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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Kiwi

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: as I was writing this, I proclaimed in the most southern accent, “now we’re cookin’ with peanut oil!” so do that with that

Summary: Joel goes home for a month. You stay in California to work. What could possibly go wrong? [3.8k]

Warnings: HEAVILY implied casting couch culture, brief allusion to creepy Hollywood producers, yearning, I can’t think of anything else!!

Boarding my flight now.

Thanks for letting me know?

Well, I texted my mama to let her know, and she told me to text "that girlfriend of mine."

Doesn't sound like she's a huge fan.

She'll live.

You like the message and go to put your phone away when it buzzes again.

Is it weird that I kinda miss talking to you?

You smile and ignore your name being called over the intercom for another beat.

There are a lot of weird things about you, Joel Miller, but that one feels the most normal.

Text me when you land in Austin. Tell your mom I said hi.

You tuck your phone away, fighting the stupid smile on your face, and look up to see a pissed-off PA walking towards you. You apologize and half jog to the sound stage where Ryan is waiting.

"The perfect punctual queen is late for once? Is the world going to shit?" He asks, and you slap his arm.

"People are allowed to be late."

"Does your lateness have anything to do with your boy toy?"

"Are you ever gonna call him by his name?" You ask. He senses that you're stalling his question and take a deep breath. "Joel is flying home to Texas today to visit family and get some work done. He'll be gone for a month."

"Oh, how will you ever survive?" He pouts, and you give him a look. The director calling for places stops you from responding, but you threaten him with the promise of picking up the conversation later.

You don't ever get to tell him off for suggesting that you can't live without Joel being in the same state because of how late shooting goes. It might've been exhaustion, but you swore that you saw the sun starting to rise over the horizon by the time you finally got to leave. You knocked out a good chunk of the scenes you were still working on, which is great news, but you were mentally and physically drained. You slept most of the next day and missed Joel's messages from one whole time zone away.

Landed.

Jesus Christ, I forgot how hot it is here.

My mama told me to ask you if you go to church since she doesn't believe me.

Attached: Two photos

You laugh as you sleepily scroll through his texts when you wake up mid-afternoon, feeling a little bit better from your long night. One of the pictures he sent is of him sitting in the cab of an old truck with the caption, "This was my first car. I can't convince my dad to sell the damn thing." The second is a blurry photo of a blue-looking weed on the side of the road surrounded by what looks like thousands of other blue weeds. "Turns out the state flower will literally grow anywhere besides in a pot in my house."

A) I'm glad you made it in safely. B) Isn't Texas the armpit of the South? C) I don't go to church, and I never have, but please feel free to lie to her. D) I can imagine a young, emo Joel Miller driving it now.

He reads your messages almost as soon as they deliver, and your screen lights up with his initials as he calls you. You yawn as you pick up and hear chatter in the background of wherever he is.

"First of all," he starts in a determined tone. "Texas ain't the armpit of the South. That's South Carolina." He says. He hasn't even been in Texas for forty-eight hours, and his accent is already thick again.

"My mistake," you laugh. "Did you have another point, or was that it?"

"Second of all, why d'you sound so tired?"

"Obviously, I was out partying with strange men all night."

"Really?" He asks, and you scoff.

"No, Joel. Filming went really late yesterday. I don't think I got home until six this morning."

"Sounds intense."

"Not as intense as being interrogated by your mother," you say, and he hums. You hear someone laughing in the background and relish in the joy that you're not there to witness. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and you wonder if the line dropped, but when you pull the phone away from your face, you see the call is still active. "You really miss me so much that you called me just to sit on the line?"

"Maybe I did." He says. You take a deep breath and glance at the clock on your bedside table. He's two hours ahead. The sun must be setting by now, casting gorgeous rays onto his skin and making his eyes look amber. You wonder what Texas air does to Joel's soul. Maybe it soothes him like only an old baby blanket can. Maybe it makes him jumpy, like he's waiting for a clap of thunder that never comes. Maybe it makes him wonder why he left in the first place. You wish you could be there to read his expression and try to decipher what he's thinking. Someone calls Joel's name in the background, and you hear him shuffle with the phone, probably covering the microphone with his hand because the voices become muffled. When the phone comes back to his ear, he takes a deep breath, and you do the same. "I gotta go. Can I call you tomorrow?" He asks.

"I'm counting on it, Miller." You say, and he laughs before mumbling a good night and hanging up the phone.

After that, it becomes a habit for Joel to call you every day from Texas. He'll tell you different stories about his parents, how Austin has changed since he left, and update you on how the newest album is coming. He listens to you rant about work, how tired you are, and how frustrated you always get toward the end of a project. Sometimes the conversations last ten minutes, and sometimes they last hours. One night, you fell asleep on the phone with him because he was trying to get your opinion on a new song, but you had spent the day filming the scene of your character giving birth, which was tiring in its own right. He doesn't chide you for it. He just sends you a goodnight text and promises to call you the following night.

You hate to admit it, but production speeds up with Joel out of town. You end up wrapping your scenes a week early while Ryan still has another couple of days of filming his scenes. You'll probably get called back in for reshoots in a few months, but you feel really good about the work you put out there, and you finally get the chance to rest before Melanie sends you more scripts to read over. You send Joel a photo of your open laptop and a glass of wine next to it as the California sun sets over your balcony.

Wrap parties are looking different as I get older.

Don't worry. I'm sure you'll still be a drunk, no matter how old.

Asshole.

Lashing out is the first sign of a bigger problem. I think I should call Melanie.

You laugh and search for the middle finger emoji when he sends you another text.

Paul got me on the list for some charity event this Saturday. Want to come with me? He said it'd probably be better to get some more dates in sooner rather than later.

The reminder that this is all fake shifts your entire mood. Of course, it's always lingering in your mind, but the texting didn't feel fake. The late-night calls didn't feel fake. He didn't feel fake. In fact, this is the first time you feel like you have a sliver of an idea as to who Joel Miller actually is when he isn't selling out world tours and recording platinum albums. It's stupid for you to feel this way. You have no reason to. No right. You take a deep breath and type out a message.

Sure.

On Friday, you drive to the airport to pick Joel up, creating an over-the-top scene of you running and jumping into his arms. His hat falls off his head and onto the ground as he catches you and kisses you sweetly. When he sets you back on the ground, he doesn't let you go right away. He lingers in your arms, and even though your feelings are still hurt and you're still trying to remind yourself that this is all fake, you let him. He smells like a detergent you don't recognize, but underneath that, you catch a whiff of the cologne he always wears. You rub his back as you hold him in the middle of the airport.

"'S really good to see your face," he says into your neck, and you nod.

"You too."

As you drive him home, he brings you up to speed on how the album is coming along and how different Texas was when he was there. You tell him about the last few days on set and an upcoming press junket in New York City. He lights up when you tell him the dates as you maneuver through LA traffic.

"I'm scheduled to go to New York to work with my sound mixer that same time. He's got his own studio out there now and knows more about it than I do," he says. "Maybe we can fly together? Make it look like a couple's trip?"

"Sure," you say. He furrows his eyebrows at your lack of excitement, and you scramble for something else to talk about. "How are your parents?" You ask. The rest of the ride to his house goes off without a hitch, and he kisses you again as he gets out of the car, both of you highly aware of the car full of paparazzi that's been tailing you since you left the airport. He promises to pick you up at five the following night, and you just nod. When you get home, you walk calmly into your house, lock the door, and scream.

Joel's hand is in yours as you wait for your turn to walk the carpet. You're not sure why there's a red carpet at a charity event, but you're not about to throw a fit about it. Joel is wearing a sleek black suit, and you're matching with a long black dress. It's a low-cut backless dress, and a sparkly necklace your stylist picked out rests against your sternum. Joel taps your hand, and you look at him.

"You okay?" He asks. He looks worried as he steps between you and the wall of photographers waiting for you to stand and pose perfectly for their photos. "You've been quiet the past few days."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. I think I'm still recovering from that last week of filming."

"Are you sure you're not gettin' sick?" He asks, raising his other hand to your cheeks like he's checking your temperature. You smile half-heartedly and swat his hand away.

"I'm sure," you say. He tries to say more, but someone with a clipboard gets your attention and asks if you're ready. You nod and step onto the carpet, holding Joel's hand. The press erupts into a cloud of noise, startling you and making Joel laugh. You slap his chest and plaster on your rehearsed smile. You do your best to look where all the photographers are yelling at you to look and try different poses so they can get what they need. Everyone has to make a living, you suppose. You just wish their salary wasn't at the expense of your privacy.

You get halfway down the carpet, taking pictures as a couple and some solo shots, before one of the photographers yells a new command. "Can we get a kiss?" He shouts. You pretend not to hear him and show off how the dress dips down your back, hugging you in all the right places. Still, the photographer is demanding a kiss, and now others have joined in too. It feels very "dance, monkey, dance," but you do your best to grit your teeth and smile. You catch Joel staring at you when you turn. It could be the flashing bulbs of cameras or how he's looking at you, but his eyes are sparkling, and the creases in the corners make you melt just a little.

You hold out your hand for him to join you, which he happily obliges, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close enough for him to kiss your temple. "You alright?" He asks against your skin as you rest a hand on his chest and look up at him. You nod and glance between his eyes and his lips. The chorus of people practically begging for a picture of you two kissing is growing, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

"You gonna keep them waiting, or are you gonna kiss me?" You ask, the playful lilt reserved for him returning to your voice. He gives you a look and smirks before leaning down a pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Everyone ooh's and aw's at you two, but you only care about how fast his heartbeat is against your palm. You want to blame it on the anxiety of walking the carpet and having people scream at you to do whatever they want. No, you have to blame it on that. There's no other option.

When you finally get inside, Joel gets you a glass of wine and a mixed drink for himself. The event is sweet and goes by quickly as you listen to people talk about something they're so passionate about. You decide to donate some money under an anonymous name once you are all excused to the reception, where there's food, more alcohol, and dancing. Joel leaves your side to catch up with some musician buddies, kissing your cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

You nurse your wine as people you've never met start conversations with you. They're all polite and ask about your newest project, how LA's been treating you, and what's up next for you. You can't reveal much due to the NDA you signed at the beginning of shooting, but you tell them how excited you are for them to be able to see it and admit you've got some auditions lined up in the coming weeks. You've probably given the same answers to a handful of different people when you realize you're out of wine and Joel is still missing. You scan the room for him, but you can't find him. That's fine, you think. It's not like he's obligated to stick to my side at all times. He can have his own life.

You sigh as you belly up to the bar and order another glass of wine. You almost make it a double when someone taps your arm, making you turn. "I don't mean to interrupt, but you look exquisite tonight. I just thought you should know," ultra-famous producer Richard Pike tells you. You blink at him, your brain struggling to catch up with the fact that one of the men who's made the most award-winning films in the past twenty years just noticed you. "I know everyone has probably told you that tonight, but-"

"Oh, no. Thank you. I'm sorry. I was just a little starstruck right then," you apologize before holding your hand out to introduce yourself. He takes your hand and kisses the top of it. It's very dramatic, but this is Hollywood we're talking about. Your glass of wine arrives, and he pays the bartender before you can even reach for your purse.

"Women as gorgeous as you should never have to pay for a drink. Ever." He says, and you laugh.

"I mean, I won't argue with you on that," you say, taking your glass in your hand to clink it against his glass of scotch. "Thank you, Mr. Pike."

"Please, call me Richard," he insists. "You just finished another movie, didn't you? You're a very busy girl."

"Yes, sir. I'm already looking for new projects to audition for."

"Oh, I remember when I had actors audition. See, that was before I started writing roles for specific actors. Some people call that crude or playing favorites, but it hasn't failed me yet."

"No, sir, it hasn't."

"So formal! Yes, sir! No, sir! Are you like this with everyone?" He asks as he takes a big swig of his drink.

"Just people who can cast me," you say. You're partially joking, but it's enough for him. He laughs, and his hand lands perfectly on your exposed back as he cackles loudly. You force yourself to laugh along with him and suddenly get that sinking feeling in your chest. Everybody seems to strategically look away from you two at the bar, and you want to be anywhere but here.

"You know, I've seen a few of your movies," he says, getting close to your face like he's telling you a secret. "I think you've got a lot of potential. With just a little coaching and one great role," his hand dips lower down your back, and you freeze. Ice water runs through your veins, and everything is screaming at you to run away, but your heels stay planted against the expensive hardwood. "We'll make an Oscar winner of you yet."

"Excuse me," a familiar drawl says behind you. You both turn and make eye contact with Joel. "May I steal my girlfriend for a dance? I promised her one on the way over." He asks, but he's already wrapping an arm around your waist, ready to pull you away. The hand on your back disappears and claps Joel on the shoulder.

"Of course! You take good care of this one!"

"Yes, sir," Joel says as he pulls you to the dance floor. Your heart is still beating in your throat, and you feel like you could cry, but Joel's looking at you with such kindness. You find safety in him as you wrap your arms around his neck and slowly sway with him, the soft material of his dress shirt calming you down. He waits until Pike is out of earshot to lean down to talk in your ear. "Now, I know you don't need me savin' you like that. Are you sure you're okay?"

"He's one of the biggest producers in Hollywood. He could tank my career in a single email. You want to be the one to yell at him?" You ask. "If I said or did something, he would've doubled down, but he respects you more. He backed off because, in his mind, I belong to you."

"How do you know?"

"I've dealt with people like him before. They're all the same old men who think they can offer you a legacy on a silver platter if you fuck them. I've gotten enough advice from other actors to know how to handle them. Let them get touchy but find an out before it can go too far. Stroke their egos so they feel good about themselves. Basically, do whatever to keep you and your career safe."

"I thought stuff like that didn't happen anymore."

"You and everyone else in the world. Things don't just magically change because one guy goes to jail." You sigh.

"I'm sorry," he says, and you shake your head.

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

"It was one of the first things people told me when I started. They said it was something I might just have to… endure but that the weight would get easier to carry. One actress even told me that it was the price we have to pay because everyone wants to be us," you chuckle. He doesn't interrupt you; he just stares at you with apologetic eyes like he would take this burden from you if he could. You almost believe him. "I don't think that's true. I think most people would hand this lifestyle in the second it got too real."

"What would you do if you weren't an actor?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I always thought about being a teacher. Sure, the pay is shit, and the work is thankless, but kids are our future, you know? There's something really special about shaping young minds."

"Sounds nice."

"What about you? What would you do if you weren't doing this?"

"Probably something with my hands. I worked as a mechanic for a while, and I really liked that. I liked how it was a big puzzle that needed to get sorted out and fixed up."

"Why'd you stop?" You ask.

"I needed to grow up. My dad owned a contracting company, so I worked with him until I saved up enough to record my first album. And that was that."

"It's crazy how we fought so hard to get to where we are, and now that we're here, it's..." You trail off, trying to figure out what you want to say.

"Terrifying?" He suggests, and you nod. "Yeah, I'm terrified every second of every day."

"You don't act like it."

"I don't act like a lot of things that I should," he says. He stares at you so intently that the rest of the world fades away. You don't hear the song die down or the applause erupt around you as the band takes a bow. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest. You know how crazed it is. He wets his lips before stepping back and trailing his eyes down your dress and back up to your face like he's taking you in for the first time. "You really do look beautiful tonight." You swallow around the lump in your throat and smooth your hands down your dress, suddenly self-conscious.

"Thank you." You mumble.

Pictures of you two kissing on the carpet and dancing inside are circulating online before you even leave the event. You wake up to a huge batch of texts— one from your mom, two from Joel, six from Ryan, and one from Melanie about your trip to New York that you barely read. You would've stayed in bed wallowing in your own bad luck if there wasn't a sharp knock on your door. You groan the whole way down the stairs like it will help you greet whoever has decided to show up at your house at eight in the morning, but nobody's there when you open the door.

Instead, a bouquet of flowers in a lovely vase sits on your mat with a note sticking out. You glance down your street and barely catch a delivery truck turning down the block. You carefully take the flowers into your kitchen before plucking the note between the petals.

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl - JM

(PS bought these of my own volition)

"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath as you think about his lips on yours, his soft shirt, and his stupid fucking, "I don't act like a lot of things I should."

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller au #tlou au #the last of us au #rockstar!joel miller #rockstar!au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #I promise Sarah and Ellie are going to make an appearance soon 🫶

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hotforharrysheart · 1 year

Text

The Roses

You can hear the screams as you sit on the couch in Harry’s dressing room. For some reason they were unnerving, but lately so many things felt out of place. All the talk about your parent’s murders was starting to take a toll. You normally love the screams and murmurs from the crowd, but tonight it’s setting you on edge. You run your fingers through your hair and cover your ears as the floor starts shaking during Kiwi. It’s his first night of the New York City residency and you couldn’t be more proud, but truthfully, you’ll be happy to be home, warm and in bed with him. The door flies open and someone from the crew comes in with fresh bottles of water and some fruit. You’d ducked out before the encore and while you know he’s missing your presence, you just need a moment. You meander to the table and grab a bottle of water and hold it to your cheek.

He rushes into the room, throwing off his jacket, breathing heavily as he kicks off his shoes. He’s on an adrenaline high and oblivious to your mood. He smiles when he sees you and kisses your temple. “Gonna go jump in some ice then a shower, ya gon’ wait fo’ me or head on home?”

You smile wanly. You want to go home but know he’ll be disappointed. “I’ll wait.”

“Ok, be back soon, yeah?”

You smile up at him. “Ok.”

He bounds out of the room and you lay back on the couch and close your eyes.

Your head rests on his jacket and you drift with the scent of him all around you. The shift of the once screaming sounds is now a shuffle and muttering and it lulls you. Those eyes...those plastic looking wide eyes stare at you, weepy and glassy and so...lifeless. They fill your head and you feel the need to open yours to make it go away, but you can't. You’re fixed to the sight, who's eyes are these? Why are they here? Why now? And why do they look just like mine? A thunderous knock at the door startles you awake, and you sit up straight, panting and shivering. Will these dreams ever stop? Why can't I shake this? You run your hands up and down your face trying to shake the fearful feeling. The knocking continues, then someone opens the door and you look up and find Mitch.

"Oh, hey, Harry in the ice?"

"Yeah," you say wrapping your arms around yourself.

"You ok?" Mitch says with a concerned expression.

You smile wanly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

He furrows his brow. “Sure?”

You sigh. “No, but I’ll be ok. Thanks.”

Mitch knows the brush off when he hears it. “Promise you’ll reach out if you need anything, yeah?”

Tears gather in your eyes. “I will. Promise.”

He nods. “I’ll see ya later,” he says as he leaves.

You sigh and send a text to your therapist. You need help; you can’t go on like this. Everytime you close your eyes you see those eyes.

Harry finally comes back in wearing joggers and a T shirt. “Ya ready?”

You nod and get up and into his waiting arms. You sigh as he hugs you tightly. Just being close to him makes you feel better.

“Whoa, baby, tigh’ hug…’m no’ goin’ anywhere,” he teases as he steadies his feet because you’ve attached yourself to him.

“I know, just want you to hold me for a minute.”

He stretches his head back so he can get a look at you. “Baby, ya alrigh’?”

He did so good tonight and the crowd was crazy for him. You can’t bring yourself to ruin his high.

You plaster on a smile, but it doesn’t meet your eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. You did so good tonight, it was amazing and the fans were on fire,” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

“Yeah, was a fuckin’ awesome nigh’. Still have a hard time believin’ ‘m playin’ the Garden.”

“Well, you are for many nights - sold out nights,” you say leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth.

He moves his head just enough to capture your lips and his tongue darts out to run along the seam of yours. You open immediately for him, longing for his taste, longing to be needed, to be held…to be wanted. His tongue tangles with yours as he opens his mouth to take in more of you. His hands slide up to your cheeks holding your head in place as he cocks his head to one side and slots his tongue deeper. “An’ I ge’ ta fuck ya in our bed tanigh’ an’ tha’s a nice change.”

“Mmmm…take me home. Have me in our bed.”

“C’mon then,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the car. He gets in and you snuggle in next to him and he kisses the top of your head. You look tired and he wonders if you’ve been having trouble sleeping. He makes a note to ask you later. Right now, he just wants to feel your body pressed to his.

He thanks the driver as you exit the car and get on the elevator to go to your apartment.

All you wanna do is get snuggled up next to him. You do your nightly routine quickly and go to the window and look out at the city. You turn to check your phone and see a return text from your therapist with an emergency appointment for tomorrow morning. Great, I just have to get through tonight, you think.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you from behind, kisses trailing down your neck. “Come ta bed, sweet Jezebel. Lemme show ya ‘ow much I love ya.” He leads you over to his side of the bed where he sits and pulls you to stand between his legs. He leans his forehead against your tummy, “love ya s’much,” he murmurs as he reaches under the hem of your tee to hold your sides. You thread your fingers in his curls and flutter your eyes and inhale deeply.

“I love you, Harry. Tell me you want me?” You meant it be a statement but at the moment it feels more like a question.

His head pops up, “God babe, scares me ‘ow much I wan’ ya. Can be thousands of people…,” he squeezes his fingers on your waist as you continue to run your fingers through his still damp hair, “… in a fuckin’ huge venue an’ all I can think abou’ is when’s the next time I get ta glance at ya… an’ then wonderin’ if everyone notices.”

Sliding you fingers one last time through his hair, you reach down and pull your t-shirt over your head and stand there in a simple pair of pink panties with a small white bow on the waist.

He leans forward and places a soft kiss just above your belly button. Your eyes fill with tears at the sweetness of his tender touch and you shiver.

“Aww, babe…” he says pulling at the waist of your panties sliding them down to your ankles.

“C’mere, lemme show ya ‘ow much I wan’ ya, ‘ow much I need ya, ‘ow much I love ya,” he says, pulling you on to his lap and settling you over his cock. “Feel ‘ow hard I am fo’ ya. ‘S’all fo’ you, ma Jezebel.”

You sigh and hug him tightly to you but you don’t dare close your eyes. He’s so warm and strong and you don’t even feel the tears as they slip down your cheeks.

He doesn’t say anything; he just holds you to him. He knows how difficult it’s been for you and he just wants you to feel better.

You pull back and kiss him and you sigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping in your mouth and tangling with yours. You just enjoy the feel of him as his lips and tongue move against yours. You smile into the kiss as he lays back on the bed, bringing you with him and you grind down onto his cock causing him to groan into your mouth. You pull back, breathless, and kiss his cheeks and then down his chin to his neck, enjoying the feeling of his stubble against your skin.

He pulls your mouth back to his and kisses you again before rolling you over and pressing himself against you.

You sigh in contentment as you feel him press you into the mattress, the weight of him calming you.

He works his way down your neck to your ear, laving your earlobe, his hand sliding down to cup your breast and pinch your nipple between his finger and thumb. You roll your head back and moan, only briefly closing your eyes as the sensation overtakes you. Immediately those glassy eyes appear and you shudder, popping your eyes open and shaking your head, trying to make the vision go away.

He stops to look into your eyes, “Babe?”

You plaster a smile though a tear rolls down the side of your face. “Don’t stop…,” you whisper covering his hand on your breast. You pull your knees up and rock your hips into him hoping to distract his concern.

He frowns, but places a kiss on your lips. The hand on your breast slides down your side and over between your legs and he runs his fingers up and down your slit. “Swee’heart, ya no’ wet? Ya ‘no we don’ have ta do this ‘f ya no’ feeling it,” he mumurs in your ear still kissing gently under your earlobe.

“No!” you protest more emphatically than you expected. “I’m sorry, please…make love to me…I-I…n-need you,” you whimper, “I need to feel w-wanted by you…wanna feel you inside me, please.”

“Ok, baby, don’ worry, ‘m no’ stoppin’,” he says running his nose up and down yours, eyes heavy-lidded staring gently into yours. His hand move your to cheeks. “Wha’ do ya need, love? Tell me…anythin’…” He licks your lips and nips at your bottom lip. “Ya wan’ ma mouth? Ma fingers? Lemme grab the lube fo’ ma fingers, yeah?”

You nod against his lips.

He moves over to open the drawer on the bedside table and you take a moment to scooch up on the bed and prop up on your elbows. You nibble nervously on your bottom lip, chastising yourself for not being able to focus.

He turns back and pops the lid and applies a dollop to his fingers. His eyes roll up to yours and he smiles tenderly. “Love ya, baby.”

“I love you, I’m sorry, dunno what’s wrong with m..”

“Shh-shh, nothin’s wrong, love. ‘S fine an’ normal, yeah?” he soothes just before his fingers run down to your hole, circling and dipping. He holds your stare and mirrors you biting his own bottom lip. His nostrils flare as he takes in a deep breath. “Feel so good ta me, love ya body s’much, ya perfect.”

You can’t deny how good it feels, you drop back to the mattress and stare at the ceiling as his fingers work their way inside, pumping and curling. God, it feels so good, you moan at the sensations. Your eyes roll back and the second your lids close, the darkness stays and you thank the gods that you can enjoy this. But the darkness doesn’t last long, those eyes flash through your mind, causing you to sit up immediately and reach for his shoulders. “Enough,” you say hastily, “Inside, just…want you inside, please.”

Something isn’t right and he’s concerned, but you’re pulling him to get him closer, like you need him as much as your next breath. Maybe she just needs me, maybe if I can just make her cum, she can relax a bit, he thinks to himself.

He sighs and grabs the lube, popping the cap and squeezing out another dollop and applying it to your sex. He grabs you underneath your knees and pulls you to him and positions himself at your entrance. “Ya ready?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yes, please. I need you,” you breathe out, pulling on his shoulders.

“S’ok, ‘m here, righ’ here, ma Jezebel,” he says as he thrust forward and enters you.

He bottoms out and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Mmmm…”

“Feel good?”

“Yes!” And it does. You roll your hips and moan. “Harry, oh god…”

He presses his lips to yours, kisses trailing down your neck and you turn your head to the side to give him more access and close your eyes and then you see those dead, lifeless eyes again and then the mouth opens in a scream. You cry out and you push his shoulder. “Stop! Stop! Please…just stop,” you sob out.

He pulls out. “Baby, wha’s wrong? Please talk ta me!” He says, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms.

You’re crying, tears flowing down your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh…s’ok.”

You wipe your eyes, look down to his still hard cock, and start to crawl down on him.

“No, Jezebel it doesn’ work like tha’. I need ya, no’ jus’ a fuck.”

“It’s not fair. Wanna make it good for you.”

“C’mere, baby, C’mere,” he says pulling you back up to him. “Tell me wha’s goin’ on.”

So you tell him about what you’re seeing when you close your eyes and the most recent development of the screaming face.

He sighs and pulls you closer. “Jesus, baby. Should’ve tol’ me. My sweet girl…wha’s the therapist say?”

“I texted her. We have an emergency appointment tomorrow morning. I just…I hate this. It’s not fair.”

He kisses you quickly. “I know, ma love, I know.”

“I know it’s got something to do with my parents, but there’s just not enough there for it to make any sense,” you say shaking your head in frustration. “It’s like they’re reaching out, I mean,” you look pleadingly into his eyes, "I’ve dedicated myself…my-my work on the podcast to finding some sort of closure…some justice, ya know, for-for these families who’ve been victims of crime and had their cases either fall through the cracks or-or dry up…I know I do this because…I think subconsciously it’s because my own parent’s murder just never had leads, or what leads it did have were dead ends. And I was so small, and Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Albert did the best they could to follow up, but they lived in England and were suddenly thrust into taking care of an eleven year old. But I feel like I need to-to, I don’t know, at least put in the same time for them that I do for my other cases. I need this for them…” you run your hand up his naked chest to wrap your hand around his neck, “I need this for me…for-for…us…for this family we’re making together.”

He shakes his head and places a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I think this is comin’ up because we’re makin’ a family…I think ya mind is seein’ thin’s like Ron an’ Helen’s wedding an’ our attachment ta them, an’ then this,” he runs his finger around your engagement ring, “makin’ ya ma wife, givin’ ya ma name…’s all brought up ya connection ta them tha’s more personal than ‘s been before.”

You look to the side breaking his eye contact.

“No,” he runs the back of his fingers along your cheek, “Don’ close up on me…”

“I should’ve done something before now. Should’ve pressed the issue… But, I’m ashamed to say that I just…didn’t wanna remember, I didn’t want…” a tear slides down your already tear stained face, “to think about it…so I’ve just…I just kept that goddamn police report that I….” You pause and slam a hand down on the duvet, “Basically, I memorized, keeping me close but far enough away that it couldn’t touch me….Oh god, that makes me the worst person…the worst daughter, I mean, what the fuck is wrong with me…,” you turn over and bury your face in the mattress.

“Babe, there’s nothin’ wrong wi’ ya. Ya did the best ya could ta cope as a child an’ a young adult. Please don’ live in a world of regret, it’s no’ healthy.” He brushes the hair along the side of your face, pushing it back behind your ears, “Ya such a good person, s’ kind… an’ lovin’. Look at the goodness ya hav’ brought ta the lives of s’many others. You’ve brought s’much ta Gemma an’ Mum, the Chapmans…ta me. They’d be so fuckin’ proud of ya.”

You reach up to smooth your hand along his cheek, he turns his head to kiss the inside of your palm. “Hey, baby, I have somethin’ I wan’ed ta ask ya. How abou’ ya let me hire a private investigator ta look into the case? I mean, ya prolly know some PI’s tha’ have worked on the cases you’ve worked on…an’ I…I…jus’ think it’s time ta get someone workin’ on it. They could handle the communication wi’ Boston…tha’ would take a load off…an, baby, I jus’ think…maybe…ya treat this like ya next case on the podcast.” He searches your eyes and runs his thumb along your bottom lip, “Ya can think abou’ it, I don’ wan’ tell ya wha’ ta do, love, but ya fuckin’ good at solvin’ these cases, maybe, if the therapist thinks it’s ok, we jus’… work this case. I support ya 100%, wha’ ev-ah ya decide ta do, bu I think we should face this tagether…”

Your bottom lip quivers, “You said, ‘we’.”

“Well, yeah, babe, ’s you an’ me in eve’ythin’.”

You smile softly, “What do you know Mr. Harry Styles about solving crimes?”

“Know ma fiancée kicks ass at it, an’ I believe in her an’ trust her. I just wan’ her ta find her closure so her heart,” he places his hand over your heart, “can be free.”

A tear runs down your cheek and you close your eyes briefly. You open up and meet his eyes. “I want that so much. I want to remember the good times with my parents and I-I want to solve their murder. They deserve that.”

“Yeah they do an’ ya do too, Jezebel,” he says kissing your temple. “D’ya think ya can sleep?”

You sigh. You know that you won’t be able to. “No, I don’t think I can. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep and then I’ll go to the living room and try and read.”

“I could stay up wi’ ya.”

You kiss his lips quickly. “That’s so sweet but my pop star needs his sleep. I do have a favor though,” you say, hand playing with the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Anythin’ Jezebel, ya know tha’,” he says, kissing the inside of your wrist.

“Would you come to my therapy appointment in the morning?”

“Of course, baby. Wha’ time?”

“It’s at 8 am. Is that too early?” You say, fingers going to your mouth.

He pulls your hand from your lips. “No, s’not ta early as long as I get some coffee. I’ll set an alarm.”

“Thank you.”

“Ya welcome.”

You smile a genuine smile for what seems like the first time in days. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love ya too, ma Jezebel.” He leans in to kiss you. The kisses are soft and open mouthed and you sigh.

“G’nigh’ Jezebel.”

“Goodnight.”

He rolls over and you scooch in close and snuggle into him. He grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest and you just hold him as he falls asleep. Once his hand falls to the bed releasing you, and you get up quietly and slip on a T shirt and leggings and go to the living room. You know you’re in for a long night but the thought of going to sleep terrifies you.

****the next morning***

You watch the sun come up from the living room. Somehow you’d managed to stay up all night. You were tired but ready for your appointment. You brush your teeth and hair and put the coffee pot on. You can hear Harry pad down the stairs.

He comes into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you from behind. “G’morning sweetheart.”

“Good morning,” you say kissing his neck. “You want coffee?”

He nods against your shoulder. “Please.”

You pour him a cup and you both stand against the counter sipping your coffee in companionable silence.

You sigh and nibble on your fingers as the clock ticks closer to 8.

“Ya nervous?”

You nod.

“C’mon, let’s get it over wi’ then.”

You sigh and he takes your hand and leads you to the office.

You both sit down on the couch and you start the video call. He grabs your hand as you’re waiting.

Dr. Freeman comes on screen. The sight of her in her signature red glasses soothes you somewhat.

You explain why Harry is there and exchange all the pleasantries and then she asks, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m having trouble sleeping. Everytime I close my eyes, I see a woman’s face with eyes like mine and last night she started screaming. I can’t focus during sex and I just…I want this to be over.”

The doctor nods. “I know we talked about hypnotherapy. Can we try it? You may not be able to and that’s ok, but I’d like to try.”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“I’ll need to be in person for that. Give me an hour and I’ll be there.”

“Ok.”

You disconnect the call and snuggle into him.

“Les’ order breakfast, yeah?”

You nod.

An hour later and you’ve had breakfast and are sipping your tea when Dr. Freeman arrives.

She explains that she needs a couch and a chair and you lead her into the living room. She has you lay down and try and relax to lead you through the exercise but it’s no use.

She asks you to sit up. “I’m afraid you’re not a good candidate for hypnotherapy. It could be the timing or just not a good tool for you.”

You slap your hands over your face, tears gathering in your eyes. “Please! You have to help me!”

Dr. Freeman places her hand on your knee. “I will help you. I want you to just let these memories come. Right now, you’re pushing them back because they scare you. Close your eyes and let them come to you as they do. They’re fragmented right now but if you let them just come to you naturally, at some point you’ll remember.”

“Really? You think so?”

She nods. “Yes and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

You sigh. “Harry and I talked last night about hiring a PI and putting this case on my podcast. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Dr. Freeman nods. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Harry’s been on the other chair just observing and your gaze flicks to him and then to the doctor. “What about sex? I’m…I can’t focus on it…and…I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t focus because you’re mind is distracted. Don’t push yourself so hard. If it feels right, keep going but if at any point you feel you can’t go on, then stop. There’s a mind-body connection with sex so this makes a lot of sense, but it’s not forever. If you’ve had a satisfying sex life before, you will again once your mind resolves this conflict.”

You nod. “Thank you. I just…I want to go back to the way I was before I started remembering.”

“The goal is to move forward with this new knowledge and incorporate these memories into your life now. You’ll get through this.”

You smile. “Thank you. I’m glad I have you.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome. Relax. Try and get some sleep and let these memories come to you.”

You say your goodbyes at the door. Once it’s shut you lean your forehead against Harry’s sternum and sigh heavily.

He runs his hands up and down your arms and kisses the top of your head.

“So babe, d’ya have a PI in mind tha’ I can call?” he says resting his chin on the crown of your head.

You pull back and look up at him and nod your head. “Yeah, James McCaffrey. He worked with me on the Alaska case. He’s extremely professional and damn good at his job. He’s based here in New York, but travels extensively. The victim’s family knew him long before I even started work on the case found him and hired him. They were from very old money, so he’s pricey. He has a retainer fee and then operates on an hourly rate and on expense for expense for travel, mileage, paperwork, filing fees, food…he…”

He places his finger over your mouth, “Stop. Is he good? I don’ give two fucks abou’ the money. Is. He. Good?”

“Yeah, he’s good and he knows me and I trust him.”

“Tha’s all I need ta know, Jezebel.”

“You’ll have to call Bella for information. I mean, I could go through my laptop and find him, but, honestly, honey, I’m so tired…I don’t trust I’d be able to find the information any faster than if you called her and she looked it up. I’m so, so thankful she said ‘yes’ to being my assistant. She’s ace at keeping me organized, especially when I’m on the road. Not to mention she’s one of my best friends.”

“Does she know abou’ ya parents?”

“No, and, H, I think I’d like to keep this as just ‘the next case’ if we can…it’s saved under my Uncle Albert’s last name so she won’t recognize the case name…actually no one will and considering our situation and…ya know, the public…maybe that’s for the best. Maybe we just tell McCaffrey and let him handle Boston PD and I’ll just pose the case for what it is…and unsolved burglary turned murder from 2001 that I’m covering for my podcast.”

“Ya sure ya ok wi’ tha’?” he asks crouching to catch your eyes.

“Yeah, I just want the privacy and don’t want you to be affected in anyway….”

He sighs and purses his lips, “I understand, jus’…promise me you’ll talk ta me ‘f ya wanna change tha’ at anytime, ‘cause I pay people a great deal of money ta keep my private life private an’ I jus’ wan’ ya ta know, we can work it out ‘f we need ta move ta a more public appeal. Eventually, it’ll come out, we can cross tha’ bridge when we ge’ ta it. Jus’ know this, ‘m not worried abou’ it…no’ in the least, yeah?”

You feel your eyes water and a lump form in your throat. “How’d I get so lucky,” you murmur almost inaudibly.

“Why don’ ya lay down while I go make the call ta Bella,” he says caressing your cheek.

“Don’t wanna be alone, I’m scared to sleep. C-Can I lay down on the couch in your office?” you plead with a furrowed brow.

He shakes his head sympathetically hating to see you so broken up, “Course, love, c’mon. There’s a blanket in there tha’ used ta be on ma bed back home, ’ll tuck ya up an’ make some calls while ya rest.”

Grabbing your hand, he leads you to the office where he turns the overhead light off and his desk lamp on. He closes the blinds leaving the room dim with only the glow of the lamp. You plop down on the sofa with a sigh and he kneels to slip the Vans off you threw on earlier. He catches your eyes while he unties them and smiles softly. When was the last time you saw his smirk? He’s avoiding his playfulness because of you. He just played a sold-out Madison Square Garden and yet he’s taking your shoes off and calling a for a Private Investigator…for you. You feel guilty and broken that you’ve ruined these moments. The tears slip out quietly as you bite the inside of your cheek. You want to sob, for…everything…for your parents…for Harry…for yourself. You want to scream for all the same reasons. You smile the best fake smile you’ve got trying to reassure him that you’re fine.

I feel so fucking helpless, he thinks to himself as he watches you smile that fake smile you’re donning to convince him that all is well. If he could just find a way to convince you that he doesn’t expect you to be “all well”. “I love ya Jezebel, god I love ya s’much an’ I swear ta fuck if I could make this better I would,” he says rubbing your knees.

You nod and brush the tears away, “I know you would. I’m just sorry that you have to…,” you throw your hands up, “to go through all this…you should be celebrating….”

“’M doin’ exactly wha’ ‘m s’posed ta do…takin’ care of ya s’my…honor. Jus’ lay back here an’ try ta get a little bit of rest, ‘ll be right here,” he says softly as he pulls the quilt from the back of the couch to spread over you.

You giggle slightly, “No wonder you like pink so much, there are pink bears on this blanket…this was on your bed at home?”

“Yup, slept wi’ it ‘till I moved in wi’ the boys on X-factor. Mum gave it ta me when I bought ma first house.”

“I love it…it’s perfect,” you comment turning on your side and sinking your head into the throw pillow.

He kisses your lips, lingering to softly offer his reassurance, then steps back and walks over to his desk.

You hesitate, but finally close your eyes and feel some sort of relief that the only thing you see is darkness. God, you're so tired. You hear him at his desk talking softly to Bella and you’re drifting and trying desperately to think of anything other than your memories, your family or even your work on the podcast for that matter. You think of your time at the cottage…your beautiful back deck there overlooking the lake and the swing Ron made for you for your birthday. You remember your birthday dinner with Harry and your friends all singing Happy Birthday, something you weren’t accustomed to…celebrating your birthday.

You begin to hear Happy Birthday in your head and suddenly you’re in a little kitchen, table complete with a cone hat and a Scoobey-Doo cake. He was always solving crimes too. There are two lovely people there singing to you as you sit on your knees in the chair. You try desperately to see their faces, but they just aren’t there. But you know they love you, you can feel it. You feel joy, safety and security…but most of all you feel love. Then suddenly you feel a sharp ache on the left side of your face, your left shoulder and hip. “Ouch, that hurt,” you mutter sleepily. Your eyes flutter open and you see darkness and feel the floor beneath your cheek. You reach out and can only get your arm to go so far. Then those eyes, those glassy, dead eyes are looking at you. You reach for them, but they’re too far away. Then the screaming begins. “Wait…don’t leave me…don’t…no…no!”

“Jesus, baby! Baby, my god!” Harry throws back the sofa table and bends down for you. He sounds terrified.

You open your eyes and realize that you’re on the ground with your hand reaching out under the couch. “Wha…?” you say squinting and pulling your hand out from under the couch.

“Fuck, love, ya rolled right off the couch, screaming.”

You rub your cheek, “Ugh, that hurt,” you say as you sit up on the floor against the couch. He’s running his hands over your face turning your head so he can see it better and you roll your shoulder and grimace. “Well, I guess the couch wasn’t such a good idea…hmm?” you quip trying to sound casual.

“Ya kept reachin’ fo’ somethin’ under the couch…” he says, pointing to the floor.

“Wait?!” you hop up off the ground and run over to the desk, shifting papers like mad.

He stands up and walks over to you, “Wha’ is it, love?”

“I need that police report. I know what it says, but I wanna see it on the paper,” you locate the paper and sit in the desk chair holding the paper in your shaking hands.

“Here! Here! It says that I was hiding under the couch! Maybe I was reaching for something…but what could it be!? Fuck! If I could just remember!” you exclaim slamming the paper down on the desk.

*******************************************

The next several days are a whirl wind. Harry’s second and third night at MSG were amazing and the crowds were crazy for him. You continue trying to “fake it, till you make it” but you’re operating on very, very little sleep and what sleep you have had is filled with dreams that don’t make sense and suffocating emotions you can’t explain. You’ve tried to make love a couple of times, but between your exhaustion and inability to focus, the attempts have failed resulting in a new feeling of failure, disconnectedness and sorrow. God, you miss that part of your relationship…the intimacy and connection. Your therapist assures you that things are going to be fine, but you’re beginning to wonder. He’s been so patient and loving. But to be fair he’s going out, successfully entertaining thousands of adoring fans, has two upcoming highly anticipated films and then…well, then he’s coming home and keeping you held together.

You’ve made arrangements to meet with James McCaffrey this morning and he insisted on being there although it was cutting his sleep short.

“Hi James, it’s good to see you…oh wait, you go by Mac right?” you say leading him to the dining room.

“Yeah, most folks call me Mac, that’s what they called me back at the Bureau…it kinda stuck,” he replies humbly. James McCaffrey was originally from Boca Raton and spent thirty-seven years in the intelligence division of the Federal Bureau of Investigation at Quantico. He’s a tall, slender, non-descript man in his mid-sixties wearing basic wrangler jeans, work boots and a long sleeve button up plaid cotton shirt. His hair is a distinguised silver, cut short and neat. He’s carrying a simple black backpack that he sets next to his chair at the dining room table as he pulls out his laptop.

“Mac, this is Harry, my…boyfriend,” you say looking at Harry who wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh, I know who you are. I have a twenty-one-year-old niece who just saw you at the Garden two nights ago. My brother and his wife got tickets for her twenty-first birthday. She took some guy that I had to run a background check on before her Dad would give his blessing to take him,” he says with a grin.

Harry chuckles, “Sounds like sound parentin’ ta me.”

“Well, don’t know much about parenting, my wife didn’t care for my mistress, the Bureau, so she left me early on. Don’t blame her really, this life’s no life for a committed, family man. Wasn’t fair to her, she was far too good for me,” Mac says as he sets up his laptop and takes out a yellow legal pad, pen and highlighter.

Harry runs his hand over your neck and squeezes. “Yeah, understand tha’ feelin’… ma world’s no’ exac’ly fo’ tha faint of heart, bu’ luckily we get ta travel together an’ I’m no’ needed at a momen’s notice.” He looks at you and smiles softly and you do the same.

“I’ve known this little lady here for a while now, tough as nails…which is why those dark circles under her eyes and the blood vessels in the whites of her eyes are causing me to worry about what is such an all-fire emergency,” Mac comments using the years of time in service to pick up on the subtle hints that something is wrong. He looks up to you and then over to Harry and then back to you…trying to take in the feel of your relationship.

“Always in observation-mode, eh?” You say with an awkward, breathy laugh and a clearing of your throat. "Everything is fine with Harry, Mac, but this is about me. I need you to do some work for me and, even though I may use my podcast to cover the case and, hopefully generate some leads, I want to keep it confidential.” You can’t help the single tear that slides down your cheek and you sniffle and wipe it away quickly.

“You got it kiddo, whatever you need, just let me know and we’ll get it done,” Mac says with an expression of determination and a tone of confidence.

“It’s about my parents. Maybe it would be best if you start here,” you slide the papers over, “with their homicide report.”

15 minutes later, Mac looks up from the paperwork having read through it once, then back through it again with a highlighter and pen to make notes. He takes his glasses off and looks around the table, “So where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s all I have and when I called to talk to Detective’s Fitzgerald and O’Malley I was told they are no longer on the job.” You look down at your hands, “I mean, I’ve just started to look into the case, to be honest, so I haven’t even called Boston PD,” glancing to Harry you continue, “I’m…I-I’m having nightmares and I think they’re related so I need to get past… pushing it all away an..and start to find some answers.”

“Fuckin’ Fitz and O’Malley…,” Mac says shaking his head, “Excuse me, darling.”

You shake your head and both of you sit up straighter.

“O’Malley passed away in 2004,” Harry says. It really warms your heart that he’s listened so intently that he knows the case as well as you do.

“Oh, yeah, I know…he died under suspicious circumstances, but got a full BPD Irish Catholic funeral through the streets of the city like a goddamn hero…what a fuckin’ joke, excuse me, darling. Those two were a couple of real pieces of work. Teflon, nothing ever stuck, but they had a reputation and at one point Boston Internal Affairs got the Bureau involved. How does a beat officer in Boston go from patrol duty to a detective who drives a Ferrari in a couple of year’s time? O’Malley had a red Ferrari and Fitz drove a mini-van. Trouble with Fitz was that he parked that mini-van in front of a million dollar estate in the Green Village. Fitz was hailed as a family man who “had his priorities straight”, but the mini-van was just his way of trying to stay on the down low. Kids when to the best private schools, wife had a decked out Suburban for PTA duty AND a white Mercedes she drove for her girl’s nights out.”

“So, did anyone look into O’Malley’s death?” Harry asks.

“No, word was his wife seemed to come into a great deal of money after he was gone. And I’m talking about more money than the typical union supported life insurance…like A. LOT. of money. She remarried and moved to the Caymans.”

“What about Fitz?” you ask.

“He retired just a couple of years after O’Malley died. Word through the Bureau was that he didn’t have a partner to do deals with and that fresh blood in the department might cause fresh eyes on their cases,” Mac stated.

“So what were they investigated for?” you ask.

“IA had a confidential informer who snitched that they were dirty with a crew who were doin’ B & E’s and selling hot merch. Rumor was they would “turn their backs” on the crime for a forty percent take in the profits. Problem was this crew had connections with the Gallagher Family. Once you’re in the family, they tend to buy you for just about anything they want.”

Your brows furrow and you sit forward, “Are you talking about the Boston Mob…?”

Mac nods his head.

“Wow, I wonder how they managed to get my parent’s case?”

“D’ya think they could be involved? I mean, could these detectives…h-have turned their back on Mr. and Mrs. Rose’s case?” Harry questions. Once again his thoughtfulness and kindness warming your heart. How did I get so lucky, you think to yourself as you look at him longingly.

“Dunno, but we can look into it easy enough. I know a scrappy young lady in the BPD, Amanda York, who’s worked on some cold cases like this, she’s uncovered some other unsavory activities within the department. Maybe if I can get what IA and FBI investigations found to her she can do some digging. Gimme just one minute and I’ll send a message to my in at the Bureau and one to Amanda and we can get the ball rolling,” Mac says tapping the keyboard.

Harry runs his hand over your thigh and looks at you with a soft smile, “Excuse us for a moment,” he says pushing his chair out and pulling on your hand.

Once outside of the room, he stands in front of you cupping your cheeks, “How ya holdin’ up, Jezebel?”

You hook your hands on his wrists and look up into his eyes. “I’m good. God, I’m so tired. But I feel like, I’m actually…doing something about it after all these years. I should’ve looked into it earlier, I can’….”

He leans down and covers your mouth with his, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth to sneak a taste. Pulling away he leans his forehead to yours, “Shh…please don’ put y’self through tha “what if’s”. We’re doin’ somethin’ abou’ it now an’ tha’s all tha’ matters. Ya doin’ s’good, ‘m s’proud of how ya ‘andlin’ ev’rythin. Love ya s’much.”

“It means so much that you’re here with me. I mean, you have so much else to be doing and yet, here you are with me…”

“And Mac,” He deadpans with a smirk.

“And Mac,” you grin back.

“Aww…there’s a smile! Tha’s ma girl…love ta see tha’ smile,” he says before kissing your nose. “By the way, I like Mac…a lot. ’M glad he was able ta come see us.”

“Well, I specifically remember some incredible man making an offer he couldn’t refuse,” you tease tracing his cross necklace.

"No, love, it didn’ take much ta convince him, said he’d do anythin’ fo ya. Tha’ ya were one special lady who has the heart for helpin’ the victims on ya cases. He’s impressed an’, most importan’ly he respec’s ya. Man, know’s wha’ he’s talkin’ abou’.” He kisses you again and leads you back to the dining room.

“The files from IA and the Bureau are already on the way and Amanda said she’ll start by pulling the case and any other similar cases around that time to see if there are any correlations. There’s been enough turn over and anti-corruption overhaul done through their department that we can trust their ethics. It’s no secret what once went down so this isn’t the first case she’s had to look at through the O’Malley, Fitzgerald angle,” he says packing up his laptop and notepad.

You sigh deeply. “Thank you so much Mac, I just can’t thank you enough,” you say putting your arms around his neck.

“Well, little lady, it’s no problem and I’m really happy to help,” he says walking toward the door. “Oh!” he says stopping in his tracks. “You should know that Amanda said Fitz isn’t doing very well. Word is he’s got stomach cancer and isn’t gonna be around too much longer. Humph, stomach cancer,” he says shaking his head, “Perhaps guilt does eat away at you after all.”

The next couple of days are a whirlwind as Mac and Amanda York start their investigation. Amanda was furious when Mac told her about your case. She shook her head in disgust as she pored over the police report while you’re FaceTiming. “They were so corrupt. Completely in league with the Irish mob. I keep wondering how many more cases were mishandled because of them.” She sighs heavily. “When we solve this, I’m going to request an official review of ALL of their cases.” She runs her hand back through her hair and then realizes her hair is in a ponytail and her hand drops. “Hey…maybe your podcast could help with that?!”

“I’ll help in any way I can,” you tell her.

“I’m getting ahead of myself, I know. I’ll keep digging and we’ll prepare for your podcast.”

You sigh. “Thank you, Amanda.”

“We’re gonna solve this case. Just hang in there.”

You nod and end the call. You gulp and feel the tears gathering. You want to believe you’ll solve this case but you’re just not sure anymore. Between the doubt about solving the case and the memories that keep coming back out of order, you’re barely hanging on.

Harry set up an appointment for a couples massage for you both. He’s trying to do everything he can in order to help you relax. He’s sitting in your daily meetings with Dr. Freeman but the memories are so jumbled you’re still having trouble making them come together.

You’re relaxed and floaty after your massage and you’re looking at him across the massage table with a soft smile. He drops his hand off of the table and you drop yours and he grabs your hand, fingers squeezing yours.

As soon as the massage is over, and the masseuses leave, you push him back on the bed and straddle him, kissing him.

His hand moves to the back of your head and he slants his mouth over yours, deepening the kiss. His lips trail down your throat and you shiver at his warm breath on your breast.

“S’good baby,” he breathes against your skin before he pulls your nipple between his teeth. “Open up fo’ me,” he breathes into your ear.

Your body stiffens and you can’t breathe. Those words “open up for me” pull you back into a memory. You’re watching as your father goes by and another set of shoes are behind him and a gravelly voice says those words. You hear the safe lock turn and then the door swing open and then everything does black.

“Jezebel! Jesus, fuck…can ya hear me?”

You come back to reality slowly and you’re laying on the bed. “Wha…what happened?”

“Ya started shaking an’ panting an’ then ya passed out.”

You roll over as the tears stream down your face. I’m a failure, you think to yourself. Will this ever end?

It’s night 4 of Harry’s 15 night MSG residency but it’s also the day of your podcast where you’ll be presenting your parents case. You’re in the sound booth, Mac next you and Amanda on FaceTime and you’re almost ready to go live when you hear the lock whir and Harry steps into the booth.

You smile at him tiredly and he takes a seat next to you and shakes Mac’s hand and says hi to Amanda.

“Ok, let’s start in 3…2…1…” You press the green start button and then you’re off.

“You did great, darlin’,” Mac says as you press the stop button.

“Thanks,” you say slumping in your chair.

“Try and get some sleep. You did good today and hopefully you’ll get some leads. I’m going back to Boston to help Amanda run down some leads. I’ll be in touch. Harry, have a great show tonight.”

You both thank him and then he leaves.

“C’mon baby let’s get ya ta bed. Ya need ya rest.”

You nod and stand up to let him lead you to the bedroom. He tucks you in and lays down behind you, hugging you tightly.

“S’gon’ be ok, Jezebel. I’m here fo’ ya an’ we’ll get through this.”

You grip his hand tightly but don’t say anything. You’re not sure you believe that anymore.

****a few hours later***

Harry shakes you gently. It’s time to go to the venue and he’s not sure if you were coming to the show or not. He feels helpless and he hates it but he’s trusting this process as much as he can.

You rouse slowly and wake up to his beautiful green eyes.

“‘Bout ta go ta the venue. Ya comin’ wi’?”

You rub your eyes and nod your head yes. Despite how hopeless you feel right now, you want to be there for him.

He smiles and you sit up and press your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love ya, ma Jezebel.”

The concert’s great and you managed to smile for the first time in what feels like forever. You finally get back to the apartment and he tells you that he’d like to take another shower. He’d just toweled off the sweat and taken his ice bath but he needs a proper shower.

He kisses you quickly and heads to the en suite and after a few minutes you realize you need to brush your teeth. You push open the door and stop dead in your tracks because there he is having a wank. You shut the door as quietly as you can and get in the bed, curling up in the fetal position, tears streaming down your cheeks. I’m failing him, you think again. You pretend to be asleep as he comes out of the en suite and snuggles in next to you, kissing your shoulder.

******************************************

“It worked!” Mac’s voice booms in your ear. It’s early and his phone call woke you up from a fitful sleep. You sit up and run your hand down your face and hear Harry groan behind you. You slip out of the bedroom so you don’t disturb him further and make your way to the office.

“What worked?”

“Your podcast darlin’. We got a tip from the tip line!”

“Wait…you did?”

“Yeah! Fella by the name of Patrick O’Malley.”

“O’Malley?”

“Yeah, he’s the son of our illustrious cop O’Malley. He heard your podcast on the case. He’s a big fan by the way.”

“Wow. What did he say?” You’re starting to wake up now.

“He had quite a story. Just lookin’ at my notes.” He pauses and you can’t tell if he’s pausing for dramatic effect or he really is looking at his notes. “Ah, here we are. Says that he always knew his dad was on the take. Apparently pops was always looking over his shoulder and he went to a high falutin’ prep school that caters to kids who can trace their lineage back to Plymouth Rock.” He hmphs in your ear. “Dear ol’ dad told him to tell the rich brats they came into money from a great aunt in Ireland.”

“Ok…” you say, helping him along.

“So get this kid turns 18 and daddy gives him a…vintage Rolex.”

You gasp. “Is it…is it from the shoppe?”

“Well now, I’ve gotta match the serial number up from the shop’s records, but I’m 99% sure this is one of the stolen watches. Meetin’ with Patrick tomorrow to collect the watch.”

“Wow…oh my god…then it was these two cops all along.”

“Looks like it, darlin’ I’m sorry to say. Been sittin’ on his wrist all this time. Ain’t that somethin’?”

“Yeah…yeah it is.”

“Oh, another thing,” he says taking a drink, “Amanda and I went to see ol’ Fitz the other day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hospice caretaker said he was sleeping so we gave her our card. He called back this morning and wants to speak with us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah we were surprised too but we’re going to see him today. Wanted to keep you up to date. Sorry for the early call.”

“Wow, thank you so much, Mac. Don’t worry about it.”

“How’re ya holdin’ up, darlin’?”

“I’m struggling but hanging in there.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Your memories’ll come back when ya least expect it. I’ve seen it lots of times.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

“They will. I’ll keep ya posted.”

“Thanks Mac. Have a good day.”

“You too. Bye.”

You sit in the chair for a minute dumbfounded. Your hand slowly moves over your parents faces in the last family photo you had done that’s now in a frame on the desk. “I miss you and I’m sorry I forgot you,” you tell the smiling faces as tears fall down your cheeks.

Harry taps on the office door quietly and slowly pushes it open. His heart breaks as he watches you crying and he moves in front of you and drops to his knees to hug you, squeezing you to him.

You melt into him, enjoying his warmth and his strong arms.

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong; he just holds you until you’re ready to talk to him. “S’ok, I’ve got ya…s’ok,” he says into your skin over and over.

You squeeze him tighter to you. You feel like you’re letting everyone down - him, your parents, your therapist, yourself. Why can’t I just remember?! You think to yourself. Why?!

Finally the tears dry up and you hiccup and pull back.

“Ya ok?” He asks gently.

You shrug. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Oh ma sweet Jezebel, wish I could help ya.”

Your fingers pet the side of his neck. “You are! I just feel like…I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

“Ya no’ lettin’ anyone down, hear me?” He says, hands tightening on your waist.

“Ok.”

He can tell you don’t believe him, but decides not to press it. “Wha’ happened on ya call?”

You tell him everything that you tell him. “Wow…tha’s…wow.”

“Yeah.”

“It doesn’t bring them back but it migh’ help knowin’ wha’ happened.”

“I hope so. I’m just…I’m so tired.”

“I know, baby. Let’s get ya back to bed.”

*****later that afternoon*

You’re just about ready to head to the venue when Mac calls you back.

“Hi ya darlin’.”

“Hi Mac,” you say switching to speakerphone so Harry can hear the conversation.

“Well, we met with Fitz today. Poor old bastard’s not long for this world, I’ll tell ya that.” He pauses. “Got a helluva story.”

“Tell me, please.” Your patience is worn thin. Harry squeezes your hand to comfort you.

“He said he was in with Gallagher before he joined the force. Said he really liked police work and he wanted me to know that there were cases they really worked. He tried to get out but the old man wouldn’t let him out. According to him, O’Malley loved it, had a real good time.”

“What about my case?”

“Gettin’ there. He figured we were there askin’ about a case. He said that they heard about the vintage Rolexes and Gallagher wanted them. There was another break in on the block so it made sense. Said things went horribly wrong. No one was supposed to be there and they panicked when you were and O’Malley freaked and changed the plan.”

You’re having difficulty breathing. “Is that it?”

“Well, no. He says he’s glad you hid because O’Malley would’ve killed you too. He wanted to after you were found but there was too much heat what with you in Child Protective Services and then your Uncle and Aunt took you to England. He talked about flying over there and taking ya out but he says he talked him out of it. Months went by and they didn’t hear anything so he dropped it. He said that was the last thing he ever did. Went to old man Gallagher and negotiated his out once he retired and then O’Malley got taken out. Said he did solid police work for a few years before he retired early.”

“Jesus…oh my god…”

“Uh yeah…there’s one more thing.”

“What?”

“He says he wants to meet you. His exact words were: “I want to meet the little girl. Do you think she’d come see me?”

Your eyes meet Harry’s. “I dunno…can I think about it?”

“Sure thing darlin’. Don’t feel obligated. It’s your call. Just let me know.”

“Ok, I will thank you.”

“Bye darlin’.”

You end the call and look at Harry again. “What do you think?”

Sliding the phone out of the way, he shifts from sitting next to you to sitting on the low table in front of you and grabs your hands. “Babe, wha’ mat-ahs most here’s how YOU feel abou’ meetin’ him? I mean, wha’ I wan’ is fo’ ya ta find peace an’ if meetin’ wi’ him will help ya find it, then I 100% support ya, an’ ‘f it’ll jus’ cause mo’ grief an’ loss in the long run, then ‘s no’ worth it. Thin’ ya hafta thin’ on it…like wha’ d’ya expect ta get from him? Cause, ‘f ‘m honest, I hope ya don’ expec’ much…’cause I don’ think it'll fix ev’rythin, bu’ I don’ think it would be a complete waste either…ya jus’ halfta manage ya expectations an’ be honest wi’ y’self,” he says searching your eyes.

You cup one of his cheeks, “My god, H, when did you get so wise?” you ask with tears in your eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much because, yeah, that’s exactly what I need to think about.” You draw your hand back to your lap and fidget, threading and unthreading your fingers. The weight of all of this is taking such a toll on you, you feel nauseated at the roller coaster of emotions you have been on. To be honest, you just want to get off the ride because the self-doubt, the guilt of not looking into things earlier, the overwhelming feeling of the fear of what you don’t know…what you might remember…it’s all so unnerving.

“Listen…love ya, Jezebel. Ya aren’ alone, I’m here…,” he says placing both his hands on your thighs and running them up and down. “Do any-god-damn-thin’ for ya. An’…,” he lifts your chin up to look into your eyes. “An’ ya hav’ s’many others who’d do anythin’ fo’ ya. Wish I knew wha’ tha fuck ta do ta make all this bet-ah bu’ thanks ta people like Mac an’ Amanda, thin’s are movin’ fo’ward, yeah? There’s ligh’ at tha end of tha tunnel, babe.” He runs a thumb under your eye, “Hate seein’ ya s’tired…ya eyes have lost ya sparkle.” He sniffs and pulls you into his lap. Straddling him, he runs his hands around to cup your bum and pull you in close then places a sweet, chaste kiss on your quivering lips. “Ya feel like comin’ tanigh’, hmm? Ya ‘no ya don’ hafta…Bella can come an’ stay wi’ ya an’ keep ya company.”

You run your hands up his biceps to his neck and around to thread into his hair. “No, I want to go. I just want to…I mean, try to be as normal as I can…and I want to celebrate these special nights…I’m so proud of you. It’s so incredible watching you…so alive and inspiring. You’re so fuckin’ talented and I’m sorry you’re having to deal with my shit. It’s not fair,” you say pressing your forehead to his. “I think I’m going to let the decision to see Fitzgerald sink in for the night and let Mac know in the morning what I want to do, because,” you close your eyes, “I-I am just…I’m just ready to put as much of this behind me as I can.”

“Sounds good, swee’heart. Why don’ ya message Mac an’ let ‘em ‘no ya wanna sleep on it an’ give ‘em tha answer in tha mornin’ Cal’ll be ‘round to pick us up in thirty. I’m gon’ go grab a shower. Just grab ya clothes an’ ya can get ready wi’ me tanight, mkay? Wanna share tha shower? I’ll wash ya back, an’ no funny stuff,” he says hoping to be able to at least get his hands on your skin, he’s missed you so much.

You stiffen and shift to stand before wrapping your arms around yourself tight. The memory of him having a wank in the shower immediately runs through your mind. “Umm…thanks but I’m good. Uhhh… just gonna go… pick out what I wanna wear and send that message to Mac.” You say quickly and start to walk away.

As you pass him he grabs your wrist, “Sure ya ok?”

You paint on a plastic smile, “Oh, uhhh…yeah, just a little sleep deprived,” you lie adding more guilt to the heaps of guilt to already feel. As you walk away, more tears threaten to fall. When are things ever going to go back to being the way they once were…what if they never do? Who wants to be with someone who keeps letting them down?

“God dammit! So stupid!” Harry mumbles to himself as he hangs his head with his eyes closed. “Join me in tha shower…wash ya back…,” he further mumbles chastising himself. “Fuck!” She prolly thinks I’m tryna pressure her for sex, he thinks to himself, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Jus’ wanna make it all better, baby…my sweet Jezebel.”

You make it to the venue and Harry changes into a fitted tank and trousers; Pink sequin polka dots on a pale baby blue background. He looks so amazing…as per usual. You’re standing in the doorway watching him fidget with his hair when his gaze meets yours in the mirror. “D’ya send a message ta Mac?” he asks with a soft smile.

“Yeah, told him I’d have an answer to him by 9 a.m.,” you answer returning his smile. “I thi…”

Ding-ding-ding. Your phone indicating an incoming call interrupts.

“Oh, wow, it’s Mac…” you say say looking down at your phone. “Hey Mac, how are you?”

“Hey little lady, I’m doing great thanks. Hey just wanted to call to let you know that O’Malley’s kid took the watch to an antique jewelry dealer who popped the back off and got a magnified picture of the serial number. I just verified that it matches the number of a 1905 first edition that was in your parent’s shoppe and was not recovered after the burglary. Patrick also included a picture he had of his old man proudly presenting it to him at graduation,” he lets out a puff of disgusted air. “O’Malley…fuckin’, arrogant bastard…sorry darlin’.”

“Oh, wow, Mac…,” you gasp causing Harry to spin around with his brows furrowed. “Gonna switch you to speaker, it’s just me and Harry,” you say switching the phone to speaker and moving closer to the vanity. “Go ahead.”

“Anyway, Rolex keeps extensive records on their pieces. They traced it back to one of the first ten watches ever made by the company when they opened their doors in 1905. They say it was put together with Swiss parts by the hands of Wilsdorf, himself. He’s the fella who started Rolex in 1905 London. Fella was only 24 years old… anyway, Rolex says that any expert wouldn’t appraise it for lower than a million. Ain’t that something?”

Your eyes bulge and you look over to Harry, “A million dollars?!” you say incredulously.

“Jesus,” Harry exclaims.

“I know, right?” you can hear the smile in Mac’s voice. “Well, Patrick sure didn’t pick up any of his Daddy’s old habits. Said he doesn’t want anything to do with that watch anymore and that he’d just like to give it back to the rightful owner. Amanda is on her way to pick it up as evidence.”

“So does that mean she’s gonna seek a warrant for Fitzgerald’s arrest?” you ask.

“Well, kiddo, the DA is gonna want more evidence on him…but from the looks of it, he wouldn’t even live to stand trial so I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Ok?” he says sympathetically.

“Wait, does tha’ mean tha’ the watch’ll come back ta the Rose’s heir?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, as soon as it’s released from evidence in the case, yeah, it’ll go to you, little lady.”

You shake your head like you’re trying to rattle around the idea in your brain until it settles. Then your open and close and open and close your mouth like a fish before gasping, “What did you say?”

“Said as soon as we can close the case the watch is yours. Also, did you know that the jewelry store insurance paid out to help take care of you, but because your parent’s passed under suspicious circumstances, their life insurance policies never paid out? I found that out when I found some old notes Fitz had taken from the adjuster calling to get updates. Looks like he just stopped calling after a few years of not getting anywhere with BPD and, apparently, your Aunt and Uncle never pursued it. Your parents were young and didn’t have a will, so most of that would’ve been held up in probate until you were a adult anyway…but now with a solved case, you can file it.”

“They couldn’t have afforded much for life insurance, do you know what the policies were worth?” you ask moving closer to the phone.

“Sure, uhhh…” you hear shuffling of papers, “Oh! Wow! They each had policies valued at $250K…so another $500K.”

A tear drips down your cheek and drops to the floor as you stare at your feet. “I mean, I’m thankful for what I had with my Aunt and Uncle, but if I could give all that back and have had my parents growing up, I would.”

Harry wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your temple.

“I know, darlin’, I know and I’m sorry.” Mac says. “Well, I’m gonna let you kids go, I’ll hear from you in the morning about visiting Fitz.”

You say your good-byes and just look at each other. Harry opens his mouth just as a loud banging on the door rings out. He lets out a huff, “Tha’ll be my cue to go crawl in the box. Talk abou’ this later?”

You nod your head and offer a soft smile. “Yeah.”

“You gon’ stand in ya usual spot?” he asks.

“I will be, yes,” you say straightening his cross necklace.

He grabs your cheeks, “I love ya. Ya gon’ be alright tanight?”

You nod sucking in your bottom lip and then popping it out. “Go get ‘em, rockstar, I love you.”

He smiles that stunning smile and places a quick peck to your lips before heading to the door. “Ya comin’?”

“Yeah, just gotta visit the loo, I’ll be right out.”

“Kay, see ya out there,” he says his energy clearly ramping up and he’s out the door.

You slowly walk to the bathroom thinking of everything that just transpired. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement. But at the same time, your exhaustion reminds you that you’re still missing sleep, still struggling to enjoy the things you had so found joy in before. You close your eyes and those plastic eyes are there again…the sounds and smells so strong. You quickly open your eyes again. Will you ever be able to relax and focus again? The stomping roar jars you out of your brooding. Harry’s about to be on stage and it’s time you get out there. But how long is he gonna tolerate your distance and chaos? You sigh and head toward the door.

You watch from your usual space as Harry charms the masses and belts out his words with his incredibly talented voice. The crowd is loving him, any one of the hundreds of single women in the pits closest to him would do anything to be his. Many of them probably don’t have the baggage you bring and it’s obvious most of them sure wouldn’t have problems having sex with him. “So what’s wrong with me,” you mumble to yourself knowing it’ll never be heard over the screaming. He makes eye contact several times and you know he’s checking on you and sending his love. You can’t help the sobs that wrack your body when he sings Little Freak. When he sees your tears he too has to stop and hold the mic up for the audience to sing. You can clearly see he’s having his own trouble hearing the song and seeing you hurting.

He’s just begun a little chatter with the crowd in his search for the “Golf Dads”, when a young fan points your way. She looks to be about ten years old and has a man and woman with her. She’s pointing and whispering in the woman’s ear. You look away and then back and now they’re all looking at you. You slowly turn inconspicuously to see if maybe they’re looking at someone else, maybe they spot a friend in the section above you. When you look back they’re waving. You smile and wave back, and take a closer look at the sign the little girl is holding. It says, “Boston Loves You, Harry!” scribbled in mismatched and partially colored letters. You smile to yourself, it’s been years since you were actually in Boston, there’s so much that happened there. The man and woman have turned their attention back to Harry but the little girl is still staring at you. You give her another wave to which she excitedly waves back. She’s wearing the sweetest smile, a long French braid and a Harry’s House t-shirt that’s hanging down so far it looks like a dress. Finally, you give in and wave her over. She does a little jump and pulls on the man and woman’s arms until they make their way over to you. You smile brightly, “Well, hello there, sweetheart! Are you having a good time?”

“Hi, I’m Laura and I know who you are!” she squeals.

Your body breaks out in goosebumps at her name, but you shake them off. “Who’re you here with?” you ask looking to the man and woman with her.

“That’s my Momma and Daddy. And you are Harry’s girlfriend.”

You introduce yourself to Loraine and Edgar who are, apparently, Laura’s parents. “It’s very nice to meet you,” you say fist bumping each of them. You kneel down to Laura’s height, “Yes, I’m Harry’s girlfriend. I really like your sign did you make it?”

She nods frantically, “Yeah, the blue marker wasn’t very bright so I had to use all different colors. I put a heart for the “o” in “Loves” and colored it Harry’s favorite color, pink.

Does he really have a pink toothbrush?”

Giggling, you nod your head, “He sure does, yup, pink is his favorite color. What’s your favorite song, Laura?”

She crooks her mouth to one side and presses her pointer finger to her cheek in thought, “Well, I really like Music for a Sushi Restaurant, but my other favorite is the one where he talks about Jezebel.”

You gasp and the goosebumps are back, in fact, you shiver like a cold breeze just blew by. “I like both of those so much too. Can I take your picture to show Harry?”

“REALLY?? You would show Harry??”

“Oh, yeah, he loves to see pictures of his fans. Gather up so I can get you all in.”

Edgar reaches down and picks Laura up to perch on his shoulders. “Up ya go, Pumpkin,” he says in a deep gruff voice.

Your stance faulters as he says “Pumpkin” because that’s what your father called you too. You shake your head and take a deep breath then another. You feel your peripheral vision closing in, so you shake it off again.

Loraine’s brow furrows and she says, “Are you alright, dear? Can we get you some water?”

You plaster on a smile and shake your head, “Yeah, I’m fine, thank you.”

Laura says, “She probably needs some of your vitamin water Dad. My Mom and Dad have a health food store in our town, it’s named after me! Laura’s in Boston.”

You gasp and choke on the air you sucked in as the world around you begins to spin and you begin to pant and heave. Only a moment passes before you feel your legs begin to shake and you turn your head and make eye contact with Lambert, of all people. But he immediately knows something is up and briskly walks to you.

“You ok?” he asks looking you up and down.

“Ummm….can you take a picture of these lovely people, I need to step away,” you whisper in his ear.

You step away quickly waving to Laura and her parents quickly mouthing, “It was lovely to meet you.”

You make it to a hallway and fall back against a wall, panting your breath shallowly. Your chest begins to tighten and hurt as your heart races. You place your hands on your knees bending at the waist to try to catch your breath. Closing your eyes, it all floods back. The couch was green and the floor hardwood. It was cold on your cheek and pushed on your tummy and hipbones as you squeezed yourself underneath. No-one ever knocked on the shoppe’s door, but two men in suits knocked and then your mom let them in when they showed her their wallets. Wait, why would they show their wallet? It was black and opened like a wallet. Then mom started to scream. She was scared, so you crawled under the couch. Then the crinkle of a bag and her screaming sounded like it was far away suddenly. Where did she go? As you rest your cheek on the floor, you look out from under the couch to see her pretty black dress shoes. She wore them to the shoppe everyday. Then her hand hit the floor, then her face. Her face looked shiny like it was plastic and she was pulling at her neck. It’s a bag! It’s a plastic bag on her head and she struggles and gasps, much like you are at the moment, before she quietly just… stops. It all just stops, and she reaches for my hand. Then the lights go out.

Your ears are ringing and you still can’t catch your breath. Your head is hurting …it feels like your brain is being squeezed. And the memories…they’re so painful. Out in the arena Sarah hits a particularly booming drum note and you startle and stand straight up, sucking in a deep breath.

Suddenly, you hear a booming voice, “Open it up! Open it up!” Then you hear your father wailing, “Laura, Laura…” he sobs. Three… what are those, firecrackers, go off and you don’t hear him anymore. Why did he leave? Where did he go? Daddy? “What the fuck is wrong with you!” comes a male voice, “Had to be done!” The last thing you hear is the bell to the back door ring as it was opened and then closed.

You squint your eyes tight…trying to process all that’s running through your aching head. I just need to breathe and walk…I need to walk away from here…I need to get away is all you can think to yourself.

Your heart is racing against the wooden floor, it’s so cold on this floor and Momma is just staring at me. Why isn’t she blinking and trying to get to me? Slowly you turn your head away from her and just close your eyes. Maybe it’ll all go away if you just close your eyes. As you keep your eyes tightly shut you feel your heartrate slow and soon the lull of sleep has overtaken you.

Your hands fly to cover your face. “Oh my god, I slept! I slept!” Instantly nauseous you find the nearest trash bin thinking you need to vomit. Leaning over the pile of used arena cups and napkins, nothing comes up, but the heaving of breath is making your stomach sick and the memories…everything is as clear as the day it happened. You slide along the wall and Lambert rounds the entryway to the hall.

“Jesus, are you ok?” he says rushing to you.

“No, I need to go home, NOW!”

Lambert wisely doesn’t ask questions he just puts his arm around your shoulders and leads you to the exit where Cal is waiting. They help you in the backseat discussing whether you need to go to the ER.

“NO! I’m ok to just go to the apartment! PLEASE, just take me there!” you insist.

“I’ll let Harry and security know where you are,” Lambert says and you wave him off wishing him to just go away and leave you so Cal can get you out of there.

You make your way into the apartment slamming and locking the door behind you. You frantically look around and feel your throat closing again. “I slept while my parents were dying or dead. I didn’t do anything. I should’ve gotten up and called the police. What kind of person just sleeps while their family is dying. Why didn’t I even try to use the phone? What the fuck is wrong with me! There must be something seriously mentally wrong with me! “What…” you sob out loud to the empty apartment.

You look up and see a picture of you, Harry, Ron and Helen in Cornwall. What are they going to think when they know what you’ve done? When they know what you didn’t do? The tears are streaming steadily, “Oh Harry… oh, my sweet Harry. I’m so broken and you’re so…just so…, don’t hate me, please don’t hate me…Oh my god, this is too much…this is too toxic…He doesn’t deserve to have to go through this.”

You stumble your way into your shared bedroom and to the closet. Gotta get out of here is all you can think. You plop down to pull out a suitcase that’s tucked away on the floor behind some clothes. It’s not even your own suitcase! “Fuck!” you say hitting the top of it hard enough to feel sharp pains shoot up your arm from the side of your fist. Shit that hurt so much. Everything hurts so much…everything hurts. Too much…it’s all too much. It’s not fair to the ones you love to bring this on them.

Harry looks back to where you usually stand during his set and, well, you aren’t there. He doesn’t think much of it until forty-five minutes have passed and you’re nowhere to be found. He’s losing focus worried about where you’ve gone. In between a song he get the attention of a security person and tasks them with finding you. With no updates and shrugged shoulders from everyone, he’s out of his mind with worry by the time he has blown his last kiss and given his last peace sign to the crowd. There are a few people along the way asking for pictures and he graciously stops, plants a smile, makes small talk and searches faces…looking for yours. Finally he makes it to his dressing room where Lambert is waiting for him, pacing.

“Sorry Lambert, don’ mean ta be rude, but I don’ hav’ time ta discuss clothes tanight, I’ve gott…”

“She’s at the apartment. She just said she wanted to go to the apartment, she looked a little panicked, but otherwise safe. Cal took her home and I’ve been calling for her assistant Bella, hoping to get her over there as soon as possible. Cal is standing guard at your door. She didn’t wanna go to tha ER…?” Lambert informs.

“Wha’ tha fuck!?” he gasps stripping his shirt off and grabbing a black jumper, “Did she look like she needed ta go ta hospital.

“She emphatically did not want to go and we thought that if Bella could get over there she would take care of her. But once I got ahold of Bella, I found out she’s at a retreat in the Hamptons, but is on her way, she’ll just be late arriving. She said to tell you she was calling…,” he looks down at his phone, “A SarahJane for a emergency appointment. Sounded like Bella knew what was going on and that your girl would be fine at least medically. I’ll take you to her as soon as you get dressed. No one will recognize my car.”

“Christ, why didn’ someone stop an’ tell me!” Harry mumble shouts.

“Umm, you were….kinda busy, Harry.”

“No’ when it comes to her! Jesus Fuckin’ Christ, Lambert, she’s gon’ be my wife!” Harry blurts out.

Lambert’s eyes get big and round, “Well, let’s get you to her.”

“Jesus, don’ tell anyone I said tha’, please…” Harry laments as he literally kicks his clothes to the side causing Lambert to pick them up and fold them neatly in a pile. Violently shoving his feet into sneakers breaking the heel down he booms, “Get me to her, now!”

Your phone has been dinging with text messages from Bella, and Harry for the last thirty minutes. You know they must be worried sick, but at this moment you have no idea what you would say or if you could even talk to them. What if Harry is disgusted by you, he lives his life being so kind to people, and he’s been exceptionally kind to you, but what’s he gonna say when all this comes out and people find out how broken you are?

Sobs have wracked your body so much that your sides are sore, everything is sore, your face is sore from the grimace and your soul is in pain from feeling so much. Your heart from your attempts to cut Harry out of it. You’ve managed to get the suitcase open and…well, that’s pretty much where you stopped, after all, you promised once not to run, so you’ve decided not to, but when he gets here you’re prepared to walk away for his sake…because you love him.

You scoot to the back wall of the closet and rest your head against it before reaching into the clothes hamper next to you to pull out one of Harry’s undershirts to hold to your nose. Burying your face in the fabric and breathing in his scent, you finally just fall forward and stay there, face in his shirt, on the floor of the closet, sobbing for the parents you lost to violence and man you’ve loved like no other who deserves much better.

You hear the front door open and shut and your heart breaks with the sound. “Jezebel! Baby where are you?!”

You sit up and your instinct is to call out to him, but his name gets stuck in your throat. He can be heard bounding up the stairs breathing heavy. He peeks into the closet and starts to walk away when he hears you sniffle and softly whimper, “I’m here.”

In three long strides he’s where you are kicking the empty suitcase out of the way, offended that it dare come between you. He stoops down to reach your cheek. “Aww, baby, what happened?”

You blink looking into his eyes and then look away and shake your head. “I-I-I slept, Harry. I’m a horrible, horrible person…I remember that night an-an-and I fell asleep under the couch, and I didn’t do annnything,” you slur on a sob. “I-I didn’t help them. I was so scared and I just…closed my eyes. Then I-I f-f-fell asleep while my parents were dying. I’m so sorry that you’re tangled up in this. I don’t wanna ruin this amazing time in your life with my-my…shit. I’m a broken person and you deserve a whole person.”

“Whoa, Whoa, swee’heart, ya NOT a broken person. Ya’re my person. Ya’re the air I breathe. No’ even ya get ta make decisions fo’ me abou’ who I’m in love wit’,” he says pulling your chin up to face him. “We face thin’s tagether, don’ ya fuckin’ dare give up on us, hear me?” He twists to sit down on the floor with you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “C’mere,” he says holding you close and kissing the top of your head. “Wanna tell me abou’ it?”

You slowly open up and tell him about the night you now remember. He dries your tears with his t-shirt from the hamper and even wipes away the snot dripping from your nose with it. He kisses your temple over and over, rubs his thumb over your fidgeting fingers. He even helps you out of your shoes and pulls your hair up and into a messy bun…all the while you’re recounting what you remember and sobbing along the way.

He wipes your tears gently as you finish up your memories. “I’m s’sorry, Jezebel, bu’ none of this is ya fault. Ya were probably overwhelmed an’ ya brain jus’ shut off. It was protectin’ ya from somethin’ ya couldn’t deal wi’. Sarah Jane tol’ ya tha’.”

“I know…bu’ I can’t help feeling like I failed them. And-and now I’m failing you.”

“Ya didn’t fail them an’ ya no’ failin’ me.”

“Oh really? Don’t tell me you’re not sexually frustrated! I-I saw you in the shower…wanking! I can’t even have sex with my fiancé…how can you say I’m not failing you?”

He puffs out a breath of air. “I was thinkin’ abou’ ya in the shower. Of course I miss bein’ wi’ ya, bu’ ya no’ failin’ me, Jezebel. I love ya. I’m here wi’ ya an’ fo’ ya. No matter wha’.”

You sniffle and wipe the tears coming down your face. “You are? No matter what?”

He kisses your temple and pulls you closer, his finger rubbing over your ring finger. “Forever, Jezebel. ‘M no’ goin’ anywhere.”

You bury your face in his neck. “Thank you for loving me.”

“Ya welcome.”

Harry’s phone rings and it’s the lobby indicating that Sarah Jane has arrived. “Sarah Jane is here. Imma let her in. Be righ’ back.”

You nod.

Harry pads down the stairs and buzzes Sarah Jane in, greeting her and apologizing for the late hour. He leads her up the stairs and to the bedroom and you look up from the bench at the end of the bed as they step into the room.

“Office?” Harry asks Sarah Jane.

She nods and he goes to the bed to collect you.

You sigh and stand up allowing him to lead you to the office and you sit on the couch and he sits down next to you.

Sarah Jane sits in the chair and you tell her everything that’s happened over the past two days. The watch, the case being closed, meeting the family at the concert and your memories finally coming back; your feelings of failure about your parents and Harry.

Sarah Jane listens intently, taking notes. Once you’re done she puts her pen down. “What could you have done to help your parents?”

“I could’ve called for help instead of going to sleep!”

“You’ve read the death certificates. What did they say?”

You sigh. You know what she’s getting at. “They were already dead, I know that.”

“Then what what would you have been able to do for them?”

You run your hands down your face. “I don’t know, ok?! I just know I should’ve done something is all I know!”

Sarah Jane nods. “You were a child and your brain was overwhelmed. Your body shut down in order to protect you. You can’t blame yourself.”

“I just…I can’t help but think that maybe it would’ve been different if I hadn’t fallen asleep.”

“That’s perfectly natural but you need to know that nothing would’ve changed.” She pauses to let her words sink in. “Do you think there’s more to relationships than sex?”

“What?! Well, yes of course, oh my god!”

“Ok, then why do you think you’re failing Harry because you’re not having sex?”

You throw your hands up and stand up, pacing. “I know he wants to! I caught him having a wank in the shower. We’ve always…we’ve always had an active sex life…I crave him and it scares me that I can’t seem to get into it. I miss being with him and how much longer can he put up with not having sex?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak and Sarah Jane shakes her head. “You can’t get turned on because your mind is preoccupied. This isn’t permanent. You’re on the road to healing and you’re going to get better and you’ll regain interest in everything…including sex.”

“You think so?”

“Of course and I’m still here for you for as long as you need me. And you have Harry and your friends. You’ll get through this, I promise.”

You sigh and tears slide down your face. “I hope so. I want to…feel like myself again.”

“I’m going to give you a sedative so you can sleep and you can call me tomorrow if you need me. If not, let’s plan to talk the next day.”

You nod and Harry leads you to the bedroom. You lay down and Sarah Jane administers the sedative.

“Call me if you need me…either one of you,” she says and you both nod.

Once she’s gone, Harry crawls in the bed behind you and snuggles up to you, holding you until you fall asleep.

He rolls over and grabs your phone and texts Mac letting him know that you want to meet Fitz and to set it up for tomorrow. Once he gets the thumbs up sign back, he puts the phone back and snuggles back up to you. He wakes up with a start, his breath catching in his throat as he hears your phone ping. He checks it and sees the message from Mac that the appointment with Fitz is today and he’ll be there at 11 am. He checks and it’s still early so he decides to go to the gym and let you sleep. He leaves you a note in case you wake up while he’s gone. He comes back from the gym and quietly into the bedroom and you’re still asleep. He pauses just looking at you sleep. For the first time since you started remembering, your face is finally relaxed and you appear to be sleeping peacefully. He smiles and kisses your forehead and goes to the bathroom to take a quick shower. When he comes out of the en-suite, he sees you stir and your eyes open. He’s standing in the doorway of the en-suite and your eyes meet his and for the first time in a while you smile at him. Not a forced, plastic fake smile you’ve been doing lately. He smiles that beautiful smile back at you and notices your eyes moving down his body, and he watches as you bite your bottom lip before moving your gaze back up to his. He rolls his lips into his mouth as you just stare into each other’s eyes.

He’s the one who breaks the spell by coming over and kissing your lips. “Mac’ll be here at 11 and we’ll go see Fitz if you’re still up for it?”

“Yes. I want to hear what he has to say. I owe it to myself…and the memory of my parents.”

He nods. “Ok, better get ready then.”

You’re standing behind Mac in front of Fitz’ door, holding Harry’s hand tightly. He squeezes your hand back and you let out a puff of air as the door opens. The caretaker lets you in and leads you into a bedroom where you see a gaunt figure in the bed. You hear the caretaker say, “they’re here,” and she gestures you closer.

You take a deep breath and move closer to the side of the bed and look into his eyes.

His mouth is open and breathing is more like a wheeze. “Is it her? The little Rose girl?” He asks, looking back and forth between you and Mac. Harry is just beside you, his arm around your waist.

“Yes, hi, it’s me and this is my…f-boyfriend, Harry, and of course you know Mac.”

“I wanted to see you and tell you I’m sorry for what happened. I should’ve stopped it, but O’Malley was quicker and took over, damn him. You weren’t supposed to be there. I knew your parents a little bit, that’s why your mum let me in the door after hours. My parents are from the old country and my da used to have me take him to your parents shop every now and then.” He closes his eyes and grabs the oxygen mask next to him to suck in a few breaths and grabs your hand. “I’m sorry. I knew you were under the couch. I couldn’t save your parents but I knew I could save you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted to apologize for the part I played in your parents death.”

Tears are running down your cheeks. “I forgive you.”

“You’re so beautiful. You look just like your da but you got your mum’s green eyes. I wish I could’ve saved them too.”

“I do too, but thank you for saving me.”

He squeezes your hand. “Thank you for coming to meet me. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you said no.”

“You’re welcome.”

He places the oxygen mask back in his face and the caretaker comes to stand on the other side of the bed. “I think it’s best if you go now. He didn’t take his medicine today so he would be awake to meet with you.”

You all nod.

Fitz let’s go of your hand and you say your goodbyes.

“Y’all go on out to the car. I gotta talk to Fitz for a minute.”

You get in the car and Harry settles in next to you. “How’re ya feeling?”

You sigh and grab one of his hands in yours. “I’m tired but I feel good for the first time in weeks. Thank you.”

“Ya welcome, my Jezebel. Do anythin’ fo’ ya, know tha’.”

You drop your head back against the headrest and close your eyes letting out a soft sigh. Your shoulders relax and the muscles in your jaw slack with release. Harry reaches over and gently tugs your cheek until your head falls onto his shoulder, places his lips to your temple and holds for a moment before pulling away and looking out the window as the car pulls away. For some reason you feel…differently. Different on the inside, with a different view of your past…a different view of, as philosophically cliché as it might sound, of humanity. Forgiveness really is as much for yourself as for anyone…there’s not as much room for hate and pain when you fill yourself with forgiveness and hope. No, you’ll never forget what happened, never forget what those men did, but you’re now determined to see that it make you a better person, rather than the shell you’ve allowed it to make of you over the last couple of weeks. The stream of nightmares that started as far back as, wow, Harry’s show in Paris won’t win, because you have conquered the forgotten fear. You welcome the memory because what you didn’t remember was far worse than what finally flashed through your mind. In your effort to forget the pain, you had also pushed back so much love that needed to be remembered…needed to be embraced and even shared. Your parents love for each other, their love for you…that’s a bright spot…one that you carry on in your love, connection and passion you have with Harry. You first learned love from your parents…that is their legacy…YOU are their legacy. And to push that away would be a crime in itself. Your life has been filled with incredible gifts of love from others…your Aunt and Uncle who took you in, the friends you made in University, their families who also took you in…Gemma…Anne…Robin......Harry. And now you have even more family who have also taken you in, from Cal up in the driver seat, to Lambert who saw to you after that dreadful scene at the show…to Sarah, Mitch, their little one, the band, the crew…the bundles of people who have embraced your podcast and helped families find justice. Ron and Helen, two of the warmest souls you’ve ever known and all of that love and sunlight came with Harry. He reaches down in the silence to pull your legs over his in the seat and he softly strokes the outside of your thigh as he holds you close to him. Suddenly the weight of it all feels so much lighter; you feel lighter. You lean up to kiss his jaw, taking a moment to nose under his ear. “I love you, Harry.”

“Oh baby, love ya s’much. Shut ya beautiful eyes, swee’heart. When we get back, I’ll run ya a warm bubble bath. Hope ya don’ mind, but had Bella run a very important errand fo’ me. Told her I’d pay her extra, bu’ she wasn’t hearin’ it,” he murmurs thickly against your temple.

“Oh, H, that poor girl left the Hamptons last night to come running to me…I know, she’s my assistant, but she’s my friend first and foremost. I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her because I’m such a mess at the moment.”

“Babe, ‘s BECAUSE ya her friend tha’ she’d do anythin’ fo’ ya…yeah, ya pay her ta help wi’ tha podcast an…and the website, but she wan’s ta be there fo’ her friend…no’ her employer. She’s runnin’ ta Pete’s fo’ me to bring back a pot of Carina’s tomato bisque an’ a couple of fresh bagguettes. An’ I bet, if I ‘no Pete there’ll be somethin’ sweet too. Ya need somethin’ in ya tummy an’ Carina’s bisque is warm and delicious…a lot like you, Jezebel,” he says thickly.

You sigh and notice for the first time in a while you don’t feel like you are gonna burst into sobs of sadness, or guilt because someone is doing something…caring for you. “Thank you, honey. You’re so good to me, and have been so patient,” you yawn rather inelegantly and blush as you close your mouth. “Sorry…,” you say with a sheepish smile.

Harry leans forward to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Like I was sayin’ how abou’ a bath, and some soup and…why don’ ya take the night ta just rest, yeah? Bella can stay over…I mean, I ‘no fo’ a fact tha’ she’s not got a date planned ‘cause Gavin’s runnin’ tha show tanight,” he says nosing around the hairline on your neck causing your body to flush with goosebumps, “Those two ‘ave become quite a pair. Gavin’s completely crazy fo’ Bells....”

You feel your nipples tighten and you gulp a mouthful of air. “Uh-mmm…yeah…ahh…she’s very, very taken with him…think he’s…mmm…introduced her to a, ummm, very new side of herself…one she’s embracing thoroughly,” you say loving the feel of his stubble on the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Oh really…?” he whispers with a smirk against your skin as he pulls your legs closer in to his pelvis.

You gulp again, “Yeah….”

The car slows and Harry pulls away only enough to look into your eyes. “Bath…Soup…a night in wi’ ya bestie, sound good?”

You nod searching his eyes back and forth. God they’re so beautiful. HE is so beautiful. You can’t fathom just how in love with him you are. The fact that that exact same feeling is staring back at you is mind-blowing. Just as you open your mouth to go in for a deep kiss, it just keeps opening and another unladylike yawn takes over your body. You close your mouth and shake your head slightly.

“’F I dinna ‘no wha’ ya been through the last few weeks, might be offended by tha’, bu’ ‘m no’ seein’ how ya haven’ had any decent rest,” he says chuckling and kissing your forehead.

The car pulls into the private parking garage and you see Bella’s little crimson colored Mercedes parked in the guest spot. “Looks like Bells is already here,” you say running a hand through your hair.

Harry looks at his phone for the time, “Got just enough time to run ya a bath and make sure ya settled before I need ta hit the road. Be back as soon as I can, though.”

“H…I can do my own bath…why don’t you just go on and get a little rest in the dressing room before, I’ll be fine,” you nod toward the crimson car, “Bella is here, we’ll eat some soup together and I’ll crash. She can have the downstairs guest room. I mean it, go on, go listen to some music and relax a little, I’ll see ya when ya get home, ok?” you say running your fingers through his hair.

“Are you sure, love?” he asks pulling his head back a little and staring intently.

You smile reassuringly and run the back of your fingers down in his cheek, “Yes, Harry, I’m sure.”

He closes his eyes at the feel of your fingers and turns his head so he can kiss them, “God, ‘m so fuckin’ ‘appy ta see tha’ smile reach ya eyes,” he says as his own tear up.

“I’m sorry, I know this has been hard for you…please don’t cry…” you say brushing a tear that’s dropped on his cheek.

“Jesus, Jezebel…been s’worried abou’ ya…jus’…wanted ta fix it s’bad…hate feelin’ so….helpless,” he says as more drops fall and he kisses the inside of your wrist.

“I feel like I’m on the downside of it all…ya know? Like tha worst has happened and now, it’s just a matter of wrapping it all up and learning to live with what happened. Find the silver lining. Go on living. Remember the love and lessons…”

“Spend ya life wi’ me…,” he softly interjects.

“Spend my whole life loving you,” you whisper in agreement. “Go on, mister,” you say straightening his jacket. “Harry Styles, international Grammy winning Pop artist, songwriter, musician, soon to be award-winning actor, amazing friend, spectacular son and brother. Adventurous, considerate, toe-curling lover.”

The latter gets a smirk out of him. “Think ya make me way more successful than I really am, but I definitely love being ya lover,” he says kissing your neck, “ya go get some rest, gonna miss ya tanight…my good luck charm, my Jezebel.”

“I’ll miss you too, but Bells and I will stalk fan pics on social media. Wake me up when you get home.”

“Sorry, darlin’, no can do. I wan’ ya ta catch up, but I’ll happily crawl in bed wi’ ya when I get in.”

“OK, I’ll prolly wake up when ya get in anyway. I love you, sir. Finger’s crossed no nightmares,” you say crossing fingers on both hands and holding them up for him to see.

He kisses them both and then your lips before leading you out of the car and over to the elevator where he kisses you once more leaving you breathless. The elevator doors close and you’re on your way up to your shared apartment. Once there you rush past Bella to the wall of windows and watch as his car pulls out of the parking garage and turns down the street. You nibble on your fingers and sigh.

Bella walks up beside you, puts her arm around your waist and leans her head on your shoulder. “He’s pretty spectacular, isn’t he?” she says with a sigh.

“Yes, he is… but what are you all swoony about…? Mr. Gavin isn’t too shabby himself. And from what I hear he’s crazy about you!” you say kissing the top of her head.

She blushes and looks to her feet. “Yeah, I think he is…but I’m so…same…so same!” She twirls off of your shoulder and swings her arms twirling around as if any moment she’s gonna break out with, “The hills are alive with the sound of music…”

You turn and cover your mouth with the back of your hand before a giggle slips out.

“What are you laughing at!” she says stopping to put her hands on her hips. She stares for a minute, then throws her arms down in surrender. “Oh, who cares! I’m just so glad to see you laughing…,” she says running to throw her arms around you. “So, Harry said you were in for a bath, some soup and some down time tonight. Go grab your bath,” she says swatting your bum. “Soups in the kitchen. My God, Carina and her carb-laden bread….To. Die. For,” she says groaning animatedly.

You throw your head back in a groaning agreement, “YASSSS, I WILL be taking a piece of that carb-laden bread with me to my bath, and I will watch my naked belly bloat as I enjoy every crumb of it…I. Just. Don’t. Care!” you say heading toward the kitchen.

You cut a slice and pop a piece in your mouth and hold up the other to Bella’s mouth when she gets bug eyed. “Oh, you got a package last week! I’ve been holding on to it because I know it’s not work related, but it came to the podcast mailbox.”

You furrow your brows, “What is is?”

She grins and sucks in her bottom lip. “It’s from Hayley’s business. My guess it’s the lingerie from our PJ party. I’m dying to see who got your name and what you got!”

“Well…” to say twirling you hand, “WHERE IS IT!” you say excitedly.

She reaches over to the bar stool where her backpack is and pulls out a box that looks no bigger than a 8 by 10 picture frame.

“Oh my god, that’s all! That’s the WHOLE package?” you ask incredulously.

Bella just giggles and nods, “Yup, it’s def not a pair of flannel pajamas…”

You set the box down and look from it to the bread and back to it again…then back at the bread. “Fuck it,” you say popping it in your mouth.

You look over at Bella who is still chewing and slicing another slice. God you love that girl!

You start to walk away and you hear a very mouthful muffle, “Oaur Naur yaur don!” she says pulling at the back of your t-shirt.

You turn to look at her as she finishes chewing and finally swallows. “You’re not leavin’ without looking and I have to see…I’ve been holding on to that for too long, I getta see it too!”

You roll your eyes and tilt your head to one side, “I was afraid you’d say that…”

“Come on, let’s go to the bedroom,” she says grabbing your wrist and the gift and pulling you toward the stairs. You’re following along until suddenly she stops and turns to look at you with a smirk, then, still holding on to your wrist circles around and back into the kitchen to the fridge. Looking at her hands, flustered, she’s not about to drop your wrist OR the gift, “Here, hold this!” she says handing the gift to you. Still holding your wrist as if you were going to fly away, she throws open the fridge door and grabs a take out plastic container with plastic spoons taped to the top. You raise an eyebrow curious as to what she is doing.

“Tiramisu…You’re doing lingerie; I’m doing your Tiramisu,” she says with a shrug.

“Oh no you’re not! You’re sharing that…lingerie be damned, Pete’s Tiramisu is to die for!”

Her shoulders slump as she reconsiders, like she actually has a choice here. “Ok, deal. Come on!”

You both pile on the bed you start to open the box and Bella opens the plastic container of the delicious Italian dessert. Just as you’re about to take the top off the box, you stop and look at her, “Give me a bite, I need courage and I may never wanna eat it again after I see what’s in here. Don’t be stingy, give me a real bite!”

She dips the spoon in and pulls out a nice size scoop and feeds it to you. It’s eye-rollingly incredible, creamy, lightly chocolately with a hint of espresso. Utterly delightful. You savor the bite and look down at the box and back at Bella who has the spoon in her mouth turned upside down pulling it out slowly. You can help, but fall forward giggling at her antics. You raise up and take a deep breath and pull the box top off, peeling the soft pink tissue and you both peer inside. You see what looks like a tangle of half inch black satin ribbons intermingled with small triangles of iridescent nude lace floral pieces. There’s a pink envelop and a black velvet bag about five inches long.

“Read the card! Read the card!” Bella says pointing with her spoon.

You open the card and read it aloud. “Dearest Watermelon Sugar, Cheers to making many memories in this. It’s perfect for you and H. Added a little toy for a new exciting experience. Try it out…you won’t regret… Much love, Milena.”

“Milena got your name, no wonder there’s so little to it. Look there’s something written on the back,” Bella says huddling in.

You turn the card over to read, “PS. Have Harry put a lock on the pool house in Italy…you never know who might accidentally spy you two having a little ‘rendezvous’. That’s unless you’re into being seen.” Pulling the card to your face you howl and blush furiously.

“I don’t even wanna know…,” Bella says digging her spoon in again.

You continue by pulling out the lingerie and are surprised at how incredibly beautiful and tastefully placed the lace pieces are on the delicate straps. The thong panty has an attached waist cincher with hook and eye closures down the front. The sides attach to the panties making it one piece and the bra is a simple triangle cup set with ribbon outlining the edges.

You chew another bite of tiramisu and take a deep breath before opening the box. She very graciously included a picture so you could get the full effect. Your mouth drops open as you hold it up and you smile when you see that it’s velvet.

“Wow…that’s…it’s beautiful,” Bella says, fingers reaching out to touch the material. “It’s so sexy but also really delicate.” She eats another bite and then offers you a bite which you gladly accept.

“She has great taste. Jesus…Harry’ll be happy,” you say giggling.

“What’s he like in bed? I’m sorry! I’m just…I’m dying to know.”

You turn to sit in front of her cross legged and grab the spoon for another bite before you answer. “He’s…intense. He’s dominant but also really gentle and he loves to…ummm…please me. He’s the best sex I’ve ever had. We’ve haven’t had sex in a couple of weeks with everything that’s gone on and I miss it. You really wanna know?”

Bella nods her head yea, eyes wide, spoon in mid-air.

“Sex with him is like a drug…and I’m totally addicted to him.”

“Woooowww…damn! I’m really really happy for you,” she says offering you another bite.

“Thank you. How’s life with Gavin?”

Bella blushes. “He’s so fun and cute and…uh…he gives it to me so good!” She says, covering her face with her hands, spoon straight up in the air.

You giggle. “I’m glad. We should be having amazing, earth shattering sex dammit!”

“Yeah!” Bella says and you both collapse into giggles.

“I’m starved. I need soup and carbs. Let’s go back downstairs!” You tell her, bath forgotten.

“Wait…there’s something else in here.” Bella says, holding up a black velvet bag. “Jewelry?”

“For which body part?” You say, giggling.

Bella almost chokes on the last bite of tiramisu.

You giggle and pull the gift out…and your mouth drops open.

“What is it?” Bella asks.

“I…ummm…it’s a Wharton’s Wheel,” you say running the spiky wheel over her arm.

“Ohhhhh…oh wow…like to use during sex?”

You nod. “Ummm, yes. Let’s just put this in the closet so Harry doesn’t find it,” you say gathering up the box and the tool and running to the closet to stash it in a drawer.

Bella’s still on the bed, mouth hanging open.

“Bells? You ok?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah…let’s go eat!”

“Gavin needs to take you to Pete’s Place,” you tell Bella as she ladles out soup for you both as you slice the bread and set out the butter.

“I’d love to go there!”

“Wait till you taste this!” You tell her as you both sit down and you watch her take a bite.

“Oh.my.god!”

“I know! It’s so so good. Eat up!” You tell her as you both dig in. You’re just enjoying spending time with Bella, eating Carina’s delicious soup, and feeling like a normal human being for the first time in weeks. By the last bite, you’re getting sleepy. “I’m more tired than I realized, I think,” you say as you drop your spoon in the empty bowl.

“Go get in the bath and I’ll clean up here.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do, actually or this wonderful soup will go bad and then I won’t be able to take it home with me,” she says, giggling.

You throw your head back and laugh and it feels so good. “It’s all yours! I’m gonna take a bath and go to bed. Are you ok in the guest room? Got everything you need?”

“I do…this place…your house is amazing!”

“Thank you. I love you, sweet Bells! Goodnight and thank you for everything,” you tell her, hugging her tightly.

“I love you. Goodnight,” she says quietly.

You take a bath and slip under the covers, breathing in Harry’s delicious scent. You drift off to sleep smiling thinking of him and fall into a deep sleep.

You feel him slip under the covers and you’re eyes fly open as his arms wrap around you. “Mmmm…you’re so warm, baby,” he says, against your ear and you feel the goosebumps break out on your skin. You roll over to face him. “I (kiss) missed (kiss) you (kiss)”, you tell him.

He smiles and kisses you deeply, his tongue at the seam of your lips and then his tongue is tangling with yours, tasting you and all you can do is give in…to the kiss, to this feeling…to him. He kisses you until you’re breathless and you feel the familiar ache of wanting him buried deep inside you and when he rolls over and presses against you, eyes meeting yours in the early morning light, you nod your head in response to his silent request and then he’s inside you, moving and hitting your spot over and over and over until you’re shaking and cumming with a shout of his name.

Your eyes fly open and you take a huge breath of air, the afternoon sun spilling in through the drapes and you try to get your bearings. You can still feel your pussy pulsing from your dream…but it had seemed so real! You look around and listen for sounds of life but all you hear is silence. You grab your phone and see a text from him letting you know that he’s already at the venue and Cal’s waiting if you need him to get you anything or take you anywhere. You see another text from Bella saying that she didn’t want to wake you but she has to go back to the Hamptons for more research and she’ll talk to you tomorrow. Right now all you care about is Harry. You’ve been in this horrible funk for weeks - lost in your own mind and finally you feel like yourself again. Sarah Jane was right all along…your desire for Harry would come back and it has. You get up and go to the walk in to find a cute dress and some skimpy lingerie and then to the bathroom to curl your hair into soft waves and apply your best makeup. You’ve tucked, tied and hooked every scrap of black lace in place on your body, the sheer spaces between the flowers of the lace cling tightly to your softness and show so much skin it looks like the lace is painted on. Your nipples pebble at the sight as you look in the mirror, twisting and turning to look at yourself. You’re a walking scandal in this tight get up courtesy of Milena. God, you feel the wetness dampen the fabric between your legs. If this is how you feel now, how’re you going to make it through the night. God it’s been too long…you’ve missed his touch, the smell of his skin, the pinch as he enters you. Yeah, it’s time to bring him home and show him how much you need him. You bend forward one last time to plump your breasts in the cups of bra closing your eyes and gasping at the feel of the fabric shifting over your sensitive nipples. You move to the closet and veer off to Harry’s side hoping the shirt you wanna wear is here and not in London. “Please, please, please…,” you beg the gods as you sift through his shirts. “Bingo!” you say as you rise on tip-toes to reach the hanger. The pink button up with black piping and emboideried “Styles” on the right breast. It’s an oldie, but it’s one of your favorites of his…one you remember seeing him in when his hair was long and you were quietly pining away for him. You hold it to your body and spin; after all you’ve been through the last few weeks it’s good to finally begin to feel like you’ve got the past put where it belongs and are looking forward to a future filled with hope, possibility and love. You slip the shirt over your shoulders and tie it at the waist. You can see the darkness of the lingerie through the fabric, but you throw modestly to the wind and, in fact, reach up and undo one more button to give just a peek of the black lace at your cleavage. Sliding into a pair of distressed, cutoff shorts and a pair of maroon Adidas sans socks, you choose to wear his cologne because for all the beautiful smells you have in your collection of perfumes, nothing makes you feel sexier than to smell like him. No, that’s not entirely true, smelling like him and his cum makes you feel the sexiest. “Naughty,” you say to yourself in the full length mirror.

You grab your phone and text Cal that you’re on your way down. You add in your message, that you want to keep this a surprise so if he would escort you inside so you don’t have to alert anyone else who might spill to H that you had a change of mind about coming to the show tonight. It’s late enough now, and you know how the show’s manage time enough now to know that Blood Orange will be finishing up their set and if you play it right, he should find you within a few minutes of being on stage.

Cal drives around the block a couple of times to waste some time before he enters the underground parking at the Garden. He does a double take when he looks in the rear-view mirror and sees you fluffing your hair with freshly slathered lip gloss.

“He’s gonna swallow his tongue, tonight, miss,” Cal says with a smile.

“You’re too nice, Cal,” you say returning his smile.

“He’s been worried about you…you can see it in his eyes.”

“Well, I was worried about me too there for a while, but now, I think I’m on my way back and….I…I’ve missed him so much, I mean…I know I’ve been with him all this time…but I’ve missed really being with him…giving him 100% of myself, yanno?” you confess.

“Well, excuse me for speaking out of turn, but I can guarantee that he’s been missing you too, miss. Worried and longing…I’ve seen it in his eyes…on his face…they way he looks out the window despondent at times.”

You look down at your hands feeling guilty and sad at the thought of Harry being despondent. A soul as pure as his should never be sad.

“Hey, don’t go beatin’ y’self up about it…kay? That’s what love is about…feeling what the other one feels and trying to work it out. He loves you, deeply. You’re his gift, his peace,” he unlocks the doors, “now, let’s go give him a big surprise, yeah?” He steps out and opens the door for you, “Go be his gift tonight,” he says shutting the door and holding out his elbow to escort you.

You take Cal’s arm and sigh. He drops you at the door to the backstage and a crew member smiles and ushers you in. You wave goodbye to Cal. You feel a surge of excitement that you haven’t felt in so long as you walk through the tunnels backstage happy that you’re not seeing anyone. You know he’s probably in the soft goods box right now so you can really surprise him. You smile as you make your way to the side of the pit that’s for friends and family. Everyone who sees you comes over to hug and kiss you and ask how you’re feeling. When the band comes on stage and gets settled, you wave at all of them frantically and you can see them beaming and waving back at you. Your heart races as the house lights go all the way down and the opening graphics fill the screen. You can’t remember the last time that you were this excited to see him on stage.

The music intensifies and then drops away and you see the spotlight in the middle of the stage and then the stage opens and you see him ascend from the depths of the stage and the crowd erupts in screams as they see him. You’re mouth drops open as he appears and you hear the chords of Daydreaming start up. He hasn’t noticed you yet but you can’t stop looking at him. Light blue flat front velvet trousers and a matching velvet vest and no shirt. He looks like sex on a platter and you can feel a shot of pure arousal shoot through your body and it surprises you with the intensity. It feels like so long that you actually felt this feeling. When Golden starts you feel his eyes slide over your section and he falters just a moment as he sees you. His eyes slide down your body and you see him gulp but then, ever the consummate performer, he catches himself and keeps the lyrics going. You scream and dance along with the crowd and when he comes close to your section, you make sure to unbutton another button on his shirt so he gets a nice view of your barely there bra and watch as his eyes go wide and his hand slowly slide down the front of his pants. Riling you up or trying to cover up an mid-concert erection or both you wonder as you watch him dance back over to the other side. He’s on fire, his movements more sexual than usual, especially during Cinema and it’s not gone unnoticed by his band. They’re smiles and knowing glances say it all, not that you notice. You don’t take your eyes off of him. His eyes don’t move from yours during Little Freak and you watch as he discreetly wipes a tear from his eye. The song - your song - seems to carry even more weight for the both of you now. You’re caught between laughing, screaming and crying throughout his entire set. Tommy comes to hug you tightly before the encore and you squeeze him back.

“Welcome back,” he says against your ear and you smile. I am back, you think. You feel the love from your parents all around you and you close your eyes briefly as Tommy pulls back and the house lights come up once again for Harry to finish his set. Tommy sways with you during Sign of the Times and jumps around with you during As It Was and Kiwi. You’re as giddy as anyone who’d paid for this privilege and you’re laughing as Tommy twirls you around for the floor shaking finale of Kiwi.

“C’mon, let’s get you backstage,” Tommy tells you as the band keeps the music going and you smile as you follow him backstage.

Slipping into the dressing room, he kisses your cheek with a wink and says, “He’ll be here before you know it.” He’s out the door and you take a deep breath.

You fidget trying to decide where to be and what to do, where to stand, “Oh for fuck’s sake,” you say to yourself feeling like you are seeing him for the first time.

You turn your back to the door and walk over to the clothing rack and run your fingers along the line up of clothing. They’re all neatly in plastic covers with an empty hanger at the front likely from where the blue velvet was hanging just a few hours ago. Damn, he looked so fucking good tonight you think as you smooth your sweaty palms down the denim of your shorts. Should I have worn shorts tonight, you think questioning yourself and feeling the nervous need to please him settle in.

Suddenly, a clacking of the door handle causes your breath to catch in your throat. The door swings open and swiftly shuts with a thud and the obvious click of the lock. You close your eyes and pull in an audible breath through your nose. For some reason you stand frozen with your back to him, unable to move even enough to look at him.

“Jezebel.”

You look over your shoulder and see him stand there leaning his back against the door, hand still on the door handle.

“Turn ‘round fo’ me.” You turn slowly and meet his stare and smile. That smile fired like a shot of the strongest drug straight to his vein flooding his bloodstream with need, a need that only you can satisfy. He pushes off the door not the least bit ashamed of the obvious erection currently tenting his trousers. It’s only a few steps, but he stalks with purpose and the look in his eyes nothing short of feral. You are his prey and he’s been circling you for weeks just waiting for your to be ready.

You can’t help but side-step and stumble slightly as your back finds the wall. He puts his hands on the wall on either side of you, one hand next to your shoulder, one up above your head. “H…?”

“Yeah, babe? D’ya ‘ave summat ta say?” he says voice thick and raspy from the set, accent thick with lust. His eyes search yours and his lips glisten from where he’s licked them.

“I need you.”

“Thank fuck,” he says as his fingers of one hand dive into the hair on the side of your neck and his thumb reaches your bottom lip. His thumb pushes and pulls the lip, “S’red…,” he says mindlessly, “Ya been bitin’ ya lip, Jezebel, hmm? Tell me, baby, ya been bitin’ this lip?” he asks as he moves his body closer, his leg situated so that his thigh is pressing against your core. “Ya let me bite tha’ lip, hmm? ‘M gonna bite this lip, an’ suck on it…an’ ‘m gon’ bite an’ suck on those lips too…” he says panting hard with his mouth millimeters away from yours, “Ya ready fo’ me…? Ya gon’ lemme ‘ave ya tanight?”

“Yes, Harry. Ar-Ar-Are you gonna kiss me?”

He just shakes his head and says, “All ov’r.”

You lick your lips the anticipation raising goosebumps and causing you to shiver all over.

There’s a knock at the door, “Harry, ice is r…”

“No’ tanight,” he responds with determination. “No, no’ tanight,” he whispers again as his mouth reaches your ear.

“Ya ready ta go home, sweet’eart?” he asks nosing your ear.

You push your hips forward against him, “Kiss me…” you whimper grasping the opening of his vest.

“So fuckin’ ‘fraid won’ be able ta stop…wan’ ya s’much.”

Leaning your forehead to his, “I want you too, please kiss me.” You smile into the tension, “Just a ‘lil taste….”

“Lyrics…,” he says just before he opens his mouth and his tongue darts out to lick the bottom lip he still thumbing. “Taste s’good, sweet, smell like me.”

“H…I want you all over me…please, take me home…make me yours,” you say frustratedly as you try to get him to kiss you.

“Cal’s got tha car ready, messaged him as soon as I could get ta ma phone. ‘Parently he was already waitin’ fo’ us.” He steps back and presses his palm against his crotch closing his eyes. “Sit, while I change…”

You move to sit on the couch and his fingers pull his vest off. He tosses it to the chair and smirks as you swallow hard, eyes large and pupils dilated.

“Should shower…’f ‘m honest, baby, need ta get rid of this…,’ he says looking down at his pants, “’Cause ‘m no’ gon’ last an’ ‘m gon’ fuck ya all nigh’, hear me?” You cross your legs and squirm in the seat, his eyes following your every movement. His expression turns serious as he leans down to kiss your forehead. “I need it, you need it. ‘ll be jus’ a second, Jezebel. Ya be alright?”

You whimper a huff of frustration, but nod your head reluctantly. “Aww, baby, won’t take long, I promise.”

He steps toward the bathroom but turns back around to lean down and devour your lips sucking the breath out of your throat. He tastes salty with sweat and the scruff of his chin is a delicious burn. “Love ya s’much.” He straightens and begins to unbutton and unzip as he heads toward the door.

As the water runs and you hear the light splashing you grip your knees trying to gain some control. Panties are ruined and stuck to the lips of your very wet pussy. Standing, you pull at the bottom hem of your shorts trying to decrease the friction of the denim pressing against your clit. You smell Harry’s soap and follow the scent to the cracked door to the bathroom and see his body reflected in the mirror over the vanity. His skin is covered in rivetlets of water, his hair wet curls. His soapy hand is fisted on his cock. You hiccup your breath and his head pulls up so that he can capture your eyes in the mirror. He simply smiles and keeps fisting. His mouth goes slack as you look at each other on the mirror and within seconds his groan turns into a growl, the muscle in his neck strain and the veins bulge. His body stiff as he releases the pent up need from the night. He’s panting and the water is dripping from his nose and chin as he keeps his eyes on you. “Jesus…” you whisper slur. You gulp and step back, as your rub your hands down your pelvis and thighs.

It only takes a couple more minutes before he comes out in joggers and a simple plain white t-shirt. He holds his hand out and pulls you to him. “Le’s go, Jezebel…’s time.”

You mouth falls open and a puff of air leaves your mouth, “I’m wet, H.”

“I know, baby, ma body can smell it…le’s get home, need ma honey.”

The car ride shouldn’t take long, his hands are controlled and he’s absurdly cool and collected and you’re collectively losing your battle with arousal. The apartment is only a few turns away, but you can’t stop the squirming. He looks out the window casually as he fingers the fringe on your shorts on the inside of your thigh. You smack your hand down on his and he simply grins and continues to look out the window like he’s not git a care in the world. You close your eyes and bite your bottom lip. Never breaking his stare out the window he reaches up and pulls your lip from your teeth, tsking. “Almos’ there, Jezebel, no’ much farther now.”

“No kidding, H…I’m almost there,” you sass back and squeeze his hand between your thighs.

He sucks in his lips trying not to chuckle, “Careful wi’ tha’ mouth, darlin’…”

“Or what, H…?” you say hoping to get a reaction… praying he’ll do something…that you can rattle this incredible control he has. He just meets your eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t you want me?” you ask on a whim.

He stares incredulously for a second then leans forward and noses your ear, “Jesus Jezebel, are ya tryna get in trouble? Swear ta Christ, ya ‘ave no fuckin’ clue how tigh’ this thread is, ‘m tryna keep it tagether. Ma heart is racin’, ma cock hurts an’ ‘m scared ‘m gonna hurt ya. ‘M tryna figure ou’ how ta take ya withou’ bein’ ta rough; how many ways I can fuck ya by mornin’. Tryna think of where tha toys an’ lube are…I’m hungry for ya, I want all of ya, I wanna show ya how much I love ya, love this body, love tha’ great big beautiful brain of yours. ‘M tryna think of who I need ta message ta make sure we ‘ave the next three days off ta fuck. An’ if ya ready fo’ tha’…’cause tha way ya danced tanight make me think ya are, bu’ I don’ wanna ‘ave misread ya. So yeah, baby, wha’ do YOU think? Do I wan’ ya?” The light spills in the car as Cal pulls into the parking garage and you both squint as it invades this moment. “Now, don’t push me until we get ta the apartment, I’m tryna maintain some privacy, babe.”

The front door clicks shut and the automatic locks latch in place. You turn to him with a soft smile.

He bends his knees slightly running his hands around to your bum as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Up,” he says as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He turns to the side and pushes you against the wall. Your eyes search each other’s faces. “Christ, I missed ya,” he says as his eyes dart between yours and your mouth.

“I felt so lost these last few weeks…you stayed…,” you murmur with tears in your eyes.

“’Course I stayed…ya ma love, ma everythin’. We face thin’s tagether. Ya mine fo’ fo’ever.”

“Kiss me Harry, please,” you say threading your fingers in the hair on the back of his head.

He opens his mouth and you open for him. Your tongues tangle and your heart rate picks up. He licks, and groans at your taste, you’ve missed his sexy sounds, the way he dives in deep like his very survival depends on his next taste of you. His teeth nip at your upper lip first, then your lower lip as he sucks it in between his. He pops off after several seconds just so you can both catch your breath. His nose smooshes yours and he rubs it up and down enjoying the feel of your skin and the smell of your lips.

His hips push into your core. “So warm on me, wan’ inside ya so bad. Need ta make ya cum, ov’r an’ ov’r, need ta see ya face, feel ya squeeze me…need ta hear ya say my name an’ tell me filthy thin’s ya only tell me.”

“Ya looked so good tonight, H. Your chest…your arms and you know how I feel about velvet. Did I surprise ya?”

“Fuck yeah, wha’ made ya feel like comin’ tanight?”

You blush furiously, “During my nap,” you bury your face in his neck. “I-I had a dream about us…about you…and me…in-in bed. Could feel your tongue and then I could feel you moving inside me. Just as I was about to cum I woke up…was wet and throbbing…for you.” You can feel his cock harden as you talk and unconsciously grind on him.

“Fuck, Jezebel,” he mutters against the skin of your neck just before he sucks the skin below your ear.

“Mmmm…Take me upstairs, please, I need you.”

He carries you to the stairs and you slide down his front and turn to walk up with him behind you.

“This ass,” he says, running his hand up the back of your thigh under the hem of your shorts to lightly pinch the fleshy part of your bottom.

When you get to the top of the stairs he says stop and he leans forward to kiss each cheek of your bum. “Ya wet fo’ me, love? Hmm? Gonna kiss ya all over.”

You turn and bite the side of your lip, “Harry, I’m so wet my jeans are soaked,” you say looking down from the stair landing at him a few stairs below.

“Show me.”

You look around, “Right here?”

“Righ’ here, righ’ now. Go on, spread ya legs an’ show me.”

You separate your legs, shoulder width apart and push out your hips with your hand on your tummy looking down to watch his eyes look between your legs. He reaches out a finger and runs it down the seam of your shorts right over your clit causing your breath to hitch. “Wet.” He runs his hands up the back of your thighs just before he leans forward and buries his nose between your legs. The motion pulls you forward enough to cause you to thread your fingers through his hair. “Mmmm, missed ya wetness…ya smell…go baby…go ta our bed.”

You turn and swiftly walk to the bedroom, him hot on your trail. You reach your shared bedroom where the bedside lamps are on and the curtains are pulled closed. You feel safety, warmth and love envelop you both inside the cocoon of your bedroom as he shuts the door behind him. You both kick your shoes off and begin to undress each other and steal kisses and touches along the way. You drop your shorts, untie and unbutton his shirt and leave it open to the lingerie you have on underneath.

He stops and stares. “Come here,” he says reaching for you and pulling you in close. Wrapping his arms around you tightly, “God, I missed ya,” he says against the skin of your neck. You feel him breathe deeply before he nips the skin there lightly. He pulls at his shirt that covers your shoulder to the side and kisses down the skin.

“Jesus, babe, I love ma shirt’s on ya, ‘specially ove’ lace. Swear ta god I love tha lace, jus’ righ’ now, I wan’ ya skin,” he pleads.

As you slip off the shirt and hand it to him seductively, he drapes it over the bench at the foot of the bed. He spies the crimson velvet drawstring bag from Milena’s gift. “Wha’s this?” he asks looking at you.

Unfastening the bra, you slip it from your shoulders, “Dunno, it came with the lingerie.”

He opens it and pulls out a silver tool with a handle and wheel on one end. The wheel end has little spokes and turns around spinning freely. “Ahh, yeah, seen one of these. ‘S meant ta be rolled along ya skin. Like this,” he says holding the Wartenberg Wheel by the handle and running the wheel along the inside of your arm.

“Hahh…mmm…,” you shiver at the spikey sensation as your body covers ion goosebumps

“’S good?” he asks smiling softly.

You gulp, “Yeah, it’s light, it’s sensual and erotic.”

“How’s it feel here,” he asks placing the wheel at the base of your neck and gently rolling it down your sternum, tummy, past your belly button, down to the area just above your panty waistband.

Your head falls back and a soft groan falls from your open lips. Your hands are fisted and your knuckles turn white as you roll your neck at the relaxing sensation.

Harry eyes your every movement, so very happy to see you relaxing and letting go for him. His cock twitches as you smile at the sensation of it along your pubic bone. “Do ya have any idea how fuckin’ sexy ya are…hmmm? Ya body is amazing an’ when ya let go fo’ me… ‘s a fuckin’ gift…’s my gift.” With his free hand he grabs your wrist and pulls your palm to his crotch. “Feel that? ‘M s’hard. Such a test of ma concentration…tanight seein’ ya move ta my music…sing tha words…’s a ego trip, love.”

Your head rolls forward and your eyes meet his as you run your fist up and down his hard cock. “H….There’re thousands of women out there singing and moving to your music…”

“But they aren’ you. Ya mine. I know when ya move a certain way… ‘s tha same way ya move when we fuck. Certain looks ya give are tha same as tha ones I see when ya cum.”

“Oh, H…I-I-I’m so so wet, I want, I…”

“Wha’, Jezebel…darlin’ wha’ d’ya wan’?”

“Want you mouth on me, take me away and make me cum, it’s been so long.”

He kisses you swiftly then turns you around toward the bed. “Please ge’ on ya ‘ands an’ knees fo’ me.”

You crawl up on the bed and stop in nothing by your cheeky panty. Before you can move to take the panties off, you feel the Wartenberg wheel begin at the base of your neck and roll down along your spine causing you to shiver. He doesn’t stop once it reaches the base of your spine. He continues to roll the wheel down the crease of you bum along the fabric of your panties….down and around to your lace covered clit. “Oooo, H…Harry…” you stutter as the sensation causes your body to vibrate and your sex to gush wetness.

“Good?” he questions.

“So damn good, Harry. I want more. I want your mouth,” you whine.

He pulls your panties down and helps you get them off, leaving you naked on hands and knees as he slides his hands up your back to your shoulders where he gently pushes your head down leaving your bum high in the air your sex on full display to him.

“Jesus Christ, babe, ya drippin’ fo’ me,” he says running his finger through the creamy wetness between the folds of your swollen pussy.

He drops to one knee at the foot of the bed. One hand grasps yours and the other wraps around one of your thighs as he leans forward to place a soft open-mouth kiss over your clit.

You groan and squeeze his fingers. In response he flicks his tongue out and rhythmically brushes along your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Harry!”

“Already baby?”

“Unngahh, mmm, yeah,” you say swallowing gulps of air.

“Come on sweet Jezebel, cum fo’ me…lemme see ya let go.”

“Unngah..Hahh, Hahh, Hahh…Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!” Your body tenses all over and your channel clenches over and over. Your thighs quiver and you pant your breath as he kisses the base of your spine. You collapse to the side shivering with release.

“Better baby?”

“Yes! Harry, I want more. I want you…no, I need you…need more of you…need you inside me, please.”

“Don’t worry swee’eart, I’ve go’ ya…need ta be inside ya.” He helps you scoot up on the bed and place your head on the pillow. You’re so lost in the moment, in the passion and need you immediately lie open for him. “Put ya hands over ya head.” You raise your hands and lay them flat, palms up on the pillow. “Yeah, just like that,” he says as he stretches out over you. He curls his fingers around yours, holding tight and moves his lips to yours. Tilting his head to one side he opens his mouth to you, kissing, licking, and tasting. “Mmm, love ya so much, no’ sure ya understand… been s’worried, wanted s’badly ta jus’ make everythin’ better, never felt s’helpless.” He murmurs against your mouth as he moves to your cheek and down to your neck just below your ear to your shoulder and then down to your nipple.

“I’m sorry I left you worrying and I’m sorry I couldn’t make love.”

He stops immediately leaving a soft kiss next to your nipple. “Baby I don’ halfta penetrate ya ta make love ta ya. We make love wi’ tha time we spend tagether, we make love when we jus’ show up fo’ one another. Ev’ry show, ev’ry moment ya been on tha road wi’ me, ya make love ta me. Ya had some shit ta deal wi’… we dealt an’ we made it out jus’ fine…we’re still dealin’ an’ we’ll ‘ave more come up through tha years, we’ll make love through those moments too, yeah?” he says eyes meeting yours.

You smile and thrust your hips up, rubbing your clit on his hard shaft. “But now…Harry…now, I want you to fuck me, please.” You squeeze his fingers and try to move your hands, but he’s got a firm hold on them against the mattress. The pinned sensation driving you wild, “Just let go of all the control you’ve had tonight, because I need your wild as much as I need the tender side of you. I need to feel you deep… I-I’m aching for you and it’s been so long since you just took me.”

He smirks and draws his eyes back to your nipple.

“Bite…” you whisper.

Keeping his eyes focused on you, his tongue darts out just as his mouth latches on and you immediately feel his teeth roll your sensitive bud. You squeeze his hands and suck in your lips with a moan, “Yeeessss…” you whimper, savoring the pleasure mixed with the bit of pain. “Harder…” you whine. You draw your knees up to cradle more of him and feel more of his cock. “It’s been so long, H…”

He releases one hand long enough to reach down and run his sensitive head along your slit. Your brows furrow at the sensation, and you can’t help pushing into the nudge at your entrance. He tries to push in and feels just a slight of resistance. “Relax for me, baby.”

You take a deep breath and try to relax a little more. But you still feel the tightness and grimace just a little.

“Take a deep breath an’ push out fo’ me.”

You do as he asks and he pushes in deep, “Haaaarrrryyy,” you whisper-gasp, “stings a little…but I’m ready for you to move.” He pulls out and then thrusts back in as deep as before, but holds still. You squeeze his hands, “don’t stop…”

“Ya sure?”

“So sure…I want you…all of you…”

“Ya go’ me, Jezebel, all of me…” He pulls out and thrusts back in over and over steady…never slowing.

Although you’ll likely be sore, you relish the pinch.

“God, ya feel s’fuckin’ good, Jezebel, Jesus fuckin’ Christ…uhhh…I’ve missed ya…missed my cunt, missed the way ya feel, the way ya sound, the way ya look…”

You feel a rush of wetness and you move your hips under his and your fingers grip his hand. “I’ve missed you, Harry….so, so much! Feels so good!”

“Yeah?” He says, grinding his hips into yours.

You nod, lips brushing his he’s so close. “Yes! Ahhh…mmmm…” eyes fluttering closed.

“Eyes open, Jezebel. Wanna see ya…wanna see ya as I take ya.”

You open your eyes and smile as you see him looking at you, his eyes sparkling with his love for you.

He smiles back at you. “Love it when ya smile when I’m fuckin’ ya,” he breathes out, pressing his lips to yours.

You lift your legs higher on his sides causing him to slip in a little deeper. You moan into his mouth as his tongue tangles with yours. You smile as he picks up the pace and his kisses trail down your cheek to your neck and then his head pops up to meet your eyes again. You’d missed this feeling so much…the way he fills you up, yes, but also the connection you feel when he makes love to you.

He shifts and you gasp as he hits your g spot. “Righ’ there?”

“Yes! Ungh!” You say as he hits your spot on every thrust.

“Ya feel s’good baby…fuck, fuck, fuck, can feel ya pulsin’…shit!”

“Mmmm…”

“Eyes on me, Jezebel. Wanna see ya cum fo’ me.” He knows you’re close. “Cum fo’ me, baby. Need ya ta cum.”

“Harry!” It’s a sharp cry of his name as you feel your orgasm hit you full force and you say his name over and over again as everything goes white.

Somewhere in the distance you can hear his loud “fuck!” and feel him still buried deep inside you but you’re shaking. You open your eyes as he lets go of your wrist and your hands slap down on his shoulders.

“Ya need ta cum again, don’ ya?”

You whisper out a soft yes.

You don’t break eye contact as his fingers move between you and he finds your clit and his fingers move on your sensitive skin. “Go on then, Jezebel. Cum fo’ me again.”

Your hands grip his shoulders tight as you feel another orgasm rip through you and this time it’s you who’s nearly screaming.

“Fuck! Let everyone how good I’m makin’ ya feel…fuck!” He says, rolling over beside you and pulling you into him.

Your fingers are still shaking as you move your hand to the hair on the nape of his neck. “I missed you…missed this. The way you make me feel…our connection.”

He nuzzled his nose into yours. “Know ya did, Jezebel. Missed it s’much. Gonna show ya how much I missed it fo’ the next three days.”

“Promise?”

He laughs his breathy little laugh. “Promise. I’ll fuck ya til ya can’t walk if ya wan’.”

You smile at each other and then he presses his lips to yours and all you can think about is how happy you are.

#the roses #original content #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #friends to lovers

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