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avatar-anna · 1 year ago

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Champagne Problems, Part Two

IT"S FINISHED! whew, that only took forever. part of the reason this took so long to write is that i was obsessing over if it would be as good as part 1, so hopefully y'all like it (but please be nice if you don't). final word count is about 22-23k words...so buckle in, grab a snack, and enjoy!

Part One

*.*

Japan

Harry walked alone through the busy streets of Tokyo, his chin tucked close to his chest and his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his long overcoat. There was a cadence to his steps as he kept time with the song that played on a loop in his head. It wasn't one that anyone here but him would know. Well, him and one other person, but she was a world away.

Rounding the corner, Harry turned into the cafe he'd been frequenting since he'd arrived. He nodded to the shopkeeper before heading over to the counter, pulling an old, weathered vinyl from his bag.

"This is the one I was talking to you about," he said by way of greeting. "It truly is a phenomenal record."

Harry handed over the record, hesitating a little before letting go of it. He'd been listening to it nonstop since he'd left Los Angeles, and parting with it was more difficult than he originally thought it would be. When he first came to the cafe, he'd looked for it within the crammed shelves huddled in the corner. The shopkeeper had never even heard of it, and Harry could only imagine what Y/n would say if she knew. She'd been the one to introduce him to it, the memory of that conversation in her apartment seared into his brain.

"Wings?" Harry had asked, not quite suspiciously, but the glare Y/n sent over his shoulder made it seem like he'd already written it off. Her glare is so cute, he remembered thinking, admiring the adorable furrow of her brow as she rooted through a collection of vinyls that was bigger than anything Harry had ever seen.

"It'll change your life," she'd promised, before sliding the record out of its sleeve and putting it on the turntable. Her record player was littered with stickers, some too faded or covered by others to see them properly.

She'd grinned as the opening chords to the first track played, settling next to Harry as she picked up her wine glass, her lips puckering around it to take a sip. She hadn't noticed him staring until about a minute later, when her eyes met his. Her brows had furrowed once more, but this time it was more confused. She'd nudged Harry's leg with her foot, which was covered in a purple patterned fuzzy sock.

"It's your turn, isn't it?" she'd asked, eyes darting to the Scrabble board on the coffee table.

Harry remembered taking the wine glass from Y/n's hands and setting it on the table next to the board. He remembered taking her face in his hands and kissing her. He remembered her squeak of surprise but that she didn't pull away.

Their very first kiss.

The memory of her delicate hands sliding into his hair, of her crawling into his lap, the little noise she made as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip—it was all-consuming as Harry sat down at his usual table at the cafe a million miles from Y/n and Los Angeles.

"It'll changed your life," she'd promised him. Little did he know, she already had.

*.*

A week after Harry left, you received a text from your ex, a total surprise seeing as you hadn't spoken to him since you'd broken up.

Gavin: I heard about what happened with you and my sister. Can we meet somewhere and talk?

That message sat in your inbox without a response for hours as you tried to work up the courage to say yes. You knew you needed to, you knew you would feel better after the fact, that both of you deserved closure after the colossal end to your relationship, but every time your thumb hovered over the keyboard, you chickened out.

Until finally, you wrote, Okay.

Seeing Gavin again was a trip. He looked the same, yet so different at the same time. He had facial hair for one thing, and his hair was a couple inches longer than it had been when you were together. Deep down, you assumed a public shaming on his part, you feared he would just berate you for all the ways you'd hurt him and that he hated you for breaking his heart and humiliating him.

But that had never been who Gavin was. Your ex was kind and honorable, he tipped generously on dinner dates and warmed up socks for you in the dryer because he knew how cold you got after a long day at work. He was the definition of a sweetheart, and assuming the worst about him was just the fear and insecurity talking.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Gavin," you said, trying to hold all the excess of emotion brimming to the surface as you walked beside him. You'd agreed on a walk through the park as opposed to sitting down somewhere, both of you perhaps too nervous to sit still.

Gavin merely nodded, which was more than you could've asked for given the circumstances. "Thank you. So much time has passed, but...it feels nice to hear."

It was a while before either of you said anything. Los Angeles wasn't a frozen tundra by any means, but it was quite brisk by the ocean, and you crossed your arms across your chest to retain a bit of heat.

Then, Gavin said, "I...I just need to know why. Did I do something? I thought things were good between us. I mean I wanted to—"

Maybe it was the cold, but his cheeks were rosy as his voice tapered off. "You didn't do anything wrong, Gav," you said, wanting to take his hand but refraining. It didn't feel like something you could do anymore. Even if two years had come and gone, you couldn't make yourself cross that line. It didn't feel right.

You didn't know how to sugarcoat your words, but you hoped time would soften the blow. "I just...I realized that you were in love with me and I—I just wasn't. I wanted to be, I wanted to be in love with you, but—And then I panicked. I overheard your mom and sister talking about you wanting to propose, and I just couldn't lead you on. I couldn't let you do that knowing you deserved better than what I could give you.

"But it killed me, Gavin," you said, tearing up just thinking about it. "Hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done, and I've—I've hated myself for putting you through that, and I couldn't face you after, which was unfair of me."

"I just wanted an explanation," Gavin said quietly, his head bent so you couldn't see his face. "All I ever wanted was to understand. I think that hurt more than you breaking up with me, that you couldn't offer me that decency."

You nodded with a sniffle, keeping your eye on the slate blue of the ocean and the clouds covering your favorite shade of sky blue. "It was selfish of me to ignore you, I know that. I just...couldn't. I was scared that you would convince me to come back when that wasn't really what I wanted, and with your family and friends constantly messaging me, I just thought staying away was for the best."

"Y/n, what—what messages? What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know?" Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Gavin's family would never do or say anything to him that would make them look bad in his eyes. But so much time had passed that you thought it would've slipped. He'd heard about the coffee house incident, after all.

With shaking hands, you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. After scrolling through your messages, you passed it to Gavin, letting him look for himself. He was quiet as he looked over the messages from his sister. There were others, but Larissa's were the most vicious. A more mentally sound person would've deleted them ages ago, but you liked to punish yourself when you were feeling particularly low.

"I don't hold any of this against you," you said. "I know you're not your family, but I just...I don't know."

"I wish I'd known about all this before," Gavin mumbled with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry for them."

"Thank you."

You didn't know what to say after that, you weren't even sure you wanted to dwell on the past anymore. It had gone by so quickly in your eyes, but two years suddenly felt like ten. You felt older, more jaded as you walked next to the man you were almost engaged to.

"Are you happy?" you asked suddenly, stopping at a bench and sitting down.

Gavin sat down next to you. He handed your phone back before sighing. "I am. I wasn't for a while, but I am. You?"

You nodded. "Learning to be. I think I was...in a rough place before I started seeing you, and now I think I'm finally on the other side of it."

Gavin's grin was familiar. It felt good to see it, but it didn't give you the butterflies that it used to. Maybe just a little relief. You smiled back, nudging him with your shoulder. "You seeing anyone?"

The blush on Gavin's cheeks told you everything you needed to know, and knowing he moved on settled something in you. "Yeah. We've been together about a year now."

Sometimes you daydreamed about who Gavin would be with when he eventually moved on. Someone perky, but not in an obnoxious way. Maybe she liked to paint and drew pictures of his profile while they had picnics together, because picnics were the kind of dates they would go on. They would hold hands in the popcorn bowl at the movies and wear matching sweaters on Christmas. The girl who would truly steal Gavin's heart would be just as sweet and generous as he was and would make his lunches for work and wipe his mouth at dinner with a smile and love him with her entire being because he deserved it.

"That's wonderful, Gav," you said earnestly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed, hoping he knew you were telling the truth. The only thing you hoped was that he kept her far, far away from his family.

"Are you? Seeing anyone?"

A simple question, and yet you didn't know how to offer a simple answer. Eventually, you shook your head. "Uh...no."

"Brothers scaring the line of willing suitors?" he joked, knowing full well how your brothers could be.

Laughing, you shook your head. "No, nothing like that, I just—It's complicated, I guess."

You couldn't quite believe that you were having this conversation today, especially with Gavin. But talking to him had always come easy, it was one of the things you liked best about being with him.

"If you can believe it," you added, a little humor in your voice. "I was the one who was ready to take things further."

For a moment, you worried you'd taken things too far, but his brows just raised amusingly. "No shit. Really?"

"He wasn't ready. Just my luck. I finally get my shit together and he takes off to another continent."

You didn't resent Harry for leaving. He'd done what was best for him, but that didn't mean the timing didn't suck. You finally felt comfortable and confident enough to be open with someone, and they fled the country.

Okay, so Harry didn't flee the country, but you felt the blow to your ego no matter how rational you were about the situation.

"He'll come around," Gavin promised, which took you by surprise. "You're probably not aware, but you're very easy to fall in love with, Y/n."

Your cheeks flushed, feeling Gavin's words right down to your toes. It didn't feel romantic in any sort of way, but there was some reassurance. Gavin knew you well, and he had been a good friend.

And yet, the only thing you could think as you continued to catch up with your ex was, Then why is it so hard for me to fall in love?

*.*

Harry hadn't realized it, but he'd started to keep a list in his head, a mental tally of all the little things he learned about Y/n and that made her who she was.

The list had started with small trivial things like her coffee order and that she seemed to be particularly fond of wearing bandanas in her hair or that she always carried the same canvas tote on her shoulder, one that read, "You're Doing Great," in squiggly blue writing. From there, the list grew, and he suddenly began to collect bits of information from Y/n like valuable trading cards—what it was like growing up with three older brothers, how long she stayed in Nashville before moving out to Los Angeles, and what the perfect record was for when she was feeling sad. Harry wanted to know everything, every little piece she was willing to give him until he understood even the smallest gesture.

"Why don't you perform your songs?"

It was a question that lingered in the back of his mind for weeks now. Harry had heard Y/n sing on multiple occasions as they wrote together, and he couldn't help but think that she was the whole package. She could sing, had the kind of voice that was soft and low, a little raspy but easy to harmonize with. She wrote incredible songs that held so much depth and emotion and she could play multiple instruments. Harry could see her selling out stadiums and connecting to people through music that she wrote and performed. Yet she didn't.

"I never really had the desire to," Y/n said with a shrug. They were in his backyard, sitting around a bonfire with a bottle of wine between them. It was her turn to pick, and Chris Stapelton was crooning through her phone's speaker.

"Is it like a stage fright thing?"

"No, not at all," Y/n said. "I just don't think that life was made for me, you know? I don't know if I could handle being famous."

Harry supposed he understood what she meant. He loved his life, but it wasn't always a walk in the park. But it did make him wonder if she would ever be with someone like him, someone who did lead a life that she thought she couldn't handle. For the first time since he'd met her, Harry decided he didn't want to know.

"What about...singing backup or joining your favorite musician on tour once he releases the greatest album since...So?"

"I didn't peg you for a Peter Gabriel fan," she murmured, immediately recognizing the title, and Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that she knew exactly what album he was referring to. "But, I guess so. If it was for a friend."

Harry tucked that little nugget of information away. Tour was worlds away at the moment, but it was always good to think ahead, especially when he knew he needed a keyboardist replacement.

Looking up, he admired Y/n in the glow of the bonfire, his heart beating rapidly even though she wasn't even doing anything. Ever since their first kiss a week ago, he just wanted more. His brain could hardly keep up with his heart and how badly it longed for her. And she didn't even realize the effect she had on him. She drove him crazy.

And that scared him. Harry had only recently broken up with his ex, and he didn't think it was possible to feel so strongly for someone after coming out of a pretty serious relationship with someone else. He knew he should untangle the strings, that if he let things get too far, they'd get messy, and he and Y/n would both end up hurt.

But that voice in his head that told him to be careful became a low buzz as Y/n stood up and shuffled over to him before placing herself in his lap. Her fingers came up to play with the hair that curled at the nape of Harry's neck, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the feeling, at her closeness, at the smell of her perfume that lingered on her clothes.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself and not to Harry. "And I don't have any expectations, but I'm okay with it if you are."

Yet. Y/n didn't have any expectations yet. He knew the familiar thudding of his heart, the excited flutter in his stomach as he leaned into her touch. Of course there would be expectations, but Harry found himself nodding anyway, unable to deny either of them the pleasure of her lips sliding lightly against his. Y/n had never initiated anything between them before, and her tentative kiss told Harry she was unsure of herself. At first glance, she came off as unsure when it came to most things, but Harry learned that she held within herself a quiet confidence that he admired.

Harry stood up with her in his arms as he led them back inside. He didn't know where this would lead, tonight or any night to follow. He didn't know if Y/n was ready to sleep with him, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was either. But he wanted her close and to feel those gentle hands a little firmer in his hair. That was all he knew, and he let himself not think about anything else.

The tangles of his feelings were positively knotted, and despite his long list of things he knew about Y/n, he still didn't know where her heart truly lay. But if she was willing to walk through the fire blind, then so was he.

*.*

Two weeks into Harry being gone, and you were starting to wonder when you'd become so pathetic.

In the time since Harry left for Japan, you hadn't written a single song, not even a lyric. It was ludicrous. You'd written by yourself your entire career, but after a couple months spent with a writing partner, you were rendered insipirationless.

Not to mention semi-friendless.

It wasn't that Harry's friends didn't want to hang out, you just weren't sure you could. Outside of Sylvia, you didn't hang out with Harry's team without him, and it just felt weird to start doing so now. You didn't shy away from them when you saw them in the hallways of the building you all worked in, but you never knew what to say past a casual greeting.

Funnily enough, though, you'd said everything you needed to say to Gavin. Meeting up with him eased a heaviness in your chest you'd been carrying around with you for the last two years. You both were able to get the closure that you'd been denying yourselves, and it felt good to get everything out in the open, to receive Gavin's forgiveness after punishing yourself for such a long time.

Seeing Gavin and talking to him left you feeling lighter, but it also left you a little hollow to. With no rain cloud hanging over your head anymore, you didn't know what to do with yourself. The concept of happiness was something you'd never thought you would get, and now that it was within reach you were hesitant.

"Maybe we need a sabbatical, pookie," you said to your dog, kissing his nose. "What do you think?"

Buddy Holly didn't have a response for you, he just tilted his head at the sound of your voice. Sighing, you scratched his head and pressed play on the movie you'd previously been watching before your dog unceremoniously climbed into your lap.

Now that Harry was gone on his journey of self-discovery, you'd gone back to spending your nights alone. In theory, it should've been easy. Before Harry, being alone was second nature, but your first night alone you were at a loss. You kept wanting to reach for your phone and call him, send him a text about the record you were listening to or the ridiculous thing Buddy had done that day. You didn't realize of much Harry had engrained himself into your life, and now he was half a world away.

Reaching out wasn't an option, either, no matter how much you wanted to. He didn't tell you much for his reasons for leaving, a "writing retreat," he claimed, but you knew it was more than that. There was shit he needed to figure out, shit regarding his past relationship, so you felt the ball was in his court.

The next day, you were on the elevator going up to work, arguing with your brother on the phone.

"Nothing's wrong, Hayden," you insisted, rubbing a tired hand over your face.

"No, there definitely is. Evan, Andrew, and I all agree," Hayden said. "Something's definitely wrong with you. And when something's wrong with you, it's usually one of three things. Menstruation, a guy, or one of us, and seeing as we haven't done anything, and your period doesn't—"

"Oh my God, Hayden!" you groaned as the elevator doors opened. "I'm not...menstruating. Jesus! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Hayden kept jabbering in your ear, but you weren't listening anymore because the elevator doors had opened to reveal someone on the other side. Mitch, Harry's friend was standing there, eyes wide as he looked at you, clearly having heard your side of the conversation with your brother.

God, could this day get any worse? you thought. Shutting your eyes, you wondered if you stood there long enough with your eyes closed, the elevator doors would close and take you straight to hell or you would maybe just disappear on the spot. Either would be appreciated.

"Hayden, I have to call you back."

"You're still coming to my game this weekend right?" he asked.

"Wearing the other team's jersey," you muttered, hanging up as your brother began to protest.

Since the elevator doors stayed open and you didn't spontaneously combust, you opened your eyes. "Hey."

Mitch nodded. "Hey, Y/n."

The air was so incredibly awkward, and you wondered why you weren't sprinting toward your studio and locking yourself in permanently. But neither of you moved, and now you felt the need to explain yourself. "I...I wish I had an explanation other than my brothers still seem to ruin my life from hundreds of miles away, but I don't."

You finally stepped out of the elevator and moved around Mitch, who stepped inside. He still had that tense smile on his face, and you wondered if the two of you would ever be able to make eye contact again. Not that you ever did all that much before this God-awful incident. Just another reason to avoid Harry's friends.

"Right. H mentioned you had brothers," he said. "See you around, Y/n."

For my own sanity, I hope not, you prayed to whoever was listening.

*.*

"Do you ever think about what you would be doing if you weren't doing...this?" Y/n asked, gesturing vaguely around her.

Harry looked down to where she was spread out on the floor, her head rested in his lap while he leaned against his sofa. He wasn't quite sure how they ended up on the floor, but he didn't dare move, resisting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. It was shiny, and smelled faintly of apples. He wondered if it was as soft as he imagined.

Blinking, he stumbled around in his brain for an answer, clearing his head of thoughts of silky hair passing through his fingers. "Honestly? No, not really."

"You don't?"

Harry shrugged even though Y/n's eyes were closed. She did that often if there was music playing, as if she was trying to absorb every note into her body while maintaining a conversation. Right now they were listening to one of Harry's current favorites: a Joni Mitchell album he'd grown up listening to with his mum. He remembered when he used to scramble for answers in interviews when he was asked about his favorite artist or album, trying to come up with an answer that the media would want to hear without appearing fake. He'd list classic rock bands like Fleetwood Mac and wear old band t-shirts from the seventies. He didn't not like those artists, he loved them. But when Y/n asked about his favorite record in his collection, he didn't hesitate to reach for Joni Mitchell, knowing she wouldn't judge him for his answer.

"No. I was so young when I auditioned for the X-Factor," Harry explained. "I don't even think I knew what I wanted to study in school then, so it's hard to know what I would be doing now if it weren't for all...this."

And I wouldn't have met you, he thought but kept that to himself. Neither of them was ready for those kinds of words if he was being honest. Y/n was skittish about feelings at the best of times, and he didn't know where his feelings for her started, and getting over his ex ended. It gave him a headache if he thought about it too long, so he didn't.

Y/n sat up, and Harry resisted the urge to pull her back to him. As they hung out more and more, he had this overwhelming desire to be near her as much as possible. A hollowness would form in his chest if he didn't seek her out at the studio, leaving him blushing like an idiot every time he left his friends behind as he walked down the familiar hallway to her door. None of them ever said anything outright, but he could practically hear their teasing thoughts, but he couldn't help it. Y/n had drawn him in from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

"Maybe you'd be a florist," she said with a small grin.

"A florist?"

"Yeah." Y/n's grin grew, and Harry swore his heart grew with it. When he initially started spending time with her, or bugging her, more like, she hardly smiled. He thought it was such a shame. Not only because Y/n had a beautiful smile, but because she felt like she couldn't. Harry never wanted her to feel like she couldn't be happy, least of all around him. "You could have this big truck and deliver flowers to baby showers and weddings and other big occasions."

"Oh yeah? And where are you in this scenario?" he asked, somewhat nervous to hear the answer.

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as she looked at him. "In the passenger seat."

*.*

The third week Harry was gone, a stranger popped into your studio. A sense of deja vu had run through you as you looked up to find someone occupying the space in your doorframe, only Harry never knocked to make his presence known. You'd always just been aware of him when he entered the room.

"Can I help you?" you asked. You were working on a song that you actually quite liked. A new angle, a different approach to songs that you wanted to see through, and interruptions weren't going to help.

"Mitch said to come find you," he said. He looked a little nervous at having disrupted your work, so you eased up on your stare. "He said you could help us?"

Us? you thought. You supposed that it wasn't too far fetched that Harry's team would make themselves busy while he was off on sabbatical, or whatever it was he'd been doing in Japan. You hadn't heard from him much, and you tried not to let that hurt your feelings too much.

Brows furrowed, you said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I would help—"

"He said you've written for country artists before?" the guy said. "We're sort of stuck and he said to come find you, so..."

Sighing, you stood up, but not before jotting a couple notes down in your journal. Perhaps it was kismet that the song you'd been playing around with today had been country in your mind. The prospect of writing with anyone other than Harry felt odd, uncomfortable. But Harry wasn't here, and you didn't know when he would be back and you couldn't just hide in your studio because he'd left.

You didn't know what to expect as you followed the man, Daniel, he'd finally introduced, led you to a studio a couple rooms away from yours. You'd met Harry's writing and production team a number of times, but Harry wasn't a country artist, so Mitch was clearly helping out with a different project, which meant introducing yourself to a whole new group.

Mitch was waiting with one other person, a young woman who was about your age or younger. She had blond curly hair and light blue eyes, a smile on her face at something Mitch said. When you entered the room, you couldn't help but think back to last week when you'd completely embarrassed yourself in front of Mitch. You hadn't seen him since, and even though it was probably unlikely, you'd hoped you'd never have to again.

Introductions were made quickly before a chair was pulled out for you. The young woman's name was Cam, and she was working on putting out her first ever single. "And album eventually, but we're starting out small," she said with a bashful grin. "I'm such a huge fan of your work, and when Mitch said you were just down the hall, I told him he had to introduce me. I swear I love every song you've ever written."

Nodding, you gripped the soft leather binding of your journal, wondering what Mitch was angling at here. From the short amount of time you'd spent with him, he seemed rather quiet. A chill person who mostly kept to himself. You weren't sure why you were being dragged into one of his projects.

"Yeah. That's where I started my career," you said. "I'm sorry—Did you want my help with a song?"

"The whole album too, hopefully," Cam said, and you could see it in her eyes how bad she wanted this. She was ambitious, but not in a way that made you want to run back to your room and have nothing to do with this project. You eyed her scuffed boots and the worn friendship bracelets on her wrists and the hope that lined her body as she waited for you to say something.

"I usually work alone," you said. "But, I—I did happen to be writing something a little country today if you wanted to take a look."

You handed your journal over to the young woman, trying to decide if you wanted to be part of this little team. On the one hand, you thought Harry would be the only person you'd feel comfortable writing with, but...if he had a team, why couldn't you? Perhaps Harry had opened you up to the possibility of branching out and trying things you'd closed yourself off to in the past.

At the very least, you decided, you would hear her out, see how you gelled with this small group. If not for any other reason than as a small favor to an acquaintance. You didn't know Mitch all that well, but you considered him someone you knew.

And to be honest, maybe you were getting tired of staying holed up in a studio by yourself all the time.

So now you were meeting with Cam, Mitch, and Daniel regularly. That first day, you stayed at the studio late at night workshopping ideas and getting a feel for the sound and vision Cam was going for. And it was easy. Bouncing ideas off each other, picking up the guitar and playing a potential riff and letting Mitch carry it somewhere else, working out harmonies and melodies with Cam. You'd left the studio later than you ever had that night, but energy coursed through your veins as you left the building.

You'd never been a part of something at the start with the means to see it through. You usually wrote songs and sold them to whoever wanted them, and with Harry, you'd joined in songwriting when he and his team were well underway, but this...this was new, and you didn't hate it. In fact, you were looking forward to meeting the next day, and the next, and the next...

Weeks flew by as you worked on this album, and you suddenly lived off takeout boxes and snacks as you spent many a late night as you worked on song after song, eager to see this project come to life. There wasn't necessarily a deadline, but you were all just eager to keep working on what you all knew was something special. And today Mitch was going to teach you how to play the drums while Cam met with her record label for an hour. It felt like there was finally light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, one that you'd been winding through the last two years. It felt good to feel this light again, even your brothers got off your back a little, though you knew that wouldn't last very long.

"I'm on my way right now, and I'm bringing Buddy because he's being extra clingy today," you said into the phone. "He's also my reason for going home at a reasonable hour—"

Time stopped as you opened the door to your apartment. Your heart was in your throat, partly because you were startled to find someone on the other side, and then because your eyes finally registered who was on the other side.

"Y/n?"

Blinking, you quickly told Cam you had to go before hanging up the phone, slipping it in your coat pocket before letting it drop to the floor. You ran a hand over your face, wondering if you'd magically conjured him to your door, or if you were so tired you were suddenly delirious, but when you uncovered your eyes, he was still there, hands tucked in his pockets and a suitcase resting by his feet, a cat carrier on top of it.

"Harry? What—What are you doing here? When did you—"

There was no time to think or speak or breathe as Harry surged forward, his hands suddenly out of his pockets and settling deep in your hair, and kissed you.

The kiss was bruising, making it hard to think straight, making it hard to think about anything but him. His cologne flooded your senses as if you'd never smelled it before, making you sigh against his mouth and giving him ample opportunity to slide his tongue against yours as he backed you against the doorframe with a soft thud.

Your hands flew of their own accord, reaching beneath Harry's coat and gripping the shirt he wore beneath it. You needed to feel him, to know he was really here in front of you, that he wasn't going to evaporate in your hands leaving you with only the memory of his kiss. You'd had that particular dream one too many times.

Harry's hands smoothed down your sides, rucking up your shirt and setting your skin on fire when his thumbs brushed your ribcage. Your breaths stuttered until you finally had to pull back to catch it Instinctively, Harry followed, his mouth searching for yours, then your neck, but you held him in place for a moment.

"Wait," you said, breaths shallow. Harry stopped immediately, eyes roving your face in a similar way to how you were doing so. When he finally met your gaze, a small, shy smile, spread across your lips. "H—Hi."

Harry's responding grin was radiant. "Hi."

*.*

"I don't understand, when—when did you get back?"

It was safe to say you weren't going into the studio. There were about ten seconds of protesting before you finally caved, and it had nothing to do with Harry's lips on your neck or his hands sneaking beneath your shirt. "Stay," Harry had mumbled. "Please? There's so much I want to say."

So you stayed, though you hadn't really spoken much. You and Harry had ended up on your couch huddled up together under a blanket, Buddy Holly dozing at your feet. You kept waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. It was nice for a while, but you began to itch with the need for answers. You didn't want to immediately fall back into old habits the second he came back, even if laying flush against his chest was the most peaceful you felt in weeks. You were nervous to talk to him, to hear him say that after staying away for two months, he still didn't want a relationship. But even so, it would be better to know the truth and start getting over it now than to hold out hope.

"Today," Harry said. "I came straight here from the airport."

"Why? Wouldn't you want to go home? Get settled. Sweet Pea probably misses home."

Harry raised his head from where he'd been resting it in the crook of your neck. His brows raised suspiciously to where his cat was dozing on top of Buddy, as if she'd never left. "I think she's rather comfortable."

"You're awfully comfortable too," you said under your breath. Then, even though you felt so warm in his embrace, you sat up, putting some distance between yourself and Harry.

You could tell he wanted to protest, his sleepy eyes and mussed brown curls covering his forehead in a messy tangle told you that all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you. You wanted that too, but your mind kept drifting back to that last conversation, to that last exchange of words, and you let them keep that small bubble of distance between you and him.

"I need to know why you're here, H," you said, raising your knees up to your chest.

Harry could hear the seriousness in your voice, his expression sobering a little. He sat up too, facing you as he took up his place at the corner of the couch. There were only a couple inches between you, but it felt like Harry was still in Japan with how distant you felt from him now. He was home, but was he really? You didn't know how your friendship was going to evolve from here. You supposed you could be okay with just being his friend. It would sting, but you would get over it.

Eventually.

You hoped.

"I...just knew that this was where I needed to be," he said, not meeting your eye. "I came home and the only person I wanted to see was you."

His words meant more than you cared to admit. They filled you with warmth, bringing a flush to your cheeks that you prayed Harry didn't see.

"I missed you too," was all you could think of to say.

"And I—I want more," Harry said. "I was halfway across the world, and I was writing and walking around the city, and all I wanted was to share those moments with you and write with you and wake up next to you. I just...I want you in my life, Y/n."

"As your friend?" you asked, your voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

"However you'll have me."

Your heart leaped in your chest, but you stopped yourself from launching across the couch into his arms. It was all too good to be true. Harry wasn't ready for a relationship before he left, and you'd been gracious and understood where he was coming from. And now that a few weeks had passed, he suddenly wanted to be whatever you wanted him to be. In the back of your mind, the fact that he hadn't said "boyfriend" pricked a sensitive part of your brain. It was silly and minuscule, and it shouldn't have mattered, so you tried not to let it.

Still, you were unsure. You knew Harry would never be so cruel as to feed you words for the sake of placating you, but something left you hesitating. Maybe it was that the last time you saw Harry, he told you he couldn't give you what you wanted and now he was saying he could, or maybe your heart was still protecting you from potential pain, you weren't sure. But you couldn't give in.

Almost as if he could read the jumbled thoughts running around in your head, Harry inched toward you, his expression soft and open. "I can tell you're unsure, and I don't blame you," he said, taking a chance and reaching a hand across the couch to hold yours. "Let me prove it to you."

Brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side. "Prove it?"

"We'll go slow," Harry said as he nodded and moved closer. Close enough to tip your chin up with his knuckle. "We can do that, can't we? We don't have to rush things. We can just...go on a date and see what happens, right?"

Despite the hesitation, a smile twitched at the corner of your lips. "Harry Styles...are you asking me on a date?"

Harry's responding grin was wide and sweet as honey. "Only if you're saying yes."

Eight weeks ago, you'd stepped out of your comfort zone by asking Harry for more, and watching him walk away hurt more than you ever thought it would. Your instinct was to hide, to crawl back into your shell before you could get hurt again. But you knew Harry had been hurt before too, and now he was trying. Even though they'd both had their hearts broken for different reasons and had every reason not to give into their feelings and hide, preferring to be alone.

It took you two years to..."forgive yourself" didn't seem like the right words. To be ready to put yourself into the world again, to allow yourself the possibility of hurting and being hurt in that way again. Your scars had healed over into faint white lines after two whole years. Nearly imperceptible, but still there, a subtle but constant reminder of what you stood to lose if you ruined things again. But also a reminder that you could love and lose and still heal, and maybe even love again. Harry hadn't been there when he left, and at the time you hoped he would be. And maybe part of you knew he would be, because you'd gotten there too in your own way.

The hope that kindled in your chest made you nervous, but it made you excited too.

"I—I don't want you to feel like you have to do this because—"

Harry's index finger was on your lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes nearly crossed as you looked down your nose at it, and you heard his chuckle at what was most likely a silly look on your face. "I know I don't have to do anything, Y/n. I needed some time to clear my thoughts and untangle all of my feelings. I want this. I want you."

Over your time spent with Harry, you'd come to realize he had expressive eyes. While he kept a lot to himself and didn't share much unless it was through songwriting, his eyes said everything. This close to his face, you could see the honesty, the earnestness. You decided to believe him, to believe in whatever had been forming between you since the first time you'd met.

Not holding back, you did lunge for him this time, but gently, seeing as he was so close. Harry seemed surprised by your sudden movements but didn't stop you as you took his face in your hands and kissed him for all he was worth. You felt his face slowly split into a grin as his hands roved up and down your back, as if he was finally reacquainting himself with your body. Or maybe it was that this kiss was different from all the others, with different expectations and intentions and promises for more.

"What happened to slow?" he asked, teasing as you nipped at his ear.

"Tell me to stop," you said, feeling out of breath.

He didn't, you knew he wouldn't, but that only made him grin even more. "I still want to do things properly," he told you, leaning back against the couch and taking you with so that you were on top of him, your body flush against his. "I want to take you out, I want to hold your hand and pull your chair out for you at dinner."

Resting on your elbows, you lightly traced the delicate planes of his face with your finger. Harry's eyes tracked your movements while he waited for you to answer, kissing the pad of your index finger when it passed over his lips. You smiled a little, unsure of where all this giddiness was coming from but hoping it wouldn't go away.

"I want that too," you murmured before kissing the tip of his nose. "But maybe that can start tomorrow."

Harry's hand came up to cradle the side of your face, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. Everything already felt different. New and fragile and breakable. So, so breakable.

"Your heart was glass, I dropped it," you'd written way back. You had the potential to break Harry's heart. But the notion that you wouldn't was so intrinsic in that moment, you felt like the only way you would crack the glass this time was by squeezing too hard, by liking him too much.

You didn't know what you would do if Harry would drop yours.

It was a terrifying thought, one that was too dreadful for the peaceful bliss taking over your apartment. Harry was looking at you like your hair was made of stars or pure sunlight, and it warmed every inch of you down to your bones as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone.

"I can get behind that," he said quietly.

After that, you finally relaxed. Your head found purchase on his chest, comfortable against the soft material of his sweatshirt despite the firmness of his body beneath you. You breathed in deep, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it all out in one soft exhale. With that breath, you felt the last of your doubts flutter away—for now, at least—allowing you to believe in the promise Harry offered you.

*.*

"Come on. If you're not going to let me go to work, you're gonna help me here."

You managed to untangle yourself from Harry, who pouted at you as he remained sprawled out on your bed. Leaving him there, you went to the front door to where you'd left your guitar case when you found him on your doorstep yesterday. Slipping your well-loved guitar from the case, you walked back over to Harry, who was now sitting up on the couch. His eyes tracked your every move as you made your way back over to him. His stare felt heated, causing a flush to your cheeks, but you ignored it as you settled on one end of the couch, resting the guitar in your lap.

"Looks like you already have something in mind," Harry said. He still sounded playful, but you knew he wasn't going to try and dissuade you from this. He was just as eager to write as a team as you were.

Writing without Harry while he was gone was strange. At first you thought you'd be fine, seeing as you'd preferred working in solitude most of your professional career. Yet when he left, you were unable to write. You found yourself looking for him, raising your head to ask what he thought of a melody when he wasn't there, thinking out loud as if he was still in the room to bounce ideas off of.

You'd missed him in more ways than one, that was certain. This new dynamic with Mitch had been good, fun even. You attributed your openness to teamwork to Harry, and now you were nearly finished with an album, a project you'd been part of from start to finish, something you'd never really been able to say before. You'd enjoyed going into the studio to work with Mitch, to share song ideas with Cam and see where she took them. If given the option, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

But something in you settled as you began to idly pluck at the strings of your guitar, Harry sifting through his duffle bag until he produced his leatherbound journal from it. You felt comfortable, complete, not an atom out of place as you began to sing the lyrics of a partial song you were going to work on with your team today.

"There is a town, somewhere down a country road," you sang softly. "I see it now, take it everywhere I go. The river sways, I can almost here it now. As if to say, 'You're not the only one who wants a way out.'"

"That's nice," Harry said, his thumb tapping against his knee in time with the music coming from your guitar. "Something new?"

"I've had the idea for a song about a small town for a while," you said, fingers still plucking at the guitar strings, though not with much intent while you spoke to Harry. "My hometown."

Nodding, Harry said, "You don't talk about your home much."

"Not much to say," you shrugged. "At least I thought so. Now I just keep thinking how so much has changed since I moved away. How much I've changed,"

"Good changes, I hope," he said.

You shrugged again, trying not to let the topic make you squirm. You normally didn't around Harry, but perhaps being away from him for so long had you shying away just a little. "Good and...neutral, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I've changed so much I can't even reconcile who I was then and the person I am now. Not really sure if that's a good or bad thing yet. To be determined, I suppose."

Harry processed the information quietly, letting the conversation end there. You fell into a comfortable silence as both of you played around with lyrics and melodies in your own heads. You eventually grabbed your own journal to jot notes down in, and at one point Harry took your guitar into his own lap to play around, humming quietly to himself.

His plucking of the strings slowly became something less abstract and more concrete, and it eventually became the backdrop to your thinking process. You liked the tune he played better than what you'd originally come up with, and you let it guide your pen as you jotted down words and phrases until you eventually had something that might've been a pre-chorus or a bridge. Shifting closer to Harry on the couch, you showed him what you had so far, hoping he'd be able to fill in the gaps like he normally could.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he took your journal and pen from your offering hands. For a minute, the only sound was the tapping of the pen in his hand in time with the melody he'd been playing moments ago. You watched with slow blinking eyes as he eventually began to scribble his own little notes beside yours, sometimes writing lyrics of his own and occasionally circling a word you'd written and putting a suggestion above it.

The scratching of pen on paper was an unusual lullaby, but sure enough, the warmth emanating from Harry's body and the familiarity of this moment, yet something precious and new blooming between you, was enough for your breaths to deepen, your blinks to become fewer and far between. Even after being on a plane all the way from Japan, the scent of Harry's cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used lingered on his clothes. It was so familiar, as much of a welcome home as him actually being here beside you.

Breathing in deep, you huddled closer to Harry. Feeling your movements at his side, Harry shifted so that you were leaning against him more comfortably, his body solid yet soft beneath your cheek. "I missed this," you murmured, the words clinging together as you inched closer and closer toward sleep. "I missed you."

There was no stiffening of his posture at the words, no hesitation or uncertainty as he said, "I missed you too."

*.*

"Don't leave again," Y/n said.

Harry was pretty sure she was already half asleep, was sure she wouldn't even remember this conversation when she woke up in a couple of hours. But even so, the words made him pause, the pen in his hand jerking almost imperceptibly.

Y/n hadn't brought up his departure since he'd come back yesterday. Even now, she didn't sound resentful, though that could've been the fact that she was seconds away from falling asleep, but Harry didn't think so. Yet in her current limbo between states of consciousness, she revealed something that she probably wouldn't have if she'd been fully awake.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you by going," he said, and he knew he was a bastard for saying it when she was seconds from falling asleep.

A deep breath, then another, then another.

"Don't leave me again," was all she said in reply, perhaps all she could muster just before unconsciousness finally settled over her like a blanket.

Harry's heart clenched. Don't leave me again, she told him. He'd learned rather quickly that despite all that she'd been through, Y/n hid a gentle heart behind all those walls she put up. A heart that had been battered and bruised and hidden away after so much unhappiness. Harry realized early on in their semi-friendship that he never wanted to be the reason for another wall between Y/n and the rest of the world; he wanted to be someone she could entrust to protect her gentle soul, to be someone who helped her realize she was much more fierce than she knew.

Knowing he'd caused her pain by leaving dug at him, even if leaving was in some ways very necessary. Harry needed that distance, that time away to clean up the mess his ex had left in him. Nothing about his previous relationship's demise was simple, and the things he'd begun to feel for Y/n while still trying to untangle himself from his ex only complicated things. Harry knew it would be a disservice to both himself and Y/n if he jumped into something he wasn't ready for. He felt horrible that night she'd laid all her cards on the table before him. He knew that it had taken a lot to state what she wanted from him so plainly, to realize that she was still deserving of more after what she'd been through. And Harry had to offer the same honesty, even if it was something even he didn't want to hear.

But it had been the right thing. For both of them. Of that he was sure. Harry had done a lot of introspecting, had allowed himself to simply be alone in a way he hadn't been for a long time. His last relationship was perhaps the most significant, but it was one in a rather long list of failed attempts to find love. His friends often teased him for not knowing how to not be in a relationship, and after this last breakup, he realized how right they were.

Harry liked Y/n. He was fascinated by her talent as a songwriter and enamoured by the person she was outside the studio. He liked her chunky patterned sweaters and the array of rings on her fingers that changed from day to day. He liked that she wasn't perfect, that she was shy to an almost stubborn degree, that he had to work hard to piece together who she was bit by bit until a beautiful mosaic was laid out in front of him.

But he needed to know that he knew how to be alone before giving himself over to her entirely. Who was he outside of a romantic relationship? Harry honestly had no idea, and while that had never even so much as itched his brain before, it terrified him after things ended with his ex. He owed it to himself to try to stand on his own two feet, to live on his own and know that he could be content to do so. He didn't need a relationship to be happy, that was what he set out to discover.

And once he did. Once he lived and wrote songs and got coffee and ate by himself, and didn't feel like an utter disaster, he knew he'd be okay.

Harry enjoyed himself in Japan. He'd committed himself to this soul-searching endeavor and actually came out on the other side of it pleased with himself. And at the end of it all, when he knew a relationship with Y/n wasn't something he needed but something he wanted, he knew he was ready to go home. He wanted her a lot, to be fair, so much so that he often wrote about her, and talked about her to the few friends he made in Japan. But being alone didn't kill him, and he was able to see that for himself the two months he was gone.

He left his feelings for his ex in Japan, letting every last bit of baggage he'd been quietly carrying around with him slide off his shoulders, holding onto those precious little blossoms of feeling for Y/n and bringing them home, right to her doorstep.

The plan hadn't been to go straight to her apartment, but that was where he told his driver to go when he slid into the backseat of the sleek black car his manager had sent to pick him up. Harry was actually supposed to go home and rest so he could meet with his label and discuss the progress of his album, but he stayed at Y/n's place anyway. He knew these next few months as the album went into recording and production mode wouldn't leave much time to spend alone with Y/n, and he needed these fleeting moments. He needed to hear all about the new album she was helping to write and what she and Buddy Holly had gotten up to while he was gone. He needed to kiss her, to touch her, to let her fall asleep against him while they wrote a song about a small town.

"I won't, I promise," Harry murmured, even though he knew Y/n was already asleep.

It was perhaps a promise to himself. He knew Y/n would never be that vulnerable, wouldn't reveal just how much she cared for him if she'd been entirely conscious. She'd been forgiving, if not a little hesitant when he showed up on her doorstep, but she'd never resented him for leaving. At least he thought she didn't. She'd been understanding when he left, but in her sleepy state, he saw a little bit of the hurt he'd inflicted by leaving, by rejecting her desire for something more with him.

Harry knew he'd done it for the right reasons, but guilt curled in his chest at the thought of hurting Y/n. He would commit himself to not doing it again, to be someone worthy of her vulnerability. Harry was aware of how precious it was for Y/n to open herself up to him like this. He wouldn't take that gift for granted.

Shifting around a bit, Harry took Y/n into his arms and stood up. He padded down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom, where a large, four-poster bed with a mountain of pillows and one stuffed animal lay on. He set her down on white sheets with little red polka dots, pulling up the covers over both of them. Y/n curled into Harry immediately, and he didn't even bother trying to shove away the warmth that spread through him.

With Y/n's cheek squished adorably against his chest, Harry rested his arm behind his head as his eyes flitted about her bedroom.

He'd been inside it a handful of times, but it never failed to amaze him, because for someone so convinced they were undeserving of love, they sure loved heart decorations. Retro Valentine hearts were mounted on one wall, twinkly lights dangling between them; pink and red heart-shaped candles remained unlit on her vanity, a heart-shaped guitar on a stand next to it. Everything centered around something pink or red—the sheets, the pillows, the jewelry dishes and mirrors, even the stuffed bunny under her pillow that Harry knew Y/n slept with, even if she wouldn't admit it.

It was a mystery he'd yet to solve, but he imagined that would come in time.

Soon enough, Harry's own eyes began to droop. He nestled deeper into the bed, trying not to completely drape himself over Y/n. They'd never actually spent the night in the same bed before last night. Sometimes they'd fall asleep together on the couch, but this was different. Last night, they'd collapsed into bed after staying up late talking, nearly well into the morning. There had been no tangled limbs or breaths keeping time because they slept so close together, just two people in dire need of sleep.

In some ways, Harry wondered if it was too much as they were only just beginning to explore this thing between them, but he couldn't make himself leave. He turned over so his back was to her, trying to provide a modicum of space should Y/n want it, but not even a minute later, an arm snaked around his waist, a cheek pressed against his back as one of her legs slotted between his.

It was safe to say Harry fell asleep with a small grin and a full heart.

*.*

The following weeks flew by, and you saw Harry every single moment that you could.

Now that his album was in the later stages of production, he was constantly in meetings for promotion—release dates, interviews, live performances, and concept art for the album. You stayed out of those conversations, as you had your own projects to complete and deadlines to meet. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. You'd never been part of those conversations before, as you merely wrote your songs and sold the demos to artists or bands. Seeing an album from start to finish was intriguing, though perhaps part of the reason was the hand you played in it and how important Harry was to you.

But even with all of that going on, Harry stayed true to his word.

He made every moment count. Suddenly there were flowers on top of the grand piano when you entered your studio, and he stopped by whenever he could. Each petal, each little note attached to the bouquets, filled your stomach with butterflies. And after you were both done for the day, Harry invited you over to cook dinner and listen to records. The atmosphere was different than before Harry left, a more romantic feel in the air as you sat across from each other, the warm glow of candles the only lighting in the room.

With the public attention Harry tended to get, you both agreed to keep things quiet for now. You'd always preferred anonymity, and although you knew your relationship would eventually become public, you wanted it to stay between you and Harry and your friends and family. Hopefully in the future, when this precious thing between the two of you wasn't so new, you would feel more comfortable. Until then, it would be secret dates and romantic dinners from home, but that didn't make it feel any less special or real.

It didn't take long for your friends to notice, though.

You and Harry didn't have much to hide in front of Sylvia and the rest of the people who made up your little group, but neither you nor Harry really went out of your way to tell anyone about the slight change since he had come back from Japan.

One night, Sylvia decided to switch up the usual gatherings from game night to a night at a karaoke bar. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved watching everyone drink and take up a mic in the private room that had been rented out. Harry stayed by your side most of the night, an arm wrapped around your waist, his thumb subtly sneaking beneath the hem of your patchwork top to graze your skin and leave goosebumps in its wake, and a neat tequila in his other hand, your leather jacket draped over his arm after he insisted on carrying it for you. You opted for a margarita, sipping on it idly while you went between talking to Harry and watching the chaos unfold in front of you.

"What do you say, are we up next?"

"We?" you asked incredulously. "You go. I've actually been wanting to see you perform."

Harry chuckled, his nose brushing against your temple. "Come on, love. For me?"

You both knew you had a soft spot when Harry pleaded with you. Just one more hour at his place, just one more kiss, getting his favorite takeout, all of it just required a slight widening of his eyes and him saying, "Pleeeease," or, "For me?" as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose, and he had you. It was mostly harmless, but just like all the other times, it was working now.

"I don't know..." you said anyway, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. Harry only doubled down, which was exactly your goal.

"Please? I'll make it worth your while."

So that was how you ended up in front of the rest of your group of friends, a mic in your hand as you waited for Harry to pick the song. When the opening chords sounded through the speakers, you beamed, looking over at him with raised brows. Harry just sauntered over to you with a small grin, dancing over to you in that silly way of his that you learned was a unique trait he possessed.

"Islands in the Stream" was one of the songs the two of you had bonded over the last few months. You'd played it for him on the drive to Buddy Holly's favorite dog park, and the two of you sang it most car rides ever since.

Harry started the song, and you joined in, keeping your eyes on him for most of it. He definitely had more stage presence than you did, which you were fine with, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy yourself. Harry's eyes were on you the whole time too, his hip bumping against yours and spinning you around occasionally.

By the time it was over, there were cheers all around, and not just because Harry kissed you at the end. You'd made it all of two steps off the makeshift stage in the private room before you were tugged into a corner away from everyone else.

"What the hell was that?"

Sylvia was looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, though a grin stretched her cheeks. You couldn't hide your blush, opting to take the drink that Harry handed you once he found you again. "What?"

"You—You two are unbelievable," she laughed. "So this is real now? You two aren't acting like children anymore and pretending you aren't in love with each other?"

Trust Sylvia to make things between you and Harry awkward. Both of you laughed, though yours was more nervous because she'd revealed a truth you weren't quite ready to accept. Harry merely draped a hand over your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

*.*

"You look nervous," you said, taking Harry's hand that rested on the gear shift.

"Me? Never," Harry insisted, though he gripped your hand a little too tightly for you to believe it.

"It's just one brother," you said, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

You wouldn't lie to him and say meeting all three of your brothers at once would've been a walk in the park. But this was just Andrew, who was only in town for a night. You were pretty sure Hayden and Evan sent Andrew to investigate your relationship with Harry. For that exact reason, you hadn't divulged much to any of your brothers. After the whole, "Are you sure you're not menstruating" incident, you'd been giving Hayden the cold shoulder, so you knew for a fact that he'd enlisted Andrew's help to, at the very least, get back in your good graces, and hopefully get a little intel on your budding relationship.

"Andrew's harmless, I promise," you said. "He's about as threatening as a puppy."

Harry chuckled as he pulled into the trendy bar you had agreed to meet your brother at. "See, I want to believe you, but I've seen your brother play hockey, so...I don't."

Leaning across the center console, you kissed his cheek, quickly wiping away the lip gloss you'd left behind. Even in the dim lighting of the car, you saw Harry blush, which made you nudge him with your nose playfully. "I'll keep him in line, I promise."

You led Harry inside the bar, entering through a side door to remain relatively unnoticed, neck craning for your brother. Andrew wasn't hard to spot, his long arms waving back and forth from a tall table tucked in the corner of the bar. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you walked over to where your brother stood by waiting with open arms.

"How's my little sister?" Andrew asked as he squeezed the living daylights out of you.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to remind him you were older. Instead, you stepped back and introduced him to Harry. For all his nerves, Harry didn't show it as he shook Andrew's hand and asked how he was doing. Even when you knew your brother squeezed his hand too hard, Harry just smiled and sat down on the barstool.

Things went surprisingly well. Despite your earlier reassurances, you'd been a little nervous about the questions Andrew might ask, ones not necessarily thought up by him, but by the brothers who were absent tonight.

"So, Harry, where do you see this relationship with my sister going? I noticed she didn't introduce you as her boyfriend."

Perhaps you'd spoken too soon.

"Andrew, seriously?" you said, kicking him under the table. "Tell Evan to butt out."

"Evan's not—"

"Oh please," you said. That question had your oldest brother written all over it. "Andrew, you leave our brothers out of this or I'll tell Harry what they used to call you in high school."

Blushing, Andrew backed down immediately, a flush crawling up his neck. You didn't like stooping to your brothers' level, usually the silent treatment got your brothers to grovel after pissing you off, but they really couldn't be surprised when you did from time to time. You learned from the best after all.

Clearing his throat, Harry broke up the stare down you and Andrew had been locked in. "Um, to answer your question, I think we both—not to speak for you, Y/n—but I think we both see this evolving into something more, we just haven't had that conversation yet."

His words filled you with warmth. You'd been thinking the same—you wanted more from Harry when he came back, and things had progressed from there. You didn't think boyfriend and girlfriend titles were far off, but now that you knew where you and Harry both stood, you were okay with taking things slow.

Not that Andrew, or your other brothers, for that matter, needed to know that.

The rest of the night went much better. Andrew eased up and was finally able to ask questions that had nothing to do with the intimate details of your relationship with Harry, and when Harry began asking Andrew about playoffs, it was all your brother could do to not talk about hockey.

Your brother left you and Harry in the parking lot with a final farewell of, "You're alright, Harry Styles, and you," he said facing you with a pointed stare. "Stop ignoring Hayden, please. You know how he gets when you don't give him attention."

Huffing, you said, "I'll think about it."

Andrew grinned. Your brothers were a lot of things, but from the moment you became a part of the family, you were a little princess to all of them. Evan, Hayden, and Andrew had their moments, but they never liked to make you too mad. Most of the time. Still, you knew Andrew, and you knew he liked to be the unspoken, "favorite brother."

Harry took you home, his hand in yours the whole way back. Neither of you said anything, unwinding from the interesting night. It honestly could've gone a lot worse, in your opinion. Andrew really was the least of your worries.

Like a gentleman, Harry walked you to the door when you got home. You held back from unlocking your apartment and stepping inside despite the cold, taking his hand in yours. "I'm sorry if things were a little tense tonight."

Harry shook his head. "You really have them wrapped around your finger, you know that?"

"They have good intentions. They just...they were all I had for a long time. They're protective. Especially Evan."

Growing up, your brothers were pretty much your whole family. You were all bonded by the same shitty father, growing up raising and protecting each other. You knew the questions and the protective attitudes came from a good place, especially after the way things broke down with Gavin and his family. Evan saw how much it affected you, and probably just didn't want to see you get hurt again.

"Well, I'm glad. Even if they do slightly terrify me."

"They're big pushovers," you said with a laugh. "And like you said, they're wrapped around my finger. You'll be fine, I promise."

Harry smiled, tipping your chin up. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Mhmm," was all you could manage as he began to kiss your neck, a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk weather licking down your spine. The excitement that surged through you almost had you leaping into his arms. You settled for wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know we've been taking things slow, but I—I wouldn't mind it."

"You wouldn't mind what?" Harry teased, pulling away slightly when you tried to kiss him. "Might need to do a little better than that if you want me to be your boyfriend."

Everything was so easy with Harry. The playful teasing, the serious conversations, getting drinks with your overprotective brother, all of it. You hadn't wanted someone this much since—well, since forever. Harry just made you so happy, and you wanted to chase that feeling, not hide from it. You spent way too much time hiding from life, from love.

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your fingers curling around the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Harry backed you against the door to your apartment, the hum coming from his chest once your tongues brushed together reverberating through you. His cheeks were cold as you held them in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to haul him inside and never let him leave. But he had to be up early tomorrow and had to go back to his cat. You would make sure he'd regret leaving, though.

Eventually, you let go of him, your hands smoothing down the knit sweater he wore. You'd spent ages on the phone with him as he freaked out over what to wear. One coat was too flashy, but that t-shirt said he wasn't putting in any effort and didn't care about meeting a member of your family. On and on until you eventually made him turn the camera around to face his closet and pick something out for him. Black jeans and a black sweater with colorful depictions of the solar system eventually convinced him to finally leave the house. It was a little silly, but you appreciated how much effort he wanted to put into meeting Andrew, who absolutely would have reported back to Hayden and Evan what Harry wore, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"I don't want to be scared of feeling good anymore," you whispered. "I don't want to feel guilty for chasing something that feels right. Please tell me you feel the same."

"I do," Harry murmured. His forehead rested against yours as his hands found the perfect place on your waist, finding the sliver of skin revealed between your halter top and your jeans, and the look in his eyes was something so comforting, a safe assurance you hadn't felt in a long time.

Harry made you feel safe. He made you smile and knew things about you no one else did, not even your brothers, and he didn't seem put off by it. He understood your creative process, gave you space when you needed it, and was there for you when needed someone but didn't know how to ask.

You were still perhaps too scared to even think about the word love, but looking up at Harry then, you thought there might be a day where you felt brave enough to tell him how you really felt.

*.*

The club was packed tonight, bodies surrounding you on all sides. As someone bumped into you from behind, you gripped Mitch's arm on instinct, determined not to fall over or get swept up in the sea of people waiting for the band to start their set.

"Remind me why we're here again?" you asked, shouting over the crowd and thumping bass.

For a moment, you worried Mitch hadn't heard you, but then he shouted back, leaning in close so you could hear him. "Because they asked us to be here. We heard their demos, and you said they had potential. And—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. I just didn't think there'd be this many people."

"Kind of a good thing though, isn't it?" a voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you couldn't help the wide grin that took over your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mitch give you a pointed look, but you ignored it, throwing your arms around Harry. "You found us!"

"Course. I could spot my two best friends from a mile away."

Being regarded as Harry's friend made your stomach tighten despite knowing he didn't mean it that way, especially since you were around so many people. And yet, it had you overthinking.

Don't be stupid, you thought, blinking those thoughts away. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you let go. "Did you get into the venue okay?"

You, Harry, and Mitch talked to—talked at, more like—each other before the show, huddled together and trying not to draw attention to yourselves. Because of the packed venue, you and Harry were able to stand relatively close to one another, your hands brushing occasionally. With Harry so close to you like this and unable to kiss his cheek at the very least, and you could tell he was having the same struggle. He was pressed up against your back, at one point, then his arm was draped over your shoulders, and when the lights finally dimmed as the set began, he was as close as he could be, his arm wrapped around your waist as you watched the band perform.

The band played music that was loud, full of heavy base lines and guitar riffs and drum solos that had the crowd jumping and jostling around. Harry was a steady force at your back until you eventually joined in with the audience, dancing along to the music beside Mitch.

In the few weeks you and Mitch worked on writing Cam's album together, you'd ended up spending more time outside of the studio as well. It was almost always music related, the two of you going out to see live performances in some form or another—local bands, shows at the Troubador and the Whiskey, performers just starting out in dive bars. It was something you typically did on your own, a good way to discover new artists and experience different sounds, and Mitch was more than happy to join you, showing you a couple of his favorite haunts, ones that he played in from time to time.

It was nice to get out of your apartment, to hang out with someone who appreciated discovering new music as much as you did. Mitch had helped you expand your horizons and had even taught you a thing or two about playing drums after you were particularly enthralled by a grunge band. It had become part of your routine as much as writing in the studio had—going out once or twice a week to find new talent and sometimes meeting up with the artist or band afterward to see if they were interested in collaborating. That wasn't always the goal, but there were moments when you couldn't help yourself.

"You were right. They do have potential," Mitch said. Both of you were buzzing after the performance, talking animatedly about the band and their set.

"I know! And I really liked their sound. There was something so nostalgic about it, but not in a gimmicky way, you know?"

Harry walked a couple paces behind you and Mitch as you ambled down the sidewalk toward where you'd parked. He'd been quiet coming out of the show, but you didn't think anything of it.

You kept talking to Mitch, promising to stop by the studio for another drum lesson when you had the chance, or when he had the chance, more like. Now that Harry's album was less an idea and more a fully realized project with a release date, Harry and Co. had been pretty busy lately. And once the album finally came out...well, you'd cross that bridge eventually.

When Mitch was gone, headed home in his car, you walked a little further to your side-by-side with Harry. You leaned in close, not really caring if anyone saw. Even through the layers of his heavy coat, you could feel the warmth that he emanated naturally. You loved being tucked into his side or curled around him, or just being as close to him as possible, an alarming amount. The word "love" fluttered through your mind every now and again, but you swatted it away every time. It was much too soon, and while you'd made many strides, there were still parts of you that remained afraid.

Afraid of what would happen if you got too attached and things ended, afraid of the distance rapidly approaching once Harry's album came out, afraid of your inner saboteur. It was all there, lingering, waiting to strike at any moment.

"Good show, right?" you said to Harry, eager to shake off the dark turn your thoughts had taken. "Mitch and I have been wanting to see them for ages."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes remaining on the street ahead. Then, "I...I didn't realize you spent so much time with him while I was gone."

"I honestly didn't expect to, but he was still working in the studio. We made quite the team."

Because you were so close, you felt Harry's whole body stiffen. A split second too late, you realized your poor choice of words.

"I—I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Y/n," Harry said, and he didn't sound mad at all. Maybe just a little hurt, but you had a feeling he was trying his best not to make you feel bad. "I can't be upset that you kept working when I left. That's silly of me."

"It's not," you assured. "I—You're kind of the reason I pushed myself to work with him, and others," you admitted.

"Really?"

Nodding, you said, "I've always worked on my own. Always. But then we started writing together and things just clicked, and when you left, I—I didn't want to deny myself the opportunity to make great music. I mean, you and your team were doing incredible stuff even before I came along. I guess I just wanted to be a part of something great in that way too. Mitch helped introduce me to a new artist and we collaborated on a project of our own. I didn't...I didn't want to go back to being alone again.

"But it isn't the same," you said, stopping Harry in his tracks. Looking up at him, you smiled, for no other reason than he was there and he was yours. "We...We work differently together. You have to know that."

Harry's responding grin was small. "It is quite magical, isn't it?"

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your hand cupping his cheek gently. The kiss was slow, gentle, a reassurance for the both of you. When you leaned back, yours and Harry's cheeks were flushed as you grinned brightly at each other.

As you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car, you said, "I can't believe you'd be jealous of Mitch."

Harry ducked his head bashfully. "Oh hush. I was not."

"He's your best friend, H," you giggled. "Not to mention very, very taken."

"I believe I mentioned it was silly, didn't I?"

Taking his hand, you kissed the top of it. "You did."

Harry peeled out of his parking space, promising to make it up to you as he handed his phone over to choose the playlist for the ride home.

When you unlocked his phone, the home screen wasn't what popped up. Instead, the messages app was open, a string of messages that hadn't been replied to yet, going back a few weeks.

Can we talk?

I miss you. I miss us.

The silent treatment is childish, H.

Please call me.

Your hands suddenly felt cold and clammy, and Harry's phone nearly slipped out of them and onto the floor.

"Everything okay?"

Harry's voice dragged you out of whatever headspace you'd been launched into. Looking up, you mustered a smile, hoping the car's darkness would mask how flimsy it truly was.

"Yeah. Fine," you said, your voice not sounding like your own.

Quickly exiting out of the app, you pulled up his music, choosing a playlist at random before setting his phone down in the cup holder.

You felt like you were on one of those theme park rides, the ones that reach the heights of tall buildings just to fall straight down. You felt weightless, but not in a good way. It was as if you were falling and there was nowhere safe to land. That feeling in your stomach only grew until you were sure you were going to be sick.

Harry continued on none the wiser, chatting about this and that. You weren't exactly sure what he said, his voice was suddenly white noise. But you must've given him coherent responses because he didn't question your behavior. The only time he did was when you didn't invite him up to your apartment.

"I'm just really tired," you managed to say. "One too many margaritas, I guess."

Not putting up too much of a fight, Harry grinned and gave you a kiss. Despite the dread you felt, it still filled you with butterflies. You cared for him so much you didn't know what to do with yourself sometimes. And now there was...this.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, a sweet smile on his face.

He acted as if nothing was wrong, and it was convincing too. Almost to the point that you wanted to believe it too. Those messages were days old, save the most recent one, and Harry hadn't replied to any of them. That had to mean something.

Right?

*.*

After mentioning what you found to Sylvia, she demanded that what you needed was retail therapy. Shopping wasn't your favorite pastime, but you desperately needed a friend.

You met with her at an outdoor shopping mall, bundled up in your softest sweatshirt and puffy coat for comfort more than because of the weather. You hadn't wanted to go out at all today, or the last couple days since you saw Harry's messages. There had been an attempt to have Sylvia just come over so you could day drink together, but she wasn't having it.

So now you were wading through store after store, internally freaking out about where your relationship was headed. It was just getting off the ground, and now it was crumbling before your eyes. Harry was none the wiser, of course, but that was only because he was busy this week and you pretended to be busy because you weren't sure if you could keep it together in front of him. You needed a third-party perspective, a voice of reason before you sat down and talked to him about all this.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Sylvia asked gently.

One thing you liked about Sylvia was that she was bold and brash and didn't try to mince her words, but you appreciated her tone now. Friend of Harry's first or not, she was here for you, and seeing as there weren't many people you could turn to, you needed her now more than ever. You could talk to your brothers, but you didn't want them to come out and hurt him. You would go to them if there was something serious going on.

"I...I thought we were finally on the same page," you said, and then it all came spilling out of you. You replayed that night in Harry's car as you combed through a rack of dresses. Sylvia was quiet through all of it, not saying anything until you were finished. "I don't know what to do. Is he—I never asked because it wasn't really my business, but he was clearly torn up over their break up. Do you think it's possible that he's not over her?"

Because that was what kept you up at night. Before he left, Harry hadn't been ready for a relationship. You knew there wasn't an exact timeline for healing a broken heart, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and now all you could think about was him leaving you for his ex. The thought terrified you. It made you want to run before you learned the truth, spare yourself the trouble of looking like an idiot.

But you called Sylvia instead, knowing running was not the best option, even if it was the most familiar.

"Oh, babe," she sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Harry was in love with her. They were...there's no other way to put it. They loved each other."

The whimper that escaped your lips was an accident, and when Sylvia heard it, she pulled you in for a hug. "He was in love with her," she repeated as she ran a soothing hand up and down your back. "I truly believe he's moved on Y/n. Harry wouldn't do that to you."

"But what about her?" you said. "She wants him back, and he—he didn't tell me that she's been reaching out, and I just can't help but feel like their history will win out."

"I don't think you realize how happy you make him," Sylvia said. "Yes, Harry loved her, but they broke up for a reason. I don't see him giving things a second go, especially now that he's with you. He's happy, Y/n. He's happy because you make him happy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. You just have to sit down and hear him out."

"You really think so?"

"He lights up at the mere mention of your name. You—You're like the sun to him," Sylvia promised. "So don't run from this, okay? Talk to him. Hear him out. Make him sweat a little for keeping this from you, but you owe it to yourself to hear his side of things."

You nodded, feeling a little reassured by what she'd said. You wouldn't feel a hundred percent until you talked things out with Harry, but this is a good start. At the very least, it kept you from wanting to run and hide from all this.

Laughing a little, you wiped a stray tear from your eye. "You know, when you said you were Harry's life coach, I didn't imagine you'd end up being mine too."

"It's what I'm good for," she said. "Now, let's see about doing a little shopping, hm? Ooh! And maybe we get our nails done."

Looping her arm through yours, she dragged you into the next aisle, feeling lighter with every step you took.

*.*

"Where is he? I'll kill him!"

This was the third time you'd heard that in the last couple of hours.

"Stand down, Hayden," you said from beneath your mountain of blankets. "He's not here."

Your brother's eyes widened as he looked in your direction, as if he didn't expect the pile of blankets to speak. He stalked over to where Andrew and Evan were standing in front of you, taking on a perplexed disposition. None of your brothers had ever really seen you this way. All the pranks, all the times they royally pissed you off when you were younger, you never really let it get to you. You could tell that although they wanted to be here for you, they weren't entirely sure how.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just let me know where he is, Y/n."

They were doing their best to help, and you knew you owed them answers. You did call them after all. Well, that wasn't entirely true. You called Evan, who proceeded to call Andrew because your younger brother was closest in proximity to you. And Andrew called Hayden because of course he did. It was sweet that they all dropped everything to come see you, but now you felt put on the spot.

And you knew Hayden would make good on his word, and your other two brothers would have no trouble helping him, and that wasn't exactly what you wanted.

"I ended things with Harry," you said quietly.

"You said as much in your text, Y/n," Evan said. "But what happened? It seemed like you guys were really happy."

The thought of last night's events replayed in your mind, bringing a fresh wave of tears to the surface. Taking a shuddering breath, you said, "I thought we were too."

It all started last night at this party Harry invited you too. Something about fundraising and live music and dancing, and he said it was the perfect opportunity to get dressed up and go out and not worry about being photographed. You agreed, wanting to put the text messages from his ex that had yet to be discussed far from your mind. You knew you should've said something, but you wanted to give Harry the opportunity to come clean himself. The fact that he hadn't kept you up at night, but you promised yourself—and Sylvia—that you would bring it up after the party.

"Just one more night of normalcy before we have this conversation," you assured her. It was all you wanted. Just one night where this cloud wasn't hanging over your head.

So you went. Harry picked you up in a sports car that usually sat in his garage, practically mauling you when he saw you in your dress. It was simple, but you felt great in it—a short black number with white ruffles at the top and bottom. With your hair blown out and curled to perfection, little pearl droplets hanging from your ears, you felt like a dream, and every time Harry's gaze fell on you to track your figure up and down, your entire body was filled with butterflies.

And the night carried on perfectly. You and Harry sipped on champagne and kept to yourselves most of the night. You didn't really know anyone, and he was perfectly happy to keep you all to himself, kissing your cheeks and neck whenever he could, his hand never leaving your waist for a moment. It was exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything that had been swirling around in your head the last few days. When Harry was dancing and spinning you around in and out of his arms in a corner of the event space, it felt like you were the only two people to exist. There was no way he had any lingering feelings for his ex when he was smiling so brightly and laughing as you spun him out and back into your arms.

And then...it all just fell apart.

"Harry?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Harry dropped your hand, coming to an abrupt halt beside you. You looked up, confused by the tension that suddenly lined his shoulders, but when you looked at the women who'd come up to your little corner, you just knew.

"H—Hi." Harry sounded breathless, his eyes never leaving hers once. All you could do was watch it all unfold in slow motion, all you could feel was the loss of his touch now that his hand was no longer in yours.

You cleared your throat when Harry didn't say anything. It was as if you had to pull him from whatever trance he'd fallen into at the mere sight of her. Dread filled your belly as he seemed to remember where he was, as he remembered you were there, blinking as he embraced his ex and introduced her to you.

"This is my friend Y/n."

His words felt like a sucker punch, all the air stolen from your lungs. You knew you and Harry hadn't put a label on your relationship, but to hear him refer to you as his friend right in front of his ex was devastating.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it.

Was this what it felt like? You never imagined you would be in this position, you never thought you would love someone enough to feel like you were coming undone at the seams at this kind of rejection. But perhaps that was just the universe coming to collect after thoroughly breaking someone else's heart yourself.

"I—I need some air," you heard yourself saying, not even looking to see if Harry noticed you leave or if he was too caught up in seeing his ex.

You didn't just get air, you Ubered home, unable to handle everything rushing through you. That was when you texted Evan, who merely responded with, I'm on my way, and twenty-four hours later, he was there, along with Hayden and Andrew.

You explained to your brothers what happened briefly, doing your best to not go into detail so you wouldn't start crying uncontrollably, though you'd be surprised if you had any tears left. You mostly just felt defeated, almost as if deep down you knew the happiness wasn't meant to last.

"He's an idiot, Y/n," Andrew said, resting a hand on Buddy's head to scratch him behind the ears. Your dog had been resting by your side since you came back last night, somehow sensing your despair. "Don't let him steal your happiness."

You nodded, but only because you had nothing else to say. You knew your brother meant well, but you just didn't believe him. This was par for the course in your eyes. Of course, when you fell for someone, they chose someone else. Maybe you were destined to be on your own, maybe love was overrated.

"Do you need anything?" Evan asked you, Hayden standing next to you. You could tell that they didn't really know what to do in this situation but that they wanted to be there for you. It was sweet, but there really wasn't anything to do.

"I'm okay," you said, convincing no one. "I think I might just take a nap."

"We can take Buddy for a walk. Maybe grab some food while we're out," Evan said. "Andrew, why don't you stay here and make sure she doesn't text him."

You rolled your eyes. "I literally just said I was going to sleep—"

"On it," Andrew said, hopping up to take your phone from where it was resting on your kitchen counter and slipping it into his pocket.

It was utterly ridiculous, but you were sure that was what your brothers were going for. The four of you weren't the touchy-feely type, you never had been. But one thing your brothers could count on was their ability to make you smile, make you laugh. And that was maybe exactly what you needed.

Making good on your word, you retired to your room, but you didn't sleep a wink despite how exhausted you were. Instead, you stayed up listening to records, shared favorites of yours and Harry's, the ones you bonded over together. It was hard to imagine that after such deep connections, the number of stories shared and late nights talking over bottles of red wine. Harry meant so much to you, and it killed you to think you didn't mean as much to him.

At some point, you must've dozed off—your eyes fluttering shut to the sound of Joni Mitchell—because suddenly you were jolting awake with a start. Muffled shouts could be heard through your closed door, which could only mean one thing.

Taking a couple minutes to wake up a little more and bolster yourself for unwanted confrontation, you finally stepped out of your room. The voices grew louder as you walked down the hall—Andrew kept telling Harry to leave while Harry claimed he just wanted to talk to you. You weren't sure if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was here whether you liked it or not, and it would probably be for the best before Evan and Hayden came back or the argument happening at your front door drew unwanted attention.

"You can let him in."

Your voice was quiet, but not unsteady, which came as a surprise to you. It surprised your brother and the person who would've been your boyfriend too, their argument ceasing immediately as they looked over at you.

"Y/n," Harry breathed.

For better or for worse, he looked about as awful as you felt. There were bags under his eyes, and he was in the clothes he wore to the party last night. His tan trousers were rumpled, belt missing; his satin shirt was heavily wrinkled, the buttons mismatched in the wrong holes. His hair was a mess too, as if he'd been tossing and turning all night.

You didn't like seeing him like this, hated it, in fact. This wasn't supposed to be yours and Harry's story. You thought both of you had experienced the heartbreak and had found each other on the other side of it. Now you felt like you were right back where you started, and you hated it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Andrew said, glancing warily between you and Harry. "Hayden and Evan will be back soon—"

"It's fine, Andrew. I promise," you told him, stepping closer to the front door cautiously, worrying that getting too close would ensnare you in Harry's magnetic pull. One whiff of his cologne might send you right into his arms, where your heart still thought it was safe. "Keep them occupied for me?"

It was clear that Andrew didn't agree with you on this decision. He stood there by the door for a long while, trying to assess your mental state. But he finally relented, taking a few steps toward you to hug you tightly. "Don't be afraid to give him hell," he murmured in your ear. Then, after passing back your phone, he left, but not before glaring murderously in Harry's direction.

When you and Harry were finally alone, your apartment was silent for the first time in hours. Almost too silent. Harry just stared at you with this broken look in his eyes, and you...you couldn't dredge up the energy to start this conversation. It was clear Harry didn't either. You watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but you had no desire to help him out.

"Can we sit?" he finally asked, his voice sounding tired and raw.

Unable to handle the look in his those devastated green eyes, you looked down at where your sweatshirt engulfed your hands. "I'd prefer it if we didn't."

Sitting meant forced proximity, and you were already pushing yourself to have this conversation. This distance between you and Harry would be where you drew the line.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding surprised. "Okay. I—I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n."

"For what exactly?" you asked, not expecting the bitterness in your tone.

"For making it seem like we were just friends in front of her, for freezing last night. I—She'd been texting me the last few days and I've ignored her, but I didn't expect to see her."

"I know about the texts," you found yourself saying.

It was clear Harry hadn't expected that. A look of confusion passed over his face as he asked, "Wh—Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" you said, unable to hide the hurt, the betrayal.

"It was nothing, and I didn't want to bring any attention to it. I thought if I just ignored her enough, she would stop, and she did eventually stop, but then I saw her last night, and I didn't want to make her feel worse by showing her I'd moved on—"

"But you haven't," you said. "You're...protecting her. Sparing her feelings while fucking me over. I—I could've gotten over the texts. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt because you hadn't responded to her. But watching you call me your friend was such a slap in the face."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up. I know I did," Harry said, tears pooling in his eyes.

You could tell he meant it. You knew he realized what he'd done was shitty, but could you move on from it?

"I believe that you're sorry," you said. At that, something like hope flickered in his face, but you snuffed it out just as quickly as it came. "But I also think you still have unresolved feelings for her. And I—I don't want to be second to you. Not in that way."

"So that's it?"

You knew Harry like the back of your hand. You knew what the little quiver of his lip meant, understood the tight clench of his fists around the hem of his shirt. You could read every line of emotion on his face, and you wondered if he could pick you apart the same way.

"You know, all this time we've bonded over our respective heartbreak as if our pain was the same," you said, more to yourself than to him. "But what I'm realizing now, what I started to realize last night, was that mine stemmed from feelings of inadequacy, of never being enough for someone. I broke up with someone because I wasn't in love with them, and that devastated me. But you...no matter how the relationship fell apart or who ended it, you loved her, and she loved you. That feeling doesn't just wash away with the evening tide."

"Y/n—"

"And that's...that's okay, you know?" you continued. "You loved her. Love her. That's not a bad thing. But—But I'm in love with you too, and I can't—I'm not going to compete with someone who already has your heart. I won't."

Tears kissed your cheeks as you blinked. Your hands shook, but your voice was clear. Harry could deny it all he wanted, but you saw the truth laid bare before you. You weren't the only person occupying space in his heart, and after everything you'd been through, you didn't want to settle for anything less than what you deserved.

"That's not true, Y/n," Harry implored. He looked a little frantic now that he knew your mind was practically made up. "I fucked up, I know that. I saw her, and I froze. It was just—"

An instinct, a gut reaction, that was what he didn't want to say. "I don't want someone's initial reaction to be to let go of my hand," you said softly, wiping away a tear with a sleeve-covered hand. "I want—"

Your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet. That song you'd written all those months ago, the one that held your deepest regrets and insecurities, all the little things you'd run from. You didn't want to run from it anymore. You thought you found someone to run toward, but you were wrong.

"I don't want what we have to be over, Y/n," Harry pleaded.

I don't believe you, you thought, and you couldn't be with him if you didn't trust his sincerity. "I think you need more time," you said instead of voicing what you felt.

"There's no convincing how much I feel for you, is there?" he said, sounding resigned to the fate that had come to pass.

You shook your head, your heart begging you to hold onto him and not let go, to drag him to bed and sleep until you both forgot. But you didn't do any of those things. "No. Not right now."

Harry finally bridged the gap between you and him. He kept a sliver of distance, the only contact he made being gentle fingers tilting your chin so you'd meet his eye. There was so much emotion swirling there, and you longed to kiss away all the anguish and pain until only love was left, but that wasn't in the cards. Not today, or in the days that would follow.

"I promised you that I wouldn't leave again," Harry said, his gaze unrelenting. Your brow furrowed, not recalling when he made that promise, but he continued before you could ask. "Not in the ways that count anyway, but I intend to keep that promise, Y/n. If you want space, I'll give it to you, but don't think for one second that I won't spend every single moment we're apart wishing we were together. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's what it takes."

It was a surprise your body didn't turn to jello on the spot, that Harry couldn't hear the steady thump of your heart as it beat wildly in your chest. He said all the right things, every perfect word, but right now, that was all they were. And you didn't have it in you to believe him.

"I'm sorry that I did this to us, to you," he said. "I'll never not be sorry. "

Harry stood there, his fingers gingerly holding your chin, for a few moments longer. It was as if he was imploring you to read the message in his eyes, to understand everything he wasn't saying, but you just didn't have the energy.

When he finally left, one last promise that wasn't giving up on you and him yet on his lips before the door clicked shut, all the warmth in your body went with him. You briefly thought of all the times you clung to him to warm up, slipping his hands beneath his shirts and sweaters and nuzzling your face in his neck.

That last touch of Harry's fingers to your chin wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and now he was gone. The person you fell in love with, who knew you better than anyone else in the world, walked out the door, head held high as if this wouldn't be the last time you'd be standing so close.

You weren't convinced. Not when all your mind wanted to replay was his hand dropping yours, his dismissal of your relationship, and his disregard for your feelings to protect those of his ex.

*.*

You didn't see Harry in the weeks that followed, but you weren't sure if that had more to do with him working on his album. Sylvia kept you semi-updated, even though you insisted you were fine with not knowing what he was up to. It was a lie, of course, and she saw right through it, letting you know when Harry was gone for music video shoots, recording and producing music, album cover shoots, and meetings with his label.

Part of you was grateful he wasn't around because it made keeping your distance easier. After everything that happened, you convinced yourself Harry didn't know what he wanted, even if he claimed he was. The proof had been right in front of you, though, clear as day. There were unresolved feelings lingering in the corners of Harry's heart and mind, and he needed to deal with them or get back together with his ex, but you wanted no part of it.

That wasn't to say Harry wasn't on your mind. He was there constantly, taking up space and making you lose focus while writing or walking your dog. You'd never been in love before, and now that everything had imploded, you didn't know how to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

Blinking, you looked up to where Mitch stared at you, an acoustic guitar in his lap. You weren't sure why you agreed to meet with him for a writing session. You hadn't written much since everything fell apart, save the occasional depressing poem, but when Mitch reached out, you figured it was as good a time as any to get back to work and start writing again.

In theory, it was a good idea, but your heart just wasn't in it. It was thousands of miles away shooting a music video.

"Sorry, I thought this would be a good idea, but my head is just all over the place," you said, closing your notebook that only had a few disconnected lines written down.

"I'm sorry about everything," Mitch said. "I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but he really does care about you. Like a lot."

"I know," you said dejectedly. "But he...he still loves her, I think. Or cares for her more than he lets on. Maybe even more than he realizes."

That night, you realized you had a losing hand. You didn't want to run like you'd done with Gavin, but you didn't want to fight either. You just felt...defeated, as if the fickle promise of love had bested you again.

"I can promise you he doesn't, but I know that's between you and him," Mitch said. Nodding to the journal in your lap, he asked, "Can I see?"

Shrugging, you handed it over. At this point, Mitch had learned a lot about you by being your writing partner, so you didn't mind him flipping through it. And honestly, there wasn't much to show anyway. A couple of measly lines did not a song make.

Mitch was quiet as he looked over the few things you'd written down, his expression gloriously passive as always. Since you started writing together, you'd struggled to read his expressions, not knowing what he thought until he voiced his opinion.

"Well, shit, kid," Mitch murmured on an exhale.

"What?"

Mitch looked up, one brow raised. Then, he began to read lines from your journal. "You've got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes...My hand's a risk I fold...Test of my patience, there's things that we'll never—"

"Hey wait a minute, that's not from today," you said, reaching for your journal. Mitch managed to land on one of your poems from a few days ago. That definitely wasn't meant to be part of today's writing session. "Give that back."

"This is good, Y/n. There's a song in here," Mitch insisted.

"Oh please. That's a terribly depressing poem fueled by a bottle of wine."

He pinned you with a stare, but you ignored it, and he eventually let it go. You didn't stay in the studio much longer after that, realizing that not much was going to come out of this session. And Mitch had to leave too, having to catch a redeye to London. "We're finishing up the album there," he explained.

It dawned on you then that you would be alone again. After becoming so used to having a partner of some kind while writing, too. It shouldn't have affected you so much, but it did. Somehow you'd grown to appreciate company while you were writing, and now your two favorite writing partners were leaving. They were the only two you'd ever had, but as history had shown, you weren't a huge fan of change.

You'd grown comfortable, but now the ground was shaking and crumbling beneath you. Though perhaps that should've been the familiar feeling.

"Can I keep the song?" Mitch asked on your way out of the studio. "I have an idea."

This time, you could read what was on your friend's face. And you could sense it, somehow. He wanted to show it to Harry. For the album, or because Mitch felt Harry needed to read the words. At this point, you were emotionally drained, and you weren't going to be there when Harry read your little poem, anyway. What did it matter?

"That's fine," you said, tearing the page out of your journal. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We can still collaborate over the phone or voice notes or whatever."

You thought that was where you and Mitch would leave things, but then he asked, "Do you think you'll ever write with him again?"

Harry was so much more than the person you were in love with. He was your friend, your first ever writing partner, someone you'd confided in. But he was also the person who made you feel betrayal and heartache. You didn't know how to reconcile those two people.

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I hope so."

*.*

There wasn't a single moment where Harry didn't think of Y/n while they were apart. He'd done what she'd asked of him, gave them the space to heal and settle. Harry understood where she was coming from, and he knew that he'd hurt her more than he ever imagined he would.

Everything fell apart so completely, too quickly for him to even pick up the pieces.

He knew he should've told her about the texts the minute he received them, and he couldn't really pinpoint why he didn't. It was in no way to hurt Y/n, or to protect his ex; honestly, he should've just deleted them as they came, but he didn't, and things only went downhill from there.

Harry didn't want space, he knew what he wanted, who he wanted. But he also knew that what he'd done, how he behaved, gave Y/n every right to push him away and not trust him. All he knew was that he'd never regretted anything more than seeing the devastated look on her face when they ran into his ex.

He couldn't take back what he'd done, all he could do was try to make things right the second Y/n gave him the opportunity. Thankfully, recording and producing his second album kept him busy enough to give her the space she'd asked for. Had he liked being so far away from her, both physically and emotionally? No. Hell no, but he just put everything he was feeling into his music, let it fuel him as he and his team found the sound he was going for with this project.

It wasn't until weeks after they'd ended things that he heard from Y/n. Really, Mitch had passed a folded up piece of paper with song lyrics on it and said it was Y/n's, but Harry was so desperate to get something from her that he'd counted it. "I have an idea for it. I just need you to finish it," Mitch had said.

"Finish it?" Harry asked as he unfolded the paper.

To him it looked like a poem, but Mitch seemed to be convinced it was a song. He read over it briefly, then again, and again and again until he was standing in front of his friend for an awkward amount of time.

"She's speaking to you in this," Mitch explained. "It could be a kind of conversation."

The idea had perplexed him, and at first, Harry had said no. It wasn't until the next evening when he was alone in his flat that he considered the folded piece of paper. He thought about all the songs he'd written with Y/n, the thoughts and feelings they'd shared with each and every lyric and melody. This wasn't the same, not even close. He just wanted things to go back to normal; he wanted to relive the moments where Y/n would sit with her guitar, her journal and his in his lap as they compared notes and ideas.

But this would have to do for now.

He didn't try to get in Y/n's head, to try to understand what she might've been feeling at the time she wrote the poem, though he had a pretty good idea. Harry merely did what Mitch suggested and responded to the lines already written down, adding them in where he saw fit.

"Put a price on...emotion, I'm looking for...something to buy," he murmured, quickly scribbling the words down before he forgot them. "I don't want to fight you, and I don't want to sleep in the dirt."

Writing this song gave Harry the opportunity to finally let go. Through it he was able to admit that he had been clinging to a crisp trepidation, a fear of giving all of himself over to Y/n with abandon. For a number of reasons—that things with Y/n would end up in flames like all his other relationships (check), that he didn't even know what love looked like anymore after so many failed attempts at finding it, that he wasn't good enough to be someone Y/n deserved, , that he was going to lose her forever if he didn't pull himself together enough for her.

By the time Harry was done, he felt dejected. The finished song was sad, too sad. It was about heartache and fear, it sounded finite. And that wasn't what he wanted his story with Y/n to be.

We'll be fine, he wrote before quickly crossing it our. Fine. Fine. Finefinefinefinefine—

"We'll be a fine line," Harry finally murmured.

He spent the rest of the night figuring out arrangements and melodies, all of it coming together in his head almost faster than he could write it all down. The album was pretty much in the final stretch. At this point, he and his team were finishing up recordings and working on the promotional aspects of the release, but he knew it down to every atom of his being that this song had to be on the album. It was the culmination of everything he'd experienced and felt, every emotion he'd embraced and shied away from. All of it crashed into each other in a blaze of horns and strings.

And maybe when he finally finished working through the main melody on his guitar, something soft and melancholic, yet soothing and hopeful, he should've gone right to sleep. He honestly should've been exhausted after the emotional whirlwind he'd been wrapped up in. Yet he somehow had his phone in his hands, his thumb hovering over a contact before he eventually hit the call button.

"Harry? What—Isn't it like four in the morning over there?"

Harry couldn't stop his breath from hitching when he heard Y/n's voice. He'd missed her so much it physically hurt sometimes. Part of him thought she wouldn't answer his call, but when she did, his entire body sagged with relief.

"I miss you," he said, not caring how pathetic he sounded. "I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you, and you probably were just being nice by suggesting the whole space thing when you really want nothing to do with me ever again—"

"Harry," Y/n said, her voice gently but firm. "Slow down, love."

Harry could've cried at the softness in her tone let alone the term of endearment. All he'd wanted for the last few weeks was to just hear her voice, her his name on her lips in a way that didn't sound hurt or disappointed.

"You were right," he told her. "I—I was holding back from you, and that wasn't fair to either of us, but especially to you. Y/n, I—I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered. "I think...I think I just wanted you to want me as much as I did."

"I do," Harry promised. "I know I haven't given you much to believe me, but Y/n the way I feel about you is so different than I've ever felt about anyone, and I think part of me was scared of that too after such a tremendous breakup."

For a moment, Y/n was silent over the phone, her breaths filling up his ear and making him long for the moments they spent huddled up in bed together.

"I know...I know we've been here before, but do you think we could try things again?" he asked. He almost didn't want to know, believing that perhaps ignorance really was bliss. But Y/n had put herself out there so many times, had taken so many risks despite everything she'd experienced. He could be brave too.

"What if—What if we started over?" she said.

"Start over?"

"I think we need a clean slate. If you're really and truly over your ex—"

"I am. I swear, Y/n," Harry said, not wanting hope to spark to life in him just yet.

"Then we need to put all of this mess behind us and start fresh."

"I—I'd like that." He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. When he called Y/n, he worried he'd come off a little crazy due to lack of sleep, but now he worried he might've fallen asleep in a songwriting craze and was now dreaming.

"I, um, I know you offered a few months ago, but if you were still looking for someone to join your band...maybe I could fill that spot?"

"You want to work for me?"

"I wasn't going to put it like that, but I guess technically yes," Y/n said. "I feel like you would pay a fair wage."

Harry chuckled, a satisfied sort of exhaustion taking over him now that he felt like his life was getting back on track. "I'll give you whatever you want if it means you'll join."

He just wanted her close, and if this was what a clean slate looked like to her, then he would oblige. Having her close, playing music together, being surrounded by their friends, it would be exactly what they needed to find their way back to each other.

"You should probably go to bed," Y/n said, breaking the content silence that had settled over them.

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed, running a tired hand over his face. "So what have you been listening to recently?"

For a moment, he thought she would insist he get some rest. He supposed he'd be okay with it, finding peace in the fact things were finally looking up for them. But then she answered, and Harry was sure he'd never be able to wipe the smile from his face as he listened to his girl.

*.*

Months later

"Are you in love with Harry?"

The question wasn't directed at you, but you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

Sarah, who was much more quick on the draw than you would've been, smiled and said, "We all are, yeah."

You forced a soft laugh, unsure of where to direct your gaze. This whole interview had been one huge vat of chaos—and blatant misogyny—from the start, but Harry had conducted himself well so far, not balking or raising his voice once at the invasive and downright rude questions that were thrown at him. Perhaps you should've expected a question like this today, but you still struggled to keep your face neutral.

"So there's nothing going on romantically with Harry and the ladies?"

You suddenly found the keyboard in front of you incredibly interesting. What you really needed in this moment was a reassuring glance from Harry, but that would defeat the purpose of keeping your budding relationship a secret.

Attention from the public was still something you were getting used to. You'd gotten into songwriting because it was out of the public eye, but being with Harry would eventually lead you right into it. Not that you minded, you'd do whatever it took to be with him. But interviews like this one still left you feeling flustered.

"And who's back there on keys?"

Even though they were all your friends, you still felt your face flush as red as the leather skirt you wore for the interview.

"Y/n."

"That's Y/n."

"How are you doing back there, Y/n?"

"Fine," you managed to say, your voice barely above a squeak.

Risking a glance at Harry, you met his gaze. He gave you an encouraging smile, and it bolstered your confidence the slightest bit. Just enough to get you through this brief conversation.

"Just fine? Does Harry make you nervous?"

"Maybe Y/n's the one who's in love with him."

"Or maybe she just wants to fuck him!"

An awkward silence fell over the room after the interviewers' comments and questions. You didn't even know what to say, or how you were expected to respond. Feeling the sympathetic stares from the rest of the band, you took a deep breath and tried not to cry, feeling extremely embarrassed.

Harry's jaw ticked, and you were pretty sure you were the only one who noticed. It was the first time he'd reacted to any of the questions asked today. And you could see it in his face that he was beyond pissed off.

This wasn't what you expected, and clearly Harry hadn't expected it either. But you also didn't want him to storm off and make a big scene. You just wanted to get through today and go home and rest with Buddy and Sweet Pea while you and Harry watched a movie together in bed. That thought kept you grounded, and you tried your hardest to convey to Harry that you were okay without saying anything.

"I, um, I met Harry in the studio in LA," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Y/n's a songwriter, but she's generously lent her fabulous keyboarding skills to us this year," Harry said.

"A songwriter?" You felt the interviewer's gaze sweep over you, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Another tick of Harry's jaw.

"Yeah. But I've enjoyed doing this too. Traveling and performing with Sarah's band," you said, a meek attempt at a joke.

"You must be getting laid a lot on the road as a proper rockstar now. You could probably get whoever you wanted. Well, maybe not Harry, but close to anyone. Are you taking advantage of being on the road with Harry? A new man every night?"

You swallowed thickly, the will not to cry hanging on by a thread. "I—I don't think my brothers be cool with—"

"Shut the fuck up, mate."

Shocked silence filled the room. Clearly, the interviewers didn't expect someone as laid back as Harry to speak up that way. A mix of relief and unease washed over you, unsure of how the rest of the interview was going to pan out now. But you couldn't say you didn't feel relieved that he'd spoken up.

"Harry, we're only—"

"You're being fucking disrespectful to the members of my band, and I'm not fucking putting up with it. Either ask me your fucking questions or let me go. My band and I aren't putting up with your bullshit."

Harry hadn't wanted to come here. He knew the reputation of the interviewer, but it had still somehow made it onto the list of interviews and appearances to promote the album. You'd watched as he grew more and more irritated with each question, but he seemed to take them in stride. But the minute they were directed at you, he'd snapped.

A brief break in the interview ensued, producers suggesting that a couple minutes to regroup would do everyone some good. When everyone was ready to record again, a stilted topic change led Harry to introduce and talk about the Peter Gabriel song they were about to play. The rest of the interview teetered between overly professional and awkward. You could tell by the tense line of Harry's shoulders that he wanted to be anywhere else.

At some point while Harry was talking, Sarah looked over at you. "You okay?" she mouthed, and you nodded subtly, giving her a tiny thumbs up from behind your keyboard setup. Everyone in the band knew about you and Harry. It was hard to hide your relationship when he was by your side whenever you weren't rehearsing a song, and like Mitch and Sarah, he was almost always facing you during rehearsals. It was sweet how he was always pulling you aside during lunch breaks and sitting beside you on the piano bench. One time, when Harry had a film crew film a performance of each song on the album, he asked if the recording of "Fine Line" could just be you and him. Both of you sat on stools with your respective guitars as you performed a stripped-back version of the song, your voice supporting Harry's with a soft harmony occasionally. It was a special moment for the two of you, especially because the song meant so much.

After that, there were no questions about what you meant to each other.

At the end of the interview, Harry was quick to leave, hardly sparing anyone a glance as he stalked out. You stayed back to break down your equipment like you normally did, your hands shaking a little as the desire to comfort Harry took over.

"Go, I got this," Mitch said, coming over to help.

"Really?"

Mitch nodded before bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah. We still on for dinner tonight?"

You nodded. "Might have to be at my apartment, though. I don't think he'll be up for going out."

You left soon after that, walking out of the recording room where the interview had taken place. The green room was down the hall, and you entered despite the closed door. "It's me," you said quietly before entering, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Harry was already out of his blue sweater and green trousers, a pair of brown corduroys on as he shrugged into a yellow t-shirt. He looked up briefly, then looked back down again as he slipped a pair of Vans on.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mad, upset, guilty," he said with a shrug.

"Why on earth do you feel guilty, love?"

"That never should've fucking happened," he seethed, but in Harry fashion, it just meant his voice was clipped and low as he tried to get a handle on his anger. "You didn't deserve that. I should've stood up for you."

"I...You did, H." You didn't want to say that it was okay, because obviously the whole situation wasn't, but you knew he wasn't to blame. The topic of him sticking up for you was a touchy one. "You were put in a tough position, yet you still put those assholes in their place. Let's just go home and forget about all this shit, okay?"

Harry nodded, but he still wouldn't meet your eye, which wasn't going to work for you one bit.

"Hey," you said, tilting his chin up with your fingertips. "Don't beat yourself up. Please? For me?"

For the first time since the midpoint of the interview, Harry grinned. He threaded his fingers through yours before giving you a kiss, his lips soft and familiar against yours. You felt some of the tension leave his body until he eventually pulled away and draped an arm over your shoulders, your hands still connected.

"Never fucking coming to this place again," Harry murmured on the way out, keeping you tucked closely to his side.

"Amen to that."

Harry looked down at you, the anger and frustration finally clearing from his eyes. When it came to you, to your feelings, he was very protective. And you were too, in your own way. You leaned on each other, supported each other, and spent time together without ever being sick of one another. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, and even though it might put him in hot water with his management or the interviewer, it meant a lot to you that he stood up for you the way he did. You didn't need him to throw punches or push people up against walls—honestly, that was what your brothers were for—but when it all boiled down, he put you and your feelings first, always and without question.

"I love you," he murmured, his thumb rubbing circles over the top of your hand.

"Even with my crazy brothers?"

"Even with your crazy brothers."

"Hm. Even when Buddy steals your spot on the bed?"

"Even then."

"Even in the mornings when my feet are cold and they brush up against your legs?"

When Harry didn't answer right away, you playfully pinched his side until he laughed and kissed the top of your head. "Babe, I'm gonna love you on your worst day, you know that."

And even though you did, your cheeks became rosy, your whole body tingling with warmth. "Good. Because I love you too. So much."

So much pain had been felt, so much devastation had been endured before you and Harry fell into a perfect rhythm. It wasn't easy, and if you were to look back at the girl who believed she was fucked in the head and incapable and undeserving of love and being loved, you would still think it was all worth it. You would endure it all again if it led you to this moment, if it ended up with Harry cradling your heart of glass in his hands and protecting it as if it was his own.

Hand in hand, you went home and didn't look back at the shattered glass you'd long since left behind.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #fine line

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bloodbruise · 9 months ago

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@croptopjames happy birthday to the one and only jfp <3

jegulus | 933 words | trans reg & themes of gender identity and transition

Regulus felt his cheeks heat up as he snapped out of his daze and met James' eyes. He was wearing a knowing look, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping this," James declared, his smirk widening. "Especially if it gets this kind of reaction from you every time."

Regulus’ room was a disaster. James had finally coaxed him into sorting through his old clothes, only managing after he bribed him with promises of kisses and takeout afterwards. The closet had all but exploded, leaving piles of clothes scattered all across the room. With ‘yes’s,’ and ‘no’s,’ and ‘maybes’ occupying every available flat surface, Regulus was sure he hadn't seen the darkened wood of his floor in hours.

Sat on his bed, he watched as James dug through his dresser for another shirt. He let out a thoughtful hum as he grabbed two, throwing one over his shoulder and holding up the other: an awful plum-colored blouse. His mother had bought it for him—form-fitting, smothered in ruffles, and, in her words, “the perfect blouse for a sophisticated young woman.”

Regulus thought it was the ugliest fucking shirt he had ever seen.

“Ugh,” Regulus wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Absolutely not, that thing is a monstrosity.”

James barked out a laugh, amused at the disgust evident on Regulus' face, before flinging the shirt into the rapidly growing ‘no’ pile. He grabbed at the one resting on his shoulder.

“And this one?”

It was worn, fabric soft from years of wear. The dark green and gray had dulled, now just muted shadows of their original hues. The words printed on the front, cracked and creased, read ‘Hogwarts Women's Rowing’. It had been his favorite shirt for a long time. His parents had always been on him to join something– a club, a team, an honor society. If he was honest, he only chose rowing because it kept him out of the house the longest.

And he's so grateful he did, because it brought him Pandora. He suffered through early morning rows and long race days, soreness in his body and blisters on his hands. But every discomfort was worth it for the times he and Pandora would steal an extra hour to lie in the sun by the Great Lake, laughing until their bellies felt as sore as their arms. Worth it for the times Evan would cram them into his shitty jeep and drive them to their races so they didn't have to take the bus. Worth it, most of all, for giving him the first people with whom he could be honest—really, truly honest.

"I don't want to get rid of it," Regulus admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "It was my favorite, but—I’m not ready to wear anything that might make people mistake me for a woman. Not for a while, at least.”

James nodded. He turned the shirt around, head tilting slightly as he considered it. “How about I hold onto it for you? That way it's not gone, just... repurposed.” He looked up at Regulus with a wicked grin. “I bet I could pull it off.”

Regulus couldn’t help but scoff as James began to pull on the shirt. “I’d like to see you try," he challenged, amusement evident in his voice.

But as James stretched out his arms and did a little spin, Regulus wasn't laughing. Instead, he felt his heart swoop. A familiar mixture of fondness and arousal swirled in his gut at the sight of James. Glasses knocked a little lopsided from pulling the shirt on, pajama pants hanging low on his hips and socked feet– it was a picture that made Regulus go warm with affection. But, it was the shirt that really kept his attention. Visibly too small, the letters strained as they stretched across the width of his chest. The hem of it hitting right below his navel, exposing his hip bones and the trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Regulus felt all the breath leave his chest. “C'mere,” he said softly.

James shuffled over to him. “Good?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Regulus shook his head, he was in awe of James. “Better than good. It suits you much better than it ever did me,” he mumbled, voice low and distracted. Reaching out to place his hands on James' waist, he absentmindedly dragged his thumbs back and forth over his hipbones, eyes stuck to the sliver of skin peeking out from beneath the shirt.

“My eyes are up here, love,” James gently teased, his voice laced with amusement.

“I lied,” Regulus deadpanned, “you actually look ridiculous.” But his face was betraying him, unable to fight the smile spreading across it.

James hummed in response, the smugness in his tone unmistakable. He was clearly enjoying every moment of this.

"Oh, shut up," Regulus groaned playfully, his hands gripping the exposed skin at his waist to pull him down. James yelped in surprise before their lips were meeting in a kiss filled more with laughter than anything else. But then James was deepening it, and Regulus let himself be kissed breathless. After a moment, he gently pulled back, hand tenderly stroking through James’ hair.

"Thank you," he whispered, his hand tracing a path down James' neck, over his shoulder, and along the length of his arm until their fingers intertwined. "For being here, for—everything. Everything that you do for me."

James responded with a gentle squeeze of their hands, his eyes meeting Regulus’. "Always, love." His voice was soft but firm in promise. And there it was again, his heart swooping in his chest as James pressed a kiss to his temple. "Always."

#i initially had other plans for my submission #but i went in a diff direction thanks to the transphobe in my dm's. enjoy the fluff of jamie and his trans bf!#also literally dont ask me why i picked rowing i have no idea LMFAO #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #croptopjames #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #marauders #starchaser

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 1 year ago

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 24: Tension

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 24, Part 25 (Coming Soon)...

AN: Hope you guys like this one! Word Count: 5,112 Warnings: Language, Suggestive themes, panic attacks

Friday morning you wake up with the violent urge to vomit. You move on autopilot, cooking, dressing, brushing your teeth, kissing your mom goodnight. You can’t bring yourself to eat anything, not trusting your stomach to hold it down with the way it's doing somersaults.

It doesn't help that when you got home last night all you could think about was Billy. You had to force yourself to strip off his clothes and take a shower, hoping it would calm you down. It didn’t. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw him, how he had looked lying next to you, how he had felt under you, his body against yours, his arms around you, his smell, his taste…

Needless to say, you didn't get much sleep. But somewhere in the night your thoughts shift from Billy to the upcoming exam. You know that you’re not ready. You’ve been studying constantly but you have the sinking feeling that it’s not going to be enough.

When Steve picks you up he’s all smiles, excited for the last day before winter break. He tells you about the ski trip he and his family take every year to Colorado, but everything he says goes in one ear and out the other. Your mind swirls as all the information Billy has crammed into your mind over the past week tries to organize itself. The twisting in your stomach only gets worse when Steve pulls into the school parking lot, you can feel the panic growing, humming in the back of your mind that just won't settle.

“Hey, I’ve got to head to the bathroom before class, I don’t feel good.” You say, unintentionally cutting Steve off. His eyes turn to you, looking you over, his happy expression quickly shifting into one of worry.

“Oh, okay. Are you alright?” He asks, clearly concerned.

“I’m fine. I just need a minute.” you tell him, not even able to give him a fake smile as you quickly open your door. You climb out of the car taking a deep breath, letting the cold air penetrate your lungs, before you start towards the school. Steve follows after you, rushing to catch up. The two of you enter the school, other students rushing around you, idle chatter filling the air, only adding to your growing anxiety.

“You sure? Do you need anything? I can run to Malvald’s really quick and get you something.” He offers, gently grabbing your arm. For some reason the touch feels suffocating to you, and without thinking you rip your arm out of his grasp whipping around to face him.

“Jesus! I’m fine Steve! I just need a minute, alone!” You snap. Steve’s eyes initially widen in surprise at your outburst but he quickly ducks his head, trying to hide the hurt you know is clearly written on his face. You immediately wish you could take it back.

“Right. I’m- uh- I’m sorry.” Steve says, taking a slight step back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Steve, no. I’m just-” you try to explain, taking a step towards him. He takes another step back.

“It’s okay, really. I’m going to get to class.” Steve says, taking a step around you. He gives you a small smile that looks so forced in your eyes. “I hope you feel better.” He says, before turning fully and walking away.

You watch him retreat down the hall, you don't miss how he hangs his head rubbing at the back of his neck as he goes. You feel like such a jerk. Steve was just trying to help and you bit his head off. You groan, heading towards the gym you ignore the few pairs of eyes that follow you as you go, having seen the interaction. You didn’t mean to get upset like that, it’s just that this test feels like it’s life or death. To make matters worse you should have been spending every last second studying instead of daydreaming about Billy.

You pace back and forth in front of the lockers between the bathrooms outside the gym, anxiously running your fingers through your hair.

You’re going to fail this exam, and then history all together. No college is going to want you with grades like that. Then on top of all that, you just pushed away one of your only friends because you couldn’t get a grip. You feel like a psycho. The anxiety and shame mix forming a pit in your gut, all of it bubbling up inside of you causing your hands to shake. This is ridiculous! You’ve helped save the world twice, nearly dying in the process multiple times, but a history test is what threatens to send you into a spiraling panic.

“Fuck!” You yell, a burst of anger shooting though you. Turning you slam your foot into the metal lockers, filling the empty hallway with a loud bang. It hurts your foot but you kick out again, denting the metal.

“Whoa there, loca! Angry and destructive are my things.” Billy’s lilting voice calls from your left. You don’t respond, taking off your bag and pulling out his food for the day. He comes to a stop in front of you. “Don't tell me I’ve been a bad influence on you.” He teases, his white teeth flashing in his usual smug grin.

You keep your eyes down, not wanting him to see the tears of frustration that threaten to blur your vision. You’ve heard his thoughts on feeling sorry for yourself and are not in the mood for another rant about how useless it is.

When you don't respond, Billy’s smile fades. You can feel his eyes scrutinizing your every breath.

“You okay?” he asks, the teasing tone in his voice gone.

“I’m fine.” you say, keeping your voice firm trying to even out your rapid breathing. “Just take the food, I have to get to class.” you say, holding out the containers to him, fighting to stop the shaking in your hands.

Billy takes a step forward, reaching out to take the food. Instead of grabbing the containers he grabs your wrist tugging you towards him, causing you to stumble forward almost running into him.

“Hey!” You protest, getting your feet under you again. Before you can say anything else Billy’s hand is on your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, looking over your face with such intensity you could almost confuse it with anger. But you’ve seen him angry and this is not that.

“What’s going on? Why do you look like you’re about to be sick or burst into tears any second?” He asks. You’re surprised by the lack of judgment in his question but still you open your mouth to tell him that you’re fine. He cuts you off. “And don't give me any of that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. We both know it’s a fucking lie so don’t even try it.” he tells you firmly.

You hate that your body's response to him looking at you like this, asking if you’re okay, demanding that you tell him if something is wrong, isn't anger. Instead more tears fill your eyes, blinking once they finally spill down your cheeks.

Billy’s eyes widen momentarily. He lets go of your wrist and chin, using both of his hands to hold your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“I’m going to fail history!” You blurt out, pulling his hands away from you and taking a step back, wiping furiously at your face.

“Is that what this is about?” Billy asks, disbelievingly. He shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m serious Billy!” you groan, glaring at him. “I’m going to fail history because my brain is fucking broken or something!”

“Hey! Listen to me crazy, you’re not going to fail.” Billy says firmly, stepping towards you again, placing both of his hands on your shoulders. He keeps his eyes leveled on you, his voice steady. “You’ve got this. Do you really think I would have put as much time and effort into teaching you if I thought you couldn’t nail this thing?” he asks, lifting a brow. “You’re cooking may be good but I value my time more than anything.” he tells you seriously. You keep your eyes on him, searching his face for the lie.

“You’re going to pass.” he says with such conviction, you almost believe him. “But you can’t do anything until you calm down.” He tells you, his hands tightening slightly on your shoulders. “Take a deep breath, count to ten, and keep telling yourself ‘I’ve got this’. Okay?” he instructs. “Confidence is 90% mental. Let me see you do it.” You know his eyes are on you even as you close your eyes, filling your lungs with air, counting silently in your mind repeating the affirmation.

“Do it again.” he orders. You repeat the process, slowly feeling your pulse regulate and the panic slither back from your mind. You hear Billy chuckle.

“Good. I think oxygen is finally getting to your brain.” Billy says, causing you to open your eyes and immediately roll them. But part of you thinks he must be right, you are still nervous but the paralyzing fear you felt is nearly gone. You wonder where he learned that. If he has ever had to use it himself?

“Thank you, Billy.” You say, hoping he can see how much you mean it.

“Don’t thank me yet, loca. You can do that after you ace this test.” he says, another smirk flashing his perfect teeth. Letting go of your shoulders with one more reassuring squeeze he takes the containers of food from your hands. Without another word, the warning bell rings, both of you head to your respective classes.

The rest of the day you continue to repeat Billy’s calming routine whenever you start to feel your panic rising up. You practice all through lunch while you study, unable to find Steve who must still be upset about this morning. You know you will have to see him after basketball practice, there is no way he is going to leave you without a ride home.

You are actively counting to ten as you walk towards history. You don’t notice Billy fall into step beside you only glancing at him when you feel his hand slip into yours. It’s subtle and in the bustling hallway it would look like he simply brushed against you. Neither of you stop walking as he leans in slightly.

“You’ve got this.” he says firmly, giving your hand a squeeze before letting it fall, both of you entering the class.

During the exam you focus on remembering all the stories Billy told you. All the long nights of putting the pieces into a cohesive plot. You recognize a lot of the material even though there are a few questions that stump you. You have to take a few deep breaths when your classmates begin to rise one at a time as they finish. You're not even halfway done as they set their completed tests on Mr. Willson’s desk, exiting the classroom. Billy is among the first to leave. You watch him confidently swagger to the front setting his test down. His eyes meet yours as he walks to the door, he gives you a nod and a quick wink before exiting.

You don’t finish until the last minute of class, reading and rereading every question checking your answers. It’s only you left in the classroom as you rise taking a deep breath walking to the front. Mr. Willson watches you, one brow raised as you place your test in front of him.

“Grades will be posted by the end of the day.” he says stoically, taking your test and placing it on the large stack to his right. You exit quickly, the urge to snatch your test back just to check one more thing is overwhelming.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder you exit into the busy hallway. You notice the palpable energy that fills the air, everyone excited for the last class before winter break officially starts.

You spot Billy leaning against the lockers ahead of you, casually scanning the hallway with his practiced indifference. You wonder if he’s been waiting all this time for you. You start towards him, hoping to talk about the questions on the test you weren't sure about. His eyes meet yours but before you can reach him someone steps directly into your path. You stop short, nearly running directly into Steve’s chest.

“Hey.” he greets you, a hesitant smile already in place.

“Hey.” you respond, taking a small step back. You aren't sure how to act after what happened this morning. You want to apologize but the words are escaping you. There is a pause as both of you look at eachother, students hurry past, breaking around you like a rock in a stream.

“About this morning, I-”

“I’m sorry about this mo-” you both say at the same time. It manages to break the tension, causing both of you to chuckle. It lightens your heart seeing a more genuine smile on his face.

“Sorry, you go first.” Steve says, gesturing for you to continue.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened this morning. I know that you were just trying to help.” You say, keeping your eyes on him despite the urge to look at your shoes. You have lost friends by not saying what needs to be said, and you would be damned if you let it happen again. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that.” you say earnestly. Steve shakes his head at your words.

“No, I’m sorry too. I know I can be a bit much sometimes. I didn’t mean to smother you or anything. I just want you to know if you ever need space I’m cool with that, I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything.” He apologies, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You smile slightly, feeling all the tension between the two of you dissipate.

“Apology accepted.” you say extending your hand. “Friends?” you ask, lifting a brow. Steve glances at your offered hand, his smile growing.

“Friends.” Steve confirms, taking your hand and giving it a firm shake. You both smile at each other and despite the crowded hallway you let him pull you into a tight hug. He squeezes you tightly, lifting you off the ground for a moment causing you to laugh. “Does this mean you’ll go to the Christmas party with me tonight?” he asks, smiling brightly down at you. You scoff, pushing him away to look squarely up at him.

“Really Steve?” you ask, lifting a brow. You had told him ‘no’ weeks ago when he first invited you to the big party taking place at Bobby Mathers house. “Are you seriously using my apology as leverage to get me to go with you?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve laughs, holding his hands up.

“I would never do something like that.” he protests, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s just, everyone is going to be there.” he tells you, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. You know he’s been self conscious about going to parties like this since everything with Nancy and Jonathan happened. Especially when it became public knowledge in the small highschool. “Don’t make me go alone.” he begs, giving you his best puppy eyes.

Damn those brown eyes.

“Maybe.” you say. Steve’s grins ear to ear pumping his fist in the air in victory.

“Yes!” He cheers.

“I didn’t say ‘yes’, Steve!” you say, shaking your head, reluctantly smiling as he backs away from you still grinning brightly.

“I’ll pick you up at 8!” He calls, pointing at you before turning to jog down the hall. It’s less crowded now and you look around for Billy. He’s gone.

The rest of the day passes quickly, hardly anyone paying attention to the last class of the day. When the final bell rings you can hear the cheers erupt around you, everyone rushing from their seats to the parking lot. You take your time packing your bag, instead of heading to the library to meet Nancy you head back to Mr. Willson’s room. You can’t leave until you know, for better or worse.

When you reach his room, the door is open and you can see him seated at his desk, working through another stack of tests. You knock gently on his door, causing him to look up. He doesn't look surprised to see you standing there, setting down his pen as he watches you enter the room.

“I thought you would be back for this.” He says, picking up one of the exams set aside. You hear him sigh as he looks over the front of the test. “I can tell you put a lot of effort into this.” he says, rising from his chair. Your stomach twists at his words. He looks so serious. Fuck. You failed. You knew it. You failed and he feels bad for you. You hold your breath as he extends the test out to you. Taking it, you slowly turn it over.

Your heart stops.

“Keep up whatever you’ve been doing and you might actually pass my class.” he says, a small smile almost imperceptible on his face. You could scream. You can't believe what you’re seeing, but right there, next to your name, in green ink, is a big ‘B-’.

You fucking did it.

Your grin is so big it actually hurts your face.

“Thank you!” you exclaim, beaming up at him. You have to find Billy. Turning to leave you practically run for the door.

“Hey! I still need that!” Mr. Willson yells. You stop, quickly rushing back to hand him the test before hurrying out.

You’re absolutely buzzing with excitement. You rush through the halls, heading towards the gym. You feel the need to tell someone, anyone, about the test but there is one person in particular you want to share the news with. Reaching the gym you skid to a halt outside the double doors. Looking through the glass you see the basketball team scattered across the court getting warmed up for practice. You spot Billy’s curly blonde mullet almost instantly. You go to push through the doors but stop, seeing Steve stretching on the side of the court.

If you go in there now to talk to Billy, Steve will freak out and knowing the two of them it will likely end in a fight. Your eyes turn back to Billy, he bends a knee tying his sneakers. Seeming to feel your gaze, he glances up. He looks somewhat surprised to see you standing there, his brows pulling together in confusion a beat later.

You glance at Steve to make sure he hasn’t seen you at the doors before quickly gesturing for Billy to come outside. He nods once, confirming that he understands. He stands, saying something to one of his teammates before jogging across the gym towards you.

You duck out of view moving to stand next to the bathrooms where you and Billy normally meet in the mornings. A minute later Billy exits the gym doors, he glances around a moment before spotting you and heading over.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, looking you over, clearly confused by your presence. You’re practically bouncing with excitement, struggling to contain your smile.

“I went by Mr. Willsons to see my grade, and guess what?” You prompt, biting your lower lip, losing the fight to keep your grin hidden. Billy’s expression loosens, rolling his eyes.

“You finally caught him shedding his lizard skin?” Billy asks, a small smile ghosting over his lips. The excitement bubbles over and you laugh.

“I passed!” You exclaim, your smile overtaking your face, impossible to hold back. Billy’s smile grows as he watches you bounce on the balls of your feet, the energy inside you needing a way out. “I mean I got a B minus but still!” you elaborate.

“You say that like it’s a surprise, loca.” Billy says. “Not to be that guy but, I told you so.” He teases. You laugh again, shoving his shoulder lightly. He catches your hand as you pull back, holding it in his.

“One B minus doesn't mean you’re off the hook you nutjob.” He says. “You still have to pass the class and that means passing every other quiz and test before the end of the school year.” He reminds you. You nod, only letting that dampen your mood slightly. “There were a few things on this exam we didn’t get to cover, so tonight we’ll-” Your smile falters, causing him to stop short. “What?” He asks.

“I won’t be able to come over tonight.” you tell him. It’s subtle but you see his smile fade, though he hides his feelings well. “Steve is dragging me to this party and-” The sound of voices approaching the gym doors cuts you off. More specifically, the sound of Steve’s voice.

Without thinking you grip Billy’s hand and pull him into the bathroom to hide. You hear a group come through the gym doors a moment later. You look around for a place to hide hearing the conversation grow closer.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I don't know, he said he would be right back.”

“Check to see if he’s taking a piss.”

“I’ll go check the bathroom, you guys look around.”

You mentally curse yourself. Of course they were just coming to get Billy. Why did you drag him in here with you? You turn to tell Billy to go but he drags you forward, ushering you into a bathroom stall.

“Stand on the toilet seat.” He orders. You do as he says, stepping up onto the toilet, bracing your hands against the wall for support. Billy stands in front of you, his hands hovering near your waist in case you fall.

He doesn't look at you though. He keeps his gaze narrowed at the ground, his lips pressed into a firm line. The tension in his shoulders is obvious and from where you are positioned above him, you see the muscle in his jaw flutter as he clenches his teeth together.

He’s pissed.

Looking at this objectively, you see why. You’ve just made it clear that you don't want to be seen close to him. And it’s glaringly obvious that you are hiding your connection with Billy from Steve. Your face burns. He knows you're hiding him. You try to tell yourself it’s for the best but part of you still wants to apologize.

The bathroom door swings open, banging against the wall.

“Hargrove, are you in here?” you recognize Steve’s voice. You see the muscle in Billy’s jaw tick again before he responds.

“Fuck off Harrington!” He bites back. You hear Steve scoff, his sneakers squeaking as he walks further into the bathroom.

“Trust me, I wish I could. But coach has us running plays and apparently you need to be there.” Steve explains, the irritation in his tone clear. Your pulse quickens as Steve’s sneakers come into view under the stall door.

“Fuck.” Billy curses under his breath, shaking his head. You couldn’t have said it better yourself. When Billy doesn't respond after a moment, Steve only grows more irritated.

“I swear to god if you're taking a shit! Hurry up!” Steve yells, pounding his fist on the stall door. The sudden sound makes you jump, your foot slipping from where you’re perched on the toilet seat, sending you careening towards the floor. Your arms flail out, banging loudly against the stall, as you try to catch yourself.

Billy rushes forward, wrapping his arms around you to stop you from crashing to the floor. Your sudden weight threatens to take him down as well forcing him to pivot, pinning your body against the stall wall with his to keep you both upright. Your head collides with the metal, a pained sound escaping you, cut off by Billy's palm over your mouth. You inhale deeply through your nose, the throbbing in your head matching up with the pounding of your heart.

“Jesus christ, Do you have someone else in there?” Steve yells pounding on the door again. Billy’s eyes meet yours. You can barely breathe with how his body has you pressed into the wall. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his waist, keeping your feet off the floor. The hand that's not covering your mouth is wrapped around your waist helping hold you upright. Your hands automatically clutch Billy’s shoulders, and from this position you are eye level with him.

His eyes search yours for a moment then you see something click. He leans in, whispering in your ear, low enough that Steve can’t hear.

“Moan. Loud. Make it sound real.” He orders. Your eyes widen at the implication of his plan. You shake your head against his hand, your mind racing to come up with a different plan. You’ve never even kissed a boy! You don’t know how to moan like that, there is no way you can believably imitate-

Billy moves his hand from your mouth, sliding it over to gently cup the side of your face. You shake your head again, mouthing ‘I can’t, I don’t know how.” Hoping he understands.

He grits his teeth again, his eyes falling to your neck, you see his gaze darken. Before you can protest, Billy lowers his head, pressing his mouth to your throat.

You can’t help the gasp of surprise at the sudden sensation. His mouth is open as he kisses down your neck. Your grip tightens on his shoulders as his tongue presses over your thundering pulse.

This is so different from the small kisses you gave him last night. This feels so much more intense, his touch spreading fire over your skin making your breaths come in short gasps. It’s like he’s going to devour you, and you want him to. You tilt your head into the hand that holds the side of your face. You feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling it slightly, earning another gasp

Your body feels like it's vibrating, heat pulsing through your veins. His body presses you harder into the wall, his arm tightening around your waist as if he could pull you closer than you already are. When his mouth moves lower Billy sinks his teeth gently into the sensitive flesh of your neck. It’s all too much. Then using his tongue and teeth he pulls a bit of skin into his mouth sucking on it hard enough that it stings but in a way that makes your brain go fuzzy. A moan erupts from deep within your chest, your hands flying to his hair, either to pull him away or keep him there, you’re not sure.

“Jesus christ.” you hear Steve grumble. You had almost forgotten what a precarious situation you’re in. To be fair, you can barely form a coherent thought as Billy finally pulls his lips off of you.

“You going to stick around and listen to the finale, Stevie boy?! I didn’t think you were into that!” Billy taunts, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Alright, whatever! Just… hurry up!” Steve says, finally taking a step away. You listen as he quickly exits the bathroom.

When he’s gone, the only sounds in the room are yours and Billy’s ragged breathing. His eyes search your face, his expression filled with something you can't quite place, but it stirs something deep in your gut.

What just happened?

His gaze flickers to your parted lips, the hand in your hair sliding down to hold the side of your neck. His tumb glides over the portion of your neck he had bitten into, you can feel him smear the remnants of his saliva as he moves over the spot, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then he blinks a few times, rapidly, like he's just waking up. He takes a step back, his hands moving to your waist to steady you as your feet lower back to the ground. You keep your hands on his shoulders, not trusting your legs to hold you up with how they currently feel like jello. The darkness in his eyes is gone, replaced by something eerily close to fear as he scans your face. You know that you must be blushing like crazy but that’s the least of your worries given the circumstances.

“That's all I could think of. Sex tends to make people uncomfortable enough to leave you the fuck alone, so I thought-” Billy explains.

“No, no. It was a good idea.” You say, finally finding your voice again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fake it, I’ve just never-” You stop yourself from saying more. You feel his hands flex slightly where they hold your waist.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his eyes still searching your face closely. You note how tense he seems, concern still clear in his eyes. You get the sickening sense that he’s getting ready for you to snap at him.

How could you possibly be upset? You did the same thing to him not 24 hours ago, and the only reason he had to do that was because you dragged him in here because you were worried about what Steve would think. If anyone should be upset, it’s him. All you can really think about is the way his mouth felt against you and his teeth-

“I’m… good.” You lie. Every instinct inside you is screaming at you to press him against the wall and find out what else his mouth can do. You shake your head, like that will clear the thoughts from filling your mind. You lower your hands from his shoulders, resting them on his forearms, his hands still on your waist.

His eyes bore into yours, still searching, still waiting. After a moment he must see what he needs because he nods.

“Alright, I’ll go out first and make sure your guard dog is gone, then wait 5 minutes to be sure the coast is clear before you come out.” He tells you. You only nod.

Then, like he has to force himself, Billy pulls his hands away from you, yours falling away from him as well. He turns to the door, opening it slightly and peering out to make sure it’s empty before quickly ducking out of the stall. Leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

What just happened?

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Let me know what you thought of it, it's kind of new for me to write intimacy like this so please let me know what you think! Leave a like or a comment and you'll hear form me soon!

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itjazzbicch · 1 year ago

Text

Not Jealous

Pairing: Hwoarang x Fem Reader

First time writing for Hwoarang, so I hope I did well!

Summary: It's supposed to be a friends' night at the club, but when the reader accidentally bumps into someone whom her best friend, Hwoarang, doesn't like, Hwoarang realizes something within himself that leads to the two connecting in a new way after the reader calls him out for acting jealous...

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!) Some drinking, foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it!) Public sex (in a closet) (Also, the 'guy at the bar' is totally not Jin 😂)

Word Count: 1.5k

"Hey, I'm going to grab another drink. Want anything?"

"Yeah, my usual!" Hwoarang spat out, too busy laughing with the rest of his friends

He would always get the same drink, and I knew what I wanted, having to cram against the crowded bar. It was so loud that I had to lean over the bar top and yell my order to the bartender, accidentally bumping someone.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry!" I hurried to apologize, finding a black-haired man in a biker jacket next to me, his eyes peeking through his bangs:

"It's crowded. Don't worry about it."

"Very crowded," I chuckled nervously, getting my drinks and smiling before I left, "You have a good one!"

"You too," He smiled back softly, waving as I left.

Returning to all my friends, they were still lively except for Hwoarang, who was staring at something with a scowl on his face as I held out his drink:

"Your usual."

He was hyper-focused on whatever he was staring at, leaning to get in his face and tease, "Want me to drink it instead?"

"Thanks," Finally taking his drink, he was still staring out to the crowd of people, so I asked as I sat next to him:

"What's your deal? What are you staring at?"

He ignored me, and more questions flooded my mind when I sat, and his arm went around my shoulders; trying to look in the same direction, I saw that guy that I bumped into at the bar, his eyes locked with Hwoarang's.

That's when it clicked in my head, nearly spilling my drink as I started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Hwoarang was confused by my laughter, and I kept things straightforward:

"Are you jealous because I talked to that guy at the bar?"

How his cheeks turned red with a sour look had me rolling, jumping at his hand falling and pinching my side, mumbling under his breath:

"Jealously is when you're upset about something you don't have. So, no. I'm not jealous."

Good thing I had my drink, taking a big sip for some liquid courage before asking:

"Oh, so you think you have me?"

Gazing past the orange strand of hair against his nose, we've never stared at each other so deeply, glancing at that guy still at the bar and then back to Hwoarang:

"Don't like the way he smiled at me or something?"

"I don't like that guy," That was obvious, glaring at him once more before turning back to me with a cocky smirk, hand latched to my hip and pulling me closer, "And yeah, I'm pretty sure I have you."

Why did I feel so hot suddenly? I didn't even realize how heavy my breaths were as he just smirked at me, beginning to lean closer, but both of us stopped as our friends made their presence known and teased:

"Geez! Get a room!"

So much embarrassment overtook me; a part of me wanted to kick their asses for ruining that moment for me. Hwoarang was about to kiss me, and that's what they do?!

"I'm gonna run to the restroom," I said quickly, standing and speedwalking off, but Hwoarang was right behind me. I heard him yell at our friends before speaking to me:

"Wait a second!"

I made it to the restroom area first, seeing a closet in the hall. Opening it quickly, there was just some cleaning supplies on some shelves against the back wall, keeping it open a little as Hwoarang came around, groaning:

"You're seriously running off because they said that?"

"No, they told us to get a room," Grabbing his hand, he knew what I was planning, stepping into the closet and shutting the door, "So, I got us one. Kind of."

"Haha!" He laughed at me, standing against the door, "You having an idea like this?"

"You're the one who was going to kiss me. What did you expect?" I shot back, his silence worrying me, "What? Were you only going to do it to show-boat for that du-"

I was rattled by the goosebumps that covered me, already gone into bliss as his lips smacked into mine, my back hitting the wall, snapping me back into reality, his voice low and deep as he found my eyes in the darkness:

"That guy only made me realize something. That's all."

I couldn't stand the seriousness anymore; all the actions that led us here had an obvious meaning, and a nightclub closet wasn't the place where I'd like to spill my heart out, so I grabbed him by the jacket, kissing him and playing around:

"Give me something good in here, and I just might take you home."

"Good one," He chuckled, pressing his lips hard, the metal clanking of his belt making me look down, his alluring whisper having me melt against the wall, "When I'm done, you'll be begging me to come home with you."

Squeezing the back of my thighs and rubbing his way up my shirt, I instinctively bit his lip the second his hands cupped my ass, squeezing then spreading apart for a finger to slide against my panties and feel their dampness.

"I think it's time to ditch these," He toyed, pulling at my panties. As soon as I wiggled out of them, I was moaning against his chest at the way his finger slid through my folds, finding my clit; my head quickly fixed upward against the wall as he kissed and nibbled at my neck, pumping his finger into me, "That's better."

"Hwoarang-" Biting my lip, I looked at the light peaking under the door, knowing that there was a chance we could get caught and in terrible trouble.

"You like that, yeah?" His arrogance went through the roof from the second I started moaning, adding another finger and pumping faster, burying every knuckle and wiggling to hit my sweet spot.

"Yeah!" I moaned louder, trying to get my point across as I found his waistband, feeling something hard and warm, looking to see his leather pants were already undone, his cock pressed against his briefs hard, desperate for escape, "If we're gonna do this, we'll have to be quick."

"Turn around," He knew I was right, tapping my ass as did as I was told, one hand pushing my skirt up to my hips, feeling the warmth of the other between us, hearing his leaking thoughts come out in whispers, "Knew this skirt would look a lot better like that."

"You were checking me out before?" Turning my head to smirk, my jaw dropped, a high-pitched gasp flying out, "Oh my gosh!"

"Oh my gosh, is right," Even with my eyes shut tight, I knew that his cocky smirk was fixed on me, stuffing my soaked cunt with his cock in just a single thrust, pulling back just a little and the flesh of my ass and thighs rippled when his hips smacked against me, "Can barely take me."

"Hwoa-" Pressing my hands against the wall as hard as I could, it was hard to fight gravity, back arching and perking myself toward him as he went faster and turned me into a sloppy mess, forehead sweating against the wall too, "Shit!"

My upper body started to dip lower and lower, hearing him groan pleasurably once I was at a certain angle, spanking me and smiling:

"There you go; take this cock, baby."

Standing was becoming a real challenge, trying to focus on all the good tingles I felt, how quickly the tip of his cock was hitting every right spot, but looking as there seemed to be a lot of commotion outside the door.

He noticed too, an arm wrapping around my chest to hold me upright, his free hand finding my clit, ruthlessly rubbing, and it sent me into a frenzy, squirming and my walls squeezing his cock hard as I squealed:

"Hwoarang!"

"I know you're gonna cum," He whispered in my ear, covering my mouth and ramming his cock faster, "As soon as we slip out of here, we'll leave, okay? Together."

I only nodded, eyes rolling back as screams muffled into his hand from how he was deep fucking me, panting hard into his hand, my heart beating in my head and seeing stars, but hearing his whispers echoed into the bass of the music outside the door:

"Oh yeah, baby. Definitely taking you home for round two."

His thrusts slowed but were still deep, needing to feel how hard I came around his cock, drenched and my legs shaking with an ache in my knees, finally getting the air I needed as he pulled back and moved his hand from my mouth.

"I n-need a second, Hwoa-" I breathed in deep, resting against the wall as I fixed my skirt, smiling at his hands rubbing my back, giving me the moment I needed, ready to sneak out, but doubling checking as I cocked my eyebrow at him and recalled, "So, we really going home for round two?"

"Hell yeah," He smirked and winked, "I still haven't gotten my fix. You're in for it."

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

#tekken #tekken x reader #tekken x y/n #tekken imagine #tekken fanfic #tekken fanfiction #tekken fic #tekken smut #tekken oneshot #hwoarang #hwoarang x reader #hwoarang x y/n #hwoarang imagine #hwoarang smut #hwoarang oneshot #hwoarang fanficiton #hwoarang fanfic #hwoarang fic #read and enjoy

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thisuserislilsilly · 5 days ago

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Summary: A Sanguinala, Cardrean Penal Legion style.

Genre: Drama/fluff/wholesome/angst/Romantic tension/Bit of smut

TW: Foul language, blood, angst, wholesome, bittersweet, smut

Pairing: Commissar Gallius x Dormath(?) and Cardrean Penal Regiment (found family dynamic)

Note: I well try to cram some holidays special for my lovelies, pray Santa gifts me with writer inspiration

Goblin tag squad: @meervalv0 @echo-of-damnation @artemisareia

@finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @jaghatai-khock

@druidwolf21

Drunken monologues

The commissar exhaled exasperatedly at the impatience of his troops, they hadn't waited for even the slightest order before the shuttles had opened and Cardrean had welcomed it's lost sons and daughters back just in time for Sanguinala. Days of coordination and orderly practices for that anxiously awaited moment had been thrown out of the window as soon as the regiment guardsmen had seen a fraction of their homes and Hive cities. No threat or yelled orders could had ever deterred their hearts and minds from disconnecting completely from their usual otherwise obedient forms.

Dormath, who had been standing by the sidelines with the widest shit-eating grin on his face, made his best attempts to calm his superior down, reminding him of the fact most of those guardsmen had barely touched their native planet in over a decade or more, like him; if Gallius had gotten over their fights and discussions over the most inconsequential things, he could more than well cut them some slack for behaving the way they had done as soon as they disembarked. In addition, just to throw more persuasion over at Gallius, the second in command reassured his superior that he would personally oversee the troops to reunite in a spot of the city they wouldn't turn into a mess once they left the planet and a cozy place to keep everyone in, reducing the chances some High Axe would randomly get in trouble at the other side of the Hive World with no possibility for Gallius to convince local Arbites to not shoot the Axe on sight. Groaning at how keen Dormath had used his words, Gallius made the commander swear three times upon his honor and his family's name that everything would go exactly as Dormath had told him; sighing and chuckling, the Cardrean made all the swears and promises, even offering his badges as a token of confidence in case Gallius needed more reassurance and then; with one slip of the finger an a salute, Dormath disappeared between the crowd of people passing all over the ship bay.

After saying a temporary farewell, Gallius went on foot to the only church in Cardrean, a semi-destroyed structure, corroded by years of constant shootouts happening all around and inside of it, there were some holes on the walls being worked on by servitors at the moment the commissar entered the holy building, the air smelled of gun smoke and the distinctive aroma of disintegrated flesh product of plasma shots, a mixture of odors far too familiar for the officer who paid no mind to it. At the feet of one of the shrines dedicated to Yumer Ishmel, the best Planetary Governor Cardrean had ever witnessed, Gallius took off his service hat, pulled back a few strands of hair and grabbed the pendant in which hanged a silver heart with a photo inside of it. His wife and child. The commissar sighed, how many years would that kid had if it wasn't for what had befallen them, how intelligent they would be and the remarkable student for the Schola Progenium the universe had missed out on. Gallius yearned for the touch of his late wife, specially in those holidays like Sanguinala represented; with talks of friendship and family all around people's mouth. He kissed the picture gently, letting a few tears roll down his cheek before tugging the photo close to his chest and beginning his prayer.

"I know it has been some time I haven't talked to you..." Gallius whispered, sniffing "But hey, I'm still alive honey...the Cardreans haven't been annihilated yet so I guess I have been doing my duty well. These days are the worst, like the year before this and the one before that one....I miss you and the kid...I miss you both still, there is not a day where I don't think of what we had and what could be if only....if only you two were here. It's not all bad news...I know I tend to say those first and spend more time detailing those that the ones you actually wanted to hear...but I've...met someone...got closer to them if I'm being honest; Dormath, remember him? The one that always wrote you about my health and if you could make me go soft on the regiment...that one...I've grown more than fond of him, too much, to the point some thoughts have been...troubling my mind lately"

The commissar wiped some sweat off from his forehead, he hadn't been this nervous since his final tests to become an officer of the Imperium, yet this felt much more complicated to even put into words. He perfectly understood there was nobody there, that the picture wouldn't spring to life or that there was anyone listening to his prayer, yet he endured; he had to get that off from his chest.

"I know you will laugh at this, probably tell me I'm that fool you fell in love with talking right now...but I wanted to ask you if you could forgive me...for loving him; for wanting to be with him. Our marriage vows said we would be together forever...but now there is someone else here I want...need to share with; I love you too, I always will...but you said I needed to continue on living and-" Gallius stuttered, looking down at the photo again and closing his eyes as he clenched his fist to not be overwhelmed by his emotions "And he...he's the one...I can go on with..."

Gallius stopped, hearing the echoes of distant hymns and Sanguinala carols that were beginning to fill the dirty streets of the Hive City; it was the sign he had spent too long reminiscing about the past and that his prayer had to be cut short. Sniffing into a handkerchief with the Imperial Aquila on it, the commissar blew all of what he had inside of his nostrils into the cloth, that then he proceeded to fold and throw away in one of the servitors close to the exit; he then turned one last time to look back at the statue of the Saint, nodded and walked down the busy streets towards the place where he had told Dormath he would wait him in.

The walk was a good excuse to glance around and see what changes Cardrean suffered on those holidays; which much to Gallius amusement it was not too much, the streets were still infested with drunkards that stumbled from door to door singing carols into the night, Arbites and soldiers alike got together to play a few rounds of the popular local game "Fool's roulette", consisting in passing around a blank gun and either accepting a challenge or telling one embarrassing truth, otherwise you tested luck with the gun to see if you hut yourself with a blank or the other option being there was nothing in the chamber of the gun; there were still bets being wagered on who would last longer in the Penal Legion, some soldiers testing the "fresh bloods" by giving them the beating of their lives to see if they would complain or not, Eternal Sisters making their rounds either returning kids to their homes or stealing little girls to recruit for their gang and, the most mundane thing Gallius could find before arriving at his intended destination. families putting the last decorations under their apartments rows or single floor rooms. That sight brought a tiny smile onto the commissar countenance, for a moment seeing part of his past life reflected in those little families and children so vigorously helping their parents.

The sound of guitars tuning, gangs speaking with each other in sensible tones of voice and mumbling between each other welcomed Gallius back to the people he knew the most; some crude decorations had been posted on the front of the city row that had been assigned to the regiment, with a single light sign that said "958TH" dangling in a very precarious position that the commissar knew it wouldn't last all night hanging there. Cheers received him, people patting the man in the back or saluting respectfully, not many mingled with Gallius at first, as the liquor hadn't kicked in any of the men boldness yet to have casual conversations with his superior, although that wouldn't last forever. They all formed a circle, moving chairs around and taking over the space they were inhabiting, making it theirs completely, with bodily fluids spreading everywhere being pat of that deal. A big, messy, loud, violent, crazy family with all sorts of types of stories, lives and relationships between each other.

"Well? What are you all waiting for opening the Amasec?!?!" Gallius beckoned, receiving hurrah's in response "Let's get this party started, Cardreans!!!!"

With his encouragement, the party began; the first drinks were passed around, a few games were played, some fights were made, people were already crying and laughing together, the whole regiment was present in the same room, enjoying each other's company, forgetting the horrors they had witnessed and the nightmares that kept them awake every single day. This was the only night were the commissar was just like one of the men, drinking, playing, fighting and laughing until his stomach hurt, he took care of his own clothes and washed them with his own hands, he ate with his own hands and he even played a few rounds of "Fool's roulette". Dormath had to come up behind him at some point and give him a piece of advice about what he should do if someone betted a dare he couldn't handle, something the commissar took in good faith and even joked about it.

Everything was going well, people were having the time of their lives, some were even already sleeping on the floor, others taking pictures and sending them to their families or loved ones, the place was slowly getting filled by the aroma of food being cooked in the back, Gallius even got up from his seat and walked towards the kitchen to see how things were coming along, he saw the food cooking away on the huge pot the regiment used for those occasions and smiled, he took a plate and loaded some of that delicious smelling food on it.

"Hey, don't eat everything, I'll go get my own plate!" Dormath joked, pushing the commissar away from the pot and towards the dining area. "What are you doing? I'm hungry…" Gallius giggled, drunkenly following the other man, sitting on his designated spot, which was next to Dormath, something he hadn't even noticed at first. "Today you aren't getting the special treatment sir, you're one of us, so you fucking eat like one of us!" Dormath joked around, pushing the officer to the side "And like one of you I get to flirt with whoever I want?" Gallius smirked, getting some reactions from everyone around "Sir, the kissing under the mistletoe already happened sir, I don't think Dormath here could handle another one" Kell chimed in, trying not to laugh at his own joke "I wouldn't mind" Dormath shrugged, causing everyone around to start cheering at him

Gallius just rolled his eyes, laughing at the comment as he dug into his food, stealing glances at Dormath from time to time and smiling when the other man would look back at him. He wasn't too sure if the other soldiers were making fun of them or genuinely thinking that something was going on, but whatever the case might be, the commissar didn't mind it. There was something nice about it, knowing people knew about how he felt and that he wasn't keeping it a secret anymore. The prayer had helped a hell of a lot with his confidence while the amasec had done it's thing to encourage his reckless behavior.

The dinner went on as any other, with jokes being told, insults being thrown and food flying from one side of the table to the other; Gallius was happy, truly happy, for the first time in many years. That feeling got to a boiling point when someone threw a joke about the commissar having feelings for Dormath, something that Gallius responded with a smirk and an "I'll tell you about it tomorrow"; causing his second in command to bury his head on his jacket out of embarrassment, making everyone laugh at the scene. The night was progressing and the amasec was now being shared with everyone that wanted a taste of it.

"Hey…Gallius…" Dormath mumbled, his voice weak and barely audible above the music, the noise, the conversations and the laughter around them "Hm?" The other man looked up, seeing his officer in a very peculiar state of mind, something that made his stomach flutter in excitement "What does my loyal soldier need from me?" "We can go later to your quarters…yeah?" Dormath drunken mumble got a laugh out of the commissar "My dear officer, you can't even stand on your feet, I doubt you'll be able to do anything if we get there" Gallius responded, caressing Dormath's cheek and feeling the heat emanating from him "Then let me stay in your room tonight…we can talk more there…" Dormath muttered, laying his head on the other man's shoulder "Sure…we can talk more about this later…" Gallius said, smiling as he kissed Dormath's forehead

The two men were interrupted by a few comments from the men around them, some saying "Don't fuck in front of us, take it somewhere else!", "Get a room!" or "Hey, save it for the bedroom, you two!". The commissar responded by saying a middle finger and taking a sip of his drink, Dormath was too intoxicated to respond, or even know what was happening, only that his head was on top of the man he loved and that he was tired. The two remained like that for a while, Gallius talking with everyone else, drinking and laughing, while Dormath tried to hold on to consciousness, only failing at that every now and then, getting a kiss from the commissar whenever that happened.

The party went on, people slowly taking it easier, with the music starting to brew up again from the mumbling mouths of the musicians, who now abandoned the most known Imperial carols and instead going with local lyrics.

"Oh mother, you who taught me everything I watch the lights up above and I think of you Those wonderful days under your warm arms I saw the crammed room, at first, the one that welcomed me home It came the beauty of the fire, taking my hand and showing How the world could be fine, could be beautiful like it My brothers and sisters on the Hives, who await for my arrival I ask for forgiveness, as we lay up here Hugged in warmth, with our souls resting at last I love you all, my friends, but I must return to war We'll see each other where the roads cross under the sun This I promise you, for all that we've been through Goodbye, at last, earth, who loved me whole"

The lyrics were nothing short of an ode to Cardrean and everything the planet had given to the regiment, but it was the perfect time for Gallius to say goodbye and get up from his seat, with a few people noticing it. He didn't say anything, just waved at them and left; he carried Dormath in his back towards his quarters, with a few whistles being heard behind him, something that got a smile out of him.

Dormath woke up soon after he had been laid on the bed, extending his arms out to Gallius while giggling drunkenly; the commissar just smiled at the display and decided to play along, giving his officer a kiss on the forehead and pulling him into a hug.

"You're…a very good person, Gallius" Dormath slurred, looking up at the commissar, eyes half closed "And you are an excellent soldier…the best I could have ever wished for" Gallius whispered, stroking his lover's clean shaven head "You promised…some…action…hmm?" Dormath cheeks flushed red "I…I can still be awake for a couple more minutes…heheh" Gallius took the little clothes he still had on him and slipped on the bed, smirking at Dormath who already looked at the commissar with the fire of desire in his eyes. Gallius moved closer, pulling Dormath by his shoulders and placing him on his lap, getting a moan out of the other man. The commissar kissed Dormath very roughly, biting his lips and pushing his tongue inside the officer's mouth, tasting everything he could in that heated embrace; Gallius started to caress Dormath's back, making his way to his shoulders and chest, where he stopped and began to grope and squeeze at his muscles and joints careful to not touch the switches of Dormath augmented arms, which made the officer whimper loudly into the kiss.

The commissar moved one of his hands down to the officer's crotch, unbuckling his pants and releasing the officer's member, stroking it in a rush to get a reaction out of the other man. Gallius let go of the kiss, now focusing on kissing Dormath's neck, getting a moan out of him when the officer felt Gallius bite him and leaving a mark there, a very rough mark that wouldn't disappear easily. Gallius stopped for a moment, seeing the other man's reaction; Dormath was breathing heavily, sweating profusely, with eyes closed and a smile on his face, he looked absolutely delicious like that. The commissar didn't want to wait any longer and took off his shirt, letting Dormath admire the view; the officer tried to reach out for Gallius body, but his arms failed him, so the other man did it for him, pulling Dormath in a hug and laying him down on the bed, beginning to lick his body from head to toe, leaving no part of him untouched.

Dormath couldn't take it anymore, he was burning up, his mind was racing and he felt like he could pass out at any time, yet he endured, whimpered for every little rough touch Gallius could give him, the officer desired that more than anything, the imposing hands exploring his most intimate parts, the mouth that gave no quarter to his body sucking it dry, the cock making its way into him, stretching his insides as much as it could.

The pleasure was almost too much for the officer to handle, he could barely move or form coherent words, only managing to moan and whimper when Gallius did something he really liked, that combined with the commissar's cock entering him again and again, made for an explosive cocktail. Gallius himself was going at it, the liquor made him feel very lustful and the rough treatment didn't seem to stop anytime soon, his thrusts became more powerful by the minute, Dormath's moans encouraging him to keep going, to push as far as he could go, to make the other man go crazy with his rough touches, kisses and bites.

The two were in heaven, or hell depending on the point of view from their unique form of "pleasure", the whole world forgotten, they had each other to satisfy their needs and nobody else mattered, not even the regiment itself. This kept going until both men couldn't hold it anymore, they came at the same time, Dormath's cock exploding its juices all over the place while Gallius filled up his partner once more, moaning loudly as he did. The two stayed like that for a couple of seconds before Gallius pulled out of Dormath, who whined at the sudden emptiness inside him.

The two panted, trying to catch their breaths, their minds slowly returning to earth from the high of pleasure they had reached, the two looked at each other for a moment, smiling and laughing at what they had done; later came the aftercare, with Dormath cuddling up to Gallius chest and the commissar caressing his head, gently. The officer fell asleep rather quickly, leaving the commissar alone with his thoughts, groggy as they were by the amount of amasec both of them had in the party, but there was one thing he still needed to do.

Gallius got out from the bed carefully, trying not to wake Dormath up as he dressed himself, put on his boots and went out for a smoke; the officer had woken up briefly, but he couldn't do anything except watch the man he loved go away. The cold outside hit Gallius face like a ton of bricks, it was nothing compared to the hot atmosphere inside his room, certainly not the temperatures he had endured on his native Agri-World as well. The commissar walked towards one of the balconies on the side of the building, where he took out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a puff out of it. He looked down at the city, seeing all the lights and the people walking around, going home with their families.

"Gallius…?" Dormath yawned, hugging the man from behind "Are you okay?" "Yeah…just…needed some fresh air" Gallius whispered, smiling as he felt the other man's hug "And a smoke" "Can I have one?" Dormath asked, giving the other man puppy eyes over his shoulder "Here" The commissar placed the cigarette on the other's lips "Can't we stay in here until festivities are over?" Dormath exhaled some smoke that dissipated into the city below "No...no I could only afford to insubordinate for one day" Gallius giggled faintly "The warmaster got all furious on me for it" "What a fucking-" "Hey, language" The commissar looked over his shoulder and smirked "I was just going to praise his huge chest and manly features" Dormath replied with all the sarcasm he could muster at the moment

There was a moment of silence, then the gentle snoring of Dormath told the commissar the man had finally given up on his own tiredness; Gallius gently retrieved the cigarette and gave it another few inhalations before snuffing it out on the handrail and throwing it to the ground, carefully shifting in place to carry the officer sleepy form back to bed and lay next to him. There, he intertwined their legs together and closed his eyes too, letting slumber take him away. For once, Sanguinala had tasted as sweetly as it had been all those years ago with his first family.

"First" family, the commissar subconsciously smiled at the implications of that.

#fanfiction #warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40000 #fanfic writing #warhammer 40k #warhammer headcanon #wh40k oc #oc guardsman #oc commissar #Cardrean 958TH #tw smut

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little-emerald-snake · 1 year ago

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Smutmas Day 15

“Come sit on my face and I’ll show you how much I missed you.” - Garreth Weasley X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1,103k words

Warnings: face sitting, oral f receiving

Garreth sat at the little round table next to his old best friend Leander. They were chatting away while watching as more and more people poured through the doors. Many of his old school mates from their years at Hogwarts.

It was a reunion after all. It had been many years since he’d been in school and even after all that time, his eyes scanned the growing crowd just hoping that he would spot one particular familiar face.

They’d been good friends after all. Maybe a little bit more than good friends. He could still to this day vividly remember the feeling of being locked in a broom cupboard with his cock down her throat.

Perhaps his favorite memory of them was when they’d gone out together to find ingredients for potions and she’d inhaled spores from a plant well known in aphrodisiac potions.

She’d thrown herself on the grass and shoved her hand down into her underwear, not seeming to care that he was right there. It very quickly turned to her begging for him, agreeing to a long term friends with benefits situationship where they ended up hooking up rather often till graduation.

Even on graduation night he’d taken her to a sandy bank along the black lake and railed her into oblivion. So hard that she limped up to him the next morning to say her goodbyes and even kissed him, not caring who saw.

They hadn’t seen each other since but they had written back and forth for a while till her work got too demanding for her and she spent less and less time by her writing desk.

When he finally spotted her he jumped up and slid between the bodies of his classmates to reach her. She looked overwhelmed by the sight of all her old classmates crammed wall to wall inside of the Three Broomsticks.

When her eyes met the familiar curls of red hair she remembered so well, she smiled, making her way to him quickly. He embraced her, laughing happily as his broad shoulders wrapped around her.

As subtly as possible he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, pleased that she smelled the same as she did back then. Vivid flashes of their various nights together flashed through his mind which he tried to tamp down. “Hey you, long time no see!”

She flashed him a brilliant smile as he led her back to the table just in time for Sirona to set a round of spiked butter beers down, patting her on the back with a warm greeting to the hero of Hogwarts.

She grabbed a mug, sipping with a moan before her attention met Garreth again. “Yes, it’s been a rather long time. I’ve missed you, Garreth. You are my favorite potioneer after all.”

He beamed pridefully, sipping his own mug. His anxiousness melted away, pleased she showed up and even more pleased that she remembers him fondly all these years later. “Ah, well that’s good to hear that some things haven’t changed. How has your work been? I know it keeps you rather busy these days?”

She nodded, letting her eyes lift as she looked at the crowd. “Ah yes, searching for ancient magic has become my new life. But I do love it though. So much travel and beauty in my life I really can’t complain. How’s your shop?”

He smiled, taking in Leander’s raised eyebrows and glancing at her from across the table before turning his full attention to her. “It’s well! I make a great living with my shop and I love what I do. Still working on new brews quite often. Some are better than others.”

Her eyes rake over the increasing tightness of the crowd anxiously and he takes note. “Would you have any interest in taking a walk? Get some fresh air instead of being cramped up in here?”

She eagerly nods, finishing her drink as he finishes his. She waves at a few classmates as she follows Garreth outside. The actual reunion is being held tomorrow so she knows she won’t miss much other than drinks and light catching up tonight.

To Garreth’s surprise she links her fingers in his as they walk outside and proceed to stroll around Hogsmeade. “So, how have you actually been doing? You know besides work?”

She sighs and shrugs. “Honestly, all I do is work. It’s not what I plan to do forever but as of right now it is sort of my responsibility. How about you? Have you settled down?”

She asked this with a curiosity in her eyes that Garreth can’t miss. She genuinely wants to know what he’s been up to, if he has a lover. “No, I’m content for the time being with my shop. No opportunities have beaten down my door so in the meantime I’m content.”

She nods, seeming pleased with his response. “You know…I’ve missed you. Missed our time together in school. I have regrets of not going public. I often still think about all the sneaking around we used to do.”

Heat flares to life in his eyes and he guides her in the direction of the inn he’s staying at. “Does that mean you’d like to come back to my room tonight and see what we can get up to in a proper bed for once?”

Her eyes are also filled with heat as she nods that he quickened his pace. “I’d like that. Are we far from the inn you’re staying at?”

He shakes his head and takes her to the inn. The moment the door clicks shut behind them he wraps her in a tight embrace, kissing her passionately while laying her on the bed.

He lays down beside her and pulls her on top of him. She straddles his hips easily and grinds herself against his hardening cock. “Oh Garreth. I’ve missed the feeling of your cock.”

He grins, grabbing her hands and kissing each one. “I’m sure you’ve missed more than that, love. Come sit on my face and I’ll show you how much I’ve missed you.”

She does exactly that, stripping down sitting fully on his face, knowing he won’t let her get away with a slight hover. His arms wrap their way around her thighs and she whimpers at the feeling of his tongue working inside of her. “Oh, Garreth.”

They spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other and exploring the nature of their affections for each other. So many things brought forward that they even walked into the reunion hand in hand.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #writing challenge #smutmas 2023 #smutmas #garreth weasley #garreth weasley fanfiction #garreth weasley smut

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thewritersaddictions · 1 year ago

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Drabble: The Adults- New Years Kiss

Eddie Munson

The music filters through the speakers at the Hideout. Eddie promised to be with you for the New Year celebration, but then he got a call from the hideout manager. "Come with me to the hideout, and I'll be off the stage before they drop the ball in New York." Eddie had asked you. You mumbled it over in his arms. "Fine, Eds, but you better be right here when you're done." You told him. It's not til later when you crammed into his van with the others and all their musical instruments.

Their set goes perfectly with a large crowd surrounding the front of the stage. You sit at the bar drinking the horrible Christmas drink Hideout had added to their holiday menu. The speakers around the bar bring life to Eddie and his guitar. You watch him proudly as you keep your eye on your watch. The closer it gets to 12am, the antsy you get. Wanting him back in your arms, wanting that cigarette and pine smell back in your senses.

You're scared out of your wits when two large, sweaty hands come to grab at your waist. "See, I promised I'd be back with you before the end of the year." He says with a huff of his chest. He's surrounding you in the best way. His hair sticks up in odd places from the sweat on his forehead, and his hand is gripping your hip hard, but you don't care about the bruises. It will be left behind. "You did good." You tell him, and he bows, thanking you. "Come here, baby." He turns you in a flash, gently cups your cheek, and his thumb rubs over your bottom lip. "I never got my kiss for good luck." He says quietly. "You don't need it anymore." You tell him, Eddie shakes his head. "I still want it, baby." He tells you softly and pulls you to meet his warm and chapped lips. The kiss is a short one, one of the other bandmates coming over, pulling you both out of the wonderful little world you've both created.

Nancy Wheeler

You're climbing in through her window. Trying to get a private minute with Nancy with her parents and brother is hard sometimes, so Nancy almost always leaves her window unlocked for you to come in. She gasps and puts a hand over her heart. "Shit, Y/n, you scared me!" Nancy tells you, you wink at her. "I'm sorry, baby." You tease as you shut the window to keep the cold wind from getting in. "You could have called, you know," Nancy tells you, trying her best to keep a serious face.

"I could have, but what would have happened if your mother answered the phone?" You ask her; she rolls her eyes and pats the spot next to her on her bed. "So, are you here to give me a New Year kiss?" "Don't spoil it, baby." You answer her? The loud footsteps of Nancy's father echo through the house, and then a knock on her door. "Honey, we're doing fireworks if you wanna come down?" Her father says, "I'm okay, Dad. I'm tired anyway." There's a hum on the other side of the door. "Tired huh?" You say, smirking over at her.

With that, you grab at her hips and pull her into your lap. "Come here, baby." Nancy wraps her arms around your neck, and your hands land on her hips to keep her close. "You smell so good." You wiggle your brows at her. "Well, thank you. I always wanna smell good for my girl." You whisper to Nancy as you lean up to catch her lips. The kiss is long and sweet. No gnashing of teeth; instead, the taste of strawberry invades your senses.

Argyle

The van is filled with smoke from the weed you've both been smokin'. Neither of you are concerned with what's happening outside the small van. It had yet to start off like this. Argyle wanted to take you out to dinner, but everything was either packed or closed, so you both settled on gas station food and a good blunt or two.

Lovers Lake isn't crowded by any means. Most people are with their families or friends celebrating the end of the year and the start of the new one. You'd rather be here, though, with Argyle. Rather be in his lap, sharing a blunt between you. Instead, You'd feel his hand on your hip as he takes a long drag from the blunt and pulls you close to shotgun with him. How close his lips would be to yours, how all of his fills your senses. You let your breath go as you take the blunt from his nimble but long fingers. His eyes never stray from your frame. He watches you like a hawk, waiting for his prey to escape its underground hole.

The blunt wet from Argyle's lips wrapping around it, you take a drag and then hold it. Wanting to feel the full effect. "Come here, honey." Your voice echoes through the van. You lean forward, resting your hand on the van's inner shell. "Come here and give me a kiss." Argyle's voice is wrapped in a thickness you swear you've never heard before. You do as he asks, leaning forward, lips pressing together as smoke fills the space. "So pretty, baby." He says, and you can hear your heartbeat pulse a little faster as you kiss. "Happy New Year, baby," Argyle says to you. "That was three days ago, baby." he shrugs his shoulder and presses his lips back into yours, cutting off your giggle.

Billy Hargrove

During the Christmas holiday, you have received just a few gifts from your boyfriend. The best out of the batch was the tickets to a New Year's Eve concert. You had nearly jumped into his arms when you saw the tickets in the box. "Holy shit!" You shouted as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his chapped lips. The ride in Billy's Camaro is a long one to the big city of Indianapolis.

You brought a suitcase full of clothes, not knowing what to wear to this concert. You had an idea of who was there, but Billy wasn't forthcoming with that information. The two of you got a motel not far from the arena. Billy even said he had given the both of you an extra day. "I just wanna treat you good, is all," Billy muttered as he pulled you into the motel bed.

The next day goes by in a blur. It isn't until the following day that you know that you've gotta make the best of the clothes you packed and get ready for the concert. "Come on, Y/n, we've gotta go before we are late for parking." Billy's voice echoes through the motel walls. When the car is parked, and the two of you walk hand in hand toward the entrance, you catch glimpses of what you are walking into. "Billy?" Your voice is small in the vast area. He hums, "You're the absolute best." You say truthfully as you pull him into your side and kiss his cheek. "Keep tellin' me that, baby, because this is your New Year gift." You get into your seats. "Well?" Billy looks over at you, "What?" "Don't I get a kiss on New Year's Eve?" He rolls his eyes but grabs you softly by your throat and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss.

Jonathan Byers

"Really?" He questions you as he continues to unwrap the Christmas present. You were supposed to do Christmas six days ago, but you're now at the Byers house, the day before the new year starts. "But they cost so much," Jonathan says matter-of-factly; you just shrug your shoulders. "Maybe, but you like takin' pictures, so I thought, why not. Do you not like it?" Concerned you got the wrong gift. Jonathan starts to shake his head, telling you your gift idea was good. "No, I love it, sweetheart." He tells you to put the box on the coffee table and reach over to give you a kiss on your cheek.

You exchange more presents. Having gotten some for everyone. Including Will, Mrs.Byers, and Hopper because he is also there more often nowadays. Mrs.Byers can't help but give you multiplied hugs during the night as a thanks for for coming over because, in her words, the gifts, but Jonathan seems better off now that you guys are together. The countdown starts, and before you know it the lot of you are counting down from five.

You don't catch Mrs.Byers grabbing the camera as Jonathan leans in, grabbing at your sides gently before whispering against your lips, "Three," "Two," and then "One." At one, his lips are on yours. Tasting of dinner and drink you had before you all sat down for the countdown to the new year. You don't catch the blinding light of the camera as Mrs.Byers snaps a shot of the both of you. Kissing, falling in love in one picture. She hands the film to you when you both release each other's hold. "Here you go." Mrs.Byers says warmly before setting the camera back on the coffee table.

Robin Buckley

The party is small, but it's got just enough people to make the event a little too hectic for Robin. The only reason she's there is because of Y/n. She brings such beauty that Robin can't help but follow her into the party. Only a few girls are sitting there painting their toes together, talking about the horror stories of the boys at Hawkins High. Yet all Robin can think about is Y/n. Sitting so close to her that their knees are bumping into each other. Y/n isn't adding anything to the conversation, nor is Robin, so Robin's conversation tries to have a conversation with her. "You're quiet; everything alright?" Robin asks Y/n, and when she looks over her shoulder at Robin, Robin swears her heart stops dead in beats.

"Is it that obvious?" Y/n asks Robin. "What do you mean?" Robin asks, "I'm only here because they invited you." Y/n clarifies, oh, like a slap to her face. Robin takes a moment to react to the words that have reached her ears. Y/n is there because of her, and Robin is only there because of Y/n. "Well, can I tell you a secret," Robin says, whispering. Y/n nods. "I'm here because of you, too." There's a light blush on Y/N's cheeks.

Robin and Y/n are unaware of the countdown in the background. Girls giggling together as they whoop and holler together. Instead, they are so wrapped up in each other. Robins's hands pull Y/n close by her hips and Y/n icy cold hands are pressed firmly into each side of Robins's cheeks. "I have to say this is a best new year I've had in a while." Robin squeaks out before Y/n shuts Robin up with a life-bringing kiss.

Steve Harrington

His parents were only ever home for a few days during the holidays. They had insisted on Steve bringing you to their New Year's Party. His mother was so excited when she learned that her son was finally dating again. She said Steve had been spending too much time with those kids. This party isn't really a party for young adults. It's meant for his father and mother to keep up with their appearances in Hawkins and get a more extensive social network.

So Steve pulled you away. His hand on your lower back towards his bedroom. A red solo cup filled with something of a mix, something that his father had no clue he was drinking. Steve shuts the bedroom gently to keep the sound of the light music out. "Are your parents always like that?" Y/n asks him. He shrugs his shoulders and sits down next to her on the bed. The conversation downstairs migrates outside towards the poolside. "You think they might all freeze out before returning inside?" Steve asks Y/n, and she giggles. "I'm not sure, baby."

The clock on the side table reads 11:58pm. Steve leans in. "You know you look beautiful today," Steve tells her matter-of-factly. They hum and lean in closer. They both can feel their breath from each other. The countdown to the new year is happening in slow motion as Steves's hand wraps around the back of Y/N's neck to pull them closer to his lips. When the flashes of bright colors come over through Steve's window after loud bangs of fireworks outside. He closes the gap between the both of them. A soft, meaningful kiss. One that becomes heated and addictive almost immediately. Y/n's hands are holding close, one on his chest feeling his heartbeat, the other resting on his slightly stumbled cheek. Steve pulls back lightly and whispers against Y/n's wet lips, "Happy New Year, baby."

Completed on: 12/23/23

Posted on: 01/03/24

The Adults-

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palmtreesx3 · 2 years ago

Text

A Girl Like You

Part two to: Seeing Stars.

*Hot Tub Steve back in action*

Steve Harrington x FEM!reader

Summary: In the aftermath of the 4th of July Hot Tub Hookup, embarrassment and emotions are flying, tables turn and shit gets figured out. Read Part 1 to see how exactly we got here.

NSFW, angst, orgasms and hot tub play.

—------

It's been two weeks since the 4th of July and your little hot tub rendezvous under the stars with Steve, and you've thought about it approximately 50 times a day (at least) since then. At first you weren't sure what you were feeling about what happened. Your range of emotions went from irritated, to apathetic all the way to empathetic and apologetic.

First, you couldn't believe that it was stolen glances and hot dogs crammed in his mouth with a side of bumbling idiot that made you break and want to actually jump his bones. Second, you couldn't believe that he thought of you like that. Like, at all. And third, you could not believe that with a few licks of your tongue and drags of your hips across his lap YOU made Steve Harrington - former King of Kings, chronic ladies man and serial dater, kingpin of one night stands - come in his pants in 2 minutes flat.

One minute you were both ready to give each other hell, the next your heart was melting at how he gave up all control and then you were there, bodies pressed together, hands soft all over and his chest hair scratching at the swell of your tits overflowing from your bikini top. All the while he was begging under you for some type of reassurance that everything happening was in fact, real. When you tilted his head up and he looked at you like that - not gawking like before but instead like you actually were the sun - things happened fast.

Instead of sporadic grinds of your hips to distract him from his incessant apologies and rambling, you set a smooth but firm pace, reveling in the look on his face and the drag of his hardness between your clothed folds as you went. Your soft kisses moved on from his lips and instead traced the constellations of freckles and moles on his face, neck, shoulders. You stopped to latch on to a particularly pretty mark on his neck, just below his ear, when your grind caught you just right. Despite the layers of wet clothes sticking between you both, his hard tip caught your clit just so, and you let out a strangled moan.

And that's the moment Steve Harrington lost his shit. Your moan was soft and pretty, but deep and dirty and he still couldn't wrap his head around how you so willingly perched yourself on his lap and started treating him so so good. A girl like you? Never… So when your tongue licked at that spot on his neck and you chased that feeling on your clit with another deep roll of your hips, he felt your fingers press into his back, another moan caught in your throat, and his eyes shot open.

"A-h ah, ohhh my God, Jesus Christ." Steve says while panting and pulling away - eyes wider than a black hole and jaw hanging open like he just traveled through 3 separate galaxies. He grabs your shoulders to hold you back from him and the panicked look on his face makes you think he's finally come to his senses. Things would go right back to bites to your resolve instead of nips over sweet spots on your skin that you suddenly craved from Steve motherfuckin Harrington.

So in a moment of self preservation, trying to play defense in the game of hardball you and Steve have been playing for years, you slide back to the other side as fast as you found yourself on top of him, arms now crossed with a glare "Man you should be an actor, Steve Harrington. I can't keep up with you. Where do you come up with all those lines you pull on the ladies? I can NOT believe I let a few lines of sweet talk and some soft eyes trick me into hopping on your lap."

Fuckin idiot, you mumble under your breath - actually referring to yourself - as you tip your head back laying it on the edge of the hot tub and look to the stars, trying to figure out how all of these wires got crossed so quickly.

"No, n-no oh my God no. It's NOT like that at all. I just … "

"Aaaand we're back to stuttering Steve Harrington. What? Did you forget your script? " You snap back.

"Such a bitch." He huffs out softly, with way less bite than you're used to and a bit of a soft smirk. Is he fuckin laughing at you? "God, I'm just trying to figure out how to say this without saying 'I'm sorry' because I've already got my ass chewed out for apologizing too much tonight and I really don't want to hear it again. "

"Yeah yeah 'I'm sorry we should have never done that' got it. Great." you tut, standing up and letting the warm water drip down you - desperately willing your riled up, wound tight body to return to status quo. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your ass again, following the drip of water like a roadmap down your body. It’s like an automatic response just then. You can’t help but clench your thighs together. You don’t think he noticed, but you feel ashamed either way.

"Fuck no. I'd do that a thousand times. I just… "

You turn back to look at him, your hip popped out in annoyance, his head tipped back, hands dragging down his face in absolute agony. This should be good, you think to yourself.

"I just… need a minute. Y-you, got me all crazy, I swear to God… fuck! I just. Couldn't help it and…"

He looks at you, impatience growing in your scowl and he thinks that it's actually fucking adorable how angry he can get you even when he's trying to be genuine and a little sweet. " Stop looking at me like that! " He snaps out, " You made me blow my load in my swim shorts like a 13 year old, okay?! Fuck, it- it's fuckin embarrassing, is what it is."

You're now stuck in place, feeling frozen like the ice cubes still laying in the bottom of the coolers from earlier today, but instead of the relief those cubes gave you just a few hours ago you are searching for it in Steve Harrington's eyes before your guard goes back up quickly. "W-what did you say?" As you cackle out a laugh, loud and obnoxious into the now crisp and cool summer air littered with the distant pops and hisses of late night backyard fireworks.

—

After the initial irritation and mild embarrassment of your own, you grapple with self-doubt and some anger. You replay the aftermath about 100 different ways and you can't decide if your reaction crushed his soul and he hates you - like actually hates you now. If he was really being genuine with all that sweet talk, he definitely has to hate you because not only did you laugh in his face, you ran.

In response to your knee-jerk reaction down in the hot tub, a groggy Robin popped open the guest room window, strawberry hair literally sticking up left and right, and yelled down "Jesus Christ, I thought… I dunno what I thought… but you guys are impossible. Always arguing. Shut the fuck up, will you? It's late and I'm already feeling hungover, kay?" You both muttered apologies into the night sky while climbing out and shuffled your separate ways. You made sure you were gone and inside the bathroom downstairs before he could even shut off the jets. So yeah, he probably thinks you're an absolute bitch, laughing at him and then running away so you didn't have to look at his pathetic face.

You weren't sure if you were angry at him or angry at yourself, but you were cold and salty at this point, and Robin called you out on it real quick while splayed out on your bed one afternoon hanging out with the radio on. "Something extra has crawled up YOUR ass lately, ya know? What's your deal?" You were mad about everything and nothing at all, really, and there was nothing to say. She told you that you need to get laid while sucking on a lollipop, feet swinging, devilish grin on her face. You huffed at her - she has no goddamn idea. And you're not bringing it up because Robin will get all flappy and make you question things even more than you already are. So you internalize, hyping yourself up to go toe to toe with Steve next time the group inevitably gets together, taking your game of teasing to a whole new league.

But that energy lasted maybe for a total of a day before the group found themselves all together that same Thursday - late and loud, laughing and shouting over the booths they all occupied in the diner just outside of town.

Going out for a bite with this group was always mildly chaotic. For some reason the waitress here, Jeanie, thinks you're all just adorable - reminds her of her group of friends when she was growing up, all close and honest and loud and youthful - so you find yourself here often. Jeanie puts up with the yelling and taunting from Dustin, the giggles and laughter from Max and El, Mike changing his order before changing back to the thing she knew he would want from the get go, and all the storytelling, heckling and seat switching between four booths of friends.

After you slip through the door, later than the rest, you follow the loud cries of the group you know to be yours and plop down in the open seat across from Nance and Johnathan. You came ready, but your prepared indignation melted away the minute your hard glare met Steve's gentle eyes behind your other friends in your crowd. Where you expected a total grudge for the way you treated him in his moment of humiliation, instead he's looking at you all hopeful and sparkly, like those goddamn stars.

You blink away everything running though your mind in favor of sustenance. You have a soft spot for Jeanie too, and she knows it, so you gather yourself and give Jeanie a smile and a nod, letting her know you're ready to order. She's there before you know it, sliding you a rootbeer float and a huge basket of fries already ready and hot, served just the way you like them.

You're grinning, ready to thank her for being the literal best when she says "I didn't see ya, so I figured you weren't coming!… but that one there ordered for ya tonight, sweets. Just a few minutes ago, so your food was fresh and ya didn't hafta wait." She says as she pops her bubble gum with a smirk, jerking her neck towards the booth a few over where Steve is sitting in conversation. Your smile falters but when you notice Nance and Johnathan intently watching you, you take to shoving some fries in your mouth to deflect and start asking about what they're up to this weekend instead. You feel a bit like Steve shoving hot dogs down his throat in his backyard that day to avoid acknowledging the truth - the truth here is that he doesn't just like looking at you, he notices you.

And Steve, he can't help but notice you all night. It's different from the 4th of July - he's not trying to hide it but he's also not trying to will his half chub away in desperation. It’s not a distraction this time. It's a choice. He sees your smile falter when he's sure Janine outed him for ordering your food. He catches your glance through plates of half eaten food being passed around freely and now it's you who is playing it off like you're not looking at him. He laughs to himself and shakes his head, while he draws a long sip from his strawberry milkshake and Dustin decides he isn't biting his tongue any longer tonight. "You guys know you're fuckin idiots, right? Certified insane."

"What are you saying Henderson? I thought we talked about the tone thing, buddy boy." He huffs out.

"I'm leaving. You're insufferable" he grumbles as he slides out to dip in next to Will and Mike. Just as it always does, the musical chairs start once the food has been eaten and all the kids start bopping around talking amongst themselves rather than over everyone else. The kids start an animated discussion about their next D&D campaign - it’s their annual Memorial Campaign for Eddie, so they’re all abuzz about it more so than normal. Nance and Johnathan take the chance to slink out of the booth, wanting to make sure they get a good night's rest before they both have an interview with the city paper in Indianapolis tomorrow morning. Max takes the opportunity and hops next to you, laying her head on your shoulder and you settle in to a comfortable silence with one of your favorite girls "It's sweet you know? Right?" she finally speaks.

"What's sweet? Your milkshake… gimmie. Lemme try it. " You say. Snatching the cup from the girl and taking a big swig. "Cookies and Cream. A girl after my own heart.” You settle your head back down on top of hers and she sighs.

“You know, you’re like a sister to me?” She says. A little bit of a question, and a little bit of a statement. She can feel you nod your head. “Ok.” She says as she breathes in deep and you feel her slipping out of the booth on your left, while the right side dips below a new body weight. You know it’s him before you even turn your head, a familiar quality in the atmosphere caused by a stare that you’re feeling pretty used to by now.

You don’t miss the silent exchange Steve and Max have with their eyes just then, and you know she’s got you right where Steve wants you. Because while you’re like a sister to her, you also know damn well Steve is like her brother. You’ve both been through so much with her. Just like there’s nothing in the world you wouldn't do for Max, she’d do the same for both of you. Her eyes glint and she smiles at you behind her straw as she assumes her position at the booth furthest away, scooting close to Lucas and caring very little about the cacophony still going on over D&D.

It's the point in the night where everyone left settles into their own bubbles, the chaos dying down for more intimate moments between friends. It always happens, but this time you’re here with Steve alone in the booth closest to the door and neither of you are saying anything at all. He wordlessly passes you his cup, and you take it, slipping the straw between your lips and taking a sip. “You would order a strawberry milkshake, Steve Harrington.” You tease - a light and airy jab, before going back in for another sip anyway. He laughs as you pass it back to him as he takes his next sip. Both sitting there, backs against the plush seat of the booth, slumped down lazily and legs kicked up across from you on the other side.

“I was definitely a bitch, wasn’t I?”

“I mean, yeah but up until that moment, you were pretty much a dream.” he says, all vulnerable and honest, like it’s the easiest thing to say. And maybe it is. Because while you were all worked up and dramatic about it, he looked like he was seeing the world through entirely different lenses. Your eyes locked together and he took one last irritatingly loud slurp of his strawberry milkshake, the corner of his lips turned up in a smile - 100% on purpose to get a rise out of you. Without a thought, he leaves money on the table for Janine and says “C’mon. Let’s go.” so casually you don’t even think twice.

“Leave it” he says motioning to your car, and your feet obey, following him to that stupidly iconic Maroon Harrington BMW. Yours staying tucked in the back of the now desolate parking lot of the diner to deal with later. You climb in the passenger seat, and before you know it, you’re on the road back home to Hawkins, windows down, radio playing “Radio Ga Ga” just loud enough to tap your fingers along and hum along to the chorus. “So where are you taking me, Harrington? Gonna finally throw me off the cliff into the quarry?” you ask.

He laughs, sweet and absolutely no tease in it, “Not a chance, honey. I’ve got something else in mind.” And you blush at the name. You fucking blush at Steve Harrington calling you honey, while driving you like a passenger princess around back roads in Hawkins.

When you pull up to his house, you go to speak only for Steve to cut you off, “Not now. Just shut up for a minute. Don’t talk, just….. Please.” He whines. He outstretches his hand and you take it, without hesitation. His palm warm and calloused yet soft all at the same time in your own, he leads you up the driveway and around the back of the house. He pulls you along until you're standing right smack in front of the hot tub. Back at ground zero. Wordlessly, he turns it on, then he takes off his shoes and socks. Before you know it, he’s stripping himself of his shirt and pants and climbing into the hot tub in his boxers, asking you “Aren’t you coming?” with the most serious look on his face. Like this is normal..

“What the fuck are you doing, Steve. You’re crazy. I don’t have a suit and this is …”

“You don’t need a suit.” He says. It’s assured and direct. “Please, just…I- I just need one more chance. I wanna do everything I should have done that night. I wanna take care of you, show you I can be good for you, too. Please.”

As he begs, that second Please falling from his lips, you decide that there’s no fight left in you. Not for your own internal struggle nor the little game the two of you have played together for far too long. You hesitate a beat before sliding off your sneakers slowly, an act of acceptance to the invitation. You peel down your shorts, showing off a pair of cheeky lavender panties Steve immediately groans at. “Perv” you shoot over at him, while he stands up and reaches out a hand to you anyway. You slip your shirt up over your head and off your shoulder quickly before gently placing your hand in his again making a move to help you up and into the place you left so abruptly two weeks ago.

As you sink down into the water tonight, he wastes no time pulling you over to him, seating you right back on his lap like the last time, a tentative touch of his fingertips lingering on your sides. They tickle up your back, reaching your shoulder blades, not stopping there while one snakes up further to grab ahold of your ponytail. He pulls it back just rough enough to expose your neck to him like an offering. He sticks out his tongue licking up your throat, tracing your jaw and ending just in the dip below your right ear, pulling a startled and breathy sound from you without any effort.

It’s involuntary, but you roll your hips chasing the feeling of arousal already brewed like a pot of morning coffee between your thighs. “Uh uh, honey. None of that shit again. I told you, I’m doing it right this time.” As he starts tracing the same path up the left side of your throat and jaw with his tongue, his hands find their way under the cups of your bra to rub gentle circles on the flesh of your breast. His lips latch on to your ear lobe at the same time his fingers creep up and find your nipples, circling them with his thumb and giving a cheeky pinch while breathing into your ear “So fuckin good for me.”

You keen upwards at the sensation, giving Steve the opportunity to bite at your shoulder while he pushes the strap of your bra down and out of his way. He makes quick work of unsnapping the bra and tossing it completely aside, into the grass below. Ever a boob man, now that they're out on full display he sucks in a breath and hoists you further up his lap now almost straddling his tummy, hands under your ass holding you up high and bending down to get his mouth on those tits as fast as he can. He laps his tongue around your breast before sucking a pretty purple spot just left of your nipple before flicking his tongue over it repeatedly, finally pulling a sound from you that drives him wild. He pays the same attention to your other breast before working his way back up your neck and hovering his lips over yours.

You're both there, sloshing around the hot tub water, breaths heaving into one another's mouths, foreheads touching and eyes locked. His lips chase yours and you pull back slightly before giving in and leaning back into a kiss made for the movies - hand reached around the nape of your neck keeping you close, tongue dipping in kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before, his other hand slides down your breast, your belly and then toys with the elastic band of your underwear at your hip.

You nod, refusing to pull your lips from his and in a second his fingers are dipping down those purple panties, right into where you want them. Long and thick, he drags them through your folds back and forth before slipping his middle finger right in, deep enough that he flattens his palm against your clit and grinds against it with the pad of his palm. You buck your hips up at the motion, while he curls his finger forward, making you cry out into the open air of his backyard. With no effort, he slides a second finger in and pumps fast, rolling those fingers forward over and over again, hitting a spot inside you’re not sure anyone has ever reached before.

It feels like only seconds until your legs start to quake, pulling away from his lips abruptly, you throw your head back gasping out a stifled moan into the dark sky. Your breath stays labored as you peer up to the heavens while Steve Harrington has his fingers in your cunt, mouth on your tits and heart on a silver platter. “Ohmigod, St-Steve, Jesus!” You cry out as your body shakes and you pulse around his fingers, still dragging them in and out of you slowly as you come back to earth.

“Glad to see I’m not the only one coming quickly around here” He laughs out and you gasp a fake gasp, while slapping at his chest.

"Can I get these off you? Honey, please. C'mon." He taps at your ass so you rise up on your knees as he shimmies your underwear down your thighs. As you slip your legs out one by one above him, he lifts his own hips to free himself from the boxers clinging wet and tight to everywhere that matters.

There's nothing left between you now. No walls, no games, no hesitation and certainly no clothing. "I told you. A dream." He says as he looks at you, eyes boring deep into your soul, and for once you have absolutely nothing to say to Steve Harrington. Instead he speaks and as he does, you tumble, head over heels for this stupid, stupid boy. "Babe- baby please, I gotta get inside you. I jus- I wanna give it to you, so good."

You can't hold back the moan you let out at his words, nodding desperately, whispering back "Make me feel it, Steve." Into the shell of his ear. And holy shit, he does. He slides into you in one swift movement, guiding you down hard until you're flush with his hips, friction already building from the soft patch of hair at his base. You both settle there for a moment and it's like you can feel him all the way in your throat. "Jesus Christ, Harrington what have you been packing?! It's like I can taste you, your so fuckin far in there, f-fuccckk." With a chuckle he rocks your hips slow and steady, and this time around it's to shut you up.

He's leaning back, looking entirely too happy with himself when he snakes his arm under yours and around your back, slick with water and sweat, bringing you close to him - chest to chest. The soft rolls of both of your hips come to a hault suddenly when he uses all the leverage he has to slam up into you. You scream out, "O-oh my god, please just… fucking keep going" you demand. His fingers now grabbing your waist tight, he does as you ask, pulling you back down on him hard with each thrust up water quaking around you both. "So feisty. God, I can't get enough of you."

It's a little wild for a minute, skin slapping beneath the water, waves crashing up and over the sides of the hot tub. Moans loud enough the neighbors could surely hear slipping from both of your lips as you bounce up and down on his length, no where close to pulling off him completely because he fills you up so good and so deep. Steve snatches your lips for a hot and wet kiss, forcing you both to slow down and bring yourselves back to reality. He adjusts and pulls out of you, and you cry out at the loss like a whimpering child. Days ago you'd be embarrassed that Steve Harrington's dick made you cry out like a bratty little girl, but here you were, pouting with your lip popped out at your empty pussy, missing the feeling of that idiot's cock buried deep inside you.

Before you can actually get out any bratty banter, he swings you around, switching your position and pressing you forward, knees sliding back into the bench and hands bracing you against the edge of the hot tub. You feel him reaching around you from behind fiddling with something along the edge before he scoots you to the left. "Bingo. There it is." he says, so stupid, and you are about to roll your eyes at his quip but instead they hit the back of your head anyway as he slides your knees wider, pushes you down and the jet of the hot tub comes straight into contact with your clit. A gasp, followed by a cry, followed by a deep moan uncontrollably roll out of you as the jets of water fly through your folds and make your sensitive bud pulse.

While you're completely distracted by the feeling of the water rippling through your core, he slots himself behind you and guides himself right back to where you want him most. His tip nudges at the edge of your folds, the pressure of the jet riles him up just as much. The floodgates open and he stars rambling. "So perfect for me. God, just what I need. Been here the whole goddamn time. " He whispers as he pushes past the jet and into your heat. You squeeze around him immediately, calling his name out into the edge of the darkness. Steve continues to slam into you, hitting that spongy spot way deep inside making you lose all control, jets still coaxing water over and around your bundle of nerves, warm and fast.

He can feel you rhythmically pulsing around him now "Oh sweet thing, I feel you. C'mon, I feel you so tight around me. Jesus Christ. D-did I do good? Did I do good f'you, honey?"

Through your haze of pleasure, you hear his words and they tug at you hard - a man, that used to be a stupid boy, still just looking for validation and wanting to find it right here with a girl like you. "So-ugh God yes, so good! So so good." Your heart has officially thawed for Steve Harrington and as you finally admit that to yourself, you feel your tummy wind up tight, tingles moving from your center all the way down to your toes, "Oh, God, please. Stevie, please be a good boy and give it to me."

You brace yourself with your arms outstretched, arching your back into Steve as you come hard around his cock, shaking and panting as he rubs your back softly. Too sweetly for a man who is quickly approaching his own pent up release. You throw your head back to look at him as you regroup, his hair with wet tips wild and falling into his eyes, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut "Goddamnit, you're so fuckin hot, I'm gonna - pffff" he huffs out a breath before you feel him retreating from you under shaking hands.

" No. No. I told you to give it to me, Steve. Give it all to me." And with one more hard thrust he does.

You feel his warm release fill you up to the brim. Fingertips moving from the spots bruised from his grip, up your sides as he fucks his come deep inside you with a few soft and languid strokes. He finally stills, but stays inside you longer than you expected, rubbing circles on your skin the whole time again back in silence. You wiggle your hips a bit at him, and he slips out of you and back down into the water next to you. Now shoulder to shoulder, chests rising and falling with the same labored breathing, your heads both fall to the side to look toward each other with matching exasperated smiles.

"I told Robin about the 4th." He says then. "I spent about a week feeling like an idiot, fully expecting to never talk to you again but I couldn't get you out of my head." You nod in understanding, remembering the stupid look she gave you while telling you you need to fix your mood by getting laid. What a snake. "She wasn't surprised, but she also wouldn't shut up about it after that."

" Typical " you laught out.

" Yeah. Well it was fine until she roped everyone else in. A bunch of em had a fuckin intervention the other day. Told me I had to get my head out of my ass and do something about it. Told me I'll never get what I want out of life if I never think I deserve it."

" And do you know what you want, Steve Harrington? "

"Yeah, I do. It's pretty simple, actually." He says without hesitation and looking directly into your eyes.

"And do you deserve it?"

"Shit, I hope so."

And with that you let him pull you in tight, tangled and still bare under the bubbles in the water, ready to play an entirely different game with Steve Harrington.

Hot Tub Fan Club: @willowherbal @superblysubpar @crappymixtape @sweetsweetjellybean

#joe keery #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #hot tub steve #hot dog steve #stranger things fanfiction #Spotify

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btsbabe7 · 1 year ago

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November Prompt 26: Blush

Words: 1.6k | Pairing: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory x reader

You grab your textbook from the top of your packed suitcase and climb in bed next to your best friend. You’ve spent the last seven years beside her at the end of every break, the night before everyone was set to return to Hogwarts.

If you didn’t spend the last night at Hermione’s, then it was usually spent at The Burrow with her, Harry and Ron. The last night had always revolved around the same conversation: your expectations, curiosities and anxieties that came with the start of a new year of school.

As you draw the blanket up and get comfortable, a small sigh slips from Hermione’s lips before she turns to you and props her head up on her elbow.

“Do you ever think of dating?”

“Dating?” You half laugh while opening the book where you’d left your favorite emerald, swallowtail bookmark she bought for you this in the summer from her favorite bookstore.

“This is our last year. Maybe we should try to engage in other types of relationships,” she states hesitantly. Both of your tired giggles fill the quiet air, followed by sighs before she continues. “I mean… don’t you have someone you’ve taken interest in?”

You glance down at the words on the pages blankly, skimming, but processing nothing. You’d thought everyone had realized the crush you had on the main boy in your friend group.

“Harry, I guess,” you reply flatly.

“Harry!?” She yelps and sits up. “I suspected, but never realized it was real.”

“He’s interested in Ginny anyways. I hardly stand a chance.”

“Oh, please! Harry mentioned having a crush on you just before summer.”

You have to admit that before this may have changed the way your heart beat in your chest, that those words alone would’ve made your breathing hitch, but now, nothing.

“It’s a dying crush, Mione. Harry is pursuing Ginny, they even kissed over the summer. Besides, being best friends complicates these kinds of things.”

She relaxes against the wall with another sigh, “I guess Ron wouldn’t be a logical choice either.”

“Ron?”

“Of course,” she breathes nervously. “I mean who else?”

“After ruining the Yule Ball for you, I figured he’d be last on your list.”

“As mad as it may be, it’s what moved him to the top,” she snorts, causing you to giggle as well. “And with his charm and witty comments, I can’t help it.”

“Our studies never fell us, but boys do. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

She tucks her wavy hair behind her ears, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“If your crush on Harry is dying, surely someone else caught your interest all this time? You haven’t studied much. Usually you’d finish reviewing your entire textbook before the first day. I guess I’ve been rather distracted as well.”

You glance down at the bookmark placed only a fourth through the book. Summer had been busy. You needed a lot more supplies than usual this year and the booklist had only grown in size as if the professors were trying to cram in the last of everything they could teach before you all left. You’d also spent most of your time with friends or your father, which meant less time to read and study. But you can’t deny that the season had allowed you to grow closer to someone else, someone you never would’ve expected in a million years.

“I uh…” you stumble and close your book in your lap.

As your best friend, you’ve always told her everything, but this, you’re nervous about. Nervous because he’s not someone that would be openly welcomed by your group of friends.

“Well, who is it?”

“It’s Draco,” you utter before swallowing dryly.

A cackle slips from her lips and she cups her hand over her mouth hastily. “It’s almost as if I heard you say ‘Draco,’ as in Draco Malfoy.”

She can’t seem to stop laughing, but soon stifles to silence once she realizes the seriousness in your expression.

“You can’t be serious, Y/n. Draco bullied Harry his entire first year. He’s vile, absolutely evil.”

“He’s not,” you defend. “I mean the part with Harry is true, but it’s only because he was jealous. And I know that doesn’t change anything, that it doesn’t excuse him, but I’ve gotten to know him and he’s changed. He’s different… and alone, he’s really caring.”

Hermione stares at you blankly before returning to her prior position, pulling the blankets up and lying back. She stares at the ceiling and stays silent.

“Mione, I think I might give him a chance, just like you should with Ron. It’s our last year and we shouldn’t let anything hold us back.”

“Dating Ron can’t possibly be compared to dating Draco. It’s implausible.”

“Promise to just give him a chance this year… for me?”

She quickly glances over at you and you give sleepy puppy eyes and a huge pout.

“I don’t even like puppies,” she breathes and slaps her arms at her side before letting out another laugh. “But I can’t possibly stay upset with you, Draco is another story. If you say things are better, then he’ll have to prove himself. He’ll have to gain our trust again, until then, I won’t tell the others about this.”

You smile contently and place the textbook on the nightstand before copying her position and staring up at the blank ceiling.

“I understand.”

“Just tell me one thing, before bed…” she whispers. “What do you like most about him?”

You inhale softly, thinking of all the ways you’ve interacted with Draco this past summer.

You could talk about your first kiss, but even that seems too uncomfortable to share at the moment. She’d be absolutely repulsed by the thought, even more if she knew how many times you’d met him at the Malfoy Manor for dinner with his family. They accepted you as his friend, though you knew his father wasn’t particularly thrilled with you also being friends with a Potter and the Weasleys, not to mention your best friend having muggle parents. But the visits were always for Draco, not his parents, and late night talks usually turned to snogging sessions and sleepovers as Hermione would describe it.

You think back to your last encounter with Draco. The two of you didn’t speak to each other, but somehow everything that needed to be said had been exchanged through a single glance.

He had sat with his father, and you with yours across the Ministry’s theater. The event was under invitation only, so you didn’t have the pleasure of bringing your friends along. The same went for Draco, not that Crabbe or Goyle would’ve made the cut under his father’s approval anyway. And in an event set to last at least four hours, with the orchestra playing for two and dancing and entertainment at the end, you’d have no time to really socialize with him unless the two of you were able to dance together.

And you weren’t.

A young and good-looking Cedric Diggory had nervously, but bravely asked your father for your hand in the dance. In which your father, being a former Hufflepuff himself, had happily agreed to.

Cedric was sweet and literally good on his feet. He’d swept you effortlessly across the ballroom, keeping your attention anytime you tried to steal a glance towards Draco. Draco wasn’t much of a dancer, but his father hadn’t given him much of a choice, throwing him at whichever decent-looking witch approached him for a dance. It had all been for work appearances of course.

With your arms tangled loosely around Cedric’s neck and his at your waist, making small talk only made you wish it had been Draco taking his spot. When you closed your eyes and smiled, for a moment, you’d imagine his platinum locks and icy eyes staring into the depths of yours. You’d blush anytime you thought of the weight of his hands at your waist or falling to your hips. You’d feel warm and fuzzy and think of all the times the two of you shared kisses and cuddled at night in his bed as your long conversations lured the both of you to sleep in each other’s arms. You’d think of Draco’s arms wrapped around you, not Cedric’s.

But when you finally opened your eyes again, Cedric was still smiling and talking about how amazing the orchestra was as well as a few compliments here and there about your flawless dancing. But he had lied, dismissing the fact that during the short time of you closing your eyes, you’d already stepped on his foot twice. Draco would’ve insulted your missed steps, only to insult his own immediately after, which would have led to laughter on both ends and a disapproving scowl from this father.

You tossed Cedric a soft grin and on the last dip, your eyes had finally met Draco’s. The glance had been enough to make your heart stop cold in your chest, even Cedric had asked if you were alright, but you couldn’t break the intensity of Draco’s stare. A bit of anger and jealously flickered in it, but a bit of sorrow as well.

You’d assured Cedric that you were fine once the music cut to an end and people shuffling out had become quieted enough to return to conversation. By the time you had answered and turned back, Draco was gone, leaving you yearning for just one more moment with him, even from afar.

“I guess the one thing I like the most is his intensity when he’s passionate about something. There’s a slight flicker in his eyes when he sees something he wants… when he sees me,” you whisper while turning your head towards Hermione with a soft grin following after the thought of him.

But your answer falls on deaf eyes and you realize your exhausted friend had already drifted to sleep before you could even answer.

Maybe this is something worth keeping to yourself anyways. You think to yourself and flip the lamp off before drifting off the sleep.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

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colemorrison · 2 years ago

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I was wondering if you could write Junkrat x Lucio where one of them gets fucked against a wall? Kinda rough but then loving at the end? Only if you're comfortable with that of course! Thank you!!

Junkrat had him pressed against the wall making it almost hard to breathe, especially with how his lips were pressed into Lucio's "ya're so pretty" Jamison mumbled moving to bite at the others skin. "Dude, give a man a second to breathe" Lucio laughed panting against the other who came back up just to stare at him. There had to have been hearts in his eyes, the way he stared at the musician, trying not to bite at the others lips.

Lucio was so pretty, unbelievably pretty "staring is a little awkward." The shorter smiled but groaned into the others lips when his head hit the wall, he went to complain but Junkrats flesh hand quickly went to the back of Lucio's head while he continued kissing him. He was rushed with his movements but the musician knew why, Junkrat was overwhelmed when he was with Lucio, so much feeling crammed into his skinny body made it hard not to explode like this.

His metal hand snuck under the others loose shirt, the coldness of it made Lucio move to stand on his tip toes "where do ya stand with.. blood" Junkrat asked feeling blush cover his cheeks. "I do look good in red," he mumbled smiling into the other as he locked their lips once again. Lucio moved his hands to the others already bare chest, then down to his shorts, unbuckling the belt and letting them fall down around the others ankles.

He groaned when he felt the taller break the skin on his lips, blood dripping between their pressed together lips "red definitely looks good on you Luc." Jamison quickly slid the others shirt off, and then moved to his loose sweats, "you're lucky you came over when I was dressed lazy." He smiled but it turned into a moan when the other bit over his thighs, it was weird seeing the junker so quiet, "I should have confessed way bloody earlier." Lucio moaned when he felt the others fingers messing with him through his boxers, Junkrat was warm, so unbelievably warm.

"Do ya have lube mate?" The taller muttered into Lucios soft thighs "yeah it's..." he started but Junkrat was already biting his inner thighs "it's in the top drawer in my room." Jamison was fast to come back to the shorter and strip him completely so he could spread his legs while his flesh hand that was now lubed could slide into the others hole and stretch him out. Lucio was moaning and panting above him while the bomber was watching him with a smile, his lips inched forward taking the musician into his mouth.

Junkrat watched the other arch his back against the wall, he thrusted his fingers faster, adding another and watched as Lucio's fingers gripped into his hair, "fuck Jamison, slow down." He moaned pulling the blonde strands harder than he usually would but now he was the overwhelmed one. He whimpered when the taller pulled away, spit dripping down his chin, "would it hurt ya if your legs were around me?" Junkrat asked biting at the others neck once again "just hurry up junker" he smiled watching as the other grabbed him and arranged them.

Jamison quickly put his tip against the other and moaned "we are doing this all the bloody time," he grunted barely giving the shorter time to adjust. They weren't going to last long but Lucio didn't think he could take this much roughness after not having sex for ages. The musician came first, over his stomach and chest while Junkrat took a tad longer and finished in the other making him groan in annoyance.

"You're going to be dripping out of me," Junkrat was quiet as he set the other down but quickly embraced him "I didn't hurt ya to much did I?" He asked making the shorter look up at him so he could press their foreheads together "no but next time I'm topping and were doing it in bed like normal people." Jamison smiled "so that means were doing it again?" "Yes Junkrat, that is what that means."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Theyre so bfs, love them.

#overwatch #overwatch2 #overwatch imagines #lucio correia dos santos #jamison fawkes #junkrat #lucio x junkrat #junkratxlucio #boombox

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hearmyvoiceoftreason · 2 years ago

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standing by and waiting at your backdoor | chapter 8

Bzz.

Pidge could’ve sworn she set her alarm to only wake her up on weekdays.

Yawning, she blindly pawed for her phone on her bed with one hand while the other reached for her glasses, pushing them up her nose as she turned on the screen.

Keith: @Pidge i’m at your place

Keith: your mom let me in

The cram session.

Right.

Letting out one more yawn, Pidge got off her bed and headed downstairs.

Mom was absently humming in front of the stove, her song accompanied with the sizzles from the pan and the burner, to which Pidge let out a contented sigh at the smell of frying bacon.

“Morning,” Keith greeted from the table. In front of him was a stack of pancakes from which he took three of on his own plate, along with two eggs and a few strips of bacon.

“He said he didn’t have much for breakfast,” Mom said. “Lucky for him, I already finished the batter when he arrived.”

Keith only nodded at her as he chewed, then gestured to his head before swallowing. “You might wanna fix the bedhead.”

Pidge rolled her eyes but put her hair up with the tie on her wrist as she walked into the kitchen. She greeted Mom with a kiss on the cheek and grabbed a plate and utensils from the cupboards and the peanut butter jar from the fridge.

And even with Mom busy in the kitchen, it was still oddly quiet.

“Where’s Bae-Bae?”

“Matt took him with your father to the lab.”

“Traitors,”

Mom chuckled. “You know our boys,”

“Yeah, yeah,” And it was when Pidge sat down that she realized Keith was giving her a strange look.

“What?”

“You’re wearing earrings.”

“Yeah, had to reopen the piercings for prom.” She took four pancakes from the stack. “I thought you were gonna stop at Shiro’s first?”

Keith shook his head. “He didn’t reply so I figured he was in the shower when I texted.”

Pidge opened the peanut butter and put a generous dollop on the top pancake. “Don’t you have a spare key?”

“Yeah, but I had to drop these off here anyway.” He reached down to his feet and produced a six-pack of Red Bull which he set on the table with a soft thud.

“Holy shit,”

“Language,” Mom warned before turning around. “Are you going to consume all of that?” From the look alone it was clear she was hoping the answer would be no.

Pidge glanced over at Keith. “We’ll try not to?” she offered.

Her mother sighed. “Fine. But you know the consequences if I catch you awake and making noise in the garage at three in the morning again, young lady.” Then, facing Keith, she added, “Make sure to monitor her consumption?”

Pidge snorted, thinking back to the six-pack of Quintessence Canned Coffee she kept in a cooler at the bottom of her closet that matched the one Keith kept in his locker.

The boy only blinked. “I think I’m the last person you should be asking that.” He picked up a strip of bacon before adding, “Leave it up to Shiro. He should be here in a few.”

“Oh?” Mom asked, turning to Pidge with a raised brow.

“So are Hunk and Lance,” Katie said too quickly for her liking. “Grinding before the Championship and all that.”

“I see.” If Mom was disappointed with the answer, she didn’t show it. “What time are they coming over?”

Keith rummaged into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Lance and Hunk said they’re already on the way and asking if we want anything from Sal’s.” He turned to Pidge. “I’m guessing you want an iced latte with hazelnut?”

“Yes please,”

“How about you, Doctor Holt?”

The stove turned off just as Mom turned around. “I’ll get the same as Katie but hot. Oh, and tell Lance and Hunk everyone’s drinks are on me.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Keith and Pidge said in unison, to which Mom only smiled. “And don’t forget to get something for Shiro. He should be over any time now, yes?”

She didn’t even bother being subtle as she glanced at Pidge with what was essentially signaling with her eyeballs.

Pidge heaved out a sigh but quickly polished off the rest of her breakfast before going upstairs.

Best friends or not, she did not want to be in her pajamas while they were over and risk any blackmail material.

(Right, like that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to get dressed for the day when all of her friends already had hundreds of blackmail worthy photos and videos from Junior Year alone.)

Pidge also hoped that by dressing for the day it would hype her up, both for the studying itself and the looks she’ll no doubt be getting from Mom while Shiro would be in their house for the first time in weeks after only showing his face to just Pidge.

Shiro: Keith’s already there right?

Speak of the devil .

The sight of the private message notification on her screen made Pidge look out her windows and, sure enough, Shiro was standing in the middle of his room.

And, as if feeling her glance, he looked up and waved.

Pidge rolled her eyes and replied.

Pidge: yep and he helped himself to breakfast

Pidge: there’s plenty to go around if you want

Shiro: sure, sure

Shiro: just gathering my things. be at the door in five.

Pidge looked up to wave goodbye before closing her curtains and getting ready.

And without really thinking about it, Pidge ended up adding a few extra hairpins into the sides of her head as she fixed her hair, if only to avoid ending up with someone else brushing the stray locks away.

read the rest of the chapter here: ♡♡♡

#shidge #shidge fanfic #shiro x pidge #*taps mic* is this thing on #i have returned and i hope it all works out #mine #fic: sbawaybd #my fic

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thesugarclubs-blog · 2 years ago

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Bend the Rules - AU Eddie Munson x OC

warnings: teenage au eddie munson, forbidden love, high school romance, pure fluff

word count: 10.4k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1315622283-bend-the-rules-peyton

Masterlist

The blaring sounds of his alarm pulled Eddie from his sleep, and with a deep groan, the boy rolled onto his back, swiping a tired hand across his face and through his short dark hair. Getting up for school was never something he wanted to do. In fact, going to school was never something he wanted to do. He stretched his tired limbs, just as a stern knock came from his door.

“Ed, get your ass in gear, boy! Spring breaks over, you’re going to be late” His uncle Wayne called through the wooden door.

With another dramatic groan, he pulled himself from under his sheet and rolled out of bed, barely catching his feet underneath him. He grabbed an Iron Maiden shirt from his floor and sniffed it quickly before pulling it over his head, as he kicked up a pair of dark jeans from beside his dresser, pulling those on too and attaching his signature handcuff belt. Eddie grabbed his leather jacket that had his dark grey hoodie still inside and slid his arms into it, pulling the hood up when he finally walked out of his room, grabbing a black metal lunchbox off his chair.

Eddie grabbed the piece of toast out of his uncle’s hand with a smirk, “Let’s go, I thought you said we were going to be late,” he quipped.

“We are,” Wayne narrowed his eyes at his nephew, following him out the door, “and let’s make sure we stay at school today, I don’t want any more calls from Hopper saying he caught you messing around in town, you hear me?”

Eddie chewed on his dry piece of bread as he turned his head around, smirking at his uncle.

“Tell that to Steve, not me. You know I would never risk anything by stealing Mrs. Crain’s wig and feeding it to-”

“Enough, son.” Wayne sighed, leaving Eddie with a smirk on his face. The 16-year-old boy knew too well what kind of pranks he’d been pulling with his best friend Steve since they were in kindergarten.

“Just don’t get your ass arrested. Can’t bail you out of there and you know that.”

Eddie chewed his toast and nodded, saluting with two fingers as he made his way further down to where the car was parked, followed by his uncle.

Wayne had barely come to stop in front of the high school when Eddie had already opened the door to jump out. It was almost 7:50 and he needed to make it to the lockers before he missed her. Or he wouldn’t be able to talk to her until third period and he couldn’t let that happen. Not after spending the entirety of his break trying (and failing) to stave off thoughts of what it’d be like to hold her hand or kiss her lips. Foolish little daydreams he shouldn’t even be entertaining given who he was.

“I have a double today, remember to eat dinner when you get home, please. And no-“

“Messin' around I got it, I would never.” Eddie answered back with a sly smirk, “see ya in the morning.”

“Alright kid, have a good day.”

The hallways were still jammed back with students chatting and laughing as he crammed his skinny body through tiny openings. “Shit,” he eyed the grouping of football players two years his senior and curved to the left, pressing himself through their circle as fast as his legs would take him in his converse and came to a skitting stop as he broke through the final opening and saw her.

Her long honey-brown hair fell in soft waves around her face and down the back of her cute pastel-striped top, heat licking at the back of his neck as his eyes trailed over the shortened hem that showed the smallest hint of her stomach. She closed her locker, swinging her teal backpack over her shoulders.

“Munson, where do you think you're going?” One of the football players had spotted him and was bee-lining towards him.

“Not today Hargrove,” he backed away and put his hands in the air, “I don’t know how many times I have to turn you down, I told you…” his eyes fluttered to where she had started to wander to class. “You just wear the wrong lip gloss, I break out in hives every time we make out!” He hollered and turned on his heel darting away from the threats that Billy screamed in his direction and around the corner.

“Where are you? Damnit,” he whispered, knowing he had a tiny window to say good morning to her. But his eyes caught a glimpse of her backpack in the crowded hallway and he jogged toward her. He lifted his hand to his mouth and checked the smell of his breath with a quick huff of air before straightening himself out and slowing his pace to catch up with her. Act casual… he thought.

“Peyton,” he called out to her and she turned to look at him over her shoulder, the light catching the swirls of light brown in her iris.

He came to a stop just before her, taking a deep breath to collect himself as his eyes lingered over her. Like the first glimpse of the morning sun, she shone with a warm, dimpled smile that always made the butterflies in his stomach seek their way around his heart.

“Hi Eddie,” She beamed. “What’s up?”

“It’s cool, you? Did you have a good break?” He shifted nervously on his feet, not seeing Peyton for a whole week made him realize how much he’d missed her soft, velvety voice.

She shrugged as she grasped the straps of her backpack. “I’m good. The first days were good, but a whole week at the lake house with my family and their friends made me want to pull my hair out by the end,” she chuckled lightly.

The bell rang, making the students left in the hallway rush past them to head to their early morning classes. This was it if it was now ever going to happen. He’d prepared himself every awakened hour for a whole week.

Well, he’d tried to at least.

“Maybe we can talk later when we have more time?” She said as she was on the way to turn around.

Eddie nodded enthusiastically and tried his best to shoot her a charming smile as he walked back down the hall, watching her as she walked away. When she was out of sight, the boy ran his hand over his short hair and rolled his eyes, feeling a small blush creeping up his neck as a soft smile found its way onto his lips.

Instead of going to class, Eddie slipped out the side door and wandered around to the back of the school. He pulled a smoke out of the inside pocket of his jacket and lit it. A familiar head of short honey-brown hair rounded the corner and breathed a laugh with a shake of his head.

“First day back, and you’re skipping already?” Steve quipped, nudging his elbow into his best friend.

With a strong inhale and a shrug of his shoulders, he smirked, “what can I say? I have a rep to keep up,” he teased back, “what are you doing out here?”

“Running laps, but I saw you sneak back here,” Steve shrugged, leaning against the wall opposite his friend, “I saw you talking to Peyton this morning, you still haven’t given that up huh?”

Eddie choked a laugh, and rolled his eyes, “that’s rich coming from the boy who can’t even talk to Nancy Wheeler”

“I can talk to her! I’m just, playing the long game,” Steve brushed his hair behind his ear and pushed himself off the wall, “I have to go back to PE, get to class will you?” he laughed as he took off.

“Whatever you say, mom,” Eddie shouted after him, laughing to himself as he took the last inhale of his cigarette before putting it out with his foot. Deciding that Steve wasn’t so wrong about going back to class, he made his way into school again, hiding in a room under the steps where he usually would meet his friends during tests to check the answers, until the next lesson would start.

When he heard the school bell ring, he made his way out of his cave and to his next class. Biology - he hated it. The only good thing was, she was in this class too.

Walking into the classroom of his biology teacher Mr. Ward, Eddie spotted Peyton sitting alone in the back of the class, the seat next to her basically inviting him to sit there.

“This seat taken?” Eddie asked as he reached Peyton who turned her head from her notebook to Eddie. He could make out some drawings that she did before she closed the notebook and put it on the side of the table.

“No, no. You can sit there if you want.” She smiled softly, and Eddie responded with a huge grin on his face, sitting down and getting his books out.

Before Eddie could say anything else, Mr. Ward clapped his hands and brought everyone's attention to the front of the room. Well, everyone’s except his. His chocolate brown eyes kept flickering to the girl sitting beside him, listening in on the small whistle her nose made as she breathed in.

He watched as she tucked a piece of honey-brown hair behind her ear, and swiped her tongue along her plump bottom lip. She was taking notes as the teacher rambled on about some sort of ecosystem that Eddie was not listening to. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced down at his textbook.

Ok you idiot, quit staring, she’s going to think you're creepy, he thought to himself, letting out a deep breath.

“Page 67,” Peyton leaned over and whispered to him with a smile.

Scrunching his eyebrows together, he smiled back and looked up, “What?”

“We’re on page 67,” She pointed to his book.

“Oh yeah, yeah thanks,” he laughed nervously, flipping through his book to the right page. Eddie tapped his fingers on the page, quickly picking up a pen and scribbling something into his notebook before ripping the small corner of the page and sliding it across the table to Peyton.

U look pretty in blue

A soft pink blush crept up her cheeks to match her small smile as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Peyton tucked her hair behind her ear once more and scribbled something back to him.

Thank you with a tiny heart beside it.

Now Eddie was the one blushing as he turned to catch her gaze, just as a ray of sunshine caught her bright amber eyes, illuminating the colour of her iris. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he turned his eyes back up to the front of the class. Not that he was going to listen at all to Mr. Ward, he never did, but he needed to distract himself enough to get rid of the fuzzy feeling of being in such close proximity. Her warm vanilla scent swirled in his nose every time she flicked her hair.

“I—” Eddie went to say but Mr. Ward turned an icy glare on him prompting the urge to give him the middle finger but that would result in him being sent to detention on his first day back.

Uncle Wayne would kill him and he’d never see his angel again.

“I have a double today, remember to eat dinner…”

He flipped over another piece of paper and twirled the pen between his fingers methodically as he thought about the wording. He scribbled across the paper, dumping every ounce of courage he had into the note.

Do you want to come over for pizza tonight?

Wayne did say to eat… he just didn’t say what and with who. Eddie smiled to himself before sliding it under her book and taping the table with his pen to get her attention.

He flipped the pen nervously in his hand as she lifted her book. Her eyes scanned the small piece of paper before setting her book back down and facing forward. Eddie’s heart hammered the longer she stared forward listening to Mr. Ward ramble on about the powerhouse of the cell.

Eddie’s eyes flickered over to her while he pretended to pay attention. She had her lip between her teeth biting back a smile but the upturned corners of her mouth gave her away. The sight only sent a wave of butterflies through him.

She lifted her book once again scribbling something before sliding it across to him.

Sausage and Mushroom?

Eddie couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his face as he wrote a response.

Anything for you, m’lady.

A soft giggle escaped Peyton’s lips and caused Mr. Ward to spin around and glare at the two of them. A deep clear of this throat brought the two students' attention back to the front of the room. For the rest of the lesson, they tried their best to stare at the board and listen. Eddie was tuned out of whatever was happening again, as the nerves of what he’d just asked her sunk in. His room was a disaster and the trailer was not something he wanted to show off. Not that he was ashamed of it, but someone like Peyton deserved better than that.

Peyton Morris was from the suburban part of town that Eddie was never allowed in. Her father owned some chain of restaurants that were everywhere in the country and she was one of the kids at school who had their own car the moment she turned 16. The two had met the summer before high school started when her family moved in. Eddie had been at Steve’s while his parents were away, it was the only time he was allowed there, and the two boys were out biking when they saw the moving truck. He’d had a crush on her since that day.

And now she was actually going to hang out with him. By themselves. At his place. Eddie sucked in a deep breath and practically lept from his seat the second the bell rang. He couldn’t let her know how nervous he had become or how much he was slightly regretting asking her over.

“Eddie! Wait up,” a soft giggle came from behind him as Peyton jogged up to meet him.

He swiped his hand over his head and pressed his lips into a thin line, “Sorry I uh, almost got you detention”

She shrugged and nudged her elbow into his side, “would’ve been worth it,” she smirked, “I’ll meet you at your locker after school okay?”

Eddie fought to contain his excitement as his cheeks warmed and his fingers fidgeted in the pockets of his leather jackets. “Yah three thirty sharp,” he nodded.

The rest of the day went by pain stakingly slow. Eddie found himself watching the clock in every classroom like if he stared at it long enough he might be able to use the force to make it advance time.

When the last bell rang he skirted from the classroom, nearly tripping over Steve and Robin by their lockers to get down the hall. His heart hammering in his chest praying that Peyton had been confident in her decision and she’d be waiting for him.

When he rounded the corner she was there, waiting patiently with a soft smile on her face. She looked down at the watch on her wrist and scowled, “it’s three thirty three, you’re late Munson.”

“I.. oh god—,” he stuttered worried she was actually upset with him.

“I’m kidding,” she laughed, “you ready?”

“We’ll have to walk to my place,” he admitted nervously, every stipulation he offered was followed by the irrational fear that it would make her change her mind.

“I have my bike,” she offered. “It’s one of those big handlebars, you think you can peddle us there without dropping me?” She smiled.

Panic coursed through him as the worry of dropping her became a harsh reality. “I-uh-I think I can handle that.”

Peyton laughed with a raised brow, “you don’t sound so sure.”

He sucked in a deep breath, “Well I mean it might take me a minute to get used to your bike and the way it rides but…” he rambled on trying to find any ounce of courage left within him.

She grinned, tucking her book back closer to her chest. “You don’t have to be nervous Eddie. It’s just me.”

Yeah, that’s the problem, he thought.

He forced a smile, “I’ll try not to be.”

The pair made their way out of the school, pulling looks from almost everyone they passed causing Eddie to pull his hood back up over his head. Even the rest of the school knew she was too good for him, but Peyton responded by looping her arm with his as they walked out the front door together.

Instantly, Eddie felt his palms get sweaty and heat crawled up the back of his neck, but he pushed it all down as soon as they got to her bike. She unlocked it from the bars and pulled it free, turning to him with that gorgeous smile on her face.

He took the bike from her and smirked, “your chariot m’lady,” he chuckled, as he climbed on and offered her his hand.

“Why thank you, good sir,” she teased, using his hand to settle herself on the handlebars, before he took off down the street, sending Peyton into a fit of giggles.

“You okay?” Eddie laughed with her. She nodded her head and placed her hand over his to keep herself steady, pressing her fingers between his, she looked back at him with a smirk.

“Don’t throw me off,” Peyton commented.

With a wink, he linked one of his fingers over hers, “I got ya, don’t worry.”

Her laughter giggle echoed through the air as the wind blew through her hair and tickled Eddie's nose. He hadn’t felt this free in a while and that was saying something. Eddie thrived on that feeling, anything dangerous that pushed the limits of society and filled him with adrenaline. But this… this was different. It was unbridled joy and it felt like he was flying.

He pushed them faster until they hit the big hill at the end of the road, the trailer park was at the bottom. Her home at the top, in a neighborhood he could only imagine was chalk full of manicured lawns and perfectly healthy families. As they rounded the top he halted his peddling and let gravity take control, “hold on!” He yelled over the sound of wind in his ears.

Her hands squeezed tightly around his and she leaned into him. Her backpack pressed against his chest and her head fell back against his shoulder putting full trust in his ability to keep them steady. He watched as she closed her eyes and let the wind fill her hair and Eddie just knew that she felt the same.

They were flying together.

Eddie could feel the first genuine smile on his lips that he’d had in a long time. The feeling of freedom and not caring about the world around them. Letting her spirit guide him in this new feeling of not being afraid.

They finally pulled up outside the trailer, and Eddie brought the bike to a screeching halt, offering out his hand as Peyton jumped off, letting out a musical laugh that tickled his ears and made his heart sing.

“That… was incredible,” she breathed, spinning around to see Eddie gently placing her bike against the front steps.

He laughed with her, and grinned, “I’m glad you think so,” in a fit of confidence, he walked up to her and brushed his hand through her long hair, fixing the pieces that were now sticking up from the wind. It was just as soft as he’d imagined, until Eddie realized what he was doing and retreated his hand, a blush creeping up his neck, “sorry…”

“Thanks,” she fixed the rest of her hair herself and flickered her eyes to the trailer with a soft smile.

Eddie cleared his throat, and gestured dramatically to his home, “Welcome to my castle,” he offered her his arm, “right this way…”

“Such a gentleman,” Peyton giggled, wrapping her arm under his once more.

They walked up the front steps and Eddie pulled open the front door, “after you, sweetheart,” he tried his best to sound confident as the nerves of her being in his home set in once more. Butterflies swarmed his stomach as she once more shot him that beautiful smile as she thanked him, taking a few steps inside.

Eddie walked in and shut the door behind him. He turned towards Peyton and his knees nearly gave out at the sight of her in the middle of his trailer looking back at him with soft expectant eyes. He almost pinched himself just to make sure this moment was actually happening, that it wasn’t just one of the foolish little daydreams that littered his brain. The pinch would probably get him to talk too, instead of just staring at her holding his breath as he was doing now.

He watched as she fiddled with the strap of her backpack, a faint crease forming between her brows while she chewed softly at the corner of her lip before being the braver one of the two and breaking the silence.

“Um, shoes off? Or?”

“Oh, um, yeah yeah. You can throw your bag over there too. Here, let me-” Eddie rushed through his words as he began to kick off his boots and moved forward to take her bag off her shoulders, stumbling over his feet in the process. Peyton grabbed onto his arm to try to stop his fall but he took her down with him unintentionally.

Peyton landed atop him, her hands gripped into his shirt, with a shocked look on her face. “Oh god,” she blushed, “I’m sorry, are you hurt?” She asked, looking over him.

“Never better,” he smiled, trying to hide his amusement. He had been waiting to be this close to her, in this exact way all school year and yet now that he was in such a compromising position he wasn’t sure he was ready to chase that dream.

His eyes flickered to her lips, and instinctively her eyes followed his trail, her cheeks flushing with nerves. “Here,” she pushed off him and came to a stumbly stance over him with her hand extended to help him up. “How about that pizza?”

“I’ll have to order it,” he sighed, hoping that Argyle would answer the phone. He owed him a favor and Eddie didn’t have any money but when he had invited Peyton over for pizza that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind.

He walked to the phone, stripping it from the wall and pressed it to his ear as he watched Peyton survey her surroundings. He was more nervous than he had expected, wanting to know what was turning in her pretty little head as he listened to the dial tone.

Eddie could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he watched her moving about. He let out a breath and shook his head, trying to shake off the feeling that was creeping back in. He pressed the pizza place's number and a wash of relief came over him when Argyle did answer the phone.

After ordering the pizza, and getting Argyle to agree to his terms, he hung up the phone and turned back to his guest. Ok be cool, just wait for the pizza, he thought to himself.

“Pizza should be here in fifteen minutes,” he sighed and cleared his throat as he moved over to flop onto the couch.

Peyton shot him a soft smile, and sauntered over to sit beside him, “There’s uh, a lot of caps on the walls”

Eddie laughed and looked around as he nodded, “Yeah my uncle is kind of a collector. Anywhere he goes, he has to get one to bring back,” he explained, “the funny part is, he actually wears all of them, switches it out every few days.”

“That is pretty impressive… your place is really nice Eddie,” she swiped her tongue along her bottom lip and looked down as she fidgeted with her hands, “it really feels like a home”

Taking in her words, he wasn’t really sure what she meant. Eddie looked around the trailer and saw little reminisces of his life with his uncle, and a soft smile appeared on his lips. There were a couple of pictures of him as a boy, that one time his uncle tried to get him to play baseball and a couple of years later at his first guitar concert. It had taken her words for Eddie to actually realize the amount of work his uncle had put in to make this place home just for him.

“Thanks,” He answered quietly, rubbing his hand into the back of his neck, “hey there’s a stack of movies by the TV if you want to pick one, whatever you want to watch,” he commented, changing the subject over to something else and grinning over at his guest as he caught her gaze.

She bit her lip, smiling at him and not helping the thundering in his chest as she made her way over to the stack.

“Any preference?” Payton asked peering over her shoulder at him.

The sunset through the windows caught the golden flecks in her eyes, the amber strands of hair that poked through the dark brown and the way her lips were a perfect shade of pink all making his jaw drop slightly as he watched her. Suddenly she was the most beautiful thing in his trailer.

Finally, he shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. “No preference.” He said softly getting up to help her look.

A wide smile beamed over her lips as she picked up a copy of The Breakfast Club.

“Have you seen this?” She asked.

He wanted to lie and tell her no. But the truth was he’d watched it about ten times so far.

“Classic bad boy falls in love with the good girl?” He grinned, “that’s right up my alley.”

“Good,” she smiled, “because it’s one of my favorites.”

Eddie smiled, resting his hand on top of the VHS tape his fingers brushing the inside of her wrist as she let him take the tape. He sucked in a breath feeling tiny fireworks shoot up his arm from the warmth of her skin.

Quickly he pulled his hand back, the VHS clattering to the floor between them.

“Shit.” He mumbled kneeling down to pick it up hearing her giggle as she looked down at him. Dark brown eyes meeting hers.

“There are those nerves again.” She smirked.

He exhaled a shaky deep breath as he straightened back up again with the tape, feeling the redness creeping up along his neck. He had to admit it, to be honest it was pretty obvious, he was feeling like a mess. Clumsy and acting like he hadn’t a clue how to act around girls. Or for the fact any human being in his state.

But this was Peyton Morris. In his trailer. With just a small gap between them with her head slightly tilted to the side, a warm smile lingering on her lips that continued to spread through him.

A dream that somehow had come true.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, Eds, I don’t exactly bite.” Both chuckled as more warmth spread through him when she gently placed her hand over his. “I’m really glad you invited me over. I needed this escape from my reality. To let loose and have fun.”

Eddie cleared his throat and nodded, trying not to suffocate from the way his pulse raced from their touch. “Sorry…and I’m really glad you didn’t neglect me…”

She giggled, that adorable little giggle with her sparkling, mesmerizing eyes. “From the words of Eddie Munson? I could never.”

If it weren’t for the distant knock on the door that turned clearer the third time, he wouldn't have been able to move from his frozen spot. Peyton nodded her head to the door with a soft smile and he scurried to make his way over.

Opening the door, Argyle stood with the pizza cardboard in his hands with a huge grin on his colorful, patterned clothing that could be seen from space.

“Eyo brochacho! The free pizza for the man himself has arrived!” He bowed his head and reached out the box for Eddie like he was offering it to royalty.

“Thanks, man,” He grabbed the box from his friend. “Talk to ya later okay bye,” with that, he slammed the door closed. Maybe it was his nerves that took over or-

No, definitely his nerves.

“Pizza is here,” Eddie said on his way to the couch, not really thinking about it. He set the pizza down on the table in front of the couch, just like he always did with his uncle. Just when he realized that this wasn’t the perfect way to eat pizza with a girl he liked - or at least he thought it was - his cheeks heated up and he looked at Peyton.

“I-I’m sorry, we should eat at the dinner table, I-” he grabbed the pizza box and stood up, looking around hectically before Peyton stopped him by touching his arm.

“The couch is just fine, Eddie. We wanted to watch a movie, remember?” she giggled and Eddie's cheeks turned a darker red.

“Right,” he breathed out and giggled. He was embarrassed. How was this pretty, perfect girl still here? With a guy like him? He felt the insecurity growing stronger with each thought he had.

He popped the top of the box, his nerves getting the best of his schoolboy heart as she hovered over him wanting a look. She sat down next to him and tucked her foot under her bum so she could still reach the pizza. “Oh shit... I mean…shoot,” he went to stand to get plates but Peyton leaned over and snatched a piece into the palm of her hand.

“Oh…” he bit his tongue and watched her with big eyes as she munched down on the hot dough and spicy sauce. Her eyelashes fluttered and she sunk into the cushions of the couch happily

“I haven’t had pizza in so long,” she hummed, taking another bite. “Mom says it’s too greasy for dad, they’re on some weird health kick. All we eat is turkey meatloaf and vegetables…” she mumbled as she chewed.

Eddie should have been eating, or talking…really anything but staring but he couldn’t help himself. Peyton fricken Morris, snuggled on his couch in her socks, speed eating pizza like she was starving and somehow she still looked like an angel. Eddie had deemed himself the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

“Is there something on my face?” She looked at him with wide eyes, pausing with her teeth half-sunk into a piece of pepperoni.

“No, you’re perfect.” He smiled.

Eddie‘s skin was now flaming hot. He couldn’t help himself. The words just slipped out so easily, it was so obvious to him. Hell, she was a living dream but he feared he was being too forward and that she would find his choice of words weird…

Until she blinked up at him with her big, amber doe eyes, her cheeks dusted pink in the most adorable way as a soft smile spread across her plump lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Munson.” She teased as she took a big bite, reaching for another piece to offer him. “Eat now before I finish it alone.”

He accepted the piece with a bashful smile, he could practically hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears by now. He took a bite and savored the flavors, leaning back to rest his head against the headrest as he hummed in satisfaction.

“This is so so good.” He said with his mouth still full of the tasty pizza.

Peyton bit down on her bottom lip, failing to hold back a smile.

Eddie raised a brow, swallowing down the rest of the dough. “Huh?”

She pointed to her chin as she nodded her head toward him. “You have something just here.”

Before Eddie had time to wipe away the mess he’d made, feeling more than embarrassed, she leaned forward and swiped her thumb over his chin. It was a quick movement, but her touch sent shots of electricity through his whole body, sparking something up in his fluttering heart.

For a moment, Eddie’s mind went completely fuzzy, only focusing on the beautiful girl sitting in front of him. What had Argyle put in this pizza? It had to have been something to make him act this way.

Eddie took another bite of pizza before launching himself up and moving over to the TV, “guess this works better if we turn it on huh?” He joked, popping the VHS into the player and grabbing the remote before plopping himself back down beside Peyton.

Her soft giggles were like music to his ears as he hit play and fast-forwarded through all the commercials at the start, stopping just as the intro music began for the movie.

Peyton cocked her eyebrow at him and smirked, “that was pretty skilled, it was almost as if you knew exactly when to hit play,” she teased.

Eddie shrugged as he took another large bite of pizza, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he retorted pulling more of her musical laughs out of her. It was very easily turning into one of his favourite sounds.

The two of them sat there and polished off their medium pizza easily between the two of them, as the movie played in the background. His eyes flickering to the beautiful brunette sat beside him every once in a while, just to make sure she was still there and real. Suddenly, he felt Peyton’s leg land in his lap as she hooked her calf around his knees, getting more comfortable on the couch.

He looked over at her as his breath caught in his throat, and she gave him a soft smile.

“Is this okay?” She whispered,

All Eddie could do was nod in response as he gently placed his hand on her ankle and rubbed his thumb against the sliver of skin that was visible between the hem of her jeans and her sock. When she didn’t instantly pull her leg away from him, he let out a small sigh of relief and tried his best to turn his attention back to the screen.

The sound of the front door opening pulled his attention quickly away from the screen, as Peyton’s leg retreated from on top of his. Wayne stepped inside and cocked his eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Uncle Wayne! I thought you were at work?” Eddie’s eyes flickered between Peyton and his uncle quickly as he sat up.

His uncle let out a deep chuckle, and tilted his head to the side, “Forgot my lunch in the fridge and came home to get it, is that okay with you nephew?” He questioned, with a smirk on his lips, “you know I expected you to be up to no good when I got here but this…”

“Oh right! Uh, uncle Wayne, this is Peyton - Peyton this is my uncle Wayne,” Eddie cleared his throat.

“If I hadn’t done a double take, I would have thought you were curled up on the sofa with Harrington for a moment,” his uncle rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as his eyes passed between the two of them, a sly smirk creeping up on his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Peyton,” he extended a grime covered hand to her and before Eddie could scold him for being embarrassing Peyton took it without gripes and shook it.

“You have a lovely home,” she said, sitting up as he let go of her. “And don’t tell Steve but my hair is definitely nicer than his.”

Wayne laughed with a nod of his head, “I like you,” he smiled, “she’s funny.”

Peyton sat up a little straighter as Eddie tried to evaporate into the couch, he was ten seconds from turning into the fibres of cotton when Wayne clapped his hands together awkwardly. “Can I speak to you?” he asked, nodding toward the other end of the trailer.

“I’ll be right back,” he went to put his hand over Peyton’s but pulled back nervously. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie slowly sauntered over to where his uncle was standing at the end of the hallway and clasped his hands together with a frown, “Okay, first of all, that thing with Harrington happened one time, let it go,” he quipped, “second of all before you say anything…”

“Boy, I will smack you upside the head if you keep talking,” Wayne crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow as his eyes flickered to the girl sitting in their living room, “is there a conversation we need to have right now before I go back to work?”

“Wha- Oh god, no! No, no,” Eddie shook his head, dramatically waving his hands in front of himself, “it’s not like that, she’s just here to hang out!”

“Well having the Morris girl in my living room was not exactly what I was expecting when I walked in that front door, pardon me for being curious” he cleared his throat, looking down at his nephew, “do her parents know she’s here?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, he let out a small sigh, “I don’t know, we didn’t really talk about it…”

Wayne let out a breath, and placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “I am making the terrible decision to trust you here, but make sure she gets home at a reasonable hour, you hear me?”

“Yes Wayne, I know…” Eddie mumbled.

A loud clap of his uncle's hands made both Eddie and Peyton jump a little, as he moved back into the living room with a smile, “So Peyton, did Eddie tell you about that time he got himself stuck underneath the trailer because he tried to befriend a raccoon?”

“No,” Peyton looked between them with a curious glimmer in her gorgeous brown eyes. “But that sounds like Eddie and I would love to hear it,” she laughed.

“Maybe another time,” Eddie mumbled, trying to hurry Wayne from the trailer before he did any more embarrassing damage. The heat from his weird questions still tingled at the base of his neck and he could feel how hot his cheeks had gotten. “You have to get back to work!”

“You kids be good,” Wayne warned with his best dad voice, making Eddie smile nervously, “and stay on the couch Edward.” He gave a pointed silent threat to behave himself piled atop the previous, light-hearted one.

When the trailer door finally slammed shut Eddie walked back to Peyton and sat down on the couch across from her, resting his arm against the back of it. She sunk against the back of the couch giving him the reach to wrap a strand of her soft hair around his finger.

Eddie let the silence wrap around them as he concentrated on the small strand of her silky soft hair. The smell of pizza had dissipated allowing the warm vanilla scent of her perfume to envelope him as she scooted ever so slightly closer to him, causing their knees to brush together.

The butterflies once again took over his body and Eddie cleared his throat, as he rewound the film back to where they had been interrupted. Peyton settled back in beside him, leaning her body into his and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she softly smiled up at him.

“Your uncle seems really cool,” she commented, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder.

Swallowing thickly, he nodded slowly and turned his chocolate brown eyes down to meet hers, “yeah he’s uh, he’s pretty great. Don’t tell him I said that though, I’ll never hear the end of it,” he chuckled.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Peyton whispered, nudging him playfully.

“I am forever in your debt m’lady,” he rubbed lazy circles on her shoulder with his thumb as they watched the movie.

Eddie waited with a bated breath between each soft fit of laughter that came from her, nervous as hell as the time ticked on and the movie was coming to an end. He had waited hours, days, and weeks to have this moment with her and now that it was here it was like time was racing by and he couldn’t figure out how to slow it down. Her eyes were heavy as the credits began to roll and Eddie softly nudged her to wake her up, “Peyton?” he whispered to her.

An adorable squeaky yawn pulled from her chest and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the cute sound, “you should probably get home. I can walk you to the top of the hill?” He offered. And if I’m lucky, I can find the courage to kiss you. He thought to himself as she stretched and stood up clumsily from the couch.

“That movie was funny,” she hummed as she slung her backpack over her shoulders.

Eddie opened the trailer door and the cool spring air hit his face making him scrunch up his nose from the stinging cold. He looked back at Peyton, realizing she hadn’t worn a sweater, “hold on,” he walked to where he had shucked off his leather jacket and lifted it up to her to put on.

“Eddie,” she giggled, “won't you be cold?”

“You have further to go and I’ll be okay,” he smiled, urging her to put it on.

Peyton swung the leather jacket over her shoulders and tucked her arms through the sleeves. She looked at each hand and smiled softly, “what’s with the chains?”

“Oh uh, that jacket belonged to my father... It’s a long story but the seams were letting go and I - I thought it looked cool,” he confessed with nervous laughter.

“It does look cool, I like it,” Peyton climbed onto her bike and the two of them started their way out of the trailer park and up the road. “Thank you for today by the way… I did mean it when I said it was nice to escape my reality for a bit.”

Eddie’s smile never seemed to leave his lips as he listened to her, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket, “I’m glad I could help… your - your welcome over any time you need that, or just anytime,” he rambled.

It was hard to tell whether he was shivering from the evening chill or his nerves of a potential goodnight kiss, but either way, he felt every muscle in his shoulders and jaw tense as he tried to stop himself from shaking.

“Honestly it was nice having company, usually when my uncle works all night I just walk around that trailer by myself with my guitar,” Eddie admitted.

“Maybe you can play for me next time,” she offered, peddling as slowly as she could to match Eddie’s pace. “I miss hearing you play,” she said and then looked away from his as her cheeks flushed red.

“When did you hear me play?” He asked, silently begging her to look back over at him.

“Last year chess club used to get out after school and you…” she rocked her head back and forth nervously, “you sometimes were in the band room playing the guitar with your friends.”

“Chess club?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at her.

“If you tell anyone Munson, I’ll march back to your house and ask your Uncle Wayne for baby photos,” she threatened playfully.

“Okay, okay!” He held up both arms in surrender, “who knew you were such a dork!”

“Eddie!” She scoffed, embarrassment lacing her voice.

“I have Wayne, you play chess. A secret for a secret,” he laughed, his chest contracting tightly as they reached the top of the hill. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her, but he certainly wasn’t going to risk walking her into the gated community. That was asking for Hopper to pick him up on loitering or something… “I had a really good time tonight.”

Peyton hummed softly, and pressed her feet into the pavement, looking out at the big houses that lined the street beside them, “I did too…” she spoke quietly, chewing on the inside of her cheek, before turning her gaze to meet his, the light from the street lamp catching her face in a perfect glow, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

Eddie nodded slowly and clicked his tongue as he watched her start to move towards the gates, “Goodnight Peyton,” he smiled.

“Goodnight Eddie,”

And with that, Eddie watched as she peddled down the street into her neighbourhood. Taking a couple of steps backwards, he turned and slowly made his way back home down the hill. He let the cool air hit his face and allowed his thoughts to wander. Her laughter and the small scrunch of her nose flashed through his mind and the smile that had been plastered on his lips all night grew wider.

He practically floated his way back into the trailer and settled himself at the dining room table as he started scribbling ideas for a new song, the words flowing out through his fingertips so easily as he pictured the way her eyes shone in the sunlight.

Eddie wasn’t sure when he fell asleep but he only dreamed of how feathery her hair felt between his fingertips and how the left side of her smile curled a little higher than the right. The sound of a plate scrapping across the table shook him from sleep and he opened one eye lazily to inspect what smelled so delicious.

“Waffles for lover boy,” Wayne said, “so did you, you know…” he raised an eyebrow and Eddie tilted his head to the side in confusion. “What do you kids call it now? Kiss, make out?”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Eddie groaned, “and no cause I'm a coward,” he sighed heavily and slammed his forehead against his notepad in frustration.

“Will hot cocoa make it better?” He set the Garfield mug on the other side of the table.

“I’m not a little kid,” he groaned, rolling his head to the side to see Garfield's stupid face mocking him for not kissing the girl he liked. “Does it have marshmallows?”

A deep chuckle escaped his uncle as sat opposite his nephew, “I wouldn’t cheap you out like that, you know that. Now tell me what happened”

“I froze up… I walked her up the hill and looked into her neighbourhood and realized she’d never actually go for me like that so I just… I don’t know,” Eddie groaned, stabbing his fork into the waffle. “She deserves better than me uncle Wayne,” he grumbled.

Wayne placed his mug hard on the table, “you listen to me right now Edward Munson, that girl would be lucky to have you in her life, no matter where she’s from. And based on what I saw last night, she knows it too, so pick yourself up, eat your breakfast and get your ass to school so I can sleep”

The boy's head shot up as he eyed his uncle, “Does that mean…”

“Yes you can take the car, I don’t have the energy to deal with you this morning,” He mumbled, sipping his coffee, “But you have to promise me you’ll go to class and stay there or else you’ll never take that car or a car of your own and I’ll get Hopper to take your license until you graduate, do you hear me?”

Eddie beamed as he shoved half of the waffle into his mouth, quickly gathering his school things. "THANKS, WAYNE!" He exclaimed mouth still full of food.

He practically ran to the door, swinging it open and heading outside. Eddie stopped in his tracks, barely making it to the front step before he ran back to the door. He pulled it open glancing over at the table where his uncle still sat, car keys dangling off his index finger as he read the newspaper, sipping on his coffee non-bothered.

A laugh bubbled in his chest as he raced back over and grabbed the keys. "Right, thank you again." He said this time making his way back out to the car without another thought. Only the excitement of seeing the long golden brown hair and dark eyes made his skin feel like it was on fire.

Eddie climbed into the car, turning off the southern rock his uncle insisted on listening to and shoving the Metallica cassette he hid in the center console into the player. He stuck the key into the ignition and began strumming on his leg as he backed out of the driveway, his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, hitting every chord and slide.

He sang his heart out as the excitement in him built like a stoked flame as he got closer to school. He parked the car and grabbed his bag, mentally marking the shortest route to her locker in his mind as the dejavu began to kick in.

Eddie had parked in the west lot so he could avoid all the football players and hopefully cut Peyton off around the corner on her way to English class. His boots scuffed against the hallway floors as he moved as fast as he could without full-on running. He flattened out his messy shirt and tried to appear presentable as he went to round the corner only to come to a dead stop.

“My dad yelled for almost an hour last night,” Peyton’s voice was low and hushed as she leaned against her locker with her back to him across from Nancy Wheeler. She was wearing a sunny yellow sweater and a pair of jeans, his leather jacket was gripped in her hand tightly.

Eddie wanted to reach out, make his presence known but the conversation sounded private and the weight on his chest felt like a thousand pounds as Nancy spoke. “That’s what you get for going down to the trailer park,” she shook her head, her eyes drifted up to where Eddie stood watching the disappointment seep across his face.

“Eddie is...nice,” Peyton fought and he waited, hopeful that she would stand up for him.

“But he lives in the trailers, his uncle barely affords that and there are more than enough basketball players to go around.” Nancy raised an eyebrow, “you’re better than him.”

Eddie couldn’t stomach whatever Peyton had to say next, he took off down the hallway, busting out the door back into the parking lot. He stared down at his shoes, trying to find a way to get air into his lungs as the disappointment threatened to swallow him whole.

He knew it. This whole time he knew their differences would get in the way and yet his uncle let him have that small glimmer of hope. Hope that she would see past the trailer park and their status in this town. Hope that she would actually see him and in a matter of sheer seconds, that hope was ripped from his body of bulldozed by non-other than Nancy Wheeler.

Leaning against the side of his car, Eddie pulled a smoke out of his hoodie pocket and stuffed it between his lips, lighting it and taking a long drag. He wasn’t sure why this came as a surprise or why any of this hurt so much, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was right all along. Peyton did deserve better than him.

“Rough morning, sport?” A smooth voice came from beside him as his best friend leaned against the car.

Eddie blew out a cloud of smoke and looked down at his boots, “Not now, Harrington, I’m really not in the mood.”

Steve put his hands up in defence, “alright, alright, I’m just here to say that whatever those football jerks said or did, you know I’ve got your back if you want to kick their asses,” he commented backing away, “you know where to find me”

With a deep sigh, Eddie closed his eyes and shook his head, “it’s Peyton… I knew she deserved better than me and apparently she thinks so too,” He mumbled.

“What? No way!” Steve placed his hands on his hips and frowned at Eddie, “based on the way I saw her looking at you yesterday, there’s no way that’s true!”

“It is, Steve! I heard her talking to Nanc…” he chewed on his bottom lip before taking another long drag of his smoke.

Steve let out a breath and moved back over to his friend, clapping him on the shoulder, “maybe you missed part of the conversation,”

“No what she said was pretty clear,” he replied sarcastically.

“Look, don’t write it off until you talk to her yourself, okay? I have to get to practice or the coach will kill me, but just trust me on this one, she likes you, man,” Steve shot his friend a soft smile before jogging across the parking lot and into the soccer field.

Eddie sighed, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. He wasn’t ready to talk to her. Everything he felt this morning rushing out of the house to be able to see her was washed away with the girl’s words.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe he had missed the conversation but it didn’t help the dread that crept through him. He hoped he was wrong, that he misheard and someday they’d live happily ever after. This wasn’t a movie though and so far life hadn’t mimicked Hollywood for him. He’d never be John Bender and Peyton wasn’t his Claire Standish.

He tossed his smoke to the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of his boot. Class sounded like a drag but he knew that if he didn’t go, Uncle Wayne would never let him take the car again.

Eddie made his way inside, brushing past people in the hallway as he made his way to Biology. If anyone was going to give him a hard time about skipping a class it was going to be Mr. Ward and today he wouldn’t be able to take the humiliation. He’d been humiliated enough.

When the class room door opened, he pulled his hood further over his eyes, forcing himself invisible as he found a seat in the back of the class. Without a word he pulled his items from his bag and listened as Ward dragged on about some random facts he had no interest in paying attention to.

His eyes fell over to his normal spot finding Peyton sitting back in her seat, hair tucked back behind her ears and scribbling in her notebook. After a few moments her head lifted slightly, turning to peer back at him like she could feel his gaze on her.

A soft smile spread across her lips, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes and one that made that sinking feeling in his gut feel more real than before. He didn’t smile back. Eddie just sunk further into the seat and stared at the empty notebook paper sitting in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile fall and brows furrow. It took everything in him not to look up at her again.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up. He willed himself.

The bell rang sooner than he expected after feeling like every minute was dragging out longer and longer and as soon as it did Eddie shoved everything he had into his bag and raced out of the classroom. He didn’t want to run into her or risk the inevitable rejection she was waiting to give him.

No, instead he swiftly made his way down to the band room. The one place in school that he could hide without getting into trouble. Mr. Corbin was the only teacher that took the time to treat Eddie like another human and not just another failed student.

He pushed open the band door, grinning as soon as he saw the red electric guitar sitting perfectly in it’s stand as if it were waiting for him.

“Munson, you aren’t supposed to be here yet.” He heard a voice call from the corner. His eyes tracked the voice, Mr. Corbin stood rearranging sheet music as he watched Eddie float towards the guitar.

“I know, but…” he stammered for a moment, “it’s been a rough day, can I just hide out here today? I promise I won’t be in the way and I’ll only practice during class breaks.” Eddie pleaded.

Corbin watched him for a moment before nodding. “You’re lucky there’s only a few hours left.” He pointed a stack of papers at him, “You were never here and I never saw you.”

Eddie couldn’t help the thankful smile that spread over his features, “thanks Mr. Corbin.”

He nodded once before disappearing into his office. Eddie spent the rest of the afternoon playing riff after riff until they turned into something he didn’t recognize, meshing songs together until they melded together.

Time had slipped away from him. This was his happy place, playing music forcing himself into the notes and finding new ways to flare the chords to make the music he loved.

He hadn’t even realized that the door to the bandroom swung closed until he felt something tossed to his feet.

Eddie stopped playing, glancing down to see his leather jacket laying on the floor in front of him. Shit. His eyes tracked up to find Peyton standing in front of him. Something between a mix of anger and sadness plastered over her features.

“Pey–” He breathed, setting the guitar carefully back into it’s stand. “Why have you been avoiding me Eddie?” She asked, hurt standing clear in her voice.

His brows knit together.

“You’ve not said one word to me today and I thought that–” She stopped herself, gnawing on her bottom lip as he watched her.

“Thought what?” Eddie asked, “because it seemed pretty clear this morning that I am not good enough to be seen with Peyton Morris.” He bit. “What was it Wheeler said? There’s plenty of basketball players to go around?”

Her lip trembled as he forced the hurt from his voice and hid it with anger.

“She didn’t mean that,” Peyton defended.

“Yes she did. You and I both know if Wheeler is one thing it’s brutally honest.” He bent over to pick up his jacket, laying it on the chair behind him, “I just didn’t think that you’d agree with her.”

“Eddie, I didn’t–don’t agree with her!” She blurted, tossing her backpack to the floor at her feet. “Nancy is a good friend but doesn’t see anything past the gates of our neighborhood. She doesn’t understand what it feels like to fall–”

His eyes widened slightly as she paused. Eddie took a step towards her, cautious and careful, “fall?”

Peyton let out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair and gripping the root before looking back up at him, “to fall for a guy like you.”

There it was.

“A guy like me?” He exhaled a hollow laugh, “trailer park trash?”

She huffed, stomping her foot, “No Eddie! To fall for a guy who wants nothing more than to see me smile! One who actually tries to make me smile.” Peyton swiped away a tear that had fallen down her cheek as they stared at each other. She sucked in a breath before letting out a deep sigh, “Eddie you’re the only person who makes me happy. Like really happy and yesterday was just more proof of how right I was about the good in you.”

“We can’t do this,” he whispered as much as it pained him to admit it. No one was going to let the troublemaker be with the good girl.

She stepped towards him, taking a fist full of his shirt in her hands, “I don’t care what they want, Eddie, I care about what you want.” She looked up at him through thick lashes, “I care about you.”

His breath felt like it was stuck in chest as he realized just how close they were. Eddie searched her eyes, looking for any glimpses of a lie but found none. Regardless of the doubt swirling through him, his hand found her waist as the opposite rested against her cheek. A tiny boost of confidence corded its way through him.

“Your father will never let this happen,” he urged.

“I don’t care what he says.”

Eddie smiled, “this is gonna be a rough ride princess,”

Peyton finally laughed as another tear falling from her eye as he quickly wiped it away for her.

“Good thing I’ve got a knight in shining armor then,” Her index finger tapped against the middle of his chest, telling him that it was in fact him that she meant.

Eddie ran his thumb over her cheek before leaning in riding the wave of courage coursing through him as his nose brushed against hers, “I’m sorry I avoided you today.” he whispered, lips brushing against hers.

“I’m sorry Nancy said what she did,” she whispered back at him.

He shook his head, shaking off the feelings he had earlier today before pressing his lips to hers in a timid kiss. His mouth carefully slotting over hers as fireworks exploded in his stomach. Eddie felt her twist his shirt further in her hands as she tried to pull him closer to her, melting into him and him her.

Every doubt and worry he had dissipated the moment her lips touched his and even if it was only for a moment or for a day, he’d cherish any second he could get with the girl who felt forbidden but held his heart firmly in the palm of her hand.

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