Emma & Killian have found their way back to their own time, but finding their home again will prove to be another adventure entirely…The Tale of a reunited family, an inescapable destiny and the marvels of indoor plumbing.
Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan
♥️♥️♥️
“I can see three from here, lad,” Killian heckled, delighting in Henry’s frantic searching of the bookshelf, the small multicolored wrapped chocolates glittering in the morning sunlight. He had stayed up late, having plotted for weeks since learning of this pirate-approved holiday- it’s religious, babe, not pirateous- mapping out the perfect places to hide his grocery bag of loot- hiding treasure? That’s a pirate activity, Swan.
She had stolen a handful of eggs from his bag, and he tsked his tongue at her, setting a small egg on the ledge to ensure it would stay in place, before snatching it back and moving to the next location he had selected. “That’s not a word, Swan.”
“It’s on Urban Dictionary,” she defended, cheeks bulging from the eggs she had popped into her mouth lest he try to retake them. His answer was a disgruntled grunt and the side look he shot her told her exactly what he thought of the dictionary he had never heard of.
The morning was slightly less chaotic than Christmas, but the children vibrated with an energy echoing the sugar which awaited them, and Killian couldn’t help but feel swept along with their enthusiasm, heart skipping as he watched Henry kneel and point to the eggs he had hidden in plain view for Hope.
The sight settled something, a small piece of his soul which still remained anchorless and drifting, calling out to the memory of a home they left behind. This was better, his heart whispered, warm and solid in his chest, this is far, far better.
Hope vibrated with excitement, hoping like a bunny through the living room as Henry helped her find enough eggs to fill her small basket. She was sated for the time being, small fingers diligently unwrapping yet another foiled chocolate egg- she probably doesn’t need any more today, kid- attention entirely on her task as she ignored the dramatic hunt taking place in the next room, Killan’s laugh reverberating through the main floor- warmer…ah, no…. cooler now…. warmer- dressed in bunny pajamas Mary Margaret had brought the evening before, declaring she had informed the Easter Rabbit- it’s a bunny, Mom- that it was to stop by the loft on its way through town.
They were heading to the loft for dinner, instructed to bring baskets for the eggs that the Rabbit would leave- rabbits are the same as bunnies, Emma- and the boardgame Henry was telling them about the weekend before.
“Ugh.”
“Getting warmer.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re cheating,” Henry groused, dragging a chair from the kitchen over, the feet scraping angrily over the gleaming hardwood Killian insisted they keep polished with the floor attachment her mother had bought him for Christmas- aye, Swan, I do like this contraption- before hopping on the seat, cawing gleefully when he seized a caramel filled egg from the top shelf.
“I would never,” Killian scoffed, hiding a smile behind the mug of coffee Emma had pressed into his palm, weary eyed and grumpy over the early morning- enjoy this for me, babe.
“You do,” Henry surveyed the room from his new perch, leaping down and dragging the chair behind him to retrieve two candies from the window ledge. “All the time!”
He found two more eggs before gloating that there could not possibly be any more left hidden, and he was more than prepared to move on to the kitchen.
Killian’s response was to raise an eyebrow, push dramatically away from where he had been lounging on the sofa and swipe four eggs Henry had missed from the picture frame above the mantel- Hey! Wait!- smirking as he unwrapped and popped them into his mouth. “Now, the living room is clear,” he ruffled Henry’s hair and picked the chair up to return it to the kitchen.
I’m seriously embarrassed that it took so long for me to post the second part of my @neverlandnewyear fic, but finally, here we are: Part Two at last!! This will be the conclusion of this particular story, so hopefully you will feel I’ve wrapped it up with a bit of steam, and bit of a comeuppance for Neal, and a little fun for our pirate and princess too!
In case anyone needs it after so long, I’ve included a link to Part One, to refresh your memories!
Written for the CS Neverland New Year 22 Event
Contains imagined missing moments or revisions from the end of episode 3x06 “Ariel” - after they’ve exited the Echo Caves. The point-of-view switches between Killian and Emma at the section break, as it did in the first part - it picks up right where that one ended. This is the final part of this particular story.
Killian didn’t stop moving - couldn’t stop moving - crashing and blundering more loudly and blindly than he usually allowed himself on this accursed island, (than was truly safe) the further he got from the crushing reunion he had left behind him. More important than the Lost Boys or island beasties he might alert with his movements was seeing that he was far removed from any in his band of heroes witnessing the disappointment and hurt searing across his face. Already, only scraps remained of the renewed hope Emma Swan had reignited in his heart, and he was scrambling to gather those last tatters around himself, as much as he would his heavy leather duster in a downpour.
But it was proving more difficult than he would like.
Finally, he came to an abrupt stop as the ground before him fell away sharply - a steep gorge marking the end of the pixies’ domain and lowering down into the borders of the tribal natives’ land. He had nearly forgotten the boundary in the years since his last venture through Neverland’s jungles. Thankfully, the trees and foliage had thinned enough near the rocky edge to warn him just in time.
Staring down, chest heaving to regain his breath, Killian hung his head, admitting to himself that he had to stop before he tumbled into some unseen chasm or ran right into one of Tiger Lily and her band’s poison arrows. The dark green maze cut through by jagged rock outcrops and winding streams was not as he remembered either - thicker, deeper, and even more foreboding than it had been when he’d lived there long ago (though he would have reckoned that impossible before this return). The last thing he needed was to force the very people he was trying to gain some space from to come to his rescue. And he certainly couldn’t bear to appear any more pitiable to Swan than he must already. That dratted confession he’d made had only served to allow her to fall into the arms of her boy’s father.
As his breathing slowly returned to normal, Killian pinched his eyes closed against that image replaying itself in his mind’s eye. He merely needed a moment to get himself under control, slide the veneer back into place, and pretend that all was as it should be. He might not be able to pass off his confession in the Caves as anything but the unvarnished truth - the bridge it had begun made doing otherwise impossible - but he could regain the insouciant charm, the cavalier, devil-may-care attitude he wielded so expertly and carry on as though it didn’t matter that much to him. True, Swan had somehow gotten past his defenses, wormed her way into his chest, and cracked his heart back open to feeling once more, but if he played it off as a passing fancy, brushed it aside, ‘out of sight, out of mind’, would any of them bother to look past what they thought they knew of the “scoundrel pirate” to see how false it would be?
With a weary sigh, Killian attempted to steel himself; his mind made up. Play this right and he might leave Neverland still in possession of a shred of his dignity. It wouldn’t be his first time hiding the hurt he bore, burying it to use as fuel to push him forward. He’d merely thought he might be able to stop doing so. One of these days, though after centuries one would think he had suffered enough, he would stop entertaining foolish hope.
I love it when Emma puts Neal in his place!!!!! It just pisses me off when he thinks he’s entitled to something that he doesn’t deserve!!!! So thank you for that!!!!
And I love that Killian was trying to get away from the scene thinking he had lost all Hope only for Emma to come to him and show him how she feels and that he still has Hope!!!!!
Thank you for this amazing story!!!!! I will be going to re read again!!!!
Emma & Killian have found their way back to their own time, but finding their home again will prove to be another adventure entirely…
The Tale of a reunited family, an unescapable destiny and the marvels of indoor plumbing.
Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan❤
♥️♥️♥️
The motor whined in protest as Emma shoved the vacuum across the carpeted landing, annoyed with the confetti they were still finding- how is this possible? Are we producing it?- from the New Years Eve party her mother decided to throw in their new house. Christmas has been a complicated affair, and while he knew a key to surviving it would be to keep Emma content and comfortable on the sofa with her cranberry ginger ale- these are amazing, babe, you need to try one- and the mess contained as much as possible to the kitchen, it hadn’t been a smooth evening, and there had been more than one awkward silence.
“Everytime you vacuum it smells like burning, love.”
“That’s not my fault,” she snarled at the vacuum, malice taking over her face as she banged the poor contraption against the floor, a veiled threat bordering on a meltdown.
Her emotions had been an erratic mess the last few weeks, far more so than they had been at home. He stopped, hand extended to take the vacuum from her grasp, the threat of tears clear on her face. No, he corrected himself, forcing his body to move once more. This was home.
It had been a mantra of theirs since they had moved into the house, entirely unfurnished and so very much like their move to the cottage that they had both cried that first night, overwhelmed with longing and the old-new-wrongness of Storybrooke. It wasn’t the same. But it was home.
“Have you cleaned it?”
“It’s a vacuum, babe, you don’t clean it, you clean withit.”
“That’s a no. So it will be full of your hair again?”
She huffed and stomped down the stairs, and he counted to ten before the refrigerator door opened.
He pulled the plug from the socket at the wall- it’s not a tripping hazard if you know you need to step over it, babe- coiling it quickly and hauling the small machine down the stairs. He had set up a small workshop in their garage, which had come in handy several times already. Henry had sat beside him holding a laptop steady as a video played on repeat- this is YouTube, and it’s awesome- to teach him how to repair whatever it was that had broken.
“There is more of that juice you like in the garage, love,” he pressed a kiss against the top of her head, the smell of her shampoo, something floral and almost right, filling his chest, “I’ll go get it, aye?” She merely nodded, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a jar of fruit preserve- it’s called jam here, or jelly I guess, I don’t know if there is a difference- which she had happily produced from her shopping bag the day before.
The garage was dark, the high ceiling with it’s exposed rafters reminding him of the barns he had spent the last three years working in, but the smell of animals was replaced by stale motor oil and he supposed, hoisting the vacuum up onto the workbench, there was something painfully poetic in that reality.
Emma has asked him, voice quiet against his skin as he read to Hope one night from a brightly coloured book about a rainbow fish, if he thought Soarise noticed she was gone. His voice had caught in his throat and Hope pulled at the pages as he held the book, falling loose in his grasp. He nodded, not knowing which answer was best, but choosing honesty over anything else.
A slip of bright paper floated in the gentle breeze from the half open door, confetti from over a week ago, and he watched it as it settled in the corner, fluttering as if cornered and alive. A pinboard was hung on the wall in front of him, a leftover remnant from the last owner of the house, and he swiped the square of paper, bright blue like the sea, like the dress Emma wore for their wedding, like the bright clever eyes of their child, and pinned it to the cork. It may not have been the most successful of parties, but it had been theirs.
rating:M/E for sexual themes, smut (pls only read if youre 18+)
summary:You send Nathan accidental nudes and that turns into something else…
a/n:thank you so much for the response from part one!! be sure to read that one before this one!! and as always thank you to @punkpascaland@sergeantkane for making this moodboard for me! let me know what yall think!
That morning when you wake up there’s a stack of paper, your phone, and a breakfast tray on the table in your room. You didn’t even hear Kyoko come in. You can only assume Nathan is working, and you don’t want to bother him this early.
You still can’t believe last night was even real. Even when you wake up it takes you a moment to remember where you are.
With a stretch and a sigh, you climb out of bed. You reach for your phone immediately and see a text from Nathan on the home screen. He put his number in your phone and you flush at the mere thought of having a text relationship with him.
The text from him says that he is working, but you’re welcome to come ask him any questions you may have about the thesis. That’s what’s on the table. It’s a heavy stack of paper. The text also tells you that you don’t have to read the entire thing, but enough to see if any of it makes sense.
You’ll read in a moment, first you want to eat some of that breakfast. It’s an assortment of fruit and oatmeal. There’s also some toast and a glass of milk, water, and orange juice. It’s all so good and you’re happy to eat something so fresh.
You also notice nearby is a stack of your clothes from yesterday, they’ve been washed and dried. You get up to pull on your underwear only, you like feeling Nathan’s shirt on your skin.
Once you’ve finished eating, you reach for the papers. You begin to thumb through them and it’s almost impossible to read. Hardly any of it makes sense to you, and you don’t know if you should feel dumb that he thinks you could read it, or dumb that he’s so smart to write something of this scale.
A text alert causes you to jump while you’re deep in this thesis. It’s from your cousin.
‘Where are you?’
‘You’ll never guess! I’m a Nathan Bateman’s!’
You text back and forth for a while. You catch her up on all that’s happened in the last few hours. You stop texting her to take a couple selfies showing her where you are. You playfully take a couple nudes; you lift his shirt and take some aesthetic looking photos of yourself.
You send one of the normal selfies to her. But then joke that you took nudes.
‘You should send them to him!’ she teased back.
You’re about to send her another photo when Nathan texts you and ask how it’s going. But you don’t register it’s from him and before you know if you’ve sent him one of your nudes.
You drop your phone in a panic and burst out the door. You have no idea where he even is, but you bolt down the hall to find him. You remember him pointing out his work area on the tour last night.
You turn the corner quickly and see him sitting quietly at his desk. There are several screens in front of him, and behind that is a wall covered in sticky notes.
He glances up at you, but you can’t tell if he saw it or not. His expression is blank. He seems confused now that you’ve sprinted into his office.
“Something wrong?”
“Please tell me you didn’t look at them.”
A slow smirk appears on his face. He saw it.
“So… who was that meant for if not me?” he scoots back in his chair to look at you better.
“Look, I was sending it to my friend to uh, hype me up. And I accidentally sent it to you.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. From the running, but also the thought of him seeing the photo. Ok yes, he saw you naked yesterday, but not like THIS. “Did you look at it?”
“Of course, I looked,” he shrugs and licks his lips. “And I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to. But I kinda get the feeling you wanna hear my thoughts,” his smirk is plastered to his face.
“Just tell me, you’re dying to say something. You have been since you saw me last night,” you blush hard.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous and I’d kill to touch your tits,” he states without so much as blinking. “But hey, it’s fine,” another shrug. “We can forget about this. No harm done.” He rolls back up to his screens.
“Wait,” you speak up, and he turns to face you again. You sigh heavily before you speak again, “ok so the picture was for you, sort of. I wanted to send it to you whenever I got the guts to make a move. So, I sent them to my friend to get her opinion, but I sent it to you instead by mistake.”
He sits quietly, his mouth quirks up in a soft smile.
“Is that you making the first move?” he asks referring to the ‘conversation’ last night.
You nod, biting your lip.
“Alright then,” he stands and cracks his neck.
“Right now?”
“Why not? You got somewhere you’d rather be?”
“I suppose now is the time I tell you that I’m, uh…. virgin,” you look down at your feet.
His expression softens and he takes a few steps forward. He puts a warm hand on your neck, just under your jaw and ear, “I’ve got you, okay? We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, but if you are… I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”
He lowers his hand to your hip, and it all comes spilling out. “I want this. I want you. You’ll just have to show me how.” You blink at him, “you really liked my tits?”
He brushes his thumb along your hip, his skin burns through the fabric of his shirt.
“I wouldn’t waste my breath on it if I didn’t,” he leans closer to you. His body heat warms you in an entirely different way than last night. “Is my room ok?” he whispers. All you can do is nod, but you smile. He does too and grabs your hand.
“I can’t believe that one picture of me did all this,” you lean into his shoulder as you walk over to his bedroom.
“Yeah? Well, you have some pretty powerful tits,” he chuckles. “Right in here,” his hand moves to your lower back pointing you towards his room.
“Look,” you start to talk while he sits down on the bed. He’s watching your every move. You know he knows you’re nervous. “I know this is probably going to be meaningless sex to you, but it’s not to me ok?”
“Kitten,” he frowns, “this is not meaningless to me. I told you last night, you’re exactly my fuckin’ type and I’d be a dumbass if I let you go. I mean if you want to leave, Kyoko will show you the door.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Really. I wanna get to know you. Every bit of you.”
“So, we’re starting with sex first,” you bite your lip, and he shrugs.
“What better way to get acquainted?”
“We haven’t even kissed yet…”
“You have to come closer if you want me to touch you, kitten.”
Each step closer to him makes your knees shake. You come to stand in between his spread legs and his hands grab your lower back. He pulls you onto his lap and goes right for your lips. His tongue slips between your lips and you moan. You grind yourself down on him and feel him harden between your legs and you gasp.
“Sure, you’ve never done this before?” he murmurs into your neck. “I got you,” he reminds you.
“Don’t say you won’t bite unless I want you to. Because I do. I do want you to,” you whine a little.
“Noted.”
He nibbles under your ear gently and you squeak. He squeezes you tighter and chuckles, his grip is tight.
“We need to get you out of those clothes,” he repeats his phrase from last night. This time it’s even scarier, but more exciting. He tugs on the hem of your shirt asking permission, which you give. He peels off the shirt revealing your bare chest underneath.
You wriggle under his gaze as his eyes rake over your body. You can feel him growing harder still beneath you.
“Please say something,” you whisper.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. I wanna…,” he clears his throat, “can I touch you, baby?”
You nod and his thumbs brush against your nipples first. His touch is soft, he traces all around your breasts with his fingers. Then he palms your breasts and squeezes. He bounces them, feeling the weight in his strong hands.
“Kitten,” he mouths at your neck. “I haven’t seen an actual person in months, and I haven’t touched a woman in well over a year. You’re gonna kill me.”
“In a good way I hope?” you moan a little. “Because you’re killing me.”
“Good?” he asks squeezing a little harder. “Fuck… fucking perfect. You seriously have the best tits I’ve ever seen, baby.”
When he lowers his head to your nipple, that’s when you really cry out. He hums happily and sucks harder. You buck your hips and he only seems to encourage it. He likes you wanting him. And he needs you, you can feel his need.
His beard brushes against your soft flesh and you shudder. He files that away with a quirk of his eyebrow.
“Nathan-“ you whine. “Please.”
“Please what kitten? Use your words baby.”
“Lay me down?” you writhe again in his lap.
“Good girl.” He pats your ass and stands with your legs wrapped around him. He lays you down, then spreads his body on top of yours. He kisses your lips over and over. He thrusts himself onto your thigh and groans into your cheek. “Are you real?” he sighs happily with a soft groan.
“I keep asking myself that,” you laugh.
He chuckles deep in his chest and sits up, pulling off his shirt. You reach for him right away and he shivers under your hands.
“You feel so good,” you tell him, tracing his skin. He’s toned, but still has a softness to him. It’s perfect. And he’s warm, so warm.
He moves down between your legs, giving you another look asking for permission. You hesitate this time, and he waits patiently for you to nod. He doesn’t budge until you do.
His fingers dance along the hem of your panties and he slides them down. He whistles softly when he sees you’re wet and needy for him.
“All that for me, kitten?” he looks up at you. He leans up to kiss your lips and he murmurs against you again. “You ever use that vibrator and think about me? Want me to go get it? Let me make your fantasies real kitten.”
You can only blink at him and you open your mouth trying to speak.
“Baby, I can’t make your dreams come true if you don’t open that pretty mouth,” he chuckles. “Where do you want me? C’mon. It’s just me, no need to be shy.”
“But- you’re you!” you laugh. “Just, please, touch me.” You grab his hand and guide him to touch between your legs. “I want you here.”
“Good girl,” he praises again and kisses your hip. He slips a finger inside with ease and he delights in that. His thumb brushes your clit and when you shiver, he smirks. He knows he’s on the right track with you. “Can I add another?” he asks.
“Please!” you cry, and he obliges. The second finger is a pinch, but a welcome one. His thumb presses harder on your clit and rubs in tight circles.
“Feel good?” he asks though he knows the answer. He can read your body like all the code he works on. You clench around him, and he continues his touch. His fingers curl deep inside and you let out a loud moan. “There it is,” he hums and kisses your thigh. “You’re doing so good, kitten.”
You moan his name when you find your release, and he works you through it. His voice is soft but commanding and full of praises.
“You did so good baby. So, so good. Ready for more?”
“Please,” you buck your hips up. “Can I touch you?”
He climbs off the bed to pull off his shorts, his hard dick springs free. He pumps himself a few times and sits down next to you on the bed.
“Have you ever touched one before?” he asks, there’s no jest in his tone but he really, really is turned on that his dick is going to be the first one you’ve touched. And he wants to hear you say it.
“No,” you reach for him and he puts your hand on him.
“The tip is the most sensitive part,” he breathes, your hand already feeling good. “Fuck, yeah just like that.”
“You’re…big. Are you going to fit?”
He wants to moan, but he holds back. He’s so turned on from your shyness.
“I’ll fit kitten,” he chuckles warmly. “Fuck, squeeze harder-“
You squeeze him and enjoy the warmth and weight of him in your hand. He looks perfect, just like you imagined he would.
“Yes,” you whisper.
“Yes what?” he chokes out a gasp and pushes you off him.
“Yes, I used my vibrator and thought about you.”
“Thought so,” he winks and positions himself between your legs. “You ready for me? I’ll go slow.”
“Wait-“ you stop him before he does anything else. He pauses, he’s about to ask if you want to stop when you gently pull off his glasses. You get a better look at his soft brown eyes, and he seems almost shy when you look at him. He clears this throat. He reaches for your hands; he pins your wrists above your head and kisses you deeply while he pushes inside slowly. You moan together and he checks your face for any pain or apprehension. Your eyes are closed, and your mouth is open, and he hums kissing your cheeks.
“You with me kitten?”
“Push in more,” you gasp, and he chuckles darkly doing as you ask. He shudders, your warmth feels so good to him. He buries his face in your neck and tells you so.
“You have the best pussy,” he grunts as he pushes in all the way.
“You better not just be saying that” you gasp.
“Kitten, are you ever going to believe me when I say I don’t mince words? I mean what I fuckin’ say,” he purrs. He’s straining, he wants to move so badly. “Please, kitten- tell me how you feel. Use those words baby.”
He lets go of your hands and he starts to move. You grab his head and hold on for dear life while he snaps his hips into yours. You know he’s still holding back and if you told him to, he’d unleash his full power on you.
You wrap your legs around him, and while the feeling of him is new and foreign it feels good. There’s a dull ache, but it’s wonderful. Wonderful because it’s him.
“Nathan,” you moan, “let go. Manhandle me. Fuck me hard.”
He makes a strangled sound between a gasp and a laugh and starts to push into you hard. He holds your body close to his and he sits up, pushing deep into you. His face buries into your tits and he moans, he fucking moans into your skin.
You reach between your bodies to touch yourself, but he shoves your hand away. He rubs you tight until you’re clenching around him. You’re both covered in sweat and breathing heavily when he nears his end.
“Fuck, fuck. Where do you want me to come? Tell me now,” he growls. His thrusts are sloppy, his dick jumps inside you and he squeezes you tight.
“In me,” you moan, and no sooner did the words leave your lips did he spill himself inside of you.
“Holy fucking shit,” he sighs with a soft laugh. He cradles your head and lays you back down. He pulls out with a shudder as he kisses your forehead. “Fuck that was amazing. You were amazing.”
“I feel amazing,” you look up at him. Your body is humming.
“Can I run you a bath?”
“Will you join me?”
“Well, that was the plan…”
You shove his chest playfully. “Your thesis sucks by the way.”
“Ouch!” he puts his hand over his heart.
“I didn’t understand any of it!”
“I didn’t think you would. Really it was just an excuse for you to stay a little longer.”
Oh.
OH.
“Well why didn’t you just say so?” you smile warmly.
“Cuz I’m a dumbass when it comes to women.” He gives you a genuine smile. “And I didn’t want to scare you anymore than you already were last night. I wanted you to want to come to me on your own terms. And I knew that if you didn’t understand the thesis that meant you really are here for me. And not my secrets.”
“So why did you give me the money?”
“Wanted to.”
“What am I going to do with you?” you laugh.
“Hopefully, a lot,” he nips at your chin.
“Nathan!” You shake your head laughing, but inside you feel it. That pull. You’re already falling for him and he is too. “I think I’m going to tell my cousin I’m going to stay-“
“Forever?”
“Yes,” you laugh. “Maybe I will.”
“We’ll get your things tomorrow. I want to meet my future cousin-in-law.”
Finally going home was tough. You didn’t want to leave Harry, but you had already been gone for so long and you only had so much vacation time you could take at work.
You tried to make it work. Harry called as often as he could. He’d text you in the morning and at night at the very least, and you’d end up falling asleep on FaceTime together most nights.
It wasn’t the relationship you had ever pictured for yourself, but you were happy. You couldn’t see yourself being this happy with anyone else, even with all the hiccups.
What you didn’t know was that happiness was about to be challenged.
It was rare when Harry called midday, so when your phone rang around 1pm one day and Harry’s face and name appeared on the screen, you were pleasantly surprised.
“Hey honey,” you said when you answered. “To what do I owe the pleasure of an early call?”
Harry’s laugh sounded like music to your ears. “You make it seem like I don’t talk to you when the sun is up.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. Of course you text me in the mornings. It’s just the phone calls that are for the nighttime with you.”
“Okay, you got me there.”
“For real, what’s up? Is everything alright?”
“That depends on how you react to this news.”
Your heart started to pound in your chest. You weren’t sure if you wanted to hear what he had to say now.
“I just got out of a meeting with my manager and the producers for Don’t Worry Darling,” he explained. “They had some ideas on how to gain some attention for the movie. It’s just…” He sighed. “It’s stupid. I tried to talk them out of it but no one would listen to me - ”
“Just tell me what they wanted, Harry.”
He hesitated before saying, “They want me to go on a few PR dates with Olivia.”
And there went your heart, sinking into your stomach. “How…how many?”
“I don’t know.”
“For how long?”
“Till the movie comes out at least. They want us to pretend to be together a month extra just so it doesn’t seem like PR, but our contracts have the release date of the movie as our end date.”
“You’ve signed a contract already?”
“No. Not yet. That’s why I’m calling you.”
Hou sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.
This felt like a lot to take in over a phone call. There was no better way for this to happen, you knew that, but you really wished you could be seeing Harry face to face while getting this news.
You appreciated that he was calling you for your opinion, or to warn you at least. It was definitely better than finding out through social media or the tabloids and getting the wrong idea. However, it didn’t ease the sting in your heart at the thought of Harry with someone else, whether it was PR or not.
“The movie isn’t out for another year,” you said, your voice so soft you wondered if Harry had heard you.
“I know, love.” He sounded as upset as you felt. At least you knew he was also genuinely upset over this. “Tell me you don’t want me to do it and I won’t. I’ll return the contract, I’ll tell them we’ll do something else.”
You felt so conflicted. Of course you didn’t want to see Harry with someone else, but you also didn’t want to get him in trouble with the producers. He was so excited for this movie and to get back into acting in general. If this is what it took…you supposed you could be okay with it.
“A year isn’t that long,” you mumbled into the phone.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I trust you. As long as you don’t fall in love with her.”
He chuckled. “Trust me, love, you have no worries there.”
~~~~~~
About a month later was when the first pictures of Harry and Olivia surfaced. As you expected, they hurt for you to see. They were “candid” pictures of the two of them out on one of their “dates”, with Harry’s arm around her waist and Olivia almost pressing up against him.
You tried not to let them get to you, but it was hard when you couldn’t get away from the photos. They were everywhere. Obviously, Harry’s fans were freaking out and sharing the pictures like wild fire. Not to mention the tabloids were eating the story up (the current “rumored” story being that Olivia left her fiancé for Harry). It was all falling into place for them at least, but for you it felt like everything was falling apart.
You and Harry were still in constant contact. He called, texted, FaceTimed all the time. He tried to make things seem normal, but there was always that elephant in the room.
Things seemed to reach its peak for you a few months into the whole ordeal when you started to see pictures and videos of Olivia at Harry’s concerts.
It was a new level of hurt. You didn’t have this luxury. You never did. You couldn’t risk being spotted one too many times at Harry’s concerts and his fans making the connection to who you are. You couldn’t dance to his songs, sing at the top of your lungs, look carefree and happy.
But Olivia could. And she wasn’t even his girlfriend.
When Harry tried to FaceTime you, you were in the middle of crying. You let it ring until it considered you unavailable, then repeated this when he tried again. The third attempt was just a phone call, which you answered after a few rings.
“Hey,” you said, trying to sound normal.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.
“Nothing. Why would you think something’s wrong?”
“You didn’t answer my FaceTime calls, but you answered the phone call. You always answer my FaceTime calls.”
“I just…don’t feel like FaceTime tonight.”
“Why, love?”
You tried to hold it together but it was no use. Hearing Harry’s concerned voice caused you to break down again. He listened to you cry for a while before trying to sooth you with his voice. You managed to pull yourself together enough to speak.
“It’s just so unfair,” you said, your voice cracking with sobs. “I can’t even go to your concerts and she…she spends so much time with you. She’s seen you more these past few months than I’ve seen you since we started dating. And I know I said I was fine with this, so maybe I shouldn’t be so upset, but…it really sucks. She gets to do everything with you that I wish I could.”
“You can be upset, (Y/N), even if you agreed to this,” Harry said. “You have every right to be upset given the circumstances. I’m sorry I can’t be with you more through all of this.”
“You have to do your job, Harry. I understand that. I wouldn’t want you to give anything up just because I’m upset.”
There was silence for a while and you wondered if the call had dropped. Eventually, Harry spoke again, telling you he had to go but he would call again soon and that he loved you. You said your goodbyes and let him go, before laying back down in your bed and beginning to cry again.
~~~~~~
A few days later, you received an email saying that you had received a ticket to Harry’s show that was happening a few towns over. You thought that maybe it was a scam or the email had been sent to the wrong person until you got a text from Harry shortly after opening it.
“I got you a ticket to my show tomorrow night. It should be in your email. I want you to come. I want to see you.”
You couldn’t turn it down. It would be the first time you had ever seen Harry in concert, and the first time you had seen him since your rendezvous while on tour.
You picked out an outfit and put on some light makeup the night of the show and drove yourself to the arena where it was happening. The line up outside the place basically wrapped around the building, so you were left waiting in line for nearly an hour before finally getting into the venue.
You showed the worker your ticket once you reached the front of the line. They started to scan it, but paused a moment. You watched in confusion as the worker took out a radio and spoke into it. You couldn’t hear what was being said over the crowd of excited fans trying to get into the venue. Soon, a security guard approached the two of you and looked up at you.
“Follow me,” he said.
You started feeling panicked. You weren’t sure what was happening. Surely there couldn’t be something wrong with the ticket, right? Harry had sent it to you himself. He even texted you to confirm it was from him. There was no way it was a bogus ticket if it was from the artist himself, right?
You followed the security guard through the crowded venue until he ducked into a door with a much more quiet and empty hallway. You continued to follow him until you noticed a group of people sat around in a small area, one of the people being a familiar, curly haired man.
“Here’s your VIP, Mr. Styles,” the security said, stepping aside and nodding towards you.
Harry looked up and smiled brightly when he saw you. He jumped up from his seat and rushed over to hug you and kiss you. For a moment you forgot there were other people in the room and just allowed the kiss to happen. It had been far too long since you felt those lips on yours.
But then you realized there had been other people around - namely Harry’s bandmates and some of the arena staff - and you quickly pushed him away.
“They already know,” he said as if reading your mind. “I told them about you after sending you the ticket.”
“Oh,” you said, a little shocked to know that Harry had told anyone about you. “Wait, why didn’t you tell meabout the VIP thing? I was terrified I had done something wrong.”
Harry awkwardly chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I - uh - I didn’t think of that.”
You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him before going to join his bandmates and to formally introduce yourself.
It wasn’t long before you had to reluctantly let Harry go on stage. You didn’t want to let him go, but he assured you that he would be with you after the show and even had the security take you to your “special seat”.
The show as fantastic, as you expected it to be. You had so much fun as you danced the night away. Your feet and legs were definitely going to hurt the next day, but you could really care less. It was probably the best night of your life and you were more than happy to be there.
About midway through the concert, Harry was between songs and started to address the crowd.
“I have something to tell you guys,” he started. The audience responded with excited screams. “I have been seeing someone lately, however it is not the person that you all think it is.”
Everyone in the crowd seemed shocked by Harry’s confession, yourself included.
“I don’t want to say her name right now because I want to give her at least another day or two of privacy, but I’ve been in a relationship for nearly a year now. I’ve been keeping it a secret because the person I’ve been seeing is not in the spotlight the way I am. I wanted to protect her privacy, but in doing so I made our relationship hard. I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to show her off, to go on real dates wit her, to bring her to my shows. So, tonight, I am officially announcing to all of you and to all of the world that I am a taken man, and I will be taking my girlfriend out in public on public dates and spending as much time with her privately and publicly as I can. I just ask all of you to respect both of our privacies and our relationship as a whole. Anyways, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get back to our show!”
The rest of the show went by in a daze. You couldn’t believe what had happened. You were so sure you had dreamed it. You were afraid you’d wake up at any moment and realize you had been dreaming the whole time. It wasn’t until you were brought backstage again and Harry swept you back into his arms that you confirmed for yourself that it wasn’t a dream.
“I hope it’s okay that I did that,” he said as he kissed your forehead.
“It’s more than okay,” you assured him. “But what about that contract with Olivia and the producers?”
“I told them to figure something else out. I can’t keep you a secret anymore. I love you too much.”
You smiled and kissed him, before telling him, “I love you too.”
