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cupid-styles · 3 months

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renaissance (art teacher!yn x single dadrry)

in which y/n is harry's son's art teacher and he develops a big dumb crush on her. or: kids art teacher!yn x single dad!harry

word count: 6.5k

content warnings: none, just kids! some mentions of different types of familial relationships/dynamics (death of a parent)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"Alright, kiddos, let's clean up our big, beautiful messes!"

Y/N claps her hands three times to signify that class is slowly crawling to an end. Her hour-and-a-half art course for kindergarteners is one of the longest and, if she's being honest, labor intensive classes that she teaches. It's set at the end of the school day from 2:30 pm to 4 pm, designed specifically for parents that work late or need to place for their little ones to go after school is over. Most of her students' parents are single and working full-time, or have intense careers like nursing or... whatever it is they do.

Y/N weaves her way through the small smattering of children ambling over to the sinks. She watches to make sure they're having an okay time with washing out their paint cups and rinsing their brushes, followed by using the correct amount of hand soap to scrub paint stains away.

(That one almost always requires extra help — to this day, she tries not to get frustrated when she thinks about Johnathan dumping an entire bottle of Dawn soap all over his clothes because he had a tiny bit of yellow marker on his tee-shirt. It was the price she paid to teach kids, though.)

"Clementine, do you need a little help?" she asks, peeking over to one of her quieter students. With fluttering lashes and a slightly baffled look on her face (Y/N could always tell when she was getting stressed out by the way her little eyebrows wrinkled together), Clementine nods, and Y/N makes quick work to appear behind her. She gets down to her level, where her Mary Jane-clad feet are resting atop a stool to help her reach the sink. "What's going on, lovebug?"

"'s everywhere," Clementine whines lightly, her bottom lip forming a sad pout. "Paint all over my hands!"

"I see that, sweetheart! But you know what?" Y/N makes a show of pretending to look side to side to ensure no one else can hear her. "It's okay if we get a little messy sometimes. The cool thing about everything we play with in this class is that it's colorful and pretty, and if it gets on our clothes or our bodies, it can get washed away."

Clementine considers this for a moment. Her hands are still stuck under the lukewarm stream of water, where the caked on hues of bright pink and orange are slowly starting to fade away. "What about on my art?" she asks slowly. "Will that get washed away?"

"Nope," Y/N shakes her head. "That stays forever. But on your clothes and body? It doesn't stand a chance."

"Oh. Okay."

And just like that, Clementine's minor stressed out moment floats away. Y/N smiles to herself as she pours a bit of soap into her small hands and helps her scrub them together, the lingering paint forming a pretty swirl down the drain.

"There you go, lovebug," she murmurs as she stands back up, giving her head a light pat, "Don't forget to grab your painting when mommy picks you up, okay?"

Clementine nods and scampers away to her table. She chuckles, placing her hands on her hips as she takes stock of the kids. She has about 10 minutes until it's officially time for dismissal, and most parents are good about picking them up right at 4 pm. She thinks about playing a game with them to keep them occupied, until she sees it.

Riley Styles. With globs of red paint in his curly, brown hair.

"Oh my god," Y/N mumbles to herself, rushing over to Riley's table, "Riley! Can I ask what happened here?"

She tries to keep her voice at a measured, not-freaked-out level, but it's kind of impossible given the child standing before her is dripping with paint.

"My cousin has red hair." Riley answers simply before shrugging his shoulders. "I think she uses paint, too."

"Ohhhh, I see," Y/N replies, pressing a gentle hand to his back, "Well, Riley, I think it would be best to clean this up. It look like it feels a little messy and icky."

Her stomach is bubbling with anxiety as she glances up at the clock. There's now eight minutes to dismissal time, and Riley's dad is never late.

"But you told Clementine that messes are okay—"

"Messes are always okay!" Y/N exclaims in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice, "Um, why don't you come with me to the bathroom, Riley?"

She doesn't give him an opportunity to reply before she's looping his hand with his and making quick steps to the faculty bathroom. Realizing she's just left 15 kindergartens in a room unsupervised with a plethora of art supplies, she peeks into Lea's classroom.

"Lea! Hey, um, Riley and I need to go to the bathroom to clean up a little mess! Can you keep an eye on my kids?"

Lea, who already has her jacket zipped up and looks like she's about to walk out to her car, furrows her eyebrows. Her eyes widen when Y/N backs up slightly to give her a view of Riley, who has been trailing red paint with every step they take.

"Oh my god!" she all but squeals, and Y/N's jaw clenches, "Yeah! Sure! No problem! Good luck with that mess, Riley!"

Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes at her friend as they finally make it to the bathroom. She glances down at her watch, which tells her that took a whopping three minutes of their time. Swallowing tightly, she tries to figure out the best plan of attack, ultimately deciding that it would be best if she just attempted to wash his hair with soap and water while he stood there.

"Alright, Riley, can you try and stand still for me?" she asks, already pumping an absurd amount of hand soap into her hand, "I'm going to try to help get this mess out of your hair. Don't you miss those pretty curls you have?"

He shrugs as she begins to lather the soap between her hands. "I thought my cousin's hair was pretty."

"I'm sure!" she replies, massaging the foamy liquid into his hair. She's never been so thankful for washable paint before as the tints of red that latched onto his strands begin to wash away. "She probably didn't use paint though, and it's important that we keep the paint on our projects instead of our hair."

"Messes are okay, though. You said it."

She grimaces. Why do kids remember everything?

"You're right, messes are totally fine! But those are accidental messes. It's alright if we get it on our shirts or hands, but paint doesn't go in our hair. Does that make sense?"

His hair is completely saturated with hand soap now. She doesn't have a better way to wash it out (other than dunking the poor kid's head in the sink, which definitely feels unethical), so she's simply getting her hands wet and washing out section by section. It's going moderately well, especially since Riley's hair is on the shorter side, until the bathroom door bursts open, followed by angry footsteps.

"Riley!"

Y/N turns, her mouth forming an embarrassed o-shape when her eyes make contact with a seething Mr. Styles.

"Daddy!" Riley exclaims, rushing over to his dad. He latches his arms around his leg, giving them a squeeze, and getting the watered down red paint everywhere in his wake. Y/N winces.

"What are you doing alone with my son in a faculty bathroom?" He demands, jabbing his finger in Y/N's direction.

"I'm so sorry! H-he put red paint in his hair and I needed to wash it out, this was the only place I could do it since the kids' bathrooms aren't big enough—"

"And you didn't think to take another faculty member with you?" He spits angrily. Riley's now running around in circles, shaking his hair out like a dog. "How do I know you weren't doing anything—"

"I would never do anything inappropriate and you know that, Mr. Styles," Y/N cuts him off, feeling rage bubble up in her chest, "You've been sending Riley here for two years and this is the first time anything has ever happened. Until now, both you and him have only ever been happy with your experience here."

Mr. Styles clamps his jaw shut, his gaze falling to Riley, who's now pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.

"It's washable, then?" he asks through a clenched jaw. "The paint?"

Y/N swallows, then nods once. "Yes. Everything we use is washable and water-soluble. It was coming out fine before."

He straightens his posture and runs his tongue over his two, slightly overlapped front teeth. "Okay. Riley, come on, we have to head home now."

Mr. Styles stretches out his hand and Riley takes it happily, his smaller one clutching his dad's fingers. The sight makes Y/N's stomach squeeze, but she quickly diverts her gaze and clears her throat.

"I can grab his backpack and jacket," she says, boots clicking against the tiled floors as she walks out of the bathroom. Her face is warm and she feels tears lining her eyes, but she refuses to let herself cry in front of a parent. What she said to Mr. Styles — it's true. She's been working at the studio for five years and nothing has ever happened. She supposes a fuck up was overdue, especially since she works with kids, but it doesn't lessen the sting any.

She's surprised when she hears footsteps behind her, realizing that they're following her. She swallows the lump of tears in her throat and flashes Lea a small, forced smile when she returns to her classroom. The rest of the kids are gone already, their belongings and paintings with them.

Y/N walks over to the cubbies, where Riley has his jacket and backpack hooked. Gently, she removes them, and turns to hand them to Mr. Styles.

"Again, I apologize for today. I was helping another student clean up and I must have missed this entirely," she says, trying her best to keep an even tone.

Mr. Styles nods awkwardly, taking Riley's stuff into the crook of his arm. "I, um, apologize for insinuating that you'd do anything... unsavory. I know you wouldn't. I just panicked."

"I understand completely." she replies, and she means it genuinely.

"Daddy?"

They both look down to see Riley tugging at his dad's pant leg.

"What does usavory mean?"

Mr. Styles and Y/N's heads both snap back up, eyes wide as they stare at each other.

"...Nothing," he says with a small smile, making Y/N's own lips curl into a grin, "I got you dino nuggets for dinner. Doesn't that sound yummy?"

Mr. Styles waves goodbye to her as he pulls Riley out of the classroom, chanting dino nuggets! dino nuggets! on his way out.

. . .

When Riley doesn't show up for class the following week, Y/N sincerely contemplates poking her eyes out with paintbrushes.

She feels stupidly embarrassed. It took her two full days to move on from the whole red-paint-in-the-hair thing, in which she replayed every single moment of Mr. Styles staring her down like he wanted to pummel her across the city. And while she thinks things ended on a relatively decent note, she wonders if he was just being polite and now he was pulling Riley out of her afterschool art classes.

She's never had a parent unenroll their kid for reasons that weren't out of her control. Moving? Sure. Wanting to try a new activity? Understandable. Parents wanting to spend more time with their child? Y/N wouldn't dream of getting upset over that. But Mr. Styles, who always showed up at 4 pm on the dot in his neatly pressed slacks and crisp button downs to retrieve Riley from class?

She didn't know much about him. Unlike other parents, Mr. Styles didn't care much for idle chatter or small talk. For most of her students, she knew at least something about their personal lives or home dynamics — Reese's mom was a pediatric nurse, Tyler had a twin sister who preferred playing soccer after school, and Sabrina's dad passed away when she was a baby, so she lived with her grandparents and mom.

Anything she put together about Riley's home life was from pure speculation: His mom never picked him up, so she wasn't sure she was in the picture. (She doesn't think Mr. Styles is married, either, considering he doesn't wear a wedding ring, but that's neither here nor there.) He alway showed up to the art studio in professional work clothes, which led Y/N to assume he came straight from wherever he worked. Riley never spoke about having any siblings, so she thinks he's an only child.

And that's about it.

She spends the entirety of class holding her breath and mentally preparing for her boss to ask to see her once all the kids were picked up. Nina would probably start out by thanking her for all of her hard work over the past five years, and then before Y/N even realized it was happening, would switch over to her lack of care for Riley and the complaints made on Mr. Styles' behalf. She could envision the words leaving her mouth now: And so, we have no choice but to let you go, Y/N.

Except... to her surprise, that doesn't happen. Nina doesn't come in after dismissal and she even tells her to drive safe on her way out of the building. There aren't any meetings placed on her schedule in the week that passes by before Y/N's next course with Riley's group, and she's damn near shocked when her students come bustling in seven days later, the curly haired boy included.

Today, Y/N teaches them about working with oil pastels. She breaks the medium down to a very basic, understandable level for kindergarteners and lets them go wild after her usual 15 minutes of instruction, instructing them to let their creative minds run wild. It's one of her favorite parts of teaching art to kids — they rarely overthink it, instead just allowing whatever flows to come through to the paper.

Unsurprisingly, oil pastels aren't as messy as paints, so there's less clean-up required than their previous unit. At 4, the parents arrive in quick succession, though when her eyes flit to the clock, she's surprised when Mr. Styles still hasn't picked Riley up by 4:07.

She doesn't like to bring attention to late parents (she's found that some kids get all knotted up about it, worrying that something happened), so she usually has a few busy activities prepared for this very event. She grabs her folder of coloring pages to bring over to Riley's table, who's busying himself with peeling glue off of the worn, messy table.

"Okay, Mr. Riley, what are we in the mood to color tonight?" she asks, flipping open the folder, "We have a garden, a firetruck, or a puppy!"

Riley silently contemplates the pictures in front of him and for a moment, Y/N feels like some childhood psychiatrist analyzing his decision. She has nothing to examine, though, beyond the fact that she's hoping he opts for the puppy or firetruck so she can work on the garden as they wait for Mr. Styles. With his small tongue poking out from the side of his mouth, Riley taps his finger decidedly on the puppy.

"This one, pwease."

She smiles and nods, stuffing the firetruck back in the folder and keeping the garden and puppy out. Riley always expressed good manners, and his sweet "pwease" and "tank you"'s always warmed her heart.

"Sounds like a plan," Y/N pulls the cup of used Crayola crayons so they're within easy access. She buys a new pack every semester because, as she expected from her very first year working here, kids love to destroy crayons, even if they don't always mean it. Even from just a few months of use, the current 64-array is in rough shape. "Do you have a puppy at home?"

Riley shakes his head as he immediately grabs a teal color to color in the fur. "No. I want one, but Daddy says no."

"Puppies are definitely hard to take care of," Y/N nods as she pulls out a light pink for the flowers on her page. "I have a cat. Her name is Biscuit."

"Biscuit?" Riley giggles. Y/N grins.

"Mhm. She loves to jump up on the kitchen counter and eat whatever food I make," she leans in closer and lowers her voice. "It's pretty naughty, if you ask me."

Riley's giggles erupt into full-fledged laughter. Y/N can't help but chuckle, too, but it's almost immediately cut off when Mr. Styles rushes in, looking frazzled with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Oh! Daddy's here, Riley," Y/N announces, standing up from the little table. Riley turns around with a grin, excited to see his dad as always.

"Hey!" Mr. Styles greets loudly, though his tone teeters on nervousness more than excitement. "I'm so sorry I was late. I had to, um... make a stop, and there was a lot of traffic. Rush hour."

Y/N nods understandingly, "That's alright. Riley, do you wanna show Daddy what you made today?"

"Actually, uh, one sec bud— why don't you keep coloring that... blue puppy, huh?" Mr. Styles's eyes peer over the page he's diligently working on, an expression of confusion making Y/N press her lips into a small smile. Completely content, Riley continues on, and Mr. Styles darts his eyes back over to Y/N. "Um, do you have a moment?"

She nods, swallowing harshly. She assumes this is it — the moment when he tells her that he's pulling Riley out of the program because of her unprofessionalism. It kind of hardens the blow a bit more given the massive flowers in his hand, which he assumes are for a girlfriend at home, maybe Riley's step-mom to-be. Or maybe he's trying to work things out with his birth mom. It's none of Y/N's business, but for some reason the thoughts swirl around in her brain, making her feel all the same — anxious, worried, self-conscious, and even a little down.

She leads him to the corner where her desk is so they're able to speak quietly and freely, out of Riley's earshot. Mr. Styles doesn't say anything for a brief minute. He's always been quite kind to her, so she figures he's trying to figure out the nicest way to say, "you're the worst art teacher and I never want my kid to be around you ever again."

"These are for you," he says, stretching his arm out to hand Y/N the flowers. Her eyes go so wide they feel like they could pop out of her head. It takes a second for her brain to compute the words and he looks at her expectedly, waiting for her to accept them. Finally, she does, hand clutching the brown wrapping around the excessive bouquet of stems. (Seriously, there's at least 25 in here.) "I wanted to apologize for last week. Again. It was... so rude of me to say anything even remotely close to that. You've been nothing but a bright light in mine and Riley's lives and I was just having an awful day already, and... kids are kids, they do silly things, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Y/N's eyebrows still feel like they're glued to her hairline. She's beyond surprised. In her years of working with kids, she's had parents say way worse things to her, and she never received an apology for any of it.

"Oh... Mr. Styles, this is—"

"Harry." he cuts her off, a wrinkle forming between his brows. "You can call me Harry."

She nods slowly, still processing the information. "Harry, this is very kind of you, but so, completely unnecessary. I didn't— I love Riley, he's a great kid, and I was worried you didn't want him to come back when he wasn't here last week."

Harry quickly shakes his head. "No, no. He had the flu. Ever since he started kindergarten, he's been getting sick left and right."

"Oh," Y/N says dumbly, beginning to realize that she worried herself sick for a week over quite literally... nothing. "Oh. That makes a lot more sense."

He chuckles and stuffs his hands into the pocket of his slacks. "Yeah. So, anyway, I hope you accept my apology, and even if you don't, I understand. Just know that I'll have Riley try to dye his hair blue next time or something," he teases, his face instantly falling the second the words leave his mouth. "That was a joke. I'd never do that."

Y/N laughs. "See, and I think pink would fit his complexion better."

Harry grins widely, and she realizes she's never noticed the cute little dimple that pops out of his cheek when he does.

She secretly hopes she gets to make it happen again sometime soon.

. . .

"How was Riley today?"

Y/N smiles knowingly at Harry as she wipes off one of the empty tables. "You know the answer to that. You don't have to ask."

Harry shrugs, putting his hands up in mock defense. He still has one of the Clorox wipes in his hand, quickly returning to cleaning off the crayon- and paint brushed-filled cups.

"I just like to make sure he isn't a complete menace, that's all."

"He's never a menace," Y/N replies, tossing the wipe in the garbage, "He's always very well behaved and well mannered. Kind of wondering if you built him up in a lab."

Harry chuckles. "Nope. Not quite how those things work."

Y/N's cheeks warm so she turns on her heel to glance up at the clock in the front of the classroom. It's edging closer to 4:30, which is about as long as she likes to stay after work. She always makes quick work of cleaning up the floors and tables, de-sanitizing them little kid germs for her 11 am disabled adult class tomorrow morning.

Ever since she and Harry had that chat with the enormous bouquet of flowers (they're all nearly wilted by now, but Y/N refuses to just throw them out), Harry comes to get Riley a few minutes after 4. By then, Riley's the only kid left, save for one or two on days with bad weather. Y/N will have them set up with their coloring pages and, instead of immediately helping Riley pack his things up to leave, Harry just... sticks around. Riley doesn't mind because he adores the different print-outs he gets to choose from, and Y/N can't help the way her heart hammers in her chest as Harry offers to help her clean up or ask about her day.

It's been nearly a month of this — once a week, dancing around tiny tables and conversations accompanied by the scent of Clorox — but Y/N secretly hopes that it's because Harry wants to spend time with her. She doesn't see any other reason why he'd do it, but she doesn't want to seem cocky, either.

"Okay, let's get you two out of here. It's already dark." Y/N announces as she unlocks her small closet in the corner, pulling her coat and bag out.

"Is it alright if we walk you to your car?" Harry asks.

She turns around to see Harry helping Riley zip his jacket up. The sight makes her chest tighten. The love he has for his son is so incredibly sweet that it makes her feel crazy some days.

"Um... sure, if it's not too much," she eventually replies, swallowing harshly, "I'm just a few rows back."

Harry nods and stands up from his place on the floor. He reaches down, a silent request for Riley to fit his smaller hand in his.

"Ri, what do you say to Ms Y/N for all the cool coloring pages?"

"Tank you!" he exclaims, his free hand in a tight fist, wrinkling today's coloring of a dinosaur.

"You're very welcome, cutie! I love that you made the dinosaur purple today." Y/N says with a grin. She follows them out, but not before turning all the lights off and locking the door.

"Daddy puts all my pictures on the refrig—refig—refigerator?"

"Refrigerator," Harry says as they walk down the empty hallway, "But close. Good job, bud."

Riley looks up at his dad with a grin. "Yeah! Daddy puts them all up. He says they're pwetty."

"They are pretty." Y/N nods, agreeing with a smile.

"He says Miss Y/N's pwetty too, and that's why we always stay late now—"

"Ah!" Harry yelps, cutting Riley off with an embarrassed flush. Y/N presses her mouth into a line nervously, trying to hide the excited smile curling at her lips. The conversation ends after that, though Y/N has trouble ignoring the butterflies flapping in her tummy. She clears her throat when they approach her car, her mitten-clad hands pressing the 'unlock' button on her keys.

"This is me," she says, pulling open the passenger's seat door to put her bag in.

"I'm so sorry," Harry rushes out. "I— that's not why we stay. Well, it is. Well, I mean, I think you're very nice and I like being around you, and I do think you're pretty, however I'm not trying to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just— I, um. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Y/N replies, this time allowing the smile to flower over her face, "We can always... we don't have to just hang out here. Like, we can get a coffee or something. Not in the company of your very sweet child."

He scoffs playfully, nevertheless pulling his phone out and opening his contacts. Hesitantly, he hands it to Y/N, who pulls off her mitten before accepting it and putting her information in.

"Text me when you wanna get together," she says as she gives it back to him. "Also, for the record. I think you're pwetty, too."

. . .

Harry texts her the following morning: I haven't asked someone out on a date in a long time, so I'm a little rusty... would you want to get dinner with me on Saturday night?

Y/N, who learned the whole wait-10-minutes-before-you-text-back thing back in college, doesn't even let her screen go dark before she messages him to say that Saturday sounds perfect, and he did a great job.

On Saturday evening, he picks her up at 7 pm on the dot. She's not sure what she was expecting, but she definitely didn't anticipate him getting out of his car on such a dreary, cold evening, ringing her doorbell, and bringing her yet another bouquet of flowers. She tries her best to hide the fact that she's shocked by his presence on her doorstep, her boots clacking against the wood floors of her rental, as she promises him she'll be back in a second once she puts them in some water.

Gentlemanly as ever, he escorts her to his car, a sleek, black sedan. She's not sure what he does for work and assumes he'll tell her tonight, but it's apparent that he has money — she doesn't think she's seen Riley in the same outfit twice and he's always showing up to pick-up in a stylish suit that may cost Y/N's entire biweekly salary.

They make slightly awkward, first date small talk on the way to the restaurant, which feels silly for both of them considering they know each other outside of this.

"What did you do today?" Harry asks, and Y/N's not quite sure how to say "I stayed inside all day doing nothing" without sounding like an elderly woman.

"Um, caught up on some TV. Painted a bit. Nothing too exciting, really. How about you?"

"Riley and I went to a kids science museum. It was fun, he enjoyed it," he replies, tapping his thumbs against the leather of the steering wheel. "Do you do a lot of art outside of work?"

Y/N nods, "Oh, yeah. I went to school for it. I actually wanted to be a museum curator."

"So how'd you end up working with snotty-nosed brats like my kid?" he asks teasingly. Y/N laughs.

"It was supposed to be a side gig until I found something more permanent, but... I started five years ago and got too attached, I suppose."

Harry hums. "Well, you're great at what you do. I've only seen you work with kids, obviously, but I'm always impressed with you."

Y/N shrugs, trying her best not to seem slightly overwhelmed by his compliment. He had a habit of doing that — making her feel dizzy and melty, all because he looked at her for a beat too long or said something she wasn't expecting.

"Thank you. It's nothing special, though," she says softly, swallowing tightly, "What do you do? I don't think I've ever asked."

"I'm in finances. It's incredibly boring," he replies almost instantly, as if it's a knee-jerk reaction. "But, um... pays the bills. You know how it goes."

It feels like an add-on, but nonetheless, Y/N nods understandingly. It seems like it does a lot more than pay the bills, but she doesn't question it.

The rest of the drive is on the quieter side. It makes Y/N's stomach bubble with anxiety, wondering if she's being too boring and attempting to come up with talking points that fall flat — every time she thinks of a question, she talks herself out of it, assuming it would sound silly leaving her lips.

Thankfully, Harry pulls into a parking spot not 10 minutes later. They're in a quaint part of town and, despite the holidays coming and going, the streets are still lit up with pretty snowflake displays. It's on the quieter side, which Y/N also appreciates — considering the fact that she already assumed Harry was fairly wealthy, she had worries that he'd take her somewhere far too fancy.

He looks slightly dejected for some reason when Y/N gets out of the car, burying her hands in the pockets of her jacket. He hurries over to where she's standing on the sidewalk, locking the car with the key fob.

"You look like you're freezing, I'm so sorry," he mumbles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It's an act he wouldn't do under any other circumstance if she wasn't all but shaking. "I should've dropped you off at the restaurant."

Y/N shakes her head, "No, don't be silly. Where are we going, anyway?"

He gives her shoulders a small squeeze as he guides her down the sidewalk. "Well, you mentioned not being able to find a decent sushi place nearby. This has been a favorite of mine for a few years."

She glances up at him, a look of confusion on her face. "I said that?"

"Yes," he chuckles. "A few weeks back."

She knows it's true — she gets a mean sushi craving at least once a week but has yet to dine at a spot that she dubs her go-to. She tries to think back to their conversations over the past month or so, but it's a fruitless effort, especially once he holds the door open for her, his large hand pressed against the small of her back. Immediately, the warmth of the restaurant is a welcomed sensation, but the feeling of his touch feels even more delicious.

"Reservation for Styles." he says to the hostess, who, without even looking down at the book on the podium, grabs two menus and walks them over to their table. Y/N's thankful that they're placed in a back corner, where she can cozy up and, perhaps slightly unattractively, stuff her face with spicy tuna rolls and sashimi until she can barely breathe.

"This place looks incredible, Harry," Y/N says softly as she looks over the delicate menu. "You come here often?"

She only says it because the prices are on the more expensive side, so it's difficult for her to imagine casually ordering in from here. She glances up to see him shrugging his shoulders lightly, eyes still glued to the menu.

"Every now and then." he answers vaguely.

As if on cue, a waiter approaches their table, placing down a bottle of wine.

"Your usual, Mr. Styles," he says, and Y/N swears she watches Harry's jaw clench, "Shall we do another tasting menu tonight?"

Her eyebrows furrow and a zap of anxiety electrifies her chest. Clearly, he does come here often. Why would he lie to her then? Was this where he took all his first dates? Y/N clears her throat uncomfortably, shifting on her bum as she starts to let her mind spiral. Suddenly, she feels like just another pawn in a man's game.

"Give us a few minutes, please. No tasting menu tonight, we'll be ordering entrees." Harry says curtly. The waiter nods with a smile and leaves them be.

Without thinking much, Y/N leans over the length of the table, the bones of her elbows pressing into the bright red tablecloth.

"Do you always take girls here?" she demands, a bite to her tone. Harry's head snaps up with wide eyes.

"What? No, why would you—"

"Because you said you come here 'every now and then', but the waitstaff knows your wine order and asked if you wanted a tasting menu again," Y/N replies briskly, blinking at the man in front of her. "You know, I'm not just some girl you can mess around with—"

"Y/N," Harry breathes, shaking his head. "No. No. It's not like that at all. I take my employees here quite frequently and do business dinners here. I'm aware that it's on the expensive side and I just... money is an awkward subject."

"Well, it's even more awkward when you pretend like you don't have any—"

"I wasn't pretending," he mutters, swallowing tightly. "I know you're not like that, but I haven't dated in a long time. Partially because of Riley, but also because people I've been with have only cared about the money. So I just try not to let it be a focal point, especially on the first date. I'm sorry if I didn't do a good job of that."

Y/N's stomach plummets. She feels sick — she hates that she assumed the worst out of him, letting her own dating traumas get in the way of him just trying to protect himself. God, she was the worst first date ever.

"I'm so sorry," Y/N breathes out shakily. "I'm being an asshole."

"You're not." Harry mumbles as he looks down at his lap. "Just... first date jitters, maybe?"

She smiles gently. "Can we start over?" Harry flicks his eyes up at look at her. "I like you, Harry, and I really, really want this to go well."

She watches as his throat bobs, a smile curling at his lips.

"So, Y/N. What is it that you do for work again?"

. . .

Harry feels like he's known Y/N for his entire life.

When they leave the restaurant (she attempts to put her card down and he can't help but snicker at her before explaining that they already have his on file), her hand curls around his as they walk back to the car. It makes his entire body erupt into flames as their palms press against one another's, intertwining their fingers tightly. Their shoulders bump into each other's with lopsided, goofy smiles on their lips.

"Tonight was fun." she says as they approach his parked car. He gives her hand a final squeeze before unlocking the doors.

"It was," Harry echoes her sentiment. They separate briefly to get into the vehicle; Harry immediately turning it on to crank the heat up. "Would you wanna do it again sometime?"

"Yeah. That would be nice." She nods, grinning. "What did Riley get up to this evening?"

He chuckles, "He's with the babysitter for the evening. She's used to my late nights with business dinners."

Y/N hums, peeling her hands out of her jacket pockets now that they're a little less chilly. "So you're not in a hurry to get home, then?"

Harry's chest dings with a bead of nervousness. He swallows and flexes his hands in his lap.

"Sort of. Riley has swimming lessons in the morning."

It's not a complete lie. Riley does have swimming lessons, but Harry wants to stay out with Y/N more than anything. He's not in any kind of rush — he's just anxious about what she's thinking about proposing after not dating anyone since his son was born.

"Oh, sure," she smiles, and Harry's surprised by the way her face maintains its happy composure. "Well, we can just end the night here if you need to get back. No worries."

That makes Harry feel bad — the fact that she's just so incredibly understanding, even if he's feeding her excuses based on his own insecurities. He clears his throat awkwardly and attempts to shift in his seat to face her.

"I haven't done this in a long time," Harry blurts out. "And I'm very nervous."

Y/N's face crinkles into an adorable smile. "The date is over, Harry. I thought we established that we had a good time."

"We did!" he rushes, lifting his hand to run it through his hair, "No, we did. I had an incredible time with you. I really like you."

"So what are you nervous about?" she asks softly, reaching out to take his hand into hers.

That.

That's what he's nervous about.

"It's just... it's been awhile since I've liked anyone. Since I've... touched anyone." His throat bobs and his eyebrows shoot up as he realizes the insinuation of his words. "Not like that! Well, yes, like that, but— I meant, not just sexually. Holding hands. Kissing. We don't have to do a single thing anytime soon, but I haven't done this in years."

"You're nervous about physical touch?" Y/N says gently, her voice soft. He nods. "That's fine, Harry. Like you said, we don't have to do anything anytime soon. We can go at your pace, whatever that means."

"I... I want to kiss you, though," he admits in a raspy tone. "I just don't know... how."

Y/N's heart feels like it shatters into a million pieces. With a thumping chest, she leans into his side over the middle console and gently takes his cheek into her palm. His face feels cold from the chilly winter evening and he can't help but press into the warm, comforting feel of her touch. His eyes flutter shut and she smiles, nibbling on her bottom lip as adoration fills every inch of her body.

"Can I?" she whispers, punctuating her question with a nervous swallow, "You can say no. I just... I'd like to try."

"Please."

She's hesitant in her movements, not wanting to overwhelm him as she slowly inches closer. She tilts her head ever so slightly and presses her lips to his raspberry ones, eyes flittering closed as fireworks explode between their chests. It's perfect — it's slow, and it's leery as both of them try to find a comfortable pace, but of all the first kisses she's ever had, she's positive this is the best one she'll ever experience.

They sit in Harry's car kissing until Y/N's breathless. Neither of them know how long it's been but eventually, she breaks it apart, panting quietly through spit swollen lips. He keeps his forehead pressed against hers with a dopey smile.

"'s good," he mumbles, and she mimics his grin, "That was... yeah. It was so good."

She giggles and her tummy feels like it's filled with butterflies and carbonated bubbles and excited tingles.

"So good." she echoes.

He's surging forward with a grin to reconnect their lips not a moment later, and they're both positive they've never been so content before.

2K notes · View notes

thekeystothebasement · 1 year

Note

Hallo! could i have maybe hcs for 141 + Alejandro & könig with a female s/o who's into breeding kink?

A/n: Enjoy this late and very filthy Christmas gift!

Captain Price:

You couldn't keep your dirty secret any longer, not with the way he was mounted on you, his mouth working on leaving marks on your neck

Your words were meek and breathless but that didn't stop the sounds from reaching his ears.

His body went rigid and his eyes wide, he pulled away from your hold, his chest heaving heavily as he looked down at your embarrassing state.

You had your hands covering your face at your confession.

Price would make you repeat your words in a snarkish tone. A wide grin on his face as he pins your wrists above your head

"I...c-cum inside me...please."

Price would let out an obnoxious laugh before he starts to rail you again in a mating position.

You would wrap your legs around his waist, securing him and locking him into your pussy.

The first time he listened to your pleas and cummed inside of you was life-changing.

The feeling of your wet cunt greedily milking his balls of his cum made him rethink everything he knew about himself, maybe he had a breeding kink as well.

What made him feral the most was watching his cum pour out of your cunt, with a growl his cock was inside of you once again.

"Your loose cunt is wasting my seed, princess," his harsh words make you whimper. "Am I going to have to buy you a plug to keep my cum from spilling out?"

He teases you about your kink constantly

He'll let some snide remarks escape him, sometimes around his men that will leave you red.

Likes to see you begging and crying for his cum, to mount you and breed you like an animal

"Please daddy, I want your cum."

Expect him to constantly indulge your kink because his favorite thing to do is to stuff you full of his cum and stuff a plug inside of you

He can't help but feel prideful knowing you're running around the compound with a womb full of cum.

Ghost:

Ghost bullies you constantly for your kink

Snide remarks here and there, not caring for who hears because, at the end of the day, it's his cum that is stuffed inside of you.

The only verbal confirmation that lets you know that you aren't the only one with a breeding kink are the dirty phrases that he spits at you when he's pushing himself deep inside of you.

"Can't wait to you see round with my children."

"Take my babies, that's the only thing a slut like you is good for."

Seeing his cum inside of you makes him feral, it's his way of claiming your body

Loves to see you beg for his cum, if you don't he'll leave you before your orgasm hits, leaving you whining and sensitive. Probably says something harsh like, "Don't act like your the only slut that wouldn't kill to carry my kids."

Ghost doesn't play around, especially with a breeding kink it makes him territorial.

Constantly feeds into your breeding kink because of how easily jealous he can get.

Soap looks in your direction?

You are already bent over the table with his cum pouring down your thigh, his fingers trying to pump his cum back into you, berating you for wasting such precious seed.

Mean ghost takes it a step further and buys infant boy onesies and fuck you over them, growling into your ear to give him a baby boy.

Soap:

Soap will happily indulge in your kink

Will tease you about it in front of others, some sexual comments like "Wait until my bonnie tits start leaking milk, you won't see me eating any of that military shit."

Loves to cum inside of you because of how your pussy squeezes him dry.

Loves to take polaroids of your stuffed cunt, his cum oozing down your lips. Also has some polaroid selfies of himself eating his cum out of your cunt.

He may or may not show the others the polaroids he has, bragging how his lass loves to milk his balls and begs for his babies.

As much as he loves to breed you, he also deep down wishes you do get pregnant because he'll love to have a kid running around, a product of your love.

Soap loves it when you beg for his cum, to give him your babies.

When he fucking you, he likes to suck at your nipples, and nip at them. Loves it when you whimper and cry at his teasing, telling you he's preparing you for the baby.

Loves to breed you in the doggy position, which drives him feral.

A weird kink that he developed because of your breeding kink is seeing you dressed up in cow lingerie. Especially if you do end up getting pregnant and seeing your engorged breasts with milk spilling through the bra makes him absolutely feral.

Soap definitely has a mommy kink, calls you mommy when he breeds you.

Gaz:

You both accidentally learn you have breeding kinks

You both fuck raw

Although Gaz is diligent and always cautious, Gaz never wears condoms, too lost in the heat of the moment to even have the patience to find one and open it.

Both of you are just very horny people to care about the consequences and just go feral for each other.

It was bound to happen eventually, with how careless you both were during your love-making, it shouldn't have been a surprise when Gaz finally forgets to pull out.

Lost in the way your warm walls suck him in and squeeze around him so tight.

Your legs lock him in place, pressing his body closer to you, not leaving him any room to pull out, not like he would if he could. Your cunt was just too good to even think about pulling out.

Your eyes snap open at the feeling of warm liquid spurting inside of you. Your wide eyes meet the closed-eye euphoric expression on Gaz.

His breathing was heavy, and his eyes shut closed at the feeling of your warm cunt squeezing around his cock, milking him of his cum.

He stays inside of you, controlling his breathing before he finally opens his eyes and gives you a dopey smile.

"oops."

He pulls out slowly, his eyes mesmerized at the sight of his cum spilling out your wet folds, watching as the white fluid run down your thighs, his cock twitching to life again.

Seeing his cum pour out of you awakened something inside of Gaz. Primal urges seen in animals, he felt the need to continue to stuff you with his cum, claiming you as a mate to bear his children.

Your thighs twitch at the feeling of his cum spilling down your sensitive folds, the warm liquid burning you with a desire you've never felt before. The look Gaz was giving you confirmed you both wanted the same thing.

Eagerly plunging his cock into your pussy, fucking his cum back inside of you, his thrusts sloppy but full of lustful desire.

You both keep fucking until your cunt can't hold anymore of his cum. Until every thrust into your poor aching cunt has the cum spilling down the sides of his cock, piling on the sheets.

"That will knock you up real good, eh?" his laughter filled your ears as you swatted at his chest with a bashful look on your face.

Alejandro:

Alejandro is a very passionate and attentive lover so he had suspicions of the kink you had buried deep inside of you.

Every time he neared his orgasm and voiced it, he noticed the way your pussy tightened around his cock, your hands gripping onto him harder as if you tried to lock him in place, your way of silently pleading with him to cum inside of you.

After seeing you get along with his nieces and nephews, he was finally going to indulge your breeding kink he knew you had that you weren't aware that he knew. Maybe if he was lucky he'll knock you up and start a family of his own.

Something was different, your lovemaking was more passionate and feral. His thrust was full of vigor, and the tip of his cock felt like he was bruising the entrance of your womb.

"I'm gonna fuck my cum into you," he growled. His eyes didn't miss the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your cunt already greedily trying to milk his balls dry.

Chants of 'yes' spew from your mouth as you held onto him for dear life.

"Make you a mami" he sneered, his fingers bruising the skin on your stomach. "You'll look so beautiful with a round stomach, carrying mis ninos."

"Please!" you cried, his words fueling your kink. "I want your babies," you begged.

Spewing his cum deep into your cavern, he pulled out unaware you had squirted against him, his cum inside of you was enough to bring you over the edge and spew your juices onto him.

"Look at you full of cum," he teased, watching as your legs twitched at his rough hands gliding up to your cunt, "What a dirty perra." (Bitch)

Konig:

When you tell him about your kink, he is absolutely flustered.

Konig usually repeats what he is going to say over and over in his head, his words already decided and prepared with his raspy and rushed tone to voice them, but when you confess to him you want him to cum inside of you, until his cum is oozing out, and with a quiet whisper that you want his babies, words begin to start spewing from his mouth

His words come out stuttered, and his sentences are never complete before a new rush of thoughts starts to spill from his mouth.

"Are you-...b-breed?..inside of you???...my babies?" his voice quivering with each word.

You give him time to pace around, watching as his hands' clench and unclench rapidly, he stops at random intervals to look at you and the innocent smile on your face, your eyes eyeing the obvious bulge in his pants before he begins to pace around again, german phrases and curses rapidly leaving his lips in hushed screams.

After he somewhat calms down, he looks at you with hunger in his eyes, his eyes roaming your body. He'd gently push you down on the mattress and hover over your body, his cock rutting against your thigh. "Are you sure Liebling?"

"I want your babies," you whisper into his ear, teasing and further pushing him to insanity.

He's quick to start thrusting inside of you, your clothes ripped to shreds as his balls slap against your ass.

He'll growl into your ear, whisper how you will look beautiful with milk running down your breasts, the changes your body will face if your womb accepted his seed.

When he cums inside of you, he doesn't pull out right away, instead, he cherishes the feeling of your warm cunt squeezing him, milking him of every drop.

Pushes you to the side, his cock still inside, and snuggles with you, your pussy fluttering against his semi-hard cock.

Your back against his chest, his hands kneading your breasts, his mouth sucking at your neck and muttering praises against your skin.

He'll lazily thrust his hips when he thinks he can feel his cum spilling out of you.

Loves to keep his cock inside of you for as long as he can after he's done breeding you.

11K notes · View notes

togenabi · 7 months

Text

the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground.

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident.

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more.

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair.

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child.

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute.

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk.

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to?

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t.

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.”

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room.

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed.

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.”

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head.

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start.

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better.

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically.

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink.

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of.

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him.

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime.

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were.

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative.

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills?

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face.

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know.

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges.

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway.

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.”

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response.

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open.

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age.

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor.

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way.

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet.

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously.

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.”

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—”

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.”

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.”

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?”

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.”

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same.

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone.

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods.

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon.

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?”

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him.

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze.

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail.

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy.

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords.

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again.

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage.

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you.

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around.

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water.

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell.

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now.

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space.

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring.

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here.

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue.

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

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nachosforfree · 2 months

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I've been absolutely obsessed with this tiktoker lately

Transscript: A tiktok by @mburkez that consists of her melting down Crayola crayons, and making new paper from ripped up pieces. She pours the melted wax into a mold that makes a frog thing or something?

"These crayons are TOO BIG! America's DOOMED children are screaming MORE, MORE, MORE!

However, in this household, Baby only uses fresh. Natural, homemade... crayons. And paper. That are cleansed, and organically shaped. And are reasonably and equibtbtably .. sized.

With crayons and paper, children begin to write the story of their lives. While ensuring Baby's freedom. Of expression. I will also be doing Everything in my power to make sure. He will have the best chance at succeeding in this life.

Baby is SCREAMING in anticipation for his new crayon. Because although I ensure his crayons and paper are organically made. And natural.

Baby, at the end of the day, remains a consumer.

And to consume, is to demand."

The tiktok ends

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violet-butterflies · 10 months

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❥︎ yandere! Dilf

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ drugging, stalking, delusional, doing things without consent ( male yandere! oc x female reader ) Click to see part 2 !

It was a sunny afternoon when yandere! dilf finally finished unloading his and his son's stuff into their new home. Due to work and terrible memories from his past marriage, he moved into a different town with his son to start a new life. He was just beginning to unpack everything when someone knocked on his door.

"Hi! I'm your neighbor! I noticed that you were spending the whole day just unloading stuff so I decided to make you and your son some lemonade!"

The voice came from a woman who had a jug of lemonade on a tray with a couple of glass cups to pour the citrus drink into. Yandere! dilf couldn't help but smile at the offer as his muscular hands take the tray from your hands as he sent a pearly white smile their way.

"Thanks! I really appreciate it. I'm yandere! dilf by the way," he introduced himself while his son hides behind his leg "and this is my son."

"I'm (y/n)! Well then, I'll see you around neighbor!" (y/n) then disappeared back into their house which was right beside his. At first, yandere! dilf thought that he liked them because of their kind gift but it was only going to escalate from there.

It really surprised yandere! dilf a few days when he met (y/n) again only in the most unexpected place. He was picking his son up from kindergarten when he realized that you were there, playing with his son.

"(y/n)? What are you doing here?"

"Oh! This is really such a coincidence! I happen to be your son's kindergarten teacher!" she explained with a bright smile on her face as his son came rushing to hug him.

"I was only playing with him since all the kids left already and I didn't want him to be alone for too long"

Yandere! dilf felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry about that. I've just been swamped with work and before I knew it, I was 2 hours late to pick him up."

You sent the muscular man a sympathetic smile.

"No, I completely understand... Does this mean that he's with babysitters most of the time?"

"That's what My plan is but well... it seems like I'm finding difficulty finding any babysitters in this neighborhood"

"If you'd like, I can babysit your son on the weekends? I happen to need some extra money but, don't worry, I won't charge a crazy amount. We're neighbors after all," she offered.

Ever since (y/n) offered yandere! dilf to be his son's babysitter, he only began seeing more and more of you inside his house. Yandere! dilf only expected you to take care of his son but you always seemed to go above and beyond. Sometimes, if the house was messy you'd try to clean it as best you could. Or maybe when you knew that he'll be home late, you'd prepare a simple dinner for both his son and him.

"Don't worry about it! Being a single parent must be really hard so I'll try to help you as best as I can!" That was always the kind of answer you would give when yandere! dilf feels bad for having you do all the housework.

Slowly though, yandere! dilf can't help but feel like (y/n) was acting just like a stay-at-home wife for him and he liked it. He can't help but daydream of situations where you were actually his wife. Situations where he was sharing a bed with you or taking you out on dates or sometimes to the extent of either their marriage or what their future children would look like.

Yandere! dilf might not look like it but, he was completely smitten. He was scared however of you finding out that he had a fat massive crush on you since he was at least 7 years older than you. This crush caused him to be obsessive and overprotective of you.

"What if she finds someone better? What if she is seeing someone?" Those were the questions that always made him have a small panic attack. He can't afford to lose someone so perfect; someone, who proved herself to be the perfect wife for him.

So, yandere! dilf would set up cameras in his house and ask you to babysit all the time. This would mean that he could always see you playing with his son through his phone and it always makes his heart swell with joy. He loved seeing how well you were getting along with the most precious little human in his world which only boosts the idea of how you were the only perfect person to be his son's mother and his wife. Not only that, but to take it one step further, he loved to buy you some treats or drinks when he gets back from work. The only catch is that they were drugged so you'd always end up falling asleep in yandere! dilf's house. (Y/n) never found it too odd though since you always connected it to you being too exhausted by playing with yandere! dilf's son all day.

(Y/n) falling asleep in his house was a big win for yandere! dilf too. The drugs that he used would make (y/n) fall into such a deep sleep it would actually be impossible to wake you up. This would mean that he can take as many pictures as he can and make you sleep on the bed with him before he has to move you to a spare room before you wake up to avoid suspicion. He loves it when he gets to snuggle your smaller body on his bed; a bigger plus if his son decides to join in. It was as if you three were already a picture-perfect family that yandere!dilf always dreamed of. His phone gallery is now filled to the brim with pictures of his son and you. His phone wallpaper is (y/n), there was a group picture of (y/n), his son and him set as his computer wallpaper, and there was a picture of (y/n) and his son in his wallet; acting like the perfect family he always dreamed of.

"Oh, good morning (y/n)! You fell asleep here again. Don't worry about it though! Here I made us all breakfast!"

#tw: stalking #tw: yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #lovesick #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere dilf #yandere dilf x reader #obsession #obsessive love #yandere blog #obsessive yandere #yandere drabble

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changbinlov3r · 2 months

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Another Love | Part 6

Summary: you've been hopelessly in love with Han since you were children. One night you confess your feelings to him.

Genre: angst, smut, fluff

Words count: 8,416

Warnings: angst, hickeys, unprotected piv(don't do this at home), dirty talk(I think that's it)

A/N: I'm finally here with the last part of Another Love. This fic means the whole world to me, it's the story that made me grow a lot as a writer and was the first story that I thought "woah this is really good" when I finished the first part. I hope you all like this last part, I poured my whole heart in this and I really want you all to feel what I tried to convey with my words. Thank you for all the comments, reblogs and feedback, that's what made me motivated to finish this fic.

Also, I wanna thank my best friend @baby-yongbok for bearing my whines and rumbles about this story. Thank you baby for helping me through the difficult times 🫶🏻

You may have regretted telling Han that you would give him a chance. How soon? As soon as the sentence left your mouth. Why? Because now, you are going to have to face all the demons you kept inside of you for all these years.

While having an unrequited love, you had a motto: if you don’t get too delusional, it's going to hurt less. So every single time, when your mind started wandering through those dirty thoughts, you made sure to stop yourself. However, now it’s not a one sided love anymore and you’re honestly afraid of what that means. The furthest thing you thought about doing with Jisung, was a kiss and even that left you hot and bothered. Now, you are thinking about other things, like having sex and that’s something you never did before for the sake of your sanity.

It doesn’t help that Jisung is a menace and surprisingly you didn't know about it. 15 years of friendship and just about now did you find out that this man has no shame.

Things were going pretty normal, he had been treating you like always so things didn't seem to have changed much and that gave you some peace of mind, afterall, he was always affectionate to you.

However, little by little, you started noticing some things. Like, walking around the house shirtless like he wants you to look and unsurprisingly that’s exactly what you do. Every fucking time, you feel like you'll explode and in your defense, it's really, really hard not to look. He shows up wearing nothing but sweatpants and you try with all your willpower to look anywhere but him but in the end you can't help but look. Honestly, it's impossible and you know he's doing it on purpose because you get glimpses of his condescending smile whenever he catches you watching. You wish you could punch him in the face but then he’ll know he has won and you can’t let that happen.

Jisung is trying to prove a point, is it risky? Yes, but he's not entirely confident about winning you over. Even though you said you would give him a chance, every time he tries to get close to you it seems like you push him away and that scares him, he’s afraid you will change your mind and he can’t have that. So he’s trying to show you that he’s the full package.

He's good to you and funny but that you already knew, you have been friends for a long time. So he wants to show you a new side of him, something you only get to see from a boyfriend.

After days of hesitation, one night he finally makes his move. You’re in the kitchen, trying to get something on the top shelf but you can't seem to reach it. Jisung sees that and a brilliant idea pops on his head, you can only hear his footsteps coming behind you and in the split of a second, you feel the warmth of his body almost touching yours when he leans over you to get the bowls you wanted.

That’s the moment you lose your mind, years of restraint ending in a simple touch of his. Actually, the fact that he’s not even touching you makes everything worse.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask, not turning around to look at him.

“Helping you, what else?” He answers, voice shaking a bit with the proximity. You can feel his breathing on the top of your head.

“I didn’t ask for help”, you clarify, not to sound rude but just trying to control yourself.

Unexpectedly, you feel his hands lightly holding your hips and in a quick move he turns you around, caging you against the kitchen cabinet and you release a shaky breath, heart beating like a hammer on your chest.

“You’re pushing me away”, he points out, “I won’t be able to win you over if you don’t let me”

You stare at him for a minute, he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, making you sigh.

“I’m sorry, I just have to get used to it”, you say, “I thought you would never like me so this change is kinda overwhelming”, you clarify.

“Shall we go on a date, then?” He proposes, taking a step back, looking at you hopefully. You nod, earning a big smile from him. “Okay, be ready tomorrow at 8 am”, he tells you, making you frown.

“What are we gonna do so early in the morning?” You ask, confused, making him shrug.

“It's a surprise”, he says, “but I can tell you that you should dress comfortably”

That's all he says, turning around and leaving you alone in the kitchen. Why does it seem like you just fell right into his trap? Like he already had everything planned and you acted exactly how he wanted you to?

There's nothing much you can do now since you already accepted the date, so you forget about what you wanted to do in the kitchen and go to your room, preparing a handbag with anything you'll possibly need.

He's up before you, waiting with breakfast and a warm cup of coffee. While you two eat you just know he's dying to tell you where you're going but he also doesn't want to ruin the surprise.

You realize it's going to be a trip when he drives out of the city, giving you the task of taking care of the playlist. You scroll through his songs, some from the boys, some from the artists he likes, you add some that you like, until you see the seaside.

“Are we going to the beach?” You ask, eyes sparkling. You missed this place so much.

“We are”, he smiles, stretching his hand to grab yours, interlacing your fingers. You feel your face hot, sure that you're blushing but you glance at him, seeing Jisung stare at the road with that shit eating grin on his lips.

“Don’t you think you're being too much?” You ask, trying to hide the smile that's trying to escape your lips.

“Not really”, he shrugs.

You and Jisung would always come to the beach when you were younger, it would be usually on your vacation but when you two were feeling down or something upsetting happened, you'd catch a bus and come here. You'd just sit in the sand, watching as the waves came and went, as the ocean reflected the color of the sky. It didn’t matter if it was winter or summer, that was always the place to make you feel better.

Jisung parks in front of a restaurant, inviting you to come out to eat and you look around, seeing how much it has changed since the last time you went there. When you moved to Seoul for school, you stopped traveling farther than your parents house. Even though you didn’t really need to save money because your family always supported you, you like to have savings for an emergency, so you had to give up on luxuries like traveling too far. Also, as you got older it became more difficult to stay close to your best friend in a place that was meant for just the two of you, every time you would go to the beach with him, you’d feel the urge to confess and that couldn’t happen, you were not ready yet. So you spent the last few years avoiding coming to your favorite place.

You were planning to come alone one day, when you had gotten over Jisung but life seems to be playing with you and now you’re there with the man you love and he’s the one holding himself not to confess to you right then and there. Not because it’s a secret, but because he doesn’t want to pressure you more than he already feels like he’s doing.

“I can’t believe we came all this way to eat spicy fried chicken”, he tells you as soon as you order your favorite.

“Stop”, you pout, “you know this place has the best chicken wings in the entire planet”

“Have you ever tried all the chicken wings on the planet?” He teases, making you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need to, I just know this one is the best”, you argue back, crossing your arms.

He stares at you with an idiotic smile, biting on his bottom lip trying not to laugh at you.

“Maybe on our next tour you can come with us?” he says, feeling his face warming up, “I’ll accept your opinion only after you try the fried chicken from two other countries”

Jisung looks around, trying to hide his blushing or his pout, anxiously waiting for your answer but you can see his ears as red as tomatoes.

“Maybe”, that’s the only thing you say, holding yourself from giggling.

You and Jisung take a walk when you finish your food, needing some exercise after eating too much. You take your sneakers off, feeling the sand hugging your feet and the cold water making you shiver when the waves finally get to you.

“Remember when I had to go on tour for the first time?” Jisung asks, glancing at you and you nod. “You got so upset that I would go away for an entire month, that you disappeared, your mom wanted to kill you”, he chuckles and you sigh, remembering that time.

You were 20 and had barely settled down in Seoul when he had to go away. You were upset that you would have to stay all by yourself since classes had already started but you pretended like everything was alright.

“I didn’t really disappear, that’s an exaggeration”, you scoff, “I just forgot to mention that I wouldn’t come home that night”

“Well, that sounds like disappearing to me”, he argues back, “and it did to our parents too”

“The point?” You try changing the subject, not really wanting to admit that you were in the wrong.

“The point is, that I found you seated on that rock right there”, he points to the place you were walking to. “You were a mess, you cried and were already sick because you didn’t bring a coat and it was already night”, he scolds you, making you roll your eyes.

“And?” You push again, starting to feel guilty again about that day.

“I should have realized your feelings for me sooner”, Jisung bites on his bottom lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Everyone but me knew and you had to struggle on your own. I’m sorry”

You feel tears brimming on your eyes, you don’t want him to pity you.

“I never wanted an apology from you”, you explain, “I was always aware that you didn’t have to like me back. It was not fair of me to expect you to feel something you didn’t. That’s why I never told you… I mean, until I couldn’t hold it back anymore”, you chuckle awkwardly. “Even if you had never liked me back, I wouldn’t want you to apologize to me”

Jisung pouts, nodding in agreement.

“But I’m not apologizing for not liking you back”, he say, “I’m apologizing because you struggled because of me and if I had realized it sooner maybe you wouldn’t have had to-”

“And maybe you wouldn’t have fallen in love with me too”, you blurt out, hand flying to your mouth as soon as the sentence left your mouth, making a big smile show up in his lips.

“Am I hearing this correctly?” He teases, seeing you blush. “Did you just admit that you are satisfied that I’m the one in love now?”

“Why, of course”, you bite back a smile. “You deserve a bit of a punishment for dating so much in your life”, you shake your head in disapproval.

“There’s nothing wrong with falling in love”, he teases, laughing when you roll your eyes.

He’s right, you were in love with him for a long time and there’s nothing wrong with that. However, for some reason, that makes your heart ache and an awful thought appears in your mind, making you stop on your tracks, glancing at him and staring for a whole minute before speaking up again.

“For how long are you going to be in love with me though?” You ask, letting your insecurities speak but you can’t help but think about that. “Your relationships didn’t last that long, are you sure you won’t just fall out of love with me in a bit?”

That makes his smile disappear, his brows knit together in a frown, pure confusion on his complexion.

“I- you’re different”, he says like it is the simplest thing in the world.

“What’s so different about me?” You push, trying to understand him, trying to look for some reassurance.

“I don’t think I ever felt like this for anyone before”, he explains. “I was never the jealous type, but when I saw you with Jeongho I wanted to explode and my chest hurt so much. I think of you every minute of the day, I was never like this before. I want to show you places, I want to take you to eat different foods and see your reaction when you taste them. You know you’re just like Hyunjin right? You do that face when you eat something delicious”, he smiles, “I want to be the one to make you smile and I want to be the one who’s there when you need to cry. I want to be your best friend, but I don’t want to be just your best friend, I want to have it all. All of you”

You feel like all the air from your body just decided to come out, you can’t breathe and at the same time you feel like you’re breathing too much — too fast, but when you see his dark eyes watching you, waiting for you to say something — anything, its like your body move on its on and in the split of a second your lips are on his.

You always dreamed about kissing Jisung. You always imagined how it would be to kiss him. But not even your greatest dreams came close to reality. His lips are soft just like cotton and warm like the hot chocolate you drink on a cold day. His body pressed against yours is something you never thought you needed but now that you have it it's something you don’t think you can let go.

His hands cup your face, fingers digging on your skin like you’re going to run away if he holds you with less strength. He’s shy, just pressing his lips against yours, until it's too much for him to handle and his tongue comes into your mouth, making you sigh. Jisung's hands trail gentle caresses down your arms, leaving a trail of warmth behind and sliding around your waist and pressing himself more against you.

You are completely lost in his lips, not sure what to do next, it's like it's your first time kissing someone. You grab his shirt, trying to get a hold on something, trying not to fall because your legs are almost giving out and your chest feels like exploding. When you two need to breathe, he pulls away from you, looking at you breathlessly, waiting for you to explain yourself or at least give him another kiss. But when he sees doubt in your eyes, he hugs you, squeezing you against him again.

“Please, don’t run away now”, he pleads. “I don’t think I can handle it, not after this”

“Jisung, I-”, you hesitate, trying to say the right thing.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now”, he assures you. “I won’t expect anything from you until you are sure about your decision, so don’t worry about it”, he says.

“Okay”, you nod.

The fact that it seems like your feelings didn’t change at all, scares you. How could you try so hard to get over him but still feel the same? If he hadn’t come around to like you, would you have struggled your whole life with your unrequited love? It didn’t happen but the ‘what if’ is haunting you and you can’t give him an answer until this feeling goes away.

The trip back home is quiet, not as awkward as you thought it would be but Jisung seems lost in thoughts and you are not very different. You don’t know why you keep letting all these intrusive thoughts win over your mind, if it was before your confession, you’d jump in his arms at the mere mention of him liking you back, so why is it so different now? Why are you so hesitant?

“Do you want pizza?” He asks, as soon as you enter Seoul again.

“Yeah”, you nod, looking at him.

Jisung changed too, he’s treating you the same as he always did but it seems different somehow, you just can’t quite grasp what changed. He looks more mature, like something switched inside of him and that makes you a bit nervous. You’re not so familiar with this Jisung, you can’t predict what he’s gonna do next or what he’s thinking. Your best friend doesn’t look just like your best friend anymore and maybe that’s the whole point. If things stayed the same would it feel like you were dating? Would you understand that you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore? That you can kiss him and be jealous of him? If things stayed the same, would you let yourself love him freely?

“So she kissed you”, Chan points out, eyes squeezed, trying to make sense of the situation, “and she hasn’t talked about it since?”

“Yeah”, Jisung pouts, “but in her defense, I told her I didn’t need an answer immediately”

“And that was your mistake”, Hyunjin says, “you have anxiety, you always need answers immediately”

“Well, you’re not wrong”, Jisung sighs, “but I didn’t want her to feel pressured. Especially since it looked like she was about to run away if I said anything abrupt”.

“I guess she’s just confused”, Chan tries to help, “but the fact that she kissed you is a good sign”

“You think so?” Jisung looks at his older friend with puppy eyes, hopeful.

“Yeah, of course”, Chan chuckles.

“You know what?” Changbin comes in from the kitchen, he’s been listening to the whole story but didn’t say a thing until now. “You should do something romantic for her”

“Like what?” Jisung asks.

“Think about something that would be touching, something that has to do with your story together”, Chan advises, making the youngest think.

Jisung frowns, there's something that comes to mind but would you like that? Until now, he has tried to be subtle in his ways of approaching you. He wakes up earlier than you everyday and makes you eat before you go to class. He's always home when you come back at night, waiting with snacks and a movie for you two to watch together. You have been discovering a new side of him, even though you thought you knew everything about your best friend, but now Jisung watches you with heart eyes.

Would you like it if he was more romantic? He’s not even sure if you’re into that kind of thing, the boyfriends you had never made big gestures like that and you didn’t seem to care. Would you like it if it's him doing it? Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Okay, I think I know what to do”, Jisung decides.

You still haven't given an answer to Jisung and that's making you feel bad, what's holding you right now? You know he likes you, but what if things don't work out, will you be able to keep being friends after all that?

To take your mind out of that for a bit, you finally graduate, after what it felt like ages. You poured all your blood, sweat and tears in the years that you spent in college, now you're finally free.

Jisung's parents and yours came to the city for your graduation celebration. You organized a dinner in a good restaurant and the night was so much fun, you laughed till your stomach hurt and your friends brought up all your embarrassing stories through all the years you spent in college.

The morning after you had trouble even opening your eyes, any light was too much and your eyes refused to open. You hear a few knocks on the door of your room, making you groan, telling the person — Jisung probably, to enter.

“You should get ready”, he says, making you frown, eyes still closed. “Don't pretend that you're still sleeping, it's afternoon”, he whines.

“I'm not pretending, my eyes can't take this much light”, you explain, you shouldn't have drank so much.

Jisung walks past you, going to the window and closing the blinds.

“Now you have no excuses”, he teases, watching as you flutter your eyes open slowly.

“Why do I need to get ready, though?” You ask, sitting down.

“We are going out”

“We are?”

“Yes, so get ready”, he informs you, walking past you in the direction of the door and leaving with no further explanation. What's this guy planning now?

You get up, grab a towel and a change of clothes and go to take a shower, knowing that arguing won't take you anywhere.

Jisung is waiting for you in the car, a cup of coffee and a sandwich waiting for you.

“Shall we?” He asks, turning on the engine when you enter the car and close the door.

“Couldn't we have had breakfast inside?” You ask, biting on the sandwich.

“It's not a breakfast if it's already afternoon”, he rolls his eyes, “I ate a long time ago and we are already late”

“Late for what?” You enquiry, sipping on the coffee.

“It's a surprise”, he grins, eyes focused on the road.

You sigh, knowing that he won't tell you, so you just finish eating while watching the scenario change, buildings turning into threes and farms.

“Don't you know how to plan dates in the city?” You ask, making him laugh.

“I do, but I wanted to do something specific on this date and I had a bit of trouble finding it”, he tells you.

The sun is already starting to set when Jisung parks in front of a school, making you from, what kind of date is this? You ask, trying to understand, until you see a crowd.

You get out, walking by yourself while Jisung locks the car, hearing his footsteps after you a few seconds later.

“What's this?” You ask, when you see the booths spread around the campus and the families and students walking around.

“A school festival”, he smiles, watching as you turn to look at him, confusion in your face. “A little bird told me that you found out about your feelings for me right around the time I took Haneul to the school festival on elementary school”, he bites on his bottom lip, “and you were there to witness my first date, even though you liked me”, he sighs, “so I thought that maybe I could make it up for that time by bringing you to a school festival, just me and you”, he explains, making your heart skip a bit. You never thought Jisung could be this romantic, you never knew you liked this kind of romantic stuff either, but the way your heart is beating makes you think that you do.

“I- Jisung I-”, you try to say but you can't form a coherent sentence, making him smile.

“Let's go, I got a lot of prizes to win for you”, he informs, stretching his hand in your direction so you can hold it and you do, you hold his hand without a second thought, ignoring his red ears and how hot your cheeks are.

You walk around the place, going to every booth, watching the performances and eating to your heart's content. Jisung is giving you food like his life depends on it, it's a mission of his to make you eat everything you set your eyes on and when you can't finish he does it for you, but he wants you to try everything.

“How are we supposed to carry all this?” You ask, arms full of the plushies he earned you.

“Like we are doing right now”, he answers, as if he has not been dropping the ones he's carrying all the time.

“You know the children must hate you, right?”

“It's not my fault if I have the power of love to help me win the big prizes”, he winks at you, making you feel your cheeks hot.

“Let's go, it's already late”, you tell him, walking faster in the direction of the car so Jisung won't notice how flustered you got.

You stuff the plushies in the backseat, feeling a few drops of rain fall on your face when you close the door, making you run to the passenger seat to escape. Jisung comes right after you, starting the car and driving back to the road.

“Can you check the forecast? I did it in the morning and there was nothing about rain”, he asks, the rain outside getting stronger.

“Sure”, you take your phone out of your pocket, searching for news about the weather. “It seems like it's one of those rains that start out of nowhere”, you explain, “and it's not going to stop any time soon”, you watch the dark road, little to no lighting.

“Should we look for a hotel, then?” Jisung asks, making you turn to him with wide eyes. “Hey! Don't get any weird ideas, we are going to separate rooms”, he informs you, covering his chest like you have the dirtiest mind.

“I didn't say anything”, you retort, crossing your arms.

“Hmph, but you thought”, he murmurs. “Can you look for a place nearby?” He asks but you were already doing that.

There's a nice hotel a few minutes from where you are and when you call them, they tell you there are rooms available but when you get there things are different.

“So… they only have a room”, you say, fidgeting.

“It's fine, I can sleep on the floor”, he shrugs, pressing for the elevator to come to you.

“Actually there are separate beds, so there's no need”, you chuckle, seeing his ears turning red.

“Great, that's great. My back appreciates it”, he rumbles, flustered like an idiot making you laugh.

The rain seems to get worse outside, now adding thunder and lightning to the chaos. The room is comfortable and clean, there's a bathroom and a minibar so you can eat something.

You take your coat, throwing it in one of the beds and walk to the window, closing the blinds and shivering watching the lightning outside. Jisung opens the fridge, looking inside to see if there’s anything interesting to eat and grabbing a bottle of water.

“Do you want it?” He asks, making you turn to look at him and nod, waiting as he walks to you, handing you the bottle.

“I think we should get to sleep soon, so we can go back early tomorrow”, you say, gulping the water and Han nods, finishing his.

You two get on your beds, it's weird to sleep in the same room as him after so long. You turn your back to him, hoping that not seeing his face is going to make it easier for you to sleep.

However, a thunder rumbles so loudly sounding like it's right by your room's window, making you jump.

“Jeez”, you squeal, covering your face with the blanket.

“Are you alright?” Jisung's voice sounds behind you, making you turn to look at him. He's staring at you, brows knit together in worry.

“I'm fine”, you tell him, even though you're not so sure.

“I know you're afraid of storms”, he sighs, biting on his bottom lip. “Do you want me to lay down with you? So you won't be so scared?”

You feel heat spreading all over you just by thinking about sleeping in the same bed as Jisung. You slept together a hundred times before so it shouldn't be so embarrassing to do it once more, but you're not sure if you're going to be able to behave if you go there.

“There's no need”, you tell him, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep when another thunder sounds out there, seeming so much louder than before and making you jump again. “You know what? I think I'll accept your offer”, you say, watching as Jisung sits down, grabbing his pillow and blanket, standing up to move to your bed. He lays down so far from you that he's almost falling from the mattress.

“I won't bite you”, you roll your eyes, turning to look at him, facing the middle of the bed.

“I wouldn't mind if you did”, he chuckles, “I just don't want to make you uncomfortable”, he says and even with the darkness of the room, you can see his cheeks reddening when he gets closer.

“You won't make me uncomfortable, it's okay”, you put your arm down your pillow and the other one on top, your hand beneath your head, watching as Jisung fidgets, trying to find a good position without touching you. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” You enquiry, seeing as his eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically.

“Not at all, you're the person whom I feel the most comfortable with”, he confesses, making your cheeks burn and something more spread through your whole body.

Maybe things need to change. What then, if things don't workout? If you were going to think that way, you should have never confessed to your best friend in the first place. You decided to risk it all when you told him about your feelings and now he's the one pouring himself to you, waiting for you to choose him once more.

“If I asked you to kiss me now, would you?” You ask, gulping down, trying to stay calm even though your heart just turned into a hammer in your chest.

“Can I?” He asks, hopeful, watching as you nod slowly. His hands cup your face and in the split of a second his lips are on yours, his fingers caress your cheeks delicately and he holds you like you're the most fragile thing in the whole world.

This kiss is so much better, kissing him while being certain about what you're feeling is delightful. His kiss is still soft and sweet, yearning and hungry as if he's been waiting for this for a long time.

You slide your hands down his shirt, going to his back and digging your nails on his skin. He sighs on your lips, letting a little groan escape his mouth. Jisung's hands go down from your face too, sliding to your waist and hips to pull you closer to him, pressing your body against his.

When you two find it too difficult to breathe, he pulls away from you, trailing kisses down your jaw and your neck, biting on your soft skin, making you moan. Your eyes widen in embarrassment but Jisung looks at you with dark eyes, licking on his lips.

“You sound so good, please don't hold back”, he pleads, going back to marking you. “Can I take it off?” He asks, grabbing the hem of your shirt, making your whole face burn as you nod, sitting down so he can pull the piece of fabric out of your body. He watches as your chest rises and falls, you lay back down, looking around extremely flustered but he can't take his eyes out of you. You're the prettiest woman he ever got to know and he's so in love with you that it feels like his heart is about to explode.

Jisung leans closer to your face, kissing you again as you let your hands wander through his body, sliding them to his hips and digging your nails on his skin, pulling him against you, feeling his length pressing on your thigh.

“You're so pretty”, he sings praises as he kisses down your collarbone, reaching your breast and his hands go to your back, undoing your bra.

“Stop staring”, you feel your cheeks burning with the way his eyes wander through your chest.

“I can't, you're too beautiful”, he answers, leaning down do suck on your hardened peaks.

“Ji-Jisung”, your hands fly to his hair as you press him against your breasts, “that's so good”, you sigh, feeling his tongue circling around your nipple.

Jisung starts humping against your clothed core, making you gasp and groan as your hands cup his face, bringing him back to kiss you. He doesn't stop the movements of his hips, rubbing his hard cock and sighing on your lips.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, biting on your bottom lip as he pulls away from you.

His eyes are dark like you have never seen, like he's in a daze but the reality is that Jisung is too drunk on your scent and your warmth to think about how lustful he may look at that moment.

“How much do you want it?” You tease, making him sigh, looking at you with puppy eyes, his hands going to the waistband of your pants, pulling it slightly away from your hips and playing with it, wanting to pull it down but waiting for your permission.

“I want to taste you so bad, you have no idea”, he bites on his bottom lip, “I feel like I might die if I don't feel your pussy clenching around my tongue right now”, he pleads, making your hips involuntarily thrust against his shaft, making him groan, “fuck. This is torture, please let me taste you, please”, he begs.

“I like it when you beg”, you try to pretend you're not dying to have his mouth down on you, “go ahead”

In a second Jisung is pulling your pants down, your panties going with it, he has no time to waste. He rushes to fit in between your legs, setting them over his shoulders as he kisses your inner thighs, trailing kisses closer and closer to your aching cunt.

“I can feel the scent of your arousal”, he teases, taking a deep breath, “You smell so good, baby”, he completes, making you groan in embarrassment.

“What are you, a dog?” You retort, trying to ignore the burning on your face.

“Only for you”, he grins before diving in on your pussy. Jisung attaches his mouth to your clit, the warmth of his tongue spreading all over your body and you lead your hands to his hair again, pressing him against your core. His fingers dig on your thighs like he wants to mark you, putting more strength on the way his face sticks between your legs.

“Jisung- fuck, Sungie”, you whine feeling his arm moving, his finger being inserted inside your folds. He thrust them in and out, eyes closed as he enjoys your taste, the way your juices spill all over the bed sheets, he wants every bit of it in his mouth but there's just too much, he can't have it all. It's okay though, he's planning to lick you clean everyday from now on, every time he makes you come on his tongue, he's not going to let any of your juices go to waste.

He puts another finger inside you, finally opening his eyes when he feels your walls fluttering around his knuckles.

“Fuck, are you gonna cum baby?” He asks, the look of pleasure in your face is so much that he has to hump against the bed to get some relief, his cock is throbbing so much, he feels he can cum just by looking at you.

“Y-hmm”, you are unable to form a whole word, the feeling spreading all over your body is too overwhelming, it's making you dazed and you can't think properly but you nod to him, hoping Jisung can understand that he shouldn't stop, not right now.

“Shit, y/n, come for me, please, I want to taste you coming on my tongue”, he tells you, going back to licking your cunt. He can feel the moment you cum, not just because you moan so loudly he thinks the other people on that floor can hear it but because your hole gets tighter around his fingers. You arch your back, hands going to the sheets as you grab them for dear life.

As you come down from your high, you're embarrassed to open your eyes. You never thought Jisung was one to do the whole dirty talking thing but if you think about it, there are quite a couple of things you didn't know about him.

You feel his kisses coming up your stomach, forcing you to open your eyes, you prop up on your elbows, watching him sneaking closer to you.

“Was it good?” He asks and you feel your whole face burning again but you nod anyways, feeling breathless when he smiles brightly, ears turning red.

You're ready to ask something but the huge bulge in his pants makes you gulp, staring for a second until his eyes follow yours and he blushes, turning with his stomach down so he can hide that part from you.

“Can I suck you off too?” You ask, licking your lips, suddenly eager to feel him coming on your mouth.

“I- I really want you to”, he clears his throat, looking around embarrassed, “but I don't think I'm gonna last long if I feel your pretty lips around me”, he says, making a huge smile grow on your lips.

“I never thought you'd be such a sweet talker in bed”, you confess, still squirming to his words.

Jisung smiles, leaning closer to you know, his chest pressed against yours and his length brushing on your leg.

“So, did you thought about how it would feel like if I fucked you?” His eyes darken again.

“I mean, lately you have been showing too much skin, it would be impossible for me not to have any dirty thoughts”, you confess.

“Fuck”, he groans, “do you want to keep goin?” He asks, kissing your neck, going up to your jaw and then your lips, “I don't have a condom but I'm sure we can make it work without putting it in”, he stares at you expectantly.

You feel the warmth on your lower stomach spread to all your body, shouldn't you feel less turned on now that you came?

“I- I'm on the pill, so…” you start saying and his eyes widen to your suggestion.

“Are you sure, it's okay if we don't-”

“I want to”, you assure him, “I want to feel all of you inside me, you have no idea how much I want to”, you plead and Jisung breathes a laugh, he's glad to see you're as desperate as he is.

“Okay”, he nods, “but if you want to stop at any time just tell me”, he says as he gets up from the bed to take his pants and underwear off.

When Jisung cock springs out of his underwear, hitting his stomach, you can't hold the moan that escapes your lips as you watch how painfully hard he is. He crawls back to your side, letting his hand rest on your stomach as he kisses you again.

“Do you have a position you want to be in?” He asks, shyly, as if you both are not fully naked in front of each other.

“I'd like to stay on top if it's okay”, you whisper and he nods.

“Yeah, I'd love that”, he says, laying down after giving you a peck on the lips. You take a deep breath before kissing him too, mouth trailing down his jaw and neck. You mark him, giving him hickeys all around his chest.

Jisung cups your face, bringing your lips to his as you throw a leg over his hip, rubbing your wet folds on the length of his cock, that small stimulation making you moan.

“Shit, you're so hot”, he whines, biting on his bottom lip as he stares at you. You chuckle, grabbing his shaft and positioning it on your entrance, closing your eyes and sighing to the mere pressure of his head splitting your foulds in a half. You sink down on his cock, moaning loudly, feeling him stretching you out perfectly.

“Oh- oh, this is so good, fuck”, you whine, letting yourself get used to the feeling.

“You're so tight”, he groans, hands going straight to your hips, digging his fingers on the flesh. “It feels so good inside you”

Jisung closes his eyes, overwhelmed with you, it's too much, your warmth is hugging him, making him whine and groan like an animal. But he wants you to feel as good as he's feeling, so he takes one of his hands from your hip to your mouth, brushing his middle and index fingers on your lips.

“Suck on them, baby”, he asks, making you moan and do as you're told. Jisung grins, taking his hand down to your core and pressing them on your clit, making circles around the puffy bud.

“Ah- Sungie, that's- that's too much”, you whine riding him slowly, feeling your orgasm growing at each passing second. The knot on your stomach ready to burst when you feel his cock throbbing inside you, making you open your eyes to look at him.

He's stunning even coming undone beneath you, Jisung has his lips partially open, his hair stuck on his sweaty forehead and his moans are just like music to your years, the prettiest sound he ever made and it's just yours now, it's just for you to hear it.

“I'm gonna come! Y/n, I'm gonna come”, he warns you so you can get off him if you want to but you sink deeper, causing him to reach his orgasm, spilling his hot cum inside you. You follow him shortly when he puts more pressure on your clit while he's coming, making you tremble and moan as you spasm with pleasure.

You fall down on his chest, feeling Jisung's arms wrap around you as he gently lays you down by his side. He pulls the blanket to cover you and gives you a kiss on the top of your head as he watches you blinking into sleep.

Jisung wakes up to an empty bed. His hand wanders through the sheets, searching for your warm body to snuggle in as he opens his eyes but he finds nothing, just a cold space.

He sits on the bed to look around, trying to find you but you're nowhere to be seen and suddenly dread takes over him. Did you go home? Did you leave him behind? Did you regret spending the night with him?

Those thoughts break his heart, he looks around once more just to make sure he's not mistaken and you're actually there with him. He gets up, putting on sweatpants and walking to the bathroom. He knocks a few times, hoping that you're there, that you're going to tell him to wait because you're in there but no sound comes back to him and when he opens the door the space is empty.

Jisung sits down on the edge of the bathtub, he wants to cry. He shouldn't have expected you to stay with him just because you spent one night together, he should have known that, but why does it hurt so much? Why does he feel like a part of his heart was ripped out?

He sighs, guessing this is your answer to his confession. Could you still be friends after what happened last night? He can't be sure. He goes around the room, collecting the rest of his things and finishing getting dressed, couldn't you have waited for him? The keys are still on the table, so how did you go home without the car?

When he's grabbing said keys though, the room's door swings open, welcoming in a very sweaty you.

“Ah, you're up?” You pout, “I thought I would be able to come back before you woke up”, you smile. How can you smile like that when you just broke his heart? How could you have disappeared?

“You came back?” He asks, arms falling limp by his sides. He stares at you with the eyes of a wounded puppy and that's when you know you did something you shouldn't.

“Yeah? You thought I left you?” You tease, trying to be funny but when he sulks, eyes growing glossy, it sinks in. “You did”, you come to the conclusion, closing the door behind you.

You walk to Jisung, putting the bag you have in your hands on the table.

“I went to buy breakfast but it turns out there aren't many places that sell decent food around here”, you explain, “it ended up taking more time than it was supposed to, I should have left a note. I'm sorry”

“I thought you had decided that you didn't want to stay with me”, Jisung whines, “that after last night you found out that I'm not enough for you anymore. That I really ruined everything”, he cries out, a single tear running down his cheek.

“Jisung, of course I wouldn't leave you behind even if I had decided I didn't want to date you”, you tell him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, trying to give him some reassurance.

“I was even preparing a speech in my head”, he pouts, “about how even if we don't date I'd still see you the same way. I'd be by your side forever even if it's not romantically, I'd be happy to watch you live your life, even if it's with someone else as long as you were happy”, he tells you. “Your love was already something I couldn't reach so I'm grateful that you gave me the chance to show you how much I love you”

“So you're going to be happy even if I marry someone else?” You question, making him sulk even more.

“I won't be happy but if you're that's enough for me”

“But I wouldn't want my boyfriend to be happy that I'm marrying someone else”, you tell him, smiling slightly as you watch the sentence you just said sink in on him and the sparkling grow in his eyes.

“Bo-boyfriend?” He asks, hesitant.

“Of course, or did you think I'd smash then dash?” You chuckle, his cheeks turn red and he pouts pulling you closer with the hand you have holding yours.

“So you love me back, right?” He questions, making you smile, nodding.

“I do”

“‘Cause I love you so much it feels like my heart is about to burst”, he says, putting your hand on his chest, his heart beating like crazy, making you smile. “Then, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Ye-”, his lips are on yours before you can finish the sentence, making you sigh, just forgetting about the breakfast and also to check out, calling the reception and updating your stay for another half day.

When you show up at Jeongin’s birthday holding hands and looking lovey dovey, everyone sighs relieved and you have to hear Minho’s and Seungmin's sarcastic ass saying “finally” and “I thought I would die before you two would finally fuck”, respectively.

Your daily life with Jisung went about almost the same as before, except that now you'd basically share the same room, you'd rarely sleep in yours. You make food and take it to the company when he's too busy, sometimes you even stay there till late in the night, waiting for him to finish recording so he can come home with you and cuddle in bed until you two fall asleep.

Your parents don't make a big deal about it, you swore your father would make you move to another place after the news came out but he just sighed, telling you that he knew this would happen someday and that he's happy you are dating someone as good as Jisung.

A few months go by and your relationship is still going smoothly. Of course you have some arguments here and there but nothing that you can't fix with a conversation.

You accepted the proposal of the guys to go touring with them and that's how you ended up in their dressing room, waiting for them to get back there after their last show on the tour.

The door opens and you hear the boys' loud voices coming in, greeting them and telling how nice the show was.

“You see how hard your future husband works?” Jisung brags, walking up to you and pulling you aside. He wraps his arms around you and you feel your cheeks burn, you still feel flustered to hear him saying this kind of thing.

“Future husband?” You tease, giggling as he pouts, frowning.

“Yeah, or do you let any man do this to you?” He pulls you closer and gives you a peck on the lips.

“Maybe?” You tease, making him stare at you with his brows raised, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“It seems like you need some punishment”, he sighs, looking at his hands before attaching them to your stomach, tickling you.

“Stop!” You scream, laughing and trying to get away from him.

“Say you're only mine”, he pouts, tickling you even more.

“Jisung, I'm gonna kill you”, you struggle to say between giggles.

“I'll die happily if you say I'm the only one for you”, he pushes, pressing his fingers even harder against your stomach.

“Okay, alright”, you give in, making him stop to look at you. “You are the only one for me and I'm all yours, happy?” You roll your eyes, watching his pout turning into a big smile.

“Say it one more time”, he whines.

“I love you”, you say, making Jisung stare at you for a moment, before his cheeks start turning pink.

“I'll never get tired of hearing that”, he smiles, holding your hand and bringing it to his mouth for him to kiss. “I love you”, he says, leaning in for a kiss, the sweetest you have ever shared.

A/N: If you like my work, please don't forget to reblog, it really helps my stories reach new people so more readers can come to enjoy what I write.

If you want to support me you can also buy me a coffee ☕

Taglist(in red are the ones I couldn't tag): @hhwangsmoon @weareapackofstrays @shycreationdreamland @adestayskz @skizmee @ca11me3mily @realviviboss @sofix-hc7 @starsandrqindrops @itshannjisung @redstayrosie @mae-is-cute98 @blithevix @astro-doll-the-star @captainchrisstan @rag-iii @notastraykid @jisunghannie @applepie-macaroon @stayingdelulu @sundayysunshine @kidrauhlschik @wolfennracha @meloncremesoda @hanschimpmunk @realrintaro @teejisung @maexc @gyustarzzi @ivaneedssleep @chaeryred @daemon-bunny @broken-glowsticks @ch4nniebang @sleepyleeji @seukijeuxq @luvbangchan @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @castielsfrillywhiteknickers @armystaytiny @literallyjustwanttoread @jungkookies1002 @diorggukie @channieandhisgoonsquad @mamabymychem @ladylexis @bmnyy

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joelslastofus · 2 months

Text

[SUMMARY: Joel sleeps with his innocent married next door neighbor after fixing her sink.]

Smut

“He could see the guilt you felt, the confusion you felt when you suddenly smacked him across the face. He barely moved, accepting your hit with his hand still around your waist.”

The phone sitting right beside you, Joel could read the name on the called ID. It was your husband.

“Answer it” he whispered.

A tiny hint of Javier Peña in this

“Damn it, Henry” you sighed checking under your sink to see it was leaking much more than earlier. Of course your husband was coming home late once again from work leaving you to a messy kitchen. The water over flowing and it being late in the evening you knew no plumber would be available to come now. The thought of asking your neighbor Joel Miller was tempting but also a bit embarrassing this late in the day. Joel knew you and he knew your husband, the two of them weren’t exactly friends but whenever they’d see each other they’d have a quick talk about whatever game was going on. With a sigh you snapped yourself out of it and marched yourself to Joel’s front door.

It didn’t take long before Joel opened his door, intrigued to find you on the other end.

“Stella” he greeted you with half a smile.

“Hey, Joel…I’m sorry for bothering late. Henry won’t be back until God knows what time and my sink is leaking and-“

“Say no more,” he chuckled before calling out to Tommy letting him know where he would be.

Grabbing some tools from the back of his truck he followed you to your house right behind you. Not being able to stop himself from enjoying the view of the way you walked up the stairs, the move of your hips with each step his eyes were glued to your ass.

“Sorry again about this” he quickly looked up as you turned around opening the door for him.

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’” Joel always had a way with words, yet it wasn’t exactly what he said but more of how he said it.

Standing to the side you watched how he got to work under your sink. One of his legs lay flat while the other was bent, you couldn’t help but notice his navy blue shirt being pulled up slightly, revealing a light soft patch of hair that led to his-

“How long has this been like this?” Joel’s question distracting your thoughts, distracting your eyes.

“Oh uh-Henry tried to fix it but-“

“Yeah I could see that” he chuckled, his arms flexing as he worked. There you were again checking out Joel as he lay under your sink when your house phone rang.

“Not again, Henry” Joel heard you speak with disappointment, he couldn’t help but take a peak at you as stood by the counter.

“We’ve had to change it so many times, silly me for thinking you’d prioritize your wife” Joel looked down at you and watched as you sadly hung up the phone and pushed it aside. Before you knew it he was finished wiping his hands clean.

“That’s it?”

“Yes mam’” he smiled yet noticed the sadness in your eyes.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah” you sighed not being able to hide the disappointment you felt.

“Henry and I made four years last week and we’ve yet to celebrate it because theres always a reason for him to come home late, even bought this damn bottle of wine to surprise him,” you rolled your eyes. Joel tilted his head and crossed his arms listening to what you had to say.

“I can’t remember the last time we went on a date and we don’t even have children keeping us busy…ain’t that sad?” You chuckled sarcastically.

“I even bought this new stupid dress I’m wearing now to see if he’d like it and now I’m blabbing away-“

“You look beautiful in it” Joel’s compliment completely catching you off guard.

“Thank you” he watched as your eyes lit up before you realized you hadn’t even offered him a glass of water.

“Oh god, how rude am I? Would ya like a glass of water or tea? Coffee?”

“How about wine?” A playful look in his eyes as he motioned to the bottle you had just mentioned.

“You know what….why not?” You grabbed two glasses and the wine opener, pouring each a cup. Joel watched as you took a sip from your cup and tried to hold back a smile.

“What cha smiling about?” Joel asked with a smirk.

“If my husband knew I was standing here having wine with you-“ you laughed as he stepped closer to you.

“How would he feel about that? ” He asked curiously, a squint in his eyes.

“He probably wouldn’t like it” you looked down with embarrassment.

“Oh yeah?” He took another step closer.

“Or he’s probably too distracted right now with his secretary anyways too wonder what the hell I’m doing” you rolled your eyes before chugging the remainder of your wine. You always suspected your husband wasn’t faithful. Joel watched as you wiped your lips still lost in thought before you realized he was staring at you.

“Sorry- I know you don’t care to hear about any of that”

“Hmm..I don’t know darling I just find it hard to believe a man could get distracted with another woman when he has you at home” a light shade of red appearing on your cheeks as you quickly looked away. It had been a while since another man flirted with you so directly you didn’t know how to respond. Quickly pouring yourself another glass Joel chuckled as you chugged down what you poured. Silently he walked towards you, slowly pulling the glass away from your lips and setting it aside. You could feel your heart racing, leaning back against the counter as he looked down at your lips.

Was this actually happening?

“Joel” you whispered as his eyes found yours, his hands gently falling on your hips.

“You..you now I’m married..” you whispered as he pressed his body against yours. He was hesitant for a moment, analyzing your face.

“Happily?” His question making you react with a look of defeat.

No you weren’t happy, you hadn’t been for a long time and Joel could always see it whenever he saw you and your husband together yet you never expected this from Joel.

You couldn’t respond and before you even realized, he closed the distance between your lips and kissed you sending a shock through your body. Your eyes were open as he took you by surprise, his hand slowly closing around your waist pulling you harder against him before he gently parted away.

“I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t thought of doing this for some time now” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“This ain’t very much gentleman like of me but for some reason….I don’t care” he smirked before kissing you again. This time you closed your eyes, your hands brushing up his chest and wrapping around his neck, your body melting into his. You were losing control forgetting what was right or wrong, he pushed aside the dishes behind you and quickly lifted you up onto the counter without parting his lips from yours. His hands sliding under your dress making you gasp and turn away from his lips.

“Joel….” You whispered. No other man beside your husband had touched you in almost a decade.

“I…I’ve never done this before…I have a husband” you spoke as if you were trying to remind yourself of the man you married. Joel could tell this was the first time any other man aside from your husband touched you. The thought giving him a rush.

Refusing to look up into his deep brown eyes barely able to make out your words you swallowed nervously.

“This is…it’s wrong” you made the mistake of looking up at him and found him staring at your lips, yearning to feel more of them.

“So tell me to stop” he whispered before looking up into your eyes.

“Tell me to stop and I promise I’ll leave, darlin’”

You knew you couldn’t.

You didn’t want him to.

Slowly you could hear the sound of him unbuttoning his jeans, his lips pressed against your cheek before slowly finding yours again. Joel knew you had never done something like this before, somehow that intrigued him more. He moved slowly, giving you the chance to stop him but he knew damn well you wouldn’t. Feeling his hands between your thighs you felt him slowly slide your underwear off your legs, throwing them to the side. Shoving your dress higher he positioned himself right at your entrance slowly sliding himself in you. Breathing each other in you moaned as his thrust pushed your body up against the wall. It felt exactly like you what you wanted.

What you needed.

Your arms slow grabbing onto his shoulders as he penetrated you deeply. A louder moan than you expected escaped your lips, Joel smirked looking down at how much you creamed all over his cock.

“Look at that..” he whispered roughly.

“Wanted it that bad, huh?” He thrusted harder when the house phone rang making you gasp. The phone sitting right beside you, Joel could read the name on the called ID.

It was your husband.

“Answer it”

“What?” You panted as he continued to move into you.

“Answer it” he demanded, his hand sliding behind your neck grabbing a chunk of your hair. A look you had never seen from him as he eagerly waited for you to do as he said.

Looking at the caller ID your heart sunk, what the hell was Joel thinking?

“Joel..I can’t” you whispered when he tugged at your hair.

“Yes you can” he held himself inside you deeply making you gasp.

“Hello?” You whispered, the phone shaking in your hand against your ear as Joel looked dead at you. Your husband of course making more excuses on how he would get home even later than he first said. Yet, for the first time in months…you didn’t care. Joel unexpectedly began to slam into you faster, a panic arising in your eyes as you felt yourself about to cum.

Your husband speaking as you attempted to control your breathing but at this level of pleasure it was impossible.

“I don’t know what damn time I’ll be home tonight so please don’t wait up for me, maybe I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t call my office either” Your husband continued as Joel watched your eyes begin to roll back. Biting his bottom lip as sweat dripped down his forehead he felt you tighten up around his cock.

“Hello? Are you even listening?!!” Your husband yelled when ecstasy exploded throughout your body.

“Yes!” You screamed uncontrollably, the phone slipping from your hands falling into pieces onto the floor. Grabbing onto Joel you moaned as he watched an orgasm take over you completely.

“Please…please-“ you begged as your body arched against him. Joel grunted pulling your hips closer to him thrusting his hips against you as you came.

“Joel…” you whispered, your body collapsing back against the wall. Out of breath you could barely say a word Joel quickly pulled out and came on your thigh making a sound of sweet relief.

A twist of emotions exploding through your chest. A pleasure you had never felt before mixed with a guilt you never knew you could feel.

“Oh my god…” you whispered as he turned away fixing himself up. Grabbing some paper towels you cleaned yourself off still in shock with what you had just done. Getting off the counter your legs felt like jello practically making you lose your balance. Joel quickly turned and held you up by your waist as you looked up at him feeling confused yet you didn’t know what to say. He could see the guilt you felt, the confusion you felt when you suddenly smacked him across the face. He barely moved, accepting your hit with his hand still around your waist. You attempted to push his hand off before he abruptly pulled you tighter against him. You gasped not expecting his reaction as he stared down at you intensely not saying a word.

“You-“ Joel grabbed your face pressing his lips to yours as you struggled to push away for just a second, his hands grabbing your wrists before you melted once again in his arms. Parting his lips from you he looked down breathlessly.

“It’s alright” he whispered as you looked up at him innocently. He knew what he had just done, but Joel didn’t regret it, hell he wished he could stay with you.

Kissing your forehead he silently left your home as you stood against the counter in shocker. Your phone still on the floor, your underwear right beside it with a drop of his cum you had noticed.

What the hell did this mean?

Joel went to his home and walked in casually passing Tommy who sat at the table eating a sandwich. Tommy didn’t even get to say a word with how quickly Joel hid himself in the bathroom starting the shower.

Staring at himself in the mirror he didn’t know what to feel. This wasn’t like Joel to sleep with a married woman yet the guilt he felt was more from you. The look in your eyes as you had realized what you had done he felt responsible for…yet he couldn’t keep himself away….

Part 2?

#pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller fan fiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut

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wilwheaton · 11 months

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When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

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dcxdpdabbles · 11 months

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Alfred's Boy Part 3

Bruce rarely had a full night's rest. In fact, he thinks that it's been a full two years since he last had more than eight hours of consistent slumber. Unlike Tim, who just forgo the recommended sleeping amount, Bruce found time to take naps throughout the day because, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as young as he used to be.

This is why Bruce is rather displeased to be awoken when he finds himself with a chance to have a full night's rest. It felt like he barely closed his eyes at the tender time of nine o clock pm- with no cases waiting for him, his children agreeing to take his patrols, and the wonderful tea that Danny had poured him to help with backpain-he thought nothing would ruin it.

He forgot he had children for a moment.

At three in the morning, he woke to Tim, half in his Red Robin uniform, crouching like a cat about to leap, his unmasked face staring a few inches away from Bruce's nose. It took everything in Bruce to not react on instinct and take a swing at his son.

He only just bites back the scream by sheer willpower. His son doesn't seem to notice his heart trying to leap out of his chest as the boy leans back, sitting on the pillow Bruce likes to use to build a protective wall against the other side of the floor.

Tim's voice was raspy with sleep and maybe even hints of madness. "Oh good, you're awake. I have an emergency."

"Wha?" Bruce asks, half unsure if he is hallucinating. "What's wrong."

"Danny found his photo album."

"Danny has a photo album?"

"Yes. I made it. I took all the pictures."

"Okay? Why is that bad, chum? Was it supposed to be a surprise present for him?"

Tim tilts his head, his somewhat unfocused eyes staring at Bruce, and for one moment, he wonders if Tim got a concussion out in the field. He disregards the idea a moment later. Alfred would have notified him, and if not, Danny wouldn't allow Tim to wander alone.

Bruce could still remember Duke's wide eye awe as Danny followed him around when he got hit a little too hard a few weeks ago. The butler in training had even slept in his room- on the floor on an air mattress- and Duke had looked mortified and smug for as long as it took to get over his injury.

Alfred had to make it very clear no one was allowed to deliberately get a concussion to his other love-struck children.

Tim's nose wrinkles as a slight blush appears on his high cheeks. "No. He didn't know I was taking pictures of him. That's why it's bad he found the album. "

Bruce closes his eyes. He loves his son, he really does, but he can't handle this right now. He takes a few blissful seconds to pretend he never became a single dad of nine before he pushes his eyelids apart to give one of his middle children a firm scolding. "Tim, chum, the light of my life, that's a crime."

"It's not! I didn't follow him around outside the manor." Tim argues.

Bruce reaches a hand up to rub the space between his eyes. "Tim, you can't just take pictures of people without asking them."

"Why not? I've done it before. To you, Dick, Jason, Steph, Alfred, Damian, Harper, Cullen, Duke, and Cass, but she usually catches me and poses so it doesn't get her in her authentic state of being like I usually want to get but-" Tim says, counting the people on his figures before he seems to realize that he was sidetracked and shakes his head. He gives Bruce a pitiful pout. "He doesn't even mind. He said they were lovely and artistic!"

Of course, Danny wouldn't even blink at a creepy photo album of himself hidden in one of his employer's rooms. That boy didn't care that he found the Batcave while dusting, so taking everything in stride was a default.

"Tim, it's still not okay. You have to ask him from now on if you can take pictures." He holds up a hand when Tim opens his mouth to no doubt argue. "You can ask him if you can take pictures of him throughout the day to capture his authentic side without it being a crime. Now explain what the emergency really is."

Tim's teeth snapped close with a snap. "That was the emergency. He found it, and now I have to leave the country. Go underground for a few months. Maybe fake my death."

"You literally don't have to do any of that. Danny said it was okay right? He isn't one to sugarcoat things. He wouldn't claim it was fine if he didn't feel that way."

"No, Bruce, you don't understand. He already thinks I can't swim. Now he finds a book of him covered in hearts? Tim Drake needs to die." Tim says, dragging his hands down his face, and Bruce flips the covers back.

Gesturing to them, he deadpans. "Tim Drake needs to sleep."

"But my fake death needs to be planned-"

"Cullen and Harper get back tomorrow. Do you want to stress Danny more by adding your fake death to this?" Bruce watches the moment his argument wins because it's as if all fight leaves Tim's body, and his son slumps to the side. His head falls on a pillow, and he's already fast asleep.

He had been running on fumes again, it seemed.

Sighing, Bruce man hands his son into a more comfortable position, unclips his cape, and tucks the blankets around his son's shoulders. He settles back into his side of his bed- Ever since Dick came to live with him, Bruce had, over the years, claimed the right side of the bed so the left would always be open for any of his children suffering from nightmares.

He closes his eyes; Tim's peaceful face snuggling into Bruce's softest pillow reminded him why he became a single father of nine. His heart swells with love as he gives back into sleep's warm arms.

A few seconds later, his door is kicked open by Harper. She puts all her lungs into her greeting. "What's up, Old man! Who's the new kid!?"

Bruce glances at his clock and realizes it's now eight in the morning. Harper and Cullen had arrived hours earlier than planned- probably because Harper had refused to sleep and completed the drive home. He looks at Tim and finds his son curled into a ball, still dead to the world.

"That's Danny," He says in a hushed voice, gesturing to her adoptive brother. When Harper sees Tim, she visibly quiets, ensuring her heavy metal boots don't stomp on the ground as she walks over to him. "He's Alfred's foster son. He was removed from his last home because his parents were dangerous to his safety. Alfred will house him as a favor for his old contact. The contact code name is Clockwork. Danny talks about him a lot so you may hear that name for a while."

"Whoa. " She says, sobering up. Bruce can see memories of her birth father playing behind her eyes as she frowns. "That's shitty. Poor guy, no wonder he seemed sad to the bone."

"You met him?"

"Yeah, he jumped Cullen and me in the main hallway."

Bruce's mind buffers for a second. "What?"

"I know! The dude has skill, but it makes sense if he is Alfred's. He thought we were breaking in and took us out before I realized we were in danger. Once he got a good look at our faces, though, he practically threw up apologizing." She pauses. "Is he straight?"

No. Bruce thinks feeling cold, not another one.

"I believe he's bi. Why?"

Harper shrugs, smiling. "I think Cullen may have a crush on him. I was iffy about it since I thought he was another of your kids. You technically aren't our dad since I'm still Cullen's guardian, but you let us live here for free, so you like a dad? Glad it's not an issue."

Bruce wants to cry. What was it with Danny and seducing his children (in the eyes of the law or not, Cullen is Bruce's boy)? "There may be an issue. See, Danny has a few admires right now and he's- "

"That sounds like your issue, not a Cullen issue," Harper says, narrowing her eyes. Bruce winces when he notices her arms crossing over her chest as when firmly plants her feet a few inches apart. She only stands like that when she's protective of Cullen, which means she finds his comment offensive.

"I'm not saying Cullen doesn't have a chance." Bruce corrects realizing where the issue was. Harper's arms loosen slightly. "I just meant that right now, Danny isn't in the right mental state to be dating."

Harper's arms drop. "Yeah, I wasn't interested in dating after I became emancipated, either. Had a lot going on. I'll talk to Cullen about it. Make sure he gives Danny space."

Finally, one of his kids is on his side! "Thank you, Harper."

She waves a hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. Hey, how did Clockwork and Alfred meet anyway?"

Bruce shrugs. "I never asked."

"Why?"

"It's Alfred. " He says like that is an explanation enough, and it is. Harper accepts it as such, nodding along. She tilts her head back and mentions wanting to shower, then take a long nap. She leaves the room as silent as a shadow, but not before telling him Danny and Cullen are making pancakes for everyone.

Bruce doesn't want to get up, but he must be the period romance villain and rip his son away from the staff. He slips out of bed with great effort and prepares for the day. A quick bathroom break, and a change into a casual suit, lead to Bruce walking down to the kitchen.

There he spots Danny smiling gently at Cullen, who is in an excited rant about his latest reality tv show. Around them is a spread of breakfast foods- Danny always cooks the food of various cultural backgrounds. He apparently learned from Clockwork and found it important everyone had at least one piece of home per meal.

It's heartwarming domestic. Bruce needs to ruin it.

"How did Alfred and Clockwork meet?" Cullen asks, stopping Bruce from dramatically bursting into the room. It's mostly because he has been wondering the same thing for weeks, and Danny seems to know.

"Alfred got haunted when he picked up Clockwork's pocket watch in an antique store," Danny responds.

That answer didn't explain anything. In fact, it just created more questions. Bruce wants to wait a little more, see if Danny adds more information, but he watches as the bulter in training places strawberries on heart-shaped pancakes and then drizzles chocolate. He puts the plate in front of Cullen, and the other teenager swoons.

Yeah, Bruce needs to stop that.

"Good morning, boys." He calls, watching the two turn to him. They each give him a greeting, but Danny is noticeably more polite. Danny moves away from Cullen to serve Bruce. He adds blood pudding alongside his Batarang-shaped pancakes as Cullen sulks about losing Danny's attention. Bruce takes a bit of those first, closing his eyes in bliss.

Blood pudding, just like Alfred used to make.

Speaking of Alfred, his loyal butler arrives then. Seems like Bruce wasn't the only one catching up on a night of undisruptive sleep. His oldest friend gives both boys a once over, Danny pouring tea and milk and Cullen staring at him lovingly- and raises a brow, leaning down to whisper in Bruce's ear.

"I say, it seems Danny has collected another one."

"Please don't."

"Denial will not make it less true. It's how I wound up haunted."

"Alfred, what does that mean?"

#dc x dp crossover #dcxdpdabbles #Alfred's boy #Part 3 #cullen row #Harper Row #They were away on a trip #Danny likes to cook #Clockwork taught him #The lore of Alfred and Clockwork is a hot topic in Wayne Manor #Danny breaking hearts again #Tim was half crazy from sleep deprivation.

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beom-pyu · 11 months

Text

truth or drink! (engaged edition): choi soobin

part 3 of the truth or drink series! <3

other parts: beomgyu & taehyun "my ex + my boyfriend edition" yeonjun "couples edition" kai "blind date edition"

slightly nsfw! (minors dni.)

welcome to truth or drink! engaged couples will ask each other a set of random questions. they can either answer the question or take a shot.

“i’m soobin and this is my fiance...”

“y/n!”

how long have you guys been together?

YOU: "4 and a half years."

how long have you guys been engaged?

SB: “going on 2 months now.”

who talked about marriage first?

SB: “y/n.”

YOU: “me.”

and how did that go?

SB: “they actually said it the first time we met at a mutual friend’s birthday party.”

YOU: “i was shitfaced and he had really cute dimples, so i told him we should get married. and he said okay!”

did you get engaged on the spot?

SB: “they completely forgot who i was by the next day, so i had to do all of the courting and work to even get them to go on a date with me.”

YOU: “it was worth it though.”

SB: “of course it was.”

SOOBIN: what was your first impression of me?

YOU: “other than the birthday incident, i thought you were way cooler than you actually are.”

SB: “am i not cool???”

YOU: “you are like… pitifully cute?”

SB: “that makes me sound like a charity case.”

YOU: “the cutest charity case ever.”

YOU: is there anything about getting married that scares you—something you haven’t shared with me?

SB: “hm… rationally, i know it probably won’t happen, but i feel like you’ll get bored of me at some point?”

YOU: “i could never get bored of you, baby. well… only your league of legends talk, but i love everything else.”

SB: “what’s wrong with my league of legends talk?”

you gently place your hand on top of his.

YOU: “everything.”

SOOBIN: what is something you want to try in the bedroom that we’ve never done before?

YOU: “bottoms up.”

SB: “hey, no! this is a safe space.”

YOU: “i think my mom is watching this, soobin.”

SB: “hi, y/n’s mom. now tell me.”

YOU: “if i say mine, you have to say yours.”

SB: “deal.”

YOU: “i want to like… tie you up.”

SB: “wait, i was gonna say that!”

YOU: “no way.”

SB: “yes way.”

YOU: “see, we’re a match made in heaven.”

YOU: on the count of three, both of us say the number of children we would ideally have.

YOU: “one, two, three. two!”

SB: “five!”

YOU: “five?”

SB: “i was going to say six, but i lowered it just for you.”

you give soobin an incredulous stare.

YOU: “i need a shot.”

SOOBIN: if you had one hall pass, who would you sleep with?

YOU: “people we know or…?”

the producer gives you a thumbs up.

YOU: “i’m gonna drink.”

SB: “wait, now i’m curious.”

YOU: “what about you?”

…

SB: “...pour me one, too.”

YOU: who proposed to who, and how did they propose?

SB: “i proposed. but it was really messy.”

YOU: “really cute actually. he had just gotten home from a month-long business trip and, if you didn’t know, he’s a really emotional person—”

SB: “i’m not that emotional.”

YOU: “you cried watching shrek, honey.”

SB: “that was one time.”

YOU: “you also cried during our first ti—”

SB: “continue on with the proposal, please.”

soobin pours another shot, just because, and you laugh under your breath.

YOU: “i was already in bed when he got home and he just got into bed and started bawling.”

SB: “i wasn’t ‘bawling’, i was sniffling.”

YOU: “you were bawling. anyways, he pulled me into his arms and was just like ‘please, please marry me, the love of my life, my entire universe, i can’t live without you, i need you forever—’”

SB: “okay, now you’re just making stuff up.”

YOU: “so you admit you were bawling?”

...

SB: “next question.”

SOOBIN: have you ever seriously considered breaking up with me?

YOU: “i wouldn’t say seriously…”

SB: “so you actually have considered it?”

the pout on soobin’s lips is prominent.

YOU: “you know work takes up a lot of your time, and i didn’t really understand where you were coming from in the beginning. so i guess i’ve thought about it once or twice, but i never really wanted to go through with it. i can’t see myself with anyone else but you.”

SB: “i think i’m the only one that can handle you, anyways.”

YOU: “woah, what does that mean?”

soobin just laughs and kisses the back of your hand.

SB: “take it as you will, baby.”

YOU: how often do we have sex, and how often should we have sex?

SB: “every other day…? i feel like that's more than average.”

YOU: “yeah, you’re very needy.”

SB: “i’m not needy. i’m just obsessed with you.”

YOU: “see, look, you’re trying to get into my pants right now!”

SB: “...is it working?”

YOU: “yes.”

SOOBIN: when was the last time you masturbated, and where was i?

YOU: “like, two days ago? and you were out with one of your friends.”

SB: “i still don’t know if he accidentally saw the videos you sent me or not...”

YOU: “doesn’t sound like you’re complaining.”

SB: “i’m the only one who can fuck you right, so i’m not worried.”

YOU: “mom, if you’re watching this. i’ve never had sex. i don’t even know what sex is.”

YOU: who or what do you picture when masturbating?

SB: “your ass. and your lips.”

YOU: “that was quick, woah.”

SB: “sorry y/n’s mom.”

SOOBIN: what’s your favorite and least favorite sex position?

YOU: “i think i like spooning the most? only because i don’t have to do a lot of work.”

SB: “i can’t believe you tried to convince me you’re not a pillow princess.”

YOU: “i’m not! i can be on top if i want to!”

SB: “isn’t that your least favorite though?”

YOU: “yes, but anything is good if it involves your dick so…”

SB: “and you say i’m the needy one.”

YOU: “it’s mutual!”

YOU: the average duration of sex for most couples is 10 minutes. how long do you think we last?

SB: “honestly, hours.”

YOU: “he has an inhuman libido. please pray for me.”

SB: “okay, ‘inhuman’ is an exaggeration.”

YOU: “no, you are like superman. i’m serious.”

SOOBIN: what is my biggest flaw?

YOU: “you only dress up if it’s for special occasions.”

SB: “i try my best!”

YOU: “will you let me reform your closet?”

SB: “as long as you’re paying.”

YOU: “...nevermind. you look sexy in sweatpants anyways.”

SOOBIN: about 40 to 60% of married couples divorce. do you think we will last?

YOU: “check back in after a year.”

SB: “woah, i thought we were going to grow old and wrinkly and brittle together? you don’t want to bump canes?”

YOU: “i don’t like the way you worded that.”

SB: “so i’m going to take that as a yes.”

you roll your eyes, but a smile forms on your face nonetheless.

YOU: “in all seriousness, you know i’m in love with you and i don’t think there’s anyone else out there that i’d even consider marrying. i’d love to grow wrinkly and old with you.”

SB: “awe, my little prune.”

YOU: “you’re so weird.”

SB: “and now you’re stuck with me forever~”

you look towards the camera.

YOU: “save me, please.”

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

#txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt fluff #txt smut #soobin imagine #soobin imagines #soobin drabbles #soobin hard hours #soobin fluff #soobin smut #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin x y/n #beom-pyu

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gurugirl · 1 year

Text

A Balancing Act | Ch. 1*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Meeting Harry Styles at the hotel she was staying at was a surprise. But to have him invite her to his room for a drink was unexpected.

Warning: smut

Word Count: 17,748

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

Harry remembers the days when he used to go into his therapist’s office for his sessions. But after fame hit the paps knew where he was going, learned his schedule, and he was constantly bombarded. And of course, the fans caught on so there’d be screaming people trying to get his attention as he hopped from his car to the back entrance.

Lately, though, she’d been coming to his house instead. She charged more for in-house visits but Harry wasn’t bothered by the extra cost. Her time and flexibility were worth it to him so he’d happily pay the added fee.

They normally sat in his office together for the sessions. It was always like chatting with a close colleague when he’d have her over. Harry would usually have pastries and green juice or matcha to share and they’d talk about their week. She’d even talk to him about hers a little. Which always made him feel so comfortable around her. It invited him to really open up and he learned to be vulnerable with her over time.

He'd been seeing her since his One Direction days which meant in-person visits weren’t always possible if he was traveling, but Pat took a lot of late-night calls and FaceTime time sessions over the years. And Harry trusted her more than he trusted most people. She’d earned his trust. She’d heard his deepest, darkest secrets and knew all the dirty details about all of his past loves and flings. She wasn’t a sex therapist but she often gave him advice that helped him in that department.

And today she was doing just that. Listening to him drone on about his last lover, the older woman with two children who left her fiancé to be with him. He felt bad about everything in their relationship – from the beginning, he knew it wasn’t going to last and it was only meant to be a quick fling. But then he did develop feelings (Harry loved to fall in love and it was usually quite messy) against his better judgment. And then when she left the father of her children it became even more complicated.

“I just felt like I owed her. She’d given up so much for me and it was crazy of me to feed into that. I should have told her then and there that we wouldn’t end up together but I think a part of me just wanted to have the stability. But instead, it just dragged on for too long.” Harry had recently seen her at an event and she ignored him, just as he ignored her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t affect him because here he was in therapy with Pat talking about her.

Pat tapped her pen on her notepad and nodded. She’d heard all this before. But the guilt he felt was continually bubbling up and pouring out in their sessions even though they’d been broken up for the better part of a year.

“Harry, let’s talk about that. The stability part. Do you feel like you still need to be in a relationship to be stable? We’ve worked on this in the past and it sounds like that’s still a constant in your romantic attitude.”

Harry knew he was someone that just loved being with someone. Long-term, a week, a night… he just enjoyed the attention and he loved giving attention. And he was good at it. Well, he gave a lot of himself even if the relationship wasn’t serious. That’s just how he was.

“I know I need to be more confident to be alone and not have someone in my bed or my life all the time. I mean, I haven’t even had sex in like, a month.”

Pat laughed and shook her head, “I know Harry. And probably the whole world too. I know how hard that is for you – to never be able to have any privacy even if it’s just something fun," she paused as nodded, "And so a month... That's not really that long, but I’m assuming you’re referring to the model you were with in Tokyo about month ago? Pictures of you two were plastered everywhere.”

Harry nodded and chuckled, “Oh yeah. That was just… we were drunk so I wasn’t careful but I had fun ya know? I just want to be able to have fun and not deal with the public knowing that we probably fucked. Or all the weird speculation. It’s not anyone’s business. Sometimes I make mistakes and get caught in public but it’s tiresome. I want to be able to go out and do normal things but I can’t.”

Again, these were all things Pat knew about and had heard verbatim. She truly felt for him, though. Was even protective of him as if he were her son. Harry was so charming and likable and just a genuinely nice person that it was hard not to feel like he needed protecting at times.

But what could she do? He was a grown man now. A grown man who enjoyed love and all the kinds of things that went with it. But more than that he loved his job. Which was where the biggest problem lie. Harry’s job was a drawback for most people he’d attempted a relationship with. Some could handle the long distance, the frequent flights and stays at hotels, eating and dressing and showering on the road, screaming fans, women and men throwing themselves at him, stalking him, feeling entitled to his attention when he was out in public eating breakfast.

And he’d never give any of it up for a relationship. But that didn’t make it easy. Harry hardly remembered what it used to be like before he became famous. He was catapulted into the limelight as a teenager and was in one of the most popular boybands the world had ever known. But when he went off on his own for a solo career, assembled a talented group for his band, cut off his long hair, and began writing songs and crooning in well-fitted suits in small venues and theaters his fame rose year by year. Every album he put out was more popular than the one before.

With fame came flocks of fans. Who were willing to do nearly anything to get a glimpse up close of the charming boy with big green eyes, sweet dimples, and a deep voice. So yeah. Relationships suffered.

“You always have the option to just stop. Finish off your contract and then forget about fame. But you don’t want that. So doing normal things in public will be hard while you’re so famous.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want to stop. I love what I do. Just wish I had more privacy.”

“But I’m proud that you’re not isolating like you did for a while there. Wouldn’t even answer my calls for some time. Remember? You’re doing okay now, though. I think you’re improving. Your fame continues to grow and you are adjusting to it.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. That was a rough go. Not being able to see family or close friends during the pandemic really got to me. I am still surprised by how I responded to that all that. Doesn’t feel like that was me, you know? Feels like such a long time ago.”

“It affected many people in ways they hadn’t realized it would. People who had never struggled with depression or drug use before had to fight for their lives to get better.”

“Yeah… I was just alone with all those thoughts. Missing… her. I even called her one night. Don’t remember the conversation because I had taken sleep pills right before but saw that I’d called her the night before when I looked through my phone. Realized it was bad then.”

“Camille?”

Harry shifted in his seat and sighed. He didn’t like to say her name. That had been the hardest breakup. Because he really loved her. It no longer stung like it used to but he thought of her often, “She had a boyfriend of course. Still does. And he’s far better for her. Can go with her whenever and wherever. And I couldn’t because I was so busy. And she couldn’t come with me either because she’s got her own acting and modeling career. Just… I’m okay with that all now. But there were nights when I was alone in that big house and I couldn’t stop picking apart all the things that went wrong between us.”

“Too much time to think. Even I dealt with overthinking and dwelling.”

Harry glanced at Pat and smiled, “We’re all so similar. Us humans. Even we can surprise ourselves at times by torturing our brains and combing over details long past.”

Pat was proud of how insightful Harry was and how far he'd come.

. . .

Harry’s next show was in Chicago. He was getting himself pumped up for stage time. His outfit was being tailored once again, his hair styled, a bit of bronzer and highlighter, moisturizer on his arms and torso, lips stained a deep berry shade, nails painted lavender…

Music and his fans and being on stage were Harry’s favorite things. Well, he had another favorite thing that he could have that very night. It was easy when he was on stage and singing his heart out. A little eye contact and a raised brow to the cute curvy girl with the big tits at the front of pit, a hand wave and a wink, a tequila ordered for the pretty blond in the balcony seats he had a good view of, or calling out the tall guy in the middle of his concert and continually flirting with him in front of thousands (millions after the videos made it to social media). It was easy. Harry just had it so he could really have his pick, for the most part. If he wanted.

And like every one of his sets, at the end he was exhausted yet pumped with adrenaline. Meeting some of his lucky fans and taking pictures backstage was par for the course. Nothing out of the ordinary for a night after a concert.

But he had another show the following evening and so Jeff was giving him the signal it was time to head out and get back to his hotel so he could call it a night. The morning of a show was always early for rehearsing, a good workout, an ice bath, meditation…

Harry was ushered into the back entrance of the posh hotel he was staying at and used the freight elevator to get to the top floor to his room without anyone seeing him. Which he hated. He hated having to hide and duck away from fans. Hated being treated like a big secret no matter where he went. But on the other side of the coin, he cherished his privacy so it was necessary.

Jeff left him alone after Harry settled into his suite. He had the TV on and was about to call his mom because she’d be up at that time, but then there was a knock at his door. It was past 12:30 am so he couldn’t imagine who it would be.

Harry slowly opened the door to see a hotel employee standing with a bouquet of flowers, “These were sent here earlier, Mr. Styles, but we forgot to put them in your room. My apologies for the mistake.”

Harry took the bouquet and smiled at the young man, slipping him a tip and telling him not to worry.

Pulling the card out of the flowers he put the lovely bouquet down on the buffet and opened it to find out who it was from.

“We miss you, H. Hope you’re well. Love XX”

It was his ex. The one he’d wasted nearly two years with. He’d gotten to know her children and this card was meant to pull at his heartstrings with the ‘we miss you’. And it worked. The guilt built up again. He didn’t miss her or their relationship, but the guilt he carried for everything that happened to them during and even after was upsetting. He just wished his life was truly private like a normal guy. And then maybe he could move on and get real closure.

And against Jeff’s advice, Harry decided to go down to the hotel bar by himself which would be open for another couple of hours. A drink would help. Maybe a chat with someone nice. He hoped there weren’t any crazy fans down there but he’d rather risk that than sitting alone in his suite for another minute.

The bar was mostly empty. There were a few couples at tables, some individuals sitting and drinking at the bar. Harry grabbed a small table near the front with a good view of the bar and was greeted quickly to get his order.

He looked around casually and realized no one seemed to notice him. It felt nice. A moment of peace in public without anyone snapping photos or taking videos.

Across from his small table was a woman he suddenly took note of. She was dressed smartly. A silky green blouse tucked into charcoal trousers. She was looking at her phone and sipping a cocktail of some sort. She was pretty with delicate features and he couldn’t help himself when he noticed her pretty round bottom taking up the stool she sat on. Harry wasn’t a pervert but he had the perfect view of her. He was just a man after all and he appreciated beautiful women and men at times.

The server brought his drink to him and grinned widely, “Enjoy your whisky neat, Mr. Styles.”

Suddenly the woman turned her head and made eye contact with Harry. Her eyes widened before she quickly looked back down at her phone. She recognized him. Harry knew right away. But he was intrigued that she looked away. He decided to get her attention.

“Wish I could do that.”

The woman lifted her head and turned to look at Harry, confusion on her face as she looked behind herself and then back to Harry, “Sorry, are you speaking to me?”

Harry chuckled, “Of course I am.”

She set her cell phone down and tilted her head as she turned toward him, “You wish you could do what?”

Harry nodded toward the cell phone she had on the table, “Scroll through social media so casually.”

She stitched her brows together as she looked down at her phone and then back to Harry, “What makes you think I was scrolling through social media?”

Harry laughed and he guessed that was a fair question, “You’re right. I guess I don’t know what you’re looking at. Sorry if I offended,” he lifted his glass up toward her and then took a sip.

She smiled and lifted her own glass and then took a sip in response.

But now Harry was very interested. He wondered what she was looking at but also found her response to be refreshing. Instead of fawning she was smart and snappy with him. Even though she clearly recognized him, she wasn’t giggling and asking for an autograph or a photo.

He stood up and took a chance to ask if he could join her. He knew it was gutsy but he was rarely turned down and the woman was intriguing.

“Mind if I sit here with you? A little company is nice.”

Now Y/n was very much feeling her nerves peak when she realized Harry Styles was sitting next to her table. And then he’d made conversation with her. She was surprised he was speaking to her at all and now here he was asking to sit with her. She had no reason to say no. So when she nodded and he pulled the stool out that was closest to hers and placed his whisky on the table she swallowed down the bubbling nerves and called on her natural self-confidence. She was a confident woman. She was successful and lived a good life that she worked hard for. She was smart and grounded. But she was also hyper-aware that she was not his type. So even if for the briefest moment she thought she caught him looking at her ass she had to have been wrong.

Their conversation was surprisingly fascinating to her. She imagined he’d have a lot of things to say but she didn’t realize he was such a deep and interesting person. His insight was very spot on and he was sensitive and a good listener.

When the server came over and told them it was last call they both ordered one more drink. Y/n wasn’t ready to call it a night and neither was Harry.

“So, what are you here for, in Chicago, exactly?”

“Oh, there is an art show this weekend. I, uh… I have a bunch of my pieces at the Carrie Secrist Gallery right now.”

Harry paused. She mentioned she was an artist but he didn’t realize she was here for work, “Wow. Really? Carrie Secrist Gallery,” he said the name of the gallery quietly as if to catalog the information, “So will you be here tomorrow night again?”

“Yes. Booked the room for the weekend. I leave Sunday afternoon. Hopefully, my work gets all sold so I don’t have to repack and ship it back home.”

Harry nodded and watched her lips as she spoke and then her eyes. He couldn’t stop from letting his gaze drop to her plush lips. And Y/n noticed it too. It had her palms sweating. Maybe it was just the alcohol.

“Would you want to come to my show tomorrow evening? I can get you some really good seats – two if you’d like to bring anyone. I’d love it if you came. Maybe after we could do this again,” he gestured around them.

She was momentarily stunned. It was so out of the blue, unexpected. But it was also only an invitation to his concert. Which… still… this was a personal invite from Harry Styles and an opening to see him afterward which was quite something.

His green eyes and the smile on his pink lips were so close to her. She felt like suddenly with the way he was eyeing her that perhaps there was more to his invite. She’d been pushing that feeling down since he asked to sit with her but now it was glaring. Obvious. It was obvious that he was seeking something else. Maybe a quick one-night thing before he left for his next destination.

“What time would I need to get there?”

“Show starts at 7 with the opener.”

“Hmm… the gallery where I'm showing my art doesn't close til 7. I’d be getting there too late-“

“Well just come after that’s over. I’d still love to see you even if you’re a little late.”

She nodded and tried to rationalize everything. Could she really do this? Perhaps it was nothing at all but this didn’t feel like nothing and her instincts were usually spot on. She had no reason to say no except that he was super famous and what would it all look like logistically? But looking back at his face she just saw a handsome, confident man. There didn’t need to be any strings attached or consequences. It could be fun, “Sure. That could work. But it would just be me. Anyone I’d want to bring wouldn’t be able to make it in time for tomorrow night.”

Harry’s grin widened and his famous dimples dug into his cheeks, “Even better.”

. . .

Y/n had a hard time sleeping that night. She was hoping to have a couple of drinks to wind down after the adrenaline of the gallery showing. Her evening had been excellent. She sold some of her most expensive pieces, had a fabulous dinner with the curator and a couple of other artists, and then met and had drinks with Harry Styles.

The following day at the gallery she was on fire as well. Her good mood was contagious and every one of her paintings sold. She was asked to dinner again after the gallery closed but this time she declined, citing a concert to get to as her reason for skipping out.

She received a text halfway through her day as promised with a link to the details of her ticket retrieval at the will-call window. Lifting her phone up to the person manning the booth she showed them the QR code and watched on as they called someone and got off the phone, “Just wait here for a moment. Someone’s coming to get you.”

Being ushered into the back of the venue and then through a hallway she followed behind the man until he finally led her to an area with balcony seating and a good view of the stage, “Mr. Styles has said anything you’d like is on him. Can I get you a drink?”

Y/n still felt like it was so surreal to be here at a Harry Styles show on personal invitation and now being offered something to drink. On. Him.

“Is chardonnay on the menu?”

The man nodded and left in the blink of an eye.

Harry wasn’t on the stage yet. The opener was just finishing up and the crowd was full of young girls dressed in brightly colored, outfits. Lots of feathers and fringe and glitter and rhinestones.

The man returned with a glass of chardonnay as Y/n looked out over the crowd and leaned over the balcony. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived but her spot had a good view and she was happy she wasn’t down amongst all the pretty young things in front of the stage below.

The moment Harry came on the energy in the room was thick and everything was all about Harry. Fans with signs, lots of screaming, and most everyone sang along.

She couldn’t help but to dance and sing a little. The excitement and his enthusiasm spilled over everyone. Including her. Y/n noticed that it looked like Harry was watching her from the stage. He’d look up toward where she was with a grin often enough that it made her wonder. She thought perhaps he was smiling and looking toward someone else but it was definitely her because she watched as he mimicked her awful attempt at dancing by twirling around and shaking his hips exaggeratedly. She felt her face grow warm when some of the fans began to look up toward the balcony where she stood. Luckily there were other people where she was (who she later found out all had tickets from members of the band – a sort of VIP section for friends and family) so it wasn’t immediately obvious it was her he was grinning at.

The entire concert felt like a whirlwind. Harry’s charisma and style of entertainment were so contagious and exciting. Y/n felt like she was on adrenaline as she was being led backstage. The area was bustling as well. Lots of fans, mostly young girls, a table with small bites and beverages, and sitting areas.

She saw a couple of the band members taking photos with a group of people and then she heard shrieks and turned toward the commotion. There he was flocked by a group of fans and taking photos with one or two at a time. His smile was dazzling, genuine. She noted that he’d changed out of his stage outfit into a pair of basketball shorts and a sweater. He looked so casual in his outfit, yet there was no mistaking that this man commanded the room. That he was the star everyone wanted a piece of.

Y/n decided to keep herself occupied and look around while she waited for Harry to free up a bit. She wasn’t quite sure he’d really be seeing her afterward like he mentioned the night before. And the text she received earlier with the ticket details came from an automated six-digit number separated by a dash in between. Which made sense because he probably didn’t want her to have his number.

But she’d stick around to at least say hi.

“You came. Thank you,” Y/n turned to see the man behind her, with his handsome grin looking right at her.

“Oh, well, of course! Figured why not? It was a great concert by the way!”

They chatted for only a few minutes before they were interrupted again. Harry gave Y/n a look of apology, “Meet me at the hotel bar in like an hour?”

“Okay. I will try to be there in an hour,” she was going to just say absolutely yes, 100% she’d be there but that all sounded a little too desperate for her taste. She preferred to keep things level. And who knew if he’d even show up?

In her room, Y/n went back and forth between changing into something more comfortable or just keeping her current outfit on. She decided to keep on what she had and instead freshened up her hair and dotted on the smallest bit of undereye concealer.

It had been a while since she’d been interested in anyone. And she didn’t know what Harry wanted but the night before she was picking up certain vibes. She could be wrong. Perhaps she’d misread the whole situation. But she thought it could be fun to get out a little. Try and move on from the trauma of her last relationship. She tried not to think of it when she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Moving on had been something she’d been attempting to do for a while. A fun night with a handsome pop star could help a little. If that’s where things led. Hopefully.

At the bar, she ordered soda water to start. She didn’t want to get sloppy, just in case it turned into something more than just a friendly chat. It was around the time Harry said he’d meet her. She’d give him a little leeway since he had just gotten finished putting on a concert for thousands of adoring fans.

But when another thirty minutes had passed she checked her phone to find that there was nothing from him and no sign of his cute dimples in the bar anywhere either.

She waved at the bartender, “I’ll have a glass of house chardonnay please.”

She figured she might as well have one more glass of wine for the evening before calling it a night.

Looking at Instagram while she waited for her drink she realized she had a dm. It was from Dante. An artist she hit it off with at her last showing. They’d been messaging back and forth a bit but nothing had come of it. He lived a few hours away from her so getting together again hadn’t really been brought up. Except now.

Hey, I’ll be heading your way for an art exhibit soon. Would love to catch up in person if you’re free. Would you be interested in seeing me again? I’ll let you know when I’ll be in town when I find out more.

Smiling she began to type her response when the bartender placed her glass of wine down along with an envelope with her name written on the front.

She looked up at the young man in question

“Concierge handed this to me right after you ordered.”

“But how did you know this was for me?” She lifted the envelope up and flipped it over to open it up.

“Because I have your credit card with your name on it when you started your tab. Plus they described you. It’s from a very special guest I’m told.”

A very special guest.

She pulled her lips into her mouth to hide the grin that was about to take over as she looked around the bar, still, with no sign of Harry.

Pulling out the contents of the envelope she took a sip of her wine.

Sorry, I ran late. Take a drink in my room with me? p1900 - H

Blinking her eyes she felt her pulse pick up as she folded the note and tucked it into her purse. She gulped down another bit of chardonnay and grinned to herself, already having completely forgotten about Dante.

So she had read this right. The nerves in her belly bubbled up as she waved at the bartender, Check please!”

After making a pitstop at her room to really “freshen” up she realized that the floors stopped off at 8. After that was P.

Penthouse.

Hitting the P, she leaned her back into the wall as the elevator took her to the top floor.

The moment she stepped out of the elevator she was greeted by a man, “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh!” She suddenly remembered who she was dealing with. Harry Styles, a world-famous, A-list pop star. Of course, he’d have security. “Yes, I uh… Harry invited me up-“ She reached into her purse and pulled out the note, “Here.”

The man unfolded the note and then looked at her with a smile, “Y/n?”

So he’d told them her name…

She nodded as he handed the note back to her, “Follow me.”

She figured this was something Harry had done before; had people brought to his room. The occasional one-night stand. Some fun for the weekend.

The man knocked at the door and only a handful of seconds passed before Harry was standing in the doorway, wearing the same after-concert outfit he’d been wearing when she left the venue earlier.

He smiled at her, “Come in,” and then looked at the man, “Thanks, Shamus.”

The suite was huge. That was no surprise. She’d seen a few nice suites in her days. Being an artist wasn’t always so lucrative but she was always invited to the good after parties. She had a lot of artsy fartsy friends, some very well-off.

“I’m really sorry about being so late. I just got caught up and then before I realized the time it was too late. I’m glad you were still at the bar.”

“Yeah,” she said as she walked around toward the sitting area with the large woven rug and plush couches, “about that… what if I wasn’t in the bar? I was about to go back to my room.”

“Well, then I guess we would have missed one another. That would have been a shame.”

“But you have my number. You could have reached out.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck as she sat down. She was acting far more confident than she really was. But this was part of what she did. She was constantly put into situations where she needed to be confident and sell herself. Her art was an extension of herself. So when she needed to make some sales at shows and galleries she learned just how to do that. Her art sold itself for the most part. But there were enough people who wanted her story. Sometimes, she was what sold her piece. She’d do whatever it took to not be a starving artist anymore.

“I know I could have. But… I hope you don’t take offense. I have a rule not to give out my number so easily. Not that I think you’d use it to do anything but I’ve just had some really bad experiences. People I’ve trusted have betrayed me and changing my number is something I have nightmares about,” he laughed as sat down next to her on the couch.

She laughed with him. She actually could sort of understand it. Being a woman was like that in a way. Giving out her number to someone could be risky. It was a gamble to have her information out there with someone she didn’t know well.

“I’m not offended. But I really thought you’d changed your mind. Though, in all honesty,” she stretched her arms overhead with a yawn and leaned back into the very shockingly comfortable couch, “I was sort of looking forward to my bed. I’m exhausted.”

Harry leaned back and draped his leg over his knee, “I know what you mean. If I were you I’d much prefer a comfy bed than to spend any time with me either,” he laughed and then put his arm along the back of the couch, “but really… if you’re tired, don’t feel pressure to stay. I am glad you’re here, though.”

There it was. He gave her the choice. So he could have the green light. The thumbs up. He was clever. Telling her she didn’t have to stay but also letting her know he wanted her there. The ball was in her court.

“I’m curious as to why you think I’m interesting enough to invite back to your room for a drink, of which I’ve not yet been offered,” she teased with a chuckle. She didn’t want to seem like some pushover but at the same time, she felt a little flirty. She’d had such a good night at the gallery and she hadn’t been alone with a man nearly as attractive as Harry in… well, she’d never been alone with a man as attractive as Harry. And he was very much giving off the air of flirty himself. The way he kept putting his finger up to his lip, the eye contact, his arm reaching across the couch behind her… His body language was a dead giveaway.

“You don’t think you’re interesting?”

Y/n smiled. He was good. Of course that was a good line to use on someone he didn’t know. She was wondering something very specific that he’d yet to admit. That she was there for some fun. A quick romp. He had a need that he wanted filled and so did she. The reason he’d asked her to his room was for that. Yet he insisted on playing coy.

“I know I’m interesting. But you don’t know me. So why is it that you’ve asked me here?” She raised her brows at him as he stood and walked to the buffet across the room.

“I felt comfortable with you from the start. It’s nice to have a conversation with someone new once in a while. Not someone in the industry,” Harry turned back with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in his other, “and sorry I didn’t offer you a drink. Wine?”

Nodding her head she watched as Harry sat back down next to her, a little closer this time as he uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses.

Clinking their glasses together Harry sat back into the couch again. The silence had been a little awkward as he poured their drinks and Y/n was feeling a bit unsettled. She wasn’t sure what to say. As confident as she normally could be, this was getting very real and her mind wouldn’t stop wandering to what would be happening in thirty minutes or an hour from then. Would he be really going all in with her? Trying to get laid? She wouldn’t mind it, not at all. She’d happily let Harry Styles fuck her if he wanted. But would he be thinking about how her thighs and her tummy were plump and soft (mushy really was the better descriptor)?

She’d looked up his past exes because what else would one do before meeting up one on one with Harry Styles? She knew it was a bad idea but once she got a peep of some of the women he’d been with in the past… well, she certainly didn’t fit that mold. She didn’t think she was ugly. Not at all. But she wasn’t a model. She wasn’t a hot body, lush-haired, perfectly put-together wealthy woman of the world.

She was an artist. She made a good living nowadays, but nothing crazy. She lived in the Midwest USA and would go six months without getting her haircut, much less even visiting for a style. She dressed cute, she thought, but not high fashion. Not with leather, and silk, and cashmere and braided linen… Her makeup style was a crapshoot. She wore a nice, tinted moisturizer (with sunscreen because she couldn’t be bothered with the extra step), cream blush, mascara, and if she was going out, red lipstick. That was her bold makeup move. Red lips. Contouring was a foreign concept to her.

“The wine is good. Thanks,” she said lifting her glass up before taking another sip.

“Oh yeah. I enjoy a little wine once in a while. Not really much of a connoisseur but this is one of my favorite red blends.”

Y/n nodded and looked down at her glass. He was obviously feeling the nerves as well. She felt him shift next to her as he put his arm back behind her on the couch again.

She thought about just putting the moves on. Getting it over with. But then he started to talk.

“Tomorrow afternoon I fly out to Brazil. Haven’t been there in a while. Feels like with the pandemic everything just stopped. Glad to have things sort of going back to normal. Ya know? But… What about you? Do you live near Chicago? You mentioned you live in the suburbs.”

They chatted a bit, revealing small things about themselves little by little. Eventually, she even wound up telling him her age and that she’d been in a long-term relationship that ended tragically but she didn’t give him all the details. She didn’t want his pity. But it felt natural to tell him a little bit more after he opened up to her about his last girlfriend and how it was his longest relationship but that he had felt stuck in it halfway through. That she had kids and how difficult that made everything.

Y/n knew who he was talking about as well. He didn’t need to say her name because she’d googled it all beforehand.

And she was aware that she wasn’t as old as his last girlfriend. She was only about a year older than Harry was but he was so sincere and mature that he felt older. Yet, there was a playful edge to him that was refreshing. And he was an excellent listener. Just as he had been the night before.

That was another reason she felt comfortable revealing small things about herself to him. He acted like what she was saying was worth being heard. He didn’t look at the clock on the wall, or let his eyes glaze over in boredom as she spoke. He asked her questions about what she’d said, remembered her sister’s name when she mentioned that she had two nieces, and even asked her about how her art show went – remembering the name of the gallery.

“And how did it go tonight at the Carrie Secrist Gallery? Did you get all your pieces sold?”

She laughed at his question – the way he said the name of the gallery. She thought he was probably showing off a little. He was naturally very charismatic and charming and she was falling for it hard. He’d bump his knee into hers every so often and his eyes never left her face which had her skin growing warm. He was flirting in the most subtle way.

“It went well! Actually, I sold all of my pieces. I did give a discount for one of them to be displayed at a restaurant because I figure that’s like advertisement, right? But yeah. It was a really good night.”

Harry cocked his head to the side and she noted how he watched as she sipped her wine and licked her lips. He wasn’t being coy anymore. His obvious gaze was his way of moving it along.

She stared back at him and felt her skin start to prickle with nerves. It was bold to look him directly in his sharp green eyes when he was sat so close to her. She watched as his lips turned up in a small smirk and he leaned in closer, “What perfume are wearing?”

She had to pause to think. It was her travel perfume. She liked nice scents and had a few back home but when she traveled she didn’t bring her usuals with her because they were too costly to risk being broken. And normally when she was traveling it was because she was participating in an exhibit or show and that meant she would wear very little of anything scented. Mostly out of respect. Like being on an airplane and wearing a beautiful spicy perfume that you’d put on before a date. You just wouldn’t.

“I think it’s like… um… I honestly don’t know the name. It’s a sample of something that I bring when I travel. Like a powdery, clean scent. Something nonoffensive. Would hate to lose out on a sale because I was wearing some wild cotton candy, musky, floral perfume or something,” she laughed.

Harry nodded with a small smile as he watched her mouth move around her words. She couldn’t help but notice how he looked from her lips and slowly brought his gaze back up to her eyes.

“What about you? You smell nice.” It was true. He did smell good. Clean and a little bit masculine. It was definitely some kind of cologne.

He looked down over his t-shirt and scrunched his brows in thought, “You think? Felt like I might be smelling a bit off.”

Y/n shook her head with a grin, “No. You smell nice. Clean.”

“Well, I did shower after the show. I get so hot and sweaty on stage. Sometimes the outfits don’t breathe at all. Just like, my hot skin trapped under saran wrap is what it feels like,” he laughed as he spoke but the visual had Y/n’s mind going into dark and dirty places. Perhaps he’d said it on purpose.

She stayed quiet as she sipped the last bit of her wine and then leaned forward to place the glass on the table in front of them.

“Would you like another bottle of wine? Or… something else?”

Clenching her jaw she looked at his empty glass next to hers.

Or something else…

“Well, I don’t know about having more wine…”

“Okay. Me neither to be honest. Also not quite ready to go to bed just yet. Do you want to like…” he pulled his lips into his mouth and raised his brows as he bumped her knee with his.

He didn’t need to say it. She knew what he meant. She kept her eyes on his with a grin on her face as he leaned in so close she could smell the wine on his breath, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

She was compelled to pull him toward her and put her lips to his instead of answering him verbally. She’d been watching his pink lips wrap around his words in the unique way he moved his mouth for long enough. They looked smooth and she was curious how they’d feel against hers. But the moment she felt his tongue slip out and wet the bottom of her lip she felt her mind go blank except for the thought that she was kissing Harry Styles. Sitting in his hotel room way past her bedtime with security outside of his door and an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table at her feet.

His hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, to which she happily allowed herself to be moved toward his body. Her own fingers flitted into his thick hair, the curls winding between her fingers, just as soft as it appeared.

To her surprise (and delight) he didn’t try rushing from kissing to trying to take her clothes off. In fact, he continued kissing her and pressing his tongue into hers and lapping over her lips, squeezing the back of her neck with one hand and her soft hip with the other for longer than she might have ever kissed anyone before. His mouth against hers was erotic and wet and a bit eager even. As if he hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time. But she matched that energy because she actually hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time.

He pinched her thigh a bit harder as she moved closer, her blouse-covered breasts brushing against his taut shirt-covered chest. She knew he was in good shape because she’d seen the pictures of him wearing open vests and jackets baring his well-built upper body while prancing on stage. Tonight’s outfit showcased how beefy he was with a well-fitted t-shirt and leather pants. A reminder of where she lacked.

As his hand slid upward to the curve of her waist she pulled away a little, really not feeling like he’d enjoy her extra bits once he touched them, “I… sorry…” she shook her head and sighed, feeling embarrassed.

Harry’s lips reached for hers again, brushing them softly over hers, “Sorry for what?”

But his mouth on hers was intoxicating and the way he was still grabbing at her and pulling her in made her forget what it was she was worried about.

The truth was that Harry loved what he saw and the way she felt so soft and plush under his hand. Her mouth, her hip, her waist. And she smelled pretty and her eyes were making him lose his mind. He wanted her in his bed and on his cock (if she’d allow that). Her voice was soft and feminine and she was smart and funny.

Harry had no trouble finding someone for the night. He’d been very lucky since his One Direction days but fame was like that. It also didn’t hurt that he was handsome with a deep voice and a big cock. But recently he decided to start being a little more choosy. Perhaps to find someone he could spend more than a night with. It was hard to do, though. Because he was on the road a lot and most people couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle unless they could go on the road with him. Which was usually an impossibility.

And after Y/n had left the venue a young woman was flirting heavily with him; batting her lashes and touching his arm, and giving off all the signals that she was a sure thing. Normally he’d have just stuck with that and had a good time with her for the evening. That was the easy route. A pretty girl very willing and eager whom he could send away after without feeling too bad. Did that make him a bad person? He didn’t think so. It was just sex most of the time. He was always safe and respectful and the kind of sexual tension that would build up while he was singing and dancing (and honestly that was when he was feeling his most attractive and confident) was normal after every show. It wasn’t like he had sex with someone new after each concert. But the option was always there.

But tonight he really wanted to see Y/n again. The cute girl was the easier option, but Y/n was the kind of woman he wanted to keep with him until morning. Let her sleep in his suite and have a couple of rounds with her. There was no way to know if it could ever be more but she was something different. His therapist, Pat, had told him to stop going with what was easiest. To take a step back and look for more substance. She told him he was clearly looking for something deeper and while there was nothing wrong with a bit of fun, deep down he needed more. And he knew she was right.

Harry’s hand roamed upward to the underside of her boob and even with the blouse and the bra covering her flesh he could feel how soft and heavy her breast was. He wanted to tear her shirt off and take a look but he’d let her lead the way because she seemed like she knew what she wanted when she slid her palm over his thigh and close to his crotch. Harry was solid and already thickened under his shorts, which was quite obvious from the way the fabric tented outward. He pulled her in closer again, hoping she’d grasp him over his shorts.

But instead, when Harry pulled at her she lost her balance and so the hand she was slowly moving upward as she worked up the courage to palm over his obvious erection suddenly was planted firmly over his cock, her hand trying to steady herself so as not to crush him under her palm and so she didn’t fall forward into him like she was about to.

They both parted from the kiss, Harry laughing and Y/n apologizing and quickly removing her hand, “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”

Harry was more than okay when he looked into her pretty eyes and saw how flustered she was, how swollen her lips were from kissing, and the way her eyes were blown out.

He put his hand over hers and pulled it back to cup over his hard dick, “As you can tell, I’m just fine,” he grinned and looked down at the state of himself and her eyes followed him. She knew he was hard, she felt it when she fell into him. Which was quite exciting now that she was having her hand guided over him, he squeezed around her fingers so she had to tighten her grip around him. She panted and looked up at him. He was girthy and the way his dick was stuffed under his shorts, bent a little bit as it was constricted by the elastic. She could tell he was hung. Very much so.

“Do you want me to… can I?” She asked, licking her lips and looking back down at his big bulge and Harry leaned back, putting his arms back along the couch.

“If you want. But if you do that then be warned that I am gonna want to return the favor.”

A laugh was forced out of Y/n’s nose as she looked back into his eyes curiously, “Be warned? As if that would be a bad thing?”

Harry shrugged, “You never know.”

Y/n bit her bottom lip and slowly tugged at the elastic of the shorts he had on to reveal he was sans underwear. The shock of seeing his thick deep pink tip so quickly had her gasping unexpectedly and pausing her motion. She could tell he was big just by the way he felt, but seeing it bare before her eyes…

Looking back up at him he nodded at her to continue so she pulled at the material, pushing it down and then finally getting a full at him, long and pretty, hard as a rock. He was fully engorged and heavy in her hand when she slid her palm over him. Yes, this would do.

Getting to her knees on the floor in between his legs she kept her hand on him, not wanting to let go. It was unbelievable that she was holding Harry Styles’ thick cock in her hand and he was hard for her. She clenched her thighs just imagining what it might feel like wrecking her insides because it would.

She licked her lips and leaned over him slowly, leisurely pumping him upward. Spitting over his tip she looked up at him and pressed her mouth to his slit with a tiny peck and used her hand to coat his cock with the saliva. She spat again to give her hand more glide and on her upward stroke, her palm squeezed around his frenulum. Harry moaned and leaned his head back. His pink lips parted.

Positioning herself more comfortably she lowered her mouth again to the underside of him, licking upward until her tongue glided over his tip and she popped his bulbous crown into her mouth and sucked. He reached down to put a hand into her hair and grunted as she got lower over him.

He tasted good. Of course, he hadn’t come yet but he was clean and smelled nice. She was never a fan of the taste of come but she was certain with Harry, she’d gulp him all down with a smile on her face despite whatever he might taste like.

Harry loved getting head. He didn’t always ask for it, and he didn’t technically ask for it this time either but she wanted it and he wanted to feel her warm mouth and plump lips wrapped around him since the night before when he first met her.

He was not disappointed either. She was taking him in well. He knew he wasn’t easy to take all the way, which was part of the reason he didn’t always ask for a blowie. But Y/n was good. He tried not to tighten his fingers in her hair, wanting her to go at her own pace but he did grasp the back of the couch with his free hand and found himself letting out a pathetic whimper when she swallowed around his tip.

She was enjoying this. She was pretty good at giving head, though it had been some time, she was a bit rusty but it was like riding a bike really. After a few swallows and deep strokes, his tip hitting the back of her mouth and making her gag lightly, she began to get the hang out of it again. And he was clearly enjoying it.

She was making a bit of a mess too. Drooling and coughing… the fabric of his shorts that was pressed under his balls was wet. Which reminded her…

Using her free hand she began to roll his scrotum in her palm gently. His balls were round and full and heavy and when he gasped she could tell that was a good sign.

“Oh my god… ffffuck, Y/n!” Harry couldn’t help it when he tightened his fingers in her hair. He was going to come already. A little bit embarrassing but she was good and the noises she was making and the way she was sucking him in, wet and warm… plus… he was getting a very good view of her with her mouth wrapped around him. Drool dripping down her chin and she’d look up at him every so often and that was doing him in. The fact that she was pushing him down her throat so deeply and then looking up at him as she gurgled around him was making him lose it.

Now, Harry was a bit dominant in the bedroom. Well, a lot actually. He didn’t always show it, especially not with one-night stands or with someone he’d just met. He liked to ease them into it unless they were clearly into it. And there was something that told him she liked it a bit rough. So when he pushed her down a little further and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she moaned around him he coughed out a gasp and clenched his teeth to hold himself back. He wanted to have her on his cock like this for a while longer but she was conducting his perfect ideal for a blow job.

“Open that throat up for me, baby… gonna choke you with my come…” he panted his words and watched her closely as she hastened bobbing up and down over him. He took a risk to say what he wanted and she liked it. He had a feeling she would.

Y/n moaned at his words and the way he handled her hair and pushed her down over him. His sudden dominant display was welcomed and felt her arousal drip past her thong onto the insides of her thighs when he told her to open her throat for him. It was the hottest thing she’d heard in a long time.

And she did choke on his come. Salty and bitter, with an edge of sweetness. She swallowed and around him coughed as he flooded her throat. Tears poured from her eyes as she gulped him down the best she could and listening to his moans and grunts was satisfying to her.

Eventually, he released her hair and let his body melt into the couch as she licked him clean until his cock was softening in her mouth. He watched her when she sat back and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth with a small smile. The tears on her cheeks were mixed with streaks of black from her mascara and her mouth was puffy and wet.

“Come here,” Harry grasped the front of her neck and leaned in as he pulled her close so he could kiss her hard. She put her hands over his thighs to steady herself as he pulled her up and then moved her onto the couch under him. He pushed her down and lowered himself to her neck and licked upward toward her jawline, “Let me see you. Want to see your tits and your pussy. Can I, Y/n?”

She nodded as he pulled at her top. She sat up a little so he could pull the material off and she was quick to undo her clasp at the back. She was wearing a bra that was slightly complicated because her breasts were large and heavy so it was quite the device. She doubted he’d be able to figure it out fast enough.

“Holy fuck…” Harry groaned as he put his large hands over her tits and caressed the soft skin before lowering himself to attach his mouth to her left nipple and then her right one.

She hissed when he pulled at her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and squeezing gently at the other side. She hadn’t had anyone play with her tits in a long time. She’d really been missing intimacy. He sat back a little and pressed her boobs together before dipping back down to use his tongue all along her smooth flesh, tucking the wet muscle in between her breasts and licking upward toward her neck.

He continued kneading her tits as he settled himself onto his shins and sat back and looked at her face, “So fucking pretty.”

She arched her back, causing her hips to roll upward and Harry looked down to her hips, moving his hands down to the waistband of her skirt. He massaged her soft hips and watched as the material of her skirt lifted the slightest at the way he was squeezing her. He clenched his jaw and looked back into her eyes and raised his brows as if to ask her permission to keep lifting her skirt upward. She’d already nodded in response when he asked her moments ago but he wanted to know if she’d changed her mind or not.

Y/n brought her hands down and lifted the hem of her skirt up to just the part where her thighs were wholly exposed but her panties weren’t in view yet. Keeping her eyes on his she pushed at his hands to lower them so he could finish the job if he wanted. It was her way of giving him permission to pull her skirt up so he could see her.

And it wasn’t that Y/n was super confident in her body. In fact, if there was anything she was insecure about it was her weight and her body. She did well to push down the anxiety she felt about that and didn’t like to make it known she felt self-conscious, but she was. And here was Harry Styles between her legs and looking at her half-naked body, finally getting a view of her panties as he lifted her skirt. She knew she was wet between her legs already and watching the expression on his face she held her breath hoping he wasn’t grossed out by what he saw.

She watched him lick his lips as his brows set in a serious expression. He shot his gaze up to her eyes and then back down to her wet panties. She breathed a gasp when she felt his finger slip along the topmost part of her thigh just under the crotch of her panties, “You’re wet.”

She gulped hard. She knew there was nothing she could do to hide how wet she’d gotten from sucking him off. But when he thumbed at her thigh and collected her arousal before sticking his whole digit into his mouth and licking it clean, she dropped her mouth open in surprise.

“Mmm… do you know one of my favorite things to do is to put my face in between a woman’s thighs and make her come on my tongue?” He licked his lips again and pressed his thumbs to the elastic of her panties, pushing just under the fabric over her hips as he looked at her.

“I… no. I didn’t know,” was all she could respond with. She was anticipating what was to come and she couldn’t believe it so her brain wasn’t quite connecting with everything else at that moment.

Harry kept his eyes on hers as he began to lower her panties. He wanted access. Wanted to get his mouth on her and have her shaking and coming, getting his face all wet, dripping down to the couch below…

When Harry pulled the fabric down to her upper thighs he shifted to pull the material down and off her legs. He needed to have her spread apart for him so the panties needed to go.

When he finally allowed himself to look at the soft skin and the bit of hair she had all around her warm and wet pussy he closed his eyes and moaned when he gripped onto her hips, letting his fingers sink into her skin.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Okay? You want that, Y/n?” He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing his well-defined chest and scattered tattoos. He must have planned on making a mess.

She nodded and looked down over her body and back into his eyes as he lowered himself over her. He went in tongue first and closed his eyes as he made the first lick upward through her slit and coated his tongue in her.

She moaned softly but then he quickly reached a hand down to the leg that was nearest the edge of the cushion and gripped onto the underpart of her thigh, making her spread out for him as he nudged into her further, lapping and sucking at her.

“OH!” She panted as his lips lowered to her entrance and his wide nose swept over her clit as he shook his head and pulled at her so he could push in further.

She grabbed onto the back of the couch with one arm and her other hand pushed into his soft hair. She rolled her hips upward and moaned at the way he felt on her, but he kept pushing her back down which was driving her nuts, in the best way. He was going in like a starved man and forcing her hips down to keep her still.

Harry wasn’t shy to eat pussy or do it his way. He found that women generally enjoyed the way he did it. His objective was always for it to feel good and for whoever was on the receiving end to come. And he really wanted to make Y/n come because of how good she’d just sucked him off. Swallowed his cock halfway down her throat and choked on his come. He wanted to give her something in return because he wanted to show her how good he could be. Hoped that he was better than anyone before him (because he liked being the best at everything he did).

“Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit!!! God! Harry, f-ffffuck!” When Harry shifted and stuffed two fingers inside and began to pump them in and out as he kept his mouth over her clit she knew she was gonna be a goner. Because this was her own go-to move when she masturbated.

She had a slim dildo she used that was curved and hit her insides nicely and loved combining that with her clit sucker[TK7] . It always got her off and Harry’s mouth and fingers were hitting all the spots she needed.

Going into this with him she figured it could be fun. Might get some pleasure, perhaps something to think back on fondly. She hoped for more than just that (if he could give her an orgasm that would have been preferred) but was prepared for just some fun but doubted an orgasm or anything like what was happening. The man was just as charming with his face between her thighs as he was talking and singing into a microphone. The humor and his charisma didn’t stop on stage. Harry was good. And sexy.

She stiffened as her muscles began to vibrate. Harry seemed to know that she was coming as he pumped his fingers into her harder and faster and continued slurping at her clit.

Only when she began to come down did she realize how loud she’d been. Her moans and cries were sure to have been heard by anyone standing near the door. Her slight embarrassment was quelled when she felt Harry’s lips still sliding over her pussy as he moaned. She was a mess and from what she could see of his face, that was too.

Pressing at his forehead as she giggled her words, “Harry! Okay… okay!” She wiggled away from him.

Harry sat up and looked down at her with a small smirk on his damp face. His eyes were hooded and he looked like he was ready for more, which she was not expecting. Figured he’d gotten what he needed and would have her on her way.

But instead, as he stood up she noticed that the strain at the front of his shorts was back with a vengeance. After pulling his shorts off, he pulled at her hand, helping her stand, and wrapped his fingers around hers as he led her to the bed.

She watched him walk in front of her, tall and well-built. A tush she could bite into. Would love to sketch and paint him in bronze, pink, olive, and brown. His thick dark hair, the lean neck holding up his big, yet handsome, head. Broad shoulders and a smooth back, strong, meaty thighs atop his sinewy lower legs. She could do his frame justice on a canvas. Add in a bit of gold and red, and plenty of dark, fine strokes to delineate his muscles. She’d use her script brush for the scattered hairs…

His mouth met hers and erased her thoughts and her gawking at his naked physique. The first thing that was apparent was the way he tasted. Like her pussy. She was not quite expecting it. She’d been out of the game like this for a bit and so kissing someone was already a fairly exciting prospect. But to have it be Harry Styles and then to have him taste like he’d just eaten her out? Now that was never something she’d had on her radar for sexual conquests. This felt like a bucket list item that would always just stay there, on the list. Except it was so far out of her realm of possibility that it never would have made it to such a list. But as it were, here she was, being pulled to his bed, his cock hard and long next to her, his mouth damp with her arousal, and then what?

“Take your skirt off for me, love.”

He didn’t ask her. He told her.

She knew that once her skirt was pulled off she’d be completely naked. In front of Harry Styles. With that body. But she complied. Bringing her skirt down over her hips and thighs until it fell into the floor in a small pile. She looked down over herself but tried not to think about the way she looked naked to him. He didn’t seem to mind her extra bits. In fact, he seemed to be rather enjoying her as she was. But she couldn’t help the way she felt so exposed.

He bent down to kiss her again, his fingers running into her hair with one hand and his other hand moving down her back and to her bottom, squishing her flesh and rutting his hips into hers.

Harry parted with a gasp and held her out so he could look at her, “You’re so fucking hot, Y/n. Climb on the bed for me.”

Her whole body was vibrating. The way he was looking at her had her nervous and vulnerable. She sat her bottom on the bed and watched him as she scooted into the middle of the mattress. Harry stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. He wasn’t shy about where he let his eyes roam. Right between her sticky thighs, over her belly up to her big tits.

“Lay back and spread your legs.”

She wasn’t used to being told what to do during sex. Her husband was the last man she slept with (years ago) and he wasn’t commanding in bed at all. This was all a first for her but it made her feel something she hadn’t really felt before. Being bossed around this way was exciting.

So she did as he said, putting her back on the comforter and hesitantly spreading her legs apart, bending at the knees and putting her feet flat onto the blanket.

She felt the bed shift as Harry climbed up next to her and he put his hands on her shins and looked at her shiny pussy.

His small moan vibrated through his chest as he looked the pretty girl in her eyes, “Can I fuck you? Is that all right?”

Y/n nodded quickly and shot her eyes down to Harry’s cock. She couldn’t believe he was so hard again. But she felt like that was probably somewhat of a compliment, “I don’t have any condoms, um-“

Harry crawled over her, his thighs spreading between hers, causing her legs to part further, “I have some. Are you on birth control?” He grazed his mouth over hers and as he pressed his lips to hers she felt his cock against her pelvis.

Panting her words and rolling her hips upward, “Yes I am.”

Harry’s lips slotted between Y/n’s as he settled his hips against hers, slowly putting himself through her labia to feel her first. Without having to put on a condom. He knew it was necessary but to be able to feel her warm against his skin, wetting it, the hair scratching it…

Y/n gasped when his cockhead nudged at her entrance before he slid up through her crease and it bumped into her clit. It was salacious. Almost as if he were testing the waters to not put on a condom. Her body and her mind were beginning to synch up into lust and want again. He’d just given her an orgasm but she was on her way to that point of no return once again.

And Harry never went without a condom with a one-night stand or a quick weekend fling. Of course, once the relationship was established there was no need but never before had he wanted so badly to enter a woman without really knowing if he could trust her or not. She said she was on birth control but how could he know?

Reluctantly he got off the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase and paused next to the bed to roll it down from his tip to his base.

Y/n watched. He was thick and long. The hair at his base was dark and masculine. He crawled back in between her legs and kissed the insides of her thighs and lapped upward quickly over her pussy one last time for good measure before positioning himself over her with his shaft in his hand, aiming himself at her cunt.

The room was lit with only one lamp and the bed was soft underneath her body. She couldn’t quite believe that she was in that moment, with Harry Styles above her. She hadn’t had sex with anyone since her husband. But here she was, with a man’s cock pressed at her entrance, waiting for her to finally give permission so he could push into her. So he could fuck her. So Harry Styles could fuck her.

Rolling her hips upward slightly and grasping onto his lats, “Please.”

Harry panted out a breath as he fit his cock into her, the initial entry needing a bit of force to squeeze his thick head past the threshold of her tight muscle. She gasped at the widening of her opening. It felt good to have a man poking into her rather than her silicon dildo for once.

She held onto his back for dear life as he doused himself in her. She was soft and thick and tight. It was incredible and warm. His strokes were long, slowly sinking in deeper and deeper with each rock inward.

“How’s that feel?” Harry’s cock was feeling very good, he hoped the noises she was making were a good sign. He thought it was but wanted her to be more vocal.

“Oh my god, Harry… fuck that feels good.” She purred.

Harry put his hands over her tits and continued fucking into her, his thighs giving him leverage for each plunge.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me what you like, baby. What do you need?”

Her mind went blank as his long dick slicked in and out of her, spreading her, touching her deeply… What did she like? What did she need? It had been so long and never had she needed to vocalize it before.

“You, Harry,” She hissed when he bucked his hips inward, a deep thrust that sent her body surging upward from the force of his drive.

“Me? Oh baby, you have me, can’t you feel that?” His words came out pinched in ecstasy, “But talk to me. What do you like?”

Slowly moving a hand upward to her neck he wrapped his fingers around and squeezed only the slightest as he continued rolling his hips into her. He tweaked one of her nipples with his other hand and she gasped as her lips parted.

“What about this? You like when I do this?” He dug the pads of his fingers into the side of her neck before loosening but keeping his hand over her throat.

She nodded quickly, not expecting to have enjoyed it but she did, “Yes.”

“And this?” Rolling her nipple between his fingers and giving her a good hard jerk of his hips inward she grunted and nodded again.

“Good girl. You like it a little rough then. Let’s see what else we can learn…” he spoke as he gripped her neck solidly, but still giving her space to say no if she needed. He leaned over her, his face directly above, “Open your mouth.”

She complied and parted her lips.

“Tongue out.”

She jutted her pink tongue past her lips and Harry spat down into her mouth and then cooed at her as he watched his saliva drip down her tongue and into her throat, “I can tell you like that too. Is that right? Are you my dirty girl?”

Moaning and feeling her body floating away from her brain she nodded, “I’m your dirty girl.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at her words. It was just what he wanted to hear.

“You are, aren’t you? My dirty girl likes getting fucked nice and hard,” he punctuated his statement with a harsh thrust, “Choked, spit on… Fuck baby I think you might just be my favorite girl. What else do you like?”

She was officially stunned and gushing from his words. And his cock too of course. But the way he was talking to her and showing her what she liked made her feel like a new woman. It was an experience she wouldn’t soon forget.

“Aww… poor thing. Having a hard time speaking, dear? Need some help?”

She gurgled a moan and nodded. Her belly was on fire with how deep his cock was. Everything around her was fuzzy.

Suddenly Harry pulled out and grasped her hips, pushing her to roll to her front, “Hands and knees.”

She whined as she pushed herself upward, spreading her legs and pushing her knees and palms into the blanket below.

“Shh, shhh… no need to cry, baby. Daddy’s here.” It was a risk. To say it. To call himself Daddy. But it was his favorite. He loved being called Daddy when he was fucking anyone who was even just a little bit submissive. And Y/n was quite submissive but he had a feeling she didn’t even know it. Based on how confident and cheeky she was when he met her and when she got to his room earlier he knew he had the potential for a brat on his hands but for her to also be a bit submissive? And this pretty? He’d hit the jackpot.

He smacked her bottom, both sides with a solid whack causing her to jump and groan, her head lolling downward as she reared back, her pussy and ass on display for him.

“And you like that too don’t you pretty girl?”

She nodded her head and moved her hips back again, most likely searching for his cock to fit itself back into her but he needed her to start talking a little more.

“I knew you would. But I need to hear your words my lovely little thing. Can you talk to me? Do you want more spankings? Or do you want something else?” He grinned as he squished the plump flesh of her thick bottom, the view something he’d sear into his memory and bring with him on tour until he could have her again. He knew he’d want to see her again after this.

“Fffuck…” she moaned softly. She didn’t know what she wanted. She just wanted whatever he was doing to continue. She was absolutely loving it. And the Daddy thing? She had never called anyone Daddy before. Not even her own dad. It would need to grow on her.

Harry grasped the base of his shaft and dragged his tip through her folds gently, up and down, pressing himself at her center and she pushed back to make him go in but he backed away, smacking her bum again and making her jolt.

“Ah, ah, ah… Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want. I need to hear it from those pretty lips.”

Y/n swallowed as her heart raced and not just from how turned on she was. From nerves. She was surprised by the reaction he was pulling out of her. But she did want a couple of things and there was something in how dominant he was being that made her feel like she needed to comply.

“Fuck me and spank me. Please.”

Harry smiled and slid his cockhead into her folds again, “Yeah? I love it when you say please. Makes me very happy. I’ll give you what you want. But I want something from you too, Y/n.”

Harry watched as his tip parted her shiny crease as he pushed upward, spreading her arousal all around.

When she stayed silent Harry brought his free palm down to her bottom, the smack sounding in the room, “Well aren’t you going to ask what I want?”

She gasped and took a breath, “Sorry. What do you want?” Her words were coming out breathy and light.

“I need you to keep telling me if you like something. And ask me if there’s something else you want. Understood?”

“Yes.” She nodded her head and bit her lip, waiting for him to slip inside again.

Harry removed his palm from her bottom and gathered her hair between his fingers and pulled her head up gently, “Can you guess what else I want? What else makes Daddy really happy?”

Shaking her head and peeping the word no Harry leaned in to speak into her ear, “I just gave you a hint little girl. Let’s see if you can use that brain of yours to figure out what I like.”

Her eyes fluttered at the feel of his breath at the back of her ear and his fingers pulling at her hair. It wasn’t registering to her what he wanted. He gave her a hint?

“Come on… I know you can figure this one out. It’s not that hard. Or are you kind of dumb when my cock is right here, nudging into you? Hmm?” He pushed in the smallest bit, allowing his tip to tuck into her for a moment before bringing it back out.

She whined and licked her lips. It was true that it was hard to think when he was handling her the way he was.

“Sorry. I’m not sure.”

Harry’s dark baritone vibrated off her ear as he spoke, “S’okay. We’ll take our time til you figure it all out. Do you want Daddy’s cock?”

She nodded quickly and Harry chuckled as he spoke, “Yeah? Well then tell me, dear, who’s cock do you want?” He nudged in again, prodding her crease and pushing just into her opening. It was taking all of his resolve not to just hammer into her at that point.

But hearing him say that, it clicked. She knew what he wanted, “Yours, Daddy.”

It felt odd coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she liked it but the moment he stuffed her again with his large cock she keened and moaned and knew that he deserved to be called Daddy if that’s what he wanted. He gave her what she wanted so she’d give him what he wanted.

“Yes… good girl. I knew you could do it, baby,” Harry spoke through gritted teeth when he sunk in to the hilt. He pulled back and then fucked into her quickly. His pace soon became harsh as he let go of her hair and pounded her from behind. Smacking her bottom with his palm every few strokes her flesh grew red slowly and her moans grew louder.

“Oh! Yess! Ffffuck!” Her body was rocked forward at each strike of his hips into hers. The sound of skin thudding wetly and smacks of his hand to her flesh were loud in the room.

Harry held onto her hips, squeezing tightly as he gave her bottom a break from the strikes.

“My dick is coated in your cream. Ffuuck little girl. Goddamn best girl I’ve had. Can you rub your sweet little pussy for me? Put your fingers where you need them. Show Daddy you’re a good girl.”

Harry’s deep voice and the sound of his fat cock penetrating her wet hole were egging her on as she brought her hand between her legs to get herself closer to the edge as she rubbed her clit.

His engorged cock twitched when he felt her fingers brush against his balls as he thumped into her over and over again.

She began to see stars as she sputtered inarticulate words. Harry was going in hard but he felt so good inside of her. The way he was holding her hips kept her grounded as his balls whacked into her on each thrust. She could feel how wet his scrotum was from her arousal soaking him.

But then her eyes popped open and her whining and choked moans halted when he released one of her hips and put his fingers over her bum. On her anus. She hadn’t expected it.

Harry slowed his movements as he spoke, “Oh did that surprise you? How am I supposed to keep my hands off your tiny hole here,” he rubbed it as he spoke, still fucking into her deeply but slowly now, “when she’s looking directly up at me all empty and needy?”

She felt liquid drip over her bottom when Harry spit down onto her puckered hole and rub his saliva around, “Can I? Just a finger. It’s going to feel so good.”

Y/n panted and nodded, “Okay.”

Never once had she done anything sexual with her bottom. She’d never played with herself there, nor considered having anyone do it for her either. Her husband had certainly never tried.

More spit was rubbed over the hole and she felt Harry’s finger slowly push in as she continued rubbing her button and Harry continued filling her cunt with his heavy cock. It felt odd. Not like being fingered in her pussy. A very different sensation but it wasn’t bad. Well, she’d say that it was actually pretty good in combination with everything else.

“Relax for me. Let me make you feel good.” His finger fucked into her ass as he slowly began to increase the tempo of his hips.

“Ahh!” She squeaked out as he dipped into her cervix and she clenched over his cock and his finger at the ache.

“S’okay. M’cock’s getting in there deep, isn’t it? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking her head she spoke with her words coming out in punches between his thrusts, “Please! Don’t stop! Need you!”

She did need him. Needed him to keep doing what he was doing. Needed his dirty words, his big cock, and his long fingers. She was going to come if he continued.

Harry panted and groaned at what he was seeing and feeling. Not only was she making him feel so good, but watching her pussy being fucked and her ass being fingered was a dream.

He slid his finger in and out gently and he could tell that she was starting to relax a little. A good sign. He’d love to fuck her bottom one day. Get her nice and open and just wreck all of her holes.

Harry’s long, fast strokes into her pussy were devasting her insides. She knew she’d be limping the next day but that thought only excited her.

Applying just the right amount of pressure to her clit as she rubbed, feeling Harry’s finger slipping in and out of her, and with the way his cock was working into her so deep she could no longer stop her body from shaking and her lungs from gasping for air loudly.

Harry felt her walls squeeze and pulse around him as he continued rolling his hips into her steadily, fucking her through her orgasm, her moans and gasps, her fingers at her clit, and her thighs shaking… he smiled as he threw his head back to feel it. To feel her in her orgasm. Her soft insides, wet, and contracting around him.

“Fuck, baby… it’s that good is it?” Harry looked down at the scene below. Absolutely filthy. His wide cock parted her fluttering pussy as it gripped him tight. Her arousal was slathered over him.

As she began to loosen up and he could tell she was done he gently pulled out, both his cock and his finger, “Good girl. Can you lie on your back? I’m almost there. Just need a little more. Want to make you come one more time.”

Y/n gulped and adjusted herself onto her back, “I’m not sure I can come again.”

Harry climbed over her and put his palms over her tits again, “You’ll come again.”

She watched him as he allowed his gaze to look over her body. She really wished he wouldn’t look too closely like he was. She felt a bit embarrassed. Being chubby was always something she contended with for as long as she could remember. As confident as she conveyed herself in her day-to-day, the truth was that once her clothes came off she felt well below average.

Harry gently brushed his fingers along her cheekbone and slowly pushed back in, the front of his thighs pressed into the back of hers.

The feel of him re-entering her was sharp and achy. He’d already done quite a number on her. She was positive she wouldn’t have another orgasm. Impossible.

“I love how you feel. Fuck, baby.”

He angled himself so he was pushing down into her, splitting her pussy and pressing deeply.

“Ahh!” She hadn’t expected the way it would feel when he pushed her hips upward and fucked down into her. It was tight and he was long and it pinched the smallest bit but when she looked at his face she saw ecstasy. He was definitely close.

“So tight isn’t it? Taking me so good, Y/n. Wanna feel you come once more. Just squeezing the fuck out of me again so when I come I can feel you milking me, sucking my dick into your cunt, begging for my come.”

Y/n moaned at the words. It was hot. Harry’s strong body and his roughness, and the way he spoke were so hot.

He moved his hand from her cheek down to her neck and softly squeezed, “It’s so messy down there sweet girl. Just drenching me. Can you hear that?” His question was punctuated by the noises their bodies made together. His lengthy prick pushing into her and dragging back to the tip before impaling her again. Over and over. The slick sounds of his condom coated in her, spreading her open. Her body felt it all. She had been so sensitive after her orgasm and now her insides were aching in delight. The feel of him wide and thick inside and then deep as he dipped all the way in sent zips and currents through her body.

Harry enjoyed the way his body felt inside of her. It was lavish and soft and warm and she was so wet for him, so needy. Her big tits were swaying as he thrust deep and her nipples were peaked. He loved how she looked with his hand over her throat. He wanted to do so much more. Preferred it far rougher but this was their first, and perhaps only time. He didn’t generally enjoy scaring them off on night one. A few rounds on separate occasions and he’d show what he was really into. He hoped this wouldn’t be their last time. He felt like she’d enjoy what he was into. Felt like she might be too. She liked to be choked a little. She called him Daddy even which was making him lose his mind. She’d be into the idea of playing into his breeding kink too he bet.

And that thought sent him so deep into his fantasy he began to feel his orgasm swell into his balls. Just imagining her plush body and wide hips taking him like he needed. He needed to fuck a lot. He normally masturbated about twice a day when he didn’t have someone to come inside of. But when he was in a steady relationship he’d drain his cock all day long when there was time for it.

He could just see Y/n’s cunt dripping with his come and he’d make her lie flat and keep it inside of her so it would soak into her. The idea that she could get pregnant by him. Fill her with his sperm and make her body grow thicker and softer with his babies. Her tits would swell and engorge.

But that was just a fantasy. Now he was fucking so hard and so deep into the hottest woman he’d had in a long time. Her plump hips and soft pussy were begging him for more. Even though she insisted she couldn’t come again, he could already tell she was getting even slicker for him. Her body preparing for her third orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her mouth was wide open.

“Y’gonna come for me, little girl. Come on Daddy’s cock. You can do it. I know you can. Can feel you fluttering around me already. So needy for more aren’t you?”

The words she wanted to say were yes and don’t stop, please! But instead, she gurgled and choked her moans when his pelvis rubbed over hers, offering her clit the friction needed. A few more of his harsh strokes and the way their bodies connected, rubbing and pushing into one another had her button being worked just like she wanted.

Harry coughed out a laugh but then groaned when he felt her begin to shake, “Oh, baby. Ffuck… thought you said you couldn’t come again? Hm? Look at that…” his strokes were long and deep as he felt her body give way to another orgasm. Her spasming cunt squeezed his cock deliciously and Harry pumped himself into her so she could come properly while getting railed and having her clit stimulated all at once.

And just as she was beginning to relax Harry finally released. He choked out a moan and stilled his hips, pushing in so his cockhead was pressing deep into her, wishing he was coating her insides, filling her with her sperm. But as it was, this was not bad either. In fact, even with the stupid condom, it was really good. The best. He hissed as his cock throbbed inside of her, his long dick pumping his come out to the tip and into the condom.

She felt him twitching inside of her as his orgasm shot through his cock. He was a glorious sight to behold above her. His panted breaths and mouth dropped open as ecstasy took over his features. Her pussy was doing that to him. It made her smile as he stilled his hips and let out a low rumble. She did that to him. She’d made him come twice in one night. She made Harry Styles have two orgasms and he gave her three. Unheard of. Absolutely insane.

Her chest was still rising and falling heavily as Harry opened his eyes and looked down at her. She felt it, the way he looked at her. How connected they were. This wasn’t just sex. Or maybe it was, she really wouldn’t know because she’d been out of the game for some time. Perhaps this was just how he was with everyone he fucked. Made them dreamy and drowsy and feel things deeply for him. His charm was off the charts. Perhaps it was just that. Maybe nothing more.

Harry leaned down kissed the edge of her mouth and then pressed his lips firmly over hers, his cock still half-hard inside of her. He could get used to this. She was so open with him and somehow they just worked together. And even though this was all physical, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this connection went beyond the physical. He did like her. A lot. Already. But that was how he was. He’d fall in love and then fall out of it just as quickly. He had to be careful. Not to hurt himself. Not to hurt her. He gazed down at her with a tired smile.

“Stay the night. Want you again in the morning. Would like to have you here with me in bed. Keep me warm.”

She swallowed and her heart thrashed in her chest. He was too good. This man could make anyone fall in love. She knew it. But she wasn’t going to say no. She likely would never have the chance with him again. And if the following morning was anything like what had just happened, well, she quickly found herself nodding, “Yes. Okay.”

. . .

She felt her thighs tingling and her hips were aching when she squinted her eyes open. She couldn’t read the clock on the table next to the bed. Her vision was blurry but the sun was peeking through the cracks of the curtains. It was morning. And the only reason she’d woken up was because Harry was lying behind her. He was moving the slightest with his chest pressed against her back and his breath on her neck.

She lifted her head and Harry perked up when he realized she was awake, “Good thing you’re awake. Was getting lonely here,” he spoke as he softly grazed his hand up over her tummy and then indulgently squeezed at her breast.

She swallowed and croaked out her words, “I would have slept longer I think.”

“You can go back to sleep if you really want,” he suddenly shifted and rutted into her bottom and it was then that she felt his stiff cock pressing into her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for more of him, “Um… I’m a little sore-“

“Yeah? Did I go too hard for you last night?” Harry continued pushing his cock into her cheeks. They were both naked so the sensation of his warm, big, prick pushing into her plump flesh was quite salacious.

“I actually loved it. Never thought I’d like anything like that…”

“Mmm… loved it you say? And you’re sure you’re too sore for one more? I can go in gently and make you come again. One more for the road?” He kissed her neck as he continued humping her. His cock was already leaking he was so hard for her, so needy for her pussy again.

Harry was quite convincing. And she was already getting turned on by the way he was pressing into her and kissing her neck. And he wanted her again?

“Well, if you can be gentle then I think I’d like that.”

Harry smiled into her neck and massaged her breast in gratitude before bringing his hand down to her hip and pulling at her so he could see her pussy lips peeking out between the back of her thighs when he backed up just a bit and stroked his cock through her soft labia.

“You’re already wet for me, baby. So needy for Daddy’s cock even when she’s sore. Gonna take good care of you okay?”

Pressing his tip to her entrance he groaned when he realized he needed a condom. He felt like soon enough, if she wanted to stick around, they’d forgo the safety measure. He wanted so badly to fuck her raw but it was too soon, “Fuck. I need to grab a condom. Stay right here.”

Harry was back behind her in only a handful of moments. She’d already begun rubbing her clit in preparation for him. She wanted to make sure she was fully aroused and ready for his wide cock.

“Good girl. Keep rubbing yourself like that. See how juicy you are already? Perfect…” he nearly purred as he pushed into her tight muscle. It was especially taut as he snapped forward and his wide crown finally popped into her. Once he had the swollen tip inside of her he pushed in until he was met with a bit of resistance. She was extra sensitive and snug but the sensation was incredible as her soft walls squeezed around him, the deeper he got the tighter it felt.

He was slow and gentle just like he said he’d be. He massaged her tit and kissed her neck and her jaw as he slowly rolled his hips into her.

“S’like fucking an angel. Your pussy is so goddamn perfect, baby. M’obessessed. Your body,” he pinched her nipple, “your tits, your lips,” each part he commented on he fucked inward with a slightly harder push, just to make his point as he lowered his hand down the curve of her waist to her hip, “your fine ass. All so perfect.”

Y/n breathed his words in as his cock drove into her deep, filling her so fully and perfectly. Those things had never been said to her before. Not in that way. She slipped her fingers back and forth over her clit and the tips of her fingers were grazing his cock as he fucked into her slowly, deeply. Everything was wet and perfect. He was right. This did feel perfect. Felt better than any other fucking ever. Harry was so good in bed. He hit all her spots (mentally and physically).

“I need it. Harry, I need it so bad,” she surprised herself as she moaned the words.

But suddenly Harry stopped, pushing his cock as deep as it could get and he grabbed her chin and turned her head so she could see him from her peripheral, “Call me Daddy when I’m fucking you. Be a good girl and I’ll let you come again.”

Why did she find that so hot? So fucking appealing? She had no idea. It was like something had been turned on inside of her that she had no clue was lying there beneath the surface. Maybe it was just Harry. But whatever it was she’d be fantasizing about this and needing this dominance in bed from any future partners.

“Sorry. Yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”

Harry groaned and released her chin and began to pump into her plump folds and she sped up her fingers as he spoke into her ear, “Say it again. Say you need me.”

She swallowed and her face was boiling hot as Harry’s long cock pressed into her guts and then backed out, punching her walls apart with each plunge, “I… fuck… yesss! I need you, Daddy. Please…”

Harry choked out a groan and smacked her bottom, “God I’m gonna imagine those words coming from your mouth every night. Say it again. Louder. Come on baby…”

Her voice was shaky like her thighs as her brain began to unravel and her orgasm started to spring out from her center, “I need you, Daddy! I’m your good girl!” She moaned as loudly as possible and Harry smiled with his cock happily coated in her.

Just then a knock came to the door, “Mr. Styles?” Someone spoke from behind the wood.

“Fuck,” Harry spoke lowly. He never stopped rolling his hips into hers as he shouted, “I’m busy!”

“Sorry to bother you. But we’ve been trying to call you all morning. We have a package delivery for you from the Secrist Gallery. Shall we just leave it out here?”

Everything paused. Y/n craned her neck to look at Harry and when their eyes met she saw his dark pupils and wet pink lips, messy hair. He was an angel, grinning at her, “Just leave it out there. I’ll be out soon.”

“Secrist Gallery? Did you-“

Harry pushed his mouth to hers and began to thrust again, speaking against her lips, “Keep rubbing that pussy for Daddy. It’s time to come. Need you to come.”

Her half-melted brain complied and as Harry increased his pace their bodies began to slap together, wet noises coming from them on each stroke. Harry kept his tongue in her mouth and his fingers pinching her nipple as they writhed together.

She felt him slicing into her, his cock suddenly harder than steel inside of her and her fingers slippery over her clit. He was shaking, holding back his release and his kisses became sloppy, wet, wide-open-mouthed, tongue all over her lips and inside of her mouth.

She inhaled sharply when the dam broke. She moaned into his mouth and he moaned into hers as they both came at the same time, she pushed against him to get him deeper inside and he stuffed himself into the hilt, his balls thick and bursting tucked up against her as he spilled into his condom. Her vision went dark and her ears began to ring as Harry continued to kiss her, lick her, suck the life out of her.

It was insane how hard she came. She had never had a man so effortlessly work her up and make her come like Harry had. Wave after wave of electricity zipped through her body as she pulsed and sucked his cock in, gripping around him.

Eventually, they stopped moving and began to breathe again. Heavy pants and soft coos fell from their lips. The afterglow was incredible. Harry hadn’t felt it like that before. And he hated that he had to leave. That he needed to send her off and go away to his next destination.

When her brain began to fit itself back together inside of her skull she turned again to look at him as he slid out, “Did you buy a painting? Of mine?”

Harry rolled onto his back and smirked at her, “I did.”

She laughed and smacked his chest, “Which one? Why didn’t you say anything? How did you do it? I didn’t see you at the gallery.”

Harry sat up and pulled at Y/n’s arm, needing her closer, “I had one of my assistants go and take a photo of each one. I picked the one I liked the most. You named the piece The Lonely Dark. Love it. I loved a lot of them. But figured for now just one will do since I’ve got to have it shipped to LA.

The Lonely Dark. A sort of nod to her husband. What had been and the way she felt at night when she was alone with no one. She swallowed and Harry kissed her cheek, “Is it okay that I bought one? Is that weird?”

Y/n laughed and shook her head, “No. I’m flattered that Harry Styles wanted to buy a painting of mine. I’m gonna tell everyone that you own one of my pieces now.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll invite you to my house in LA when I get back to the States after the next leg of my tour so you can see where I’ve hung it.”

She pushed at him in jest, “Yeah right. Don’t tease. You don’t actually want me at your private home.”

Harry grabbed her hand and brought it up to his chest with a frown on his face, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Shaking her head she blinked her eyes, “Because. You’re Harry Styles. I’m some girl from the Midwest who paints. I’m just saying, don’t say things like that when you don’t mean it.”

“But I meant it. I really like you, Y/n. I want to see you again.”

It was unexpected. She didn’t imagine he’d actually be inviting her to his home or telling her he wanted to see her again. But she was so stunned by his admission that she couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Well then you’re gonna need to give me your number.”

Chapter 2

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