up alive in the Gryffindor dorm. So don’t hex James, if anything you can thank him.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m glad you’re okay, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Did you stay up all night?”

“Yes, but mostly because I wanted to tell you something.” You didn’t immediately reply, waiting for Regulus to continue on his own instead.

“Sirius came up to the astronomy tower yesterday evening,” he quietly said. His voice sounded confused, as if he was still unsure of what had actually occurred.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” Regulus immediately said. “It’s just that he apologized.” He shrugged. “You think he meant it?”

You thought it over. “I think he did. He asked me last week you know. Where you are, and that if you ever want to join us in the library, you can.” Regulus nodded deep in thought.

“You know, James actually invited both of us over for the Spring Break.” You looked at Regulus to gauge his reaction to that. He looked slightly interested, though he tried to hide it.

“I suppose it’s still a month away, so we’ll see what we want then.”

You nodded and then got up off the chair. “I’m going to change into something else, before my fellow house students want to jinx me,” you said.

“You’re dating James Potter; people already want to jinx you.”

You winked at him. “Well, I’ll be damned, you’re absolutely right. Isn’t that funny? You know what, let them try,” you challenged them as you smoothened James’ sweater.

James woke up and sat up straight in bed, confused. How did he get here? He Looked at the end of his bed and saw it still neatly tucked in- hospital corners. His lips twitched up. You had left, he realised, but you’d tucked him in. He let himself fall back onto his pillow and turned his head to the side. Then he frowned, put on his glasses, and grabbed the parchment. In your lovely handwriting was a message.

Maybe not a Basilisk, but you protected me as you said. Thank you, James. (All things considered, I enjoyed last night.)

James’ eyes traced the words before he carefully placed the parchment under his pillow with a giddy feeling in his heart.

James found you in the library with Remus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that you were still wearing his sweater. Red looked out of place on you and James absolutely loved it. Sirius shared a look with him and then the both of them decided to sneak up on the two of you, simultaneously stealing your books from under you.

You and Remus narrowed your eyes at the both of them. “I am this close to kicking you guys.” You held up your hand to show your thumb and finger pressed together. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But they’re touching,” he hesitantly responded. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs and quickly handed Remus both your books back.

You sarcastically faked a gasp. “Oh, Merlin, you’re right, they appear to be.”

James cheekily grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You wouldn’t hurt your knight in shining armour,” he bragged, but without any real arrogance laced in his tone. You flipped him off with a grin and pulled out a chair for him next to you. “You’re late,” you airily said.

Sirius suddenly straightened up, his attention fixed on someone behind you. You turned around and waved Regulus over. “Come join us, Reg.”

Three weeks flew by in a blur, but- even though you’ve said this so often now- your were really enjoying your time at Hogwarts again. People’s gossips and predictions about yours and James’ relationship had turned into quiet whispers and envy.

James stood up for you on multiple occasions- after letting you have a go at the imbeciles of course. You had finally gone to a Quidditch game to support James, though of course not when they were playing against Slytherin. You had spent more time in the infirmary and James had joined you a few times by hanging out on one of the empty beds, occasionally handing you an ingredient such as Wolfsbane.

After having established that you absolutely loved hugs, James was always less that a step behind you, ready to give you the affection that you were too proud for to admit you wanted. You had been a frequent visitor to the boys’ dorms as well, making yourself comfortable in James’ arms as you dozed off for a nap. On other nights, you have even managed to persuade Regulus to join a handful of times as well. You wondered what would happen when James would graduate before you, but tried not to think much of it.

“So, we are definitely going to Hogsmeade together this week, right?” James popped up behind you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How scandalous, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, why? You have a boyfriend or something?” James humoured you.

“Or something,” you joked. The innocent comment hit both you and James at the same time. A reminder that you two were in fact technically not really dating. You shook the thought away.

“I’ll see you at 11 o’clock,” you replied.

James grinned, “I’ll be there five minutes earlier.”

True to his words, he was waiting for you in the courtyard when you arrived on the dot. James offered you his arm and you linked yours through his.

“James?” James hummed in reply. “Does your offer about Spring Break still stand? I mean, I know it’s next week already, and it’s sort of short notice-”

James perked up. “Yes!” he said, a little too quickly and enthusiastic. He cleared his throat and lowered his volume. “Yes, you and Regulus can still come.”

You sighed and nodded in relief. “Right, because Reg and I have been talking and we might take you up on that offer.”

It was evening by the time you and James made your way back to Hogwarts. James had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you held his hand. James pressed a kiss to your temple every now and then. “What happened to the glass slippers?” He suddenly asked.

“They broke.”

“They broke?”

“Yep.”

“But didn’t you enchant them?”

“I did, but I was so angry at you that I smashed them to pieces against the wall like over two months ago.”

“Oh… But have you changed your mind since then?” James decided to finally ask you.

“About what?”.

“Me, and us.”

You looked at James and quietly admired him. James kept his eyes straight in front of him, too scared to look at you and see your reaction.

“Well, we are walking together, coming back from Hogsmeade. There’s not a student in sight and yet we are still holding hands,” You light-heartedly replied with a teasing smile. You squeezed his hand for good measure. It seemed enough to make James look at you.

“I’d say we’re pretty good friends-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze in your tracks and let go of James’ hand. Well, that took you by surprise. Fancying someone and claiming to be in love with someone- not loving but being in love- that was a next level. You smiled amusedly, successfully hiding your insecurities. “James, you’re not in love with me.”

James frowned at your response. He’d accept your rejection, but not you doubting his feelings.

“Yes, I am,” he stubbornly responded.

“No, you’re not,” you retorted, equally stubborn.

“Am too.”

“You’re not, James,” you exasperatedly said. “You’re not in love, you just fancy me because you’re comfortable.” You shrugged awkwardly. "And you only feel comfortable with me because I know so much about you. Because you poured your heart out to a stranger, and it so happened to be me.”

James bit his cheek, considering your words. Then he grinned and nodded. Your heart dropped, but not as much as it could have, because you had already prepared yourself for this. The joy behind setting yourself up for disappointment by never letting yourself get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable with you.” He agreed. “Isn’t that great? Isn’t that love too? Being comfortable to the point you don’t feel the need to keep secrets anymore, where you feel the most accepted? The most at ease?”

You stared at James then cleared your throat. “So, when did you start being all knowledgeable and romantic?”

James snorted. You were adorable when you were awkward. “I’m the most comfortable with you,” he earnestly confessed to you. He carefully, as if to not scare you away, put a step forward and reached for your hand. He squeezed it softly. I mean it.

James felt you pull your hand back and bit his lip, forcing it to curl up into an accepting smile. “Right,” he cleared his throat as he tried to form a reply. But you weren’t done yet. You pulled back your hand and then threw both your arms around James’ neck as your brought him in a tight hug. You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck.

“And I’m the most vulnerable with you,” you mumbled against his skin. James sighed in relief, happiness, and love. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, as if to shield you in response.

You tilted your head sideways as you looked at James who was in front of you, down on one knee in your garden. James looked beautiful. His cheeks were slightly coloured from the cold and his hands held a small box with a ring.

“Love?” He asked, waving his hand in front of you, trying to get your attention. He didn’t sound nervous at all, in fact, he felt the most relaxed he’d ever been. This was definitely the future he’d imagined when he’d watched you laugh with his dad while bringing in the groceries. “My knee is getting numb from the cold, love. So, if you could just say yes or no,” he cheekily grinned.

You hummed in thought and then you replied, “Well, isn’t marriage a little too soon?” Your grin widened and spread across your face. “I mean, you’ve yet to officially ask me to be your real girlfriend.”

“Wait what-”

The end :)

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gurugirl · 9 months

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A Good Boy | 5. When In Greece

Summary: A family vacation to Greece is meant to be peaceful and relaxing but when Y/n is forced to confront Harry about her feelings everything is turned upside down.

Note: This is stepmon!reader x stepson!harry - both are adults in this story but don't read if you don't like it.

Word Count: 17,236

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, inappropriate & forbidden relationship, age gap, cheating, lying, angst

A Good Boy Masterlist

Y/n stumbled bleary-eyed to her car as she tried to catch her breath. She felt like she was in a cloud of red, full of stinging bees trudging through a telescoped tunnel of hopelessness. She’d never experienced that particular feeling before but she forced her brain to stop its thoughts and found a safe spot to release her tears and sobs into her leather steering wheel which was at the campus café parking lot just a half mile from Harry’s dorm. Not ideal but she was unable to hold her despair in for another moment when she pulled into an open space and shut the engine off.

When she finally hiccupped through her tears and numbness began to take over she dialed Marla.

“Where are you?” Marla knew the call was coming. And being the best friend anyone could ever ask for, anticipated needing to keep her day free for her friend.

“I’m at the campus café,” Y/n gasped and closed her eyes. A ridiculous woman. From the beginning of the affair to the end. A terrible, vile, and evil person. There was no redemption for her.

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you–“

“No. I’ll come over. I can–“

“No, you cannot. I will not let you drive while you’re crying and upset. We can get your car later. I don’t want you getting into an accident. Stay put. I’m already on my way.”

And for Harry? The moment he slammed the door shut behind her he fell to the floor on his hands and knees and let his salty tears pool under him onto the stupid cheap rug he bought to make his room look more “homey”. He wanted to rip the rug to shreds but he couldn’t manage to stand up and pull himself together, much less begin to shred woven cotton and polyester into bits out of anger.

He couldn’t begin to make sense of his emotions. The sadness and rage. He wouldn’t be getting over her for a long time. He knew it. He was devastated and the worst part was that she really did like him but she was trying to protect them both from further hurt. He would have learned to deal with it. He would have adapted to the rules. He just needed time. Just a little more time. He was still trying to get used to it.

It was hopeless. He knew all along that it couldn’t last. He just didn’t think it would be over so fast. He’d barely gotten over the thrill of having her for it to all suddenly be ripped away.

He didn’t hate her. Not even close. He was mad, yes, but he could never hate her. Everything that led up to her breaking up with him wasn’t her fault.

He blamed his father.

He blamed the arrangement, which he knew was his dad’s idea. He hated that it was Y/n that Leo wound up picking. She deserved love and affection and she needed it.

He swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. His hangover was not helping matters. His muscles were stiff as he tried to sit back onto his shins. He was shaking from how he’d tensed his body and from the heartbreak and the tears and the grief.

When his phone chimed with a message his heart leaped and he crawled across the floor to snatch up his phone from his table quickly. But then when he saw it wasn’t Y/n, but rather Tyler letting him know he’d forgotten his wallet, he felt a sharp dejected anguish he knew he was going to have to get used to.

. . .

Y/n was in charge of selecting their ocean villa. It was a detached, private villa with a pool overlooking Agni Bay. They would be staying in Corfuand near where they could book private charters to islands and to surrounding beaches. She had booked some excursions and day trips for them but mostly they’d be lounging by the pool on the huge outdoor terrace.

She learned a few days prior that Harry was joining them and bringing Tyler. Leo had told her. It stung a bit that Harry hadn’t told her himself. But then again, it made sense. After breaking it off with him she hadn’t heard from him at all. She missed the daily texts and nightly calls. Missed his voice.

Two weeks without hearing from him at all had been difficult but she immersed herself in tennis club, booked extra sessions, found a nice murder mystery book series to read, and kept herself busy with the girls.

Marla was supportive and helpful. Cyndee and Gina still didn’t know anything but Cyndee did bring Harry up on their last Friday outing. Y/n wanted to strangle Cyndee for bringing it up at all because she was barely hanging on that evening as it was. But of course, Cyndee didn’t know better. She wasn’t in on the secret. Y/n wanted so badly to text Harry and just send him a quick I miss you message. But that wouldn’t help anything.

Leo went out of town for a couple of days for a conference upstate and so Y/n did her best to keep busy. Booking the vacation trip was actually fun. Cathartic even. She’d had the villa reserved far in advance but tacking on the little details felt really nice. Though she was nervous about the idea of Harry being there with them. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem with him there. Perhaps things could go back to how they had been before everything happened.

She doubted it but hoped. Plus Tyler would be there to distract Harry. She would do her best to enjoy every minute of her vacation.

And as booked and busy as Y/n made herself during the day, the nights were not kind. When she was finally alone in her room in the dark with her thoughts she cried. She’d let her emotions pour out and soak her pillow. She’d cry in the shower and sit under the water for far longer than she should, being that water was such a scarce resource.

The worst part was that Leo had initiated sex the night after she broke up with Harry. It was awful. She told him she wasn’t feeling well so he backed off. But the following night he wanted her in his bed.

So she went to his bed and tried to perform. She tried to focus on the man she was with but it felt like betrayal. It felt bitter and nauseating. She couldn’t stay wet and she couldn’t finish. But of course, Leo did and once that was done she went back to her room and scrubbed her body until her skin was raw and her eyes were red with tears and her sinuses were clogged in that annoying way that you can’t even manage to clear them.

It had never happened to her before. Her feelings for Harry were much deeper than she allowed herself to realize. But on top of her own feelings for him was the worry that he was also hurting the way she was. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want him to feel this way.

But he did. He felt the same stabbing pain in his chest every time he thought of Y/n. He cried any time he was alone and he composed message after message to her but never sent them. He couldn’t get the lump out of his throat. He couldn’t eat much. He forced himself to have lunch midday with his friends during the week but it was torture pretending he was fine.

Tyler was worried about him. He checked on Harry every evening before quiet time in the dorm.

“Let’s go out this Friday. We’ll invite a bunch of friends. Let loose. No pressure for anything. Just some fun.”

Harry was indifferent. He didn’t care if he went out or stayed in. It was all the same. He was numb anytime he was with people so he knew he wouldn’t enjoy himself and if he stayed in by himself he’d just write a letter to her and cry and also wouldn’t enjoy himself. Nothing mattered.

The only thing that had him moving forward was his anger about the situation. He told his dad he was going to Greece with them, which he immediately regretted but then knew he couldn’t take back because Tyler was going and plans had been made. But part of him looked forward to going and seeing Y/n. Maybe… just maybe she’d change her mind. Maybe she’d want him again if she just saw him. Maybe he could convince her…

And the third week that had gone by since they’d seen each other was another blur for both of them. Harry was just going through the motions. Studying, school, forcing a smile, crying, sleeping… And for Y/n she was barely paying attention to anything that was happening during her busy days, never letting her mind wander too far from her current activity whatever that may have been. But her nights were clear and painful. She allowed herself to think of him and to cry and to feel.

Her girl’s night out was something she usually looked forward to but this time she was dreading it when Marla told her they’d be going to a new place. Leo hadn’t been home all day and Linda finished cleaning the house early and so Y/n was left alone for a big part of the day. It had been a mistake to assume she was going to relax and lay by the pool and read. She couldn’t focus. So instead she let herself think of Harry and wonder about him. The lounge chair she was on was the one that she and Harry had come to after their pool escapade.

Putting her hands on the fabric of the cushion she imagined that day so vividly. Then the girls came over and later that night they’d had sex in his room but Marla had overheard. She winced from the memory.

Everything reminded her of him. So she was feeling more like drinking a bottle of wine and smoking a joint and passing out rather than dancing the night away in a busy bar.

But, just like every other girl’s night out, Marla arrived in the Uber to pull Y/n out of her slump.

She hadn’t even bothered to wear makeup. She did put on a dress but it wasn’t anything that would draw attention. Her flat sandals were more cute than sexy. She hadn’t showered that day.

“Not to be rude, my love, but you do not look like you’re ready for a night out. We’re going to that new spot in Malibu. Remember?”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah. I remember. Maybe I shouldn’t go. I’m okay just to stay home,” she shrugged.

“Absolutely not. You’re coming with us. You need to get out of this big empty mansion and have some fun. Stop thinking about him. Just… come out and enjoy yourself the best you can. It’s better than wallowing here alone.” Marla was right of course.

The club in Malibu was a very popular spot. They’d never been because Malibu was a bit of a hike but they figured a change of scenery could be good (Marla suggested it).

Cyndee had gotten them in at a spot with a VIP table and bottle service. The table was in the middle of all the action. The room was dark with flashing lights and loud music and the ceiling opened up to the night sky. It was actually quite posh.

Lots of young pretty things were dancing and grinding together. The dance floor was packed. Y/n felt out of place. She normally dolled up but tonight, she looked more like an 8th grade math teacher.

“Please smile. You’re making me sad,” Marla whispered into her ear as they took their spot in the circular booth. Cyndee was dancing already and Gina was sitting at the table with a man who she knew from some social club she frequented. He just happened to be there at the club that night.

Gina introduced him, “This is Elias,” he stretched his hand out to shake Marla’s and then Y/n’s.

Elias was attractive and friendly. He was also really funny, which Y/n found refreshing. A good laugh. That’s what she’d needed.

She wasn’t in the mood to dance at all but Marla kept trying to convince her to let loose, “Come on! You’re gonna regret not dancing the night away. I think it’ll do you good!”

“Yeah! Come out and dance! I’ll go up with you too.” Elias smiled down at her and raised a brow.

She shook her head and sighed before slipping out of the booth and ambling to the dance floor.

And both Marla and Elias had been right. It was fun. It made her feel better. She almost forgot about Harry for a solid five-minute stretch.

She hadn’t had much to drink. She knew that the more alcohol she consumed the sadder she’d get and there would be a chance she’d wind up drunk texting Harry. She didn’t want to do anything to mess up any progress of moving on.

Elias was a terrible dancer so he fit right in with the girls. The DJ was playing some interesting music choices, some not so good to dance to but Y/n tried to ignore when the next song came on. In fact, it was so hard to transition from dancing and the beat at the end of the previous song to the next she gave up, “I’m going to grab a drink,” she spoke to Marla.

She needed a breath, despite the fact that the club was packed, getting off the dance floor cleared her mind up a bit.

The setup at the bar was very different from how it was at Murphy’s. It was in the shape of a large circle in the center of the room with neon lights that lit all the colorful bottles underneath.

Leaning her hip to the bar wall she tried to catch the eye of one of the bartenders. People all around were dancing slowly to the beat, couples smushed together enjoying the new pace of the song. The lyrics weren’t clear but Y/n knew it was something that had couples grinding together.

When she finally caught the eye of one of the bartenders she smiled and watched as they made their way toward her. But then suddenly her space was crowded by someone far taller and then she heard his voice, “Having fun?”

She thought she must be dreaming. Must be mistaken. Perhaps she’d had more alcohol than she realized. She rotated herself to look up and saw the light green eyes and soft strawberry lips of the man she’d been missing for nearly three weeks.

“Not really,” she replied honestly.

“What will you have?” The bartender interrupted their moment.

“Just a water for me, please,” Y/n nodded and smiled politely before Harry asked for a tequila. Neat.

Harry kept his eyes on Y/n. He could see she hadn’t worn makeup and hadn’t done anything with her hair at all. It made him feel the tiniest bit better to know she wasn’t trying to look sexy for anyone. Especially since she wasn’t with him.

“Who’s he?” He’d had enough tequila that he didn’t care if he sounded jealous. He was jealous. He didn’t like that she was out and dancing with some guy.

“I just met him tonight. A friend of Gina’s,” she shrugged and took in his appearance. Dark circles and stress lines between his eyes. Unshaven face. She felt like his appearance reflected her own sadness. “How are you doing, Harry?”

He scoffed and peeled his eyes from hers to look across the bar, “Just great.”

She nodded quietly and let her eyes drift off into a corner as she felt the weight of everything on her. The way this wasn’t fair. The way they were both hurt but there was nothing they could do about it.

When the bartender came back with their drinks Harry finally looked back down at her, “So you’re not drinking?” He took a quick sip from his own glass as he kept his eyes pinned to hers.

“I had a couple but I’m not trying to get drunk. It’s not wise probably.”

Harry tilted his head, “And why’s that?”

“Because alcohol kind of exasperates sad emotions. I don’t need to feel any sadder.” She spoke honestly. She didn’t need to tell him that. She could have just kept that to herself but he was being a bit cold with her, a bit standoffish and she didn’t like it. Her hope was that the confession would resonate and he’d lower his walls a bit. She wanted his warmth. Missed it.

He nodded and smirked as he looked over her head and lifted his glass upward gesturing to someone before looking back down at her, “Don’t be sad. You got exactly what you wanted.”

Suddenly he waved over at the bartender to get her attention again and Y/n figured it was best if she left. He was not budging with the attitude and she was beginning to feel her face heat up from frustration and grief, which soon would turn to her nose getting filled and tears breaking from her eyes. So she pushed herself off the bar and began to make her way through the packed floor back to her friends.

But she felt his hand wrap around the back of her arm before she could get too far and she felt the melancholy rise of undeserved hope sneak up her skin and to the back of her neck as she turned, “You did get what you wanted didn’t you? Tell me you got what you wanted.” He spoke into her ear as the song changed to something more up-tempo.

Shaking her head she scanned his face, “No. I didn’t get what I wanted. I got what I deserved.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t deserve what I wanted, Harry.” She swallowed as he stared down at her, his face close to hers so he could hear.

“What did you want, Y/n?”

“That’s not fair. We can’t talk about this here.” She looked to her peripheral and back to him.

Harry’s eyes roamed her face as the bartender called out to him to pick up the second drink he ordered. He looked over his shoulder and then turned back to her, “I want to talk to you. Where can I find you?”

Y/n turned and jutted her chin toward the round booth her group was at, “Just there at that booth.”

She floated across the floor in a daze toward the table. She almost couldn’t believe it. What kind of luck was this? Los Angeles was massive. Knowing that Harry was at the same bar as she was, in Malibu of all places, seemed impossible. Highly highly unlikely. She settled into the booth opposite Cyndee and Gina and looked around the bar in search of Harry. She wasn’t sure where he’d gone off to or who he was with so she didn’t know where to look.

But after a few minutes, she saw him cut through the crowd toward her and behind him, not following, a young woman, Y/n recognized as Leslie. He was in the club with Leslie. She wondered if he’d perhaps been seeing her. That would be a good thing in regard to their situation. She didn’t like the idea but it would be good for him.

“That’s Harry!” Cyndee spoke loudly across the table, looking from Y/n to Harry as he neared the table.

Everything appeared to her in slow motion as he smiled and greeted the two ladies and then looked at Y/n as he leaned in to speak close, “Will you come with me? So we can talk?”

The hallway toward the bathrooms had tiny square mirrors all over the ceiling, walls, and floor. The music was still evident from the main room of the club but things were quieter once they’d passed the threshold into the hallway.

Y/n leaned into the cool wall behind her and crossed her arms as she looked up at Harry who stood in front of her, “Who’s the guy?”

“I told you, Harry. A friend of Gina’s. First time meeting him tonight.”

He nodded, “Seemed to be getting pretty friendly with him out there.”

“We were just dancing. Plus Marla was with us. Doesn’t matter anyway. What about Leslie? You’re here with her?”

“Here with a bunch of friends. And I asked Leslie to come. Yeah. Doubt you really care.”

His words were cold and very unlike how she’d been used to him behaving around her. But it was probably better this way. She shrugged, “I just want you to be happy. If you like her that’s good.”

Harry sighed, “So you gonna tell me what it is you wanted that you didn’t deserve?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about that. I mean…” she dropped her arms to her sides and bunched the material of her dress nervously, “I think you know. You know how I feel, Harry.”

“See that’s what I’m confused about. The more I think about it the harder it is for me to wrap my mind around it. You said you broke up with me to spare me but I feel like the real reason is because it’s too hard. I think if you really liked me enough you’d have tried harder. You didn’t even give me a chance before you dropped me.”

“No. I saw how much it was affecting you. I can’t stand to hurt you so I needed to do it. Yes, part of it was because it’s hard. The situation was –“

“You hurt me the most by breaking it off,” he put a palm on the wall next to her head as he spoke, “Now I’m just angry. It didn’t make things better. And now what was the fucking point? You said you didn’t even get what you wanted. So why do it? Tell me what you really wanted. I just need to hear you say it, Y/n.”

She blinked her eyes as she looked into Harry’s. She was suddenly glad she hadn’t worn makeup because she was already feeling the beginning of the sting of tears behind her eyes, “You. But you know that.”

His features softened immediately. His berry lips parted as he wet them with his tongue and he brought his other palm up to the wall to narrow the space between them, “If you wanted me, you had me. You have me.”

She shook her head, “I don’t deserve you, though. That’s why this–“

“Fuck off with your bullshit. Like you’re some kind of martyr. You took everything from me. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to be yours,” he kept his voice low but he spoke with heat and emotion, “I would have learned to be okay with it but you dropped me so fast I didn’t even have time to get used to it,” Harry pushed himself back and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing at all. I feel evil. I feel like your feelings are far more important than mine,” she felt the first tear make a warm trail down her cheek and then as she blinked a second and third. “I’m sorry.”

Harry watched as she tried to hold back her emotion but he saw the tears on her face and he felt bad for his outburst but he was still so raw and angry from everything. “Please, don’t…” he softly brushed the back of his hand upward over her cheek to wipe her tears, “don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry.”

She put her hand over his and closed her eyes, “I don’t want you to cry. You deserve to be happy, Harry.”

He shook his head and reached up to cup the other side of her face with his hand, “You don’t want me to cry? It’s all I’ve been doing. Every night for the past 19 days. I miss you, Y/n.”

She looked up at him, “I miss you too but you know we can’t… you deserve to be with someone you can have a real relationship with.”

Harry stepped in close and rested his forehead against hers, “Don’t want anyone but you.”

The world stopped and the only sound she could hear was her heart pumping in her chest. Having him so close to her was comforting and overwhelming all at the same time. It hurt but it felt good. She was confused. Maybe it had been a mistake to break up with him. Maybe that was the mistake.

“Harry?”

The pair separated quickly when they heard Leslie’s voice. Y/n’s face began to burn with embarrassment. She’d let it go too far. She hadn’t been in her right mind. Harry’s words and his eyes had her spinning and in a daze.

Leslie said something that Y/n couldn’t hear as her ears began to ring and regret blanketed her skin. She should never have allowed it to get that far. To let him touch her and stand so close… she knew better.

She looked between Harry and Leslie when Harry turned to whisper in her ear, “Will you come find me when you leave? I want to see you.”

Leslie’s face told Y/n everything she needed to know. Leslie was curious about what was going on. Suspicious. Leslie clearly liked Harry. And Harry could like Leslie too if it hadn’t been for Y/n.

Looking back at Harry she shook her head, “Harry… this can’t. No. We can’t.”

His hand wrapped around her wrist, “Yes, we can. Please don’t do this. Please, Y/n.”

“Leslie is right there, Harry. Go have fun with your friends. Pretend I’m not here.”

Harry stepped back and let go of her. He shook his head in disappointment, his eyes piercing into hers, “Fine.”

The way Leslie kept her eyes on Y/n until Harry pulled at her arm had Y/n feeling her guilt and shame bloom and swell.

She closed her eyes as Harry led Leslie out of the hallway and back into the main room of the club. It hurt too much to watch. She felt like she was back to day one when she broke up with him. She hoped that he’d begun to move on but he hadn’t. And neither had she.

“So what was that about?” Cyndee asked as Y/n slid back into the booth.

“He just had a question about our family vacation,” Y/n lied. She was glad the club was dark and the lights that illuminated could hide that she’d been crying. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

Harry had effectively ruined her girl’s night out. Of course, it wasn’t totally his fault. He was in the same boat she was. And she tried not to let her eyes rove the features of the people dancing or standing at the periphery to perchance spot him again, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to see him. Just another peek.

But Harry had moved so that she wouldn’t be able to lay her eyes on him, though he knew where she was and he continued to look toward the booth where she was sitting.

“Why do you keep looking over at your stepmom?” Leslie pulled him down so she could speak into his ear. He’d assured her that what she saw was just them talking and that it was loud so they had to stand that close. He said that Y/n had been upset about something. But Leslie wasn’t quite so sure. She’d seen his forehead pressed to hers. Had seen how he was cradling her face in his palms and how tense the moment was.

“Oh, didn’t realize I was. Just worried about her.”

And that was kind of the truth. He was worried about her. But not for reasons he could explain. Not to Leslie.

More alcohol. Shots, beer, martinis, dancing. A full hour had gone by. Y/n was on the dance floor again and trying to let the alcohol cover up her sadness but even in her state she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. Especially when she’d finally caught sight of him on the dance floor. Especially when he was dancing with Leslie. Kissing Leslie. Hands on Leslie. Hips pressed to hers.

She swallowed down the jealousy the best she could. It was better to have Harry with someone his age. Someone who wasn’t his stepmom.

Marla danced with Y/n and kept asking if she was okay.

“I’m just trying to not think about it,” Y/n spoke into her friend’s ear as she watched Leslie’s hand sneak up the back of Harry’s shirt.

And it wasn’t that Harry wasn’t enjoying Leslie touching him and grinding against him. He thought Leslie was cute. He liked her. And in another world where he hadn’t gotten involved with Y/n, he’d be over the moon about where the night was leading. He’d already invited Leslie back to his dorm room, to which she enthusiastically said yes.

He was going to forget about Y/n the best he could. Do normal 21-year-old college guy shit and have sex with someone after a night out. He could see himself dating Leslie. Enjoying her company. And maybe he’d get over Y/n after enough time.

But it didn’t help that he couldn’t stop stealing glances at her. She was dancing near the other man. Not in a way that should have Harry feeling jealous but he couldn’t help that part. He was jealous. He didn’t think anyone should be near her. If he couldn’t have her then no one else should either.

“I’m right here, Harry,” Leslie put her arms up over his shoulders to pull his attention back to her. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was really trying to enjoy the girl he was dancing with and ignore the one he was not but it was almost impossible. He’d do almost anything to have the girl in his arms be Y/n rather than Leslie. To have Y/n’s hips glued to his, her eyes on him, her warm skin stuck against his…

When he looked at Y/n again and caught her gaze he caved. Maybe it was all the alcohol, or it was his jealousy, or his heart thinking for him rather than his brain but he put his hands over Leslie’s arms and moved her off of him, “I need to um...” he didn’t finish saying what he needed to do. But he knew it was a need. He had to convince Y/n of what he was already sure of himself.

Harry trudged through the sweaty bodies with his eyes on her and she watched him approach. His eyes were dark and his face set with a menacingly chilly expression.

He stood in front of her and pulled her in by her waist and she gasped, “What are you–“

“Dancing with my stepmom.” Harry began to sway and Y/n grasped onto his sturdy biceps, “Harry we can’t. Someone will see–“

“I don’t fucking care, Y/n,” He leaned in and spoke lowly into her ear, “Just listen. I want you. I don’t care if I’m just the side piece or whatever shit you want to call it. I fucking don’t care. Let it be messy. We’ll be together when my dad’s not around. I can give you what he can’t. Don’t punish yourself because you don’t think you deserve that. You do. We both do.”

She darted her eyes to Marla who was next to Harry before turning her head to respond to her stepson, “It doesn’t matter what we want. We can’t have that, Harry.”

His grip on her waist tightened, “We can and you know it. Unless you tell me you don’t want me. Tell me right now that you hated being with me and that you don’t miss me and I’ll leave you alone. Tell me all those things you told me about how you felt were just lies and I’ll never bother you again.”

She couldn’t help the way her body trembled as he spoke and the breath she let out bloomed over his neck. He knew she couldn’t deny it. He knew she wouldn’t take back what she said. And that was enough for him to feel like it wasn’t over.

“Harry…” she breathed his name as his thumbs dug into the material of her dress at her waist.

Suddenly it felt as if there was no one in the club except for them. She could feel his cheek against her temple, the whiskery bits scratching her skin. Their bodies moved together slowly as the next song came on.

When she felt his mouth move as he spoke she had been unable to stop the way her chest rose and fell deeply, pants leaving her mouth.

“You can’t because you need me just as much as I need you, Y/n. Fuck everyone else. I don’t care. Fuck my dad. Come home with me.”

And despite the pair forgetting about everyone around them, all their friends watched on as Y/n and Harry danced close, Harry's lips moving next to her ear, Y/n’s breaths deepening, her hands on his arms, his on her waist.

“Y/n,” Marla tapped her arm, and the sudden shock of being brought out of Harry’s spell was clear on her face when she looked from Harry to Marla. “We should get going. Okay?”

And that was it. He’d lost her again. She shook her head at Harry as she slipped out of his arms and pulled herself away from him and out of the club.

. . .

She had been thankful that Marla had come when she did. She was just about to give in. Just about to let the alcohol and Harry’s convincing words do all the thinking for her. She wanted to go with him. Wanted to just forget about it all. She wanted him. She could admit that. And part of her did need him. That was what was so hard. Because, yes, the sex was fun and she really loved it with Harry. But it had gone beyond sex. Their connection was deeper than just sex.

Waking up the next morning in her bed with Marla asleep next to her she felt crushed. Felt suffocated. She didn’t know how she was going to handle going on a vacation with him. Seeing him every day. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to stay away from him. Strong enough to keep denying herself or him.

She was in too deep and she knew that. She knew her feelings weren’t just physical. She knew it wasn’t just a phase. She knew that, to her, Harry was more than just a man she’d gotten involved with that she had begun to have some kind of attachment to.

It was more than that. And she knew it. But she just wasn’t ready to admit it to herself yet. Not aloud. Nor in her mind would she connect her thoughts and her feelings and recognize that one unmistakable emotion.

When they got back to Y/n’s house after that disaster of a girl’s night, Marla had given her a stern talking to. The truth. The reality.

“That was dumb, Y/n. Everyone watched you and Harry practically make out on the dance floor.”

“We didn’t kiss, Marla.”

“I know, but that was… very intimate. You might as well have had his tongue down your throat. He was talking with his lips on your ear and holding your body against his. It was obvious that it wasn’t just a friendly chat. And that girl he was with? Well, she saw it too and you should have seen the look on her face. Poor thing.”

Y/n knew that was what she deserved to hear. It was the truth and she had a moment of weakness. But Harry made her weak.

“I know. I’m just having a hard time not… I’m fucking so confused. I hate this.”

“You’ll feel better in the morning. Want me to stay the night? I’ll keep your phone away so you’re not drunk dialing him or something.”

And so that’s what happened. Marla was trying to help. She was a good friend. Y/n was thankful. But she also hated that she wasn’t waking up in Harry’s bed. Hated that she didn’t give in and that they couldn’t just be together. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over him.

Harry’s stunt with Y/n had been the nail in the coffin with Leslie. She was planning on going back to his place. But after seeing the way he was behaving with Y/n, twice in one night was all she needed to see to know that there was something going on.

So he woke up in his bed alone thinking about Y/n. Thinking about how she didn’t deny the way she felt. But she still left him standing there like an idiot. He’d gone out on a limb and fucked up the sure thing he had with Leslie that night and wound up not getting any at all. His hope had soared and then crashed once again as he saw her look over her shoulder before stepping deeper into the crowd of people and out of sight.

. . .

The private villa Y/n selected was five bedrooms. Looking online at the photos of the property she hummed to herself as she imagined being dragged into Harry’s room and fucked against the door. He’d be angry with her for making them wait so long. He’d growl into her ear quietly about how she was his and how she needed him as he held his palm over her mouth to keep her quiet.

She swallowed and tried to push those dirty thoughts away. Leo was in his office as she was in her room imagining doing filthy things to his son. She couldn’t help it. Even though they hadn’t spoken since that night at the club she knew that they’d be seeing one another again soon. And that the private villa was spacious and there would be plenty of opportunity for them to have privacy.

For better or worse she couldn’t stop thinking about it and hoping they’d get the chance. She knew she shouldn’t think that way. But it was hard to stop those thoughts from taking over. Because she knew how he felt about her. She figured he’d try and convince her again and if it was just the two of them in a room with the door locked she wouldn’t say no. She wouldn’t be able to.

. . .

The airline lounge was quiet. There weren’t that many people to be seen at 5 am. Y/n sipped a latte and tried to distract herself by looking at her phone but she knew that Harry would show up soon with Tyler. She’d been unable to get much sleep the night before. Which was a shame because the flight with a layover was nearly a full day of travel.

They had a layover in Dublin and from there they’d fly into Corfu where they had ground transportation waiting to take them to their private villa on the ocean. She couldn’t wait to get to their destination.

“Harry texted. They just got through security,” Leo spoke suddenly.

Y/n nodded and looked back down at her phone, trying to act less affected than she was.

When Tyler and Harry arrived at the lounge they sat in a different area closer to the breakfast bar. Harry wore a baseball cap that covered his brown curls and he had his eyes closed until it was time to board their flight.

Y/n was glad that Harry and Tyler were not sitting near her and Leo on either flight. Traveling for nearly an entire day was already stressful enough. She didn’t need the extra tension of seeing Harry the entire time. She’d be getting enough of that in Greece.

. . .

The villa was even more gorgeous in person. The terrace was massive with lovely little lights attached to the outdoor canopies and was set on a hill that overlooked the ocean bay. The pool was huge and the property was totally private, surrounded by olive trees and plenty of land for them to explore if they chose. The interior of the villa was rustic but chic. The stone walls and floors with arched doorways and high ceilings with wooden beams were stunning. Every bedroom in the place had a view of the bay. It was literally quite breathtaking.

Leo and Y/n’s room was massive with a large window and terrace and hammocks swaying in the wind. Plants gave them some privacy but Y/n shuddered when she thought about that. She didn’t know how this vacation would go down. If Leo would want sex. He probably would. He was already relaxed and in quite high spirits she could tell.

Y/n was already in a cute bikini by the time Harry and Tyler had come outside to enjoy the terrace and pool and the view. She had her eyes closed, lying flat on her back on one of the lounge chairs.

But Harry wasn’t going to give her anything. He was going to act like he couldn’t care less about her presence or her body or what they’d gone through. If she could act so nonchalant about it so could he.

When Y/n heard the guys jump into the pool she sat up and glanced at Harry’s strong chest before turning her gaze away to watch the gorgeous view of the sea. It was difficult, though, to not let her eyes drag over his pecs and to his tattoos. His arms and his shoulders.

He looked happy. He was laughing with Tyler and seemed relaxed. And that was a good thing. Yes, it was better that he was happy rather than upset about the way things had ended.

Leo jumped into the pool with Harry and Tyler suddenly, the three of them laughing and enjoying the first official day of their vacation.

And Harry could tell that ignoring her was already working. He didn’t look at her but he could feel her eyes on him. He could tell she was trying not to look but failing.

“Thinking about going out tomorrow night. There’s a really nice bar in town. You’d be okay with that if just me and Tyler went?” Harry spoke to Leo but loud enough for Y/n to hear.

Y/n looked down into her lap and tried not to frown. Tried not to let her emotions take over her face. She didn’t know if this was payback or if Harry was actually trying to just move on. Or… perhaps it was just a ploy to make her needy of his usual attention.

“Of course! The driver can take you wherever you need to go and bring you back too. I expected that you and Tyler would want to go out and meet some girls or something.” Leo laughed.

Y/n pouted before blinking her eyes shut and trying to ignore the conversation. She didn’t want to even think about Harry meeting anyone. But what a selfish thing to consider. Her fantasies of Harry begging her to be with him or dragging her to his room slowly began to fade with the reality of the situation. She needed to let it go.

Bedtime came early. Everyone was exhausted from the long trip. Harry had still barely spared her a glance, though he did politely offer her the bottle of wine to refill her glass. But that was it. It was quite the blow to her ego. She figured that was what she deserved, though.

Tyler knocked at Harry’s cracked open door before stepping into his room, “You doing all that on purpose?” He gestured toward the door behind him.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s smirk gave away that he knew just what Tyler was talking about.

His friend cocked his head at Harry and rolled his eyes as he walked deeper into the room and sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, “What do you think I mean?”

Harry shrugged, “Just want to have some fun while I’m here on vacation. Trying not to think about Y/n or anything.”

“Dude you’re so full of shit. You had the chance to do that when we went out to the club but instead, you scared Leslie off for good trying to get with your stepmom in front of everyone.”

Harry shook his head, “Today’s a new day. She doesn’t want me so I’m just gonna have some fun.”

. . .

Y/n woke up before anyone else and made coffee. The place was beautiful. She couldn’t get over how bright and paradisiac the place was.

But even with how lovely the villa was… she tried not to pay much mind to the little voice in her head that told her Harry was doing it on purpose. That he was trying to make her jealous. Make her miss him. Make her eat her words about him finding someone his age to be with.

She’d gotten lucky that Leo was so tired the night before. He did kiss her goodnight, though. She rarely got that from him. But she knew he’d want something. He was in way too good of a mood the night before. She could tell he was going to want a roll in the sack soon.

She thought that with Harry and Tyler out that evening it would be a good time. It would be much easier to go along with it if Harry wasn’t nearby. She could pretend to be into it. Maybe he’d go down on her and she could pretend–“

“Up so early.” His raspy, deep morning voice was maybe her favorite sound. Ever. Her cheeks immediately warmed up at his voice coming from behind her, cutting her off from her thoughts.

She turned and watched as he walked around the large stone table to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah. I got to sleep right away and slept hard. Woke up and felt like I’d had enough rest.” She sipped her coffee as she watched Harry turn around with a mug, take three long-legged strides toward the table and sit down right next to her.

Without looking away from her he took a drink from his cup and Y/n continued to speak to fill in the awkward silence, “So, anyway. And you’re up early. Did you get enough rest?”

Harry smiled thoughtfully as he placed his mug down, “Sure. Slept pretty well. Fell asleep pretty quickly.”

He didn’t miss it when she mentioned that she got to sleep right away. To him, that meant that nothing happened between her and his dad the night before. Which of course he felt relieved by. He tried not to wonder when the last time they slept together was.

Y/n nodded, “Good. I think it’s so peaceful here too. Maybe that’s why we slept so well.” Her smile was genuine and her eyes told Harry she was taking all of him in. Soaking up his presence. Want. Longing.

Good.

“Well, I mean I’ve slept better before. Can think of a couple of times in particular. Ya know?” Harry raised his brows knowingly and licked his lips.

She softly nodded her head and the smallest smile broke out on her lips, “Yeah.” Memories of just how well they could sleep after the kind of intense sex they always seemed to have filled her thoughts.

Neither of them budged from their spot as they kept their eyes agaze on the other.

It was quiet and soft. She could stare into his eyes all day if she were allowed. She wanted to reach across the space to him and pull his shirt collar to bring him down for a kiss but she wouldn’t He wished she would.

Their moment was interrupted when they heard footsteps, quickly both taking their mugs in hand and sipping the hot liquid.

“Morning, early risers,” Leo yawned and stretched his arms overhead.

Tyler didn’t wake up until nearly noon. Y/n stayed most of the morning in a hammock by the pool reading while Harry sauntered around in only athletic shorts, baring his chest and abs. She was glad to have a book to read to distract her from the expanse of his skin littered with inky sketchings. The last thing she needed was to have Leo see her ogling his son.

After Harry and Tyler had left the big villa felt odd. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been used to being in such a large dwelling. Leonardo’s home was nearly as big. It was that the sudden weight of what she knew was coming felt paralyzing. She wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one she knew. Sure she could just say she didn’t want to have sex but that’s what she’d been doing far too frequently lately.

And just like she knew would happen, Leo was pulling her into his chest and trying to talk dirty to her. Two months ago it would have been welcomed.

“They’re gone for the night. What do you say we have a little fun?”

Y/n plastered a fake smile on her lips and drew her hands up over his shoulders, “What did you have in mind?”

“Haven’t felt you in a while. Missed you.” Leo pushed his mouth over hers and she closed her eyes and tried to shift her thoughts from the moment. Tried imagining she was doing anything else. Playing tennis with her trainer Margaret, swimming in the pool, shopping for new shoes…

But by the time they’d gotten into their bed, it was getting difficult to imagine that anything else was happening. So she switched tactics. It was Harry kissing her neck and pulling her clothes down and exposing her breaths. It was Harry whispering to her how pretty she was and what he wanted to do to her.

When he’d slid her panties off and he was bare between her legs she pushed herself up by her elbows and looked at his cock and gulped hard, but not out of lust or want. This wasn’t Harry and it was obvious. It was hard to trick herself that she was kissing Harry and touching his naked body when it wasn’t him. She didn’t want Leo. Not anymore. Not at all.

She blinked her eyes at him and grinned as she placed her palm over his dick before he could put on a condom, “Let me suck you off. Haven’t done that in a long time. And then you can come on my tits or something.” She figured a blow job didn’t feel as dirty as sex. Though choking on a cock was not fun when she wasn’t into it, it felt better than having sex with him, though.

And it wasn’t fun. Leo was well endowed and she had to work for him to come. He kept trying to pull her off so he could fuck her but she insisted that she wanted to get him off with her mouth.

She half regretted the route she’d taken. It probably would have been much faster if she’d just let him fuck her. He would have nutted in under ten minutes and she could fake an orgasm easily and that would be that. But instead, it took nearly double that for him to begin shaking with his release bursting down her throat before she pulled off of him and stroked him over her tits and tummy.

It was also no surprise to her that he didn’t even try to offer her anything once he was done. Which she was thankful for. This was one of those times she was relieved that he was a selfish lover.

. . .

Y/n startled awake when she heard Harry and Tyler stumble toward their rooms, with attempts to keep their voices down but failing quite miserably. It was just after 1 am. But when she heard the giggle of a female voice she sat up and strained her ears to listen closer.

Had they brought girls back with them?

She heard stomping and laughing then shushing before one door closed and then seconds later another. She considered going to stand outside of Harry’s door and pressing her ear to the wood to listen. But that was insane. He deserved privacy if he did bring a girl back. And that would be a good thing if he had (this seemed to be her mantra lately). A good thing for him to have some fun. With someone that wasn’t Y/n. That’s what she told herself anyway. In reality, it made her want to vomit.

She laid her head back onto the pillow and sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind think of anything but what might be happening in Harry’s room. She didn’t want to think about him joking around with another girl in that flirty confident way he does, taking her dress off, kissing the exposed parts of her skin as he lowered the fabric down over her hips. She couldn’t let herself imagine him with his soft raspberry lips doing things to some other girl that he’d done to her. And certainly, she refused to picture him having sex and coming on her tummy when they realized they forgot the condom because they were too caught up and horny.

She hated it. Hated the idea of any of that. Hated being jealous. Hated that she wasn’t being snuck into his room to do all of those things with him.

But the silence was a gift. She could hear nothing from their room and so she eventually convinced herself that she’d only imagined hearing a female’s voice, that there hadn’t been girls with them. And that thought was the only thing that helped her ease back into sleep.

. . .

When she finally woke up the following morning she had a feeling of dread and sadness in her tummy. Leo was already up as his side of the bed was empty.

She didn’t want to get up and walk into the kitchen and find two pretty girls sitting with coffee while Tyler sat next to one and Harry the other. Then it would be real. Because she had convinced herself that she’d only imagined hearing things the night before. But she knew what she heard. The distinct voice of a female, maybe two. She hoped she was wrong.

Freshening up her sleepy appearance first she put her messy hair into a ponytail and splashed her face with water. Her pajamas were cute. Little silky shorts and a tank top. It was her regular sleepwear. She had no idea what she was about to encounter but at least if she was going to see the young woman that got a taste of Harry the night before she could look somewhat cute.

But then she heard Leo’s voice. The window in the bathroom faced the balcony of their bedroom. She hadn’t seen him out on the balcony when she went into the bathroom so he must have been standing at the far corner away from where he could be spotted.

“I miss you, honey. I know…” his voice was quiet and soft. He never spoke to Y/n that way. He seemed so gentle with her. Sounded so malleable. So tender.

He chuckled breathily and spoke, “12 more days, Parker. Wish it was you here with me…”

She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. What had she gotten herself into? The man she was married to was clearly in love or falling in love with another woman. Y/n wasn’t upset that Leo was finding love with someone else. Y/n didn’t love Leo. But everything felt so fleeting suddenly. So finite. Things weren’t always as they seemed and now she was hyper-aware that the kind of agreement she had might be coming to an end.

She took a deep breath as she walked out of the bathroom, not needing to hear anything else from Leo to understand what was happening, and braced herself for what she might encounter in the kitchen.

But what she found when she got there was not quite what she’d imagined. There was indeed a young woman. Harry was seated at the table with his head drooped down and a mug of coffee in his hands while on the opposite side was Tyler sitting next to a sleepy girl. It was clear that the girl was with Tyler. Though, that didn’t mean there wasn’t another girl somewhere. Perhaps even still lying in Harry’s bed.

Harry appeared to be painfully hungover.

“Morning,” Y/n spoke as she eyed Tyler and the girl.

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on Y/n.

Tyler cleared his throat, “This is Alex. We’re just waiting on the car to get here so she can go home.”

“So soon? You can stay for breakfast if you like,” Y/n smiled at the girl as she poured coffee for herself.

“Oh that is so kind of you but I have to be at work soon.”

Y/n glanced at Harry who couldn’t even force a smile onto his face. She wanted to ask if there was another girl in the house somewhere but based on Harry’s appearance she thought she knew the answer to that question.

Once Alex left Y/n tasked herself with making a big breakfast for everyone. Cooking made her happy and she figured if the guys were both hungover they’d want something to eat to soak up all the alcohol from the previous night. And also just the knowledge that Harry hadn’t brought a girl home, made everything in her own tummy settle and she was feeling quite peckish as well.

Y/n learned that Harry had gotten on a table and danced the macarena after housing some girl's martini. The girl was apparently into Harry but then he’d gotten quite trashed and that’s when Tyler suggested they head home. With Alex in tow of course.

“Shut up, dude,” Harry grumbled his words.

“Totally blew your shot with her man! And the funniest part of it was that she was so pissed that you drank her drink in one go. Like you just yanked it from her hand, gulped the whole thing down, and then climbed on the table and–“

Harry punched Tyler’s shoulder, “Shut. Up.”

After breakfast, Harry lay by the pool fully clothed. In fact, Y/n was quite sure he was wearing the same clothes as he had been the night before.

Y/n hated that this news made her happy. Hated that she felt smug that he’d gotten too drunk to bring a girl home. Hated that that idea improved her mood at all. But it did.

She was cleaning up the dishes and putting the leftovers away when Leo walked into the kitchen and clapped his hands together, “Today is a beach day. The boys can nurse their hangovers by the sea.”

Most of the morning had been wasted at the villa with Harry trying to recover and get his shit together before they could finally head to the bay.

The water was deep blue and the sky above was bright and clear. The beach had chairs with sun umbrellas all along the shore. They found a few chairs together and draped towels over them.

Harry seemed to be feeling better. Especially when two girls came up to greet him. It was clear they both were interested in Harry. Tyler was an attractive guy too, but Harry was… well he was Harry.

The girls were from Italy and spoke English perfectly. They were pretty with pretty hair, pretty skin, pretty lips, and pretty accents.

Watching Harry flirt sucked. She didn’t know any other way to feel about it. She tried to pretend she didn’t notice. But it was impossible being that they were only a few chairs away. She could hear everything too. The girls were giggling and Harry was being cheeky and cute, trying to say something to them in Italian and they ate it up, correcting his words and making him repeat but it seemed to only endear them to him even more.

Harry wore a pair of short green swim trunks that did little to hide his tight ass and strong thighs. Tattoos on full show, lean and well-muscled torso flaunted. Harry knew he was attractive. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the girls introduced themselves to Harry and Tyler.

Y/n let her sun hat slip over her eyes as she laid back and tried to focus on the sound of the waves in the ocean and not the flirtatious laughter coming from Harry’s direction.

“Will you rub sunscreen on my back, Y/n? Feel like I didn’t get enough toward the shoulders,” Leo put his hand on Y/n’s arm to get her attention.

She scooted in behind Leo on his beach chair to reapply sunscreen to his back but with the angle she was at she had a better view of the boys.

Harry was draped casually on his chair. His smile drew deep dimples into his cheeks and the tiger tattoo on his thigh was being traced by the girl sitting next to him on his chair. They were no longer laughing but speaking quietly to one another.

She watched as the young woman pointed to his butterfly tattoo and Harry took her hand and urged her to put the pad of her finger along the lines of the ink.

Harry could tell Y/n was watching. He did feel a little bad. Just a little, though. Because he wasn’t interested in the pretty Italian girl with her hands on his skin, which was a bit rude of him. And he was reveling in the fact that Y/n might be getting jealous. Also rude of him.

But when he did finally allow his sight to take his stepmom in he noticed that his dad was rubbing lotion on her back and shoulders. He watched fingers graze along the side of her boobs and noted how his dad was grinning and whispering into Y/n’s ear.

Y/n was holding her hair to the side so it didn’t get sunscreen all over it and her other arm was out in front, palm flat on the chair between her legs so she was slightly bent at the waist. Her cleavage nearly spilled out of her yellow bikini top.

He didn’t like the way Leo was touching her or how Y/n was grinning at whatever was being said.

Harry took the girl's wrist and pulled her hand higher, now pressing her palm over the sparrow on his right pec.

“You work out a lot,” the girl spoke as she looked at Harry with her big brown eyes. She wanted more he could tell.

Harry turned his attention back to the girl fully and shook his head, “Just a few times a week. You obviously work out too.”

Y/n could pull the girl’s hair out. Her hands were on his pecs, feeling the firm muscle that Y/n enjoyed kissing and touching herself. But the worst was the way Harry was looking at the girl. His eyes dragged down her body as he spoke quietly to her. And when he pinched her thigh and she laughed loudly, hopping up from the chair, Harry followed after her and they ran playfully toward the water.

“Want a drink? I was thinking about bringing back some wine or something. There’s a shop just over there.” Leo spoke as Y/n stood up and moved back into her own chair.

“Yeah. Maybe some wine would be good.”

. . .

Leo had had a bit too much to drink. And Y/n hated, hated to think it, but it meant he’d pass out and would be unlikely to try anything with her. She could avoid sex with him. At least that evening.

It also meant, much to her devious delight, that Harry and Tyler had to bid adieu to the lovely young ladies, but not before getting some contact information so they could meet up later. Y/n needed their help to get Leo back to the villa in one piece.

Tyler was already setting up plans for that night to see Gia by the time they helped Leo to bed.

“Dude they’re both gonna be there tonight. Gia and Bambi.”

Yeah. The girl that Harry had been flirting with was named Bambi. Of course, that was her name. She was adorable with long legs and big brown eyes. She could pass for a Bambi.

“I don’t know, man. We just went out last night. I got so wasted and sick. Not sure I’m into it.”

“Really? Bambi was all over you. She wants to see you. You don’t have to drink, H. You know that right?” Tyler laughed.

Y/n was not purposely listening. She just happened to be in the kitchen wiping the countertops as the guys were in the sunroom connected to the kitchen. The fact that she could hear was totally a coincidence. Totally.

“Nah. You go. It’s fine.”

There was a pause for a beat and Y/n strained to hear if they were speaking. Whispering perhaps?

When Tyler responded his voice was much quieter so Y/n wiped her way toward the stone island in the center and perked her ears.

“It’s because of Y/n. Isn’t it? I know you’re still hung up on her but you gotta move on.”

“Tyler, I just don’t feel like going.”

“You’re not gonna be mad if I do then?”

Smiling to herself she moved away from the island and tossed the rag into the sink. Harry wasn’t going out to meet up with Bambi. She shouldn’t have been pleased with that but she was.

Tyler left after the sun had already gone down. Y/n hadn’t heard a single peep from Leo when she settled onto the terrace with a book and the yellow bikini she’d been wearing at the beach. Even at night, the weather in Corfu was warm.

Harry had been in the kitchen for a bit on his phone and then he disappeared for a while. She wished that things could be easy between them. Go back to how they were before.

But when he strutted out to the terrace and walked in front of her before splashing into the pool she was a little surprised that he’d come out with her at all. She thought perhaps he’d keep his distance. But of course, she knew better. She knew he wouldn’t.

And like they had been doing, mostly effectively since arriving in Greece, they ignored one another. Harry swam laps and Y/n read her mystery book and the stars twinkled down on their little paradise by the beach.

Y/n connected her cellphone to the speaker and put on music she had in her saved favorites. A random mix really.

Harry watched her walk across the stones to the outdoor mini fridge and pull out a bottle of beer before turning to Harry with a brow raised, “Want a beer?”

He nodded as he pulled himself out of the water and began to walk toward her. Droplets trickled down his skin and dripped from his trunks that were hung low on his hips.

She did well not to stare at his wet body as she handed him the cold bottle.

“Surprised you didn’t go out with Tyler. Seemed like you would have enjoyed seeing that girl tonight.” Y/n spoke as she sat down on the chair next to her book.

She immediately regretted asking. It made her look desperate, jealous. But perhaps she was.

Harry took the lounge next to hers and put his feet up as he took a swig from the bottle.

“Yeah. I would have enjoyed seeing her. She was really nice.”

“So why didn’t you? This is your vacation, Harry. You should enjoy it.”

Harry leaned his head back into the chair and turned to look at Y/n, “I am enjoying it. Maybe another night I’ll go out. Last night was too much for me.”

They sat silently for a bit as Y/n picked her book back up and tried to concentrate on the words on the page but her mind was racing.

When the next song came on, it had changed the mood entirely. A slow song and the lyrics were maybe somewhat ironic given their circumstance.

Harry stood from his chair and stretched his arms overhead before taking down the last of his beer.

“You done with yours?” He gestured toward her bottle.

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks, Harry.” She was about to pick up the bottle to hand to him but he reached across her and picked it up. Their faces coming within just inches. He’d done it on purpose. But she didn’t say anything as he straightened himself and took the bottles to the trash.

She looked back down at her book but the lyrics of the song and Harry’s fit body were far more interesting to her.

“You’re staring,” Harry spoke with a smile.

Y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes, “No. No, I’m not.” But she didn’t remove her eyes from his frame as she grinned.

Harry kept his gaze set on hers as he adjusted his swim trunks, plucking at the fabric near his crotch where the lining was irritating his skin. He’d done that on purpose too. A reminder to her of what she was missing out on.

She tried not to imagine him without the shorts. She knew what he looked like underneath.

Blinking her eyes she looked down at her lap and took a breath.

“So, Tyler’s having fun. He brought that girl back yesterday and now he’s out with another tonight. Quite the ladies' man,” Y/n tried changing the subject or at least the trajectory of where her mind was beginning to wander.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Harry shrugged as he plopped back down onto the chair and stretched his arms behind his head. “Kind of funny…” Harry chuckled, not finishing his thought.

Y/n turned to look at him, “What’s funny?”

Harry’s bright eyes binged on her exposed skin, “Cause I should be out with him. Bambi was cute. Coulda had fun. Yet here I am.”

Nodding she turned to face him, putting her feet onto the stone below the chair, “You should have gone. It would have been good. You can still go you know.” “Would it be? Is that what you want?” Harry mimicked her stance, turning himself and putting his feet onto the stone, their knees facing one another.

“What I want? What do you mean?”

Harry’s pink lips opened and then closed as he considered his words, “Want me to go out and have fun with someone else? Someone who’s not you?”

Y/n shook her head and looked away from his deep gaze. Of course, she didn’t want that. What she wanted wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right.

She stood up so she could pace. To put some distance between her and Harry because even though he was a couple of feet from her it was too close. But she didn’t get far when she felt his hand on her hip and he was standing over her, “That’s what you want?”

It wasn’t fair. Her feelings weren’t fair. The way he felt for her wasn’t fair. Nothing about their situation was fair.

She looked up at him and the slow riff of the new song made their proximity feel even more intense. It just wasn’t fair.

“Stop, Harry. You already know the answer.”

When his other hand landed on her hip and pulled her in so she couldn’t back away from him he nodded his head, “I do know the answer. That’s why I’m here. With you. Because we want the same thing. Don’t we?”

She dropped her eyes toward his chest, just about where his heart would be. The heart she longed to keep for herself. The most tender heart she’d ever known.

She nodded her answer but did not look up at him. Because it wasn’t fair. Her answer wasn’t fair. His feelings weren’t fair.

“See? You’re just torturing yourself, Y/n. Torturing me. I need you in a way I’ve never needed anything, and I know it’s the same for you. Please look at me.”

Harry didn’t know he could be so relentless about something. He was generally very easygoing and didn’t bother to push anyone in the way he did with Y/n. But it was different. Because he knew they had something special. Something rare.

Slowly she gave in and looked up at him again, bringing her hands up to his chest, palms flat. He looked down at her hands and then back up to her eyes, “Can you feel my heart?”

She nodded as Harry took one of his hands and pressed it over the back of hers to hold her palm in place. The unmistakable frenzied thudding of his muscular organ below vibrated against her skin, “It doesn’t do that with anyone else. Not like this.”

She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to let her feelings overwhelm her like they had been since she broke it off. Wanted to keep strong. Didn’t want to give in. Didn’t want to not give in.

“I know you feel the same way. Why are you doing this?”

She let out a shaky breath and blinked her eyes, “Because we can’t.”

“Y/n… I’m…” he shook his head and took a deep breath, “I need you to be honest. Because I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m going crazy. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“That’s not fair.” Her words were a whisper.

“If you can’t tell me you don’t want me I’m never gonna be able to move on from you, Y/n.”

Harry brought his hands up to her face, not allowing her the chance to look away from him.

“I can’t.”

“Y/n… there’s not a single part of me that doesn’t want every single part of you. It’s only going to get worse. Tell me now you don’t want me. Before I kiss you.” His nose was pressed into her cheekbone as he closed his eyes. He could tell her breath was deepening. Her fingers softly stroked the skin and hair of his chest.

“Harry… please… don’t…” she couldn’t ever tell him she didn’t want him. She should tell him so that they could put an end to all of it. Tell him she never wanted him. Tell him it never meant anything to her. But how could she when that was the furthest thing from the truth? Her heart couldn’t let her speak those things aloud to him. Couldn’t utter those lies.

“Say it and I’ll stop. Say it, Y/n. Put me out of misery. Let me move on if you don’t want me. Say it and I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Harry’s lips found the edge of Y/n’s mouth and his muttered words sent a shock through her soul, “Y/n, I love you.”

She gasped and pushed at him, her eyes wide as she shook her head, “No you don’t. Don’t say that!”

Pulling herself from his hold she turned and quickly walked back inside to get away. She needed to break down and cry and scream into a pillow and stomp her feet… anything to stop her veins from overflowing with him. Anything from stopping herself from responding to him in kind.

“Y/n!” Harry walked after her and followed her into the stairwell as she ascended as quickly as her legs would carry her. But Harry’s legs were longer and he was not letting her get away.

“Don’t run away from me, please!”

She pushed her way into a spare room and tried shoving the door closed but Harry’s strong body blocked the door as he forced his way in and closed it behind himself. The dark room was illuminated by the moon and the twinkle lights strung up over the terrace.

“Harry stop. You don’t mean it. You’re… you’re confused… it’s–“

His hands found her waist in the dark and he pulled her into his arms. He pressed his face into her hair, lips close to her ear, “I’m not confused. I’m in love with you.”

She had given in to her tears already. It was too much. Having his arms around her and his skin against hers, his voice, his words. I love you.

She melted into his arms and pressed her wet cheek against his chest as she cried.

Harry was gentle. His hands caressed her back as he allowed her to cry in his arms. He knew he was being bold by telling her how he really felt but he needed her to know. He wanted her to admit her feelings to him. She couldn’t say she didn’t want him because she did want him and he was sure she felt the exact same way for him that he did for her.

“Please, Y/n. If you can’t tell me you don’t want me I’m never gonna stop. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care if we get caught or if we keep it a secret forever. I just… I love you. I need you.”

Harry’s shorts were mostly dry by that point. Y/n felt the fabric against her hips as he tightened around her the slightest, his warm breath over her ear, “I love you.”

What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to just push him away and ignore it all? It was already impossible, but now with his confession, she couldn’t do anything but let her heart crack open wide and allow him in. His warmth and kind heart smothered her resolve. Drowned it until it was gone.

“Goddamnit, Harry.” She spoke with her mouth smashed over his skin.

He put his hands on her face and turned her head up to look at him in the shadowy room, “I’m gonna kiss you. Tell me right now if you don’t want me to but I can’t go one more minute without it,” he whispered his words as he dipped down slowly.

Her silence was his answer and when his lips smoothed over hers their moans of acceptance meshed together with mouths moving in synch.

She had missed his kiss. His breath. His tongue.

When he felt her fingers glide into his curls he thought he might pass out. He didn’t know if this was only for the night or if it meant forever, or maybe just something in between. But it was clear she was his in that moment.

She could feel him under his shorts, thickening up quickly. And that flipped a switch in her right away. She’d been denying him of everything. He might have flirted with some girls during their break but he hadn’t been with anyone. He was hers. Every part of him belonged to her and how could she ever refuse him again? To deprive him of what he wanted, needed felt abusive. She never wanted to hurt him.

“I’m sorry, Harry…” she spoke against his lips as she pushed him toward the bed. Her legs were about to give out from the adrenaline rushing through her veins. She needed to be in his lap or lying next to him so they could be closer. She needed him closer. “I was wrong to break up with you.”

Harry gasped at her words and when he felt her pushing him toward the mattress he stepped back and pulled her with him, their lips never parting.

He hoisted her up over his body as he sat on the bed and slid himself into the center and up to the headboard keeping her with him as he went.

Y/n settled her thighs over his and kept her mouth on his, “I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Harry. I’m so sorry…”

His hands were shaky as he hugged her tight. He hoped this meant for good. He hoped she wouldn’t regret this again. He had never regretted it.

“You mean it?” Harry kissed her softly before parting from the kiss and putting his hands on her hips.

Y/n nodded and scratched his scalp gently, “I mean it. I’m not done with you. I could never be. I was wrong when I thought it would be better to be apart.”

“Promise me? You’re not gonna leave me again?”

Leaning forward she nudged her nose into his and brought her hands down to cup his face, “I promise you. Never again. It was stupid. I need you, Harry.”

The whine that left his throat when she rocked her hips down over him had blood rushing to her limbs and she pulled at him to move his back away from the headboard before pushing him flat to lie down, “You need me too, don’t you, baby? Need me to take care of you?” She rolled her hips over his bulge and he nodded and breathed out the word yes.

“Poor thing. I’ve been so bad to you. I’m gonna spend so much time making it up to you. I promise, Harry.”

“Please, Y/n.”

“Missed you, Harry. Missed this…” she pecked his lips and then kissed her way down his jaw, neck, his pecs, and sternum. Her mouth left small wet spots as she moved and whispered over his skin, “I’m sorry for all of it, baby.”

Harry arched his back when she licked her tongue along the ridges of his abs and he whimpered, “I need you. I need you now.”

She smiled and looked up at him. They both had tears in their eyes but things had shifted quickly. Instead of uncertainty and grief their hearts were reacting with love and devotion. Y/n would show him her devotion the best she could.

She put her palms on his pecs and sat up to look him over, “So pretty. So perfect for me, Harry. I was dumb to think I could suppress my feelings for you.”

Harry brought his hands up to her low back and smoothed his palms downward over her bottom. Her little bikini was flimsy and so it was easy for Harry’s thumbs to slip under the fabric so he could keep hold of her.

She needed the moment to take him in. There was just enough light to see his face and torso, to see his lips parted and his chest rising and falling.

“You know that I’m yours too, right? You’re the only one who has my heart, Harry.”

Harry let out a quivering breath as he squeezed her bottom and in a strained voice spoke barely above a whisper, “Say it again.”

Settling herself over his hips and leaning down to put her lips close to his ear and her palm over his heart she spoke, “I’m yours. I love you, Harry.”

The moment she whispered those words into his ears, Harry felt like his heart would give out, like his nervous system was going to shut down… his ears became muffled as blood rushed to his head and his heart pumped viciously in his chest. His breath caught in his throat and he began to melt and sink down into the mattress and through the floor into the cement foundation of the room below and then into the earth. But as long as he had her in his arms he was alive and in love. He was safe with her heart and her words.

She felt his grip tighten on her bottom but he said nothing as the moment had him spinning and sinking and soaring.

She kissed his soft lips and he suddenly jolted back into his body with a moan as he opened his mouth wide against hers. It was as if her lips were a defibrillator to his heart.

He bent his knees slightly and bucked up toward her, keeping his hands on her to hold her down. He wasn’t going to let her go.

She rocked her hips over him slowly as they kissed and licked wetly.

Harry’s dick was in an uncomfortable position in his trunks and the lining was scraping the skin as Y/n pressed her crotch over him. And as if she’d somehow read his mind, she pushed against his hands that were holding her bum and reached between them to push his shorts down and free his length from its confines.

When he sighed she cooed at him, “Feels better like that, doesn’t it? You’re too big to be smushed in there like that.”

Harry wanted to just thrust into her and fuck her from his spot on the mattress, holding her down and make her take him. He was desperate to feel her but he knew she was in charge. She was going to make it worth the wait. But he was shaky and leaking, “Y/n, please…” He didn’t even know exactly what he was asking for but he wanted anything.

“Yes, Harry. I know… Tell me what you need, baby. I just want to make you happy. Want you to feel so good.”

Harry pulled at the fabric of her bikini bottom and the hint was loud enough that she understood just what he wanted.

“Want these off? Yeah?” She kissed his mouth and gently brushed the crotch of her bikini bottoms over his cock.

Harry nodded and groaned, “Yes. Off…”

Y/n pushed herself up but Harry’s big hands wouldn’t let go of her bottom so she put her palms over the top of his hands and pried them off, “Need to let me go so I can get these off for you, baby. Will you let go?”

Harry whined but he did as she said.

Y/n got to her knees between his legs and first removed her top and then slowly slid her bottoms down her legs as Harry sat up and pushed his trunks the rest of the way off his body, but the moment she was completely bare he pulled her back into his chest, not wanting to have any space in between their bodies for a moment longer.

She giggled at the abrupt force of him pulling at her but then her mouth was covered by his, rendering her silent as he slowly moved his lips, savoring her taste and her skin on his.

The feel of her body draped over him, her hips and her bottom under his palms, her thighs spreading for him to have access to anything he wanted… Euphoria.

He reached down further, letting his digits glide down her bottom to the back of her thighs and then in toward her pussy that was pressed to his shaft. He let the pads of his fingers feel her soft skin over his hard erection, the tiny swivel of her hips to keep them connected was seductive.

She felt his fingers reaching behind her gently stroking her crease so she moved herself the slightest to feel the tip of his finger dip inside. The motion caused their lips to part and Harry let out a low moan.

Putting her hands on his chest she pushed herself up and sat over his finger making it reach deeper inside, “I want another Harry,” she panted as she rolled her hips onto his hand.

Harry groaned as he pulled his finger out and then thrust two inside of her. She was doing most of the work. He hardly had to move his fingers or hand at all with the way she was writhing over him.

“Missed your hands and your fingers so much, Harry.”

“I missed you, Y/n.”

She continued rocking into his hand, wetting his palm and making his fingers sticky with herself. Her clit was pressed to Harry’s frenulum giving him that decadent sensation of her pussy gliding over him gently that he missed so much.

Y/n reached around and pulled at his hand to bring his fingers out of her and she lifted his wrist toward his mouth, pushing his fingers onto his tongue, “That’s yours, baby.”

Harry closed his eyes at the taste as he felt her move down his body before wrapping her hand around his shaft.

She licked his tip and kissed the thick vein on the underside. Harry gasped and groaned and pushed himself up to reach for her, pulling her face upward so she would look at him, “Please, Y/n. I need to be inside of you so bad.”

Y/n grinned, grasping his wrist as she turned her face to kiss his palm, “Need to feel my pussy around you?”

Harry nodded as she climbed back over his body and smoothed her soaked cunt over his length, “Anything you want, baby.”

When she angled her hips over him and pushed down over his thick crown Harry let out a loud and guttural moan. Too loud.

And while Leo was probably still passed out, Y/n didn’t need to have this moment interrupted by anyone. She continued to sink over him as she put her palm over his mouth, “Shhh… this is just for you and me. Okay? Be a good boy and keep quiet so I can fuck you without anyone else hearing.”

It was nirvana to be connected with him again. To feel his thick tip being pushed inside her body, splitting her down the center in smooth strokes, nudging and gliding into her g-spot with each roll of her hips. And even with Y/n’s palm covering his mouth the sound of what was going on in the room was quite blatant. She was filthy wet over his cock, slick and sticky as she fucked herself down on him, pushing him into her guts. The bed started off with the smallest rattle from the metal frame and turned into a repetitive clunking thud on the floors as she rocked her hips over his harder. Even with their silence, the atmosphere in the room was sex and elation. They were finally together again and their bodies were celebrating the joy their hearts felt.

She was already chasing her own orgasm after only a handful of minutes of having him inside of her but she wanted to drag it out. Make it last. They had all night. And she didn’t care if Leo did wake and wonder where she was. Let him find them. Let him hear the squeak of the mattress and the wet sound of her pussy being fucked by his son. She was Harry’s. Only Harry’s.

Pulling her hand from his mouth she leaned over him, pressing her soft tits to his chest, and kissed him slowly as she fucked him. They were breathing in through their noses sharply to fill their lungs so they didn’t have to part their mouths.

Harry’s hands found her round bum again, squeezing and pressing her down while her hands wound through his curls.

Harry was leaking quite desperately and doing everything he could to hold back from filling her with his warm come. He wanted to feel her around him for as long as possible, “M’gonna come, hold on…” his breathy words were pinched as he spoke quickly.

Y/n paused and sat up, bringing his hands from her bottom to her tits, urging him to squeeze them, “S’okay, baby. It’s okay to come.”

Harry’s chest heaved as he shook his head and pressed his thumbs over her nipples, “Want it to last. Need to be here with you forever.”

Licking her lips and keening at the way he pinched her left nipple she nodded, “Me too. Want to feel like this with you forever. We’ll take our time and go slow. But if you come it’s okay. There’s so much time for us. I know you needed me,” she ran her fingers over his pecks and up to his neck gently as she felt him throb inside of her. He had been dangerously close to coming.

“Tell me again, Y/n. Want to make sure it was real.”

Letting her fingers travel up to his chin and to the side of his face she whispered his new favorite phrase to him, “I love you, Harry.”

He whimpered and she felt his cock twitch. That had nearly been his end again. Just her words and the moment they were in was almost too much for him.

“Fuck. Nearly came right then, Y/n.” He panted and tried to calm his cock as he closed his eyes with a big smile on his face.

“You deserve to come, baby. You’ve been so good.”

She began to slowly rock over him again, her clit pasted over his pelvis with the head of his thick cock pushed into her tummy, dragging against her cervix. He filled her up so perfectly, made her wobble and ache from the fullness his sizable cock gave her.

Her pussylips gripped him lavishly, slipping up and down and stimulating him from base to tip, coating him in her cream and wetting his lap. His fingers sunk into her soft skin with a pinch as she inched down and up in steady motions.

“Do you hear that?” She sheathed him with her cunt and lifted gently so the sound of their bodies connecting and slipping together could be heard, “It’s because I belong to you, Harry. No one gets me so wet and so achy.”

Harry choked out a quiet moan and listened to the noise of his cock being fucked by her wet pussy. He could barely respond with any coherent words except to whisper her name and whine when she seated herself fully onto him and clenched.

“And I can tell you’re mine too baby. You’re cock gets so hard for me. Can’t help it can you? Need my love and my attention. All of my affection. My cunt. We need each other, Harry.”

Quiet gasps and moist bodies meeting and parting slowly began to get louder, faster.

Y/n was going to come and she didn’t know if she could stop it from happening this time. She wanted to go all night but she was going to explode if she didn’t come.

“Baby… look at me…” she spoke quietly as Harry opened his eyes to take her in. Soft tits jiggling and, her mouth parted, “I’m gonna come. I want you to come with me. Okay?”

He nodded, “Fuck yes. Come on me, Y/n…” Harry gritted his teeth when he felt her begin to fuck down over him harder.

Harry bent his knees and began to plunge himself into her, meeting her thrusts with harsh smacks and splatting noises.

She could no longer hold in her ecstasy or her cries of bliss.

“I love you, Harry! Fuck! I’m coming!”

Harry coughed out a loud groan and gasped as her walls clamped and spasmed over him. His balls thudded into her, knocking her upward when he felt the relief of his come pouring out of his cock and spurting into her cunt.

As they writhed and came together they heard a thud from in the hallway.

They both heard the noise but they were in the throes of their orgasms, whining and moaning together in bliss with pounding hearts as they kept their eyes on one another.

It didn’t matter to either of them who it was or what the noise was. They’d deal with that when they were ready. At that moment they were alone in a room together, bodies interlinked, adjoined, shaking, panting, bursting. Nothing else mattered. No one else could come between them.

Collapsing onto his chest she ran her nails over his scalp and felt his hair between her fingers as she kissed his neck and sighed. Harry was still trembling with the smallest smile on his pink lips, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with Y/n moving up and down with his breaths.

“I love you so much, Harry.”

He turned to his face to push his nose against hers, “I love you so fucking much it hurts. I still can’t believe this is real. Is it?” His arm moved around her waist as he held her tight.

“Yeah. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Leo but you and I will think of something. I don’t want you and your father to have a bad falling out.”

Harry kissed her soft lips and grinned, “You’re gonna leave him?”

“Yeah. I don’t want anyone but you. And it’ll make things easier for him and Parker anyway,” she chuckled quietly. It was true. She was convinced that Leo was not just fucking the girl, he was very much into her, if not in love. Based on what she’d overheard of their conversation she was confident that leaving him wouldn’t be difficult. It was the reason she was leaving him that would make things complicated.

Harry nuzzled his face into Y/n’s cheek and kissed her jaw, “I can’t believe you want to be with me. It feels like a dream.”

“It does.”

When they heard another thud and the sound of someone moving around down the hall they looked at one another, “Think it’s your dad?”

Harry shrugged and shook his head, “Maybe Tyler? He could be back by now. Don’t know.”

Y/n put her cheek over Harry’s chest and wrapped her arms around him as they both laid back down, “I don’t want to go out there. Not tonight. I just want to be here with you. Just you and me. We can think about what we want to do in the morning.”

Harry smiled and rubbed her naked back with his warm palm, “I don’t care if he knows tonight or tomorrow. I’ll wait until the time is right if you want. Maybe telling him while we’re on vacation is a bad idea.”

Y/n nodded and closed her eyes. She didn’t care anymore either. Now that she had him back again she wasn’t going to be letting go. Sure things would probably be difficult. She’d need to actually put her degree to use and get a job. She’d have to give up all the luxuries that being married to Leo afforded her. And she’d need to face the possibility that Harry would have a falling out with his father and that people wouldn’t be so kind toward her given the situation.

But she couldn’t imagine it not being worth it. Harry was worth all of it. There was no way she’d deny herself of him any longer. He was suffering and so was she. And why keep lying? She was in love. She was in deep. Harry had gotten ahold of her heart early on. There was nothing to be done but to yield to it.

Much to Harry’s chagrin, Y/n urged him to get up so they could clean up. They were sticky and gooey all over. It was absolutely necessary.

But of course, cleaning up was made slightly more difficult with a playful Harry. And of course, he was playful. He’d just learned that Y/n loved him just as much as he loved her. He realized that they had been on the same page the whole time. That she had missed him and how bad it hurt her. They were feeling the same things but now? She realized what he’d known all along. That they would be better together. No matter what.

Harry’s low, quiet baritone rang in Y/n’s ear as she giggled, “And how about this?” He dragged the rag over her clit as she pushed at his arm but he wasn’t budging.

“Harry! You’re just supposed to clean it,” she whisper-shouted as he watched where he was dragging the damp rag through her messy labia.

“I like it dirty, though, Y/n,” he laughed his words quietly as Y/n grasped the cloth and yanked it from him.

“You’re something else,” she grinned at him as she wiped herself up.

Harry had her perched on the bathroom counter and he was stood between her legs when they heard a knock at the bedroom door.

The bathroom they were in was connected to the bedroom and they’d kept the door open.

“Did you lock the bedroom door?”

Harry shook his head. Neither moved an inch when they heard the second knock.

“No matter what, are you with me?” Harry held onto the bottoms of her thighs to keep her in place.

“Yes, Harry. I’m with you, baby.” She nodded as they heard the bedroom door open.

Both Y/n and Harry were naked and only half wiped up after having sex. Staring at one another they listened as the footsteps drew closer to them.

And the scene was just as anyone could imagine. A pair of lovers pressed together, watching the door as the intruder cast eyes on the infidelity. A bare woman sat on a countertop with her thighs held up by a man in between her legs.

Harry held up a protective arm to shield her from the eyes that peered in.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler laughed his words as he stepped forward enough that Harry and Y/n could see who it was.

Harry let out a breath and Y/n covered her face in embarrassment.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude!” Harry spoke quietly.

“I just came in here because Leo is awake and I’m pretty sure he heard you. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Y/n and Harry looked back at one another silently. Tyler said that he was pretty sure Leo had heard. But they wouldn’t know for sure until they faced him.

“Fuck.” Harry whispered, “I was hoping we could push this off until after vacation. What do we do?”

Y/n didn’t really know the answer. Ideally, they would have confronted Leo about this later on. Definitely not at the beginning of a two-week family vacation in Greece.

“We don’t know if he even heard anything. We can go out there now and get it out of the way. Or feel it out. See if he heard,” Y/n put her hands up to his chest.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath, “What if we just lock that door and get in bed together and wait until the morning?”

“We can do that too if you want. Maybe he has no idea and we can control when we tell him.”

The lovers smiled at one another in agreement before both leaning in to kiss. No matter what they were both on the same page now. There was no turning back.

“But if not. If he did hear we’ll figure it out. He doesn’t deserve you anyway, Y/n.”

Smiling up at him she realized that she was crazy but she was in love. And if anyone did deserve her it was Harry. The one who loved her. The one who was gentle with her. The one she loved.

“Yeah. We’ll figure it out together.”

This is the final part of this short series! Thank you for being here and reading!

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

Text

BUT YEARS PASS AND I LOVE YOU THE SAME (part I/II)

Summary: Back in 1986, Y/n broke Eddie's trust and heart. He's on top of the world now, his dreams are coming true, and yet he can't help but wish things had been slightly different. A letter serves him as an excuse to aim for a second chance.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Genre: mostly angst

Tags:

Requested by: @attinaadellaalana @eddiemunsonsluvrrr

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, alcohol, let me know if i miss anything

A/N: indulging y'all AND myself so I can write Rockstar!Eddie bc that's what he deserves. Part 2 to the awfully angsty fic I wrote because my best friend made me fix it. Lots of pov jumps but it's necessary bc you need to see BOTH SIDES. Next part will be *spicy* so beware. Okay that's all, enjoy <3

Prequel: Liar. Traitor. Backstabber.

Sequel: but years pass and I love you the same (II/II)

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

October 10, 1990, NYC

Knockknockknockknockknock!

Ding-dong!

"Oh, Jesus Christ—" a gutural, tortured groan escaped my lungs at the piercing sound of someone knocking on the hotel suite's door, both my hands instinctively pressing the pillow to my ears in an attempt to muffle the piercing noise. "Gareth, get the fucking door!"

"You get the fucking door!" The drummer snapped back from somewhere on the bathroom floor.

Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

"I'm coming! Hold up! Goddamnit..." After untangling myself from both ridiculously expensive bedsheets and the limbs of some random groupie that ended up joining us after our last show, I made my way to the entrance.

The corridor's light was too bright for my hungover state, I thought after opening the door, shielding my eyes with my forearm.

"Mr. Munson—"

"Shit no, nonono." I waved a hand at our manager's assistant at the sight of an envelope. "No fan mail the morning after the concert, man. Can't think straight, let alone read."

"It's not fan mail, it's— it's from Hawkins, Indiana." It took my lethargic brain a moment too long to process the words. "Marla said you'd like to—"

Sobered up in a matter of seconds, I snatched the letter away from the assistant's unsure hands. My feet carried my tuned out self back into the suite while I ripped it open, my palm searching in the dark behind me to switch on the lights —to everyone's dismay— so I could read it.

I felt my heart sinking with discontent once my eyes skimmed the text.

'Dear Edward Munson,

Congratulations on your first World Tour. I write to you in hopes that you and your band may be able to revisit your hometown and play at Hawkins High School's football field on the 27th of October. All the money will be donated to blah blah blah...'

It was hilarious. Hawkins's mayor asking us to come back and help that damn town. A part of me wanted to go for shits and giggles. Definitely not because I missed the girl that ruined me.

Yeah, shits and giggles. That's what pushed me to postpone the last two concerts of the tour.

October 20, 1990, Hawkins

READER'S P. O. V.

"Soooo did you hear?"

I sighed, not bothering to peel off my furrowed gaze from the filing cabinet full of students' records I had just finished reorganizing to stare at the hyperenergized Robin that had just burst into my office.

'Did you hear?'; if only I had a penny for every time I had, in fact, heard that week...

"I don't know, Robin. Probably just like ten fucking times today." I retorted with venomous sarcasm as I spun around to grab my bag from my chair.

"Way to talk to the woman who's kindly driving you home." She quipped, toying with her car keys while we exited the room.

"Sorry, okay? I just..." I pursed my lips, taking a moment while I locked the office to think. "I'm glad he's back. I'm glad you guys get to see him. I just don't wanna hear anything about it." I adjusted the strap of my back on my shoulder, following Robin's lead to the parking lot. "It's bad enough having to partake in the welcoming committee bullshit."

"What exactly happened between you two anyway?" She questioned, electric blue eyes squinted at me. "Like, was it thaaat bad? It's been four years and you're still pressed."

"Told you it was a bad break up— Listen," I halted my steps to turn to Robin with pleading eyes. "can we not talk about it?" After a moment of hesitation, she gave me a quick nod. "With any luck, I'll just meet him before the concert and then we'll part ways again."

With any luck. Ha. As if a part of me didn't ache to see him again, to talk to him, to touch him, to feel him; as if my heart hadn't momentarily stopped beating when Hawkins High staff was informed that they would have to be preparing the football field for a Corroded Coffin fundraising show.

October 26, 1990, Hawkins

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

"Okay— Y'know what? Just fucking drop me here." I scowled, flinging the van's door open before our chauffeur got the chance to pump the breaks.

"Eddie, c'mon! Really?" Jeff called in disbelief, though he didn't bother on trying to stop me when I jumped off the vehicle and shut its door.

The road to our hometown hadn't been the best time for the band; constant arguing and clapbacks were commonplace since our plane had landed in Indianapolis. The closer we were to Hawkins, the worse it got.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

I lit myself a cigarette while my feet carried me through the forest, shortening the route to Hawkins.

First thing I passed by was the cemetery.

Before boarding the plane, I made a mental note of the people I wanted to visit after the show —given that we would stay three days—, but I was already there. I found myself walking to Chrissy's grave even before I fully decided on it.

Seeing the sweet cheerleader's headstone was what it took for me to realize how much of a mistake coming back had been.

Fuck this town, they don't deserve you.

It almost sounded like Y/n. Almost, because it had been a bit too long since I heard her voice.

As soon as I had walked into the graveyard, I was out, absentmindedly resuming my walk to the trailer park —except, I didn't really go to the trailer park. No, I took the long way, which forced me to cross a thankfully not very crowded Hawkins High parking lot. Due to the time of the day, only the staff's cars remained parked, and even them were beginning to drive away.

I wasn't ready to see her —not yet—, but the universe had always had a funny way of twisting my wishes, so there she was, crossing the highschool doorway with a ginger I recognized as Robin's girl.

God, I hated her. I hated the way my heart raced at the mere sight of her. I hated how she made my breath hitch and my feet freeze because she looked as breathtaking as ever, even when her small smile was feigned and her shoulders were slightly slumped.

She was sad. Good.

And then she bid the redhead goodbye to join a slim man with a sunny disposition, and her fake smile grew into more of a content beam while the two walked to a shared car, laughing. He placed his hand on the small of her back and I felt the urge to look away.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned heel and left. A part of me expected her to... What? Wait for me? but why? I had been the one to cut contact for good, I had been the one to leave her —us— behind, and yet I had hoped for Y/n to welcome me with open arms. I had always been fucking stupid when it came to her.

Naturally, after leaving the parking lot, I came across Motel 6. The memories I had there didn't help the ache of my still broken heart.

Why did I have to miss her so much?

Tears prickled my eyes at the memory of our last night together, leaning in silence on that rusty railing while we prorogued our final goodbye.

The chilly Autumn Sun had set behind Hawkins' treetops by the time I arrived at the trailer park. It felt odd to be back.

It felt even odder when my uncle, who I anticipated to be working at the plant on a Friday evening, opened the our trailer's door and engulfed me in a hug.

The little 'Welcome home, Eddie' he whispered into the embrace was what pushed me over the edge; without warning, I was crying on his shoulder, cradling his flannel shirt like I was a lost twelve year old kid all over again.

October 27, 1990, Hawkins

READER'S P. O. V.

Friday had been torture. Saturday was a blur —at least until the principal walked the empty highschool halls with mayor Phillips, a brunette woman in her early forties, a couple of bodyguards, and the members of the band.

Although years hadn't changed them, they seemed different; stylish, successful, important. Eddie led the group, chitchatting with both their manager and the mayor, one of his hands gesticulating animatedly while the other remained on the guitar strap crossing his chest.

Fuck, he looked good. He looked so good.

"—And this is the kind personnel that will show you around." The principal's voice mentioning our names to the band brought me back to reality. "This is Marla Hammerstein, Corroded Coffin's manager."

There was a round of polite 'nice to meet you's while Marla shook everyone's hands that didn't quite reach my ears, and those big brown eyes were to blame —those deep dark irises, flooded with sadness and something more, that found my own like magnets.

Soon enough, the band members were being led to the football field, as if they hadn't spent their school years wandering those same halls.

"—Yup, right there," Vikkie animatedly bobbed her head at Marla, pointing at the bathroom we had set for the performers before making us all come to a stop in front of what was the drama club, unlatching the door to show our guests the inside. "and we improvised a little greenroom in here because—"

"Wait, here?" My breath got caught up in my throat when I felt Eddie's chest against my back, his ring clad hand coming to rest at the doorframe, right by my face. "Huh."

"Yup, why?"

I felt his ribs thrum with an amused laugh, as he subtly bent forward into me. "Nothing, I just think everything 'bout this is fucking hilarious. Right, Ms. Y/l/n?" I gulped at his bitter inquiry, muttering a quiet 'right' as a reply. "Alright, let's get this over with, shall we?" He breathed out near my ear, pushing himself back with the help of his supporting palm, triggering an involuntary whine out of me at the lost of touch.

Something told me Eddie was purposefully torturing me —that something being how he stayed glued to my back, constantly hovering over my form while spitting scathing remarks that could be easily masked as dry humor. It was as if he himself didn't know how to feel about having me around again.

A part of me was genuinely happy when the show began, because that meant I was allowed to leave.

Had things been slightly different, I would be standing in the front row, headbanging to Corroded Coffin's agressive music led by Eddie's beautiful voice, but that's just not how it was, so instead of screaming the lyrics in the crowd, I found myself driving home. Then, maybe, I would walk to a bar in hopes of drinking my pain away.

For better or for worse, I didn't give much thought to which would be the bar in particular.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

Saying I was sharp-tempered after the show would be an understatement. I myself could barely put up with my behavior, so hanging out with the band would have been selfish at the very least.

That's why, for the first time in forever, I didn't stick with them after a gig, choosing to fly on my own and search for a quiet place to have a drink.

And what could be quieter and more fitting for my visit than the least frequented bar in Hawkins —the same bar where we had started playing?

The Hideout wasn't what it used to be. It was surprisingly crowded, and had a refreshed, more expensive vibe to it; Guns N' Roses was playing in the background while people danced in the middle of the establishment. As I got closer to the bar counter, I saw a framed picture of us hanging on the wall with a little inscription below; 'where Corroded Coffin was born'.

"Pffft." I snorted, propping my forearms on the wooden surface. "That's cute. Hey Al!" I called for the bartender with a cheeky grin, enjoying his shock at the sight of me. "Would you be so kind to get me a good ol' beer?"

"Anything for you, Eddie."

"Put it on my tab, Al." My blood ran cold at Y/n's listless voice coming from my left.

After a very much needed minute to compose myself and not look like a fucking deer caught in headlights, I turned my head to the girl, who gave me a small, almost timid wave. I nodded in her direction as a response before returning my attention to the bartender, who was currently serving me the drink.

"How was the show?"

"You didn't stay?" I tried not to sound upset about it, but given Y/n's sorry eyes, I didn't do a very good job.

"Thought you wouldn't want me there." She was half lying, I could see it in the way she averted her eyes from me to stare at her glass, almost empty, sitting in front of her.

"It was okay, I think." I chose to respond to her question, rather than delve into her last sentence. "Very surreal, though. You know, playing in Hawkins, it's just- it's just awkward? I mean,"

Oh no. I felt something coming that hadn't happened to me in years; anxiety fueled word vomit.

"Half of them were chasing me with pitchforks and torches just a couple of years ago. You know Andy? Andy from basketball team? Andy the fucking asshole who tried to beat me up with a crowbar? He came after the show to tell me our songs rocked." I breathed out a nervous laugh, riping a half smile from Y/n, one that my eyes could barely catch due to her temple resting on her right knuckles.

"That's one bizarre experience." She commented, twirling her drink.

"Speaking of bizarre," I scooted to the left, telling myself it was to avoid nosey ears and not to be closer to her. "how's... work?"

Y/n clicked her tongue. "Can't tell you."

"So you're still active." The girl subtly nodded, finally dropping her right hand and allowing me to see her gaze, mildly illuminated by the neon lights in the establishment. "I see you kept your job at the counseling department."

"Ms Kelley was transferred, so I actually got promoted." She clarified, taking a sip of her drink.

"That's great." I stated, searching for a topic to hold onto. Counseling. Highschool. Highschoolers. Got it. "I saw, uhh, Max Mayfield yesterday. She's so grown, what the fuck."

Y/n snorted. "Have you seen Dustin and the others?"

"Not yet."

"They're like... Little men. Not so little." Y/n scrunched her nose, gaze fixed on the bottles displayed before us while she probably pictured the party. "They make me feel old."

I couldn't help but snicker at the dramatism of the statement. "They make you feel old, at the blooming age of 24—"

"25." She corrected me, finally meeting my eyes with a tight-lipped smile.

I stayed silent for a hot second, time hitting me like a heavy rock. "25. Forgot your birthday was last week."

"I wasn't expecting you to remember." Although she tried to mask it as a joke, I caught on the sincerity of her words. "Rockstar duties and all, must be hard to keep track of mundane things."

"Nothing 'bout you is mundane." I blurted out before my mind could stop my mouth. Catching her gaze was a losing game, I found out, so I moved a bit closer until our thighs were brushing and nudged her. "Except your taste in music."

"Ouch! That's a low blow." She complained, taking a hand to her chest before looking up at me once more. "You love Blondie thanks to me."

"I never said I loved Blondie."

"Yes you did!"

"Well I only said I loved Blondie 'cause I lov—"

Stop. The open smile that had so beautifully graced her face for a few seconds was substituted by the same scared expression that twisted mine.

I gulped, choosing to look away and take a long swig of my beer.

"Are you seeing someone?" I couldn't find it in me to meet her furrowed visage after asking the question. "I'm just asking 'cause yesterday I spotted you at the parking lot. Kinda wanted to go say hi but, uhm, you weren't alone."

"Meh." Y/n, whose upper body had leant over the counter in hopes to face me, retreated to her original position. "His name's Carl."

"Okay." Okay. I lost my chance. Great.

"He's from work."

"From which work?"

"The boring one." She joked, trying to defuse the renewed tension among us. "He's a stand-in science teacher in middle school."

"So he's just a boooring nerd." I let waved my fingers before our eyes, trying and failing to make my comment sound funny and not resentful.

"Not everyone can date a rockstar." She chuckled, and for some reason that fueled my rancour.

"You could've, but you had to fuck it up."

Silence. She stared at me for a long second with unreadable eyes that made me internally squirm.

"Okay. I'm just..." Gonna go. Instead of completing the sentence, she grabbed her wallet and slid a couple of bills to Al before standing up.

"Wait!" Spinning around fast enough to give myself whiplash, I took a hold of the hem of Y/n's jacket. "Wait. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I just—" I huffed, letting go of her bomber to run my fingers through my locks. "It's a lot."

"What's a lot?"

"You. This. I don't know!" My voice turned high pitched, hands raised in surrender.

There was a silence between us, filled with the sound of intoxicated people laughing and some Iron Maiden song.

"You shouldn't have come back, Eddie. You seem lost here." There was pain in her voice and a sad gloss on her eyes. "I'm going home now."

My fingers immediately wrapped around her wrist, not quite enclosing it. "Let me drive you?" She pondered her options with pursed lips, averting her gaze when I took a step closer and leaned on. "Please."

Her palm came up to rest on my chest and by God I died. "I don't wanna ruin your night."

"Yeah, cause I was having a blast until now." I managed to joke, trying my best keep at bay the need to kiss her. "I'll just drop you off and leave."

"Alright." A sigh of defeat escaped her parted lips, eyes fixed on her fingers, toying with a loose thread belonging to my vest. "C'mon, rockstar." She whispered, dragging her digits down my chest to my upper abdomen to interlace them with my own, her eyes flickering at my face through her lashes before leading me out.

READER'S P. O. V.

The ride was quiet, yes, but not at all comfortable. I was constantly shifting on the passenger's seat, doing anything and everything to avoid looking at Eddie, who gripped the steering wheel in an attempt to ground himself.

"Here." I broke the stifling silence when we were about to drive past my house, just in time for Eddie to pull up right before it.

"So you're a true Hawkins citizen now." Eddie commented at the sight of my new home. "Suburban house and all."

"Gotta play and look the part."

"Right. Uhm—"

"Thanks for the ride." I cursed myself for cutting him off, but there was little I could do to stop my mouth from running loose out of anxiety.

"Yeah, no worries."

Just get out of the car, I ordered myself. Don't look at him, just get out.

But I looked at him. I looked at the way his body fell on the backrest, eyes fixed on the boring road and tongue trapped between his lips; one of his hands still held onto the steering wheel for dear life while the other's fingertips drummed on his thigh, shaky due to the anxious tapping of his foot.

The scene looked very reminiscing of that first night he had driven me to the motel, back in December of '86. We had stayed still in his beat up van for what felt like an eternity, waiting in an anticipating silence begging to be broken until I had invited him into the room.

That moment was all too familiar —too tempting. And he looked way too beautiful after way too much time apart from each other. Seeing him in TV shredding his guitar, shouting the lyrics of his songs, had nothing on sitting by his side again.

His cautious eyes hesitated for a split second before daring to meet mine. I knew then that Eddie wouldn't be driving off, not that night.

"Wanna..." I cleared my throat, pointing at the front door of my new house. "Wanna come in?"

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roadtogracelandx45 · 13 days

Text

Courage Under Fire| Pre War 7| Band of Brothers

@marycorleone @prettyinpayne @ohnoitsthebat

masterlist

part 6

We are getting so close to where Liv and her band of girls to Toccoa and meet the boys. We will start meeting them in part 9 and 10. Part 8 is Olivia, Alice and a new girl Betsy going to Officer's training camp. And we meet Dick Winters.

Pre-War part 7

“You married my daughter?” Katherine questioned causing Olivia, who had been focused on the kids to turn to the two, her eyes going to Lewis who gave her a discreet nod to play along. He was doing this to save her from Davis and anything else that her mother had planned.

“Yes, it’s just something that happened.” The older Stewart daughter added, “I stopped him from marrying Kathy. I came to realize that I loved him and that I wanted him for myself.”

“You know it’s funny that you call her your daughter now.” Lewis started, “You wanted nothing to do with her until you heard that we got married.”

Helen, who was talking to her husband and his brothers which included Olivia’s father, James, smiled proudly, she had to hand it to both her cousin and her niece, they both thought very quickly on their feet and could twist things to make things better.

“James, they aren’t married, Liv wouldn’t do that to you or to the family.’ She started seeing the surprise in her brother-in-law’s eye turn to anger, “She told us before we boarded the flight about what Katherine was doing to her and Marla. Lewis is just trying to save her. He is pushing her to join the Army Nursing Corps as well.”

Furious, James turned to his brother and uncle who had joined them, “You want my 18-year-old daughter to join the Army Nursing Corp? Are you out of your goddamn minds?”

“No,” Finn started keeping his eyes on the trio, “You know your daughter just as well as we do, you know she isn’t going to want to stay home and do nothing not with her brothers and the men she cares about fighting. And she won’t take the money she has rightfully earned from Granddad, and she won’t take money from the Nixons.’

“They offered?” James was floored, he knew his twins were close to the Nixons, especially Olivia. But he never thought that they would offer to pay for her education. Helen nodded her head in agreement, she had a conversation with her aunt and uncle while Lewis and Olivia were getting ready for the rehearsal dinner a few nights prior. And Stanhope had expressed his hope that his son would end up with Olivia.

“They were going to offer it to her in person after the dinner, but Kathy struck her.” She had all the Stewart men's attention then. “That woman raised her hand at Liv?” Michael asked peering around her to look at his niece who was being scooped up into a hug by her twin.

“She has a nice cut on her cheek from the ring.’ She motioned to her cheek, “Though she handled herself just fine today. She almost broke her wrist when Kathy went to strike Lewis after she stopped the wedding.” James looked at his daughter and then at his sister-in-law, there were a lot of things that they were going to have to talk about. ** “Olivia Stewart!” A voice came from the top of the stairs causing Olivia to pull away from her oldest brother who was inspecting the cut on her cheek. “Faith Anderson!” Olivia returned, moving around her brothers and going up the stairs to hug her friend.

When she had first come back to Charleston after the fiasco with Evie and Bill, she had tried to hold Alice at arm’s length, so she didn’t get hurt again. But the girl pushed through the walls and was a constant when she was struggling with Fredrick’s care. Faith's dark eyes shot to where Lewis was at, hovering behind her friend, like another shadow.

“This is Lewis Nixon, he’s Aunt Helen’s cousin. I was at his wedding.’ Faith looked between the two confused, “Why is he here with you then and not with his wife?” “It’s a long story, Alice.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “That I can explain.”

The taller girl studied her friend for a long moment before looking at Lewis, "It's nice to meet you, sir.”

“Don’t inflate his ego.” Bobby teased from where he was standing hanging their laughing nephew upside down his ankles.

‘It’s already big enough.” she agreed with a nod of her head. “You are getting me right here Liv. I am hurt.” Lewis complained, covering his heart with his hands. “Love you.” She grinned before taking her friend’s hand to take her upstairs to talk to her. “Better be glad of the fact that I love you too.” He returned, if he had been with his family, he would have been as open with his affection towards Olivia. But her family was a whole different story.

** The next morning **

James knocked on the door that led to his daughter’s bedroom, he had given her time to get settled and get some sleep, he had known that she hadn’t been sleeping well and he wanted to talk to his brother and uncle about her joining the Nursing Corp.

“Come in.” She called and he pushed the door open, Lewis was coming out of the adjoining bathroom, fidgeting with the tie and Olivia was sitting at the vanity examining the healing cut on her cheek.

“Good morning, Bean. Lewis.” He greeted; he hadn’t been pleased when Helen told him that Lewis had been sleeping with his daughter, but she hadn’t woken up the whole house with her nightmares. She seemed at semi-peace, and he would take that. “Morning Daddy. Everything okay?’ she asked, turning to look at him.

“We need to talk about what happened in Phoenix and the Nursing Corp.’

“I will leave you two to talk about that.’ Lewis commented before dropping a kiss on Olivia’s forehead.

“Don’t start drinking yet, okay? Need you kind of sane to keep the wicked witch away.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He winked before nodding his head at James and slipping out of the room. “You and him huh?” James asked, “Last you told me you didn’t want to date anymore.”

“I can’t explain it, Daddy,” she started, “other than you and my brothers, he makes me feel safe and brings out a different side to me.”

“What about Bill?”

“You didn’t like Bill either.” She pointed out, “And I am not going to marry Lewis any time soon. If at all. Kathy was a lot like Katherine. I didn’t want him to live through that like we did.”

“He is a big boy Bean.” James started, “But if it had to be between him and Bill, I would pick him. Yes, you and Bill make sense but you two would be so unhappy. This isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. The Army Nursing Corp.” There was a sudden spark in her eye that made him think he made the right choice. “If you want to join, you can. Andrea and I had a talk about it last night with your uncle Finn, Michael, and Elizabeth Forbes.”

“The General is here?”

“Hmm, there is talk of her and Finn getting married.”

Olivia bit back the rude comment that she had built on her tongue, “That is going to go over real well with Marie and her family.”

“Got that right. They want you to stay here and finish up your schooling at a faster pace, you can get it done quicker without the distraction of Bill or the family.” Olivia nodded her head, she didn't want to admit that she had missed being in Charleston. As much as she loved South Philly, being with her younger siblings and around the neighborhood, she missed being there with her grandparents and great-grandparents. “Andie wants you to come home for Christmas though. She is dead set on it.” “I can do that. Just no snowball fights. I don't think I have ever properly warmed up from the time that Nicholas dumped all that snow down my back.” James laughed, out of his kids, Olivia was the only one who had an aversion to the cold.

The others adapted quickly to it.

“Bobby is already enlisting isn’t he?” She asked after a heartbeat, “After school?” James nodded his head, he hadn’t wanted to let him join after losing Nicholas but he had no choice in the matter.

“Finish getting ready, we have to leave soon for mass and I am sure Katherine is going to want to yell some more at you.”

“I would have to be the Queen of England to have her stop yellin’ at me. But I doubt even that would stop her.” She stood up from her chair and smirked, “Let me tell her I am joining the Nursing Corp.” “Bean, I know this is hard on you but please, please don’t cause a fight that ends up getting the cops called here.” Though James knew that it was nothing new for them to get called to the house when they had something like this going on and with Katherine being around. ** Lewis wasn’t surprised when Olivia appeared next to him at the dining room table nor was he surprised when she picked up his coffee cup that held coffee and Vat .69. “What’s this I hear about you joining?” Bobby started before his sister rushed across the room and clapped her hand over his mouth.

“Robert, shut up! Katherine doesn’t know yet. I am going to tell her when the time is right.” He bit back the laughter that bubbled up quickly, he only hoped that he was there to see Katherine’s reaction to it. If the blow-up was anything like the one from the night it would be a sight to see.

“Do you know what you are doing? Joining?’ he dropped his voice so only she could hear him.

“Do you?’ She returned, “They aren’t sending nurses into active war zones yet, or if they ever will. I’ll probably stay here or be sent to Pearl to help with the hospital there. I’m more worried about you, our brothers, Lewis, Bill, and the other boys in the neighborhood than I am about me going to a military hospital to help wounded soldiers.”   "God help anyone that came between you and one of your soldiers." Lee, their middle brother, commented from the doorway.  He along with Edward had an unsettling  pit in his stomach at the thought of their younger sister joining the Nursing Corp, things were constantly changing, and she could be shipped out to the Pacific where their brothers  Daniel and James were  currently in the Pacific.

And that scared him and scared Bobby, but their father had been right, Olivia was going to do this whether they liked it or not and it was better for them to know where she was than her up and disappear into the night.

#ash writes #oc: olivia stewart #oc: alice anderson #series: courage under fire #lewis nixon #band of brothers #band of brothers fan fiction #band of brothers imagines #its just getting good #i

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eff4freddie · 1 month

Text

Touch | Part One

What you can offer Jackson is your healing hands.

2.6k words

Series Masterlist | Part Two Warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, we stan one (1) apocalypse grump, no use of y/n, I haven't written fanfic in a while but I'm hoping this will get me back into writing regularly, I have no idea how many parts this will be

Minors DNI

If you were to try and tally up all your losses you wouldn’t, initially, struggle. Your beloved dad, on outbreak day, and then months later your sister to a pack of raiders capable of slipping silently past a rotting barn wall. Those were clearly devastating, actual moments that bifurcate the before times and the after. Your liberty in the QZ, your hope for a sane and assured new government, your smuggling partner trapped under the barbed wire fence as a FEDRA soldier narrowed in on you both, her struggling hands going limp in the dirt, her eyes no longer following your movements as you scrabbed to free her, the look of resignation on her face, the way she mouthed for you to ‘go’. Those losses somehow both enormous and incalculable.

It was the smaller losses that caught you up. Newsprint smeared on your fingertips. Breaking in a new pair of stiff leather shoes. The uneven leg of your massage table, which caused it to wobble when someone clambered onto it, meaning that you had to warn your clients ahead of time while it wobbled, it was stable, and that you could relate. You knew it was a bad look, that the table alone didn’t inspire confidence in your clientele, and you missed it more than you had any fucking right to when the world, for all intents and purposes, imploded.

You made do in Jackson. Your travelling party of three had heard of a mythical commune of warm sheep and cold beer and you wanted, more than anything, to believe in it. In the before times your mother had sung a song about Jackson with your father, peeling potatoes at the sink, and you had hummed it under your breath the three-and-a-half-month trek. ‘Honey, I’m going to Jackson.’ ‘See if I care.’

As you approached the gates the three of you had already come up with a plan to pitch for entry. Ray was going to pretend he was injured, and Marla was going to carry him, limping but stoic, over the threshold. The night he refused to take first watch you had promised to break his ankle for real to make it really convincing, and he had laughed because he knew you didn’t have it in you, and you had joined in, because it was true. Marla was toying with the idea of being pregnant, and you were going to just be mute. Either by birth or by trauma, you hadn’t decided. But the plan was to be as pitiful as possible, as non-threatening and as desperate, such that not only would you not be shot on sight but that you would be taken in, warmed to, eventually forgiven your trespass. On the side of a mountain, with everything you had ever owned strapped to your back and the losses tallying behind you, it had seemed like the best strategy.

It had failed almost immediately. Marla may have been able to pull off the pregnancy thing if it was early, but Ray kept forgetting which ankle he had supposedly hurt, and when you tripped on a rock coming through the gate you swore at the top of your lungs. It turned out it didn’t matter. Throughout quarantine you had been able to meet Maria, then Tommy, and you had been advised that you were to pitch your worthiness to stay at the next town council. You had two days to determine what you could offer Jackson. You had looked down at your two hands.

Marla was a good shot, and was put on patrol. Ray spoke French and was good with codes, and he pitched helping out with reconnaissance. He even pronounced it the proper French way at the council meeting, and you saw Tommy arch a jet-black brow in Maria’s direction, who rolled her eyes. Standing on shaky knees before a panel of non-infected non-raiders who nevertheless held your life in their hands, you showed them your palms.

‘Pain relief,’ you said, and you smiled in what you hoped was a warm way. ‘I can heal, with these.’

‘You trying to tell us you’re some kind of witch doctor?’ the man on the end asked, and you wondered what it would be like to lean over and pluck each hair out of his nostrils, until his eyes were streaming.

‘No,’ you said, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘Massage, mostly remedial but also deep tissue. I can help with bad backs, with sore legs and arms, bad necks. All that patrolling, all that watching the horizon, must be murder on the body.’ You scanned their faces, Nostril Man not convinced but Maria smiling warmly at you. You swallowed, trying to wet your throat to prevent it from just outright closing over. ‘Surely you want your men and women, the people out there protecting Jackson, to be strong?’

The house you were allocated was four over from Marla, and Ray was placed three streets back towards the gate. You had idly wondered if you had been split up to try and avoid trouble, but actually you enjoyed the solitude for the first time since the apocalypse. Having had to travel in packs, having been crammed in four or six to a one-bedroom apartment in the QZ, having listened to Ray retell his story of crossing the Canadian border every might for at least a year and a half, you relished the way that you could once again hear the ringing in your ears. When you rolled your shoulders, you heard the spinal fluid pool and bubble at the base of your skull.

The benefit of having the place to yourself was that the second bedroom easily converted to your treatment room. Tommy and a couple of the other men from town had brought in a spare dining table, and you found that with enough blankets and towels piled on top of it you could make a decently comfortable surface to lie on. Ray had offered to cut a hole in the middle like a real massage table, but you had seen him try to chop wood one night with a blunt axe, a night when you thought without a fire you would freeze to death, but it would still be better than listening to him whine about having nearly chopped off his toes for the rest of time. Instead, you created a ring of towels just back from the edge, a position that meant people could still breathe as they lay face down, and you practiced how you would apologise to them for the inconvenience of it, what joke you could make to try and win back their confidence, marvelled at the fact that even at the end of the world you were still trying to cover for your inadequacies.

Maria was your first client, and as soon as you were convinced you could accommodate her growing stomach comfortably as she lay on her side, you welcomed her in.

‘It’s just my hips, my lower back,’ she said, as you poured shampoo on your hands to stand in for massage oil.

‘This might be cold, I’m sorry,’ you said, not adding that it could also be sudsy, and wilted a little inside as Maria flinched when you touched her. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, as she exhaled.

‘Can you feel where it is?’ she asked, and you hummed.

‘The pain?’

‘You said you could heal.’ You smiled, pressing down on a knot hitched to Maria’s hip flexor. She sighed, and you watched as the tension disappeared from her shoulders, her body slumping forward slightly such that you had to grab her knee and roll her back.

‘You tell me,’ you said, and she huffed at you.

‘Those men, the council, you have no idea how little they would understand why we needed you,’ she said.

‘Wait ‘til I’ve finished putting my elbow in your butt cheek, then tell me that again,’ you said.

‘Wait, what?’ Maria startled, but you were already on her, promising that the pain would fade as the tension released, ignoring the stream of obscenities, having heard far worse in your time. The before times.

Maria spread the word and soon you were busy, with a regular list of clients that heavily favoured the women of Jackson until they were able to convince the men that they, too, had musculoskeletal systems. Maria was a regular right up until she got too big to haul herself onto the table, and then she would just sit in your kitchen and make you tea, explaining the history of the place until you started to feel properly at home there.

One afternoon she sat with her head resting in her hand, as you held her foot in your lap, gently massaging over her sock.

‘You don’t come out much,’ she said. ‘I see you in the mess hall for breakfast, then you’re gone.’

‘I have clients early these days, sometimes a full patrol before they go out.’

‘What about the off days? The days that we don’t patrol?’

‘Washing. I go through a lot of towels.’

‘You need help with those?’

‘No, I like doing it. Warm water is such a dream, I still can’t believe it when I fill up the bucket.’

‘After work I never see you at the bison.’

You pinched her toe a little hard and she hissed, and you felt the heat on your cheeks.

‘I am grateful for my place here,’ you said, and you looked up into her eyes then, your hands still but cradling her foot to your chest. ‘That you advocated for me, that you helped me set myself up. I know that Tommy wouldn’t have if you hadn’t asked him.’

She smiled, glancing down at the tea in her cup.

‘It’s hard to be back amongst so many people, and to not be…’ you trailed off. Marla came around some nights, but it had been at least a week since you’d seen Ray. You had thought they were your safe people, but in a big house behind a secure wall, you wondered how much that was true.

‘To not be waiting for them to shoot you, to stab you?’ Maria finished, and you sighed.

‘Or to not get stabbed or shot themselves.’

‘You lost people?’ Maria asked, and then blinked, slowly. ‘That was a stupid question. Of course you did.’

The pattern of the tiles on the kitchen floor was two left and two right, you noticed, except for where the bench had been installed. There the pattern was interrupted, as if someone had miscounted, and there was a row of three along the perimeter.

‘Who did you lose?’ Maria asked you, and you gently lowered her foot to the ground.

‘All of them, just like all of us,’ you said, and you held out your harms such that Maria could pull herself up, and she sighed but used them to get to her feet, and you were grateful even in this moment to have helped someone.

You happened to be on your porch when you heard the commotion, a bunch of people running down the street towards the front gate. You thought for a moment of an invasion, that raiders had breached the wall, and wondered what, if anything, you would need to carry with you, what you could fit in a bag, looked despairingly at the snow on the mountain tops wondering how you could possibly carry enough blankets to ward off inevitable death. You braced yourself for screams, for gun shots, was genuinely confused when you heard none. Curious now, and less planning your immediate escape, you stepped down to your front gate, leaning over to see what the fuss was. A group of people were moving as one down the main street, and you stepped out onto the pavement to get a better look. You could see Tommy, his black hair sliced back to his shoulders making him stand out even in a crowd of other men. He was walking beside another man, the crowd parting to let them through, and with Tommy’s arm wrapped around his shoulder it meant that the other man had to stoop forward slightly, such that you could only see the top of his head. He had streaks of grey through his hair, his legs straight and strong underneath him. Tommy was gripping the front of the man’s shirt and talking into his ear. Behind them a younger girl, couldn’t be more than 15, trailed with her eyes set on the ground in front of her.

You watched as Maria came out of the sheriff’s office and stood on the pavement in front of them. She smiled when Tommy turned to her, letting go of the other man to wrap her in a bracing hug. You watched as the other man straightened, caught a glimpse for the first time of the patchy beard across his cheeks, of the roman line of his nose, of the flinty look in his eyes. He turned to the young girl, clapped her once or twice on the back, nodding in Maria’s direction. You saw that they nodded to each other, that this wasn’t as simple of a homecoming, that the girl carried pain deeper than any two hands could reach.

You had to wait three days for Maria to visit again before you could ask her about them, and when you did you felt her energy shift. Big as she was it was difficult for her to fidget, but you sensed that she would shuffle in your kitchen chair if she could.

‘Joel is Tommy’s brother,’ she told you, and when you thought about the shape of his jaw you realised you could see a sort of resemblance. This man had seemed to stoic, so closed off, compared to the brightness of the smile Tommy had been throwing at him. It had meant that you initially hadn’t seen it.

‘And the girl?’ you asked, and watched as Maria started fiddling with the hem of her shirt, stretched as it was over the heft of her belly.

‘A kind of daughter, I guess. Adopted, as much as anyone can be right now.’ Maria avoided your eyes and you lowered them, hoping that it would encourage her to continue. ‘They were here, before, for a brief time. A few months. Joel was… he and Ellie were heading down to Salt Lake, we weren’t sure if they were going to make it back, and Tommy…’ she stopped herself, gathered her thoughts, and you heard your own pulse in your neck as you waited.

‘Tommy had started to think that he’d lost him, lost them both. He’d started to think it was his fault, maybe, that he should have gone with them.’

‘But you’re…’ and you stopped, gesturing to her very pregnant frame.

‘I know, and he knew that he couldn’t have, but it didn’t feel like it when he thought his brother was gone.’

You didn’t need your hands to feel the tension coming off her, and you stood then, and reached out to her shoulder, picking up the tendon and easing it down. You remembered back in school when your teacher had shown you the diagram of the fascia, taught and spidery over the pink and red of the muscle. She rolled her neck, her head slumping towards you, and you offered her your torso as a pillow.

‘It doesn’t feel like a warm return,’ you said, eventually, and Maria sighed, reaching up to still your hand.

‘He’s a dangerous man,’ she said, after a while. ‘He’s done things, Tommy did them too but that’s his big brother, you know?’

You thought back to the way Tommy had gripped Joel’s shirt, the way he had been talking animatedly into his brother’s ear, the curl of Joel in on himself in response to it, the instinct to close down in the face of his brother’s overwhelming love.

‘We’ve all done things,’ you said, after a while.

‘It’s different,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why, it just is.’

‘What about the girl?’ you asked, and she softened then, under your touch.

‘She’ll defend Joel to the ends of the Earth,’ she said.

‘You don’t trust her judgement?’ you asked.

‘I don’t trust that Joel isn’t keeping her in the dark,’ she muttered, and it was quiet enough that you had to lean over to hear, and when the words unfurled around you you pulled back from them, the concern and the weight and the finality of them, the heaviness of them in your ears.

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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olsenmyolsen · 1 year

Text

The Future

Part 22 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~6.5K

masterlist

Liz POV

"Mommy! Mommy! Get up!"

I hear the quiet yells from my daughter Clementine begging for me to wake up before she does what she does every Saturday.

WHAM! She launches herself onto the bed. "Time to get up!" Every Saturday, I regret having this stinker. Just a little bit. I flutter my eyes open to see my little bed headed child staring at me. She has piercing green eyes like me but a ridged nose like her momma. Every time I look at her face, I smile.

I scrunch my nose up to my daughter. "Did you really just wake me up?" I ask as I pull her tiny body into mine. "Did you wake me up at-" I shift my eyes to my child's Avengers watch. It's her favorite thing that she owns, even though most of the characters on it never interacted with Wanda. "9:45! Are you crazy? Is my child crazy?" I ask as I begin to tickle her for waking me. "Yes, I'm crazy! I'm Crazy Clem, Mommy!" Clementine giggles at me.

"Crazy, just like your momma," I say as I relinquish the child from my grasp. Her giggle fit comes to a slow end as the frown on both of our faces returns. I sit up as Clementine brings herself closer to me.

"What do you say I get dressed, and then we can head out for breakfast. Does that sound like a good idea?" Clem nods her head as she lays down into my bed. I can see she's thinking and trying to form the words before she speaks, just like her momma.

"What is it, bug?"

"Is momma really gone?"

It's as if someone is playing a cruel joke on me as I slowly open my eyes and wake up from what started as a dream but deteriorated into a nightmare.

But that didn't feel like either of them. It felt like a vision of the future.

I don't even remember falling asleep.

As I rise from the bed and it's as if all the color from the world became a mix of dark grays again.

I look around the room, but she never came home.

Why would she after what I did?

"Liz?" Y/N asks, more concerned.

"Sorry, I'm catching up on a lot. The HBO show. Some WandaVision stuff. My team is asking me to do Hot Ones next month. Sorry. Let me do this stuff, and then I'm all yours!"

At least, that's how it started.

But now my team is reaching out with a whole bunch of shit about Y/N.

She's been doxed.

Someone put most, if not all, of her information on the internet.

Videos of her at work.

Pictures of her and I are tagged in almost everything.

"Is there anything I can help with?" I hear her ask, unaware of what I'm looking at.

"Not at the moment. But thank you." I respond in an almost robot-like fashion. I don't know what's happening, but it terrifies me.

I was going to have us go public within the coming months. I reached out to Robbie and his team last night. On Monday, we were going to announce our separation. But now stories are already running about Y/N and I. I'm being called a cheater, and Y/N is being labeled a multitude of things.

Nobody. Wannabe. Slut.

This is what is being pushed on gossip sites, and it's spreading like wildfire. I feel my body start to turn cold as thoughts of what next steps and actions to take start rushing in.

One thought comes to mind, and it breaks my heart.

Before I can even look at Y/N, my phone starts buzzing in my hand. It's Marla.

I answer the phone.

"How bad is it really?" I ask before Marla can fire off a hello.

"It's not looking good."

I let out a frustrated sigh and look out the window.

"However, we can get Robbie and his team to make a statement regarding your relationship."

"Okay. How soon?"

"Within the hour, but there is still the matter of Y/N's safety-"

The matter of her safety... she's unsafe because of me... I still listen to Marla go on to say that whoever doxxed Y/N had to be close to her. But it's clear this was a targeted attack, maybe due to her being in a relationship with a high-profile person. Me. Marla isn't blaming me, but everyone else will. I know it. Marla also mentioned that a legal team represented here in NY has reached out already. How they knew so quick, I'm not sure.

Slowly the phone call starts to become drowned out as one thing keeps running through my mind.

If Y/N and I were never together, this wouldn't be happening.

"Liz?" Y/N calls out to me.

I turn to my Coffee Girl, and I see her eyes are laced with fear. I bite my bottom lip in a last-ditch effort to stop the tears from falling. I don't even realize it, but I end my phone call.

"Lizard, please, what's going on?" I swallow and put my head into my hands. I'm trying not to cry as flashes of my Y/N fly through my mind. Y/N with Rose. Her taking her mom and I around the city. "I'm sorry," I mumble to myself. A flash of Y/N and I over FaceTime. Her making lunch at my apartment. "I'm sorry." Our first date. When I saw her at the park. "I'm sorry."

The coffee shop I should've never entered.

The day I met her.

She was annoyed with my giant apology order, but her eyes looked into me. I was stunned by her beauty. Her galaxy eyes pulling me. Her freckles that made her face glow. Her ridged nose that is imperfectly perfect.

I feel Y/N lean into me. When did she get into the middle seat?

I lift my head to her. She's on the verge of breaking. I gently place my shaky hands into hers.

"Liz?"

My phone interrupts the uneasy air, but it doesn't stop. The phone keeps ringing.

The more it rings, the more I second-guess every decision I've made with Y/N. Was it right? Should I have done more?

I look at Y/N, and the look I'm receiving back grows in worry.

I close my eyes feeling a single tear roll down my cheek.

"I- I'm... we've been outed..."

"Oka-"

"They-"

I stop myself.

I know what I must do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it.

I didn't do it with Robbie. I ran like a fucking coward. But now? I can't. I couldn't do that to her.

I slowly open my eyes to see Y/N's fucking gorgeous eyes.

"We can't be together."

When the end of the sentence falls from my mouth, I feel my body slow down. I turn my head back towards the window while I pull my hands out from hers.

Oh, God.

No. This can't be right.

I silently let the tears fall from me, and aside from the hum of the car, there is no other noise present. It's like Y/N vanished.

With each block we pass, my anger grows.

The tears falling from my face are slowly morphing into liquid-filled hate.

Why the fuck would someone do this? What do they gain? The first person since Robbie, and this is what happens??

I whip my head around, yelling these thoughts to Y/N. Not at her but to her. I want her to hear my anger. I want her to listen to these reasons. It's not too long before my rambling goes on.

"Stop the car."

What?

I look at Y/N's face. She looks like she's in shock. I turn my head confused.

"Stop the car!" Y/N yells out at Mr. Bronson. I turn to see him gesture to the road ahead of us. Traffic.

I'm mentally kicking myself. I didn't mean to start dumping all of this onto her.

I try to calm the pissed-off nerves in my body. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I turn myself to my Y/N. I calmly place my hands on her cheeks, but to my surprise, Y/N reacts and jumps away at the contact.

What have I done to her?

I watch her close her eyes as she leans herself back against the car door. I want to do everything in my power to hold her close and not let her go.

But I can't do that. I have to lose her...

"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!"

I cover my mouth in shock. The tone and urgency was scary. I glance to Mr. Bronson, who finds a place to pull off. The second the wheels stop, Y/N looks at me and dashes out her car door, slamming it behind her. I follow her as she walks around the car before stopping to hunch over the sidewalk.

"Oh my Goodness," I whisper as I throw myself out of the car running to my puking girlfriend(?)

"Y/N!" Oh my god, are you okay? What's wrong?" I rest my right hand on her back and pull myself closer to her. She wipes her chin and turns her eyes to meet my own.

I don't think she realizes herself becoming off-center as her body begins to fall backwards. I latch onto her and hold her body up.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong?" I look at her red puffy eyes. They're breaking my heart even more than I already did myself. "Y/N... I-" "You what? You don't want to be with me anymore. I get it. The love was fake. This was a phase. I knew it was too good to be true. The real world came knocking at the front door, and you left out the back. Just like I was afraid of... I should've listened to my stupid thoughts when it came to us. I didn't with Naomi, and look at what happened..."

After saying that, Y/N doesn't stop.

She's wrong. She doesn't know what's she talking about.

Right?

I'm not even listening to her words. Instead, I watch her face crumble and break as the tears don't stop.

The sun has now reached high noon, and a small crowd has gathered around us.

I try multiple times to interject, but to no avail. I dart my eyes at the people around us, and it causes more pain. No one should be watching this moment.

"Y/N, stop!" I finally manage to yell out. "Y/N, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then how did you mean in it?"

"How about you let me talk, and you'll find out?!"

Fuck.

My tone was all wrong.

I look at Y/N as she stares back at me.

I regret everything now.

I take a step forward, but she turns her body away, causing me to stop. I watch as she wipes her tears away before she runs her hand through her hair.

The crowd that gathered around appears to be bored with how our lives are toppling down that they walk away.

We're only a few feet apart, but it might as well feel like I'm across the world. I start to fidget with my hands; it's subconscious at first, but I stop once I realize, just as Y/N steps forward and pulls me into a hug.

The floodgate holding my remaining emotions collapses as I feel her body press into mine. At that point, I can't stop the tears from flying down my cheek, landing on her shoulders.

I open my mouth several times, but nothing makes sense. I feel Y/N tightly wrap herself around my body. I'm sure to hold me up and for any amount of comfort.

Her lips place gently kisses on my forehead.

Kisses I don't deserve strung along with words I should be saying. Not her.

"I'm sorry."

This causes my breakdown only to escalate.

I keep hold of Y/N, afraid that the moment she's out of my touch is the moment that she'll listen to my words. That's the moment we won't be together. So I hold her. I keep our touch. I keep it like that until I'm returned to the backseat of the car. A water bottle lands in my lap, and then she starts to pull away.

So I grab hold of her and plead for her not to leave.

"Please, I'm sorry, Y/N. Let me explain." Is being said again and again amongst other phrases of apologies. I'm not even looking into her eyes but instead at her right hand that's in my grasp. I'm memorizing all its small details.

It's only when I feel her left hand touch my chin that I look up into her eyes. Her puffy red soft eyes. Eyes that used to be filled with love and admiration.

In a blink, I felt her lips kiss my head one final time and her hand slip from my own.

"No." I weakly say to the air in the car.

My eyes find themselves on Y/N as she walks to the front of the car. Mr. Bronson rolls down the window for her and says, "She'll be safe."

Is he talking about me? I watch Y/N nod at his words before the doors lock around me.

I have to get out. I have to yell to her. Let her know how sorry I am.

As the window rolls up, the impact of this morning comes crashing onto me. This is it. This is the end of her and I.

This is for her, and it kills me.

I look up to see the color drained from her eyes. I don't think she realized it, but she gave me a slight smile, almost of reassurance. I go to call out, but the window closes on me.

In an instant, Mr. Bronson pulls the car away from the last person I loved.

Numb.

That's what I felt the whole ride back to my apartment. That's all I still feel.

I didn't look up once the whole ride. I didn't bother checking my phone anymore, either.

I'm now standing outside my apartment door. I don't know how long I've been standing here, but my legs are starting to hurt. Hell, I don't even remember bringing up all this shit with me. My water, phone, and tote.

Wait.

Fuck.

A tote. Full of Y/N's stuff...

I rest my forehead against my apartment door. I don't think I have any more tears to shed, so instead, I whimper against the cold door. The image of Y/N looking at me in the backseat not leaving my head. Each time I close my eyes, I see her hurting.

I swallow whatever I have left in my mouth and pull myself up and away from the door. I pull my phone out, looking at the million notifications to see that more time has passed than I thought.

A part of me knows I should go inside my apartment, call my team, have them go over everything with me. Get myself cleaned up and never think about Y/N again.

But that's wrong. I was wrong.

What was I thinking?

Opting for a cab instead of my driver was new. The truth is I didn't want to see Mr. Bronson after everything he witnessed this morning. I'm going to have to remind myself to give him a big bonus when the time comes.

Over the course of the ride, I've tried texting and calling Y/N multiple times to no answer. My team has tried reaching out to me as well, but deep down, Rhonda knows I will be out of commission today.

It's almost two now, and after a silent cab ride, I'm in front of Y/N's building. No, I don't expect her to be there when I build up the courage to head up, but I'm still scared.

With Y/N's keys in my hand, I slide the key into the lock and turn it slowly until I hear the door click. I take the key out and push the door open, allowing myself to enter.

I first notice how all the curtains are drawn back, allowing light in. I don't think we left it like that.

I go to call out, but another voice stops me.

"Y/N?"

It's a familiar voice coming from the bedroom. I shut the front door behind me.

"Y/N?"

I hear the voice begin to walk out from the back, and my heart stops when I see who it is.

She's dressed down in a casual fit. Black sweats and a black graphic tee to match. She'd never be caught wearing this out. So my guess is she saw the news and came straight here.

Here, huh?

"Mary-Kate, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, Lizzie? Where's Y/N?" My older sister rebuttals. I ignore the soft tone she just used.

MK takes a step forward. I try to keep my face strong, but she looks at me, and for a second, I see the disappointment on my sister's face. She's connecting the dots.

I turn away from MK and start dumping Y/N's stuff on her small dining room table. I can feel MK's eyes on me as I try to focus.

"Lizzie?"

"What?" I bite back as I feel her presence getting closer to me.

"What happened?"

I let the tote fall from my hand as I close my eyes and turn around. I open them to see MK's face. She was watching me with such intensity. It's the same look she has when I visit her and Ash at The Row. But instead of fabrics and materials to look over, it's me—her little sister.

MK moves forward and wraps her arms wound me. Like me, MK needs physical touch sometimes. It's our love language. So this tiny gesture means more. I'm led to the couch with help from MK before she sits down next to me.

I haven't broken down yet- well, since earlier but MK sees my face. She sees how exhausting it is. She knows I've cried off and on since it happened. So before I open my mouth, MK stops me.

"Are you okay?"

I shake my head no.

"Lizzie, I-"

"We're done."

MK looks at me, slightly confused, so with a clear throat, I give her more.

"It's all my fault."

"Lizzie, what do you mean?"

I turn to my sister, slightly frustrated. With her, but mainly at the guy who thought it was cool enough to do this to Y/N. Through the texts and calls I've been dodging, I saw that the legal team that reached out earlier found out who the guy was and is working with my team and the FBI.

"MK. People know more about her than ever before, and it's all because of me. All because she was dating Elizabeth Olsen. I couldn't protect her. I can't have her be with me."

I start to feel my cheeks burning up.

MK nods along but not knowing what to say. I look into her eyes, which have now become slightly glossed over. "Where is Y/N?"

"I-I don't know..."

MK lets out a frustrated sigh before turning away from me.

"You're gonna need to tell me more."

"I broke up with her-" MK looks a little pissed off at me. "You left her." I furrow my eyebrows. "I didn't leave her. She put me in the car and-" "Why?"

"Why what?" I once again can feel my annoyance working up. There's a certain kind that only siblings can get out of you.

"Why did you break up with her?" I sigh and put my head in my hands before scoffing as I face MK. "Have you not been listening to me? Hell, I'm sure you saw the news! That's why you're here, isn't it? To be here for her?!"

MK shakes her head at me. "All I hear is you making excuses, Lizzie." MK gets up and starts walking to the kitchen. I probably shouldn't, but I get up and follow her, continuing our spat.

"What's my excuse then?" MK closes the fridge she just opened and turns to me.

"Your excuse is that you think you're protecting her, but you're not! What you think breaking up with the person you love is going to make everything easier suddenly and everyone forget? You're smarter than that, Lizzie."

I go to open my mouth, but MK steps closer stopping me as she keeps going.

"So you're using those reasons as an excuse just to get out of a good relationship again."

Everything she says hurts me in ways I haven't thought about in a long time.

"What the fuck do you mean 'again'?" I watch my older sister roll her eyes. "First, Robbie. Now Y/N." She states as she walks past me thinking she's won.

"Pretty convenient you left out Boyd, huh." I spit out as I turn my body to see her stop in the middle of the apartment.

"You're not serious right now." She lifts her left hand with her index finger extended. I step out from the kitchen to get closer to her.

"No, I am. Boyd and I were doing well until Mary-Kate Olsen came along."

"You were too good for Boyd. He cheated on you. All I did was simply deliver the news. I never slept with Boyd, Lizzie. How many times do I have to convince you of that." Her voice goes wary at the end. Shit, I knew this would hit a nerve. But it's too late.

"Isn't that why you're here?"

MK lifts her eyes to meet mine.

"Jesus, Lizzie." MK scoffs. "No. I came here hoping to see a friend. Someone that I actually love and care about instead of pretending to do those things."

"I never pretended!" I yell before MK fires back, "Then where the fuck is she!" MK runs a hand through her hair before walking away towards the window.

She's right. I still have no idea where she is.

"No one's heard from her." I hear MK's broken voice. She turns her eyes to me as she leans against the wall near the window.

"Did you even think about how she feels?"

"I didn't have time." I close my eyes and sigh, hearing how tag sounds, but surprisingly, Mary-Kate doesn't stop me. I open my eyes to see her waiting for me to continue. Her stance has gotten softer, and my sister is coming back.

"I mean.. it all happened so fast. One minute we were having the morning of our lives, and the next, it was like I was being torn apart." MK brings herself off the wall as she pays close attention. "I hadn't looked at my phone all morning except for one time, so we had some time to kill as we were on the way to my place. I start checking messages and emails from my team about some upcoming interviews and projects. But in an instant, it changed. All of this shit started coming out about Y/N. Parts of her phone number, videos, and pics of her from work. Pics of us together."

I move myself to the couch as my mind relives the events of this morning.

"I got a phone call from Marla." MK has now sat down next to me.

"She told me that they could have Robbie and his team put out a statement saying how we haven't been together in over a month but that there was still the matter of Y/N's safety..." I calm my breathing before continuing. "I still listened to Marla go on to say that whoever doxxed Y/N had to be close to her. I now have a legal team working on the case. They know who did it."

MK nods at me. "At a certain point, I couldn't focus on the call. All I could think about was that none of this would have happened if Y/N and I weren't together. My mind was spiraling, but I got snapped out of it when Y/N called my name." I can feel my eyes start to water as I turn to MK, but my mind sees Y/N in the backseat of the car.

"She looked so scared." I feel my body start to give out, so thankfully, my sister is here to put her arms around me.

"I tried to explain it to her, but it happened quickly. We went from the car to the street to us crying together, and then I was in the car by myself as it was pulling away from her." I give my best summary of the situation, knowing she'll fill in the blanks. "I regret it," I mumble.

"Lizzie," MK says as she moves away from me. "I understand that what you think you did was right at the time. But since you couldn't explain it to her, she must've felt so blindsided and hurt. And I know you're hurting too.. but what now? What's your next step?"

I shrug and let my body fall into the couch.

"I knew she wasn't going to be here, but a small part of me hoped," I say without looking at MK. "Me too."

With the awkward air clouding us, MK decided to get some tea going for us while we waited for any news.

By the time MK places our teas on the coffee table, her phone goes off. I lean up on the couch as MK looks at the caller ID.

"Ash." She says as the phone still rings. "Do you want to..?" I shake my head no as MK nods and takes the phone to Y/N's bedroom to answer the call.

I hear a bit of the conversation, and I'm pretty sure I heard MK cry, reminding me that I need to apologize for the awful things I said. But that's for later. Right now, I'm texting Y/N and calling everyone I think could help.

I give the majority of them a shorthand version of today's events and just hope that they can help.

It's after 3 now, and of course, Max doesn't answer me back. No surprise. I texted Chris E hoping he could put some of that Cap charm to good use. I even have Marla try and reach out.

I'm about to scroll through to see what the world thinks of me at the moment when my phone starts ringing. I immediately hit the green button without thinking about who it is.

"Lizzie! Oh my God. Are you two okay?"

I lift my phone to see who I'm talking to: Scarlett🕷️

I open my mouth to say yes, but that's a lie. Instead, I sigh. Scarlett must've heard because before I speak, she does. "Where are you?"

"Y/N's."

"Okay, good. Yeah, going back to your place might not be a good idea. I bet the paparazzi are just waiting. If you two need a place to stay, you know you're always more than welcome-"

"Scarlett." I cut her off. "I ended it with Y/N."

For a second, it felt like Scarlett hung up. There was no noise coming from her end until I heard a very calm Scarlett. "Honey, could you watch Rose for a minute? I'll be right back."

Oh no. I knew what was coming. Scarlett's angered breaths came through the phone before I heard a door close.

"Elizabeth Olsen, what the fuck are you talking about?"

This is just the start.

"What do you mean you ended things? Before or after the news broke?!"

"After bu-"

"LIZZIE!" I pull the phone slightly away from my ear. "You are so lucky I'm pregnant right now!"

"But Scarlett-"

"Where is she?!" My eyes go wide as Scarlett just did her best Bat-Growl. "I- I don't know..."

I hear Scar let out a shaky breath like I've done all day.

"Do you think she's safe?"

"I can only hope.. she is not answering anyone's messages or returning anyone's calls."

"I can try my best, but Lizzie, why?"

"Did you not see my messages?"

"No, I just got back from my spa day. I only saw the news of Y/N's leak. One sec."

I hear Scarlett start shuffling her phone around. I don't know if Scarlett forgot I could hear her, but I hear a lot of tsks and huffs. After what feels like forever, I hear The Black Widow breathe again.

"Oh, Liz..."

"I know. I keep trying, but I get nothing."

"Does she know the real reason-" "I tried. But no."

"Maybe just give her space and-"

"I'm not leaving her, Scar."

Even though I literally did.

"I didn't say that. Just give her some space to try and process it all. It would be best if you had it too. Who knows, maybe she'll figure out your true intentions and meet you halfway. But for now, ease off and focus on the tasks that you have now. Are you seeking legal action?"

Scarlett's right. Man, I'm not too fond of it when she's right.

"Yeah, we had some firm reach the second the news broke. Marla and Rhonda are dealing with it. I also have them try and reach out to Y/N since she'll more than likely have to appear in court, but I don't know..."

Scarlett doesn't immediately pipe up, so I guess she's taking all of it in.

"Lizzie, can I ask you something?"

"Okay," I say with an unsure tone.

"If Y/N was right before you, would you fight for her or let her go?"

"If I'm being honest with you, Scar, I regret telling her we couldn't be together. But at the same time, none of this would've happened if she wasn't with me. I would want to fight for her, but I don't know who that would end up hurting the most.."

I swallow another pool of guilt.

"Damn. Okay. Way not to answer my question, but I understand. Your mind is probably spinning, thinking one thing is better than the next."

I nod to her words. She knows me so well.

I hear Scarlett turn away from the phone. I'm guessing her little spawn is missing her mom.

"Well, as I said, focus on you right now. While I am very upset with you for how it all happened, I know you meant well, Lizzie. I love you. The offer still stands if you need a place to crash."

For the first time in a long line of hours, I smile.

"Thank you, Scarlett. I love you too. Please give my Rosie a big hug for me." Scarlett chuckles at that.

"Oh, and Lizzie. Maybe work on an apology."

"My minds been reeling already thinking of the million things I'd want to say."

"Bye, Lizzie!"

"Bye, Scarlett."

I end the call and drop the phone onto my lap. I close my eyes and let out a large breath I was holding in. I run my hands over my exhausted face and try to listen to Scarlett's words about focusing on the next thing.

"Well-" I jump at the sudden words coming from my sister. "Ash ain't exactly on team Lizzie."

I shut my eyes to her words. "There's no teams."

"I know.. I just.." I open one of my eyes to her and wait.

"Never mind." MK now is standing at the entryway to the living room awkwardly, even though it's neither of our place. I watch my sister's fingers start picking at her own hands.

"Did you quit?" I raise an eyebrow.

MK stops picking now that she knows I noticed.

"Trying to." I lift my body from the couch as we're having a normal conversation for the first time today. "Since when?"

"It'll be a month tomorrow. If I don't break by then." If I was MK, I would've.

I move off of the couch and bring myself to my sister to wrap her into a hug. "I'm proud of you," I say when her ear lines up to me. MK has always struggled with addiction. Ash for a while, too, but MK was the twin that never could stop. It took a toll on her and many relationships, but the fact that she's gone this long without killing her lungs with another puff means more.

But we both know this hug between us isn't just about that.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

We end up squeezing each other for longer, and by the time we're done, I see that both our eyes have become a little glossy.

"Lizzie, I don't want to worsen your day, but you smell. You need a shower bad."

I laugh as I wipe my eyes free from emotions.

"How about you hop into the shower, and I can order us something? We both need food in our stomachs."

MKs, right I haven't eaten since this morning, and it's now late afternoon. I wonder if Y/N's eaten- "Already, what do you want?" MK pulls me from my depressing thoughts as she holds out numerous take-out menus.

I skim over the options before I land on an Italian place. "You would," MK says as she pulls her phone out to dial them. "Usual?" She looks back at me as I nod.

While Mary-Kate orders, I head into the bedroom and start grabbing a comfortable pair of clothes to wear post-shower. I smile to myself when I find Y/N's Elizabeth Olsen collage shirt on the floor. I think about it before deciding that this will be my fit for tonight.

Before my body pulls me to the bathroom to shower, I quickly stop at Y/N's desk. On top, I see her journals. I grab the 2019 one that she let me read the day I met her mom. The first day we said 'I love you' in person. I flip through the pages before finding the same song that caught my eye previously.

All Eyes On Me

Are you feeling nervous?

It's just begun Don't overthink this Look in my eye

Come on in, the water's fine

We're goin' to go where everybody knows Everybody knows, everybody, We're goin' to go where everybody knows Everybody knows

Get your fuckin' hands up

All eyes on me, all eyes on me

Y/N mentioned how this one is still a work in progress. Years long by now. I told her it could be updated, but I doubt that's happening anytime soon.

I flip through some more. With each word I read, I get sad at the thought of Y/N writing this based on what's happening in her life, but at the same time, it's like she's telling us that it's okay. That we can laugh. Strange, I know.

After wasting who knows how long, I finally managed to move my feet to the shower.

"Thank you once again for getting dinner," I say as I swallow my last bit of pasta. "It's no worries." MK shrugs it off.

Once we're both satisfied enough, I bring our dishes to the kitchen and start to get to work while MK checks her phone, hoping to see anything new. With a simple shake of the head, I know my answer. I'm not shocked, but it sucks. I ask her to check my phone, and I haven't received anything from Y/N either. I get messages from just about everyone else on the planet telling me they reach out to Y/N but have come up empty-handed.

As I finish up the dishes, I watch MK go into Y/N's room and come back with two jackets. Wait..

"Going somewhere?" I ask, drying the final glass.

"We are." I dry my hands and join MK in the living room.

"Where?" MK slips on her coat and just looks at me. "Remember your freshman year at NYU?" I smile as I think back. "Yeah."

"Then let's go," MK says as I follow behind her as we walk out. I made sure to grab Y/N's keys and lock up.

I open the door to the roof as the nighttime early summer air breezes past me.

I make my way toward the middle of the roof and stand there looking out in all directions before finally looking up at the sky.

MK walks up next to me and comforts me. At the same time, I wrap an arm around her to comfort my older sister.

We stand there for a couple of minutes, letting the city speak for us.

"The views are definitely different," I say, earning a soft laugh from MK. "Yeah, it is. But you're not spending a shit load on getting it."

I nod. "True."

I released myself from MK and take a seat on a smaller, higher rooftop before closing my eyes and letting my back lay against the cool rooftop.

When my eyes open, I'm in awe at the small number of stars I can see. A tiny part of me is wondering if Y/N is doing the same.

I wonder how she feels. Is it regret for meeting me? Guilt? Pain? Love?

"What did Scarlett say earlier?"

Of course, she heard.

"Just that I should give her some space and work up an apology."

"Do you disagree?" I shake my head no. "But I want to let her know what I really mean and want."

"In time, Lizzie."

We sit in silence for what feels like an hour but honestly was probably fifteen minutes.

"Ready?" I tilt my head to see MK standing to my left, ready to go.

I lightly nod and join MK near the roof access door.

I'd love to say that because of how exhausted I am, my mind would be the same, but it's still replaying the day's events and making me feel worse with each hour that passes.

I'm reasonably certain MK was about to ask to stay the night, but after a movie that neither of us paid attention to, she decided against it.

MK and I told each other that the second we heard anything from Y/N, we would let the other person know; however, I have a sneaky suspicion that MK already heard back.

And that hurts.

I begin locking up Y/N's place. Windows. Check. Doors Check. Making sure the oven is off even though I didn't touch it. Check.

With my mind still not shutting off, I choose to find something to occupy my time. I debate whether to text Y/N about a dozen times but untimely choose against it. So without realizing it, I once again find myself in front of Y/N's desk. However, I don't have the 2019 journal in my hand. I found an empty one.

I have no one else on my mind except the last person I loved. So I decided to do what she's done many times over. I begin writing. Lyrics? Letter? A poem or a note, I don't know.

I hope she's safe. I hope she comes back.

I want to see her, even if it's one last time.

Part 23

A/N

So here's what was going on with Liz!

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