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reidmarieprentiss · 6 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

Summary: Y/N knows Spencer is too good for her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), angst, light fluff

Warnings/Includes: porn with plot, additional warnings under the cut, cosplay, wearing dress, use of Y/N, alcohol consumption

Word count: 11.9k

a/n: idk man i really want him

main masterlist

part two part three

Additional warnings: breast & nipple play, fingering, oral (m&f), PinV protected, biting

The convention hall buzzed with excitement, filled with an array of fans dressed as their favorite characters from the iconic series, Doctor Who. The air was alive with the chatter of people discussing their favorite episodes, theories about the show's plot twists, and the inevitable debates about which Doctor was the best. Vendors lined the walls, offering everything from collectible sonic screwdrivers to handmade TARDIS keychains.

Spencer Reid and Penelope Garcia were two of these enthusiastic attendees. Spencer was dressed impeccably as his favorite Doctor, the Eleventh, complete with a tweed jacket, bow tie, and fez perched jauntily on his head. Penelope, meanwhile, dazzled as the vibrant Thirteenth Doctor, sporting a rainbow-striped shirt, long coat, and bright yellow suspenders. Her hair was styled to perfection, and she wore a replica of the Thirteenth Doctor’s sonic screwdriver clipped to her belt.

They had spent the day gleefully exploring the convention together, indulging in all the nerdy joys the event had to offer. Panels, merchandise, photo ops with actors—they were having a fantastic time. They even participated in a trivia contest, which Spencer naturally excelled in, earning them a special edition Doctor Who poster. Everything was going splendidly until they ran into Penelope's ex, Kevin Lynch, who had the audacity to show up with his new date, a tall brunette who seemed to be equally as nerdy as Penelope.

Penelope's face fell as she spotted Kevin, her previous enthusiasm dimming slightly. She forced a smile and waved at Kevin, who looked surprised but waved back, a bit awkwardly.

"Penelope!" Kevin said, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. "It's, uh, great to see you here."

"Yeah, you too, Kevin," Penelope replied, her voice wavering slightly as she glanced at his date. She couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment and an awkward tension that hung in the air.

The encounter was brief, but it left Penelope feeling deflated. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she quickly excused herself and turned to Spencer, whispering that she needed a moment alone. Spencer nodded understandingly, his eyes filled with empathy, and watched as Penelope hurried off, clearly upset.

Now alone amidst the bustling crowd, Spencer found himself wandering around the convention hall, a bit lost without Penelope by his side. Despite being surrounded by thousands of people who shared his interests, he felt an uncomfortable sense of solitude creeping in. He adjusted his bow tie nervously, his eyes scanning the room for a friendly face or familiar sight.

As he wandered, Spencer couldn't help but feel self-conscious, almost like a lost puppy in a sea of strangers. The convention was vast, and though he loved the atmosphere, it was a lot to take in alone. He fiddled with his fez, trying to focus on the displays and booths around him, but the sense of being out of place lingered.

It was then that he noticed you, standing a short distance away, dressed as the most enchanting character from Doctor Who—Madame de Pompadour, The Girl in the Fireplace.

Your costume was a stunning recreation of the elegant 18th-century dress worn by Reinette, complete with intricate lace details, flowing skirts, and an opulent corset that captured the character's timeless beauty. A perfectly styled wig with cascading curls crowned your head, adding an authentic touch to your ensemble. You wore a delicate mask in your hand, which you twirled absentmindedly as you observed the convention floor, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Spencer with an amused curiosity. But what struck Spencer most was your warm smile, a beacon of kindness amidst the chaos.

You had noticed Spencer earlier, observing him with a gentle curiosity as he meandered through the crowd. Something about his endearing awkwardness and the way he carried himself drew your attention, and you found yourself walking over to him, compelled by a mix of admiration and empathy.

With a kind and playful smile, you approached him and said, "Hey, you look lost. Do you need help finding your parents?"

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise at your teasing comment, and he let out a surprised snort, momentarily caught off guard. He quickly recovered from his initial embarrassment and noticed the twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

"Uh, no, no thank you," he replied with a sheepish grin. "I was given permission to look around by myself."

Your laughter was infectious, and Spencer felt the tightness in his chest ease. It was as if your presence alone had a calming effect, grounding him in the moment and reminding him that he wasn't truly alone. Your genuine kindness and humor were like a breath of fresh air.

"I'm glad to hear it," you said, still smiling as you playfully curtsied. "I'm Y/N, by the way. A fellow time traveler, it seems."

Spencer hesitated for a moment before bowing slightly at the waist, feeling a little more confident now. "Spencer Reid," he replied, introducing himself. "And yes, it seems we both have a knack for getting lost in time."

Your shared laugh seemed to lighten the atmosphere, and Spencer couldn't help but feel grateful for your unexpected companionship. It was a simple moment, yet it carried a weight of significance—an unexpected connection made in the most delightful of circumstances.

As the vibrant crowd continued to flow around you, your conversation with Spencer felt like a moment suspended in time, a quiet bubble amidst the lively chaos of the convention. The laughter, chatter, and occasional shout of delight from fellow fans echoed through the hall, but you found yourself entirely focused on the man standing before you.

"So, Spencer," you began, looking around at the lively crowd, "what's been your favorite part of the convention so far?"

“Well, I won the trivia contest!” Spencer replied with enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up with pride. “I love seeing everyone’s costumes too, the creativity and thought they put into them is inspiring. And the food court! Did you see they have—why are you looking at me like that? Am I rambling? Oh, I am, hah, sorry.”

You chuckled softly, finding his rambling endearing. “Don’t stop on my account; I happen to think it’s very cute.”

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your compliment. “You… you do?”

“Indeed, Doctor,” you replied with a playful glint in your eye.

“How did you know I’m a doctor?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Um…” you pointed at his costume, a classic Doctor Who ensemble that perfectly captured the essence of the Eleventh Doctor.

“Oh! Right, you meant Doctor Who Doctor,” he realized, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

“Yes, but are you really a doctor?” you inquired, intrigued by the idea of him being both a fictional and real-life doctor.

Spencer nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and pride. “I have three PhDs.”

“Oh wow, that’s hot,” you said, your voice teasing yet sincere, enjoying the way his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.

“What?” he squeaked, clearly flustered by your unexpected compliment.

“Tell me, Spencer… do you have plans after the convention?” you asked, leaning in slightly, your interest in him evident.

“Um, no, nope. No, I do not. Totally free,” Spencer stammered, trying to keep his composure but feeling his heart race at the prospect of spending more time with you.

“Good to know,” you replied with a warm smile. “Would you like to get a drink with me?”

“I would love to,” he answered, his voice brimming with exhilaration.

“Wonderful,” you said, pleased with his response.

The two of you exchanged numbers, a small gesture that felt monumental, sealing the promise of further connection beyond the convention's vibrant confines. As you parted ways, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

As he watched you disappear into the colorful sea of costumes, you turned back to Spencer, your heart still racing with the promise of more time together. “I’ll see you later, Spencer,” you said, offering him one last lingering smile before slipping away into the crowd.

Spencer stood there for a moment, his mind whirling with possibilities and the thrill of new connections. As he adjusted his fez and prepared to rejoin Penelope, he smiled to himself, the Doctor Who theme echoing in the distance as he headed back into the lively fray.

—

Later that night, you and Spencer agreed to meet up at a cozy little bar nestled in a bustling neighborhood near your apartment. The day had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure at the Doctor Who convention, but now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights twinkled, a new kind of eagerness filled the air.

You arrived at the bar first, filled with anticipation and nervousness. Gone was the elegant 18th-century gown you wore at the convention; you now wore a low-cut, tight shirt that hugged your curves and showed off a bit more cleavage than before. It was a bold choice, one that made you feel confident and sexy, and you hoped Spencer would appreciate it.

As you waited for Spencer to arrive, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of fever at seeing him again. Something about his awkward charm and genuine kindness had struck a chord with you, and you were eager to see where the evening might lead.

When Spencer walked in, your breath caught at the sight of him. Gone was the Eleventh Doctor costume, replaced by a classic sweater vest ensemble that was quintessentially Spencer Reid. He wore a crisp button-down shirt under the vest, paired with slacks that somehow made him look both dorky and endearingly handsome. You found it incredibly attractive, and a smile tugged at your lips as he approached.

“Hey,” he said, a bit shyly, his eyes darting around the bar before settling on you. When he noticed your outfit, he froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of your low-cut shirt. “Wow, you look... amazing.”

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Doctor.”

Spencer chuckled, running a hand through his hair in a self-conscious gesture. “I, uh, didn’t know what to wear, but I’m glad it works.”

“Oh, it definitely works,” you assured him, your gaze lingering on his sweater vest. “I have a thing for sweater vests.”

He laughed, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Good to know. I have plenty of them.”

You motioned for him to join you at the bar, where you ordered drinks and settled into a comfortable conversation. The atmosphere was relaxed, with soft music playing in the background and the hum of conversations surrounding you.

“So, how did you get into Doctor Who?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious as he took a sip of his drink.

“I’ve always been a fan of science fiction,” you replied, leaning closer to ensure he could hear you over the chatter. “The idea of time travel, the adventures, and the characters just drew me in. Plus, the show has this amazing ability to make you think about life in new ways.”

Spencer nodded, clearly pleased with your answer. “I completely agree. The show is more than just entertainment; it’s a way to explore complex ideas and emotions. I think that’s why it resonates with so many people.”

“Exactly!” you said enthusiastically, enjoying the ease of conversation between you. “And what about you? What drew you to the series?”

Spencer shrugged, his eyes twinkling with the joy of discussing something he loved. “It started as a way to escape, I guess. Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of friends, but Doctor Who was like a companion, in a way. It taught me a lot about empathy and bravery.”

You smiled, touched by his honesty. “That’s really great, Spencer.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking a bit bashful under your gaze. “I’m glad I met someone who appreciates the show as much as I do.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of words that brought you closer with each exchange. You found yourself laughing easily, the tension of earlier dissipating as you both shared stories and jokes, losing track of time in the warm ambiance of the bar.

As the night wore on, you noticed Spencer stealing glances at your shirt, his eyes flickering to your cleavage before quickly averting his gaze, trying to be polite. You couldn’t help but find his flustered reactions adorable, and you decided to tease him a little.

“Is there something interesting over here?” you asked, gesturing to your chest with a playful grin.

Spencer’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “Uh, no, I mean, yes, but—oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

You laughed softly, reaching out to touch his hand reassuringly. “Relax, Spencer. I don’t mind. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

He exhaled, clearly relieved by your response. “Well, in that case, yes, it’s very distracting,” he admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“Good to know I still have it,” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You definitely do.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, filled with the promise of more to come. As the night deepened, the conversation shifted from playful banter to something more intimate, the chemistry between you undeniable.

“So, Spencer,” you said, your voice dropping to a more sultry tone. “What does the rest of your night look like? Are you all booked up?”

“Um, no, not really,” he replied, his heart racing as he caught the glint in your eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” you said, leaning closer, “I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place. We could continue our conversation somewhere a bit more private.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, his mind spinning with possibilities. “I would love that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Great,” you replied with a smile, feeling a thrill of anticipation as you both stood up, ready to leave the bar behind for the promise of what awaited you.

The walk back to your apartment was filled with a charged silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. You felt Spencer’s presence beside you, a comforting warmth that made your heart race with excitement.

As you reached your apartment building, you turned to him, your eyes meeting in a shared understanding. “This is me,” you said, gesturing to the entrance.

“Nice place,” Spencer commented, trying to keep his cool despite the nerves bubbling inside him.

You unlocked the door and led him inside, your heart pounding with each step. The atmosphere was electric, one that promised something incredible.

Once inside, you turned to face Spencer, a playful smile on your lips. “Make yourself at home,” you said, gesturing to the cozy living room. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just some water would be great,” he replied, trying to steady his racing heart.

You nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two glasses of water. As you handed one to Spencer, your fingers brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through you both.

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his voice warm and sincere.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, sitting down beside him on the couch. The proximity was intoxicating, and you could feel the tension building with each passing second.

“I have to say, I’m really glad we met today.” Spencer said, his voice slightly shaky.

“Me too,” you agreed, your gaze locked on his.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the world fading away until it was just the two of you, enveloped in a bubble of connection and desire.

As you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches from his, Spencer’s breath hitched in suspense. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the magnetic pull drawing you together.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft caress.

“Yes?” he replied, his eyes searching yours, filled with longing.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you asked, your words laced with an invitation that left little room for doubt.

Spencer swallowed, his heart racing as he processed your offer. “I’d love to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

With that, you closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a moment that transcended the ordinary and ventured into the extraordinary.

Spencer kissed you back with a low whimper as he began to ravish you. His lips were soft and urgent against yours, moving with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the strain in his body as he pressed against you, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to spark and crackle in the air around you.

You responded eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands slip between your fingers as you deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of the lingering sweetness of the drinks you'd shared earlier and something distinctly Spencer that made you crave more.

Spencer's hands moved with a purpose, exploring the curves of your body with a gentle yet insistent touch that left you breathless. His fingertips traced the outline of your spine, sending delightful tingles through your skin as they traveled lower, coming to rest on the small of your back. You arched into his touch, pressing your body more firmly against his, savoring the feel of him against you.

With a quiet moan, Spencer shifted, guiding you backward until you were lying beneath him on the couch. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath warm and ragged against your lips as he gazed down at you with a smoldering intensity. The look in his eyes sent a thrill through you, a promise of the pleasures to come.

Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips once more as his hands continued their exploration. His touch was both tender and demanding, a perfect balance that left you yearning for more. You felt his fingers trail over your exposed skin, slipping beneath the fabric of your low-cut shirt, and you shivered in anticipation as he began to explore further.

The sensation of his hands against your bare skin was electrifying, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, an insistent ache that begged for more as Spencer's touch became more insistent. His hands roamed over your body with a confidence that contradicted the initial shyness you had seen in him earlier.

Your shirt slipped further up your torso, and Spencer's lips left yours to follow the path his hands had traced moments before. His mouth moved with a deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your jawline, down the column of your neck, and across your collarbone. Each kiss was a promise, a vow of what was to come, and you found yourself lost in the sensations he was creating.

As Spencer's mouth traveled lower, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater vest. The texture of the material beneath your fingertips was a comforting contrast to the fiery sensations his lips and hands were invoking, grounding you even as you felt yourself soaring.

Spencer's lips moved over the swell of your breasts, his touch reverent yet possessive, as if he were memorizing every inch of your skin with his mouth. You felt a thrill at the thought of being the focus of his attention.

Spencer’s lips ghosted over your skin, each kiss sending waves of heat coursing through your body. As he reached the edge of your shirt, he paused, his fingers gently teasing the hem as he looked up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Are you planning on keeping this on all night?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You chuckled softly, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Well, Doctor, I thought I’d give you something to unwrap. Consider it a mystery.”

Spencer grinned, his fingers deftly pulling your shirt higher until it slipped over your head, leaving you exposed beneath him. His gaze raked over your bare skin, appreciation evident in his eyes. “Mystery solved,” he whispered, his tone filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.

You felt a rush of heat at his words, your skin tingling. “You’re a fast learner,” you replied, your voice sultry as you reached up to pull him back down to you. “But let’s see if you can handle what’s next.”

His eyes darkened with intensity at your challenge, and he captured your lips in another heated kiss, his hands exploring your newly exposed skin with renewed vigor. The sensations were dizzying, each touch and caress a testament to his growing confidence and desire.

Spencer’s hands traveled down your sides, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You let out a quiet moan, arching into his touch as he began to work them down, his fingers deft and sure.

“Getting a bit bold, aren’t we?” you teased, nipping at his lower lip as he freed you from the confines of your clothing.

“Just trying to keep up with you,” he retorted, his voice tinged with amusement as he leaned back to admire his handiwork.

You reached for the hem of his sweater vest, tugging it upwards with a playful smirk. “I think it’s time we even the playing field, don’t you?”

He chuckled, raising his arms to help you remove the vest, followed by his button-down shirt. You couldn’t help but appreciate the lean muscles beneath his clothing, the way his skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.

“Not bad, Doctor,” you quipped, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest appreciatively. “Maybe I should have gone to med school.”

Spencer let out a low laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I doubt they teach this in med school.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a course or two,” you replied, your fingers trailing lower, teasing the waistband of his pants.

He inhaled sharply, his body responding to your touch in a way that made you both feel like you were on fire. “I think we’re about to graduate to something more advanced,” he murmured, his voice a mix of fieriness and teasing.

You grinned, pulling him back down to you, your lips capturing his in a passionate kiss that promised more than words ever could. The heat between you was intense, a consuming fire that left you both breathless and wanting more.

Spencer’s hands continued their exploration, mapping every inch of your skin with a reverence that made your heart race. You could feel the tension building, a delicious feeling that promised to leave you both satisfied yet craving even more.

As you shifted beneath him, your body pressed against his in a way that made your intentions clear, you whispered, “What do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own. “Lead the way,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

With that, you guided him toward your bedroom, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air like an electric charge. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the enticing possibilities that lay ahead.

Once inside your bedroom, the atmosphere shifted, the intimacy of the space amplifying the pull between you. The dim lighting cast shadows across the room, creating an intimate bubble that felt like it was just for you and Spencer.

You turned to face him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you slowly backed toward the bed. “I hope you’re ready for this, Doctor.”

He followed, his movements confident and sure as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been ready since the moment I saw you,” he replied, his voice low and filled with want.

As you sank onto the bed, Spencer joined you, his body warm and inviting against yours. The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that drew you closer with each passing second.

You reached for him, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw before pulling him in for another searing kiss. His lips were soft and insistent against yours, his touch possessive as he pressed you back against the sheets. The mattress dipped under your combined weight, and you felt the cool, crisp fabric of the sheets beneath your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Spencer’s body.

Spencer’s breath mingled with yours, warm and intoxicating with desire. His hands traveled with a deliberate slowness, exploring the curves and contours of your body as though committing every inch to memory. You felt his fingers skim over the bare skin of your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The sensation was electric, sending delightful tingles coursing through your veins.

As he deepened the kiss, a low groan rumbled in his throat, vibrating through your body and sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. Your hands found their way to his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin as you pulled him closer, craving the warmth and weight of him against you.

His lips moved with a languid, teasing rhythm, exploring the delicate skin of your neck with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that sent your heart racing. You tilted your head back, granting him better access as a soft sigh escaped your lips, filling the room with a quiet sound of pleasure.

Spencer’s kisses trailed lower, his breath hot against your skin as he made his way down your collarbone. The sensation was intoxicating, a delicious mix of tenderness and urgency that left you breathless. You felt his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ribcage before coming to rest on your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers threading through his hair as you arched into his touch. “Get to the point, Doctor.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and enticing, as he shifted his weight to hover above you, his eyes dark with longing. The air between you crackled with intensity, a potent mix of suspense and need that seemed to draw you even closer together.

Your breathing grew ragged, each inhale a shuddering gasp as you surrendered to the pleasure building inside you. Spencer’s touch was like a drug, addictive and all-consuming, leaving you dizzy with longing.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering between you. You nodded, giving him the permission he sought, and he smiled—a small, intimate curve of his lips that made your heart skip a beat.

Spencer hands deftly working to remove the last barriers between you. The sensation of the cool air against your skin was a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his touch, sending shivers of need cascading through your body.

The room was filled with a symphony of soft sounds: the rustle of fabric as Spencer undressed you, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the rapid, excited beat of your own heart. The smell of your mingled scents—his cologne, a hint of your perfume, and the unmistakable musk of arousal—filled the air, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that heightened every sensation.

As Spencer’s hands continued their journey, his lips followed, pressing soft, heated kisses to every inch of exposed skin. The feel of his mouth against your body was electric, each kiss a spark that ignited a fire deep within you. You could hear the quiet, appreciative noises he made as he explored, a low hum of approval that vibrated through you, making your skin tingle with fever.

His mouth found the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, and he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin and his teeth scraping behind. The sensation was exquisite, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as he continued his ministrations.

His mouth continued its journey, trailing kisses down the length of your torso, his breath hot and humid against your skin. Each touch of his lips was a promise, a hint of the pleasures yet to come. You could feel the gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin, a delightful roughness that added to the sensory overload.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your thighs, his fingers curling around the soft flesh as he gently parted them, creating space for himself between your legs. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a sweet ache that thrummed through your veins as you waited for his next move.

He paused for a moment, his breath warm and heavy against your inner thigh as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. The look in his eyes sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a silent communication of his intentions that left you breathless.

When he finally moved, it was with a purpose and a tenderness that took your breath away. His mouth found its mark, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the most intimate part of you. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of pleasure that left you gasping and trembling beneath him.

Spencer's tongue traced a path of fire, the wet heat of his mouth a stark contrast to the cool air around you. The feeling of his tongue against you was indescribable, a perfect blend of softness and pressure that had you writhing with need. You could hear the wet, rhythmic sounds of his movements, a deliciously sinful symphony that filled the room and drove you wild with desire.

The taste of you seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more insistent, more confident as he explored every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he lavished attention on you, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

You could feel the tension building, a tight coil of desire that wound tighter and tighter with each passing second. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your hands clutching at the sheets as you tried to hold on, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations Spencer was creating.

And then, with a final, masterful stroke of his tongue, the coil snapped, sending you spiraling into a blinding wave of ecstasy. Your body arched off the bed, a cry of pure pleasure escaping your lips as you surrendered to the intense release. Every nerve ending seemed to ignite, the pleasure radiating out from your core in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

Spencer didn't stop, his movements gentling but never ceasing as he guided you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent and boneless beneath him. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the beating of your heart.

As the world slowly came back into focus, you felt Spencer's weight shift, his body sliding up to join you on the bed. He gathered you into his arms, his touch gentle and soothing as he held you close. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek, the warmth of his skin a comforting presence that grounded you.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "I may have misread you…" you murmured, your voice still breathless from the intensity of the experience.

Spencer looked at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he tried to read your expression. "How so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent another wave of heat through you.

“I thought you were some nerdy dork who wouldn’t know what to do,” you confessed with a teasing grin, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “You proved me so wrong.”

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm like honey, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The touch was tender and sweet, a stark contrast to the intense passion you'd just shared.

As the warmth of his kiss lingered on your skin, a flicker of awareness crept into your mind, reminding you of the vulnerability of your current position. Spencer was undeniably pretty, fun, and, as you had just discovered, incredibly talented with his mouth. But letting him get too close, emotionally, was a different matter—a potential disaster waiting to happen.

You felt a pang of uncertainty, a reminder that you'd let yourself get carried away in the heat of everything today. The thought of letting him see more of you, of exposing the parts of yourself you kept hidden, was both thrilling and terrifying.

Gently, you scooted away, creating a small space between you on the bed. Spencer watched you with a slight frown, his brow furrowing in concern as he noticed the shift in your demeanor.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… taking a breather.”

He nodded, understanding but still curious. The moment hung between you, a delicate balance of intimacy and distance that you both navigated carefully.

Wanting to redirect the focus and return the favor, you shifted onto your knees, your movements deliberate and confident. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you, questioning flickering in his gaze.

You leaned forward, letting your hands glide over the planes of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The sensation was intoxicating, each touch sending a spark of desire through your body as you explored the contours of his torso.

“Now, Doctor,” you said, your voice low and teasing, “I think it’s my turn to show you what I can do.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched you with rapt attention. “I’m not going to stop you,” he replied, a playful edge to his voice as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows to give you full access.

You grinned, pleased by his response as you moved lower, your hands trailing down the length of his body. The texture of his skin was smooth and warm under your touch, each muscle firm and defined as you explored every inch with a deliberate slowness that made his breath catch.

The room was filled with the quiet rustle of sheets, the soft sounds of your movements as you shifted to straddle his legs, your body settling comfortably between his thighs. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a charged energy that seemed to crackle with each passing second.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your lips. The sensation was exhilarating, a rush of power and intimacy that left you wanting more.

Spencer let out a quiet groan, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations you were creating. The sound sent a thrill through you, a confirmation of the effect you had on him, and it spurred you on, encouraging you to continue your exploration.

You let your hands wander lower, tracing the line of his waistband before slipping beneath the fabric, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. Spencer’s breath hitched again, a soft, needy sound that made your heart race.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice a teasing whisper as you glanced up at him, enjoying the way his eyes were half-lidded with desire, his lips parted in want.

Spencer nodded, his voice a breathless murmur. “Mhm.”

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him so open and vulnerable beneath you. It was a heady feeling, one that made you want to give him everything you had, to explore every inch of him and discover all the ways you could make him come undone.

With a gentle touch, you eased his pants lower, revealing more of the skin you so desperately wanted to explore. The cool air kissed his skin, sending a shiver through him as you continued your ministrations, your hands and lips moving with a purposeful intent that left him gasping.

The texture of his skin under your fingers was smooth and warm, a contrast to the slightly rough fabric of his pants as they slid down his legs. You could feel the faint, steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips. The cool air seemed to heighten every sensation, sharpening the feeling of your touch against his bare skin.

As you explored lower, you could hear the soft, almost involuntary sounds Spencer made in response to your touch—a quiet gasp, a low moan, the sharp intake of breath when you grazed a particularly sensitive spot. Each sound proving the effect you were having on him, encouraging you to continue your exploration with renewed confidence.

You leaned in, your lips brushing over the expanse of skin just above his waistband, savoring the slightly salty taste of him. The feel of your mouth against his skin drew another low groan from Spencer, a needy sound that reverberated through your body and filled the room.

The slight roughness of his sparse hair beneath your lips was a contrast to the smooth skin of his abdomen, and you reveled in the differences, your fingers dancing over every inch as you memorized the planes and angles of his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to explore further.

With every touch and kiss, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a palpable energy that seemed to thrumming in the air around you. His muscles tensed under your hands, responding to your every movement with a sensitivity that only served to heighten your own arousal.

His hips shifted slightly, an involuntary movement that brought him closer to you, seeking more of the sensations you were creating. The friction of your touch against him was a delicious torment, each caress, each brush of your lips a promise of the release he so desperately craved.

You continued down, your mouth trailing lower with a deliberate slowness that was as much for your pleasure as it was for his. The taste of his skin lingered on your lips, a reminder of the connection you shared, the chemistry that burned brightly between you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he guided you closer to his bulge that you had been neglecting, his touch both gentle and insistent. The slight tug at your scalp sent a shiver through you, a thrill of eagerness that urged you to continue your exploration with even more fervor.

Your lips traveled lower, past where he wanted you, tracing a path along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh with your lips and tongue, where you could feel the taut muscle beneath. The sensation of his skin against your lips, the warmth of his body, the subtle tremor that ran through him as you pressed a lingering kiss to his hip—all of it combined to create a heady mix of sensations that left you breathless.

The soft rustle of the sheets beneath you was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet, rhythmic hum of Spencer’s breathing and the occasional low moan that slipped past his lips. You could feel the way his body responded to your touch with an eagerness that mirrored your own. It was a dance of give and take, a perfect harmony of movements and sensations that left you both on the edge of control.

Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair, a gentle reminder of his presence, his need, and you responded by drawing him deeper into the sensations, your touch sure and steady as you worked to bring him closer to the edge.

Finally, putting the poor man out of his misery, you hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled his briefs down. Exposing him to the cool air, causing him to shiver. Then, because you’re not a monster, you licked a slow stripe up the side of his red, hard cock, causing a very loud groan to fall from between Spencer's lips.

The moment stretched out, filled with a tension that was both electric and tangible. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet rhythm that underscored the intense moment.

Your fingers brushed against his skin, tracing a delicate path along the line of his hip bone. You could feel the subtle tremor that ran through him. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to continue your exploration with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperate.

Spencer’s body was a study in contrasts—the hard lines of muscle beneath the softness of skin, the way he shivered under your touch even as he leaned into it, seeking more of the sensations you were creating.

The cool air caressed his exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your touch. You watched as goosebumps erupted along his flesh, a physical manifestation of his heightened arousal. The sight sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a reminder of the power you held in this moment.

You leaned in, your breath warm against his cock as you placed a soft, lingering kiss along the tip. The taste of him was addictive, a heady mix of salt and musk that left you wanting more. The feeling of his skin beneath your lips was electric, sending shivers of excitement through your body.

Spencer let out a quiet groan, a low, primal sound that reverberated through the room and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. His hands found their way, deeper somehow, in your hair, his grip firm and steady as he urged you closer, his need evident in the way he moved you.

His cock twitched in response to your touch, the sensation was dizzying, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that left you breathless. You allowed your fingers to explore further, tracing a slow, deliberate path along the length of his shaft. The texture was smooth and warm, a perfect contrast to the cool air that surrounded you. You could feel the faint tremor in his muscles, a testament to his struggle to maintain control in the face of such intense sensation.

“Please, please do something,” Spencer nearly whined, his voice tinged with desperation as he watched you with wide eyes, his body trembling with need.

As you finally leaned in, allowing your mouth to join the dance of sensation and touch, you heard Spencer’s breath hitch in his throat, a quiet sound of desire that filled the room. The taste of him on your tongue was intoxicating, a rich, heady mix of salt and musk that left you craving more.

The moment your lips made contact, Spencer released a shuddering exhale, his body responding to the heat of your mouth with a visceral intensity that took your breath away. His hips shifted involuntarily, each movement sending ripples of sensation through your body as well.

The sound of your mouth against his skin was almost hypnotic, a rhythmic whisper that echoed through the room, mingling with Spencer's soft moans and the quiet rustle of the sheets beneath him. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his abdomen as he tried to steady his breathing, the quiet hitch in his breath every time you shifted, adjusted your grip, or took him deeper.

His taste lingered on your tongue as you bobbed your head along his shaft. The feeling of his smooth, taught skin between your lips only caused the mess between your thighs to grow. You were soaking wet at the sight of the man who so confidently took you apart, writhing at the feeling of your mouth on him.

Spencer's hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to hold onto the last ounce of his control. His touch was gentle but insistent, a silent plea for you to continue, to explore every inch of him until he was lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you were so skillfully creating.

As you continued your ministrations, you couldn't help but revel in the power you held over him, the way you could make his body respond to your every touch, your every movement. It was intoxicating, the thrill of being the one to unravel him, to bring him to the edge and watch as he teetered there, a breathless, trembling mess beneath you.

The quiet, involuntary sounds that slipped past his lips were music to your ears, a symphony of pleasure and need that urged you on, pushing you to explore further, to discover every hidden reaction, every secret spot that made him gasp and moan.

Spencer's breathing grew more ragged, his chest heaving with each breath as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a living thing that pulsed and throbbed in your mouth, begging for release.

With each pass of your mouth, each flick of your tongue, you felt him draw nearer to the brink, the pleasure building to a fever pitch that left you both trembling with need. You pulled up to his tip, sucking harshly and greedily taking down the precum you were rewarded.

“Fuck, fuck, Y/N. You have to pull off, I’m gonna—”

Finally, as you felt him begin to unravel beneath you, his grip on your hair tightening, you knew he was on the verge of release. The realization sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a sense of accomplishment at having brought him to this point, this state of utter abandon.

But, you pulled off, just as he asked.

His eyes fluttered open, glazed with desire, and a mixture of relief and frustration washed over his features. The air between you was charged with electricity, thick as you gazed up at him, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his voice a low, rough whisper filled with gratitude and a hint of desperation. His hands remained in your hair, holding you there as if afraid you might disappear, the heat of his skin still pulsing beneath your touch.

You sat back on your heels, his hands falling, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you surveyed the man before you. Spencer lay sprawled across the bed, a beautiful mess of tousled hair, flushed skin, and a very hard cock leaning on his tummy.

“Didn’t want to spoil the fun too soon?” you teased, your voice sultry and full of promise.

Spencer let out a breathless laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement and unabashed desire. “I didn’t expect you to be so... good at this,” he admitted, his voice still tinged with awe as he watched you with a newfound appreciation.

“Surprised?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached out to trail your fingers lazily along his thigh, feeling the residual tremor of his muscles beneath your touch.

“Pleasantly,” he replied, his voice rich with honesty as he met your gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“Well, the night’s not over yet,” you said, your tone full of suggestion as you shifted your position, moving with a deliberate slowness that kept Spencer’s gaze locked onto you. The dim lighting cast a warm, intimate glow over your skin, highlighting every curve and angle as you made your intentions clear.

Spencer watched you, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing. You were presenting yourself to him, offering yourself. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through his already overwrought senses.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, a sensual dance that had Spencer transfixed, his breath catching in his throat as he watched you. You turned slightly, your back arching gracefully, presenting your body to him in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted. The smoothness of your skin and the glistening of your core caught the light, every curve accentuated by the shadows, and Spencer couldn't help but let his gaze travel over you, taking in every detail, every nuance.

“You like what you see, Doctor?” you teased with a shake of your hips, your voice a sultry purr that sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine.

His response was a low, almost guttural sound that spoke volumes, a wordless expression of the desire that burned so brightly within him. He shifted slightly, his body tense as his hands reached out as if drawn to you by an invisible force.

“I like it very much,” he murmured, his voice a husky blend of awe and hunger as he drank in the sight of you. The way you held yourself, the confidence in your gaze, the promise of what was to come—it was all intoxicating, drawing him in and leaving him utterly captivated.

Spencer moved closer, the soft rustle of the sheets beneath him a quiet accompaniment to the sounds and sensations of desire that filled the room. Your skin was warm under Spencer’s touch as his hands found their way to your hips, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that left you both breathless.

The feeling of his hands on you was electric, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race and your senses sing. Every touch, every caress, sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, leaving you aching for more, your skin hypersensitive to every nuance of his touch.

Spencer’s hands traveled with a gentle insistence, mapping the contours of your body with a touch that was both reverent and possessive. You could feel the subtle tremor in his fingers, the heat of his palms as they pressed against your ass.

His breath was warm against your ear, his voice a low murmur as he whispered, “You’re so sexy.” The words sent a thrill through you, a spark that ignited a fire in your belly and left you yearning for more of his touch, more of the sensations that seemed to flood your senses with every passing moment.

You turned your head slightly, your lips finding his in a kiss that was equal parts tenderness and demand. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of warmth and spice that made your heart race and your senses reel.

Spencer pulled away, and you felt the bed shift as he repositioned himself behind you. The room was filled with a quiet hum of anticipation, the air thick with the charged tension between you. You could feel his gaze on you, a tangible heat that seemed to sear into your skin.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice a low, rumbling purr that sent a shiver down your spine. There was an earnestness in his question, a genuine desire to ensure that you were comfortable and ready.

“Positive, Doctor,” you replied, the words laced with playful confidence as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze. The term of endearment had become a safeguard to you, not wanting to get too used to saying his name.

Spencer’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm and relief, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of embarrassment as he admitted his unpreparedness.

“You don’t?” you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. It was a playful jab, meant to lighten the mood and add a touch of humor to the charged atmosphere.

“I didn’t expect this to happen…” Spencer admitted, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson as he chuckled awkwardly.

“That’s really sweet, actually,” you replied, your voice softening as you took in the sight of him. The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, a reminder of why you had been drawn to him in the first place. “Yes, I do,” you confirmed, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “Let me up real quick.”

Spencer playfully groaned, a sound filled with exaggerated reluctance as he shifted to give you space. But before you could move, he leaned down, leaving a small, teasing bite on your asscheek—a cheeky gesture that sent a spark of pleasure through you.

“Down, boy!” you teased, your voice a mock admonishment as you slipped out of his grasp, your feet finding the floor with a soft thud. You cast a playful glance back at him, enjoying the sight of him sprawled on the bed, watching you while he pulled on his own cock.

As you turned back to the bed, condom in hand, you found Spencer watching you with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—was both thrilling and humbling.

“Got it,” you announced, your voice a playful sing-song as you waved the packet in the air. Spencer’s eyes lit up with amusement, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he watched you return to the bed.

You climbed back onto the mattress, feeling the familiar give of the sheets beneath your knees as you settled in beside him. The warmth of his body was a comforting presence, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room that brushed against your skin.

Spencer reached for you, his touch gentle and insistent as he guided you back into position. His hands were warm against your skin, the chemistry seemed to crackle between you.

Spencer tore open the foil packet, the soft crinkle of the wrapper a prelude to the main event. You could smell the faint scent of latex from the condom, mingling with the lingering aroma of his cologne—a spicy, woodsy scent that was undeniably masculine and entirely Spencer.

Spencer moved with a practiced ease, his fingers deft and sure as he prepared himself, rolling the condom down with a kind of confident precision that spoke of experience. The sight of him handling himself with such ease sent a thrill racing through you, your breath catching at the implication. It was a heady rush of desire that made your heart race and your skin flush with heat.

As he finished, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, a smoldering intensity burning within them that made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, a touch that was as intimate as any caress. You could feel the desire radiating off of him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His tone was full of promise, a dark velvet sound that wrapped around you like a warm embrace, holding you captive in its depths.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely a whisper as it slipped from your lips, heavy with need. Your body ached for his touch, every fiber of your being attuned to the promise of pleasure that awaited you.

Spencer leaned forward, his hands finding your hips with a surety that left you breathless. His touch was firm and possessive, a silent promise of the pleasure he intended to deliver. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, a delicious contrast to the cool air that still lingered around you.

His lips brushed against your ear, a featherlight touch that sent a thrill racing through you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I bet you feel as good as you taste,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. The confession was both intimate and incendiary, stoking the flames of your arousal until you were burning for him.

“Shit,” you whispered back, a high pitched sound that left your lips before you could think better of it. Spencer responded with a quiet, breathy chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, the pressure of his fingers was grounding.

He positioned himself at your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt through your body. The tip of him brushed against your core, a featherlight touch that made your breath catch and your heart race.

Slowly, carefully, he began to push forward, the pressure building with each inch as he entered you. The feeling was exquisite, a slow, delicious burn that stretched you around him, filling you completely. The friction was intoxicating, a perfect balance of pleasure and pressure that had you gasping for breath.

Spencer let out a low, shuddering moan as he sank into you, his fingers digging into your hips with a possessive urgency that left you breathless. The sound was raw and primal, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through him, mirrored in the sensations that raced through your own body.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet combination of gasps and moans that mingled with the rustle of the sheets beneath you. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix making you hyper aware of every touch, every sensation.

As he began to move, Spencer set a steady, deliberate pace that left you reeling with sensation. Each thrust was a measured blend of power and precision, a rhythm that built slowly, methodically, until it had you teetering on the edge of control.

“You feel so fucking good,” Spencer breathed, his voice a low, gravelly growl that sent a thrill racing through you.

“So big,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to find words in the midst of the overwhelming sensations that flooded your senses. The feel of him moving inside you, the way he filled you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Spencer’s hands moved with a purpose, tracing the curves of your body as he drove you higher, his touch both grounding and incendiary. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way his muscles flexed with each movement, feeling the strength and control he wielded.

His lips found your neck, trailing a line of heated kisses along the sensitive skin that sent shivers down your spine. The feel of his mouth against your skin was electric, a tantalizing mix of heat and teeth that left you gasping for breath, your body arching into his touch.

The sensation of his body moving against yours, the delicious friction as he drove deeper, harder, was a pleasure that threatened to unravel you completely. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy radiating through you.

“Spencer,” you gasped, the word slipping past your lips as a breathless plea, a desperate cry for more.

His response was immediate, his pace quickening as he drove into you, each movement a perfect blend of power and precision that left you on the brink of release. His hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm and possessive as he pulled you back to meet each of his thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious friction that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You could feel the strength in his fingers, the way they dug into your flesh with each powerful motion, grounding you even as you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. The heat of his hands against your skin was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, adding another layer of sensation to the already heady mix.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of wet, rhythmic slaps and breathless gasps that only heightened your arousal. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure rippling through you, building in intensity with every movement until you were teetering on the edge of control.

Spencer’s breath was hot against your ear, each exhale a ragged sigh that sent shivers down your spine. “How are you still so tight?” he groaned, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that resonated through your entire body. The words were a potent mix of praise and desire, pushing you even closer to the brink.

Your own breath came in short, ragged gasps, each inhale a struggle as you fought to hold on to your control. “Spencer,” you moaned, your body aching for release.

His response was a deep, primal growl that vibrated through his chest and into your back, his hips snapping forward with a renewed intensity that left you breathless. His hands guided your movements, pulling you back to meet each thrust with a force that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

The pressure within you built to a fever pitch, a tight coil that wound tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations, the feel of him driving into you, the sound of his voice in your ear, the taste of salt on your lips as you bit down, trying to hold on just a little longer.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his voice a rough, desperate sound that sent a thrill racing through you. “I’m so close.”

The admission was your undoing. The coil within you snapped, sending a wave of blinding ecstasy crashing over you. Your body tensed, every muscle tightening as you cried out, the sound raw and unrestrained as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure.

Spencer continued to move, driving you through the waves of your release with a steady, relentless rhythm that left you trembling and gasping for breath. The feeling of him moving inside you, filling you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, each thrust sending new ripples of sensation through your already oversensitive body.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, Spencer’s pace grew more erratic, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. You could feel the strain in his muscles, the way his fingers dug into your hips with a new urgency.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft, breathless plea as you turned your head to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes was a perfect reflection of the intensity you felt, raw desire and desperate need that sent another wave of heat through you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Spencer buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he reached his own release. The sound of his pleasure—a low, guttural groan—sent a shiver of satisfaction through you.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of your mingled breaths, a soft, rhythmic counterpoint to the fading echoes of your shared passion. Spencer’s grip on your hips softened, his touch becoming a gentle caress as he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice a soft, reverent murmur that sent a final shiver of pleasure through you.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you caught your breath. “So are you, Doctor.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with affection and lingering desire as he gently helped you shift to a more comfortable position. The warmth of his body against yours was soothing, a perfect counterpoint to the lingering heat of your shared passion. You nestled into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace and contentment settle over you as you allowed yourself to relax in his arms.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the comforting weight of his presence, lulled you into a state of drowsy contentment. You felt safe and secure in his arms, the events of the night playing through your mind in a haze of satisfaction and warmth.

Slowly, the pull of sleep became too strong to resist, and you allowed yourself to drift off, cocooned in the comforting embrace of the man who had brought you such intense pleasure. The last thing you remembered before slipping into the depths of slumber was the gentle press of Spencer's lips against your forehead, a tender kiss that spoke volumes.

—

Morning came all too soon, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains and casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke slowly, the memories of the night before still vivid in your mind as you lay in the warmth of Spencer's embrace. For a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the feeling, the sense of belonging that came from being wrapped in his arms.

But reality soon intruded, and you knew that you couldn't stay. With a quiet sigh, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, moving with practiced ease to avoid waking him. Spencer's face was peaceful in sleep, a small smile playing on his lips that made your heart ache with affection and regret.

You knew he’d be confused when he woke up in your apartment alone. The realization that you had made a mistake by bringing him here weighed heavily on you. You quickly dressed, the rustle of your clothes sounding loud in the otherwise silent room. Every movement felt like a betrayal, a departure from the intimacy you had shared just hours before.

Grabbing a sticky note pad and a pen from your desk, your mind raced as you tried to think of what to write. The pen felt heavy in your hand, the blank surface of the note a stark reminder of the conversation you couldn't have face to face.

Spencer, you wrote, your handwriting shaky and rushed, Thank you for last night. There’s a key under the mat, please lock the door on your way out. Take care.

You placed the note where he would see it, the yellow square stark against the dark wood of your dresser. You stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of him one last time, memorizing the peaceful curve of his lips, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

With a heavy heart, you turned and quietly left the room. You headed for a friend's house, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. You needed to stay busy, to distract yourself until you were sure Spencer had left your apartment. As you knocked on the door, you resolved to cherish the memory of the night you had shared with Spencer, even as you moved forward with your life.

—

It had been a month since Spencer's encounter with you. At first, he was extremely confused and hurt, thinking there was a real spark between the two of you. Upon leaving your apartment that morning, he realized he never got your last name or your phone number. He didn't even know your address properly. Technically, he could figure it out quite easily, but he knew if you wanted him to talk to you again, you would have stayed.

For about two weeks, he thought about you every day and night, replaying the moments you shared and trying to understand what went wrong. Initially, he was sad, then worried something might have happened, and finally, he became livid at the thought that you might have used him. But now, it had been a month, and he had resigned himself to forget you and move on with his life.

Back to regular life, Spencer walked into the bullpen, immediately sensing something unusual. Everyone was not-so-subtly glancing toward Hotch’s office, their expressions twisted with curiosity and surprise.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“There’s a woman in Hotch’s office,” Emily replied, her eyes flicking toward the closed door.

“Okay?” Spencer prompted, waiting for more context.

“She knew my name, man,” Derek added, sounding both impressed and slightly confused.

“Uh oh, did you forget one of your many lovers?” Spencer joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not cool, kid. I’d remember a pretty face like hers,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“How else would she know you?” Emily asked, her curiosity mirroring Spencer’s.

Just then, the door to Hotch’s office opened, and you stepped out, accompanied by Aaron. “Guys, this is Agent Y/N Y/L,” Hotch said, introducing you to the team. “She will be joining us while JJ is on maternity leave.”

Spencer’s heart stopped as he saw you. He felt all the blood drain from his face, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. There you were, the woman who had loved him and then left him without a trace, now standing in front of him in the bullpen.

You seemed calm and composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside Spencer. You gave a polite smile and nodded at the team, your eyes briefly locking with Spencer’s before moving on, not recognizing him immediately, or not caring.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, your voice steady and professional. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

The rest of the team greeted you warmly, exchanging pleasantries, while Spencer remained rooted to his spot, his mind racing. Finally, your eyes fell on him and really looked.

“Hi, Doctor,” you said calmly, your voice steady and composed.

“Y/N,” he replied, his tone clipped and strained.

“Hold up, do you two know each other?” Derek asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I remember you!” Penelope cut in, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “You were at the Doctor Who convention! Madame de Pompadour! You looked beautiful.”

“Thank you!” you responded with a warm smile. “I don’t recall meeting you, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, we didn’t meet, sweetie,” Penelope giggled kindly. “I saw you talking to Reid here.”

“Ah,” you said, a hint of realization dawning in your eyes as you glanced back at Spencer.

The strain between you and Spencer was tangible, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Spencer’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process the fact that you were now standing in front of him, a part of his professional life.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Emily asked, her eyes darting between the two of you.

“We… met at the convention,” Spencer said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“Yes, we did,” you confirmed, keeping your tone neutral. “It was a brief encounter.”

Spencer's jaw tightened at your choice of words, the hurt and confusion from a month ago resurfacing with a vengeance. He knew he had to keep it together, at least for now, but the unresolved feelings were making it difficult.

“Small world, huh?” Derek said with a chuckle, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension.

“Indeed,” you replied, your eyes flicking back to Spencer. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”

Spencer nodded stiffly, his mind still racing with questions and emotions. He knew he needed to talk to you, to get some answers, but now wasn’t the time. He would have to wait for a more private moment to confront you about what had happened.

For now, he had to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside his personal turmoil to maintain his professionalism. But as he watched you interact with the rest of the team, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 month ago

Text

The Perfect Paradox - Tenth Doctor X Female Reader

Title: The Perfect Paradox

Tenth Doctor X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother mentioned, neighbors, Susan Johnson (OC), town Elders, TARDIS, Rose (Mentioned),

WC: 8,003

Warnings: Reader wears a dress/skirt, nicknames, marriage, 50s women stereotypes/misogyny mentioned, 50s-themed clothing, italics, yelling, gaslighting, slight mental breakdown?, italics for a flashback, teasing, banter, brainwashing, be prepared to run, protective Doctor, Doctor's trauma mentioned briefly (Rose), slight angst, and fluff

Your melodic humming filled the kitchen as you stood by the stove, stirring scrambled eggs around on the frying pan. The bright morning sun shined through your windows and past your white lace curtains, enveloping the kitchen in a warm golden glow. Sizing the scrambled eggs up - assuming they were done - you reached over to turn off the stove.

Brushing down the skirt of your blue, fit-and-flare dress, you walked over to the coffee maker, grabbing your two mugs from the cupboard - one Prussian Blue, and the other a simple brown - you poured the steaming coffee into both of them. Leaning over the counter slightly, one foot lifting in the process, you opened the small glass jar of sugar cubs. Dropping two in one of the mugs, you grabbed a small spoon and stirred the sugar into the hot liquid.

You decided to not take a sip - fearing that you might burn your tongue - so you quickly turned back to the eggs on the stove. Grabbing one of the two plates from beside you on the counter, you began to plate the scrambled eggs, continuing to hum as you heard the toast pop up in the toaster. Grabbing the pair of freshly made toast from the toaster, you began to spread butter upon both of them, before setting them down on the plates beside the eggs. Picking up one of the plates, fork in hand, your husband came in through the kitchen doorway. Right on time.

Dressed in a neatly pressed, dark blue suit with red pinstripes, he straightened his herringboned burgundy tie with a mauve flora design. His white button-up underneath was wrinkle-free from when you ironed it the night before. Your husband looked handsome, as always. You dreamily sighed mentally. You had always considered him a handsome bloke in a tight suit with amazing hair. And speaking of his brown hair - the soft strands usually stuck out everywhere, especially in the early mornings - was gelled to the side. His sideburns were prominent, one of your favorite physically attractive things about your man. All ready for work.

As he spotted the brown coffee mug on the counter, he gave you a glance, his smile growing as he winked in thanks. You mentally sighed once more. You always found yourself staring at his dark chocolate eyes - even when he wasn’t looking.

As he took a drink from his coffee, his eyes landed on the plate of eggs and toast you were holding for him, and he let out a hum; setting the coffee mug down. "Oh, I'm sorry, darling, but I am really running late." He spoke, grabbing the briefcase from off the dining table. His Estuary English accent sounded beautiful every morning, and night; just all the time really.

You only smiled, shaking your head lightly, "No, it's alright." You sat the plate down just as he made his way over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek in a farewell; his tall, lean statue towering over you. "Have a good day, honey."

"You too, dear." He replied, grabbing his long, light brown overcoat and tossing it over his arm, he turned halfway out the door, giving you one last grin before leaving for work. You wished your husband wasn't running late, giving him time to eat, but those times weren’t often, seeing how busy he is with being an internationally renowned neurosurgeon and all. Your mother had always wanted you to marry a Doctor.

Letting out a small content sigh, you began to wrap up your husband's breakfast in some saran wrap, before placing it in the fridge. You then ate and got ready for the day. Taking the rollers out of your hair, you made sure you looked presentable enough to go out and about. Looking out the window, you admired how nice it looked outside; you decided that it would be nice to go for a small walk.

Grabbing your purse, you slipped on your short, white gloves, and matching hat. Making sure you had everything you needed, you grabbed your house keys and left.

There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone brightly, warming your skin. Passing house after house in the wonderful suburbs you and your husband lived in, you continued to smile. The streets were clean - as were the sidewalks and people's yards; freshly mowed. Colorful flowers were planted at each home, composed of roses, tulips, and marigolds. Your home also had a lovely little garden in the front yard, where you raised your pretty pink roses. They were your joy.

Shady Grove was a small town in practically the middle of nowhere. All the houses were very similar and matched in color, size, and shape. Every yard - as said before - had gardens, perfectly planted, near the large front windows of the homes. White picket fences lined each property line, separating each house from the other. The wives made breakfast in the mornings while their husbands got ready for work. And after saying goodbye to their wives, they would leave for work.

Everything in Shady Grove operated with perfect precision. The same type and brand of cars left their driveways at the same time each day, their engines starting in perfect unison. The children, neatly dressed in their school uniforms, marched to the bus stop, their laughter bright. The air was filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming roses, as if someone had bottled the essence of suburban bliss and sprayed it all over the town.

You loved Shady Grove with its tidy streets and friendly neighbors. The community events organized by the Women's Association were always a highlight, bringing everyone together for picnics and bake sales. The local library, with its rows of perfectly shelved books, was your sanctuary on Saturdays - a place where you felt at peace among the orderly rows of shelves. To you, Shady Grove was simply the epitome of suburban paradise, and you cherished every moment spent within its meticulously maintained borders.

Spotting a few blue birds, you watched them fly with a smile, hearing their little chirps. Your eyes then landed on the high grassy hills outside the town. Your eyes immediately spotted something in the distance, but before you could even think further, you remembered that you were planning on making a strawberry milk pie. You loved pie, and it was one of your husband’s favorites. Your neighbor, Susan Johnson, was dropping off some of her fresh home-grown strawberries the very next day. The market was just around the corner, so you decided to get some milk and eggs to prepare for the baking.

~~~

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you hummed softly to yourself in the kitchen. You chopped vegetables with practiced ease, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filling the air. The aroma of roasting chicken wafted through the house, mingling with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. It was your husband's favorite dish, and you took pride in preparing it just the way he liked it.

When you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening, you smiled to yourself; continuing to cook. "Honey, I'm home!" He called, making you giggle.

"Welcome home." You called, before finishing dinner. You were almost done.

"Is dinner almost ready, dear?" You heard your husband's voice, knowing him to be in the dining room.

Opening the Dutch oven, you smiled as the scent of the delicious food wafted out, the aroma making your mouth water. A large plate full of roasted vegetables sat on the counter before you. Turning the heat off, you began to make both you and your husband a plate. "Yes, honey," You called back to him, "Just one moment." Heading to the dining room, you placed your husband's plate down in front of him, making him look away from his newspaper; setting it down on the table beside his food.

"This looks delicious, darling," He complimented, slipping off his dark brown, acetate frames, before beginning to dig in.

Sitting down at the end of the table, you grabbed the pastel yellow cotton napkin from the table, opened it, and placed it on your lap. Shuffling slightly in your seat, you got ready to eat, cutting into the meat with your fork and knife, "Is it to your liking?" You asked, glancing up at him, and taking a bite of the food.

Nodding, he spoke, "It is perfect, my darling,"

You smiled, watching as he enjoyed his meal, a sense of contentment washed over you. You loved these simple moments of domesticity, where the outside world seemed to fade away. "Well, how was your day, honey?"

Your husband cleared his throat, "It was quite a day, dear. I spent most of my time in the operating room." He began, pausing to sip at his water before continuing, "We had a particularly challenging case involving a brain tumor, but I'm pleased to say it went well." You nodded along, fully engaged in his words, "After the surgeries, I attended a meeting discussing new techniques we're hoping to implement soon. It's exhausting, but fulfilling work." He finished, looking up from his food, "Oh, how was your day today, dear?" He asked, as if remembering, but you hadn't noticed.

Your hand froze holding your fork mid-air at his question before you placed it back on your plate, "Oh, it was great, honey. I got groceries from the market, and I also cleaned up around the house and did some laundry."

Your husband paused, looking up at you slowly, "Nothing... Odd happened today?" His gaze was intense; questioning.

You continued to smile, though confused, you shook your head, "No, I don't recall anything odd happening today." Your smile then dropped as a question popped up in your head, blinking your eyes owlishly, "I didn't miss anything important today, did I?"

"No," Your husband spoke, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

"Oh!" You exclaimed as you remembered something, your husband's head shooting up at your exclamation, "I saw that there was a deal on that type of pork that you like, so I bought it for a future dish."

At your response, his shoulders dropped and he breathed out of his nose. Finishing his dinner, and patting the side of his lips, he grabbed the newspaper once more, "That's nice, dear," He spoke, his voice sounding slightly muffled behind the newspaper. "Some dessert would be nice."

"Dessert, absolutely," You quickly dabbed the corners of your own lips before standing. Grabbing your empty plate and his, you headed to the kitchen to fetch your loving and doting husband some well-deserved ice cream; he had such a long and hard day.

~~~

The next morning, you and your husband woke up bright and early; as you both did every morning. Dressing in a sunflower yellow fit-and-flare dress, you carefully made sure the rollers in your hair were still in place before getting ready for the day. It was the weekend, so your husband was thankfully staying home with you and keeping you company. Though, you did have a few plans for the day. Susan was coming over to drop those strawberries off, and you were planning to go to the library before coming home to make dinner and two strawberry milk pies - along with any house duties that needed to be done.

Making sure you looked presentable, you began cleaning. As your husband read in his La-Z-Boy recliner, a cup of steaming coffee beside him on the coffee table - made just how he liked it - you were mopping the kitchen floors. The scent of lemon-scented cleaner filled the air, mingling with the aroma of brewing coffee. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the freshly polished countertops.

As you finished in the kitchen, you turned your attention to dusting the shelves in the living room. Everything had to be just right for Susan's visit later. You straightened the neatly arranged books on the shelves, occasionally pausing to glance at your husband, immersed in his book with an unreadable expression.

"Would you like another cup of coffee, honey?" You asked, breaking the quiet concentration that filled the room.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a faint smile. "No, thank you, dear. I'm fine for now," He replied, returning his attention to his book.

You nodded and continued with your tasks, the rhythmic swish of the feather duster against the bookshelves becoming a comforting background noise. But at the sound of the doorbell, you turned towards the noise, your content smile widening. "That must be Susan with the strawberries." You spoke, before heading to the door.

Stashing your feather duster away, you brushed your skirt down with both hands before letting out a sigh. Reaching out, you opened the door, though, at the sight of the man outside your door, your smile faltered slightly; though, it didn't vanish.

The man in front of you let out a sigh of what seemed like a sigh of relief, a bright smile appearing on his face, "Finally! I found you! I've probably checked every house on this block looking for you. Are you alright? We have to go." He reached out to grab your arm but you stepped back, now majorly confused.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "Found me? What- Uh," You asked, stuttering, confused, but you recomposed yourself, "May I help you, sir?"

This man before you went to speak, but ultimately shut his mouth. And then he just stared at you, his own eyebrows furrowed, his dark brown eyes seemingly analyzing you. It was intense. His eyes then broke from yours and glanced around wildly to the side and behind you before looking back at you, "It's me, the Doctor," He gestured to himself, but upon receiving no reply - confusion still in your eyes - his tone dropped, "You have to remember me." His voice is low, and deep, but you remained silent; a shiver ran through you from his intense stare, your cheeks feeling warm.

You also took this time to observe him. His hair was brown, strands sticking up in odd angles like he had just gotten out of bed. His eyes were brown, like dark chocolate. He was tall, and lanky, wearing the very same attire your husband would wear to work. A thought buzzed in the back of your mind as you eyed his sideburns...

'He looks a lot like my husband.'

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't recognize you." You began, seeing something flash in his eyes as he ran a frustrated - almost angry - hand through his hair, "Do you work with my husband?"

Before he could speak though, your husband's voice caught your attention, "Who's at the door, dear?"

Turning, your smile widened at his presence, watching him enter the entryway. Your smile faltered slightly upon seeing your husband's frown. "This gentleman said that he was a doctor." You spoke to him, "Is he one of your colleagues?"

Your husband doesn't answer, coming up beside you, his hand coming up to press against your lower back. "Why don't you vacuum the living room, dear? You did mention that you wanted to clean the floor earlier." Your husband spoke, and you gave him a bright smile, nodding.

"Yes, honey." You spoke as your husband went to stand by the stranger at your door, his hand on the doorknob to shut the door behind him, wanting a private conversation with the man outside. Heading to the living room, just as the front door began to shut, it stopped suddenly.

"Y/N!" You heard the stranger call for you, making you turn, seeing him holding the door open as your husband visibly glared at him. Your husband was trying to close the door, but the stranger was preventing him. The look on the stranger's face was a look of total determined desperation. For some reason, you felt that whatever he was going to say was urgent. Pushing against the strength of your husband, he grunted lightly before speaking; his dark eyes bore into yours, "When did you get married!?"

At those words, he was overpowered and the door slammed shut. The sound reverberated in your mind, echoing as you found yourself frozen to where you stood. You stared at the door, before you moved your hand up, your eyes meeting the glimmering ring on your ring finger.

'When did you get married!?'

'When did I get married?'

Your mind felt suddenly blank, fuzzy even. You tried to recall the details of your wedding day, but the memories remained elusive, obscured behind a fog. You shut your eyes tight and rubbed your temples, hoping to coax out fragments of recollection, but all you could grasp were fleeting glimpses: the scent of roses in the air, the warmth of sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows, and the faces of smiling guests.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the living room. If you had gotten married, wouldn't there be pictures? Searching the walls, you passed each one, trying to find something - anything - that would confirm your wedding day. Each frame held snapshots of idyllic moments: vacations, family gatherings, and smiling faces captured in time.

"No wedding photos," You muttered, your voice barely audible as a knot tightened in your stomach. It was as if the most significant day of your life had been erased, replaced by an unsettling void that threatened to swallow you whole. But you kept searching - from the dining room, kitchen, hallways, bathroom, and bedroom - yet, you found nothing. You even searched the closets for your dress, but even that too was missing. Finding yourself back in the living room, you heard the front door open. You could feel your husband's presence behind you, and you let out a shaky breath, "How come we don't have any pictures of our wedding?" You asked, not bothering to turn around.

"You didn't want any," He spoke, and that made you turn, your eyes holding so much confusion. He looked down at you, continuing, "Don't you remember? You didn't want us to waste our money on all that film or to hire someone to take them. That's why we didn't get any." He explained.

"I did that?" You asked, doubting yourself but more questions began popping up in your head, and before you could even stop yourself, you were speaking; "How long have we been married?"

Your husband let out a laugh as if what you had said was stupid, "Seven years," He replied, causing you to blink, "What do you mean how long have we been married?" Your husband shook his head, his hand rising to stroke your back, "It's nothing, darling. Just forget it, alright?"

“What about my dress? My wedding dress, where is it?” You asked, your finger twisting your wedding band around your finger; fidgeting.

“You donated it,” He answered, “Please, dear, this is silly-”

"Why did he look so much like you?" You ignored him, his usually comforting and welcomed touch burning you, you quickly slipped out of his hold, staring up at him with wide eyes as if he had grown a second head. "Who was he?"

He blinked at you before letting out an almost awkward chuckle, shaking his head, "Just a friend from work, really, this is nothing you need to be so worked up about. Isn't Susan coming by soon?" He tried to again divert the conversation, but you weren't having it.

"No! Something's not right here!" You exclaimed, gesturing around you wildly, "How come I can't remember my wedding? Which is supposed to be the happiest day of my life! And why don't we have any evidence of a wedding, except rings? Not even my dress! How come I don't know when we married, when you proposed, or how I even met you?" You then gestured to the front door, "And why the hell does he show up at the door claiming to know me? And why the hell does he look so much like you!? He had the same hair and the same suit! Th-the same eyes!" You paused, your chest heaving with emotion as you awaited his response. Your husband’s expression shifted subtly, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he composed himself.

"Darling, I think you’re overreacting," He said gently, his voice soothing yet tinged with an edge of caution. "You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. It’s understandable that you might feel confused."

You shook your head vehemently, your mind racing with unanswered questions. "I'm not overreacting!" You insisted, your voice rising despite your efforts to remain calm. "There are too many things that don't add up, too many gaps in my memory. Important things missing. What is going on!?” You felt like you were having an anxiety attack, “I feel like I am going crazy.”

Your husband sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he regarded you with a mixture of concern and frustration. "Darling, please," He implored, reaching out as if to touch your arm. "Let's not do this now. Susan will be here soon, and-"

"No!" You interrupted, stepping back to avoid his touch. "I need answers.” He hesitated, his gaze flickering towards the doorway where Susan's impending arrival seemed to be his only lifeline. You began to pace the floor, biting on your thumb nail as you stared down at the floor, concentrating; "I don't remember- There are too many gaps... He looks just like you... The same eyes... Oh, god, his eyes..." You continued to pace until you stopped. "He knew my name. He said my name." You realized, slowly looking up at your supposed husband, "What's my name?"

He scoffed out a laugh - as if what you said again was ridiculous, "I know your name, darling, we're husband and wife."

"Yeah, you say that, but for however long I've been with you, you've only called me 'dear,' or 'darling.'" You took a step towards him, "What's my name?" His laughter grated against your fraying nerves, his dismissive tone fueling the fire under you. Yet, you stood your ground, refusing to back down despite the uncertainty gnawing at your core. "What's my name?" You repeated, your voice steady but laced with desperation. "Tell me my name."

Your husband’s face faltered, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet the weight of your gaze. Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken truths and the gravity of the situation unraveling before you both. "I..." He began, his voice wavering, but instead of answering, he looked away, his jaw clenched

"He knew my name," You murmured, a chill running down your spine as the pieces fell into place. "He called me by my name." The realization hit you like a tidal wave, washing away the illusions that had ensnared your mind for too long. You weren't the doting and compliant wife of your husband in Shady Grove. You were Y/N, a companion of the Doctor; a traveler of galaxies.

~~~

Leaning against the console of the TARDIS, you tried to keep still - rocking on the balls of your feet - but you were excited to see where the Doctor was taking you next. You watched as he whizzed around the circular console, pulling levers and flipping switches.

"Where are we going today, Doctor?" You asked, unable to stop a small smile from growing on your face as Doctor flipped the final switch, the TARDIS hummed loudly, and the lights flashed for a split second.

"We, my dear companion, are going to Xephus." He exclaimed, looking over at you, "I stumbled upon it a couple of decades ago. Lovely place, nice people."

The Doctor started talking about the planet and its history. How it was a beautiful planet with lots of trees, animals, water, and so much food it would be impossible to eat it all. He continued talking about the beauty of the place and how it was similar to Earth. You admired him as he ranted, watching as the different expressions crossed his face; passion and excitement sparkled in his eyes at the mere thought of showing you another spectacular planet.

It was hard not to admire him. The way he spoke, the boundless enthusiasm he had for every discovery, every hidden corner of the universe. You'd been traveling with the Doctor for what felt like a lifetime, each journey only deepening your affection for him. At first, you told yourself it was just admiration, pure and simple - respect for his intelligence, bravery, and endless curiosity - his overall zest for life. But, the admiration had developed into something deeper, something you were hesitant to acknowledge fully in the beginning.

But you accepted that you had feelings for him a long time ago. More specifically when he took you to a planet called 'Blimszarys.' It was a quiet, unspoken truth that had made its way into your heart, a warmth that spread through you whenever he smiled or took your hand as you ran from danger.

You came to terms with it, embracing the reality of your feelings without expecting anything in return. The Doctor was a being of infinite complexity, and you were just one of many companions who had shared in his extraordinary life. The thought of burdening him with your feelings felt selfish and unnecessary. He had enough weight on his shoulders.

Besides, being by his side was enough for you.

"Y/N," His voice broke you out of whatever trance you had been trapped within, seeing his eyebrows furrowed, and dark eyes staring down at you; confused. "Was I boring you?" He asked with a chuckle, and you quickly shook your head, feeling your cheeks flush from embarrassment.

"No! Of course not, Doctor. You could never bore me," You insisted, turning to fully look at him, "I'm sorry, there's just a lot on my mind right now." You gave him a reassuring smile, but the concern on his face still lingered.

"Are you alright?" He then asked, "If you're not feeling well, we don't have to go. You humans and your human diseases, you never take care of yourselves properly." He huffed with faux indignantly, shaking his finger in your direction as he walked around the console.

"Hey, us humans certainly try," You protested, chuckling softly, following him around the console, meeting him by his side, "I am perfectly fine though. I'm not getting sick or anything. I just have a lot on my mind right now." 'You’re on my mind. You’re always on my mind.' You thought as the Doctor stared down at you, his gaze intense as they were whenever he was deep in thought. You just looked right back at him, a smile on your face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

With a huff, seemingly accepting your answer, that brilliant smile of his returned and he threw an arm over your shoulders; bringing you to his side. "Alright right then! To Xephus! Allons-y!"

~~~

You remembered appearing on Xephus, feeling pretty excited to see the planet that the Doctor had discovered decades ago, and spoke so fondly of. You remembered leaving with the Doctor - hand-in-hand - as you both traveled through a large field of flowers, towards the town in the distance. You then remembered going off to wander the town on your own. At some point in your wandering, you remembered seeing glimpses of people in dark cloaks. You remember the feeling of their hands on your arms, the fear coursing through you as you tried to call out for the Doctor.

You didn't know what they did to brainwash you, and you weren't going to stay for anyone to try and brainwash you again. Staring at the man before you, he stared right back, but before he could do or say anything, you bolted. Running out of the room and out the front door, you stumbled down the walkway, past the sidewalk, and onto the street. Your breathing was heavy, your chest rising and falling as your eyes frantically searched around you.

"Stop her!" You heard the man, who paraded around as your husband, your head whipping around to see him rushing towards you. Eyes wide, you continued to run, passing house after house; seeing men leaving their homes to chase you as well. Your labored breathing and your quick-beating heart echoed and pulsed in your ears as you passed the market; housewives, dressed in their fifties-themed attire, looked at you through the large windows oddly before going back to their shopping. Turning down another street, you frantically searched for any sign of the Doctor, weaving past an oncoming car - narrowingly missing it - as you frantically looked around for the Doctor.

Passing through two buildings - a barber shop and a diner - you pressed your back against the wall, trying to control your breathing as you quickly chucked off your heels. "She's over here!" You heard another voice yell, and you booked it. Running in between the two buildings, it spat you back out onto another street. You didn't look back, hearing the pounding of feet behind you. The large group of men - dressed in their suits and ties - were chasing after you; in reality, all of them were manipulating husbands.

You ran until you reached another street lined with shops; only to then feel someone grab your arm and pull you into an alley. You were whipped around, your back pressing up against the brick wall of the apothecary shop. Regaining your bearings, you quickly recognized the hands that were wrapped around your upper arms. You knew those long and long and slender hands anywhere. His grip was a mix of gentleness and intensity; the warmth of them seeping into your skin soothingly. Looking up, you sighed - tears of relief burning the backs of your eyes.

"Doctor, I-"

"Are you alright?" He interrupted, his voice gentle but urgent - his words came out quickly, yet clearly - though breathless from running and hiding; searching for you. Your well-being was his top priority. He waited for your response, his wide, dark chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face, before searching your eyes; looking for any signs of injury or distress. His furrowed eyebrows softened as he confirmed to himself that you were unharmed. If anything were to happen you...

"I'm okay," You spoke softly, still trying to calm your racing heart, "I'm okay," You repeated, your hands coming up to grab the edges of his light brown overcoat. “Right when I remembered, I ran for the hills.”

The Doctor let out a breath of relief. His hands fell from your arms, cupping your cheeks. Already looming over you, he bent towards you, shutting his eyes, and pressing his forehead against yours. Your own eyes fluttered shut, your grip on his overcoat tightening. The Doctor, internally, felt a pang of guilt rush over him. If only he stayed by your side. If only he kept an eye on you... This wouldn't have happened.

His protectiveness was fierce. Every instinct screamed to keep you safe, to ensure that no harm would ever come your way under his watch. The very thought of you being hurt stirred a deep-seated fear within him, a fear that fueled his relentless vigilance.

"Stay close to me," He whispered, his voice a blend of tenderness and steely determination. His hands, warm and reassuring, remained on your cheeks as if anchoring you to him; as if he was reassuring himself that you were truly safe. That you were there with him, next to him, alive and in one piece.

At that moment, with his forehead pressed against yours and his breath mingling with your own, you knew the Doctor would fight against the universe itself just to keep you safe, and as you stood there in his arms, you knew that you were more than just a companion - you were someone he cared for deeply, someone he would protect with every fiber of his being.

"I don't think we can talk or charm our way out of this one." You softly spoke, opening your eyes as he pulled away; his eyes meeting yours. Suddenly, a loud piercing siren began to blare, startling both you and the Doctor; it sounded like an earthquake siren. "They have sirens!?"

"Nifty, huh?" The Doctor spoke, his eyebrows furrowing in curiosity, "It's probably for those who try to escape."

"What are we going to do?" You asked, cupping your hands to your ears

Seemingly going back to his usual self, an idea formed in his mind. "Oh, you know, the usual." He spoke, flashing you a quick, mischievous grin. "Run like mad, avoid getting caught, and come up with a brilliant plan on the fly." You couldn't help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm.

"Sounds good to me, just as long as we get out of here together," You spoke, and the Doctor grinned, taking one of your hands in his.

"Right then," He said, his eyes sparkling with renewed determination. "Allons-y!" He ducked his head out of the alleyway, peering left and right before leading you through an empty street, his pace quick and purposeful. As you ran, despite the chaos, the terrible siren went off. He thrived in these moments, where quick thinking and daring moves were essential. Finally, you reached the TARDIS, the blue box standing tall and resilient on the field outside of the town. The Doctor pulled out his key, the door swinging open just as your pursuers came bounding up the hill of the green field. "In we go!" He urged, practically pushing you inside before slamming the door shut behind him. He immediately began flipping switches and pulling levers, the TARDIS roaring to life. As the familiar wheezing and groaning filled the air, you leaned against the console, catching your breath. The Doctor, now back in his element, looked at you with a triumphant smile. "See? Piece of cake."

You laughed, the tension of the past moments finally melting away. "You're impossible," You said, shaking your head.

"And you love it," He replied with a wink, his hands still busy at the controls.

You felt an immense warmth fill you, engulfing you, and making your heart skip a beat as you smiled. You suddenly closed the distance between you and the Doctor, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened for a moment in surprise before relaxing, his arms encircling you in return.

"Thank you," You whispered against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "For getting me out of there."

The Doctor's hold tightened slightly, his head resting gently against yours. "Always," He murmured softly, the single word carrying so much weight behind it. And at the feeling of his soft kiss on the top of your head, you held him tighter, wanting to convey everything that was rushing through your mind at that moment.

Letting go reluctantly, you gave him a small - yet, almost shy - smile. "I'm going to change, and get these rollers out of my hair." You spoke, "I'll be right back."

The Doctor watched you go, a small fond smile slipping onto his face. Watching as you headed towards your room that the TARDIS gave you.

~~~

Sitting at the open doors of the TARDIS, the Doctor watched the death of a few stars. As he waited for you to return, he thought back to Xephus. The guilt of losing sight of you still gnawed at him. If only... No, he couldn't allow himself to dwell on what-ifs.

When you had both split up, he found himself wandering around town, near the shops. Xephus was completely different than it was when he first visited it decades ago. He remembered the planet to be like Earth, with Earth-like food, plants, animals, and people who lived there. But, instead of cottages, there was a town full of suburban homes, barber shops, and markets. Your words played out in his mind, 'It's like stepping into the nineteen-fifties.' For some reason, the Doctor had a bad feeling in his gut.

Before he knew it, he couldn't find you, and the 'Elders' of the town of Shady Grove had taken him to their underground facility underneath the suburban houses. The Doctor stood in the dimly lit room, his eyes fixated on the screen displaying you, a shadow of your former self, dutifully fulfilling the role of a perfect housewife. His initial curiosity of why the planet had changed so much had given way to a burning anger, his normally lively features now etched with fury.

"Why would you do such a thing!?" He demanded, his voice echoing through the large room of metal walls and concrete floors. "What possible reason could you have for stripping away her identity, her memories, her life?"

The Elders, a group of stern-faced older men, exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward. His hair was graying, and his eyes were piercing. "We needed to create a harmonious society," The Elder explained, his tone measured and cold. "Individualism breeds chaos, and we have perfected a system where everyone has a role, a purpose. That was why Xephus has changed, Doctor. When you came here, we deemed your companion suitable for progressing our town. She was then chosen to be integrated into our community to maintain order and balance."

The Doctor's fists clenched at his sides, "Order and balance?" He echoed incredulously. "At the cost of her free will? Her autonomy? You have no right!"

The Elders remained unperturbed by the Doctor’s outburst. Another one stepped forward, his expression impassive. "Order and balance are paramount, Doctor," he stated calmly. "Without them, society would descend into chaos. Your companion’s integration was essential for the stability of Shady Grove."

The Doctor's fists tightened further, his knuckles turning white. He glanced back at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he observed the fake husband’s interactions with you. Jealousy tickled the edges of his mind, an unfamiliar and unwelcome emotion. Then, he noticed just how eerily similar the fake husband looked to him - his brown hair, sharp features, and charming demeanor.

"Why does he look like me?" The Doctor demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The first Elder, the one with the piercing eyes, replied with a faint, knowing smile. "During the brainwashing process, we extracted your companion’s subconscious desires and ideals. We created a husband based on her ideal partner to make her transition smoother and the illusion more believable. It turns out, Doctor, that her ideal partner is you."

If the Doctor was shocked, he didn't show it. He turned back to the screen, watching as the fake husband leaned in to kiss your cheek, a gesture that sent a sharp pang through his hearts. It was a bitter irony; you had been taken from him and given a life that mirrored what you might have desired, but it was a cruel mockery of reality.

The Doctor felt a mix of emotions, though his anger reigned supreme. The intensity of his anger rolled off of him in waves. "You think you've created the perfect society," He seethed, his eyes narrowed slightly. "But you've only created a prison. And I will free it! You won't hurt her, or anyone else, ever again." He stood tall, his jaw tightening, and his eyes darkening, "Enjoy your illusion of control while it lasts," He spat. "Because I’m going to dismantle it, piece by piece."

In short, it took three days for him to escape the cell they tossed him in while at the underground facility. Thankfully, he had his sonic screwdriver. It was also surprisingly easy to destroy their brainwashing machines. He then navigated through the facility’s labyrinthine corridors, his thoughts were solely focused on one goal: reaching you. Emerging from the underground facility - for some reason popping out of the barber's shop - he took a moment to breathe in the cool night air, the stars above a stark contrast to the artificial confines below.

And well, he found you, and he had hoped - deep down - that upon seeing him everything would come back to you, but it hadn't. Then your 'husband' got in the way. But, as he was getting led back to the facility, he escaped and hid in a nearby alleyway. But you were safe, you were in the TARDIS, not brainwashed, or injured. You were safe.

However, what the Elders had said and showed him was bubbling in his mind. The Elders said that they created your ideal partner to help you believe in your new life. And your ideal partner was him. The Doctor let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He had always known that you admired him, but this revelation was different. It forced him to confront feelings he had buried deep inside. Feelings he had for you.

The fear was still there, gnawing at him. He was scared because of what had happened with Rose. Losing her had been one of the most painful experiences of his long life. The thought of starting a relationship with you only to lose you in the end terrified him. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself.

The sound of your footsteps drew him from his troubling thoughts, his gaze shifting from the stars and over his shoulder. You walked out of the hallway, dressed in your sweats. You ran a hand through your hair, free from the rollers; you had taken a shower. Spotting him, you smiled, walking over. The Doctor turned back to the stars as you sat down beside him. Letting your socked feet hang off the edge, you gently kicked them; your hands pressed at your side, palms against the grated floor.

Turning your head, you observed the Doctor's side profile before speaking, "So, I have some questions," You spoke up, breaking the silence, and the Doctor turned, giving you a grin.

"What would you like to know?" He asked, and you huffed lightly, looking back at the stars.

"How long was I under their control?" You asked, a rough one right out the gate, but you had to know.

"Ah," The Doctor nodded his head, "Three days."

You snapped your head over to him, your eyes wide, "Three days?" You gasped. "It felt like forever. How did they make it seem so real?"

"Ah, well," He breathed out, "They manipulated your memories and created an environment that catered to your subconscious desires. Time felt different because they controlled every aspect of your perception." He spoke nonchalantly, masking his inner turmoil with his usual wit and calm demeanor. "I'm afraid they were quite crafty, those Elders. Manipulating time and memory like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat," He answered with a wry smile, though his eyes betrayed a hint of self-disappointment.

You nodded slowly, absorbing his explanation while sensing the underlying tension in his voice. "It's incredible and terrifying at the same time," You murmured, your own emotions still raw from the ordeal. “Did you stop them? Whatever they were doing or using to brainwash people?”

“Of course,” He whipped out his sonic screwdriver, tossing it in the air and catching it, “They won’t hurt anyone again.”

You nodded, pleased, before you asked the last question on your mind, "What about him..." You began, feeling your face become warm as you glanced over at the Doctor, "Why did he look so eerily like you?"

The Doctor's smile softened, "Ah, that," He sighed, his gaze turning thoughtful. "Your ideal image of a companion, someone you'd trust implicitly, resembled me. I suppose they delved into your subconscious desires and found me lurking in there somewhere," He explained, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and melancholy. "It's unsettling, I know," He continued, "But they used that resemblance to make their charade more convincing. They wanted to create a seamless transition for you, to make you believe in this fabricated reality they'd constructed."

You let out a small chuckle, making the corners of the Doctor's lips twitch, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm laughing," You spoke, calming down to finish, "What a twisted version of reality."

"Yes, but you saw through it," He said, his eyes searching yours with admiration. "You broke free from their grip. That takes immense strength."

A faint flush warmed your cheeks as you met his gaze - his compliment practically turning you into mush. "Thank you." You shuffled, becoming slightly nervous under his gaze, your hand moving slightly, accidentally brushing against his, also pressed against the floor of the TARDIS.

The Doctor smiled warmly, "You're welcome," He glanced at your hands beside his, "And as for him," He added, his tone turning slightly playful, "Well, I suppose I should be flattered that your ideal partner bears such a striking resemblance to me."

"I do have impeccable taste," You teased, a playful glint in your eye as you met his gaze.

The Doctor chuckled softly, the sound like music in the quiet of the TARDIS. "Well, who wouldn't want an adventurer with two hearts?"

"And that hair," You quipped, reaching up to tousle his hair playfully. "Definitely a plus."

Laughing in unison, you looked back out at the beautiful dying of stars, the bright colorful light reflecting off of your face and hair. The Doctor couldn't look away, captivated by the way the starlight danced across your features, illuminating your face with a soft, ethereal glow. He found himself mesmerized by the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity and intelligence, absorbing the vastness of the cosmos with wonder.

"You know," He murmured, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I've seen countless stars and galaxies, but none of them compare to the way you shine in their light."

Eyes wide in surprise, you stared at him, mouth slightly agape. His words were sweet but unexpected. You were not expecting him to say that, in such a way. You were so used to his charm, wit, and sarcasm, and yes, he complimented you more often than not, but with the way that he was gazing at you... It was different. Again, the intensity. His words left your heart racing, the beat of your blood pounding loudly in your ears. Your fingers twitched, desperate to reach out and touch him but you stopped yourself. You didn't even know what to say.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse, your mind reeling with the weight of his admission. "Doctor," You finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I don't know what to say."

He nodded slowly, his gaze gentle yet filled with an intensity that spoke volumes. "You don't have to say anything," He assured you, his hand reaching out tentatively to brush against yours. "I just needed you to know."

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, your fingers intertwining with his as you met his gaze. At that moment, surrounded by the majesty of the cosmos and bathed in the light of a thousand dying stars, uncertainty melted away. The Doctor's admission had laid bare his hearts, and in his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own feelings mirrored back at you. It reminded you of a song, oddly enough.

Unable to stop a giddy smile from appearing on your face, you let out a small giggle. "That is quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," You spoke softly, squeezing his hand.

The Doctor's cheeks flushed at your statement, unable to fight the smile on his lips. He was thankful that you hadn't let go of his hand; your touch was comforting, and his smile only widened as you shuffled closer to him. A soothing, bubbly warm feeling spread through his body as you then laid your head on his shoulder. His hand left yours before moving behind you, his arm enveloping you in his embrace.

The sight of the stars dying, bursting into a kaleidoscope of colors, was breathtaking, but both of you knew they were insignificant compared to each other.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Doctor Who Masterlist

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