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reidmarieprentiss · 9 days

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Red: Part One

Summary: Spencer, in need of a break, finds himself at a quiet bar where he meets you. What starts as a chance encounter quickly turns into something deeper as the two of you fall for each other. Though your connection is undeniable, both of you struggle with opening up fully, each holding onto personal secrets that linger just beneath the surface. As you grow closer, the trust builds slowly but surely, but what truths are you both holding back? And how will they shape the relationship that’s blossoming between you?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, alcohol consumption, mild withholding of information, season 7 Spencer, this is just so fluffy

Word count: 23.5k

a/n: i am deeply obsessed with these two and i am sooo excited to continue writing for them !!! part two on the wayyy — unedited NEVER be afraid to call me out!!

also so silly but in this gif mgg has pen ink on his hand and that makes me happy

main masterlist part two

Additional warnings: handjob, fingering, grinding, mild breast play

Spencer had his eyes half-closed, nursing his second beer of the evening, the slight buzz in his head both surprising and, in a strange way, comforting. It wasn’t often that he sought out a bar, let alone one like this—a dimly lit, almost hidden speakeasy. The soft, jazzy notes of a piano floated through the air, merging with the quiet hum of voices around him. He liked that no one recognized him here, no one pried, no one asked questions. He could just be.

As he took another slow sip, he felt the weight of the stool next to him shift. Someone had slid into the seat beside him. He didn’t glance over immediately, his mind too cluttered to bother with pleasantries. The cases were piling up like unsorted files in his head, all demanding his attention. His mother’s health was deteriorating again, and the migraines that had haunted him for years had made a sudden, unwelcome return.

For a moment, he regretted not finishing the bottle of aspirin in his bag before entering the bar. But the alcohol was doing its job, numbing the edge just enough to make the night bearable. It wasn’t about getting drunk—he knew he wouldn’t let himself go that far—but it was about finding just enough peace to ease the constant pressure in his head, even if only for a few hours. Spencer closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath, the smell of wood and faint whiskey lingering in the air.

Spencer’s gaze lingered on the woman beside him, unable to tear his eyes away just yet. She looked like she had walked straight out of another world, her style effortlessly unique, her red boots and gingham shorts standing out against the muted tones of the dimly lit bar. There was something about her that drew him in, despite her stoic expression—an air of mystery, as though she held a universe inside her that she wasn’t quite ready to share with anyone.

The bartender slid the espresso martini in front of her, and she barely acknowledged it, her mind clearly elsewhere. Spencer wondered what she was thinking about, what troubles weighed on her. He sympathized, his own mind heavy with stress and worry. He almost felt a kinship with her, like they were both sitting here, burdened by their own worlds, trying to find some fleeting solace in the bottom of a glass.

The scent of her—something sweet, with a hint of spice—drifted toward him. It was a calming scent, one that made him close his eyes for a second longer, hoping it would ease the pounding in his skull. He couldn't help but think that her smile, if she ever chose to reveal it, would be the kind of smile that would light up the darkest corners of a room.

He wondered if it might also help alleviate the growing tension in his mind, the tight grip of his migraine loosening just at the thought. For now, though, the smell of her perfume was enough to dull the ache, if only a little.

"Espresso martini, huh?" Spencer asked, his voice soft, not wanting to intrude too much but also not wanting to remain silent any longer. "Interesting choice for a Wednesday night."

The woman turned her head slightly, glancing at him with a raised brow, as though surprised anyone had spoken to her. For a second, Spencer worried he had overstepped, but then her lips twitched—not quite a smile, but enough to make him feel like maybe, just maybe, he had said something right.

"Not going to sleep anyway," you shrugged with a tired laugh, your voice carrying a hint of exhaustion but also nonchalance. "Might as well get a drink I enjoy, right?" You wrapped your fingers around the stem of the glass, feeling the cool condensation against your skin, but your eyes flickered over to the man beside you.

Usually, you wouldn’t engage with random men at a bar, especially not on a Wednesday night when the world seemed to blur together in monotony. But something about this one had caught your attention. He wasn’t like the others who sometimes tried too hard or made themselves too loud. He was quiet, unassuming, and there was a weight in his eyes that matched your own.

He was handsome, yes—remarkably so. His sharp, angular features made him look almost statuesque, but there was a softness to him too, something that balanced out the hard edges. It wasn’t just in his face, though. It was in the way he held himself, a little slouched, as if the world rested on his shoulders. There was something vulnerable about him, and that vulnerability intrigued you.

You weren't the type to make conversation with a stranger, but maybe it was the exhaustion that made you let your guard down, or maybe it was the way his gaze had softened when he glanced at you, as if he understood something about you without needing to ask. Whatever it was, you found yourself more open to this brief encounter than you normally would be.

He smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond to your casual remark, but you noticed. It was a small gesture, but you appreciated it—more than you had expected to.

"Fair enough," he finally replied, his voice low but gentle, as though he was trying not to disturb the delicate balance of the quiet between you two. He took a sip of his drink, his fingers tapping lightly against the glass, a subtle rhythm that seemed to mimic the thoughts racing through his mind.

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, and you wondered if he, like you, had found some kind of unexpected solace in this quiet corner of the bar.

The man spoke again after a beat, his voice soft and almost hesitant, “Spencer.” He offered a small, almost boyish smile that contrasted with the sharp lines of his face.

You turned your body more toward him, your interest piqued by his somewhat awkward yet endearing demeanor. “Y/N,” you replied, returning the smile, though still guarded.

There was a brief pause, and then Spencer’s eyes lit up, as though something had clicked in his mind. “Did you know that your name, Y/N, has roots that trace back to—” He launched into a surprisingly detailed explanation of the origins and historical significance of your name, mentioning various cultures and meanings, weaving in obscure facts that you had never even thought about.

As he spoke, you felt a mix of emotions. On the one hand, it was oddly charming, the way he seemed so genuinely excited to share what he knew. He made you feel special, like your name was something worthy of deep analysis and thought, and you couldn't help but be flattered by it. But there was also something that put you a little on edge—the way he seemed to know so much, like he had all this information tucked away in his mind, ready to be shared at any given moment.

“I did not know that…” you admitted slowly, your voice a touch wary, even as you tried to keep your tone light. “Why do you?”

Spencer hesitated for a second, his smile faltering just slightly before he answered. “I, uh… I tend to remember things. I read a lot, so I guess some of it sticks.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Just ‘some’ of it?”

He let out a small, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe more than some. I’m kind of a… well, I guess you could say I’m a bit of an overthinker.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said with a grin, feeling the tension ease slightly between you. “But it’s not a bad thing. Just… surprising.”

Spencer nodded, his posture relaxing a little, as if your comment reassured him. “Surprising in a good way, I hope.”

You shrugged playfully, leaning back slightly in your seat. “I’ll let you know.”

Spencer liked this. You were cautious, guarded in a way that suggested a sharp mind, the kind of intellect that naturally set boundaries when it came to engaging with strangers. Yet, despite your reservation, you kept your wits about you, maintaining a balance of good manners and a sense of humor that was both disarming and refreshing. It made you even more intriguing.

There was something undeniably endearing about the way you interacted—enigmatic and charming, with a touch of playfulness that made him want to keep the conversation going. Spencer found himself wanting to know more, to understand what made you tick in the same way he often tried to solve the puzzles in his own head.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Spencer said during a brief lull in conversation, his tone gentle yet curious, “what brings you to a bar in the middle of the week?”

You squinted your eyes at him playfully, the corner of your lips quirking up in amusement. “I could ask you the same.”

He couldn’t help but smile at your response, appreciating how easily you turned the question back on him, challenging him to reveal his reasons first. It was a fair trade, after all.

"Touché," he conceded, leaning back slightly, considering his answer for a moment. "I guess I just needed a break… from everything. Sometimes it feels like things are piling up and... well, it was either come here or keep staring at the ceiling of my apartment."

You nodded in understanding, your expression softening just a bit. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes you need to step away from everything and just… exist for a little while, right?”

"Exactly," Spencer replied, relieved that you seemed to understand without him having to explain too much. "And you?"

You tapped your fingers thoughtfully on the bar for a moment before answering, your eyes drifting toward the half-finished martini in front of you. “Same, I guess. Life’s complicated, and sometimes you just want to sit in a quiet corner and let the world pass you by for a while. Maybe with a drink that makes it a little easier to forget."

Spencer nodded, the quiet between you settling into something more comfortable. There was no need for either of you to dive too deeply into your respective reasons for being here. The understanding was enough for now. Two strangers, sitting side by side, momentarily finding solace in each other’s presence without demanding too much.

“I’m glad I picked this bar,” Spencer said quietly, after a pause. “It’s… different. Quiet.”

You smiled softly, taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, me too. Good choice.”

“Have you... have you been here before?” Spencer asked, his curiosity evident as he glanced at you, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass.

You shook your head, setting down your now-empty glass and signaling the bartender for another drink. “No, actually. I saw it when I moved here, figured tonight was as good a time as any to check it out.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the coincidence. He wasn’t a man who often gave weight to fate or spiritual ideas—his mind preferred the concrete, the logical—but the fact that both of you ended up here on a quiet Wednesday night, for the first time, sharing an unspoken sense of heaviness... It felt like one of those rare moments that made him pause, as though something bigger was at play.

He smiled again, this time a little more openly. “I haven’t been here either. A friend told me about it. He, uh, likes to come here to meet women—said they’re more sophisticated than the ones he usually meets at clubs.”

You raised an eyebrow, your amusement clear as you leaned in slightly, your tone playful. “Are you, too, here to meet women?”

Spencer felt his face flush instantly, his eyes widening as he waved his hands in front of him, clearly flustered. “No! No, that’s not—” He cleared his throat, regaining a bit of composure, though the faint blush remained. “That’s not why I’m here. I just... needed a break, like I said.”

“Right... and that's why you're talking to the only single woman here,” you teased, gesturing around the dimly lit room with a playful glint in your eye. Spencer, caught off guard by the comment, blinked and glanced around for the first time since he’d sat down.

To his surprise—and slight embarrassment—you were right. The bar, small and intimate as it was, seemed to be filled mostly with couples. A few groups of friends sat scattered around, but there wasn’t another woman sitting alone at the bar. He hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in his own thoughts, and of course, in you.

A flush of pink crept up his neck again, a small, awkward smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he faced you once more. “I—uh... that wasn’t... I didn’t even notice,” he stammered, clearly flustered, his eyes darting to his half-finished beer in front of him.

You laughed softly, amused by how easily Spencer was thrown off by your teasing. There was something so endearing about the way he fumbled through conversations like this, so unlike most men you’d met before. He wasn’t trying to be smooth or overly confident, just... honest.

“Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” you said with a grin.

“Thank you,” he sighed. There was a beat of silence before Spencer added, “But, uh, for the record... I’m not here to meet women. You just happened to be... well... someone worth talking to.”

Your smile softened at his admission, feeling the sincerity in his words. You weren’t used to hearing that kind of candidness from someone so quickly. "Well, aren't I lucky?" you teased lightly, though your tone had a hint of warmth behind it.

Spencer’s chuckle had a softness to it, but his next words seemed to strike a different chord. "Luck is relative," he mused, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. Then he glanced up at you, his eyes searching your face with that same genuine curiosity. "Do you feel lucky?"

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His question seemed layered, and though you could sense the sincerity in his tone, the implication sounded... different to your ears. The way he asked it, with a certain intensity, made your mind wander to a more flirtatious place, a suggestion hanging between the lines. You had met men who approached conversations like this before, but there was something about Spencer’s awkward charm that made you hesitate to dismiss it outright.

For a moment, you thought about how you'd respond. You weren’t opposed to the idea of letting this man take you home, not at all. There was something about his presence that felt comforting, something about his awkward nature that drew you in. But you weren’t going to make it that easy. You enjoyed the chase, the cat-and-mouse game that kept things interesting.

You leaned in slightly, narrowing your eyes just enough to add a playful edge to your expression. "Lucky, huh?" You swirled the last of your martini in its glass, watching the liquid shift before locking eyes with him. “Depends on what kind of luck we’re talking about.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, clearly misunderstanding the subtle shift in your tone. "Oh," he stammered, clearly flustered. "I didn’t mean—uh, I wasn’t implying—"

You bit back a grin, enjoying watching him try to backtrack from what he thought was a misstep. "Relax, Spencer," you said softly, your tone more teasing now. "I know what you meant."

Spencer visibly exhaled, relief washing over his face. He wasn’t used to playing these kinds of games, that much was clear. But there was something about how genuine he was that made you want to keep him on his toes just a little longer.

You smiled, leaning back in your seat. "I guess I’m still figuring out whether I feel lucky tonight." You raised your glass slightly toward him, your eyes twinkling. “Maybe we’ll see.”

Spencer had relaxed as the two of you joked and bantered, and you noticed how much more comfortable he seemed, especially when he started showing you some of his magic tricks. It was charming, really—how this incredibly intelligent, slightly awkward man had such a whimsical side. You watched with genuine curiosity as he produced and shuffled a deck of cards with ease, his long fingers moving expertly.

But it was when he asked if you had a business card that really caught your attention. You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “No, but I do have a scrap piece of paper,” you said, pulling a folded-up slip from your bag.

Spencer took the paper with a playful smile, and with a quick flourish of his hands, it disappeared as if it had never existed at all. You blinked, leaning forward, impressed despite yourself. "Okay, I have to admit, that was good. Where’d it go?"

He grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. “A good magician never reveals their secrets.”

You laughed, thinking how absolutely adorable he was. There was something boyish and pure about the way he took joy in the simple act of performing a trick, like he’d just made your night a little brighter.

Absently, you went to brush a hand over the necklace around your neck, a habit you hadn’t even realized you had. But when your fingers grazed the pendant, you felt something unfamiliar—something other than the smooth metal of your necklace.

Frowning, you looked down. And there, dangling from your pendant, was the very same scrap of paper Spencer had taken. Your eyes widened in surprise, a burst of giddy laughter escaping your lips as you grabbed the piece of paper, utterly amazed.

You turned to Spencer, wide-eyed and full of wonder. “How did you—?!” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, your head shaking in disbelief, giggles bubbling up uncontrollably. He really had caught you off guard, and it felt... magical.

Spencer, looking very proud of himself, leaned back with a self-satisfied smile, clearly enjoying your reaction. He glanced pointedly at the scrap of paper in your hand, raising an eyebrow as if to say, take a closer look.

Curious, you followed his gaze and unfolded the small piece of paper. Scrawled across it in Spencer's neat handwriting was a number. His number.

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze with a playful smirk and a flutter of excitement. "So... was this part of the trick too?"

Spencer shrugged, his smile a little bashful now.

“How many times have you used that trick on women?” you teased, leaning in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing. “And how many times has it worked?”

Spencer blushed again, the pink flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. He shifted in his seat, clearly flustered by your question but still holding your gaze. “I... I used it one other time,” he admitted, his voice a bit shaky. “And it worked... sort of. But, um, it never led to anything.”

You smiled, leaning back slightly, enjoying how disarmed he was by your teasing. There was something so genuine about the way he interacted, like he wasn’t used to these kinds of moments—at least not often. He wasn’t the type to use smooth lines or rehearsed tricks to impress women, and that made him stand out even more.

“Well, I’m glad I could be the second one,” you said with a wink, letting the playful tension between you simmer. “But something tells me you’re hoping it leads to more this time.”

Spencer swallowed, clearly thrown off by your forwardness, but you could see the slight shift in his posture, the way his confidence grew just a little as he realized you were genuinely interested. “I, uh... I wouldn’t mind that,” he admitted, his eyes flickering from yours to the glass in front of him, then back again. “But I didn’t show you the trick just for that. I wanted to... impress you.”

Your heart fluttered at his honesty. It was so rare to meet someone who was so upfront, so unguarded in moments like this. You couldn’t help but find it endearing, and you leaned in once more, your smile softening.

“Well, you definitely impressed me, Spencer,” you said, your voice low and sincere. “And if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you show me another trick later.”

Spencer’s eyes widened a little at that, and for a moment, you could see the wheels turning in his head. He was calculating, thinking, but also clearly intrigued by the promise hidden in your words. He gave a small, nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I guess we’ll see how lucky I get tonight,” he murmured, the blush still lingering on his face but his smile growing more confident now.

You grinned, knowing full well that he didn’t realize just how lucky he was about to get.

As the bar's lights dimmed and the final patrons shuffled out, you already knew you weren’t going home tonight. The air between you and Spencer had been crackling all evening, and the decision seemed inevitable, even as you lingered at the bar for just a moment longer.

Spencer, ever the gentleman, graciously paid for both of your tabs without hesitation. The bartender, who had seemed less than impressed by your modest drinking habits, shot him a look that Spencer either didn’t notice or chose to ignore. After all, this night was about more than just drinks.

Walking out into the brisk night air, you and Spencer moved shoulder to shoulder, your steps naturally falling in sync as if you'd been walking together for much longer than a few hours. The quiet of the evening surrounded you, the distant hum of the city softening the world around you, and the moment felt intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. You could feel the warmth of his presence next to you, the subtle brush of his arm against yours sending sparks up your skin.

Feeling bold, Spencer glanced over at you, his usual shyness tempered by something else—perhaps the electricity that had been building between you all night, or maybe just the quiet courage that sometimes came with these fleeting, late-night encounters. "Can I give you a ride home?" he offered, his voice softer now, as though he didn’t want to shatter the stillness of the moment.

You smiled up at him, a knowing look in your eyes as you accepted. Spencer’s posture straightened slightly, his eyes lighting up as he guided you toward his car. True to his nature, he opened the door for you, his touch gentle as he gestured for you to climb in. You couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness, watching as he quickly walked around to the driver’s side and slid into his seat.

He fidgeted for a moment behind the wheel, his hands gripping the steering wheel loosely as he glanced at you, clearly waiting for directions. “Where should I take you?” he asked, his voice still carrying that sweet, earnest tone.

You met his gaze, your eyes sparkling with both amusement and intent. "Wherever you're going," you replied, your words hanging in the air, full of unspoken promise.

Spencer blinked, taken aback for just a split second, but then understanding settled over him. He glanced down, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips, and you could see the faintest hint of color creeping into his cheeks. There was a brief pause as he weighed his options, but the decision was already made—you could feel it.

"Alright," he said, his voice quiet but full of meaning. "My place it is."

Spencer was a bundle of nerves. The whole drive back, he had rambled—nervous energy pouring out of him in the form of random facts, mostly about the risks of going home with strangers. He’d listed statistics about crime rates, recounted famous cases of mishaps, and even delved into behavioral patterns associated with dangerous encounters. It was almost endearing, the way he was so clearly overthinking the situation.

"Are you going to kill me?" you had asked him at one point, half-joking, hoping to lighten the mood.

His response had been immediate and emphatic. "No, absolutely not! I—I would never do anything like that," he stammered, his eyes wide and sincere. "Statistically, it’s much safer—"

You laughed, cutting him off gently. "I believe you, Spencer."

His relief was palpable, though he still hadn’t fully relaxed, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. And now, as he fumbled with his keys at the front door, you saw how his fingers trembled slightly as he tried to get the lock open. His nervousness was so genuine, so utterly sweet, that you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom inside you.

It was obvious he didn’t do this sort of thing often, and that made you feel... special. He was just himself—nervous, brilliant, and genuine—and that vulnerability drew you in even more.

Finally, after a moment of fumbling, the door clicked open, and Spencer gestured for you to step inside, his cheeks still slightly flushed. "Sorry about that," he murmured, a small, sheepish smile on his lips. "I don’t usually have... company."

When Spencer led you through the front door, the first thing that hit you was the cozy, dark atmosphere of his apartment. Books lined almost every available surface, stacked neatly on shelves and piled in corners in a way that suggested they were well-loved and frequently revisited. The space had an old-world charm, a lived-in feeling that instantly put you at ease. The warm lighting and the faint smell of coffee mixed with old pages added to the inviting ambiance. It was unmistakably his—a reflection of the man you’d spent the evening getting to know, both brilliant and a little awkward.

You couldn’t help but smile, charmed by the intimate, intellectual space he called home. It was entirely different from the sleek, modern apartments of other men you’d been with, and that difference made you like it even more.

You smiled softly, stepping into the warmth of his home. "It’s fine," you assured him. "I like it here. It’s... very you."

Spencer’s eyes flickered with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, as though he hadn’t expected you to say something so kind. His shoulders seemed to relax just a little, and he gave you a nervous but genuine smile.

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his smile sweet but clearly nervous as his hands fumbled slightly in front of him. He took a breath, trying to compose himself, but the words tumbled out anyway. “So... um, I know what usually happens in these scenarios, but I don’t want to be presumptuous—not that I’m expecting anything from you either, but I guess, I’m wondering what, uh... what you want here?”

You could see how flustered he was, the way his uncertainty mixed with his genuine desire to be respectful. It made your heart swell, your affection for him deepening in that moment. His awkward honesty was refreshing, and you adored the way he was so transparently himself, not hiding behind bravado or assumptions.

Stepping closer to him, you reached out, your hands moving up his chest slowly, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. You let your fingers trail lightly over him before wrapping them around the back of his neck, pulling yourself just a little closer. Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he looked down at you, a mixture of surprise and anticipation flickering in his gaze.

“Well, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice gentle but teasing, “I would like to do what usually happens in these scenarios...”

His eyes searched yours, his body tense with uncertainty and excitement, but before he could speak, you added, “But we don’t have to do anything.”

Spencer blinked, processing your words. The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt just a little as he realized that the choice was mutual, that there was no pressure, no expectations. You were giving him the space to decide, and that made all the difference.

He swallowed, his voice quiet but full of sincerity. “I... I’d like that too. But only if you're sure.”

You smiled up at him, your thumb gently stroking the back of his neck. “I’m sure, Spencer. But if you’re not ready or don’t want to—”

“No,” he said quickly, then softened his tone. “No, I want to. I just... I didn’t want to assume and I–well, I haven’t done a lot before.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned in a little closer, your breath warm against his skin as you whispered, “You’re sweet, you know that?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he smiled, more comfortable now as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “I don’t hear that often,” he admitted softly.

“Well, you should,” you murmured, before closing the small distance between you and pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though Spencer was still processing that this was really happening. But then his grip around you tightened slightly, and you could feel him relax into it, his lips moving with yours, the kiss deepening as the warmth between you two grew.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of his apartment, the world outside forgotten. And in that moment, everything felt perfectly right.

You gently pulled back from the kiss, feeling the way Spencer’s lips lingered for just a moment, his eyes still shut as though he wasn’t ready for the moment to end. He followed your movement with a soft, almost unconscious pout, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“Easy,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection, as your fingers trailed up into his soft hair, stroking it gently. You wanted him to feel as comfortable as possible. He was clearly nervous, but the way he responded to you, how earnest he was in everything he did, made you want to handle him with the care he deserved.

“What are you comfortable with, Spencer?” you asked softly, your tone reassuring, trying to ease the tension in the air. “I don’t want to push you too far, or do anything you’re not ready for.”

Spencer took a deep, grounding breath, his chest rising and falling as he gathered the courage to speak. His blush deepened, his cheeks flushing a bright pink as he met your eyes. “Um… I haven’t had anything, uh, penetrative,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper as if admitting something deeply personal. He swallowed, clearly feeling the weight of the moment. “But… I have been touched. And I have touched.”

Your heart softened at his vulnerability, and you felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. He was sharing something intimate, and the way he trusted you enough to be honest about it made you want to hold him even closer.

“That’s okay, Spencer,” you said gently, your thumb brushing against his jawline in a soothing gesture. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can take things as slow as you need.”

He nodded, looking relieved that you weren’t pressuring him. “I… I want to try,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm. “I trust you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, more deliberate, allowing him to guide the pace. Spencer responded, his lips moving with yours, his hands resting tentatively on your hips as he began to relax into the moment.

“We’ll take it slow,” you whispered against his lips, reassuring him once more. “And you tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes meeting yours with gratitude and something else—something more. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his hands tightened just slightly around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Take me to your bedroom, Spencer,” you whispered against his lips, the warmth of your breath sending shivers down his spine. He nodded, his lips still brushing against yours as he took your hand and led you toward his room. The eagerness in his movements was evident as you both bumped into walls and knocked over small tables along the way, which made you giggle.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t be sorry, stud,” you teased, your voice playful but laced with affection. “I like how eager you are. It makes me feel desired.”

Spencer flicked on the bedside lamp, the soft glow filling the room and casting warm, golden hues across the walls. The light bathed you in a way that made you look even more radiant, as though the glow itself was drawn to your beauty. Spencer paused for a moment, standing there in awe of you, his eyes wide with admiration.

“You are desired,” he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. “So gorgeous, Y/N.”

His words made your heart swell. You could hear how much he meant it, how genuine his feelings were. Spencer wasn’t trying to impress you; he was simply telling you the truth as he saw it. And in that moment, you found yourself falling just a little for him.

“Sweet, sweet Spencer…” you whispered, smiling softly at the endearing man before you. Your fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. As the fabric parted, you kissed the newly exposed skin—his neck, his collarbone, the center of his chest—your lips leaving a trail of warmth with each touch.

You could feel Spencer’s stomach rising and falling rapidly beneath your fingertips, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as he struggled to keep his composure. He was nervous, that much was clear, but you could also see the way his body responded to your touch, the way his eyes darkened with desire.

“Relax,” you sighed gently against his skin, your lips brushing softly over his collarbone. “You’re beautiful.”

The compliment made him freeze for a moment, and you could tell it wasn’t something he was used to hearing. His breath hitched as you kissed his chest, your hands sliding the fabric of his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he raised them to your waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes. “I… I just don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t,” you reassured him, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “We’re just here, together. That’s all that matters.”

His eyes softened at your words, and slowly, the tension in his body seemed to ebb away, replaced by a quiet confidence. He reached up, his hands moving more purposefully now as he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice steadying as he leaned down to kiss you again, this time with a little more certainty, a little more control.

And in the quiet of his room, surrounded by nothing but the soft light and the gentle hum of your shared breaths, you felt completely and utterly desired.

"Do you want to take my shirt off, Spencer?" you whispered softly against his ear, letting your tongue graze the sensitive skin just beneath it. You felt the shudder run through his body as he nodded quickly, his breathing heavy, eyes still tightly shut as if the weight of the moment was too much to handle.

You giggled softly, charmed by his inexperience and how deeply he seemed affected by every touch, every breath. Gently, you took his large hands in yours, guiding them to the hem of your shirt. His fingers trembled slightly, but you could feel his eagerness beneath that nervous exterior. Slowly, he gripped the fabric, carefully lifting it up, still with his eyes squeezed shut, even as he let the garment drop to the floor beside you.

"Spencer..." you whispered, your voice sweet but laced with a hint of amusement. You couldn’t help but notice how his hands had frozen in mid-air, his fingers hovering, unsure of what to do next. His body was clearly responding to the moment, but his mind was racing, overwhelmed.

"You can open your eyes," you encouraged, leaning forward just slightly to nudge him out of his hesitation, your lips brushing his jawline.

Very slowly, Spencer cracked his eyelids open, his breath hitching as he adjusted to the reality of the situation. But the moment he caught sight of your bare chest, his eyes flew open wide, surprise and awe etched across his face.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your chest, as though he were trying to process everything all at once. His expression was a mix of innocence and desire, and it was clear that this moment was overwhelming him in the best way possible.

You could feel the intensity of his gaze, and the way his hands, still trembling slightly, hovered just inches from your skin. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly, guiding his hands to your sides, encouraging him to touch you. “You can touch me, Spencer.”

His breath caught in his throat, but this time, he didn’t pull back. His hands, once hesitant, now slid up your sides, gently grasping your breasts in his hands. His touch was reverent, almost like he couldn’t believe this was happening as he ran his thumbs over your nipples. There was something so pure, so unguarded about the way he looked at you, as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re...” he started, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re stunning.”

Your heart swelled at the sincerity in his words. You smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly, pressing your body against his. "So are you, Spencer."

You kept kissing him, your lips moving against his with just enough pressure to hopefully distract him from whatever whirlwind of thoughts his brilliant mind was racing through. You were learning he tended to overthink, and you wanted to help him focus on the moment, on the way your bodies were reacting to one another rather than on whatever internal dialogue was playing out in his head.

Your hands moved down to his belt, working on the buckle with ease. You could feel his breathing pick up as you undid it, but instead of pulling away or tensing up, his hands stayed on your breasts. His fingers squeezed you, almost like he was using you to ground himself, holding you tighter than before, as if trying to anchor himself in the moment. The sensation sent a wave of pleasure through you, and without hesitation, you moaned softly into his mouth.

The sound surprised Spencer, his entire body responding to it. He froze for just a second, his mind catching up with what had just happened. It wasn’t just the physical sensation that had gotten to him—it was the realization that he had made you feel that way. The knowledge seemed to set something off inside him, a surge of wonder and hunger, like he was teetering on the edge of something completely new.

As you undid the button of his pants, letting them fall to the floor, you gently nudged him to step out of his loafers and slacks, which he did, albeit a little awkwardly. Spencer pulled back slightly, glancing down at himself, standing in nothing but his tented purple boxers. He shifted on his feet, clearly still feeling self-conscious despite everything.

“I’m feeling a clothing disparity here,” he tried to joke, though his voice came out more nervous than playful.

You giggled softly at his attempt to lighten the moment, appreciating how vulnerable he was being, even in his nervousness. "I can fix that," you teased, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your bottoms. With a fluid motion, you slipped off your boots, followed by the rest of your clothes, leaving the small pile of fabric on the floor as you stood fully bare before him.

The room seemed to grow quieter for a second, the air thick with anticipation. Spencer’s gaze moved over your body slowly, taking in every inch of your skin with an almost reverent look. His breath hitched again, his hands hanging at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do next.

You smiled, stepping closer to him, your fingers trailing lightly along his chest, leaning in to press your body against his, feeling the heat between you intensify. "Now... let's see what else we can do about that disparity."

Your hands slid lower, brushing against the waistband of Spencer’s boxers as you tried to ease them down, but there was a bit of resistance—a clear obstruction that made the two of you stumble into a fit of giggles. Some of the nervous tension between you both lifted in that moment, replaced by the kind of playful energy that made everything feel lighter, more natural.

“Well, sir,” you said in an exaggerated, mock-serious voice, stepping back slightly to assess the situation, “it seems as if something has blocked my path.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a full, hearty sound that spilled out of him, the kind that seemed to release the last of his nervousness. His shoulders shook with amusement as he looked at you, shaking his head. “My deepest apologies, ma’am,” he replied, playing along with a grin that stretched across his face. “Allow me to be of service.”

You watched as he reached down, fumbling a bit with his boxers before finally managing to remove them, kicking them aside with a sheepish smile. His face was still flushed, but now it was more from laughter than nerves, and the atmosphere between you shifted again, becoming more comfortable, more intimate.

“Better,” you teased, your playful tone returning, stepping close enough for your bare skin to brush against his. You placed your hands on his chest, your fingers spreading out to feel the warmth of his body beneath your touch. Spencer’s breath caught in his throat again, but this time it wasn’t out of anxiety—it was pure desire.

You noticed the subtle shift in Spencer’s eyes—something deeper, more focused. The playful energy between you had served its purpose, helping him relax, but now you knew it was time to stop teasing and really show him how much you wanted him. The way he looked at you, still unsure but no longer nervous, told you he was ready to explore this new territory, even if he didn’t quite know where it was going.

With a gentle but deliberate push, you guided him back onto the bed, watching the way he looked up at you, his breath quickening. You moved after him with purpose, your movements slow and deliberate as you crawled toward him, like a wolf stalking its prey. Spencer scooted back to the pillows, his eyes locked on yours, his uncertainty fading into quiet anticipation.

His gaze flickered as you settled in closer, your knees on either side of his hips. His chest was rising and falling more rapidly now, his hands resting by his sides as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. You could see he was still processing everything, still trusting you to lead him through this.

“I’m going to touch you now,” you said softly, your voice a quiet promise. You let your hands trail up his thighs, your fingers brushing through the soft hair there, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Is that okay?”

Spencer’s breath hitched, but he nodded, his voice barely a whisper as he responded, “Yeah.”

Everything you had done so far, he liked. He wasn’t sure what came next, but there was no hesitation in his trust—he knew he would like whatever you did. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second as he felt your touch move higher, and he let out a small breath, almost as if he had been holding it in for far too long.

You took your time, wanting him to savor every moment. Your hands moved with gentle care, exploring his hips and stomach as you leaned in closer, your lips grazing his neck, your breath warm against his skin. Spencer shivered beneath you, his hands finally finding the courage to rest on your waist, his fingers gripping you just enough to anchor himself in the moment.

"You're doing so well, Spencer," you whispered against his ear, your voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

Spencer let out a breathless laugh, one filled with pure, unfiltered arousal. He hadn’t known until this moment how much he liked being praised, but the way your words washed over him—telling him he was doing good, that he was making you happy—lit something inside him. A fire burned in his stomach, spreading warmth throughout his entire body, and he couldn’t contain the way his body responded to you.

But then, when you wrapped your hand around him, firm but gentle, the heat exploded. It was as if you had poured gasoline onto that fire, and Spencer’s reaction was immediate. His back arched off the bed, his mouth falling open as a raw, guttural groan escaped him. His hands flew to the sheets, gripping them tightly as the sensation overwhelmed him, taking him by surprise.

He hadn’t been touched like this in a long, long time. It had been just him, his own hands and his own thoughts, but now—now it was you, and the difference was intoxicating. Every nerve in his body felt like it was alive, buzzing with an energy he hadn’t felt in years. He was losing himself to the moment, to you.

"God... Y/N..." he gasped, his voice low and rough, full of need. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold back the sounds that escaped him as your hand moved expertly, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him.

You smiled softly, watching the way Spencer's body reacted to your touch as you gripped him tighter, the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. He looked so beautiful like this—vulnerable and completely immersed in the pleasure you were giving him.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered again, your voice low and soothing as your hand continued to move, squeezing extra on his head and drawing more of those delicious sounds from him. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Spencer nodded weakly, his head falling back onto the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations. His mind, usually so busy and full of thoughts, was blissfully quiet now, his entire focus on the feel of your hands, your body, and your voice guiding him through this.

"Y/N..." he groaned again, his voice trembling with need, his hands reaching out to grasp your hips, wanting to feel more of you, to be closer to you. He was completely lost in you now, and he didn’t want it to end.

You smiled down at him, feeling a surge of affection and desire for the man who had so easily surrendered to you, his pleasure so raw and vulnerable. “Oh, you poor thing,” you whispered, your voice soft and teasing as your hand sped up its movements, stopping every once in a while to rub your thumb under his head. “You just needed someone to look after you, didn’t you?”

Spencer nodded quickly, his body responding to your words before he could even form a coherent thought. His head pressed back into the pillows, his chest heaving as the sounds of his pleasure spilled from his open mouth, completely uncontrollable. He was lost in the moment, lost in you, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride and tenderness as you watched him.

He looked so beautiful like this—flushed, vulnerable, and entirely open. His eyes, when they did open, were glazed with desire, his lips parted in a silent plea for more. There was something pure about the way he gave himself to the moment, trusting you completely to take him somewhere he hadn’t been in a long time.

And you were honored to be the one to make him feel like this, to be the person who could show him such tenderness and care. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath your lips as you whispered, “I’ve got you, Spencer.”

His response was another shaky moan, his hands returning to your hips as if to anchor himself to you, his grip both needy and gentle. His body was trembling now, his breaths coming faster and more erratically, and you knew he was close, teetering on the edge of release.

You let your free hand reach down to grasp and roll Spencer’s balls, his entire body jolted at the contact and he let out a sound akin to a scream. You could feel the tension building in him, his body reacting to every touch, every word. “You’re doing so good,” you murmured, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “Just let go for me, okay?”

Spencer’s breathing hitched, and you could feel him start to unravel beneath you. He nodded again, unable to speak, but the look in his eyes said everything. He was ready to let go, ready to give himself completely to the moment, and you were more than ready to guide him through it.

And when he finally did—when he let himself go with a guttural moan that shook through his entire body—it felt like you were witnessing something truly beautiful. You held him close, stroking him through his high as he spurted over your hand and stomach, your touch never wavering, your voice a constant, reassuring presence.

Spencer’s body finally relaxed beneath you and you removed both of your hands, his breaths coming in deep, ragged gasps as he tried to regain his composure. His hands, still resting on your hips, loosened their grip, and he blinked up at you, his eyes filled with awe and affection.

"Can... can I touch you?" Spencer asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the weight of exhaustion was too heavy for him to speak any louder.

You smiled down at him, his face flushed and his hair damp with sweat. Gently, you brushed the strands from his forehead, your touch tender. "Not tonight," you whispered back, watching as a small pout formed on his lips.

Before he could say anything else, you leaned down and kissed the pout away, your lips soft against his. "You're tired," you said softly, your fingers tracing his cheek, "and that was plenty for me."

Spencer sighed, the tension in his body giving way to exhaustion as he relaxed into your touch. He didn’t protest further, knowing you were right, but the way his arms tightened slightly around your waist let you know that he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion.

You smiled down at him, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “What are you thanking me for?”

Spencer gazed up at you, still catching his breath, his face flushed from both exertion and emotion. His fingers lightly traced circles on your hips, the touch absent-minded but tender.

“For... everything,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky but filled with sincerity. “For talking to me, being kind to me, patient with me. For... understanding.” His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching, almost vulnerable. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve felt like this.”

You smiled softly, brushing your hand through his hair again, letting your touch soothe him. “You don’t need to thank me for that, Spencer. I wanted this as much as you did.”

Spencer swallowed, his throat working through the remnants of tension. “Still... it means a lot. You make me feel... safe.”

His words stirred something warm and protective in you, and your heart swelled at the realization of how much this moment meant to him. It wasn’t just the physicality; it was the connection, the trust. He had let down his walls for you, and in that vulnerability, you started to see the depths of who Spencer really was—someone deeply deserving of care and tenderness.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m glad you feel that way. You deserve to be cared for, Spencer.”

His lips curved into a small smile, the tension in his body fully gone now, replaced with quiet contentment. “I’m really lucky,” he murmured, his voice still filled with awe.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “No, we’re both lucky.”

And in the warmth of that moment, you both knew that this was more than just a fleeting connection—it was something special, something real. Something neither of you had been expecting, but both of you had needed.

—

Spencer stirred, slowly waking up to the comforting warmth of your body, his head resting against your soft stomach, your fingers gently stroking him. The feeling was intimate, tender, and it brought a sleepy, blissful smile to his face. He could feel your fingers running through his hair as he nuzzled closer to you, feeling completely safe, completely at peace.

When he finally cracked one eye open, he saw you sitting up, wearing your shirt and underwear, looking down at him with a soft, almost shy expression—a side of you he hadn’t yet seen. It was endearing, and for a moment, he just wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in the warmth of your presence.

“Good morning,” you said softly, your voice timid, a tone that felt so different from the playful, confident energy you’d had last night. Spencer noticed the way you seemed slightly unsure, as if you weren’t certain what the morning would bring, and it made his heart ache with affection for you.

He opened both eyes fully, blinking up at you in a way that was so sweet and sleepy it melted your heart. “Hi,” he whispered, a smile spreading across his face, his voice still laced with drowsiness. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, as though waking up to you was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

You grinned shyly in response, the soft morning light making everything feel gentle and new. “I hope it’s okay that I’m still here,” you said quietly, your fingers still moving softly through his hair.

Spencer’s smile widened as he shifted slightly, his head still resting against your stomach. “More than okay,” he murmured. “I... I didn’t want you to leave.”

His honesty made your heart swell, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t want to leave either.”

Spencer sighed contentedly, his body relaxing further as he closed his eyes again, soaking in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as if to make sure you were really there, that this wasn’t just a dream.

“You’re still here,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet wonder. “And that makes me really happy.”

You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gentle as you whispered back, “I’m happy too, Spencer. Really happy.”

And in the quiet of the morning, with the two of you wrapped up in each other, it felt like the beginning of something special—something neither of you could deny.

Eventually, the cozy bubble the two of you had created was interrupted by the sharp sound of Spencer's alarm blaring, signaling that it was time to get ready for work. The moment felt bittersweet, and Spencer, clearly not ready to break the warmth of your embrace, pouted grumpily as he reluctantly pulled himself from your arms to head toward the shower.

He paused at the edge of the bed, turning back to you with a hopeful look, still shy but clearly not wanting this to end. “Will you wait for me to get out?” he asked, almost as if he were afraid you'd disappear the moment he stepped out of the room.

You giggled, shaking your head dramatically with a playful smirk. “Nope,” you teased, your tone light and full of humor. “This is when I’ll make my grand exit—after you’ve already seen me, of course.”

Spencer laughed at your playful antics, the sound filling the room as he smiled to himself. Despite the teasing, he appreciated how lighthearted and easy everything felt with you. Still, he quickly got up from the bed, scampering to the bathroom with a newfound urgency, his naked form catching your attention.

Before you could stop yourself, you called out, “Woo! The sun is out but the moon is full! How come I didn’t get to see your ass last night?”

Spencer immediately blushed, his face turning a deep shade of pink as he covered his behind with his hands and sped up his pace, looking over his shoulder with a grin. “I’ll show you mine when you show me yours!” he yelled, his voice echoing down the hallway.

Your laughter rang out, the joyful sound filling the space and making Spencer smile to himself as he entered the bathroom. It was the only response he needed, the perfect note to start his day on.

After Spencer disappeared into the bathroom for his shower, you took the opportunity to give yourself a quick tour of his apartment. It was just as charming as you expected—full of books, eclectic trinkets, and signs of his quirky, intellectual nature. When you found the kitchen, you spotted the coffee supplies and decided to make a quick pot. The smell of freshly brewing coffee soon filled the air, and you figured a simple breakfast would be a nice touch, so you whipped up some eggs and toast, humming softly as you worked.

By the time Spencer emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, the aroma of coffee and warm food had reached him. His heart swelled at the simple, thoughtful gesture. He had never imagined waking up to something like this. Rushing to get dressed as quickly as possible, he joined you in the kitchen, where you were casually sipping coffee and waiting for him.

You spent the next half hour in easy conversation, talking about simple, everyday things—where you grew up, how many siblings you had, whether or not you had any pets. Spencer seemed eager to learn all that he could about you, firing off question after question. You hardly noticed that he didn’t volunteer much about himself, his curiosity directed solely at getting to know you. You found it endearing, the way he leaned into every answer, his eyes lighting up with each new detail you shared.

Eventually, though, time started to slip away, and the soft glow of morning meant Spencer needed to leave for work. As he grabbed his bag, ready to head out, his shy demeanor returned, his eyes avoiding yours as he fumbled with his words.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearly flustered, “I don’t have time to take you home. I lost track of time.”

You were already sliding on your boots, unfazed by the rush. "That’s fine! I took a cab last night anyway, I can fetch another one," you replied with a smile, waving off his apology.

Spencer sighed in relief, though his brows furrowed with lingering guilt. “Can I pay for the fee at least?”

You laughed, shaking your head. "Absolutely not, Spencer. This wasn’t an exchange of goods," you teased with a playful wink.

Spencer flushed, chuckling at himself as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. Then his expression softened, his voice quieter, more sincere. “Can I see you again? Take you on a proper date?”

Your smile brightened at his request, your heart warming at the thought. “I would really like that.”

With that, the two of you officially exchanged numbers, the moment feeling more intimate than it had any right to. Spencer kissed you once, then again, as if he couldn’t help himself, savoring every second before he finally had to leave for work.

As he walked out the door, you called a car, feeling a sense of excitement bubbling up inside you. This was definitely just the beginning of something worth exploring.

—

Spencer walked into the BAU that Thursday with an extra pep in his step, his usually focused and somewhat intense demeanor softened by a secret smile that seemed to have taken permanent residence on his face. He barely noticed the way his colleagues, Derek and Emily, glanced at each other with raised eyebrows, instantly picking up on his unusual cheerfulness.

Derek, never one to miss an opportunity, was the first to speak up as Spencer passed by his desk. "Whoa, whoa, hold up, pretty boy," he called out, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "What’s with the smile? Did you crack some unsolvable puzzle overnight or something?"

Spencer blinked, the smile still lingering, though he quickly tried to rein it in. "What? No, I didn’t... I mean, no puzzles," he said, fumbling slightly as he continued toward his desk.

Emily raised an eyebrow and leaned against Derek’s desk, crossing her arms as she smirked at Spencer. "Are you sure? Because you’re practically glowing, Reid. Come on, spill it."

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he realized he wasn’t doing a great job hiding his good mood. He sat down at his desk, avoiding their teasing stares. "It’s nothing," he mumbled, but his attempt to brush it off only made Derek and Emily more determined.

"Uh-huh, sure," Derek repeated, his grin widening as he leaned forward. "Come on, man, you don’t look like this for no reason. You’re practically walking on air. What happened? Did you learn a new language or something?"

Spencer, unable to resist the opportunity to lean into the joke, shrugged, deciding to give Derek a little win. "Sure, Derek. I technically did begin studying a new language recently," he replied, trying to keep a straight face, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Emily, sensing that they weren’t going to get the juicy details they were hoping for, sighed dramatically, waving a hand dismissively. "Ah, quel gâchis," she muttered, her voice laced with playful disappointment.

Spencer immediately glared in her direction, having caught the meaning of her words. "What a waste?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I’m standing right here, you know."

Emily smirked, clearly enjoying how easily she’d ruffled his feathers. "Well, we were hoping for something more exciting than a study session, Reid," she teased, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "But I guess we’ll just have to live with our imaginations."

Derek chuckled, crossing his arms. "Don’t let her get to you, pretty boy. Just know we’ve got our eye on you."

The teasing didn’t let up throughout the day. Derek and Emily, delighted by Spencer’s unusual behavior, had made sure word got around that Spencer was “studying” something new—something that had him grinning like an idiot at random moments.

When JJ and Penelope heard the news, they joined in on the fun, leaving their own playful comments. JJ had passed by his desk, nudging him lightly. "Studying something new, huh? I’ve never seen someone so excited over homework, Spence."

Penelope, ever the drama queen, had dramatically swooned in front of him. "Oh my stars, who knew Spencer Reid could look so refreshed and glowing? It must be some incredible study material," she teased, winking as she fluttered away, her laughter trailing behind her.

Even Hotch, who was usually more reserved about office banter, had joined in. “It’s good to see you more focused and refreshed, Reid,” he commented during a briefing, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though his tone was as professional as ever.

But it wasn’t until Rossi chimed in that Spencer really realized how obvious he was being. Rossi had been watching Spencer with a knowing look for most of the day. After catching Spencer glancing at his phone for what must have been the hundredth time, he couldn’t resist.

“You’ve touched your phone an awful lot today, Reid,” Rossi mused as he walked by Spencer’s desk. "Waiting for something important?"

Spencer jolted slightly, startled out of his focus. He had, once again, been staring at the text he had prepared to send you but hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to hit send yet. He glanced up at Rossi, trying and failing to hide the sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, something like that," Spencer replied, his voice softer, betraying the smile that wouldn’t leave his face.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he crossed his arms. "Ah, I see. Must be some important 'study material' then, huh?"

Spencer flushed, realizing that Rossi was in on the joke too. “It’s... very interesting,” he said, glancing down at his phone again, but the small smile remained firmly in place.

Rossi chuckled knowingly. "Just make sure you don’t fail whatever test you’re preparing for," he teased, clapping Spencer on the back as he walked away, leaving the young doctor blushing and still holding his phone.

Finally, Spencer shook his head and, after a deep breath, hit "send" on the text to you, feeling a flutter of excitement as he anticipated your reply.

The end of the workday was a welcome relief for most of the team, and everyone was packing up their things, preparing to head out. Conversations were light, the usual post-case fatigue settling in. But as everyone moved about, the sound of a notification buzzed from Spencer’s pocket, drawing all eyes to him.

It was as if the entire team had collectively paused, waiting with bated breath as Spencer reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He hadn’t said much about whatever—or whoever—had been keeping that secret smile on his face, but they all knew something was up. And now, they watched him, each pretending not to care, but clearly all invested in this "mystery" that had made their boy genius so giddy.

Spencer took a quick glance at the screen, and almost immediately, his eyes widened. The smile that bloomed on his face was unmistakable, pure, and full of excitement. Without thinking, he tapped his hands on the desk, unable to keep still. Then, in a burst of happiness, he spun in his office chair—twice.

Emily, who had been pretending to pack her bag, exchanged a smirk with JJ. Derek raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to tease right then and there, while Penelope was practically bursting with curiosity, trying not to let out a squeal.

After Spencer’s excited spins, he paused, staring at his phone again, as if confirming what he had just seen.

Hi Spencer :) I’m glad you texted, I would love to see you again. How’s Saturday?

Spencer stared at the message for a moment, his heart racing, a goofy grin still plastered on his face. Saturday. Yes. Saturday was perfect. He could already feel the rush of anticipation building up inside him.

Across the room, Derek couldn’t hold back any longer. "Alright, man, spill it. What’s got you doing a victory lap in your chair like you just won the lottery?"

Spencer, still smiling, looked up at his friends and teammates, feeling a little embarrassed by how obvious his excitement had been, but he couldn’t hide it anymore.

"I, um... I have a date on Saturday," he admitted, his voice quieter but filled with unmistakable happiness.

“Oh, boy wonder, please tell me this isn’t a date with more studying,” Penelope sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if she couldn’t handle the thought of Spencer’s version of a romantic evening being spent in a library.

Spencer’s blush deepened as he shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, no studying,” he assured her, still smiling. “It’s just... dinner. You know, a normal date.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in mock disbelief. “Dinner? Normal? Spencer Reid, going on a normal date?” She placed both hands on her cheeks in exaggerated shock. “Be still my heart, I’m not sure I’m ready for this new chapter of your life!”

Emily grinned, leaning on her desk. “What’s next? Dancing?” she teased, clearly enjoying how flustered Spencer was getting.

Spencer waved them off, though the smile never left his face. “I’m just... excited to see where it goes,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Derek raised a brow, folding his arms. “Well, don’t keep us hanging, man. You’re gonna let us know how it goes, right?”

Spencer chuckled nervously. “We’ll see.”

Penelope clasped her hands together, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I am living for this! I expect a full report, Reid. Leave nothing out!” she added, already imagining the romantic possibilities.

Spencer just shook his head with a sheepish grin, knowing that after Saturday, he wouldn’t be able to escape their questions—but for now, he was just content with the thought of seeing you again.

—

Spencer spent all of Thursday evening through Saturday morning in a nervous wreck, spiraling between excitement and dread. The excitement stemmed from the memory of you—the way you looked at him, the way you had made him feel seen and wanted in a way no one ever had. But the dread… well, that came from his mind’s tendency to overanalyze, to question every little detail until it didn’t make sense anymore.

He had almost convinced himself that he had hallucinated the entire night—that perhaps he’d somehow gotten drunk at the bar and imagined everything. You were too good to be true, after all. You were beautiful, smart, and funny. And the way you had treated him with such care… it felt like something out of a dream. Spencer was nearly positive that it hadn’t really happened.

Adding to his anxiety was the fact that after confirming the time and place for your Saturday date, your conversation had ended abruptly. No back-and-forth, no playful banter. Just... silence. He had been waiting, glancing at his phone far too often, hoping for another text that never came.

Maybe the magic had only lasted for that one night and morning. Maybe you had woken up and realized that Spencer wasn’t what you wanted after all. What if the moment had passed and the reality of who he was had set in for you? What if, after thinking it over, you decided he wasn’t worth seeing again?

Then there was the physical aspect—the fact that you had seen him. All of him. You had touched him, and though you had stayed afterward, making breakfast and laughing with him, the irrational part of his brain couldn’t stop replaying the possibilities. What if you hadn’t liked what you saw but had been too kind to say anything in the moment? What if you were regretting the entire thing now?

Rationally, Spencer knew these thoughts didn’t make sense. If you hadn’t been interested, you probably wouldn’t have agreed to see him again. You definitely wouldn’t have stayed the morning, made him breakfast, and kissed him so sweetly before leaving. But his nerves were gnawing at him, relentless and persistent.

Spencer wasn’t just nervous. He was terrified. In all his 30 years of life, he had never met someone who made his heart race so much in a good way. Someone who made him feel this vulnerable yet eager to dive deeper.

He spent Friday night tossing and turning, replaying every moment he’d spent with you, both wonderful and anxiety-inducing. By Saturday morning, he was an absolute bundle of nerves, wondering if maybe he should’ve done something differently, said something better, or been more... someone else.

But then, just as the clock hit mid-morning, his phone buzzed. Heart racing, Spencer grabbed it from the nightstand. A message from you.

Looking forward to tonight :) See you soon!

He stared at the screen, a wave of relief washing over him so intense it almost knocked him off his feet. You were still interested. You hadn’t changed your mind. You wanted to see him again.

For a moment, he just sat there, the nerves easing away as he reread the message. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

As Spencer got ready for the date, the nerves returned. Despite dressing the same way he always did—his usual button-up shirt, vest, slacks, his familiar aftershave, and cologne—there was a sense of urgency in his movements. He didn’t know why he was so anxious; after all, he hadn’t changed anything. But this was different. You were different. He just hoped that you would like him as he was.

You had offered to meet him at the restaurant, which, at first, he wasn’t sure about. He’d wanted to pick you up, to make the evening as special as possible, but when you suggested meeting there, he hadn’t pressed. Maybe it was nerves on your part too, or maybe you just liked the independence of arriving on your own terms.

When he arrived and spotted you chatting with the hostess, his heart swelled, almost too big for his chest. You looked effortlessly beautiful, standing there in a red dress that hugged your form perfectly. It was simple, yet elegant, and the way it contrasted against your skin made you stand out even more in the dimly lit atmosphere of the restaurant.

You were laughing, completely at ease, talking with the hostess as if you hadn’t a care in the world. The sound of your voice carried over the light murmur of the restaurant, and Spencer was instantly reminded of when he’d first seen you. The way you had drawn him in so effortlessly. There was no pretense about you—just an infectious warmth and natural beauty.

He stood frozen for a moment, just watching, trying to gather the courage to walk up to you. But when you turned your head and caught sight of him, your face broke into the most radiant smile, and Spencer felt his nerves disappear all at once. It was like everything fell into place.

“Hey,” you greeted him as he approached, your eyes lighting up with excitement. “You made it.”

“Yeah, I—wow, you look... amazing,” Spencer smiled, feeling the last remnants of his awkwardness melt away as you grinned at him, doing a playful little twirl in your red dress. The movement was graceful yet lighthearted, making him laugh, a sound full of genuine joy.

“I’m sensing a pattern,” Spencer teased, his eyes gleaming with affection as he took in how the red dress suited you so perfectly, just as your red boots and shorts had. “Do you like red?”

You stepped in closer, your hands resting lightly on his chest, the warmth of your touch sending a subtle shiver down his spine. “I do,” you admitted with a sweet smile. “My, uh, my aunt always called me Red. Like Little Red Riding Hood.”

Spencer’s heart melted at the story, his eyes softening as he looked at you with pure adoration. “That’s so sweet,” he murmured, as if he couldn’t contain how endearing he found the thought of you being called “Red.”

You chuckled, glancing down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “Yeah, she said I was always wandering off on my own adventures, and she had to remind me not to get eaten by wolves.”

Spencer’s smile grew even softer, his hands instinctively resting at your waist. “Well,” he said, his voice gentle but filled with admiration, “I think Little Red turned out just fine.”

The exchange left the both of you wrapped in a quiet moment of warmth, the kind of connection that made the rest of the world seem to fade into the background. With a soft smile, you took his hand, ready to start the evening, knowing that it was already off to a perfect start.

After being seated, the conversation flowed easily as you both eagerly dug into the appetizers. The tension and nerves from earlier seemed to melt away entirely as you shared bites of food and laughed at small jokes. The restaurant had a cozy atmosphere, with soft lighting that gave the table an intimate glow, making everything feel even more relaxed.

You giggled, trying to hold in your laughter as you chewed, but it was no use. Spencer had said something funny just as you took a bite, and now you were covering your mouth with your hand, laughing through the food. Spencer immediately looked apologetic, his eyes wide as he realized his timing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, chuckling nervously, his hand halfway raised like he was ready to help in some way. “I didn’t mean to make you laugh while you were eating!”

You waved him off with your free hand, still laughing softly as you swallowed your food. “It’s okay, really,” you assured him once you could speak, your voice light with amusement. “It was worth it.”

Spencer grinned, a little sheepishly but clearly relieved that you weren’t bothered. “I’ll have to work on my comedic timing,” he said playfully, leaning back in his chair as he watched you, clearly enjoying the easy flow of your conversation.

You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle around you. It was the kind of dinner where nothing had to be perfect for it to feel just right. Everything between you and Spencer felt natural—funny, even in the smallest moments.

You stretched your legs out under the table, completely unaware of Spencer’s position, and grazed his shin with your foot. Spencer jolted slightly, his body reacting immediately to the unexpected touch. His brow quirked up, and he gave you a playful look.

"Are you trying to play footsie with me?" he asked, pretending to sound scandalized, though the teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips gave him away.

You burst into laughter, immediately throwing your hands up in mock surrender. "I promise I wasn’t!" you said, still giggling. "I was just stretching my legs!"

Spencer narrowed his eyes at you in mock suspicion, pretending to glare as if he didn’t believe a word of it. "Likely story, Red," he teased, using your intimate nickname with ease.

Hearing him call you "Red" sent a warmth straight to your heart. It had been so long since anyone other than your aunt had used that name, and the way Spencer said it felt special, like a quiet understanding between the two of you. You grinned, feeling that warmth spread through your chest.

"I’m innocent, I swear!" you laughed, leaning forward slightly, your eyes meeting his with a playful glint.

Spencer held your gaze for a moment before breaking into a wide smile. "I’ll let it slide this time," he said, his voice light but filled with a quiet fondness that made your heart skip a beat.

The dinner had gone off without a hitch, and Spencer, walking beside you under the soft glow of the streetlights, couldn’t even remember why he had been so nervous in the first place. The evening had been perfect—easy, comfortable, and filled with laughter. He found himself entirely at ease around you, more than he had been with anyone in a long time.

As you strolled along the sidewalk, your arm occasionally brushing against his, you made small talk, keeping the conversation light and fun. Spencer listened intently, smiling at your stories, hanging on to every word, though you noticed that he still hadn’t shared all that much about himself. You figured he had his reasons, and you weren’t going to push. He seemed too genuine, too kind-hearted, for it to be anything more than him needing time.

For now, you were content to share bits of your life with him—telling stories about your childhood, your adventures in college, and the silly moments that had shaped you. You spoke about your aunt, and how much she had meant to you growing up. Spencer’s eyes softened as he listened, clearly enjoying every word you spoke.

"You sound like you had quite the adventurous childhood," Spencer said with a smile as you finished a story about sneaking into your college library late at night for secret study sessions with your friends.

You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. "Adventurous might be a bit of an overstatement, but I definitely wasn’t the most well-behaved."

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I can’t imagine you being anything but well-behaved."

You grinned at him, loving the way he teased you with that gentle humor of his. "You’d be surprised."

He seemed content to let you lead the conversation, and though he didn’t say much about his own past, you could tell that he was listening to every detail you shared. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable; in fact, it felt as though he was genuinely absorbing everything about you, like he wanted to know you better, but in his own quiet way.

When the two of you finally made your way back to the restaurant, where Spencer’s car was parked, he offered you a ride home. His thoughtfulness made you smile, but once again, you politely declined, explaining that you didn’t mind walking.

However, Spencer’s expression immediately shifted, his brow furrowing in concern as he quickly launched into crime statistics about women walking alone at night. His detailed knowledge on the subject was impressive, but it also sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help but ask, "Why do you know so much about that?"

His response came with a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I, uh, I work for the FBI. I deal with a lot of crimes.” His words were quick, almost bashful, as though he wasn’t used to dropping that kind of bombshell in casual conversation.

Your eyes widened in surprise as the pieces clicked into place—the secrecy, the knowledge, it all made sense now. "Oh!" you exclaimed, relief washing over you. "Thank god, I was afraid you had experience in kidnapping or something."

Spencer laughed, clearly caught off guard by your reaction. He was so used to people being either overly impressed or intensely curious when they learned about his job, but your response was different—humorous, almost relieved.

"No, no," he assured you, pulling out his badge to prove his innocence, still chuckling. "Nothing like that."

You leaned in to get a better look at the badge, your fingers briefly brushing over the picture. Your eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh my goodness," you said, grinning up at him. "You look like a little baby in this!"

Spencer flushed slightly, laughing awkwardly. "Well, I was 22 when that was taken," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I’m 30 now… maybe I should retake it."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. "No," you said, your voice affectionate. "I like it. It still looks like you, just more… innocent."

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat at the way you were looking at him, your expression so warm and kind. He wasn’t used to being seen like that, not after years of working in the field, seeing the worst of humanity. But in that moment, you saw him—not as a brilliant FBI agent, but as Spencer, the person. And he liked that more than he could put into words.

He gave you a shy smile in return, slipping the badge back into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said softly, genuinely appreciating your words.

You nodded slightly, unsure of how to navigate the next moment. It seemed like the night was coming to a natural end, and you didn’t quite know how to say goodbye without feeling like you were cutting it short.

“Wait, Y/N,” Spencer said suddenly, his hand gently catching your arm. There was a soft urgency in his voice, like he wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end either. “I can’t let you walk home alone. Please, at least let me walk you.”

You laughed, partly at the irony and partly at his genuine concern. “Oh, well, you see,” you began, biting your lip as you explained, “I didn’t want you to know where I lived, you know, just in case you were dangerous.”

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by your honesty, but you quickly followed it up with a lighthearted smile.

“But,” you continued, glancing down at your shoes with a playful sigh, “seeing as you’re probably my safest option, I would love a ride home. These shoes are starting to hurt.”

Spencer’s expression softened immediately, a mixture of relief and amusement. “Oh,” he smiled, clearly trying not to laugh at the situation. “Well, in that case, I’m glad I passed the safety test.”

You chuckled, grateful for Spencer’s warmth and understanding as he quickly unlocked his car, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he was. “I promise I’m just your FBI chauffeur for the evening,” he said with a playful grin. “No funny business involved.”

Sliding into the passenger seat, you felt more comfortable now, letting yourself sink into the soft interior of the car. “I should hope there will be some funny business,” you teased back with a grin.

Spencer laughed as he rounded the car and got into the driver's seat, his smile still lingering as he started the engine. “Maybe, if you’re lucky,” he shot back, a hint of playful banter in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, remembering the playful back-and-forth from the first night at the bar. “Oh, I’m lucky, alright,” you teased, letting your words hang in the air.

The conversation during the drive was light and easy, flowing naturally as you both learned more about each other. Spencer shared bits about his life—how he was from Las Vegas, how he’d been a child prodigy, finishing school at an age when most were still navigating adolescence. You revealed more about yourself too, that you were 25 and had just moved to Quantico a month ago. It was the most you’d learned about him so far, and your heart soared with the thought that maybe he was starting to feel more comfortable with you, letting those initial walls down just a little.

When the conversation turned to your age, Spencer let out a visible sigh of relief, as you had teasingly implied you were only 18 when he initially brought up his own youth. You giggled at his obvious relief, knowing he had been worried.

As you both stepped out of the car, Spencer opened the door for you once more, a habit that hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was then that you saw your cat, Poof, sitting in the window, his eyes staring down at the scene below.

“Who is that?” Spencer asked, his eyes following your gaze.

You smiled, proud as always of your feline friend. “That’s Poof,” you said, your voice warm. “My boy.”

Spencer turned to face you, and for the first time, he seemed to muster the courage to place his hands on your waist, the touch gentle but deliberate. His fingertips pressed lightly against your hips, pulling you just a little closer.

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his with a playful, sultry look. “I hope it’s not time for that funny business,” you said softly, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Poof is watching.”

Spencer’s soft laugh filled the quiet evening air, his voice slightly teasing as he said, “Can you ask him to look away? I’d like to kiss you.”

You rubbed your chin, pretending to think it over, drawing out the moment. “Hmm, I guess I could try.” You turned your head over your shoulder and called up to your cat, “Hey, Poof?”

Poof perked up in the open window, his eyes locking onto yours, and he let out a questioning meow.

“Can you look away, baby?” you continued, your voice playful. “Mommy’s going to do something naughty.”

Spencer immediately flushed at your words, his cheeks turning a deep pink as he laughed nervously, clearly caught off guard by your teasing. Poof, seemingly understanding the moment, let out one more meow before hopping down from the windowsill, likely heading toward the front door to meet you inside. Whether he truly understood or just wanted to meet you, it didn’t matter. The effect was the same: the two of you now had privacy.

You turned back to Spencer with a smile, feeling the playful energy shift into something more intimate. With Poof gone, the evening air felt still, and you reached your hands into Spencer’s hair. Spencer, still slightly flustered but unable to hide his excitement, leaned in. His hands remained gently on your waist, but there was a tenderness in his touch that made your heart race.

Slowly, your lips met his in a soft kiss, the world seeming to quiet around you as everything else faded. It was gentle, tentative, and cozy, his lips pillow soft and sweet. Spencer kissed you like he was savoring every second, as if this moment meant more than he could put into words.

When you finally pulled back from the kiss, your noses still brushing lightly, the moment reminded you of a scene straight out of Lady and the Tramp. Spencer’s eyes were half-lidded, his lips still curved in a soft smile, clearly affected by the kiss. He exhaled softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, “I think you are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”

The sincerity of his words hit you like a warm breeze, melting your heart into a puddle. But as much as you felt overwhelmed with happiness, your expression must not have mirrored what you were feeling inside, because Spencer’s smile faltered slightly. He was quick to backtrack, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush.

“Oh no, was that too much? Is it too soon to say that? I’m sorry,” he stammered, his nervousness suddenly replacing the confidence he'd gained earlier. He was clearly afraid he had said something to ruin the perfect moment, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

You shook your head gently, biting your lip as you looked up at him. There was a newfound shyness in your gaze, an almost vulnerable expression that hadn’t been there before. "Just... please mean it," you whispered, your voice soft, your heart racing as you waited for his response.

Spencer’s eyes softened instantly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist, like a silent reminder he wasn’t going anywhere. “I do,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Hearing those words, a slow, sweet smile spread across your face, and the warmth in your chest bloomed into something even bigger. You felt seen, appreciated, and for a moment, it was like the two of you were in your own little world—just you, Spencer, and the quiet glow of the night.

“I feel the same way,” you admitted softly, your hand reaching up to brush a strand of his hair from his face.

Spencer’s nervousness melted away in that instant, replaced by pure relief and something that felt like hope. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and everything felt right. No more hesitation, no more second-guessing—just the feeling of being exactly where you both wanted to be.

—

Spencer Reid had never truly been in love before—not in the way people described it, that overwhelming rush of emotions, the constant thoughts about someone else filling your mind. But as he sat in his apartment later that night, thinking about you, he was almost certain that this—whatever he was feeling—was love. The way his heart skipped a beat just thinking about your smile, how his palms had been sweaty before your kiss, how you had effortlessly made him feel like the most important person in the world.

Still, Spencer was Spencer—his mind always searching for logical explanations, grounded in facts and science. He knew that love was largely chemical, that the brain released dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin, making people feel giddy and euphoric. And he also knew, from one of the countless facts stored in his mind, that both chocolate—and oddly enough, peas—could stimulate the release of similar hormones, mimicking the sensation of love.

So, in true Spencer Reid fashion, he decided to conduct an experiment.

The next day, he went out to buy both chocolate and peas—determined to see if those foods could recreate even a fraction of the feelings you stirred in him. He figured that if it was purely chemical, those foods should make him feel the same warmth, the same fluttering excitement in his chest.

He got home, spread out the chocolate and peas on his kitchen table, and hesitated for a moment. Was he really doing this? Testing whether his feelings for you were real or just his brain tricking him? He almost laughed at how absurd it all seemed.

But, he pushed forward, nibbling on some chocolate first. He waited, focusing on his body’s reactions. There was a slight rush—sweet and satisfying—but no butterflies, no pounding heart. Then he moved on to the peas, knowing they were supposed to have similar effects on the brain's chemistry. But after a handful of peas, he only felt... like someone who had just eaten peas. There was no spark, no overwhelming sense of joy.

Spencer sat back in his chair, staring at the empty plates, and let out a soft laugh. The experiment, while amusing, had proven what he already suspected: his feelings for you weren’t something he could replicate with food. They were something much deeper—something entirely unique to you.

The thought filled him with a sense of peace, and in that moment, he realized that what he was feeling was real. He didn’t need science or logic to confirm it—he just knew.

And as he closed his eyes, picturing your smile, he knew that love was the only thing that could explain the way he felt when he was around you.

—

"Alright, pretty boy, let’s hear it!" Derek clapped his hands together, rubbing them with an exaggerated sense of excitement as Spencer returned from the break room, coffee in hand.

Spencer paused mid-sip, his wide eyes blinking behind his cup, brows raised as if he hadn’t the faintest idea what Derek was referring to. “Hear it?”

Of course, he knew exactly what Derek meant. The date. But a small part of him—maybe a larger part than he cared to admit—wanted to keep you to himself, at least for a little while longer. His team already knew so much about him, and this, well, this was different. This was special.

Derek wasn’t having any of it. He narrowed his eyes, giving Spencer a mock-glare. “Don’t play with me, kid. You went on that date, right?”

Before Spencer could even respond, Emily perked up from her desk, always eager for gossip when it came to her favorite awkward genius. “Oh yeah! How did it go?” she asked, leaning in, her face full of curiosity.

Spencer sighed, setting his coffee down on his desk with a soft clink. He wasn’t going to get out of this one easily. He tried to keep his face neutral, his body language calm, but the memories of the evening—the walk under the streetlights, your playful banter, and that kiss—flooded his mind, making it hard not to smile.

"It went... very well," he admitted, his voice soft but steady.

Derek wasn’t convinced by Spencer’s attempt at subtlety. “That’s it? Very well?" he repeated, mocking Spencer’s impassive tone. "Come on, man. You’ve gotta give us more than that.”

Emily leaned forward even more, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, spill! Did she like you? Did you kiss her?"

Spencer could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, threatening to show in his cheeks. He could lie, brush it off, or keep it vague, but he knew his team better than that. They wouldn’t let it go. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to give them every detail.

"Yes, we kissed," he said, avoiding their wide-eyed stares. He could practically feel Emily and Derek’s eyes burning into him. "And yes, I think she liked me."

"Whoa!" Derek exclaimed, slapping his hand on the desk in excitement. "Look at you, Romeo!"

Emily was grinning now, clearly thrilled with this development. “Oh my God, you’re finally seeing someone. I knew this was going to be good!”

Spencer shifted in his chair, trying to avoid the attention while hiding his smile behind his coffee. "It’s... still early," he said cautiously. "We’re going to see each other again, but I don’t want to rush things."

Derek chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “No rush, man. Just enjoy it.”

Spencer nodded, feeling both overwhelmed by their enthusiasm and touched by their genuine happiness for him. As much as he had wanted to keep it to himself, there was something nice about sharing even this small piece of happiness with his team—his friends.

Still, in his mind, the best parts of the date were tucked away, memories meant just for him and you.

Just as Spencer was about to respond, Hotch’s voice cut through the bullpen. “Briefing room, five minutes,” he called, his tone all business as usual. But then, with a rare hint of amusement in his voice, Hotch added, “Congrats, Reid,” flashing a brief, smug smile before disappearing back into his office.

The team erupted into cheers and playful whops, their laughter filling the room. Derek gave Spencer a knowing nudge, grinning ear to ear, while Emily clapped her hands together in excitement.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh along with them, shaking his head at how quickly news spread in the BAU. He gathered his files, his coffee, and his thoughts, preparing for the case briefing.

As they made their way to the briefing room, Spencer found his thoughts drifting back to you. He wasn’t one to be easily distracted, especially at work, but today, there was a lightness in his step, a quiet happiness that followed him.

No matter what the next case would bring, you were there in the back of his mind, a constant, sweet reminder of the night before. And for the first time in a long while, Spencer felt like he was allowed to have something personal, something good, to look forward to.

—

It had been a few days since your date with Spencer, and though you hadn’t seen each other since then, the excitement hadn’t faded. Every day, you and Spencer shared brief phone calls after work, recounting your days, each conversation leaving you both with a sense of comfort and anticipation. It was enough for now, enough to tide you over until the next time you could be together in person.

Spencer, however, had been cautious about texting you first. He was afraid of coming on too strong, not wanting to push if you weren’t ready. He longed to see you again, and he was planning to ask if you were free this weekend. But the fear of always making the first move held him back, making him hesitate. He wanted to know that you were just as invested, that you’d reach out too.

Before he could summon the courage to ask you out again, the BAU caught a case that took them out of town. Spencer wasn’t sure what the protocol was for this kind of thing—how much should he let you know? It wasn’t like you were officially together, but at the same time, he didn’t want to just disappear without a word.

He decided to wait for your usual nightly call and tell you then, hoping the timing wouldn’t be off, worried that he might miss the window if things got too chaotic. A part of him secretly hoped you’d make the first move and call him tonight—an assurance that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

As the day stretched into evening, the team found themselves in a stuffy precinct in Arizona, dealing with an uncooperative local police department. The frustration levels were high, and Spencer was barely holding onto his patience with an especially difficult sheriff. Just as he was about to lose his cool, his phone rang.

Relieved for the distraction, Spencer pulled it out without thinking, assuming it was Garcia checking in with some intel. He answered with a weary sigh. “What’s up, Garcia?”

There was a brief pause before your voice came through the line, hesitant and uncertain. “Um, hi?”

Spencer’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. His heart leaped in his chest, excitement bubbling up at the fact that you had called him. But it was quickly followed by a wave of embarrassment as he realized his mistake. “Y/N! Hi!” he blurted out, his voice filled with a mix of apology and enthusiasm.

“Expecting someone else?” you teased, but he could hear the slight edge of insecurity in your voice, making his stomach twist with guilt.

“No, no, I’m so sorry,” Spencer rushed to explain, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the wall of the precinct, trying to escape the noise and tension around him. “I’ve been dealing with this case, and I just—well, I thought it was a work call. I didn’t look at the caller ID. But I’m really glad you called.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and Spencer held his breath, hoping he hadn’t ruined this. He desperately wanted you to know that you calling meant more to him than he could say.

After a moment, you spoke again, your tone softening. “It’s okay, I figured you were busy.”

“I am,” Spencer admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I would never be too busy to talk to you.”

Rossi happened to overhear the exchange between Spencer and you. Though the older agent smiled with quiet amusement and joy for the young genius, he refrained from teasing him. This was a rare moment for Spencer, and Rossi respected that.

On the other end of the line, you giggled softly, your voice light and teasing. “Never too busy for me?” you repeated, playfully emphasizing the words. “That’s quite the line, Spencer.”

Spencer felt his face warm even more, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "Mhm, you know me, smooth talker extraordinaire," he replied, his voice soft but playful.

Your laughter echoed through the phone, sending a wave of warmth over Spencer. He couldn't help the huge smile that spread across his face. There was something about making you laugh that filled him with an indescribable joy.

On the other side of the room, Hotch overheard the exchange. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced over at Rossi. “Did Reid just use sarcasm?”

Rossi nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "I think the kid��s in love."

While they observed, you continued telling Spencer a story about Poof. "Oh, and today Poof scared a little kid into dropping their ice cream when he meowed from the window," you said with a giggle. "The poor thing was so startled. I ended up running downstairs with a popsicle from my freezer to make up for it."

As you laughed, recounting the moment, Spencer's heart swelled at the thought of your kindness. His mind briefly wandered to the idea of you as a mother, imagining you with a little one on your hip, comforting them with that same gentle warmth. And, to his own surprise, the thought of you being the mother of his children crossed his mind, and it didn’t scare him—it made his heart race in the best way possible.

He shook the thought away, trying to focus on the present, but it lingered, a sweet hope tucked away for the future.

"That's... really sweet of you," he said softly, his voice full of admiration. "That kid’s lucky you were there. I’m sure Poof didn’t feel too guilty, though."

You laughed again, the sound sending Spencer into another moment of quiet happiness. "Nope, he was pretty proud of himself."

Spencer chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in days despite the tension of the case. Just hearing your voice, your stories, made everything feel a little easier.

—

After the team wrapped up the case and stepped off the jet, Spencer’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw your name lighting up the screen. A soft smile spread across his face as he read the message.

Fly safe :) Come around to mine after you’re settled? I have a surprise!

His heart fluttered at the thought of you preparing something special for him. After the tension and exhaustion of the last few days, knowing that you had gone out of your way to plan a cozy night in for him made his chest warm with appreciation. He could hardly contain his excitement as he picked up his pace, eager to see you.

As he sped through the BAU offices, Derek’s voice echoed behind him, laced with amusement. “Got somewhere important to be, pretty boy?”

Spencer didn’t even slow down, not bothering to stop by his desk or respond to Derek’s teasing. He was too focused on getting home, quickly freshening up, and heading straight to you. He had been looking forward to seeing you since the moment your text had come through. The idea of spending the evening unwinding in your presence—feeling the comfort you always brought—was all he wanted after this stressful case.

Once home, he quickly showered and changed into something more relaxed but still nice. The thought of you, the surprise you had planned, fueled his every movement. His mind buzzed with anticipation, wondering what you could possibly have in store.

Soon enough, he found himself standing outside your door, the night air cool but carrying a sense of warmth knowing you were just on the other side. Spencer took a deep breath, knocked softly, and smiled to himself. Whatever the surprise, he knew this night would be perfect just because he’d get to spend it with you.

As you opened the door, your heart swelled with affection the moment you laid eyes on Spencer. He looked so relaxed, dressed down in a casual red sweatshirt, something you hadn't seen him wear before. It made him look more approachable, more... himself. And to top it all off, he was wearing red—a color you were more than familiar with.

“Trying to steal my look?” you teased with a playful grin, your tone lighthearted.

Spencer, however, found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to shoot back a quick, witty reply—keep up with your usual banter—but the sight of you in those shorts, your legs fully exposed, completely derailed his train of thought. His brain short-circuited for a moment, distracted by how stunning you looked in such a casual outfit.

His eyes widened slightly, and he swallowed, trying to regain his composure. "I—uh—yeah, I guess great minds think alike," he finally managed to say, though his voice was a little breathless.

You caught the way his gaze lingered a bit longer than usual, and it only fueled your affection for him. There was something incredibly endearing about the way Spencer, usually so articulate and brilliant, could be rendered speechless by the simplest things about you.

“Well, I think you look cute,” you added, leaning against the doorframe with a teasing smile.

Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to focus on your words rather than how much he wanted to reach out and touch you. “You look... amazing,” he said, his voice genuine, the distraction momentarily fading as his gaze softened.

“Come on, space-cadet, step inside the spaceship,” you teased, giggling as you made room for Spencer to step inside your cozy, inviting home.

Spencer smiled, still somewhat in awe of you and how effortlessly comfortable you made him feel. He let you take his hand, your fingers lacing together as you guided him through the charming kitchen and into the warm, welcoming living room. The soft glow of the lamps, the greenery, and the sense of warmth that filled the space made it feel like a perfect sanctuary after the long, stressful days he’d had.

"So… I hope it’s not too much," you began, swinging your linked hands back and forth gently, clearly a little nervous. "But I, uh, rented some movies and made some food." Your voice softened as you continued, your gaze meeting his with a hopeful glint. "I thought we could just cuddle and hang out?"

Spencer's heart swelled at your thoughtfulness. The idea of a simple, cozy night in with you, far away from the chaos of work, was exactly what he needed. He could already feel the tension from the case melting away as he stood in your warm, peaceful space. The fact that you had gone out of your way to make him feel cared for, even without saying much, meant everything.

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently. "That sounds perfect," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “Thank you… for doing all this. You didn’t have to.”

You shrugged with a playful smile, pulling Spencer toward the couch. “I wanted to. You deserve a break. And... selfishly, I really wanted to see you.”

Spencer’s heart swelled in his chest, and he had to wonder if it was healthy for his heart to be beating this rapidly, this often. “Thank god,” he said dramatically, bending at the knees a bit for comedic effect, enhancing his performance. “Because I was really starting to miss you.”

You crinkled your nose in affection, finding his antics utterly adorable. Leaning up, you placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “We’re going to be that disgusting couple everyone hates to be around, aren’t we?” you teased, a playful gleam in your eyes.

That’s when Spencer swore his heart stopped altogether. His brain short-circuited as he replayed your words in his mind. Couple? Could this be real? His pulse quickened, and he suddenly felt like his chest was too small for his heart.

“Couple?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement and just a hint of disbelief. He looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You froze, realizing the word had slipped out without much thought. For a moment, you panicked, unsure of whether you had moved too fast or if Spencer was even ready for that. “I—uh... I didn’t mean to say that,” you stammered, feeling the nerves bubbling up. “But... is that okay?”

Spencer’s expression softened instantly. His eyes were still wide, but now filled with something warm, something deeper than mere excitement. Without thinking, he pulled you into a tender hug, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “It’s more than okay,” he whispered, his voice slightly shaky from the rush of emotions flooding through him. “I… I’d really like that.”

You laughed softly, relief washing over you as you melted into his arms. “Me too,” you whispered back, your hands wrapping around his back, holding him close. The tension that had built up between you moments ago dissolved into something tender, something warm and reassuring.

After a few beats, Spencer pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his smile small but full of meaning. “So… we’re that disgusting couple now, huh?”

You giggled, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. “Looks like it,” you teased, your voice light, yet filled with affection.

Spencer chuckled, unable to stop smiling, the realization of what this meant finally settling into his mind. This was real—you were real—and the connection between the two of you was deepening in ways he hadn’t even anticipated.

And there, in that cozy living room, something beautiful had started to bloom, and neither of you could be happier.

Of course, that was until you playfully pushed Spencer down onto the couch, the unexpected movement making him let out a surprised laugh. You leaned over him, your lips finding his, and kissed him with a fervor that made his heart skip several beats. His hands instinctively found your waist, holding onto you as you kissed him silly.

Every time your lips met, Spencer’s mind grew foggier, lost in the warmth and softness of your touch. His usual articulate thoughts were reduced to nothing more than pure sensation, and in that moment, he was utterly and completely yours.

But then, when you shifted, your hips settling down on his lap, and ground yourself against him, a low gasp escaped his lips. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist tighter, and he swore he was through the roof with happiness. His pulse was racing, his mind spinning, and yet, all he could think about was how perfect this felt—how perfect you felt.

A breathless laugh escaped him between kisses as he looked up at you with wide, adoring eyes. “I think,” he said, his voice ragged from the emotions swirling inside him, “this might actually kill me.”

You giggled against his lips, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Good,” you teased, leaning down to kiss him again, your movements deliberate and full of affection. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you survive.”

When your tongue traced along Spencer’s bottom lip, he knew he was in trouble—there was no way he was going to survive this, and, really, he was okay with that. But as the intensity of the moment grew, something shifted inside him. He didn’t want you doing all the work, didn’t want to just be the one melting under your touch. No, he wanted to return the favor.

“Y/N…” he mumbled, his voice low and filled with need as you sucked on his tongue, causing him to let out a deep, involuntary moan. The sound echoed in the room, making the moment feel even more electric.

Before you could continue, Spencer gently pushed you back, his hands still steady on your waist. “I want—” he began, taking a deep, steadying breath, his heart racing. “I want to… please you this time.” His voice trembled slightly, the desire in his words clear.

You paused, gazing down at him with surprise and affection, your breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, feeling the shift in the air between you. There was something deeply intimate in Spencer’s request, in the way he wanted to take care of you.

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers tracing light, almost reverent patterns along your skin as he held your gaze. “Please,” he added softly, his voice now filled with a quiet determination.

The vulnerability in his eyes and the sincerity of his words made your heart race in response. You smiled down at him, leaning in close so your lips barely brushed his. “Okay,” you whispered, giving him a soft, reassuring kiss. “Whatever you want, Spencer.”

Spencer gently shifted your positions, moving you onto your back as he settled between your legs, his body hovering just above yours. You giggled softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you wiggled your eyebrows playfully. “Hello, handsome.”

Spencer smiled down at you, a warmth blooming in his chest at how effortlessly playful and sweet you always were. “Hey, gorgeous,” he breathed out, his voice full of affection as he leaned down to kiss you again, slow and deep, savoring every moment.

This time, his hands were braced beside your head, supporting his weight as he kissed you. Your fingers traced soft, lazy patterns along his back, the gentleness of your touch contrasting with the intensity building between you.

But then, Spencer lowered his hips, grinding down into yours, and the sensation sent a shockwave through you. You couldn’t stop the high-pitched keen that escaped your throat, your fingers instantly digging deeper into his back, your body responding to him with a need that left you breathless.

Spencer pulled back slightly, his gaze heated as he looked down at you, his breathing ragged. “Did you like that?” he asked, his voice husky, thick with a genuine curiosity—but the way he asked it, the rough edge in his tone, made your heart race and your blood pressure spike.

You nodded, your breaths coming out in shallow, excited gasps. “Y-yeah,” you managed to breathe out, the simple action of speaking feeling overwhelming with the way he was looking at you, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him right now.

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you again, but this time his hips didn’t stop moving, rolling into yours with deliberate, teasing pressure that made you arch up into him, craving more.

With each roll of his hips, Spencer was more determined to make sure you felt everything, his quiet confidence growing as he watched the way your body responded to him. The playful teasing from earlier had transformed into something much deeper, more intimate, and as his hands roamed your body, he knew that this—being with you like this—was something he wanted to experience again and again.

“Spence, ungh,” you whined, your voice shaky as pleasure coursed through you. “Spencer, this—this feels so good.” Your words stuttered out as Spencer’s lips trailed warm kisses down the length of your neck, making you arch into him, but something inside you told you it could feel even better. “Can I… move you?”

Spencer paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Move me?” he asked, his voice soft and curious.

You nodded, your breath still coming out in shallow bursts. “If you were situated a little more to the left… you’d hit perfectly.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, the realization dawning on him. “Oh!” He laughed, the sound a mix of amusement and understanding, as his face flushed a deeper shade of red. “Of course.”

He braced himself as your hand went into his pants, repositioning just the way you needed, his hands still braced on either side of your head as his body moved into place. And when he pressed down into you again, the sensation hit in a way that had your back arching and a strangled moan escaping your lips.

“That better?” he asked, his voice low, and though the question was genuine, there was an underlying heat in his tone that sent sparks flying through your veins.

Your only response was a breathless nod, your hands clinging to his back, your nails digging into Spencer’s back as he moved just the way you had asked. The new angle sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, and it was all you could do to nod frantically, your breath catching in your throat as he pressed deeper.

"That’s it," Spencer murmured, his voice laced with both awe and desire. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You feel so good." His words only heightened the moment, sending a shiver down your spine as his hips continued their slow, deliberate movement against yours.

The tension in your body built with each roll of his hips, and every breathless whimper you made only spurred him on. Spencer's usually calm, thoughtful demeanor had melted away, replaced by something more primal, more intense. Yet, there was still something so gentle about him, like he wanted to savor every moment, every reaction you gave him.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your neck as he resumed placing kisses there, each one sending jolts of pleasure through you. "Spencer," you gasped out his name, your voice trembling with need. "Don’t stop."

His lips curved into a small, pleased smile against your skin. “I won’t,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. Spencer moved again, his body aligned with yours in perfect harmony now, and the sensation made you gasp out loud, your back arching off the couch as his name fell from your lips in a desperate moan.

He watched your every reaction with fascination, his gaze full of warmth and desire. “Just tell me what you need,” he murmured, his voice steady but filled with the same yearning coursing through him. “I’ll give it to you.”

The intensity of his words, combined with the way his body moved against yours, was overwhelming in the best possible way. You felt your grip tighten on his back, nails dragging lightly against his skin as the pressure built between you both.

Your breath hitched again, every nerve in your body sparking with sensation. "Just like that, Spence," you managed to gasp out, your body trembling with anticipation.

And Spencer, ever attentive, ever caring, gave you exactly what you needed, his movements steady and sure as he took you closer and closer to the edge.

Spencer’s eyes were filled with awe as he watched you, the intensity of your expression sending a rush of pride and arousal through him. "Are you going to finish?" he asked deeply, his voice tinged with both excitement and lust, clearly captivated by the way you were responding to him.

But as much as you loved the feeling of him against you, you knew that you needed something more to actually reach that peak. You didn’t want him to think that he was doing anything wrong, because he wasn’t—everything felt amazing. You just needed a little extra.

Shaking your head slightly, you met his gaze, feeling a little shy but determined to be honest. "Um, no," you admitted, your voice soft but clear. "Spence, I’m going to need something more..."

His eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning on him, and he immediately slowed down, his expression one of care and attentiveness. "What do you need?" he asked, his voice gentle, full of nothing but the desire to give you exactly what you wanted. Spencer was nothing if not eager to please, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like he wasn’t giving you what you deserved.

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, but you pushed through the nervousness. "I just need more… contact," you said, your voice trembling a little, but you held his gaze, knowing that Spencer was the kind of person who wouldn’t judge you for asking. "Maybe your hands... or your mouth?"

The moment you said it, Spencer’s eyes darkened with understanding and desire, and he nodded quickly. "I can do that," he said, his voice now rougher, the edge of excitement clear in his tone. Without hesitation, he adjusted himself, his hands sliding down your body with deliberate care, his fingertips brushing lightly over your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation through you.

"Tell me how," he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure it feels good."

You nodded quickly, your lips brushing against Spencer’s as you whispered, “Touch me, please.” The desperation in your voice sent a rush of heat through him, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how the roles had reversed. You were the one who was a mess now, needing his touch, and he found it both endearing and exciting.

But Spencer wasn’t one to leave you waiting—he was far too much of a gentleman for that. He wanted to make sure you felt every bit of pleasure you deserved. His hands moved with purpose, pushing your tiny shorts and underwear down as far as they could go in your current position, the fabric bunching up around your thighs.

His fingers hesitated just for a second, brushing lightly over the coarse hair, testing the waters as he sought your reaction. The moment his fingertips made contact with your lips, you let out a soft gasp, your body arching slightly, seeking more of his touch.

Spencer’s gaze flicked back to your face, watching your reaction closely, a mixture of curiosity and admiration in his eyes. He loved how responsive you were to him, how honest your body was in its need. Slowly, gently, his fingers traced lower, gliding through the wet heat of your skin, exploring with a tenderness that made your heart race.

“Like this?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath as his fingers found your most sensitive spot, circling your clit with deliberate care and pressure. He wanted to make sure he was doing it just right, watching for every little tell that told him you were enjoying this.

Your breath hitched, and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you nodded, unable to form words in that moment. Spencer, always attentive, took your reaction as the encouragement he needed and continued, his movements slow but precise, building the tension inside you with every stroke of his hand.

As your body responded to his touch, the quiet sounds of your pleasure filled the space between you, and Spencer’s heart swelled with satisfaction. He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips moving against yours with a renewed sense of purpose as his fingers continued their steady rhythm, determined to give you exactly what you needed.

You were quickly becoming undone beneath him, your body trembling as the pressure built inside you. Spencer could feel it too, the way your breathing quickened, the way your hips subtly lifted to meet his hand. And in that moment, all that mattered was making sure you felt as good as you possibly could.

"That's it," he murmured against your lips, his voice soft but full of awe. "Just let go, Y/N. I've got you."

Spencer's deep voice, laced with desire and tenderness, sent waves of heat coursing through you, and when you whined, your voice high and breathless, "Harder, faster, I'm so close," it was all he needed to hear.

His breath hitched, eyes darkening as his fingers immediately responded to your plea, pressing harder, moving faster. His focus was entirely on you, on making sure you got exactly what you needed. His lips brushed against your temple as his fingers worked you over, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast through your top, squeezing lightly.

"Like this?" he murmured, his voice rough with concentration, the husky edge to it sending another wave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched as you gasped out, barely able to hold yourself together. "Yes, yes, right there!" The sensation built inside you with a blinding intensity, every nerve in your body alight as Spencer's fingers moved expertly, just how you needed.

He watched your face, utterly captivated by how you were unraveling beneath him, your body trembling with need, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. His fingers pressed even harder, his movements precise and relentless as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come on," he whispered softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Let go for me, Y/N."

That was all it took. Spencer’s deep voice, the way his fingers worked your body, the tension that had been building—it all came crashing down at once. You let out a sharp cry, your body arching into his as the overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over you, your muscles tightening, then releasing in sweet relief.

Spencer slowed his movements as you rode out the high, his hand still gently moving against you, guiding you through the aftershocks. His lips pressed gentle kisses along your jawline, murmuring soft words of praise and affection as you came down from the blissful peak.

"That's it," Spencer whispered, his voice low and tender, filled with awe as he looked down at you. "Wow. You’re so beautiful."

He sat back on his knees, needing to take in the full sight of you beneath him, his chest swelling with an overwhelming sense of admiration. What he saw made his heart race—your flushed face, damp with sweat, your hair slightly stuck to your forehead, the way your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. The rolls of your tummy from the way you lay on the couch only made you more irresistible to him.

But what really caught Spencer’s attention was the wet spot beneath you, a clear indication of just how much you had enjoyed yourself. His eyes trailed up slowly, following the evidence of your release until they landed on the source of that wetness, the sight making something primal stir inside him.

He couldn’t help himself—his hand moved instinctively, reaching out to touch you again, his fingers gently brushing over the sensitive, soaked skin. The temptation was too strong, and before he could think about it, his fingers slipped inside you.

You flinched, your body jerking in a mix of oversensitivity and surprise. "S-Spence, wait—" you gasped, your hands grabbing onto his forearm, trying to find something to hold onto as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Spencer froze immediately, his wide eyes snapping up to meet yours. "Sorry!" he blurted out, his voice filled with concern. "I didn’t mean to—are you okay?"

You nodded quickly, your breath still catching in your throat. "Yeah, yeah... just sensitive." You smiled at him softly, appreciating his eagerness and concern, though your body was still recovering from the intensity of the high he had just given you.

Spencer smiled down at you, his lips soft and warm as he leaned in to kiss you gently. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low and husky, though there was a hint of teasing in his tone.

You took a few more deep breaths, your chest rising and falling quickly as your body calmed, but there was no way in hell you’d ever ask him to stop—not when he was making you feel like this. Shaking your head, you looked up at him, a playful glint in your eyes despite the lingering sensitivity. "Absolutely not," you whispered breathlessly.

Spencer’s smirk deepened, satisfaction and mischief dancing across his features. "Didn’t think so," he murmured, clearly pleased with your response. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the way your lips felt against his fingers resumed their mission.

His touch was gentler now, coaxing rather than demanding, and the feeling of his fingers moving slowly inside you after you just finished made you shudder, your body responding instantly despite the intensity you had just experienced.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Spencer whispered against your lips, his voice a soft promise, but there was an unmistakable eagerness in his tone. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep making you feel this way, but only if you were ready.

You nodded, your heart racing again as you gave him the permission he was looking for. "I will," you promised, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, holding onto him as his touch sent more sparks of pleasure through you.

And with that, Spencer’s fingers picked up their rhythm again, slow but deliberate, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched every reaction, every gasp and moan that fell from your lips.

“I—I won’t come like this,” you managed to gasp out as Spencer’s fingers sped up once again, the sensation intense but not quite enough to push you over the edge.

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes locked on where his hand was working its magic between your legs. The sound of his voice, low and comforting, sent another wave of warmth through you. “That’s okay, darling,” he said, his words dripping with affection and adoration. “I just wanted to feel you.”

The way he said it—so sincere, so captivated by you—made your breath catch, your body instinctively clenching around his fingers. You groaned, the sensation shooting straight through your core, your body responding to his touch in ways you hadn’t expected.

Spencer noticed your reaction, his smirk growing as his fingers continued to move, sliding in and out of you with steady precision. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “I love the way you feel around me,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

His words, the way his fingers kept you on edge without letting you tip over—it was driving you wild. Even if you couldn’t reach your release like this, the sheer pleasure of having him touch you, of knowing how much he wanted to feel you, was enough to keep you completely captivated in the moment.

You reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered back, “Keep going, please.”

Spencer grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he quickened the pace of his fingers just a little more, continuing to enjoy the way your body reacted to his every movement.

After Spencer had taken his fill, and you were far too sensitive to continue, you giggled, gently pushing him off as you sat up. You reached towards his waistband with a playful smile, teasing, “I can help the next customer now.”

But before you could get far, his hands caught yours, stopping you. When you looked up at him, you saw his face flushing pink, an adorably sheepish expression crossing his features. “I—uh, finished a long time ago,” he confessed, his voice soft, almost shy.

You blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. “What?” you asked, incredulous but deeply amused. “When?”

Spencer groaned, his face turning even redder as he leaned in, hiding in the crook of your neck. “When you did,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

Your eyes widened at the confession, a rush of heat pooling in your stomach as you processed what he said. "Fuck, that’s hot," you murmured, the thought of him finishing just from pleasuring you sending a fresh wave of excitement through your already sensitive body.

Spencer pulled back just enough to peek at you, his face still flushed, a mixture of surprise and bashful pride written across his features. “Really?” he asked, almost like he couldn’t believe that you’d find that sexy.

You nodded eagerly, your hands gently running up his chest as you leaned in closer. “Really,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “That’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Spencer exhaled a small laugh, clearly relieved and a little proud, the tension easing from his shoulders as he kissed you softly. Even though he had been shy about it, your reaction had made him feel comfortable.

After the intensity of the moment, you both excused yourselves to clean up, laughing softly as Spencer ended up borrowing a pair of your sweatpants. He wore them with a grin, clearly feeling more comfortable now. The two of you tidied up quickly, putting everything in order before settling back into the perfect evening you'd planned.

Before you knew it, your cozy movie night was underway, the two of you curled up on the couch together. The living room was warm and inviting, the soft glow from the screen casting gentle shadows around the room. Spencer's arms were wrapped around you, his head resting against your chest as you absentmindedly played with his curls. The sound of his breathing, steady and peaceful, combined with the soft hum of the movie in the background, made the entire evening feel even more intimate.

It wasn’t long before you felt the subtle weight of Spencer's body relaxing against yours, his breathing slowing as he drifted off to sleep. You smiled to yourself, your heart full as you gazed down at him. His face was peaceful, his usually intense expression softened by sleep, and you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were to have moments like this with him.

Gently, you nudged him awake just enough to move to your bedroom, guiding him carefully as he stirred. Spencer mumbled sleepily, still half-asleep as he followed you, reclaiming his hold on you as soon as you both slipped under the covers. His arms wrapped around you again, his body curling into yours instinctively as you both settled in for the night.

With his warmth surrounding you and the peaceful rhythm of his breathing lulling you, you quickly drifted off, the perfect ending to a night full of closeness and connection.

—

Spencer was incredibly content when he woke up to find his head once again pillowed by your chest. The quiet comfort of the moment filled him with warmth, his body relaxed and his mind at ease for what felt like the first time in ages. You were still asleep, your breathing soft and even, giving him a chance to truly admire your beauty without distraction.

He gently stroked your hair, letting his fingers run through the soft strands as he watched the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. Your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I am so lucky," he whispered softly to himself, the words barely audible in the quiet room.

But then, he noticed a small, sleepy smile forming on your lips. Spencer paused, realizing you were pretending to be asleep. He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation as he gazed down at you. “I just hope she doesn’t look me up on the internet… she'd find my porno…”

Your eyes popped open immediately, and you sat up with a start, your voice full of shock and amusement. "What?!"

Spencer couldn’t hold back his laugh, his cheeks flushing a bit as he tried to stifle it with his hand. "I’m kidding!" he said quickly, grinning at the horrified look on your face. "It’s just a joke."

You stared at him for a moment before breaking into laughter yourself, smacking his chest playfully. "Don’t scare me like that! I almost believed you!"

Spencer chuckled, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Sorry, sorry. You were just too cute pretending to be asleep. I couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing, but you couldn’t help the warm feeling in your chest at how playful and lighthearted Spencer was with you. “I’ll have to keep my guard up now,” you teased, leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Good idea,” Spencer said, smiling into the kiss. “Though I promise, no more fake confessions. Just real ones.”

"Better not," you warned playfully, your smile soft as you settled back into the warmth of his embrace, the both of you falling back into that easy, affectionate comfort.

You traced lazy patterns on Spencer’s chest, your fingertips lightly grazing his skin as you asked, “What would I find if I looked you up, really?”

Spencer sighed softly, clearly thinking it over for a moment before answering. "Some peer reviews, research articles, child prodigy stuff, and, uh… probably some news stories from the BAU."

The mention of the BAU caught you off guard. “BAU?” you asked, your voice holding a slight edge of nervousness. You knew Spencer worked for the FBI, but he hadn’t gone into much detail about it.

Spencer, misinterpreting the nervous tone in your voice, mistook it for confusion. “Oh, sorry, the Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he explained casually, not yet realizing the weight of what he was revealing. “It’s the part of the FBI where I work. We profile and catch serial killers, violent criminals, kidnappers… you know, things like that.”

“Oh… yeah,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Sounds scary.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers lightly brushing through your hair. “But it’s really rewarding too. It’s sweet that you seem concerned.”

You laughed lightly, trying to shake off the lingering nerves. “Yeah,” you said, your tone warmer now as you tried to ease the tension. “Don’t want my boyfriend being in danger.”

The word had slipped out so naturally, but as soon as Spencer picked up on it, his eyes widened in surprise and excitement. “Boyfriend?” he repeated, his voice practically buzzing with joy. “You called me your boyfriend.”

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth of his reaction settle your nerves. “Well, aren’t you?” you teased, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye.

Spencer’s face lit up, his expression one of pure adoration. “God, I hope so,” he breathed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and happiness. His arms wrapped around you a little tighter as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening but didn’t want to let go of the moment.

You smiled, your heart swelling as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the soft hum of affection that flowed between you both. “Then kiss me,” you murmured against his lips. “Boyfriend.”

Spencer chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but I’m not going to question it.” His voice was filled with genuine emotion, as though this moment meant more to him than he could fully express.

You smiled, nuzzling into him, feeling more at home than ever.

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st4rfckerz · 8 months

Text

Church Mouse | Priest!Anakin Skywalker x reader

word count: 4.0k

warnings: MDNI 18+, blasphemy, age gap (reader is in her 20s), mild manipulation, infedelity, pet names, dubcon, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, virginity loss, rushed ending dead dove do not eat

summary: After confessing your sins to the priest, he encourages you to talk to him privately.

The sun shone brightly outside the church windows, casting warm rays across the peaceful town square. Birds sang melodiously in trees lining the peaceful avenue leading to the church building. Inside, candles flickered gently, casting warm light on the ornate wooden pews filled with devoted parishioners.

Many attendees wore their finest clothes as they listened intently to Father Anakin's sermons, occasionally whispering prayers under their breath or reaching for their rosaries. The scent of incense mixed pleasantly with perfume and cologne wafting through the air.

"Today's lesson is about finding solace in our faith during difficult times, we have all faced trials and tribulations throughout life, but remember that God is always with us, guiding us through these dark moments," he paused dramatically, letting the words sink in before adding. "Just like how I am here for you all, If anyone needs guidance or support outside of church hours, please don't hesitate to visit me personally."

The crowd applauded politely, some even raising their hands in praise.

Anakin stood tall and proud in front of his congregation, his hands resting gracefully atop each other in prayer position. "But first, let us pray," he began solemnly. Everyone followed suit, kneeling on their knees, and bowing their heads in unison. He led them in a heartfelt prayer asking for strength and guidance throughout the week ahead. Your eyes were closed tightly as you prayed fervently, the beads of you rosary clicking softly in rhythm with each breath you took.

The prayer ends and you raise your head. Anakin's warm eyes met yours briefly before returning his gaze to the congregation. "Remember, my dear friends, if you ever need someone to turn to in times of trouble or doubt, I am here for you. Now, let us proceed with the sermon." He said softly yet firmly.

Anakin's sermon lasted well beyond the usual hour mark, his words resonating deeply within you. He talked about sin and repentance, forgiveness and redemption. Each sentence seemed tailored specifically for you, hitting hard at places you didn't even know existed. His voice was mesmerizing, lulling you into a trance-like state where all you could think about was him.

After thanking everyone for attending church today, Anakin announced that confessionals would remain open for anyone who needed to speak with him privately. He urged those waiting outside the confessional booths to enter one by one. People started lining up outside the confessional booths, waiting patiently for their turn to unburden themselves.

You hesitated briefly, unsure whether you should go or not.

Finally, mustering up courage, you walked slowly towards the nearest booth, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

You couldn't help but notice how many women seemed particularly entranced by Father Anakin; they hung onto his every word during sermons and lingered longer than necessary after Mass ended. Some even approached him directly after services, seeking personal guidance or counsel.

When it was finally your turn, you nervously stepped inside the dimly lit booth. The thick wooden panel separated you from him, giving you some semblance of privacy. You hoped no one could hear what you were about to say.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned." You begin timidly.

You could hear his soothing voice responding softly, "What is it my child? Remember, here you can speak freely without fear of judgment." His deep baritone reverberated through the wooden walls, making your knees tremble slightly.

Unsure of how to begin, you struggled to find the right words. Your voice trembled slightly as you managed to spit out the confession that had been weighing heavily on your mind for days now.

"I had an encounter with a boy and it was wrong," You explain. "He touched me Father." The admission felt like a heavy stone being lifted off your chest, but also brought forth a wave of guilt and shame.

Your heart raced faster than ever before, and you could feel sweat forming on your palms as they clutched tightly onto the confession railing.

Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly, a slight frown creeping onto his otherwise serene face.

His warmth radiated off him like a furnace, making you feel as if you were melting in his presence. "And did you enjoy it?" he asked bluntly, his tone laced with curiosity rather than judgment.

Slightly taken aback you respond meekly, "No sir."

After a brief pause, he continued, his tone becoming more commanding. "Meet me in my office once everyone has left." With that cryptic statement, you hear his door open, signaling the end of confession time. After gathering yourself, you cautiously left the booth and returned to the previously vacant pew.

As everyone else left the almost empty church, you sat in silence and waited. The sun casted a warm, golden light through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the pews surrounding you. It was only you and a woman only a few years your senior. The woman's eyes lingered on Anakin hungrily as she waited for him to acknowledge her presence

The woman, dressed in a somewhat modest dress and heels, stood in front of Anakin. They engaged in conversation for several minutes, their voices low enough that you couldn't make out what they were discussing. Anakin gave you a small nod towards the hallway leading to his office, indicating you should wait outside while he finished up with the other woman. Reluctantly, you stepped into the empty hallway, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Every step felt like walking on eggshells, and every sound echoed loudly in your ears. Finally, after what seemed like forever, you reach his office.

With haste, you slip inside and shut the door. You sat nervously in the chair, trying to compose yourself as you waited for Anakin to finish his conversation with the woman. The office itself was tastefully decorated, featuring a large wooden desk with numerous religious trinkets and pictures of Jesus Christ adorning the walls. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with volumes on religion, philosophy, and psychology. A large cross hung prominently above his desk, casting eerie shadows across the room.

The door creaked open, and Anakin stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. His long legs striding confidently towards you as you remain sitting in your chair. Reaching out, he gently caressed your cheek with his warm palm, his fingers brushing against your jawline. His touch sent electric shockwaves through your body, making it hard for you to focus on anything but him.

"Did you enjoy today's sermon little lamb?" He asks softly.

"Yes Father," You managed to croak out, your voice cracking slightly. "It was very moving."

Anakin walks over to his desk and sits down across from you, his presence nearly overpowering as he leaned forward in his chair. His large frame loomed over you, making you feel small and insignificant yet simultaneously drawn to him.

"I noticed how attentive you've been during my sermons," he admitted with a slight smirk. "It's quite flattering, actually." You couldn't help but blush at his candid admission, feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and excitement wash over you.

"Now, tell me more about this encounter you mentioned during confession," he said calmly, leaning forward slightly. His presence was suffocating yet strangely comforting, making it difficult for you to form coherent sentences. "What exactly happened between you and this boy?"

"W-well the other day me and this boy were studying together, and then he kissed me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Is that all he did?" Anakin pressed, his eyes boring into yours. His question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering truthfully.

"No sir, when we kissed he put his fingers...inside me." Your face flushed even brighter at your confession, and you felt heat rising in your chest. Anakin's expression remained unchanged, but you could feel the heat emanating from him intensifying.

"Was it consensual?" he asked bluntly, his eyes boring into yours.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. On one hand, you knew what you had done was wrong, but another part of you couldn't deny the thrill and excitement it brought you

"Yes Father," you whispered softly, barely audible above the ticking clock on his desk. You hung your head low in shame, tears threatening to spill over at the thought of betraying your faith. "But I didn't...you know." Anakin's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes searching yours intently. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze intensifying. Anakin paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully.

"You didn't have an orgasm." He stated bluntly, his tone devoid of judgment. You shake your head quickly, too embarrassed to speak again.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his forearms resting on his knees. His icy blue eyes bore into yours, searching for some hidden truth that you refused to admit. "It's natural for a young woman like yourself to be curious about her body and sexuality," he said matter-of-factly. "But remember, these desires must be channeled appropriately. God created us with these urges, but we must learn to control them."

Anakin rose from his chair, towering over you as he extended a hand towards his own seat. "Please, sit," he commanded softly, his voice carrying an underlying command that left no room for refusal. You hesitantly stood up and walked tentatively towards him, your heart racing wildly in anticipation of what was to come.

Anakin stood behind you as you sat in his big, leather chair. He opened a large, leather-bound Bible on the desk, flipping through the pages until he found a particular passage. "Read this passage aloud for me," he commanded softly, his hands resting lightly on the arms of the chair. "I believe it might resonate with you." You cleared your throat and began to read the passage about self control, giving it your best effort despite the heavy breathing behind you.

"2 Peter 1:4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires." You read quietly. Anakin listened intently as you read the passage, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your nape and down your spine. With each touch, your brain became foggier, making it difficult for you to concentrate on the words written centuries ago.

"That's beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky. Anakin leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you understand what these words mean?" he whispers.

"Yes Father." You reply quietly. Anakin's fingers traced lower, brushing against your cleavage through your top. "Good girl," he praised, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and imagine that these words are being spoken directly to you by God Himself."

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Imagine that He's telling you, 'My child, I love you unconditionally. You are mine, and no one else can ever take that away from you.' Do you feel it spreading throughout your body?" A surge of warmth washed over you like a tidal wave. It started at your feet and spread upwards, engulfing every inch of your body. You shivered in delight as goosebumps formed on your skin.

Anakin flipped the Bible page to another passage, his fingers brushing against yours lightly as he did so. "Now, read this one aloud for me, 1 Thessalonians 4:3-5" he commanded softly, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You obediently did as he commanded, trying hard not to focus on the growing arousal between your legs. You clear your throat and speak again.

"For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God."

As you read the passage, Anakin's lips traced slow, gentle kisses along your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Each touch ignited a fire within you, making it increasingly difficult to focus on the words written on the page. Anakin's lips reached your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin.

"You're still pure, aren't you?" he asked softly, nipping lightly at your earlobe. "No one has ever claimed you like this before?" His hand reaches down and slides underneath your skirt, brushing his knuckles against your wet, cotton panties.

"Yes." you managed to choke out, your voice cracking with desire. Your body arched into his touch, begging for more. You bit your bottom lip hard, trying to suppress the moan escaping your throat as he continued to tease and torment you. You felt your resolve crumble beneath his relentless assault on your senses. His words had substance, they seemed so full of meaning. You were mesmerized.

Anakin groaned lowly, his voice low and husky. "I knew there was something special about you, my church mouse," he whispered in your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. Anakin's hand moved to the edge of your panties, his warm fingers pulling them to the side. His thumb teased your throbbing clit, circling around it slowly. "You weren't this wet when that boy touched you, were you?" he purred, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"N-no Father, I wasn't." you moan softly, unable to contain the growing need building inside of you. Anakin's fingers plunge into your aching cunt, moving in and out of your tight entrance slowly at first, his thumb still circling your sensitive nub. His breathing grew heavier, matching the rapid pace of your own as he continued to explore your most sacred parts.

"That's my girl," he praised, his voice laced with lust. "Feel how much you need me?"

You nodded vigorously, unable to form coherent words as his touch escalated. Each curl of his fingers inside your drooling cunt heightened your arousal, making it nearly impossible for you to concentrate on anything else. His touch was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before—it was both rough and tender, possessive yet caring. The combination of his power and gentleness left you feeling both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.

Soon your body tensed up, and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly. Anakin pulled his fingers out of your core just as you reached the brink of ecstasy, leaving you hanging on the edge of orgasm.

"No, why'd you stop?" you whine softly as you turn around to face him. You pouted, your lower lip quivering in frustration as he denied you the release you so desperately craved.

A smirk played at the corners of his lips. "Not yet, little lamb." he teased, his voice laced with power and control. Anakin stood up straight again, his erection straining against his pants. He pulled your chair back slightly, creating enough room for him to stand in front of you. His large frame loomed over you as he placed a hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, searching for any signs of hesitation or deceit. "Do you pray every night?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded earnestly, unable to hide the truth from him. "Yes, Father. I pray every night before bed." Anakin knelt down in front of you, his broad shoulders framing your body. His hands moved to rest on your knees, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over your skin.

"What do you pray for? What do you ask of God?" Anakin asks softly, his eyes searching yours intently.

You glanced down at your lap, unable to meet his piercing gaze. "I ask for strength and guidance, mostly." you mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly, studying your reaction. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice low and husky. "Good," His hand moved up your leg, lifting your skirt enough to expose your panty-clad pussy. "I can't help but notice how devoted you are during my sermons," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "It would be a sin for me not to reward my favorite student.

With one swift motion, he yanked your panties down to your ankles, exposing your slick coated cunt to his hungry eyes. Anakin placed your leg on his shoulder, giving him better access to your now-exposed folds. His warm, wet tongue traced slow circles around your entrance before dipping inside, his tongue flicking against your sensitive spots with expert precision.

"Read again," he commanded, his voice mumbling against your warm flesh. "Proverbs 18:21."

You fumbled with the Bible, your hands shaking slightly as you tried to focus on the words written on its pages.

"The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit."

Anakin hums in approval against your mound, causing a rush of vibrations to flow through your body. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling him closer, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

You whimpered, your body tensing up in anticipation of imminent orgasm. "Father, I-I feel it coming again." you managed to choke out between moans.

Anakin's hand moved to your entrance, two fingers slipping inside of you, stretching you wider. "That's it," he said, his voice low and husky. "Let go and let yourself succumb to His will."

A wave of pure ecstasy crashed over you, your entire body convulsed, and a string of lewd moans escaped your lips. Your orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced before—more intense, more powerful, and more fulfilling than any previous encounter. It felt as though the heavens themselves were opening up to claim your soul.

Anakin's tongue continued to lap up your juices, his eyes locked on yours as he savored the taste of your arousal. With a smirk, he stood up straight again, towering over you in all his glory. Anakin's eyes were ablaze with desire as he stood over you, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

"We're not quite done yet," he said, his voice low and raspy. "Stand up."

He reached down, undoing his pants and boxers in one swift motion, freeing his thick member from its confines. It stood tall and proud, glistening with pre-cum, its head flushed a deep crimson.

"Bend over," he ordered. Slowly, you stood up and turned around, your back facing him. Anakin's hands gripped your hips, positioning you over the desk. You felt his cock poking against your ass, and a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

Anakin's large, calloused hands gripped your firm ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading them roughly. His fingers traced slow circles around your puckered entrance before moving lower, teasing your wet folds. He held his member in his other hand, rubbing the head against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. "Do you still want this sweet girl?"

You gave a soft, breathy moan of approval, your hips wiggling slightly in anticipation. Anakin's hand connected with your ass cheek, a sharp slap that made you yelp in surprise.

"Speak up."

You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure. "Yes, Father." you finally managed to utter, your voice trembling with need.

"There you go." he coos his voice filled with faux sincerity. "Now, relax and let me take care of you." Anakin's cockhead pushed past your tight entrance, stretching you slowly but surely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as he began to thrust into you with deliberate slowness, his hips rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, nails digging into the wood as he claimed possession of you, filling you completely. After several deep thrusts, the initial pain subsided, replaced by an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Anakin's hands keep hold of your hips, holding you steady as he pounded into you, filling every crevice of your tight passage. Your moans turned into whimpers, becoming more desperate as he picked up speed, his tip kissed your sweet spot with precision.

"Thaaat's it, give yourself to Him, let him cleanse you." he managed to grunt out between gasps for breath.

Your hand slipped off the desk, accidentally knocking over a family photo frame that fell to the floor with a loud crash. Anakin didn't seem to notice or care, his focus entirely on claiming you, taking what he believed was rightfully his.

The tight coil in your stomach began to build up once more, and you knew it wouldn't be long now. You arched your back, your hips moving in sync with his, begging for release. His pace quickened, his breath hot against your neck as he growled out, "Cum for me angel, I know you're close." His words were like a trigger, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Anakin groaned, his hips bucking wildly as he felt your worn cunt clamp around him. With a final powerful thrust, he erupted inside you, filling you to the brim with his hot seed. His cock twitched and pulsed, draining every drop of his essence into you.

You collapsed against the desk, panting heavily, your entire body covered in sweat. Anakin leaned forward, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His cock slowly pulled out of your sore cunt, leaving you feeling empty and drained. He stepped back, admiring his work, his cock still semi-erect, dripping with your fluids. He extended a hand to help you steady yourself. Anakin turned to you, his eyes softening slightly. "Are you ok sweetheart?" he asked, concern etched on his features.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. " 'm fine," you managed to mutter, your voice hoarse.

"You did so good for me," Anakin panted, his eyes glazed over with fufillment. He helped you pull your panties back up your legs, his fingers brushing against your sensitive folds, causing a shiver to run through you.

Anakin sat back down in his chair, and motioned for you to sit on his lap. "Come here." he smiles. You tentatively approached him with wobbly legs, unsure of what he had in mind. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, so you were sitting sideways on his lap, your legs draped over his thighs. Anakin placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his breath tickling your scalp. You remained like this for a moment, both caught in your own thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Anakin spoke softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your arm. "I want you to know something angel," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I would never hurt you, physically or otherwise. Our interactions are between us and God's eyes alone." You nodded, still processing everything that had transpired.

"If anyone ever finds out about today, we won't be able to see each other like this again." Anakin's hand tightened slightly, his fingers digging into your skin. "Do you understand me?" he asked, his voice taking on a threatening edge.

You nodded solemnly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand Father."

Anakin placed another soft kiss on your head before resting his cheek against your temple, his hand still firmly holding you in place.

"Good girl." he whispered.

Your eyes wander off and you suddenly see a cross hanging on the wall, the sight of it immediately brought an uneasy feeling to you. It felt like it was casting a small ominous and disapproving aura.

Uncertainty and confusion warred inside you, but there was also a strange sense of belonging and connection.

As you stare longer you feel as if it's judging you and looking at you as if it is not happy with what you have been doing.

You remain in his arms, you felt an odd mix of emotions, the sense of euphoria and bliss you felt with Anakin being so tender with you was overshadowed by the feeling of something not being right. You feel a tinge of regret for what you took part in but a part of you wants to do it again.

Maybe next Sunday.

#nai writes ୨୧ #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin #anakin skywalker x you #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #st4rfckerz

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kurogane2512 · 2 months

Note

highschool au, Class president Signora x Delinquent Female reader?? idk, I just rlly love this trope >:3

This was very unique I love it, I don't think I have seen any high school au with Signora especially one where she's a student (I'd personally imagine her as a teacher but that's just me) so this was amazing to write, thank you for the request <3

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: La Signora x fem!reader (class president!Rosalyne x delinquent!reader)

Type: SFW, fluff with plot (long fic, Highschool AU)

"Yo dude, did you go to that place I told you about?" a friend of yours asked.

"That shop? I didn't find it, did you send the wrong address?" you replied.

"Nah, it was right. Let's go there after school today."

"Let's just skip the rest of the classes! It's anyways that stupid maths class." you suggested.

"Yeah, that's right! Great idea!" both of your friends agreed.

You three were lounging at the back of the classroom during lunch and chatting away.

"Ahem, before you three leave, let me remind you that you still haven't submitted last week's assignment." a familiar voice spoke from behind you, making you irritated as you knew who it was— the class president.

"What's your problem, Ms class president?" one of your friends said in an angry voice.

"My problem is you three and your consistent indiscipline. This is my final reminder about that assignment, do not come at me when the teacher gives you 0 for it."

The class president, Rosalyne, declared before turning around with a 'hmph' and leaving. You watched her exit the classroom and let out an exasperated sigh.

"She's so annoying, always on our tails for homework and what not. Doesn't she have better things to do? I swear these model students are always so high-headed." one of your friends said.

"She's your typical prodigy, perfect at studies and sports and basically everything. Ignore her, she'll stop coming at us." you replied then stood up with your bag and proceeded to walk away.

"Yo, where are you going?" your friend asked.

"I have some other work. I'll meet you guys in the last period now." you waved to your friends and walked out, leaving them confused as they had no idea what you had to do.

"Hey, what about the plan to go to that shop?" your friend asked.

"Eh, let's go tomorrow. I'm not in the mood today."

You came out of the classroom and suddenly found Rosalyne standing near the corner talking to a teacher. You couldn't help but gaze at her from afar; it was true she was perfect- always well dressed, well mannered, top scorer and on the path to become the Student Council President next year. There was no doubt she'd get the position. You two were worlds apart, she'd never see you as anything more than a nuisance.

You watched Rosalyne finish talking with the teacher then slowly walked behind her to catch up to her. She stopped walking after a while and turned around to see you with a frown, "Why are you following me?"

You averted your gaze then clicked your tongue and proceeded to take out a notebook from your bag and handed it to her, "The pending assignment."

Rosalyne became confused for a moment then understood what you meant, becoming slightly surprised. She took the notebook from your hand and flipped a few pages then remarked, "Your handwriting is terrible."

"I didn't ask for your judgement. Bye."

You turned around and walked away, refusing to hear anything else from her. Rosalyne also spoke nothing more and went her own way. It would appear you both had a mutual disdain for each other, which wasn't surprising to you. You went to your secret spot which was a quiet corner behind the school building, a place that was generally empty and devoid of any surveillance. You liked to be alone here, doing nothing but rest in solace and tranquility. It was the only place where you felt at peace.

Back at your class, Rosalyne was taking attendance for the next lecture when she noticed you were missing once again. Both of your friends were still in class, she had noticed it wasn't rare for you to go somewhere on your own without them. She had asked them where you'd go but even they didn't know. She couldn't help but wonder what the deal was with you, she wished you'd improve and take care of yourself better.

It was the last period when you finally came back to class and the first person to greet you was none other than Rosalyne, "Where were you for the last 2 periods?" she demanded to know.

"None of your business, get out of my way."

You nudged her shoulder as you walked in, making her annoyed.

"It is my business because I have to mark a reason for your absence in the lecture." Rosalyne retorted.

"Oh yeah? Just write that I was fucking dead. Happy?"

Rosalyne's eyes widened but she didn't want to argue further. She decided to save her energy and walked away with a 'hmph', finally giving you some peace and quiet. Your days at school mostly went in a similar way; you fooling around and doing whatever you liked while this persistent class president tried to get you on track. Correcting your uniform every morning, scolding you for disrupting classes, correcting your sitting style, reminding you of assignments.... everything and so much more was part of her routine with you.

You genuinely wondered why she hadn't given up yet and remained so persistent. Perhaps she had some fun with it, bossing you around. Perhaps she was just that patient and determined to show this on her record- being able to correct a delinquent student.

One fine day, Rosalyne came to the library during a free lecture to self-study on her own. Rest of the class had all gone to different places to spend the time but she wanted to study for the upcoming exams and knew the library was the best place. She walked to the second floor of the library and searched for an empty table before finally spotting one in the corner. She walked closer to it and the table came in more view when she became shocked to see the one person who was sitting on it.

"Y/n? She's in the library of all places? And is she actually studying?"

Rosalyne wondered if her eyes were deceiving her but it was all true. She walked up to the table and silently sat on the chair in front of you, glancing at your work. You were lost in whatever you were doing and didn't notice her until she spoke to you.

"That method won't work."

You heard the familiar voice and looked up to see Rosalyne in front of you, "You—?! What the hell are you doing here?"

"That should be my question. I thought you'd take the free lecture to fool around."

You looked away with a frown, "I..... um.... w-what does it matter to you? And why did you come and sit here? You just like watching me suffer, don't you?"

Rosalyne frowned as well and extended her hand forward then suddenly flicked your forehead, "Be quiet in here at least."

You groaned in pain and rubbed the spot she flicked then proceeded to pack up your things.

"Where are you going?" Rosalyne asked.

"To sit somewhere away from you."

Rosalyne sighed, "If you study like that then you will fail."

"Thanks for the tip, Ms class president." you said with a scoff and walked to another table.

Rosalyne genuinely thought to help you but she knew it was futile to argue. She took out her own and started studying by herself, deciding to take her mind off you and focus on her own result. However, she couldn't help but glance at you every now and then. She could tell whenever you struggled with something, your reactions were rather obvious as you'd scratch your head or crumple the paper in annoyance.

An hour or two passed when it was the end of the day and she began packing her things. She looked in your direction one last time but was shocked to see you had already left, she didn't notice you go. She sighed to herself and soon left the school building and was on her way home. She received a text from her mother telling her to buy a few things while coming hence decided to take a detour and stop by a shopping centre. She was nearby an alleyway when she heard some faint shouting.

She cautiously walked in the direction the sound came from and reached an empty ground. She spotted a group of people inside and hid behind the corner to silently observe, she didn't want to get in trouble unnecessarily but she couldn't ignore the shouting either. She watched for a while to try and see who the people were until her eyes widened as she spotted a familiar face, "Y/n? What is she doing here? And who are these people? Those uniforms.... it's the school near ours, I think."

Rosalyne continued watching but she wished she could hear what you were saying. Then all of a sudden, you lunged at one student in front and pinned her to the ground while choking her. The other students gathered around you and threw you off then engaged in a fist fight with you, it was just you against all of them and you were easily beat up by them. She tried to intervene but nobody was around and she didn't know what to do. She then took out her phone and recorded whatever she could until the fight ended.

She was on the verge of calling the police but everyone ran away leaving you alone, all battered and injured on the ground. Rosalyne looked around and waited for a few moments to see if anyone would come to help but nobody did and she couldn't stay behind any longer. You laid on the barren grass with cuts and bruises, blood dripping down your nose and a swollen eye along with other injuries mostly on your face.

You grunted in pain and tried to sit up then wiped the blood from your nose. A shadow appeared in front of you and you realized someone was standing behind you. You turned around to see who it was and saw none other than Rosalyne, her shining hair glowing against the setting sun and swaying with the wind. She appeared no less like an angel this way.

"You again...." you said in an annoyed tone, ".....Must be a pleasant sight for you to see me this way."

Rosalyne furrowed her brows then extended her arm forward, "Come on."

You looked at her held out palm then slapped it away, "I don't need your help. Leave me alone."

Rosalyne gritted her teeth and forcefully held your arm then pulled you up on your feet, your steps fumbling for a moment making you lean against her. You tried to push yourself away but had no strength in your body. Rosalyne seemingly didn't mind the way you leaned on her and in fact wrapped her arms around you and held you comfortably.

"Why were you fighting with them? And where were you friends?" Rosalyne asked.

"None of your business...."

"I saw everything so you better tell me otherwise I'm sending the footage to the police."

You clicked your tongue, "It's not a big deal. I hangout with these guys sometimes, this is our usual spot. As for my friends, they live in the opposite direction so I never go home with them unless we have plans to hangout elsewhere."

Rosalyne hummed then fetched a handkerchief from her bag and handed it to you, "Wipe off the blood with this."

"I don't need it. It'll be fine, not my first time bleeding this way."

You gathered some strength in your body and pushed yourself away from her and stood up on your feet. You picked up your bag from the ground and proceeded to walk away.

"Don't mention this to anyone. Bye."

You waved at her but Rosalyne wasn't giving up so soon. She swiftly walked up to you and tightly held your wrist and started pulling you with herself.

"H-Hey, what the hell?! Let me go!"

"Shut it and just listen to me for once!" Rosalyne shouted and you immediately went quiet, it was the first time you heard her speak like this.

You let her take you wherever for the rest of the way, her hand not releasing yours at all. It was a strange feeling, having her hold your hand and take you somewhere. You didn't know she could be stubborn this way. You turned a few corners then she stopped in front of a house and you noted the nameplate, 'Lohefalter'. It was her house. You tried to speak but she just pulled you inside silently.

The inside was a small, cozy complex, enough for a family of 3 or 4. You didn't know if she had siblings so you couldn't guess. Though, you couldn't admire the house much as she took you to one of the rooms straightaway and made you sit on the bedside while she fetched something from the cupboard. You looked around the room and it was easy to tell it was her room.

You suddenly became nervous even though it wasn't a big deal. Her room had a pleasant rosy aroma and had minimalistic yet sophisticated decorum, quite suitable for someone like her. It gave off a very womanly vibe that wasn't exactly cute but rather mature and elegant; and of course, there was a wall adorned with notes and study graphs, as expected from a topper.

Rosalyne came back to your side with a first-aid kit in hand. She sat beside you and opened the box to take out some cotton and bandages along with a disinfectant. She wiped the blood from your nose and inserted the cotton balls in your nostrills before gently scrubbing your other wounds with the disinfectant. You hissed in pain and looked away on an instinct, making her grasp your face and hold it steady.

"You didn't tell me why you were fighting them. I saw that you were the first to hit them, they must have said something to provoke you."

".....Why do you care?"

Rosalyne suddenly pressed a bit harshly on one of your cuts and you winced in pain then gave in.

"They insulted my mother.... called her names."

Rosalyne didn't know what reason she was expecting, but this was certainly not one of them. It made her realize there was so much she didn't know about you.

"What happened....?" she softly asked.

You furrowed your brows but decided to tell her, "My mom is.... my mom is a prostitute. I am basically one of her client's.... accidental thing. I don't know how they found out about this, I haven't told anyone in this city.... except you now."

"In this city? What do you mean?"

".....My mom sent me here some years ago all alone so that I wouldn't have to tolerate the discrimination in our hometown. She sends me money regularly and helped in school fees from the beginning. She tried raising me on her own but didn't want me to live in her shadow and struggle due to her."

Rosalyne silently listened while bandaging you up. It was a big revelation to her that made her understand you all too well.

"Are you still in contact with her?" she asked.

"Yes, we call once or twice a week. She didn't abandon me, just to be clear. She just wishes she was in better circumstances."

"I see.... so, you live alone? Or....."

"I live alone, yeah. All expenses are paid by her, I just have to do the usual household stuff alongside school work."

Rosalyne nodded in understanding as she didn't know what to say. This was quite a lot for her to hear.

"Thanks for this.... you are quite good at it." you said with a pout.

Rosalyne smiled and patted your shoulder, "If you stop being so stubborn, then I can help you in other things too."

You scoffed then suddenly leaned on her and soon laid your head on her lap, catching her off-guard.

"H-Hey, what are you—?!"

"Shut up, I just want to rest for a while...."

She couldn't help but blush at this. She watched you close your eyes and silently drift to sleep then smiled to herself. Her hands lightly caressed your face and hair, soothing you in any way possible.

"You could rest on the bed, you know...." she pondered but she wasn't against this. She could push you off but decided to give you this moment.

As she gazed at you, she recalled a particular memory. A secret about the past she had locked in her heart. It had been quite a few years but she remembered this vividly, every single detail about it. It was a day in her younger years, when she was around 13. She was a naive girl who got injured and was lost in an unfamiliar place, unable to go home. She cried as she sat under a tree and waited for her parents to come find her, the pain from the wound worsening her condition.

As if like a miracle, another girl who appeared close to her age came to her instead. This girl was rather chirpy and outgoing, she immediately wiped Rosalyne's tears and wrapped a cloth on her wound before offering to take her home. Rosalyne was reluctant at first as she was a stranger but the girl was genuinely trying to help, the smile on her face was reassuring. Rosalyne had tried to stand up and walk but tumbled due to her injury, and the girl didn't give a second thought to carry Rosalyne on her back.

Rosalyne was surprised but felt secure and safe with this unknown girl. She tried telling her the way to her home but both of them were equally oblivious about the area. Rosalyne discovered the girl had recently moved here and was exploring the area when she found her. Eventually, they were able to find Rosalyne's home after asking a few civilians on the street who guided them.

Rosalyne tried inviting the girl inside to thank her but the girl went away as fast as she came. That's when Rosalyne realized she didn't even ask the girl's name. Rosalyne spent all the next years on the lookout for the girl but never saw her again, it was as if she was never real and maybe Rosalyne only conjured her in her cry for help. Until one day when Rosalyne finally saw her again....

It was the first day of her high school and the girl was in front of her, in the same class as her. Rosalyne confirmed it many times and she was sure of it, it really was that girl. But what was this? This girl was no longer as the one she remembered. She looked like her but her mannerisms, her way of talking and overall demeanour was different. This girl was a far cry from the hero who saved her.

"Why don't you remember me, Y/n...." Rosalyne stopped her recollection of the past and pondered while gazing at you. While it was true she had changed quite a bit from her younger self, she had hoped you'd recognize her. Rosalyne still couldn't believe the girl in her memory was you. She denied it many times. How could an unruly delinquent be the one she was looking for all these years? But now she easily accepted this after knowing more about you.

Rosalyne wasn't sure if she should ever bring up the past with you. What if you had completely forgotten and it was never a big deal for you as it was for her? Not to mention, the two of you were always at odds that she even tried forgetting the past just so it wouldn't cloud her judgement about you. She smiled looking down at you and hoped you'd have a better relationship from now on, perhaps she'd finally be able to tell the past to you.

You went back home before her parents returned, thanking her for the help and asking her to keep your secret. Somehow, you were sure she wouldn't tell it to anybody. Maybe it was your impression on her due to her disciplined and trustworthy reputation, or maybe there was another reason you didn't want to reveal. The next day, you acted a bit different around each other. You weren't as unruly as before, preventing her from having a hard time.

At the same time, you gradually tried to get closer to her as a friend. It was strange how close you felt to her after unexpectedly revealing your secrets to her, in reality you had always wanted to friends with her but didn't know how to approach her. You found comfort in her touch when she tended to you and let you rest on her lap, you wanted that more. You asked her to help you study for exams and she was more than happy to oblige, your classmates found it weird how close you two got and felt like you were influencing her in the wrong way.

"Hey, can you teach me other subjects too? Math is done but I still struggle with others...." you asked her one day during your study time with her.

"I don't mind but we don't get time in school, you know?"

"Yeah, well uh.... y-you can come to my house, if you are okay with it...."

Rosalyne didn't expect this but had no reason to deny, she had also been curious about how you lived for a while now. You took her to your apartment after school, a single bedroom apartment which was decently kept as best as you could do.

"Do you want to eat or drink something? I don't have much stuff but I can try to make something...." you asked while looking through your fridge.

Rosalyne came to your side and looked inside the fridge too then hummed, "Would you mind if I make something? I can cook quite a few things with these."

"....You can cook?"

"Why, of course. Is that so surprising?"

"Yes, well.... you live with your parents who provide you with everything, right?"

Rosalyne chuckled, "How does that mean they wouldn't teach me to cook? My mother taught me at a young age and I quite like it myself. In fact, I always make my own lunch that I bring to school~"

You were surprised, just how much more perfect could be get? And how was she tolerating someone like you? No wonder everyone gave you weird looks for being with her. She cooked up a delicious meal for you in no time, a kind of meal you had never had in all these years you lived here. It was delicious and scrumptious, simply flawless.

"You are good at everything, huh.... So different from me." you mumbled while sitting with her.

"Hm? What do you mean, Y/n?"

"I mean, you are perfect. You have good grades, you are well-mannered and every teacher likes you, you are literally the class president since the first year and have never done anything wrong. And... w-well, you are really pretty too and can even cook. I'm surprised you aren't dating anybody."

Rosalyne found your mumbling adorable but also concerning, "You know, I wasn't always like this."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it takes considerable effort to be this way. I'm no natural genius, I have to study every day to maintain these grades. I had decided to be the Student Council President from the beginning so I started working on that since then, all these grades and good opinion from teachers matters. As for dating, you can guess by now I have no time for it. And for looks.... a-ahem, thank you for the compliment but I wasn't always pretty."

Rosalyne lightly blushed at the last part. You hummed in understanding, "No wonder you look so different now...."

Rosalyne's eyes widened at that, "What are you talking about?"

You averted your gaze, "Nothing. Don't mind, I'm just rambling."

Rosalyne furrowed her brows then grabbed your collar to make you face her, "Tell me. What did you mean just now?"

You became nervous and unsure to say it. Rosalyne sensed your uneasiness and slowly realized what was happening.

"You.... you remember the past, don't you? You remember the time we met as kids, right?!"

You couldn't keep it in anymore, "Yes.... I remember it all."

Rosalyne released your collar in shock and tried to process her emotions.

"Why didn't you say anything....?"

"....How could I? You changed so much...."

Tears formed in Rosalyne's eyes and she didn't know how to react.

"You didn't say anything either.... I assumed you forgot and well, I didn't want you to associate with me." you continued.

Rosalyne was silent until she raised her arm in a fist and lightly hit you on your chest. There was no force or power, she kept hitting you continuously in a similar manner as if scolding you.

"Do you have any idea how much I tried looking for you and wanting to see you again?! Do you have any idea how hurt I was that you seemingly forgot me?! You say I have changed but you are so different too yet I recognized you right away!" Rosalyne shouted.

"I recognized you too! I knew it was you right away! That's not what I mean by change! You.... You and I.... we are different people! Even now everyone gives me weird looks when I'm with you. I'm sure others must have told you to not bother with me!"

"Don't you see that I don't care about them?! Yes, many people have told me to stay away from you but I listened to none! Do you understand why? Or are you so convinced that you aren't worthy of me?!"

"I....! I just don't your reputation to be tarnished! You have worked hard to build all this! And you are so close to achieving your dream of being Student Council President now! I can't have you lose it now!"

Both of you were shouting your suppressed thoughts at each other with teary eyes. Your hearts felt heavy yet lighter with each thing you spoke, finally letting out your hidden desires. When you finally stopped, tears streamed down your faces and you panted heavily to recover your breaths. You looked at her teary face and remembered her face from years ago, the sight of her younger self crying for help and couldn't bear to see it.

You slowly extended your hand towards her and gently wiped her tears. She was surprised yet again but finally smiled now. You were about to pull your hand away but she stopped it by holding your wrist with one hand and extended her other towards your face and cupped it, wiping your tears as well. You were equally surprised now and blushed at her action. The next thing you knew, she leaned forward and kissed you.

Your eyes widened but you didn't pull away. How could you pull away when such soft and tempting lips were touching yours? Rosalyne crawled closer and gripped your shoulders as she kissed you deeper, eventually pushing you down on the couch and straddling you. It was messy and unkempt, both of you desperately moving your lips each other to take in everything.

It was your first kiss and from what you knew, hers too. Your hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, she released all tension in her body and was laying on you with all her weight now. Your lips didn't stop seeking each other's at all, it was like you were starved of each other for years.

Soft moans and hums left her mouth, she sounded sweet and addicting and you wanted it more. You were out of breath by the time she pulled back, both of you gazing at each other with haphazard breaths. She was still straddling you and your hands were securely holding her as if you were used to this. You didn't know what to do now, and perhaps neither did she.

"I..." you spoke while panting, "I like you, Rosalyne....."

That was the first thing that came to your mind. It was the absolute truth that you kept in for years. Rosalyne smiled at your words and gently caressed your face.

"I like you too, Y/n...."

This was probably the best outcome, an outcome you never expected to reach. Both of you decided to start dating now, though you wanted to keep it a secret for some time. The loneliness and your desperation for attention that you felt all these years vanished as soon as you started dating her. She fulfilled what you were missing, and in return you promised to support her through anything.

#genshin impact #genshin women #la signora #signora x reader #la signora x reader #genshin impact signora #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #signora fluff #la signora fluff

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angelicpoison12 · 5 months

Text

first date ღ

Angel takes you out for the first time since you’re new in Hell!

M4M/M4A, SFW, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

café date, stargazing, soft kisses, sfw, wholesome moments with your fluffy spider

It was your first date with Angel. Saying you were nervous would be an understatement.

— ❤︎︎ —

You were scared to say the least. Angel helped you take a seat at a small booth in the coffee shop he’d taken you to. The seats were surprisingly clean, the red cushions soft beneath your bodies. The walls of the old coffee shop were stained and had splashes of odd liquid on them from old accidents, yet it seemed like an odd sense of comfort was lingering within the old walls of the establishment.

Angel got a capuchino. You really didn’t know what to get, so you just got a smoothie. Angel then smirked and said, “Don’t got a taste fer coffee, toots?” He asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes. “There’s just so many options.. It’s hard to decide.” You said back in a remark, your hands holding the faded yellowish menu. The smoothie you’d gotten was fruity, and Angel enjoyed his coffee. You both chatted and got closer. You realized that there was more to Angel than his flirtatious facade and sweet face. I mean, you already assumed that there was more, but you never realized how complex and caring he could be.

When you were talking about your past and how gotten to Hell, you noticed Angel’s hand was soft as he placed it on top of yours. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t bring it up. Angel noticed this and smirked. “Aw toots, this okay?” He asked. All you did was nod, smiling bashfully at him. “Yeah, it’s okay,” You told Angel kindly. You and Angel finished your drinks, paid, and left. Angel wanted to show you around Hell, and who were you to refuse?

— ❤︎︎ —

Angel decided to walk with you, his large heels clacking against the concrete of the sidewalk, your hand in his. He pointed excitedly at all of the things he showed you: the outlets, the hellish porn studio, the clubs, the tv shop, a few small restaurants and cafés, downtown where the cannibals lived, and Angel was even gracious enough to take you up a building where where you could get a full view of the wondrous city.

“Wow..” You whispered. The night sky was a dark maroon, smoke waving in the air from the residents below, and smoky clouds that were breathtaking. You never thought you’d genuinely enjoy a place you’d been told was horrible your entire life, but Angel was helping you find solace in your new home. He looked at you, asking, “Beautiful, ain’t it, toots?” “Yeah.. Yeah, it is.” You responded quietly. Angel wrapped one of his lower arms around you, pulling you closer while his top left arm started gently playing with your hair. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, whispering, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt ya, toots.. Not under my watch.” He told you in a soft voice. His words made you blush and smile.

He gently cupped your chin, turning you towards him. His eyes gazed into yours, and time seemed to stop. “Y/N,” Angel nearly whispered. If it wasn’t for him being so close to you, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him under the sounds of cars beeping, people screaming/yelling at each other, and music starting to bump up from the nightclubs on the block below. “Angel,” you responded, your eyes fluttering a little. Your breaths mingled, coffee mixing with strawberries. When he kissed you, your eyes closed momentarily, tasting the sweetness of his soft lips. He cupped the back of your head, and your fingers twirled in his soft locks.

When you pulled away from each other, Angel’s four arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You squeaked as your face landed in his chest fluff, and he nuzzled his nose against your hair in a sweet little Eskimo kiss.

Maybe Hell wasn’t so bad after all. As long as Angel was here with you.

#hazbin hotel #masterlist #angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust x reader safe #sfw fanfic #fluff #angel dust x male reader #angel dust x reader fanfic #angel dust x gn reader #mfa angel dust #angel dust masterlist #angel dust fluff #tooth rotting fluff #angel dust drabble #angel dust Hazbin hotel

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wileys-russo · 10 months

Note

can we get a morning blurb for alexia, leah and alessia in the style of the last two?

because i have some thoughts 💭

alexia gets up at like 5:30 am no problem and is productive as fuck while reader tries to get her to come back to bed and snuggle

leah gets up early but needs coffee and a moment of peace before she can actually start the day and is literally completely silent like you won’t get much more than “mhm” out of her, so reader and her usually just snuggle up a bit while they both wake up properly

alessia literally said herself that she needs several alarms and has a really hard time getting out of bed so reader usually has to drag her out and she is really grumpy and needy af for cuddles to compensate the fact that she had to get up

early mornings II a.putellas, l.williamson, a.russo

alexia

there was very little you couldn't and didn't love about your girlfriend. you adored how passionate she was and how that bled through into nearly every aspect of her life both on and off the pitch.

you loved how you saw a different side to her when it was just the two of you and her walls would come down. where with time she wasn't afraid to be vulnerable and emotional and raw, wrapped up in your arms after her knee would tweak or she'd look a little too deep into what the media was saying about her, just seeking solace within you as her safe person.

you were infatuated with how much she cared for her loved ones, family driven and fiercely protective of her inner circle. there wasn't much she wouldn't do for them and you found that utterly captivating.

however there was one thing about alexia that drove you up the wall and to the brink of frustration, and that was that she was somehow both a night owl and an early riser.

wound up after games she'd often forgo sleeping at all, opting instead to stay up and watch countless hours of footage, going over every little kick and tackle and sidestep with a fine tooth comb, desperate to find ways she could improve next time.

she could win ten nil and score a double hat trick and still seek out where her flaws lay, forever intending to better herself and her football every single day that passed.

you thought she might try to take better care of herself after her acl, but she'd ignored the warnings about her non existent sleep schedule her entire career and that wasn't about to change.

there were the rare nights she would go to bed with you and you'd finally fall asleep with her warm body beside you, limbs tangled together in crisp linen as soft words of endearment and tender confessions of love drowned your subconscious.

but the morning after you would always awake to cold sheets, stretching out desperately to find her, wanting nothing more than to curl into her strong arms and gently kiss her tanned skin as the two of you dozed in and out for a few hours, just wrapped up together in your little bubble of love.

but no, your girlfriends body clock insist she be up around five thirty each morning, off to the gym in your building complex for a workout with alexia always using the excuse it was empty that time of day and allowed her some much sought after privacy.

so each morning you'd wake up in an entirely different situation than the one you'd fallen asleep in and your mood would sour. you'd trudge out to the living room and most of the time her gym bag would be gone and you'd retreat back to bed.

but occasionally you'd find her curled up on the sofa with nala and a book in hand, cold cup of coffee beside her untouched despite her insistence she still make it.

this morning was not much different only alexia felt you stir beside her as she carefully slipped out of bed, never needing an alarm to be up and alert at the same time each morning, her body routine like clockwork.

"please stay." you'd pleaded, voice thick with sleep and barely loud enough for her to hear, reaching out to grab alexia's wrist as she'd tried to tuck you back in. "i have to workout amor." she'd whispered, face barely recognizable in the dim light of your bedroom, blinds still drawn and sun only just starting to peek over the horizon.

"no you don't. you're choosing to leave me, selfish woman." you mumbled, cracking one eye open to fix her with a grumpy glare as her soft lips curled into an amused smile.

"go back to sleep bebita. i'll have breakfast done when you wake again and you will not even know i am not here." her lips grazed your temple lovingly as slender fingers carded through your hair pushing it out of your face, and before you could even say another word she was gone.

true to her word you heard the bedroom door open a few hours later and the smell of her cooking gently waft through and invade your senses, but still annoyed you'd once again been depraved of a sleep in with her your eyes remained shut.

you heard alexia's footsteps pad softly around the bed and the click of her raising the blinds, warm sunshine bathing the room as your arm moved to cover your face.

"buenos días." you felt the bed dip as your girlfriend sat down, still refusing to move or acknowledge her in any way alexia chuckled and shook you softly. "stop." you mumbled, feeling her push your arm away as your eyes fluttered open, wincing at the sunlight and taking a moment to adjust.

alexia sat beside you with an amused smile embedded into her features. tanned skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat and clad only in shorts and a sports bra, freshly dyed blonde hair tied back into a neat ponytail.

"i said buenos días cariño." the older girl repeated, pulling back the blankets to reveal you as you only sighed deeply in response. "ale! you're all sweaty." you whined tiredly as she moved to lay down on top of you, her skin sticking uncomfortably to your bare legs as your top half was covered with an old spain jersey.

"earlier you beg me to get back into bed with you. i am now in bed with you and you tell me to go away!" the taller girl laughed softly as you halfheartedly tried to push her off, giving up quickly as she didn't budge so much as an inch.

"you're all gross." you grumbled, her lips gently trailing a series of soft kisses from your cheek down your jaw. "that is not very nice amor." your eyes met hers, pools of hazel staring down at you in amusement as she ducked her head and rubbed her damp hair in your face.

"alexia!" you groaned, pushing her off and rolling onto your side, mumbling a string of insults in spanish under your breath. "we have to change the sheets today anyway hermosa, stop being grumpy!" you reached back and swatted at thin air as her hands teasingly squeezed your ass which now faced toward her.

"you don't seem to mind the results of my work outs, hm?" as you rolled back onto your back she sat up on her knees, purposefully flexing her abs and biceps as you couldn't help but admire her incredibly toned physique.

"i've seen better." you shrugged, lazy smile curling onto your lips as she shook her head. "oh you have?" she climbed back on top of you, straddling your hips and pinning your arms by your head as you nodded.

you craned your head eagerly as she ducked hers as if to kiss you, though right as her lips ghosted yours you squealed feeling her fingers dig into your sides, trying desperately to throw her off as she only grinned and continued the attack.

"okay okay! you are the best!" you panted out, stomach aching from laughing so hard as your girlfriends body again laid down on top of yours, your hands moving to trace where you knew her tattoos were on her bare back as her face pressed into your neck.

"your laundrys done, i walked nala and i cooked your favourite mi vida. are you ready to get up now?" the catalan mumbled in your ear, her hands moving to thread through your hair, short nails scratching at your scalp.

maybe mornings weren't all that bad.

leah

you stirred as the first of leahs alarms went off, reaching behind your head to tap snooze, smacking the bedside table a few times before you eventually found her phone.

much too accustomed to your girlfriends routine you opened your arms as her body rolled over into you, shuffling up the bed a little as her taller form pressed tightly against you.

one hand threaded through her soft blonde locks which sprawled across the dark navy bedsheets, playing with it absentmindedly as the other moved to dip just below the waistband of her joggers to rub gentle circles into her hip bone with your thumb.

she lifted her chin slightly as you smiled and pressed your lips to her warm forehead, letting them linger there as you felt her body once again settle as she dozed back to sleep.

you knew the first of her alarms was really for you. it was to alert you to the fact leah needed to be up in around a half hour, and that during those critical thirty minutes she wanted nothing more than every single second of your attention even if still asleep.

you lifted one of your legs a few minutes later as her knee knocked yours, clad in a pair of soft grey joggers which matched the black pair covering leahs ridiculously long legs, one of which would slot itself in between yours further entangling your bodies together.

you flinched slightly as your blonde lover would exhale deeply, nose tucked into your collarbone as her warm breath tickled your sun kissed skin, both of you just returning from a weekend away in malta for her cousins birthday.

then ten minutes after the first the second alarm would sound, and your hand would move from leahs hip to again stretch behind your head and tap snooze.

you knew then to shuffle across and brace as leah moved to lay down on top of you, hiding her face in your neck as your nose would scrunch, her baby hairs tickling you as you'd gently move them away.

your hands would then sneak up the back of her shirt, though today she'd fallen asleep in a cropped tank top leaving her bare back exposed and ready. your nails would gently scratch lines up and down her back, comforted by the feeling of her weight on top of you as she'd begin to slowly stir.

her breathing still even you knew she was starting to wake as she inhaled deeply, nose grazing your shoulder before her lips pressed a lazy kiss to the column of your throat and you'd continue the rhythmic back scratches, your chin resting atop top her head.

you'd made the mistake of falling back to sleep once after a late night and the moment your hands fell to your sides you shot up awake as leahs teeth sunk into your shoulder, playfully biting you in warning as you'd chuckled and continued with what she wanted.

you'd stay in this position for a further ten minutes before leahs third and final alarm sounded. she'd always huff quietly as your nails left her skin, rolling off of you as you sat up with your back to the headboard, now stopping the alarms all together.

leahs head would wiggle its way into your lap as she stretched, eyes still closed and a grunt leaving her lips as she relaxed again. your fingers would then trace her facial features with a touch soft as a feather, your hair falling around the two of you like a curtain as your head dipped and lips pressed gentle loving kisses all over her face.

you'd mumble good morning against her forehead, tapping her nose as her bright eyes would open, corners of her eyelids thick with sleep as she'd rub at them.

stretching her arms up her hands with a quiet grunt would clasp the back of your neck, thumb rubbing small circles in the middle of your shoulder blades as you were pulled down to properly kiss her good morning.

then warning her of the time you'd gently pull her hands away, kissing her finger tips and dropping them to her sides, her head moving off your lap as you slid out of bed and she'd follow. wordlessly the two of you would move to the kitchen, leah taking a seat at the bench as you moved to the coffee machine.

most mornings her head would slump to rest against her forearms which crossed on the cool marble, eyes closed and drifting in and out to the gentle hum of the coffee machine, feeling the warm sun bathe her back from the huge glass doors that lead out to your backyard.

but on colder mornings, or just when she was feeling a little extra touch starved her body would cling to yours. you'd only smile and settle into the taller girl, her arms hung loosely around your torso often tucked under whatever form of material was covering you.

in winter you'd complain that her fingers were icy cold and she'd only smile into your neck as they ran teasingly up and down your naked sides making you squirm in her hold.

the english captain would never utter a single word until a drop of caffeine hit her lips, and you knew better than to expect anything different.

you knew just how she liked her coffee, i know leah doesn't drink coffee but lets just go with it, after all you'd been making it for her the same way in the same faded arsenal mug for the last three years, forever teasing that the more she drank from it the less and less the bright red crest was even visible.

but still, she refused to get a new one.

you'd hand her the mug and she'd reward you with a soft kiss in silent thanks. not much of a coffee drinker yourself you'd brew a tea, leah waiting patiently beside you sipping on her own drink. if she was awake enough she would sigh impatiently as you'd playfully send her a glare.

then hands warmed by your own mug the two of you would move to the sofa, leah sitting down first and stretching out as you settled yourself sideways in her lap, back pressed against the arm of the sofa as you clicked on the television.

her coffee finished and tired state fading this was when the defender would finally speak, arms encircling you and squeezing tightly. you'd run your free hand through her hair as her chin rested on your sternum.

your heart would swoon as a "mornin gorgeous" would fall from her lips and she'd steal a mouthful of your tea, moving the empty mug onto the table beside hers and pulling your body as tightly into hers as she could.

your routine was timed down to the second, and leah had another twenty minutes before she needed to shower before training, so the two of you cuddled up and often watched the morning news.

well more accurately you watched the news as as her eyes watched you, shining with a sort of tender adoration and hopelessly lovesick gaze that nobody would ever see but you.

alessia

you were wide awake long before you heard the first alarm go off, already laid on your stomach and scrolling through your phone. you gave it a few seconds, glancing to the mess of blonde hair peeking out from the covers to see if she stirred.

when she remained dead asleep you rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up and leaning over her to flick off her alarm, the insistently annoying tone already making your head hurt.

knowing she had at least six more alarms set and didn't need to be up for another little while you allowed her to keep sleeping, flicking off the second and third alarm, eyes rolling in disbelief when once again she didn't even move.

on the fourth alarm you left it to ring out, seeing if an elongated period of time might mean it got through to her the way the shrill beeping was drilling into your own head. but once again, nothing.

"less, alarm." you shook her gently, hand above the covers as once more, nothing. "alessia, alarm." you warned, sitting up and now using both hands to jolt her body side to side. "yeah alright." she mumbled tiredly, one arm pushing you away from her as the other smacked around to stop the alarm.

you foolishly assumed that would be the end of it and she'd start to stir, but no the blondes body just collapsed right back into the sheets, pulling them up tighter toward her as you sighed deeply.

normally she was always a little harder to get out of bed of a morning, but having seen this pattern repeat itself too many times you knew today was going to be a real struggle.

but she needed to be up when you were like it or not, you'd made breakfast plans with your mothers and despite that your girlfriend had still stayed up late into the night on the phone to ella.

you'd kicked her out of the bed around a quarter to twelve, growing annoyed of the giggles and hushed conversations above your head, your girlfriend mumbling an apology into your hair and kissing the crown of your temple before retreating into the living room.

you'd had no idea when she'd come to bed, all you knew is that you were long asleep by the time she had and you'd woken up with her beside you. though it seemed she'd slipped in rather late considering her extra determination not to be awake right now.

a quick check of the time showed you had around fifteen minutes to battle with her about getting up, which knowing the striker laying dead asleep beside you was not enough time but you'd need to make do with what you had.

"lessi baby." you started softly, laying back down and moving her hair out of her face, slotting your body into hers and softly kissing all over her face. not even a flinch.

"time to wake up my love, we have plans to get ready for." you cooed in her ear, placing a few loving kisses to her neck as your hand moved to rub slowly up and down her back. "don't care." was all you received in response alongside a troubled sigh.

"yeah you do baby, you love your mum and we're going to have breakfast with her. it's already nine thirty, you need to get up." you spoke gently, hand moving to rest on her hip now as you again shook her body.

"no!" alessia groaned grumpily, rolling to face away from you as her next alarm sounded, her hand this time quick to tap it off within a few seconds. "yes!" you mocked, moving to sit on top of her, straddling the back of her thighs.

"come on baby, open those pretty blue eyes for me." you gently pushed up her top, ducking down and leaving a trail of soft kisses along her bare back up the line of her spine. "lessi." you sung out in her ear, only an annoyed groan following as her hand swatted to try and push you off.

"m'not going." she grumbled tiredly, tucking her arms under her head with a huff. "yes you are." you nodded, sitting back up and moving to jab gently at her sides. "no i'm not." she argued, face still smushed against her arms as you rolled your eyes.

"you are, so time to get up." you sang out, still poking and prodding at her, tickling her sides gently. "get off and stop fucking poking me!" she huffed moodily and you squealed as she suddenly rolled over beneath you sending you tumbling back to the bed.

"babe no!" you laughed but it was too late, the taller girl belly flopping down on top of you, pinning your body to the bed with her own. "sshh, go to sleep." the striker whispered, covering your face with her hand.

"get off me you dope, we need to get up!" you laughed, trying to wrench her hand off of you. "alessia!" you groaned now, grunting as you tried to push your body up but her larger form refused to budge. your annoyance grew as you felt her lips curl into a smile from her face tucked into your neck.

"i know you're awake so just work with me here and get up!" you grunted still trying to push her off as she purposefully went limp making it harder. "what time did you go to bed?" you sighed, starfishing out on the bed taking a breather.

"alessia. what time?" you repeated, tone more firm at her reluctance to answer. "four thirty, tooney and i played a little fifa and i lost track." her head lifted, eyes puffy with sleep as a guilty smile crept its way into her normally adorably sleepy features and your eyes bugged.

"oh you're going to breakfast! get off me right now russo." you warned seriously, the older girl doing as you asked but you groaned again as you tried to get up and her arms snaked round you.

"can't leave me now." she mumbled tiredly, arms pinned to your sides as she pulled your back into her front, swinging her legs over your own and sighing contentedly. "just lay there quietly, shut up, look gorgeous and cuddle me." your girlfriend requested, kissing your cheek before her head thumped back down to the pillow.

"if you wanted cuddles you should have woken up to your first alarm. we don't have time for this less!" you sighed, forever a stickler for punctuality as your girlfriend was the polar opposite hardly ever not fashionably late to everything.

"there's always time for a cuddle with me baby." the blonde debated, only squeezing you tighter and wiggling her body against you to prove her point. "i'll make you a deal." you started, one bright blue eye cracking open in silent confirmation she was listening.

"you get up right now, get ready and we go to breakfast. then when we get back i'll lay in bed with you for the rest of the day and we can cuddle all you want baby." you bargained, wiggling one arm free to affectionately graze her cheek.

"this feels like a trap." alessia mumbled warily, aware of your productive nature and that you forever used your weekends for errands and life admin, in disbelief you'd give all that up.

"oh for god sakes, less! we need to get up please." you whined, head thumping dejectedly. "fine!" the blonde eventually groaned, letting you go as she sat herself up. you couldn't help but smile as she glared down at you tiredly, pushing her hair to one side of her head and rubbing her adorably puffy face.

"alessia!" you grunted as once more she belly flopped down on top of you, wriggling around until she was comfortable, moving one hand to thread through your hair as the other covered your mouth shushing you softly.

"we will get up in five more minutes."

#leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alessia russo #alexia putellas #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso fanfics #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso

749 notes · View notes

loveburrowx · 8 months

Text

Massage

Request - Y/N gives Joe a massage but things take a turn

Warnings - Smut (intercourse)

A/N - I hope u like this story! Enjoy!

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, amber glow over the city, Y/N carefully unfurled her yoga mat on the lush, emerald lawn of her suburban backyard. The scent of freshly cut grass and sweet, jasmine flowers filled the air, carrying with it the promise of a balmy summer evening. With her yoga class long behind her, she found herself craving a moment of solace, a chance to unwind and escape from the stress of her hectic life as a personal assistant to the famous football quarterback, Joe. Little did she know, however, that fate had other plans for her this evening.

As she settled into her favorite downward-facing dog pose, she felt a familiar presence behind her, the warmth of another body pressing against hers. Startled, she whipped around, her heart racing, only to find Joe standing there, hands in his pockets, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey, gorgeous," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. "I just wanted to apologize for being such a jerk today. I've been under a lot of pressure lately, and I took it out on you."

Y/N let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "It's okay, Joe," she said, offering him a small smile. "I understand." She paused, considering his apology. "But you know, maybe you should try something different tonight." His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "How about I give you a massage?" she suggested. "It might help you relax."

Joe's eyes lit up at the offer, and he nodded gratefully. Without another word, Y/N led him over to her yoga mat, where she had already set up a portable massage table. As she unfurled a warm, scented towel and slipped it around his shoulders, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm wash over her. This was the first time they'd been alone together since the game, and she found herself enjoying the simple intimacy of the moment.

Her fingers danced over Joe's tense muscles, kneading and coaxing them to release their tension. As she worked, he let out soft moans of pleasure, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that she was making him feel better. Soon, the lines of strain and worry on his face began to fade, replaced by a look of pure bliss. It was then that she realized how much she truly cared for him, and with that realization came a powerful desire to express her feelings in a more intimate way.

Without thinking twice, she leaned forward and gently kissed Joe on the lips. His reaction was instantaneous; his hands found their way into her hair, tangling themselves in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss. The warmth of his mouth against hers sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel herself growing increasingly aroused. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his chest, tracing the defined muscles there, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her fingertips.

As their kiss broke, they both gasped for air, their eyes locked on each other's. There was an undeniable passion burning bright in those depths, and neither of them could deny the attraction that had been building between them for far too long. Without another word, Y/N rose to her feet, taking Joe's hand in hers and leading him over to the cozy swing they had in the corner of the yard. There, beneath the stars and the glow of a nearby lantern, they made love with a desperate urgency that spoke of months, if not years, of unspoken longing.

As their bodies moved in unison, Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Joe inside her, the smell of him, the taste of his kiss. She reveled in the knowledge that, for this brief moment, they were together, and that nothing else in the world mattered. It was as if they were the only two people in existence, and their love was the only thing that truly mattered. As their passion reached its peak, and they cried out in ecstasy, the weight of the world seemed to lift from their shoulders, if only for a little while.

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, they lay curled up together on the swing, hands entwined, breathing heavily. Neither of them spoke for a long time, content to simply bask in the glow of their shared intimacy. Finally, Y/N turned her head to look at Joe, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the leaves in the trees above them. And for the first time, she truly meant it.

Joe smiled down at her, his eyes filled with the same emotion. "I love you too," he said, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I've loved you for so long, and I'm so glad we finally... I don't know, found our way to this moment." He paused, searching for the right words. "I want to be with you, Y/N. I want us to be together, no matter what."

She nodded, her grip on his hand tightening. "Me too," she said softly. "I know it won't be easy, with everything going on, but I want us to try. I want us to make it work." They lapsed into silence again, lost in their thoughts and the warmth of each other's bodies.

As the night wore on, they talked, their voices low and intimate. They discussed their fears, their dreams, their hopes for the future. They talked about the game, and the pressure they both felt to perform at such a high level. They talked about their families, their friends, and the people who had shaped them into the individuals they were today. And with each passing moment, their connection grew stronger, their love deeper.

Eventually, they climbed into bed, still intertwined, and fell into a deep, contented sleep. It was the first time in months that either of them had felt truly at peace. The next day, they faced the world together, their newfound bond serving as a source of strength and resilience in the face of adversity. They knew that their relationship wouldn't be easy, but they also knew that they were stronger together than they ever could be apart. And so, they vowed to make it work, no matter what challenges life threw their way.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #nfl #nfl football #nfl imagine #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #explore #like

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bbina · 10 days

Text

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . take a hit

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

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꩜ notes .ᐟ 5k words! wow! i'm having so much fun making this story yall idk if yall are on the same wavelength as me but i fear this may dethrone btl sometime around..

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @revehosh @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @istglevi-gotmesimping @ennycutie @ffixtionista @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

"ready to go?" seunghan chirps the moment you open your door. rolling your eyes, you wave him off. locking your dorm before you leave

"ready as i'll ever be i guess.." you murmured, jiggling the doorknob for safe measure. seunghan laughs and walks on ahead

"where is this party anyway?" you ask, grabbing your phone from the pocket of your jeans, checking if you had any notifications but only to be met with the clock that reads 9:04 PM staring right back at you

before seunghan could answer, his phone starts ringing. he holds a finger up, motioning you to wait as he answers his phone

"hello? yeah we're on our way" you hear him say to the phone. it must be his friends looking for him "we? i'm with y/n right now" he continues, looking back at you and shooting a smile

you make a face at seunghan for even mentioning your name to his friends. they probably don't even know who you are minus wonbin who you've already met

"we're literally just across the street so hold the shots til we're there. see you sohee bye!" seunghan cuts sohee off on the phone and abruptly ends the call

"it's the guys. they're looking for us. let's go!" seunghan hums, grabbing your arm and hauling your ass out of your dorm building so that you two could finally go to this damned party

you were starting to think coming to this party might’ve been a mistake…

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

when seunghan said on the phone that you two were across the street, you didn't think of the fact that the party would be held at wonbin's building

now that you think about it, you didn't question wonbin's message earlier when he mentioned "our rooftop"

"FINALLY YOU'RE HERE" sohee yells out at the exact moment him and seunghan made eye contact. he makes his way through the sea of people on the rooftop to meet with you and seunghan

"and who is this?" you hear sohee ask after dapping seunghan up

seunghan clears his throat, ready to give you another dramatic introduction to one of his friends but not today seunghan, not today

"i'm y/n. i'm seunghan's friend" you introduce yourself to sohee, waving a little

sohee quickly takes a good look at you before it all clicks in his head

"oh! you're the girl who slapped seunghan the other day right? it's so nice to finally meet you! i'm sohee!" sohee beams, shaking your hand

you were a little taken a back by his description on how he knew you by but nonetheless you eagerly shake his hand back

sohee suddenly clasps his hands together, catching both of you and seunghan's attention

"the guys have been waiting for you seunghan, so let me take you to them" sohee chirps, turning around and walking ahead further into the sea of people

you feel seunghan's hand push your back as he follows sohee, "c'mon. we don't want to get lost" seunghan says loud enough for you to hear over the sound of the music that's playing loudly on the rooftop

there were a lot of people like you initially expected. sungchan is a well known guy in campus, so no doubt people wouldn't want to miss his party, let alone his birthday

you take a look around your surroundings filled with familiar and unfamiliar peers. you could recognize some people in some classes you've shared in the past but you mostly kept to yourself. the only friends you made during freshman year was giselle, karina and seunghan with the exception of minjeong and ningning

your little train of thought gets interrupted when you hear someone yell out seunghan's name

"seunghan! over here!" someone yells. seunghan's head perks up and follows the sound of the voice

"eunseok hyung!" seunghan waves, finally spotting him near the improvised dj booth

you follow the direction where seunghan was waving at and there you see the rest of seunghan's friends. though you only recognize one of them which was anton

seunghan ushers you first when you two arrive to the spot where his friends were chilling at

"guys! this is y/n! y/n, meet the guys! that's eunseok, shotaro, anton, and the birthday boy, sungchan" seunghan introduces you and the guys. "there's sohee again you just met him seven seconds ago" he adds, causing sohee to smack him

you wave shyly at the 4 boys before you. even mustering a little "happy birthday" to sungchan, to which he thanks you and tells you to enjoy the night

you've heard of their little circle thanks to seunghan. you knew that wonbin was part of their group but at the moment, he was no where in sight. you pull your hand into the pocket of your jeans to feel wonbin's pen that you have to return

he did say to give it back during this party so you had a reason to go. so where was he?

though it seemed like seunghan read your mind since he was also looking around for wonbin

"where's wonbin hyung?" seunghan asks, looking around

"he was just here a second ago with sion" shotaro says, recalling that wonbin told him that he'd be with sion throughout the night if he needed him

"oh sion's here?! so yushi and riku might be around!" seunghan says all excitedly

on the contrary of his excitement, you were beginning to feel a little nervous at his excitement to meet his other friends. your fear of being left alone by seunghan alongside his friends is starting to ensure

amidst your internal panic, you feel a hand on your shoulder. you jolt, looking up at the person who just held your shoulder. there you see sungchan with a smile on his face, seemingly offering you a drink

"relax! enjoy the night! here's a drink to ease yourself up!" sungchan smiles, handing you a party cup. you awkwardly accept the cup and sip on it a little to show at least some appreciation from the party host for his hospitality

"how about we do shots together as a little ice breaker?" anton proposes, sensing the impending awkwardness filling in the air. after all, it was everyone's first time meeting. at a party at that

the group chorus a yes and they all pass their own cups before getting it filled with drinks

"everyone ready?" shotaro asks, eyeing down everyone's hands that held the drinks

"three.. two.. on-"

"taking shots without me?" wonbin suddenly appears out of no where

eunseok gets cut off by wonbin making his grand entrance. your eyes widened in surprise as you make eye contact with him. although wonbin doesn't express it, he too was surprised at your presence

he didn't think you'd actually go

"wonbin hyung!"

wonbin's little trance gets cut off by seunghan who daps him up and asking him where he was

"i was with sion but i lost him again back there" wonbin laughs, "where's my cup and why are we doing shots?" he looks around seeing everyone (including you) had their own

"just a little ice breaker since we've just formally met seunghan's friend, y/n" sohee says, nodding his head towards your direction

anton, thinking that you two haven't met before, decides to introduce you to wonbin

"so uh y/n! this is wonbin the last member of our little circle. wonbin this is y/n" anton kindly introduces you to the guy you've already met

you let out a little chuckle at the mere thought of the fact that this was probably the third time wonbin has been formally introduced to you. it's kinda funny now that you think about

before you can say anything though, wonbin beats you to it

"we've already met" wonbin says cooly, accepting the cup shotaro gives him

all the guys (minus you and seunghan) look at him weirdly, he met you when?

"they met each other yesterday" seunghan brings up, suddenly laughing at the memory of wonbin being sulky to the guys

you then make eye contact with wonbin again. even smiling a little when you two lock eyes. he may not have said it out loud but you knew what he was thinking with his eyes alone, 'if only they knew'

"let's take shots now i want to party!" sungchan suddenly says, raising his cup up in the air. the rest of you quickly follow suit.

"cheers!" everyone chants before clinking the cups against each other

well, that's one way to start the night...

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

just like you predicted, throughout the night, seunghan has left you alone

though seunghan's friends were nice enough to talk to you for the first few hours of the night. you got to know them quite well and even exchanged instagrams so you could all keep in touch. who knew seunghan had such funny friends?

but it's not like he meant to do it. seunghan somehow saw his friend soobin amongst the sea of people and decided to hang out with him for a while (with your permission of course)

before he left, he tells you that soobin was the guy he tried setting you up with back then at the club on the first night of your break up. hearing such thing, you smacked seunghan in the chest and apologized to soobin personally for the way you acted that night

to which soobin promptly understood where you were coming from and tells you it was alright and it was quite funny to experience it (you never wanted to die in a hole and kill seunghan on the spot for letting you go through that)

in the end soobin ended up giving you his instagram for funsies. guess you just scored another mutual friend from seunghan on your phone

now here you were, backed up on the rooftop terrace, just watching people mingle with each other, swirling your half empty cup filled with some mixed liquor

you look at everyone on the dance floor all mingling around, seemingly having the time of their lives as they live all carefree. you then get a wave of nostalgia, reminiscing the days where it was you on that dance floor talking to everyone

what even happened?

"what's a pretty girl doing back here all alone?" a familiar voice speaks

rolling your eyes, you turn your head to the side and there you see wonbin with a shit eating grin on his face. somehow wonbin just had a knack of catching you in not so pretty moments. moments like you're alone, going through something, or maybe even both

"very funny haha" you mock, drinking the rest of your drink before putting the cup on the table nearby, "i'm "partying"" you quote

wonbin chortles, totally not expecting that response from you

"seriously though, why are you just alone back here? where's seunghan?" wonbin looks around for your buddy that's no where to be found

"he's with his own friends. he asked permission though if it's okay if they could hang for a bit and who am i to say no? so now i'm here" you say, leaning back on the railings behind you

wonbin hums in acknowledgment. seems fair, it was a party after all

with nothing else going on, he takes it upon himself to hang out with you instead of checking up on the other guests. he then stands beside you, now joining you on people watching

"... uh what are you doing?" you ask, a little flustered that he's suddenly beside you

"chilling" he answers smoothly, "why? don't want me here?" he raises a brow, looking down at you

there's a slight edge on his tone of voice that you aren't too sure if he was serious or fucking around

"o-obviously it's fine! i'm just wondering!" you squeaked, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks in sheer embarrassment. you were on their turf so there was no room to be all bitchy

wonbin laughs at your reaction. who knew it was this easy to make you all flustered

with the way wonbin is acting, you can't help but start to wonder why all this just seems comfortable between the two of you. you haven't been friends with him for a long time for him to be acting like this, the same way seunghan acts with you, but somehow you're okay with it

if it was someone else you wouldn't even spare them a chance. easily shutting them out and telling them to fuck off.

but with wonbin, you just can't help but let him do it. you don't really understand why either. was it the shared experiences? the coincidental late night shenanigans that have occurred twice in a row now?

maybe there was something about him that you unknowingly long for. a sense of calm before the storm

are you looking into it too much? was this the lack of emotional connection that you've been yearning for that you didn't receive in your previous relationships?

halfway through your little trance, you suddenly remembered half of the main reason why you even attended this party. which was to return wonbin's vape

you fish out wonbin's device from your pockets and wordlessly hand it over to him by waving it in front of his face

"woah you really brought it back" he says in amusement, taking a good look at it, "haven't had a hit all day and i was getting a little hangry without it"

"hangry?" you repeat, stifling in your giggle

wonbin scoffs lightly, "you know what i mean" he says, poking the side of your head

"wow" you react, in disbelief with what he just did. did he really just poke the side of your head like you two were chill like that?

wonbin grins at your reaction, obviously having fun with teasing you. he can't tell if it's the alcohol in his system that's making him do this but whatever it was, he feels comfortable and is having the time of his life teasing the hell out of you

"fuck you wonbin" you curse, flipping him off, "i'm gonna need a drink for dealing with you" you breathe out, now grabbing your cup from the nearby table you placed it on

wonbin laughs loudly before motioning you to come with him

"okay let's get some drinks"

with that, you follow wonbin to wherever the drinks were at. you're gonna have to need some if you want to last throughout the night...

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

it's safe to say that you've lost seunghan now that you're being accompanied by wonbin instead. seunghan did mention to live a little, so here you were, in some party, at the abandoned construction site behind the main rooftop entrance, drinking with wonbin

"i don't usually bring people here cause this is where i sit with my thoughts but tonight's an exception" wonbin says, showing you the view below his building complex

you leaned over the unfinished railings to look at the bustling city. the wind here was cool and breezy. but what takes the cake of this secret spot of his is that the view below is beautiful

"hey careful. this shit's still unfinished" wonbin blurts, grabbing onto your arm, pulling you back a little. you must've stumbled over some concrete blocks causing yourself to lose balance

you let out a small yelp, closing your eyes and bracing for the impact but it never happens. instead you were met with a plush chest and arms around your frame

peeking an eye open, the first thing you see is a red flannel and some necklaces slightly dangling over your face

"i told you to be careful" wonbin grumbles, releasing his grip around you once you stabilized yourself

"i was! you didn't have to pull me back harshly when you knew there were concrete blocks lying around!" you retort, moving away slightly from wonbin. again, you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. you have to stop embarrassing yourself like this

wonbin could only laugh at your embarrassed state. he then tells you to follow him again. this time he'll take you to a more safe spot around this abandoned construction site. a place where there were finished rooftop railings so he could ensure your safety since you two were drinking after all

now you find yourselves near an emergency exit

"this is place is a tad bit safer for your clumsy ass" wonbin comments, setting down a bottle of liquor on the ground

you gasp at his comment, putting a hand over your chest

"i am not clumsy!" you defend yourself

"yeah yeah, go tell that to yourself after almost tripping over" wonbin mocks the tone of your voice, smirking at your reaction

deciding this wasn't worth fighting over, you grab the bottle of liquor and pour yourself some and gulp it one go

wonbin makes a gesture that he wants some too but instead of pouring him a drink, you blatantly hand him the bottle so he could pour himself. wonbin scoffs in disbelief and snatches the bottle off your hands while you snicker to yourself

there's a blanket of silence after that. the only sounds you could hear were the cars on the road and the buildings that were still lively at this hour of the night but somehow it's comforting

wonbin was the first one to break the silence

"so how's the party so far" wonbin asks, swirling his cup around

you let out a hum, leaning over the railing as you watch cars pass and go. the night was still relatively young and who knows if you wanted to go home now

"it's okay i guess" you breathe, stealing a glance at wonbin before looking back at the city below. "a little boring but that's on me for not mingling around" you joke

"you want to meet new people?" wonbin questions, taking in your answer

"eh no" you brush him off, "i'm not the type to make friends easily"

"i can tell" wonbin blurts. instantly, you glared at the boy beside you, "what? i'm just saying! it's hard to read you" he claims

you raise a brow at him, "and why would you try and read me?"

"to assess if my judgements are right? i don't know"

"weird answer for a weirdo like you" you counter

wonbin lets out a gasp, "now i'm the weirdo", he points to himself as you chuckle. he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink

"but serious question, what exactly were you expecting tonight?" he asks

good question, you thought to yourself. what were you expecting when you wanted to go earlier? did you want to have some fun? mingle around? find someone to talk to? what exactly did you want out of this?

it's easy to answer 'to have fun!' because frankly, that's why people party in the first place. to have fun. but recalling how the night went on earlier, you were attached to seunghan by the hip. never leaving his side. meeting his friends and sticking with them throughout the night was one thing but did you genuinely have fun?

maybe it really was a mistake going to this party

"to be honest, i don't know" you answer truthfully. "i imagined myself having the time of my life but being here now just feels like i lost that part of me for a long time now" you admit

"but i'm trying. i've been going to classes again, trying new things to at least get that part of me back but i don't know. it feels like i threw myself out and now i'm all lost" you say

a lost cause is what you wanted to say but you didn't want wonbin's pity. hell, you don't want anyone's pity. it's true in a sense that you did lose your sense of self during the duration of your past relationship. it was always him above anything else from yourself. now that you're alone, it now feels like you had no true desire in life

wonbin pushes himself off the ground and stands next to you, leaning back on the railing

"you know, talking to you almost seems like talking to a walking reflection of myself" wonbin comments, taking a deep breath and avoids eye contact

you scoff, "the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"it's a good thing. at least to me" wonbin takes a hit off his vape. he then offers you the device, "want some? looks like you need it" he jokes

you elbow him but take the device nevertheless. wonbin laughs at your not so violent reaction and watches you take a hit, slowly exhaling the smoke out

"if you could change one decision you've made in the past, what would it be?" wonbin asks, finding a way to have small talk

"say no to that one dating proposal" you answer a little too quickly

"damn. you really hated your last relationship, huh?" wonbin reacts. he finds it a little hilarious, he's not gonna lie. though he knows some bits and pieces of your previous relationship thanks to those late night talks you've been having, still he finds it quite funny

"it's hard not to. how about you then? what do you think makes a relationship work out?" this time it was your turn to ask him

from what you've gathered from the time you two have been talking (including that fateful night where you two first met at the same convenience store), you know that he was the one who held on the longest til his ex left him

wonbin sighs, now it was his turn to be put on the spotlight

"i'd say it works if the guy is more in love than the girl" he shrugs. in his defense, it was based from personal experience. he did love his girl more than the girl loved him

you let out a hum at his answer. "i agree" you laugh a little

"well as you know, i was definitely more in love with my ex than he was with me. i was always the one chasing after him despite him being in the wrong sometimes. who knew that shit could burn you out in the long run?" you rant, furrowing your eyebrows together. your eyes then widened when you realized that you're sharing a little too much again. you immediately take a look at wonbin for a brief second to see him looking back at you with an expression you couldn't read. so you poke your tongue out to at least maintain the calm atmosphere without your little rant ruining it

wonbin suddenly looks up at the night sky, "it does get tiring, i'll tell you that" wonbin hums before hanging his head low, "but if you really love them, even if it's tiring, you'd still find a way to make things work"

all of a sudden wonbin chuckles bitterly

"although, sometimes your best is still never enough for them" he murmurs

there's silence after that. he hit that right on the dot. even when you did all you could to at least save your dying relationship, the end was inevitable. after what you went through, you started to isolate yourself from the fleeting feeling of love. to you, love deserves no second chances after giving it your all only to be paid in dust in return

for wonbin, he vows to himself that he will never love another person the way he loved his ex. he now has guarded himself from any potential harm to his state of mind. he can't even say if he's moved on completely because sometimes reminiscing the good ol' days gets to the best of him

does wonbin reflect on it? no. does he regret it? maybe. does he feel bad for regretting it? definitely.

it seems like wonbin has been too engrossed with his thoughts that you had to wave a hand over his face

"wha-" wonbin blurts out, shaking his head to bring himself back to earth

"i said take a hit" you pass him his vape device. now what happens next is not what you expected. you expected him to take the device itself and take a puff

what he does is he wraps his hand around yours and takes a hit off the device with you holding it

maybe it was the buzz of the liquor starting to catch up to you but you swear you felt a jolt of electricity run through your veins the moment his hand cups around yours

it seems like you two froze into place for what seems like an eternity. just looking at each other's eyes while his hand remained wrapped around yours (that was holding onto his device) though, the sound of your phone ringing breaks the little trance between you and wonbin

you instantly reach for your arm back, rummaging through your pockets to find your phone in panic after being brought back to reality

wonbin lets out a chuckle after witnessing you almost dropping your phone when you fished it out of your pockets. without reading the caller id, you swiped left and answered the call

"hello?!" you scream onto the phone unintentionally. you look at wonbin for a second while you wait for the person on the line to reply back

wonbin then reaches for your hand again but this time he takes his device off your hands. you watch him take another long hit before exhaling it over the railing

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" the other line screams back. you pull back the phone as you wince from the volume of their voice. it was seunghan

"oh so you finally remembered me?" you sass, mouthing "it's seunghan" to wonbin who nods and continues to do his own thing

"hey c'mon! it's not all the time i see soobin around. so where are you? did you go home?" seunghan asks over the phone. you take another look at wonbin who was now watching the city below

"no i'm still at the party. just mingling around and shit" you tell seunghan on the phone. well, it's not a lie, nor is it the truth either. you just didn't want to tell him just yet that you were just hanging out with wonbin all this time

"see i told you you'd enjoy yourself! i'm happy you came along. so anyway have you seen wonbin? shotaro's looking for him" seunghan says. your eyes widened, did wonbin deadass just accompany you for no reason at all? he really left all his friends hanging?

"wonbin? no i haven't seen him" you lie, looking at wonbin who just turned around after hearing his name

"oh okay maybe his social battery ran out" seunghan laughs, "i'll meet you back at the dj booth. bye" and with that, seunghan ends the call

wonbin pushes himself off the railing and looks at you before asking what was that about

"seunghan says shotaro has been looking for you" you tell him. wonbin suddenly stretches his arms and rolling his eyes

"of course he is. he can't live without me" he jokes, now putting his arms behind his head. "let's go back?"

"yeah. seunghan's looking for me too" you say, pocketing your phone and picking up your cup from the ground. wonbin follows suit and grabs the bottle you two have been drinking

"should i go out first and then you follow a little later so it's not a little suspicious that we were together?" you hear wonbin ask behind you as you navigate through the abandoned construction site safely

it never really occurred to you that you two had a silent agreement to not let anyone know that you two have been hanging out together nor did the latter even mention about it

strangely enough, you'd like to keep it that way

"yeah so they won't get any ideas. weird how i was just thinking about asking you that" you giggle, looking back at wonbin who was making sure he wasn't stepping on anything he shouldn't be stepping on

"maybe great minds think a like" wonbin laughs at his own joke making you smile but he doesn't see it

you can hear the music getting louder and louder the nearer you two get to the party. you stop by the entrance to the rooftop and take a peek at the corner to check if there was anyone around

"go" you usher wonbin, now that the coast was clear. you can feel his presence behind you. he also peers over to check just in case

"how about you?" he asks

"i'll follow after a bit. just make sure no one's looking when you walk in" you say, slightly pushing him so that he can get a move on

even if his hands were full, he puts them up in mock surrender, "okay"

with that, wonbin takes a look around before seamlessly walking back into the party like he didn't just disappear for who knows how long

now you were waiting for the perfect time to walk back, making sure that you didn't just follow wonbin or whatever. in case there were eyes looking around and all that

and by the time you know it you're back into the party. loud music and people's chatters ringing in your ears. you find yourself carefully walking back to the dj booth where seunghan asked you to meet him at

"where have you been!" was the first thing seunghan says after spotting you making your way our of the crowd. you wave him off, "living life" you smile faintly

"i'm so happy for you bestie! finally living the life you were stripped off!" seunghan dramatically cries, wrapping an arm around your shoulders

you didn't notice but wonbin was nearby with shotaro, eunseok and sungchan. he was looking at the way seunghan was all coddled up on you. he can't help but smile in amusement when he catches you elbowing seunghan in the stomach causing him to release you from his grip and clutching his stomach

"so where were you?" wonbin hears shotaro ask over the music

"places" he answers shortly, pouring himself another cup of liquor

"well it's nice to see yourself finally enjoying life again" eunseok comments, clinking his cup with wonbin's. sungchan agrees and takes note that this was the wonbin they've been missing for a while now

"yep. finally" wonbin breathes out, drinking from his cup

he's not really sure but something in him tells that maybe you had something to do with how he views life these days

his eyes trail towards you and seunghan again. this time you two were drinking together. somehow, someway you meet his eyes again. you slightly raise your cup towards his direction before drinking and looking away

wonbin couldn't help but feel something in his chest. he also raises his cup but you didn't see it. not that it matters anyway. but one thing is sure though, its that wonbin is sure that you are someone who he wants around in his life

101 notes · View notes

lamamasjamas · 5 months

Text

Love at First Sight: A Complication (3/9)

A/n: LOL LOL LOL, continuation of the first pregnancy. Again, if you read this before uhm... no ☺. I changed some minor things. I already liked this part so it was fun to reread and revise.

Warning: Dark!Din, Dub-con smut, breeding/pregnancy kink, very heavy with the kinks in this one, Stockholm Syndrome, dark fic!!!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

You watched Din from the kitchen, washing dishes as you were softly reclined against a rocking chair. He gathered enough credits for it after a few bounties off world, he said it was to help you relax, to help you feel better.

You glare from where he stood, drying his hands on a towel at the side of the sink and turning to you slowly with a warm smile. You couldn’t help but think he looked smug.

His eyes roam over your form that you kept hidden with a blanket. His gaze stays on your belly.

You wince as you shift, trying to find a method to have the least amount of pressure on your back. The pain has been building up for months. It was hard to find relief now so late in your pregnancy.

You were slightly overdue. He wasn’t as worried as you and you were practically trying to get him to do something about it since the first few days the complication occurred.

You’ve been begging him to see a doctor for the past month before your due date, but he denied, stating that he knew a lot about pregnancy and birth and that he was practically prepared for anything. You were a bit frightened when he came to you with a vial of pills and tablets one day, claiming they were vitamins.

He said he asked a physician for them but you had a feeling the barrel of his blaster did most of the persuasion. Especially since you only went to the doctor once to confirm your pregnancy and Din refused whatever they wanted to prescribe you, even denying them the chance to talk to you in private and to schedule another appointment.

You didn’t think it was healthy being cooped up in a ship for most of your pregnancy. Ever since he took you, you’ve been idly waiting for him to return each and every day from his missions. You had nothing to do, nothing to think about except him, him, him.

And the child. But taking care of the green baby was more effort than it was before. It used to be a reprieve. A solace. But he stays the same age. He was fifty and he still toddled like a three year old.

He constantly needed attention and care. He’d wander and get himself hurt if you weren’t vigilant. You often wonder if the mandalorian knew he subjected you to constantly be a mother. If you were stuck with him for the rest of your life that is…

That may have been his plan after all.

Din stays longer because of your restrictions in mobility as the child inside of you grew. It makes you feel suffocated. Although everything does at this point.

He moves towards you and you think you would have liked it if he had his armor on. It made him seem less human. As if his depravity was justified.

Your hands shake when he pulls you up from your seat carefully. You’ve been on the verge of crying lately, one because you physically were exhausted and two because he refuses to take you to a doctor or even a midwife often causing you to shun his advances tries for conversation.

He guides you to the bedroom and you pass by the nursery, slightly peeking inside to hear the soft snores of Grogu bundled up in his blankets. Your hand goes to your stomach as you stop for a moment watching the rise and fall of his breaths.

To think soon there would be two little noises of gurgles and giggles in the house. You almost laugh at the predicament. You would have never thought you would be here months ago.

A part of you believed that you would have travelled the galaxy before settling down. You glance at the mad beside you. Maybe in another life, one where he was normal, where he was sane… you would have travelled the universe together, willingly had a family together.

Dins hand puts pressure on your back and you groan. The bedroom seemed like a good idea now, you wanted to lay down. Dins heavy steps creak against the wood as you shuffle to bed, reaching out for the blankets and attempting to crawl to your side of the bed.

He chuckles as you struggle to get comfortable, rearranging and moving things around and then sighing again when it didn’t look or work right. He stops and his face falls when he could see the tears drop against the pillows below you, making the covers darken.

His hands roam frantically over you, finding nothing physically wrong. He frowns and smooths a hand over your head and face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks panicked, his words short and quiet. You sniffle. You couldn’t help but start to ramble.

“I’m so tired and I feel heavy and I need to see someone, something might be wrong with the baby, with me, I just-“

He stops you, holding your hands gently.

“Hey, hey, we’ll go tomorrow, yeah?” His voice was shaky. He was desperate to placate you.

Your tears stop and you calm instantly. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Okay,” you respond and lay on your side. You really were worried, and scared. You also wanted to go outside. It was a chance to see the world again before you inevitably had to hide in your wooden spacious cottage.

He wrapped you up tightly in winter clothes. He said it was cold when you started to complain, and he was right, but he didn’t have to know that as you stepped out into the snow your teeth clacked slightly before you willed them to stop.

The planet was covered in a soft blanket of white. The homes expelling fumes from their heaters and fire places. You’ve never experienced snow in your home world.

You stared at the open door suddenly feeling nervous to get to know this new village.

The 'trip' was going to be to Grogu's school, since you've never seen it, and straight to the local midwife's home.

Grogu was wearing his mittens and his boots, and you gushed over him when he huffed and puffed from Din putting a hood over his head, protecting his sensitive ears.

You couldn't bend down to pick him up, but Din brought him to your arms and he stopped his whines considerably. Your mobility was further restricted from the fur lined coat placed on top of your shawls.

The sheer amount of clothes you were enveloped in made you look hearty, rather than expectant.

As you shed your layers once entering Grogu's classroom, you still felt as big as before, especially as everyone started to crowd and lean over to watch as the mandalorian carried your coats for you. You sigh, watching as Grogu twaddles off to his friends, giggling and happy.

Everyone was surprised by your presence. They’ve never seen you before, except for the time you arrived a few months back, your stomach was still small, at least smaller, and only a select few were able to catch a glimpse of you if ever when you were out of the house to get some air.

Still, your cottage was located further away from the others. It was bigger as well, with plenty of land around it. Din cared for privacy and only the neighbors were able to keep up with your outdoor appearances.

Rumors spread quickly of the Mandalorian and his “wife”. They thought he was very protective of his family by the way he scoped everyone out the first few days he brought his son to school, almost cold in his demeanor when he asked about the classrooms and their policies.

Din had gone momentarily to speak to a teacher assistant. A droid. You’ve learned of his distaste for droids early on. He keeps you far from them if he can.

He leads the assistant to the side as they try to greet you. Your mouth opens in a polite greeting but Din’s sharp tone cuts the droid off midway.

For a moment you stood there, suddenly feeling your heart beat rapidly in a mix of embarrassment and anxiety.

Many of the parents approached you, asking which child was yours. You pointed towards Grogu, and they gawked, looking to the Mandalorian and wondering what he looked like under the helmet.

They initially thought you were the green one. Now they were wondering if it was him.

As many of the parents chuckled softly and began to pull you into a group of gossipers, your nerves died down.

You appreciated being talked to, maker knows how long it had been since you’ve interacted with anyone.

You gasp when they ask to touch your stomach and you’re suddenly pulled back into a cold and hard chest. Some swooned at the protectiveness and some looked at you in pity, especially when he stared down at the parents talking to you.

You rolled your eyes. They took it as you showing your annoyed fondness towards his actions.

——————————

The walk to the midwife was short, and you didn't have to wait long to be admitted into her makeshift office.

You appreciated the padded chairs and the homey feeling inside. The warm brown walls and the vibrant plants inside made you feel safe. But the midwife, not much older than you, watches in amusement.

Din complains when she orders you to undress quickly after shaking your hand, not yet being told the problem but looking smug as she puts on her gloves.

Your eyes blink up at him pleadingly as you start to shrug your many layers off and she pats on a medical table located further into her cottage. Her warm smile invites you onto the table easily. He sighs loudly, passing over his blaster at his waist pointedly before leaning against the wall next to the doorframe outside.

She rolls her eyes before closing the door softly.

"Very protective, hm?" she mutters cheekily. You nod, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"When was your last check up?"

She sits in front of you, a rolling chair whose creaking wheels make your eyes shift.

"Eight months ago."

Her brows furrow slightly before relaxing again.

"You're really far along, sweetheart," she scolds softly.

You wanted to cry. You felt guilt build up in your stomach, even if it wasn't entirely your fault. Her eyes glance from her notepad to you and she pauses at your anxious state. Your hands shake as you place them over your stomach.

"I think I'm o-overdue..." you stutter worriedly. Her brows shoot up and you start to panic, your eyes start to water, and your breathing picks up. She shushes you gently, her eyes glancing towards the door.

"I'm going to do a checkup for you, okay?"

You breathe in deeply and exhale. Nodding along to the instruction to calm.

The checkup took about an hour, Din was practically pacing outside of the door by the time you came out, smiling tightly and fully dressed again.

The midwife sat you both in her office, which seemed almost comically small for Din's bulking form.

"The baby is fine," you both sigh in relief and she smiles at you, she turns to Din, "I performed a membrane sweep on your wife-"

"I'm not his wife," you interrupt quickly, fiddling with your fingers over your bump. He turns to you in slow silence, obviously irked by your comment. She stares between you both, clearing her throat and continuing.

"Like I was saying, I performed a membrane sweep on her and-"

"What is that?" he demands.

She sighs deeply, maintaining her smile with a strain.

"It's a technique where we take the amniotic membrane off by sweeping over the cervix. Helps her body know that she’s ready."

He nods as if he understood. You sigh.

"The success of the procedure isn’t certain. I suggest other methods of inducing labor as well."

She smiles cheekily as she leans her elbows on her desk, Pressing her hands over her chin and grinning fully at your confusion.

"Of course, the most enjoyable method is to have sex, but there are other methods."

You tense, Din shifts in his seat, watching as she writes down on her notepad and rips the sheet off loudly.

Before she pushed you both out of her door she winked.

He was relatively silent on the walk home and you were buzzing, practically bouncing on your feet as he started opening the door.

He was expecting you to jump him the moment he took off his helmet and you started shedding your coats to the floor. But he was shocked at the way you practically ran, more like waddled, to the kitchen, taking out ingredients for spicy stew.

You didn't even notice him walk out the door to pick up the kid from school, too busy pacing around the house and eating fruit.

During dinner you breathed in and out your mouth wide open, pouring water down your throat from the excess amount of spice you put in your own serving. He shook his head gently at your antics, especially when you went to sleep without even looking in his direction.

——————————

It's been two days; the membrane sweep did not work, and you were getting antsy. You've checked off every single thing off the list, except for the ones that needed a certain partner.

You were getting antsy, your hands were constantly on your belly, almost pushing down as if that would make the baby come out.

The house was warm, Grogu was playing in the common area, gurgling half mumbled numbers as he pushed building blocks and toy ships one by one.

For a brief moment you imagine a baby next to him, a human baby. Brown hair, brown eyes. Playing along.

You brush the window curtains open, the slight chill of the glass migrating to your cheeks. You shiver as you see the image in front of you.

You watch Din's deft fingers work over the panels of his ship, hyper focused on the way they flexed against the metal and the way they gripped tools.

Sparks flew, illuminating his armor and helmet. He grunts in irritation when a weld didn’t come out as well as he’d liked.

He turns. His hands making their way to his hips as he watches you back.

You retreat further into the house when he quirks his head in question of your stare. The moment he entered the household he was met with you waiting at the table for him, food ready at the table and steaming.

Dinner was relatively silent; you were unfocused, and you ate mechanically. You hurried to the bedroom the moment you finished and placed your plate in the sink.

You take a yawning Grogu from his seat and hurriedly strode to the nursery.

He sighs, getting up to wash.

He stood in the hallway, dishes done and left to dry in the rack, watching his son sleep peacefully. The crib next to his empty and half of the room vacant. He sighs, wishing the baby would come soon.

There were two separate bedrooms apart from the main bedroom, each big enough to accommodate two or three children. Grogu had chosen his little siblings toys. The color of the walls.

He was just as excited.

"Din, I need your help," you shout from your bedroom. He comes in immediately.

"What happened?" he shouts back, looking frantically throughout the room.

You were in the bathroom; he ran towards you only to see you in your underwear twisting and turning in front of a mirror.

"Why did you take me?" you ask, tracing over the trimming of lace lining your panties. Your ass looks incredible as you pulled up the waistband over your hips, it bounces as you poke at it, wincing when the cellulite emphasizes over the lighting.

You sigh, looking towards him in a heady stare. He walks over to you, envelopes you in his arms and sighs as you turn your face away from his chest.

"I love you."

"Do you? I don't think you can fall in love so quickly-"

"Well, I did," he says shortly.

You sigh, his hands smooth over your abdomen and you stop his hand, watching him through the mirror intently.

Something was wrong with him, he knew. You drove him to do things he wouldn't do otherwise. It was as if the moment he saw you, something was triggered in his brain. He couldn't function without you now, he would get angry, depressed, demoralized.

You were a necessity now.

"Would you fuck me, Din?" you ask innocently. He shivers at the way your eyes lift lazily up to meet his in the mirror.

You lead his hands under your underwear grinding against his palm as he cups your mound.

His fingers get sucked into your cunt and you sigh. You rest your head against his shoulder.

"Please..." you beg. A quiet okay was said behind your ear and your feet shuffle in anticipation.

His hand quickens and his fingers work you over slowly and firmly. It was as if you were being rocked by a wave, back and forth his palm connects with your clit, rubbing it firmly and then sliding across it, letting it go and doing it over and over again.

You gnaw on your lip, you could feel heat build within you ever so slowly, so gently that you sigh in content. The pain and throbbing of your body was soon forgotten as he led you to the bed, his fingers gliding over your folds and moving to your opening mouth languidly.

You suck his fingers as he laid on the mattress pulling you on top of him. He imagines your sucking motions to be akin to your lips around him, you look into his eyes deeply as your tongue swirls over his digits. He groans, slowly pulling away from your lips and trailing his fingers over your neck and towards your breasts, cupping underneath them and making your eyes roll up.

His chest was firm underneath your hands as you closed your eyes and moved your hips to an invisible rhythm.

The next morning, he would finally notice the red marks marring his skin, as he glances towards you, watching him as you pull the sheets up to your breasts, covering them in an innocence he knew was a farce.

His cock bumps against your cervix repeatedly, and you speed up, feeling him open you up each time your hips met.

You whine when your thighs start to cramp from your desperate movements.

"I-I can't -"

He flips you making sure you bounced and landed carefully on top of the sheets and pillows.

"You want it hard or soft."

You moan.

“Hard. Please.”

He has you with your back against his chest, your legs spread wide as he spears his cock into you quickly. You gasp with each thrust, arching your back against him as he sucks bruises against the tender skin of your neck.

His hips plop against your ass loudly, you had to cover your mouth from the feeling of your slick running down towards his thighs and making you slide easier against him.

You feel pure pleasure, almost as if your body is renewed and numbed down to a form in which pain doesn’t exist. You cum harder than you ever had before in your life and as you fall limply against the sheets, your belly atop a comfy pillow placed under you by Din, you sleep instantly.

He was convinced he made you pass out and for a second he worries, almost sliding his cock out of you before you whined, gripping his hand and pulling him so that his arm would wrap around you, effectively forcing him to stay put.

You shivered when you felt him shove himself deeper inside of you because of the proximity. Eventually when you were deep in sleep, which hasn’t happened in a long time, he pulled out, his seed and your slick rushing out of you.

You woke up that day feeling better than ever, albeit a little sore, but you don’t think you’ve felt that much relief in a while.

As you sit up you groan, the weight of your bump finally getting to you. You look to your side seeing the outline of his half erect cock through the sheets and hold your breath.

He woke up with his cock in your mouth, already hard as you climbed on top of him and started grinding.

He was elated at the fact that you were initiating this. It made him feel as if he was wanted, as if he had a purpose.

You couldn’t agree more as his thick cock stretched you that morning, making you see stars and replacing the aches in your body with pangs of intense pleasure.

——————————

It felt good to be fucked. It felt good for him to tire you out and to sleep from satisfied exhaustion. So, you did it each and every night until you would inevitably go into labor.

It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even worry about how overdue you were, you just wanted the excuse to have him inside of you all of the time.

He was feral for it. He loved your body; it was so plush and swollen and his. The fact that anyone from the outside, when you make him take you out for walks to aid in your predicament, could see that you were carrying his baby made him want to ravish you then and there.

You would often have mothers come up to you now, saying that you were going to have a big baby, and that they would probably be as strong as their father. It made him keen.

The whole village knew you belonged to him, especially as you stuck to his side and huddled for warmth from the heavy winds and the freezing air and especially as you hold his son as if your own, close against your chest as if you haven’t seen him for years even though he was just a walk down a path the whole day.

Everyone thought you were a happy family. They thought that when you wrapped your arm around his you were cherishing your time together, you were, in a way, it was just that you only wanted his cock. He usually took that as a signal to hurry up home, especially when your hands started to wander over his chest plate, supposedly wiping off dust or snow from his armor.

A big and happy family is all he wanted. He was just missing a member at the moment.

——————————

“Fuck, Din, h-harder.”

It's been three days so far. The midwife said you were dilated 1 centimeter. It only made you more desperate for his cum.

Sperm softens the cervix, and a soft cervix prompts dilation.

"I can't-" he groans, holding your hips still and leaning away.

"Please-" You press your ass against his crotch, pressing him deeper into you and making yourself gasp out against the pillows, your drool accumulates and spreads against the pillowcase, prompting you to lick your lips.

"We're so close..." you say pleadingly.

He squeezes your waist, stilling you from bouncing your hips against him.

"Close to what?"

"Our baby," you whine.

You knew him well. You knew what made him tick, and how well you could manipulate your way for something you wanted. That being, getting plowed into the mattress, with the bonus of speeding up the process of labor.

Your voice echoes in his head. Our. You usually referred to them as yours, because you're carrying them and you're going to be the one taking care of them. So you thought.

Also, because you didn't want him, at all and in any form, out of sexual pleasure.

He twitches and you swear you hear him growl. A shiver runs down your spine and you push him further.

"I want to give you a baby. Don't you want me to?" you murmur moaning and whiny, mimicking the women in holos usually seen in your same position.

Your hand moves under the swell of your belly, making you wince from the uncomfortable position and connect with your clit. You circle your hips, feeling him start to thrust lightly against you.

"You can put another in me after..."

His fingers meet yours and rub with you. You almost scoff against the pillow from his sudden eagerness, but your breath catches from a particularly hard thrust.

"I'll give you as many children as you want," you blurt out as you feel your body heat up quickly. You didn't have a filter anymore, your mind was shrouded in the feeling he was giving you, in the need to reach completion.

"Please- I want to expand- mph, our clan-"

He hushes you, thrusting into you with precision and pushing you into the sheets below careful to not put pressure on your stomach. You didn't even notice that he turned you over, your back hit the mattress, his hands pinning you beneath him. His mouth glides along the valley of your tits.

His tongue slides over to your swollen and dark nipple, helping him engulf your fatty tissue into his mouth. He sucks in pulses.

He lifts your ass in the air, pressing himself as deep as he could go before pulling out and thrusting in again. His pelvis slides against your clit each time his cock meets your cervix.

You come apart with a tremble and a high-pitched whine. He groans into your breast, sucking until your milk coats the inside of his mouth. Your back slowly lowers back into the soft blankets and he holds himself up, his head buried in your breasts.

You sigh, pressing your hands against his hair as the pressure on your chest was being relieved. His cock was pulsing in time with his suckles.

Your nails were scratching behind his head, caressing his brown locks and smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone.

He came with a long groan, still inside of you, when you tug on his locks after he bit you lightly.

He lifts his head, his eyes search your own blissed out ones, half lowered and drowsy. When he kisses you, you respond back sensually, slowly and as if you meant it.

It stung him.

The only way he could get you to show him affection was if you were in a state of euphoria and not your complete self. You grumble as his lips start to part yours.

"I'm tired," you mumble. He chuckles, nodding his head, helping you shrug some pillows under yourself and placing his body behind you. You hum as you press your head against the pillow.

His lips meet your earlobe and you smile lightly, still in a daze. You pause when he speaks, lowly.

"I will get you swollen again. I know you; you seem to forget that. I know your using me to get off, but any words said to me are a promise."

Despite yourself and despite everything else you clench around him, a quiet moan escaping you as he presses himself against your back and slid back into you slowly.

The very next day the contractions hit, he carried you to the midwife across town and you met a very beautiful, yet slimy, chubby baby.

Your eyes softened when he first handled her with gentle care, as if she were made of glass. He smiled, almost grinned, when she gurgled and moved her head from side to side, looking for you.

You forced your hands to stop shaking when you gently cradled her to your chest. Staring into her eyes as they opened slowly, you truly started to believe it wasn’t unbelievable he fell in love with you so quickly.

A/n: Reblogs and Comments much appreciated lol. 🥰❤️ mwah! 💋

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #dark fanfiction #dark!Din Djarin

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callsignfate · 1 year

Text

Valeria Garza Fluff One Shot - sleep.

(Wrote this at the same time as the Laswell, I just didn't edit this one last night because I was exhausted. This can be read as GN!reader x Valeria, I think.)

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria sat in her dimly lit office, the soft glow of the computer screen casting eerie shadows across her face. The room was filled with the faint scent of Cuban cigars and the lingering tension of countless decisions she had made as El Sin Nombre, the mysterious and powerful leader of the cartel. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts, each one a problem with seemingly no solution.

The endless problems had been piling up, like a never-ending stack of unpaid debts. The rival cartels were encroaching on her territory, vying for control of the lucrative drug trade routes. The police and DEA were closing in, conducting relentless investigations that threatened to expose her true identity. Within her own organization, there were whispers of betrayal and power struggles among her higher-ups.

Valeria had given herself countless responsibilities, believing that she could handle the pressure, that she could outsmart her enemies at every turn. But now, it felt like an insurmountable burden. The cartel had become a profitable empire, but it was also an endless headache.

Valeria's frustration boiled over as she slammed her fist on her desk, the sharp crack echoing in the small, dimly lit room. The stress that had been gnawing at her mind for so long had finally pushed her to the edge. Her men, once loyal and dependable, were now causing more problems than they solved. Their mistakes and carelessness had become a constant source of irritation.

She wanted to scream, to yell at them for hours on end. It was as if she were playing the role of a mother, taking care of unruly children who weren't even hers. They had become a liability, a burden that threatened to bring down everything she had worked so hard to build.

Valeria took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She knew that losing her temper wouldn't solve anything, and it could even make matters worse. She had to find a way to handle this situation calmly and strategically.

Valeria's frustration continued to mount as she sat at her desk, her hand tangled in her short, black hair. She clenched and unclenched her fist, her fingers gripping the strands of hair tightly in an attempt to relieve the headache her men had seemingly given her.

The pain in her temples throbbed with each passing moment, a physical proof of the stress and aggravation that had built up over time. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to collect her thoughts and calm the storm of emotions raging within her.

As Valeria left her office, her mind still weighed down by the countless problems and frustrations of her role as El Sin Nombre, she sought solace in the presence of the person who had become her anchor. You, the one she craved to be near, provided a sense of calm and stability in her chaotic world.

She made her way down the dimly lit corridor, the soft sounds of her footsteps echoing in the silence of the cartel's headquarters. Her thoughts gradually shifted from the troubles of the day to the anticipation of seeing you.

Valeria approached the door to her room, where you were usually found. With a gentle push, she entered and was met by the sight of you, focused on something she couldn't quite discern. Your presence alone brought a sense of relief, and she couldn't help but feel a slight smile tug at the corners of her lips.

Without saying a word, Valeria moved closer to you, drawn by the quiet, calming energy you exuded. She appreciated the way you didn't demand her attention, allowing her to simply be in your presence. It was a rare respite from the constant demands of her position.

Valeria's observations were always astute, and she couldn't help but smile as she entered the room and found you on the bed, engrossed in something on your phone. Your eyes briefly met hers before returning to the screen, but it didn't take long for you to shut off the device.

The quiet and cozy atmosphere enveloped the room as both you and Valeria settled in with your respective devices. Despite her initial scoff and eye roll, Valeria's frustration seemed to ebb away in the presence of your shared space.

For hours, you both delved into your work, navigating files, emails, calls, and texts on your phones. The occasional rustling of papers and the soft tapping of keys were the only sounds that filled the room.

As time passed, Valeria glanced down the length of the bed, noticing your legs hanging over the edge and your arms folded, serving as an improvised pillow. A faint smile played at the corners of her lips as she watched you in this unguarded moment.

The room was now filled with the soothing rhythm of your soft breathing, your chest rising and falling in a gentle, steady pattern. Valeria couldn't help but be drawn to the peaceful image you presented as you lay there with your eyes closed.

With a sense of contentment and serenity washing over her, Valeria set her phone aside on the side table. She moved closer to you, mirroring your position with her head facing you, just as you had done for her. The proximity brought a sense of closeness and comfort, and she found herself mesmerized by the tranquil expression on your face.

As she listened to your soft breathing, Valeria felt a wave of calmness wash over her. The stresses and headaches that had plagued her seemed to melt away in the presence of your peaceful sleep.

With a whisper that only she could hear, Valeria expressed her gratitude and vulnerability. "My soft spot, my weakness, thank you," she murmured, her words filled with tenderness and appreciation. She let out a long, deep breath, a sigh of relief she hadn't even realized she had been holding.

Slowly, Valeria drifted off to sleep, her body and mind finally finding rest and solace in the tranquil company of the one person who had the power to ease her burdens and bring her peace.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

#valeria mw2 #mw2 valeria x reader #valeria cod #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x reader

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

Text

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 6: Through Life and After Death

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)―missionary, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (do not endorse), loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, sir kink if you squint, "fucked dumb" (lol), language ❧ Word Count: 15k (I am so sorry.)

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: With the threat of Negan and the Saviors' imminent return heavy on your mind, you find solace in one last excursion outside the castle walls, with your knight. A chance discovery, and the knowledge that this may be your last moment alone with him, leads you to the logical conclusion of your longing.

❧ A/N: Babe, wake up. The knight and the princess are about to boink. Btw I wrote most of this while I’m on my period so that might explain a lot.

The night before last had haunted you, tormented you, until you saw Sir Negan’s arrogant face in every shadow in your bedroom, every darkened corner of the castle, and even every forlorn hollow amongst the foliage in the courtyard where you took your afternoon strolls.

Your own home became a house of horrors, and now, you could not stand to be there another minute.

Before that night, the castle was only a place of sadness for you, but now, it was a looming threat, with each rising and setting of the sun marking another day closer to the day he would come back. You couldn’t even bear to speak his name, so you didn’t. You couldn’t, as though somehow even using your voice to acknowledge his existence was giving him more power. And yet, it was impossible to avoid the plague of unease that the man had infected you with.

Afterall, your situation was dire, no matter what transpired in the coming days leading up to his return. If your father decided to appease Negan, the best option for the survival of the kingdom, it would mean you’d be given to him willingly, taken to the Sanctuary to be his wife. If your father refused to give you to him, you’d be taken by force, and there was no way that Alexandria’s now weakened defenses could fight the Saviors from taking you―they were going to take you, no matter what. There was no outcome that would be in your favor. You were going to be Negan’s now, and you had to accept it.

But you didn’t.

Late last night, the king had left Alexandria in the hopes of making alliances with neighboring kingdoms against the Saviors in a last ditch effort to fight them. It was a noble pursuit, but worthless. Even with the help of the other provinces, the Saviors had weakened those kingdoms as well. Their armories were ransacked, and their numbers were increasingly dwindling. Still, you took advantage of your father’s absence―for one last excursion outside the walls before you’d surely be ripped away from your home in a matter of days.

It was the easiest breakout yet, given the lack of guards roaming the corridors of the castle. The journey through the tunnel was quiet, none of the usual talk of knighthood or herbalism or the knight’s stories of his adventures in exotic, faraway lands. It wasn’t until the meadow when you asked Sir Daryl to treat this day just the same as the others―as if nothing had changed, and this wasn’t your last journey with him.

And so, the knight being simply unable to refuse your wishes, he buried his sorrows to speak of things that pleased you, and you continued regaling him with quotes from your favorite tales and poems, all of which he listened to attentively, pulling Phantom’s reins as you both approached the familiar little cottage, its new outer walls now the first thing you saw.

It was only recently that Sir Daryl had commissioned a mason to build the protective border round the little house, an additional safety precaution to keep the walkers out, he said. Sometimes, you wondered if he’d had that built just for you to be safe, but perhaps that was a self-centered thought. The notion still produced a fluttering feeling in your abdomen, one that you became accustomed to since you first felt them with him. It was the most pleasant feeling you’d ever had, and no matter how you experimented to see if any other source of happiness could replicate that feeling, you always failed.

The sun was setting now, the usual ending to the usual day out, only now, the knight had offered to prepare you a real supper, not just the usual loaves of bread and rosemary butter. This eve, he was set on something special―venison he’d hunted himself just days prior, accompanied by vegetables you’d collected from the cottage garden, many of which you’d never even tried before. “Peasants’ grub” the nobles called them, but they were simple potatoes, onions, cabbages, leeks, carrots… Everything you’d need for a good stew.

But Daryl would not let you lift a finger, relegating you to sitting upon one of the straw-filled pillows strewn about on the floor, just a handful of feet from the warm lit hearth, where Daryl stood laboring over a steaming pot.

“Are you sure you do not need any help?” you peeped, though you and he both knew that you had less skill in cooking than him. In fact, you’d never even cut a vegetable before today. That was simply not your responsibility.

He looked at you through curling smoke, his eyebrow raised at the notion. “Told ya I’d do it. Isn’t much left to do, anyway… Just gotta let it cook a bit more.”

With your posture as straight and perfect as ever, you nodded and wrapped the blanket he always gave you tighter around your body. At this point, it smelled distinctly of your sweet perfume. “Thank you again, Daryl. I know… I know this is not the most ideal time to leave the castle, but I could not stand to be there another second. I swear I can still smell that man’s stench.”

Daryl swallowed hard before clearing his throat, disturbed by the very thought of him, the man who he knew he could not stop from taking you, but he’d do anything in his power to prevent it from happening.

He’d thought of many things, in fact. He hadn’t slept in two nights, the time spent instead thinking of ways to stop Negan, but they all had their weaknesses. Of course, his first thought was to hide you, to take you away from the castle and keep you somewhere else, but that wouldn’t stop the Saviors from pillaging Alexandria, from killing more people. The one thing keeping Negan from destroying the kingdom was you, and even then, it was still uncertain.

And killing Negan and enough of the Saviors to render them powerless was next to impossible. Alexandria was a small kingdom anyway, and now it had dwindled down to almost the size of a large village, with hardly any defenses or military-trained citizens to even stand a chance against an army of the Saviors’ size. The situation was hopeless, and he hated that all he could do was wait.

“But it’s nice to be here,” you said. “I like it here… With you.”

He met your sweet smile with a boyishly lopsided one. The man was quite a bit older than you, but he had a youthfulness about him you couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was in his eyes, which glimmered just as brightly as you’d imagined they had when he was closer to your own age. His face was weathered, but mostly, he was very handsome to you, with a softness to his features that mesmerized you at times.

Particularly, you’d developed a fascination with his lips, the way they moved. He had a habit of folding in his lower lip and chewing on it, especially when deep in thought. Sometimes he’d purse them to the side when he was frustrated, or the top lip would snarl a bit when he killed a walker. You’d become attuned to the patterns of his smiles, grins, and smirks. Your favorites were the ones like this, uneven and slightly bashful, as though you’d said something that flattered him.

You’d been flattering him a lot more lately, you realized. Perhaps your attraction to him was becoming more and more difficult to hide. Strangely, you did not feel the usual urge to combat it. Maybe it was the particular kind of heat from the hearth that evening or the way his hair was pinned behind his ears to keep it out of his way as he cooked, but the fluttery feeling in your abdomen was more persistent than usual, more continuous. At some point, you knew it would be impossible to hold back, but you had to.

“I like being with you, too,” he replied, sprinkling some freshly ground herbs into the cast iron pot. “I wish I could…” He trailed off, stopping his train of thought before he spoke improperly in front of you.

“Could what?”

Gut Negan ‘fore he lays another finger on you. “Nothin’.”

You huffed in amusement at his shyness. “Keeping secrets from your princess,” you teased with a wiggling brow and a squint of faux offense. “That is not very knightly behavior, sir.”

My princess, he thought. Mine.

He shook his head with a huff, ridding himself of his intrusive thoughts. “Wish I could… do somethin’ for you, s’all.”

“Oh, Daryl,” you said. “You’ve already done so much for me. There’s nothing you could do… It is in my father’s hands. Well, it is in Negan’s hands, really.”

“But it shouldn’t be like that.”

“No, it shouldn’t, but it’s how it is, no matter what. Even if Sir Negan had no interest in me, my father would expect me to marry a noble, or a prince or king from some other kingdom. He’s a good father, but he is still a king. Really, I am quite lucky he has not married me off yet. Many princesses marry men they do not love. My mother, her marriage to my father was arranged. Somehow, it worked. They grew to love each other very much. I do not believe I could ever love Sir Negan, though… Not ever. He is evil.”

I won’t let him take you, he wanted to say, but he knew that would be an empty promise. Tonight, for all he knew, could’ve been one of the last nights he’d ever see you again. One thing was certain, this was going to be the last time he took you outside the castle. The last time he could truly be alone with you. And yet, he could not work up the courage to tell you how he felt, how he cherished you much more than he should’ve, how he believed he loved you.

“Wish I could take you away from here,” he said, his lips moving faster than his brain could process his words. “Wish you could stay here, and Negan would never find you.” When his rationality caught up with him, he cleared his throat and shook his head in an attempt to take back what he just said, even though he meant every word.

“I do, too,” you said, surprising him a bit. “I wish I could, but then what would Negan do? He’d destroy Alexandria. He’d kill my people… He might even kill my father. I couldn’t let that happen. No, I have to face it. There’s nothing anyone can do, Daryl, though I appreciate how much you care about my safety.”

I love you.

Instead of voicing his thought, he eyed the weakening fire of the hearth, its flame no longer adequately heating the bottom of the pot. “I’m sworn to protect you,” he said. “As your knight.” He felt your soft gaze caressing his face like an invisible hand, though he tried to remain nonchalant as he poked at the fire. “If I let you get taken against your will, I’m not protecting you.”

That was almost amusing to you, as Daryl seemed to rarely care about performing his official knightly duties. When it came to you, though, he took his job quite seriously. In fact, you began to wonder if he cared more about protecting you than his own lord to whom he owed fealty. What he owed to you meant much more than mere feudalism, though. What he owed to you was his mind, body, and soul.

“And I am sworn to protect my kingdom. If I run away, I am endangering my kingdom.”

That all being said, the idea of Daryl taking you far away from all your troubles was dangerously tempting, to the point that you forgot to breathe for a moment, until it came back to you in the form of a heavy swallowing of air.

“I do not want anyone else to die,” you continued. “I… certainly do not want you to die fighting for me, Daryl, though I am so very grateful for everything you’ve done for me. In truth, I don’t think I have ever felt as close to someone as I feel with you.”

There was more you wished to say, and it seemed as though Daryl had something on the tip of his tongue, but once again, he held himself back, despite every cell in his body screaming out to you professions of love and adoration that had only grown stronger with each passing moment he’d known you. With every way he’d begun to see you for who you were, he fell harder in love. With every angle of you he feasted upon with starving eyes that tore themselves away despite their hunger, he grew more desperate, more bereft of your warm, soft, supple body that he dreamed of cherishing and worshipping every waking moment of everyday.

God, he couldn’t keep you from his mind, your presence overwhelming and intoxicating and mesmerizing, even in this moment when your voice spoke so innocently and with the dignity and poise of a princess. That’s what you were, he had to remember—a princess. He was a knight. He needed to know his place… Though it was becoming increasingly harder to do so.

With the heady air of silence meandering between you in the tiny hovel, Daryl concentrated on rousing the flame of the hearth, but there was nothing he could do to build it up again without collecting more firewood to fuel it. It was the perfect moment to excuse himself and go out to gather tinder while he collected himself, before he did or said something… improper.

In fact, he swore that if he opened his mouth now, he’d wax poetic about all the sinful thoughts he’d tried to keep at bay. Only your voice stopped him from heading out without an explanation.

“Where are you going, knight?”

He palmed at his forehead with a huff, remembering that he was in a social situation, with a sacred woman he cared for too tenderly. He couldn’t just leave you without saying what he was doing, after all.

“Hearth needs more tinder,” he spoke over his shoulder as he donned his black wool cloak. “I won’t be far, just at the splitting log right outside.”

“I shall stir the stew,” you said dutifully, rising elegantly from your seat, with delicate handfuls of your dress to lift it as you crossed to the hearth.

“Don’t poison it,” the knight replied, to which you flashed him a smirk.

“Why ever would I do such a thing? That would be foolish, anyway. I am going to eat the stew, too.” He turned to look your way. It was a mistake. He got lost in your face, your cheeks high and full with your smile, and your eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dying fire. “Hurry along, now,” you said, your voice low now, almost husky. “You mustn’t keep me waiting.”

You did not intend the phrase to sound… suggestive, but perhaps your emotions were beginning to cloud your better judgment, and now every word you spoke betrayed you.

“I won’t,” he replied, a barely audible crack in his voice, though you chalked it up to his already raspy way of speaking. “Be right back.”

Before leaving, he took up the splitting maul he kept beside the door, a burst of cold from the spring night air chilling you for a moment as the door swung shut. Absent-mindedly, you found yourself studying the stew as you stirred it. You tilted your head in amused curiosity at the simple, yet appetizing, concoction. Whatever mix of herbs Daryl had thrown together had created a pleasant kind of aroma that filled the small one-room cottage with a comforting warmth.

A mischievous grin spread across your face as you thought to taste a bit of the stew before Daryl came back. Afterall, it couldn’t hurt to get a small sampling. Careful to get a little bit of everything in your spoonful, you purposefully sought out a large chunk of perfectly cooked-through venison. Raising the large wooden spoon to your pursed lips, you tasted the warm soup, letting it sit on your tongue for a few thoughtful moments as you attempted to study every flavor and texture.

Though the stew was undoubtedly delicious, it was still missing something. You’d seen Daryl sprinkle several different herbs and spices, but it lacked the savory, peppery taste of one of your favorite herbs: sage.

There was a tall wooden pantry across the room, where Daryl had stored most of his dry ingredients. You quickly crossed to the cabinet, your eyes looking back every few moments to keep an eye on the rolling boil of the stew. The pantry doors opened with a creak, you biting your lip and furrowing your brow as you scanned the dim shelves for the dried herb you sought. Daryl had an impressive selection of both culinary and medicinal ingredients, each jarred in their own glasses with a label of faded paper glued to its side, indicating the ingredients’ names. You’d pushed back several jars, all of which weren’t the dried sage you were looking for.

He had everything—rosemary, saffron, ginger, grains of paradise, cloves, parsley, cinnamon, spikenard, alecost, thyme, southernwood… Everything but sage. “Good heavens, sage cannot be that difficult to come by, can it?” you spoke to yourself. “Sage… Sage…” You began to impatiently rearrange the jars, rereading each one a few times to ensure you weren’t going mad, though it began to feel like it. “How could he not have—”

You’d reached the back of the dusty old shelf, where no more pesky jars of spices and herbs could taunt you. Instead, a lone small chest of plain cedarwood sat undisturbed against the back wall of the cupboard. It wouldn’t have fazed you, as you’d most logically assume it was just another container for some special exotic spice, but what had silenced you and your mumbled self-ramblings was the chain of iridescent white pearls that poured out from the little chest, rendering the lid slightly ajar, but just open enough for your to catch a brief sparkle twinkling in the darkness.

And those pearls… You recognized them.

They weren’t cheap freshwater pearls, the kind you could get from any silver-tongued peddler on the street in Alexandria’s market district. No, they were distinctive… Their luster and nearly perfect roundness betraying their expensive nature. Akoya pearls, you recalled the explorer saying. It was not long before the Scourge broke out, when you were just fifteen. The only jewels you had kept now were those inherited from your mother or family heirlooms. The pearls were beautiful, and they were important to you, but they were sacrifices you had made in the name of gratitude for the knight’s kindness.

You gave them to him, but under the impression that he’d sell them.

Why would he keep this?

But it wasn’t just one necklace, no. The faint glimmer of light from deep within the box enticed you, leading you to lift the lid, despite your high-society etiquette telling you that snooping around in other people’s things was hardly becoming behavior. You believed, though, that you had a right to see. That was once your necklace, after all.

There was more, just as you’d suspected. The box was brimming with a colorful assortment of precious jewels from your collection, all of which you’d had distinct memories of gifting to the knight after each excursion he’d accompanied you on. Pulling the box forward, you stared wide-eyed as you rummaged through, recognizing each and every piece—the pair of pearl and amethyst earrings, the ruby and silver brooch, the gilded ring of jade with an intricate claw setting, the red coral rosary given to you at your first Holy Communion, the repoussé chaplet set with refined diamonds and sapphires… Each trinket was unique, and undeniably yours.

There were a few possible explanations you could think of. The first explanation, and the most logical, was that Sir Daryl was saving your jewels for a rainy day, intent on selling them all together for a larger sum. The second, and the most amusing to you, was that he was wearing the jewelry himself, and he was hiding them to spare himself the embarrassment. The third, and the most worrisome, was that there was a lady he was intent upon giving your jewelry to, or at least that he was keeping the jewels in the event that he would find a lady to woo. This thought made your heart race, but not in the way it usually did when the knight crossed your mind.

But all these explanations were useless to you. There was no way of knowing now exactly why he kept your jewelry. Perhaps it meant nothing at all, but you couldn’t let it go. You needed to know, otherwise you’d never think clearly again. Without your sage, you replaced the chest and its contents to close the cupboard and return to the boiling pot, though not without a nervous pitter patter in your chest.

You were startled from your thoughts with a jump and a gasp when the knight kicked open the front door, a pile of freshly cut logs in his arms. He cursed himself for his lack of grace.

“Y’all right?” he asked, keeping a concerned eye on you as he crossed to the hearth to prepare the fire.

“Fine,” you replied with a nod. “Stew’s ready, I think.”

He furrowed his brow at that statement, then responded with a slight chuckle to his voice. “How do you know?”

“I tasted it,” you said. “It’s ready.”

“Yes, your highness,” he replied with a huff, amused by your certainty.

At length, he procured two wooden bowls and two silver spoons, the both of you settling for casual seating in front of the hearth, sitting upon the floor cushions with criss-crossed legs and a strange silence between you. Silences like this were uncommon. Of course, whenever it was quiet between you, there was always this presence of heaviness, as though something needed to be said by one of you, or both, but right now, there was no comfort to it. Now, the weight had become so unbearable that there would be no comfort to this usually pleasant silence until one of you spoke.

And it had to be you. You were the one who had seen the chest, who knew now that Daryl kept all those payments for whatever reason instead of cashing them in. You had to know why, there was no other way around it.

You only hoped he wouldn’t resent you for it.

“Daryl?” You let your spoon clink against the side of the wooden bowl as you relished the recent aftertaste of the savory soup. “May I ask you something?”

He was hoping you would. He’d spent enough time with you, had known all your habits and quirks and idiosyncrasies, that he knew when there was something on your mind. Given the weight of this silence, it must’ve been important.

“Yeah.” He wiped his lips with the sleeve of his off-white chemise. You took extra care not to become distracted by the crop of pale brown, wiry chest hairs just barely visible at his loosely laced up collar.

Without even noticing, you licked your lips as you thought of what to say, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. Afterall, you’d gone snooping about in his pantry. Still, you believed you had a right to know.

To focus on your words, you set your near-empty bowl on the stone edge of the hearth. You straightened to sit up taller, your hands carefully folded in your lap. You looked like the picture of a princess, except in your eyes. They were downturned, as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eye in case your actions were misconstrued as mischief. “When you were out chopping wood,” you began with a small nervous croak in your voice, “I… Well, I tried the stew, as I said, but I thought it could use some sage, you see, and so I—I looked in your pantry.”

It was then that the knight began to choke on a chunk of venison, having swallowed it too soon with the realization that you could’ve seen his jewelry box, the one he hid because of his embarrassment to admit that he kept those jewels because they were yours. No practical reason at all, just the thought of you, something part of you belonging to him. It was silly, he knew that, but to him, there was a comfort in having those trinkets. If he’d sold them, all he’d have would be measly bits of dirty metal that had been in thousands of different hands and would be in a thousand more. Those jewels were worth more than that. They were once yours. As far as he was concerned, they were still yours.

The man turned away from you, covering his mouth with the inside of his elbow as he coughed to help the meat pass down his throat. You leaned forward, reaching your hand out to touch his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled between his coughs. “Just… just…”

“Here,” you said, scooting closer to hand him a tankard of water. He waved you off, but he was still hunched over to the side and refusing to face you, both as a result of his embarrassment and his coughing fit. You huffed and spoke more harshly now. “Daryl.”

He knew that voice well enough now to know you were serious. He turned towards you slowly, taking the cup from your hands as he still sputtered our grunts between coughs. “Th—thanks.”

He choked a bit more on the water now, but only because he felt your hand soothing his back in slow, languid, yet careful, movements. “There…” Your voice was smooth and velvety, like sweet whipped cream. With each pass of your hand, you felt the silk fabric of his shirt pucker against your palm. The heat of his body drew you closer subconsciously, til you felt his strong, hard shoulder nearly digging into your chest. Despite your attempt to pull away, it felt too good to rid yourself of his closeness. “Better?”

With the delicate pressure of your hand caressing him, of course he felt better. He grunted in acknowledgement as he nodded, setting the tankard on the floor beside him. “Yeah… Please forgive me.”

You shook your head and laughed at that. “For what? Swallowing your food too fast?”

He felt like a blubbering fool, wiping his lips and chuckling under his breath to match your contagious giggles. But then, with a diminuendo of laughter, he realized he’d interrupted you, and he needed to know now what you were going to say, just in case you did see his hidden treasure. Well, your hidden treasure.

“For interrupting you,” he said. “You were sayin’ something… D’ya find the sage?”

He knew full well there was no sage in that pantry. He’d run out just a few days prior.

“Oh,” you sighed. “Well, no, I…”

You’d made the grave mistake of lifting your wide eyes to meet his, though the both of you were trying to hide your gaze from one another. It was inevitable that they would meet at some point this evening, but now that they had, you could not bear to look away, neither could he. For several moments, you could not even blink for fear of missing him and his deep, almost dark blue eyes, filled with the mystery of something nearly inscrutable, but not impossible to figure out. In fact, the more you looked, you swore you got closer to finding the answers to all the questions in his eyes.

“Daryl,” you started again, this time holding his gaze with a nervous, fluttering blink of your curled eyelashes. “Why… Why have you not sold the jewelry I paid you with?”

There were many replies he could have made, but the only one that was remotely coherent was the one with the fewest number of words: Because I love you.

Several heavy moments passed in silence, with only the crackling of the now roaring hearthfire filling the space where words might’ve existed if only he had the courage to speak without thinking first in this moment. This, however, was a delicate situation, and he could not face it with the usual impulsivity and carelessness that he might’ve had in other situations.

There was a contradictory sense of both a need to profess his love to you and a need to brush it off with some lie, but how could he lie to you, his sweet princess? You were worth so much more than that to him, so much more than a paltry lie, but you were also worth more than every jewel in that box.

“You, uh… You saw that?”

Your shoulders shrugged as you smiled bashfully. Daryl’s cheeks seemed to heat up, too. “I did. I know I had no right to look, but with the gold those jewels are worth, you could purchase your own manor and petition to become a lord. My father would happily grant you that position, I’m sure. You would not have to be a vassal. Of course, it is your property to do with as you wish, but I cannot help but wonder why.”

Titles and property were of no consequence to Daryl. They never meant much. He grew up with next to nothing, raised by poor merchants who struggled to buy a single loaf of bread. Perhaps one would think that growing up so poor would make him value money, but it was quite the opposite. It made him hate it, how it could make or break a man. No, what you gave to him was worth so much more.

“I—” He paused to think more thoroughly about what he was to say, but there was no way around it. He had to say it. “I couldn’t get rid of them. Couldn’t just give ‘em to somebody else.”

Though his words seemed sentimental, his eyes still strayed from you. Leaning forward, your heart aching with a desperate hope, you tried to coerce his eyes to meet yours. Your hand still traced invisible shapes across the broad expanse of his back.

“Why?” You wondered if perhaps your secret fourth explanation had been correct. The more he stalled, you began to realize that it was. “Daryl…” Your other hand lifted cautiously, its movements foreign to you as your fingers delicately cradled his chin, then brought his head up until those soft, deep blue eyes greeted you. Perhaps you were torturing him, begging him to admit his feelings despite his fear, but you needed his words. That was all you’d need. You smiled to comfort him as you spoke. “Why could you not bear to sell my jewels?”

Your touch was in two places now—his back and his chin. Both points of contact were burning, a fire that spread through him and touched him in places he didn’t dare even think of at this moment. Your touch was innocent, it had to be. He wouldn’t let himself believe otherwise. His task was to keep you safe, to never let harm come your way. Indulging in his desires, no matter how much he wanted to, would only take advantage of the trust you and your father had in him. But, oh… The way your chest heaved against his shoulder. You were so close. So incredibly close. Almost as close as he’d imagined, in his darkened bedroom where his sordid thoughts took root. Even his dreams were full of visions of you, hazy and ethereal, like you were made of clouds. So soft, so warm.

“Daryl?” you pressed again. “Won’t you answer me, please?”

“It’s wrong,” he said quickly. “It��s all wrong.”

“No, it is not.”

“I just couldn’t… Couldn’t give part of you away.”

“Part of me?”

“Part of you,” he repeated. “Someone else, with a part of you… I can’t let anyone else have you. Those things belonged to you, so they’re precious to me. You’re precious to me.”

There. That was enough. Enough for you to know the truth, enough for you to lean even closer, your eyes nearly closed despite a sliver of vision focused on his lips, slightly agape and quivering. With your hand still holding his chin, you pulled him closer, too, his body and mind paralyzed for a moment, rendered helpless by you.

But for a moment, when your lips were just an inch or two from his, you fluttered your eyes open to meet his. “My knight,” you whispered, the soft wind of your breath tickling his aching lips. “Kiss me.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can…” Just like that, you spoke in your most regal tone of authority, the same you’d used to threaten to have Negan executed, though this time, a little more sultry. “I am your princess, and you will do as I say, knight.”

Yes, your highness.

With a burst of desperation rising up in his abdomen, he leaned forward to close the gap between you, not just at your lips, but at every part of you. His hands grasped hard at your waist, pulling you nearly onto his lap. Your chest was pressed so tight against his that you gasped for breath from his mouth as he kissed you, heavy breaths exhaling from his nostrils like a wild animal just freed from its cage.

You felt one hand wildly rise up your back and tangle in your hair, loosening the lone braid at the back of your head, until cascades of hair hung freely over your shoulders and back. Your hands had no choice but to cling tight to his shoulders as his hands explored you to the extent he would allow himself, though it felt so wonderful that you wished he’d unrestrain himself even more. Just when you started to think he was becoming more unhindered, his hand slowly melting down your lower back and inching closer to your bottom, he stopped himself.

His mouth tore away from you, the cold of the night air stinging your moistened lips as they trembled, and you felt your throat already begin to swallow back a lump. “What is it?”

His hands were still on you, but he panted as he looked worryingly at you, his head shaking as if to reprimand himself, though he couldn’t hide his blown out pupils and the increasingly noticeable hardness of his lap. Still, you feared he’d deny you.

“I can’t control myself,” he said. “If we… kept goin’…”

“I want to keep going,” you said. Your hands moved to grasp at his shirt collar, where your fingers began to undo his lace. “I want whatever you would do.”

“You don’t know what you want,” he said. “You don’t want me, princess.”

“I do want you, knight.”

“You can’t. I can’t. If your father—”

“I love you.”

He fell silent. Scared. Not of your words, but of himself, of what hearing those words in your voice did to him. They ignited a deeper, inextinguishable fire.

“Don’t say what ya don’t mean, milady.”

A single shiny tear glimmered as it rolled down your soft rouged cheek, settling into the corner of your mouth. You weren’t sure exactly why you began to cry. Perhaps it was the idea of rejection, or the thought of Sir Negan taking you away before promising yourself to the only man you’d ever cared for, but one thing was certain: your love for him was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“I do not say things I do not mean, Sir Daryl. When I say I love you, I am speaking from my heart, and my heart would not lead me astray. I love you, and that is the truth.”

And it was his truth, too. Now, your words were enough to convince him.

He lowered his eyes, his lips turned stern. It was an earnest, serious gaze. He said what he’d been thinking for months, what he would never stop thinking no matter what. He would always love you. He would always do anything for you. It was time he made it known. “I love you.”

It was simple when he said it, but you knew it to be true by the way his hands clung tighter to your waist. Hesitantly, he raised his right hand, allowing the back of it to caress your cheek. His touch was rough, but only because of his worn skin. The way he moved was soft, gentle, sweet. Even in his evident lust, he still touched you with the innocence of a white daisy’s petals brushing against your skin.

Hesitantly, he let his lips ghost your other cheek as you exhaled a heavy breath against his neck. “Daryl,” you whispered. He kissed your skin, his lips spread open and tongue just barely stretching out to tickle you. As he moved his mouth lower, dragging sloppy kisses along your jawline, his arms wrapped fully around you, tugging you against him. Your hands held tight to his shoulder blades, and you felt them flex and jolt with each movement he made as his lips met yours again. This time, his tongue breached the entrance to your mouth, finding yours and almost attacking it. In your inexperience, you only gasped against his lips, then jutted out your own tongue in an attempt to keep up with him.

“Daryl,” you panted between his kisses. He grunted under his breath, still indulging in your taste. With your fingers on his cheeks, you pulled back for a moment, looking into his darkened eyes. You’d never seen his eyes like that before. It almost frightened you, but mostly, it only made you realize exactly what you wanted. “I want you to take my maidenhead.”

Of course, he wanted to. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he wanted to, it was a question of whether or not he should, and he knew he shouldn’t. He knew such a thing was against his code, perhaps the most egregious way to break it. The law of chivalry held all knights to a certain standard, a law that governed their every action. Sleeping with the daughter of the king he served, much less taking her virginity, would certainly be cause for execution.

“I can’t,” he said, though his eyes portrayed another answer. “You know I can’t.” You shook your head, opening your mouth to latch onto his jawline, kissing him as he’d kissed you. He muttered your name, though he could not tear you away, your sweet lips wetting his skin as your hand combed through his hair. “It would…”

Your hand lowered to his chest, grasping at his bare skin underneath his chemise. Your fingers seemed to tremble, your body not knowing what to do without his guidance. He grasped at your hand, though he did not push you away. He kept it there, keeping it steady. He turned to face your lips, and they trembled, too. To steady them, he raised his thumb to your plump bottom lip, moving it gently side to side. It felt like sacrilege to touch you like this, but it also felt like the most holy, sacred kind of worship.

“It would be wrong. I’m not your husband. It would be against… Against my code of chivalry.”

It nearly made you laugh. “You’ve already disobeyed my father and taken me outside the castle walls into walker-infested woods. You’ve done a hundred things that broke your code.”

Leaning ever closer, you pressed your soft chest against his firm one, the heat rising between your bodies almost as strong as the roaring hearthfire that painted his face in rich, warm burnt oranges and browns. The smile on your face curled delicately as you brushed aside the curtains of his hair till they were pinned behind his ears. In this light, his face was both worn yet youthful, like an old painting of a young man.

In a hushed, honeyed voice, you whispered against his cheek, “What’s one more?” Innocent lips coated with that floral musky balm grazed his stubbly cheek. It was not scratchy, though, it was soft and ticklish, like how your fingers felt on his chest.

For a long, torturous moment, he only held you close, his grip still tight on your waist. He leaned into your kiss, though he still was trying to cling to the last thread of chivalrous honor he had within him. That rope was threadbare, though, with only a fiber or two to hold on to, and the more your lips grazed his skin, trailing to his neck in clumsy, inexperienced movements, you felt his hand return to your hair to tangle itself in your now tousled locks.

The low, dulcet moan escaping your lips marked the moment the tether snapped, and no longer could he say he had any respect for a code of conduct that left him bereft of your body and the pleasure he could give you, as your servant, your escort, your knight.

With a throaty grunt, he took your mouth in his, devouring it much more deeply than he had before. There was no cautiousness now in his embrace, his hands lowering to cup both sides of your bottom as he lifted you more fully to his lap, with his legs outstretched underneath you.

Both of you became engulfed in a tangle of limbs, furiously clawing at each other like you were both tearing at your own flesh to escape from its confines. Yourself now made taller than him as you sat upon his lap, you parted from his lips for a moment to look down at him, panting and lips shiny from your saliva, and made plump and red by his impassioned kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking up at you with hazy, dark eyes. Indeed, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever had the chance to behold. Sometimes, he did not even think himself worthy to utter your name, or to have his name uttered by you… You in your sweetness and kindness and sensitivity and grace and—

Your small laugh reawakened him. How dare he even begin to wax poetic about you in his own head when you were in his arms now, your hands on his shoulders and your chest heaving with each beautiful breath. To know you were so alive, warm and trembling in his strong arms, safe and protected… That was the greatest pleasure of all.

And yet, the carnal desire for you was quick to overwhelm him. He squeezed you tighter before leaning forward, taking you with him. “Mm!” you laughed against his lips as he kissed you.

How he could be so gentle and yet so strong you did not know. With your back arched and your head cradled by his hands, you felt the support of your floor pillow underneath you, your legs now wrapped around his waist.

Propping himself up by his arms to look at you, he gazed in awe, your hair sprawled out from your head in every which way like an angel’s halo made from a sunburst. Where your gown of sage green silk brocade met your breasts, he let his gaze linger. Finally. Without the worries of being improper, he could admire the gentle, supple curves of your décolletage.

And now your gown sank down to your upper thighs, exposing much more skin than he’d ever seen—or felt. He sat up straight, his hand gently petting your soft bare calf, then moving down slowly, torturously, to touch your thigh.

Never had you been touched like this. Not even by yourself. In fact, you felt rather foolish, stiffening a bit as your eyes widened the more he moved his hand, now lifting up the rest of your skirt.

“Daryl…” you all but whined, a moan somewhere between a begging lust and a nervous embarrassment. “I know nothing,” you said simply. “I—I—”

Your own gasp cut short your stuttering admission. “Oh.”

All you could feel was his hand cupping your mound, now completely exposed without the cover of your gown.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, each fold and crevice and speckling of your dainty hairs that matched perfectly the locks on your head. In fact, he ran his fingers through the little forest above your womanhood. It was soft, warm, untouched until now.

“You’re beautiful,” he spoke again. “Very… royal.”

“Royal?”

He laughed under his breath, biting his lip as he trailed his pointer finger around your lips, tickling you as you writhed a little. “Everything about you,” he said. “Even this… So perfect and clean and royal.”

Flushed with rose-tinted clouds of excitement and shyness, you rolled your shoulders as you watched him lick his pretty pink lips, over and over. “Have you seen many women like this, sir?”

He returned his gaze to yours with a raised, mischievous brow. Sir had never sounded so intoxicating as it did now. “None as sweet and virtuous as you.”

Indeed, he slightly feared his first movements towards intercourse. Never before had he taken a maiden’s virginity, and he was sure he’d hurt you if he was too hasty. He would have to tread carefully, though the subtle glisten of your entrance beckoned him, and those soft, intricate folds of supple flesh sparked a fire in him he’d never felt before. This was the image he’d dreamed of—your untouched womanhood naked before him, just waiting for him to release you from the bonds of chastity forevermore.

And, oh, that moan, of which he had only gotten a sampling of. He needed more, he needed to be drowned in that sound. He needed to be the one who showed you the carnal pleasure of love, and to experience it himself, too. It would be the most potent kind of intimacy, and he wanted the both of you to be consumed by it. Together.

All he could think of, all he wanted to do, was get a mouthful of you. Drink from the fountain that was your body.

“Can I… taste you?”

A genuine expression of innocent confusion spread across your face. “Kiss me?” Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips gently pursed, prepared to receive his sweet kiss.

“Nah, not like that,” he said, a subtle laugh under his low, gruff voice. Two calloused fingertips grazed the top junction of your lips, where an almost overwhelming tingle spread through you. Then, his fingers moved apart as they descended slowly, spreading you open. The reddish, taught flesh seemed to pulse on its own accord as your breath shuddered and your eyes widened at the strange feeling. “Here. I wanna taste you here.”

Finally understanding, and yet not understanding at all, you looked up at him with a furrowed look of concern. “Why? Is that not… unsanitary?”

An amused grin spread across his face. “Looks clean to me… They bathe you good, my princess.”

His princess. Oh, that sent an entirely new shiver through you.

But only with your permission would he do such a thing. Only with your word would he let his common tongue invade your royal maidenhead.

So he’d beg for it, like he knew he should.

“Please,” he said, voice sweeter and softer than you’d ever heard. He even lowered himself, his lips hovering above your navel as he looked up at you with those crystal clear eyes. “Please, your highness… I will be gentle.” His hands held firm to your thighs, rubbing them softly, up and down. When his lips met your abdomen, just below your navel, you sighed unexpectedly, and he could feel your heat.

“I’ll beg for it.” The reverberations of his rough voice tickled your lower stomach. He dragged his lips progressively lower, to where the hairs upon your mound began. A trail of kisses began to form between each mumbled plea.

“I’ll beg to taste you…” Kiss. “Lick you…” Kiss. “I’m beggin’…” Kiss. “Let me taste how perfect my sweet princess is.”

Though you were still puzzled by his desire to kiss you there, you decided to oblige, especially as the strange tickly feeling became more and more intense with each kiss he bestowed upon your mound. Somehow, his begging even excited you.

“Yes,” you sighed. Blindly, you reached for him, your hands tangling in his chestnut colored hair, strands messy and wild. The ends of those locks tickled your skin as they hung around his face, dragging with each movement of his mouth downwards. “You may taste me… Though I do not understand why you want to, sir.” You laughed as you looked down at him, kissing the soft little hairs you always found to be unsightly, but it was not in vogue to shave, of course. At least, not for a lady of your status. He seemed to like it, though. “You are rather strange,” you teased. “Do you think I will taste nice?”

“Know you will,” he said, and you watched as he wetted his fingers with his tongue, then circled them over your now puffy lips.

With a little gasp, you giggled girlishly at his touch. It was all so strange to you, but it felt nice. You’d had no idea this part of you was so sensitive, as you’d never bothered to touch it besides your daily baths. Even then, you hardly touched yourself only to clean, and when you felt an unfamiliar tingle as you’d slide your wet hand between those little folds of sensitive skin, you’d quickly pull away. All you knew of that part of you was that it was for your future husband, and you’d never cared much for trying to find one, especially since the world was the way it was.

Now, you could only dream of a husband like him, the knight who lowered himself once more, slotting his head between your bare thighs. His hands holding them, he coerced your legs to spread wider, allowing that crevice to widen and open the small fleshy hole. He could already tell you’d never even touched yourself, your entrance half-obstructed by a small stretch of skin-colored tissue—your maidenhead.

He’d not touch that for now, instead only focused on slowly licking a stripe up your open slit, marking his first taste of you.

There was a strong reverberation that jolted through you, causing your legs to flinch closed, Daryl’s head now sandwiched between the fat of your thighs. “Oh!” you cried out, back involuntarily arched against the cushion and hands tangled further in his hair until your fingernails clawed at his scalp. There was a muffled growl between your legs in response. At first, you assumed you’d hurt him. “Oh, I—I am sorry, my love…” you sputtered, almost with a nervous laugh at your sensitivity, and massaging his scalp more gently now. “Did I hurt you?”

On the contrary, your scratching and pulling and squeezing only excited him. He did not answer your question, only pressing his face harder against you, smothering his nose and mouth between your folds, wettened by his saliva. If he suffocated between your legs, he’d die happy, as the taste was intoxicating, sweeter than the finest honey wine he’d ever had, and the feeling a more lovely warmth than the hearth that illuminated the dim cottage with that dreamy glow.

With a renewed lust, he moved his head wildly, licking up and down and swirling in tight circles round the bundle of nerves above the entrance. It seemed to elicit the most beautiful moans and gasps and sighs from your pretty mouth, of which he often took a glimpse when he raised his eyes to admire your innocent beauty.

And though he could lick you like this for hours on end, he’d grown desperate to taste you deeper, just a little. So he parted your legs with a jolt. “Keep ‘em open,” he ordered, voice more hoarse and throaty and deep than before. His desire was becoming more urgent, more primitive as the very last of his decency was chiseled away by his need. “I want more of this pretty cunt.”

You nearly gasped at the vulgar word, having only heard it once or twice in your presence—both times from a slightly inebriated Lady Margaret, who used it to pejoratively refer to Lady Caroline behind her back, but now you knew where it came from. It sounded devilishly dulcet on his low, panting voice.

Legs spread further apart, he caught another glimpse of that hole, coated in a sparkling sheen that was damp to the touch. The corner of his lip lifted slightly as he spoke. “You’re gettin’ wet,” he said, much to your confusion. “D’ya like what I’m doin’ to you, princess?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. His fingertip traced the rim of your wet entrance.

Before he dove down once more, he couldn’t help but just admire the beauty of your womanhood with his eyes. He felt a sudden wave of unworthiness well up in him. After all, this sight was never for him. It was forbidden, and yet, you’d decided he was worthy to have you.

You, his lady, his mistress, his princess, his queen. In every sense of the word, you ruled him, and he had no choice but to bask in the glory of your trembling body, every inch perfect and unique and, soon, his.

He’d make you his, but first he had to make him yours.

“Oh!” His lips spread open wide to envelope the hole, where his tongue flattened out to lick at the source of your arousal. All you could feel was his long tongue poking inside you, wiggling to adjust to how small the entrance was.

Meanwhile, the tip of his soft button nose pressed up against your most sensitive spot, where a fresh tingle surged through you. To get a better angle, he slid both hands underneath your bare rump, pulling your body closer and angling your core upwards as your legs found their home upon his shoulders, just the perfect width to accommodate your thighs.

“That’s it,” he spoke against your inner thigh, where he left a series of frantic, desperate little kisses. They weren’t just lustful, but affectionate, as though he was bestowing these kisses to reward you for your obedience. “Sweet royal cunt.”

That word again made you flinch, or perhaps it was the suction of his lips around that bundle of nerves that pleased you so.

“Y-you’re so vulgar,” you sighed with a gentle laugh rolling under your voice. “Where… is my gallant knight?”

“Between your pretty legs, milady.”

His tongue wiggled in spastic movements between his lips, reddening and engorging the sensitive spot as a strange tightening feeling formed in your lower belly. Unbeknownst to you, the walls of your passage squeezed involuntarily around the empty space inside you. In this moment, you never felt more empty, in fact. All you wanted, the longer his mouth devoured you, was to somehow feel whole.

“Please!” you cried out, voice strained and high-pitched with a desperate plea for him to satisfy you, somehow. You did not know how, but you needed it, whatever it was. “Oh, I…”

The knight knew what you needed, and he needed it, too, but you were so close to ultimate pleasure. The wetter you became, the more of his saliva that soaked into your crevices and your increasingly gaping entrance, the more your body would accept his. That much he knew.

But the feeling was so powerful, so overwhelming. Each burst of pleasure erupted within you, like a volcano that had lain dormant for a millenia or two, and only now was that red hot magma spewing forth, until one final eruption would leave you satisfied. It terrified you. Was this normal? Surely a woman should not feel such euphoria. All you’d known of your womb was the pain and shame of that period in which blood would flow from you. You’d been told it was divine punishment for women. Eve’s betrayal, the fall of Eden… Why should you pay for that? Now, there was only pleasure, no pain.

The pleasure, though, was so intense, so frightful, that you panicked, your thighs clenching tight round his head once more as your back arched in agonizing bliss, his tongue now thrusting into you again. “Oh!” you cried out. “I… Wh-what… Daryl, I’m frightened!”

His eyes flashed up to look at you. “What is it?” he asked. He tore himself away from you, while his hand reached up to cradle your trembling cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I…” Gasping for air, you writhed and wriggled underneath him, squeezing your thighs together as if to provide some relief. “I do not know… I feel so strange.”

Tears trickled down your cheek, and the knight’s brows furrowed in concern. He brushed a few away with his fingers. “Why’re ya cryin’, girl?”

And you knew now why, as your hips gyrated and bucked up towards him, as if demanding for him to return to you. The sensation was just so strong, but so lovely. “Please,” you whimpered. “Do not stop.”

Now he knew, too. A laugh forced his mouth into a wide grin. “Oh, I see,” he said, hands moving achingly slowly back down to your thighs. He spread them apart again, a feeling which made your breath hitch for a moment. “Feels good, doesn’t it? My tongue…”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please, more.”

And so he gave you more, his mouth quickly returning to that puffy, reddened flesh between your thighs, eliciting from you a visceral moan as your head fell back against the cushion. “Ah!” you cried out.

After the brief period in which he’d separated from you, you now felt the sensation returning, this time even more intense. Sounds of wet flesh being licked and sucked and kissed surrounded you, accompanied by soft, muffled groans from your knight.

How he’d wanted this for so long, to have your taste and to feel your restless, writhing body involuntarily grinding against his tongue. For a moment, he pulled your outer lips further apart, allowing more direct exposure to the now throbbing, swollen protrusion that gave you so much pleasure. He sucked at that flesh again, this time bringing his finger to the hole that begged to be filled.

“Oh, oh!” His finger breached the entrance, just a few centimeters, but enough to stretch you more than you’d been stretched open ever before. “My god!”

“Come,” his voice murmured between furious sucking. “Come, my princess. I want you to come.”

“C-come… Where?”

“On my face,” he laughed.

“Wh-what… are you… talking about?”

The vibration of his laughter tickled your flesh. “You’re too innocent,” he said. “You’ll see what I mean.”

He knew you must be close, so it did not take much more effort to get you to the brink of orgasm. All he needed to do was curl his finger upwards inside you as he swirled his tongue with more pressure, practically digging a brand new hole with the tip of his tongue.

And, with your hands shooting out to claw at his shoulders, the tingling and tightening and tickling finally reached its peak as the feeling of the final, strongest eruption came forth, exploding from the pit of your abdomen and spreading throughout every cell in your hot, squirming body.

Moans of his name were falling softly, repeatedly from your lips, where bite marks had embedded themselves after several minutes of your teeth digging into the skin. He’d never heard his name being spoken so much, so sweetly and with so much bliss. After all, it was the name of the person who’d given you the greatest feeling you’d ever experienced.

You were left jolting, your body gently rocking up against his face, which was still buried between your lips as his tongue gathered every drop of the arousal that slowly dripped from you. His own arousal caught up with him, too, a noticeable feeling of a strain, and a tightening in his chausses.

Panting and moaning under your labored breaths, you felt the pleasure begin to die down as his lips praised you with small kisses all over the outside of your pulsing entrance. Deviously, he stuck his tongue out to deliver short, sweet licks to your still throbbing bundle of nerves.

A soft, delirious giggle erupted from your lips as your fingers tangled in his disheveled hair. All you could see was his head bobbing between your legs, and all you could hear was the crackle of the hearthfire and the sounds of his pursed lips kissing your wet folds. Feeling his finger curling at the shallow part of you, you squeezed on purpose, much to his amusement.

“I feel ya,” he mumbled. “You feel so good.”

“Daryl.” Your hands grasped both sides of his head with some pressure, as if to pull him up. “Come here.”

He let you guide his head until his lips met yours and your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, weighing him down. His body weight covered you completely, a sensation which excited him even more.

On your lips, you tasted yourself, his tongue and lips now coated with your arousal. “What did you do to me?” you asked between his kiss. “Your tongue is magical… Some kind of wicked sorcery.”

His laughter tickled your cheek as he kissed you there. “I jus’ made ya come,” he said simply. “S’why you’re so wet down there now. Got you all ready.” His hands raised up to tug on the collar of your dress, as if trying to yank it off you.

“Ready for what?” you laughed, though you had a few ideas of what he could be referring to, as innocent as you were, but you hadn’t heard the word he’d said next before.

“For my cock.”

In genuine confusion, you furrowed your brow. “You have a rooster?”

“Yeah.” The mischievous, lop-sided smirk on his face as his finger traced your jawline told you he was messing with you. “I’ve got a big, red rooster.”

“Oh?” you said, playing along with him despite your ignorance. “Well, won’t you introduce me to your rooster?”

By now, you knew what he meant.

When he dragged your hand down to his clothed erection, a deep blush bloomed upon your cheeks. “Oh,” you sighed. “Hello, rooster.”

To say you hadn’t thought of it before would be a lie. Of course you had. While you did not know much about sex, or that part of the male anatomy, you knew that part of a man was meant for that complimentary part of a woman. You knew that was the part of him that would put a child in your womb, though you knew not the exact details of the whole ordeal.

Interrupting your thoughts of his “rooster,” you were suddenly lifted from the ground and tangled in his arms, with your feet dangling off the ground as he dragged you towards the hay-stuffed mattress you’d rested upon a few times before. You exclaimed a laughing, “Daryl!” before being laid gently, yet almost impatiently, upon the bed.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to see him at the foot of the bed, lifting his shirt above his head as he panted.

Eyes wide, you felt your heart thump in your chest when his broad frame was bare before you, his chest just as bulky and strong and wide as you’d imagined. Your eyes were drawn to the charming smattering of little hairs, and the small pink nipples that hardened against the air.

You couldn’t help but follow the trail of those same hairs that began at his navel and led down to the waistband of his pants, which he began to untie frantically. Meanwhile, your mouth fell agape at the shape of his… cock, you supposed it was called—so big it looked like it could rip through the cotton of his chausses at any second.

Involuntarily, your thighs rubbed themselves together, where you could now feel your own wetness seeping from you. Seeing the size of his cock, now you knew why you’d need to be wet.

Just like that, he was naked, his cock springing up as soon as he pulled his pants down enough. It nearly startled you, almost eliciting a gasp. Never had you seen something so… odd. You couldn’t even wrap your head around the testicles just yet.

But he left you hardly any time to think about the new body parts you were faced with. Instead, he laid himself down on his side next to you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. The motion soothed you, though his dark, lusty stare made you shiver.

“Sit up for me,” he said. You did as he told you, as an unspoken dynamic had appeared: he would lead you, as you were much too inexperienced to know your way around this territory.

And yet, he was not forceful, nor domineering. Indeed, he knew you were still his princess, his ruler. He knew that you held the utmost power over him, and that whatever you’d say, he would have to do it. There was no mistake of who was ultimately in charge, whose body he was compelled to worship and please. Still, he’d lead you physically.

Now sitting up, he scooted back to unlace the back of your gown, each silk knot coming undone with a beautiful cascade of fabric, until your back was nude, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your spine.

He pulled on your sleeves gently, but with a noticeable waning of his patience. “Lay back now,” he said. Like a mindless servant, you obeyed him.

Your surcoat was loose enough to pull off you now, so he did, letting the expensive garment sink to the floor. Now, your kirtle, which he pulled over your head, manipulating your body like a rag doll. With each movement he made, another sweaty, glistening muscle flexed under that tan, workworn skin, stretching across which were many faded scars from battles and jousts and God only knew what else.

Lastly, your chemise kept him from your supple nude body, so he pulled it off with a slight growl under his breath. Now, you laid back fully, your completely divested skin meeting the thick, buttery soft pelt of the fur blanket beneath you.

Your body was a sight to behold, so marvelous that he stood up again, stepping back to let his eyes roam all over you.

It was enough to bring him to knees, literally. He sunk to the floor, where he attached his lips to your ankle, which had caused him some trouble in the past. The many times he’d caught sight of your ankle, he felt perverted, sinful. Then your calf, soft and smooth against his lips. He covered as much skin as he could in his kisses, then he reached your knee, and your thighs, where he spread apart your legs to leave more kisses at your womanhood.

“You’re insatiable,” you laughed, watching as his lips trailed through the hairs on your mound. “You cannot kiss every part of my body, sir.”

“I can try.”

His tongue circled around your navel, then he continued his kisses to the slope of your left breast, where he quickly latched to your nipple, causing you to flinch at the new feeling.

His other hand found your other breast, squeezing it just enough to make you gasp a little. After all, with his lips and hands worshiping your entire body, you weren’t sure how else to react.

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled against the pillowy surface of your breast. “I’d die for you.”

Even the thought made you shiver and cling to his flexing shoulder blades. “N-no, my love… Do not say such a thing. My… my heart c-could not bear to even think of it.”

“I’d kill for you,” he said now. “I’ll do anythin’ you ask of me… I belong to you.”

As you processed his pledge, you hadn’t even noticed two of his fingers digging into your entrance, spreading you open, little by little. His sweet, raspy voice soothed the pain.

Now, his lips trailed to your collarbones, where he left dozens of kisses and licks across your skin.

“I live to serve you,” he whispered. You gasped, not at his words, but at his two thick fingers going deeper, a sound of flesh upon wet flesh. “Only you… My sweet princess.”

“Oh, my sweet knight… Ah…”

A slight tearing feeling at your entrance made you wince in pain, but the knight paused for a moment, nudging his nose against your cheek to get your attention.

“Am I hurtin’ ya?”

“No, no.” If he stopped, you might die of emptiness. The stretching hurt, but you could not go much longer without him filling the emptiness within you. Once he started, you wouldn’t be able to be without him.

“Need to stretch your cunt a little,” he said. “My cock’s gonna hurt ya more if I don’t.”

Judging by the size, you believed him. Your eyes were transfixed on the thing as you wondered how in the world he’d get it in your tight hole, but you trusted him to take care of you.

And you wanted it. You couldn’t explain it, but your need for that big length of flesh, with engorged veins and a droplet or two of clear liquid beading at its reddened tip, was greater than any pain you might’ve felt.

“I want it, sir,” you practically purred. “Your…”

He smiled against the cheek he was busy kissing. “My rooster?”

“Your cock.”

He tore his lips away to give you a wide-eyed stare as he tried to fake a serious look of shock, but the upturned corner of his snickering lips betrayed him.

“Your highness,” he scolded in jest. “Where’d ya learn such a dirty word?” His fingers inched deeper, so deep that your back arched as you laughed a visceral moan.

“Oh, you scoundrel!” Your hand delivered a very weak slap to his chest.

Pulling his fingers out, he laughed as his hands gripped both of your wrists. His face turned serious, yet still soft. “You think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes, but… I mustn’t have your child now.”

You weren’t totally unaware of the true purpose of sex. In fact, it had been drilled into your head by archbishop Gabriel, whose responsibility seemed to be deterring you and all other maidens at court from engaging in premarital sex that was not for the express purpose of procreation, as such an act would brand one “a whore in the eyes of God.” Conveniently, the archbishop’s sermon had overlooked any consequences for men.

“You won’t,” he assured you. Indeed, he had intimate knowledge of one of the world’s most time-honored methods of contraception: coitus interruptus. “I’ll be careful.”

Removing his fingers from you, he rubbed his palm up and down your slit, spreading the wetness of your arousal all over you. He leaned back for a moment, looking down to spread apart your lips and see your hole, which opened quite a bit wider now for him. Redness pooled around the opening, but you couldn’t notice the dull pain, not when his eyes held yours so intently. “Think you’re ready,” he said. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Don’t stop. “All right, my love.”

The hard, spongy surface of his tip grazed over your clit, and slid with his body as he rolled forward over you. “You ready?”

At this point, the suspense was killing you. Each drag of his length through your sodden flesh was agonizing. Your body grew restless, arching your back up to meet his chest and pull him down. “Yes,” you sighed, then ghosted your lips over his. “Make me yours now. I want to be yours.”

He eased himself in as your mouth latched to his, your whimpers of combined pain and pleasure melting into his kiss. The tip was inside you now, just beginning to stretch you further to meet the wide girth of his thick cock. The slow, tearing feeling was enough to make you bite down on his tongue, nearly drawing blood. He only growled into your mouth, digging his cock deeper.

Your suffocating tightness tested his willpower, his ability to keep himself from moving so fast that he’d lose control of his cock, but it felt so good, so warm and snug. As he sank further into you, he tore his lips free to whisper against your ear, “How ya feel?”

With a deep swallow, you held back your tears. “Fine,” you said. “Just… it hurts a little. Does it fit?”

He looked between your bodies, where half his length was inside you, the other half twitching with bulging veins and redness only darkening. He stayed still, brushing back your tears as you sniffled. “Yeah, it’ll fit. You just need stretched, s’all.”

He pushed himself in a little further as his lips caught another tear. Clawing at his back, you let out a sharp gasp. “Oh! Daryl! It’s too big, you’re too big… I can’t…”

His hand reached down to tickle his fingers against your clit, attempting to ease your pain by giving you more pleasure. He knew his cock would hurt you before it felt good. “Sh… sh… D’ya want me to stop, princess?”

“No, no!” you cried out, nearly startling him. He felt your arms tighten round his back, as if to keep him exactly where he was. “Please don’t stop. I—I…” Tears trickled down more now, like a torrential rain over your cheek.

He stopped again, this time pulling himself out a little to prop himself up and look at you with the utmost earnestness. “Why are ya cryin’ now? I don’t wanna make you cry. Am I hurtin’ you too much?”

In truth, the physical pain of being stretched by him was not strong enough to elicit these tears. What made you cry, in fact, was the simple truth that tonight, you’d give yourself to your true love, but in a matter of days, Sir Negan would take you away from him, and you might never see him, or your father, or anyone else you loved, ever again.

To think you may never be here, like this, with him again… It broke your heart, though every cell in your body was demanding for another burst of euphoria. It was all too much emotion, too much stimulation. And yet, you’d never want him to stop. You’d like to be this way forever, if you could. If only you could.

“It’s just… Promise me…”

Furrowed brows contorted his face. He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek. “Promise ya what?” He wasn’t sure of the point of asking, as he knew that he would promise you, his lady, anything anyway. A knight’s ultimate test of chivalry, afterall, was his undying, unyielding, uncompromising devotion to his lady.

“Promise you won’t forget me.” When Negan takes me, you wanted to say, but you hesitated to even mention him at this moment, when the only man who really mattered to you was looking at you with his own tears beginning to well in his cunning blue eyes.

“I could never, ever forget you, milady.”

And he knew now what you meant. He knew the fear in your eyes, the same fear from the other night. He could feel this fear inside him, too. The fear of never seeing you again, of you being trapped in a place you could not escape from, not unlike how you’d been trapped in your own castle. Yet, this would be so much worse, for you’d be chained to that wretched, evil man, who would do God knows what to you.

But those thoughts were poisonous. “Don’t think about that now… Just feel me.” So he came into you again, just as far as he’d gotten before. “That’s it… Can you take more?”

That was all you wanted, actually. More. All you needed was him, filling you as deep as possible, taking you over and marking you as his. You’d never be Negan’s now, and that gave you a sense of power, a relief in knowing that there was at least one thing Negan could never take from you—your chastity.

“More, Daryl. Please.”

By now, he was almost all the way inside you, but he could go no further, for his own fear of hurting you too much. He pulled out a bit then, to which you grasped at his shoulders and pulled him back against you. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he laughed. “I’m just movin’. Calm down, you’re all rigid. Ease up.” Taking his words to heart, you let out a deep breath and relaxed your muscles, allowing you to settle more comfortably into the plush fur underneath you. Slowly, he pushed himself back in, your body welcoming him in with the hug of your slick tightness. “There ya go… Look, your cunt’s already gettin’ used to me. You’re takin’ it good.”

So good, in fact, that you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling—the warmth, the hardness, the fullness… The feeling of his cock sliding back and forth, but never completely leaving you. The sensation was beautiful, far more intimate than anything you’d ever imagined. When he lowered himself down again, his chest laid snug against yours, the feeling of his nipples rubbing yours hard and slow the more he thrusted. As if on their own accord, your legs loosened to lift and wrap around his lower back, taking him in just a little further. There was pain again, but not enough to hurt you. It only felt good.

He had to be careful not to move too fast, though the involuntary squeezing of your walls drew him closer to his breaking point. He could feel both your arousal and his, surrounding him inside you. But he had to make you come again, he thought. He needed to know that his cock had pleased his princess just as much as his tongue.

Your soft, whimpering moans made it clear that he was, indeed, pleasing you, your tearing pain having given way to that tingling feeling again, making your writhe and shiver underneath him.

“Daryl,” you panted. Spurred on by your pulsing body, his movements became faster, more sloppy, more passionate. Now you could really feel his size, his length digging into a particular spot that made you roll your head back against his pillow, your lips trembling and gasping for air as you spoke. “Oh, it feels so… Yes, my love, my knight… You’re so big.”

“Princess… I feel your cunt squeezing me.”

“Oh, I—I am s-sorry.”

He huffed a laugh against your cheek. “Feels good,” he said. “Keep squeezin’ me.”

He pressed a firm kiss to your cheek as his hips thrusted non-stop, now molding you to fit his cock perfectly, forever. Well, for however long you had left together.

“God, you’re soakin’ me,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of wet skin on skin.

Your well-trained manners urged you to apologize again, but the sensation of his cock hitting into you was enough to render you speechless, except for the breathless sighs and sultry moans escaping your lips as you clawed at his shoulders, fingernails digging into his scarred flesh to nearly break open new wounds.

He continued on for a while now, though you could not tell how long he’d been thrusting, you only knew you were drowned by his mouth, his lips finding every part of your skin that he could reach in this position and leaving sloppy trails of open-mouthed kisses. That tightening and tingling within you strengthened with each movement he made, each thrust reminding you of how deep inside you he was, and how strong he was, his body weight driving the force of each hard, deep stroke.

Only when your moans had faded into heaving breaths and your body had loosened into jelly did he speak to you again, though not stopping his thrusts, as he couldn’t bring himself to even think about stopping now.

“Hey, sweetheart? You all right?”

You were hardly responsive, only opening half-lidded eyes to gape at his reddened, sweat-dripping face. His chestnut hair hung wildly, tickling your cheeks, though all you could feel was the pounding, the swelling of his cock inside you, the growing sensation of that volcano about to erupt again.

“H-hey.” You felt his hand cup your cheek as he said your name, his own voice shaky and stuttering as he began to lose his ability to keep himself in control. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, only now, they were those same tears of overwhelming, astounding satisfaction.

Stimulated to the point of near-catatonia, you were released by a sudden wave of vibrations that surged through you like electricity, bringing you back to life. Your legs clenched tight around his waist as your head shot back, exposing your strained neck. His lips did not spare you in your moaning, crying state. They attacked your neck as you pulsed all around his cock and grinded up against his pelvis by instinct. He held his hips still now, though, letting you ride the multiple waves of your intense orgasm until you shook like a leaf in a cool autumn wind beneath his strong, stabilizing body which your hands clung to desperately.

“Oh, Jesus!” was all you muster. You’d never said the Lord’s name in vain as many times as you had that night. Granted, you had never said the Lord’s name in vain before. “Christ!” Surely, you would be going to Hell.

“Shit,” the knight muttered into the crook of your neck. “I—I’m…”

Ears pounding with the sound of your heart, you could not process a word he said. You could only allow your glassy eyes to roll back as your lips formed a delirious, open-mouthed smile. “Oh, Daryl.”

He propped himself up on his bulky arms, dripping with sweat and bulging with flexed, aching muscles. As if to soothe them, you ran your hands up towards his biceps, holding onto them for dear life as he began thrusting again, almost completely inside of you.

All you could do now was smile up at him, murmuring his name, interspersed with declarations of your love and breathy moans that tortured him the closer he came to releasing himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he panted. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “Yes, yours. Forever.”

“Mine.”

With an almost helpless groan, he pulled himself completely from you, sinking down on his arms to press against you, but with his cock angled to release on your heavy stomach. Though you missed the feeling of him inside you, you moaned at the feeling of warmth near your navel, where he spilled himself onto you.

Curiosity overcame you as you looked between your bodies, watching his strange… attachment release a silky, cloudy white liquid in spurts. For a moment, your eyes widened in slight fear. Truly, you had absolutely no idea what was happening. For all you knew, he’d suddenly contracted some strange disease that caused his cock to leak a new humor.

“Wh-what is… Daryl, are you all right?”

Once again, he laughed at your innocence. “I’m just fine… Better than fine,” he said, sinking down into a deep kiss. He only parted from them for a moment to say, “That’s s’posed to happen. Did they not teach you anythin’ about sex?”

“Th-they said…” You laughed at your lack of breath. “They said my husband would show me.”

He sighed as he lifted himself off you, then rolled over onto his side. With a huff, he yanked the fur-lined blanket from underneath you, then draped it over himself and you, much to your relief, as it was cold without his naked body on top of yours.

“Your father,” he began to say, wrapping an arm around your rather limp, flimsy body to pull you close, “he wanted ya to marry my lord, didn’t he?”

A puzzled look contorted your face. “How did you know?”

“He tells me everythin’.” The touch of his calloused fingers tickled your hairline as he brushed back your bangs. “Told me the king brought us here because he thought Richard would make a good husband for you… Why didn’t you want him?”

Duke Richard hadn’t crossed your mind much since that night he first arrived, though you never thought too much about why exactly he did not attract you as much as Sir Daryl did. Now, it was quite clear.

“Because he isn’t you, my love.” A laugh escaped your lips as you settled your hand upon his chest, twisting your fingers between the hairs that intrigued you so. “The duke is… He is a good man, but you are better. That is all.”

A rosy blush blossomed on his cheeks as his mouth curled with a lopsided smile. You admired the lines in his face, the crows feet and tired bags around his adoring eyes. “He would’ve made a good husband for you.”

“Mm, perhaps.” Your pointer finger traced lines over his sharp collarbone. “Lady Michonne is rather fond of him, though. I think they make a lovely couple. Besides, my heart does not belong to him. It belongs to you.”

Shaking his head, he offered you a somber smile. “You know you can’t marry me, even if Negan didn’t want you. I’d be killed.”

“My father would not kill you.”

“You don’t know that for sure. If he… if he knew that I took you outside the walls, let alone that we—”

“We could go somewhere, someday.”

Your name fell on his lips, but you interrupted him again. “Negan will take me, I know I cannot escape that, but someday, when Alexandria is strong enough, you can find me, and we’ll go away, somewhere you’ve been on your travels. My father would understand. We could be together, we could marry. Someday.”

But you knew it was a pipe dream. You knew that, if it could ever happen, it would happen so long from now, and you could not leave your father without him knowing you were all right. It seemed as though there was nothing to stop the world from caving in. For someone who had so much power by birth, you felt so powerless, the most powerless you’d ever felt in your whole life. That was saying something, as you never truly felt in control of your own destiny. You never thought it could get worse, until now.

“You know I won’t let him take you,” he said. “Maybe we can be together like that someday, but right now, all I care about is you, not me and you.”

“But… I care about you.”

And for the first time in his life, he believed those words.

“I know you do.” Upon your forehead, he placed a chaste kiss. “Ya know, once a knight gives his heart to a lady, he can never give it to anyone else, and he’s bound to her forever.”

Of course you knew that. There wasn’t much about knights you didn’t know. If only you had as much knowledge of human sexuality as you did of knighthood, but alas.

“Does that mean you will marry me one day?”

His eyes narrowed in playful suspicion as he pretended to think it over, mumbling a pensive, “Hm…”

“Sir Daryl,” you teased, “if you do not agree to marry me, I will send you to the stocks.”

“Your highness,” he said, his arms pulling you in closer to his chest, “I promise myself to you.”

“And I, you… My sweet, brave knight.”

That evening, you did not return to the castle until the sun began to rise again. Sleeping on a straw-stuffed bed was quite the adjustment from your feather-stuffed one, but he did not let go of you, not even in his sleep, and that made all the difference to you.

Despite the uncertainty that loomed in the air all around you, the fear that settled in your heart from the moment you realized you might never see Daryl again, you had a strange, persistent sense that, someday, every night could be like this one.

Someday, you repeated in your head, lulling yourself to sleep in his arms.

But that was the future, and this was now. Now, you knew only one thing to be perfectly, virtuously true: you were his, just as he was yours.

Through life, and after death.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

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amxelqia · 7 days

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"ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ…<3"

ɢᴇᴛᴏ ꜱᴜɢᴜʀᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | ʜᴄꜱ

AND IM BACK !!! 😍 I deeply apologise for my apparently year long absence, I forgot ts existed & I kinda wanna go back to writing because I desperately need something to occupy my time with 😭 SO HERE ARE SOME FLUFF GETO X READER HCS BECAUSE HE DESERVES THE WORLD 🥲

> His love languages are acts of service & quality time ~ - - - - - - - - - - - - Coming home from a long and exhausting day as a jujutsu sorcerer, he wants nothing more than to spend time with you!! Watch movies, help you cook dinner, cuddle, and take silly pics together (most likely your idea; Suguru just barely agreed to it :3) go on picnics, play video games, take polaroid selfies and put them in each other's phone cases, stargaze, all of that will make him extremely happy <3.

> Aquarium dates ~ - - - - - - - - - - - - He finds aquariums peaceful and comforting, with their tranquil beauty providing a soothing solace. As he drifts off, mesmerised by the graceful movements of fish swimming through the quiet deep waters, a comforting sense of tranquility sweeps over him. Sharing such experiences with you is even more amazing and memorable to him, moments of joy and peaceful wonder that make everything seem brighter and more captivating. ❤️

> Winter activities ~ - - - - - - - - - - - - Suguru's favorite season/holiday is winter! (Source: Trust me, bro 🗣️) He will take you to small, cozy winter cafes where you can both have a cup of hot chocolate/wine while admiring the scenery outside. If Satoru is accompanying you, be prepared to wear winter clothes that you're not afraid of getting soaked wet. We know damn well he'd start a snowball fight. Eventually, you three end up building a huge snow castle. (Well, enough to fit only one person. Still an accomplishment!! 🤷‍♀️) And there's nothing better or more comforting than ending the day with a Christmas movie marathon and cuddling by a warm fireplace, the quiet crackling of the burning wood soothing you two to sleep in each others embrace. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto x reader fluff #fluff #geto fluff #hcs #headcanon #x reader #reader insert #Yn #y/n

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skzdreamer13 · 10 days

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Solace Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Peace Hyunjin Apocalypse AU. Paring: Hyunjin x OC (Sarah) Trigger warnings: Talks of Suicide, spooky descriptions(?)

It’s dark here. Only the silvery light of the moon lets us see faintly.

It takes me a bit before my eyes adjust. The floor is covered in a layer of dirt and mud. Others must have come in here when everything first went bad. 3 rows of shelves behind us with small white paper bags on them, the bags slumped over, deflated, as though waiting to be claimed, that won’t be happening. Cans of baby formula have fallen off the shelves and popped open, covering the floor. Pill bottles strewn about, no telling if they’d been thrown or just dropped in a hurry.

I should remember to grab some supplies before heading out. You never know when you’ll need cold medicine, pain meds, or a tampon. It would suck to have to have to bleed through the only clothes I own now.

We already did our rounds to make sure we are alone in here. We know where the exits are, only two, the one we came in and one through the back that leads to an alley between the two buildings.

Hyunjin, he says his name is, looking ethereal in the dim light. Crouched over his bag, hair falling forward to curtain his face as he looks through it. His bag looks light, must not be much in it. I can see him shift some clothes around and I hear the soft rattle of a bottle, medication maybe? He runs his bony fingers through his dark locks to see better, and pulls out two cans. He reaches out and offers one to me, the blue fabric bracelet that’s too big for his wrist sways with the motion. When was the last time he ate?

I shake my head and put my hand up to refuse, what if this is the only food he’s had in awhile? I can’t take that from him. He grabs my hand and places the can into it. Gentle, that's how his touch is. It’s quick brief, like second nature, as if he’s so used to touching me.

“You need to eat. Even if it’s only a little. Please. Eat.” He sounds so… concerned? I can’t understand why he cares so much about my well being. He doesn’t even know me, we only met 2 hours ago. Then again if I saw someone after all of this time being alone, I would also want to make sure they were okay and living.

It’s nice to be taken care of for once. I can’t believe he’s been here this whole time and we didn’t find each other. Wait. Has he been here this whole time? I guess I don’t really know, I know nothing about him, other than his name… and the fact that he’s made it this long. Who knows what things he’s been through or had to witness.

“Thank you.” I say lightly my voice barely above a whisper.

I look down at the can, peaches. I can’t even remember the last time I had peaches, I used to have them all the time. I pull the tab and open the can as quietly as I can, Hyunjin mimicking the motion. You never know what will set off the things that lurk. We sit diagonal to each other, slightly facing each other, but always able to see the entrance. I sit on one leg with the other bent in front of me, ready to be up and moving at a moment's notice. I look over at him and he looks as nervous as I feel eyebrows knit together looking at the door. It’s nice to know it’s not just all on me to be alert. At least not for tonight.

I sigh in contentment, I feel like I can breathe, even if it’s just for this moment. I slide my leg, which was bent, under me to sit cross legged. My bag in my lap as I rest my elbows on top of it and take a bite of the peaches. They’re as good as I remember them being.

Weird how in the back of this pharmacy, behind the counter for shelter from the completely windowed front of the shop, sitting on the floor with a stranger on a day in which I almost lost my life, eating a can of probably expired peaches, this is the happiest I've been in awhile.

I look up at Hyunjin to see him taking a spoon full of peaches in his mouth, frows burrowing and cheeks puffing slightly. I can’t help but smile, he’s so… cute?

He looks up, catching me staring. I avert my eyes back to my peaches. “What?” he asks, I can hear the smile in his voice.

I haven’t used my voice in so long, I don’t even recognise it. Talking to someone felt like something that would never happen again. I have had encounters, small ones, with insignificant people who always parted ways at the end of the day. But it has been so long since even my last conversation with a thinking person, since the last time I had company through the night. Not that we are spending the night doing more than talking. It has been… a while.

“Peaches are my favorite, you know?” I look up at him again, our eyes meeting. He smiles, and my breath catches lightly. He’s beautiful, I could watch him smile all day. I shake my head lightly and pass it off as though I’m moving hair out of my face. I need to calm my thoughts about the man in front of me, no matter how gorgeous he may be.

“I found them this morning, maybe I was supposed to find you too.” He says, eyes softening. And even though I’m at peace at this moment, I just have to know.

“Have you been here the whole time? In the city?”

He looks down, jaw flexing and nods. “I grew up here. I was with my brothers, but we got separated trying to leave the city.” he pauses, taking a breath, this is painful for him. I instinctively reach for him but stop myself. That would be too much, he doesn’t need comfort from a stranger. We’ll probably go separate ways in the morning anyway. I would just slow him down after all, another mouth to feed. Someone to look after. I don’t want to be a burden.

“I like to think they got out, and that’s why I haven’t seen them since.” he shrugs, looking down and playing with his food. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry…” he says, unable to hide the soft crack in his voice, as though he’s on the verge of tears. I had no intention of making him uncomfortable.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” I wrap my arms around myself lightly for warmth. “That’s your business, so I’m sorry for prying.” I pause debating whether or not to voice the insecurity that my brain feels. My feelings win in the end. “We’ll go separate ways in the morning. I won’t take advantage of your kindness.”

His head shoots up at that. Eyes glossy. “What?” genuine shock, his voice comes, with a crack that makes me wince, and he is a bit louder than previously. I look around in fear, and put my hand up to motion him to lower his voice.

“Listen, you saved me and I’m grateful. But why would you want to stick together? You don’t know me. I would just weigh you down anyway. I don’t want to be responsible for getting you killed.” I say matter of fact. Everyone around me either dies or leaves.I’m just going to get him killed, like I did mom. I can’t have someone else leave like Peter did. No one deserves to wake up to find that the only other survivor they have had contact with in 4 months, has abandoned them with no explanation and no goodbye.

I don’t want to watch this incredibly sweet person, who cared enough to save some stranger at the end of the world from ending it all. No one else would have done that.

“Do I get a say?” he asks voice quiet, reserved. His eyes searching mine. I look away.

“Why do you want one? What benefit do you get out of sticking around me?” A few seconds go by, completely silent, the only sound our faint breathing. “You literally know nothing about me, you don’t even know my name.” He hasn’t asked, I wonder if part of him is also scared of what getting emotionally attached means for him. It’s a mistake to care about people here.

“I won’t have to be alone anymore.” It's like all the air gets sucked out of the room. My chest is tight. I have been hoping that there are people still around, hoping to finally find my people to stick with, and every time something goes wrong. What if I get this man killed?

That’s when we hear it, the sound of broken glass being stepped on. Our eyes go wide. I put my can of peaches on the ground as softly as I can, as does Hyunjin. I slip my bag from my lap back onto my shoulders. I lean on the side of the counter that has been keeping us shielded from outside, from the floor to get some idea of what we are dealing with.

There are two. Both of them face their backs to us. Their breathing is fast, it makes them bounce a little. Every breath they take comes out as a wheeze or grunt. The sound of the glass under their feet is keeping them distracted, their moves jerky trying to find the source of the sound that bothers them. The one on the right turns slightly. It’s female in appearance, maybe what was once a woman in her 30’s. Her dress is a burnt orange but seems darker in the light and with all the caked on dirt and blood. I know what her eyes probably look like, they all look almost the same. Bloodshot, veiny, glossed over, no signs of life. Yet they move, as though the blood in their bodies still runs warm.

I didn’t hear them enter, I must not have closed the door all the way because unless they learned how to pull open doors, there’s no reason for them to have gotten in. Of course it had to be me. Always the one to put those around me and myself in danger. I should have done another round before settling in.

The only way out now is through the back door. I turn to look at hyunjin who is crouched behind the counter, back pressed up against it, bag in hand. I point to the back door. Going outside is a huge risk, but we can’t stay here anymore. It was a poor choice to stay in a place that’s entire front is windows, now we're paying for it.

He leads the way, slowly moving to go behind the tall shelves that hold medication. There are 3 rows of them and we’re past two when I hear a pill bottle rattle. Oh no. I look down, of course, I kicked it. We don’t look back, I know we’ve alerted the two inside the store and they’re going to alert more. We sprint to the back entrance. Slamming the door closed behind us.

Now out on the street, in the back alley of the pharmacy we are vulnerable. We can’t risk going out onto the main road, but staying in this alley isn’t any better. I can hear them. The ones inside bang on the door, desperate to be set free. But there are more I can hear shuffling on the street. I look up, there are fire escapes.

In a panic I grab Hyunjin’s arm and pull him, “The roof.” I say no room for argument, and we start to climb.

When we get up to the top, we search the whole roof, it’s empty. I make sure the door that leads inside the building is locked down tight.

When we’ve done our rounds we come together in the middle of the roof. At least we don’t have to be as quiet up here.

“Okay.” I say to him, he looks at me confused.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore either.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

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mirisss · 5 months

Text

Deja Vu

Txt Beomgyu x afab! reader

Based on the lyrics for Deja Vu

Warnings: Angst, car crash, more angst like super angsty, let me know if I should add anything else

Wordcount ≈ 8.4k

Please reblog!

Third Person POV

Beomgyu had always found solace in the melodies he crafted, pouring his heart and soul into every note he played. It was during one of his impromptu piano sessions in the school's music room that fate intervened, weaving the threads of their destinies together. (Y/n) wandered the halls aimlessly, the strains of music drawing her like a magnet. Intrigued, she followed the sound until she found herself standing at the threshold of the music room, where a boy her age sat at the piano, lost in his own world of music. Mesmerized by both the beauty of the melody and the boy who created it, (Y/n) couldn't tear her gaze away. And as Beomgyu turned to find her standing there, a smile lighting up her face, he felt something stir within him, something he couldn't quite explain. They exchanged shy introductions, their hearts beating in tandem with the rhythm of the music that surrounded them. In that moment, two souls collided, bound together by the invisible threads of fate and the shared love of music.

From that serendipitous moment in the music room, Beomgyu and (Y/n) were inseparable. Their love grew like a melody, sweet and harmonious, filling every corner of their hearts. They spent endless hours together, sharing their hopes, dreams, and fears as they navigated the complexities of adolescence hand in hand. It didn't take long for them to realize the depth of their feelings for each other, and with hearts brimming with courage, they confessed their love under the soft glow of moonlight, their voices trembling with emotion. From that day forward, they were no longer just two individuals; they were a united force, bound by an unbreakable bond forged in the fires of passion and devotion. Their love was a symphony, each moment a beautiful crescendo building towards a future filled with endless possibilities.

As the years passed, Beomgyu and (Y/n) remained steadfast in their love, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. They journeyed through the trials and triumphs of young adulthood together, facing the world hand in hand.

Beomgyu pursued his passion for music with unwavering determination, honing his skills as a songwriter and musician. His melodies became a reflection of their love, each chord a testament to the depth of his feelings for (Y/n). Through his music, he poured out his heart, weaving their story into every verse, every chorus.

(Y/n), too, found her place in the world, her dreams intertwining with Beomgyu's as they embarked on their journey together. She pursued her own passions with fervor, her unwavering support serving as a constant source of strength for Beomgyu as he chased his dreams.

Together, they navigated the highs and lows of life, finding solace in each other's embrace during moments of doubt and uncertainty. Their love was a beacon of hope, guiding them through the darkest of times and illuminating the path ahead with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

And though challenges arose, threatening to test the foundation of their love, Beomgyu and (Y/n) stood unwavering, their hearts intertwined in an unbreakable bond forged in the fires of adversity. For they knew that as long as they had each other, they could weather any storm that came their way.

As they stood on the precipice of the future, their hearts filled with hope and anticipation, Beomgyu and (Y/n) knew that their love would endure, transcending time and space to weave their destinies together for eternity.

As the fifth anniversary of their love approached, Beomgyu felt a surge of excitement coursing through his veins. This wasn't just any anniversary—it was a milestone, a testament to the enduring strength of their love. And he was determined to make it unforgettable.

With meticulous care and unwavering determination, Beomgyu set out to plan the perfect proposal for (Y/n). He enlisted the help of his closest friends, who eagerly joined forces to bring his vision to life. Together, they plotted and schemed, each detail carefully orchestrated to ensure that this day would be nothing short of magical.

On the morning of their anniversary, Beomgyu woke with a nervous energy thrumming beneath his skin. He double-checked every detail of his plan, making sure that everything was in place for the evening ahead. With a fluttering heart and a sense of anticipation building within him, he set out to prepare for the momentous occasion.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, Beomgyu and (Y/n) arrived hand in hand, the sea breeze tousling their hair. What (Y/n) didn't know was that this wasn't just a casual outing—it was the beginning of a new chapter in their love story.

With a smile playing at the corners of his lips, Beomgyu led (Y/n) to a secluded spot on the sand, where a blanket was spread out beneath the starlit sky. The sound of crashing waves provided the soundtrack to their evening as they settled in, the air buzzing with anticipation.

As they sat together, sharing stories and laughter, Beomgyu's heart beat a frantic rhythm in his chest. And then, as the moment of truth drew near, he took (Y/n)'s hand in his, his gaze locked with hers, the world falling away around them.

With a trembling voice and tears glistening in his eyes, Beomgyu poured out his heart, professing his love for (Y/n) in words that danced on the breeze. And then, with a shaking hand, he produced a small velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal the shimmering ring nestled within.

"Will you marry me?" he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, his heart hanging in the balance.

And at that moment, as (Y/n)'s eyes widened with shock and joy, Beomgyu knew that this—this was the best day of his life so far.

As Beomgyu's heartfelt proposal hung in the air, (Y/n)'s eyes filled with tears of joy, her heart overflowing with love. With a radiant smile, she nodded eagerly, her voice choked with emotion as she whispered, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!"

And in that moment, as the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple, Beomgyu and (Y/n) shared a tender, passionate kiss, sealing their love and commitment to each other under the watchful gaze of the heavens above. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other's embrace, the world around them fading into insignificance.

Wrapped in the warmth of their love, they knew that their journey together was only just beginning. With the promise of forever shining brightly in their hearts, Beomgyu and (Y/n) embarked on the next chapter of their love story, hand in hand, hearts entwined, and souls united as one.

As they watched the sun dip below the horizon, casting a blanket of stars across the night sky, they knew that their love would endure for eternity, a beacon of hope and light guiding them through the darkest of nights and the brightest of days.

Together, they stood against the backdrop of the universe, their love a masterpiece painted across the canvas of time, a testament to the power of love and the beauty of two souls finding their way back to each other, time and time again.

As Beomgyu and (Y/n) made their way home, their hearts still soaring from the magic of their engagement, fate had other plans in store. In the blink of an eye, their joyous journey was interrupted by the screech of tires and the sickening crunch of metal.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as their car was violently jolted, spinning out of control in a cacophony of chaos and confusion. Time slowed to a crawl as Beomgyu's desperate cries filled the air, his hands tightening around the steering wheel in a futile attempt to regain control.

And then, with a deafening crash, everything went dark.

When Beomgyu finally regained consciousness, his head swimming and his body aching, he found himself surrounded by the wreckage of their car. Panic surged through him as he frantically searched for (Y/n), his heart seizing in his chest at the sight of her motionless form beside him.

With trembling hands, he reached out to gently shake her, his voice trembling with fear as he called out her name. And then, as if in a dream, (Y/n) stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed and confused eyes.

Relief flooded through Beomgyu like a tidal wave as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if afraid she might vanish into thin air. But even as he held her, a sense of dread gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, the realization sinking in that their lives would never be the same again.

As the sirens wailed in the distance and the lights of emergency vehicles illuminated the night sky, Beomgyu and (Y/n) clung to each other amidst the wreckage, their love serving as a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded them.

But for now, in this moment of uncertainty and fear, all that mattered was that they were together, united against the chaos of the world, their love a light in the darkness guiding them towards an uncertain future.

Beomgyu's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, and the steady beep of machines served as a constant reminder of the fragility of life. Desperate to find (Y/n), he called out her name, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The nurses rushed to his side, their faces etched with concern as they gently explained the situation. (Y/n) was still in the operating room, they told him, her condition critical but stable. Beomgyu's breath caught in his throat at the news, his mind reeling with fear and uncertainty.

With trembling hands, he allowed the nurses to perform their examinations, their touch gentle but clinical as they assessed his injuries. But all the while, his thoughts remained fixated on (Y/n), his heart aching with the need to see her, to hold her close and reassure himself that she was alive and well.

As the minutes stretched into hours, Beomgyu found himself consumed by a sense of helplessness, his world narrowing to a single, all-consuming desire: to be by (Y/n)'s side. As he lay in his hospital bed, his body battered and broken, he made a silent vow to himself: no matter what it took, he would find a way to bring her back to him.

For she was his everything, his reason for living, and he would move heaven and earth to ensure that she emerged from this trial stronger than ever before.

And so, with determination burning bright in his eyes, Beomgyu closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer to the universe, a plea for (Y/n)'s swift recovery and a future filled with love and happiness.

Relief flooded through Beomgyu like a tidal wave as the nurse delivered the news. With a heart full of hope and trepidation, he followed her down the sterile hospital corridors, each step bringing him closer to (Y/n)'s bedside.

As he entered the room, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her lying there, pale and still, surrounded by a tangle of wires and tubes. His heart ached at the sight of her, so fragile and vulnerable, yet still so undeniably beautiful.

With trembling hands, Beomgyu approached the bed, his eyes never leaving (Y/n)'s face as he pulled up a chair beside her. Gently, he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead, his touch feather-light against her skin.

"Hey there, love," he whispered, his voice barely more than a whisper as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her cheek. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

And then, with a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by worry, Beomgyu settled into the chair beside (Y/n)'s bed, his gaze never wavering from her face as he waited for her to awaken.

Hours passed in a blur of anxious anticipation, each moment stretching into eternity as Beomgyu sat vigil by (Y/n)'s side. And then, just as he felt himself beginning to lose hope, a soft sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed and confused eyes.

"(Y/n)?" Beomgyu breathed, his heart pounding in his chest as he leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers for any sign of recognition.

And then, in that moment, as their gazes locked and their souls connected, Beomgyu knew that everything would be okay. For they had weathered the storm together, and nothing in this world could ever tear them apart.

“Who are you?”

Beomgyu's world shattered in an instant as (Y/n)'s words pierced his heart like a dagger. The weight of her question hung heavy in the air, each syllable a crushing blow to his spirit. She didn't remember him. She didn't remember their love.

A suffocating wave of despair washed over him, stealing the air from his lungs and leaving him gasping for breath. He felt as though he were drowning, his mind consumed by a swirling vortex of confusion and anguish.

His body trembled uncontrollably as panic tightened its grip around his chest, squeezing the life from his veins. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but succumb to the overwhelming tide of emotion crashing over him.

The nurses rushed to his side, their voices a distant echo in the chaos of his mind as they guided him out of the room. His legs felt like lead, his steps unsteady as he stumbled blindly down the corridor, his vision blurred by tears he couldn't hold back.

And then, as the world spun around him and the darkness threatened to consume him whole, Beomgyu collapsed against the cold, unforgiving floor, his body wracked with sobs of despair.

For in that moment, as he lay broken and defeated, Beomgyu knew that he had lost more than just the love of his life. He had lost a part of himself, a part that could never be reclaimed.

And as the tears continued to fall and the echoes of his anguish reverberated through the empty halls, Beomgyu realized that he was truly alone.

As the days dragged on in the wake of the accident, Beomgyu found himself adrift in a sea of emptiness, his heart weighed down by the burden of (Y/n)'s forgotten love. Every moment without her felt like an eternity, each passing second a painful reminder of the gaping void that now occupied his soul.

Despite his own pain, Beomgyu knew that (Y/n) needed her family now more than ever. And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of resignation gnawing at his insides, he made the agonizing decision to reach out to them, to explain the situation and seek their help in guiding her through this tumultuous time.

The phone call was a blur of stilted conversation and forced pleasantries, the distance between them palpable even through the static of the line. (Y/n)'s parents offered words of comfort and reassurance, their voices laced with sympathy and concern. But try as they might, they could offer little solace to the shattered remains of Beomgyu's heart.

As the call came to an end and the line fell silent once more, Beomgyu felt a sense of desolation wash over him like a tidal wave. He was alone, utterly and completely alone, with nothing but his own thoughts and the echo of (Y/n)'s voice haunting his every waking moment.

Days turned into nights, and still, Beomgyu found himself trapped in the suffocating embrace of his grief. His once vibrant spirit had been extinguished, replaced by a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

And as he lay alone in the darkness, his tears a silent testament to the pain that consumed him, Beomgyu knew that he would never be whole again. For the love he had lost was a wound that would never fully heal, a scar etched into the fabric of his being for all eternity.

Yeonjun's heart weighed heavy with concern as he made his way to the hospital, his mind racing with thoughts of (Y/n) and the devastating impact the accident had wrought upon her life. He knew that he couldn't stand idly by while his friend suffered, that he had to do everything in his power to help her, to bring back the memories that had been stolen from her.

As he arrived at the hospital, Yeonjun's steps faltered for a moment, the gravity of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. But he quickly gathered his resolve, steeling himself for the task that lay ahead.

With a determined expression set upon his face, Yeonjun made his way to (Y/n)'s room, where her parents sat by her bedside, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion.

"Mr. and Mrs. [Last Name]," Yeonjun greeted them with a respectful nod, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "I know this must be a difficult time for all of us, but I want you to know that I'm here to help in any way I can."

(Y/n)'s parents looked up at Yeonjun with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, their eyes reflecting the pain and uncertainty that plagued their hearts.

"We appreciate your kindness, Yeonjun," (Y/n)'s mother said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. "But we're at a loss as to how to help (Y/n). She doesn't remember anything, not even us."

Yeonjun's heart ached at the despair in her voice, his mind racing as he searched for a solution. And then, an idea sparked to life within him, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

"I have an idea," Yeonjun said, his voice filled with determination. "It may be a long shot, but I think there's something we can try."

And with that, Yeonjun outlined his plan to (Y/n)'s parents, his words infused with a sense of hope and optimism that had been sorely lacking in the days since the accident.

For he knew that even in the darkest of times, there was always a sliver of light waiting to be found. And if there was even the slightest chance that they could bring back (Y/n)'s memories, then it was a chance worth taking.

Yeonjun's heart raced with newfound determination as he clung to the glimmer of hope that had ignited within him. Beomgyu's music—it was the key, the thread that could unravel the tangled web of (Y/n)'s lost memories. He had to believe it, had to cling to the possibility that the melodies Beomgyu had poured his heart and soul into could serve as a lifeline to the woman he loved.

With a sense of urgency propelling him forward, Yeonjun dashed back to Beomgyu's apartment, his mind ablaze with thoughts of the plan that had taken root in his mind. He burst through the door, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he searched for his friend amidst the shadows that loomed like specters in the dimly lit room.

"Beomgyu!" Yeonjun called out, his voice echoing in the silence that enveloped the apartment. "We need to go to the hospital, now!"

Beomgyu looked up from where he sat slumped on the couch, his eyes hollow and haunted, his spirit broken by the weight of his own grief. But there was a spark of something in Yeonjun's voice, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished.

"What's going on?" Beomgyu asked, his voice barely more than a whisper as he struggled to comprehend the urgency in his friend's words.

Yeonjun wasted no time in explaining his plan, his words tumbling out in a rush as he outlined his belief that Beomgyu's music held the power to awaken (Y/n)'s dormant memories. He pleaded with Beomgyu to come with him to the hospital, to play his songs for (Y/n) in the hopes that they would serve as a catalyst for her recovery.

For a moment, Beomgyu hesitated, the weight of his own doubts and fears threatening to crush him beneath their oppressive weight. But then, with a steely resolve burning in his eyes, he rose to his feet, his heart beating in time with the rhythm of his own determination.

"Let's go," Beomgyu said, his voice firm and unwavering as he followed Yeonjun out the door and into the unknown.

And as they made their way to the hospital, their footsteps echoing in the empty streets like a drumbeat of defiance, Beomgyu clung to the hope that had been ignited within him, praying to whatever higher power might be listening that his music would be enough to bring (Y/n) back to him.

As Beomgyu set up his small keyboard in (Y/n)'s hospital room, his heart pounded in his chest with a mixture of anticipation and fear. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the room filled with a palpable tension as the doctors and nurses looked on, their expressions a mix of skepticism and cautious optimism.

Beomgyu's hands trembled as he reached out to touch the keys, his fingers dancing across the familiar patterns with a sense of urgency born of desperation. His eyes were stained with tears, his heart heavy with the knowledge that (Y/n) still didn't remember his name, still didn't remember the love they had shared.

But he refused to give up hope. Not now, not when they had come so far, when they stood on the precipice of a miracle that could change everything.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer on his lips, Beomgyu began to play. The melody flowed from his fingertips like water from a spring, each note a brushstroke painting a portrait of their love, a testament to the bond that had once held them together.

And as the music filled the room, weaving its way into the very fabric of (Y/n)'s soul, Beomgyu felt something shift within him, a glimmer of recognition sparking to life in her eyes.

For a fleeting moment, it was as if time stood still as if the world held its breath in anticipation of what was to come. And then, with a soft sigh, (Y/n) spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I remember this melody," she said, her words a balm to Beomgyu's wounded heart. "It's beautiful."

Tears welled in Beomgyu's eyes as he looked into (Y/n)'s gaze, seeing a flicker of something familiar, something he had feared lost forever. And in that moment, he knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together, united by the power of love and the music that had brought them back to each other once more.

Week after week, Beomgyu returned to (Y/n)'s hospital room, his heart heavy with both hope and apprehension. With each visit, he watched as fragments of her memory began to resurface, like puzzle pieces slowly falling into place to reveal the picture of her past.

But alongside the moments of clarity and recognition, there were still shadows lurking in the corners of (Y/n)'s mind. Her short-term memory remained elusive, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, leaving her grasping at memories that seemed just beyond her reach.

And yet, Beomgyu refused to lose faith. He continued to play his music for (Y/n), pouring his heart and soul into every note in the hopes that it would serve as a lifeline to the woman he loved.

With each melody that filled the room, Beomgyu watched as (Y/n)'s eyes lit up with a spark of recognition, her fingers tapping along to the rhythm as if trying to unlock the secrets hidden within the music.

And though she still struggled to remember his name, Beomgyu could see the progress she was making, the way her memories began to stitch themselves back together like a tapestry woven from the threads of her past.

But for Beomgyu, the most important thing was that (Y/n) was still fighting, still clinging to the hope that one day she would reclaim the memories that had been stolen from her.

And as he stood by her side, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement into the silence of the hospital room, Beomgyu knew that no matter how long the road ahead might be, he would walk it with her, every step of the way.

For theirs was a love that transcended time and space, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and strengthened by the trials they had faced together. And no matter what the future held, Beomgyu would never give up hope that one day, (Y/n) would say his name once again.

Each week, as Beomgyu stepped into (Y/n)'s hospital room, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken longing, he couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu that washed over him like a tidal wave. It was as if time stood still in that room, trapped in an endless cycle of repetition and heartache.

As he approached (Y/n)'s bedside, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over him. The familiar routine of introducing himself, of reaching out to a stranger who bore the face of the woman he loved, felt like a cruel twist of fate, a constant reminder of the gulf that lay between them.

And yet, despite the pain that threatened to consume him, Beomgyu refused to give up hope. Each week, he poured his heart and soul into his music, playing for (Y/n) with a fervor born of desperation, hoping against hope that this would be the moment when she would finally remember.

But week after week, his efforts were met with silence, (Y/n)'s eyes devoid of recognition as she gazed upon him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. It was like trying to break through a wall of glass, his words and music bouncing off the surface without ever making a dent.

And as the weeks turned into months, Beomgyu found himself trapped in a never-ending cycle of deja vu, each visit to (Y/n)'s bedside a painful reminder of the love that once was and the love that could be again if only she would remember.

But still, he refused to give up. For in the depths of his heart, he knew that their love was worth fighting for, worth enduring the pain and the uncertainty for the chance to hold her in his arms once more.

And so, with a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the burden of unspoken longing, Beomgyu continued to visit (Y/n) each week, his love for her burning bright even in the darkest of times.

As the seasons changed and a year slipped by, (Y/n) was finally deemed well enough to return home, her recovery a slow and arduous journey fraught with uncertainty and setbacks. And yet, despite the progress she had made, there was one name that continued to elude her, one memory that remained stubbornly out of reach.

Beomgyu.

Try as she might, (Y/n) couldn't seem to recall the face or the voice of the piano boy who had once held her heart in the palm of his hand. His name felt like a puzzle piece that refused to fit into the intricate tapestry of her memories, a glaring absence in an otherwise complete picture.

And for Beomgyu, each passing day without (Y/n) by his side felt like a slow descent into madness, his heart aching with the pain of her absence. He had held onto hope for so long, clinging to the belief that one day she would remember him, that their love would triumph over the barriers of her fractured mind.

But as the months stretched into years and (Y/n)'s memory remained stubbornly elusive, Beomgyu found himself grappling with a sense of despair unlike anything he had ever known. It was like losing her all over again, the agony of her absence tearing at the very fabric of his soul.

And yet, despite the pain and the heartache, Beomgyu refused to give up hope. For deep down, he knew that their love was stronger than the vagaries of memory, that even if (Y/n) couldn't remember him now, there was still a chance that she would one day find her way back to him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the burden of unspoken longing, Beomgyu continued to hold onto hope, his love for (Y/n) burning bright even in the darkest of times.

For he knew that no matter how long the road ahead might be, their love would endure, a beacon of light guiding them through the darkest of nights and the brightest of days.

As the weeks turned into months and (Y/n) settled back into the familiarity of her parents' home, Beomgyu's visits became less frequent, until eventually, they ceased altogether. The pain of seeing her, of being so close yet so far from the love they once shared, had become too much to bear.

For Beomgyu, each visit had been like reopening a wound that refused to heal, the memories of their life together a constant reminder of everything they had lost. The sound of his music echoing through the empty corridors of (Y/n)'s mind served only to deepen the chasm between them, each note a dagger that pierced his heart with every melody.

And so, with a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the burden of unspoken longing, Beomgyu retreated into the silence of his own grief, his memories of their life together a bittersweet symphony that played on a loop in the recesses of his mind.

Each resemblance to what once was, each flicker of recognition in (Y/n)'s eyes that never came, slowly chipped away at his soul, until all that was left was a hollow shell of the man he used to be. The pain of their lost love weighed heavy on his heart, dragging him down into the depths of despair with each passing day.

And as he stood alone in the silence of his empty apartment, the echoes of their laughter haunting the corners of his mind, Beomgyu knew that he had lost more than just (Y/n). He had lost a part of himself, a part that could never be reclaimed.

But even in the darkness, a small ember of hope still flickered within him, a reminder that love, no matter how lost or broken, could never truly be extinguished. And as he closed his eyes and let the tears fall, Beomgyu made a silent vow to himself: to carry the memories of their love with him always, even as he walked the lonely road ahead.

As the sweet piano notes that had become a familiar presence in (Y/n)'s home fell silent, the emptiness that filled the air seemed to weigh heavily on her heart. Though she couldn't recall the face or name of the person who had played those melodies, their absence left a void that echoed throughout the once lively house.

(Y/n) found herself drawn to the room where the piano stood, its keys untouched and gathering dust. With each passing day, the longing to remember grew stronger within her, a nagging ache that refused to be ignored. She yearned to unravel the mysteries of her past, to reclaim the memories that had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

Yeonjun, ever the devoted friend, tried his best to help (Y/n) piece together the fragments of her shattered memory, but despite his efforts, the memories remained stubbornly out of reach. The name "Beomgyu" felt like a distant echo in the recesses of her mind, just beyond her grasp.

And yet, (Y/n) refused to give up hope. She poured over old photographs and listened to recordings of the piano melodies that had once filled her home, hoping against hope that something would spark a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of memory.

She wanted to remember. She wanted it so badly.

Each day, (Y/n) felt as though she were standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of something profound and life-altering. And though the journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty and fear, she knew that she couldn't turn back.

For buried deep within her heart, beneath the layers of forgotten memories and lost dreams, (Y/n) held onto a glimmer of hope—a belief that love, true and enduring, would always find a way to overcome even the greatest of obstacles.

And as she closed her eyes and let the haunting strains of Beomgyu's music wash over her, (Y/n) made a silent vow to herself: to never stop searching, to never stop hoping, until she had unlocked the secrets of her past and found her way back to the love she had lost.

As the night sky stretched out above them, a tapestry of stars glittering in the darkness, Yeonjun took (Y/n)'s hand in his, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested softly, his voice carrying on the gentle breeze that stirred the night air. "I want to show you something."

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, but something in Yeonjun's earnest gaze convinced her to take a chance. And so, hand in hand, they ventured out into the cool night air, their footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night.

As they walked, Yeonjun couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that coursed through him, the hope that tonight might be the night when everything changed. He glanced ahead and saw Beomgyu standing under the canopy of stars, his silhouette a familiar yet distant figure against the night sky.

With a silent prayer in his heart, Yeonjun urged (Y/n) forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he willed fate to intervene. Perhaps if she ran into Beomgyu here, surrounded by the beauty of the night, she would remember. Perhaps the stars themselves would guide her back to him.

But as they drew closer, (Y/n) remained oblivious to the figure standing just ahead of them, her gaze fixed on the shimmering expanse of the night sky above. And though Yeonjun's heart sank with disappointment, he couldn't bring himself to give up hope.

As Beomgyu caught sight of Yeonjun and (Y/n) walking hand in hand beneath the canopy of stars, a rush of emotions flooded through him like a tidal wave. His heart ached with longing, his soul reaching out to her with a yearning that knew no bounds.

In that moment, he couldn't tear his gaze away from her, from the woman he had loved with every fiber of his being, the woman who still held a piece of his heart even as she stood just out of reach.

Memories of their time together flooded his mind, like fragments of a dream that he couldn't quite grasp. He remembered the day of the accident, the day they had gotten engaged, the promise he had made to her as they watched the setting sun paint the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"I'll always be here for you," he had whispered, his voice filled with conviction as he slipped the engagement ring onto her finger, a symbol of their love and commitment to each other.

And now, as he stood beneath the starlit sky, the weight of the ring pressing against his pocket, Beomgyu couldn't help but wonder if perhaps tonight was the night when everything would change. Perhaps tonight, under the watchful gaze of the stars above, (Y/n) would remember him, would remember the love they had shared.

With trembling hands, Beomgyu took a hesitant step forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he dared to hope for a miracle. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms like he used to, to whisper words of love and devotion into her ear until she remembered.

But even as he longed to reach out to her, to bridge the distance that separated them, Beomgyu knew that he couldn't force her to remember. Memories, like stars in the night sky, were fleeting and elusive, and all he could do was wait and hope for the day when (Y/n) would find her way back to him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the burden of unspoken longing, Beomgyu watched from a distance as Yeonjun and (Y/n) disappeared into the night, their silhouettes fading into the darkness like shadows on the wind.

But even as they disappeared from view, Beomgyu held onto hope, a flickering ember of light burning bright within him as he vowed to never give up on the love that had once defined his very existence.

For in the end, he knew that love was stronger than memory, stronger than time itself, and no matter how long the road ahead might be, he would always be waiting for (Y/n) with open arms and an open heart.

With a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the weight of unspoken sorrow, Beomgyu made his way to (Y/n)'s home, his steps slow and deliberate as he prepared to face the painful truth that had been haunting him for far too long.

Two years had passed since the accident, two years of hoping and praying for a miracle that never came. Fate, it seemed, had made its decision, and no amount of wishing or yearning could change the hand they had been dealt.

With a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the weight of unspoken sorrow, Beomgyu made his way to (Y/n)'s home, his footsteps slow and measured as he walked the familiar path one last time. The weight of the engagement ring in his pocket felt like a burden too heavy to bear, a constant reminder of the love they had shared and the dreams they had once dared to dream.

As he stood before (Y/n)'s doorstep, his heart pounding in his chest, Beomgyu knew that this was the moment he had been dreading, the moment when he would have to say goodbye to the woman he had loved with every fiber of his being.

With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the ring, its glimmering surface catching the soft light of the moon as he held it in his palm. It felt like a piece of his heart, a symbol of the love that had once bound them together, and now, it was time to set it free.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Beomgyu knocked softly on the door, his heart in his throat as he waited for (Y/n) to answer. And when she did, the sight of her took his breath away, her beauty undimmed by the passage of time.

"(Y/n)," he began, his voice barely above a whisper as he held out the ring to her. "I want you to have this. It's... it's the ring I proposed to you with. I want you to have it, to remember..."

But before he could finish his sentence, (Y/n) reached out and took the ring from his hand, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she gazed up at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of their beating hearts. "Thank you for everything."

And then, without another word, Beomgyu felt the tears begin to fall as he pulled (Y/n) into his arms, holding her close one last time. It was a bittersweet embrace, filled with the echoes of a love that could never be, a love that had been lost to the sands of time.

But even as he held her, Beomgyu knew that it was time to let go, to release her from the chains of their shared past and set her free to find her own path in life. And as they pulled away from each other, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of understanding, Beomgyu knew that he would always carry a piece of (Y/n) with him, a piece of her heart that would forever be intertwined with his own.

With a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the burden of unspoken longing, Beomgyu turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the night as he left behind the love he had once held so dear.

For sometimes, he realized, fate had other plans. And even though their story had come to an end, Beomgyu knew that the memories of their love would live on forever in his heart.

As (Y/n) sat on her bed, the weight of the ring in her hand felt like a tangible reminder of a past she couldn't quite grasp. She remembered the man who had given it to her, remembered his gentle smile and the sadness in his eyes, but his name remained just out of reach, a phantom echo in the recesses of her mind.

And yet, as she stared at the ring, tracing the intricate design with her fingertips, a flood of memories washed over her like a tidal wave. She saw flashes of a beach, the soft sand beneath her feet, the gentle crash of waves against the shore. She saw the sky ablaze with hues of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in shades of fire and gold.

And then, she heard it—a warm and familiar voice whispering words of love and devotion into her ear, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "I love you," the voice said, its timbre like music to her ears, filling her with a sense of warmth and longing that she couldn't quite explain.

In that moment, (Y/n) felt a spark of recognition flicker to life within her, a sense of connection that transcended the boundaries of memory and time. Though she couldn't remember his name, she knew deep down that the man who had given her this ring had been someone special, someone who had touched her heart in ways she couldn't fully comprehend.

With a sense of determination settling over her like a cloak, (Y/n) made a silent vow to herself: to keep searching, to keep reaching for the memories that lay just beyond her grasp. For she knew that somewhere, deep within the recesses of her mind, the answers she sought were waiting to be found.

And as she slipped the ring onto her finger, feeling its weight against her skin like a promise of things to come, (Y/n) closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer into the night, a prayer for guidance and for clarity, for the strength to remember the love that had once been hers.

For even if the road ahead was long and uncertain, (Y/n) knew that she would never stop searching for the truth, for the answers that lay hidden within the depths of her own heart.

As (Y/n) stepped out onto the street, her mind focused on the simple task of buying snacks, she was unaware of the danger that lurked just around the corner. Oblivious to the world around her, she continued on her way, the sounds of the city fading into the background as she lost herself in her thoughts.

But then, as she reached the middle of the street, a sense of unease washed over her like a wave, a feeling of impending danger that sent a shiver down her spine. And before she could react, she heard the screech of tires and the roar of an engine, the sound of impending disaster echoing in her ears.

In that split second, time seemed to stand still as (Y/n) found herself frozen in place, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared down the oncoming car, its headlights bearing down on her like a freight train hurtling towards its target.

And then, just as the car was about to make impact, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to their chest with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs. She felt herself being lifted off her feet, carried to safety just in the nick of time as the car barreled past with inches to spare.

As the adrenaline coursed through her veins, (Y/n) clung to her savior, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. And as she looked up into the face of the person who had saved her, she felt a surge of recognition wash over her like a tidal wave.

It was him—the man from her memories, the man whose name still eluded her but whose presence felt like coming home. In that moment, as they stood together in the aftermath of the near miss, (Y/n) felt a sense of connection that transcended the boundaries of time and memory, a bond forged in the fires of adversity.

And as she looked into his eyes, she knew with a certainty that defied explanation: fate had brought them together once again, and this time, she wouldn't let him slip away.

As the word "Beomgyu" slipped past (Y/n)'s lips, it hung in the air like a melody, a single note that reverberated through the silence of the street. And though she couldn't explain the sudden surge of recognition that washed over her, she knew with a certainty that defied logic: this was his name, the name of the man who had saved her life and captured her heart.

Beomgyu's breath caught in his throat as he stared down at her, his heart pounding in his chest with a ferocity that threatened to consume him. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world falling away until there was only the two of them, bound together by the invisible threads of fate and destiny.

"Say it louder, please," Beomgyu whispered, his voice barely above a whisper as he pleaded with her to speak his name once more. His heart hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of hope and despair as he waited with bated breath for her response.

And then, as if guided by some unseen force, (Y/n) took a deep breath and said it again, louder this time, with a sense of conviction that sent shivers down Beomgyu's spine.

"Beomgyu."

The sound of her voice filled him with a sense of wonder and awe, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm. It was a name that held within it the promise of a love that had transcended time and space, a love that had endured even in the face of overwhelming odds.

And as he looked into her eyes, Beomgyu felt a sense of peace settle over him like a warm blanket, knowing that no matter what trials lay ahead, they would face them together, united by the bond that had been forged between them.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if he never wanted to let her go. "Thank you for remembering."

And as they stood together in the glow of the streetlights, their hearts beating as one, (Y/n) knew with a certainty that defied explanation: fate had brought them together for a reason, and nothing in this world could ever tear them apart again.

As (Y/n) stood there, wrapped in Beomgyu's embrace, a sense of clarity washed over her like a cleansing tide. Though she still couldn't recall every detail of their past, she knew with a certainty that defied explanation: her future was with him, and nothing in this world could ever change that.

With tears glistening in her eyes, (Y/n) looked up at Beomgyu, her voice filled with conviction as she spoke the words that echoed in her heart.

"I remember that my future is you, Beomgyu," she whispered, her words a solemn vow that hung in the air between them like a promise. "My future is with you."

And as she spoke, Beomgyu felt a sense of wonder and awe wash over him, like a wave crashing against the shore of his soul. It was a moment of profound realization, a moment when the pieces of their shattered past began to fall into place, forming a mosaic of love and hope that stretched out before them like a roadmap to eternity.

With a smile that lit up the darkness of the night, Beomgyu took (Y/n)'s hand in his, his heart overflowing with gratitude and joy. In that moment, as they stood together beneath the starlit sky, he knew with a certainty that defied explanation: their love was stronger than fate, stronger than memory, stronger than anything this world could ever throw their way.

And as they walked hand in hand into the uncertain future that lay ahead, (Y/n) and Beomgyu knew that no matter what trials they faced, they would face them together, united in a love that had endured the test of time.

For in the end, they had found each other once again, and in each other's arms, they knew they had found home.

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