#were fourteen. they thought i was thirteen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 10 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

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18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat��as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

part five

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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muli-wam · 18 days ago

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A/n: tell a friend to tell a friend... she's Baaaaaack 👀👀

cw: SMUTTT, fingering, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, thigh fucking, squirting, uhhh that's it I think..

Tutor!Suguru who promises that for every question you get right, he'll make you come.

In retrospect, that sounds like a hell of a good time, but here you were, slouched in your seat with suguru's slender fingers pistoning into your wet cunt as you come for the -nth time.

Tutor!Suguru who chuckles at your fucked out state, curling two fingers up toward that spongy spot that made you squeal. "Y'gonna come again, pretty girl?" Suguru rasps against your ear.

"Mmfph- y-yeah," you breathe, reaching a hand over to thread your fingers through his raven locks.

"Yeah? Come f'me then," He says before bringing you into a deep kiss, thrusting his fingers faster.

Tutor!Suguru who watches in awe as you come undone around him, his purple eyes gazing up and down over your trembling figure.

Tutor!Suguru who slowly pulls three sopping wet digits out of your pussy and brings them up to shove down your throat.

"Suck~" he mutters into your ear. Your kiss bitten lips suck your arousal off his fingers as your tongue swirls around his cold rings.

Tutor!Suguru who takes his fingers out of your mouth and pulls you into a searing kiss. You let out a wanton moan against his lips as he tugs at your hips and pulls you into his lap so you're facing him.

Tutor!Suguru who pulls away breathlessly, studying your feature for a instant before fixing his gaze on the half graded pop quiz he gave you an hour ago.

Tutor!Suguru who reaches behind you, picking up the paper and reading over the contents before muttering, "let's see here... you got number twelve and thirteen wrong."

You sigh in relief at the thought of not having to endure anymore orgasms. Your body and brain were pretty much turned to mush and your panties were so soaked you think they may have become one with your body.

Tutor!Suguru who smirks when he sees that you got questions fourteen and fifteen correct.

"Y'got two more in you, angel?" He smiles whilst creeping a hand into your panties once again.

Tutor!Suguru who chuckles at your protests of being too tired. Though you made no effort to stop him when he started rubbing your overstimulated clit.

"Suguuu," you whine.

"You can take it yeah? Need you to take it, baby," he all but moans.

Tutor!Suguru who starts rubbing his hard, leaking cock against your thigh, fucking himself to the sounds of your moans.

Tutor!Suguru who makes the both of you finish but doesn't stop. No, instead he fuck you on his fingers faster.

"S'too much Sugu-" you gasp while squirting all over his hand.

Tutor!Suguru who pulls his hard cock out of his sweats and ruts like a dog in heat against your exposed thigh.

"J'st one more, baby. Promise,"

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mysunshinetemptress · 3 months ago

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Glitter in the Air

Grace Clinton x Albert!Reader

Warnings: Internalised homophobia, homophobia

A/n thank you @silentwolfsstuff for proofreading it for me.

You can still remember the first time you felt different, felt different from your family, from Korbin.

You’re ten when you and Korbin sit up all night as she talks about Shawn, a boy in your class that she’s currently crushing on, you listen like you always have and smile as her cheeks redden as she talks about holding his hand in the yard.

Your cheeks redden a short while later but for different reasons, the conversation moves to what boy you have a crush on.

It’s not a boy, it hasn’t been a boy since you kissed Dylan behind the tree in his backyard, You haven’t liked a boy since Aaliyah held your hand at the last school dance, since she kissed your cheek in the girls bathroom.

You’re sick you think,a short while after it happens, that’s why you have these funny feelings, maybe Aaliyah made you sick by holding your hand and kissing your cheek and that’s why your stomach feels funny, you feel this sinking feeling in your stomach as you think of it more, you’re sick now, you can’t hold anyone’s hand anymore you can’t kiss your mom good night because you’re sick, Aaliyah made you sick and you don’t want to give to anyone especially not your family, especially not Korbin and Teagan and Kylar and your Dad. So you stop, no one else can be sick like you, you’ll keep it to yourself and that way everyone will be safe.

But you can’t tell Korbin this, she doesn’t seem to have these types of feelings for girls, she’s not sick, no one seems to have these types of feeling for girls except your Dad and Kyler, but they're boys, they are supposed to feel that way, they aren’t sick like you, it what your mom says, it’s what the pastor says, it’s what the bible says.

You try to stop having these feelings as you get older you really do, you try to pray away your sickness, you pour holy water over your hands daily and you bless yourself extra going to mass but still nothing works.

You get a boyfriend when you turn fifteen a couple of months after Korbin starts dating Ethan you find Will.

He’s nice and you parents love him the same way his parents love you but you never feel what Korbin and Teagan say they feel with their boyfriends.

They aren’t sick like you.

You do however feel it with Kayla, you don’t mean to, you never meant to but she’s soft and nice to talk to not that Will isn’t but when you talk with her on the bus ride home from your match and you swear your hearts going to beat out of your chest.

Kayla tries to kiss you a couple of weeks later but you panic “what are you doing.” Kayla’s still has her hands on your face your cheeks slightly squished together “I just thought that…well you know since…” you pull fully back “I have a boyfriend Kay, Will he’s nice and I can’t do this to him.”

Kayla’s eyes widen “wait does…are you saying that if you weren’t with Will you would.” You panic at the pulling away stepping back trying to create distance. “I’m not gay.” You state harshly “I’m not sick.” You spit harsher again. Kayla tried to but she really couldn’t be mad you looked so heartbroken and so conflicted “ok my mistake.”

You avoid her on the bus from then on, and you find yourself sitting alone, she’s the only other sophomore on the varsity team, if you don’t talk to her, sit with her then you’ll be alone. You are alone. You’re the only one who’s sick.

You’ve been getting called to play for the US since you were thirteen, Korbin following a year later at fourteen. You move along the ranks of football better and your parents can’t help but show how happy they are for you, how happy your sisters and brother are for you, but still you feel lost. You still feel sick.

You travel to France in the summer of 2019 it’s a gift from your parents for getting baptised and giving your life to god, you don’t do it cause you want to, you do it in hopes it will rid you of this sickness you do it in hopes of being normal.

But it also makes your parents happy it makes Korbin happy as she bounces in the water beside you.

You sit anxiously as the US win the World Cup again. A funny feeling fills you as you watch Kelly O’Hara run to the crowd and kiss a girl, sure you knew most of the senior squad players were gay but to actually see one in real life kissing a girl, it felt weird.

But that feeling faded quickly as Korbin let out a small ew at the sight instead your body now felt heavy like you were being pulled down, “I mean I know she’s a girl kisser but can’t she do that in private.” Teagan nods “it’s sick honestly it’s like they are trying to force us into accepting it.”

You and Will are still together, even when Korbin’s gone and had three other boyfriends, but you still don’t have those feelings your friends and sisters talk about, maybe you just have to stick with him a little longer.

Maybe you just need to sleep with him and the feelings will start then, maybe the sickness will go away then.

It’s what you tell yourself leading up to the varsity teams dance, it’s what you tell yourself as you dance with him through the night, it’s what you tell yourself when your kissing in the corner of the hall and it’s what you tell yourself as your lying on the bed Will pressed up against you. But it never happens.

You break up with him just before summer that year. “I….I’m sorry Will I just, I don’t…they all have these feelings and I don’t have them and…you deserve someone who has them cause your a really great guy and I don’t…you would just be left waiting for me to get feelings I don’t think will ever come.”

He takes it relatively well, you’re just happy that you can still be friends, Korbin takes it worse than both of you combined.

“Oh my god I just heard, are you ok…stupid question sorry come on let’s go get ice cream.” You don’t know what else to do but you can’t indulge in the bad things she’s saying about him “He’s not a bad guy Korbin I broke up with him, he…I don’t have these feelings you and Teagan talk about for him and it’s not fair on him so I broke up with him.” I’m sick and he’s not and I don’t want to put that on him you think.

Korbin takes that as you fancy someone else and the heart to heart you thought you were having turns into gossip about who it could be that you like.

You're seventeen still when it’s time to make a decision about your football career. College is the best option but it’s not the only one for you like it is for Korbin.

The decision hangs heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the sunlit afternoon. Notre Dame, a prestigious institution, beckoned with its ivy-covered walls and storied tradition. It's where Korbin will be but it wasn't the dream. The dream was painted in Carolina blue, a vision of playing for UNC, a place where legends like Tobin Heath and Lucy Bronze had once graced the field.

The phone call from Manchester United shattered the familiar. A senior contract, not a youth academy invite. A chance to step onto the world stage, to play in the WSL not some college league, not the NCAA. It was a dream come true, but a dream that Korbin was still a few years off reaching.

You couldn't help but feel guilty, you were twins you did everything together, but for many years you had been charging ahead in soccer, you just had to hope she'd catch up eventually.

You don't expect it to make major news, your still only seventeen but your mom sends a clip of an ESPN headline stating your signing to Manchester United.

Y/n Albert is on her way to the WSL signing with Manchester United, Albert’s twin sister Korbin commits to Notre Dame.

You move a short while later, your parents coming with you to help you settle into your new apartment, you feel happy, content even until your mom states her worries for you living in the English city.

"I worry about you baby, you know there are so many...gays here and well i don't want any of them trying to force themselves on you, their sick individuals and your my baby."

You feel as though you might throw up then and there at the reminder of your sickness.

"Mom" you whine "No ones going to do anything, I....I'll be fine."

They leave a few days later, with the promise of geting on a flight and coming to rescue you if needed, you brush them off stepping back as your mom moves in for a hug and instead simply waving goodbye.

United finish fourth on the table, but you have a dream first season, so much so you get your first call up to the USWNT, you cry on the phone to Korbin as she cries back about how proud she is, your parents are proud to but your moms also busy wondering if you've met any nice english boys, again the moment is ruined and you feel sick again.

Y/n Albert receives her first call up for the USWNT after a dream first season with the Red Devils, making an appearance in every match this season and starting in nineteen games, assisting Untied star striker Alessia Russo with six of her eleven goals.

It's true you've assisted the majority of Alessia's goals but you haven't celebrated a single one, not on or off the pitch, in fact your team have copped on pretty quickly that you don't want to be hugged, to be touched.

You want nothing more, but the girls are to good to get sick from you, Alessia who you can't help but admit you've got a slight crush for is to good to get this awful sickness from you, its safer if you don't hug...don't touch your teammates.

Y/n Albert receives first cap for the USWNT against Costa Rica in the CONCAF semi-finals which saw the USWNT advancing to the finals after a 3-0 score.

You return back to Manchester, a winner with two senior national team caps under your belt, after facing Canda in the final, your english teamates have won the euros and while they are all showing off their medal standing around hugging your teamates, you stand far back in the corner of your dressing room.

Your medal gets passed around too, you've scrubbed it clean making sure none of your germs are on it so the girls don't get sick, its been in your bag ever since and you simply wave at Less to grab it from there when she asks about it.

It's a big deal, a real medal but you can't cause a fuss over it because then people want to congratulate you, touch you, so you wave it all off.

You wave it off. until a girl around the same age as you with a funny accent hands it back "That's proper cool mate." You look between her and the medal, three maybe four times.

She steps forward her arms open, open for a hug but they swiftly close as you step back and her face falls slightly.

She sticks her hand out "Sorry" and now your eyes flash between her outstretched hand, your medal and her face. "Less says you're not a hugger I forgot, but its really great to meet you mate, I'm Grace."

You don't move, your mind is blank, in fact all you can think about is how she says her Gs a weird way, and as her face falls slightly at your lack of response to her open hand your brain kicks in.

"Y/n." you say shakily, but still don't move. Grace drops her hand smiling and all you can think about is how your stomach erupts into butterflies.

But it only lasts a moment, only a moment until you feel your stomach drop, your blood to go cold and the heavy feeling to fall back on to you.

Your sickness is back, and you can't give it to Grace, not now not ever.

Grace and her funny little way of saying Gs.

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metamorphicrocky · 1 year ago

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at first I thought it was endearing to see the doctor constantly being like "oh do I say things like that now? is this who I am?" because it's an old face but with all the experiences and changes that come with living longer. so unlike ten, fourteen is open about his feelings because there were lingering regrets with not telling people how she felt as thirteen

BUT NOW. not-donna saying you're scared. because of the flux. because the universe destroyed itself just in the chance it could destroy you. and you know now that you're not from gallifrey and that scares you. because the doctor is scared. everything they ever knew is thrown out because on top of everything an old face came back and the doctor can't figure out why

the timeless child and the flux just being MENTIONED brought the doctor to frightened tears and we have never seen anything like that before. the doctor is so so lost and just wants to know who they are. so regenerating into something new but old has thrown them off so much that at every turn he thinks "huh. is this who I am?" and it is so strange to see the doctor unsure about themself, questioning their identity every second. and it is HEARTBREAKING

#HE JUST WANTED TO HUG DONNA I'M DEVASTATED 😭😭#ALSO I WAS SO SCARED WE WERE JUST GONNA IGNORE JODIE'S ERA BUT WE STAY FUCKING WINNING #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #doctor who special #wild blue yonder #dw spoilers #dw specials #dw 60th #tenth doctor #fourteenth doctor #thirteenth doctor #the doctor

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scariusaquarius · 2 months ago

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rehab masterlist.

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

A/n: Hello! This is a masterlist for my story, Rehab, featuring Avenger! Bucky and Winter Soldier! Reader. This list will be updated with every chapter that is released, so make sure to check back every now and then just in case that you missed something! You may also read it HERE on my Archive of our Own account!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate for any Russian written cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

Author: ScariusAquarius

Chapter One: Midst of Winter Chapter Two: The Dust of Snow from a Hemlock Tree Chapter Three: The Cold Earth Slept Below Chapter Four: The Edge of Winter Sky Leaning Over Us in Icy Stars Chapter Five: To Shake in the Surf of the Winter Dark Chapter Six: We Wait for a Winter Lion Chapter Seven: A Frozen Drop of Dew Chapter Eight: Winter Opens Air to Iris Blue Chapter Nine: The Great Cold Eye of Winter Moon Chapter Ten: To Regard the Frost and the Boughs Chapter Eleven: In This Valley the Snow Falls Silently Chapter Twelve: In Her Cold Arms Chapter Thirteen: Chionophobia: The Fear of Snow Chapter Fourteen: Breaking the Ice Chapter Fifteen: In the Cold of Night

#bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america #masterlist

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grandline-fics · 6 months ago

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Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 1,649

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. I hope you all like how this turned out as much as I did. This is my first time writing for Doflamingo so hopefully I got his personality right enough

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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Your Marine unit’s task had been a simple one, stay hidden and observe. That was it, any criminal activity was to be recorded for physical evidence and reported immediately. No interference at all. Your superior believed that this group of lowlifes were working directly under someone else, someone bigger and they were who they wanted to take down, not a bunch of easily replaced criminals. The only way to completely rid the evil and corruption of the town was to go for the root. That had been the plan and everyone had stuck to it as they had been ordered. That was until one of the newer recruits with a thirst to prove himself decided to be reckless.

The second there was confirmation that the criminal group had a large stockade of weapons, ammunition and barrels of explosives in the nearby warehouse the idiot acted. They believed if they destroyed such a valuable haul then it would surely draw their target out from the shadows. You and the others who were more experienced of the unit drilled it into his head that it wasn’t a wise decision. Not only could a lot go wrong with potential endangerment to civilians but it was also not part of anyone’s orders. For a moment you thought he listened but as you turned in for the night you didn’t like the look you caught in the cadet’s eyes.

It was just as well that you couldn’t sleep because it meant you were able to catch the cadet sneaking out of your encampment. Swearing under your breath you grabbed your weapon and pulled on your shoes to hurry after him. If you could get him back to camp without any harm done he could still keep his job. That had been the plan anyway but he’d managed to make use of his head start and snuck into the warehouse before you got there. You slid to a stop outside the warehouse and felt a chill run over your spine despite it being a comfortably warm night. You'd been so focused on catching up that you hadn’t noticed that there was no-one guarding the warehouse. Even for a group of low tier criminals there would be no way they would leave such precious cargo unattended. Panicked you looked towards the warehouse as the faint sound of a match being struck sounded.

In a blink the explosion boomed through the air, your body being thrown back and crashing loudly and painfully through the stacks of crates behind you. Ears ringing and vision swimming you hit the ground and tumbled until the momentum died off leaving you flat on your back and blinking through the pain and choking on the smoke and ash hanging heavily in the air. You managed to roll onto your side and shakily braced your hands onto the cold ground to push yourself up. You winced and gasped sharply at the feeling of your ribs grinding painfully, protesting any movement. Something was either cracked or broken and only now did you feel the wetness of blood against your head spreading against your cheek.

For a moment you foolishly dared to think it could have been worse but then as you sensed people approach you knew better than to tempt fate. Of course those that had set the trap would make themselves known. One by one your sight took in the figures of those you’d been observing but then sauntering behind at a relaxed pace and amused, wild grin shaping his face was the Warlord Doflamingo. The bright flames burning what remained of the warehouse glinting against his silhouette only made him appear more menacing. In that moment you knew there was no getting out of this alive. The warehouse of weapons was his operation, if he let you live to report to your superiors it could be enough to revoke his protected status as Warlord and that wasn’t an option.

You knew that nothing could be done. You were outmatched by him and seeing two new individuals lingering behind him told you he had more subordinates lurking. If he'd had enough time to rig the warehouse to explode then chances were he already knew about the rest of your unit too. If he didn’t know then you weren't going to be the one to give them up. Remaining on the ground you reached for your gun, glaring at Doflamingo when his laughter began to fill the space between you. His steps remained leisurely as he continued to advance towards you. Her was the grinning cat and you were the wounded bird, he could take his time and he certainly wasn’t afraid of your silly little pistol. However his smile twitched when you turned the barrel towards your own chest, not his. Now that was curious but boring.

For the first time that night he put effort into his movements and closed the distance, his large hand closing over yours and disarming you with a simple tug. Frustrated at not even being allowed to go on your terms you glared furiously at the man in front of you. The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was getting stronger. “I’m not going to tell you anything. Just kill me and be done with it.”

“Oh I don’t need you to tell me anything.” Doflamingo chuckled, playfully spinning the gun on his finger with one hand while this others flexed to let you see the faint glimmer of his strings. “I do need you to do something for me though. You’re going to deal with the rest of your unit and then I’ll kill you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds awful.” You spat out at him, angered that you’d suspected right and he knew about your unit and also devastated that you couldn’t save them. You knew a small amount about Doflamingo’s abilities from talk at the Marine base but hadn’t witnessed it for yourself. It was just another sickening addition of salt on the wound that you’d be forced to kill your unit, your friends before he would be bored enough to end you with that power. “Can you at least knock me out before you control me to do it?”

Doflamingo chuckled once more, intrigued by your attitude. He'd encountered begging, desperate attempts at buying their life, defiant bluster that they’d never do as he wished, but he couldn't recall someone be so accepting of their fate but still so headstrong. For a second he considered your request but then decided no, he wanted you to be conscious for the fun. With a twitch and arch of his fingers he used his strings to make you his puppet. He rose from his crouched position in front of you and looked down in confusion to see you hadn't moved as he directed. His stretched grin lessened as he moved his hand again, a clear order for you to lift your arm into the arm but it didn’t budge. You were unaffected.

With laboured breaths you tilted your head up to regard him silently, that fierce look never leaving your hazy, pain-filled stare. You were waiting for him to take control of your body. If he waited any longer you would pass out from your injuries. Now he was in no mood for his tormenting games. Keeping his hand by his side and hidden by the mass of pink feathers he created a new attack, one to slice your throat with enough force to take your head cleanly from your neck.

You shivered as a sudden wisp of air sped over you and then you flinched to hear the grating of stone. Glancing back you saw the deep gouge cut into the ground behind you, a long but clean line. Unconsciously Doflamingo took a step back from you with your head turned. Something was wrong. His power wasn’t working. Just who were you? What had you done? Anger and a sudden feeling of power being tipped from him he turned sharply and sent his threads at his low ranked underlings, feeling a rush of satisfaction to see their bodies jerk in complete surrender to his Devil Fruit. Wordlessly he commanded them to advance to where the other Marines were, to kill them like you had meant to. “Wh-what are you doing?“

Doflamingo turned and watched you force the power into your heavy limbs, the force of the explosion taking their toll on you. Slowly you pushed into the ground once more to try and make yourself stand but that was the final straw for your body to handle. With a groan, you crumpled onto the ground, unconscious and completely at Doflamingo’s mercy, that was if he actually had any. As Doflamingo continued to stare at you he heard Diamante approach, his elite officer just as confused by what went wrong. “Doffy? What happened?”

“A complication.” Doflamingo answered, trying once more to attack your defenceless form with your own pistol but the bullet whizzed by you even though his aim was perfect and struck the ground less than inch to the left of your head. He couldn’t risk someone like you being allowed to remain out in the open but deep down he couldn’t give the order to the others to kill you. He told himself that he wouldn’t do that, not until he knew exactly what your strange power was. For all he knew others out there were capable of such feats against his powers too. Until he knew the cause and how to ensure he could deal with it he wasn��t taking any chances. In the distance Doflamingo heard the sound of gunfire and yelling as his men attacked your unit. With a huff he crouched down and lifted you over his shoulder. “Come on, we're going home. Send their picture to Vergo, I want to know exactly who I’m dealing with.”

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld

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lupinqs · 3 months ago

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SERIES MASTERLIST (my main masterlist)

summary:

in which paige tears her ACL, forcing jo to step into a leadership role she never expected as a freshman. paige is there to encourage and coach her on, and in turn, jo supports paige through every step of her recovery. as roommates and quickly growing best friends, paige and jo find themselves leaning on each other in ways that challenge everything they thought they knew. but with a national championship on the line and a boyfriend in the way, both jo and paige are afraid to confront feelings they never thought they’d have to face.

content/themes:

teammates to best friends to lovers, they were roommatessss, slow burn, sexuality discovery, fluff, angst (if you squint), smut, underage alcohol consumption, smoking, cursing

playlist:

character list:

here

❀ ━━━━━ CHAPTER GUIDE:

i. Chapter One ━━ Move-in Day

jo and paige move into their apartment.

ii. Chapter Two ━━ Quickly-Growing-Maybe-Soon-Best-Friend

paige and jo’s friendship grows.

iii. Chapter Three ━━ Mia, The Menace

paige and jo hang out with jo’s younger sister, mia.

iv. Chapter Four ━━ I’ll Be Here

paige tears her acl.

v. Chapter Five ━━ I Get You

paige struggles to deal with her injury.

vi. Chapter Six ━━ A Little Too Much

paige gets back to storrs after being in la rehabbing for a month.

vii. Chapter Seven ━━ More Than a Friend

paige is faced with a terrible, terrifying realization.

viii. Chapter Eight ━━ Be You, Be Great

things begin to crash and burn before the first game of the season.

ix. Chapter Nine ━━ Treat You Better

paige and jo have gone back to normal, thankfully.

x. Chapter Ten ━━ The Introduction

jo finally introduces paige and asher.

xi. Chapter Eleven ━━ The Story of Us

jo and asher break up.

xii. Chapter Twelve ━━ Worried About You

following the breakup, paige is worried about jo.

xiii. Chapter Thirteen ━━ Ski Trip

jo invites paige on her family’s ski trip.

xiv. Chapter Fourteen ━━ Show a Little Loving

jo’s feelings are beginning to confront her head-on.

xv. Chapter Fifteen ━━ Best Friends Who Kiss

paige gives jo an offer.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wbb #wcbb #uconn #paige bueckers series #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fluff #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb #wlw #lgbtq #nobody gets me

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punkshort · 8 months ago

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Swept Away | Chapter 2: Paradise

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: It's your first day in paradise and, to your surprise, you get along with Joel much better than you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, implied age gap, alcohol and food consumption, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, fake relationship, slow burn, flirting, sexual tension

WC: 10.1K

Series Masterlist

It was way too early. You hardly managed to get any sleep the night before, the excitement for what was to come too much for you to fully relax. You kept getting out of bed to look through your bag, wondering if you packed enough or forgot anything.

Joel had insisted you only needed to bring personal effects and essentials. You had given him your measurements once all the papers were signed and he sent an assistant on a shopping spree to buy you all new clothes and accessories based on the activities and events he knew you would be partaking in. He didn't bother to ask what your own personal style was like, if there were certain colors or clothes you preferred, because you were playing a part. You were his fiancée, someone who would enjoy the finer things in life and not care about comfort over style.

But just to be safe, you packed a few clothes of your own with your toiletries, books, makeup, hair products, and other odds and ends you kept shoving into your bag, thinking what's the harm?

Joel was waiting outside your apartment at three in the morning sharp, right when he told you he would in a sleek, black town car. You groggily stumbled down the steps, hauling your worn out duffel bag over one shoulder and your purse on the other. Joel's driver appeared out of nowhere, startling you when he put a hand on your shoulder to take your bag.

"Thank you," you told him softly, the stillness of the night making you feel like you shouldn't speak any louder. He just nodded and opened the back door, your bag clutched in his other hand, and you slid inside.

Joel didn't even spare you a glance. He looked down at his phone, his thumbs typing out some mile long email as you got situated next to him and buckled your seat belt.

"Thought I told you not to bring much."

"Good morning to you, too," you replied. He sighed and finally looked up from his phone.

"Mornin'. My assistant bought you everythin' you'd need."

You shrugged as Joel's driver pulled away from the curb. "I wanted some of my own things."

Joel didn't reply. He just went back to his phone while you closed your eyes and slid down further into the soft leather seat.

"How long is the flight?" you asked with your head resting against the tinted window, watching the dark, sleeping buildings pass you by.

"Thirteen or fourteen hours."

Ouch.

"That's a long time," you replied with a yawn. Joel paused his tapping on his phone to look at you.

"You can sleep on the plane, but I wanna review our backstory before we land."

"I'll try, but I've never been able to sleep the way you're practically sitting upright on a plane."

Joel frowned. "There's a bed."

You whipped your head in his direction as the driver began to get closer to the airport, the bright lights from the parking lots and runways filling the front seat of the car.

"A bed?"

"Yeah, a bed. The hell you think this is? I ain't flyin' commercial."

Your jaw dropped when the car drove past the departures exit and continued on towards the runway.

"Are we flying private?"

"'Course we're flyin' private."

You continued to stare through the front window as Joel's driver slowed down to a stop, rolling his window down when he reached a barrier to speak with a man in an orange vest inside a booth. Then the arm went up and the car continued on its way, excitement coursing through your veins as he drove down the runway, past a handful of other private jets either being boarded or refueling.

A squeal slipped past your lips when the car stopped in front of your plane and Joel looked at you once again, unamused.

"Get it outta your system now 'cause when we get there, you gotta act like this is your lifestyle. No slip ups, y'hear me?" Joel warned, but even his grumpy tone couldn't spoil your mood now.

"Yeah, yeah," you said dismissively before practically jumping out of the car when Joel's driver opened the door for you. You thanked him and danced from foot to foot, waiting for Joel to get out so he could lead you to the plane. He pocketed his phone and stretched an arm out, silently requesting you join him by his side.

"Oh, it's starting already?" you asked as you approached the plane. The pilot and two flight attendants stood next to the bottom of the stairs with wide smiles and their hands clasped obediently at their waists.

"No, just bein' courteous."

You raised an eyebrow at him and grinned when he rolled his eyes.

"Good morning," the pilot said as you got closer and reached out to shake Joel's hand. One of the flight attendants nodded to you both and ascended the stairs so you could follow her. Once you got to the top, what you saw took your breath away.

The body of the plane housed several oversized chairs peppered around two long, curved couches, and as you walked by and ran your fingertips along one of the beige cushions, the fabric felt smooth as butter. Strolling right past the glass desk already fitted with a laptop, you gawked at the big screen TV against one of the walls, which was displaying various snapshots of what you assumed to be the Fiji islands.

"Wow," you breathed as you tilted your head back to admire the lights that adorned the ceiling. They were dimmed but along the middle of the ceiling was a string of red LED lights that cast the furniture in a hauntingly beautiful glow.

"Back there's the bedroom," Joel told you gruffly. You swiveled around to see he was pointing past the main living space to a small area with a closed door. "Bathroom', too."

"This is beautiful. Do you own it?"

He nodded and picked one of the chairs to settle in, but you couldn't stop looking at all the amenities. Purple orchids sat securely to each side table and along the back wall was a narrow counter with fresh fruit, bottles of water and juice, and baked goods. Popping a grape in your mouth, you continued to examine the inside of the plane while the flight crew got everything situated for takeoff.

"This is the softest blanket ever," you told Joel when you picked up a beautiful white blanket from the back of a chair. His eyes flickered over to you briefly before focusing back on his phone. Once the stairs were brought up and locked, you picked a chair opposite from Joel and buckled yourself in, wrapping the blanket around yourself giddily in the process. He gave you another look but you just grinned.

"C'mon, lighten up. Nothing bad is going to happen if you let yourself enjoy something."

"I enjoy plenty," was all he said in response. You sighed and stared dreamily out the window as the plane began to depart.

The sun hadn't even begun to rise so once you were up high enough and all you could see was black out the window, you slid the shade closed and settled deeper into the chair.

"Thought you were gonna sleep," Joel said without looking up from the laptop he had brought over from the desk.

"Can't now. Too excited."

He narrowed his eyes at you before sighing and glancing over his shoulder, confirming the flight crew was busy and not eavesdropping. He then closed the laptop and tucked his hand into the inside pocket of his blazer, pulling out a small, blue box you only ever saw in magazine ads or movies.

"Here," he said, opening the box to show you a radiant oval shaped diamond so big you could probably see it from space.

"Holy shit," you whispered, reaching an arm out from under your blanket to nervously touch the ring.

"Don't get too excited, it's just on loan."

"Still," you muttered, "I've never seen a diamond like this in real life before."

You gulped when he took your left hand and carefully slid the ring over your finger. He gently tested it, giving it a little tug to make sure it fit before withdrawing his hand. The circumstances weren't exactly what you imagined when you were little and a man slid a ring on your finger for the first time, but what the hell? A lot of things didn't work out the way you expected in life.

"It suits you."

"Another errand for your assistant?" you joked, using the pad of your thumb to twirl the gold band around your finger, getting used to the feel. The corner of his mouth twitched and he quickly rubbed two fingers over his lips, then cleared his throat.

"Suppose we can go over our cover story, then," he said, changing the subject. You dropped your hand to your lap and tried not to play with the ring.

"Okay."

"We met at an art gallery two years ago. We'll say a mutual friend was havin' a show and we first bumped into each other in front of the same piece. I noticed how taken you were with it so I bought it for you as a surprise. When it was delivered, you reached out to the artist for my number, and the rest is history." He told the story stiffly, in one long breath as if he had rehearsed it. When he finished, he fiddled with the sleeve of his blazer, waiting for you to comment.

"What kind of piece was it?"

His eyes snapped up to yours and he tilted his head.

"Why does that matter?"

"It matters because it's how we first met, Joel. This one piece of art will forever bond us. It will be talked about at our wedding and, on our anniversary, you'll commission the artist to make a new piece, inspired by the original, just for me. We'll hang them above our bed and one day our children will hang them in their own homes. They'll tell everyone who comes to their house the story of the paintings and our love. That's why it matters."

Joel stared blankly at you for a long moment and you feared you might have gone too far and pissed him off but, surprisingly, he leaned back in his seat with a low whistle and shook his head.

"Goddamn, that's... that's good."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," he said, rubbing his chin in thought, not bothering to hide his smirk now.

"Abstract expressionism," he eventually said. "Something in the vein of Kooning. We'll say the title of the work is Red 42 and I got into a biddin' war with 'nother buyer but I would stop at nothin' to get it for you so I ended up spendin' twice what it's worth."

"How romantic," you grinned.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart," he replied, making you giggle as the flight crew began to enter the cabin with warm towels and a tray of beverages. You accepted a bottle of water with a small smile of thanks while Joel just waved them off.

"Okay, so what else? Shouldn't I know about your family, at least?"

Joel shot you a stern look and you dropped your gaze. For whatever reason, he seemed particularly sensitive about sharing anything personal with you.

"It won't come up," was all he said.

"Okay..." you said slowly, picking at the plastic label on your water bottle. "Well, tell me about work, then. How you got started, how you became so successful. All that stuff."

"Stuff?" Joel repeated with his eyebrows raised. You shrugged.

"Yeah. Stuff."

He sighed and looked out his window and for a moment, you thought he wasn't going to share anything about that part of his life, either, until he spoke again.

"One of my first jobs was a doorman at the Ritz in New York. I didn't have any experience but I had a nice smile and I knew how to use my charm when I had to, so I did well."

You had to bite back a remark about his smile, not wanting to interrupt him, but instead filed it away to wonder later where that smile went.

"I had odd jobs here and there, waitin' tables, tendin' bar, the usual, but I really loved workin' at the hotel. It felt like... like I finally belonged. I liked talkin' to important guests. I liked it when they'd remember my name and tip me well when I told 'em a good joke or helped 'em out with directions or whatever." He scratched his chin, still staring out the window. "But I made the mistake of thinkin' I was one of them. Y'know?" His eyes flashed to yours and you just nodded.

"Well, anyway. I wasn't. I was poor. I didn't go to college. I didn't have connections. I had nothin' but this fantasy that I belonged with these people and one day I just decided to do somethin' 'bout it."

"What did you do?" you asked softly, unknowingly leaning forward in your seat.

"I convinced the general manager of the hotel to take me under his wing. Help teach me more 'bout the hospitality industry. All the little tips and tricks, y'know? Like, pretendin' to offer an unhappy guest somethin' for free when it was already free with their stay. Offer 'em vouchers to use at the hotel restaurants. Not enough to cover their bill but enough to make 'em happy. That kinda thing."

You nodded along, mesmerized by the distant look in Joel's eye and the small smile tugging at his lips as he spoke.

"So, one day, I come to find out that general manager who mentored me was doin' some under the table shit. Any time someone famous would stay, he'd tip off the right people and get a decent buck. He figured the hotel wins 'cause it gets publicity, and he wins 'cause he's gettin' paid, right? Well, the owner didn't see it that way." Joel readjusted in his seat and you realized in that moment that it was the most he ever spoken to you at once.

"The owner didn't like that the paparazzi would be houndin' his guests. Made them wanna stay elsewhere. So, he got a memo one day 'bout who was tippin' off the paps and suddenly, that general manager job was open, and I got it."

You blinked slowly, replaying what he just said before you opened your mouth to reply.

"You got your manager fired and took his job?"

Joel chuckled dryly. "He did it to himself. I just saw an opportunity and took it."

"Okay..." you said, deciding to move past it. "Then what?"

"Spent several years as the GM at the Ritz, then the Plaza, til I realized I was thirty and had already made it as far as I could workin' for other men. A hotel off Fifth was goin' bankrupt, so I bought it with a couple other investors. My - I knew someone in construction, got a good deal on alotta materials and such, refurbished the entire spot, rebranded it and... The Parador was born."

"You did all this when you were thirty?"

Joel shrugged as if it were nothing but you could see the pride in his eyes. "Thirty-two when the first hotel opened."

"Whoa," you breathed while rubbing your eyes. You could see the sun beginning to break through the clouds in Joel's window. "That's so impressive, Joel. That's, like, a real rags to riches story."

He picked his phone up and tried to hide his pleased expression. "Why don't you go get some sleep? Gonna be a long flight 'n you should be well-rested when we get there."

You nodded and yawned behind your hand. "Are you sure you don't want to use the bed first?" you asked, but you were already standing up. He shook his head and motioned to his phone and laptop.

"I got work to do."

You wandered to the back of the plane and pushed open the door to the bedroom with a surprisingly decent sized bed. You weren't sure if you were just over tired or the mattress really was the most comfortable thing you'd ever laid on because within ten minutes, you were out like a light.

With the time change, you couldn't be sure how long you slept, but when you awoke and cracked the shade to peer out through the clouds, the sun was high in the sky over the ocean. The sunlight reflected off the massive rock on your left hand and you took another moment to admire it before dragging yourself out of bed.

When you tiptoed back out into the cabin, your eyes immediately found Joel. He was standing up with his back to you with his cell phone clutched in his hands. You let your eyes travel lower and you realized at some point he had changed into a perfectly tailored, navy blue suit.

"Isn't it going to be hot when we land?" you asked. You didn't know much about Fiji but in the past week you did remember to check the weather, and from what you saw, the temperature was supposed to be hot and humid.

Joel swiveled around in surprise when he heard your voice, his gaze dropping down your frame and suddenly you felt incredibly underdressed in your baggy shirt and leggings.

"Don't matter. I'm here on business, I ain't here for a vacation," he reminded you, as if you somehow could have forgot. "There's a couple things hangin' in the closet for you. Go pick one out and change, then we can eat." He turned back around to focus on his phone and you frowned. You weren't used to someone bossing you around like he was prone to doing but you had to remind yourself you were being paid to be there and do a job. Without complaint, you slipped back into the bedroom and shut the door before opening what you assumed was the closet to review your choices.

Your eyes widened when you saw the sampling of clothes hung up for you. The labels read names of designers you only ever saw people in TV or magazines wear, and occasionally, Celine. Your fingers gently dragged over the soft fabrics, then pulled each item out to hold it against yourself, trying to decide before finally choosing a light blue halter dress that fell perfectly at your knee and laid it on the bed.

Next, you opened a drawer, thinking there would be purses or sunglasses, then blushed when you were faced with matching sets of lace lingerie. You remembered Joel insisted sex wasn't part of the deal, and you even signed a contract stating such, but why would he buy you such fancy underwear if he didn't expect to see it? And why was the prospect of him seeing it getting you excited?

You closed the drawer, deciding to use your own underwear, then continued to explore the rest of the dresser. You found a small purse that looked like it would pair well with the dress, as well as a small bag of toiletries and a hair brush. Once you were dressed, you sifted through the bag. Should you wear a full face of makeup? What do rich people do? Probably get enough facial peels and cosmetic surgeries so they wouldn't need makeup. Remembering the temperature forecast, you decided on some tinted moisturizer and one coat of mascara. You dabbed on some expensive looking lip balm with the pad of your middle finger before brushing your hair. It was a little flat from the nap, so you rummaged around the other drawers but had no luck finding a curling iron. Luckily, you remembered to pack one.

You opened the bedroom door and walked back out into the cabin, your eyes trailing all over as you went, looking for your bag.

"Joel?" you asked, and he dragged his attention from his laptop. When his dark eyes landed on you, his shoulders stiffened, then his gaze slowly raked up and down your body, taking in your new look. Your breath hitched in your throat under his scrutiny and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

"Do you know where my bag is?" you asked, hoping he didn't hear the nervousness in your voice from the way he was looking at you.

"Hmm?"

"My bag? I need my curling iron."

He swallowed and forced his eyes back up to your face. "Under the couch, but your hair looks fine."

You leaned forward a bit and saw the strap of your bag under the couch, just as he said. "No, it's flat, I need to -"

"It's not flat. You look beautiful."

Beautiful? That was a big jump from fine.

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the bag, wondering if you should obey. Ultimately, you chose to forget the curling iron and sat down across from him. He didn't give you the impression he was the type of guy who blew smoke up your ass, so if he thought you looked good - beautiful - then you did.

"Do you prefer pasta or salad?" Joel asked when he spotted one of the flight crew waltzing up behind you with a smile and a pad of paper in her hand.

"Uh, whatever you're having is fine," you replied. Joel nodded and ordered chicken salads with sparkling waters for you both and the attendant disappeared back into the galley.

"When do we land?" you asked, jostling your arm and holding it up. The dainty gold watch you found in one of the drawers slid around your wrist so you could check the time.

"Couple more hours. Glenn's supposed to meet us at the airport and give us a tour of the island before droppin' us off at our hotel. Then the plan is to meet him for dinner, 'long with all the others, I imagine."

"You mean, the other hotel moguls?" you asked, and he nodded. "Do you know them?"

"Most of 'em. There ain't much real estate left on these islands so I'm willin' to bet we'll see some heavy hitters."

Lunch arrived and you didn't realize how hungry you were until you smelled the chicken and your mouth began to water. When you took your first bite, you let out a little moan and rolled your eyes.

"This is the best airplane food I've ever had," you said, hiding your mouth behind your hand. Joel chuckled and took a bite of his own salad before swallowing and wiping the corner of his mouth.

"So, you like workin' for a production company?"

You glanced up at him in surprise. For some reason, you weren't expecting him to inquire much about your real life during this trip.

"Uh, yeah. It was fun, I got to meet interesting people. It was exciting to see how movies and TV shows get made. I kind of always wanted to work for a talent agency, though," you confessed before stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork and popping it into your mouth.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

His elbows were propped on the table between you, hands cupped together with his fork in between, dangling over his plate and giving you his full attention. His eye contact was intense and it made you nervous.

"I like the idea of getting to know someone well enough to understand the types of projects they would be good in while also finding a way to make a difference in their lives. Help them achieve their dreams, you know?" You gave him a shy smile, watching as he absorbed what you said.

"I can see you bein' good at that," he said after a moment.

"You're just saying that. You hardly know me," you replied before continuing to pick at your lunch.

"True, I don't know you that well, but I got a knack for readin' people. You're quick on your feet and you're a good listener. You don't let people steamroll you and you know your worth. And, you don't quit. You're determined. Probably to a fault." He stared at you, watching your face as you worked through several emotions at once before you slowly swallowed the food in your mouth and cleared your throat.

"You got all that from the brief amount of time we've known each other?" you asked softly.

"Yep," he replied, fighting back a smirk. "How'd I do?"

You grinned and looked down at your half eaten salad, trying to hide the embarrassment from your eyes when you replied, "not bad, actually."

When you were finished with your lunch and a crew member came to collect your plates, Joel picked up his phone and it was then you realized he hadn't looked at it once the entire time you were eating.

"Do you ever sleep?"

His glanced up at you with an amused look. "Occasionally."

"Workaholic, then?"

"You tryin' to get a read on me now?"

"Maybe," you said, biting your lower lip playfully.

He shook his head and focused back on his phone.

"Good luck, sweetheart."

When the pilot announced he was getting ready to descend, your stomach started doing flips and your hands shook when you tightened your seatbelt. It seemed all the excitement you harbored before had quickly been replaced with anxiety. Taking a few deep breaths, you closed your eyes and tried to control your nerves, but Joel could see right through you.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just getting nervous."

"Why?"

You opened your eyes. "I'm worried they'll be able to tell I'm not like you. I don't know all of the trendy designers and artists. I don't know the names of the chefs at Michelin star restaurants and I can't tell the difference between boxed wine and a three hundred bottle of Merlot." The words suddenly came tumbling out as quickly as you were landing but you found it actually felt better to talk to him about it. "For all I know, this ring could be fake but I'd believe it's real because it's heavy and shiny."

"You don't gotta worry 'bout any of that. I'll handle it. You just smile and look pretty and pretend you're in love with me. That's all you gotta do, okay?" he said with a soft tone you hadn't heard from him yet. "And trust me, the ring is real."

You grinned and looked out the window, feeling a little better. At that point, the plane had dipped below the clouds and you could see the crystal clear ocean and the lush tropical islands below. You noted a few resorts you could see from your side of the plane but at the very end of the island was a massive piece of land covered in palm trees and other thick greenery.

"That's the spot," he said as if he were reading your mind. "That's the piece of land we're here to get."

You took a deep breath and recalibrated, shaking off the anxiety. Instead, you rehearsed your story in your head and mentally practiced your greeting and smile, boosting your confidence while the wheels of the plane touched down and you were jolted forward in your seat. The seatbelt dug into your hips and your fingers gripped the armrests while the plane slowed down and eventually came to a stop.

There was a fancy looking car on the tarmac and an older gentleman with a sizable belly and a full head of white hair standing next to it with his hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo shorts and sandals.

Cargo shorts? That couldn't be...

"Glenn," Joel murmured in your ear when he stood up behind you and peered through the window.

"That's the real estate guy?" you asked while he fixed his tie. He reached down and scooped up his wallet and phone with a nod and was about to head to the stairs when you stopped him with your hands on his shoulders. "Let me fix this," you said quietly, making sure the collar of his shirt wasn't stuck underneath his blazer. When you were satisfied, you ran your palms across his shoulders with a smile. "Let's go knock 'em dead, honey."

Joel rolled his eyes but before he turned away, you caught the wide smile stretched across his face. That's where it went, you thought.

"Glenn!" Joel's deep voice boomed from the stairs as he made his way down with you following closely behind. "How the hell have ya been?" he asked, extending an arm just for Glenn to grab it and pull him into a hug with a few slaps on the back.

"I've been great, Joel. Thrilled you could make it, I know you're a busy man and taking a month out of your schedule is tough," Glenn replied with a toothy smile. Then his eyes trailed over Joel's shoulder and he lit up when he spotted you approaching. "Oh, who's this?"

Joel turned around with a radiant smile that stunned you for a moment until you remembered it was probably all for show. He introduced you by name and ushered you forward, wrapping one arm around your shoulders lovingly while you stuck your arm out with a smile of your own to shake Glenn's hand. "This is my fiancée," Joel added, and it was impossible to miss the surprise on Glenn's face when he looked back at Joel.

"You're engaged?" he asked, the excitement evident in his tone. Joel grinned and nodded.

"Popped the question a few weeks back and she was crazy enough to say yes," he replied. This jovial version of Joel was throwing you off but you did your best to not give it much thought. Instead, you focused on your own little act: playing the smitten fiancée.

"It was on the beach in Santa Monica at sunset," you said, thrusting your left hand out for Glenn to look at your ring. He gave a low whistle and raised his eyebrows at Joel. "He knows I love the beach so much. I couldn't wait to come visit your beautiful island, I'm so excited to see it!" you gushed, wondering if you were laying it on too thick, but based on the sparkle in Glenn's eye, you were doing just fine.

"Well, come! Hop in and I'll take you around before dropping you off at The Greenview. Should only take an hour, then you can get settled in before dinner," Glenn said as he opened the backseat of the car for you to slide in. Joel followed after he gave his flight crew instructions on where to take your belongings and Glenn settled into the driver's seat with a grunt.

"How's Mary doin'?" Joel asked as Glenn pulled away from the tarmac.

"She's great, she'll be joining us tonight along with my boys."

"Joel mentioned you have six kids," you piped up and you saw Glenn nod his head.

"If there's one thing I've done right in my life, it's having those kids," he said warmly. You smiled, your nerves already put at ease. You were expecting an uptight, rich type, but Glenn seemed like the exact opposite. If it weren't for the expensive car, you never would have guessed he was wealthy.

"I can't wait to have kids of our own," you said dreamily, then risked a glance at Joel. He smirked and gently shook his head.

"You won't regret it. They'll take years off your life but, dammit, if it ain't worth it," Glenn said with a look at the two of you in his review mirror. "Maybe having a couple kids will loosen you up a bit, Joel. Don't tell me you brought suits to wear the whole time you're here."

Joel chuckled and took your hand in his. The touch surprised you given Glenn couldn't even see it from where he was sitting, but you enjoyed it all the same.

"Oh, you know me," was all he said, but Glenn tsked as he merged into traffic.

"It's way too hot for those kinda formalities. Tonight we're having dinner on the beach. You don't wanna get sand in those loafers, now, do ya?" Glenn teased. Joel chuckled and changed the subject while you gazed out the window, watching the cute little restaurants and stores fly by until the car turned and suddenly you had a fantastic view of the ocean.

"Oh, wow, look at the water," you breathed, squeezing Joel's hand. "I've never seen something so beautiful before," you added, unable to peel your eyes away from the white, sandy beaches and turquoise water. You heard Joel murmur in agreement next to you but you were too taken with the thick, tropical forests dotted with shocks of purples, pinks, yellows and whites from the hibiscus plants growing wild along the side of the road.

"I think island life will suit you," Glenn said from the front seat with a grin.

"I may never leave," you joked, making both men chuckle.

"Well, that settles it. You'll have to have the wedding here, Joel."

"Don't tempt me," he replied. You dragged your eyes away from your window to look at Joel, who gave you an appraising nod.

"I think she'll be good for you. Help you relax a bit," Glenn laughed before pointing out the restaurant where dinner will be held later that evening as he drove by.

"Guess we'll find out," Joel replied, his gaze lingering on you after you turned your attention back to the window.

Glenn dropped you off in front of a beautiful resort named The Greenview, which, like many other resorts you saw along the way, was built to blend in and mimic the exotic landscape around it. The main entrance was built like a tiki hut with a fake thatched conical shaped roof and rounded, wooden pillars complete with knots framing the exterior entrance. When you followed Joel through the doors, you found the inside was similarly designed. A beautiful waterfall feature was displayed prominently in the lobby and when you walked by, you spotted brightly colored koi fish in the small pond below.

Once Joel checked you in, a bellhop ushered you towards the elevator, explaining all of the amenities the hotel had to offer as he led you to your room.

"Here we are, the Dream House Villa," he announced before unlocking the door and holding it open so you could walk in first. You gasped at the stunning layout, barely registering anything the bellhop was saying. The decor, much like the rest of the hotel, was an island theme. The floors and walls were all made of wood, and the small foyer you first stepped into held a little waterfall feature with gorgeous mood lighting built in.

You remembered what Joel had told you about containing your excitement so you bit your tongue and waited until the bellhop left before you whipped around to Joel with a huge smile plastered across your face.

"Look! There's an infinity pool right outside!"

"I see," he replied, but he appeared distracted. Still, you continued to lavish praise about the ocean view and you mentally pictured yourself relaxing on the covered daybed outside with a frozen cocktail as soon as possible. When it became apparent Joel wasn't in the same mood, you dialed it back.

"I'm sure your hotels are much nicer," you offered, but he waved you off.

"I need new clothes," he grumbled. You frowned and wandered over to follow him into the master suite where he had flung open one of the closets to reveal mostly suits, just like Glenn had suspected. "I can't stick out, I gotta blend in and make myself more relatable. He's a lot more casual since the last time I saw him. I had no idea he turned into Jimmy fuckin' Buffet."

You chewed on your bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go shopping before dinner."

Joel groaned and rubbed his jaw. "My assistant usually does this kinda stuff."

"That's okay, I can help," you assured him. "It'll be fun. I saw a bunch of places on the way here we could check out."

Joel seemed to consider it for a moment before he sighed and shrugged off his blazer. "Alright. Lemme change and I'll meet you out there in five."

You turned to leave but when he called your name, you spun back around. "Here, your bag," he said, holding it out for you to take. "The crew brought all our stuff in here, we can move your clothes to the other room later."

"Oh, right, thanks," you said, taking the bag. "I'll go check my room out while you're getting ready."

The second bedroom was easy enough to find as it was directly across the hall. Both rooms had an ocean view and although Joel had his own bathroom attached and a king sized bed, you would do just fine with the queen bed and a bathroom down the hall.

You dropped your bag on the oversized white comforter and wandered aimlessly around the room, opening and closing dressers and drawers until you noticed two flat circular buttons built into the end table next to your bed.

"Hm," you said to yourself before pressing the first one and jumping when you heard a soft whirring noise behind you. You laughed out loud when a television appeared from behind two wood panels in the wall, then pressed the next button and watched the blinds slowly close, blocking out all the natural light flooding the room.

"What're ya doin' in the dark?" Joel's low voice carried over from the door. You pressed the button again and the blinds went back up.

"Just checking things out. Ready to go?" you asked, your gaze traveling down to take in his new outfit: a white polo shirt and khaki shorts.

"Yeah. Good thing I packed my golf clothes."

You followed him out of the room and through the rest of the villa. "You golf?"

"Yeah, but I hate it. Only came prepared 'cause I know Glenn likes to golf."

"You might be the first millionaire who hates golf," you teased when you walked by him as he held the door open for you. He grinned and made sure the door was shut tight before falling in step beside you.

"I don't mind the drinkin' part afterwards," he replied, then gently placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you into the open elevator car. You stood in a comfortable silence while the elevator took you back down to the lobby and you waited off to the side while Joel went to the front desk to request a car.

"You sure you know what you're doin'? You know anythin' 'bout fashion?" Joel asked once you settled into the backseat of a town car and he had given the driver instructions to take you to the nearest shopping plaza.

"Not really, but I saw what Glenn was wearing. I'm sure we can find some good options."

He hummed and nodded before slipping on his sunglasses and looking out the window, effectively ending the conversation. You decided to use that time to pull out your phone and text Celine, letting her know you arrived safely.

Don't forget to send me pics!

How are things with Joel? Is it awkward?

You glanced over at him, making sure he couldn't see over your shoulder before replying.

Actually things are pretty good

He's not so bad once you get to know him

You rolled your eyes when Celine's next message came through.

Remember - you're only pretending to be his fiancée ;)

Then again, if I had a daddy who looked like him, I would try to make that fantasy a reality lol

The car pulled over and came to a stop in front of a strip of shops along a quaint looking road so you quickly told Celine you would check in with her later before the driver opened your door and you slid out, patting down your dress and looking around.

"Let's try there," you said once he joined you at your side. You pointed to a store a few doors down from where the car was parked. Inside the window, you could see male mannequins sporting trendy looking beachware.

When you opened the door, you were greeted with beautiful island music filtering through the speakers. The walls were painted a deep shade of blue, most likely chosen because of the resemblance to the water, and a hand painted mural of a beach with the sun glittering off the ocean was painted behind the register.

You began to sift through the nearest rack, pulling out various linen button downs and crochet shirts after confirming his size. Joel wandered deeper into the store to look at pants while you examined each article of clothing carefully. You were trying to decide if Joel could pull off bright purple when a young woman with big hoop earrings and a loose fitting paisley dress approached with a smile.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

You gave her a cheesy grin and held up the shirts draped over your arm. "I'm shopping for my fiancé. We just arrived and the airport lost his luggage, can you believe it?" You gave her a devestated look which she sympathetically mirrored and stretched her arms out.

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that! Let me take those into a fitting room for you."

"Thank you so much, I'll find him and bring him right back."

You watched her sashay to the back of the store with the armful of shirts you had picked out before turning around just to find Joel standing on the other side of the rack.

"You're good at this," Joel said, sounding astonished.

"Good at what?" you asked.

"You're good at thinkin' on your feet and comin' up with these stories." He rounded the rack and, with a little smirk, gently pinched your chin affectionately between his thumb and forefinger. It happened so fast you didn't even have time to register it before he was walking in the direction of the fitting rooms with some shorts and pants slung over his shoulder. Trailing after him, you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest, telling yourself his touch just took you by surprise and that's all it was.

You sat in a whicker chair outside Joel's fitting room, one leg crossed over the other as you fondled the ring on your finger and listened to Joel muttering under his breath on the other side of the door.

"Are you ever going to come out of there?" you asked. He shuffled around the room and swung the door open with a deep sigh.

"I don't know 'bout some of these shirts," he said, eyes flickering to a bunch hung up separately from the rest. "The neckline's too low, I don't wear stuff like that."

"Oh, come on! At least let me see what they look like on," you begged. "I like what you have on now," you added, pointing to the light blue linen shirt and relaxed fit khakis.

"Yeah, this ain't bad," he agreed, tugging on the material a bit before shutting the door. "I'll try one of these on and that's it," he called out. You could hear the rustling of fabric and the metal scratch of a zipper and you grinned at how easily the two of you fell into these roles you were playing.

When he opened the door a few minutes later, you were completely unprepared. He had chosen to pair a green crochet top with a pair of white shorts that fell right above his knee but your eyes were glued to the generous amount of smooth, tanned chest that was exposed from the plunging V neck.

Your lips parted as you continued to stare, watching the way the muscles and tendons in his neck twitched as he spoke. Shit, he was speaking and you had no idea what he said.

"Huh?"

Joel frowned. "I said, this ain't my style. At all. I look ridiculous."

"No, you do not look ridiculous, you look good," you immediately argued.

"I'm too old for-"

"No, Joel, listen to me: you look really fucking hot," you blurted out, still staring at his bronze chest. He fell silent and a moment later, you realized what you said and felt your cheeks flare with heat. Snapping your eyes up to his, you began to apologize.

"I'm sorry, that was probably inappropriate, Jesus Christ," you muttered, pressing the palms of your hands against your cheeks to hide your embarrassment, but he just chuckled and dropped his gaze to the floor. When he turned around to close the door, you noticed in the mirror his own cheeks were beginning to stain pink from the compliment.

Joel didn't say anything else about your comment but he ended up buying all the clothes you picked out for him. When you saw the V neck shirts being rung up, he shot you a wink. You grinned and shyly looked away, once again ignoring that excited feeling in your chest.

"Hope this dinner ends quick, I'm fuckin' beat," Joel grumbled at your side as he led you up to the host stand, one hand wrapped around the inside of his elbow and the other clutching a small, blue purse that matched the backless floor length dress you chose with blue palm leaves printed all over.

"You should have slept on the plane," you murmured, then gave the host a bright smile as Joel told him Glenn's name. He quickly ushered you through the restaurant and onto the beach, where a long table was set up and decorated with vibrant, gorgeous tropical flowers.

The seats were already filled by the other guests, who were sitting and leaning across the table to chat and laugh with drinks in hand.

"Alright, here we go," Joel told you before taking a deep breath and forcing a big smile and wave when one of the men caught his eye.

"Scott! It's been years!" he exclaimed. You smiled and loosened your grip so Joel could give the other man a welcoming hug.

After ten minutes of introductions, your head was spinning. You decided to keep it to one alcoholic drink that evening because you needed to keep a clear head and memorize who the people were that you were up against. Scott and his wife Tammy owned a chain of hotels in the northeast and appeared to be a little older than Joel. Harry owned a handful of exotic resorts mostly in Latin America but was looking to expand. He was accompanied by his husband, Ian, who was an artist. Jack and Lynne had a large footprint of three star hotels across America but as Joel told you later, their hotels lacked character. And finally, Zachary owned a string of hotels similar to The Parador but had a French motif. Zachary brought along his much younger girlfriend, Zoe, who seemed incredibly sweet.

"Down at the end, those two younger guys? They're Glenn's boys. The ones that'll take over for him when he retires," Joel said, jutting his chin in their direction. You casually glanced down the table and saw two men in their late twenties on either side of Glenn and his wife, Mary. You could see the family resemblance in their faces but one had dark, almost black hair, and the other's hair was dirty blonde.

"What are their names?"

"The blonde's Trevor, the other one's Brooks."

"Trevor and Brooks," you repeated softly to yourself, silently testing your memory as you went down the table, naming each person in your head as you went. Joel watched you for a moment before he leaned in.

"You're doin' great, don't worry."

You flashed him a smile and whispered your thanks right as the first course arrived.

For a majority of the meal, you smiled and laughed at the right times while you listened to rich people tell stories about their conflicts with private schools or run-ins with government officials, stories that made the conversations you have with your friends over dinner sound like they took place in a third grade cafeteria. Joel also remained relatively quiet with the exception of tossing in a quick comment here or there to be polite but when you looked at him, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. It was no wonder he wasn't prepared when Glenn and Mary, who had just gotten done telling the table how they met in high school, asked to hear how all the couples met.

Great, you thought to yourself. We rehearsed this, it will be fine.

Scott went first, telling a funny and cute story about how he met Tammy in college. He had walked into the wrong class and he was too embarrassed to leave so he sat through a three hour lecture on women's studies. It only took him thirty minutes to realize he was the only man in the room and Tammy found his humility endearing. The rest was history.

Glenn and Mary exchanged warm glances at the story, gushing over them and saying words like fate and soulmate.

Next, Zachary began to boast about how he met Zoe, and the look on Glenn and Mary's faces slowly changed.

"It was opening night for The Barber of Seville. I had just sat down in my seat when this beautiful thing came through the curtain, absolutely convinced we were sitting in her seat. I said, 'Darling, I've had the same box seats in this theater since before you were born,'" Zachary laughed and the rest of the table joined in but you noticed Glenn and Mary only gave him tight, polite smiles as he continued.

"Well, I was taken with her, I mean, can you blame me?" Zachary joked, tossing his arm around Zoe's shoulders. "I insisted she stay and enjoy the show. By the end of the evening I was chartering my private jet to whisk her off to Italy that very night..."

Zachary continued to tell the table about Italy and all the expensive restaurants he took her to when Joel leaned into your side.

"We can't go with our story."

You whipped your head around to look at him, eyes wide.

"What do you mean?" you asked, panic lacing your voice.

"It's too pretentious. Look at them, they hate every goddamn word," he said quietly, snaking his arm around your shoulders so it looked like he was maybe talking about the food or how beautiful you looked. "We can't tell some story about your looks and my wealth. It's gotta be, fuckin'... I don't know. Warm. Romantic." He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.

"I thought it was romantic..."

"Not enough."

"Okay, so what do we say?" you whispered.

"I don't know, I gotta think. Fuck," he grumbled, "I'm too fuckin' tired for this shit."

Unfortunately, Joel didn't have the luxury of time because Zachary finally finished up his long-winded story and Glenn's eyes landed on the two of you.

"Well, you told me how he proposed but we'd all love to hear how you first met," Glenn said, leaning forward, elbows pressed into the table with a sparkle in his eye. You glanced at Joel, your heart slamming wildly in your chest, and you knew immediately he couldn't think of anything new. He sighed and clenched his jaw before opening his mouth, about to launch into the only story you had talked about when you cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, let me tell it," you said lovingly. You could see the confusion in his eyes as they shifted back and forth between you and Glenn and he slowly nodded before you turned back to your host.

"Joel hired me," you began, dropping your hand from his shoulder. "I was a nobody. Hardly any experience but he took a chance and hired me to manage the floor staff at The Parador Los Angeles. I was so grateful for the job that I would stay late almost every night just to make sure everything was perfect for our guests." You shot Joel what you hoped was a loving glance before continuing with your bullshit story.

"One night, as I was walking down to my car, I ran into Joel on the elevator. He was surprised I was staying so late and I explained we had a wedding the next day and I wanted to make sure the wedding party's favors were all set. Each room was supposed to get a box of Belgium chocolates but they melted in transport so I ran out to get fresh ones. Anyway," you said with a little smile, acting as if you were getting lost in a memory. Glenn and Mary appeared more and more delighted with each word. "I think it impressed him because after that night, I saw him almost every day. He would walk across the floor and wouldn't say a word but I caught him looking at me once or twice. Then, I got a call one day at the front desk, and guess who it was."

"Joel?" Mary asked excitedly. You nodded and leaned into Joel's shoulder.

"He asked me to come up to his office. I couldn't decide if he was firing me or giving me a promotion, but turns out, it was neither. He asked me to dinner and do you remember what I said?" you asked, turning to face Joel with a sweet smile. He was giving you a look you couldn't quite read and you just hoped you were doing the right thing.

"Uh, I think-" he began, but you waved him off and turned back to Mary. Fuck it, you were in too deep now, anyway.

"I laughed. I laughed in his face! I didn't believe him! Why would someone like him want anything to do with someone like me? I didn't come from a wealthy family. I didn't have connections or anything to offer. But he picked me. And every day since, I wake up and ask myself," you turned your head to gaze up adoringly at Joel. "How did I get so lucky?"

He pinned you with an intense stare and, without hesitating, Joel pressed his lips against yours so softly it almost made you gasp. He tasted like the wine he had with dinner and the hairs from his mustache tickled your nose. You giggled and pulled away, but not before dragging the pad of your thumb over his lip to remove your lipstick that transferred.

"Oh, that's just the sweetest story! Isn't it, Glenn?" Mary gushed, grabbing onto his arm with a huge smile. You tore your eyes away from each other to look back down the table. "It's like something out of a movie or book!"

"Goddamn, Joel, I didn't realize you were such a romantic. Now I gotta step up my game over here," he joked before pinching Mary's chin.

Harry and Ian were next to tell their story but you weren't listening. Your pulse was racing and your hands shook in your lap as your adrenaline began to wear off. Then, Joel's hand slid over your thigh, giving your leg a little reassuring squeeze as if he could sense your nervousness.

"You did so good, sweetheart," he whispered in your ear, making your skin prickle.

He could have removed his hand after that. No one was looking, no one could even see, but he didn't. He kept it planted there as if he were grounding you to him. Occasionally, he would laugh at something one of the other guests said or take a sip of wine, but his hand remained steady under the table. The longer it stayed, the more it became the only thing you could focus on.

Once dinner wrapped up and everyone stood, his hand finally dropped and you instantly longed for his touch again. On the way back to the hotel, Joel took a work call, which you tuned out. Instead, you spent the time telling yourself it was the wine and the jet lag that had you feeling fuzzy and excited.

In the elevator on the way up to your room, once you had some privacy, Joel turned to you and quietly said your name. When you looked into his eyes, what you saw caused your breath catch in your throat. He was looking at you with a tenderness you didn't think he was capable of and it made you swallow nervously.

"How'd you come up with that story on the fly like that?" he asked, his features softening and gaze only dipping from your eyes to your lips once.

It didn't mean anything.

"I-I don't know, it just came to me, I guess," you replied a little breathlessly.

It looked like he was about to say something else when the elevator doors slid open. He pressed his hand against the side of the car to hold the doors while you stepped out into the hall. He fell in step beside you as you walked the short distance to your room in silence.

"Thank you," he managed to say once he opened the door, letting you both in.

You shrugged as if it were nothing but on the inside you were preening, excited that you had managed to please him. When you entered into this unusual situation, you had no idea what to expect or how to behave, but considering how well the first day went, maybe you overthought things.

"I'm sure the original story would have been fine, too."

He nodded and tossed the keycard on the table by the door before strolling into the kitchenette for two waters.

"Wouldn't've ruined my chances, most likely, but I think the new story put me a notch above good ol' Zach, at least," he said with a grin and handing you a bottle of water. You took it with a small thanks and awkwardly looked around the huge villa.

"Well, you should try to get some sleep now," you told him, turning just in time to catch the way his eyes flickered over the soft curves of your body.

With a tired sigh, he nodded in agreement. "'Bout to fall asleep standin' up," he joked, walking down the short hallway between your two rooms, the both of you coming to a stop outside your doors.

"Okay. Good night," you said, not wanting to prolong the tension that was building up since you left dinner.

"Night."

You opened your door and gave him a quick smile over your shoulder before disappearing inside your room. You leaned against the door and took a deep, steadying breath in, then pushed off before going deeper into your room.

Before dinner, the two of you had moved all your things into your closet and you had the foresight to toss a pair of pajamas on your bed before you left. Shimmying out of your second dress of the day, you slipped on the lavender cotton tank top and matching shorts before grabbing your bag of toiletries, but when you reopened your door to go to the bathroom, you were surprised to find Joel on the other side with his hand raised as if he were about to knock.

"Oh!" you gasped in surprise.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"It's okay, I didn't hear you."

He scratched his chin before pulling a white envelope out of his pocket and handing it to you.

"What's this?" you asked, taking it but not opening it.

"For you. For tonight. You did good, so..." he trailed off and stared at the plush carpet beneath his feet. Then it dawned on you what it was and your eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, you don't -"

"I want to. You were hired for a job and you did it well, so you deserve it."

Your gaze dropped to the envelope, flipping it over in your hand before nodding.

"It's my pleasure," you finally replied, throat a little tight. When your eyes met again, that little glimpse of the softer side to him was gone and the cold blooded business man you first met was back.

"Alright, then. G'night," he said abruptly, then turned on his heel and disappeared back into his bedroom.

After you washed up and got into bed, you scrolled on your phone for a bit before sighing and looking at the envelope of cash propped up against the lamp on your end table, acting as a glaring reminder of what you were hired to do.

So why did you feel so conflicted taking it?

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us au #the last of us fic #swept away fic

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scoupsakakitty · 1 month ago

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I really love all your work. It's awesome 😍 Could you please write something like seventeen 14th member being bullied by sasaengs and the members finding out about that and supporting her?

Through the Storm | Seventeen x 14thMember | angst, fluff

The Seventeen practice room was usually full of energy laughter, voices, and music booming from the speakers. But lately, something felt off. Y/N, the group’s 14th member, had been unusually quiet. Normally someone who brought a spark to the room, she now lingered in the background, avoiding attention and speaking only when necessary.

Seungcheol was the first to notice. As the leader, he had always kept a close eye on the members, and Y/N’s behavior worried him. During a break, he pulled Jeonghan and Mingyu aside.

“Have you noticed Y/N lately? She seems… different,” he said quietly.

Jeonghan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, she’s not her usual self. She barely smiles anymore.”

“She’s probably just tired,” Mingyu offered, though the concern in his voice was clear.

But it wasn’t just exhaustion. Late one evening, Joshua found Y/N sitting alone in a corner of the stairwell, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hands, her head bowed low. Joshua approached her carefully, his voice soft.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

She flinched at the sound of his voice but didn’t look up. After a long pause, she finally handed him her phone. Joshua’s chest tightened as he read through the barrage of hateful messages, cruel comments, and edited photos sent by sasaengs. The words were venomous, picking apart everything from her talent to her place in the group.

“These aren’t real fans,” Joshua said firmly, crouching in front of her. “They don’t know you. They don’t know how hard you work or how much you mean to us.”

Y/N’s shoulders shook as silent tears fell. Joshua didn’t hesitate to pull her into a comforting hug.

When he told the others, their reactions were immediate.

“What?!” Hoshi exclaimed, his usual playful energy replaced by anger. “How can people say things like that?”

“They don’t deserve to call themselves Carats,” Minghao said coldly, his jaw tight.

“She’s part of us,” Seungkwan said, pacing the room. “We need to protect her.”————————————————————————————-The next day, the members surrounded Y/N in the practice room. Seungcheol stepped forward first. “You don’t have to face this alone. We’re a team, Y/N. You’re one of us.”

Woozi nodded, his voice calm but full of conviction. “You’re not just a member of Seventeen. You’re family.”

Each of the members found a way to show their support. Dino and Vernon stuck close to Y/N during schedules, making sure she felt safe. Jeonghan and Jun kept a watchful eye on social media, reporting harmful accounts. DK made a point to check in with her daily, reminding her how much she was loved.

The biggest gesture came during a fan meeting. Seungcheol addressed the crowd directly, his tone firm but caring.

“Seventeen isn’t just thirteen or fourteen people,” he said. “It’s all of us—including Carats. And in this family, we treat each other with kindness and respect.”

Carats rallied behind Y/N, flooding social media with messages of love and encouragement. Slowly, she began to heal. The hateful messages didn’t completely disappear, but they were drowned out by overwhelming support from her members and fans alike.

In Seventeen, Y/N had found not just a team but a family that would stand by her through any storm.

————————————————————————————-

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mud-castle · 3 months ago

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Ok but now I’m imagine that he grew up like tall, even close to Tigerclaw’s height… like gods Maine coon firestar

Graystripe: starclan Fireheart! How you get so big suddenly! You were so tiny when we first met

Fireheart (not really thinking, too much interest in the shrew he was eating): oh that because I was four moons old when we met

Whole clan goes silent

Longtail: I TRIED TO BEAT UP A BABY?!

Lol, Maine Coon Firestar would have to be like two moons old for him to be considered small for a six month old apprentice.

For the sake of maturity you could make him as big as a normal apprentice by making him three moons. Which is still bad, but he's probably old enough that his speech wouldn't tip them off.

I really want to write a oneshot about this now.

Cats, mostly the different queens, noticing how off his development is compared to the other apprentices but dismissing it because he's a kittypet. Of course he looks like he's about to cry during training when he gets knocked down. That's his kttypet weakness showing. Of course he still pounces on cats' tails and romps with the kits. Kittypets are immature like that.

I think Firepaw might not tell Bluestar out of fear of being kicked out for not being able to keep up. When he gets older he probably realizes how silly it was but to younger him that was a valid threat.

Since Yellowfang figured out that he was a kittypet on her own, I think she'd notice she's fighting a kit and immediately back off. She'd probably have an argument with Spottedleaf later about how no, him being part of a prophecy does not justify you making a kit an apprentice. You should've told Bluestar. what is wrong with you.

Following the timeline, he'd be made a warrior at like six or seven moons old. Canon Firestar was at least a young adult when he became leader, Maine Coon Firestar wouldn't even be fully matured at a few moons less than two years old.

Maine coons also don't shed their kitten coats until they're two years old. So Firestar suddenly starts shedding an insane amount and finally gets his adult coat and the clan is silently horrified. I mean, they're probably already concerned that he never stopped growing until he was leader. Even Tigerstar was grown at the age they thought Fire was. If you want to be symbolic this could happen around the time they form Lionclan.

Tigerstar is beefing with a teenager until his death.

Fireheart is like a fourteen year old trying to train a thirteen year old Cinderpaw. No wonder it ended badly

#warrior cats #warrior cats au #Firestar #Ask

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merrybloomwrites · 10 days ago

Text

We Know Where We Belong

Summary: When your brother starts working with Harry Styles, you're so excited to see him accomplishing his dreams. What you don't expect is the way this will change your life, and all for the better.

It may take time to get your happy ending with Harry, but when you do, the wait is completely worth it.

Word Count: 9.4K

CW: attempted assault leading to injury that needs surgery, allusions to sex, pregnancy & mention of childbirth

AN: I started this last June and it was originally just supposed to be a cute family story about reader as Mitch's sister, but then decided I wanted to make it a Harry x reader instead.

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Your whole life, you always looked up to your two big brothers. Beckett is the oldest, thirteen years older than you, and one of your first memories is of him getting his first car when he was sixteen. He was always nice to you when he was around, but truthfully that wasn’t a lot. He had his group of friends that he always went to hang out with, and he left for college when you were only five years old.

Mitch was the opposite, hanging home most of the time, though often hidden in his room. There was always music playing, whether from his radio, or from his guitar. He was always practicing, and you thought he was the best guitar player in the whole world. Sometimes, when Beckett was out, Mitch would play on his drum kit. You were sworn to secrecy, which didn’t always suit you. As the little sister, the baby of the family, you felt it was your duty to stir the pot. But when Mitch promised to teach you guitar in exchange for you staying quiet about the drums, you had to agree.

The guitar lessons were your favorite activity. Mitch would teach you different skills, always patient when you needed extra help to understand something. Plus, you got to watch him play, and he would test out new song ideas on you. It wasn’t the best idea if he wanted constructive feedback, since you thought everything he played was the coolest thing ever, but it made you feel so special that he trusted you so much.

When Mitch got his driver's license, the first thing he did was take you to get ice cream. Instead of disappearing with friends all the time like Beckett had done, Mitch would take you on some sort of outing each week. But his schedule started to fill up with school, and work, and practicing music with some other boys in the neighborhood. Though he still made sure to hang with you, your guitar lessons and trips to the ice cream parlor started to become less frequent.

And then he left for college. And you tried to ignore your sadness at how much you missed him. You got into new hobbies which kept you busy and introduced you to new friends. You continued practicing guitar, and all your hard work paid off when Mitch came home to visit and was impressed by your progress. He was always there for your big moments, like when you won the spelling bee and that time your softball team went all the way to states.

He came back home for a bit after college, but he spent most of his time working and practicing music. You were busy as well, having grown to love your extracurriculars and you had a solid friend group that you were always hanging out with.

But when Mitch announced he was moving to Los Angeles you were devastated. Him going to college was hard enough, and he was only two hours away. But California? This time you didn’t hide your feelings. To fourteen old you, this was the end of the world. Instead of hanging with his friends the night before he left, he spent it at home, having a movie marathon and reassuring you that he’d never be more than a phone call away.

It was hard saying good-bye, but you were proud of him for following his dreams. Your high school years both dragged on and flew by at the same time, and before you knew it you were getting college acceptance letters. While your friends were excited for their Ivy League acceptances or admittance to the biggest party schools, you had your eyes set on one place in particular.

You called Mitch when the letter came, opening it on Facetime. You screamed in excitement when you saw the words “You’re In!”

It was official. You were going to UCLA, and were going to live in the same city as Mitch.

Of course your parents worried about their eighteen year old moving so far away, but knowing your brother was close by eased their fears. You flew out that summer, working a waitress job and staying with Mitch who insisted he sleep on the couch so you could have his room. He pretended to be put out and annoyed, but you could tell he was happy to have you there.

And then he got the call. The big break he’d been waiting and working his whole life for. He didn’t tell you the details at first, since you were both busy and didn’t see each other much over those first few days. He mentioned he was working in the studio, but that was all. It wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that you two finally had some time together to hang out.

“How’s the new gig?” You ask.

“Honestly, it’s pretty sick. I’m working with Harry Styles,” he replies casually.

You stare at him for a moment, thinking you must have misheard him. No way has your brother been working with Harry Styles for the past week.

“Are you serious?” You finally ask.

“Yea.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Yes.”

“From One Direction?”

“Mhmm.”

“Mitch! Are you serious?”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m completely serious. Why?”

“Why? Because it’s Harry Styles! You’ve met him? You’re working with him? Mitch this is insane! He’s like- he so- oh my god!”

“I’m not following,” Mitch says after your outburst.

“Mitch, Harry is from one of the biggest boy bands in the world! I was obsessed with them! How do you not know this? And he was always my favorite. And then he grew his hair out and got even hotter.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you but he just cut it.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lying.”

“Sorry, but no. He went yesterday, here,” Mitch says and pulls up a picture on his phone. It is without a doubt Harry, his long locks gone. It takes a minute to get used to but you finally reply, “Well, he still looks damn good.”

“Glad to know you’re thirsting over my boss,” he says in a teasing voice.

“Your boss. That’s so bizarre.”

“You want to meet him?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Stop asking that.”

“I mean, obviously I want to meet him!”

“Ok. I’ll talk to him. Maybe you can visit the studio next week.”

“Holy shit. Wait. No. Don’t do that.”

“So you don’t want to meet him?”

“I do! But no! Cause that’s terrifying.”

Mitch laughs at that and asks, “How is that terrifying? He’s super nice. Very chill. I promise.”

“Ok fine. Yes, I'd like to come and meet him.”

“Then I’ll set it up.”

“Can I ask about the music you guys are working on?”

“You can ask. But I’m probably not supposed to say anything yet. Maybe you can get a little preview when you visit,” Mitch says.

The two of you continue to talk, though Mitch is reluctant to share more details about Harry or his work.

You’re busy with your job most of the week, but somehow manage to get Friday off, which is perfect because Mitch has set it up for you to come visit the studio and meet the others.

You head over with your brother mid-morning, and ignore the way he’s teasing you. Of course you’re nervous to meet Harry Styles, but does Mitch really need to point that out?

Luckily Harry isn’t there when you arrive at the studio, giving you some time to look around at all the equipment. Mitch asks you to tune one of the guitars for him and you do so happily, enjoying having something to focus on.

When you finish that, Mitch grabs another guitar and the two of you play together for a couple minutes. It feels like all those times back home, and any anxiety you had earlier has melted away.

When you finish the song you’re playing you hear someone clapping behind you. The person then says, “Good to know there’s a backup Rowland if we ever need one.”

Your eyes go comically wide as you realize the person behind you is none other than Harry Styles. Thankfully your brother decides to have pity on you, and instead of teasing you he simply says, “Harry, I’d like you to meet my sister, Y/N.”

You stand and turn, and Harry says, “Hello Y/N, I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand and you reach forward to shake it, and reply, “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“While I’d love to chat a bit more, I had this idea last night and I’m itching to get started. You’re free to hang out. It’s pretty casual here. And then maybe you and Mitch can join me for dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good,” you say. “Thank you for letting me watch today, I’m excited to see what you guys are working on.”

“Of course. It’s good to have an audience, get some feedback.”

With that, you take a seat and spend the next couple of hours watching with fascination as they work. The time passes quickly and before you know it you’re seated with Harry and your brother at a nearby restaurant.

It’s a great evening, and while you’d been nervous to meet Harry, you quickly discover that wasn’t necessary. He’s so friendly and welcoming, and the two of you keep getting lost in conversation, Mitch occasionally managing to get a few words in. But he doesn’t mind. He’s just interested in watching the two of you interact, keeping a big brother eye out.

After stretching out the meal as long as possible you and Mitch say goodbye to Harry. You don’t expect the hug Harry gives you, and you really don’t expect it to be so prolonged. But you’re not complaining.

Mitch, however, has some questions once the two of you get home.

“So, what’d you think of Harry?” he asks.

“He’s nice,” you answer simply.

“That’s all? You don’t have a major crush on him or anything?”

You roll your eyes and reply, “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? He’s attractive, talented, kind. Pretty much the whole package.”

“I just don’t want you getting your feelings hurt.”

“I know. And I promise this is just a silly crush. I’m not gonna act on it and like, lose my mind and ask him out. Plus I’m sure these feelings will pass if I spend more time with him.”

As it turns out, your feelings do not pass. Over the next couple of weeks you see Harry on occasion, and each time, those feelings only grow. You just love everything about him. And he always makes you feel special, and happy.

When you move into the dorms to start freshman year, Harry is there to help carry your things inside. He texts you after your first day asking how your classes are going. He checks in, and he sends food to your dorm that weekend to celebrate a successful first week.

And then he leaves. Well, him and his whole team, including your brother, for a two month writing retreat in Jamaica. You’re sad to be left behind and to have to say goodbye to them, but college is keeping you busy. While you miss them a bit, you’re focused on classes and you’ve made a great group of friends, so you don’t really have time to dwell on it.

That being said, you are excited when they come back.

You spend time with both Mitch and Harry, but midterm season is a lot, so you tend to be hunkered down in the library or your dorm studying.

Even when your exams are finished, you still have one project hanging over you, so you spend one more evening focused at the library. You finally complete and submit it, and check the clock for the first time in hours, surprised to see it’s almost 10PM.

You quickly pack up your things and head out, not wanting to interact with the library worker who would kick you out if you stay another five minutes.

It’s a quiet night on campus as you walk back to your dorm, and you’re enjoying the fresh air when all of a sudden someone roughly grabs and twists your arm. You turn in shock and the man pulls you off the path and into a dark alley.

Through the panic in your mind, you can’t help but think of how much of a cliched situation you’ve gotten into. But then he twists your arm even harder and you cry out in pain. That’s when his mouth roughly covers yours, both to try and quiet you, and to start what he’s obviously trying to do to you.

Refusing to give in you do the one piece of self defense you can think of, and knee him in the balls as hard as you can. It works, and he backs away, but not before shoving you back so your head hits the wall. You cry out in pain, and thankfully that is heard by a group of students walking by.

Two girls rush over to help you while a few boys surround your attacker, ensuring he can’t get away.

“Hey, let’s sit for a minute,” one of the girls says and helps you to the ground. You can hear the other girl on the phone, presumably to get emergency services there.

“Is there someone you want us to call?”

“Uhm, yea. My brother.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep the panic and shock at bay in order to open your phone and click on Mitch’s contact.

It rings, and Mitch answers with a cheerful, “Hey, what’s up?”

For some reason, hearing his voice breaks through the barriers you’re trying to build, and you start to cry, too hard to even get any words out.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks, now clearly panicked.

Realizing you won’t be able to explain, the girl wraps an arm around you and takes the phone, saying, “Hi, my name is Layla. My friends and I were walking on campus and heard a commotion. Your sister, she uhm, there was a guy. I think he hurt her arm, and uhm-” she stops for a moment and turns to you, asking if you were hurt anywhere else.

“Yea. My head. He hit it against the wall,” you manage to explain.

She nods and turns back to the phone, “She says he hurt her head as well.”

You don’t hear Mitch’s response but then Layla says, “I’ll send you a message with our location, hold on. Okay there, you should be able to find us. We have police and an ambulance on the way. My friends and I will stay with her.”

A moment later the phone is handed back to you. The call is still going so you put it up to your ear to hear Mitch say, “We’re on our way. We’re just down the street, we'll be there soon, I promise.”

“Okay,” you choke out through your tears.

It’s relatively calm for a minute or two, and then the scene becomes chaotic. The police and ambulance both arrive, and a moment later so does Mitch. You’re so happy to see him that it takes you a moment to realize Harry is there as well.

You reach out your uninjured arm to your brother and he quickly sits beside you. He holds your hand and gently strokes your hair out of your face, wanting to comfort you but still way of any injuries you have.

“Hi, I’m Colleen,” says a paramedic as she crouches down to your level. Before she can say anything else there’s a commotion. The police officers are cuffing your attacker and leading him to the car.

As this happens, the man looks at you and shouts, “This is all the stupid sluts fault! You bitch!”

You turn to Mitch and tuck yourself into his chest to hide, but still hear the voices around you all yelling at the man to drown him out. One voice stands out, and Harry clearly says, “You’d better stop talking right now, or you’re going to regret it.”

“Harry!” Mitch shouts, calling him off before he can make an even bigger scene. Mitch knows that Harry Styles attacking anyone, even such a lowlife, would not do well for his image.

Harry quickly walks over and kneels on the ground. You pull away from Mitch a bit and Harry gently places a hand on your cheek and asks, “Are you alright?” The concern is clear on his face, and though you’ve been friends for months, you're still surprised by the intensity of how much he cares for you right now.

“I’m okay,” you say quietly. “Just wanna go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Colleen says beside you. “By the looks of that arm you’ll need a stop at the hospital first. And I’m told you hit your head as well so we’ll need to check that too.”

Harry steps back to let the paramedics do their work, and you pout at the distance. Your tears return as they splint your arm, and the next thing you know you’re being placed on a stretcher.

Before they can get you in the ambulance, a police officer walks over and asks for your statement.

“Does this have to be done right now?” Harry asks.

“We can wait up to 48 hours, but it’s best to do it now. It’s easier to get it done, and the memory is most fresh now,” the officer explains.

“It’s alright, I’d rather just get it over with,” you say.

You tell them exactly what happened, your grip on Mitch’s hand tightening as you do so. By the time you’re done explaining, tears are rolling down your cheeks again and your brother gently wipes them away. Harry turns his back to you, but not before you see the angry expression he’s obviously trying to hide.

You look at Mitch and see that his expression is mostly concerned, but he’s definitely mad as well. That’s when you realize that up until now, you hadn’t mentioned the man forcing himself on you. But now that Harry and Mitch know about the kiss, their worst fear is confirmed. This wasn’t a mugging, or someone trying to scare you. No, this man had nefarious plans, and if Layla and her friends weren’t nearby, this would have ended so much worse.

“Thank you,” the officer says, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts. “We have your contact information and we’ll be in touch with any updates or further questions.”

Colleen speaks next, saying, “Let’s get you taken care of so you can get home, hm?”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply, comforted by her calm and straightforward demeanor.

“Which hospital?” Harry asks, and after hearing the reply, says, “Great, I’ll meet you guys there.”

The next few hours are a blur, and yet also pass in slow motion. Even with Harry pulling strings, it takes forever to get the tests and scans needed. And while you get the good news that you don’t have a concussion, it turns out your arm is worse than expected.

You have what you’re told is called a Galezzi fracture, so not only is the bone broken, but there’s a dislocation at your wrist as well. The worst part is that this requires surgery to fix. But at least it’s considered emergent, and after a few more tests, you’re taken into surgery.

By that evening you find yourself settling into a comfy bed at Harry’s home. You’re quite fuzzy on the details, since the pain meds in the hospital are rather strong, but Mitch explains that your surgery went great and there was no need for you to stay overnight. And apparently Harry insisted that you all stay with him for a little while, since his place is most secure.

It’s not even dinnertime, and yet you’re exhausted. Mitch helps you settle in bed and says, “Get some rest. I might run to the store to grab ingredients to make grandma’s soup, but I shouldn’t be gone long, and Harry is downstairs if you need him.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and you’re completely unaware of the conversation happening downstairs.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mitch asks, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Harry who’s sipping a cup of tea.

“Yea, of course,” Harry replies.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all of your help since last night. But you’ve really gone out of your way for me and Y/N. I mean, coming with me, staying with us all night at the hospital, and now having us stay with you? It’s very kind of you, but it’s also a lot. It’s more than I could expect.”

“Mitch, I don’t mind at all. It’s truly not a bother. I have the means to help, and, well I care about you and Y/N.”

They sit quietly for a moment, then Mitch says, “Y/N likes you. The only reason I’m telling you is because those drugs they gave her are pretty strong and I’m almost positive she’s going to spill the beans in the next day or two. But she does. You were her celebrity crush, and she swears that she doesn’t see you the same way anymore. But now I think it’s just a normal crush on a guy she’s friends with. And here you are, as a knight in shining armor, taking care of her after a traumatic experience. I just don’t want her getting hurt.”

“I promise, I would never hurt her,” Harry says emphatically.

“I know. I also know that I’d kill you if you ever did. I don’t care that you are my friend and my boss.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Harry says, thinking of his own sister and how he’d react in that situation.

“Just, let her down easy, okay?”

Harry is silent again before finally asking, “Can I be honest here?”

“Of course,” Mitch says, curious to hear what comes next.

“I uhm, I like Y/N too. I know that she’s my best friend's sister and all, but I’ve liked her since that first time she visited the studio. But my life is so complicated right now, and I’ve been trying to keep my distance and keep my feelings at bay, but they’re definitely there. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Take me out of the equation,” Mitch says. “I know people say not to date friend’s siblings, but don’t let me hold you back. Obviously I wouldn’t recommend asking her out until she’s recovered from this situation, and you should figure out if it could work with the tour you’re planning. But, I think you’re a good guy. And, uh, I think you and Y/N could be happy together.”

Silence falls over the pair again. Seeing that Harry is deep in thought, Mitch says, “I’ll let you ponder on that a bit. Is it okay if I run to the store? I told Y/N that you’d be here if she needs anything.”

“Absolutely, of course that’s fine. See you in a bit.”

Harry continues to sit at the table, after Mitch has left, after he’s finished his tea; he sits there and thinks about the conversation with Mitch.

The only thing to break him out of his reveries is the sound of someone in distress. He stands up and immediately heads to the stairs, running up them two at a time when he hears you cry out again. He walks into the bedroom at the exact moment when you finally wake up from your nightmare.

For a moment he stands there, waiting for you to indicate what you need. At the same time you freeze, reorienting to where you are. Once your brain finally catches up, you reach out to Harry with your good arm. He understands your request for comfort and sits next to you, carefully helping you shift so you can settle in his arms.

He holds you gently, wiping away the tears that have started falling once again. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you, love.” You slowly relax until you’re able to fall back to sleep, cuddled against Harry.

When Mitch arrives home he unloads the groceries and promptly checks on you. He’s surprised to see Harry in bed with you and whispers, “Everything alright?”

Harry nods and replies, “Yea, she had a bad dream but she’s good now.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Mitch leaves, and Harry continues to hold you, imagining what it would be like to be able to wrap his arms around you in better circumstances.

He desires a relationship with you, has for months now. But he knows it wouldn’t be fair to start something when he’s planning to travel so much so soon. He can’t ask you to leave school and come with him, but he can’t leave you behind.

As you continue to sleep, he comes to the conclusion that the time isn’t right. He’ll release his album, do his tour, and then he can ask you out.

It’s a smart decision. But it’s one he’ll regret for years to come.

Early the next year, Harry is busier than ever, getting everything ready for his album release. He’s put together a band that he’s excited to perform with, each member showing extreme talent while still remaining down to earth.

Your arm has healed, but the nature of the injury has made your left hand weaker. No matter how much you try, you can’t play guitar the way you used to. You simply don’t have enough strength in your left hand to press down hard enough on the strings to make the clear sound needed.

You spend time at the studio, watching the band practice and then practicing yourself when they finish. Mitch stays with you, trying to help you retrain your hand, but even with the physical therapy you’ve been doing, you just can’t get it.

The others are aware of your struggle as well, and all give encouragement. But it’s Sarah who does more and says, “Have you tried drums? You don't need quite as much strength in your fingers, just need to be able to hold the sticks.

The three of you stay for hours that evening as Mitch and Sarah work together to teach you the basics. It’s fun, and therapeutic, and you can’t help but feel that you may be playing matchmaker. You know your brother, and it’s easy to see the way he looks at Sarah, how he acts around her.

And from what you can tell, Sarah feels the same way. You admit you’d love for that to be true. Sarah is so nice, and always makes you feel at ease. You wouldn’t mind having her join the family, and it would be nice to finally have another girl around.

But as always, the next journey begins. Harry, Mitch, and all the others have a busy year ahead of them.

They leave to travel the world and play concerts for all of Harry’s adoring fans. You dive into your studies, and by the end of the fall semester of sophomore year, you’re happy to report to Mitch that you have a boyfriend.

It’s amazing how quickly time can fly. Life has changed throughout your time in college, and you’re now in the fall semester of senior year.

Mitch has helped Harry with his second album, which will be released in just a couple of months. Just like last time, you occasionally got to hear songs as they were being written, giving feedback but mostly being amazed.

Unfortunately, your boyfriend was not all that happy with you spending time at the studio. After nearly two years together, his bad side reared its ugly head, in the most unexpected way. The last thing you thought you’d see when bringing coffee to his dorm was him in bed with another girl. And yet, that’s exactly what you walked in on.

The fight that ensues isn’t pretty, and it ends with you single and heartbroken, immediately making your way to the studio where Harry and his band are rehearsing.

“What’s wrong?” Mitch asks the second you walk in.

“Nothing,” you state, clearly lying.

“Liar,” Mitch replies.

“I broke up with Aaron.”

At this news, Mitch and Sarah sit on either side of you on the couch. The rest of the band heads to another room to take a break. And Harry, well, he seems busy, fiddling with a notebook nearby.

“What happened, love?” Sarah asks as she wraps an arm around your shoulders, God, you’re grateful to have her in your life right now.

“I caught him in bed with another girl,” you explain.

If you weren’t so upset, Mitch and Harry’s reactions would probably be comical.

“He did what?” they shout in unison, clearly outraged on your behalf. You expected this from your brother, but you’re thrown by how angry Harry is.

“I was bringing him coffee, because he said he was working on a project. That ‘project’ ended up being named Margo. And it turns out he lied to her because she was very surprised to find out there was a girlfriend. So he’s the only asshole here. Margo punched him in the dick, so that was appreciated.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Sarah says.

You want to brush it off, say you’re fine. But it’s not. “Two years together and he just goes and does this? I mean, I thought he was the one! That we’d get married and have kids and all that shit. And now I have to start over?”

“At least you found the truth now before wasting any of your time,” Sarah says.

“You’re young, you have plenty of time to find someone who isn’t a total dick,” Mitch adds.

“Ugh, I guess you’re right. But,” you pause, collecting your thoughts before saying, “But why wasn’t I enough for him?”

“Hey, don’t even think like that,” Harry says. “You are more than enough. He isn’t good enough for you, you understand me?”

Once again taken aback by his intensity, you nod to show that you’re listening.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Harry says.

“What? Go where? You guys are in the middle of rehearsal.”

“We rehearsed all day yesterday, we’ll rehearse all day tomorrow. We can end a bit early today. I bet everyone could use a night off. We’ll go out, get some food, get some drinks, it’ll be fun!”

And that’s how you find yourself in the middle of an L.A. nightclub on a Thursday night, grateful that your schedule for this semester does not include any Friday classes. Because while the night starts pretty tame, things… escalate.

You’re newly 21, and heartbroken, and you’ve had drinks in hand all night, though you haven’t bought a single one for yourself. It’s the perfect formula for things to get crazy.

Mitch and Sarah head out after a couple hours. They worry about leaving you, but you reassure them a dozen times that you’ll be fine, and Harry tells them he’ll keep an eye on you. That’s enough for them to leave you alone with Harry. In your tipsy state you admit to yourself that this is, in fact, the desired outcome.

You thought you’d gotten over this crush years ago, but being here with him, recently single and a few drinks deep, you know that was a lie. You’d simply pushed down your feelings, told yourself you only liked him as a friend.

And then a song comes on that you love, and you pull Harry out to the dance floor. He goes willingly, happy that you’re no longer in a relationship and he doesn’t need to feel bad about being attracted to you. He hasn’t had much to drink, since his goal for the night is to make sure you’re safe and having a good time, but he’s had enough to feel a little loose.

Which explains why his hands find your waist just seconds after yours loop around his neck. He pulls you close, until you’re nearly flush against him. The two of you get lost in the music, moving together to the beat, unaware that you’re pulling each other closer.

It isn’t until his lips brush against yours that you realize your proximity. But neither of you pull away. Instead, Harry presses forward, his lips meeting yours in a surprisingly sweet kiss. It only lasts a second and then he’s gone, stepping back and saying, “We shouldn’t.”

You know he’s right, and part of you feels rejected. But another part of you rejoices in the fact that he kissed you. Not the other way around. Your mind wanders with possibilities, the possibility that he likes you, that he finds you attractive. Maybe he really does want you, but he’s being a gentleman. Afterall, you’ve been drinking, and you just got broken up with.

This theory is backed by the fact that he still has a hand on your waist, making sure he remains in contact even just a little bit.

“It’s getting late. We should get going,” he says next.

You pout and say, “Don’t wanna go back to my dorm.”

“Mitch and Sarah’s then?” He suggests.

“So I can see them being annoyingly in love? I’d rather not.”

“Okay. Do you want to stay in my guest room?” he asks, and you light up at the suggestion.

“Yes, please!” you say excitedly. You’ve spent some time at his place, having slept in that bed before after events at his house, and it’s the comfiest, coziest bed you’ve ever slept in. It’s exactly where you want to end this long, emotional day.

Harry picks up his phone and after a minute, says, “Cars on it’s way. Let’s get some water and head outside.” You follow his lead and soon find yourself next to him in the back of a luxurious car. You’re starting to get sleepy, and without thinking about it, you rest your head on Harry’s shoulder. With your eyes now closed, you miss the warm smile that spreads across his face at the gesture.

A little while later you arrive at his house, and he wraps an arm around you to help you inside. He briefly ducks into his room and comes back with some clothes for you to wear to bed.

“Go get ready, I’m gonna grab a couple things and leave them in the guest room for you,” he says.

You go to the hallway bathroom to get changed and do a cut back version of your bedtime routine. When you get to the room, Harry is there placing water, snacks, and some painkillers on the bedside table. Noticing you look at him he says, “Just in case you need anything,” as explanation. “I’ll be in my room if there’s anything else you need.”

He goes to leave but you ask, “Can you stay? For a little while, I mean. Just until I fall asleep?”

His face goes soft at the request, and he replies, “Of course, love.”

You climb into bed, surrounded by the softest blankets in the world. Harry sits on top of the covers, his hand moving to stroke your hair until you quickly fall asleep. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re really out, then presses a barely there kiss to your head before pulling himself away and going to his own room.

The next morning you wake up feeling better than you should considering how hard you went the night before. You still eat the granola bar that Harry left and take the pain relievers, downing the rest of the water as you do so.

You sit there and can’t help but think about all the people who would kill to be in your position. Relaxing in Harry Styles’ bed, having kissed him the night before. God, you cannot believe you and Harry had actually kissed. You’d been single mere hours and already kissed another man.

You’re conflicted by this. You’d spent years with Aaron, thought he was the man you’re going to marry. But you have to be honest, there was always a part of you that remained attracted to Harry. You know that you probably would have left Aaron if you had any chance with Harry, and that leaves you feeling incredibly guilty.

Picking up your phone you see a number of texts and missed calls from Mitch. Without even reading through everything you text him saying, “I’m fine, crashed at Harry’s. Can you come pick me up?”

He replies, “On my way,” almost immediately.

You wait a few minutes before heading downstairs, knowing you’ll see Harry but now knowing what to say. You finally suck it up and leave the guest room, bumping into him almost immediately in the hallway.

“Hey. Good morning. How are you feeling?” he says.

“Good, I’m good. Thanks for looking out for me last night. It was fun.”

“Yea, it was a good night. Can I make you some breakfast?”

“Oh, that’s okay. Mitch will be here in a couple of minutes,” you reply.

“Got it. That’s good then.”

The two of you stand there awkwardly, more timid around each other than usual. You can only assume he’s ignoring the kiss that happened just like you are.

Thankfully your phone dings with a message that your brother is there.

“Guess I should get going,” you say.

“Of course, I’ll let you out.”

Harry walks with you to the front door, but before he opens it he turns to you and says, “I know it’s hard to heal from a breakup, so just, you know- I’m always here for you. If you need anything.”

It’s shockingly earnest, and takes you by surprise. This man who is more busy than anyone you know, willing to help you through a broken heart. You don’t know what to say so you just wrap your arms around his neck in a quick hug. He’s barely returned the gesture when you pull away, thanking him once again and heading out the door and into your brother’s car.

Mitch waves to Harry as you buckle your seatbelt, and once you’re ready, he starts driving.

“So what happened last night?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

“I mean, not nothing. But like, nothing to worry about. So don’t worry about it.”

“Okay well now I am worrying.”

“It’s fine!”

Silence falls over the two of you, an awkward air permeating the car. It wears you down, and finally you break and exclaim, “Okay, fine! Harry and I kissed! But just like, a little bit. So tiny. Like, blink and you miss it. So it’s no big deal, got it?”

“Oh shit,” is his only reply.

The silence is back, and has you feeling restless.

“Mitch?”

“Yea?”

“Are you mad?” you ask.

“What? No,” he answers immediately. “I’m not mad. But you just had your heart broken. And any relationship with Harry would be complicated, especially a rebound.”

“He’s not a rebound! I like him. It was just one kiss. That’s all. I don’t plan on going further, I swear.”

“Okay. Did you have breakfast? I can make pancakes.”

“Pancakes sound good,” you answer, once again grateful for your brother who knows exactly how to support you through anything.

Pancakes with Mitch and Sarah are just what you need. And when you do go back to campus and tell your friends what happened, they help you even more by cursing Aaron’s name, saying they’ll make sure word gets out that he’s a cheater.

You move on from that relationship, but no one new catches your eye. You’re finishing your second to last semester at college, starting to focus on job hunting, and spending time with your brother, Harry, and the band before Fine Line’s release in December.

They’re busy of course, but take a break for the holidays before picking things back up in the new year. You’re prepared to say goodbye to them for months, so it comes as a shock when a pandemic shuts down the world and leads to you moving in with Mitch and Sarah when your dorm closes.

After only a couple weeks Harry moves in as well. He’d been living alone in his big house and you all knew it was weighing on him. He is clearly relieved to be staying with people, and the four of you make the most of this time in lockdown.

Since the house isn’t that big, Harry ends up sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room. This naturally leads to the two of you spending a lot of late evenings together watching movies after Mitch and Sarah have called it a night. You guys both make fun of them for becoming an old married couple, but they clearly don’t mind the teasing.

You and Harry grow even closer during this time. Since your classes have switched to online, and Harry rarely has anything scheduled, you tend to stay up late talking about anything and everything.

May comes, the world still shut down, and you officially graduate college. Mitch, Sarah, and Harry manage to surprise you with a graduation celebration to mark the big occasion. As always, you and Harry stay up late, talking about hopes and dreams and big plans. All the things that a graduation has people thinking about.

It’s even later than usual, and you and Harry end up sliding closer and closer as the minutes tick by. Just like the time at the club, you don’t notice how close you’ve gotten until you feel Harry’s breath ghost across your skin.

This time you do pull back, just enough to look in Harry’s eyes and confirm he wants this too. When you see the determination there, you lean in again. There’s a slight pause, just enough to build the tension, and then your lips brush.

And then you hear a noise, jumping back a second before Sarah walks in the room. The three of you look at each other, no one speaking a word for an agonizingly long time.

“Just grabbing some water,” Sarah says as she walks to the kitchen.

When she walks back through the living room to go upstairs you feel you need to explain and say, “We were just talking. Lost track of time.”

“I’m sure you did,” she replies with a knowing smirk before she walks away.

The moment having passed, you say, “I should probably get to bed.”

“I guess so,” Harry answers as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle contact makes you blush and he says, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry,” you reply.

You lay in bed, thinking about how close you came to kissing once again. It was clear he wanted it, and there was no alcohol to blame this time. You’ve been single for months, you start a totally virtual job soon, and all the reasons for staying away from Harry in the past, don’t seem like reasons anymore.

You remember years ago promising Mitch you would never ask Harry out, but now you’re determined to break that promise. Your brother will understand. You hope.

The next day Sarah invites you and Harry to join her and Mitch on a walk. You decline, saying you planned to facetime with your mom. Harry decides to stay home as well, claiming he needs to catch up on some emails he’s been putting off.

You ignore the knowing smirk that Sarah once again sends to the two of you, grateful that Mitch still seems oblivious.

Once you and Harry are alone in the house he asks if the two of you can talk.

Seated at the kitchen table, mugs of tea in hand, Harry begins. “I don’t really know how to say this. But I feel like I should just be honest.”

He pauses, and your mind swirls with what it is he’s going to be honest about.

He takes a large breath, exhaling loudly before saying, “I like you. Have for a while. You just- you’re one of my favorite people to hang out with, and you’re so smart, and kind, and funny, not to mention talented and so, so pretty. And if you’ll agree, I’d love to take you out on a proper date.”

You sit there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Sure, you were just last night thinking all those things about Harry, but to find out he feels the same way as you? Even with the sweet moments and the chemistry you’ve been feeling, this admission still hits you like it came out of thin air.

Harry starts to squirm and you realize you should probably answer him. You compose yourself and manage to say, “Yes. A proper date. That sounds lovely. And, uhm, I like you too.” The end comes out at barely a whisper, but you know Harry hears it as he smiles so big both dimples appear on his cheeks.

But then a thought occurs to you, and you ask, “How are we doing a proper date in a pandemic? We can’t go out anywhere.”

“Don’t worry about that, I have a plan,” he says with a pleased expression.

And that, the fact that he’s obviously put thought into this, proves that he’s felt this way for a while, just like you have.

“Then I’m looking forward to it,” you reply.

“How about tonight?” He asks.

You’re surprised by that, and he must notice because he backtracks and says, “Or we can wait a couple days. I don’t mean to rush you, I just, we’ve waited so long-”

You cut him off and say, “Tonight is perfect.” You agree, enough of waiting around.

“Wonderful! Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirm.

The two of you finish your tea in companionable silence before you get up to actually call your mom as you’d promised her.

For the rest of the day you can’t help but wonder what Harry’s plan is. He does tell you to get a little dressy, so you spend much of the afternoon getting ready. Harry leaves for a couple hours and goes back to his house, leaving you with a very nosy Mitch and Sarah.

They know something is going on between the two of you, and keep asking questions, but you repeatedly brush them off. Truthfully you don’t have many details to give.

When Harry gets back he’s dressed in slacks and a blouse, one of your favorite looks on him. It’s the perfect combination of casual and fancy, just enough buttons undone to tease. He’s holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, which Sarah helps you find a vase for. While the two of you are busy with that, Mitch takes Harry aside to give the typical big brother talk.

Finally, Harry is leading you out to the car, Mitch and Sarah watching on like proud parents. Harry continues to keep the plan a secret, so you’re curious when he pulls into the driveway of his home. He parks the car and comes to open your door like a true gentleman.

The two of you walk through the house and out to the back patio, where you see the beautiful surprise Harry has planned for you. He’s decorated the whole area, a bottle of wine ready on the table, and he explains that dinner he’s prepared.

He pulls out your chair and helps you settle in before bringing out appetizers. All of the food is delicious, and you enjoy every minute of the meal. There's a moment as you cut your food that your left hand slips a bit, never having regained full strength after the attack your freshman year. Noticing this, Harry quickly reaches over to finish the task for you before gently reaching out to hold your hand, his thumb stroking over the scar from your surgery. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t bring it up, but comforts you all the same.

The rest of the meal passes without incident, and the sun sets just as you’re eating dessert. It’s perfect, and romantic, and truly is the best date you’ve ever been on. The night ends in Harry’s bed, both of you too impatient to wait any longer after years of wanting one another.

Since you and Harry have been friends for so long, it only feels natural to slip into this new relationship status of boyfriend and girlfriend. You start spending more and more time at Harry’s house, which apparently gives Mitch and Sarah more alone time together, since at the end of summer they share the news that Sarah is pregnant.

The next three years are the most exciting whirlwind for all of you. Mitch and Sarah get married, then have a baby just days after they all perform together for the Grammys. Love on Tour begins a few months later, and you're so excited that your remote job allows you to travel with them for every show.

Sarah makes sure you know all of her parts, making you her backup in case something happens and she needs to miss a show. You’re confident that won’t happen, and then one night, it does.

It’s August 2022, night 5 at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Sarah comes down with what seems to be a nasty bout of food poisoning, and you’re asked to perform for her. You sit backstage before show time, an absolute mess of nerves. But then Mitch comes and sits with you, quietly hyping you up. The two of you sit and talk about playing music together when you were kids, and soon enough your nerves switch to excitement.

Harry asks that you stop by his dressing room before going on stage. When you stop in he wraps you in his arms, telling you how happy he is that you’ll be out there with them. Having him be so confident in you and your skills boosts your energy even more, and you can’t wait to get out there.

The show goes perfectly, and Harry gives you a special shout out during the band intros, thanking you for filling in. Hundreds, possibly thousands of cameras film the interaction, which is why it’s no surprise that people are making theories about your relationship with Harry by the next day. You’d managed to keep the fact that you’re dating a secret for two years now, but the look he gives you on stage is undeniable. The truth that Harry is dating his guitarist/best friend’s sister is out, and honestly, you’re relieved. Especially since people seem to be happy about it, and have apparently some fans even shipped the two of you together before.

With the success of that show, Harry asks you to fill in for Sarah on the entire Australia and Asia leg of tour. She and Mitch are taking a break, focusing on other projects and giving their now two year old a break from traveling for a bit.

Now that people know you and Harry are dating, you’re nervous that they might think you got this gig because of that. Luckily it seems most people are just saying that Harry is lucky to have found the Rowlands, since they seem to be a very talented family. And well, that’s the best compliment you could have ever hoped for.

You now better understand the post-concert adrenaline Harry always has, and truthfully, your sex life has only benefited from this development.

There’s a part of you that’s sad that you won’t be on stage with Harry for the last leg of tour, but that feeling fades away the second he comes out on stage in Denmark and you get to watch in amazement once again. You’re especially glad to be in the audience for Slane Castle, and Wembley, and most importantly, Italy.

The pride you feel watching him up there is overwhelming. The years that you’ve been together have been the happiest of your life, and you feel so much love for him.

Which is why, two days later, when he gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, there’s no question. You immediately say yes.

While the last two years have been all about tour, the next few years are all about building your lives together. You get married in a small ceremony, just family and close friends. Watching Mitch and Sarah’s son interact with Gemma’s baby girl practically kick starts your biological clock.

You and Harry make sure to enjoy the honeymoon phase for a while, but the desire to become parents grows more and more every day. When you decide to start trying it doesn’t happen right away, but after a few months, you excitedly call him into your room.

He finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling and holding what is clearly a pregnancy test.

“Is it? Are you?” he asks.

“I’m pregnant,” you confirm and immediately he begins to cry and smile all at once, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tight.

“I love you so much,” he says before sliding to kneel on the floor. He places his hands on your hips and looks at your belly before saying, “And I love you too, little one.” It’s when he places a kiss on your stomach that you finally start to cry happy tears as well.

Neither of you can wait to tell your families, who are ecstatic by the news as well. The biggest surprise is when you tell Mitch and Sarah, who share that Sarah is pregnant as well. Knowing that your child will grow up with cousins so close in age sends you into another bit of hormone induced happy tears.

The surprises continue when you go to your first OB appointment, and you learn that you’re having twins. And when you learn a couple months later that they’re both girls, Harry quickly settles in his role as a girl dad.

As expected, he is the best partner through all of this. He gets any craving you may have, does the hard work around the house, does anything and everything he can to help you be as comfortable as possible. He never stops telling you how beautiful you are, even when you’re six months along with two babies and feeling like a beached whale.

You talk to Gemma and Sarah nearly every day, getting advice and reassurance from them, especially as you get closer to actually giving birth. Sarah has her baby just as you get to seven months and holding your new nephew in your arms is like a reality check that you’ll have two of these little ones in just a few weeks.

Harry continues to support you however he can, but as the weeks go by you start to admit that you’re just going to live in this discomfort until the babies are here. You just remind yourself that each day of heartburn and back pain is another day your babies get to cook inside you.

When you do go into labor at 36 weeks, Harry remains calm and steady. His presence is grounding, and he gives you the strength to give birth to two beautiful and healthy baby girls.

A few weeks later your house is full, both yours and Harry’s families there to visit. Some people might find it overwhelming, but in this moment, you’re simply filled with joy. You watch as Harry holds his niece, Gemma and Sarah each have one of your babies, and your parents entertain Mitch and Sarah’s sons. It’s crazy, and chaotic, and it’s like a dream you never knew you had has now come true.

Mitch sits next to you, not saying anything, but putting an arm around your shoulders for a moment. He doesn’t need any words for you to know he’s taking it all in too. You’re grateful to have him by your side. Your big brother, your protector, and most importantly, your best friend.

Harry hands his niece off to his mother and sits on your other side. Mitch smiles, gives you one last squeeze and goes to play with his toddler. Harry presses a kiss to your head and you sink into his side. You can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to experience all this love.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I really loved writing this one. Side note, chose that picture because I love smiley Harry, but also, love smiley Mitch in the background.

#harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #one direction x reader #one direction fanfiction #mitch rowland x sister!reader

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