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ravengards-rogue · 6 months

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i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

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vetitiscripta · 11 months

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some sfw and nsfw headcanons for tpof ren please🦊🙏🏻 instantly fell in love with your writing and craving the foxy dilf

oh anon you’re so sweet, i’m glad you like my writing! AND YOU MAY ABSOLUTELY HAVE DILF REN HEADCANONS I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR THAT MAN I AM BARKING LIKE A DOG

sfw

he lets you run your fingers over his scars, tracing them. if he’s feeling up to it, he’ll even tell you the story behind them

still a big anime fan so on his days off he likes to just relax with you and do anime marathons

since ren lives in different apartments, of course you go with him when he moves locations. he found an apartment by the bunker to stay in while you were recovering. traveling while you have multiple open wounds seems like a hassle so he figured it would just be easier to get a place nearby

YOU ARE SO SPOILED!! anything you want, its yours. you once mentioned how you miss all the games you had and you woke up the next morning to just about every new gaming console under the tv, already plugged in and games loaded on them. sometimes you have to be careful with what you offhandedly mention wanting because he will get it for you (he just likes seeing you happy, he lives for your smile)

once you are trusted with being outside (something that took quite a while for you to earn), he will absolutely take you out and about in town just to A) show you off and B) take you on shopping trips. he 100% has a black card. ANYTHING YOU WANT, YOU GET! that sweater is $1500? sure, get one in every color. you like the glass elephant that is made purely of crystal? it can be a decorative piece on the dining table

despite how spoiled you are, you are not free from being punished. you don’t get punished as much anymore, but at the beginning of your relationship, you defied him, hoping that you could get away (either running away or by death, you didn’t care at that point). ren has been through his fair share of punishments, he’s told you such; he knows how to leave a memorable punishment to help you understand. he’s also not above bringing out the shock collar in case the punishments aren’t enough

but after every punishment, he always cleans you up and cuddles with you, stroking your hair as you cry into his chest. depending on how far in the relationship it is, he can feel bad for punishing you but he knows that it’s to help you behave and understand

before you’re trusted to be left alone in the apartments, he’ll bring you with him to the bunker when he’s streaming. the first time you realized where you were, you almost threw up from the pure panic that spread through you. ren cupped your face and kissed you to help calm you down, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find how absolutely terrified you were adorable. while he’s streaming you are left in the hands of rhino and kangaroo, who you have come to enjoy and consider friends (or at least as close to friends as you can get in your now abnormal life)

ren once considered getting you a pet to keep you company when you’re alone but he quickly discarded the idea due to how jealous he would be. you are his and your full attention should be on him. he might consider something super low maintenance like a goldfish (you would have to beg him for it though because he would still be jealous what a loser)

i personally think that ren would want a family. its not an intense urge he has, not something he thinks about 24/7, but he thinks about it every so often and how nice it would be (he’s also not getting any younger). ren is very fucked up (from both trauma and who he is as a person now) and it might not happen, but he still thinks about it, especially with you. its very cheesy of him to say, but he knows you’re the one. when he’s really going through it and feeling down, he wonders if what you have is real, if you truly love him or if it’s all for show to just survive (you always tell him that if it was just for show you wouldn’t be so willing to be around him and probably would have killed yourself early on babe your stockholm syndrome is showing)

nsfw (under the cut)

cliché but ren likes to bite during sex. he gets rather caught up in the moment and tasting you really gets him going

his heats can be pretty intense. his more clingy side comes out when he’s in heat and he will not leave you alone. from the moment you wake up until you fall asleep for the night (if you sleep during his heat), he has you in different positions and his dick is always inside you. even if you have to get up for something, he is following you, basically piggybacking you with how close he is

while you probably don’t appear in streams anymore, ren will occasionally film you two fucking. he teases you by telling you that you’re live and everyone is watching or that he’ll upload it for his fans later (a lie, you’re for his eyes only now but he does love how flush you get and how you beg him to turn the camera off)

this is already canon but ren loves seeing you in cute, frilly lingerie. there is nothing he loves more than to buy you an expensive lingerie set and have you show it off to him, only for him to rip it off of you within seconds. if he really likes the piece he’ll fuck you in the lingerie and will have you wear it again

phone sex while he’s away. every night he’ll call you just to listen to you get yourself off while he talks you through it. he’s fisting his cock during it as well, but he loves guiding you through it more. he has to make sure you don’t miss him too much. sometimes he’ll cut the call short and will wait for the spam of calls and texts from you as you beg him to call you again so you can cum. if you don’t get to call, he’ll demand you send pictures/videos. anything will do: shirtless pics, videos of you fingering yourself. he keeps everything you send him in a special folder on his phone that he turns to when he needs a quick dose of you

loves teasing you in public. fancy restaurant on the nice end of town? ren has his hand in your pants while the two of you talk over a split dessert (well, he’s talking. you’re trying to not moan out loud in the middle of the restaurant). is not afraid to drag you into an alley and push you to your knees, cock springing out as he tells you to open your mouth. he’s not worried about anyone seeing but if they do he’ll either throw a smirk their way if you’re hidden from their sight or, if you’re not hidden, he’ll remember what they look like and will seek them out later for a ‘friendly chat’ (you are for his eyes only)

BREEDING KINK!!! following my whole ‘ren wants a family’ thing, he def has a breeding kink. even if his intention isn’t to knock you up, he talks like it is. talks about cumming inside you and how good you would look all round and full of his pups. you moan at his words, too drunk on his cock to reply or think about what he’s saying. you’d ask him to cum inside you, begging him to fill you with his cum. he’s also definitely the type to push his cum back into you as it leaks out. (for my ladies: he’ll definitely put a pillow beneath your hips to help the chances if he’s feeling spicy)

#anon ask #i have many thought and opinions (and thots) about tpof ren he is so BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK #god i hope i didnt write him too uwu i try to do the btd/tpof characters justice but ya know #the price of flesh #ren hana #tpof fox #ren hana x reader #smut

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squoosheez · 1 month

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Movie Night

Choso Kamo x Reader

summary: movie night with Choso but replace movie with 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 and instead of watching movies you get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

pairing: Choso Kamo x GN!Reader

warnings: smut & 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 choso

tags: smut , sub!choso , dom!reader , begging , handjobs , making out , first time , needy choso , dirty talk

notes: it’s 5:40 am and I can’t sleep and this is not proofread I’m js a freak for subby cho

word count: 2k

The warmth from your blanket and the smell of fresh popcorn almost put you straight to sleep. It was a Saturday night, and Choso had invited you over for movie night. You accepted, obviously, because who would ever turn down that opportunity?

Definitely not you.

You sat a couple inches away from Choso, giving him a decent amount of space. You were snuggled very tightly in a blanket he provided, and you were focused on the movie.

It wasn’t anything too special, just some romantic drama he had found while browsing Netflix. Nothing too crazy had happened yet, but you could tell that the main characters had some “tension” they were going to resolve. And they did.

After a few minutes of them making out, Choso grabbed the remote and paused the movie. You looked over at him curiously. “Why’d you pause it?” you questioned.

“Have you ever done that before?” he spoke, sounding genuinely curious.

The words took you by surprise a little. You had to restrain yourself from laughing at his abruptness. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

He shifted underneath his blanket, trying to sit up a little more. “I was just wondering..” he replied.

“Yeah? Have you?”

He looked down at the remote in his lap, his face growing red. “No.”

It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the completely inexperienced type. In fact, you thought of him as quite the opposite. Sometimes he just held himself so confidently, it was hard to imagine him any other way.

“Really? That’s shocking.”

“Is it?” he didn’t seem to believe you.

“Well, yeah. I mean, if you want to, I could teach you how?” It was harmless, right? You were just doing him a favor, making sure his future girlfriend had something to work with.

“Seriously?”

You nodded before pulling the blanket off of you. That’s when it actually processed for Choso. His eyes widened and his face grew even hotter. It was just making out. Friends do it all the time. Right?

It wasn’t long before you were sitting on Choso’s lap. Your legs on each side of him, in a straddling position. You could feel his chest moving up and down from his breathing. His heart beating incredibly fast. You found it cute how nervous he was.

You didn’t want to say too much, in fear that it would make him feel even more embarrassed, but you also wanted to reassure him. To begin, you pulled his chin to yours, placing just a soft kiss on his lips before doing anything too crazy.

His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the short kiss and missing your lips as soon as they parted. Luckily, he was greeted with much better the second time. It was more harsh, your mouth slightly to make room for his tongue. As soon as he realized, he allowed his instincts to take over, filling your mouth with his tongue. He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer desperately.

When you pulled away to breathe, you saw how beautiful he looked like this. So focused on you and nothing else. His eyes looked heavy, trying to stay open long enough to look at you, straddled on top of him. Just the sight made him want even more.

“You doing okay, Cho?” you spoke, your voice raspy and slightly out of breath.

He nodded slowly, trying to regain his composure, but it was no use. He clenched his fists at his sides, which brought something to your attention.

You grabbed his wrists, placing his hands on your hips. “Right here, okay? Or you can put them on my thighs if you want.”

His breathing intensified at the sudden movement. He felt so close to you. His hands traveled from your hips down to your thighs, squeezing them gently. The action made you let out a soft giggle.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t wait any longer. His lips found yours once again, bringing you into the harsh sloppy kiss you had indulged in just a moment ago. This time his hands teased your inner thighs, driving your mind crazy. This was just supposed to be a makeout session, but you weren’t opposed to this leading further.

This time, he was the first to pull away. He gasped for air as your hands trailed up and down his chest. “You.. You’re really good at this.”

You giggled at the compliment. “Yeah? Thank you.”

Choso’s breath hitched when he felt your lips attach to his jaw line, leaving a trail of kisses leading to the side of your neck. You sucked a dark purple hickey on his neck, nipping at the irritated skin.

When you looked up, his head was thrown back. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open. He looked fucked out from just a few hickeys. So, you quickly started covering his neck. Any visible skin was a target. He let out soft whimpers when it hurt a little more than expected and fuck it sounded delectable.

“Someone’s enjoying this quite a lot,” you teased, moving his chin down to look at you.

He whined in response, his eyes locked on yours. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.”

He shuddered, his hips rocking upwards in desperation. It wasn’t voluntary, but you definitely noticed it. Since this was a tutoring session, it was only necessary you gave him a turn.

“You wanna try? Marking me up?” you asked, playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

He didn’t quite know how to respond, he had kind of forgotten that this was so that he knew how to make out with girls in the future. To be honest, he didn’t know if he wanted to make out with anyone else after this.

“Yes, please.” he spoke, his voice laced with desperation.

You leaned your head back, giving him easier access to your neck. It took less than three seconds for him to latch onto your neck. He wasted no time sucking soft hickeys all across your neck. He was so lost in the moment, he was pulling your shirt to find more room to mark up. You’d never seen him like this before. Life changing.

Seeing how eager he was drove you insane. Such a fast learner too. He was so happy to listen to whatever you told him, and he was damn good at it too.

“Yeah..” you breathed out, your voice faltering. “Just like that, Cho. You’re doing.. so good for me.”

Choso's hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing your skin. He loved the way your body reacted to his touch, every shudder and soft gasp that escaped your lips, and it encouraged him to keep going.

He was determined to do this right, to do it well. Your praise fueled the fire in his core, and it showed in the way his mouth worked its way across your neck. "More," he muttered, his voice taking on an eager tone. "Give me more spots."

You giggled once more at his eagerness. Unfortunately, you had run out of spots to give him, and now you had to find a way to cover these in the morning.

“I’m covered, Cho.”

Choso couldn't help but let out a pleased little huff as he watched you admire his handiwork. The sight of so many little marks on your skin, caused by his mouth, sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

His breath hitched when your hands found their way to stomach, his muscles instantly tensing. His own hands came to rest on your hips again, his thumbs rubbing against your sides. "All mine," he repeated, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

You smiled, taking his head in your hands again. It seemed to be the end of your lesson, unfortunately.

“Well, there you go. We made out, ta-da!” you smiled, knowing Choso wasn’t anywhere near satisfied. You had gotten him all worked up, just to leave him hanging.

He whined, “are we done?”

“Mm.. we did cover everything necessary for making out. What comes next is a different lesson,” you said slyly.

“Can I maybe have that lesson too?” he asked, his hands coming to cover his face in embarrassment.

You laugh, moving his hands away from his eyes. “Of course you can.”

You pull him into another heated kiss, this time letting your hands roam further down his torso. You rested one on his lower stomach and the other on the obvious bulge in his pants. His breath hitched, breaking your kiss for a moment. His expressions only fueled your motives.

He whined into this kiss, feeling your hand start to move over his bulge. Choso tried to hold back a shudder, but failed miserably. Your words had his heart pounding in his chest, his mind spiraling with a million different thoughts.

He paused to breathe for a moment as your hand continued to palm him slowly, his body growing hotter by the minute. “Tell me that I’m a good boy, I... need to hear you say it.”

His words caught you off guard, in the best way possible. You had this boy in the palm of your hands, literally. And you could probably make him cum in his pants if you wanted to.

“You’re doing so well for me, Cho. Such a good boy for me, hm?” you snapped the elastic on his pants against his waist as a warning before pulling them down to his thighs.

He bit his lip, feeling exposed, even though it was just his boxers. Your hand reached below his waistband once more, taking him into your hand.

He whined quite loudly, his hips bucking up into your hand. You gave him a few slow strokes and it was enough to have him a whimpering mess underneath you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Keep talking. Please.” His hips bucked up against yours again, seeking any friction he could find.

Choso let out a choked off moan, his head automatically falling back against the couch cushion. The feeling of your hand wrapped around him was driving him insane and he found himself arching his body into your touch.

“Not gonna... last long,” he managed to huff out, his hands still gripping your hips so tightly it was sure to leave marks of their own. “Not if you... keep... doing that.”

Fuck, he was adorable. He was barely gonna last and you were only jerking him off. You could only imagine how long he’d last inside of you. 2 maybe 3 thrusts? He’d be so embarrassed too, but he’d make up for it. He’d probably be so good with his tongue. His huge fingers would fill you up just as well as his cock. Your mind trailed off as you watched him unravel beneath you.

“Yeah? That’s okay, baby. Let go for me. Be my good boy.” you encouraged, continuing to kiss him all over, your hand speeding up.

Chose groaned again, his whole body quivering at the feeling of your strokes. “Fuck, I...” he panted. He loved the way the nickname sounded spilling from your lips and he wanted to hear you praise him even more. Just a little more.

“I can’t... I, ah… I’m gonna…” He was on the verge of falling apart, on the edge of ecstasy. All he needed was one more push.

“Just like that. My good boy, all mine. My pretty Cho.” you knew that was all it was gonna take. By now, you’d completely forgotten how this all started, but all that could fill your ears was a sharp whine that escaped Choso’s mouth as he reached his climax.

You felt his body tense from underneath me, and you could feel the cum dripping down your fingers. “That’s it.. You did so well for me.”

Choso’s mind went blank, the only word that could pass his lips was your name, over and over again.

He could hardly even keep himself upright, his weight leaning completely against the couch. He trembled faintly, his hands still holding on to you as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“…You got me all… messy.” He choked out, still struggling to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, baby. You want help getting all cleaned up?” you replied, softly massaging his chest.

He nodded slowly before speaking once more. “Thank you..”

You smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You’re welcome, Cho.”

#smut #jjk x reader #jjk #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #alternate universe #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu choso #fanfic #jjk fanfic #submisive and breedable

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barcaatthemoon · 4 months

Text

passenger princess || mackenzie arnold x reader ||

sometimes, you wish that mackenzie would let you drive.

"come on, we're gonna be late!" you shouted at mackenzie. the two of you both had media to do, and mackenzie had taken all morning getting ready. you thought that she looked absolutely stunning, but you didn't want to get yelled at for missing your required media.

"your chariot awaits," mackenzie said as she opened the passenger's side door for you.

"mac, babe, i love you, but i think that i should drive today," you tried to tell her. it was really no use because mackenzie obviously didn't want to listen. she always got like this whenever you suggested driving the two of you somewhere.

you had grown up in the city, and while mackenzie had been there for a good amount of time, she wasn't a local. mackenzie didn't know all of the shortcuts and side roads that would cut your travel time down by a third. and so, the two of you truged into the training facilities about 10 minutes late.

"sorry boss, traffic was horrible." mackenzie was quick to diffuse your coach and the media team's ire towards the two of you. they didn't seem too annoyed with mackenzie, but that same courtesy wasn't extended towards you. mac was their world class goalkeeper, and you were just another midfielder that they had gotten cheap. you had come up with a team that had come up during a relegation swap. whenever they went right back down the next season, you had joined west ham instead.

"we could have gotten here sooner if someone would have let me drive," you said. a few of your teammates started snickering behind you, as did mackenzie. you turned to glare at all of them, but the look that you sent your girlfriend was a bit more hurt.

"don't take it personally babe, but you're just not the driving type. you look too pretty in my passenger's seat." mackenzie was trying to be sweet, but it didn't work. she placed her fingers underneath your chin to tilt it up and kiss you, but you turned your face at the last second. a chorus of 'ooo's rang out from your teammates as you stormed out of the locker room.

the media bit was a little intense after that. mackenzie had only been joking, and her attempt at an apology had been brushed off. she didn't mean to upset you. driving wasn't something that she thought would be such a big deal for the two of you. she just liked doing things for you, and since you were normally very independent, this was one of the few things she had the opportunity to even attempt.

"are you ready to go back home?" mackenzie asked as the two of you made your way towards the parking lot.

"i'm not going home with you tonight," you told her. mackenzie's face fell immediately at the news. you hadn't been back to your apartment in two months, having stayed at mackenzie's. your lease was going to be up soon, and your roommate was in talks with a new transfer about moving in. however, you still had a couple of weeks before that happened.

"no!" mackenzie shouted. you winced at the loudness in such a close proximity. mackenzie's face softened a bit as she grabbed you by the arm and tugged you towards the car. "you don't live there, you live with me. we always go home together, you know this. did what i say really upset you this much?"

"it's not just the passenger princess jokes, mac. it's also not just you. i don't want all the girls and the staff to think that i can't do anything for myself. you don't hear all the jokes and comments. i swear that some of them think i can't do anything for myself." mackenzie's face fell as she saw how genuinely worked up you were getting over this. it went a lot further than she had known, and suddenly, mackenzie felt absolutely terrible that you'd been holding in these feelings for so long by yourself.

"hey, (y/n), look at me." mackenzie grabbed your face and leaned in close enough for you to feel her breath against your cheek. "i am sorry for making you feel bad. i am sorry for letting things get so out of hand. i know that you're independent. hell, you do practically everything for me, and driving you around, it feels like the only thing i can offer to help you out. if you want to drive us back, you can, just please come home with me. i don't want to spend a single night without you if i don't have to."

"mac, baby?"

"yeah?" mackenzie seemed scared, as if you were going to tell her that you still wanted to go back to your own apartment. a night in with mackenzie, even whenever you were mad at her, was better than a night in with your roommate any day.

"take me home," you told her. mackenzie's shoulders sagged down a little with relief. you pressed a quick kiss to her lips and threaded your fingers with hers. the two of you walked through the parking lot together towards mackenzie's car. she got the door for you, absolutely beaming when you kissed her cheek in thanks. "can we stop by tesco's on the way home?"

"of course. i'll take you anywhere you want to go." mackenzie grabbed onto your hand and kissed the back of it. you let out a little giggle and settled back into your seat. there wasn't any tension in the car, which you were beyond grateful for.

mackenzie pushed the cart for you in the store, following as you walked around picking out seemingly random things. some of it was groceries that you had noticed earlier needed to be replenished, but quite a bit of the things you were buying weren't things that you normally bought at all. mackenzie didn't bring it up, assuming that it was for some sort of surprise at home.

"can i get some assistance from my favorite sous chef?" you asked mackenzie. she looked up from the couch to see you standing in the entryway of the kitchen holding an apron that you had bought her as a joke. mackenzie could cook, but she rarely did outside of using the grill every other weekend during the summer months.

"i don't know what you're making," mackenzie told you. you brushed it off and helped her into the apron. you gave very clear directions and within the hour, you had a homemade sauce simmering for a spaghetti night.

"how does it taste?" you watched nervously as mackenzie tasted a bit of the sauce.

"if football doesn't work out, you should open a restaurant," mackenzie told you. you moved to press a kiss to her cheek as thanks, unsurprised when mackenzie turned so your lips landed on hers. her hands grabbed at your waist, squeezing gently as she deepened the kiss. "better yet, i'll keep you on as my personal chef. and i can be your chauffeur if you'd like."

"sounds good to me. now, go set the table, the food is almost ready." you gave mackenzie a gentle shove away from you. mackenzie blew you a kiss as she carried the plates and silverware out to the dining room table. mackenzie sat excitedly at the table when you got out there, right next to the place that she set for you. she spent the whole meal practically just staring at you, often to the point of spilling a bit of her sauce on herself every other bite. it was ridiculous, but another reminder of why it was so easy to love mackenzie sometimes.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #mackenzie arnold x reader #mackenzie arnold imagine

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r0se1111 · 17 days

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can i get uhhhhhh domestic life in retirement with Ford where we grow old(er) together please and thank youuuuuu 🙏

Yessss >o<

Guys he's sooo domestic-husband-coded you don't understand....

OKok so. Keeping with canon, I do think Stan and Ford still go on their brother boat adventure™️ even with you in the picture, and you kinda hang out at the Mystery Shack for a bit. You help keep things afloat while they're gone etc etc. BUT of course this man calls home whenever he's on land and had access to a phone. He also writes you letters with drawings, photos, and little souvenirs of his travels.

When he returns you are soso happy to see him and he gives you a very cliched swept off your feet kiss. He tells you he's a bit out-adventured for a bit and just wants to stay at home with you for a bit and make up for those lost 30 years.

Get ready for the most wonderful cozy warm domestic bliss you've ever experienced. Waking up in the morning to his fluffy hair all askew as he blinks at you, smiling and calling you beautiful despite not being able to see a thing without his glasses. Stealing all his sweaters (including the turtleneck) to combat the cold pacific northwest mornings and nights. You take turns making coffee for each other in the morning, and on days where you have plans and really need some food in you, he makes his pancakes (a recipe he's been perfecting since he's been back. He loves you, but no he won't tell you what's in them).

Omg you guys sometimes have a little breakfast in bed moment and geez you're so old (affectionate). Him in his glasses, you with your hair all messy, both of you bundled in robes as you read together to get the sleepy groggy cobwebs out of your eyes and heads. Sitting side by side in bed with your breakfast trays and digging in while chatting about whatever.

He insists on still getting a physical morning paper, so most of these mornings are spent sitting at the dining table with coffee and waffles, your feet propped up on his lap as he fills out a crossword puzzle in record time with one hand and rubs your feet and calves with the other.

Gosh you guys are attached at the hip at this point in your lives. Grocery shopping? He's there pushing the cart as you meticulously scan shelves for all you need, occasionally piping up with his own personal preferences on pasta sauce brand or validity of certain buy 2 get 1 half off coupons. Quick stop at the mall? He waits dutifully outside the changing room, ready to give you glowing reviews of whatever you're trying on and holding up his own suggestions with a smile and a quick "this color would look wonderful with your undertones dear!" Yes he's color analyzed you

He's so helpful and genuine in his excitement to do these mundane tasks with you. One night he admits when times got hard during his interdimensional travels, he would daydream about just going to do laundry with you at a dingy coin-operated joint, sitting on the counter next to you and watching your clothes swirl round and round, intertwining with each other until you couldn't tell where his started and yours ended.

Your evenings are either spent on a date or making dinner at your place. If it's a date, he will have asked you out in advance and you better believe he's bringing you flowers or wine or chocolate or something cheesy like that. If you guys decide to stay in, you scan old cookbooks for something tasty sounding and dance around each other in matching "kiss the cook" aprons while one of you prepares a side and the other sets the table. Neither of you resist the temptation of kissing the other cook (ba-dum-tss) or of darting a tongue out mid-kiss to taste your partner's progress on their glaze or sauce.

Ford still is getting used to the idea of sharing a bed with you, but in a very sweetly nervous way. He knows his sleep schedule is a bit messed up still and he really doesn't want to worry or bother you. Some nights you fall asleep and wake up to him passed out on his desk with about 4 mugs of coffee surrounding him. On lucky (and increasingly more common) nights, he sleeps in bed with you. How he's so warm you have no idea, but you're not about to complain when he pulls you against him and rubs his hands down your arms and hips, all the while rambling about some documentary he'd watched that day which "you would really have found so fascinating, love." His clear and calm voice normally lulls you to sleep, but if he's unintentionally keeping you up with his roundabout descriptions, this is easily remedied with a kiss.

A kiss anywhere really, from as innocent to his forehead (you gently push back the stormcloud of his hair to press your lips as close to his wonderful mind as they can get) to something more suggestive like his neck or chest (left deliciously exposed in those relaxed V-necks you'd bought him one Christmas, a completely unselfish gift, might you add) is enough to get Ford to pause and glance over at you with a sort of are we gonna...???;) look. Whether you do or don't, any sort of physical affection is enough to have him sleepy soon. The two of you curl together, sharing breath for how close you are. And every night he gets to hold you like this and think about your wonderfully mundane and predictable lives, Ford thanks whatever higher power that put you into his life that he's back, and that you're his.

#gravity falls stanford #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #ford pines x reader

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sl0t4matt · 4 months

Text

m. guiu bfb! head canons 18+

bfb= best friends brother also listened to this on repeat while writing lol

best friends brother

bfb! marc, that you had a crush on since middle school. embarrassing? you know.

bfb! marc, who’s his and his sisters fights you were watching. not sure what to do, you just waited until they were finished screaming at each other. he even looked good angry with the way his jaw was clenching. annoying, really.

bfb! marc, that randomly comes into his sisters room whenever you’re there, annoying her.

bfb! marc, that chews louder on purpose just to annoy the both of you. seriously, ew!

bfb! marc, that you thought you never even had a chance with. him only ever seeing you as his sisters weird best friend.

bfb! marc, that got even handsomer this summer. that asshole.

bfb! marc, who you sometimes thought was going to make a move. or maybe it was all in your head.

bfb! marc, that started to notice how much your body has changed when he saw you at the beach this summer. maybe he was a bit of a freak for watching you lay there, tanning yourself but fuck. how could he not look at you, with the way your nipples were peeking through that bikini of yours, that shows you off in every right places. fuck when did you get tits and when did his sisters best friend get so hot?

bfb! marc, that comes into his sisters room, acting like he needs something, only to get to see you. you hold eye contact for a few seconds, until martina scolds him out again.

bfb! marc, that only gets along with his sister when their parents are out of town and they throw a party. it’s a win- win situation. he’s getting an opportunity to get laid and you and martina have a reason to get drunk. (also the getting laid part).

bfb! marc, that secretly told every guy in town not to start anything with you. seriously, how immature?!

bfb! marc, that you got caught making out with by his sister on their party. yikes!

bfb! marc, that got yelled at by his sister, her not even being slightly mad at you, since she thought it was her fuck boy of a brother trying to get on her nerves again. she assumed it was one sided and that you would never like an annoying and stupid guy like him. but that’s exactly your type.

bfb! marc, that tries to talk to you after that kiss, but you kept on ignoring him, not wanting to jeopardise you and martinas relationship.

bfb! marc, that finally got you to talk to him which lead you to the backseat of his car. poor martina..

bfb! marc, that you agreed with that your relationship with him stays on the hook up basis.

bfb! marc, that is down badd for you, begging for you to go down on him. in his words your head ‘game’ being unreal. 😭

bfb! marc, that gets off on your snaps.

bfb! marc, that even though your relationship status being purely ‘hooking up’, doesn’t want you to be with any other guy.

bfb! marc, that invites you over to his house whenever his sister isn’t there. like right now. “so, what do you wanna do?” he asks. you roll your eyes. “i don’t know, play with barbie dolls?” you reply, laughing. “yeah, whatever.” he scoffs, his head disappearing in the covers, as he goes down on you. he starts by leaving wet kisses over your stomach, travelling them down until he meets your needy cunt. you bite your lip, reaching out to his hair, gripping it. his hand slides up your body, going under your top to grip your tit. you pull the covers slightly down, catching him smirking. “you wanna see what i’m doing to you like little slut, don’t you?” he chuckles, lowly. “shut up.” you mutter, placing his head back to where you need him the most. “marc have you taken my-.” fuck. martina. “shit. fuck. get out!” marc jumps, getting off of you. the door slams shut, leaving you and marc looking at the door, still in shock. you get up, leaving marc’s room to get into martina’s. you sigh, knocking on her door before getting in. you sit down beside her on the bed, your hand meeting your head. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i don’t know what i was thinking.” you sigh, shaking your head. you turn around to face her. “i swear i was gonna end it.” “we’re you really? do you like him?!” she whisper yells. “i-. i don’t know.” you avoid her eyes. looking into them while you weren’t being true to her was never your specialty. “you do!” she shakes her head, huffing. “i did since middle school, martina-.” you try explaining before she cuts you off. “he’s going to break your heart.” she says before getting up, leaving you in the room alone.

bfb! marc, that finally caught you after all the time you’ve been ignoring his texts. “please, let’s talk through we can-.” you cut him off. “we can what marc? hook up again? god are you seriously that dumb?!” he sighs. “you know how weird it’s been between us her after it happened? i had to regain her trust after eighteen years of friendship. i’m not gonna ruin that just because i like you.” you say in one breathe. “you like me?” he furrows, looking down on you. “shit, i shouldn’t have said that.” you sigh, shaking your head. “you like me?” he asks, repeating himself. “it doesn’t matter now.. but yes, i do.” you look up at him. “i like you too.” he mutters. “marc we can’t.” you whisper. he takes your hands in his, reassuring you. “she’s gonna have to live with it. not everything is about her, she has to see that.” he scoffs. “don’t say that.” you tell him, rolling your eyes. he shrugs.

bfb! marc, who’s sister you told about him also liking you. she wasn’t so happy to hear about it at first but ‘had to live with it’ just like marc said.

#Spotify #marc guiu x reader #marc guiu #hector fort #pablo gavi #fc barcelona #barca #pau cubarsi

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evilminji · 8 months

Text

You know one of the purposes of Lining?

Shock Absorption.

If the Zone is the Inter- and EXTRA-Dimensional Lining, connecting, containing, and generally powering all of Multiversal Creation? The Great Primordial Soup? The Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, from which we came and too which we return?

If the Zone itself is basicly the place between Universe, where your soul goes to get washed down, cleaned up, recharged, and sent out to wherever the next random portal takes it? To BECOME whatever you happen to find? An infinte recycler and Multiversal management?

The great metaphorical Yggdrasil, grown far beyond few branches, into an incomprehensible forest of one?

Well!

That kinda changes things! And also nothing! Because it means that those who remain? Are basicly squatting in the DMV's attic. Have built bunkers, under the country's main power generator. They really SHOULD move along. Granted, there is no one to MAKE them... but like...

That's cause no one thought anyone would NEED too?

Lol. Don't they feel silly? Anyway, I'ma put MY house over-! *wander off to go squat in the rafters*

Yeah, the CONCEPTS are native. But those probably just generate naturally. It's all the Souls constantly flowing through. Lots of background Sentience and Memories and such being washed away into the air. But? Then these lil souls were like "yeah, but if THEY get to stay... me too! D:< " "no, you can-" "ME TOO" and then they stopped listening and did what they wanted.

Good thing we have literally infinte amounts of room.

T...there's so MANY, you guys.

But! Not the point here!

*smacks white board* Realities! The Die too sometimes! And get born! A beautiful process, really. You can find Reality Beads if you know When and Where to look, some times. They, OBVIOUSLY, don't last for very long. Since they are basicly just seed universe. The explosive growth takes them almost immediately out of our range of perception, as they Begin.

Foundations of all Life and such.

But good God are they MAGNIFICENT!

However, sometimes? The REVERSE happens. If you find the area of the Zone your in? Is getting... "wavey" is the best way people describe it. Distorted. Fun house mirror. As though your vision has weird wrinkles that are distorting and stretching your view of things? Get Out. FAST.

If it's only SLIGHT? Barely noticeable? You can grab your Lair. IF, and ONLY IF you are NEARBY! If not? Remember. Things can be replaced. YOU? Can not.

Cause that "wavey"-ness? Is the final stage of Realm Entropy. The universe that portion over the Zone is covering and connected too, is all hollowed out. And about to CAVE IN. You DO NOT want to be there when that happens!

Remember! You see "waves"? Fly for three days!

Get to the edge of the affected area then KEEP GOING for a full three days flight. Warn everyone in you path. We stay safe together, guy. Collapses are NO JOKE. People get... well. Let's just say it's NOT a nice way too go.

Knowing this of course? We should all be SAFE right? Respectful if Awed distance from Reality Seeds, run like he'll if "waves"? We Gucci?

.....Sooooorta.

*flips Whiteboard to other side, to reveal a cartoonishly drawn Supervillian labeled "Asshole"*

Behold! A Terrorist!

It's a charged word. Not used lightly. But THESE fuckers? Oh ho ho! THESE fuckers?! "Ooooh~! Look at MEEEEE! I'm gonna play with FORCES I DONT UNDERSTAAAAAAAND! Destabilize my whole funckin UNIVERSE! Kill countless TRILLIONS OF TRILLIONS! Cause life was bad to me personally and I'm mad about it! Wah wah wah!!" ASSHOLES!

These fuckers? Cause Collapses. Blow Outs. Weird Fucked Up Cancerous Real Growths. You ever seen the Cleaners? No? You don't WANT TOO. They are basically eldritch, deep sea, angler fish looking mother fuckers THE SIZE OF SOLAR SYSTEMS. They travel in SCHOOLS.

BIG ONES.

When Realities collapse, they "fall off" as it were. Detach. And have to get recycled. All the countless impurities of Life eaten way to a blank slate. So it too, can start again. Thus the Fish. But! They ALSO eat anything "problematic".

Like tumors. Cancers. Poisoned, Multiversal Threats. Those quote on quote "God Killers".

Yes. Yes this IS part of why you DONT want to be near a Collapsing Reality.

No I WON'T explain how I know.

I DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

*smack the board with pointer* pay attention.

Jason Todd. Not! An Asshole. Sexy thighs. Fancy lil hair strip. We all miss him. But! He's off living his "no really, I'm totally alive, guys" hot girl summer or whatever. We are going to respect that! But!!! How did that happen? When he was DEFINITELY Hella dead?

Superboy Prime-y Pants. Who IS an ASSHOLE.

Because THAT fucker? PUNCHED HIS REALITY SO HARD IT NEARLY SHATTERED. Oh, no, I'm sorry! He punched SOMEONE ELSE'S reality! Because he is a tantruming MAN CHILD! And NOW? Now, Your Majesty, that WHOLE ASS Reality is more hair line cracks then border walls! One good shove? It'll cave in. Killing every soul inside.

The Cleaners are ALREADY circling.

It needs to be patched. Immediately. But that's not something normal ghosts can DO. The Zone won't LISTEN to us. Nor allocate the energy for it. The Concepts of Healing? We can't even FIND them.

We need help.

Please help them, King Phantom. You're the only one who CAN.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Cracked Reality Au

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1427 · 7 months

Text

something to prove pt 2

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV.

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), hand stuff, squirting.

Word Count: 2k

A/n: sorry this isn’t as spicy as the first one but. Idk. I also feel like y’all are gonna kill me if I don’t make a part that has Daryl actually get some. But. Idk.

17+ mdni

\\part 1\\

masterlist

You touch yourself in front of Daryl almost every time he comes over and your mom leaves the house. Finding him in the same spot, the remote on his knee, waiting for you. Head turned to the side as he chews at his thumb, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. His other knee anxiously bouncing. Sometimes he’s smoking, other times he’s not.

You notice all of these things because you notice everything in those moments right before you play with yourself for him. Every time you’re alone in your room you’d wish you had the courage to actually talk to him. Maybe touch him? Anything. Everything about him made you burn. And yet you kept an aching distance. Three feet away, and on the floor. Never any closer.

Eventually Daryl and Merle lose whatever living arrangements they’d had and your mom invites them to crash in the living room.

This doesn’t change anything between you and Daryl. There’s more lingering stares exchanged but you still don’t really speak. Especially in front of your mom and Merle. They never seem to notice the tension that’s wrapped itself around the two of you, hanging in the air. This very dirty secret you and Daryl indulged in every time they leave.

Luckily you didn’t share the space with them often. Only ever escaping your room to eat, leave the house, or put on a show for Daryl when they’d inevitably travel to the city every few days.

You’ve been gearing yourself up to do something more, but what? It takes you a week to decide and then another week to actually work up the nerve to do it.

You wait for Daryl to fall asleep. For some reason you know if he watches you come down the stairs, observes you walking up to him, you’d end up wimping out. So you wait for him to be asleep, 3am should do it, and then you wait a little longer.

With every step down the stairs your heart beats harder. You feel out of your body, just barely there as your feet make small but deliberate steps toward Daryl, asleep sitting up in the arm chair. Until suddenly you’re back in your body, standing over him.

You use your leg to jostle against his, causing him to stir. Waiting until his sleepy eyes open and meet yours. Too late to back out now, basically on top of him. But you’re frozen in place, you can’t make your mouth say the words that you’d practiced a hundred times. The words screaming in your head.

You’re both just staring at each other. Daryl’s obviously waiting for you to speak, or do something. But he doesn’t mind just staring at you. He doesn’t mind the waiting. After all, his favorite times are when you’re in front of him - and you’re in front of him now.

He doesn’t usually get to see this side of you. The front. Your face. The light of the TV is all blues and pinks and something inside Daryl swells. A warm gush of longing from his chest into his throat. Prickling at his skin. Not just longing to touch you, but something more. Something else. He doesn’t even want to speak, he’s enjoying just watching the colors dance across your cheeks and nose and the almost tangible warmth of the moment.

You’re out of your body again, but you hear yourself say it, “Will you touch me this time?”

Daryl’s been waiting for this. He’s thought about it so many times, in so many different ways. Wondering, seemingly ever free second of the day, when you were going to take it further. And how. He’s grateful that this is what you’d asked for, instead of maybe asking him to fuck you. He couldn’t do that. He could, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to. Doesn’t think he’d be able to even pull his cock out in front of you without passing away, and going to hell.

He swallows and nods while still looking up at you. His eyes move along with his fingertips, his right hand grabbing your left wrist and moving you to sit back in his lap.

You perch on him. Leaning back to place your feet on either one of his knees. Spreading your legs like this felt more lewd than you’d imagined it would, but because he’s behind you you’re not embarrassed by it, and you’re not shy about it. It snares something deep inside you, that even though your t-shirt is mostly covering your wet heat you're still so very out in the open.

Daryl snakes one arm around your waist and the other between your legs, but he doesn’t touch you there yet. He wants to feel all the way up your leg from the knee. To see how much and how far you’d dripped down your thighs while you were standing there staring at him.

His fingers get slick about halfway up your leg and it takes everything in him not to put them in his mouth immediately. He’s been dying to taste you since that day. The first one. You never wipe your hand on him like the first time and he wants you to so badly, every time. And every time his voice gets caught in his throat and he doesn’t.

And now your sweet tangy mess was coating his fingertips. Your muscles are tense, the feeling of his digits slowly creeping closer to your center. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, “Please. Help.. me.” You whine, edging your hips forward just a little, using your feet to leverage. But the arm he has wrapped around your waist pulls you back flush against him. That’s when you feel him for the first time. Hard and digging into your ass cheek. A low groan escapes his lips, and he holds you even tighter.

Daryl leans his forehead against the back of your shoulder, trying to pull himself together a little bit. You asked for his help, for him to touch you. But he’s so nervous, what if he does it wrong? He’s watched you so many times that even if he hadn’t known how to get a woman off before, he certainly knew how to get you off now. Still, he worries. Afraid he’s going to fuck it up.

Finally, his middle finger slides down the center of your arousal. Running over your clit, down to your hole, and back. You can feel the nervousness in his touch, the anticipation that’d been building up in him for months. You whimper, looking down your body to watch his hand as it gets acquainted with your cunt. God, is this what you looked like when he watched you? Your pussy swollen with desire, sopping wet, and visibly trembling? It was so deliciously vulgar.

His fingers slip around your folds, like yours do when you’re too wet like this. You whine, even though he’s touching you it’s not enough. Or, rather, it’s only making it worse without the pressure to accompany such touches. He gives up on trying to spread your lips to delicately and masterfully work your clit, the way he’s watched you do, and instead rubs your whole messy pussy with three of his fingers. Pressing against your mound hard. This elicits a deep groan from you, one that you can already feel building into a scream. Nothing you’ve ever experienced has felt like this.

He rubs around in the mess while you still watch from above. It doesn’t take long for your hips to start shaking uncontrollably. Whimpering and groaning you start to feel that hunger again. The insatiable one, needing something inside of you. He waits until you say, “P-please.” Your hips trying to move into his hand, but he keeps his grip on you so tight that your stuck in place. On his lap and at his mercy.

Daryl wants to make you wait, wants to ask you to say please again. Wants to hear you beg in every language so that he’d have more words to remember falling out of your mouth like this. But he can’t control himself either. He’s been imagining what your walls would feel like contracting around his fingers for so long. It’s all he fuckin’ thinks about anymore.

White hot. You feel his fingers all the way up to the knot in your throat and you choke on it. Each time he curls his two fingers, you feel it like a pang in your lungs, knocking the wind out of you. Daryl can’t stop, pressing into that spot of you, your breath hitching in your throat over and over. Your pussy clenches every time, he scissors his fingers as he pulls them out of you, to see those juicy lips stretch out around them. He needs more. Wants to fill you up until you burst. “More?” Is all he can manage to ask.

You nod feverishly, your muscles moving against every pressure, your hips practically vibrating on top of him. Daryl swallows and readies a third finger, shoving all three thick digits into your greedy cunt without any hesitation.

“Sh-shit.” You choke out, completely overwhelmed by the feeling. Daryl has to hold onto you so tightly, that one arm isn’t enough. With three fingers deep inside you, he closes his palm tight to your mound and holds onto you like that. Like the inside of you is a handle he’s latched his fingers into to lock you on top of him. And the way your ass slides back over his cock is too much. He has to do it again.

He rocks you back and forth. Pushing you down by your pelvic bone with him hooked inside you and over his clothed rage. It’s amazing. The way his palm pushes and rubs against your clit again and again, the way he’s moving your body against him. Pushing you and pulling over his hard cock by your cunt. He’s afraid maybe he’s hurting you, but your body tells him that he’s not. He’s never seen someone so let go from their inhibitions before. No one’s ever shown them this side of themselves for him. He loves it.

You think you're about to orgasm, the sight alone is enough, but it doesn’t come. It just keeps building. Deep in your stomach, all the way up your spine. Down to your toes curling into his thighs. And it keeps building. You’ve never experienced something like this, it almost scares you.

Daryl can tell that you’re close, every single muscle is strained against him. He’s using everything he’s got to keep you on his lap, his arm muscles taut and rigid around your writhing body.

Your orgasm pushes out of you in a scream, your pussy gushing. Warm squirt jetting out from your body and all over Daryl’s hand. All over the floor. Your legs shake, your feet bouncing into the air and spasming completely out of control.

He just holds you for a moment, his muscles still flexed around you. He keeps his fingers inside. Relishing in and memorizing each time your pussy pulsates around him, until it stops. Finally he loosens his grip and pulls away.

The emptiness almost makes you want to cry, especially after such an orgasm. You’d never done that before. You didn’t know you could. You don’t want Daryl to see you cry, to get the wrong idea. Plus, what? Were you guys going to talk afterward? You never had before. No… it was over. And you had to go lest winding up a sobbing mess on the floor in front of him. On top of your own cum.

So you leave him. Falling away from his body delicately. Feeling the cold air on your legs makes you feel even emptier. You still bounce away, jogging up the stairs like you always do.

And Daryl watches you go, no wiser to the fact that you were somehow upset. Not upset, overwhelmed. Over sensitive. Over… everything. Every emotion was too much.

His hand that’s covered in you has been hanging off the side of the arm chair, waiting for you to disappear. He’s been trying to decide if he wants to lick every drop from his hand while he jerks off with the other, or to use your juice as lubricant. He decides to do the former. Savoring every tangy morsel he can until there’s nothing left; even though he came when he was on the second finger.

A/n: actually nah, there’s gonna be another part prob.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader

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reidmarieprentiss · 15 days

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Too Damn Young: Part One

Summary: You and Spencer meet when you're both 18, you fall in love quickly and everything feels like a dream. Unfortunately, reality reminds you that sometimes even though people don't fall out of love, they don't always stay together.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), loss of virginity (not described) young love, unhappy ending, divorced parents, emotional strain with mom

Word count: 11.5k

a/n: this is not a summer fling!!! they are in loveee and i promise there will be a part two and it will be happier!!!

main masterlist

It’s the summer after your senior year of high school, and you’re caught in that strange, in-between space where the world feels wide open but also incredibly small. San Luis Obispo, with its familiar streets and faces, starts to feel more like a cage than the cozy town you grew up in. Everyone around you seems to be moving on, heading off to college, or traveling to far-flung places, leaving you behind to figure out what’s next. You’re not sure what you want to do with your life yet, so for now, you’re staying put, even though it feels like the walls are closing in a little more each day.

“Feet off the coffee table, Y/N,” your mother sighed as she walked into the living room, her voice carrying the usual exhaustion and concern.

You glanced up from your phone, your feet still comfortably propped up on the coffee table. “You never cared before…” you muttered, not really in the mood for another one of these talks.

She sighed again, more deeply this time, as if she was bracing herself for what she was about to say. “Well, before, you were in school and not at home all day.”

You frowned, feeling the sting of her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you get a job? Or go make some friends?” she suggested, her tone trying to be encouraging but not quite hitting the mark. “Oh! You could go walk on campus, maybe it will inspire you.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to hide your frustration. The last thing you wanted to do was wander around a college campus that wasn’t even yours, pretending to be inspired by something you weren’t sure you even cared about. But the way your mother was looking at you, with hope and a touch of worry, made you bite back the sarcastic response that was on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you just sighed and looked away, feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Maybe,” you mumbled, not committing to anything, but not outright refusing either. You could tell she wanted you to do something, anything, to shake off this sense of being stuck. But the truth was, you weren’t sure where to start, or if you even wanted to.

—

Spencer Reid arrived in town carrying the weight of moving his mother into a mental care facility, something that’s left him feeling more vulnerable than ever. Starting his PhD program in a new place where he doesn’t know anyone is daunting, but there’s a flicker of hope that things might be different this time. He’s no longer the child prodigy being scrutinized by older students; now, at least, he’s finally an adult, and maybe—just maybe—people will see him as one.

He opened the door to his new apartment, the hinges creaking slightly as it swung open to reveal the small, yet functional space that would be his home for the foreseeable future. The apartment was modest, furnished with the bare essentials, but it was clean and had a certain charm, or so he tried to convince himself. This place was provided by the program he was a part of, a stroke of pure luck.

Spencer set down his suitcase and took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to ground himself in this new reality. As he began to unpack and organize, the familiar rhythm of settling in started to take over, a ritual he had grown accustomed to over the years. But as he moved from room to room, he quickly realized something unsettling—he lacked a lot of the basic things that had always been provided for him in other housing situations, like the dorms and shared accommodations he had known before.

No dish soap, no paper towels, no trash bags—nothing that could help him actually live in this space comfortably. The realization hit him harder than it should have, maybe because of the long day, or maybe because of everything else weighing on his mind.

Spencer glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight. The last thing he wanted to do was venture out into the world right now, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t just sit here, surrounded by empty shelves and a lingering sense of displacement. With a resigned sigh, he decided it was time to go on a mission—a mission to find a store that was open this late.

He grabbed his jacket, mentally preparing himself for the challenge ahead. “How many people could really be out at 12 a.m. on a Tuesday?” he muttered to himself, trying to inject some optimism into his tone, though it came out more as a question than a statement.

As he stepped outside into the cool night air, the streets of San Luis Obispo were quieter than he expected, almost eerily so. The unfamiliarity of the town, combined with the late hour, made him feel like he was stepping into a different world altogether. But there was a certain solace in the solitude, a small comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t have to navigate crowds or make small talk with strangers.

—

You wandered down the aisles of the 24-hour market, the quiet hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of a radio playing in the background the only noise in the otherwise silent store. It was strange to see it so empty, almost eerie, but there was a certain comfort in not having to navigate through crowds or make polite small talk with anyone. Tonight was all about one thing: satisfying that sudden, undeniable craving for your favorite ice cream.

As you rounded the corner into the freezer section, your mind focused on the treat you were about to indulge in, a sharp pain shot through your foot. "Ow!" you yelped, instinctively jumping back from the source of the pain—a shopping cart that had just run over your toes.

"Oh my god, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there," came a voice from the other side of the cart, the owner of it looking every bit like a kicked puppy. His face was a mix of genuine concern and a hint of panic, as if this small accident was the last thing he needed tonight.

You bit back the initial irritation, quickly realizing this guy was already on the verge of a meltdown. "It’s fine, man, it’s not like there’s a lot of people around to watch out for anyway," you joked, hoping to ease the tension. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into some big, awkward thing.

He tried to laugh, though it came out shaky and unsure. “Ye—yeah, it’s pretty late.”

You nodded, sensing his awkwardness and suddenly feeling a bit of it yourself. "Yup, well, try not to run anyone else over," you teased lightly, giving him a small smile before stepping past him to continue your mission.

As you walked away, Spencer shook his head, his expression clouding over with self-reproach. He started mumbling to himself, words of self-criticism spilling out in a low voice, but you didn’t catch any of it. Your mind was already back on your goal, and when you finally spotted your favorite ice cream, all thoughts of the encounter slipped away.

With your prize in hand, you made your way to the checkout and then headed home, unaware of the lingering impact that brief interaction had left on him.

—

Spencer finally felt like he had made his new apartment feel like home. The once-empty shelves were now stocked with cleaning supplies and other basic necessities, and though he wasn’t really one for decorating, the furniture provided by the campus and his own collection of books, awards, and memorabilia gave the space a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t flashy, but it was his.

Yet, after a few days of getting settled, Spencer began to feel something gnawing at him—a sense of being cooped up. He was no stranger to spending long hours alone, buried in his studies or lost in thought, but the endless California sunshine streaming through his windows, and the distant sounds of laughter and life happening outside, started to pull at him. The world outside felt alive in a way his apartment couldn’t match.

Spencer stood by his bookshelf, running a finger along the spines of his well-loved volumes, but the itch to get out and breathe the fresh air was undeniable. Maybe it was time to explore a little, to break up the routine and experience something new. He recalled reading about a bookstore down by the beach, a place that sounded like the perfect combination of quiet and lively—somewhere he could disappear into a sea of books but still feel connected to the world outside.

Grabbing his tote bag, empty and ready to be filled with new reads, Spencer slung it over his shoulder. With one last glance around his apartment, he stepped out, feeling a sense of excitement with a touch of nerves. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but he knew he needed to be out there, under that California sun, even if just for a little while. The bookstore by the beach seemed like the perfect place to start.

—

Your mom had really been on your case lately, pushing you to get out of the house and do something with your time. She’d made it clear that your late-night escapades didn’t count, much to your dismay. Each time you’d excitedly recount your quiet midnight walks or the random people you’d encounter, she would just shake her head, unimpressed. She meant during the day—when the sun was shining and the world was alive.

So, in an effort to appease her, you started to drag yourself out of bed each morning and head down to the beach. If you had to be outside, you might as well make the most of it. Lazing around on the sand didn’t seem so bad, especially when you could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. You convinced yourself that at least you’d get a tan out of this forced outdoor time, right?

After a few days of this new routine, something caught your eye—a "help wanted" sign hanging in the window of a small bookstore that sat right along the sandy sidewalk of the beach. You paused, considering it for a moment. Working in a bookstore couldn’t be all that bad. After all, you loved reading. The idea of spending your days surrounded by books sounded infinitely better than more awkward mother-daughter conversations about your lack of daytime activities.

With that thought, you stepped inside and inquired about the position. The place smelled like old paper and salt air, and the sweet old man behind the counter greeted you with a kind, if tired, smile. He explained that he desperately needed help; his partner had passed recently, and he had been struggling to keep the shop running on his own. They had no children or kin to pass the shop along to, and he had resigned himself to working alone—until you walked in.

You applied on the spot and, to your surprise, heard back immediately. They really needed the help. The next day, you started as their first and only employee, stepping into a quiet world of books and stories just waiting to be discovered.

—

The bell above the door dinged, signaling a customer had entered the bookstore. You bookmarked your place in the novel you’d been reading and set it aside before calling out, “Welcome in.”

At first glance, the customer paid no attention to you, his focus solely on the shelves of books in front of him. But as you looked up from your counter, you froze for a second—it was the guy from the 24-hour market. The one who had run over your toes with his cart. For a brief moment, panic surged through you, the irrational thought crossing your mind that maybe he was stalking you. But that idea quickly faded when you remembered how adorably awkward he had been. And, if you were honest with yourself, even if he was stalking you, you might just be flattered. He was quite attractive—adorable in a geeky way, charming in an awkward way, and just plain handsome.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you slid off your stool behind the counter and walked over to where he was browsing, his nose already buried in the pages of a book. “Can I help you find anything?” you asked, leaning over his shoulder with your hands behind your back, trying to get a glimpse of what he was reading.

Spencer, completely absorbed in the first chapter of the book, didn’t hear you approach. He yelped and dropped the book, spinning around to face you with wide eyes. “Uh—um, no—no thank you, miss,” he stammered, clearly flustered both from the shock of your sudden presence and the quick realization that you were the same person he’d bumped into at the market. And now, seeing you up close in the daylight, he was even more struck by how pretty you were.

You chuckled, reaching down to grab the book he had dropped. “This is a good one,” you said, handing it back to him with a friendly smile. “I read it last week. I’d definitely recommend it.”

Spencer took the book from your hand, his own hands almost shaking. “Th-thank you,” he managed, clearing his throat. “Thank you…”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, grinning a little wider. “And you are?”

“Spencer Reid. Uh, Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer Reid,” you teased, “it’s nice to see you again. Are my toes safe this time?”

Spencer blinked, and then recognition lit his eyes as he remembered. His face flushed with embarrassment, but he gave you a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, your toes are perfectly safe this time,” he assured you, still clearly flustered but trying to keep his cool.

“That’s good to hear,” you stifled a laugh, unable to resist teasing him further. “I can’t say the same about yours, though,” you added over your shoulder, turning to walk back toward the counter.

Spencer, intrigued and not quite understanding what you meant, quickly asked, “What? Why not?” He followed after you, just as you had hoped he would.

When you reached the counter, you nodded your head toward him, silently encouraging him to join you. He hesitated, glancing around the quiet, empty store, but when he saw no one else there, he finally gave in and walked over.

“She’s why,” you giggled softly, leaning down to scratch the head of an old tabby cat that had appeared on the counter. She purred loudly, her eyes half-closed in contentment. Spencer’s eyes softened at the sight of the cat.

“Oh, she’s so pretty,” he mused, leaning in next to you to scratch the cat as well.

“Careful,” you began to warn, “she—oh,” you said, surprised as Nala, the cat, nuzzled affectionately into Spencer’s hand. “She usually doesn’t take well to strangers, especially men.”

Spencer blushed a little, his eyes widening slightly in disbelief. “Really?”

You nodded, watching the way Nala practically melted under his touch. “Yeah, I guess you’re special,” you said, smiling at him.

And you weren’t wrong. As Spencer continued to visit the bookstore at least once a week, sometimes just to browse, sometimes to chat, you’d come to realize just how special he really was. Nala certainly knew it first, and as time went on, you couldn’t help but see it too.

—

“So,” you sighed dramatically, flipping through the newspaper in search of the crossword puzzle, “my mom is making me go out to our lake house in Lake Tahoe all by myself this year to check on it. She doesn’t want to go without her new girlfriend, and the girlfriend doesn’t want to go, period.” You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated, as you vented to Spencer. He nodded along, his eyes fixed on you, absorbing every word like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I have to drive all the way there, almost seven hours, just to make sure the heat pump still works, the pipes didn’t burst during the winter, and all that other nonsense,” you continued, your frustration spilling out in each sentence.

Spencer seemed to mull over your words for a moment, the gears in his mind turning before he casually shrugged and said, “I’ll go with you.”

Your head snapped up, your voice jumping an octave. “What?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, more cautiously this time. “I mean, if you want me to. I could keep you company. I don’t know how to drive, but… you wouldn’t be alone.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by his offer. “Wait—what? You don’t know how to drive? How old are you again?”

“Y/N…” Spencer’s face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes dropping for a second before he met your gaze again. “You know I’m 18, and you know I was a child prodigy. I didn’t have time to learn how to drive.”

The realization made you laugh, an idea immediately sparking in your mind. “I could teach you!” you said, jumping off your stool in excitement.

“No, no, that’s a bad idea,” Spencer protested quickly, shaking his head as if the thought of being behind the wheel terrified him.

“It’s a great idea!” you argued, grinning at him. “You come to Tahoe with me, and I’ll teach you how to drive. It’s perfect!”

Spencer hesitated, clearly unsure about the whole thing, but your enthusiasm was hard to resist. Even he couldn’t deny that the trip might be a little more interesting with you by his side.

“Fine,” Spencer finally relented, though the nervous edge to his voice lingered. “But on my terms.”

You grinned, raising your hands in surrender. “Deal! Oh my god, this is so exciting. Now I’m actually looking forward to it!”

Spencer smiled shyly, his heart doing an odd little flip at your enthusiasm. Over the past few weeks, he had realized that his crush on you had grown significantly, but he couldn’t quite figure out if you felt the same. Sometimes, he thought you might—there were moments when your smiles lingered a little too long or your teasing became just a little too playful. But then there were the times when you casually mentioned people asking you out, and it made him doubt whether you saw him that way at all.

“When are we going?” he asked, trying to push the uncertainty out of his mind.

“Oh, yeah, hah,” you laughed lightly, “We’d leave Saturday morning.”

“Oh!” Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “As in two days from now? Why are you just now telling me?”

“My mom just told me!” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Fair enough.” Spencer sighed, already mentally preparing himself for the trip. “I’ll go home and start packing. See you Saturday? Should I meet you here?”

You shook your head and handed him your phone, your fingers brushing against his as he took it. “Hmm, no. Here, put in your number and text me your address. I’ll pick you up.”

Spencer blushed, the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “Okay…” he mumbled as he carefully entered his number into your phone, hoping his hands weren’t shaking too noticeably.

You took the phone back, flashing him one last grin before heading back to the counter. Spencer, now flustered and nervous about the weekend ahead, could only hope that maybe—just maybe—this trip would give him the chance to figure out where he stood with you.

—

As you drove along the winding roads leading to the lake house, Spencer's knuckles turned white as he clutched the door handle, his life flashing before his eyes with every sharp turn and sudden stop. Your driving might have been a bit... enthusiastic, but he found it hard to complain when he saw how happy you were, with the wind in your hair and a bright smile on your face. The open road seemed to breathe life back into you, away from home and responsibilities.

Spencer found himself utterly captivated. It wasn’t just the excitement of the trip—it was you. The way you belted out lyrics to your favorite songs without a care in the world, or how you launched into endless stories that would zigzag through a million different tangents before somehow snapping back to the original point. It was chaotic, but in the best way. In those moments, he could easily say this was already shaping up to be the best summer of his life.

At one point, you caught him staring, and with a mischievous smile, you asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer shook himself out of his daze, heat creeping up his neck. “Oh, uh, you’re really pre—crazy. You’re a crazy driver,” he blurted out, sticking his tongue out playfully.

Your laughter echoed in the car, ignoring his slip-up as you teased, “You love it.”

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop in the driveway of your vacation home, a secluded and stunning house nestled right by the water. The lake stretched out in front of it, reflecting the trees and the sky in the stillness of the water. Spencer took in the sight, his unease fading as he realized just how beautiful and peaceful the place was.

“Wait…” Spencer said, a hint of mock worry creeping into his voice. “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, did you?”

That startled a huge laugh out of you. “Shit, that was precisely my plan, but now you’ve ruined it!”

You both grabbed your bags and a few supplies from the car before making your way into the cozy lake house. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the scent of pine and the comforting warmth of the space. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement—it had been a while since you'd been here, and it felt like a retreat from everything back home.

“Okay!” you clapped your hands together. “Why don’t you go and take a look around? I’ll handle the checks really quick so we can just enjoy our time here!”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of awe as he wandered off to explore. The house was even more beautiful inside, with large windows showcasing the shimmering lake, tall ceilings, and wooden accents that gave it a rustic charm. It felt like the perfect getaway. He couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be here, to experience something like this with you.

Despite growing up in Nevada, his family never brought him to places like this. His father had left when Spencer was young, and his mother’s declining health meant that traveling was difficult, even impossible at times. As he wandered through the house, looking at the furniture, the wooden beams, and the peaceful surroundings, Spencer felt a twinge of sadness mixed with gratitude. This was new for him—a taste of something he hadn’t even realized he missed out on.

“Hey, Spence, you good?” you asked, coming up behind him, startling him once again.

He jumped slightly, spinning around to face you with a sheepish grin. “Yup! Just… taking in the view.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the gesture so casual yet intimate. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, soaking in the peaceful surroundings through the large windows overlooking the lake.

Spencer felt the warmth of your presence, the soft weight of your head on his shoulder, and for a brief second, the world outside seemed to fade away. He glanced down at you, trying to calm the flutter of his heart, feeling like maybe—just maybe—you were seeing this moment the same way he was.

—

The sky had turned into a blanket of stars, each one twinkling like a small firefly against the deep navy blue. The crisp night air had set in, making the warmth of the blanket you had wrapped around yourself all the more comforting as you sat on the deck, gazing up at the infinite sky.

Spencer was sitting nearby, his eyes occasionally darting from the stars to you, as if he were trying to capture both views. His natural curiosity about the universe seemed to blend with the simple contentment of just being here with you. The soft sound of water lapping against the dock and the quiet chirping of night creatures made everything feel serene.

You noticed him shiver slightly from the cool breeze that had picked up, and without thinking twice, you lifted the corner of the blanket and turned toward him. “Hey, come join me under here. It’s freezing out.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed the invitation, but after only a beat, he scooted closer, accepting your offer. He slid under the blanket beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he tried to get comfortable.

“Better?” you teased, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

He nodded, the warmth from the blanket and your closeness making him feel more at ease. “Much better,” he replied, a shy but pleased smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly and leaned in just a little closer. “You know, Spence, I never pegged you for a stargazer.”

He glanced up at the sky again, his eyes shining with the reflection of the stars above. “I guess I’ve just never really had the opportunity to appreciate it. But this…” He gestured slightly to the sky and then to you, his voice soft. “It’s kind of perfect.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, your smile deepening as you nudged him playfully. “I’ll take the credit for the blanket and the company, but I can’t do much about the stars.”

Spencer chuckled, his laughter quiet and warm. “Well, you’re definitely making it better,” he said, his tone flirtatious but still unsure, like he was testing the waters. He shifted just slightly under the blanket, your shoulders now pressed against each other, the warmth between you a comforting contrast to the cool night air.

You turned your head toward him, catching his gaze in the soft glow of the moonlight. “I think you’re the one making it better, actually,” you teased lightly, the flirty edge in your voice impossible to miss.

Spencer’s breath caught for just a second, and he smiled—a real, genuine, and slightly bashful smile that made your heart skip. Neither of you said anything more for a moment, just sitting there, cozy under the shared blanket, watching the stars as the night wrapped itself around you.

—

The next morning, Spencer woke up feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time—excitement. He jumped out of bed, an unusual spring in his step as he followed the delicious smell of pancakes drifting through the house. His heart was still fluttering from the night before, but the cozy warmth he felt with you had turned into something more eager and alive.

As he stepped into the kitchen, the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. You were standing at the stove, wearing the tiniest pair of shorts Spencer had ever seen, paired with a tight tank top that hugged your curves and rolls in ways that made his pulse race. His mouth went dry—well, until the smell of the pancakes reached him again, and he couldn’t tell if his hunger was for the food or… well, you.

You turned at the sound of his footsteps, flashing him a playful smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead! I know you’ve got a sweet tooth, so don’t even think about telling me you don’t like pancakes,” you teased, pointing a spatula at him in mock accusation.

For a moment, Spencer was utterly starstruck. You looked radiant, the soft morning light streaming in through the windows making you glow. But what really sent him reeling was how the thin material of your tank top clung to you, especially how your breasts pressed against it as you moved. He quickly looked up, his face already heating, but his brain seemed to short-circuit for a second.

“Uh, um, yeah, I love pancakes,” he stammered, trying his best to sound normal. “Thank you.”

You smiled sweetly, seemingly unaware of the internal chaos you’d stirred in him. “Good, because I made way too many,” you said with a wink, plating up a stack of pancakes and setting it on the counter. “Come on, grab a seat. They’re best when they’re hot.”

Spencer nodded, his movements slightly robotic as he took a seat, forcing himself to focus on the food and not how close you were as you set the plate in front of him. The morning air was warm, but the atmosphere between you two felt even warmer. As you sat down across from him, he couldn’t help but feel like something was shifting between you—something exciting, and possibly dangerous for his already fragile composure.

—

That afternoon, you and Spencer strolled through the charming town center of Lake Tahoe, taking in the relaxed vibe and the quaint shops lining the streets. The day had been filled with lighthearted fun—nothing too serious, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. You couldn’t help but smile as you pointed out little details of the town, laughing at Spencer’s commentary and feeling a sense of ease that came so naturally with him.

But then, as you browsed one of the boutique shops, a mischievous thought crossed your mind. You turned to Spencer, feigning an innocent realization. “Oh, I totally forgot to pack a swimsuit!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your sudden announcement. “You… you forgot to pack a swimsuit?”

You shrugged casually, glancing toward the back of the shop where the swimwear section was. “Yeah, I mean, I’m gonna need one if we want to hit the water, right?”

Spencer nodded slowly, looking a little confused but following along. You weren’t entirely sure, but you were starting to feel like maybe he saw you as more than just a friend. There had been glances, small moments—like when you caught him staring or how he’d shyly brush against you. And truth be told, you felt a spark with him too, something that made you want to push the boundaries just a little, to see how far they would stretch.

“Do you… uh, want my help choosing one?” Spencer asked, his voice a little shaky as he tried to keep his cool.

You smiled sweetly, barely able to contain your amusement. “Well, yeah, Spence,” you giggled. “I need a second opinion! I can’t buy something that makes me look bad, right?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before his brain could stop him, the words slipped out. “I don’t think you could look bad in anything.”

The second the sentence left his lips, Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you’d only seen once before when he’d been particularly flustered. His eyes widened in panic, as though he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud.

You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sunshine outside. “Aw, Spence,” you teased gently, reaching out to touch his arm. “That’s sweet.”

Spencer looked away, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was adorable how easily he could be thrown off balance around you, and you secretly loved that you had that effect on him.

“Okay, so I personally think I look good in red…” you mused aloud, casually flipping through the racks of swimsuits that, if Spencer had a weak heart, would definitely send him into cardiac arrest. You picked up a bold red bikini and glanced over at him with a raised brow. “But your favorite color is purple, right?”

“Huh?” Spencer was caught off guard, blinking rapidly as he processed your question. “Yeah, it is.” He was surprised, and admittedly touched, that you remembered something so seemingly small.

“Well then, let’s try this on!” you declared with a bright smile, grabbing a deep purple swimsuit off the rack in one hand and reaching for Spencer’s hand with the other. Before he could protest, you were dragging him toward the fitting rooms.

“Y/N, I can’t come back there with you,” he said, his voice rising in a panic as the realization of what was happening hit him.

You sent him a playful glare over your shoulder, the kind that made his heart race even faster. “You can and you will, unless you think I should walk out here and let the whole store see me?”

“Nope!” Spencer yelped immediately, his face turning an impressive shade of red. He hated that idea. The thought of other people seeing you in something as revealing as a swimsuit made his stomach churn, and the words left his mouth before he could think twice. “I’ll come back…”

The fitting room was more casual than expected—just one room with a curtain separating the changing area from a small sitting spot. Spencer sat down on a cushioned bench, his heart pounding in his chest as you slipped behind the curtain, out of sight.

For a moment, he could only stare at the fabric of the curtain, feeling like he was in some surreal daydream. The small sounds of you moving around behind the curtain sent his imagination spiraling in ways he really didn’t want it to go, but he couldn’t help it.

“How’s it going back there?” Spencer asked awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands as he tried to distract himself from the situation.

You giggled softly from behind the curtain, and he could hear the light rustling of fabric as you adjusted the swimsuit. “Almost ready. Just… a sec.”

Spencer swallowed hard, unsure if he was ready for whatever was coming next. His heart beat faster with every passing second, and he wasn’t sure whether to brace himself for a disaster or… something else entirely.

And then you stepped out from behind the curtain, more confident than Spencer could ever hope to be. The swimsuit you had chosen—a soft purple that hugged your curves and contrasted beautifully with your skin—made Spencer’s heart stop. For a moment, all he could do was stare, frozen in place, his mind short-circuiting at the sight of you standing there in all your stunning glory.

You did a small, playful spin, the movement so effortless and carefree, and Spencer choked on his spit at the sight of your ass as you turned. His face went from pale to a deep, crimson red in less than a second.

“Well…?” you asked, your voice playful, a little teasing as you caught his stunned expression. “What do you think?”

Spencer blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was a strangled noise that sounded somewhere between awe and panic.

You smiled, clearly amused by his flustered reaction. “Come on, Spence,” you pressed gently, stepping closer to him, “I need to know if it’s a keeper or not.”

He finally managed to stammer something that resembled coherence. “I-I think… it’s perfect.” He gulped. “You look… incredible.”

You grinned, pleased by his approval. “You sure? I mean, I don’t want to walk around looking bad.”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, no, not at all. You… you couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing air between you two shifted into something warmer, something real. Spencer was still blushing furiously, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something more than just admiration.

“Thanks, Spence,” you said quietly, the playful edge fading as you felt the weight of his gaze on you. It wasn’t just about the swimsuit anymore—it was about the way he looked at you, like you were the most beautiful thing in the room. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make you feel it too.

The air between you shifted, the teasing moment turning into something heavier, more charged. You suddenly felt shy, your confidence wavering as you caught the intensity of Spencer’s gaze, still lingering on you.

“Um… Spence?” you asked, your voice softer now.

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice quiet, his eyes still fixed on you like he was in a haze.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as you glanced at the mirror. “Can you, uh… help me adjust the straps? I can’t reach,” you said, the words tumbling out. It was a lie, and you both knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wanted to feel his hands on you, to see if the tension in the air was something more than just a moment.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but without a word, he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, almost as if he was on autopilot. He walked toward you, his steps careful, the space between you closing with every second.

You turned to face the mirror inside the changing room, stepping just a little closer to the glass, forcing Spencer to enter the small space with you. The two of you were now standing so close, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off him as his fingers lightly brushed against your skin, adjusting the strap of the swimsuit with a tenderness that made your pulse quicken.

The moment stretched, neither of you speaking, both of you hyper-aware of the other’s presence. His hands lingered on your shoulders, and when you glanced at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the way his eyes had darkened, his gaze flicking between your face and the curve of your neck.

You swallowed, feeling the tension thick between you. “Spence…” you whispered, turning your head slightly to look up at him over your shoulder.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The small space, the mirror, the soft rustling of clothes in the distance—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this intimate moment.

Without thinking, you turned fully, facing him now. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. His hands were still on your shoulders, his fingers trembling slightly. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips softly against his.

Spencer froze for a split second, his mind trying to catch up with what was happening, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. It was soft at first, shy, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters. But then, as you deepened the kiss, the shyness started to fade, replaced by something warmer, something real.

You pulled back slowly, not wanting to push things too far in such a public place, but you couldn’t resist the tender moment. Your thumb dragged lightly across Spencer’s bottom lip, his mouth curving into a soft smile under your touch.

“I hope that was okay,” you whispered, suddenly afraid to break the delicate bubble the two of you had created. The world outside seemed distant, as though it didn’t exist beyond this tiny, intimate space.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his voice still filled with a mix of awe and shyness. “Considering that was my first kiss, it was amazing.”

You blinked, looking at him in shock. “That was your first kiss? Oh, Spencer, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even ask if you—” But before you could finish your frantic apology, Spencer leaned down and kissed you again, his hands resting on your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss was slower this time, more confident. He wasn’t holding back, and neither were you. When he pulled back, his lips barely an inch from yours, he whispered against your skin, “I could not have asked for a better person.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making the moment feel even more special. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was a turning point—something that was destined to happen, like you were meant to share this with him.

—

That night, everything felt light and easy between you and Spencer. The kitchen was filled with laughter and warmth as you both cooked dinner together. Every so often, you’d lean over to steal a playful kiss, the steam from the boiling noodles creating a cozy, almost magical atmosphere around you. Spencer’s awkwardness had melted away by then, replaced with a soft confidence that showed in the way he kissed you back, teasing you as he pretended to stir the sauce.

After dinner, you found yourselves sitting on the floor, playing a few rounds of Mancala, each of you laughing as you tried to out-strategize the other. But eventually, the pull of the hot tub outside became too tempting to resist.

You changed into your new swimsuit and waited outside, the night air cool against your skin but the anticipation of the hot water—and of Spencer—keeping you warm. When he finally stepped outside, you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

There he was, standing in the doorway in blue banana-print swim trunks, his lanky frame looking more adorable than you could have imagined. You felt a rush of excitement at seeing him like this, so much of him exposed, his vulnerability on full display in the cutest way possible.

“Don’t laugh,” Spencer whined, clearly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Spence, they’re cute!” you reassured him, still grinning as you tried to hold back more laughter. You walked over and tugged lightly at the waistband of his trunks, giving him a playful smile. “I love them.”

He looked at you, his shyness melting away under your warmth, and after a moment, he finally smiled. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands resting on his chest. “They’re very you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but his smile remained, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before taking your hand and leading you toward the hot tub. The playful teasing was replaced by a quiet excitement, the warmth of the tub waiting for you both.

You and Spencer settled into the hot tub, the warmth of the water enveloping both of you as you leaned back, the night sky above dotted with stars. The steam curled around your bodies, making everything feel soft and dreamlike. You let out a contented sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, glancing over at Spencer, who was sitting stiffly on the opposite side, his hands gripping the edge of the tub.

“It’s… nice,” he replied, though his face was scrunched up in thought, like something was bothering him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his hesitance. “You okay, Spence?”

He hesitated for a moment, then blurted, “Do you know how many germs are in a hot tub?”

You burst out laughing, completely caught off guard. “What? No! Spencer, don’t ruin this for me!” you teased, splashing a little water in his direction.

“I’m serious!” he insisted, his voice rising slightly as he adjusted his glasses, which were already fogging up from the steam. “Hot tubs are like… breeding grounds for bacteria. The warm water creates the perfect environment for microorganisms to thrive, and if the pH or chlorine levels aren’t properly maintained, it can lead to a whole range of infections—skin, respiratory, you name it.”

You giggled, shaking your head in disbelief. “Only you would bring up bacteria in a hot tub. Come on, relax for once!”

Spencer’s face was a mix of genuine concern and embarrassment as he continued, clearly unable to stop himself now that he’d gotten started. “No, really, the CDC recommends monitoring hot tub water regularly because—"

You cut him off by playfully splashing him again, this time a bit more, laughing as you watched him sputter, pushing his glasses up as they slid down his nose.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you said between fits of giggles. “But you’re in here now, so unless you want to hop out and start running tests, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Spencer looked at you for a moment, as if considering the possibility of actually running tests, but then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a fondness in his voice that made you smile.

“Look, the hot tub may be full of germs, but at least I’m not,” you teased, leaning a little closer to him. “So how about you just focus on me instead of all the invisible bacteria?”

He blinked, his eyes darting between yours and the water for a moment before he finally let out a breath and relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. “You make a good argument,” he admitted.

“See?” you said, inching even closer to him, your shoulders almost touching. “Now, doesn’t this feel better than worrying about germs?”

Spencer chuckled, his arm sliding across the back of the tub as he allowed himself to relax a bit more. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Much better.”

The playful conversation in the hot tub eventually faded into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft bubbling of the water. You noticed Spencer had gone quiet, and when you glanced over at him, you realized why. His eyes kept darting down to your chest, unable to hide his fascination.

You tried to hold back a giggle but couldn’t. “Spence… my eyes are up here,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He immediately flushed red, looking away in embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry! It’s just… I didn’t know that…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence without digging himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness he had created.

“Didn’t know what?” you asked, amused by how flustered he was becoming. “That they could float?”

Spencer hesitated before nodding, clearly mortified. “Well… yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I guess I didn’t think about it before, but, uh, it’s interesting. Scientifically, I mean.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, causing Spencer’s blush to deepen even further. “Oh, Spence, you’re adorable,” you said, still giggling. “They’re just balls of fat, you know?”

He blinked at you, his curiosity piqued now that you’d made it sound so simple. “I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, still staring despite his best efforts to focus on something else.

A playful, daring thought popped into your head then. You leaned in closer, biting your lip slightly before whispering, “You know… if you want, you can touch them.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “W-What?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wasn’t sure whether he’d heard you correctly.

You smiled, your expression soft but teasing. “I’m serious,” you said, your voice gentle but laced with curiosity. “It’s okay if you want to. I mean… it’s not like I mind.”

For a moment, Spencer seemed frozen, his mind likely racing through a million thoughts all at once. You could see the internal battle on his face—his logical brain warring with his curiosity and the undeniable attraction between the two of you. Finally, he swallowed hard and nodded, still unsure but willing to trust you.

Slowly, almost cautiously, his hand reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they hovered near your chest. When his hand finally made contact, his touch was soft and hesitant, like he was afraid to hurt you. His wide eyes stayed fixed on you the entire time, clearly amazed by the experience but also checking to make sure you were okay with it.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his voice barely audible, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your breast as if he were studying it in awe. You could see the genuine fascination on his face, his scientific curiosity mixing with something much more intimate.

You smiled softly at him, letting him take his time, feeling the weight of the moment between you two. This wasn’t just a playful interaction anymore—it had shifted into something more vulnerable, more personal. And in that moment, you both felt it.

"Spencer?" you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours, his hands still gently fondling your breasts as if he were afraid to break the delicate moment between you. "Yeah?" he responded, his voice just as soft, the world around you both feeling smaller, quieter.

"Kiss me," you breathed out, the words slipping from your lips like a secret you’d been holding in, waiting for just the right moment to share.

For a second, Spencer just stared at you, his mind seemingly struggling to catch up with what you had said. Then, slowly, as if in a trance, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips. His hands, still resting on your chest, slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he closed the distance between you.

The kiss was soft, tender at first, like he was still testing the waters, but the heat between you was undeniable. His lips pressed against yours with more confidence as the moment deepened, his touch growing bolder. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the nervousness and excitement coursing through him, mirroring your own feelings.

You leaned into him, your arms sliding around his neck as the kiss deepened. The steam from the hot tub swirled around you both, but the warmth between you was far more intense than the water. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Spence…" you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of affection and awe. You could feel the shift between you two, the unspoken understanding that this moment had changed everything.

He smiled shyly, his hands still resting gently on your skin. "That… was amazing," he whispered back, his voice filled with wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his lips again, a silent promise of more to come.

That night, under the soft glow of the moon and the warmth of the water still clinging to your skin, you and Spencer shared something deeper than either of you had anticipated. What started as tender kisses turned into a night of exploration, vulnerability, and intimacy. You took each other’s virginity, not in a rushed or hurried way, but slowly, carefully, cherishing each touch, each whispered word of affection.

It wasn’t just physical; it felt like you were sharing more than just your bodies. You both made quiet promises, unspoken at first, then whispered into the darkness—promises of staying together, of not letting this be a fleeting summer memory. You could feel the weight of it, the significance of this moment between you two, and you knew Spencer felt it too.

By the time the night faded into dawn, you were no longer just friends. You had come to the lake house as two people testing the waters of something deeper, but you were leaving as partners, bound by the connection you had built together over these few days. It felt like the start of something real, something lasting. And in your heart, you knew it was.

—

A year later, everything had fallen into place in ways you couldn’t have imagined. You and Spencer were stronger than ever, navigating your lives together as you both pursued your dreams. Spencer was deep into his PhD program, doing incredible work that often left you in awe of just how brilliant he was. You, on the other hand, had officially taken ownership of the bookstore after Mr. Jannell, the original owner, retired, and though it was a huge responsibility, it felt like you were carving out a life you were proud of. At just 19, both of you were on paths that felt meaningful and fulfilling.

Spencer had taken you to meet his mom, Diana, and you two had bonded almost instantly. Diana adored you, and before long, the two of you were “thick as thieves,” as Spencer liked to put it—sometimes much to his own chagrin. He’d always joke about how he couldn’t keep up with the way you and his mother teamed up against him during conversations, but deep down, you knew how much it meant to him that you got along so well.

When it came time for you to introduce Spencer to your family, it was a bit more complex. Your mom and her girlfriend liked Spencer well enough, and while he was perfectly polite, the truth was, you didn’t care much about their approval. The meeting you were really excited for was the one with your dad. He lived in Oregon, and though you had once planned to move there to be closer to him, meeting Spencer had changed your plans.

The trip to Oregon was everything you had hoped it would be. Your dad and Spencer hit it off immediately, bonding over literature, fine arts, sports statistics, and even chess. You could see the relief on Spencer’s face when he realized that your dad was a kind-hearted, free spirit—someone who truly understood and appreciated you. It meant the world to Spencer to have a father figure he could trust, and your dad made sure to let him know that he was always welcome to reach out, even giving him his personal number.

It was during that trip that both you and Spencer felt the confirmation that you were absolutely perfect for each other. The shared dreams, the easy companionship, the way your lives fit together—it all seemed to point to something greater.

So, when Spencer finished his PhD program at the age of 20, it felt like the most natural next step when he proposed. The way he looked at you, the ring in his hand, and the soft words he spoke made your heart swell. You had come so far together, and now, the future stretched out before you, full of possibilities you were ready to explore as partners for life.

"Oh my god, Spencer, yes!" you screamed, your heart racing with excitement. "Of course I'll marry you!"

And just like that, everything changed. You and Spencer were married, two best friends who had found each other in your small hometown and realized there was no one else in the world you’d rather spend your life with. It felt surreal at times—how lucky you were to have met and married someone who knew you better than anyone, someone who adored every part of you.

Spencer, for his part, was over the moon. He couldn’t believe that he’d found the perfect woman who not only supported him but loved him in ways he never thought possible. You were his best friend, his confidant, and now, his wife. It was a dream come true, and there wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t marvel at the life you were building together.

Diana was beyond thrilled for the two of you, offering nothing but love and encouragement. Your father had been equally supportive, loving Spencer like a son from the moment they met. As for your mom and her girlfriend, they had expressed concern about how young you both were, warning you about the challenges of getting married so early in life. But, as always, their warnings fell on deaf ears—you had never really taken their advice to heart, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

You and Spencer knew, deep down, that what you had was real and lasting. You had both seen the future stretched out before you, and it was full of promise—promises you were ready to make good on, together.

—

It wasn’t until two years into your marriage that the cracks started to show, subtle at first but growing more obvious as time passed. Spencer had been on the lookout for new work, eager to challenge himself in ways his current job couldn’t. So when the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI reached out to him, it felt like a sign—an opportunity to use his big, brilliant mind in ways that could really make a difference. You couldn’t have been more proud of him when he told you, beaming as he shared the news. Your heart swelled with pride.

But the excitement quickly turned into a complicated issue. You had worked so hard over the past few years, growing your business until you owned not just one but two popular storefronts. Both were thriving, and while you had employees, your presence was necessary almost daily to keep things running smoothly. There was always something that needed your attention, always a fire to put out. The idea of uprooting everything and moving to Virginia for Spencer’s new role felt impossible—laughable even.

The moment Spencer saw how you reacted, the light in his eyes dimmed. He didn’t argue, didn’t push the idea. Instead, he swallowed his feelings and forced a smile, telling you that it was okay, that he didn’t need to move, that his job at Caltech was enough. He could stay. How could he tell the love of his life that he did want more? That he wanted to move, grow, and do something that felt more important than the work he was doing here?

So, he stayed silent. He resolved to push the opportunity aside and stay in California, continuing his work in the engineering department. But you noticed. Over the next few months, Spencer changed. He wasn’t the same bright-eyed, enthusiastic man who used to come home excited to tell you about his day. Instead, he was coming home fatigued, emotionally drained, going to bed earlier than usual and struggling to get up in the mornings. There was a heaviness about him, a weariness that worried you more with each passing day.

You could see the signs, but you didn’t know what was causing them. Your heart ached with the thought that Spencer might be struggling with something deeper, something like depression. You didn’t know how to help him, and that uncertainty weighed on you both.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted softly as Spencer walked through the door. He dropped his bag and jacket in the hall closet before slumping onto the couch next to you, immediately curling into your side, his head finding its usual spot against your chest.

“Hi,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, seeking comfort.

You instinctively began stroking his hair, knowing it always soothed him. “How was your day?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though you could already sense that something was wrong.

“Boring,” he muttered. “Long.”

You hummed softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. “I was thinking,” you began hesitantly, “maybe this weekend we could go visit your mom?”

Spencer’s head lifted slightly, his eyes suddenly alert with concern. “Why? Is she okay?”

You quickly shook your head, reaching for his hands. “Yes, love, she’s fine,” you assured him. “It’s just… I can tell you’ve been feeling down recently, and I thought seeing your mom might help. Maybe it would lift your spirits.”

Spencer huffed a breath through his nose, his gaze shifting to the side as he pulled away slightly. “It won’t.”

Your concern deepened, and you searched his face, wondering what was really going on. “What do you mean?” you asked softly, your voice laced with worry.

Spencer sighed heavily, the weight of whatever he had been holding back finally too much to bear. “I got fired today,” he admitted, his voice flat, like he was trying to keep the emotion out of it.

Your heart dropped. “What? Baby, why?” you asked, your tone frantic, already running through every possible reason in your mind.

“I told my boss about the offer from the FBI,” he explained, his hands fidgeting as he spoke. “They said if they fired me, then I could collect unemployment until I start my new job and I would get a severance package.”

Your heart stopped. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “...Start your new job?” you repeated slowly, barely able to get the words out.

Spencer nodded, his gaze still averted. “I accepted the job in Virginia,” he said, his voice quiet, almost as if he were afraid to say it out loud.

“Without telling me? Or asking me?” Your voice trembled slightly as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

Spencer, exhausted and clearly fed up, scoffed, “I didn’t think I needed your permission.”

His tone carried a sharpness that stung, a sass that only came out when he was truly drained. It wasn’t like him to be dismissive, but this felt different. You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“No, you don’t,” you said flatly, your voice colder than you intended. “But I am your wife, and I’m pretty sure that decision is going to impact us both. I would have liked to have a say.”

Spencer let out a frustrated breath, his posture stiffening. “So you could say no again?” he snapped, his exhaustion now seeping into anger.

You stared at him, bewildered. “When did I ever say no?” you asked, your voice rising with disbelief.

“When I brought it up the first time, you laughed!” Spencer shot back, his voice louder now, frustration overtaking the sadness that had been weighing him down. “You didn’t take me seriously.”

Your heart raced, and you could feel the tension building. Fighting like this wasn’t something you were used to, especially with him. You hated this feeling of everything slipping through your fingers. “Baby, I didn’t know you were seriously considering it. You never brought it up again.”

“I didn’t want you to tell me we couldn’t make it work,” he said, his voice cracking with sadness now. The frustration in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a deep hurt that made your chest ache.

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling in. This wasn’t just a fight about a job. It was about more—about unspoken fears, miscommunication, and the silent distance that had crept in between the two of you. You had both been living in your own worlds, not realizing how far apart you were drifting.

The silence between you was heavy, and for the first time, the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you were heading in different directions hung in the air.

“I didn’t say we couldn’t make it work,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your own sadness mixing with the confusion. “But you made the decision without me… and that’s what hurts.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening, but there was something there—an understanding, maybe—that this was bigger than either of you had anticipated. He hadn’t thought you’d react like this. You hadn’t expected him to push forward without you.

And in that moment, the future you both had built together seemed fragile, hanging in the balance of a choice neither of you had prepared for.

“What are you saying?” Spencer asked carefully, his voice softening, though there was still a thread of hope lingering in his words. “We can make it work? You’ll move with me?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question sinking in. You had both avoided the depth of this conversation for so long, but now it was staring you in the face. “Spencer… I have my stores,” you began, trying to make him understand the complexity of the situation, the commitment you had to your work.

“Can’t you sell them? Or… run them from Virginia?” he suggested, his tone almost casual, as if the solution were that simple.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “It’s not that easy, Spence,” you replied, your voice tight with frustration. “If something goes wrong, I need to be there. I need to be in person to fix it. It’s my business. I can’t just run it from across the country.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I just… my work is important too. Don’t you see that? I’m talking about saving lives, helping people in ways that can make a real difference.”

You felt the sting of his words, the implication behind them cutting deeper than you expected. “What are you saying, Spencer?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, a mixture of disbelief and hurt. “That what I do doesn’t matter?”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s exactly what it sounds like,” you interrupted, your voice louder now, the hurt rising to the surface. “You think because I’m not saving lives, because I’m not doing what you’re doing, that it’s less important? These stores… they mean everything to me. Just because it’s not life or death doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“I guess I thought I meant everything to you,” Spencer whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks, his voice trembling with heartbreak.

Your own tears began to fall, your chest tightening as you watched the love of your life in such pain. “I thought so too,” you replied, your voice cracking. “But… would you leave everything behind and move across the country for me?” It was a question that hung heavy between you, one that neither of you had ever truly confronted before.

Spencer stared at you, his eyes red and glassy. “What is this?” he asked, his voice shaky. “Are we… are we breaking up?”

Your heart shattered at the thought, and you sobbed softly. “I don’t… I don’t know, Spence. But if you’re moving, I don’t see how we can make this work.” The weight of that reality crushed you both, the finality of it sinking in.

“You won’t even think about coming with me?” Spencer asked, his voice laced with desperation. He wanted to believe there was a chance, a way to bridge the gap.

You shook your head slowly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “Not right now, not when I’m just getting started. I can’t walk away from it.”

Spencer stood then, his movements sharp, final. “Well, I’m just getting started too,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back his emotions. “Maybe… maybe we were too young.”

You looked up at him, crying harder now. “You don’t mean that,” you choked out, shaking your head. The idea that he could regret the life you’d built together was too much to bear.

But Spencer looked down at you, his face full of sadness and regret. “I think I do,” he said softly, the words hanging between you like a dark cloud. “What were we thinking? We didn’t know what we were going to do with our lives. We should have waited, or… or talked about the future more.”

His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of how far apart you had grown. The love was still there, strong and undeniable, but the reality of your different paths, your conflicting dreams, was threatening to tear you apart. And neither of you had any idea how to stop it.

—

At the airport, you walked Spencer as far as security would allow, neither of you ready to let go just yet. The reality of the moment weighed heavily on both of you, and as you pulled him into a tight hug, the tears flowed freely, unbidden.

“Spencer,” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, holding his face in your hands so you could look into his eyes. “I am so proud of you. You’re an amazing, wonderful, brilliant person, and you’re going to do great things. Please, don’t be a stranger.”

Spencer smiled through his tears, his expression soft but filled with pain. “Thank you, Y/N. That means so much coming from you. I know you’re going to do great things too. Keep me updated—I still want to be involved in your life.”

You nodded, your heart breaking as you tried to smile through the sadness. “I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I can handle.”

The two of you stood there, holding each other, neither wanting to let go. It felt like an eternity and no time at all before the final call for his flight came over the loudspeaker. Reluctantly, Spencer pulled away, wiping his eyes as he looked at you one last time.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

You stood there for a moment, watching him disappear through security, the reality of it all hitting you like a wave. Alone, 22 years old, divorced, and still in your hometown, the life you’d imagined for the two of you now felt like a distant dream.

To be continued…

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kikker-oma · 1 month

Note

I made a small fic for this piece of art you did bc it stuck me with emotion and I couldn’t resist

the art:

Time walked through the inn hallways, carrying a glass of water for the traveller, who had succumbed to magic exhaustion and was resting peacefully for the time being. He heard a keening sob, and then a sniffle and paused, the water splashing slightly from the abrupt stop. He followed the sound to the room where the sailor, the smithy, and the captain were staying. Worriedly, he knocked on the door with his free hand. “What?” Came a worn, small voice and the old man’s heart stuttered.

“Can I come in?”

“I—“ A hiccup. “Yeah.”

He turned the knob and opened the door, stepping inside and examining the room, seeing the familiar blue tunic of the sailor’s and recognizing Wind, sitting on one of the bed’s with his legs dangling on the ground. He met Wind’s eyes and saw the tears and softened, closing the door shut as quietly as he could. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Time approached the kid slowly.

When all he got was a barely bit back sob he sat down next to the sailor and noticed he was clutching a telescope tightly to his chest, so tightly his knuckles were white. He didn’t press, merely laid a hand on his shoulder. And Wind looked back at the old man with streams of tears falling down his cheeks and dripping down his chin, his eyebrows pressed and he released his tense grip on the telescope holding it up slightly. “Y’know—sometimes I stay up…A-and I think about what she went through.”

She. Time held his breath, wondering who this girl was but also finding himself nearly at tears seeing and hearing this. Wind hiccuped again. “And—I th-think that.”

A sob tore its way out of the kid’s mouth and Time uttered something softly, a reassurance. Wind continued anyway. “It r-really should’ve been me.”

“No. I don’t know what happened, but you don’t deserve whatever was so bad that she went through.”

“My s-sister, she was kidnapped. She was only six years old—“ Wind gasped. “And she has nightmares of her time in a cell. I would’ve been able to handle it, old man. It should’ve been me.”

And didn’t that make Time’s heart ache more than ever. He hugged the kid. “She’s safe now, right?”

“W-well yeah…”

“Because you rescued her. Who would’ve been there to save you had you been in her stead?”

He got no reply, just a muffled hiccup. Time wiped the kid’s tears away. “We can’t change the past. And no matter what your mind may tell you, even though your sister has gone through a lot, she still has you, right? You’re both still alive.”

He wasn’t expecting a response. He wasn’t expecting anything from the poor kid right now.

Kids. These are just kids.

Time waited patiently, keeping the sailor company as he took in what was just said and continued to cry, until Wind spoke, saying, “This telescope is my sister’s. She let me borrow it, before she…Y’know got kidnapped but when I tried to give it back she insisted that I needed it more.”

“I see. She sounds kind.”

“She is. She helps out where she can and she comforts me when I have nightmares and Grandma isn’t there to,” Wind sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “Aryll’s the whole reason I’m out there, looking for a new place to call Hyrule. I just wish she hadn’t had to go through what she did.”

“I find myself wanting to meet her,” Time hummed. “Is she younger or older than you?”

“Younger. When she got k-kidnapped I was about 11.”

And so the old man stood up, and smiled softly back down at the sailor. “Would you like to check on the traveller with me? I was giving him some water.”

“Yes!” Wind smiled back, hopping up and following the old man through the inn.

I feel sick. These kids have gone through so much…because I wasn’t there. I abandoned them.

ASHAJAJAHFJF

Time comforting Wind is SO PRECIOUS!!!

Dad vibes DAD VIBES DAD VIBES!!!

Oh wind is such a selfless older brother, he cares so much and is so sacrificing out of love!

I adore that time doesn't expect anything from wind, just talks with him and comforts, and then gives him the option to help Hyrule totake his mind off of it. A nice distraction while also fulfilling the need to do more and help❤️

Oh but Tiiiiimmme don't you start feeling the same way!! Someone tell this man to listen to his own words!!

Thank you Uni, this was SUCH a lovely surprise!!!!!

#sweet uniquevoidflowers #eeeeeiiiiiii #i love this so much🥹🥹🥹#just the way you wrote them?! wind is so saaaad #i also wanna comfort him🥺#and time wiping his tears away?!#AAAAAHDJSK #love them #FAMILLYYYY #ive also sobbed over my siblings #I feel you windy my boy #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu wind #lu time #fics for oma

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shirefantasies · 8 months

Note

Congratulations on 100 followers! 👏 🎉 🥳

This kind of a weird request but I wanted to ask how you would imagine the Fellowship would react/take care of their companion on their period? Like having severe cramps. It can be romantic or platonic relationship it's up to you but I would like Boromir to be romantic.Just lots of fluff basically.🤗

I just really enjoy reading how my favorite characters would take care of me when I'm in pain.😅

Thank you 🥰 oh same because I get reallllly bad period symptoms unless I take my supplements long enough before (and sometimes anyway 😣) so I adore being taken care of by my blorbos 🥺 doing everyone because I wanna write this with Faramir & write some wlw fluff 🥰

LoTR Characters When You’re on Your Period (F!Reader)

Warnings: small blood/pain mentions, a suggestive joke

Aragorn

✧ Your exchange is wordless; Aragorn sees the way you jolt at a sudden shock of pain, catches your eyes and gives you an inquisitive nod. You nod back and that is that, no questions asked.

✧ If you are traveling, your pace slows and Aragorn will hear no two words about it. He allows more breaks, hunts twice as hard, directs you to the softest place to sit and just gives the others firm looks if they try to give complaint.

✧ “Please,” he’ll urge you gently, taking your hand in his, “try to eat something. You’ll need your strength.” Just the sound of his voice, the care therein, practically brings tears to your eyes.

✧ Honestly, it takes a lot for him to suppress his laughter if you snap at one of the others, at least when your outburst is warranted. Glance over and you might catch him giving them an ‘I warned you’ look.

✧ Takes on more fights for you, bidding you to stand back and let him take care of things for once.

Legolas

✧ Perplexed but very concerned when he comes upon the sight of you sprawled out with a grimace of pain across your beautiful face. His first motion is to help you up, secondly asking what ails you. While he looks at you like he does not understand, his actions suggest otherwise.

✧ Every month he learns to follow it, the moon his reminder, and every month Legolas silently begins his gathering. Your favorite tea? Check. Your comfort item? Perfectly clean and ready to hand off. Your bedding? Also perfectly clean and assembled just how you like it. Even Legolas’s words are softer, more understanding in case of sudden complaint or upset.

✧ “It’s like you know what I want before I want it.” “Knowing you,” Legolas replies with a smile, “is my greatest joy.”

✧ Good luck trying to stand on your own; Legolas all but hovers around you, offering a hand whenever you attempt to rise.

✧ He becomes extra protective, taking hold of you by the waist at the first sound or sight of danger, lest anything make it worse.

Boromir

✧ All but bursts into your room the moment he hears that you are bedridden, rushing to take your hand and ask you what has happened in a whisper you can’t help a faint chuckle at before you explain.

✧ Taken visibly aback, Boromir then shakily asks what he can do, smiling when you tell him just to stay with you. “Pretend it’s a wound from some great battle,” you joke. “Oh, indeed,” he agrees before you two begin coming up with more and more ridiculous fights and scrapes you got into, Boromir’s thumb drawing circles over the back of your hand.

✧ He offers to try rubbing where it hurts, applying faint warm pressure over where your lower half is assaulting you. “How is this, my love?”

✧ Uses you having any difficulty with walking as an excuse to pick you up and carry you on his back.

✧ Does your washing up, partially just to prove your teasing about him not being brave enough wrong! He is a warrior, after all.

Gimli

✧ The others alert Gimli in a hiss after he less-than-tactfully panics that you’ve been hurt, sending his lips pursing into a shocked ‘o’ and his gaze sliding back to your stooped form.

✧ “Oh, er, well there lassie, if you need anything at all you know who to call for.” “Well,” you groan, “if you’ve any spare rags I’ll gladly take them.” “Rags? What would you want with…oh. Oh.” “Scared of a little blood, Gimli?” “No, not I,” Gimli replies despite his shaken expression, “I’m so used to the stuff by now, what’s the trouble?”

✧ Insistent as he is that dwarves are the best carers of their women, Gimli quickly works to prove his point and, in his words, win your heart with the lot of it. You’re skeptical when you see him sticking rocks in the fire, but at the end of the day the warmth is heaven upon your aching body and Gimli looks just as pleased as you feel.

✧ He probably also recommends you a strong drink under the claim that it eases pain like nothing else. Whether this is helpful or not is up to you.

✧ Goes surprisingly soft when you curl up, still facing wave after wave of cramps. Reaches over to you and strokes your hair, sitting at your side looking for all the world like a guard dog.

Frodo

✧ Your pain is interrupted by a gasp that has you looking up, meeting Frodo’s wide blue eyes glistening with concern at your sudden jerk. Familiar as Frodo is with pain, he recognizes your motion without a single question.

✧ Urges you to sit or lie still, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head like punctuation.

✧ While you rest up, Frodo tells you stories, stories of his uncle Bilbo’s adventures, tales from the days of the elves, anything to send you to a different place then you currently must be in.

✧ Offers you extra blankets or his cloak if you’re feeling cold or in need of comfort.

✧ Shy as he can be, in your time of need his hands hardly leave your shoulders or your side, quite protective even if he is smaller than you.

Sam

✧ “Whoa, easy there,” Sam tells you as he sits you down, “what happened?” Poor thing thinks you got some bad news or something the way you’re tearing up.

✧ Holds you close to his chest as you let the tears flow, shaking his head when you start to tell him it’s stupid, you’re just in pain and upset. “Can’t think of any more reasonable reasons to cry. Don’t worry, just let it all out.”

✧ Such a sweetheart, he won’t leave your side for hardly anything….except to go pick you some flowers to raise your spirits, of course!

✧ Flushes a bit at the suggestion, but one hundred percent helps you undress and change into more comfortable clothes. Even if he tries to look shyly away as much as possible.

✧ Definitely cooks you something hearty and nutritious, encouraging you to eat even just a little bit. Sam will even hand feed you spoonfuls if you’re feeling bad enough.

Merry

✧ “Oh, yeah, I know all about that!” “You do?” “Sure, I saw what my father did for Mum, after all. Come here.”

✧ Apparently what Mr. Brandybuck did for the missus was to build her the most massive nest of pillows known to Hobbit-kind. “And what’s she do in here?” You ask, waving a hand feebly over your new home. “Well, not sure what they did after that but I think I’ve heard of a way to lessen the pain.” Whether that works or earns him a smack you can decide.

✧ From your pillow pile you become queen of, well, Merry at least, though he puts on an act of being scared of displeasing you at first. You can’t help laughing as he kneels before you, asking what snacks you request or if you’d like some water.

✧ Meriadoc “chugs respecting women juice” Brandybuck has silently vowed to never once make any ill jokes at your expense. No asking if it’s your time if you express any emotion he doesn’t, no teasing you for needing help, no acting like said help is too gross for him, ever.

✧ That being said, he even does your washing up for you!

Pippin

✧ Definitely more the type to fret and worry, hands going to your back as you double over and he asks what’s wrong, are you hurt? Whether your words are sheepish or unabashed, you tell him it’s your womanly cycle and Pippin’s eyes practically pop out of his lovely little head. “O-oh. What should I do?”

✧ His cluelessness is actually perfect for the situation because he truly will do anything you say will help, whether it’s bottling up some hot water, fetching you your favorite snacks, making you tea, even singing you a song if you tell him it’ll raise your spirits.

✧ His absolute favorite thing to do, though, is offer company, tumbling onto the bed with you and chatting the afternoon away.

✧ This quickly evolves, though, and soon Pippin is holding you for dear life, an arm wrapped around the front of you where he draws warm, gentle circles lightly over your pain.

✧ “This isn’t so bad, is it?” You swat him for that, but in spite of yourself cuddle closer and join his sheepish laughter.

Faramir

✧ No questions asked, Faramir is by your side stroking your hair and getting it out of your face if it falls so.

✧ Musing over the strength it takes to fight such internal battles, he cradles you in his arms or, if you prefer not to be touched, holds your hand as he sits at your side.

✧ Well-read as Faramir is, some pain remedies swim to the forefront of his mind and he goes off to seek them.

✧ When you lie down, he tucks you in so softly, that sparkle in his eyes you love so much twinkling just for you. “This will pass,” he whispers.

✧ Blames himself if you get upset sometimes, but is reassured and happy again when you tell him he need never pull away from you.

Eomer

✧ Confused, frankly, at why you suddenly can’t walk, for he cannot conceive of a reason until you admit this is unfortunately quite normal for you.

✧ Asks you why, frowns in greater confusion and sympathy when you say you do not know, acts a little bit uncomfortable about details but still sets out to aid.

✧ Too uncomfortable to ask his sister, he opts instead to seek out a healer and practically demand anything that helps with a woman’s “well, time.” He’s getting the spirit slowly but surely, alright?

✧ Bursts into your room with an armful of everything the healer has, ready to brainstorm solutions to have you right again. You can’t help but chuckle at the whirlwind you’ve just gone through all over some cramps.

✧ He gets quite restless until you call him to your side, asking him to quit fretting and just lay with you. “Ah, that I can do,” he says with a grin.

Haldir

✧ Haldir’s steady expression drops when he learns of your ailment. Everything else he is holding or doing drops as soon as possible, too, and he is going to you.

✧ Taken aback at the sight of you, he realizes he did not know a woman’s cycle could take such a toll as to leave you bedridden. He isn’t used to seeing you so weak and is ready to do what it takes to end it.

✧ He has all these wonderful scented oils, some of which help you sleep, some of which he uses to massage you and hopefully numb the pain.

✧ In addition, he guides your breathing through waves of the ache, looking to the breeze and the rhythms around you to help you relax your body that much more.

✧ Haldir is hesitant to show you excess affection, but if you request it, his arms snake around your waist and he holds you there, both of him breathing you in like you’re all he needs and vice versa.

Eowyn

✧ “Sit down, please, I insist.” As much as Eowyn herself is the type to trudge forth through pain or fear, she would never impose the same upon you, instead tending so gently to you.

✧ Hot water always helps her, so she fetches you some as well as a treat from a baker she passed by, taking your hand after she hands it off.

✧ You had best believe this woman will tell anyone in the whole of Middle Earth to leave you alone as you rest, be they her own kin or the host of the dark lord himself.

✧ As you spend more time together, the old adage about ‘synchronizing’ seems to ring true with you both. Eowyn does not mind, honestly, because you bear the pain together and spend much time together in bed. Not the most ideal of circumstances, but if she can lay in the warmth of your arms Eowyn is a happy woman indeed.

✧ She insists so much upon your care, though, that you’ll practically have to wrestle her down so you can reciprocate…not that she minds that, either!

Arwen

✧ Who better to understand what you are going through? Her brows knit at the first sign of discomfort from you, recognizing the signs immediately.

✧ Without a word Arwen is finding out exactly what you tend to prefer- do you get nauseous and seek relief? Do you desire more sustenance and company or less?

✧ During times when you find yourself more stressed or upset than average, Arwen gives you so much grace, running her hand soothingly down your arm and reminding you all weights feel heavier right now.

✧ For all your pain, there is little bliss like being in the arms of your beloved, her soothing deep whispers brushing your ear.

✧ The most patient if you’re forced to wake up frequently in the night and rise, laying there with nothing but love in her eyes as you return.

Elrond

✧ Wise lord and healer as he is, Elrond is more than familiar with the ailments of women. In fact, he is the sort to track it for you as best as he can. So when he sees you feeling ill, sympathy crosses his serene features but no surprise.

✧ Elrond knows every remedy in the book, so he’s quickly making you some calming tea and sitting you down for some TLC.

✧ Very encouraging for you to take time for yourself and make sure you stay nourished, even if that is difficult. There is no shame in keeping your strength up, after all.

✧ Walks with you just a little ways behind, a hand resting comfortingly upon the small of your back.

✧ Sends cover for you where you are needed, no questions asked, because you are more important than tasks others can perform.

Lindir

✧ Practically trips and falls over himself running to you at your sudden shock of pain, dark eyes wide at the way you folded. You seem embarrassed to tell him and while he feels squeamish at first, that is quickly shaken off as he urges you to sit down.

✧ From that moment on Lindir has dubbed himself your personal nursemaid, naught but the call of Lord Elrond himself taking him from his work.

✧ “No, no, lie back down, I can get it,” he holds out a cautious, almost panicked hand when you wince and sit up, “what is it?”

✧ Sings you songs of all kinds, old tales, his own compositions, and of course your requests, again and again if you ask them of him. His harp is ready to gently play you to sleep or just to keep your mind off the pain you feel.

✧ When you wake up in the night, at first he looks frustrated, but that melts away quickly as your eyes meet, apology shining in your gaze. Instead, Lindir helps you up and sings you to sleep again upon your return.

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