#wish i could card my hand through it and comfort him

[crustyfloor]

I'm so obsessed with the color symbolism in this teaser--

The color contrasts are representative of their personalities. Warm tones; orange for Till's energetic and rebellious spirit, the intense atmosphere serves to make Till appear anxious and tense, but Luka looks perfectly relaxed.. Cool tones; purple for Luka's mysterious and pompous nature.

I wonder if this means there will be changes in tone during their duet to represent their personalities, I think round 7 will be a sort of character study for them. and Till specifically.

Last round, Till was dressed in something neat, but since he's seemingly back in his funk--and I'm glad he's breaking the black and white motif for a more reclaiming, personal style, red and green (those two colors being matched together is like a traffic light, a warning...coughs). I believe Till got his bite back, he was never "tamed" to begin with, beaten down? yes. It's shown even here that he's on edge, and this is the most emotionally expressive he's been for a while.

(and something tells me he'll be handling an instrument again, just because of the headpiece. then he can smash it on Luka)

Another thing is his collar, it's reminiscent of the attachable ones he used to wear, like in round 1, something about him needing his leash again,,,

Because of this, I'm wondering if the Orange lighting is also symbolic of his danger to others, what is he like right now after round 6? (mentally, he's fucked I'm sure.) What if it's dangerous because Till will remind Luka of HyunA. (And if he does what HyunA couldn't...)

The quote "Never come back again" could have many different meanings when applied to Till, I think about the times he survived his rounds despite the odds almost being against him and being high risk; it's really concerning if he would be able to bounce back again this time.

And it's more of a personal thing when you think about the fact that after this, Till can only get worse if there is no intervention and he survives again, he'll never be the man he was before after he's lost everything and everyone.

I would die seeing Till's themes of regret in round 7 after losing all the family he's known and ultimately being alone

[tonycries]

Golden Boy - G.S.

Synopsis. Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends/lovers to enemies to lovers, oral (fem receiving), facesítting, creampíe, slight Gojo x Reader, running away from it, Suguru is so SOOO in love still, unprotected, spítting, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort, mentions of bIood and kníves, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. I was listening to fantasmas while writing this so take that how you will LMAO.

The difficult part, surprisingly, wasn’t infiltrating Geto Suguru’s Time Vessel Association. No, a few faux tears, a decoy curse, and you were in - stepping through his grandiose hideout. The difficult part was convincing yourself that you were here to kill him. 

Something that utterly foolish little part of yourself still had trouble believing - even when you had a knife to his throat. 

“Any last words?” you spit, muffled through your mask, thankful for the way it covers up just how much your voice shakes. Maybe because of the way his lips curl into a familiar smile, maybe from his cool dagger pressing against the back of your neck.

Seconds away from a bloodbath. 

You don’t know if you’re breathing - or if he is either. Eyes locked on the way Sugur- your target only raises his hand up, up, up - getting ready to strike. To kill. Only you’d get him first and-

Snip!

You’re not dead. But you might as well have been, because your mask falls onto the tatami mat with a deafening clatter. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

It’s hard not to remember. 

“You don’t have any right to say that.” your knees tighten around where you had him straddled to the ground. Your hand pinning one of his down, blade digging deeper into Suguru’s pale neck - eyeing the slow, steady drop of blood that beads down it. “Didn’t think you’d remember me, either.”

With your mask now no longer on your face, you could traitorously take in that relaxed grin - as if your life wasn’t in his hands right now. As if he didn’t care. 

Suguru’s hair was much longer now, splayed out across the floor inkily. Circling around his broad shoulders, around the eyes that were just a bit harder than they were ten years ago. And yet, you catch the way they flicker briefly with something so raw as he whispers gently, “How could I ever forget my first love?”

So quiet that you could’ve blamed it on your imagination - and you wish you did. 

It’s so unfair. 

Unfair how you let out a gasp, despite yourself. Unfair how you were the best sword wielder that Jujutsu had to offer, yet your fingers tremble on your knife. Heart stuttering at the mere sight of the way his eyes crinkle with the beginnings of a smile. Pleading, like all he could see was you from what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago. 

Those golden years. Back when rare Susanoomon cards were what you’d fight over, and the only stains he’d wipe off were from the grassy grounds of Jujutsu High, still faint underneath the encrusted blood on that uniform nestled away deep in his wardrobe.

You manage to grit out, “Shut up. You left me- us.”

“I did.”

Like it was all he wanted to see. 

“You never loved me.”

“I do.”

Your voice is shrill at this point, words stumbling over each other. “You’ve massacred more people than you’ve saved.”

Suguru wastes no time denying - or in any niceties. Looking right into your absolutely crazed eyes as he answers, “I have.” And his answer rings so hollow and emotionless in your ears, cold-blooded. Absolutely nothing like the boy you remembered. The one that would laugh and steal you away to take you around campus on his bicycle, all because the next class was “too far”.

“I- fuck.” You place both hands on the hilt of your blade, distantly registering the way that Suguru lets his own drop onto the floor. “I should kill you- I should kill you right now.”

Just one flick of your wrist. Fast and simple. 

In and out - exactly like you’d been ordered to. 

“And to die by your hand would be a death that someone like me doesn’t deserve.”

You both jolt when your knife hits the ground - as if neither of you were expecting it. And before you can stop yourself, you’re fisting his thick robes, pulling Suguru’s face up closer to yours. Mere inches away. 

“Then- then I’ll-” you choke, a hand coming up to dig into the sides of his milky neck, leaving neat, red indents on his skin. “I’ll kill you with my own hands, Suguru.”

And he’s known you for years - would never admit it, but was by your side for only half as long as he’d watched over you. 

Saw - only from a distance -  those big fat tears you cried at graduation, the curve of your lips as you pulled a very reluctant Nanami into a hug outside his new office building. The steely look in your eyes meeting Satoru’s much softer one, telling him first how you’re going into teaching. And the smile on your face when you thought of who else might have, too. If he’d gotten the chance.

Always hidden.

Never so close to this frenzied glint in your gaze, a tiny sob threatening to escape your lips. Never like this - and yet, he never thinks you’ve looked so beautiful. 

But what would someone like him know about beauty, anyway?

You flinch as Suguru reaches a hand up to thumb away the furrow between your brows, catching on the single, stray tear sitting at your cheekbone. Whispering - so low that you involuntarily crane your head closer to hear - “Still such a crybaby.”

“And you’re still going to be the death of me.”

Soft - Suguru’s lips are as soft as you imagined. And it’s not exactly the tender, picture-perfectly romantic first kiss his teenage self dreamt up with you, but fuck if he wasn’t going to remember this like it was. 

Perfect. 

Pretty lips smothering yours, all slow and sensual. Drinking in those deliciously breathless gasps of yours as he sucks on your candied lips. 

You gasp, “Suguru.” and it comes out teary. Making you finally register the wetness rolling down your cheeks, glistening against the dim lighting. You tighten your grip around his neck, “This won’t fix-”

“I know.” Fuck, does he know better than anyone else. 

A hand slides up your forearm, the other cupping your face to pull you closer. He’s running his hot tongue along your cheek, pooling your salty tears on his lips. “But let me make you forget - if just for tonight. Please.”

The only answer Suguru gets is your fingers leaving his neck, dancing feather-light across his sculpted shoulders to slide under his robe. Feeling the smooth plane of his pecs underneath your palm, that traitorously thundering heartbeat he wishes he could slow down. “Kiss me.”

“Fuck.” he pants into your open mouth. The sight of your glossy, slightly puffy lips having him surge forward to reattach his with yours with a pained grunt. “God- jus’ a bit more, my love.”

Again. And again and again- like he was addicted. 

He’d always been, with you, anyway.

You let out a sinful sound of his name when Suguru kisses down your neck, lips slotting over your racing pulse. Throbbing and so real under his lips, remembering how he used to feel this song under his arms long before. 

“Oh- shit.” you moan, when his now rougher - larger - hands sneak underneath your crumpled shirt, deftly unbuttoning. Unbuckling. Impatient. “Sugu-”

A hoarse groan leaves him, only spurring him to all but rip the rest of your uniform off your body faster. 

And at the first sight of you clad in nothing but your panties, Suguru’s kiss-bitten lips are falling slack. Brows shooting up into the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead now, “Been missing out, hm?” He’s dipping a hand down to run the back of his index along your clothed, puffy folds. Up and down. “Really been-” Heart clenching when he remembers the way Satoru now looks at you with a familiar glint. One he knew all too well. “-missing out, my love.”

You’re only trailing your fingers along his cheek - his neck, grazing over that little mark from your blade. He groans - maybe from your touch, probably from the way you’re dragging your cunt across that massive bulge underneath you. “Please, Suguru. Wan’ you.” 

And if Geto Suguru has spent ten years denying himself, surely he could sacrifice it for the way he lifts your stuttering, sloppy hips up so easily. All the way up until they were hovering over his mouth, hot breath hitting your clothed cunt. 

“Wanna taste you.” he groans, spying on the way your slick beads through your panties. “Wan’ see if you’re as hah- sweet as I imagined. Please.”

And he’s obsessed with the way you’re sinking yourself down so gently, cock jumping at the thought of you afraid you’d suffocate him - as if you didn’t have your blade at his throat just minutes ago.

“Fuuuck, don’t worry, pretty.” he groans, soft darting to lick at the juices smeared across your inner thighs. “Some more now. Put it all on me, I can take it- fuck-”

Your syrupy sweet cunt has Geto losing whatever’s left of his fucking restraint, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head because you were so sweet. So pretty looking down at him with your glassy eyes. So addictive. He moans, chest heaving as he breathes in your essence. “What happened to that feist from earlier? Gonna hafta do a lil’ more than that now.”

“B-but-”

It’s at this moment you realize that at any given moment Suguru could’ve easily taken the upper hand. A hand of his pulls down your hesitant hips, swollen lips against your covered ones in such a filthy kiss. 

He hums into your folds, bunching your panties between them. “Mmm. Shit- jus’ like I imagined.” Hot tongue dipping just underneath the flimsy fabric to feel out your sloppy entrance, “Better, even. Jus’ look how well you’re taking me, pretty.”

But you don’t - too scared to find out that you’d like the sight more than you should. How you wished you could go back to the golden days where it didn’t matter - wasn’t a matter of life and death. And something else entirely. 

And this dilemma has Suguru’s brows furrowing, sharp canines lightly nipping at one of your swollen folds. Wanting to see how it’s him - despite everything, it’s still him making you feel this way. “None of that now.”

RIP!

With this you have to look down, a desperate whine leaving your stupid mouth at the fucking sinful sight down below. Your panties now a tattered excuse in between Suguru’s teeth, baring them with such a devilish grin right up at you. 

“See?” he spits out the fabric onto the floor beside him, half-lidded eyes peering up at you so sultry. Looking right at you as his tongue lolls out, spreading your bare, needy folds shamefully. “Isn’t this much better?”

“Hngh- fuck, yes-” you slide your fingers through his now-messy hair, falling out of that half-bun. Jolting on top with each push of his tongue past that feeble ring of resistance, the lewd squelches leaving you with each graze of the wet muscle against your walls. “Shit- Suguru it feels too good. So deep ngh-”

He swats a hand against your ass, making you sit your slutty hips down deeper, all the way till Suguru’s jaw was grinding so greedily against your cunt. Tongue bullying past your folds in and out in and out in and-

“God- hah-” he’s pulling away to gasp deep lungfuls of air - secondary, to the way he was back immediately to making out so hotly with your tight pussy. “Mmm fuck. This cute lil cunt is so needy. S’like you’re trynna suck my tongue off.” Thumb reaching up to draw slow, languid circles that have you throwing your head back. “So perfect.”

Your delirious mouth is dropping open, body moving before your mind as you strain to reach your hand behind. Trembling. Shaky when you manage to cup Suguru’s aching erection. 

“G-guess m’not the only one ah- needy, hm?” you smirk, having him bucking and spitting out harsh little profanities with each rub of your palm down his drenched length. 

Suguru doesn’t give you a response - because his fingers are speaking on his behalf. Dipping into your sloppy hole, locating your g-spot, as if on instinct. He’s milking your pretty cunt while he roams for those sweet spots. Lips muffling around your throbbing clit, “You’re always right, my love. You always were.”

And his words are so gentle - mouth so sloppy. Squelches so obscene. 

Nose pressing up at the top of your abdomen, cheeks hollowing wetly around the sensitive nub. Letting your juices drip all the way down his chin, his jaw, dangerously close to that cut on his neck. 

The hand sliding back and forth across the swollen outline of his cock had Suguru get more frenzied. Faster. Like it was his personal mission to make you cum on his tongue before he fucking passed out. 

Penetrating your gummy hole with both his fingers and his tongue, spreading it open more. And it’s all you can do to keen, “Oh- oh my god.” Riding Suguru’s pretty face harder. “Shit- m’close, Suguru.”

“Always right.” he gasps, swiping his tongue faster across your clit. “Always perfect” Alternating between squeezing back into your hole, your sweet spots. Stretching out your gummy walls as far as they’d go. “Always made f’me.” Assaulting it with both his fingers and his tongue. Again. And again and again and- “Jus’ wish I got to have you sooner.”

His words make you snap your eyes up from his mean mouth to meet his gaze, devouring you as greedily and depraved as his tongue. They make your thighs burn with the effort to drag your sloppy pussy faster.

They make you cum - shaking, crying out little mewls of “Ngh- fuck. M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”

The way your voice is breaking at the end of each moan has Suguru’s cock straining so painfully against his trousers. One hand firmly on your waist, arching you deeper to tongue you through your high in ways he’s only ever dared to imagine. 

Ways he’s selfishly hoped only he could - even after all these years, the sight of any other man looking at you wrong having his irritation flaring. 

“S’right.” his voice is sending stars bursting behind your lids, tongue even worse. Having you pleading and so sensitive. “I got you, my love. Give it t’me.” Messy - not as forgiving as he’d like to be. “Give it alllll to me.”

And you do - all but smothering Suguru’s eager tongue with all your sweet juices. Ones he’s lapping up happily, tilting his head back as far as it’d go on the floor, letting your heady slick fill up his throat. His pussydrunk lips let out a hiss, both at the burn of that cut on his neck, and the way you’re desperately pulling your hips back. 

Too overstimulated. Too fucking sensitive. Too much - but it would never be enough for Suguru. 

“Please, Suguru.” you sob at the way your limp hips are being pulled back by a needy Suguru. “M’too sensitive. I- fuck-” He’s only lapping at your quivering cunt leisurely, smirk prominent against your swollen folds. 

And it’s all you can do to deliriously slip a hand underneath his robes, a desperate attempt to keep whatever shred of sanity you have left. Fingers feeling down his unfairly toned abs, the tufts of hair at his pelvis, reaching-

“Oh fuck!” Your heavy eyes admire the way Suguru arches into your touch in surprise - like he couldn’t help himself. Eyes flying open, glossy, plump lips curling into a disbelieving grin, “Ya really are made f’me, huh?” 

That’s all it takes for Suguru to head to your lewd whims, bruising fingers on your hips finally loosening to let you sit your sloppy cunt back down on his lap - except, this time, you were seated directly on his rock-hard cock. Pussy lips spreading around his length to just soak him. 

“Oh, my love.” He sits up, splaying you out so prettily on his lap. “How I’ve missed you.”

You don’t even register the way you’re raising your head up to meet Suguru’s - not until he spits. Once. Twice. Straight onto your awaiting tongue that you didn’t even realize you were sticking out, saccharine sweet saliva making such a mess when he’s crashing his lips into yours. 

“Yeahh, like that. Kiss me like that.” he slurs against your mouth, drunk off both sets of your sweet lips. Getting out through wet, sloppy pecks. “How I wish I had you sooner.”

You can feel your heart thumping so wildly against your ribcage, matching the needy, needy staccato of Suguru’s cock throbbing between your puffy folds. And, well, you really can’t be blamed for the way you break the kiss to look down and oh-

Oh Suguru notices that furrow between your brows, kissing away the nervous little wobble in your lower lips as he grunts, “God, you’re killin’ me.” 

Fuck. Killing him?

You were the one sent in for the kill, but it seems you won’t be making it out here alive. 

Because Suguru was so big, girth rubbing up against your thighs. So angry and heavy, smearing hot precum over his abs, your cunt, adding to add to the absolute mess. Long enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk out of here - which, honestly, Suguru would’ve preferred. To keep you with him forever. 

To have you always mewling so prettily when he’s dragging his fat head down your sensitive slit. To have his name - and only his name - leave your bruised lips when he’s asking, “Who’s got you this wet?” 

You’re so cockdrunk already that you’re groaning mindlessly, “You- Suguru-”

“No, that’s not what you call me.” 

And it takes you a few, long seconds to understand what he’s saying, all the while trying to focus with the leaky tip being pressed past your swollen folds. Slow. Torturous. Hitting you so violently at the same time he slips past that first, slutty ring of muscle. 

“Sugu!”

A blinding grin splits across Suguru’s absolutely fucked-out face, brows furrowing together in ecstasy. “That’s more hah- like it.” Not having heard that familiar little nickname - one of your many - fall from your lips since high school - one that makes a heart he forgot he had grow five sizes too large. “Now, just take me-” Hips bucking up, so strong and ruthless. “-like I know you can, okay?”

Over and over. 

You can’t let out anything but barely-lucid whines at this point, letting Suguru sink in inch by fucking inch. Your walls stretched out so perfectly to take his sheer size. But the stretch- oh, the stretch.

Fuck, it has you clawing at Suguru’s exposed shoulders, fingers leaving angry, red marks down the muscles. An obscene ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with each time he reels his hips back, only to bully his aching cock inside until he physically couldn’t.

“Hngh- Sugu, s’too big-” You buck your hips down in shallow, tentative grinds to meet his filthy method of fitting in. “Too- much. Didn’t expect you to be so mean-”

“The sorcerer that hah- held a knife to the infamous Geto Suguru’s neck-” he groans, hands groping your ass to move you further down his massive cock. To watch the way your sloppy entrance was stretching out so much to suck him up. “-can take this too, right? I know you can.” He reaches a deft thumb around to toy with your pretty clit, making your cunt relax like the good girl she is. Fucking up deeper, just a bit more mean. “You- can-”

Several things happen at the tail end of Suguru’s sentence - he’s finally fitting in all in one go. With a calculated, harsh thrust up into your poor cunt, your ass is kissing his heavy balls, pussy rubbing against the hair at his hilt. So full and so much.

And Suguru knows he just might not see heaven - but shit, does he feel like he’s there right now. The feeling so good that both of you letting out mingling gasps of pleasure. 

Your back falling onto the now soiled mats like such animals, the other not far behind.

“You alright, my love?” Suguru hums against your throat when you’re managing to adjust somewhat to the stretch, aware enough to kiss the palm resting protectively underneath your head - making sure you don’t hurt yourself.

You bat your teary lashes, “Never been better, Sugu.”

And something about that makes him remember. 

Remember the way you’d tell him the exact same thing when you fought with curses too strong for you - coming back to the dorms all battered and bruised, but alive. Flashing him that addictive grin, and a crooked thumbs up, “Never been better, Sugu. Gold, actually.”

His golden girl.

Shaking away the tightness at his throat, Suguru instead focuses on wrapping your trembling legs around his toned waist. Tight.

“Sh-shit- you’re milkin’ me so good, fuck-”

Abs burning as he just drags his cock along your plushy walls, keeping your legs held wide open for him. So tight - like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Making sure to angle his hips in just the way that’ll have your eyes tearing at the way he was massaging all your sweet spots. 

And sure enough - “O-oh my god-” you breathe, and shit, it was so hard to speak. Suguru’s cock too big, too depraved. Speeding up with every ram of his hips into a steady, mean pace. “Jus’ like that, fuck-”

“Mhm?”

You paw at his free hand settled by the side of your neck, trailing it down, down, down - rings and all - to the part of your stomach you could feel his thick tip hitting. A slight bulge, abusing your cervix over and over, “Here-”

“-s’where I belong.”

Your brows raise at his interjection, and you swipe away the long locks of hair partially covering Suguru’s face, legs tightening around his hips as you take a long, hard look. He repeats, “S’where I belong. Where ngh- you belong.”

Like some deep, dark part of him was trying to fuck out any and every doubt about this out of you - as if you’d have any - Suguru’s rolling his hips harder into yours. All the way until it almost hurt - until the sting of his twitching balls against your ass felt permanent, fingerpads pressing down so hard on your stomach. 

Lips searing against yours, punctuating each word with a jagged, rough thrust. “Because you sh-shouldn’t be ah- here. You shouldn’t be-” He drags you deeper onto his dick like some ragdoll, fingers frenzying on your clit. “-with me.”

Words slurring and as sloppy as his hips now. 

“Wh-why fuck- why wouldn’t I be?”

“Heh, you forgot?” Suguru spits out a chuckle, pushing you further and further up the mat with how bruising his hips were hitting yours. Alternating between marking your cervix - your g-spot - your gummy walls. “Forgot how I told ya to live a better life than this?” Everything and anything. Hips smacking so loud, echoing in symphony with those melancholy words he parted with so long ago. “How I told you to hngh- find a-another? Live a long life? To be happy?”

Now that Suguru was talking, it was like he couldn’t stop. Like a damn had been broken - both with his words and his movements. The curve of his dick drives you wild, veins molding your cunt into their shape. 

Gritting his teeth to hold back the way his drenched balls squeeze so painfully, biting down on your lower lip. “You’re s-supposed to kill me.” A drop of sweat splashing down on your cheek, “To kill me and maybe you’ll be hah- fuck mine in another universe. But not this one.” It’s like he’s out of control now, “Never this one. You can have anybody else.”

And suddenly you’re having a flashback to just a week prior, to an uncharacteristically solemn Satoru telling you words you should’ve been happy to hear. Quiet, and unassuming. Ones you knew that had you heard them before knowing Suguru, you’d have jumped into his arms - exactly how he hoped you would, the day of his departure. 

Chuckling at you being such a “crybaby” about him leaving. After all, this was just meant to be, right?

But no.

Instead, you’re here. Bunching Suguru’s beautiful, glossy hair curtaining the sides of your head, into a ponytail. Difficult - with how he was getting faster. Harder. Just ravaging your hole until you were gaping and breathless.

And yet, arms trembling and limp, you still manage to reveal the boy you fell in love with - the one you could never forget. From the flush on his pretty face, to the twisted, sad curve of his mouth. And the eyes that bore into yours like they were searching for the same thing. Smiling, for the first time since you entered this place, “How could I ever want anyone else, Sugu?”

The hand on your stomach is cupping your adorable face so softly - and it’s hard to believe those hands have killed. Betrayed.

Like they were capable of doing anything but as Suguru swipes the single tear glistening down your cheek, “Still a crybaby, huh, my love?”

And then you cum - and Suguru isn’t too far behind. 

It’s just a flash of hot white, tingles running down your spine - all the way to the thick, creamy base soon forming around his wildly twitching cock. 

And it’s so good. Too good that all you can do it scream out his name, letting him do anything - and you were glad all he did was fuck you so mercilessly through your high. So violent. Addictive. 

Vision blurry, mouth sagging open for Suguru to press intimate little kisses along the corners of your mouth. Whispering sweet praises as your cunt sucks him up so good. So sinfully milking him for everything he’s worth. 

Taking in rope after rope of thick cum that warms your gummy walls from the inside, overfilling just enough for it to dribble down into the mat below in an obscene little pool. Smearing down your thighs, his balls. Heavenly. 

His heaven.

And in the haze of it all, Suguru imagines that you’ll reach for your knife again, press it back against the curve of his exposed neck. He imagines you’ll laugh in his face, tell him what a great whim this was but you had to get back to your job, turning your back on him as he has done before. He imagines.

But what he gets is your strained, fucked-out little voice, “I missed you, my golden boy.”

A/N. Yes, That Line was inspired by HTTYD. If I had to be hurt, y’all do, too. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird in the building is worth to in the car. Or something. Part 23

yes, I do have too much fun with these part titles masterpost

The efficiency that Danny and the kids were ushered, privately and securely, into the parking garage and the waiting car with was impressive. Bruce gave the order and then in a breath they were at the car. Unable to fight the instinct, Danny had kept his wings around the boys the whole way, as if he could protect them from the world.

Even in the car Danny still wanted to protectively drape his wings around them. He was grateful when both boys let him. He was grateful that Mr. Pennyworth didn’t comment on the wings at all. He just wished Bruce had gone with them.

It was completely understandable for Bruce to have to check on the situation and the people who had been in the building before leaving, but it left Danny feeling on edge. It would be better once Bruce was back in the car, and Danny knew that everyone here was safe. If it had been possible, he would have preferred to wait in the safe room. With the incoming cops that hadn’t been wise.

What felt like too long later, Danny watched Bruce walk towards the car through the tinted windows, flanked by very alert security. The door opening and closing felt very final. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t exactly been holding, but had still felt clogged up in his chest.

Bruce leaned across the center console and part way into the back seat. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said where he was just barely leaning into Danny’s side and cradled by a wing.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But, B, he was following me. He said he saw me going into the building. He called me a dormouse. I didn’t… I didn’t even notice him until he came into the building.”

Danny carded talons through Tim’s hair, hoping to calm himself as much as Tim or else he might go back and show the Mad Hatter how terrifying he could really get.

Bruce didn’t look any more pleased at that. “We’ll look into it, and I’ll pass along the information too. We’ll have to put some security on you for a bit in case he has others under control who are still after you.”

Tim frowned at that and Danny couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to Tim’s hair, as presumptuous as the act was. “Let us protect you, hummingbird.”

Tim looked up at him. “Hummingbird?”

Danny just gave a little shrug. It seemed to fit. He didn’t think too much about it. It fit in the same way as being able to wrap his wings around them and the need to protect them.

“And what about you?” Bruce asked.

Danny glanced at the other man, tilting his head quizzically.

“Are you alright?” Bruce clarified.

“He was not before the event,” Damian jumped in quickly. “He was obviously fatigued and suffering from either a headache or over stimulation from the noise.”

“Or both,” Tim added. “We thought he might be leaving to go home.”

“I was just leaving to get lunch,” Danny sighed, even though they weren’t wrong about the rest.

Bruce frowned and held his hand out, which Danny just blinked at.

“Hand, Danny,” Bruce explained. “I want to check your pulse.”

Danny froze. He was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that his hand was still tipped in talon and small feathers. He snatched his hand out of Tim’s hair, worried now that his hand alone had been too much, as distorted as it was. He crossed his arms, hiding his hands against his body.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce didn’t pull his hand back. Instead his whole face softened in a sad way that confused Danny.

“We aren’t afraid of you, Danny,” Bruce said. His voice was a comforting low rumble that Danny wanted desperately to trust. “You’ve been nothing but kind to my family and today you kept them safe. The physical changes you went through to do that do not scare me.”

Danny glanced down and away, trying to avoid looking at any of them in the tight space of the car. “They scare me.”

Damian clicked his tongue and leaned further into Danny’s side, further in under the wing. Tim reached for a hand. Not wanting to accidentally hurt Tim with the sharp talons, Danny reluctantly let him take it. Tim wrapped his own fingers confidently around Danny’s.

Bruce still waited with his hand out.

Danny chewed on his lip, an old nervous tick. Bruce waited. The boys stayed close. Finally, Danny let out a huff of air and offered his hand up to Bruce.

“Your pulse is a bit erratic,” Bruce said after he had counted Danny’s pulse along to the ticking of his watch. He didn’t let go of Danny’s hand after it, instead he ran his thumb against Danny’s wrist. The touch almost made Danny shiver in a good way.

“I, ah, adrenalin crash, I figure,” Danny said once he could find his words.

“Are you alright returning to the Manor so that we can keep an eye on you?”

“Oh I get asked this time?” Danny teased. Teasing was easier.

Bruce just chuckled. “Well you are awake.”

“I… yes,” Danny answered. It was less about him being looked after and more so that he could look after the boys. If he went home now, he’d worry all night.

Mr. Pennyworth finally started the car. “Will you be needing medication or any such health items from your apartment, sir?”

Danny shook his head. “I keep some extra doses in my bag. And really, just Danny is alright.”

“Then to home, Master Danny.”

Danny tried not to miss the touch as Bruce pulled away and buckled in for the drive.

[rewh0re]

CAN I GET A KISS? (AND CAN YOU MAKE IT LAST FOREVER?)

—wc: 878, headcanons of how different jjk men would kiss you!! fluffy fluff fluff and nothing but fluff, a lot of kissing (neck, lips and forehead), gojo in himself is a warning tbh. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

—pairing: geto, gojo, nanami x reader (separate)

｡ﾟ･　☆　° ｡ geto suguru—

I somehow see Geto as a guy who is into neck kisses. Like you'd be doing your work and Suguru just spawns out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around your waist, pecking and nibbing down your neck. He'll be helping you put on the clasp of a necklace and would steal a little peck that would take you by surprise. So cute. He's also very much into pecking your shoulders and burying his head in your neck—his way of asking you to play with his hair. Like you will be watching some stupid rom com and the next thing you know, Suguru is latched onto you, nibbling onto your shoulder as he buries himself in your neck. His breath softly tickles your skin and you know no one’s going to watch the movie anymore. So you give into his antics as your fingers card through his hair as a hum of satisfaction leaves his lips. 

"oh! what was that for?" you yelped in a welcomed surprise as you felt a little nibble on the side of your neck which was quickly soothed by the feeling of your lover's warm tongue.

"missed my baby. When are you joining me in bed? it's late," his lips left a trail of kisses from the base of your ear to your clavicle.

"will you attack me if I say after I finish this draft?" you smiled up at him, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"you know I will."

You both knew he would attack you with kisses before bed either way.

｡ﾟ･　☆　° ｡ gojo satoru—

Now Gojo is a flirt. He's a stupid idiot and a flirt. He'll do anything to tease you and rile you up if I'm being honest. He'll get close to you, breaths mingling together as he holds you against his hard chest. You can smell his rich boy cologne so clearly and you're sure he can probably hear your erratic heartbeat. It's all impossibly slow and you close your eyes, waiting for his lips to land on yours and then.....they land on your cheek! Your eyes shoot open at the howling laughter from the menace that is Gojo Satoru. He gives a detailed recollection of your face from just a few seconds ago and you realise he can never not get on your nerves.

"Satoru I fucking hate you," you whine, pouting a bit, your body sulking as you look away, arms folded and a rose tint on your cheeks.

The next thing you know, Satoru's arms are around your waist for a second time as you're impossibly close to him....again. Except now his lips are quick to land upon yours. you move your arms to grip on his hair while he tightens his arms around you. He sucks on your bottom lip, licking and nibbling it. Your surprised gasp allowed him his entrance into your mouth, your tongues gliding against each other's as both of your lips were covered with thick coats of saliva. His hand moved along your back, gripping your neck, then face and then back around your waist. You wish you could kiss him like this forever but your lack of oxygen compelled you to part.

You panted as you looked at him, his sapphire eyes holding love, passion, desire and something more—mischief perhaps?

he smirked before pecking your lips again.

"Won't hate me as much now I'm guessing?"

Incorrigible, isn't he?

｡ﾟ･　☆　° ｡ nanami kento—

Come on. When I started writing this, I just knew Nanami had to be a forehead kiss man. He just radiates a sense of safety and comfort if you know what I mean. Imagine the both of you are at your shared apartment and you are just talking on the sofa and he's smiling at you and when you ask what's up he just takes your face in his big hand and leaves a long kiss on your forehead.

I just know Nanami comes home and the first thing he does is hug you tightly, as if to never let you go. He then proceeds to hold you gently by your neck as he leaves a lasting kiss on your temple.

Even before bed, after saying your good nights when you are all cuddled up with him, he'll softly leave a chaste kiss on your forehead, muttering 'sweet dreams' before you both lull to sleep. It's endearing really.

Especially when you're tired or stressed from work or life and you confide in him for comfort. He will hold you so tightly while you feel at home in his arms. One of his hands will be pressing your head to his chest while the other grabs you around the waist. You love being held by him.

"thank you kento, I feel better," you separate from him, smiling up at him in gratitude and appreciation.

he just hums in response, returning your smile with one of his own endearing ones. He moves a lock of your hair behind your ear as he brings his lips to your forehead. you close your eyes, basking in his warmth and comfort.

Kento's forehead kisses and hugs ensured you that you would always have a place to call home as long as he's with you. You'd always be safe in his arms. He'd always be yours.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Just Jason being the human version of a house cat.

Someone on here said that Jason is just a massive lap cat and I can’t help but agree because just imagine it; an absolute beast of a man finding solace in resting specifically on your plush lap, his strong, warm arms caging your waist as his face is burrowed pleasantly into your stomach in content, groans in displeasure whenever he feels you move even the slightest of inches.

How dare you move when Jason was just getting comfortable, apologise now for your transgressions.

Jason’s warmth would be advantageous to you during the colder months but an absolute nightmare during the summer, more so if you’re the type to get warm really easily and it ends up irritating you. But this is neither here nor there.

‘Jaybirdie?’ You ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp now and then.

Jason groans, showing that he was listening.

‘I’ve got to get going soon or else they’ll call and ask why I’m late.’ You tell him as you felt his arms tighten and you smile. ‘And I can’t exactly say that my 6’2 boyfriend is sprawled across my lap like a stubborn house cat that is refusing me to leave. Now can I?’ You finished, moving your hand away from his hair and focusing on rubbing his upper back, wishing you could see his muscles beneath the black t-shirt. You could only being to imagine the way his beautiful muscles would contract and relax from your touch as though they were like the waves you’d see at the beach, webbing and flowing; it was borderline enticing.

‘Then don’t go then. Simple as.’ His muffled voice said against your stomach.

‘I can’t, I promise to help out at work because someone called in sick…again.’ You muttered out the last part. You didn’t know why your co-worker wasn’t sacked for having so much time off but you knew you weren’t the only one that didn’t like them, and from what you’ve been told by older co-workers, this wasn’t the first time they’ve done this and even then you were surprised that they still even had a job to come back to. So because of them, you and your fellow co-workers were being worked to the bone to cover their hours on top of your own.

‘Again?’ Jason asked, lifting his head up from your lap, having been kept up to date on the goings on in your workplace. ‘How haven’t they gotten pulled in for that shit?’

You shrugged your shoulders, genuinely as baffled as he was about the whole thing. ‘Honestly have got the slightest clue Jay, but It’s all the more reason for me to go.’

Jason groans as he reluctantly lets you go but now you were the one upset at the sudden loss of his warmth and that must’ve been apparent on your face as Jason smirked mischievously as he reassumed his position on your lap, his strong arms went back to holding your waist tightly and his face burrows back into your stomach as he sighs in content once more.

‘See, now you don’t wanna go now because your Jaybirdie won’t be there to keep you warm.’ He teased as you tugged at his hair, causing him to groan.

‘That’s not-‘

‘Oh don’t play the coy card with me sweetheart, we’ve already been through that stage in our relationship.’ Jason cuts you off. ‘because if you wanted to leave that badly you wouldn’t be rubbing my back or running your hand through my hair like you are right now.’ Jason then looks up at you with a raised brow as if challenging you in daring to say otherwise when you both knew the truth.

‘It’s just- we don’t typically get enough time together.’ You began. ‘Crime in Gotham has been on an increase as of late, which is taking much of your time, and work has been asking everyone to pitch in and help cover until our co-worker decided to comes back at their own accord.’ You paused to stroke Jason’s cheek, internally melting when you felt him press his face further into your hand, gingerly kissing your palm. ‘It just doesn’t give us enough time for moments like these, the moments we crave most.’

‘The moments where we’re just together.’ Jason finishes for you and you muttered a small ‘yeah.’

A silence befalls you both as you tried to engrain this moment into your memory because neither of you knew when the next time you got to peacefully exist in tandem, whether that be doing your own thing or doing something together, just as long as you were with each other for longer then a fleeting five minutes.

‘So do you still want to go to work?’ Jason asked. ‘Or do you want to be selfish for once?’

You gave it some thought and soon after began to reach for your phone and punch in the work number as Jason squeezed a thigh in his large hand. ‘Selfish it is.’ He murmured with a smile as he gotten himself comfortable before feeling you run your fingers through his hair once more.

[im-am-not-a-weenie]

🍓playing with their hair for the first time

Writing bg3 hc Now! Will also still be doing rdr2 a/n at the bottom for more info! spelling errors

Gn Reader

Gale, astarion,halsin,

Establish relationships

🍓Gale

You see Gale sitting all alone enjoying a good book. He always looked cute when he was enjoying what he was reading, he looked so concentrated and expressive

You couldn’t help but walk over to the wizard. “Mind if I join you?”. He smiled and patted the ground beside him “Of course, what’s better than a good book? Good company to share it with”

You sat down and made yourself comfortable ” What are you reading” You looked curiously over at the book in the wizard's hands. “Ah, It’s nothing really, just another tail of dragons and knights. I could read it aloud if you wish?”

He looked a bit nervous “On second thought you’ve probably grown tired of hearing my voice”. You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze “Never”

You laid back, Gale didn’t look very comfortable, being hunched over “Here,” you said sweetly and pulled him down so his head was on your lap “Better?” He looked a little stiff but quickly regained his composure “Yes, yes it’s quite nice”

As He started to read Your hand absentmindedly went to his hair, and your fingers started to card through his brown locks, you felt him tense but then relax back into it

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back listening to him read, but after a long you heard him trail off, opening one of your eyes to peek at him you could see he was starting to doze

With a smile, you gently took the book out of his hands “Huh?” He opened his eyes to look at you. ”you were falling asleep” your hand still in his hair

“Could You…could you maybe keep doing that?” Gale mutters sheepishly. You just laughed softly and smiled

That night Gale fell asleep with a smile on his face and your hands in his hair

🍓astarion

The party decided it would be best to stay at a tavern that night, treating themselves and of course, astarion headed straight towards where the bath was located

It had been an hour and still no sign of him, getting a tad bit worried you decided to go check on him, you knocked on the door softly “Star? Are you alright in there?” You were met with a muffled “Yes darling quite alright”

After a few minutes you hesitantly “Can…can I come in?" he automatically responded with a "Yes darling"

as you opened the door thick clouds of steam poured out. "hurry my love, we wouldn't want it to get cold in here now would we?" astarion was sitting in a bath you could only assume was boiling hot water "Star, how hot is that bath? your skin is red" he waved off your concern

"now what did you need?" his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "I was hoping to join you honestly" his expression dropped as he opened his mouth to speak but then closed it

"You can say no" your voice filled with nothing but love and encouragement. he hesitates for a moment before finally saying "It's just I don't believe the tub would be big enough for us both that's all" he flashed you a charming smile. you knew there was a deeper reason but didn't push

"i was actually thinking of just sitting in here with you. Would that be ok?' he looked taken aback "You just wish to sit here with me that's all?" you gave a nod "Well I mean who wouldn't want to sit here and marvel at my beauty, go ahead"

as he reached for the soap you beat him to it "Here let me." pouring a generous amount of soap into your hands, making your way behind him, first lathering the soap in your hands before sinking them into his hair

"What are you doing?" his body tensed up slightly. "washing your hair what does it look like" teased him with a sweet voice as your fingers gently massaged his head. "I get that darling but why?" his voice sounded unsure, not used to non-sexual intimacy.

"Because I love you, and you deserve to get pampered" his breath caught in his throat and quickly cleared it "Of course I do, I'm glad we're on the same page." you gave him a small laugh as you kept washing his hair, he closed his eyes and lent back into your hands. you swear you could hear him purring

you both sat in comfortable silence until he softly said "I love you too" You could hear the faint smile on his lips without having to see it

🍓Halsin

this morning was a rare morning, not only did you wake up early voluntarily, but you woke before Halsin which never happened. (to be fair he just got back from a long and exhausting journey but still!)

waking up feeling warm. not sure if it was because of how the sun was hitting your face or because of the giant man holding you close to him

your eyes fluttered open and you were met with the sight of a sleeping Halsin. he looked peaceful. the sun made him look radiant, glowing almost, as his chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm. something else caught your eye. he had his hair down

yes his hair was always down but it was always pulled back, but this morning it sprawled messily over his pillow, and a couple stray strands laid on his face. you couldn't help but reach out and brush it away

his eyebrows frowned before he quietly spoke "Your hands are cold" You quickly retracted your hand. "sorry" you whispered back, Halsins eyes opened slolwy. blinking away the sleep, he smiled and grabbed your hand and placed it back on his cheek, and kissed the palm of your hand. "it's ok my heart"

you could feel your face heat up all you could do was smile dumbly "It's down" was all you said and tucked a few more pieces behind his ear. "does it bother you my heart?' you shook your head, all too eager to see the druid with his hair down. "no, I like it"

running your hand through his usually well-kept hair. "how is it so soft" you wondered out loud, Halsin just chuckled and let you have your fun.

he let out a content sigh. "awfully affectionate this morning. not that I mind" his lips pressed against your forehead. "Is something the matter?"

"no, I just missed my bear that's all" You studied his face, taking in every detail. "I think I finally understand the whole "appreciate nature's gift" thing." the druid just laughed warmly and shook his head fondly

the two of you spent all morning like that. his arms wrapped around you and you playing with his hair

🍓A/N

hey guys im back! so much as happened i graduated and im 19 now? life has been crazy!! i know this is different from my usual content but playing baulders gate gave me inspiration to write again. dont worry i will still take requests for RDR2 but i will also be writing for BG3. With that said im cleaning out my inbox so if you see your request finally go through a year later.............🤷‍♀️. i will also be taking BG3 requests. i did astarion, gale, and halsin i think i can write them comfortably. but do not be scared to request other characters if you really wanna see me write for them or have a really specific scenario in mind. i will also try to post every other Wednesday

love yall and thx for the support <3

[moonstruckme]

Hii! I love your fics so much and I was wonder if you could do a emt marauders fix where the reader gets a concussion? I just got another one and it’s really taken a toll on me. (Again, I love your work SO MUCH!! It’s so comforting!!)

Hi my sweetheart! I'm so sorry, I swear I highlighted emt marauders when I was writing this request but somehow along the way I seemed to forget that it was supposed to be the au, I hope this is still alright (I'm very down to do another for emt specifically if you would like)! And I really hope you're doing okay!! Concussions are so rough, I hope your recovery is going well <3

cw: concussion

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius wakes to shushing sounds from down the hall. Bright sunlight has snuck in through the cracks in the blinds, laying itself down in slats across the bed. He’s laying nearly sideways with no one else to shove him away, one of his feet dangling off the side of the mattress and his head on the opposite pillow. 

He gets up though his body doesn’t want to, following hushed voices into the living room. The curtains are drawn closed here, too, though it’s light enough for Sirius to make you both out clearly, you sitting on the couch and Remus with your hands in his, speaking to you in a hushed voice while slow tears dribble off your chin. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice betrays his lethargy, but you don’t seem to notice. You look up with shiny eyes as he steps into the room. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

The answer takes time to come to you. Sirius isn’t sure if you’re searching for the words or if your thoughts are just evading you as they have been since you got hurt, but his heart twinges when your brows bunch in concentration. 

Remus only looks at you steadily. He’s been the most patient with you; Sirius and James both have the urge to guess at the ends to your sentences when you get stuck, but Remus only waits, letting you parse it out in your own time. 

“I’m sad. Frustrated,” you decide, though you look more glum than angry. You sniff. “I want to be better already.” 

Sirius nods in both understanding and sympathy, going to sit behind you on the couch. He knows Remus isn’t the most tactile, but it kills him to see you with your shoulders shaking and no arms wrapped around them. He’s quick to remedy this.

“We were playing cards,” Remus explains in his quiet way (a way Sirius has been trying to mimic to accommodate your sound sensitivity, though it doesn’t come easily to him), “and she just got a bit upset when she didn’t remember whether aces were high or low.” 

Sirius tsks, nosing at your cheek. “That’s common enough, darling. It can go either way.” 

“That’s what I said,” Remus tells him. His thumbs carve twin paths up the sides of your palms. “It hardly matters, I’m happy to play with them high or low.” 

“I just wish I knew like usual,” you say, though you already seem to be calming. Your voice has taken on that distant quality again. It still sounds like you, just a tad dazed, like when you first wake up in the mornings. 

Sirius rubs up and down your shoulder, pressing his lips to the side of your chin. He can’t imagine it’s comfortable, feeling so unlike yourself. Worse to know it’s not changing soon. You hit your head a few days ago, and it’ll probably be some time until you feel completely normal again. 

Sirius has been told he can be dramatic, but when you’d fallen he honestly thought for a second that you were dead, you were so still. In the pandemonium of sirens and doctors and waiting rooms that had followed, James and Remus each took a bit of time to process things, get their emotions in order, but Sirius has never been able to cry in public. When they finally got to take you home, he’d gotten in the shower and cried so hard he thought he’d throw up. He’s honestly not sure if he’s ever been so terrified in his life. After you got into bed that night he’d hugged you so hard you’d called him James, and your boyfriends had all laughed before they realized you weren’t joking. 

He and Remus hold you in silence for some time. None of you seem to mind. Sirius is still too sleepy to get bored, you’re presumably too concussed, and Remus is still Remus. He can look at the two of you all day and never need a diversion. 

The room seems to come alive when James gets home, not only because of his sparkling personality but also because he lets in a bunch of sunlight and a cacophony of street noise with him. 

“Hello, my loves,” he says, adjusting his volume halfway through the sentence. He shuts the door behind him with care, dropping his rugby bag onto the floor with far less. “How are we doing?” 

“I’m doing horrible,” Sirius says, though it’s obvious he was really only asking about you. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.” 

“You have just woken up,” Remus points out with a droll look, but James indulges him. 

He sets a big hand on Sirius’ head and kisses between his own fingers. He smells like dirt and sweat, gross on anyone else but hot when it’s him. James gives you the same treatment next, palm stroking down the back of your head protectively. 

“You alright, lovie?” he murmurs. 

You hum. “Why?” 

“Nothing.” His eyes slide to Sirius, a question in them. “You look as though you might’ve had a cry, that’s all.” 

“Water under the bridge,” Sirius assures him, giving you a firm squeeze. “We’re all good now, just very hungry and in need of someone to make sandwiches for lunch. Right, baby?” 

You nod amenably, but Remus fixes you with a curious look. 

“Are you hungry, dove?” he asks. 

You take some time to mull this over. Sirius bites the inside of his lip to restrain himself, and he can see James doing the same to his cheek. It’s a good thing that you’re taking such a thorough inventory of yourself, he supposes, but it’s agonizing to watch how much effort it takes you. After a while, you say, “I think so.” 

Remus nods. “Alright. We had a snack a bit ago, but if you’re hungry you should eat. I can make sandwiches,” he shoots Sirius a teasing look as he starts to stand, “since I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of those who’ve just got home from training.” 

“No, sit.” James urges Remus back down with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing fondly. “I’ve got it, I’m on an adrenaline roll right now anyway. Egg and cress all around?” 

“Yes, please,” Remus says. You echo a moment later. 

Sirius can’t seem to detach himself from you, which isn’t unusual but has been worse since your injury. He dots kisses along the edge of your jaw to amuse himself. 

“Are you feeling tired?” Remus asks you. “You haven’t had a nap yet today.” 

Sirius waits for the inevitable joke about your nursing home schedule, but it doesn’t come. You must not be feeling up to it. 

You shrug, mumbling, “I’m okay.” 

“Have a nap with me after lunch,” Sirius says. “I’m knackered, and I could use a cuddle buddy.” 

You make a confused humming sound. “Were you just asleep?” 

“I was,” he admits readily. “And it’ll be even better the second time around, with you there.” 

[two-white-butterflies]

a lemon cake | daemon targaryen

Description: The Hendriks have always kept to their own. What happens when a betrothal happens between the only Hendrik daughter and the Rogue Prince? A story where, you go through lengths in order to ensure your lord husband's loyalty.

W.C: a lotta words super mega ultra

A/N: After re-watching Descendants. I figured that this would be a good plot. Reader basically gives Daemon a love potion. It wears off. He's still in love. No beta we die like men. OC Daemon because of the love potion, but otherwise still him.

House Hendrik. In silence we persevere.

When the first lord of your house settled from Old Valyria, they did not bring dragons or swords - but they did bring magic. Magic that allowed the members of the house to hear the whispers of nature. But lately, nature has only answered with silence.

The lands were barren, and the sheep were dying of illness.

The gold in your coffers were nearing extinction. Correction, there wasn't anything left - your father has to work in the King's council to ensure that you and your children would live a comfortable life.

A prolonged sigh escapes your mouth. You stared at yourself through the reflection on the mirror. In silence we persevere.

You remind yourself of the words your father uttered before he left.

"My lady," the maid clears her throat. She was holding a sealed letter. "Thank you," you mumble while taking the paper from her hands.

You force a smile on your face.

My dearest daughter,

I am pleased announce that the King has agreed to an engagement, and your presence in the Red Keep is of utmost importance. It seems like the Seven Gods have answered our prayers. Do not think about the gold that we'll use to bring you here, your Aunt Jayne has agreed to sponsor the trip, with the promise that you won't forget her once you are a nobleman's wife. Take care.

All my love,

your father.

You finished reading the letter, inhaling the scent of vanilla. It was sadly a short letter, not detailing anything about your father's stay. He made sure that the letter was short and concise. He did not even have money for ink.

"My lady?" the maid inquires, curious about the contents of the letter.

"Lord Hendrik has invited me to join him in the Red Keep." you inform, watching as she poured you a glass of tea. "- will you promise to take care of the household in my absence?" you asked, and she presses a kiss to your forehead.

She stood as your mother, after Lady Hendrik died.

"I promise." she swore. "- have fun in the Capital." she smiled.

You could only nod.

"You told me that he agreed on a betrothal!" your eyebrows merged together. "You wouldn't have come here if the only purpose was finding a suitable match." your father insists.

"Our house has stood proud, looked down on others with lesser breeding. If word ever comes out that I am here to save a sinking ship, our reputation will be ruined." you argued.

"If there was another choice, I wouldn't ask." he says regretfully, his eyes cloudy with tears threatening to spill out. "- my position in the King's council is under threat. My health has fallen drastically, and only a husband can save you and our house." he breathes.

He knows that it shouldn't be that way, but it is.

"What you mean to say is..." you could not stomach to say the word.

"- this is my last gamble, child. If you do not wish to do it for our family, at least do it for yourself." he pleads.

Stupid family with their idiotic gambles. You cursed while continuing to concoct the potion. There was a hundred other ladies in this court, some more beautiful - some having bigger breasts - some having more melodious voices. And what were you stuck with?

This old gown that you inherited from your mother.

You weren't dealt the winning hand, so you must play with the cards that you were dealt with.

"Kesā sagon ñuhon." you whispered into the powder, feeling chills run up your spine as the magic takes effect. You will be mine.

You press a finger to your lips. Who will be mine?

Of course, they needed to be rich. You were in poverty and eating love for breakfast wasn't something you're looking forward to.

And of course, they needed to be handsome - because it will be a curse to stare at an ugly face everyday.

"Prince Daemon," you say out loud.

You fancied him when you were younger.

He had flowing silver-gold hair, and entrancing deep purple eyes. He was every maiden's dream. All everyone saw was a dangerous man - a shifting tide. He was quick to anger and slow to forgive.

But that wasn't going to be a problem.

If your love potion was going to take its full effect, he'd be a tamed dragon, and you'd be the most beautiful maiden in his eyes. He'd be loyal to you no matter what you did.

The thought of taming an untamable man was...alluring.

"Prince Daemon it is, then." you decide. Carefully storing the powder in the empty space of your locket.

The plan needed to work.

Daemon's eyes narrowed, seeing Lord Hendrik's daughter walk across the garden. His eyes were drawn towards her figure. He's heard stories about your great beauty - and now he's finally had the luxury of meeting you. "Lady Hendrik," he calls your name.

"My prince," you bowed, surprised that he knows you. "- it is a pleasure to be be in your presence." your gaze remained on the floor.

"I believe that I am the one who should be saying that," he tilted his head with a pensive smile. His eyes alternated between your eyes and your lips, engrossing himself in your features. "- it is not everyday that a maiden from Quid Isle visits the Red Keep." he added, offering his arm for you to take.

"It is a long journey." you were quick to answer, holding his arm as you both strolled down the gardens. Your father's castle used to have a garden exactly like this - but all the flowers have wilted now. Its beauty was forced to remain in your memory.

"I can only imagine," he hummed - still staring at your face.

There was a look in his eyes, telling you that he was interested.

He kept staring at you and you found yourself staring at him in return, waiting until he opened his mouth again. "You're very beautiful." he observed, moving a strand of hair away from your face.

"T-thank you." you surprise yourself by stuttering.

Gods, you've always been eloquent but what you were about to do was making you nervous.

You turned to look at the table behind you, sprinkling the secret powder on one of the lemon cakes.

"Lemon cake?" you offered, holding the pastry up with a smile.

"Sure," he agreed, not bothering to take the pastry from your hands - instead taking a small bite while you were still holding it.

The way he licked his lips made shivers run down your spine. You were indeed making the right choice. "Is it good?" you raised an eyebrow, waiting for that grumble on your stomach that told you that the spell was working.

"They taste different today." he admits, chewing at the sweet treat - surprised at the slight specks of saltiness. It brought the sweet flavor out, but it was the first time he's tasted lemon cakes like this.

"Good or bad?" you inquired.

Your stomach grumbles. His pupils dilate.

"Good," he says.

The love potion has indeed worked. He's looking at you the same way that the moon looks at the sun. There was a smile on his face, a soft and gentle smile only given to those feeling pure love. "You should try one, my lady." he offers, and you nod - doing exactly that.

"Is the court to your satisfaction?" he asked, unable to stare at anything other than you. "It is beautiful, my lord, especially the gardens. I've never seen anything quite like it." you smiled.

He admires the innocence in your eyes.

Your smile makes him want to smile too.

"Our gardens pale in comparison to Highgarden. Mayhaps, one day I shall take you there." he made a promise. You are slightly taken aback by the potency of your love potion.

"Take me there?" you repeated his last words.

"If it is your will, my lady." his hands rubbed circles on the back of your waist. "It is unbecoming, especially from an unmarried maiden. I wish not to impose, my prince." your mind returned to marriage.

Our last gamble.

"Oh yes, unmarried." he reminded himself. He takes a step backwards, a wave of clarity crashing through his features. You worried for a second that the love potion lost its effect, if it weren't for the look in his eyes - utterly dedicated and in love.

"I must leave to attend my business with the Gold Cloaks. Do not stray too far in the gardens, I shall talk to you later." he vows.

"Yes, my prince." was the only thing that you could say.

Daemon was fascinated but now he was sure that he was in love. Ever since he spoke to you in the gardens - you're the only thing that he thinks about. When he drinks wine, he wonders about the types of wine that you like. When he reads a book, he thinks about what your favorite books are.

Even a chore a simple as breathing makes him think about you.

As the months occurred, he's spent every living second beside you. Braiding your hair, reading books about his ancestry. He's even taught you a few things about sword-fighting.

He's defenseless against your love.

There was no escape.

"I intend to marry the Lady Hendrik." Daemon boldly announces in front of his brother. He was a million times sure that you were the woman he wanted to spend his eternity with. "I beg your pardon?" Viserys gazes up from his miniature version of Old Valyria.

"You've been pestering me about marriage ever since that Bronze Bitch died. I've finally made my choice. Lady Hendrik, the Master of Coin's daughter." Daemon emphasized.

Viserys' eyebrows merged together.

"Have you spoken to her?" Viserys inquired, surprised at his brother's sudden enthusiasm towards you. "I have." Daemon responds.

"How many conversations have you had with her?" Viserys follows up, a little skeptical but otherwise relieved that his brother has found love. "It matters not, she is the best choice. She is set to inherit her father's island. It shall keep me out of your way." Daemon argues.

"Lady Royce inherited the Runestone. What makes you think that this lady of yours is going to be different than the last?" Viserys queries, poking through his brother's resolve - trying to look for holes. He does not wish to grant annulment or mend Daemon's losses when the time comes that he falls out of love.

"I will wed the Lady Hendrik. We will live in Quid Isle." Daemon ignores his brother's question. His destiny already written in stone.

"There isn't anything that could stop you anyways." Viserys agrees, finding no other reason to disagree.

"Speak to her father. Make sure that he agrees." Viserys adds, returning his attention to his little Old Valyria.

"Your father has agreed to an engagement between us." Daemon announced from behind you, and suddenly your eyes light up. "Really?" happiness was leaking from your voice.

Your happiness, gives him happiness.

"I thought that what we had was merely friendship. You've really proved yourself, my prince." you smiled, as he presses your foreheads together. Your smile sinks to the floor, that feeling of guilt threatening to make your heart explode.

He doesn't actually love you. It's the potion.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired, his eyes flooding with worry.

I'm a horrible person for making him something that he is not.

All the nobles and maesters have fawned over his loyalty to me. The way he stares at me with love and adoration. He's not spoken to any other maiden except me. He refuses to dance with anyone but me.

When he realizes that this is all an enchantment, will he hate me?

"Darling," he repeats that term of endearment.

You snap out of the trance.

"I need a moment." you break free from the embrace. Sprinting towards the direction of your room. "Sure," you hear him mumble.

Once the doors to your chambers were shut - the tears flowed. "I'm sorry," you mumbled while laying on your bed, covering your body with the layers of blanket and furs. "I'm sorry," you kept repeating.

I'm a horrible person.

You've toyed with the very will of the gods, made Prince Daemon fall in love with you and act uncharacteristically - all for what? So you wouldn't starve when all the gold in your father's coffers runs out? There were thousands of small-folks starving everyday, their lives are lost to famine - all the while you worry about not living in luxury.

It was another day for you in paradise.

Even if your father died, you'd still live a comfortable life - as long as you didn't live above your means.

You shouldn't have done that to Daemon.

And the worst part was, you loved him - loved him with your entire heart. He was a constellation to you. You've never loved anyone as deeply as you've loved him.

But you betrayed him!

Betrayed the man that offered you jewelry and pretty dresses. Betrayed the man that looks at you with warmth.

You sniffle, slowly rising above the pile of blankets on your bed.

You march to your vanity, beginning to concoct a potion that will reverse your love spell.

You needed to make things right.

Daemon stares at the small hidden lake. It was something that his ancestors consecrated to have a piece of Old Valyria. The lake had magical powers, some say that it cures disease, but to him - it was the only thing that could convince him that gods were real.

"Ever since I was a little boy, I'd stare at this pond and feel peace." he explains, placing his hands inside of the lake - allowing that mystical feeling to wash over him. "They say that it is a piece of Valyria." he continues telling you the story.

These past few days, you've been avoiding him like a plague. When he meets your eyes - he sees nothing but sadness. He wishes that taking a bath in this lake would bring peace to you, or mayhaps cure the sadness that you've been feelings - you refuse to tell him what.

"Thank you for bringing me here. Dragonstone is beautiful." you were quick to thank, but your eyes were focused on the ground.

"Why do you evade my gaze?" he inquires, holding your chin with a finger - and lifting it so you'd meet his eyes. "We are going to be husband and wife soon." he announces, and that makes you flinch.

"I know," you hum.

"If you're scared of living Quid Isle - I promise you that we'll live there after the wedding." he points out one of the possible reasons as to why you were sad. "- I am much prepared to eat fish and chickens until I die." he smiles, and that sparkle returns to your eyes.

"Get in the water." he commands with a chuckle. "No," you shake your head - feeling his hand on your shoulder - threatening to pull you down. "Daemon," you warned, holding onto his forearm.

An involuntary giggle escapes your mouth, and you both plunge into the cold lake. That grumble in your stomach returns. Magic?

You hold onto him, unable to reach the bottom of the lake floor. "You are a cruel lord," you teased wrapping your arms around him.

He takes a second longer - still staring at your face. With that same lovestruck impression as the day you first met.

"Daemon," you say his name.

"I love you." he says out of the blue, burying his face on your nape.

For a second, his voice sounds deeper - his words more meaningful than usual. It almost made you doubt yourself.

You were about to lose everything.

Today is the day that you give him the reverse potion.

"Lemon cake?" you offer, holding the pastry with a forced smile. Daemon's hands found the small of your waist. "I don't want one." he shakes his head, instead choosing to take a sip of his wine.

"Are you sure?" your eyebrows merged together.

Why was he refusing your effort?

"I don't really like eating pastries, my love." he covers his smile with another sip of wine. He's been looking at you with more adoration, lately. He's been more dutiful than before. Always opening the door for you, always carrying your books, and of course, helping with the planning of your wedding.

"But I seem to remember that our love story began with a lemon cake?" you try to persuade him. A lemon cake is also how it ends.

"I've not had the stomach for anything as of the late. I'm sorry, dearest." he tries to say no as politely as he could. "But you have to eat it, please, for me?" you resorted to begging.

"No," he responds as petulantly as he could muster.

"Daemon," you say firmly this time.

Don't make it harder than it has to be. Eat it and hate me forever.

"Give me one good reason?" he says. His voice telling you that he knew something that you didn't. "Because your future wife wills it." you insist, and he sighs - taking a bite of the lemon cake.

He eats it with a smile, watching your features carefully.

"Does it taste good?" you found yourself asking the same questions as before. "Yes," he responds - chewing softly. "How do you feel?" you inquired, worried about his wellbeing.

"Why are you asking, little flower?" his grip is firm on your waist, ignoring the looks that you were both getting. It was a behavior unbecoming of unmarried people, even if you were engaged.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Do you still love me?" you found yourself carefully asking, masking it with sweetness just in case the potion wasn't in full effect yet. "I think that the potion takes a while to settle, my lady." he smiles, saying those string of words in a whisper.

You nod your head involuntarily until his words sink in.

The potion takes a while to settle.

"What?" your voice suddenly turns an octave higher.

"You are adorable." he muses, laughing.

"How long have you known?" the words spill out of your mouth. "It wore off when we swam in the lake of Dragonstone." he explains.

"So you've been pretending to love me these past few days?" you ask, guilt eating you whole. "I've not been pretending." he confirms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice. Our family isn't as rich as we appear to be, I-my father... I mean I thought that marrying you was the only way my family would be secure. But I love you and my conscience will not allow you to live in lie." you apologized, the tears pooling.

"Hate me if you want to. Have me executed for treason if you must..." you rambled but he silences you with a finger to your lips.

"You didn't need that spell." he says tenderly. His eyes still held that warmth, the promise to love you for more than a lifetime.

"I was enamored with you even without it." he chuckles, wiping the tears away from your eyes. "What?" you were confused. "- you need not to go through with the wedding." you add.

"But I wish to marry you, my lady." he takes the upper hand.

Oh, he's been long aware of your house's financial problems - it was one of the few reasons that Viserys chose your father as Master of Coin. He couldn't bare to see a friend of his suffering. And Daemon, well he's been drawn to you since you first stepped inside the castle.

You were magnetic and you made good company.

"Adorable," he hummed - pulling your face closer to his and silencing you with a deep and long kiss.

[latanyalove]

Portgas D Ace - How He Flirts

Pairing: Ace x Y/N

Content: Jealousy, misunderstandings, light angst, hurt/comfort

A/n: I might have rushed this because I wanted this out before the year was over. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

- Portgas D. Ace is known for his charming and flirtatious nature.

- He has a way of making women feel desired and captivated.

- Ace's flirting style is unique, characterized by his confident and playful nature.

- He often uses eye contact to establish a strong connection with his targets.

- Ace is known for his witty banter and clever pick-up lines.

- He knows how to tease and make women laugh, creating an intimate atmosphere.

- Ace is skilled at reading body language and uses it to gauge a woman's interest.

- He often compliments women on their beauty, intelligence, or accomplishments.

You were in the club with the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates, enjoying the music and dancing the night away. They were all in high spirits, celebrating their recent victories and looking forward to the future.

You had been sitting with Marco, sipping on your drinks, as you watched the Fireboy move from one group of ladies to the next with ease. His smooth talking and charm had the entire club captivated.

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest as you watched him. He had a way of making everyone feel special, but you wished he would have given you some of his attention instead.

You wanted to be the one he was talking to, the one he was giving his attention to.

"You know if you keep looking him like that, then he might actually notice,"

You jumped, looking over to where the voice came from to see Marco glancing at you with a mischievous smile on his face.

"What are you talking about?" you said, trying to hide the light blush that had started to spread across your cheeks.

Marco chuckled and took a sip from his drink. "You know what I'm talking about," he said. "Just don't be too obvious about it. If you play your cards right, he might take the hint."

"I'm not sure if I'm ready for that," I said, shaking my head. "I mean, I don't even know if he would be interested in me. I don't want to put myself out there and make a fool of myself."

Marco smiled and said, "You might be surprised. You never know until you try. And there's no harm in expressing your interest."

You nodded, glancing at Ace one more time before turning your gaze away, your heart fluttering nervously. You took a deep breath and made a silent wish that maybe, just maybe, he would notice you. . . .

You were laughing and chatting with your new drinking buddies, enjoying the music and the atmosphere.

You felt free and at peace, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched everyone around you having the time of their lives.

You had forgotten all about Ace and were just living in the moment.

That was until you felt someone grab your hand.

"Excuse me, miss," the old man said with a lecherous grin. "You look like you could use some company. How about you and I have a little private dance?"

You quickly pulled your hand away, disgusted by his advances. "No thank you,"

"Why not?" He persisted.

"I have a boyfriend," you lied, hoping it would deter him.

But instead of backing off, the old man chuckled and replied, "Oh, is that so? Well, where is he then? I don't see him anywhere."

"I'm right here," he said, a voice filled with protectiveness. You turned around to see Ace standing there with a serious expression. The old man's grin faded as he realized he had crossed a line, and he quickly made his exit.

Ace, fully turned towards you, looked at you with concern and asked, "Are you okay?"

Ace's eyes softened as he gently touched the place where the man had grabbed you, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body.

Y/N, don't fall for him even more. He does this to every woman in need of saving.

You're not special.

Without saying a word, you ran away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. You sprinted through the crowded streets, desperate to put as much distance between you and Ace as possible.

It wasn't until you stopped to catch your breath that you realized you had no idea where you had ended up.

As you stood there, panting and disoriented, you felt the first droplets of rain hit your face. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a heavy downpour, soaking you to the bone.

The rain poured down on you, mixing with your tears, you couldn't help but let out a sob. The combination of the physical and emotional pain became too overwhelming to bear, and you found yourself breaking down in the middle of the unfamiliar street.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

You jumped at the voice of Ace, shocked at how he had followed you all the way.

Dreading the look on his face, you still turned around to see Ace standing there, rain-soaked and concerned. His eyes searched yours, filled with worry and regret.

"Y/N?" he said softer, his voice filled with genuine concern and regret.

"Why did you follow me all the way here?" You asked.

"I couldn't just let you run off like that," Ace replied, his voice laced with sincerity. "I care about you, Y/N. I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Is that what you say to every woman in need?" You blurted out, your voice filled with anger and hurt.

Ace's shocked expression quickly turned into one of remorse as he realized the impact of his actions.

"No, Y/N," he said earnestly, his voice filled with regret.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment and betrayal, even though you two weren't even dating. The realization that Ace's protective nature might be more of a habit than a genuine emotion made you question the authenticity of his actions towards you.

You decided that since you weren't going to have a chance with him, you might as well tell him.

"Ace, I've liked you for a while and I know-" You started, your eyes fixated on the muddy floor.

You didn't hear his footsteps, but suddenly your face was raised up by Ace's gentle touch. His hand cupped your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the proximity between your faces, the warmth of his hand against your skin. Despite the closeness, there was still a hint of uncertainty lingering in the space between you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a move.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, a mix of nervousness and anticipation flooding your senses. Without wasting any time, Ace closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours, the taste of rain and longing intertwining in the kiss.

It was a moment filled with both vulnerability and a glimmer of hope, as if the downpour had washed away the doubts and fears that had kept you apart for so long.

When the both of us broke away from each other, Ace started speaking.

"I like you too Y/N, I- I was just scared of how you would react if I confessed,"

"Scared?" You would never think the Fire Fist Ace was scared of anything.

"Yes, I mean who would Iike a monster like me in the first place?"

"Me," You interrupted, "I mean not the monster part because you're not a monster-"

A quick kiss shut you up immediately.

You started to pout, "You need to stop interrupting me when I'm talking,"

"But it's so nice to kiss you, I can't stop," He admitted shamelessly, his cheeks blushing immensely.

You laughed at his bad flirting skills.

"H- Hey! It's not funny!" He pouted.

At moment, you realised that you were special to him. He blushed when he flirted with you, he stuttered when he is with you and loves you more than those girls in the bar. . . .

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

"So you're telling me that you were jealous of the girls in the bar?" Ace teased you with his famous grin as he leaned against you.

"Well yeah," You mumbled, crossing your arms in embarrassment. Maybe you did slightly overreact.

Ace then hugged your side, winking. "I'm sorry for making you jealous, let me treat you tonight,"

[fanaticsnail]

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.” 

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.” 

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier. 

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances. 

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship. 

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair. 

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship. 

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral. 

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was. 

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain. 

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him. 

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists. 

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain. 

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder. 

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed. 

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher. 

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him. 

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature. 

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue. 

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets. 

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head. 

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked. 

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over. 

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper. 

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face. 

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. 

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 7}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: A letter, clear words, the work forged by skilled but aching hands, all of it helps you to heal from what had been one of the worst weeks of your life.

Word Count: 13.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, age gap (reader is early 40's and joel is 57), pining, requited unrequited love, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, fighting, two (2) satisfying slaps, joel miller's hands need their own warning, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), soft joel, pet names (sweetheart), serious conversations, apologies, references to child loss, minor character death, blood, talk of female anatomy, reader has no assigned name but has a commonly used nickname, lemme know if i missed any major ones!

A/N: SURPRISE, Y'ALL!! i was supposed to have internet installed this week but it's been delayed again and my local library is only open today and since queues make me nervous, i threw caution to the wind and yeah - WE MADE IT. this is the final chapter! i am so delighted and humbled by the responses to this fic. i put a lot of myself into olive and for everyone to root for her and cheer her on means so, terribly much to my lil heart. i love y'all and i hope this finds you well ♡

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The hush of cardstock is the only sound in the room as Joel shuffles through the recipes you had written down for him, for him and Ellie. The fancy loops of your cursive are faded, a little blurred in some spots and he regretted your time and devotion getting smudged by his lack of attention. He had been too slow to retrieve all the index cards where they had landed, flying into the air as you had run straight into his back. It had taken so long because Marsha hadn’t seemed to get the hint or his direct words that he was not and would not be with her the way that she wished for him to be.

But she did now. She had been picking Millie up when Joel had all but kicked the door in, shouts of needing help echoing down the street. The woman had flattened herself to the wall, eyes taking in your unconscious form in Joel’s arms. How carefully he maneuvered, how mindful he was to not jostle your body too much, how frantic his expression was even as he tried to explain what he could to the nurse and doctor who sprang forward at the sight. His brows were drawn together, worry evident as he explained to them your stitches from a few days ago had opened, how you had been coughing up blood before he found you. The fear in his strong voice when he detailed how cold you were, how unresponsive. All of it combined was a reflection of his care for you. Something only seen in his interactions with Ellie. And now with you.

Joel had felt pride surge in his chest at seeing the damage you had inflicted on the other woman, guilt flaring just seconds after. You had been pushed to your breaking point, not just by her but by everyone in your life. Evidence of the fight was etched across your body from the scratches from the woman’s nails up and down your arms, the tangled tresses of your loose hair, to the bruises that had blossomed along your soft skin.

The most notable with the tearing of your stitches. The stain of blood on your skin in places he couldn’t wipe it away, for fear of harming you further, even in your unconscious state. It had been three days, and you still hadn’t woken up. Even after the repair to the wound, a better stitch pattern was implemented and two blood transfusions. One from him and one from Tommy.

He hadn’t wanted to leave your side since he brought you in, but he had things he needed to take care of. The few people who interacted with you coming in and checking on you, him coming to spend each evening by your bedside and staying through the night. Maria was across from him now, Macon sound asleep in her arms as the clock ticking on the wall displayed the post sunset hour.

“Marsha will be interrogated at the next town meetings, for her behavior and words towards Olive.”

“Good.” Joel croaked, his voice gravely from disuse.

“Millie will be on next week’s patrol with you, per your request. Once she’s adequately trained, she’ll be added to the rotation.”

“If she takes to being trained. I have a feeling she might pretend to not learn anythin’ just to get out of it.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Maria hummed in agreement, knowing more than Joel the small requests and complaints the woman has made in her time behind the walls. “It’s time some of the people who have been idle share the responsibility. Besides, Olive requested to be taken off patrol before. I’m sure she’ll double down on that once she’s recovered.”

“Please tell me she didn’t hate being forced to be my partner when Tommy asked. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough if it was somethin’ she didn’t want to-“

“Joel, she was okay with it, believe me.” Moving to stand, the woman reached to rest a hand on your legs beneath the blankets. “She was glad to feel like she was trusted enough to be asked. She never had any ill feelings toward you, even when she didn’t know you.”

She watches him, he can feel the weight of her stare on him as he continues to go over each of the cards contents. There’s a bag beside him, a small canvas thing he had loaded up with some spare pieces of lumber from bigger projects, scraps that he spent the evening hours whittling and carving as he sits beside you bed. He alternates between doing that and going over the cards, habits to keep him awake as he sits vigil and waits for you to return to him.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came back. But…you surprised me.”

“How so?” He knows he was always a sore and heavy subject between her and his brother. Even more so when he quite literally stumbled onto their doorstep. He had been determined to change, to give back into the second chance at life he had been handed, for Ellie, for his brother– for himself. Aligning himself with the customs and way of life carved out in the plains of Wyoming. He’s glad he hadn’t fallen completely to the depraved, hallowed out version he had adapted to, had been forced to become with the loss of everything he knew, with the loss of his daughter.

“You’ve meshed well with the lifestyle we created here, got onto good terms with one of the best people we have here.”

He didn’t look up from the cards in his hands, he knew that. Deep down, he knew you hadn’t minded patrolling with him. But it was hard to understand with how messed up everything was at the moment and he lost himself to the circling thoughts of how hurt you had looked as you stood your ground with him a few days ago in your kitchen. But his head shot up when a whimper sounded into the air that wasn’t from the woman or his nephew.

You were stirring in the bed, eyes still closed. Hands shaking as they raised to cradle your middle, mind no doubt recalling the circumstances of your last waking moments. Joel’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, echoing in the spot where they had drawn blood from the inside crook of his right elbow. Macon gurgled in Maria’s hold, wide eyes cut towards you as you shifted a little underneath the blankets.

“Joel…” You murmured, eyes clenching shut tightly. You weren’t rousing, you were still unconscious, though your mind seemed to be in working order if you were dreaming. Joel sets down the index cards atop the blankets over you, moving closer to grip a hand with both of his, the other laid out flat to ensure the line of the IV didn’t get tangled or kinked.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.” He soothed you as best he could, the wrap of your fingers around his stirring his heart to beat faster in his ribcage.

As he’s leaving the morning, a patrol that he would be taking Ellie out on with the approval of the council to begin her training as well, he see’s the shadow of two figures approach your room out of the corner of his eye just as he’s placing a parting kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here this early.” It’s the sister and brother pair you had insisted on bringing back. The woman, Callie Joel thinks her name is, is holding a hand to her swollen stomach protruding out from beneath her long coat. It looks like it wouldn’t fasten with how far along she was. Nolan, the man who had been with you when this whole mess started was a step behind her and a bouquet of dried flowers clenching in his hand.

“It’s okay, was jus’ leavin’.”

“Look, Mr. Miller.” Nolan steps up to him, leaving a few feet of space as Joel turns to head to the door while Callie sidles up to take the chair he had slept in and scoot it close to your unconscious form. “I tried my best to tamp down the fight, but Olive, she’s…she’s a scrappy one. Was on that other girl before I could even blink.”

“Millie. The other one’s name is Millie.”

“Millie did this?” Callie questions from her spot holding your hand in hers, eyes wide. “She’s been so nice to me, I had dinner with her and her mom just last week…”

“Millie ‘n Olive don’t get along too well, bad history.” Joel hopes he isn’t overstepping your privacy by saying so, but if the two were intent on being at least friendly with you, they deserved to know that not everyone was so forward in their interactions with you. “Patrol gone wrong, they both lost someone important to them and Millie didn’t deal with it well.”

“She called her a whore, when she saw us talking.” Nolan explained, “Olive moved first and apologized, but all hell broke loose when Millie hit her back.”

“She what?” Joel felt anger burn hot through his veins, the implication of you being anything other than kind and thoughtful not sitting well with him. No wonder you had snapped, Joel hadn’t found out exactly what had occurred, the council stemming the raging gossip as best they could as soon as it began to spread. Reminding people to deal with personal issues in non-confrontational ways or punishment would be doled out and extra duties would be tacked on.

The two fell quiet, feeling the anger simmering in him. Joel’s face had darkened, brow furrowed deep and his jaw ticking as he tried to get a control on it.

“Y’all have a good day.” He manages before he’s out the door, his steps even and nearly silent as he makes his way out of the infirmary. He’s at Marsha’s in the blink of an eye, fist knocking against the wood of their front door.

“Marsha isn’t home, she’s serving out her punishment by taking over Olive’s morning shifts at the mess hall.” Maria’s voice calls to him as she strolls down the street. Macon is in her arms, but he’s fussing. She stops and places him in the baby carriage in front of her and quiets him with a pacifier. “Millie is out getting the rundown of how patrol works and what her responsibilities are.”

“Did you know that Millie called-“

“Yes. It’s been dealt with.” Maria’s voice implied she didn’t agree with what happened, that it was indeed being considered with much thought, not taken lightly with how it built up to the point of combustion in the town’s center on one of the busiest nights.

“Easy now, honey, there you go.” Tommy’s soothing voice allowed for you to feel less embarrassed about how slow moving you were, how long it was taking to trek from the infirmary to your house. His arm was around your waist, his other in front of him as he held onto your right hand for added support. “Joel will probably be knocking on your door the second he gets back from patrol and finds you gone from the clinic.”

“He can knock all he wants.” You huffed out, not too sure how you were feeling toward the man at the moment. Once you had woken up, the nurses told you he hadn’t left your side during the nights you had been there. Tommy and Maria sharing with you the way he had been frantic to find you the second he had found out about your fight with Millie. The decision of you no longer wanting to do patrol being portrayed as a punishment for your violent outburst. But the council held no real ill will toward you, having addressed the behavior you faced from more than a few of the townspeople.

“Marsha is due to cover your shifts at the mess hall, the early ones. Until you’re ready to go back.”

“Dunno, think she needs more ‘n a week or two tackling that hectic shift.”

“There’s my girl,” Tommy beamed, glad to know you weren’t too injured to show the side of yourself he knew.

As you turned down your street, Tommy let go of you at your insistence to try and support yourself. After a few stumbling steps, you managed to find your balance, even if your pace was still on the slow side.

“Joel ‘n I fixed your door. Well, we made a new one, actually. Old man did some damage to the other one when his big bulky frame was pushed into it by those storm winds,” He chuckled, most likely picturing the ordeal that was far more tense and serious than a mishap on Joel’s part. It had been…one of the hardest things you had to do, stand your ground and deny the man you had come to care. Especially in the face of him practically confessing to you that he shared in your feelings. “Cranked the heat up to get it back to the temperature you prefer. Even watered the plants for you, fed that stray that comes around sometimes. I think it found the crate you set up for it on your back porch.”

“You’re too sweet, Tommy. Thank you.” You watched as he unlocked the door and for the first time since leaving the infirmary you noticed how he was constantly shifting. His weight from foot to foot, his hands raking through his long, dark curls.

He helped you up the few steps of your stoop, his hands a gentle weight, arms ready to tense and catch you should you lose your balance. Once you were settled in your bed, a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water on your bedside, the man tentatively settled on the foot of your bed.

“I wanted to apologize, formally.” He started, brown eyes glittering in the midafternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. You leaned up from the pillows propped up behind your back and up against the fabric headboard, about to say something but he held up a wide palm to stop you. “You told me ‘n Maria in passing the behavior people have toward you. It was out of our control, freedom of speech ‘n all but…we should’ve at least tried to tamp it down more than we did.”

“Tommy, everyone has already done so much in letting me in, giving me a chance. I did-didn’t want to stir any trouble and it wasn’t real-really anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Honey…” He stands up and nestles himself between you and the edge of the bed, his back on the headboard right next to you. He brings you into his chest and kisses into the crown of your head as you return the embrace. something he hadn’t done since you appeared back at Jackson’s gates with blood covering you head to toe and the corpse of your friend draped over the back of your horse. “You deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. No matter what.”

The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, you shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen without turning on a light. It was still dark out, using what little of the streetlight so close to the front of your house filtered in through the sheer curtains. When you sat at the kitchen table, you tried to set your mug down but there was a clatter as the bottom of it collided with something already resting there. And the space next to it, it seemed the whole table was covered in stuff, leaving no room for you to set it. Mumbling about people being in your house and rearranging your stuff, you shuffled over to the lamp atop the storage hutch’s middle shelf.

But you’re shocked when you flick the light on and turn back around to the table. It’s…covered. Every inch of the surface taken up by small stacks of what looks like intricately carved plates, serving trays, spoons, spatulas, and small figures that look like birds moving in a downward swoop. The coffee still in your hand splashes a little to the tile beneath your bare feet, starting you as it bounces up to kiss the skin of your ankles. But you pay it no mind as you absently set it on the hutch beside the light and move to the table with watering eyes.

It had to have been him. Joel.

The plates are beautiful, vaguely floral shaped and stained such a deep mahogany. They’re not too heavy, though they are very sturdy in your inspecting hands. Turning each one from the three separate stacks of them, each a different size from dessert to salad to serving plates, reveal a small J.M branded into the wood. Each of the leaf shaped serving trays reveal the same, though they are heavier and a bit harder for you to turn over in your weakened state. Large smoothed edged bowls are nestled in each other, the topmost one holding matching large serving spoons made your heart lurch and your stomach swoop.

The carving had been lovingly attended to because each rivet and swirl, each boarder and flat surface, it was all so seamlessly smooth. On evert single piece littering your table.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks to rest atop his intricate creations. The sight of two sets of spoons and two sets of spatulas held together with twine making you have to clap a hand over your mouth as a sob wracks through your body. The memory of hurling the ones you had requested from him flashing too bright and loud. You had taken something crafted by him and thrown in across this very kitchen, disrespecting the time and attention he had devoted to the request you had made.

Collapsing into the chair, you let the emotions of the last week take over you. Your coffee is lukewarm when you rise to retrieve it, but you twirl a carved bird in your hand as you sip from it, tears waned for the moment. That’s when you spot the large, flattened pieces on the other side of the table.

Cutting boards, three of them. Each one with a branding on the thick sides to label them individually for herbs, vegetables, and meat. The entire surface of each it sealed with a coating, but beneath it on the corners are floral patterns that you squint your eyes to take a closer look at. Gasping, you realize he had depicted the blooms often found on olive trees. His voice suddenly rings in your head as your mind recalls something you weren’t even conscious for but had filed away.

‘I made you one…I made them all for you. All of them, every single one….C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.’

‘I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.’

The tears flow, with no end in sight as you reach a shaking hand for the note you see laying atop the largest one.

‘Olive, I know I’m shit with words, I know I’ve sent such mixed signals with everything. But I want you to know, need you to know that seeing you is the best part of my day, of every day. Even if it’s just across the mess hall, across the street, as I walk home from patrol and see you in the window of your kitchen with a soft smile. The talks we have, the questions we share, every single word we’ve exchanged as made me feel worthy of the things you think of me, for the first time in a long while.

You are such an extraordinary, kind, thoughtful person and I am so lucky to have made it here to Jackson to cross paths with you. I can’t change what happened, but each hitch of your breath, each tug of the brim of your hat over your eyes, each moment spent with you makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you close. I don’t want the first time you hear the words from me to be in writing, but, Olive. I fear I’ve fallen for you, and it’s made me such a fool. Please take these gifts for what they are, a representation of how I think of you every second of every day. Of how you inspire me to be a better person. Of how much love I have for you. J.M.’

Your coffee goes completely cold as you sit at the table, reading the note over and over again.

The gentle knock on your door kickstarted your heart, fluttering hard in your chest as you knew who was on the other side of the repaired wood. You turned the burner off on the stove top, shifting it to rest atop one of the cooler ones. You called for the man who held your heart to ‘wait a second, please’ before you turned to the table and reached for one of the serving bowls, spooning out the steamed contents of the pan into it and placed it back among the others already atop the table. The table was full, dishes coloring the spread laid out across the table. The rest of his gifts had been carefully places in the hutch along the back wall, some of them displayed behind the glass of the topmost part.

Toasted sandwiches cut into triangles rested atop one of the leaf serving trays, the one you had just filled up with three different types of steamed and roasted vegetables. A glass pitcher of fresh juice you pressed earlier a deep red and shining in the flames from candles interspersed between the trays and plates. You nervously ran your hands down the front of your apron, a worn but loved patterned thing that wrapped around the back of your neck and at the back of your waist.

The brownies looked a little thick, now that you took a second to consider them. A rich buttercream piped into a swirling tower amid them stacked up on one of the larger flower plates. The midsize ones set in front of two chairs with empty glasses and clean utensils beside them. All set up, all waiting.

For him, for Joel.

Moving to the door, you paused and took a deep breath to calm yourself, the titter of shyness you weren’t sure you would ever overcome when it came to the man on the other side. Reaching for the lock, you clicked it out of its setting and twisted the handle to open the door.

Joel was stood there, silhouetted against the bright winter sun, the broadness of his shoulders and the volume of his curls on display so close for you. His head had been hanging, one hand on the wall beside the door. And when he looked up to catch your eyes, your breath hitched and you felt your fingers twitch at the urge to pull him close. To let him make his written words a reality and cradle you in his arms.

“I-I got your no-note. And the – the things you left f-for me.”

“Did you,” He cleared his throat, hand moving from where it was supporting him to fall to his side, clenching and unclenching in that own nervous habit he had. His eyes roved up and down your body, taking the image you were making in your doorway. You felt like you looked okay, but your hair was a little frizzed out from the heat of cooking. And you were so, incredibly self-conscious. He was such a handsome man, and you were…just you. His voice was shaky, something you couldn’t ever recall hearing from someone normally so controlled. “Did you…like everythin’ alright?”

“It’s all so perfect. Th-thank you.” You smoothed your hands down the front of the apron again, nervous and unsure of how to approach him even as your body hummed in anticipation from the thought of it. He loved you. And you loved him back.

“And the- the note?”

“Y-yeah.” You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his, too self-conscious with how all uncharted everything seemed to be.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I-“ He surged forward through the open door, but his boots scuffed as he cut the movement short. You had unconsciously stepped back, nerves alight from the last time you had been approached. Muscles twitching, your arms tingled with the way you tried to relax from the sudden tension that had flooded your entire body. Fight or flight activated. You could see the way his throat bobbed with the nervous swallow he took before sighing out a deep breath. “Olive, I swear to you, I- you’re so good. The sweetest, prettiest thing I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my time and if you’ll let me, I’ll be a good man for you. I’ll be a good man with you.”  

“Joel, I-“ Your words choked off into a sob, tears trialing hot down your cheeks as your emotions spiked and cascaded over you. Hands trembling as you did reach out for him, fingers wrapping around the unzipped edges of his thick jacket. He moved into you, his own hands coming up to cradle your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m with you. Not goin’ anywhere unless you want me to, okay?” He holds you, letting you bury your tear-stained face into his neck. The flow of them still falling from your eyes dampening the fabric of his flannel.

“D-do you want some lunch?” A shy smile pulled at your lips, heat blooming in your chest even as the tears continue to fall.

He seems to release all of the tension in his shoulders as he sighs out something relieved. You can tell he’s a little confused by the question, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. The opportunity to spend time with you, to talk to you. He had come here, after all, not even knowing where you two stood after everything. Fresh from a patrol, you could smell the lingering scent of hay from the stables on him. The leather from his gloves sliding along and holding the reigns of his horse. Nodding, you finally manage to meet his eyes and your breath hitches even as a pang of worry echoes in your chest.

“H-how was patrol?” You wait for him to take a seat before you go to pick up the pitcher and pour him some of the juice you had made. His hands are a soft hush over yours as he takes it from you and pours himself a glass before reaching for your own empty one with a lopsided smile.

“It was good, took Ellie out for her first one. She’s been buggin’ me about it since the start of winter.”

“Is she going to be my replacement? I don’t want her to feel like she has to if she’s not ready.” His eyes move over your face as you spoon steaming vegetables onto his plate and then yours.

“Maria agreed with me that Millie should be trained up, she’s starting with me next week. It’s part of her punishment for instigating the fight.”

“Oh.” Another thing for the woman and her mother to hold against you. You worried for a second of how much damage you had done to her in your near fugue state but then realized if she was okay enough to start patrol then she was far better off than you happened to be.

“We don’t have to talk about that or we- we can, if you want to. Just…just want to talk with you. About anything.” About anythin’, about nothin’.”

The conversation isn’t much from then on, but it’s enough to hold his attention. You’re tired, so incredibly tired and lethargic from the emotional morning you had, from putting all the food spread over the table together, not much of it left after Joel devours a lot of it. Starvin’ he had said through a bite, pink tinging his ears as you offered to make another sandwich for him. He had assured you everything you had made was enough and now a half pot of coffee sits in mugs in front of you each, brownies bitten into after dipping it in the frosting you had made.

As soon as his two were swallowed, he turned beseeching, wide eyes to you and you found moving to stand between his legs. His arms were so warm around you, the food and his company weighing you down in the best way as you wrap your own around his neck. His face is buried in your chest while you press a kiss to his steel curls, something that worries you for a split second before he sighs out a small ‘you’re so soft, sweetheart’.

“I-I want to talk more, but,” Your weight sagged against him, his arms tightening around you to help keep you on your feet. “I’m so tired, Joel. I think I need to lay down.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand, lemme just- I’ll clean up lunch and get out of your hair, go on and rest.” But you didn’t move, your breath hitching as you leaned back enough to peer up at him. Your eyes surely gave away how drained you were, but you weren’t quite yet ready to let him go. Even if things were a little stilted and there was so much to discuss. Right now you just wanted to lay down, to get off your feet and relieve some of the tension on your stitches.

“W-will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He follows silently behind you, boots thudding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Each step matching the beating of your heart. Through the door and into your room, you realize he must’ve already been in here, it was so tidy and the laundry that had piled up was neatly folded atop your dresser.

If he’s just as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. Seemingly taking things as they come, letting you shrug him from the flannel you had unbuttoned. When you move your hands to the buckle of his belt, one of his large hands covers both of yours. Looking up, you reassure him nothing has to happen and that you aren’t ready for anything to happen but you don’t want the denim on your clean sheets. He nods, letting you continue to disrobe him. A shaky laugh falls from his plush lips as you notice the line of him through his boxer briefs, it twitches under your quick glance, and you feel a swoop in your own stomach in response.

He asks if you need to change to, offering to turn around. But you grip his wrists and bring his hands to the ties at the side. It’s a loose thing, to help you manage to move around better, the prospect of pants and a belt too daunting despite the season. He carefully lifts the fabric from your body, his eyes on your face the entire time, even as the clothing falls to pile on top of his. With a nervous giggle, you lead him to the bed and you both get comfortable underneath the covers. It’s early, not even the sun has set, but neither of you seem to mind the time.

He's settled against the pillows when you reach out a hand on your normal side of the bed, fingers tangling with his as you lay slightly on your side toward him. The bandages around your middle are obvious underneath the camisole you wear with your underwear. He’s facing you too, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I want to.” Your words are barely above a whisper, as you take in the image he creates beside you, filling the empty part of your bed with his broad frame. His steel curls flattened on the pillow, his warmth only a few inches away, his eyes soft and watching you as you collect the words from your mind to fill your tongue. It had been something you yearned for since that first brush of his hand against yours, that first smile you managed to pull from him with an offhand comment, from the first moment he asked you a question in return to one of your own. Even if someone else had shown you the same kindness, his would be the one you sought after. “Be with you.”

“I want that too, sweetheart, more’n anything, but…I hurt you. I know that, I was careless in my attempts to be careful, to not push you. To…surprise you with what I wanted to be the first thing I gifted you.”

“Tommy told me. You know I thought some kids stole that piece of the trunk?” Your eyes glitter with a hint of mirth, teasing tone light and reminiscent of times past. It’s fleeting, the bone deep exhaustion settled in your body not only physical but mental. “I…Joel, I worry about…everything. All the time. You deserve to the chance to thrive here, for Ellie to thrive here and…being with me would-“

“I’d choose you over the town any day, you’ve gotta know that. Me and Ellie, we’ve been through a lot but we’re tough, you don’t gotta worry about us. I know…that people see her lack of manners and anxious tendencies as something that needs to be fixed. Maybe, yeah, the little troublemaker could stand to hold her tongue sometimes but she’s so young, she’s got a lot to unlearn from being raised the way she was. She’s a good kid, she’s good but you are too. We’ll take it slow, because I haven’t done this dance in while, hell, ever really. And I want to do it right, I want to be what you want because I definitely know you don’t need me.”

“I haven’t needed for anything in a long time, but Joel Miller believe me when I saw my days are better when they’re spent with you. Even…even the bad ones to an extent.”

“I’ll apologize a thousand times.” He tightens his grip, tired eyes trained on them. There’s a sadness to them, the depths of which he had let you glimpse once before. Loss, pain, devastation in the wake of when the world has broken and then turned into. You share in that sadness, having lost the person you had devoted your life to protecting, having lost the life you had just begun to flourish in before it was ripped from your hands, having lost a child that you could still hear crying in your sleep some nights…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the need for comfort from the one person you wanted it from, needed it from. It was true that you had been complacent before him, not concerned with the things people felt the need to pursue in the lives they felt safe enough to pursue here in the town. That he stroked yearning in the very core of who you were, something you hadn’t ever experienced even back when the world was thriving and bustling as it once had been.

“Can we j-just kiss a-and start to move for-forward?”  

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I exactly deserve that right now…” Your face falls. The small, shy smile dipping and the sides of your mouth dropping into a frown as you feel the burn of tears prickle again behind your cheeks. The rejection hurts, even if you understand why he feels that way and agree with him to an extent that this situation isn’t going to magically fix itself.

“But I do.”

He doesn’t even think to argue, not with the way that he’s leaning close to touch his soft lips to yours as soon as the words leave them.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” Joel’s whisper roused you, so close you reached for him. Long fingers curling around his wrist, nails lightly scratching the soft skin there. He felt the cumulation of inching out of bed slowly and quietly to not wake you as the vain attempt it was. He should’ve known his efforts would be fruitless, his resolve chipping away to nothing when you breathed his name out on a sleepy sigh. “I got training patrol. Be back early this afternoon, bring you something from the mess hall, alright sweetheart?”

You only hummed in response, lips pressed against his wrist now, sending tingling trickles of sensation all over his body at the easy way in which you displayed your affection for him now. It had been a couple of weeks. Two weeks of you making dinner one night, then walking him through another the next day. Of coffee in the mornings when he wasn’t busy, the never-ending list housed on the spiral notepad in his back pocket present in only the worn fabric over his pockets, the actual thing mysteriously gone. A break for the season, he has said when you asked him, palming the fabric of his back pockets one day.

As you lay in bed, dozing back off in the wake of his departure, Joel is outside the gates with a nervous Millie astride a horse beside him. They stop on as Joel figures an open field a few miles away would be the best bet for practice. Far enough for the sound of gunfire to not echo back and alarm people but close enough to rush back should something go awry.

“Know anythin’ about guns?” He looks over to the younger woman, her eyes wide and her head on a swivel as she constantly takes in her surrounds. He feels a little bad that she’s so on edge, but the only way to make her more comfortable is to get her out more and more. Allow her to see that it doesn’t have to be all bad. But he does understand her reaction, she’s never been outside the walls, had never been outside the town that it was before the walls went up. She had been younger than you when the world shattered, had people to look after her and care for her.

“My daddy taught me how to shoot them when the world fell apart. But that was…a long time ago now.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna see what suits you better. On patrol we use shotguns, but a handgun will do in a pinch. The key is range, keeping any threat as far away as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” She watches him closely as he removes the shotgun slung around his back. He checks that the safety is secured and he holds it out to her as she moves to stand beside him at the beckoning of his hand. He walks her through the general mechanics of the gun, firm in her not placing her finger on the trigger until she was ready to shoot.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Um…I favor my left.” He hands off the gun to her, telling her to practice her grip on the large gun while he rummages in one of the packs attached to his saddle. He’s got a cloth bag that he fills with snow and ice that coats the ground, propping it up a good distance away on top of a long dead tree stump.

Time passes and her aim gets a little better, though she’s taking too long to line up her shots. Joel reminds her to just take a breath in and shoot as she exhales. But the words cut off as he sees movement on the horizon of their spot on in the field. He’s off a ways from her, by the target he had set up for the woman to practice on. He’s turned to hold a halting hand up to her before he takes his own gun out from the holster and puts one of them down.

Another sprints from the cover of the forest nearby, but he’s focused on taking down the other two far too close for comfort. Just as he turns to take out the one closing in on him, it lunges and he’s struggling not to fall with the sudden weight slamming into him. His gun goes flying and he curses out as he tries to fend it off with his arms, the snapping of its mangled teeth loud and far too close to his face.

He wishes he had spent a few more minutes with you in bed, pressing his lips to your forehead to your cheek, to your plush lips, to any part of your body he could as the bullet ripped through him and pain sparked hot across his entire chest. Through it, he manages throw the stunned thing to the ground, another shot flying from across the field to land directly in the back its head. Joel is looking up as he bends down to retrieve his gun, his other hand pressing hard to the burning in his shoulder. Millie is too focused on him to see the blur running toward her, too late in her shifting attention as it grips her shoulder tights. Taking a deep breath, Joel tries to focus as best he can to line up his aim and take out the single Infected that remained.

He shoots and it goes down.

His shoulder throbs and his vision darkens at the edges.

“Joel!” You shout, simmering panic making you forget common manners as you burst through the door leading into the main exam room of the infirmary. There are three beds lined up on the opposite wall, other rooms set up for more serious cases that required overnight stays. Millie and Joel are settled into two of them, the younger trembling and holding her right shoulder while Joel is pressing a kerchief to his front, blood soaking it through.

Marsha is already plastered to the side of her daughter’s bed. Making no noise whatsoever, which was just as uncomforting as you realized how pale she they both were. Blood splattered over Joel while Millie looked relatively unharmed.

Millie launches into a jumble of words as she gets up from the bed, but you stop her in your tracks with a chilling look over your shoulder as you go immediately to Joel’s side.

“You need to back the fuck up, Millie. I told you I’m not engaging with you anymore, now go back to your own bed and mind your business.”

Turning from them, your eyes land on Joel and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the bed. Your heart stutters, as does your voice the closer you get to him.

“You two are just perfect for each other with your penchant for harsh words.” Jealousy was ugly on the older woman, making her act out towards you but more concerningly towards Joel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, even in the moments he had let his anger flare around her and he scolded her for her manipulation and childish behavior. He had told you all about it, about every interaction between them to tide your hurt feelings and assumptions about them. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had wanted to be completely transparent. To share with you the things he experienced.

“And you would be just perfect for recognizing harsh words, wouldn’t you?” You fire back, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at the woman who had caused so much grief and anxiety. Your words seem to stun her, as she doesn’t rebuff you in anyway, but you feel guilt flash at the kneejerk reaction, still so worried about upsetting anyone or instigating anything remotely unfriendly. But Joel was bleeding and it you were far more worried about him at the moment.

“What ha-hap-happened? That’s so mu-much blood!”.”  You ask him quietly, concerned with how his unseen injuries could be affecting him. His fingers twitch, letting you know he was trying to reach out for you. You sidle up beside him, hands reaching for his left as your wide eyes take in the expanse of his naked chest. The nurse has on pink stained white. One of the nurses bursts through the open door, ignoring the tension in the room, quickly getting to work with the tray of equipment she brought in. Her pristine gloves immediately take on a pink stain, blood gushing over his front as she digs a pair of long tweezers into a large bullet hole. She exposes in his right shoulder once she peels back the collar of his jacket and cuts away the tattered collar of his undershirt. “J-Joel, did you g-get ambushed by In-Infected? Or was it peop-people?”

“Was an accident.” He grunts out, hand tightening over yours as the nurse works to stall the bleeding.

“Millie sh-shot you?” You feel ire bubble up ugly and thick, heart beating hard at the thought of Joel out there with no protection other than the person in question, the person who had no idea how to begin to fend for herself or an injured person beyond the walls. She had been so young when the world broke, a few years younger than Aiden had been when you took him as your responsibility, his parents being the first to turn in the restaurant.

“Oh, would you shut up with that god-awful stuttering? Grown woman can’t even speak properly in a moment of crisis.”

“Mother!”

“Making a bad situation worse by simply being here, why don’t you let the nurse take care of him and just leave?”

“Mother, enough! That is no way to talk to Olive, she puts her life on the line every time she goes out beyond the walls. She and Mr. Miller have helped to make this a safe place, you should show her respect and leave her be!”

“Millie Antoinette, that is no way to speak to me.”

“You’re going to lecture me on language with the way you’ve been slinging backhanded insults about Olive all these years? Blaming her for something completely out of her control, berating her for her stutter when you know she can’t help it because the whole town makes her feel like she’s walking on eggshells.”

“This conversation is not over, we will continue this at home.”

Finally turning to look over your shoulder at the way she began to take out her frustrations on Millie, your eyes were set hard and your displeasure was obvious as you took in the way Millie’s good arm was being held far too tightly by the woman.

“Why do-don’t you just keep my na-name out of any future conversations you may have. You’ve caused enough damage, your own daughter paying for your actions and getting injured because of it. Joel getting injured because of it. No one is to blame but you and the influence you’ve lorded over her all these years. Twisting and tainting the memory of the man she loved, the man I devoted my life to protecting and ensuring he got to live a somewhat normal one after the world fell apart. He wouldn’t have wanted her to harbor such ill feelings toward me, toward what happened. But you turned it into something to use against me and you hurt her worst of all, teaching her it was okay to behave like such a child!” Your

You’re breathing heavy by the end of your outburst, finding your voice after stuttering through the first words. Unconsciously reaching for and tightening the hold on Joel’s hand through the entire exchange. He squeezes it in reassurance, through the nurse’s ministrations.

“You tell ‘er.” Joel slurs as the nurse secured a large patch of gauze over his would, betadine staining the edges of the material. The action of pressing down the tape around the corners making him hiss out a pained breath and your attention focuses on him once again.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful little-“ You could feel her approach you from behind and you let go of Joel’s hand, not wanting to jostle him should she push or shove you. She was about your height so when you swung your hand out, your palm landed right on her cheek with enough force to turn her head as the sharp slap echoed around the room.

Red blossomed bright on her skin. Her fingers twitched and you landed another hit without thinking before she could make a more intentional move.

“I know you were not about to touch me,” The feeling of your lip lifting up in a slight snarl was unpleasant, but you couldn’t help the visceral reaction to the woman after everything she had done.

Even in the wake of trying to be polite and cordial with her when you thought her and Joel were a thing, she had shown you thinly veiled niceness in return. Her eyes always watching, much like a hawk stalking its prey. But you wouldn’t be her prey any longer, unwilling to play the part she had bestowed upon you for no good reason. You weren’t a malicious person, you weren’t a violent person. Not anymore. You were kind and thoughtful and did everything you could to be nice and help out where you were needed or wanted, and you would not put up with the woman any longer.

She raised her hand up once the shock of your quick movement wore off and you used the back of your forearm to knock it down, your hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist in your grip. Her widened eyes found yours and you hoped, fleetingly, that she was unnerved. She cried out when her wrist began to smart underneath the force of your grip, trying to pull it from you but you didn’t budge. She was a fool to think using her free hand to pry at the fingers you had wrapped around her to no avail. You saw the thought for her to raise it at you flash across her face before you felt Joel’s hand gently pull at the back of your sweater.

“That’s enough, Marsha.” Maria’s voice was harsh, cutting into the scene suddenly. “Seeing as your daughter is in good hands, let’s have a little chat.”

The woman’s harsh expression, the twist of her mouth about to shape around a degrading insult, the furrow of her brow as she focused on you, it all fell away the second she realized she had an audience.

The nurse tending to Joel moved silently from Joel’s bedside to Millie’s as you released Marsha from your hold to follow behind Maria.

“Olive, I am so sorry. For everything. You’re right, Aiden wouldn’t have wanted any of this. I-I feel so…badly for how I’ve ignored you all these years when I should’ve been there to comfort you. You lost him too.” Millie cries as the nurse tends to her bruised and swollen shoulder, there now that Joel is taken care of. There was a large bruise marring her skin that was around angry looking welts, scratches that looked like they hadn’t broken the skin, no doubt from whatever occurred outside the walls. You tried focus on her, but it was hard with the adrenaline of confronting Marha thumping harshly through your entire body, Joel could surely feel the trembles where he held onto you.

“We were practicing shootin’ and a group of five or six of ‘em came outta the trees.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you began to peel back his opened flannel and shoved up the shirt he had on underneath. Hands frantic as you felt all around his body for signs of a bite. When you brushed against his groin to move down to his legs to check underneath the denim, you noticed he had fallen quiet. Looking up at him from where you were inspecting his shins, you clocked the way he rested the inside of his wrist over his zipper and belt buckle. His face was tinged a little pink at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“You could’ve led with that!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Millie shot the one that almost got me, but the first shot missed and then she took it down. She didn’t see the one comin’ up behind her cause she was so focused on helpin’ me.”

“Just lay back,” You croon sweetly, gently pushing the bulk of him to sit atop the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel groans, adjusting his hips as he scoots up to lean against the plush headboard.

It’s soft everywhere in your room, from the fabric of the headboard to your sheets and covers, to the dried flowers and sheer curtains hanging over the windows. He feels swaddled in the best way, completely wrapped up in the little world you’ve created in your space. The mix of him seen interspersed between your many books lining new shelves he crafted for you to replace the old, creaking ones worn down over time. A carved serving plate he had made for you, atop your bedside table and housing a tube of hand lotion, a note left from him the other day when he had to leave in the early hours. One of his flannels hanging up from a set of floral hooks he had made to go on the back of your door.

He was just a present influence in your home as you were in his. From the multiple bottles of oil scattered about his stove top, to the leftovers clearly labeled and stored in his fridge, to the pair of underwear that had ended up nestled with his in the top drawer of his dresser. The very ones you wore underneath his shirts when you slept over in his bed, making the sheets smell a heady combination of you both that had him seeing you in his dreams even more.

It had been a slow dance of homemade dinners, of nights spent in each other’s bed, of searing kisses and soft words shared between you both over the last two months. Both healed from the events that had allowed for the confusing and heartbreaking one to shift to this one, where it was obvious you both wanted each other, both had so much adoration for each other. But you were still so shy around Joel,  never letting things go further than wandering hands sneaking beneath clothing.

But tonight, you were feeling so encompassed by the need to see him, to touch him, to be seen and touched by him in return. Tommy had let slip it was your birthday tomorrow when he asked if you were still coming around his and Maria’s for dinner. Joel had been confused why you hadn’t shared that with him, you knew when his birthday was after all. And everything that came tangled with the date.

“Joel,” You whispered against his lips, having moved to hover over his lap with your arms atop his shoulders. His hair had grown long, the thick locks brushed back by his large hands to swoop into gorgeous curls behind his ears and over the back of his neck. Nearly brushing the tops of his broad shoulders, he groaned out as you toyed with the ends of the long locks now. Nervous energy made it hard to keep your hands still and you confessed quietly as you ran your fingers through the curls. “I…I need to tell you something before we- before we, um, do this.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes blink open, concern and worry glinting in them as he takes in the way you’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Just wanna be with you, no matter what.”

You start and stutter a few times, the words trailing off as your emotions spike and memories find their way to the surface. But it was the right thing to do, to share this part of your past with him. The potential for the mood to be ruined all to glaring as you realized it would be one of the heavier things you shared with the man who had become you partner in every definition of the word.

“Joel, I…I don’t have, um, I don’t have all my…parts.” Waving a hand over your lower stomach, right where you rested over his own. His confusion was obvious as he focused on the part of your body in question, his plush lips parting as he contemplated how to better ask for clarification. But you leaned back a little, your thighs tightened around his hips as you did so to pick up the hem of your camisole and unbutton the jeans you were still dressed in. A faded but thick scar ran from the bottom of your belly button, swooping below it in an imitation of a smile and then down in a straight line from the middle to disappear beneath the band of your underwear. It was completely healed, but still pink in discoloration.

“The doctors at the QZ we briefly stayed at in the beginning of everything…they did a hysterectomy after I had my…son.”

“Olive…” His hands raise from where they were around your hips, shaking slightly as he pauses in his reach to caress the marred skin. His eyes flash up to meet yours in a silent question for consent and at a small nod, he brushes the knuckle of his index finger over it. Shuddering at the soft touch, you watch the way emotions flit across his weathered face.

“They weren’t nice about it, I still…I still have pretty vivid nightmares about it because there was very little anesthesia, something about rationing the drugs and it…it was one of the most painful things I’ve had to endure. But…I thought you-you should know because I know you have some years on me, and you said you don’t think…an accident would happen and you seemed genuinely concerned because of my age. But it wo-won’t because of this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel presses the palm of his right hand over the scar, the warmth of his skin soothing just as much as the kiss he placed on your cheek. “You’re…you’re okay though?”

“As okay as I can be about it,” You consoled his worry, breath hitching as he gently caressed the skin beneath his hand. “I waited until I was healed a year, when the threat of infection was long gone, then I took Aiden and…and Ezra and I got us the hell out of there.”

He didn’t ask how you lost Ezra, he didn’t berate you for your choice to leave the QZ, he didn’t ask how you had even ended up in that situation in the first place. He didn’t do anything but slowly move to where your back was on the bed, and he was hovering over you. Soft kisses and the brush of his mustache trailing over every inch of skin he could see. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of your top in a silent question, and you sat up enough to allow him to life the garment from your body. Willing to show yourself to him, to take the offer of his soothing comfort. His breath puffed out at the sight of your naked chest, his fingers skimming up to brush against the supple skin and hardened peaks now on full display.

He clocks the way your fingers move to the buttons of his flannel and fumble, prompting him to take over for you to push it off his own shoulders, his undershirt disappearing along with it to the floorboards. But before you can move onto his belt, he’s gently pressing you back to the bed and pressing the plush softness of his lips to your body, trailing lower and lower until he brushes them so lightly over your scar.

Your breath hitches and you can feel the small smile as he takes his time to worship your body. To sooth the emotions he must know it took to confess something so big, to engage with him in this way even if you wanted to. Mind’s always tickin’ he would tease, no heat behind his words, but adoration.  

Fingers skimming over soft skin, the callouses of time and skill a heady sensation over it ahead of his lips, he slowly shimmies the undone fabric of your jeans down your legs. He takes the time to undo and step out of his own pair before he’s back on the bed, attention focused on your legs as he begins to move up, up, up. Only giving you the barest of chances to take in the thick line of his hard cock as it twitches beneath dark fabric.

His fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear from where his palms rest wide on your upper thighs, his mouth suckling the plush skin before him. His lips feel like heaven, like finally stepping through your front door after a long shift, like a hot bath after a long day, like a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. It feels like home. Startling slightly at the sudden press of his nose to your clothed core, you feel more than hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“This okay, not too much?”

“Not too much,” you assure, lifting your hips to allow him to drag the fabric down. Heat blooms in your chest, worry for not being as pretty as someone else or as groomed as you used to be. But all of your anxieties and insecurities fade away as you look down and see the way his eyes are trained on your glistening cunt. He groans out as he drags the beck of a knuckle over your puffy outer lips, reveling in the jerk of your hips at the light contact.

“’s pretty, sweetheart. So perfect.” Is all the warning he gives you before he’s spreading you open with both of his hands and burying his face between your thighs. A long, warm wet lick with the flat of his tongue from one end of you to the other has your head thudding against the pillows and your hands searching for purchase in his hair.  Pleasure sparkles all over your body, glitters behind your eyes as he tastes you, suckles that little bundle of nerves, as he gently glides two of his thick, warm fingers right inside and curves them up.

His name is a strangled sound puffed into the air, your breath hitching in the way he admitted to loving so much as he begins to pet your inside walls with his fingertips, his lips latched around your clit. His patchy scruff and mustache adding to the feel of him against your skin, against the most intimate part of you he’s taking his time in pleasuring. It takes everything you have to lift your head enough to peer through bleary eyes to find him already staring up at you. His pupils blown so wide there’s no hint of the deep brown they’re made up of. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tops of his cheeks barely visible a deep hue of pink as he worships you.

While still holding your gaze, he purses his lips and sucks, turning the sparkles of pleasure into hot waves as they overtake you. Your body isn’t your own any longer as it tenses, back arching clean off bed, your thighs clenching around his ears. Your lost in the force of the pleasure he pulled from you as easily as breathing, taken every moan and sigh as signals to what you liked best, listening to your body like he was meant to. It’s no longer yours but his.

“They’re we go, so good, sweetheart. You taste so good,” He murmurs as he helps your through the crest before pulling again to palm at himself through his underwear with one hand, the other holding your bucking hips down to clean every last bit of your release from where his fingers are pulled from you.

Reaching for him, you tug at him, urging him up to his knees so you had run your palm over the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband. He moves his hand from where he’s holding himself through the fabric as your fingers sneak below and touch him for the first time. His hips cant, pressing firmly into your willing hand.

“Take these off, please.” You whisper as you wrap your hand around him, barely able to touch the tips of your fingers with the girth of him fully hard. He’s hot against your skin, velvet soft over the rigidness of his cock. Finally seeing all of him as he pulls the fabric down and pushes it past his thighs. You let him go for him to toss them over the side of the bed, eyes taking in the stretch of his body through the action.

He’s peppered with freckles over his tan skin, chest covered in thick hair that’s the same steel grey of his curls, thick thighs tensed with the way he sits before you on his knees. He’s littered with scars, some thin and crisscrossing over each other, some raised thick to disrupt the smoothness of his skin, though none hold the same untold story of the one at his temple. The one he lets you brush softly before sleep. But they don’t take away from his beauty, they enhance it and let you know without a doubt he’s a fighter.

His cock is thick and long, ruddy at the tip and bobbing despite the heft to kiss his stomach as you eye him up and down. Every inch of him is beautiful and you tell him with a sigh, body singing for him to come back to you. Locking eyes with him, you see his own insecurities wash away at the wonder and admiration you gaze at him with.

As soon as you move to reach for him, he’s doing the same. Mouths connecting and laying his body over yours to feel every bit of your skin against his that he can manage, your legs parting to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the bump of his tip to your folds, the breathy sound turning into a moan when he grinds down against you, his hands tangling in your hair as he swallows it straight from your lips.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he reaches down to grip himself, guiding the ruddy tip to your entrance and holding his breath for the barest of seconds. You nod, unable to form words so wrapped around him, so covered by him, to consumed by him and what he means to you. Twin moans decorate the air as he pushes in, the girth of him stretching you and causing heat to lick at every single nerve.

It’s soft and slow, sensual the way he moves against you. Taking in the moment for all that it is, showing you in the most intimate way what you mean to him as you feel how deep he gets with every thrust. But when you moan out for him to go harder, to go faster – he willingly obliges. The slow roll of his hips shifting into quick snaps against yours, a hand gripping your thigh over his shoulder as he presses down in such a delicious way. You can tell you startle him when you cry out, the head of his cock catching that perfect spot, as your hands scrabble at his shoulders and your nails dig into the freckles skin of his broad back.

Sighing, you take a moment to stretch out your shoulders once you remove the apron from around your neck. It’s well into February and you’ve take back control of the morning shift at the mess hall.

Marsha had done a…well, she hadn’t done the best, but Maria had stepped in the week before you had been due back. To ensure everything was exactly the way you preferred it. It had been a lot of long early morning shifts on top of staying through the lunch service. You had tried to stifle your amusement at Maria complaining about how fast the woman had tried to get through cleaning tasks to get home before the sun set. None of it had been good enough for Maria, knowing that you dedicated yourself to making sure things were not only clean but ‘Olive clean’ as she termed it. Turning the whole dining room and setting up the kitchen for a smooth open the next morning since dinner was normally left to the individual households or the Tipsy Bison.

Part of her punishment was formally apologizing to you and thanking you for your service to the town, but it hadn’t happened. You weren’t holding your breath for it to happen, either. It wouldn’t undo all the anxiety and hesitancy you still had even now interacting with anyone outside of your very small circle.

“Miss Olive?” The sudden voice of someone peeking their head through the swinging door that led into the kitchen caught you off guard. “Oh shoot, I am so sorry! I didn’t meant startle you.”

“Oh, it’s okay, just lost in my own head. How can I help you?”

They step inside, an older couple that comes at the same time everyday, enjoying the quiet before the rest of the residents make their way into the dining room.

“Just wanted to say it was a good meal this morning. We really appreciate all the work you put in providing for the town. Glad to have you back in the swing of things.”

“Oh! Well, th-thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed today, had a couple friends urge me to include the pastries.” They nod at you, waving before turning away and disappearing back through the door. A smile graces your lips as you shrug on your coat and wrap a scarf around your neck. The kind words help you to trudge your way through the built up snow from the night before, none of it having melted once the sun rose. The winds are still sharp, piercing in their added chill to the air.

Your home is nice and toasty when you enter, intending to shower the splash of porridge that had gotten you, sinking into your skin even after you had wiped off. But you pause when you catch the scent of fresh coffee and hear a distant grunting coming from your back room. Instincts taking over, you reach for the bat leaning up against the corner behind the front door.

“Hello?” You call out, unsure of who would be in house since Joel was supposed to be on patrol with Ellie. Maria and Tommy wrapped up in council meetings with Macon dropped off at the school to be watched over.

“Jus’ me! Shit-“ A loud thud cuts off Joel’s words and you’re rushing down the hall to find him crouching on the floor, hands busy holding the framework of a shelving unit where it had tilted over. “Hey, sweetheart, wanted to have this done by the time you got back.”

You had torn out the old shelves of the back room, the wall smoothed and painted over a few days ago when you had tried to reorganize everything and one of them came crashing down. Ellie had been over a week or so ago, indulging in your vinyl collection as she did homework while she stayed the night, Joel on an overnight patrol. Apparently, she had shared with him the scary moment that prompted the change to the wall.

“Are you okay?” The words rush out as you move around him to help push the large structure back onto it’s base. He sighs as he stands, knees cracking from the added weight of the wood against him as he tensed and braced against it. When he did, your eyes rove over him to ensure he really was okay. Then the bump on his forehead catches your attention as he looks over to you. It’s red and slightly swollen.

You see the small scrape on his cheek, blood beading up along the thin lines.

“Damn thing just shifted as I was adjusting the line up. ‘m okay, promise.”

But you close in on him, hands cupping his face as you pull it down to you, brushing your lips lightly against the bump as his hands wrap around your waist. Shifting down, you kiss just below the thin scrapes, not wanting to pull at them or irritate them further before reaching for a kerchief from your back pocket and dabbing lightly at the blood. Pulling back to peer into his eyes, you see the almost shy way he’s looking from you to the shelving unit.

“There,” You press your lips to his next, his eyes fluttering shut at the swipe of your tongue against his plush bottom one. He swallows the sound that bursts from your chest as he pulls you close. He tastes like the coffee you had smelled when you first walked through the front door. Humming out an, “All better.”

His grin is bright, the dimple in his right cheek fluttering your stomach as you catch sight of it hidden in his scruff.

“All better.” He parrots before shifting you both so your back is to the wall he had been working on installing the shelving unit against. “But you ain’t supposed to be home yet. Your present isn’t ready.”

“Present? I didn’t ask for anything, Joel Miller.” You crane your head around to try and look at what he was doing, too concerned with him to see what he had been trying to do exactly. But he brought a hand up from your waist to grip at your chin and he halted the movement. “And aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Ellie?”

“Traded off with Tommy, told ‘im I had something important to do today.”

“Joel…”

“Nu-uh. You’ll have to wait to see it, birthday girl. Macon is due for pick up in an hour,” You huff a laugh as he bends his knees to lift your weight and toss it over his wide shoulder. Hair falling loose around your face, it’s impossible to see anything as he struts out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. He sets you down atop the vanity counter with a light of his own at how disheveled your hair got.

“So pretty,” He muses quietly as he brushes it from your face and tucks it behind an ear. Heat creeps up your face, still not used to such open compliments from the handsome man. Stepping away for a moment, he fiddles with the shower knobs to get the water going, ensuring it’s the perfect temperature that you prefer. He helps you to disrobe, trailing his lips over every inch of your upper body as it becomes exposed before ushering you into the stall with a parting kiss. We’ll head over to Tommy’s for an early dinner once I’m finished up here, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dinner was a small affair, Ellie using one of the recipe cards you had made for Joel to attempt her hand at a casserole and a cake. The noodles were far too mushy and the cheese was a little too crusted, but you wouldn’t trade her bright smile as she set it down with a flourish for anything in the world. The cake was a touch better, the frosting smooth in most places and the perfect amount of sweetness to counteract the rich chocolate she had been adventurous in trying out. Two candles were lit atop it after meal, her smile infectious as you thanked her and reached to squeeze her smaller frame to yours.

“Alright, alright. Now make a wish and blow them out!” She was excited, Macon imitating her as he bounced in your lap.

“Macon, want to help me?” He gurgled his agreement, barely able to hold his head up and only for short bursts of time. But he pursed his lips as you leaned closer to the cake and blew. He made a sputtering sound, bubbles forming at the corners of his lips and everyone laughed as he seemed shocked at the smoke lifting from the now spent candles. You looked over to Joel, catching the soft smile he was sporting as he watched on.

But you were both in your home now, having left at the assurance of dinner being cleaned up and the kitchen tidied. You were standing in the back room, taking in the sight of what he had been working on all day. Floor to ceiling shelves had been installed on the wall that was shared with the kitchen on the other side. The supplies you kept for the harvest from the olive trees aesthetically placed in the cubbies.

“Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” You felt the heat of him as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His deep voice was so close as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. He guided you out of the room and across the hall to your bedroom, waddling his frame around yours as he refused to let go.

“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” He whispered, as if it was a secret he was hoping to be privy to, your breath hitched as you turned in his arms and snaked your hands around his neck.

“Nothin’, just…for everything to keep on the way it has been. I’ve got everything I need.” You leaned up and kissed him, his hands tightened around your waist, and you giggled as he dipped you a little with his enthusiasm. You could feel his own smile as his lips moved against yours and you breathed out one last laugh before pivoting your bodies toward the bed. He let you, so willing underneath your touch.

The next morning you both rise early before the sun, helping each other dress and then walk hand in hand toward the stables, boots crunching over the thin ice that had formed overnight. Just as you lead Lowry through the gates, Joel astride is own horse, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

Your eyes trail over him, landing on the worn fabric of his back pocket, the spiral top of his notepad tucked securely inside. It turns out the faded patch was your business after all and you smile at him in return as he speaks.

“So what’s your favorite movie?”

You answer him honestly, earning a huff of slight exasperation for your answer. Turning the question on him as the sound of steady hoofbeats and soft conversation flows over the open plains of your morning route.

previous chapter || end

taglist:

@joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal

@merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag

@picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture

@joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar

@honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh

@persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc

@part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel

@blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

@communism-bitches @slugz-writes-shit @mosssbawls @vie-is-punk

@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog @amyispxnk @wand-erer5

dividers by the lovely: @/cafekitsune and /saradika-graphics

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Part 3 of butcher!Simon I've got two lovely anons in my inbox and seeing people liking butcher!Simon really made me want to put more of my thoughts about him into words. Thank you two! I hope this doesn't suck too bad. < Part 2 | COD Masterlist | Part 4 >

It’s Friday. That fact is the only thing that keeps Simon from turning himself into minced meat. Friday means you’ll come and get your ugly mutt meat. That means he’ll get to see you and hear your pretty voice and if he’s really lucky and plays his cards right, maybe he can make you laugh again.

So when some Karen complains that his meat went bad after she left it on the porch for a week (Jesus what did he do to deserve customers like that) he swiftly throws her out of the shop and tells her to get her meat elsewhere if the quality isn’t satisfying, instead of getting into an actual fight (Would you be proud of him for that? Call him a good boy?).

He doesn’t want to be occupied with some silly argument when you come in. You deserve his full attention.

When he sees you through the window he feels like a wife that has been waiting for years to see her husband come back from war (hah, the irony of that thought), and immediately straightens up brushing his apron down and adjusting the mask.

This time you only hesitate a second before you open the door and step in with your dog. Simon grins a bit behind his mask. He’s so proud of you for doing what makes you more comfortable that he almost murmurs “good little lovie” under his breath but he manages to bite it back. Thanking god for the self-control to hold that in because that would have weirded you out for sure.

You smile brightly at him and he wants to steal you away and chain you up in his home so no one else but him gets to see that.

When did he turn into such a fucking creep? He shakes his head to rid himself of those thoughts. Seeing you smile like that makes tension he didn’t even know he had bleed out of his shoulders.

“Hi, Simon.”

He almost shudders, hearing his name being said by you again. And instead of greeting you back, like a normal fucking human, he is so flustered by your smile that he only manages a vague grunt as hello.

He’s reverted back to cavemen days, it seems. He’s already made a fool of himself and you’ve been in the shop for barely a few seconds.

You step up to the counter, looking at the meat while your dog eyes Simon. At least he doesn’t seem to hate him which he counts as a big achievement.

Simon nearly groans again when he sees the adorable way you purse your lips and furrow your eyebrows in concentration. Yeah, Fridays and Tuesdays are his favorite days of the week for sure.

He watches you pick out your meat and carefully bags it for you, making sure that you have the best pieces.

“Not the usual?”, he questions and watches you nearly jump from suddenly hearing his voice.

Why is he so bad when it comes to making you feel at ease? You shake your head.

“Want to give my boy options so I know which ones are his favorites.”, you explain and pet your dogs back who promptly begins to wag his tail.

Damn, Simon would wag his tail for you too if you deigned him worthy of getting to feel your hands.  He could swear your dog is grinning at him victoriously when you stop petting him to pay and get the meat from Simon’s hold.

The sly mutt gets all nosy with the bag and slyly tries to take it from you. You turn your full attention to the dog.

“Down, boy.”, your voice is stern and immediately the dog settles, looking up at you with big innocent eyes. “That's my good little pup.”

Simon grabs onto the counter, blood rushing to his face and other places. God he really wishes he was born a dog.

[temis-de-leon]

MC with a selfish best friend

MC mourning the loss of a long toxic friendship with the help of the brothers.

Characters: demon brothers and fem!MC (written as platonic, but could be read as romantic)

Masterlist , Part 2 (kind of)

CW: continued discussion about weight gain and weight loss, eating as a coping mechanism, obssesive and manipulative behaviour, emotional blackmail, a glimpse of animal neglect, a tiny nod at suicide, MC trying to hide her feelings, anxiety, TLC from the brothers

A/N: kind of self insert because I'm writing my own experience, so this isn't the most relatable MC. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Remember I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

.

.

Back then, not that long ago, MC was completely sure she wouldn’t go any further in life. She was stuck in college, in her family and her friend group. There was a dynamic she could work through and, although it could be better, she wasn’t one to complain.

It was a flooded basement with filthy water, but at least it lacked rats.

She just needed some time to start working on herself. Go to therapy, lose some weight maybe? Start cooking again and stop wasting money on fast food. She did use to enjoy spending time in the kitchen and experimenting, after all, but the only things she cooked during her last months in the human realm were mugcakes and pasta. Not necessarily nutritious, but easy to make.

Thank god she had her best friend.

Her companion in the basement, the one with the flashlight.

MC wished she let her hold her hand too.

.

.

“She’s overthinking again. Not good”

“Look who’s talking”

“Hey! It was just a joke!”

“Should we talk to her?”

“Maybe when she comes back, else we’ll give her a heart attack”

“Yeah, Lucifer would kill us”

“Oh, so now we’re doing this for Lucifer?”

“Don’t be selfish, Mammon”

“Who ya calling selfish?”

“Ugh”

MC listened carefully, softly smiling at Beel and Levi’s voices drowning Mammon’s in an almost silent screaming match.

She couldn’t see them from her position, her upper body completely sprawled over the armrest and her line of sight lost in the ashes of the chimney. The fire cracked, threatening to die in front of her, but it was difficult to get up when her body weighted so much. She was tired and hungry and nauseous and even the idea of sitting straight sent bile to her mouth.

Then someone walked into the common room, shushing harshly and getting the other brothers to cease their fighting. Whoever it was, probably Lucifer or Satan, must have thought she was asleep.

So MC closed her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and basking in the comfortable silence. She could hear them still; the shuffle of cards, a plastic wrapper, buttons and joysticks.

The newcomer got close to her, covering her body with a blanket and sitting at her feet before opening a book. There was enough space in the couch for at least two more people, but MC still curled up, trying to make more room for him. She stopped in her tracks when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle grip, a gesture that brought some warmth where her pants didn’t reach.

Would someone add another log for the fire? Everyone seemed too comfortable to move.

At least the blanket was thick. Pure hellish wool or something, because every animal in the Devildom was just a bigger scarier version of those in the human realm. It was also, however, softer than any type of textile she could’ve ever find back home, so the creature could spit fire for all she cared.

Suddenly, the brother caressing her ankle tightened his grip for a short moment, demanding her attention. When MC opened her eyes, she found Satan smiling at her with no one else in the room. She must’ve fallen asleep after all.

“Dinner is ready”

He let her stretch, unconsciously comparing her to a cat when she arched her back and cracked every possible bone in her body. Satan wondered if that ever hurt, but MC seemed to enjoy it very much whenever she had the occasion to do so, like when they came home from classes after a long day or when they bought groceries for the whole week and Beel. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not for a while, no”

“Is that so? Something troubling you, MC? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t know”

She sounded sincere, but Satan didn’t buy it. Only a month had passed since MC came back to the Devildom, looking a bit more tired than when she left at the end of the first year of the program, and she’d acted ecstatic when she learnt she would be living with them again.

He was sure the problem relied in her human phone, something she didn’t have last year and Diavolo had kindly allowed her to keep.

All of his brothers, even the eldest, were greatly impressed when MC showed them how she unlocked the device with her fingerprints, as well as the human versions of Devilgram, Deviltube and Akuzon. That was a fun day, but time passed and soon the phone became an inconvenience. Someone at the other side of the line was taking their beloved human’s time, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath of their conversations and, if Satan vision’s was correct, teary eyed.

That would not continue. Not on his watch.

“We’ll look into it in another moment. Right now, let’s go with the others. Aren’t you hungry?”

“God, yes!”

They both chuckled and he forced his thoughts away. They could wait for the time being.

.

.

Beel didn’t judge her, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she would whenever they sneaked in the kitchen at the late hours of the night.

Opening the fridge door with slow movements, trying not to make noise while taking plates or bowls and eating in silence between giggles and short whispers brought a sort of familiarity. And Beel never judged MC. Why would he? He ate even more than her. He’d keep going long after she was finished, full enough to want to puke everything, and MC would feel a wicked satisfaction knowing that no matter how much she ate, there was someone that would eat much more.

Those nights she’d go to bed feeling sick and greasy, too regretful and high on sugar to be tired. Then, by morning, she’d force herself to eat breakfast and go on with her day just to get whatever sense of normality she could reach.

Although, lately, things had been slightly different.

They still got together at night and filled their mouths to the brim, but Beel was adamant about MC going to the gym with him when the morning came, before everyone was out of bed. Of course she’d said no since the beginning, but he kept insisting, saying she didn’t have to exercise if she didn’t want to.

MC still said no.

Then Asmodeus put his input.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon’, but you aren’t getting your 8 hours of sleep and you’re adding calories during the night. That’s horrible for your skin!”

And had it been her mother saying that, MC would’ve lashed out, rejecting opinions she’d been hearing for years over and over and over again, but this was Asmo. The Avatar of Lust. The most beautiful demon in the entire Devildom. MC guessed she wasn’t being fair to her mother, who also loved her and hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time, when it was Asmo she couldn’t ignore.

“I get anxious when I go to bed” she finally confessed.

MC could feel Satan’s eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

“Spend the night with me” intervened Belphie with an honest smile, a muted worry in his eyes “I could make you so tired you wouldn’t want to get out of bed”

“No way!”

Everyone looked at Mammon and several sighs filled the room. The demon, although deeply blushing, kept talking with an overbearing smugness.

“If someone’s gonna sleep with her, it’s gonna be me! Don’t worry MC, the Great Mammon will chase the nightmares away!”

“I think sleeping with you would give her nightmares, actually”

Mammon turned to Levi, ready to swing at his brother, but MC talked before the fight started.

“It’s not nightmares, Mams, I just feel anxious. You know, like, I can’t stop thinking”

“About what?”

She looked at Satan, who was staring at her with a calculating glance, surely remembering what she told him days before when she fell asleep on the couch.

“I don’t know… Everything, I guess”

All of them stayed silent, ignoring what they were previously doing. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, but MC wished someone said anything.

Of course, Mammon spoke first.

“Well, that’s a lot”

“No shit, you moron”

Levi finally got smacked and the rest of them went back to do their own thing, letting MC’s lack of sleep behind. A part of her wanted to keep the conversation going, but she felt too embarrassed when she tried to open her mouth again, especially having Satan looking at her like a hawk.

You don't want me to stare at you? I want to. What's the problem?

She achieved to ignore him in the end.

That night she stayed in her room, pacing, chewing her sweatshirt’s aglet while humming that Phineas and Ferb’s song and turning her headphone’s volume to the maximum with a different music threatening to deteriorate her hearing.

Anything to distract herself and not go to the kitchen.

Finally, hours after bidding the brothers goodnight, MC threw herself on the bed. Her feet were aching, its footprints surely engraved in the carpet, and she forgot to take her headphones off, making the position uncomfortable, but the important thing was that she didn’t have the need to eat anymore.

However, Beel still knocked her door at dawn.

MC stared at him when she opened, bleary-eyed and mouth as dry as cotton, the hem of her pyjama pants so high they looked like pantaloons. He, on the other hand, was completely awake and seemed ready to conquer the day.

“Before you say anything, I’m not going to the gym today”

There was a heavy silence for a couple of seconds.

“Then why did you wake me up? We have classes tomorrow”

Beel stared at her with a worried expression.

“We don’t. It’s Saturday”

“Ah”

She could’ve sleep longer? MC wished she was mad at him, but his puppy stare was hypnotizing.

“I want to go for a walk today. And I want you to come with me”

He lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his cheek while waiting for an answer. MC turned around and looked at the window, still unable to decipher what time it was by looking at the sky.

There were a few things MC missed from the human realm. The sun was one of them.

“We could go to the park, feed some birds and then have breakfast somewhere else. I swear I won’t eat the seeds this time"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes when he smiled back. Then she looked down at the rolled pants and her bare legs.

“Is it cold?”

“I don’t think so, but you can borrow my jacket”

MC sighed and rubbed her eyes, waiting until the white spots disappeared before walking towards her closet. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, she knew that.

“Let me change and then we’re going. But you owe me one, Beel!”

His smile was too wide for him to answer.

.

.

Breakfast with Beel ended up lasting three whole hours, which was understandable, and they spent the whole time talking about nothing and almost everything, both of them clearly avoiding the subject of her sleeping habits.

MC really did want to talk about it, but then again, what did she want to talk about exactly? She had trouble falling asleep, yes, and she’d gone back to eating her feelings, but she couldn’t point out the reason. Her nights were filled with paranoia, making her revaluate every piece of interaction she’d had since she got back home from the Devildom months ago. Did she spoke correctly? Did people understand that she was just studying abroad and not begging for attention?

She hoped her best friend dropped those accusations. MC would never stoop so low. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

MC looked at Beel and the stack of plates surrounding him at the table, mugs and cardboard boxes stained with chocolate, whipped cream and frosting. Her side of the booth was much cleaner, but when she lowered her gaze the only thing she could think of were mugcakes and pasta and the taste of bile in her mouth at the sight of her bloated stomach.

“No, I’m fine”

She knew he loved her. She knew she could talk to him and he would listen and maybe even hold her hand, but the small restaurant was already filled with demons and witches and whatnot and MC knew she’d only be able to sob the moment she’d open her mouth, so she stayed quiet.

Beel nodded, going back to his food with a strange calmness. Maybe he was close to being full?

But no, it wasn’t that.

MC gasped when she felt his foot weakly tapping hers before going under it to support its weight. A small comfort, like the prelude of a long awaited hug.

He didn’t know how much she appreciated it.

.

.

Winter had already reached the Devildom the day MC opened her closet and stared at her clothes. No matter what she chose, everything was at least a size bigger.

She guessed finally going to the gym with Beel did have some payoff.

“Is something wrong, MC?”

Asmo turned the lights of her bathroom off, walking where she was silently standing while staring at the discarded clothes around her.

“You don’t feel like dressing up today? We can stay home and do some self-care if you want”

MC turned around to look at him with gratitude. She knew how much he wanted to go shopping, especially with her. Finals ended just the day before and everyone had been so occupied they’d barely seen each other outside classes and meal times.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just that… everything feels wrong. I think I lost weight”

He chuckled at her revelation, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek between giggles.

“You’re taking care of yourself, silly! Whatever are you doing with Beel in the gym, I wonder…?”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm, showing no ill intent, and Asmo smiled in response, not bothering to hide his lewd expression.

“Don’t be nasty!”

 “Oh, I’m just joking! But you know what this means, right? We get to renew your whole closet!”

MC turned around again, perfectly knowing that she could either spent her monthly allowance on clothes or start thinking on how she could rock the oversize streetwear style.

She sighed, trying to hide her smile with no success before speaking again. Asmo’s eyes were stuck on her.

“Very well, then” she wasn’t finish talking yet when the demon clapped his hands and jumped in excitement “I’ll trust your criteria”

He gasped and hit her arm in return.

“As you should!”

.

.

“So… how do I look?”

Mammon whistled, clapping and signalling her to turn around in response. Once she did a little twirl, he clapped even harder, not stopping even when she blushed in embarrassment and ran towards him to stop his overly excited appreciation.

“You look mighty fine, MC!”

“Stop!”

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you look?”

“Stop!!”

They were both laughing, her chasing him all around his room with burning cheeks and a gigantic smile.

The shopping bags waited patiently at the door, half of them already empty with a pile of clothes folded on the couch. Mammon had insisted on a private catwalk the moment he learnt she’d gone shopping with Asmo, his offense completely gone barely half an hour after starting the show in his room.

Every time she changed in his opened closet he’d cover his eyes with his hands and every time she came out with a new outfit he’d scream praises like a madman.

MC wasn’t used to this level of compliments and he sure was making it hard to stay calm.

“C’mon, go change again!”

“You’re acting insane right now, Mams”

She was smiling like crazy and her cheeks were hurting, but she didn’t want it to stop. When was the last time someone had been this hyped over her looking pretty? She couldn’t remember.

Then her phone rang.

MC stopped smiling when she saw the name on the screen.

She thought about answering and spoiling a nice evening because of a sour one-sided conversation. Was it worth it? Sure her friend could wait a couple more hours, right? She’d survived without MC the whole year she spent at the Devildom uncommunicated, after all.

“Is it The Unnameable?”

MC stared at her phone for one more second before turning around to look at Mammon, who was kneeling on the couch with his arms crossed over the backrest, eyes peeking with curiosity and another feeling she couldn’t identify.

“The Unname… Robdemor??”

He nodded, blushing and looking away.

“Yeah. You know, like, her name brings bad luck or some shit”

“She doesn’t bring bad luck”

MC didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted to and Mammon’s incredulity proved her point.

“Don’t be stupid, MC”

The pot calling the kettle back, she wanted to say, but no words came to her mouth. She was being stupid, wasn’t she? Everyone at the house already knew what to expect whenever her phone ringed or vibrated and they always did their best to distract her so she could leave the damn thing behind. She suspected Belphie even turned it off at one point.

Staring at her feet, trying to voice her feelings, MC talked again.  

“She just… needs me sometimes”

“Sometimes??”

Mammon got up, going around the couch to reach her. He looked flabbergasted, eyes opened wide and a myriad of words stuck in his throat.

The phone stopped ringing, but soon a flood of messages interrupted the silence to call for her attention instead. When she looked back at Mammon, he had frustration in his eyes.

She decided then she couldn’t bear to see him like this, so serious and reasonable. Was it too late to go back to chasing each other, laughing while trying new clothes? She’d been capable of keeping her feelings to herself since she could remember, but Mammon wouldn’t let her do that and she feared the moment the rest of the brothers decided enough was enough too.

God, she needed to talk, but not right now. Talking would make it real and she still wasn’t strong enough for the whole situation to be real.

In a matter of seconds her eyes were watering and she felt as if her throat had thorns stuck in her flesh, but before she could do anything about it there were arms wrapping around her. MC wasted no time hugging Mammon back, trying her hardest not to spoil any tears. The tags in the back of her new shirt poked her skin, making her squirm and get even closer to Mammon’s body.

He was rocking her side to side while petting her hair and there was no doubt he’d deny the whole ordeal happening afterwards, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyways. It was nice being taken care of.

.

.

It was the first time MC had gone to bed so early since before college. Her eyelids felt heavy and the bed was soft and comfortable, at least three blankets shielding her from the cold outside that froze her window and sunk her room in darkness.

But she couldn’t stop staring at her phone.

She’d turned the vibration off days ago, but that didn’t stop the notifications from showing up on the lock screen and, although she could also take care of that, MC still wanted to be able to read the messages without needing to open the app.

Her best friend talked about everything, good or bad. Mostly bad. How she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her, even when she was the one cheating on him, how much she was eating because there was no one to stop her, how tired she was to even clean her cat’s litter box. She’d say if MC were there everything would be so much better, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She didn’t ask about MC once.

“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache”

MC’s body violently jerked at Belphie’s voice.

He’d entered the room in silence, closing the door and approaching her bed without making any noise. Seeing her freaking out made him snicker, but he was too tired to fully laugh and simply laid down next to her.

“Jesus, Belphie”

“No, just me”

“Ha ha ha”

Her sarcasm didn’t affect him in the slightest. MC watched as he closed his eyes and offered his hand to held hers in a firm grasp, probably not wanting to let her go during the night.

“Turn that damn thing off” he growled against the pillow when a new message showed up.

“I’ve seen you sleep on the ground before; you can’t complain about some light”

“Watch me”

She thought he was just joking, challenging her like a small child would, but Belphie managed to surprise her when he rolled over her body, grabbed the phone and threw it to the other side of the room.

“Belphie!”

He shushed, sealing her lips under his hand before hugging her body with all four limbs, trapping her under the covers.

MC could’ve complained and hit him until he let her go to retrieve the phone, but that would’ve meant pissing him off and staring at the screen for another hour or until her friend decided it was time to show some interest in MC’s life.

…

Whoa.

…

So that’s what it was.

That simple, uh?

MC waited for something to happen at her epiphany. Nausea, panic, heavy breathing. Instead, she felt an overpowering sense of relief. Her heartbeat evened and the frown she didn’t know she had in her forehead disappeared.

No headache, no memories. For once, no nothing.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?”

Belphie’s head rose, looking at her with suspicion, but her eyes were stuck in the ceiling.

“Why? Would you feel guilty?

He stood over her then, pouting and frowning, and MC had to stop herself from laughing.

“Okay, you know what? I already said I was sorry. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of your life”

“I will as long as I can get something out of it”

“You’re evil”

“Said the demon”

His head fell face first on the pillow with a thud and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d be worried about him suffocating to death during the night.

“Why did you ask that, tho?” MC finally talked.

“Your heart stopped for a second” he shrugged and mumbled, his hold on her hand stronger than before.

“Oh… Well… Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“Are you sure?”

No, not really, but she didn’t want to talk about it in that moment. Maybe another time, when her speech wasn’t slurred due to sleep and she could organize her thoughts with a clear mind.

She hummed as an answer before speaking one last time.

“Goodnight, Belphie”

“Sweet dreams, MC”

He’d make sure of that.

.

.

MC had been quiet for a while. Not out of sadness nor ire, but something much more private. Something that left her pensive and still, staring into nothing with a serious expression. She laughed and talked with the brothers and, from what he heard, she enjoyed going to the gym with Beel, but Lucifer knew there was another factor escaping his reach.

Whatever it was, it changed MC for the better, so he was happy.

Even when the strangest ideas crossed her mind.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair”

He looked at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he saw her sitting sideways in one of the chairs with her feet resting in the other. She had a book resting in her lap. How long had she been looking at him and not reading?

“May I ask why?”

“I need a change”

Lucifer stared, taking his glasses off before crossing his arms over the document he was previously reading. MC got up and walked, zigzagging her way towards his desk as if she was drunk, but she looked as hopeful as ever.

“Did something happen?”

She nodded, ignoring his question right after.

“One of these days I’m just gonna… grab a glass of wine, go to the bathroom and bam! Haircut”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile at her words. He hadn’t seen her so playful in months and the sudden change felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you even like wine, MC?”

“That’s not the point”

“And you shouldn’t use scissors while drunk, especially near your head” he ignored her “If it’s money you’re worried about, I can pay for a good hairdresser”

She laughed and shook her head, partially sitting on the desk. They stayed silent for a few seconds and Lucifer let himself observe her, how she bit her bottom lip deep in thought and how her fingers intertwined with a certain force. She was probably hurting herself at that point.

“I just really need a change”

He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but that seemed to be enough for the moment. The silence afterwards felt full with comfort.

“That’s fine”

MC nodded and sent him a small smile before going back to the chair, this time sitting with her knees stuck to her chest, but before he could put his glasses on to continue his work, she spoke again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: I cut my hair in the bathroom and then you take me to the hairdresser to style it. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to drink while using the scissors?”

“I’m not a child, Lucifer”

“Might as well”

“Hey!”

“Just joking” he laughed, but MC could tell there was some seriousness behind his smile.

“I drink wine, I cut my hair and you check I don’t stab myself on accident, how about that?”

Lucifer pondered about it, envisioning himself behind her and watching over her reflection in the mirror, a bottle of wine in the countertop and another of Demonus waiting for them in the music room. She’d be the one to clean the aftermath, that bit was obvious, but something told him she wouldn’t really care about that.

The more he thought about it, the less strength he had to fight it. She could’ve asked Asmodeus or Mammon, but she asked him. MC wanted him to be with her during her progress, as stupid as the method was.

“Sounds like a plan to me, MC”

Her smile at his words was worth millions.

.

.

It wasn’t until several hours had passed that MC wondered if Levi invited her to his room with a hidden motive in mind.

The anime came out less than a day ago and she’d never even seen an ad about it, but he’d thoroughly claimed it was made for her.

And she could see why he would say that, honestly.

Sure, no ancient dying star granted her any mystical powers that allowed her to soar the skies or wear an alarmingly short sparkly dress; and she didn’t have an animal sidekick or a romantic interest that only appeared at night for some reason. She didn’t have an arch nemesis either, but she did have the closest thing.

MC was the selfish one, apparently, because how could she? How could MC have the audacity to ignore her best friend’s messages in her desperate times of need? Her boyfriend broke up with her because he discovered the cheating and no one was there to remind her of feeding the cat, neither to monitor her diet nor to fix the consequences of her bad decisions. She was in the lowest point of her life and MC dared to lose weight and spend time with her new friends? Outrageous!

MC unlocked her phone and stared in silence at the new text and voice messages, as well as some missed calls.

You disappoint me, MC.

After all I did for you?

I’ll die and it’ll be your fault.

I’ll die and I’ll make sure you’re the one to discover my body.

You’ll never be able to forget about me then.

You’re disgusting.

MC stared at the screen, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about it. In the end she chuckled and forced down the sting in her throat.

The TV in front of her suddenly turned into a kaleidoscope and she squinted as the heroine jumped from platform to platform, blasting her wand and singing spells. If she understood correctly, the cheery character was fighting her way through the first big boss of the season, her friends close behind her.

She could feel Levi’s eyes on her, no doubt studying her reactions to see if she liked the anime as much as he did.

“Hey, Henry!”

MC turned to look at him and smiled brightly at his rosy cheeks. She expected him to explain some hidden lore or the meaning behind the soundtrack, but he surprised her with his next words.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t told you yet, but your hair looks so cool!”

“Oh!” she widely opened her eyes in appreciation, showing her teeth in a beaming smile right after “Thanks, Levi!”

“You look… eh… upgraded. Well, no, not upgraded. Erm…” he avoided her gaze for the next few seconds before pausing the anime, letting the room go back to silence. MC kept quiet, trying not to laugh at his awkwardness so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation.

“You look really pretty, MC. Even better than her”

Levi nodded at the TV and MC stared at the heroine, the pause conveniently showing her winning pose. Big sparkly eyes winking at her and a knowing smile occupying half of her face, as if she was approving Levi’s affirmation.

MC felt the need to cry right then and there, but she held it in.

Her phone lighted up one last time before she grabbed it and turned it off in anger. She had a couple of seconds before the screen permanently went back to black, letting her read the last message.

Who do you think you are? How could you do this to me?

MC seethed. She knew who she was, even if she was still learning. Her hands itched and she forced herself not to throw the phone on the ground with all her strength. She still needed it to talk to other friends and relatives, after all.

After an entire minute filled with tense silence, MC spoke, suddenly meek and shy.

 “Hey Lev…”

“MC?”

He was staring her with caring eyes, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Fortunately, for the first time in a long while, MC knew what she needed to do. For herself and no one else.

“Would you help me change my phone number?”

She could write down the numbers of those she cared about the most and send a message asking them not to share hers without her permission.

Take care of her arch nemesis without destroying the entire world. Accept the help of people who showed joy at her improvement. Buy new clothes, change her style, cut her hair.

God, walking without that heavy weight on her shoulders would be difficult and painful, but she’d rather die before letting her ex best friend destroy her will and power one last time.

She laughed with a choke and Levi gasped her name.

She was crying.

.

.

.

@ourfinalisation

[gucciwins]

don't know where we're going

Harry invites Y/N on tour as his opening artist...he wasn't expecting to fall in love

Word count: 26,709

A/N: hola mis amores 💜 here is this new story for you. it might have been a long time but I promise I will always come back. come talk to me about the new story

Warnings: smut (female pleasure)

+

Love on Tour had come to an end. The final show was here tonight in Italy, and Y/N was excited. Her band had shared they couldn’t sleep or eat from their nerves, but Y/N felt at ease. She had always felt at home on stage. Tonight would be no different. 

When Y/N’s mother realized her daughter loved to sing, she put on even more musicals for her to watch and sing along to. Y/N’s mother, Reina, never got tired of her daughter’s voice, and with her encouragement, Y/N began to play in bars, anywhere that would give her the time and space. A producer one day approached her after doing two songs in a coffee shop, telling her she had a chance to make it. He handed her a card and made her promise she’d call. She almost didn’t. 

Her mother gave her the courage to call, and her life changed. They got her time in the studio, where she got to present her ideas and songs. The team supported her, and from then on, Y/N Y/LN became a person to be on the lookout for. She had writing sessions with Julia Michaels that allowed her to learn that not only did she have the liberty to write everything she felt but that with experience comes inspiration. As she began to record, she knew she had to think about the future of a tour. Not soon after, she met her guitarist Felix at a sports bar, where they bonded over their mutual love for Formula One. Felix introduced her to June, who became her drummer, and their bassist is Quinn, June’s brother. 

The venues Y/N had booked out always surprised her because, despite its small capacity, every show was always sold out. Her first single blew through the charts; it got her name out there. Her first tour around the UK was a success and allowed her to begin playing festivals. Y/N was happy with how her life turned out and had no idea it could improve.

Y/N loved her job. She loved being on stage and connecting with fans. She loved touring with her favorite people. She lived a comfortable life doing what she loved. Y/N had a large fanbase, not popstar sensation fame, but it’s not what she was searching for. It was why she had to think about her answer when she found out the biggest pop star of her generation wanted her to open up for his final leg in Europe. It didn’t make sense because Y/N clearly knew about Harry Styles. She didn’t know he knew about her.

He’s a big fan.

Zane Lowe played him a song, and he was hooked.

Harry saw you play one night and has followed you ever since. 

The exposure would be good for you. 

Harry would like to meet with you before you make a choice.

The choice was clear for everyone but Y/N. She had never met the man, and while the pay would be incredible, she wasn’t willing to go on tour with someone she did not get on with. The meeting with Harry turns out to be a success. He comes in full of smiles, a bit bashful when his manager points out how big a fan he is. Harry doesn’t deny it; it makes her trust him because he’s genuinely a fan of her music, and she admires that. Y/N returns the compliment, stating that she learned to play “Fine Line” on the piano because it was her favorite. Her manager Zahra shared that she cried when she first heard it because she wished she had written the song. Harry blushed at the compliment while Y/N tried to brush past it. Thankfully, Harry was polite and thanked her. While everyone got to work on paperwork, it gave Y/N a moment to speak with Harry alone. Y/N started the conversation because Harry sat there quietly, simply enjoying observing her. 

“Thank you for the opportunity. My band and I are excited,” she expressed. 

Harry grins, “thank you for agreeing.” 

“I hear stadiums are what you’ll likely be sticking to.”

“Scared,” he teased. 

Y/N shrugs, “I never imagined singing in front of that capacity if I’m honest. I think it’s easier because no one will be there for me.” 

“I will be. Will watch every night,” he promises. 

Y/N waves him off, “wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“Didn’t think you were. I hope we share the stage one day, maybe sing a song together.”

“If we make it to the end of this, you can come out during my set,” she teases.

“It would be my honor.” 

That was the start of Harry and Y/N’s friendship.

+

Y/N loved playing dress up. On stage, she got to wear whatever she wanted. It’s a big reason she enjoyed seeing what Harry would pick each night. Y/N loved spinning, and the perfect accessory to do so was a skirt, specifically a mini skirt. She remembers thrifting in a little shop in Dublin, where she found the perfect pink mini, and from there, it became part of who she was. From baby tees to oversized cargo pants to skirts, the one constant was the platforms that always gave her that extra height. 

Y/N knew she had to honor her mother each night she was on stage, and because the earliest memory Y/N has is sitting in front of the mirror as her mother tied ribbons and bows in her hair, she made it a tradition to keep them in. Y/N swore she had one that fit all of her outfits, and if it didn’t, she didn’t mind getting her scissors and cutting up a bit of clothing. 

She is now a few shows in and is having the time of her life. Y/N gets to play her music every night and enjoys seeing Harry perform. Then, she ends each night by discussing her favorite parts with Harry. Y/N doesn’t remember how it happened, but Y/N doesn’t go to sleep unless she has spoken to Harry; by now, it’s part of her routine. The friendship she is building with him makes her feel at ease on stage each night. One night, they talked about their inspiration, and Y/N told him she was inspired by all around her. From her friends to movies to even books she has read. She wrote “Another Love” based on Gus and January, a couple from a book she read. It’s easy to be inspired because she lets every bit of emotion change her.

“Your music is sad,” Harry tells her one night.

Y/N frowns, “excuse me.” 

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“I’m leaving,” she goes to stand up, but he stops her by holding onto her wrist. 

“Hear me out,” he pleads. She settles deeper into her seat. “I enjoy it. I think it’s the best music I have ever heard, and it’s so sad because it’s your real emotions and reactions. You’re putting your heart out there; sometimes the sadness wins out.” 

Y/N knows he’s right, but that doesn’t mean she has to say that. “Well, you’re always horny.” 

Harry burst out laughing, “fair.” 

“I’d never sing about watermelons with you,” she fakes disgust. 

Harry’s interest has now peaked. “What would you sing?” 

“Fine line, but not with you. I’d add it to my setlist if I was on tour now.” 

Harry didn’t know she really loved a song like that. “That’s–wow. Thank you.” 

“Realistically, I’d do Daylight. She's a bop.” 

Y/N laughs when she sees Harry nodding. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he promises.

At the following show, Y/N kept thinking back to what Harry said about how her music carries a sadness. She doesn’t mean to, but it’s the type of melodies that soothe her. It’s clear from the fanbase she has created that her fans also like it. 

“Mr. Styles says I have sad music as if he didn’t write Matilda,” she teases. “Kidding, we all know Cherry is his saddest song. While some songs are sad, you can still dance to them, so this is “Sorry.” Please sing if you know it. If not, that’s okay too.” 

Harry greets her when she walks off stage. “Did you enjoy that, boss man?” Y/N’s running on a high; all she wants to do is spend time with Harry, but he has to get ready. 

“You’re my favorite part of every show,” he tells her genuinely. 

Y/N feels her face heat up, but she knows where this could head and decides to stay clear. She pats his shoulder and walks away. “Good luck, Harry,” she calls out as she turns the corner, leaving Harry standing alone, wondering how he’d work up the courage to ask Y/N out. 

+

Another day, another show. Except today, Y/N saw a familiar face and had to bring it up. 

“I’ve seen you before. You look very pretty.” Y/N compliments the fan with a black baby tee with bedazzled cherries and glitter pants. “You’re coming to the shows because of me,” Y/N repeated, shocked. “But it’s the Harry Styles show!” Y/N leans closer, listening to the fan share that she’s their favorite artist. The fan had traveled from Iceland to be here tonight because it’s the only place she managed to get tickets. Then, she decided to try attending as many shows as possible before returning home. Y/N felt so much gratitude, making her want to hug this person. While Y/N couldn’t jump down, she thought of the next best thing. “Do you want to sing this one with me? Can we do that?” Y/N looks side-stage at her tour manager, and she’s shaking her head in disappointment, but no one is stopping her. “Come on up.” The fan is helped over the barricade and guided upstairs to meet her. Y/N hugs the fan tightly, thanking her for everything, and Y/N tells her she hopes to see her in the crowd again. “Everyone, this is Sasha! She’s part of the band tonight. Now, Sasha, do you know ‘The Band and I,’” Y/N checks. 

“Word for word,” Sasha assures her. 

“Wonderful, you’re all in for a treat. Hit it, Junie!” Y/N shouts. 

Walking off the stage that night, Y/N is flying on a high. She smiles with the band; she sees Harry leaning against a wall with a smirk. “Breaking all the rules, huh, almost gave Jeff a heart attack.” 

Y/N grimaces, “am I in trouble?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, “I enjoyed it, and I'm the boss. So no.”

She sighs in relief, “I-I just felt grateful. This is your tour,” she emphasizes. “And for the fan to enjoy my music and know the lyrics to a song I wrote, which I haven’t officially released yet, overwhelmed me. Playing in front of an audience has always been my dream, but having my lyrics sung back to me is not something I ever let myself imagine.” 

Harry smiles, and she knows he understands. He doesn’t have to say a word. His eyes say it all for her. Y/N is thankful she joined this tour, and while she admires Harry, she knows she can’t forget to keep her boundaries up because she knows they will only begin to fall with time.

+

It was early March when Harry changed their relationship. Y/N enjoyed time with her band, but sometimes she needed to be alone. She used the time to write or simply enjoy the silence, even for a few minutes. Harry offered her a private space where he kept his piano. He traveled everywhere with it, and while Y/N thought it was a hassle, she was grateful because it allowed her to play with melodies she had stuck in her head. 

Today was no different. She had spent an hour alone when Harry walked in on her, seemingly just as lost in his head. He was startled when he looked up and found her sitting in an old hoodie of her first merch ever created. 

“Cute,” he comments.

Y/N shrugs, “I know you want one.”

“Desperately.” 

She doesn’t know if he’s continuing the bit but decides she will have her mother bring one to her at Wembley for him. It would be her home show, so her mother would be in attendance. 

“Anything new?” He gestures to the piano and her open notebook. Y/N hands it to him, allowing him to have a look inside. There are more music notes than there are lyrics. She has the perfect melody, but words seem hard to find right now. “Care to play it for me?” 

Y/N loves that he always asks. They both know how private the writing process can be, but with Harry, it’s clear they have built a level of trust. Y/N starts slow on the keys before building up until, by the end reaches the slow start. Harry grins at her, and Y/N can see he likes it. She knows he plays the piano, but she’s never had the chance to watch him play; he’s more reserved compared to her. It’s not something she minds. It just means they both have boundaries they won’t cross and respects that. 

“It was beautiful,” he tells her after a few seconds. She thanks him softly, shutting her notebook and knows she has to head out to get ready. 

“Y/N, I-I really like having you on tour.” 

“Thank you for inviting me. It’s truly an amazing environment to work in. Even if you do need a few more ladies in your crew.”

Harry laughs but agrees. He knows she speaks from experience where most of his technicians are men. Y/N has a more diverse crew. It is an industry that works to break down women. It's nice to see how she always lifts everyone up. He didn’t realize how, over time, his feelings grew for Y/N. He went from seeing her every few days to speaking to her every night before bed. She brings him a comfort he did not know he was missing. Y/N had become the best part of his day, from watching her perform on stage to their nightly talks. He wanted to spend all his free time with her, so he chose to be honest with her about his feelings.

“Can I tell you something, Y/N?” Harry asked softly. 

Y/N turned to him, a gentle smile on her face that helped calm his nerves the tiniest bit. He was worried it would not go his way because there were times he gave her a compliment, and she always brushed it away. He always greeted her with a hug, but she always turned it into a one-second side hug. He didn’t know if that was because he made her nervous or she simply didn’t like hugs, although he’d seen her hug her bandmates. Heck, he’s seen them all squished on a couch together. 

Harry takes a deep breath; he wants to look away from her, her gaze making him nervous, but the comfort he finds in her gorgeous orbs allows him to push forward. “I-I like you, Y/N.” 

Y/N thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest. She did not expect a confession of this kind from Harry. It leaves her frozen for a second because while Y/N reciprocates those feelings, she’s not at liberty to act on them, not when working on the largest tour of her life. Y/N doesn’t care what people think. It’s a big reason she doesn’t look at tabloids or use her social media accounts, but this–thinking of pursuing a relationship with Harry is not something she can allow herself to give in.

“You’re sweet, Harry. I think you’re great too.” 

Harry grimaces because he realizes she doesn’t understand what he is saying. Before he can explain what he means, June, Y/N’s drummer, rushes in, telling her Felix was having an issue and it was bad. Y/N patted his shoulder and excused herself.

Well, it went nothing like he expected. Harry held out for her to say she felt the same, but she clearly didn’t. Harry knows many would tell him to move on, but he knows Y/N is special. While he wouldn’t pursue her, he knew he still wanted her in his life.  

+

As much as Y/N hated to admit it, after Harry’s confession, there has been an awkwardness in their conversations. It’s been too much because they no longer spend time alone. Y/N decided to treat their relationship the same, but when she went to his room that night, she found Mitch with him. Y/N knew that she messed up. She also knew she was being selfish by wanting to keep it all the same when he had put himself out there only for her to brush him off. 

A few shows go by, and Y/N feels better because Harry still seeks her out to have lunch together. He invites her to join his workouts, which she regrets because Brad is honestly insane. Brad had promised to make a routine that best fit her needs. Harry did not change much; he kept flirting, offering her compliments and daily hugs. A rush went through her each night, knowing he was watching her. 

Tonight was no different. He offered her a short hug, and off she went to play to his fans. Y/N felt off from the moment she got on stage but had no idea why. Quinn stepped close, wanting to know if she was feeling okay, but Y/N couldn’t describe it other than a pit in her stomach. It was as if she sensed something was coming. Y/N promised she was fine and pushed through. 

Halfway through the set, Y/N looked over and saw Harry staring at her with a fond smile. Y/N didn’t want to look away but had a show to play. Her feelings were winning, and Y/N knew she wouldn’t care about the aftermath if she decided to date Harry. She wanted to bask in the feeling of liking him and hopefully loving him one day. So, she decided to do something different to let him know she was ready to have that conversation. 

“Right, this is a little different tonight. I-I have a friend who loves this song, and we haven’t played it in some time, but I thought they might enjoy it and hopefully you as well. This is ‘Crystal Clear.’” 

This song is one she wrote when she was wishing for a happy future with a partner who loves and respects her, showing them that she won’t give in to her fears and wants to be together. It was one of Quinn’s favorites to play, but all collectively agreed it didn’t fit the setlist. Y/N knew she’d get endless questions for adding it so suddenly, but she’d deal with that after speaking with Harry. They played a few more songs, and once she gave her final bow, she hurried off stage. Y/N expected to find Harry waiting for her there but instead ran into Mitch, who looked at her, startled.

“Where’s Harry?” Y/N asked impatiently. 

“Piano room, but–”

She hurried down the hall, ignoring Mitch, who tried telling her to stop. She didn’t realize he was following her down. 

“Y/N don’t–” She walks into the piano room even as Mitch tries to stop her to find Harry hugging a woman. Y/N knew it wasn’t a friend because the grip the woman had on Harry was one of possession.  Harry was looking at her, but his face was hard to read. It was as if all the walls she had broken down were now standing higher and stronger. Y/N didn’t move her eyes away from him; her eyes landed on his swollen lips. It’s clear she interrupted a private moment. Y/N grimaces because she knows she would never be able to think about this piano without the tainted memory of Harry wrapped in the arms of another. 

“I’m sorry,” she sends them a grim look and walks out, closing the door behind her. She finds Mitch and Sarah staring at her, unsure what to do; they must be aware of the situation between her and Harry. 

“Is that his…” She couldn’t even say the word. 

Sarah frowned, “she’s uh kind of friend.”

Y/N didn’t need to hear anymore. Sure, Harry said he liked her, but when she didn’t give him the answer he wanted, what did she want him to do, beg and make her open her eyes. No, she needed to figure it out on her own, and now that she did, it was too late.

It’s not like she had a reason to be jealous. She never told Harry she liked him. All she did was pat his shoulder and move on like nothing had ever been said. Y/N bid Mitch and Sarah good luck for the night and walked to her green room. Y/N’s tears began to fall as soon as the door closed behind her. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Nothing was going on between them, yet why did she feel like nothing would be the same anymore. Maybe it was hurting because he had promised to watch her set each night, and she sang a different song tonight because he had said it was his favorite. Y/N knew she wasn’t being fair, sending him mixed signals, but Y/N didn’t deserve to feel this either. It made her feel as if his feelings weren’t even real. She was blinded by her tears to notice June was on the couch, book in hand, but was thankful she was there because she got to break down in the comfort of arms she was familiar with. 

Y/N wasn’t okay, but she would be. It was only a crush.

+

Y/N could not sleep that night. She tossed and turned until she gave up and decided to go to her balcony to watch the sunrise. Time moved slowly, and it allowed her to regroup. By eight o’clock, she was all packed up and waiting in the lobby. Y/N rode to the airport with her friends, where they would all get on separate flights and reunite in May for rehearsals and more love on tour. Y/N was ready to go home and enjoy a home-cooked meal with her mother. She had said goodbye to everyone except for one person. He was quieter today; it allowed him to blend in. Harry had a “Damn” sweater on, the hood up, and a claw clip in the jumper's pocket. Y/N starts walking his way before she can change her mind. 

“Harry,” she calls out softly. 

He looks up, offering her the tiniest smile. “Y/N.”

“Have a good break.” She offers awkwardly. 

He nods. They make no move, and Y/N knows they have no idea where they stand, but Y/N would never start something if Harry had someone else, so she knew she had to come back from the break clear-headed and with these feelings gone and, if not at least tucked away. 

Y/N opened her arms and shrugged, telling him it was up to him. Harry didn’t even have to think about it; he wrapped her in a tight hug, breathing her in for one last time. 

“Have a safe flight,” he whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

She walks away with a heavy heart and hopes a month and a half is enough to lose these feelings.

+

While home, Y/N tries to deal with her feelings, and for the most part, it works. Y/N got in the routine of going on morning walks followed by an hour of yoga. She found it helpful in clearing her thoughts and starting her day without a clouded mind. Y/N had not talked to Harry since that morning in the airport; he had sent texts, but they had all gone unread. Her mother tried to convince her to answer him, but she knew it would only hurt more if she found out he was dating that person. The only good thing about this is that Y/N had written five new songs. It seemed heartbreak and love were always a good sign of inspiration. Y/N played her favorite to her mum, and she was told it was okay. Felix told her that the new song was the heart of the new album she was working on. Through the years, she had learned to take what her mother says with a grain of salt. 

Her mother was also tired of her moping. Y/N, when on break, would go to her own flat and visit her mother occasionally but so far spent her entire holiday there. Her mother assured Y/N she enjoyed having her home, but it did worry her that she had not left the house. So, as any mother would do, she set Y/N up for a blind date. Y/N said no, time and time again, but Reina promised it would only be coffee. Y/N knew she didn’t have to go, but some of her was tempted because while she knew she had friends to call up, this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss. Going out and talking with a stranger would be awkward but would be a change in topic. 

Y/N was told he’d find her as he received a photo of her. She got there early, deciding to use the time to read a book. Quinn told her “One Last Stop” would change her life and, so far, hadn’t disappointed. Y/N was lost in the story that she jumped up when someone lightly touched her shoulder. 

“Shit, sorry,” she looked up, hoping the person hadn’t spilled any coffee, and to her surprise, they were empty-handed. His chocolate eyes were filled with concern, but Y/N brushed it off by offering him a timid smile. “Hi, are you Miles?” 

“Yes, and you’re Y/N,” he stated. 

“Mhm…it’s nice to meet you.” 

Miles nods, “you’re prettier than the picture I was sent.” 

Y/N feels her face warm in embarrassment and doesn’t even dare ask to see the photo they showed him. If she knew her mother, it had to be the time she jumped into Glacier Lake and came out looking like a wet dog. Her mother always made sure to keep her humble. “Thanks,” she mumbled. 

He gestures for her to sit down and follows after her. She tucks her book back into her bag, ready to give him her full attention. “Do you want something to drink? Heard they have an amazing lavender latte.” 

Y/N gestures to her cup before her, “already got something.”

Miles nods, “a pastry, then?”

Now that she would never say no to. “I’ll take a muffin please.” 

“You got it.” 

Miles walks over to the counter, and while he’s away, she allows herself to look him over. He’s cute, wearing black trousers and a baby blue cardigan. It’s clear he’s comfortable with his style by how he carries himself. Y/N knows if she wasn’t trying to get over her feelings, she would have given him a chance, but with her going back on tour, she isn’t ready for that.

When Miles returns to the table with his drink and two muffins, she asks him about his work and family. She discovers he’s an art curator and is working on his next collection. He shares he has two older siblings and two younger, making him the middle child. His mother tries to make it up by having lunch with him each week, but it’s easy to be overlooked as a middle child. Y/N is intrigued with him and knows Miles would be a good friend; if anything, she thinks Felix would get on with him better than she did. 

Y/N realized it was her turn to talk about herself, but she didn’t really like stating her job. Sometimes, people judged her, and she honestly didn’t want things to get worse with Miles, but it seemed Y/N’s luck would not improve because when the door opened, a familiar face walked in. Familiar brown curls sticking out from his trucker hat, Harry’s casual wear had always been comfortable but stylish. He always tended to run cold, so he wore an oversized green coat that reminded her of the time he threw it over her when he saw she fell asleep in his green room after his soundcheck. Y/N looked away before he could see her, but Y/N was right by an open space, easy to view by the counter. Harry could spot anything and everyone, and he was never one to be rude and ignore someone, but she hoped that would change today.

She turned back to her conversation, but in the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching. Y/N held her breath, hoping he would walk past her, but stopped right in front of her. 

“Y/N.” Oh, how she missed hearing her name falling from his lips. 

She looks up and finds him staring at her with a timid smile. Y/N gets up and offers him a hug that he quickly accepts. They keep it short, though she feels his hand linger at the small of her back, almost like he didn’t want her to move away, but she wasn’t alone. 

“Harry, this is uh…Miles. Miles, this is Harry.” 

Harry doesn’t ask anything. He simply tells Miles it’s great to meet him. Miles looks at Y/N in confusion, but she brushes him off. “How’d you meet?” Harry asks, intrigued. 

“Our mum’s set us up on a date,” Miles explains for her. “It’s actually our first time meeting.” 

Y/N isn’t sure why Miles shared that with Harry, but she can’t blame it. Harry has this trusting aura that makes people want to tell him all their darkest secrets. Y/N would know, seeing as she has shared parts of herself with Harry that no one else has seen, not even her best friends. 

Harry nods. She can’t seem to read him at all. His pseudonym name is called, and he uses that as his exit. “Well, it was good to see you.”

“You too, H. I’ll see you soon.” 

He nods, giving his goodbye to Miles as well. Y/N watches him until he’s out of the coffee shop and no longer in her view from the mirrors. She finds Miles studying her and knows he might have been able to pick up on the tension between her and Harry. 

“Do you want to tell me about that? You don’t have to.” 

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop.  “To start, I kinda have a crush on him, but he’s my boss.”

Miles' eyes widened in shock, “Harry Styles is your boss!” He was not expecting that, but she could tell he was intrigued. His response sends her into a laughing fit, and knows that while she won’t be dating Miles, he will make a good friend.

+

Y/N felt her break was long and too short at the same time. While she was able to use the time to re-energize, she also wrote a few more songs she wanted to share with her band before booking time for studio sessions. Y/N knew studio time would be hard to find, but she was determined to do it between breaks, even if all she got was two hours.

They had been rehearsing on the stage when she heard a clap from their final song for the set. Y/N turned and spotted the Love Band. She set down her guitar and rushed into Pauli’s arms. They spun her around, laughing as she blubbered on how she missed them. Pauli set her down, giving everyone a chance to say hello. Hanging in the back of the group were Mitch and Harry. Y/N knew she would need to have a conversation with Harry soon, but for now, she would bask in the joy of being back on tour and sharing the stage with him.

“Harry! Mitch!” 

Harry looked surprised to see her look happy, calling for him. He sent her a small wave, but Y/N was going in for the hug. He basked in the warmth she had to share with him. Being back in the same space with Y/N was comforting after seeing her out on a date a few weeks ago. It made him feel awful, and he couldn’t help that he made Y/N feel the same with his last fling. 

She let go of him, moving on to Mitch. Y/N was chatting away, telling them she had gotten a new guitar and was excited to play it tonight. Soon enough, Mitch and her were lost in their own conversation about lyrics she had written and how she was stuck on finding a melody that would work. Mitch promised to have a look and give her any ideas that would come up. 

“You’re still welcome to use the piano, Y/N. I know how much that helped before,” Harry offered. 

Y/N fell quiet because while she knew Harry was still there, she didn’t feel overwhelmed because she wasn’t conversing with him, but now all his attention was on her. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” she mumbles, knowing she wouldn’t take him up on it.  

Harry nods, and he thinks better of it while he’s about to excuse himself. “Y/N, do you—would it be okay if we talked in private.” 

Mitch excuses himself, leaving it all up to Y/N. She has no idea what this conversation will entail but owes it to herself to hear him out. “Lead the way, boss.” 

Harry looks pleased and walks off the stage, leading them down some stairs and into the pit, but he doesn’t stop there. He makes her climb a few more stairs, landing them in tonight's lower bowl section of the venue.

Y/N whistles, taking in the view from the distance. “Quite a view. I might have to watch the show from here one night.” 

He laughs, “you let me know, and we can make it happen. We’ll make sure you’re not mobbed.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please, your fans wouldn’t be able to recognize me.”

“Beg to differ. There are more signs for you each night.” Y/N waves him off. “They’ve started to make Tik Tok edits about you.” Harry doesn’t share how he knows, but some nights over the break, he spent time watching them. It made him miss her more, seeing her running around the stage like it was hers. She had the crowd in the palm of her hand, and she didn’t even know it. 

“Please, stop!” Y/N laughs. “My ego can only take so much.” 

Y/N had forgotten how easy it was with Harry, but being with him now made her wish things hadn’t changed. She had to go an entire month without hearing from him because her feelings were hurt over something that should not have bothered her.

“Y/N, I am sorry for how we left things in Japan.”

She grimaces, “me too.” Harry quickly disagrees, but Y/N reminds him of all his unanswered texts.

“You’re forgiven,” he tells her. 

While Y/N appreciates it, a big topic needs to be addressed. 

Harry takes a deep breath before turning his body to look at her. “I know my actions and words might have confused you, but I’m here to be honest. I won’t lie to you, not now, not ever. Do you understand?” 

She nods. 

“Words Y/N. I need to hear you say it.” 

“I understand. You won’t lie to me. I trust you,” Y/N truly believes her words. 

He dips his head in acknowledgment. “I like you, and I went on to do something stupid. The girl you saw me with is named Victoria. She–well, to put it lightly, she was a hookup, and she’d join me from time to time. When you saw me that night, she was surprising me because she was going through a breakup and needed comfort, and well–I felt rejected and fell into her. I’m not blaming you–I know I could have said no, but I was too overwhelmed that I preferred to do something to disappoint myself and you. My therapist said if I had talked about it with someone–anyone, this wouldn’t have happened, but I’m not too good with words most times.”

Y/N offers him a smile, “doing pretty good now.”

Harry reaches for her hand, and Y/N lets him take it. She can see he needs the support. “I got a lot to work through, but I’m better and want to be a better partner and person. I want to be someone worthy of you.” 

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out. “That's–you’re…that’s not why I didn’t confess my feelings. You’re amazing. I would be so lucky to explore a relationship with you.”

He looks at her, confused, “then what is it?”

“You’re my boss. You can say under technicalities you aren’t, but this is your sold-out world tour. I’m making a name for myself, doing what I love. While being an opening act for you has been a dream come true, being tied to you as your girlfriend will put my name out there, but not how I want. Do you understand?” Y/N hopes she got her point across, never wanting Harry to think he wasn’t enough.

Harry sighs because he knows where she is coming from. He wished he didn’t; he wished he could beg her to say yes to dating him to see where it could lead, but Harry knows how much she loves being on stage, and he would never dare threaten to take that from her or anything that comes with it. 

“I understand. I do. I like you, I do. While it sucked seeing you dating someone else, I respect you. I still want to be your friend.” Harry rubs a hand under his scuffed jaw. “I miss talking with you about each show at night.”

Y/N squeezes his hands. “Friends, we’re friends. I hope you’re okay with me being in your life, even as a friend.” 

Harry stands up, bringing her with him, and wraps her in a tight hug. He breathes her in. She has a distinct smell of roses and vanilla. It’s perfectly her. He wished he could bottle up the scent and take it with him wherever he went so that it hopefully would make missing her easier. 

“I’ll always be your friend,” he assures her. 

He can be friends with her. Harry knows it could lead him to heartbreak, but it would be worth it for Y/N.

+

The next few shows fly by, and Y/N and Harry easily fall into a routine again. Y/N joins Harry for his morning workouts, but Brad made her a workout to suit her likes. While Harry loves intense core workout, Y/N loves to stretch. There are days when all three go off to do a Pilates class. Mainly, Y/N does her yoga in a corner and joins Harry for his core sets. 

From there, they’ll do breakfast with their bandmates, sometimes together, and sometimes go their separate ways. They have limited their time together alone because Y/N knows her feelings for Harry are only growing, and Harry wants to respect Y/N and her boundaries. Y/N shared with her bandmates how she felt, and they understood, except Quinn, who told her she should go for it. Everyone looked at Quinn, shocked, but he just shook his head, telling her to really think about this because, from his point of view, Y/N and Harry were perfect for each other. Y/N let Quinn’s words ring through her mind for some time, but Y/N was nervous about taking that next step. She wasn’t sure how it would work. She loves working with Harry, and she knows he’s taking a break after, but what if he doesn’t like that his partner is never home, just like him. Y/N loves being with her family, but she’s never happier than when she is on stage. Y/N can’t seem to take that step just yet. 

In Scotland, Y/N finally decided to return to using Harry’s piano. She initially felt strange but realized she had been missing it for some time. Y/N walks in and is happy to find it open. Y/N runs a hand over the smooth wood before taking a seat. She sets down her old journal and opens it up to the last page she wrote. 

Y/N lets her hands rest on the keys before going into C major. She repeats it a few times until she feels ready. It was a slow melody that went hand in hand with her lyrics. She began to sing in the room with only the sound of the piano. 

Look at me. I feel homesick

Want my dog in the door

And the light in the kitchen

A creek behind her made her jump up suddenly, hands shooting out to grab her notebook to her chest. Harry steps back, hands up in defense. There is an apologetic look on his face.

“I knocked, but don’t think you heard.” 

Y/N feels her face heat up and knows she tends to get lost in her music. “Sorry, it was empty when I came in. Did not expect you to come in. I can leave if you are planning to use the space. It is yours, after all.” 

Harry brushes her off, walks into the room, and gestures for her to sit back on the bench with him. He scoots in close, wanting no space between them. “What did you play just now? I’ve never heard a tune so mellow yet sad.” 

“Think I wrote my album closer,” she confesses. 

The joy on Harry’s face is apparent. “Shit, really! That’s wonderful.”

“It’s--gosh, how I explain it. I felt like floating, and this melody really carried me through. You can find an underlying of it through a few of the other songs,” she can’t help but express to him

Harry sits back, impressed, “is the album complete?” 

“Think so. I need to go into the studio and finish a few, maybe decide on one or two. Then, all good to go. Think all that’s missing is a name.” 

“Y/N’s house,” he jokes. 

“Ah, wouldn’t that be nice. I have an idea, but I need to be sure.” 

“Will you play it for me?” 

Y/N knows what he’s asking, and part of her wants to say no, but no one has heard the song. Not her bandmates, not her co-writers, not her producer, and certainly not her mother. Y/N knows if she shares this with Harry, it will change the entire album for her. When she thinks back on this song, it will now have a whole new meaning. 

“It’s six minutes.”

“I have all the time in the world,” he promises her. 

While they both know it’s not true, she appreciates the sentiment as they’re both set to perform tonight. Y/N takes a deep breath and, with trembling hands, begins to play her song for him. Y/N drags the intro out for a little longer before letting herself sing these lyrics she’s been carrying around for weeks. Y/N has her eyes closed, swaying as she lets herself tell this story of being exhausted and lonely for being away from everything she loves while feeling at home and her most genuine self. It tells the story of how she can grow even when experiencing so much change while being entirely on her own.

I feel like myself right now.

I feel like myself right now.

I feel like myself right now.

I feel like myself right now

Mmm.

Y/N opens her eyes, looks at Harry, and finds him crying. She sits up straight, practically pushing herself to sit in his lap as she wipes away his tears. “No, no, what are you doing? Please don’t cry.” 

“You made me cry,” he mumbles while Y/N keeps her hands on his cheeks, brushing away his tears with her thumbs. “It was a fucking brilliant song.”

Y/N feels her face warm, “you think so?”

He nods, “think my tears say enough.”

“You could have cried because it was awful.” 

Harry bursts out laughing, “absolutely not.”

Y/N wants to lean in and kiss him to thank him for his kind words, but he doesn’t deserve her confusion. “It’s the perfect way to end my album.” 

“I agree.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “you haven’t heard the whole thing.” 

Harry shrugs, “don’t have to.” The flattery is becoming too much, but she doesn’t want to move away from him. “You’ll remember this moment when you win album of the year next awards season.” 

“Shut up, those are stupid.” 

“Hey now! I happen to own a few.” 

Her hands are still on his face, his tears now dried up, but she doesn’t move away. Y/N is enjoying this too much, and a part of her knows Harry is, too. “I don’t do it for the awards. Music is something I’ve always had, and if I can share it with a few others and they find some type of meaning from it, then it means I’ve done a job well done.” 

“Fucking well said, Y/N.” 

Y/N giggles, “You can open for me on my tour after I win my Grammy,” she teases.

Harry places a hand over his heart, “it would be my greatest honor.” 

“Shut up, you dork.”

Y/N finally lets her hands drop, and Harry takes a second to hide his disappointment. 

“Does this mean we can hang out with a buffer now?” 

Y/N furrows her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side. “Sorry?”

Harry pinches her thigh lightly, making her jump closer to him, almost losing her balance. He wraps his hand around her waist, holding her tight against his chest. “Come on, we’ve been hanging out together, but someone always seems to be with us. If it’s not Brad, it’s Anthony; if it’s not Pauli, it’s Quinn. It’s been never-ending.”

They didn’t mean to do it, but Y/N knows she’s missed their inside jokes and private late-night talks when Harry tells everyone he goes to bed early when, in reality, he’s chatting Y/N’s ear off. 

“I guess we can go back to late-night pillow talks.” 

“And exploring the city?” 

“Course, I missed your Google facts.” 

“Heey,” he yells, offended. 

“Can’t deny it. I saw you do it many times.”

“Trying to impress you,” he mutters. “Clearly, all I do is fail.” 

“Stick to music. You’ll go far in life,” Y/N laughs as he rolls his eyes at her. 

“Haha, it means we start right now. Found this old thrift shop nearby.” He pulls her with him as he drags her out, careful to ensure they aren’t caught because if word is out Harry has gone without security, it could be madness. 

“We’ve got a show in a few hours.” 

“They’ve got beautiful skirts. I called and got pictures sent over.” 

Y/N sighs. He knows her too well. “Lead the way, H.” 

Harry shoots her a charming smile, and Y/N knows she would have followed him wherever he asked her to without a second thought. She knew she was in safe hands with him.

+

Harry and Y/N had fun exploring Amsterdam for a few days before heading to Ireland. They had each planned an activity and a place they wanted to eat. Sometimes, they disagreed on food because of Harry’s eating choices, while Y/N would eat anything and everything as long as dessert was always included. Harry thought it was too much, but when he found out how much Y/N enjoyed it, he said yes and ensured she had something sweet, even if he didn’t get anything. 

Jeff would tell Harry off for going without security or someone for the team but brushed him off because he didn’t need anyone intruding on his time with Y/N. He loved spending hours with her uninterrupted, touring cities he had never once had the chance to explore. While he enjoyed those days, Harry also loved show days because he got to see Y/N dance around on stage. She went from singing in sweats to her favorite mini skirts for showtime, and when Y/N decided to pair it with a baby tee, Harry had to think of world hunger and puppies to make his hard-on go away. He knows he should look away, but she captivates him every time she’s on stage, dancing and spinning around to sitting on the edge of the stage. Y/N occasionally brought fans on stage, but when that happened, he would be taken further backstage for his safety; he knew those fans were there for her at that time while he was forgotten.

Tonight was a big night. Harry would be playing at Slane Castle. Harry knew it would be special because not everyone is asked to perform here. Harry had spent most of his time today with his crew, psyching Mitch up for his debut performance. Many didn’t know Mitch had created an album and were even more surprised when he was announced as another opener for tonight. Y/N was still at the forefront of his mind, knowing he had to wish her luck for tonight. He’d be deeper in the audience tonight to watch all his friends open this monumental show for him.

Y/N would be a fool to not know what it means to be playing Slane Castle in Ireland today. Y/N’s nerves were insane today. She knew she wasn’t nervous. No, she was anxious. When she was younger, her biggest fear was disappointing her mother. Y/N hated failing others, while her mom did an excellent job of assuring she didn’t have to carry all that pressure on her shoulders. Sometimes, it came back, and she couldn’t shake it.

She had spent thirty minutes on the phone with her mother, and nothing helped. Y/N wasn’t worried about disappointing herself. No, this–tonight was bigger than her. Quinn and Felix could tell something was up, but they couldn’t help, not when June kept taking off a piece of clothing when she saw the time move closer to when they were meant to take the stage. 

June was on a clothes removal band and couldn’t go to the restroom alone or even for a snack. It was honestly quite funny. It allowed Y/N to momentarily take her mind off the anxiety lingering in her body. When Y/N saw she had half an hour and her handshake got worse, she felt her throat swell up and excused herself. Y/N had no idea where to go or where to hide. She simply walked and ended up in a secluded corner where she tried to center herself before going on stage.

Harry walks into Y/N’s green room excited to see her, but all he finds are her three bandmates playing cards while June sits in a robe. He doesn’t bother questioning it and instead asks for Y/N.

They all turn to look at each other before Quinn answers. “She left like ten minutes ago. She said she needed a breather.”

That makes sense; he hates that he doesn’t know where exactly she went. Felix pulls her phone out and airdrops a location to Harry. “That’s her exact location. You should have her share her location with you. We can always see where she is.”

Not a bad idea at all. He wouldn’t mind Y/N knowing where he was, especially if seeing where she was on a map could bring him the smallest of comfort. Harry thanks them and walks back out. He walks for around ten minutes until he reaches a secluded corner in the grass. Y/N is sitting on an oversized denim jacket while she stares at her hands. 

“Y/N,” he calls out softly to not startle her. She lifts her head and offers him a shaky grin. He can instantly tell something’s wrong. “Hi, love. Been looking for you.” 

She shrugs as if to say she’s here. Harry steps closer but is careful not to invade her space. “Came by to wish you luck.” 

Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth because Y/N looked away from him, burying her face in her hands. He heard her cries, hurried to sit down, and scooped her in his lap. He rocked her back and forth as he tried to get her to stop. He hated seeing her upset. Y/N was always the epitome of strength, and this had him worried. Y/N expressed that she had a hard time going on stage, but she said it was ages ago. 

He whispered sweet nothings, hoping to calm her down, but it wasn’t working. “Please tell me how I can help. Please,” he begged.

“I-I-I don’t w-want to disappoint you,” she cries out. Her tears keep falling, and seeing her like this breaks his heart. 

“Hey, hey. I got you.” Harry brings her close, letting her rest her head on his chest. “You’re okay. I got you.” 

“It’s a big night for you, and I want to make you proud. I-I can’t disappoint you,” she repeats. 

Harry hates that she thinks she can do anything to disappoint him. He pulls her away from his chest because he needs her to understand that she can do no wrong in his eyes. “Love, will you look at me?” 

Y/N lifts her head, and her teary eyes meet his warm ones. He hates that she’s doubting herself. “Tonight is the same as any other.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not. No–”

“Shh—yes, it is. Do you want to know why?” 

“Why?” She mumbles. 

Harry brushes her loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Because I’ll still be watching. I will be cheering you on as I do every night. You make every night special, and I know tonight will be no different.” 

“You have too much faith in me,” she mutters against his shirt.

“I always will. I’m a big fan of you, Y/N, not only as a person but also as an artist. I’ve seen how hard you work. How you constantly want to improve each song and each set. You want everyone in that audience to have fun even if they aren’t here for you. This is a large crowd, but if you close your eyes, it’s just you and the band. That is what you can control. So, tonight, when you get on stage, whether you sing one song or five or if you mess up a guitar note or you change your setlist. I can promise you I will be proud.” 

Y/N sniffles; her tears have dried up. “Harry,” she whines. Y/N can’t find any words and throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Harry wraps his arms around her waist and holds her tight. It’s a comfort they have been both seeking all day. Y/N then realized that all the anxiety she faced was because of Harry. She admires and respects him and wouldn’t dare want to mess up his big night. 

“Every night is special. Tonight is slightly different only because Mitch is also performing,” Harry teases, hoping to make her laugh, and it works. He feels her laugh move through his chest and settle deep in his heart. “It’s another stop of Love on Tour, and then it’s home shows. Now that should scare you,” he jokes. ���My family will be there.” 

Y/N knows those words should frighten her, but if anything, it brings her comfort. Harry’s family and hers will meet for the first time, which she had been looking forward to. Honestly, if her mum gives the seal of approval to Harry, it might indeed be over for her. Although that’s something to worry about in a few days, for now, her focus is on putting on a show to remember the thousands of people at Slane Castle. 

“Do you want to pick my outfit tonight?” Y/N offers, in exchange for him helping her avoid a panic attack, her hands playing with the ends of his hair. 

Harry lights up, “you mean it?” 

Y/N laughs, “it’s got to match my ribbons for tonight.” 

Harry pouts, “what do you take me for?”

She shrugs.

“I’ll have you know I co-hosted the Met Gala.” 

Y/N wags her eyebrows, “fancy.” 

“Shoes?”

“Not up for debate.” 

Harry waves her off, “good enough for me.” 

They walk back together, hand in hand, as Harry goes over possible outfit combinations he has in mind for her. He really wants to see her in leather pants because he knows it will hug her nicely. Her black bows sit nicely in her hair as she does her makeup. June made her do an eye mask for ten minutes to bring down the puffiness in her eyes. It worked, mostly. Y/N did a shimmery eyeshadow and her eyeliner. All that was left was her outfit. 

Y/N walked into the bathroom, where Harry told her it was all laid out. She shimmied into her sequined flares and slipped on the simple black baby tee. She ruffled her hair a bit, and overall, Y/N was happy with the look for tonight. She walked out to find everyone waiting for her. She did a spin and got lots of whistles and claps. Y/N told them all to shut up and to get to the stage. She lingered behind with Harry. The look he was giving her was anything but friendly.

“You look beautiful.”

“Might have to hire you as my stylist,” she jokes. 

“No, I’d have you wear skirts every night.” 

“But not tonight?” Y/N asks confused. 

“Wanted something different tonight.”

Y/N doesn’t argue with him. She did give him a full range of her clothes. Y/N hears her name being called and knows she needs to get her mic pack. 

“I’ll see you after?” Y/N checks. 

“Of course.” 

They stand there staring at each other. Y/N, for a moment, thinks Harry will kiss her, and she knows she will let him. Instead, he does something that makes her catch her breath. He steps close and leans down to press a kiss on her forehead. “Good luck, Y/N.”

It’s a simple gesture, but it has her heart racing. “Thank you, H.” 

Y/N hurries off after and thanks her engineer for her mic. They hook it to the side of her pants, and Y/N jumps to test its security. So far, so good. Y/N looks behind her one last time and finds Harry giving her a thumbs-up. She could do this. Y/N would go on stage and have fun. 

From the moment Y/N got on stage to when she got off, Y/N could not stop smiling. The crowd was incredible, singing her most popular songs back to her. She could not stop thanking them for a fantastic night. 

“Before I play you one last song and finally leave this stage, there is one last thank you. To Harry, thank you for asking me to be a part of such a special day. It’s one I will never forget. Thank you for the kindness, but most importantly, thank you for sharing your fans. They have been the best crowds to play to. This one's for you.” 

Y/N had never done a dedication before, but it felt right tonight.

In the crowd, Harry was watching Y/N’s set, and while he didn’t need a thank you, it meant a lot coming from Y/N. Harry had no idea Brad was recording him or that he caught Harry blushing as Y/N dedicated the night's final song to him. His friends knew teasing was always okay with Harry, but he looked transfixed, staring at Y/N serenading the crowd they knew could wait until later. 

Y/N had the time of her life dancing with Felix, Quinn, and June to Harry’s set. She laughed loudly when he got called a slag, cheered when he thanked his band, tried to hide when he thanked her and the other openers and cried as he played “Fine Line.” It was a perfect show, everything Harry deserved. 

While it was late, Y/N and Harry still hung out, talking about their favorite bits when they reached their hotel rooms. Y/N loved it when a fan shouted they loved her during a song transition. Harry thought “Kiwi” went insane tonight. Y/N recounted the slag story, and Harry let her laugh it up. He teased her, saying he noticed when she tripped over her words when introducing her band. It was every moment that made the night special. While they had a few days off before Wembley, Y/N knew it was time to head for bed as it would be a travel day. Y/N couldn’t wait to hug her mum and knew Harry felt the same.

Harry lingered outside her door as if he didn’t want to leave. Y/N wanted him to stay, but it would be crossing the boundaries they set for each other. Y/N knew she had a lot to figure out, but day by day, everything became more apparent. 

“Good night, Y/N love.” 

Y/N steps on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, H.” Harry walked away from her with a cheesy grin on her face. As Y/N closed the door, she knew one thing: that she liked Harry.

She is head over heels for him. Y/N knew the ball was in her court. She had to make a move if she wanted anything to happen. It seemed the hometown shows were about to get interesting. 

+

Y/N had dreamed about playing at Wembley Stadium. While it technically wasn’t for her, she would play in a sold-out stadium. Y/N would open the show for four nights. She’d get to play here and dream of a future where she sold out her favorite stadium in her hometown. 

She was in the middle of the walkway, where Harry sings “Matilda” each night. Y/N doesn’t hear the camera shutter or the footsteps approaching her. Y/N is simply taking it all in, wanting to remember the stadium empty before she sees it filled up.

“Do you still dream about nights like tonight?” Y/N turns her head when she hears her mother’s gentle voice. 

“Mum!” Y/N shoots up from where she’s sitting and runs into her open arms. Y/N stands taller than her mother but never feels smaller than being wrapped tightly in her familiar embrace. “Thought you were coming until later.” 

Reina laughed, “Wanted to spend the day with you, oh, and Quinn promised we’d catch up on gossip.”

Y/N shook her head, “did he bring you out here?” 

“Sure did. I needed to say hi to my girl before gossiping my life away.” 

“Is it book club?” 

Reina sighs dramatically, “it always is.”

Y/N and her mum chatter as they make their way backstage. She’s got family members and friends coming over the four days, but her mum promised to be at all four. Her childhood best friends, Tiffany and Elena. Her cousins and nephews were coming, even her Aunt and Uncles. Y/N reminded everyone she was simply the opening act, but no one cared; they were all proud of her. 

She had introduced her mother to nearly everyone except her favorite person. Y/N found Harry with his headphones in but took them off when he noticed her. 

“Y/N,” he greets with a cheerful smile. He quickly notices the woman beside her and introduces himself as Harry, a friend of Y/N’s. 

“My mum, Reina,” Y/N tells him.

Harry grins, “I see the resemblance. We know Y/N will look just as amazing as you in the future.” 

Reina can’t stop smiling, “dear, you didn’t tell me how cheeky this one is.” 

“He’s a flirt, Mumma. Nothing is stopping him.” 

“Oi, you see what I have to deal with,” Harry teases. “I only flirt with pretty girls named Y/N.”

“And who’s from London,” her mum adds.

Harry points a finger at Reina before turning to look at Y/N, “I like her. I really do.”

“Keep her,” Y/N tells him. “I can only take so much teasing.” 

“Oh, darling. You can never get rid of me.” 

Harry throws a hand over her shoulder, bringing her close to his side. “Like you too much to go through life without you.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but her Mumma can see how flustered she has become. “Come on, I’ll take you to meet my Mum and sister. They were set to arrive any minute now.” 

It’s Y/N's turn to perk up, “your Mum’s here.” 

Harry feels his heart swell at her excitement to meet his mother. He has no idea what he and Y/N are, but they’re certainly more than friends.

+

Y/N spent the entire afternoon chatting with Anne and Gemma. She didn’t mean to monopolize her time, but Anne would keep the conversation going, and Y/N was enjoying it too much to remember she had a different job to do. 

“Y/N, babe, we’ve got sound check,” Felix interrupted, apologizing to Anne.

Harry slipped into the spot next to Anne, “yeah, Y/N, leave my mum alone and go work.”

Before Y/N could rebuttal, Anne slapped his knee lightly, chastising him to be polite. Harry winked in Y/N’s direction. She excused herself and promised Anne she’d see her around for the next few days. Y/N walked out to find the band waiting for her. Y/N looked back one last time to check in on her mother and was happy to see her wrapped up in a conversation with Pauli and Mitch. 

Quinn smirked when she made her way towards them. “Take it your mother-in-law likes you.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. She slapped his shoulder, telling him to shut up. 

“Wembley, Wembley, I don’t know if you know this, but London is where I grew up. So, boss man, these are all my hometown shows, too.” Y/N laughed when the crowd cheered. “My mom took me to concerts with her because she preferred to take me with her to create these beautiful memories together instead of me staying home with a relative. So, if you enjoy my music and are happy I pursued this dream, you can thank Reina. Mum, you’re my best friend and my number one supporter. Thank you for everything. I love you.” 

Y/N turned to see the screens where her mother was shown wiping her tears and blowing kisses to the screen. Y/N saw Tiffany reach over and give her a cuddle and knew she’d be in trouble for making her cry, but it was worth it. 

“My name is Y/N, and it’s been a pleasure playing for you. Here’s one last song. Good night, Wembley. You’re in for a hell of a show with Harry Styles, I promise.” 

Y/N ran off stage and straight into the arms of the first person she saw, which happened to be Harry. While she didn’t see him before going on stage because he had been out cheering on Madi, he was now looking at her proudly. Harry spun her around, and all Y/N wanted to do was reach down and give him a kiss. It took everything in her not to do it, especially when surrounded by hundreds of people.

 “You were amazing,” he breathed as he set her down.

“They’re fucking amazing,” Y/N told him, pointing out to the crowd. Y/N rambled on about how the crowd was like no other, that the energy they brought was nothing she had ever felt. “I didn’t want to leave the stage.”

Harry laughs loudly, “should have stayed there think I could have watched you all night.” 

“Awe, afraid you can’t surpass my amazingness,” she playfully mocks, knowing very well he’d knock this out of the park. Harry made a sold-out stadium feel like the most intimate show each night. 

Harry can’t stop looking away from her beaming face. It brings him so much joy to see her like this each night. All he wants to do is celebrate with her, showering her with kisses and telling her how proud he is of her. Instead, he lets her go and tells her he'll see her at the end of the night. There would be no late-night talks tonight as they’d be going to their respective home. “Best of luck, H.” 

He watches her walk away and mentally prepares for his first night of four in Wembley. 

+

Wembley had been perfect each night. His family and Y/N are getting on swimmingly. He hoped for it, but seeing it in person gave him hope that he and Y/N could pursue something. With a day off in between, he was back. He knew the end of the tour was nearing, and his time with Y/N was limited, but watching her on stage each night stopped him from doing anything because he preferred to have her as a friend rather than nothing at all.

Y/N was in a red skirt tonight with a white top with embezzled cherries scattered around. He remembered her mentioning it was his saddest song. It’s not one he would sing again, but he wondered if she was ever in his show's audience to hear it live. The ribbons were cherry red and long. Slowly, as she danced around, they were coming undone. One moment, she was in front of the stage, and the next, she was dancing her way down his long catwalk. She usually kept to the stage but used more and more over time. Tonight, she sang an entire song to his fans, who sang her songs right back to her. Harry knew having Y/N as an opener would be nice, but it’s nothing he ever imagined.

“Wembley, I know you didn’t come here to see me, but thank you to those who sang along. I have one last song, and soon enough, the man of the hour will grace you with his presence. A thank you to my wonderful band. They truly are my best friends. Give it up for Quinny Quinn Quinn on bass. He truly loves all the edits you’ve tagged him in. There is Felix on guitar and the occasional tambourine. Felix always has a new hair color and keeps us whole. Lastly, this band’s hero is Junie. Junie loves the drums and loves me the most,” Y/N teases as Quinn rolls his eyes at her. “Alright, this is–for me?” Y/N asks confused. She bends down, and the security hands her the bouquet of flowers. It’s a mix of pinks and yellows. It makes her tear up. “You sure?” The fan nods, telling her she brought them specially for her. Y/N holds them close to her chest. “I love you. This has made my entire night.” Y/N shows them off to her bandmates, who are all awed by the kind gesture. She places them by her water so she doesn’t forget them. “Alright, one last thank you to you all. This is the Band and I. Good night, Wembley. I love you!”

She hurries off stage with her bouquet in hand. June commented it was a kind gesture. It reminded Y/N how fans travel to see their artist live in concert. Y/N knows she had a sold-out tour when she finished Love on tour, and while it won’t start for a few months, this time is something she won’t ever forget. She’s grateful for the experience, grateful she gets to observe how the crew is treated, and how much comradery there is on this tour. She’s heard the stories of friendship blossoming. It’s beautiful, and now that she’s gotten a glimpse, she’s happy to be a part of but something she wants to take forward with her.

Y/N drops off her flowers and goes in search of Harry. 

Y/N likes Harry. 

She likes spending time with him and likes to sit in silence with him, but mostly, she likes hearing him talk and tell stories. Y/N has never felt at peace with a partner or felt the infamous belly full of butterflies, but she feels them both with Harry. She doesn’t even know when she began falling. All she knows is that she’s ready to tell Harry.

While she wants to share how she feels, she’s mostly dying to kiss him. Their tension is thick, and Y/N is ready to cut through it. She did not think Love on Tour would bring her love, but after hearing Mitch and Sarah’s story, she knows anything is possible and that Harry loves playing matchmaker. He’s a big romantic, which is something everyone has told her. 

She finds him in the piano room, playing an all too familiar melody. “You know, some would call that plagiarism.”  

Harry’s hands fall away from the keys, but he doesn’t turn to look at her. “It’s my favorite song.” 

“Not even released. I barely named it,” she tells him truthfully. 

He shrugs, “special enough to me.”

“Should have named it Harry’s song instead.” 

That gets him a look; his cheeks are red from her comment, and it settles Y/N’s nerves. Harry stands up, and she knows he wants to hug her. While she usually is eager to be wrapped in his warm embrace, she didn’t change coming off stage today and fears she might smell. “Think I might stink.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “stop it and get in here.” 

It is no use fighting it when she only wants to be in his arms. Y/N let herself melt against him, her hands resting around his waist.

“Quite incredible out there. Almost got jealous when you got handed those flowers.” 

Y/N smirks and pulls back the tiniest bit to see the pout on his lips. “Almost?”

Harry huffs out a sigh. “Fine, I did.” 

She grins, “There’s no need to.”

“Why’s that?” 

“You’re the only person who’s got my eye,” she tells him honestly. 

Harry’s face turns red, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he pulls her in closer, resting his chin on her head. Y/N struggles to work up the courage to say those three words. She didn’t realize that the fear of rejection could win out when she really liked someone. 

She decides to go for it.

“Harry, will you do something for me if I ask?” 

“Only if you ask nicely,” he rebuttals.

Y/N pulls away from him, and he lets her. Her hands stay rooted on his waist, letting him know she doesn’t want him to go far.

“Kiss me, please,” Y/N whispers out into the room. Harry was shocked at her request. He stayed staring at her, unsure if he had misheard, but Y/N repeated herself one more time. “Will you please kiss me?” 

He had been waiting for this moment when everything would shift for them, and now that it was here, he was overwhelmed. Harry wanted to kiss her but didn’t know what it would mean for her because he knew what it meant to him. There was a part of him that knew how she felt, but he was dying to hear it.

Instead of questioning it, Harry decides to lean in Y/N, lifting her head to allow their lips to touch, but Harry keeps just enough distance between them to see if she really wants this. Harry lets their lips brush, leaving the ball in her court. He was tempted to go all in but needed to know she wanted him. Y/N was in a daze; she had never felt like she could pass out from a simple touch, but with Harry, it had been like that from the start, from small touches to holding hands. Y/N knew precisely what he was doing and knew exactly what she wanted. 

Y/N connected their lips, and she felt fireworks go off. She doesn’t know why she stayed away for so long. Now, she never wants to go without him. Harry raises his hands to cup her face, taking control of the kiss. It is gentle and full of care. She never wanted it to end, and it seemed neither did Harry. Harry was getting lost in the taste of Y/N. He knew he didn’t care what happened as long as he got to keep her in the end. 

He pulled away breathless, but Y/N pulled him back in for another kiss before he could say anything. It went on for what felt like hours but could have only been a few minutes. There was a loud pounding on the door that made the spring apart. Y/N gazed at his swollen lips and knew she must look the same, if not worse. 

“Y/N–” He shakes his head, not able to wrap everything around his head

“Shh…” Y/N doesn’t want this moment to end, although she knows it must. “We’ll talk later, I promise.” 

Harry frowns. He doesn’t want to give her the chance to change her mind and reject him. He wants her, simple as that. “But–”

“I promise I won’t change my mind. I’d tell you right now, but I wouldn’t let you go for the rest of the night if I did.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he confesses. 

Y/N chuckles and presses a final kiss to his lips. “I’ll be cheering you on, popstar.” 

Harry smirks, “dedicating tonight to you.”

“Menace.” 

The show is a beautiful success. Harry spots Y/N in the crowd tonight and spends too much time singing to her. Not that many fans pick up on it. He wouldn’t mind anyone finding out, but she’s all his right now. He runs off stage and straight into his dressing room. He’s got a car waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to Y/N. His mom trails in, followed by Jeff and a few others. Harry keeps his door open to keep an eye on her. Harry packs up a few of his belongings, knowing he’ll return tomorrow for a final night. Harry is listening to Jeff drone on about tomorrow and the surprises he has planned when he catches sight of Y/N’s purple bow breezing by. He doesn’t even apologize to Jeff; he runs out after her. 

“Y/N!” He calls out.

Y/N stops and smiles. “Hi you! Nice job out there.” 

Harry blushes because, as confident as he was on stage dancing for her, there’s a difference between being dressed down and having his crush tell him he did amazing on stage. It means everything knowing she enjoys the shows each night. Harry loves seeing her sing on stage each night and is thankful he gets to enjoy it for a few more weeks. 

“I–I’ve got to get going but wanted to see you.” 

Y/N reaches up and cups his cheek. Harry leans into her touch, neither caring if someone spots them nor knowing they are in safe hands with the crew around them. “I hope you have a good night. I’ll see you here tomorrow, ready for one final show. I hear it’s going to be the best one yet.” 

“Is there something you want to see me play?” 

Y/N offers him a soft smile, shaking her head. “All I want is to see you happy on stage.” 

While the sentiment is appreciated, Harry knows her words will be on repeat as he falls asleep tonight. He wants to give her something special tomorrow. “I’ll find out your favorite song,” he promises. 

Y/N rolls her eyes. “H, I mean it. You being happy on stage is all I could ask for.”

Harry turns his head and kisses the palm of her hand. “I’ll figure it out, sweetheart.” 

She stares at him lovingly, knowing they both have to go and get a good night's rest. They’ll be apart for a few hours, and tomorrow, be back together to share a few more kisses. 

“Good night, you.” 

Harry leans in and kisses her cheek. “Night, sweetheart.” 

+

The final night at Wembley had arrived, and she was ready. Y/N knew Harry had most of his family and friends here, which made her slightly nervous because she knew he would want her to meet them but also knew most of them wouldn’t show up for lil ol’ her as an opener. Y/N, when she arrived at the arena, was separated from her band and found at Harry’s side. Harry selfishly wanted her to stay with him; he even sneaked them off to a hidden corner of the stadium, where he kissed her breathless. He promised only a few minutes, which turned out to be thirty. Y/N showed up to her soundcheck with bruised lips and a wide smile. The band decided to tease her later when Harry wasn’t around, seeing they also had lots of questions. 

“Yo–you look gorgeous,” Harry expressed as he walked into her dressing room and saw her dressed in a black maxi dress with embroidered flowers instead of her signature mini skirt. 

Y/N did a twirl for him, “you like? My mum found it at this shop we love to visit together. Altered it to perfection. The extra fabric she used for my bows,” Y/N points out. Harry admires her loose curls, a massive bow holding half up in a messy updo. She looked effortlessly beautiful. 

“It’s wonderful.”

“I got a wardrobe upgrade for the next few weeks. Leaving a lot at home and packing a ton of new outfits. Think it’s time to play dress up,” Y/N laughs, knowing she will have a fun time and lots of new looks to explore. 

“Can you dance in it?” 

Y/N smirks, “don’t worry, Felix made me practice shaking my ass already.”

“Oh darn,” he jokes. “Have a lovely show.”

Harry brings her in for a hug, and Y/N sags against him, loving the comfort he brings her. As she goes to pull away, Harry leans in for a kiss but waits for her permission; with a simple nod, he connects their lips and captures her heart. The kiss is perfect. It’s slow and gentle but filled with passion and yearning. Yearning for more time together, longing for all they have yet to explore. Harry backs away, his lips shining from her strawberry lip gloss. 

With a final wave, he’s gone, and Y/N takes the stage.

“Welcome to the final night of Wembley! Promise you’re in for a hell of a show. I-I’ve never been happier.” Y/N thinks back to minutes before she walked on stage and knows her words have never been more accurate. “Let’s dance!” 

The show passes in a breeze, and before she knows it, she’s reached the end of her set, having one final song left to perform. She never seems to feel time passing when she’s on stage. While Y/N loves playing for Harry’s fans, she’s excited to get back on the road for herself soon enough. 

“Wembley, Wembley. You are a beautiful crowd. I’ve got one last song for you.” The crowd cheers. “Ouch,” she feigns hurt, placing a hand over her heart. “I won’t take offense only because I’m also excited for Harry.” Y/N steps towards the stage with her microphone. “Thank you for receiving me with open arms, Wembley. I love performing and singing all my songs for you. I hope you come out to a show of mine in the future. It would be lovely to see familiar faces in the crowd. Before I continue, there are some people I need to thank. My mum Reina is in the crowd.” Y/N cheers when the crowd screams and chants for her mother. “She’s going to love that. There is someone special who is not here but has a special place in my heart and made me fall in love with singing: my Dad. While it feels like it has always been my mum and I, he’s never forgotten. My mom gave me all his records and always played music he loved. It led me to finding my dream and making it come true. Mumma, thank you for everything. I love you. Lastly, Harry Styles, it has been my greatest honor to join you on tour, but tonight, I feel extra thankful to be here with you. You’ve become a great inspiration throughout this tour, and I’m grateful for you.” 

Y/N wipes her tears, laughing to herself for getting emotional. One last song to sing. She looks at the sky and whispers, “this is for you, Pops.” When she finishes, Y/N blows kisses to the crowd and rushes off stage and straight into her mother’s waiting arms. 

“He would be so proud,” Reina whispers, making Y/N shed a few more tears. “I’m proud of you, my angel.” 

Y/N squeezes her mother tighter. “Thanks, Mumma.” After her mother finishes showering her in kisses, Y/N heads to her dressing room, wanting to change and shower, except when she walks in, she finds Harry reading her lyric journal. 

“Harry?” She looks at him, confused. 

He stands up quickly, setting the book down on the couch. “I-I didn’t mean to. But it was flipped open to 

‘Right Now’ it’s the song you played me on the piano. I still shouldn’t have done it, but I was curious. I–I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” 

Y/N wishes he wasn’t so panicked. “It’s okay. I think you’ve heard all about these songs. Very comfortable with you reading it. Only June gets a kick at reading the notebook. Think she left it out.” 

Harry sighs. She opens her arms for him, and he falls right in. “You were wonderful! Love seeing you so happy,” he mutters. 

“Special crowd. Don’t know if it’s possible, but it feels like there's more people than the other nights,” she confesses. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the truth; fans sneaking into the pit are much more common when workers are distracted, even if they try their best. 

He laughs, “guess we’ll see, all I know is tonight will be special.”

Y/N enjoyed this downtime with Harry. While they knew a conversation was waiting to happen, they simply chose to enjoy this final night in London before continuing on the road for the next few weeks. Y/N knew how she felt, but this was not the time or place to have this discussion. It’s one she would be waiting for in the days to come.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Got a surprise for tonight.” Harry stole a kiss and backed away from her. Y/N could see a twinkle in his eye and knew he had found her favorite song. Y/N knows he went to her Mum. She was the only one who knew. While ‘Fine Line’ was special and he played it every night, she wondered if he would play it for her. 

Y/N doesn’t always watch the show in the audience; sometimes, she is side-stage dancing with Felix and playing air guitar. Then there are times they’re in the green room eating while watching Harry play through the TV in their room, but tonight, Y/N joins his family and watches from the right side of the stage. Anne said they’re close enough that he can spot them but not enough to distract him. For the last week here, Y/N had met most of his friends and family; there would even be a celebration at the end of the night where more people would attend. Y/N knew Harry would be the man of the hour and had decided she’d hang for an hour before heading home. While she selfishly wanted to monopolize all his time, Y/N knew she couldn’t. She’d see him on their flight to Wales in a few days.

“He’s got quite a big crush on you,” Gemma nudges her shoulder. “I would know I’m his older sister.” 

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Then I’ll have to take your word for it.” 

“My brother’s a shy guy. When he’s onstage, he shines so bright, but when he walks off, he’s back to being my shy brother who, for the life of me, is awful at starting conversations. He cares so much for everyone in his life. Once you’re in, you have a friend with him for life.” Gemma tells Y/N, and she knows it’s as much a welcoming as it is a warning. 

“I-I think he’s amazing. Fuck, I’ve kept a distance for a while only because I wasn’t certain if he was genuine. But repeatedly, he proves to go above and beyond for anyone. Being home puts many things in perspective for me,” Y/N sighs and offers Gemma a timid smile. “I’d be lucky to be given any relationship with Harry.” 

Gemma’s laugh rings loud, causing their mums to look over at them, but Gemma waves them off. Gemma links her arm with Y/N and declares them dance partners for the night. “You’re a good person, I can tell. And even if I couldn't, my mum could, she adores you already. Think she plays your music more than Harry.”

Y/N gasps in surprise, “please tell me Harry knows!” Gemma shakes her head. “Oh my gosh, he said I write sad music.” 

“Well, he writes horny pop songs,” Gemma chips in.

Y/N falls into a fit of giggles, “he does!” 

“You write rock mixed with sadness and a few pop influences.”

Y/N feels her face heat up, knowing Gemma is clearly a fan of her music. It always overwhelms her, but knowing that Gemma, Harry’s sister, enjoys her music is a big win for her. It brings her a lot of joy. Y/N always had an easy time conversing with people, but she feared making relationships and connections. It’s a reason her circle is tight-knit, but chatting with Gemma makes her hope that a new friendship could start here. 

The night is spent dancing and singing at the top of their lungs or as loud as Y/N knows she’s allowed without messing up her voice. After Mitch’s incredible solo for ‘She,’ Harry walked to the middle of the catwalk with the ladies of his band. It seemed as if every fan knew what song was coming as Y/N saw friends embrace each other. Y/N walked over to her mother, knowing her Mumma related a little too closely to the song. However, the familiar notes to ‘Matilda didn’t start; instead, it was a soft guitar intro. Reina pulled Y/N tight into her arms. This was the surprise Harry had mentioned. 

Harry finds his mum and sister hugging as he sings, but he keeps searching until his eyes land on Y/N, who is being embraced by her mother as she sings along to every word of “Sweet Creature” while Harry has no idea what this song means to her, she knows what it means to him and his sister. There are many ways to interpret his songs, and he’s glad Y/N connected with this one. He’s happy he could give Y/N and her mother this moment for it to become theirs.

It’s hard keeping his emotions under control for the entire show, but he does his best. He remembers to thank his family and promises Wembley he’ll see them soon. When Harry runs off the stage that night, he knows he left his heart out there for every single person. It’s something he knows he is going to get back with a lot more love-filled into it. 

There is a celebration that Jeff hosted for everyone wanting a perfect end to four sold-out nights in the city that changed his life and has now become his home. Harry sees his crew mingling. He sees Y/N’s band mixing with his band. It’s nice to see how connected everyone has become over the last few months. The person he is searching for is talking to Glenne. He sees them laughing, and as he makes his way over to them, he is intercepted by Ben, a long-time friend. Harry bounces around the room, converses with everyone, and occasionally drinks with them. Harry had managed to keep an eye on Y/N all night until he was saying goodbye to someone, and when he turned back, he could no longer spot Y/N. Harry knows he’ll see her soon and has her number to call her, but he really wanted to hear her thoughts about tonight’s show.

Harry pulls out his phone to call her when he finds a text from her. 

Y/N

Thank you for the surprise. Tonight truly was magical. 

Did you enjoy the rain? Think the heavens opened up from how emotional you made everyone. I’ll see you soon. Give me a call tomorrow. xx

He pockets his phone with a smile and knows what he has with Y/N is good, and he’ll do everything in his power to make her happy for a long time. 

+ 

In Wales, Y/N and Harry did not go a moment apart as if they had become each other’s shadows. Where one went, the other followed. No one questioned it because it was bound for something to happen, but what happened? No one knew. Y/N and Harry shared kisses behind closed doors, and it was theirs. It was the time to brush everything away and simply be together.

Belgium came much too soon, and there is something Harry has been meaning to ask. He’s lying on Y/N’s hotel bed, knowing they have a few days before their show, and Harry’s dying to take Y/N out on a date. 

“Sweetheart,” Harry calls out for her. 

“In a minute.” 

She walks out of the bathroom a minute later, her skincare finished for the night. They had arrived a few hours ago, and Harry quickly approached her. 

“Beautiful.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t stop her face from heating up at the compliment. “Sweet talker.”

“Only yours,” Harry sing-songs. 

She lies down with him. “Any big plans in Belgium, H?”

“A sold-out show,” he teases. 

“Well, obviously.” She plays with a loose thread on her shirt. “Meant sightseeing.”

Harry shrugs and scoots closer, reaching down to take her hand in his. “Not really sure. Thought sleeping would be a good start.” 

“Don’t be silly. You and Brad love an early morning workout.” 

Harry reaches out and pokes her nose, making her scrunch her face in surprise. “No need to be jealous. Early days with Brad mean free days with you, sweets.” 

He had a point. Y/N deflates because while Belgium is famously known for its waffles, she doesn’t want to explore alone. She also knows it is harder for Harry to simply be out. “It’s simply we have time to explore cities I’ve never visited before, and while I selfishly want to ask you to roam the city with me, I know it’s not possible.” 

“Hey,” he speaks softly. Her hand stays cradled to his chest, all his attention Y/N. His eyes say everything he hasn’t voiced yet. “We can walk around any city aimlessly. You don’t have to worry about anything else.” 

“Harry,” she breathes out. “You–”

“Why can’t I? Simply because others will look or because I’m this big name. Don’t I deserve the same respect as others to simply be.” 

“You do. Of course, you do.” 

“Then, don’t worry about anything else. I promise I will be there if you ask me to be somewhere or want to go to a chocolate-making class.” Harry’s words fill her with hope. Hope that whatever this is will turn into something more, something special.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I-I don’t want to go to a chocolate class.” 

Harry falls into a fit of giggles, leaning in close to press kisses to her cheeks, not caring that she tries to push him away because he knows she likes it, knows she craves his touch as much as he does hers. “Would you go on a date with me, Y/N?” 

Y/N freezes, not having expected him to ask her. She always kept it at the back of her mind, but now he’s here asking for more. “A date?” She repeats. “With me?”

Harry’s laugh rings loud, “you’re kind of who I’m asking.” 

She wants to blurt out yes, it’s on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it back. Instead, he thinks about it for a second, wanting to make Harry sweat for a second. “I’d like that.” 

“Tomorrow? I can plan a whole day out for us.” 

Y/N breaks out a huge smile; dates usually last an hour or two, but she has Harry wanting to spend the entire day with her. She knows this is unconventional and that they have already spent so much time together that it will now only be outside the four walls of a hotel room.

“Tomorrow is perfect,” she agrees. 

Harry bids her goodnight and promises to be here at eight with a coffee for her to start the day. 

True to his word, the following morning, Harry is there with two cups of coffee and a paper bag. The smell of fresh bread reaches her, and Y/N knows this is a fantastic start. Harry leads them out of the hotel room and onto the street, promising walking would be better. 

Making it to their first destination, it’s a Botanical Garden, and Y/N practically shines with happiness. From the moment they walk in, they are met with blooming plants. They find out it’s pretty empty, not many people picking a garden for their first visit of the day. Y/N roams around, with Harry trailing close behind. She doesn’t realize Harry is taking photos of her every few minutes. Harry wanted to capture the entire day, and seeing her beauty through his eyes was something to behold.

“H, come on!” Y/N turns to him with a stretched-out hand, and he’d be a fool not to take it. They spend a few hours roaming around, stopping to take pictures and sitting on benches as they take in all the beauty, never letting go of each other’s hands. 

Y/N knew it was always easy with Harry, but she let every touch linger a bit longer in this new context of being on a date. Harry told her it was time for the next destination, and while she didn’t know what it was, she knew the day would only get better. 

“Did you know fries are actually Belgian and not French?” Harry tells Y/N as they share a small plate outside a shop. 

Y/N chews a fry, tilting her head, thinking his words over. “Weird to call them French.” 

It turns out Harry had no real plan for them besides the gardens, but was too worried to tell Y/N. She laughed and promised him she didn’t mind. Spending time with him was more than enough. Aimlessly walking is her favorite pastime when she’s in a new city, but doing it here with Harry, she knows it will never be the same again. 

They walked in and out of shops for the next few hours, laughing at shared stories and buying knickknacks for family members. Harry dragged Y/N into a chocolate shop, where the worker was kind enough to offer them samples. After buying too much, Y/N promised to share it with the crew. It was too good for them not to share.

After some time, Harry pulled Y/N to sit on a bench with him. It gave them a beautiful view of the sun that was beginning to set. They sat in silence for a while, comfortable enough to enjoy each other’s company without saying anything. 

“Did you know I once wrote a song about Rapunzel?”

“The princess?” Harry asks. 

“Mhm…I loved the film, and I thought Rapunzel had lost so much time being trapped that, being free, she didn’t know where to start. It was not my best.” 

Harry nudges her shoulder, “doubt that.” 

She shrugs, “who knows, maybe it was amazing, but I’ll never know, never thought to record it.” 

“What made you want to pursue music?” Harry asks. He has her hand in his lap, twisting the ring she wears on her pinky finger with her father’s initials. 

Her father comes to mind, “I was really young when we lost my dad. He loved music; he was the type to love it all, from Metal to pop to Spanish. He worked as a producer exclusively in London and with close artists, he had never wanted anything to take him from home. He loved my mum too much to ever want to part with her for long. My dad always had music playing. My mum said it was the first thing I reacted to when she was pregnant with me. By the time I was born, music lulled me to sleep and was the first thing I heard when I woke up. By the time we lost him, my Mumma played his records to keep his memory alive. She only bought new ones on his birthday and anniversary. I didn’t realize until I was much older that it also connected them.” Y/N pauses to send Harry a smile, and he answers by squeezing her hand. “My mum knew I had a good pair of lungs during my theater days and pushed me to pursue more if I wanted. I taught myself guitar and took piano lessons because I wanted to improve. It wasn’t always easy, but I loved learning, so it only motivated me. I wanted to share music because I wanted to connect with others and proudly say I’m doing that.” Y/N feels overwhelmed but is happy she shared this with Harry. She can’t remember the last time she was this honest with anyone. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” Harry kisses her cheek. “I-I love seeing you on stage. You radiate this energy that—” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to describe it, but it makes you want to be part of it. I think you’re one of the most amazing songwriters we have in our generation.” 

“Harry,” she shakes her head to get him to stop, but it urges him on.

“I mean it. You’re incredible, and I’ll forever scream it from the rooftops if you want me to.” 

Y/N feels her face flush and turns to pull Harry in for a hug. She breathes him in for a long moment, “I–thank you.”

After the sunset, they walk back to their hotel. They linger outside Y/N’s door, not ready to say goodbye even after a long day together. 

“We–”

“I–”

��You first,” they reply in unison. 

Harry gestures for her to go first. 

“I was going to say if you want, we can freshen up and have dinner in my room, maybe watch a movie,” she asks nervously.

He nods eagerly, “yes, please.” 

“Good, good. Say an hour?” 

“Perfect.” 

Harry lets her open her hotel room, but before she can wave goodbye, he pushes her against the entrance and leans in to kiss her. Y/N sighs against his lips. She has wanted to do all this all day. His hands hold her waist firmly while Y/N fists his shirt to keep him close. 

Y/N pulls back to catch her breath, “been wanting to do that all day.” 

Harry smirks, “well, here’s another one.” 

His lips are soft, but the kiss is fast and needy. There has been a build-up to this moment all day. Y/N lets him guide her as he explores her mouth. She moans as he nips her bottom lip. Y/N pulls him closer, needing to feel him against her. She’s so lost in the kiss she jumps back in surprise when the door slams shut. Harry rests his forehead against hers, his breath heavy. “Maybe not the smartest thing we’ve done.” 

Y/N bites her lip, “probably not.” 

Harry thumbs at her bottom lip, and she releases it. “Please stop, or I’m going to kiss you again.” 

“I don’t mind,” she confesses. 

“Y/N,” Harry groans. “I’m going to go.” 

“But you’ll be back?” She asks softly. 

“In an hour,” he assures her. “Pick a movie for us.”

“Bye Harry.” 

Harry kisses her cheek, knowing that if he gets another taste of her, it will lead to more kissing, which they clearly do not want to rush. “Bye, sweetheart.”

Y/N shuts the door behind him, a large grin on her face. She’s falling hard, and she’s falling fast. 

+

“Vienna is probably one of the most beautiful songs ever created,” June tells Y/N, who’s lying on the floor of Harry’s stage. “The beauty of getting older.” 

“June, you hated that song when you were younger,” Quinn chimes in.

“Am I not allowed to change my opinion?” She yells. Quinn simply puts his hands up, deciding it is not worth defending. 

“City of Music is nothing I thought it would be,” Felix shares.

“What were you expecting?” Y/N asks curiously.

Felix laughs, “definitely fewer parks.” 

“Oi, is this what we pay you to do?” Harry shouts as he walks over to them dressed in blue jeans and a “Pleasing” sweater. 

“Y/N, save us, please!” They all collectively yell. 

Harry snickers at her, knowing they might not have told anyone about the dates they’ve been having in every city that usually end in one of them staying the night in the other’s room. It started off with neither of them wanting to say goodnight. Harry laid on her blankets while she tucked herself, holding hands; they dozed off to sleep. It was a no-brainer after that because they both enjoyed waking up to one another. Nothing goes on except a bit of kissing. She can’t say she hasn’t been craving something more but knows there is no need to rush her time with Harry. 

“It’s chisme time,” Y/N tells him. “Anything to share.” 

“I love Gossip.” Harry takes a seat next to Y/N, leaving not a single space between them. “Did you know we’re not having soup for lunch?” 

Everyone collectively groans, “banished, you’re no longer welcome,” Quinn shooed him away. 

“Hey now, I got a better one,” Harry leans in closer. He glances at Y/N before telling the others to get close, leaving Y/N out of their makeshift circle.

Y/N sits back, relaxed; with Harry, there is no need to worry about anything. June and Felix lean back, “Oh,” at the news while Quinn looks confused. He looks at Y/N, then back to Harry, then again to Y/N. 

“Lies. Not real. She doesn’t have the game,” Quinn says while looking at her. 

While Y/N has no idea what Harry whispered to them, June’s grin says it all. She knows it has to do with the dates they’ve been going on. Y/N had mentioned she liked Harry, but they all assumed she would do nothing about it.

“H, what did you do? It seems like they’re broken now.” Y/N points out to her two loudest bandmates, who have not said a single word, and Quinn, who has started to pace around on stage. 

Harry leans back on his arms as he takes in the scene before him. “Simply told them I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend. Had no idea you were keeping me as your dirty little secret.” 

Y/N quickly shakes her head, “no, never, it’s ju—” she cuts herself off, seeing that his dimples are on display and not an ounce of sadness or pain. “You’re annoying.”

“But you like me!” 

“Whatever.”

“You brushed of my question.”

“More like a statement,” she rebuttals. “Clearly not how you’re going to ask me.” 

Harry sends her a cheeky wink, “course not.” 

“Then you’ll have to wait for my answer until then. Now shoo, I’ve got to rehearse and answer all their dumb questions.” 

Harry kissed her cheek with a loud “muah” and promised to head to her room tonight. 

There was a sense of anxiety that had been with Y/N all day. Harry had made a bold statement tonight, and she wondered if he did it to give her the time to see if that was what she wanted. Harry was not like someone she had ever been with. She never had to speak on her emotions; she always went with the flow, but Harry is giving her the choice here. Y/N is nowhere near ready for the conversation, and it seems Harry knows because when he arrives in her room and sees the stress in her eyes, he takes her in his arms and tells her it’s time for bed. 

Harry takes a shower while Y/N changes into an old tour shirt and boxers. Harry enters the bedroom to find her lying in the middle of the king-sized bed. 

“You look adorable.” 

“Cute enough for cuddles?” 

Harry laughs, “always.” 

He makes his way to her after double-checking the lock on her door and ensuring his phone is off. He lifts the blankets and settles behind Y/N, his hands slipping under her shirt and pulling her towards him. Y/N sighs and melts against him. 

“There’s no pressure to have this conversation. I want you to know where I stand. I know I might not have gone about it the best way, but I want you to know you have as much control over this relationship as I do.”

With Harry’s reassuring words, Y/N felt at ease. She knew she was overthinking everything, but Harry understood her like no one else had.

“I like you, Harry,” she confessed. “I like you a lot. I-I-how you manage to always have the right words escapes me, but I’m thankful. I like you, and I like where this is going.”

Harry squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I like you too. Promise, I’m sticking around.” 

Y/N knows she’s lucky to have Harry. 

+

“¡Hola Barcelona! Yo me llamo Y/N, gracias por acompañarnos esta noche.” The crowd cheers after hearing her Spanish. “I know, right, pretty good. My grandpa taught me a living legend he still is. Think he’ll be proud. Let’s have some fun tonight.” 

Y/N, as soon as she gets off stage, feels a heaviness in her heart because, after tonight, there are only three shows left. It means not seeing her friends and the new friends she has made for a long time. Y/N is jumping straight into a tour in two months, meaning she’s got to start rehearsals in a month. While she doesn’t know what comes next, she does hope to finish her album before she heads out on tour. Harry had accompanied her to the studio, and even Mitch had tagged along, wanting to see her process. It led to them playing guitar in a few of her songs. These memories she’s made throughout this tour will live within her new album. 

Y/N didn’t know how much her life would change by accepting to be Harry’s opening act. She knows she should bask in the happiness while she can, but the reminder lingers in her mind. Y/N finds Harry and is not surprised to find him with Mitch. They’re speaking about Mitch’s album while Sarah is lying on the couch with her son, who’s napping. There has been so much to happen since this tour started, and Y/N never gets tired of hearing the stories. 

“Dinner?” Harry raises his head when he hears her voice. Mitch waves at her but doesn’t offer her a word; instead focuses on Sarah. 

Harry rushes over to her, wrapping her in a hug. “Promise I watched. Mitch stole me away quickly.”

Y/N laughs. Harry not watching didn’t even cross her mind. “You’re fine. Wouldn’t blame you, boring for you with the same ol’ setlist each night.”

“Hey now,” Harry defends. “That’s my favorite singer, you're insulting.” 

“Oh, Stevie Nicks is not going to like that,” Mitch comments.

“Wanker!” Harry gives Mitch the middle finger and guides them to get soup, Harry’s favorite food, before a show. It’s known to settle his nerves. 

“That’s okay, Hozier is mine,” Y/N chirps, sharing a laugh with Mitch.

“Irish tend to be superior,” Mitch agrees. 

Harry walks out with Y/N, sending Mitch a wave. Harry walked them to his green room, requesting his soup and Y/N’s sandwich to be sent. She told him she’d pick it up, but Harry shared he wanted a minute alone with her. Y/N hadn’t technically been with Harry long; it’s only been two weeks, give or take a few hours, but she’d known him for months. There was no need to talk as Y/N settled on the couch with him. She felt tired after her set, all the adrenaline gone. Harry asked her for dinner, and then she’d watch Harry from her dressing room with the rest of her band. The final days were approaching, and Y/N knew she’d prepare to say goodbye to them, too, even if it was for a few weeks. 

They settled in the silence, no need for conversation. Y/N was content to be wrapped in Harry’s arms as he closed his eyes, breathing her in. Y/N had not let herself think about the end of the tour because she wanted to enjoy every moment, and now, with the end so close, she honestly never pictured herself falling in love with Harry. She knows she wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. She had him and would protect this relationship for as long as she was allowed to have him and even long after.  

After a successful show, Harry came to sleep in Y/N’s room with the promise he wanted to be close to her. Y/N was not one to deny him of any request, not when he kept her safe. Y/N woke up feeling too warm with Harry’s hand flat against her warm skin. He loved physical touch and kept his hold on her even in his sleep. Y/N shimmied behind him but stopped when she felt how hard he was. She knew it was normal, but a part of her wanted to take care of it and take the next step with him. 

“Baby, you got to stop moving,” Harry groaned in her ear. Y/N paused, thinking he might not be on the same page but as if he could read her mind, “unless you want me to take care of you.” 

Y/N stayed frozen because her mind was running wild on the possibilities that could happen. She had dreamed about Harry taking care of her, but now, making it happen, Y/N was at a loss for words. 

Harry turned Y/N, making her lay on her back, and he shifted above her with a gentle smile. “Morning, pretty girl.”

“Morning,” she breathed out. 

Y/N knew she didn’t look her best, with tired eyes and crazy hair, not even mentioning she hadn’t brushed her teeth, but by the way, Harry was gazing at her, it was clear he wasn’t thinking the same. 

“You’re beautiful. Thought you were a figment of my imagination, but here you are, spread out under me.”

She feels her face heat up, loving how warm his words make her feel. 

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give you whatever you ask for.” She knows he means it. He’s a giver. It’s what brings him the most joy. 

“Want you to touch me,” she spoke softly. 

Harry kneeled over her, careful not to let his entire body sit on her. He ran his fingers up her arm, biting back a smile at the goosebumps that raised over her body. Y/N’s breathing slowed down as her eyes never left his. “Where, baby?” 

Y/N shimmied, her face burning. She couldn’t, but she knew he’d continue to play with her if she didn't. His hands now tracing over her stomach and up to her breast. Y/N pushed against his hand, but he pulled away, tutting at her greediness. 

She didn’t have the words, but Y/N guided his hand, resting on her stomach to her wet pussy. Harry moaned when he felt how ready she was for him. “Here, baby. Need me here?” 

“Please, Harry. Need you to take care of me,” she begs. 

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

Consent had never felt so sexy. 

“Yes, please, Harry.” 

“You’re not wearing panties.” 

Y/N has to hold back a laugh because she is begging him to make her come, and he is focused on her having no panties. “I run hot, you know that.” 

He glided his fingers around her pussy, spreading around her wetness. She let out a needy moan when he slid his fingers inside her. The feel of her clenching around his fingers made him eager to add another. Harry loved seeing her like this. It made him want to give her everything. In and out, he moved his fingers inside her, rubbing and stroking her swollen lips. She laid their legs spread out, head back, taking it all. Harry knew she was close, but he was greedy for a taste. 

Harry lowered his mouth to her stomach, pushing her shirt up, allowing him to kiss her breasts before continuing down the path calling for him. He kissed along her thighs, and Y/N felt her breathing slow down. He continued with his slow kisses along her hips up to her belly and back down again. Sliding his hands under her ass, he pulled her closer.

“Oh baby, I need to taste you.” His warm breath tickled my skin as he lowered his mouth and bit into the inside of her thigh. Y/N let out a loud moan, urging him to continue. He kissed her repeatedly, knowing it would bruise. He was glad to mark her his. 

Y/N let out a soft cry as his tongue licked up her thigh. She needed everything as he moved closer to where she was ready for him. He slowly dragged his tongue through her folds. 

Fuck. 

“Harry, Harry,” she chanted his name. 

Y/N could only beg for more as Harry muttered something about how delicious she tasted. As he licked into her, he slid one finger into her as his thumb rubbed against her clit. In seconds, Y/N was lifting to meet each thrust of his finger. 

“You sound so beautiful with my name on your lips,” he dived back in. “Want me to make you mine?” 

“Yes,” Y/N moaned. “All yours. Only yours.” 

Y/N was writhing and wiggling anything to keep him pressed against her clit as his tongue thrust inside her. Everything was on fire; every nerve in her body was firing off. He slipped another finger, and Y/N exploded. It all became so much, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her as she felt her orgasm rip through her. Y/N felt Harry slow down, lazily moving away from her, with no apparent rush in wanting to leave her. Harry slowly sits up; she sees hooded eyes, her eyes focused on the mess she’d made on his face. Harry raised his hand and slipped his wet fingers in his mouth, cleaning the last of her juices. Y/N knows they’d get going for a second round if he's not careful. 

“Let me kiss you,” she begged, her voice rough.

Harry ran a tongue over his lips, making a show of cleaning her off him, “not ready to share yet.” 

“Nasty,” she chastised before she leaned up, placing her hand on the back of his neck and pulling him for a heated kiss. “Will you come for me, Harry?” She mumbled against his lips. 

She pushed away, removing her shirt, throwing it to the side, and lying back, allowing him the view of her breasts, her nipples hard as she begged him to come. Harry slid down his briefs, and Y/N gasped at how beautiful he looked hard and thick because of her. Y/N reached for him, but Harry shook his head, a clear sign this would be quick. Harry wet his hand, moving it steadily up and down his base. Y/N was mesmerized. She played with her tits as he stroked himself, knowing he loved the show. 

“Come for me, Harry,” she purred. “Show me how good I helped make you feel. Show me how much you loved making me come. The feel of your tongue is something I never want to forget. How well you take care of me.”

“Fuck, baby. Didn’t know you could be so dirty.” 

“Promise to take you down my throat next time. Let you use me any way you want. Please, Harry, come for me.” 

That was all he needed for him to come on her skin. 

“You’re a dirty girl,” he comments.

Y/N winks, “only for you.” 

As they settled down from the high, Harry cleaned her up with an old shirt of his. They stayed cuddled on the large bed, sitting in silence. There was so much said between them, but they both knew they meant every word. It would be only up from here, even if only a few days were left. 

+

Y/N has enjoyed meeting new people, but this tour introduced her to new friends. Harry’s band is lovely and quite large; he has his main band, but during the disco medley, as he likes to call it, he brings out the horns. She found herself overtime making her way to their dressing room, watching them get ready for the night. Throughout her time on the tour, she earned her spot in their room as she watched them get ready before her set or after. 

Tonight was no different. Y/N was talking with Lorren and Parris about their plans after the tour. They shared they had shows lined up, but a break was the first thing they were looking forward to, and Y/N had to agree.

“Lorren, can I ask you something?” 

Lorren turned to Y/N with a bright smile, “well, of course.”

“Well, I was wondering if you could add stars to my face. Quite good at my eyeliner but shit at anything else,” Y/N confessed. 

Lorren looked thrilled. “Yes, please, yes. Thank you for asking.” Lorren stood up from her chair, giving it a pat for Y/N to make her way over. Lorren complimented Y/N’s skin and makeup, stating it was flawless. Y/N thought it better be she was religious with her skincare. She learned over time less was more and stuck with it. Sometimes, not even Y/N could escape her eyebags when she worked too long in the studio. 

She sat perfectly still for Lorren, continuing to talk to Kalia about her new musical release. It was something everyone had been waiting for; they were all incredibly proud. They segway to talking about Pauli, who, thanks to him, had brought them all on from the North America tour to right here in Lisbon and a final show in Italy. 

Y/N soon felt the room fall quiet. She got lost in her thoughts when a shutter made her snap her eyes open. It was only Georgia, her photographer, taking photos. “Scared me, Georgie.” 

Georgie laughed, “sorry, but you did tell me to capture everything.” 

Y/N wondered what she meant by that; before she could ask, Lorren declared her finished. She looked in the mirror and gasped at how perfectly they blended with the purple eyeshadow she used today. Y/N noticed Lorren added glitter to give it that extra glimmer. 

She hugged Lorren, thanking her over and over again. She would have continued if Georgie didn’t remind her she had to change. Y/N wished the room luck and rushed to her dressing room, where her outfit was laid out. 

One final look in the mirror, and Y/N’s ready to go. She walks out, happy to find Zahara, who came to celebrate the end of tour with her. “You made it!” Y/N cheers. 

Zahara wraps her in a hug. “No thanks to stupid United. Canceled my flight twice.”

Y/N winces, “don’t even want to imagine the conversation you had.” 

“It was not pretty,” Zahara shares. 

Y/N stands side stage with Zahara, chatting while Ash helps secure her mic pack while Zahara makes her promise not to do anything she wouldn’t do. Zahara doesn’t even know what she’s asking of her, especially because she has no idea who Y/N has been kissing behind closed doors. 

She rushes on stage; her signature mini skirt is back tonight, paired with a baby tee Harry ordered for her. It’s black and has bedazzled constellations all around, a big reason she asked Lorren for stars on her face. Y/N spent a large portion of her morning with Harry, thanking him for the gift. 

Harry watches Y/N sing her heart out to the crowd. This song Harry knows Y/N wrote when she was going through a bad breakup. While it hurts him to think about her with anyone else, he also knows he’s started to write endless songs about her and knows she’s done the same. Zahara greets him courtly, and he wonders if she knows. 

“Listen, Harry.” He steps closer, but Zahara never looks at him. “If you do anything–and I mean anything to smear her image, I’ll make you regret it. This girl has fought tooth and nail to be where she is.” Harry sees the fire in her eyes. “Y/N doesn’t open up easily, and I know you wormed your way in. You’re a good guy, but even a good person can break a heart. You know what it’s like to be talked about.”

Harry knows first hand how ruthless the media is. “I would never want that for her.” 

Zahara sighs, “I know. She’s special, and I think she’s proved that even more because of this opportunity you gave her.” 

“I-I- didn’t expect to fall for her,” Harry defends because he hadn’t, but one conversation with her, and there was no stopping it.

“She’s got that charm,” Zahara laughs. “Look at me here to watch her finish a tour when I’ve got so much to do. You’d do anything knowing you put that smile on her face.” 

Harry knows Zahara is right and goes back to watching Y/N. He can’t help it when he takes out his phone to record her because he wants to remember these moments of her on stage. He knows her setlist by heart and knows she’s got three songs left. What he doesn’t expect is for her to shoot a wink towards Zahara, and then they watch her jump off the stage. She makes it look effortless, but he’s worried and moves forward to try to stop her. Zahara shoots her arm out to stop him. “Slow down, rockstar. She’s got this.” 

“You’re okay with this?” 

“Oh, I’m furious,” she confesses, “but she did it with me in the audience, knowing I’d keep her safe.” 

Y/N walks through the barricade, serenading fans and security in front and behind her. It’s the only thing that brings him a bit of comfort. The cameras follow her around, showing her on the large screen, making him laugh because he can see how much she enjoys it. She walks the entire catwalk, hugging fans who are clearly there for her as much as they are for him. She reads a few signs, and by the time she returns to the stage, she has friendship bracelets lining her wrist, a shirt on her shoulder, and two bouquets of flowers. Y/N laughs in their direction, clearly noting the disbelief on both their faces. Y/N continues the show, giving 100% energy until she sings her final note.

She hurries off straight into Zahara’s open arms. While he can’t hear what Zahara is whispering to Y/N, he knows it has to be about him for her face to look flushed and not from her hour-long performance. Zahara pushed her towards Harry, who was waiting for his turn. Y/N settles in his embrace as he kisses her head repeatedly. “You’re mental, absolutely insane.” 

Y/N giggles against his chest, “how rude.” 

Harry puts his hands on her cheeks, pulling her back the slightest bit to get her to look at him. “You were brilliant! A shining star, you have the crowd in the palm of your hand.” Y/N’s smile shines at his words. 

“You’ve got lovely fans. They make it easy.” 

He holds back from kissing her but promises to see her later. 

Y/N watches him go, not caring that Zahara and the band will tease her endlessly for it. She doesn’t mind one bit. 

+

“I’ve been on tour with one of my favorite artists, Y/N Y/LN.” Harry lets the crowd cheer for her, knowing Y/N is waiting for him to call her onstage. “She’s got amazing songs, and lucky for you all, I asked her to sing a song with me for you all. So everyone welcome Y/N to the stage.” In her outfit from earlier, Y/N walks out, guitar strapped to her chest, waving to the fans. She sees hundreds of phones in the air as she stands at her mic stand. They had rehearsed today, with Harry promising he was ready. He seemed to know the entire song by heart and had his band learn it. “Let’s go!” 

Y/N never imagined being on stage singing her dirtiest song with Harry to a sold-out stadium. Y/N can’t seem to look away from him; it has her bringing out all her sensual dance moves when she plays this song. It’s a reason she cut it from her setlist tonight to play it specifically with him. When it comes to an end, Y/N turns to the Love band, giving them a round of applause. 

“How about one more?” Harry asks Y/N into the microphone. 

She smirks, “I'd be honored.” 

Y/N hands off her guitar to Chloe, waiting to pack it away for her. Then, he prances back over as Harry begins ‘Daylight.’ Y/N had always enjoyed this song, the sweetness packed in the lyrics. It's a song about a lover coming and going. While they’re home, he’s happy and full of joy, but once they’re gone, the mood falls, and he’s left missing them. It’s a feeling she’s familiar with, and she knows that Harry has lost a person due to being away for so long. It does make her think about her finished album and how it was influenced by everyone around her, romantical or not. 

As she comes over to sing into Harry’s mic, not minding the closeness, the cheers get louder as they stay together. She feels Harry’s eyes burning into the side of her head, and she dances away, letting him continue. When it’s her turn again, she returns to his mic, looking straight at him. She smirks, singing his lyrics. She sees his eyes darken and knows she’s in for a fun night.

Once the song ends, Harry lets the crowd give Y/N a long applause. Harry pulls her in for a tight hug, “thank you for doing this with me.” 

Y/N gives him a light kiss on the cheek, thankful her face is hidden from the crowd, “thank you for inviting me.” 

“I don’t want to let you go.”

Y/N laughs because she feels the same way. “Promise, I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done. Go have fun, rockstar.” 

She runs off stage straight into June’s teasing arms. Y/N doesn’t even mind not when her thoughts are running wild watching Harry continue with the show. 

“Babes, we’ve got to spend the show down there,” Felix begs, pointing to the crowd of fans leaning against the barrier.

Y/N’s eyes widen, “in the pit?”

They nod. Y/N knows they won’t stop until they do, so she compromises with them. They’ll go in between the catwalk and barricade for the last songs.

“I’m down,” Quinn quickly says.

“Can you get Harry to wet us?” June asks seriously. 

Dear God. What is she going to do with them?

Once they’re down watching Harry prance around, he changes it up and plays a surprise song that makes them all lose their mind. Followed by screaming their lungs to ‘As It Was,’ nothing better than yelling “Leave America” with a sold-out crowd. By the time Kiwi rolls around, Harry has spotted them and jokes for Y/N to give him her number. There are many oohs in response, but Y/N sends him a wink. The band got what they wished for, and Harry gave them a good splash, one Y/N avoided by hiding under Quinn’s jacket. Harry is about to do his signature exit when he freezes and spots the cup of beer in her hand. She offers it to him as a joke but complies when he signals for her to pass it over. He mouths, “thank you, baby,” and the next thing she knows, he’s doing the whale with her beer. Fuck, if she didn’t want to get him naked now more than ever, as she saw the beer run down his neck and bare chest.

“Fuck me, I’m glad one of us is fucking him,” June mutters to her. 

Y/N doesn’t bother correcting her friend. As her friends walk her back, she’s lost in her head because she enjoys being with Harry. Y/N knows she took her time discovering her feelings and allowing herself to fall for Harry; now that she has, it’s all-consuming. She is filled with so much safety and love; she’s used to being overwhelmed, but Harry makes her feel at peace. Having these conversations about what they are to each other is stupid, but she knows she owes it to Harry to tell him how she’s feeling. 

She walks to his dressing room to find him changed and has his bag swung on his shoulder, meaning he’s leaving. “Heading out?” 

He turns his head when he hears her voice. “Yeah, beat traffic.”

Y/N nods and stays quiet. She knows she’ll see him back at the hotel but feels like this can’t wait. 

“Harry, I—”

“H, we got to go,” Jeff interrupts, rushing in behind her. 

Harry frowns but doesn’t argue. He stands in front of her, reaching for her hand. He intertwines her fingers between his and pulls her along with him. “Come with me,” he begs. 

Y/N begins to tell him she can’t when Quinn swings her bag at her, telling her she’s good to go. Harry gives her a deadpan stare, waiting for her to try to provide him with a reason why she can’t, but decides to give in. “Lead the way, H.” 

The car ride to their hotel is quiet. Y/N leans her head on his shoulder as Harry comes down from the night's adrenaline. Her hand rests on his lap. She knows they will leave for Italy tomorrow. While excited for the last show, she’s sad it’s all ending. Y/N and Harry walk in together through a private entrance and say goodnight to Jeff as they head into Harry’s room. Her stuff never made it to her room, and it won’t in Italy either. 

Harry heads to the shower while Y/N heads to the sink to remove all her makeup. This all feels domestic to her, doing this routine with Harry as if they’ve done it for years. 

“You taking my beer was pretty bold,” Y/N comments when she hears the water shut off. 

He dries off before exiting. She sees a towel wrapped around his waist and laughs when she sees it fits him a bit too small. “Thought you were offering it.” 

“Ever heard of a cheers,” she teases. 

Harry kisses her cheek and promises to warm her side of the bed. While Y//N showers and does her skincare, she thinks of what she will say to Harry. Her mind is going crazy, and she wants to get it in order before she just spills it all to him.

“Baby, you coming?” 

Y/N replies to give her a second. She finds Harry sitting in bed, his book on his lap and the blanket untucked, waiting for her to settle in. Y/N kneels on the covers facing Harry, knowing she has to get the words out tonight.

“Need to tell you something,” she breathes out. 

Harry looks at her concerned but gives her his undivided attention. “Course, love.” 

“I-I like you. I know I’ve said that, but I like waking up with you. I love going on dates with you. Holding hands brings the biggest smile to my face. Your hugs bring me so much love and safety. I enjoy having conversations about everything and nothing, but I also love sitting in silence with you.”

“Y/N,” Harry begins, but she shakes her head. He reaches for her hand and holds it tight. 

“I feel like it’s so soon to say these words, but I hope you feel it in every action and touch. I’m head over heels for you, Harry. I-I know I made you wait; I had to figure out my feelings, but I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am of you. Will you be my boyfriend?” Y/N asks. Once those words are out, she sinks her face in her hands. “God, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

“Hey, hey,” she hears Harry moving, then feels his hands pulling her hands away. He’s careful not to pressure her but lets him see her. “There’s my pretty girl.”

Y/N shakes her head; she really said all that.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I appreciate it. I like knowing where you stand. Do you want to know how I feel?” Y/N nods her head. “Well, love. I’m crazy about you, too. I like sitting with you and watching you play the piano. I love trading books we’ve finished reading because yours always have different annotations for me to find. I like seeing you watching me perform. I love watching you perform for an audience, and I can’t wait to see a show soon where the entire audience is there for you. I’m falling in love, and I know you’ll be there to catch me.” 

She feels her eyes well up with tears because Y/N has never been good at expressing her emotions, but with Harry, she’d conquer every fear to make sure she can make him feel loved and seen. She presses her lips against his and melts against the familiar taste. With a soft moan, she shifted close as his mouth opened over hers, and his tongue slid between her lips. She might have initiated the kiss, but Harry seems to be the one who always takes control. She was always okay with that. She tilted her head so he could kiss her more deeply. He didn’t need more encouragement. The kiss became intense; heat flashed through her, making her thighs clench, and while she would love to take this further, she knew they needed to rest. 

His hands trailed up her nightshirt, and she broke away to let out a loud moan when she felt him squeeze her ass. “H-h-harry, not tonight,” she managed to make out. 

Harry slows his hands, bringing them back to her waist. “But we can kiss,” he asks against her lips. 

“All night if you want.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” he teases.

Harry pats her ass and helps her get under the covers. Y/N laughs when he turns her to be facing him. He wedges himself between her legs to be close; there’s no way of knowing where she begins, and he ends. 

It’s a perfect night. 

+

Italy has always been perfect to Y/N, from the people to the food to the views. While Y/N knows enough Italian to get around and understand it, Harry is basically fluent. He’d been practicing his speech all morning. His only break was to give Y/N one last wake-up call that had her screaming his name. 

Y/N and Harry spent a few days roaming Italy together. They were officially a couple and were enjoying it. Harry kissed her every chance he could get. Y/N always had a hold of Harry, whether it be his hand or at the small of his back. It’s clear everyone knows they’re together, not that they made an announcement but because they are always spending time together. Where one goes, the other follows. 

June, Quinn, Felix, and Y/N sit together in the green room, discussing their favorite moments from the tour. Quinn said in Amsterdam, some strangers let him join their bar hopping. He ended up finding he could not hold his liquor like they could. Felix shared it was playing at Slane Castle. They heard stories of never thinking it would be them on that stage. June made them all cry by stating that every moment on stage with them was special to her. June is going on a break after this, needing to go home and be with her family, while Y/N accepted that she would miss her best friend. Y/N shared it was exploring new studios while writing her new album. 

“You have to play it for us soon!” Felix expresses. 

Y/N nudges her friend, “who else would I show first?” 

Quinn nudges her. “Someone named Harry.” 

“Promise it’s almost done. Think I’m just missing an album name,” she shares, knowing she finished recording most songs. 

Before the band can start throwing names at her, there’s a knock on the door, and Harry comes in with the Love band, all holding something behind their back. June narrows her eyes at Harry, not one for surprises, but Y/N knows this will be good. 

“Y/N and band, thank you for joining us on an amazing, successful tour this year. I enjoyed listening to you every night,” Harry tells them honestly. Everyone echoes his words. “That being said, we got you a gift.”

They were all presented with a bag, and June and Quinn were quick to rip into it while Felix made sure not to make a mess. Y/N held the gift close to her chest but watched her friends open their presents first. June held a black sweater to her chest. It had her name embroidered on one side and Love on tour on the other. “Shit, we get some too!” June exclaims. “I was so jealous of y’all.” 

Quinn pulls out a pair of shoes, “satellite stompers,” to be exact. His smile is wide, and he quickly bounces over to pull Harry in for a hug. “Thanks, man.” 

Y/N doesn’t open hers because she was the one to give Harry their sizes, so she’s not expecting anything else. 

June turns to Y/N, pointing a finger, “how did he know our sizes?” Y/N grins while June gasps accusingly. “I bitched and moaned about not having one. Is this a pity gift?” 

Harry quickly assures her he wanted to give them to all of them in private. Everyone in the crew got some; he meant everyone from the band to Y/N’s photographer. Every person was necessary on this tour, and Harry wanted to make it known with a gift. Harry stepped close to Y/N and gestured for her to open hers. She gives him a suspicious look but does as he asks. She removes the jacket quickly, slipping it on when she spots a bow at the bottom. Y/N looks at him surprised because when she pulls it out, she sees it’s one she had shown him a few weeks ago. It’s an intricate bow with wildflowers embroidered on it. It has unique beading to create this delicate bow.

“The meadow bow,” she whispers, delicately touching the ends.

Harry’s cheeks warm when he sees her expression. Y/N blinks away her tears because it’s unreasonable to cry, but the fact that Harry listened to her when she went on about something as silly as her bows and ribbons. Y/N doesn’t think about what she’s about to do; she only knows she wants to thank Harry. Y/N hugs Harry, but she pulls away quickly, connecting their lips in a kiss. Harry is frozen for a second but promptly responds, both easily sinking into each other. The hollers and cheers make her break away, leaning her head on his chest.

“Sorry, H,” she sighs. 

“Don’t mind. Think you should do it again.”

“Not again,” June yells. “You cute together, but I don’t want to see that.”

Harry promises to let them get ready. 

“Will you be watching?” Quinn asks. 

Harry nods, “we wouldn’t miss it.” 

“The entire family is watching,” Gemma chimes in. Harry gasped, not knowing she had arrived. 

“Gems!” Harry rushes over to scoop his older sister in a hug. Y/N knows when Gemma says the entire family, she means it. They all promised to sing their hearts out for him. Y/N had met most of them during the few shows in Wembley, but she was merely an opener, and now she is Harry’s girlfriend.

“Come on, Y/N. Mum wants to say hello,” Gemma calls for her as she drags Harry out. Y/N promises not to be long, but the band brushes her off, telling her they already have good company. 

Y/N has the best time with Harry and his family. They share laughs about young Harry being nervous to sing in front of a crowd and now ending a tour with over 90,000 people. Anne can’t stop her tears, which makes Harry emotional, too. He stays cuddled at her side. Anne asks Y/N about her tour, and Y/N invites them to opening night. “Don’t know if you’d be able to make it, but it’d be lovely to have you there. My mum and a few cousins are attending.”

Anne reaches over Harry to squeeze her hand, promising to be there. “Course we’ll come. Your mum is lovely. Can’t wait to catch up.” 

Starting off a tour in London was the right choice for her because she wants to be in her own bed before she sleeps in a different one each night again. Y/N excused herself, needing to prepare for one final Love on Tour show. 

Y/N huddled her band before going on stage. “You are my favorite people. I feel so lucky to do this with you every night. One last night with June, let’s make it unforgettable.” 

“I love you,” Felix shouts. They laugh, squeezing each other tight, echoing the words to each other. And with that, Y/N and the band take the stage one final time. 

“Italy, you have been an absolute dream. Each night, every crowd welcomed us with open arms, and when you sing back my lyrics, that is something I will never forget. I couldn’t do it alone, though. My amazing, amazing band. Felix, June, and Quinn are my family. Without them, I would not be where I am, and I will never forget that. June is actually taking a break after this tour. She’s going away, but she’ll be back. The spot is open if Sarah Jones is looking for a job.” The crowd laughs while June shakes her head in disbelief but also knows Y/N would never pass up a chance to work with someone at the caliber that Sarah Jones is at. “Most importantly, thank you to Harry Styles for inviting me out on tour. It’s the best choice I could have ever made. You have shown me kindness from the first moment we met. Thank you for allowing me to use your stage each night, but most importantly, thank you for showing me how music inspires you to do good and always do better. This last song is dedicated to you, H.” 

Y/N hurries off stage after playing “The Last Man on Earth” and runs straight to the dressing room, where she cries into June’s shoulder. This tour has her saying goodbye to her best friends but opening new opportunities because she knows there is a conversation she’s been dodging for some time now and knowing Harry today won’t end until he gets his way. 

“That was beautiful. Every night, honestly.” Y/N steps away from June, wipes away her tears and is thankful she decided not to do her eyeliner tonight, or she’d look worse than she feels. Harry had come to see them all but mostly knew his girlfriend would need a bit of comfort. 

“Harry, my man. Thank you,” Quinn answers, pulling him into a hug. Everyone does the same, but Y/N stands frozen. It seems everyone can pick up on the tension and give her a moment alone with him. 

Harry hurries over and takes her in his arms. Y/N relaxes in his hold because he’s always had that calming effect on her. “You were wonderful. Had me in tears.” 

Y/N giggles against his chest, “stop it.” 

“Seriously,” he laughs, and Y/N feels it go through her. “Jeff was recording me, laughing at my tears.” 

“Thank you, H. I know you said you’d watch, but knowing you were in the crowd made tonight even more special.” 

Harry kisses the top of her head. “It was all you. Don’t know how I will survive without seeing you every day.”

“You can follow me on tour,” Y/N offers. 

“Now that’s a thought.” 

They settle in silence, neither one having anything to say. Simply enjoying their time together. Y/N doesn’t know how much time passes, but she knows he’s got to get dressed. 

“I really like you, Y/N,” Harry whispers into the quiet of the room.

“Harry,” Y/N pulls back to look at him. Those emerald eyes are full of love, and Y/N knows it for her. She has to let herself be happy, and it’s clear Harry is a big part of bringing that joy to her life. 

“I like you,” he repeats. “And I’ll keep liking you tomorrow and every day that is to come. I’m letting you know how I feel. We’ve discussed it, but it doesn’t mean I can’t remind you. Will forever be crazy about you.” 

“I’m crazy about you, too,” Y/N breathes out. “You fill me with so much happiness.” 

Harry smirks, “enough to join me on holiday for a few more days?”

She looks at him, confused. 

“My family and a few friends are spending time in my home here. If you’d like to join us–join me,” he offers timidly.

“You mean it?” 

Harry nods, “nothing better than you in a bikini,” he teases. 

She slaps his shoulder, “I’m there.”

“Good.” 

Harry kisses Y/N. She is quick to soften beneath him and eagerly reciprocates the kiss. Y/N loves his touch, and with each kiss, she feels herself heat up and knows where this could lead, but there is just no time. “Harry,” she mutters against him. “You’ve got to get ready.” 

He sighs against her, “one more.”

Y/N happily agrees.

+

Y/N can’t stop her hands from shaking. She’s done everything she could think of, from doing math problems in her head to focusing on her breathing, yet nothing is working as she waits for Harry to introduce her.

“I don’t know if many of you know, but I personally requested for Y/N to join us on tour. I didn’t know if she would be available, but my manager told me to have hope, and here we are now. I-I-honestly know she’s one of our generation's best writers and singers. I feel fortunate to have shared this time with her. Something none of you know is that Y/N loves playing my piano. She’s written a lot of her second album on it. So I thought it would be fitting to bring it out and sing with her. Everyone, please welcome Y/N!” 

She walks out from behind the stage. Y/N waves at the crowd she had greeted an hour earlier. Y/N feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. It wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with; it was something she told the crowd. 

“Feel special. Y/N is the definition of calm and collected,” Harry teases. “Now, this is Y/N’s song, and I thought maybe you’d want to hear a bit.”

“It’s called ‘Right Now’. I hope you enjoy.” They had planned this: Harry would play the keys, and Y/N would sing, but for some reason, her nerves were getting the best of her, and Harry started the song for her. Hearing Harry sing her lyrics comforted her because he genuinely enjoyed her music. Her voice blended in with Harry’s before it was her all alone. Y/N stayed on the bench with Harry, feeling too vulnerable to go out to the crowd. It was insane debuting a song to a crowd that maybe wouldn’t relate to her words, but she sang with every emotion she could pour out for the odd chance that someone did. Y/N felt Harry’s eyes on her and turned to smile at him. Thanks to Harry, she finished this album and finished this song. These songs weren’t written about him; they have him intertwined in the stories she’ll share about this album. 

Before she knows it, she’s singing the final lyric, and Harry plays the last note. “Everyone, Y/N!” The applause is thunderous, making Y/N tear up. She tries to imprint this moment in her mind because she never wants to forget it. Harry walks her off as the piano is taken away, though none of the fans know it will return by the night's end. Harry leaves her backstage, wiping away the few tears that escaped her. 

“Thank you, that was beautiful,” he kissed her cheek.

He goes to walk away, but Y/N pulls him back in by his vest and kisses him. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck, holding her to him as he devoured her mouth. “I’m so lucky to have you,” she breathes out. 

Harry is tempted to kiss her again, but he knows if he does, he’ll get lost in her and can’t do that when he has a show to return to. “It’s me. I’m the lucky one. ” He runs back, asking the crowd if they’re ready to do some dancing. The cheers are enough for him to continue on.

The show goes on, and Y/N has the time of her life. She goes out after her song to dance and sing with his family in the crowd. Harry finds them all easily, but the tears don’t stop when he takes his time to thank his mum and sister. To thank his friends who have been there from the start, Y/N knows he’s including her in the thank you’s because he reminds her time and time again that she changed his life in a way he never expected. 

Y/N knew about the ballad he would be playing on the piano. It’s something they worked on together, but something she didn’t expect was the quietness of the crowd. There is no sound except a few people crying as this lovely melody fills the area. 

Harry walks off the stage in tears, and the band soon follows. Y/N knew she’d be emotional, but she can’t seem to stop crying. She walks hand in hand with June backstage, where she sees Harry hugging his mother and moving on to his sister. They all huddle in Harry’s dressing room as they erupt in cheers, celebrating the end of the tour. Y/N knows she’ll find a minute with him alone but, for now observes Harry being showered in the love he deserves. The room slowly began to filter out, giving Harry a moment to shower and change out of his clothes, but before she could leave, she felt someone grab her wrist, and the door shut behind her. Harry stood in front of her dimpled smile on his face. His emerald eyes were shining bright. 

Happiness looked good on him. 

“Congrats on a successful tour, Harry!” Y/N wrapped him in a hug, aware of his bare chest. 

His arms held her tight as he swayed her side to side. “Thank you for writing that song with me.” 

“Our first of many,” she promises. 

Harry breathes her in, letting them stand in silence, soaking in the moment. This is a day they both would look back at fondly. It’s a story they’ll tell their future children.  

“Thank you for bringing love to me,” Harry whispers. He loved touring and, at times, found it lonely, but ever since Y/N joined, it’s like he found his missing half. He never felt alone because he knew she was always close by. 

Y/N shakes her head, “think it was all you.”

Harry ponders for a second. He was the one with the idea to bring her on as a tour opener. “Think it was.”

He connects his mouth with hers in a passionate kiss. She feels him grin against her as he pushes her against the door. His hands roam her back before resting on her waist while hers find a home in his hair. Y/N had been craving him since he kissed her halfway through his show. She kissed him, hoping her mouth said everything she hadn’t spoken aloud. 

Y/N knows this is the next part of her story. It’s not ending or starting; she’s simply turning the page to create a new chapter. Y/N has no idea where she’ll be in one year, let alone five, but one thing she does know for certain is that she loves Harry. 

+

thank you for reading 💜💜💜 please feel free to send me a message of what you loved from the story

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (With Benefits) PT4

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 4K +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of insomnia, mentioned nightmares/dreams, slight facial dysmorphia (if u squint), mentions of crying, slightly toxic, party, use of y/n, nickname (cherry), pet names (ma, sweetheart, etc), fight (not graphic), switching, unprotected, creampie (she’s on the pill)

(A/N: hope you guys like this! got the idea from this request. Tysm again <33)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Everything with Chris is so unnecessarily complicated.

Why does he act like a little bitch sometimes. Coming to my house, begging me and than being all sassy and annoying.

I let out a harsh scoff when I accidentally smudged my mascara a little bit. Rolling my eyes I pick up a make up remover and a cotton pad to clean up my mistake.

I’ve gone back to ignoring Chris, for my own sake. And he’s stopped attempting to talk to me fully.

I’ve been sticking to Ethan a lot recently. Just staying by his side and all.

We were both invited to this party. But we were both gonna Uber there separately.

I was thinking of getting wasted tonight. I haven’t done that in a while. The last party I’d been to was the party Evelyn forced me to go to.

Evelyn and I haven’t talked much, due to me distancing myself. But she hadn’t tried to reach out either. I’m sure though, that she’ll be at the party.

Having finished my make up now, I look at myself in the mirror. I color corrected my red eyes from crying, well. That as Well as my dark eye bags from sleeping bad.

I was never the type of person to cry a lot. But recently… i was crying because of Chris. But I hate him. Yet he was making me cry, wishing that he was here to comfort me

I hum a tune that’s been stuck in my head.

I just wanna rub my eyes harshly, and just start crying again. I’ve been dreaming of Chris. All in different scenarios.

Sometimes we fucked, cuddled, or even argued. Other times he was with charlotte; or someone else. And other times I was with someone else and saw him in the corner of my eyes.

I’ve been sleeping bad at night, so occasionally I’d have naps after school. Wich didn’t really help much since I’d dream again.

I sigh staring back at myself. And it feels like the more I stare into the mirror, the more my face morphs and changes. That doesn’t look like me.

I purse my lips. My hands slam on my vanity as I aggressively get up.

I let out a harsh sigh moving away from the vanity.

I get a notification from my phone, notifying me that my Uber is here. I snap out of my trance. Honestly I’m so glad that that caught me off guard because I actually might’ve broken that mirror if it hadn’t.

I grab my tiny handbag and shove my phone into it. Then I just walk outside.

Once I’m in the Uber again I drift away in thought.

Chris had done nothing but mess with me, since I’ve known him. Since forever.

Now I’m in my tiny dress, my ass probably showing slightly when I walk, and I’m gonna get laid from someone other than Chris.

Maybe I can obsess over someone else.

And maybe I can finally remember that Chris is not the only human with a dick. And not the only one who can use it.

Before I knew it we were already there. I could hear the slight music from outside blaring into the car.

I tip the dive and finally get out the car.

I heard the car speed say behind me. While the house party in front of me had loud obnoxious music playing.

I swing open the door. I sigh at the tight crowd of people and just decide to card through them.

I’m getting Deja vu from this really. But last time I’d been here I’d seen Chris almost fuck charlotte, and than proceed to fuck me.

Chris..

Chris?

I raise an eyebrow staring back at a person across the room. He was dancing a solo cup already in his hand.

Okay so I was extremely late, so what.

I need to stop going to parties ‘fashionably’ late. By the time I arrive everyone is already wasted.

I purse my lips pushing through the drunk teenagers to get to the kitchen. From where I was standing I could still see Chris.

I need to stop thinking about him.

But how could I do that when he is just a few feet away, probably drunk and dancing with charlotte.

I turn to the counter grabbing some random liquor and pouring it into a, presumably, clean solo cup.

I down half of it in seconds. I need to feel the rush. I need to get drunk.

Honestly I could go looking for Ethan, but than I’d probably hang out with him in the backyard and smoke all light. Or I could find myself some good dick.

★ ★ ★

After a good few drinks I was dancing with some dude. I don’t know his name, and I don’t care to.

This would be a simple hook up.

Before I know it he starts to guide me outside mumbling something to me about how we can fuck at his house.

And honestly I don’t know why I let him drag me out of the party.

I don’t really want to hook up with him, I want Chris. But I won’t stop him either. I don’t care to.

Suddenly we stop walking. And within seconds I feel his hands off of me, and a loud cry echo through the night air.

I turn around to see what’s happening.

It was Chris. He’d punched my possible hook up guy. My mouth falls open. I want to say something. To tell Chris to fuck off and leave. But I want Chris.

I don’t pay attention for one second and suddenly the guy is on top of Chris beating him up.

I can see from their faces that Chris had gotten a few punches in too though. The guy was taller and bigger than Chris. And I remember something about him being an American football player or something.

Chris manages to flip them around beating up the guy. They wrestle on the ground while I just stand there stupidly and watch.

My drunk brain was processing this way too slow.

Suddenly I see Ethan come into my field of view trying to separate the two on the ground, without getting involved.

I feel another presence next to me. And it’s charlotte. The girl looks as shocked as me. but she also looks more sober.

I snap out of my trance, my slow brain having finally caught up.

I put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder to tell him to back off. And once he does I pull them apart. And they let me.

I yell at both of them about how stupid they are to make a scene like this. Both of them look down in shame.

I turn fully standing in front of the random dude. I slap him across the face and tell him to fuck off.

After that everything is a blur really. Once I somehow got Chris to my house, and up the stairs without waking my siblings, we stand in my bathroom.

Chris is sitting on the closed toilet seat. I sprint downstairs really quick to get him some ice, because, half his face was definitely going to be blue by tomorrow.

Once I’m back I put some alcohol on a cotton pad gently dapping it in his skin as he occasionally takes in harsh breaths.

“Why would you hit him?”

I sigh. That’s the first question I’ve asked since we’ve gotten here.

He holds the ice on his cheek, while I tend to a wound on his forehead. He wasn’t cut up too badly though. It was just a fist fight after all.

“Because he was going to take advantage of you” he scoffs as if the answer to that was obvious.

I purse my lips. Honestly I was subjecting myself to it. I was literally begging for anything, I would’ve been fine with that.

“You had no right to intervene.” I purse my lips. I take the alcohol from the sink and put it back in its place in the cabinet.

I help him up. Chris wasn’t walking bad, I just wanted to touch him.

We walk to my bedroom where he sits down on the bed, and I once again stand between his legs.

I take the ice out of his hands to look at his cheek to see how bad the damage is.

And after a moment I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He berries his non-bruised cheek into my stomach.

“You don’t get it cherry” he sighs, relaxing more as he touches me. “He was looking at you in a weird way.”

“Like what?” I ask. My hand goes to his head. I card my fingers through his messy brown hair.

“Like an object.” He mumbles so lowly, I barely even understand it.

“Oh and you don’t?”

The question is asked flatly. I just look down at him blankly not thinking anything of it.

“No.” He pulls away to look up at me. He looks at me like he is insisting he’s telling the truth.

“I may be rude, but I never look at you like you’re an object.” He scoffs at the accusation. He rolls his eyes hard.

“You don’t?” I ask flatly, not bothering to even act surprised. As much as in hate Chris, he doesn’t treat me bad. Necessarily. He’s just a dick.

He grumbles disagreements turning his face fully into my stomach as he keeps holding me closer.

He starts to complain about his head hurting, and how he fought someone for me and whatever.

I pull him off of me slightly. I was still holding the ice in my hand. It was a bunch of ice cubes I had put together onto some towel.

I slowly sink to my knees between Chris’ legs. I look up at him through my lashes.

“Want me to take your mind off of things baby?”

I ask in a mildly mocking way. But I was dead serious.

Chris lets out a shaky breath. He tugs his shirt off, quickly throwing it off to the side. “Please” he sighs out.

I tug at his belt trying to undo it slowly, to tease him more.

“God I’ve missed you so much.”

His breaths are shaky. His eyes close for a moment. He was getting so worked up and bothered already.

“Have you?” I ask teasingly. He purses his lips slightly staring down at me. He undoes the button on his jeans and finally slides them down.

I help him take them off fully. Then I toss them away.

I look up at him watching him, as he sat only in his boxers in front of me.

“Fuck, you gonna be all submissive like last time?” I mock still looking up at him.

“Cherry, don’t tease please.” He sighs looking down at me.

I stand up quickly and turn to face away from him. Since the dress was a halter dress. I pull my hair to my from teasingly.

“Be a sweetheart and undo this for me real quick.” I don’t wait for long. His hands find my upper back undoing the string of the halter.

I turn back around again letting the top fall, revealing my lacy bra underneath.

I wiggle the dress around a little bit to slide it down. I slip out of it and then kick it away. I was standing in front of him in my matching lacy bra and thong sent.

His eyes trail my body. He looks hungry and needy. Looking submissive as ever.

I lean down to help him take his boxers off. And once he does I sit back down between his legs.

I look up at his dick. And it’s the only one I’ve seen in a while. It’s the only one that I’ve ever found pretty.

Never thought that was possible. But here we are.

The tip was the same red as he has on his cheeks. He was painfully hard and it had pre cum leaking.

I cup it in my hand starting to teasingly slowly jerk him off. “Y/n/n, cherry, please” he whines loudly, to wich I stop my movements.

“Chris” I hiss under my breath my expression harsh. I slap his thigh for a moment to catch his attention. I squeeze his cock lightly.

“My siblings are home. Shut the fuck up”

I hiss. Usually I wouldn’t mind, but my siblings are younger than me. 4 and 5 years. Me being 18, they’re 14 and 13. They don’t need to hear my childhood friend that they have also known for ages get fucked.

“Sorry, sorry” he huffs under his breath. I watch as Chris leans back in his arms looking down at me.

I take one of the ice cubes from the ice in the towel. I then proceed to put it right on his aching tip.

He flinches at the contact of the cold ice in his burning hot skin. I grin at the reaction, watching the way his dick twitches.

“You’re such a tease” he scoffs, to wich I just chuckle.

I drag the ice cube down his shaft before putting it back on the towel with the other few ice cubes. I knew it was gonna melt but honestly I couldn’t care less.

I start to jerk him off slowly again. I lean down to place a peck on the tip, and then proceed to suck him off slowly.

I swirl my tongue only keeping the tip in and staying teasingly slow.

I hear Chris let out a sharp huff, throwing his head back.

“Come on, ma” he says under his breath. His hand snakes into my hair, Slightly gripping at it. And then he harshly pushes me down, making me deep throat him for a second.

I choke on it for a second. Chris starts to move my head, yanking on my hair. I was deep throating him roughly.

I keep my hands on his thighs and pull off. “Don’t” I huff pushing away his hand from my hair, And then smoothing it down again.

I go back to licking a teasing stripe up his shaft, before I go back to deepthroating him, jerking off what I can’t fit in my mouth.

“Ma- I’m-“ he sighs. He was leaning back on his arms his head thrown back. He was trying so hard to keep his moans and groans minimal and as quiet as possible.

I pull off and chuckle. I kiss up his sensitive shaft while looking up at him. Then I get up and hover over him.

I connect our lips in a deep passionate kiss. And while I continue kissing him I lean over starting to straddle him.

Still while kissing him, I start to slowly sink down on his length making both of us moan.

When he bottomed out in me I pull away. My hands go to his shoulders as I just sit there for a moment.

My cunt was aching at the stretch. I had to get used to it again, since we hadn’t hooked up in a while.

I haven’t hooked up with anyone other than Chris in a while. And the last time I had it was not nearly as pleasurable as when I did it with Chris.

“So good for me, baby” I mumble under my breath leaning in more as I wrap my arms around his neck.

His hands trail over my thighs to my hips to hold me.

“Just for you ma.” He mumbles back. We’re so close I can feel his soft breath in my face. He just looks so kissable right now. With his lips plump and swollen like that.

“Oh yeah? Didn’t get pussy from someone else, hm?” I say again my tone low and harsh.

I start to gently grind into him. His hands on my hips don’t stop me or help me either.

“Fuck-“ Chris’ breaths are heavy as he tries to keep his voice low. “You’re the only girl I’ve been fucking.” He admits lowly, the blush on his cheeks only deepen.

“Oh, am I?” I mock as I start to slowly lift myself. I start to ride him, his hands on my hips only being there to steady my movements.

“God- you’re gorgeous” he breaths out staring up at me. His eyes stay locked on mine.

One of His hands starts to trail up my side. And once he reaches my bra, he pulls my body closer to him so he has better access to undo it.

Both his hands back down to my waist now actually helping me ride him harder.

I clench my teeth my moans coming out as sharp breaths as I try to keep quiet. I’m doing a better job than Chris is though.

I put a hand on his mouth to muffle his groans further.

“God- you’re doing so good for me baby.” I pant under my breath, still trying to keep as quiet as possible. My hips pick up pace even more. I continue moving, his tip pressing against my cervix repeatedly.

He mumbles back an agreement, my hand still keeping him quiet.

I continue to ride him at a harsh pace until I feel the knot in my stomach get tighter, ready to snap.

“Chris- I’m so close-“ I breathe out trying to keep myself from moaning.

Chris gently takes my hand from his face putting his own hand on my mouth to muffle my sounds.

“C’mon ma, come for me” he bites his lip. leaning back slightly, he watches as I do all the work. “Go on, get off on my cock”

My pace starts to become more messy and uncontrolled. Chris was also not helping, doing nothing except keeping his hands on my face.

With a muffled moan I slam myself down one last time. My head falls forward as I feel my orgasm wash over me. I feel warm and so relieved.

He takes his hand from my mouth, he then leads me to him by my neck and presses our lips together.

His hands both go back to My waist. just holding my body close to his.

I could still feel him rock hard in me. I knew we weren’t done, but I was appreciating the break.

Chris pulls me off gently and picks me up. He turns us around so he is on top of me.

Us fucking in missionary was always rare as hell. Because we’re there for the benefits. -And according to Chris, he hates my face so much he doesn’t want to see it.

well at least that’s what he used to tell me.

He slides his dick through my folds, before slowly pushing in.

I sigh feeling him fill me up again.

In our enemies with benefits situation we never did anything that felt intimate. The sex felt like sex, and not love. And that’s how it worked. It was good like that.

But like this, Chris, his blue eyes staring right into mine. The way he kept his hand at the curve of my waist, his other hand holding him up placed next to my head.

We were so close, I could practically feel him breathing on my face.

This felt so intimate, like something we, as people who hate each other, shouldn’t be doing

And that’s exactly what it was.

Well I guess we already made the first mistake when we first hooked up.

We were never meant to be. Not like that. Not like this.

So why did it feel so good though?

“You good ma?”

Have I been staring? Probably. But how can I help myself when he is so close to me, looking ever so handsome.

“I’m good. Please move” I whine trying to keep my voice low.

He sinks down, his face burying in the crook of my neck as he starts to move. All slow and sensual.

we barely ever did missionary, and when we did, his face was as far away from mine as possible. But right now it seemed like he was trying to be as close to me as possible.

He occasionally groans into my skin, sending tingles down my spine and right to my aching core. I try to keep my voice low, but still let a few soft moans slip.

“Y/n?” He says abruptly. He keeps up the slow sensual thrust, keeping himself buried deep. Yet he sits up slightly, his forearm next to my head holding him up.

“Mhm?” I say lowly not really trusting my voice.

Our eyes lock. Chris swallows. My eyes trail his features, trailing down to his chest, to his lips and back to his eyes again.

“Can I come in you?”

I raise my eyebrow at the question. Usually we used condoms. I mean I’m on the pill but according to Chris he ‘doesn’t want to take any risk’. But recently we had done it like that more than we had since the whole arrangement started.

“ ‘corse” I mumble back.

And before I know it Chris is picking up pace. He doesn’t move back, keeping himself hovering right above me our eyes connected.

My core was aching from all the over stimulation. So I shudder when he picks up pace.

He still keeps his strokes sensual and deep. I moan lightly, cautiously keeping my voice low.

He re-adjusts my legs, wrapping them around his torso for a deeper angle.

He picks up pace even more. I throw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure, my eyes closing, my mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Chris doesn’t even bother to make me look back at him. He just lets me enjoy this, and watches. Watches the way I look with my head thrown back in euphoria.

“Chris, Chris- chris-“ I keep my voice low but the more I chant his name the higher and squeakier my voice gets.

Chris takes that as a telltale sign that I’m close, but so was he.

He cups my mouth shutting me up. or atleast muffling my moans and whines.

He picks up pace even more. My eyes go back to meet his, my eyebrows scrunched in pleasure.

I tap his wrist to tell him I’m close. He licks his lips. Of course he knew I was close without me telling him.

His hand stays firmly on my mouth, keeping me quiet. “You’re doing so good, cherry”

His other hand goes to my clit in order to finish me off quicker. He rubs it harshly.

Suddenly I throw my head back again, clenching around him. I feel my release wash over me again.

He keeps pounding into me. But his thrusts get more sloppy and uncontrolled. Until his hips stutter. He gives me one last thrust before his spurts of cum shoot into me.

My legs are tense around his torso from the overwhelming pleasure.

I feel warm and so filled. It felt way more intimate than the countless times we’ve hooked up before.

And the fact that he stays there, collapses on top of me, his face in my neck, gently kissing, And not moving off, only made this feel even more intimate.

After a long while of just cuddling, and being in each other’s presence, Chris sits up. He gently and slowly pulls out, making me wince at the loss of contact.

He stares down at my cunt for what feels like a long time. Until his pointer and middle finger meet it again. Pushing the seed that was leaking out of me back in.

“Chris” I hiss my body shooting up. I was now half sitting my arm propping me up, my other hand going to circle his wrist to stop him from moving his hand.

“Awe poor baby does that hurt?” He huffs in a slight mocking tone. But for once it doesn’t seem menacing.

“Yes. don’t do that” I roll my eyes.

He chuckles at the sassy tone. “Well I gotta make sure you don’t waste it.” He sasses right back.

Chris already prepared for the worst outcome.

“I’m still on the pill.” I huff. I then slowly pull his fingers out of me, seeing the way they were covered in a whole lot of our mixed juices.

He chuckles popping his fingers into his mouth.

Matserlist

A/N: I loved writing this series. But it’ll probably only have one more chapter (so 5 in total). This was my first ever series, and it was so fun to write. Love y’all. My dms & req are open 🩷

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @t1llysblog

[chocochipsushi]

𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 5.3K

🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad

🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff

🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:

1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.

2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.

3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??

Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.

Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face. 

He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”

Oh. 

I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.

I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it. 

I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”

I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name. 

By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear. 

“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”

I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting. 

“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car. 

He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine. 

“Stay for a bit, Toji?” 

He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes. 

When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news. 

Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side. 

“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit. 

Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”

I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”

Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay. 

“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.” 

Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout. 

“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.

I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear. 

“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”

I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing. 

“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”

I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”

The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.” 

“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him. 

He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”

Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up. 

He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”

And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips. 

I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips. 

His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”

I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front. 

His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit. 

Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips. 

Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper. 

“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.” 

Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking. 

Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles. 

“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations. 

Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”

By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me. 

Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep. 

Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would. 

“Oh, you’re with her.” 

I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.

“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.

My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning. 

“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful. 

Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”

As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat. 

“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”

“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”

Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.” 

I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”

Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”

“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?” 

I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now. 

“You? You want to take care of my daughter?” 

“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive. 

The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”

Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”

“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”

Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”

“Good ni—”

“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”

It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.” 

“Shut up, dickhead.”

My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips. 

Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him. 

I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. 

Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him. 

Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out. 

Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy. 

As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?” 

It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”

As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”

Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?” 

My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs. 

I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily. 

Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat. 

“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me. 

Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him. 

He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”

I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet  pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine. 

Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips. 

It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress. 

He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me. 

“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up. 

My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”

I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji. 

He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over. 

I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”

At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father. 

“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”

My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”

“Of course you do,” my father quips. 

Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father. 

“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”

My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”

But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?” 

My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji. 

“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”

“I mean as a man.” 

The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words. 

Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked. 

“Like I want to commit my life to her.” 

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

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© chocochipsushi 2023 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise