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fallenprophets · 2 months ago

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◦⭐︎・love lost

Ekko x reader

Summary: once a Firelight and Ekko's partner, you are now a mercenary, dragging yourself through jobs to make enough money to pay for food. After one too many drinks, you take a job you can't handle, and get hurt. It's no shocker who comes to your rescue.

Set at undefined time, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Warnings: gore (not too bad but be mindful), swearing, mentions of death/welcoming death. 3.2 K words (oops), not proofread as always

A/N: icl guys this is one of the longer fics I've written, and definitely the angstiest one. Again, for my best friend, @sahxrii (go check out her recs, they're SO good) who I do everything for, lets be honest.

You have always prided yourself for knowing your limits; stopping when you need to stop, being reasonable about your own abilities. This has kept you out of quite a lot of trouble- avoiding fights you could not have won, not provoking people who were clearly able to whoop your ass.

This, however, is very different, and not a common occurrence.

First of all, you might be a little drunk- you’ve just had to numb the sting of your day with a drink, just a small one, in a tiny grimy bar run by a tall man with bright orange skin. Second of all, you’re running on two hours of sleep and painkillers (the painkillers are slowly wearing off, to make matters worse).

And lastly, you’re in a really bad fucking mood.

So, when your handler slides you a note with a name and address written in ugly red letters, you think fuck it, and take the job. You should’ve known this was stupid- you should’ve done what the sober, not exhausted version of yourself would have done. But instead, you accept with a bleary nod, because, to be frank, all you want at that moment is to break something.

So you take the note, drain your drink, and leave the bar, shrugging on your worn coat. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz beneath your skin, your knuckles tingling softly in anticipation. You had never been this excited about violence when you were younger- in fact, people might have described you as gentle, even. But now, with all the things you have witnessed, all the people you’ve lost, hitting people brought a kind of release you could find nowhere else.

Besides, there’s no one who remembers you as that gentle person left, anyway, so who are you disappointing? Yourself? You chuckle drily into the cold air, thick with gas.

You stop in front of the building, your hands tucked into your pockets. It is big, red, and ugly (like the ink the name had been written in, you thought), bright colourful light shining from the broken windows. A Zaunite haunt, typical for a wannabe drug lord- the kind of man you were often hired to beat up or kill. You kick into the dirt at your feet, take a deep breath. You have hardly sobered up on the walk here, so your vision is still somewhat blurry, everything swimming around you like you’re underwater.

Broken memories of swimming in an underground lake with him flitter through your mind, and you dismiss them, muttering a curse between your teeth. You roll your shoulders and make your way inside, striding in like you own the goddamn place.

“You can’t be here,” a goon dressed all in black calls from the top of badly painted stairs. You look at him, an ugly grin splitting your face.

“Kick me out, then,” you say, your heart already beginning to beat a little faster.

Before you know, goons are coming at you from the sides, cracking their knuckles. The twat at the top of the stairs sneers down at you, his teeth oily and black.

“You don’t wanna do this,” a woman on your left growls. She’s twice as big as you, her arms covered in bright red, winding tattoos.

“I think I do,” you answer, raising your hands, which are already curled into fists.

She lunges first, and you catch her with a right hook in the jaw. She hardly falters, but you drive your knee into her stomach. Now, she stumbles, and you leap up, narrowly avoiding an attack from another goon. You grab goon number one- the woman- and smash your forehead into her face. Her nose explodes, red and white flying all over you as she falls backwards. You spin and grab the nearest object- a stool- and bring it smack into the second goon’s middle. He collapses, and you walk over to him, drop the stool on his head. He stops moving.

You turn to the giant of a woman, who is standing and looking at you with pure, unadulterated hatred. Her face is broken into bits, blood and spit dribbling down her chin. “Come on, then,” you say, cracking your already sore knuckles.

She throws herself at you, twice as angry as before. You dodge, but she catches you in the shoulder. Excruciating pain shoots through you, and you realise too late that she has wicked little claw-like contraptions on her fingers. She comes at you again, slashing wildly. You jump out of the way, once again catching a claw in the face. It slices open your left cheek; pain explodes all through the area, but you grin. A challenge- you’ve always liked that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a child’s voice screams at you to stop, to leave, to give up. The goon from the top of the stairs is gone. You falter when you notice this- he must be warning his boss, who is your target. You double your efforts, lunging at the woman. You manage to punch her in the stomach, but your second hit, aimed at her throat, is knocked out of the way as she drives her claws into your wrist. You scream, not really in pain but in sheer shock at the sharp metal slivers protruding from your skin.

“Should’ve left,” she sneers into your face. You spit into the bloody mess that was her nose and wrench your arm back, kicking her, hard, in the sternum. She stumbled backwards and you pull your weapon- a machete, sheathed against your back- out, spinning it around. She assesses you for a moment, with what you realise now are robotic eyes.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You are not fighting a person, you’re fighting a robot. Or something that’s half half- the blood spilling from her face gives you the idea that she might be made of flesh and bones, but those eyes- you’ve seen them before. She’s assessing your fight patterns, and she’s going to win.

You duck out of the way of another attack, but she manages to graze your neck with her claws. You slash wildly with your machete, to no avail- she avoids each blow easily, and the ones that do hit, she ignores happily.

Finally, one of your attacks hits- you aim the blow upwards, and the machete carves straight through her face. Blood, huge quantities of the stuff, gushes all over you, bone shattering under the power of your blow. You yank the machete out, momentarily stunned as she stumbles to her knees, eyes fizzing out.

“Fuck,” you pant, stumbling backwards, “fuck you.”

Your victory is short lived. More goons are coming down the stairs, armed to the teeth. You raise your weapon, ready to fight them all if it kills you, when you feel something strange. Your shirt has been sliced open- cold hair breezes around your stomach. You look down, and are somewhat horrified to find blood; your own blood.

All at once, you feel nausea hit. You stumble to your knees, gasping for air. She got you- you feel the pain shooting through now. She managed to sink her dirty claws into your stomach as if you were made of mist and gas.

Everything flickers in front of you as the last few days finally hit. You’re in so much pain, it’s almost incredible- had you been an author, you would have liked to write about this one day. It’s like your insides have been ripped out (they kind of have, you suppose) and set on fire, stomped on, pissed on- you almost laugh at the thought as your head hits the ground.

You can’t remember when you fell.

Your vision goes dark, flickering in and out. You see the goons approach you, pick you up unceremoniously. You are outside your body, floating somewhere beyond, watching through your eyes as they drag you outside. It is raining- you wish you could feel the raindrops on your face, one last time.

You laughed, holding out a hand. It had been a while since you had experienced rain- in the Firelights hideout, you are protected by the huge leaves of the tree; and the Firelights hideout has everything (and everyone) you could wish for, so why would you ever go outside?

But, after hearing you sigh softly and murmur something about the only thing you miss about your old home being the rain, Ekko made it his mission to bring it back. As soon as it rained again, he took you by the arm, promising a wonderful surprise. He offered to blindfold you, but you kindly refused when you saw that he intended to take you up the tree. You had climbed together, him guiding you gently upwards; and as you’d ascended, you had heard a beautiful, soft patter; a sound that made your heart beat speed up and your throat close. Finally, you had reached the top, and he had lifted the leaves to reveal a little area above the canopy, partly shielded from the rain with a makeshift structure made of leaves and cloth.

Now, you sat in this structure, your side flush against his, a hand held out to the pouring rain.

“Do you like it?” He asked softly, looking at you.

“Do I like it?” You cried, almost incredulous. “Yes, Ekko, I love it!” You turned to him, grinning so widely it almost hurt. “Thank you,” you added after a moment. “Thank you so much, Ekko.” He smiled too, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him, and Gods knew you’d never been happier.

You’re lying in an alleyway. It’s like you can physically feel the blood leaking from you, your life draining from the gash in your stomach and the holes in your arm. The goons have left, convinced you are dead- why didn’t they check your pulse, stupid bastards?

It has stopped raining, but you’re soaked to the bone, lying there in the dark. Someone has stolen your jacket and your machete.

You groaned as you lifted the jacket up to the light. A bright fabric, the colour of the sunset, now stained with dark greenish grey goo. You should have known that wearing your favourite jacket down into the mines was a stupid idea, but you’d done it anyway.

“Stupid,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping the jacket into a heap on the floor. You wondered briefly if it was salvageable, but deep down knew it wasn’t. You’d have to find a new one, which would be nowhere near as nice.

Someone knocked on your door, and a soft voice spoke your name.

“Come in,” you called, still staring sadly at your jacket.

Ekko stepped inside, his presence like warm sunlight. Despite the grief caused by the ruined jacket, you smile, turning to him instantly relaxing as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I hear your jacket got ruined,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you muttered in response. “Upsetting.” He laughed. “I have something for you.” You pulled away, moving your hands to his biceps and looking at him. “What, Ekko?” You already knew what he was going to show you, but it warmed your heart all the same.

“It’s not exactly the same colour,” he said apologetically, “but-“

You put a hand over his mouth, beaming. “I don’t care,” you said.

He smiled back at you, releasing you to pull something out of his bag. It was neatly folded, but he held it out to you. You shook it out, and found a jacket, almost identical to the one that you had just ruined; it was a slightly lighter shade of orange, and the pattern on the back was a tree instead of the flowers you’d had on your last one.

“You’re insane,” you said, in awe. You put the jacket on- it was a little too big, but who gave a shit? It was your jacket, gifted to you by your boy.

You blink back into consciousness, and almost screamed. The pain coursing through you is like nothing you’d ever imagined; like being electrocuted and burned and drowned all at the same time. Despite the gaping hole in you, you want to curl up, to shield yourself from the wet and cold and pain.

“Please,” you whimper into the ground, “please, no.”

It’s not that you don’t want to die. In fact, you welcome death- you see it as a release more than anything else, from the bullshit life you lead. But dying here, like this-

You start to cry, and you gag and retch as tears spill mercilessly.

You are about to give in- you have given in- when a bright light seems to fill your vision. It is green and orange and yellow and pink and warm and fills everything around you. For a moment you think you’ve died, and this is some kind deity welcoming you into the next life, whispering I forgive you don’t worry as it carries you away. But no, the truth is much harsher than that.

A face hovers into your field of vision, and warm hands tug your shirt upwards. You want to protest, but your throat is dry from all the retching and sobbing you’ve been doing. A cloth presses down into the wound in your stomach and you howl, eyes rolling back in your head as the pain grabs you by the throat and fucking throttles you.

“Stop,” you manage to whimper. “Why- why are you doing this?” Your voice is hoarse, you’re crying again as you try to shut out the pain.

You hear shouting- words like help and home and quick- and black out again.

When you come to, you are no longer lying wet and dying in an alleyway miles from home (where even is home anymore? It’s just you, and that orange jacket, which you don’t even have anymore).

Your surroundings slowly swim into focus (swimming, your brain sings, swimming in an underwater cave, hands on your waist, kisses all over). You are lying down, mercifully dry and warm. Pain pumps through you in waves, mostly coming from your wrist and your stomach. You wonder, again, if this is some afterlife- if so, it is far less cruel than your parents described.

But then, you turn your head, and pain sears through you.

But that is not what makes you cry.

He lifts his head instantly as he hears your quiet sobs, and he’s at your side, a hand carefully gripping yours (he’s avoiding the bloody bandage wrapped around your wrist, you realise), the other gently brushing soft fingers over your bruised face. “It’s okay,” he says, even though you think he doesn’t mean it. It’s not okay- you ran away, got yourself beat up, almost killed, and he’s had to rescue you. Of course it’s not okay.

“Ekko,” you whimper.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, stroking your hair away from his face. Instinctively, you curl away, wanting to hide your injury from him. He shakes his head, his eyes brimming with tears (or maybe you’re delusional, because who would cry over you?)

“I-“ Your words are lost in a pathetic sob, and you turn your face away from him.

“Don’t,” he says. A pause. “How are you feeling?”

You croak out what should’ve been fuck but instead comes out as a bad imitation . You would’ve laughed, in any other situation.

“What happened?” His voice is so soft, so kind, it makes you want to rip your eyeballs out and stuff them into your ears.

You shake your head. You don’t want him to know what you’ve been up to since you left the Firelights.

He lets go of your hand, and for a moment you think he’s leaving you. It wouldn’t surprise you, to be honest. But no, he doesn’t leave you. Instead, he leans over, inspects the bandages wrapped around your midsection. Your mind instantly flashes to him prodding it, digging his fingers into your wound and calling you names. You wouldn’t blame him.

“You’re an idiot,” he says finally, still glaring at your bandaged stomach.

“Excuse me?” That is the first full statement you manage to force past your shredded throat.

“You’re an idiot,” he repeats with just as much gusto. “I mean, how could you just go and do this?” He gestures at your injuries.

“I didn’t-“

“What, think? Yeah, I can tell.” His face is partly obscured, so you can’t tell what face he’s making.

“I-“

“You’re so stupid. I mean, did you really think you could survive taking on all of the goons in that building?” He snorts to himself. “At least tell me the pay was worth it.”

You’re somewhat incredulous. All the time you’ve known Ekko, he’s never been this outright mean to you.

“What-“ you sputter, unable to find the words.

“Did you not think for a moment that you might get killed?” He puts extra emphasis on the word killed, and it’s like a punch in the gut. When he turns his gaze onto you, you think you’d prefer to have the goons rip you apart than see him look at you like this ever again.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to say through a fresh tightening in your throat. Your eyes sting and you’re about to turn away when you see his expression.

He’s smiling.

“What?” You almost choke out. “What is it?”

His smile is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s the sunlight, shining through the leaves of the tree; it’s the rain gently pattering on the roof of your childhood home. It’s the smell of old books and wood.

It’s so painfully home.

Your eyes sting, and you turn your face away from him, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. He still smiles at you like that, after everything you’ve done.

He takes your hand again, his other beginning to gently trace patterns on the bandage on your stomach. It’s such a soft, kind gesture. He used to do that, you remember with a pang, when you two would lie in bed together: draw little patterns on your back with his fingers, when he thought you were asleep.

“It’s okay,” he says, and for the first time, you wholeheartedly believe him.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, because those are the only words your throat will allow out. “I am.”

“I know,” he murmurs. He hesitates, then leans forwards, kissing your forehead gently. “Just…” he trails off, his gaze now focused back on your bruised face. “Don’t do that again.”

You promise him. Not with words, but with the feeling in your chest, the loosening of your lungs and throat as you watch him watch you. You promise him with the way your knuckles have stopped aching for more skin to break, with the way your eyes water again.

You promise him with all that you have, because that is the least you can do for him.

“I love you,” you mumble, almost sheepishly.

“I love you too,” he answers; there is no hesitation, no layered but only if… behind the words. He says it back with the same confidence he gives orders, the words more of a declaration than softly spoken pretty things.

“I’m sorry,” you add, after a few moments of just watching him breathe.

“I love you,” is his answer.

You shut your eyes, and he squeezes your hand.

#ekko #ekko arcane #ekko league of legends #ekko x reader #ekko arcane x reader #ekko league of legends x reader #ekko x yn #arcane league of legends x reader #arcane x reader #too many tags?#whoops #listened to AURORA on loop while writing this #ekko arcane angst #ekko x reader angst #bloodhoundsandplagues writes

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chososcamgirl · 2 months ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER TWENTY: love me anyway

masterlist

The sheets beneath her stir as the first light of day seeps through the thin, worn curtains, casting an almost mournful glow across the room. The sun’s touch is gentle, but it’s a reminder of another morning, another routine she knows all too well.

This feels familiar. Too familiar.

She has lived this moment countless times—each one an echo of the last, a rhythm of anticipation and careful avoidance. She knows the weight of the silence, the delicate pause before she turns over.

And when she does, she meets his eyes.

Those green eyes.

They’re always the same. The way they linger on her, taking in every curve, every freckle, every scar that marks her—his gaze tracing the map of her body like it’s something sacred, something precious. She feels bare, exposed, but there’s a strange comfort in it, a quiet surrender.

His hand, gentle, almost reverent, reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture is simple, yet it shakes her in a way she can’t quite explain. Her breath catches as if bracing for something she’s not quite ready to face, as if she knows, deep down, that whatever happens next will hurt.

"Morning," he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of unspoken things.

She smiles, but it’s not the smile of someone who’s truly at peace. It’s the smile of someone who knows the cost of each word, of every touch.

“Morning.”

The sheets are pulled tighter against her bare skin, the softness a fragile comfort in the quiet, uncertain space between them.

For a fleeting moment, the room softens, bathed in the muted orange light of early morning. The world outside fades away—the ticking clock, the distant hum of life beyond the walls—all of it dissolves, leaving only them. Two people in one bed. Not quite lovers. Not quite strangers. Something undefined. Something fragile and yet impossibly real.

“I want to be with you, Yn,” his words break the stillness, and though they’re spoken with the sincerity of someone who has nothing left to hide, they land heavy between them.

The light in the room seems to dim, as if the weight of his confession has cast a shadow over everything. The ticking of the clock grows louder, more intrusive, and she feels the rhythm of time moving against her, as if reminding her that this moment—like all the others—will soon pass.

“I’m just… not ready, Megs,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart heavy with the truth of the words. She can feel the sting of them as they leave her mouth—words she never wanted to speak, yet always knew she would.

He winces, like her words are a wound. The nickname hangs in the air between them, a reminder of all the things they’ve never said. It’s a name that feels too close to something they both fear.

“We can take it slow,” he says, his voice almost desperate now, like a plea disguised as an offer.

She doesn’t respond immediately. She opens her mouth, but the words don’t come. Her mind is spinning, caught between what she wants and what she knows she can’t have. Before she can find the clarity, she needs, the bedroom door swings open, and the familiar sound of footsteps interrupts the fragile moment.

“Woahhhh, clothes, please,” Nobara’s voice rings out, laced with her usual irreverence, as she strides into the room, her eyes already covering her face in mock horror as she heads straight for the closet.

“Nobara, it’s literally my room,” Yn mutters, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“Okay, damn, whatever happened to being civil,” Nobara replies, as if she couldn’t care less, already rummaging through the clothes in the closet.

Yn sighs, shaking her head, and despite herself, a reluctant smile plays at the corner of her lips. The moment between her and him slips away, as it always does, swallowed up by the noise, the chaos, the distractions of life. And in that silence, she’s left wondering if the real truth is the one she’s always too afraid to face.

"Oh breakfast is ready by the way," she says, as she finishes up with whatever she was fishing out the closet. She pauses for a moment and lets out a sigh, her eyes flicking toward the door. "I’m just... relieved you two worked it out. I can’t stand the thought of her going back to Sukuna again." She shoots them a smile before she shuts it behind her with a firm, deliberate click.

A thick, suffocating tension settles over the room, hanging in the air like smoke. The weight of unspoken words presses down on both of them, and suddenly, that familiar, uneasy feeling claws its way back—not just in her stomach this time, but in his as well. It coils in their chests, binding them together in an uncomfortable silence.

“What does she mean, again?” His voice is distant, almost hollow, as he stares at her. There’s a blankness in his eyes, but she can see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

She pauses, the words swirling in her mind, but they refuse to form.

“You slept with your ex?” The question falls from his lips with an unsettling calmness, as though he’s already resigned to the pain it causes.

“...Well... yeah,” she admits, her fingers instinctively scratching the back of her neck. It’s a nervous gesture, one she wishes she could take back, but it’s too late now.

“We were never exactly... together,” she tries to explain, as if offering that detail might somehow make it less of a betrayal.

But he doesn’t seem to care about the details. His face hardens, eyes narrowing as the words sink in. “But what happens when we are?” he demands, his voice tight with something between anger and hurt.

"What happens when it’s real?"

Her throat tightens, her heart pounding in her chest. She doesn’t have an answer. She’s never had an answer.

He doesn’t wait for her to speak. The words come fast, like an accusation she’s too afraid to answer. “Are you gonna go back to him every time we argue?”

The question hits her like a blow, the weight of it settling deep in her bones.

It hurts.

She’s always prided herself on being tough, on keeping the hard things from breaking her. But this—his voice, sharp and cold—cuts deeper than she’s ready for. It finds the cracks in her walls and tears them open. For the first time, she feels exposed. Vulnerable. And it makes her want to run, to flee from this moment before it can consume her.

She swallows, trying to steady herself. “And what about you?” she counters, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “What are you gonna do? Humiliate me in front of all your thousands of fans? Air out all our business for everyone to see?”

Her words come out harsh, a bitter retaliation, but they feel like the only defence she has left. She’s trying to protect herself, trying to lash out before he can wound her any further.

But as soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes how pointless it all is. In the heat of the moment, they’ve both become something they never wanted to be—two people fighting, two people unravelling. And the deeper they dig in their heels, the further apart they’ll fall.

She doesn’t know if either of them has the strength to put it all back together.

“That’s not the point, Yn.” His voice is low, edged with frustration, as he stands up from the bed. His movements are deliberate, almost stiff, as he gathers his clothes from the floor. Every motion is a careful retreat, a silent act of distancing himself from the words they both know are about to tear them apart.

Yn watches him, her chest tightening, her patience wearing thin. “Oh, then tell me, Megumi. What’s the point?” Her tone is laced with venom now, each word dripping with sarcasm as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Go on, I’m waiting. Enlighten me.”

He stumbles slightly as he tries to pull his pants back on, his fingers trembling just enough to betray the calm exterior he’s trying to hold on to. When he finally turns to face her, his eyes are hard, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability beneath the anger—an ache he can’t mask.

“It’s the fact that you keep doing the same shit over and over again,” he says, his voice thick with frustration. He rubs his temples with his right hand, fingers digging into his skin as if trying to erase the pain building inside him. “It’s like I’m invisible until it’s convenient for you.”

Yn feels the sting of his words, but it’s not enough to make her back down. She’s already out of bed, a shirt hastily thrown over her, unsure if it’s her own or his. It doesn’t matter. She could be wearing nothing at all, and it wouldn’t change the suffocating weight of this conversation.

“Megumi, what the fuck are you even saying?” Her voice wavers between anger and hurt, each word a shard of glass she’s trying to throw back at him. “Last night, you said you’d wait forever if that’s what it took. And now? Now you’ve ‘slept on it,’ and suddenly you’ve had some sort of fucking epiphany? Everything’s changed?” She scoffs bitterly, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

He flinches, but he doesn’t back down. “No. What’s unbelievable is you thinking that leading me on is just some checkbox to tick off in your mind,” he says, his voice rough. “Like I’m some fucking game you can pick up and put down when it suits you.”

The accusation hangs in the air, thick with all the things they’ve both left unsaid. The silence between them pulses with tension, the weight of their words pulling them further apart.

“Just because we do relationship things doesn’t mean we’re actually in a relationship, Megumi,” she snaps, her voice low but sharp, her hands clenched at her sides. The words feel empty as soon as they leave her mouth, but she forces herself to stand tall, even as her heart cracks.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “And that’s your problem, Yn. You won’t let it be real. You won’t put a label on it because you’re scared. You’re terrified of what happens when it actually matters.”

She feels the sting of his words like a slap, but her pride won’t let her show it. “I’m scared?” She laughs bitterly, a hollow sound that rings out in the silence of the room. “Who’s the one practically begging for a relationship in my fucking bedroom right now?”

The moment stretches out, heavy and charged with everything they’ve both kept inside. For the first time, Megumi is silent. His mouth moves, but no words come. They stand there, across the bed from each other, like two people lost in a storm, too proud to admit they’re both drowning.

Then, finally, he sighs—a long, weary sound that seems to carry all the weight of last night.

“If I told you I loved you right now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “would you say the same?”

Yn’s heart stops for a beat, and for a moment, she can’t breathe. The question hangs in the air, as fragile and raw as anything either of them has ever said. Her chest tightens, and her throat constricts, but the words she needs to say—want to say—don’t come. She opens her mouth, but nothing escapes. The silence between them stretches, unbearable and all-encompassing.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he mutters, his eyes downcast as he collects the last of his things. The finality in his movements feels like a wall being built, the space between them suddenly too wide to bridge.

And then, without another word, he walks out. The sound of his footstep’s fades, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of a conversation that was never meant to be this way.

Yn stands in the quiet aftermath, her body frozen, her mind racing. The weight of his words lingers in the stillness, thick and suffocating. She wants to scream, wants to ask him to come back, to say it wasn’t real, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

But the room feels emptier now. And the silence between them feels like a wound that neither of them knows how to heal.

In the end, there are no answers. Only unanswered questions and heart breaking in ways she doesn’t know how to fix.

Make that two.

—

“Oh my god… so he actually put the condoms on the register right in front of you?” The blue-haired girl laughed, nearly tipping out of her chair from how hard she was giggling.

“Yeah… haha,” Yn replied, the laughter sounding forced, hollow in her ears. She hoped Miwa didn’t notice the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, or how the pit in her stomach seemed to deepen with every passing second. The tension was unbearable.

Miwa, still oblivious, laughed louder, her carefree amusement filling the space between them. She had no idea that Yn was carrying something far heavier than a simple awkward moment. That she hadn’t told her about the morning after.

The words were still so vivid in Yn’s mind, like a photograph she couldn’t look away from:

“If I told you I love you, would you say the same?”

They kept playing on a loop, unbidden, repeating with an intensity that only seemed to grow with time. Each time they hit; it was like a small shard of glass piercing her heart all over again.

The sound of Miwa’s laughter slowly faded as she caught her breath, the moment stretching long and tense. Yn could feel her pulse in her ears, the weight of her regret thickening the air around her.

The song she’d been playing on air was ending, and before Miwa could notice the change in her, Yn hit the controls in front of her, quickly unmuting the mic, almost mechanically.

“And that was Crush by Ethel Cain, up next is Love Me Anyway by Chappell Roan!” she announced, her voice smooth despite the storm brewing inside her.

The opening notes of the song filled the air, but the lyrics hit her harder than any sound could.

As the first notes of the new song filtered through the speakers, Yn could feel each word like an arrow lodged in her chest. The lyrics, so raw, so painfully accurate, seemed to speak to her very soul.

“Sometimes I forget, wasn’t always this way…”

“It’s hard to admit, I was the one to blame…”

She wanted to turn the song off, and shut it out, but she couldn’t. The truth was unbearable, but it was also undeniable. She knew what she’d done. She knew how much it had cost her. Megumi had loved her. Not in some fleeting, casual way, but in a way that she had never experienced before. He had been real with her. Vulnerable. And she had let him go.

The weight of that mistake pressed on her like a physical force. Her chest tightened, the pain so raw, so real, it felt like she might choke on it. She could have fought for him. She could have tried harder. But instead, she’d walked away, choosing fear over something real.

The thought felt like a physical blow, one that stole her breath for a moment, leaving her feeling hollow and ashamed. She had let him slip through her fingers, let him walk away because she wasn’t brave enough to let herself love him the way he had loved her.

She hadn’t just lost him. She’d lost her chance at something that could have been everything. And now, all she could do was replay the moment, over and over, until it felt like she might break under the weight of it.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, the word tasting bitter in her mouth.

I fucked up. I fucked up so badly.

backstage!

• megumi definitely has something undiagnosed about him….

• bpd??? autism?? ocd??? speculate your theories in the comments NOW

• oomf said 500 days of summer coded and i RAN with it

• the party girls def heard them from the kitchen and they were just silently staring at eachother while ynmegumi were arguing LMFAOOO

• when they heard yn’s door open they quickly became occupied with something else hashtag awkies

• megumi got back home mad as hell

• no he did not punch the walls.

• he instead turned on ribs in the fetal position on his bed and listened to it on loop for 3 hours (tzc☃️)

• yuji was on tiktok live and u could just hear it in the background very faintly

• yk i had forgetting about the whole maneater station until a certain oomf starting with r and ending in ee rhymes with pee commented about it.

• Thank You Ree💕💝💘💗💖💞

• i missed miwayn hours BAD

a/n: i don’t know which was worse. writing this or the after effects of consuming expired laxatives. maybe both… HAPPY SJAP WEEKEND! sorry it’s a bit later than usual but we ball. sunday AND monday posts coming still🙂‍↕️ im not bailing on you guys again. i’ve been drained af. and i think im getting sick again. and i have to be up in 4 hours. everyone comment hashtag grateful so i can wake up and not want to kill myself❤️

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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little-diable · 2 months ago

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Christmas 1913 - Tommy Shelby (smut)

Since Christmas is right around the corner, I’ll try to add a few fitting imagines over the next weeks. Don’t forget to check out my 17k/Christmas celebration if you’re a writer yourself. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. Xxx

Summary: It’s Christmas 1913, Tommy and his fiancée have nothing to them but their names. But even though they spend it together in a cold apartment, they find ways to get even closer and to keep one another warm.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f), breeding kink

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.4K words)

The flames of the candles were flickering, alighting the room both were sharing. The wind was howling, dancing through the air that crept into the room, forcing goosebumps to rise on their skin. The smell of Christmas hung in the air, a scent so undefined one couldn’t describe it, even if they tried.

“What’s going on in that busy head of yours, love?” His voice ripped her out of her thoughts, forcing her eyes away from the candles that kept burning around them. A cigarette was hanging between his lips, letting the smoke frame his face as if he were some holy figure, sent down on this very special day to soothe her lonely soul.

“It’s nothing.” A soft smile was shot his way, something that made him raise his eyebrows. He counted until five, giving his fiancée a chance to speak up again, letting him in on the darkening thoughts she had always battled, but nothing followed.

“(Y/n),” she flinched at the use of her name, forcing her widening eyes back to him. Another breath of smoke left his nostrils, binding her gaze to him before he stumped out the cigarette. “Come here.”

She got no choice but to grasp the hand he stretched out for her to take, pulling her into his lap. One of his hands found her cheek, feeling her cold skin press against his while (y/n) cuddled herself further into the dress she wore, “It’s nothing, Thomas, truly.”

“I don’t believe that, not on Christmas Eve.” The hum rumbling through her felt like mockery, making him exhale deeply again. It wasn’t their first Christmas together, Tommy had lost count on all those years they’ve spent together, and yet this one was different. Oh so different.

For the first time they were spending it together, in an apartment smaller than any of the rooms he had ever shared with his siblings. An apartment both were sharing, without any heat nor electricity, and yet it was theirs, something to love and cherish. Something to call home.

“You deserve better, you and I both know that. Something about today keeps on reminding me of it.” (Y/n)’s words forced his eyebrows to furrow again, unable to stop his head from shaking. She tried to avert her gaze, wanting to blink away the tears that welled up against her will, but the hand on her cheek wouldn’t let her move.

“That is not true, love. My heart is yours, as much as yours is mine. It will always be like that, and I deserve nothing better but your purest form of love. Why do you even think that?” One tear after another began to roll down her cheeks, brushing past his moving thumb. Deep breaths of air were sucked into her aching lungs, struggling to find the right words.

“Look at us, Tommy. I have nothing to offer, besides forcing you to freeze on a day made to celebrate families and love. In a warm home.” Shame dripped from her words, shame that made his heart clench in pain. He tightened his grip on her waist, unable to understand what she was even talking about.

“You’re my home, (y/n). No place has ever felt like home without you in it. I’d freeze a thousand hours, would die a hundred deaths, if it meant I get to share this very day with you. Stop those tears, love, they are wasted.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, a kiss she clung to - seizing the right distraction for her spiralling brain.

Even though the cold kept nibbling at her exposed skin, (y/n) didn’t mind the way his hands found their way beneath her dress, resting on her trembling thighs. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy picked her up to lay her down on the small bed they shared, resting over her, “Christmas had never been my favourite, but ever since you stumbled into my life, I couldn’t imagine celebrating this day without you. You make me a better man, love.”

“I love you, Tommy, you’re my Christmas wish come true.” Their lips met again as his hands pushed her skirt further up her legs to tug down her undergarments. He parted from her to press open mouthed kisses to the insides of her thighs before finding her heat. The moan clawing through her made Tommy grin against her skin, he lapped at her folds, groaning at the all too familiar taste of her arousal.

With a tight grip on her legs, he kept her pressed to the mattress, not daring to even give her the space to move away. Sighs clawed through her whenever his tongue found the right spot to shoot shudders down her spine, knowing that he’d all too willingly rest between her thighs forever.

“My God, Thomas, how did I get so lucky?” He mumbled something against her heat she didn’t understand, too far gone to pick up on anything. Tommy’s bright eyes found her pleasure-drunken features, admiring his wife to be as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, curling them against her swollen spots.

(Y/n) swore that she could see the stars, blinking on the dark sky for her as if they were her guiding lights. A comforting thought, knowing that they were following her around wherever she’d go, with Tommy by her side. Her hips struggled to stay glued to the mattress, needing to push further against his hand.

“C’mon, love, cum for me, let me hear those sweet sounds.” His name rolled off her tongue, instantly following his command. She kept her eyes pressed shut, focused on the feeling of his tongue finding its way back to her pulsing bundle of nerves, sucking on it to push her over the edge. His fingers kept fucking her through her high, lips pulled into a proud grin he wouldn’t be able to shake for a while.

“Best Christmas gift one could wish for.” (Y/n) mumbled the words, squealing as he pushed her further up the bed while freeing his hardening cock.

“Don’t you worry, this wasn’t your only gift.” She was close to rolling her eyes at the pride dripping from his words, watching him spit down on his cock to lube himself up before brushing his tip through her folds. Their eyes held contact once again, mesmerised by their partner while he pushed into her.

“Christ, you feel so good.” Tommy rasped out the words, forehead pressed against hers to give both a second to adjust. With her fingernails clawed into his back, she clung to him, allowing Tommy to fuck her slow.

“Fuck a baby into me, Tommy, please get me pregnant.” The words forced a surprised groan from him, staring down at his fiancée with his piercing eyes. Every now and then they had spoken about this, knowing that they wanted to start their own family soon, but she had always had her doubts. All until today, knowing that only death would part them.

“Fuck, of course I will, of course. I can’t wait to fill you up, see you carrying my children.” He moved faster, hips meeting hers with every thrust. Their moans and groans bled together, filling the cold room that began to heat up further with every passing second.

Both were stuck in their own thoughts, imaging their future together while he fucked her. It was a perfect blend of love and lust, of anticipation and uneasiness. But whatever may come upon them, they’d fight through it together, making a silent promise to keep forever.

Her walls fluttered around his cock, pulling him in further while she rubbed her swollen bundle. Both were set on cumming together, wanting to let go at the same time. He had his eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed together while she kept hers parted, lifting her head to kiss him again. With another “I love you” choked out, both came together.

Tommy painted her walls white, set on fucking her full with his release. (Y/n) clung to him, eyes squeezed shut to relish in the sweetest feeling. Heavy breaths left them both, seeing their breaths linger in the air due to the cold in the room. But at that very moment, nothing mattered but the love they had for one another. All too oblivious of the years laying ahead of them.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #leaky blinders

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lennadanvers · 4 months ago

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His Home

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Ace!Reader

A/N: I'm a day late to Ace Week, but I really wanted to post this. I'd love to see more ace representation in fanfiction, so I'm doing my part. Plus, this kind of relationship has always been my favorite- there's something about undefined love that makes it perfect. I really like this one, so much that I wrote it while studying for my History exam. I hope you love it too, happy belated Ace Week!

Ghost is the first one to ask about it.

About you.

It’s late, you went to bed an hour ago, and Johnny offered him a beer. They’re looking at the empty front yard, a normal street in a normal neighborhood- a rare sight for soldiers of their kind. The food you and Soap made for the occasion sits warm in their bellies. The air smells of quiet and night.

Simon has known Johnny for a long time- and he has known him well. He didn’t know about this, though. He heard about you, of course. The first time Soap wasn’t sure if he’d make it back home, it was your name he mumbled. Instructions were clear: his dog tags were for you to receive. Along with everything else in his barracks. Ae dinnae care aboot all the rules. Ye gotta take me home tae ‘er.

Ghost knew you weren’t married- he would have seen it in his sergeant’s paperwork. He decided you were his girlfriend, then.

Until someone flirted with Johnny at a bar, and he happily told them he was single. Single. It didn’t lead anywhere, anyway; he came back to base with the rest of the team that night. Maybe he didn’t have a bird at home anymore, thought Simon.

But then there was the roommate. Soap was always talking about the roommate, how she would always leave hairs in the shower, how the laundry detergent smelled like flowers back home. It was said with fondness, the kind of affectionate jab one develops with family or very close friends. Ghost supposed you might be a childhood friend, then. Someone who had always been in Johnny’s life.

Come the end of their last mission, he had nowhere to stay at. His apartment was waiting for him, of course, but it was as empty and cold as any hotel room. His sergeant invited him home- tae meet ma girl. His girl. That was not a relationship status- no friend, no sister or girlfriend. Just girl, his girl.

He had to say yes.

Then there were you. Johnny’s age, bright eyes full of affection when you saw him. Small, soft hands ruffling the mohawk, saying it was getting out of hand. Nodding when he asked for another trim, bonnie, aye?

You hugged him around the neck, face under his chin. Ghost feared you would suffocate his sergeant. But Johnny’s face was pink, relaxed for the first time since before the mission. His arms were at your back, hands rounding your waist- they were used to that place. His nose deep in your hair- Simon felt like he was overstepping, like he wasn’t meant to see that. No one was.

Until you gave a step back- soft smile, soft eyes, soft Johnny- and welcomed him to your home. You called him L.T., like you knew him. Simon suspected you did. You didn’t try to shake his hand or- God forbid- hug him hello. You didn’t even risk a step into his personal space. He didn’t think it was out of fear- you didn’t blink twice at the black surgical mask. You just smiled and gave him a tour of the house.

That was another thing, the house. Tiny and tidy, cozy. Ghost didn’t have much experience with homes, but that’s what it looked like to him. A place lived in, well loved. A place with a past. Even more intriguing, a place with a future. By the way you talked, he gathered you weren’t renting. This place was owned. Something for the long run.

When you got to the hallway, though, you pointed to the last door. That’s my room! You can knock if you need anything, I’m a pretty light sleeper. Then to the one before that: That’s Johnny’s. Then the guest bedroom and the bathroom.

So you don’t sleep together.

Which would have been an answer to his curiosity, if it weren’t for the kitchen. After he left his stuff- a half-empty duffel bag- in the guest room, Simon went back to the small but charming space that is- all in one- your kitchen, living room and dining room. He was still in his soldier headspace, which means his steps were quiet. When he stepped into the kitchen, neither you nor Soap noticed him there.

You were laughing, hand on his bicep, eyes closed. Johnny was smiling. His shoulders down, his face soft. He grabbed your hand and brought you closer in a weird hug. You swayed together, and Simon almost heard the music you were dancing to. It went on for a while. Johnny went to grab a knife and you’d already placed the cutting board in front of him. You grabbed the oven mitt and he opened the oven.

You two are the perfect machine, always knowing where the other is going next. The smiles never falter. For the first time in years, Simon feels like he’s in a home. It’s confusing and startling. How come Soap has this waiting for him? How is he even able to go on deployment, knowing he might not have the chance to dance around you in the kitchen again?

The thought sparks memories. Soap’s sketchbook, a gleaming eye peeking from the page. His tactical jacket, jasmine perfume as they march through a field. A hair tie in the keychain. Gunpowder hands buying a bracelet in a faraway country. Making flower crowns while waiting for the target to show up. Dodging bullets with blue fevered eyes. Take me home tae ‘er.

He cleared his throat, and you handled him the plates to set on the table.

After dinner, you said goodnight. Johnny kissed your cheek; I left some beers in the fridge. Another kiss on the forehead. You waved at Simon, sweet and tired. Soap’s eyes followed you through the hallway.

Out in the cool night air, Simon asks.

“Tha’ ‘er?”

Soap flinches in his seat. The bottle in his hand twinkles under the stars. Doesn’t seem willing to reply. Maybe he doesn’t know how.

“The one from yer drawings?”

The nod is soft.

“Aye.”

Interrogation is an art. Ghost knows many ways to get information out of people. None of them work better on his sergeant than silence. The man has a need to fill empty spaces.

So he waits until Johnny takes the bait.

“A’v always known her.”

Another silence. Simon doesn’t need to ask the question out loud.

“We arenae datin. She isnae ma girlfriend. Or wife,” Jhonny’s voice is warm and liquid. “She's the love o ma life.”

Curiosity bubbles again. How does this life fit with the man out in the field? How come a cozy little house is home to a demolition expert?

“How’s tha’ work?”

Soap’s shoulders tighten, preparing for a defensive stance.

“She doesnae want sex.”

That’s not quite an answer, so Simon waits. Johnny’s back relaxes slowly, as if relieved by the lack of a reaction.

“But ‘a dinnae care aboot all that stuff. She's here whan ‘a come home, an she takes care o’ me. A tak care o’ her. Thare's nothin more than that.”

Nothing more he could ask for. Nothing more he’d ever want. His eyes glow blue, melting ice in the night. Ghost wonders, surprised, how he never saw it. How he didn’t realize.

After that, he doesn’t ask any more questions. There’s nothing else he’d need to know, really. When the bottles are empty and the air a little too cold, they retreat to their rooms.

The next morning, Simon stays in bed a little longer than usual. He listens to your soft steps in the hallway, the little knock on the door and Johnny’s raspy laugh. He hears the sheets and the whispers, the way he tells you stories about their last deployement- some true (only the lighter ones), the rest made up, with a handsome, Scottish hero. He pictures you tucked in Johnny’s side, his hand in your hair, easy smiles lighting up the room. And he understands. Once again, his sergeant’s words sound in his head.

A dinnae care aboot the rules. She’s ma girl, L.T.

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foreverisntenough · 4 months ago

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‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 13 - 'The Grand Palais' | ‘Act II’

word count - 13.4k

You hadn’t told Jude about your conversation with Aurelian until this flight, and you could see in his face that he wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. But you had to tell him. You had to come clean because no matter how harmless it felt in the moment, it wasn’t. It was a sign of how much you had been hurting, how much your relationship with Jude had frayed. You knew that if you were going to move forward, you had to lay it all out, even the parts that made you feel ashamed. Jude’s jaw clenched as your words sank in, and you saw the flash of possessiveness in his eyes, the kind that made your heart race and your head spin in confusion. He shifted on the plane seat beside you, his hand gripping yours tighter, but there was a tension that hadn't been there a moment before.

"You didn’t need to do that for my attention," he quipped, his tone sharper than he intended. You sat up, pulling your hand from his and turning to face him fully. The frustration bubbling inside you needed an outlet. How could he say that? After everything?

“Evidently, I did, Jude.” You snapped. “You didn’t come to New York until I left you and didn’t talk to you. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever planned on seeing me again.” You sighed heavily, pushing your hair behind your ear as you looked at him, trying to stay composed. The accusation hung in the air between you, raw and pointed. You saw his face fall, the possessiveness replaced with guilt but he tried to stay with his frustration.

“So you talked with my mate?” Jude asked with a raised brow. He knew, deep down, you were right but he couldn’t let it go yet. Jude's jaw tightened again, but this time in self-reflection rather than anger. He couldn’t hold on to emotions he knew weren’t merited. He felt stupid. He had no right to make you feel this way—not when his own actions had pushed you to the brink. He reached for you, pulling you into a hug, but you didn't reciprocate. Not fully.

“Jude… He reached out to me. I didn’t reach out to him, he invited me to his party. I’m sorry I entertained it probably more than I should’ve. I know that. He’s your friend and I know that line but Jude you gave me literally nothing until you finally sent me a text. And to be honest… it came a lot later than I would’ve hoped.” You quipped with some bite, your voice muffled into his chest. Your arms hung limply at your sides, the emotional distance between you two as clear as ever. His grip tightened, as if trying to hold onto you physically would somehow fix everything else.

“I know I took too long, angel. I should’ve come to you the next day. I just… I didn’t know if being apart was better for you.” He sighed remembering his initial worries that maybe it was better to just let you go. “I had made you so upset. I wasn’t sure if I could fix things enough or the way you deserved them to be fixed. I didn’t know if I could muster up enough courage to tell you how much I loved you but I’m so glad I got here, baby.” Jude frowned. “I’m sorry. I just want you to be mine," he muttered against your hair. "I’m not good at sharing. I don’t want to share you.” You closed your eyes, feeling both the warmth of his embrace and the frustration that boiled just beneath your skin. The possessiveness in his voice sounded more childish than romantic. You weren’t some object to be claimed. You were a person, with your own emotions, your own autonomy. If he truly wanted you, he needed to prove it—not just with words, but with actions.

“I’m glad you got here too Jude but if you don’t want to share, then you have to declare it,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “I want you but you’ve known that. You have to show everyone, me included, that I’m someone to you. That I’m not up to be shared, that I’m not just a placeholder.” You pulled back, meeting his gaze with a firm stare. Jude's eyes softened as he realized what you meant. You weren’t asking for possessiveness. You were asking for commitment, for recognition, for the security of knowing that he was all in. You didn’t want to feel like you had to compete for his attention, or that you had to flirt with someone else to remind him of what you were worth. He nodded slowly, understanding dawning on him.

“I know you’re right, I am making sure that’s known now. We’re doing this for real. Me and you, angel. I know you’ve wanted this, and I’ve wanted it but I’ve been... so stupid.” His voice cracked slightly, the weight of his own failings bearing down on him. “I should’ve made it clear a long time ago that you’re not just anyone to me. You’re everything.” He reached for your hand again, this time more gently, more purposefully. “I’m going to make sure everyone knows that from now on, you included. No more games. No more confusion.” You looked at him, searching his face for sincerity. His eyes were filled with regret, with love, with a new kind of determination. For the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe—just maybe—he was ready to fight for you the way he should have all along. And you, though still guarded, found a flicker of hope in your chest.

“Okay…thank you.” You shyly smiled. “And I’m sorry I talked with him like that but I hope you know I don’t want anyone but you,” you said earnestly. “I know it’s not great to hear but it’s better that you know I guess. I never stopped wanting you, baby. When I was talking to him, it was a way to somehow be close to your life, my heart was still with you.” You cooed. He nodded, running his fingers through your hair as he sighed.

“I’m just afraid I’ll lose you again. I hated being apart and I hate the idea of you giving anyone else your attention. I need to make sure I don’t lose you.” He muttered feeling a worry that had become far too familiar.

“You won’t,” you promised, looking up at him with sincerity in your eyes. “Just show me please.” Jude leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the tension in his body slowly easing.

“I promise” he murmured, his lips brushing your hair. You snuggled into him, closing your eyes as the soft rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear began to calm you. You had gotten through the hardest part — now, it was time to rebuild everything you’d nearly lost. Together.

You had landed in Madrid. As you stood there, gripping Jude’s arm outside his house, your pulse raced in sync with your nervous thoughts. The calm assurance of Jude’s steady presence anchored you, yet the idea of walking into his home, of seeing Denise again after everything, still made your stomach twist. You could feel the cool Madrid air brushing past you as Jude’s warm hand gently squeezed your waist. He kissed your temple again, a soft, grounding gesture that eased the tension building inside you.

“So does she know everything?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, looking up at Jude with wide, questioning eyes. You tried to mask the insecurity in your tone, but it still peeked through. It was daunting, imagining Denise silently observing the cracks in your relationship. You hadn’t seen her in so long, and now, you weren’t sure what to expect. Jude’s gaze softened. He met your eyes, his expression calm but sincere. She very well could’ve seen you gone and Jude upset. That’s all, not that he essentially pushed out to make that decision.

“She’s my mum,” he said with a small chuckle. “She probably knew something was off from the second you left after that match. She didn’t ask for too many details, but… yeah, I think she just knew.” He let out a breath, his smile gentle as he spoke again. “She’ll be happy you’re back though. Trust me. She loves you. She’s always been rooting for us.. Maybe just for you.” His words made you feel a little lighter, though your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest. The way he said it, with such certainty, reassured you that Denise wasn’t waiting to ambush you with judgment. Instead, she was on your side. Still, the idea of facing her, knowing she might have been quietly understanding more than you realized, left a strange feeling sitting in your chest.

“So, what did you tell her about… us? Like when we were apart?” You bit your lip, leaning slightly into Jude. Jude’s expression shifted, his eyes flicking toward the house before returning to you. He exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts.

“I told her we had some things to work through. That you were busy with work, and we were just… figuring it out… That I was the one that messed up.” He paused, running a hand over his hair as he seemed to search for the right words. You were a bit selfishly relieved he said he was the one that messed up. “She told me to fix it. But when I didn’t do anything right away, she kind of backed off. I think she was annoyed that I wasn't doing more. Honestly, she was relieved when I finally flew to New York to see you. It’s like she knew I was being an idiot and just waiting for me to stop being one.” A small laugh escaped you, despite your nerves. His mum, the woman who always had a gentle but stern presence, subtly nudging him toward fixing things. It made sense. Denise had always been protective of her son, but she was also a person who valued strong relationships.

“Sounds like she’s been on the right side the whole time,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. Jude rolled his eyes playfully, tugging you a little closer.

“She’s always on your side. Let’s be real… the right side.” He cooed. You smirked, your nerves slowly unraveling in the warmth of his presence. But there was still that lingering tension in the pit of your stomach, the tiny knot of anxiety that made you hesitate. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in your chest.

“You think she’s really okay with all of this? With me coming back?” Jude stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His hands rested on your hips as he looked at you with an intensity that made you feel exposed, like he could see every layer of insecurity you were trying to hide.

“She’s more than okay with it,” he said, his voice steady. “She’s happy you’re here. She knows what you mean to me, and she wants us to work. I know it’s scary, but you don’t have to worry about her. Just a mum.” He gently explained but it wasn’t just ‘a mum.’ It was his mum. Jude’s mum. A mum that was incredibly intimidating and protective, rightfully so, of her boys. Your heart swelled at his words but it was encased in nerves. You had always known Jude to be thoughtful and protective, but moments like this reminded you just how deeply he understood you but also how deeply naive he could be. He could sense your anxiety before you even had to voice it but he thought there was nothing that merited those nerves. You tried to place the fact that it was Denise Bellingham in the back of your mind.

“Okay,” you whispered, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease just a bit. You nodded slowly, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Besides,” he said with a teasing glint in his eyes, “you’re the love of my life. She can’t hate you for that.” Jude grinned, his hands sliding up to cup your face gently. You laughed softly, rolling your eyes at the cheesiness, but the sentiment warmed you from the inside out.

“I guess I have that going for me,” you joked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Jude leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Exactly,” he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before pulling away. The two of you stood there in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, taking in the moment. The house loomed ahead, but the weight of your earlier anxiety felt a little lighter now. Jude’s reassuring presence, his words, and his unwavering support wrapped around you like a protective shield. You finally pulled back, taking his hand in yours with newfound confidence.

“She’s going to be over the moon. Swear.” Jude chuckled, squeezing your hand with a playful glint in his eye. Unbeknownst to you two, a message was left unread on Jude’s phone… ironically Denise was out.

You sat cross-legged on Jude’s bed, watching him move around the room as he got ready for the day. He was in his wardrobe, pulling out clothes to wear for his pre-match meeting, while you traced random patterns on the comforter, trying to find the courage to bring up what was on your mind.

“Jude,” you started quietly, hesitantly, your voice softer than usual. “You know I never told you but... when we were apart, I still followed your matches.” You smiled shyly to yourself feeling both a bit embarrassed and a bit sad remembering all the times you’d check in on Jude despite not talking.

“You did?” Jude poked his head out of the wardrobe, a brow raised in surprise. You nodded, a little sheepishly.

“Yeah... if I could stomach it, I’d watch bits. And even when I couldn’t, I’d still check the scores, see how you were doing.” Jude emerged fully, a shirt slung over his shoulder, and walked over to you with a curious, almost sympathetic look on his face.

“Really?” His tone was softer now, as if the idea of you still following his career after everything had caught him off guard.

“Yeah,” you admitted, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “I... I wanted to text you, you know, before the matches. To say good luck. Or after, to tell you I was proud of you. But... every time I tried, I’d just end up typing that I loved you and would delete it all.” Your voice dropped, and you looked down, feeling a rush of vulnerability.

“You could’ve texted me that, you know.” Jude stood there for a second, his cheeky smile creeping onto his face as he teased. You rolled your eyes, though there was a small smile tugging at your lips.

“I don’t think it would’ve been that simple.” You almost pouted but bit your lip instead. Hiis expression quickly softened as he crossed the room, sitting down beside you on the bed. He looked at you seriously now, his eyes searching yours.

“It... it really means a lot to know you were still watching. That you still cared.” Jude let his bottom lip fall with no effort to stop it from rolling. You met his gaze, feeling the sincerity in his words.

“That never faltered,” you said, your voice firm, as if you needed him to understand just how true that was. Jude’s eyes flickered with something, and he let out a small breath.

“So did you notice…” he began, a hint of humor laced in his tone, “how shit I’ve been playing.” He smirked at you. You blinked, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You weren’t,” you quickly disagreed with a sympathetic smile. “You were still amazing, like always.” Jude’s worst performances would still be someone’s best but maybe you did see a slight shift in his game. Jude shot you a sly smirk, his hand finding yours as he squeezed it lightly.

“And I appreciate that,” he said, but his tone was teasing again. “But trust me, I’ve been playing shit since you left.” He smiled with a wink.

“You’re being dramatic.” You gave him a playful nudge. He shrugged, that playful smile still on his lips as he leaned in a little closer.

“Nah, it’s true. Guess I just needed you around, keep me in line.” He cooed. You laughed, feeling lighter now, and you shook your head at him.

“You’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes. Jude grinned, his eyes twinkling as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead before getting up to finish getting ready.

“Maybe. But you like me that way. In fact… I’ve heard that you love me.” He mused with a confidence that made you giggle at just how sweet he was. You watched him with a fond smile, your heart swelling with a warmth you hadn’t felt in so long. You were here, back with him, and despite everything, it felt like this was where you were always meant to be. You sat for a moment pondering what Jude had really said, that you had affected his performances and as sweet and serious as it was you just wanted to be cheeky. Letting things fall back into your normalcy.

"So what was it? Couldn't think straight without me?" You raised an eyebrow, smirking mischievously. Jude's response was immediate-a low laugh that quickly morphed into exaggerated drama.

"How could I? Absolutely not!" he exclaimed, grabbing you suddenly and pulling you beneath him on the bed. You barely had time to react before you found yourself pinned under his weight, his eyes glinting with playful mischief.

"Jude!" you giggled, trying to wriggle free but secretly loving every second of it. His hands started moving, tickling you in that relentless, over-the-top way that made you gasp for breath through fits of laughter. "Stop! Oh my god-stop!" He didn't stop, of course. He only leaned in closer, his lips trailing light, teasing kisses along your face and neck as his voice dropped into a mock-serious tone.

"I can't do anything without you, angel. Nothing. My whole life has been in ruins since you left me. Ruins, I tell you!" His lips pressed soft, playful kisses on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks-everywhere but your lips, as if to torment you with how close and yet how far he was. The whole thing was ridiculous, utterly silly, and your giggles echoed off the walls as his hands continued to roam, gently attacking you with affection.

"Jude!" you gasped again, trying and failing to sound serious as you swatted at him half-heartedly. "You're being ridiculous!"

"I'm serious," he insisted dramatically, although the grin on his face betrayed him. "I've been wandering through life like a lost soul, unable to think, unable to function. You're the love of my life, and without you, I'm just a shell of a man!" He pressed more kisses along your neck, purposefully making the whole thing absurdly over-the-top. You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe, tears forming in your eyes from the sheer silliness of it all.

“You're so dramatic!" you managed between giggles, rolling your eyes but loving every ridiculous second of it. His hands slowed, becoming softer, less playful, until he was just holding you gently.

"I'm serious though," he said in a more genuine tone now, looking at you with those familiar, warm eyes that made your heart skip. He pressed his forehead to yours, a sweet smile on his lips as he looked at you. "I've missed you, missed this. It's been hard not having you around." You softened under his touch, your teasing smile fading into something more tender. You reached up, brushing your hand over his head before tracing your fingers along his jawline. "I've missed you too," you whispered, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "I never stopped thinking about you. Not for a second." Jude leaned down, finally capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed or playful this time, just slow and full of everything you'd been holding back. When he pulled away, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry I let things get so messy between us," he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

"But I knew I couldn't keep going without you. You're the only thing that clears the clouds in my head." His eyes softened, full of emotion as he looked at you. "And I never want to lose you again." He cooed. You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. You nodded, blinking away the sudden tears that threatened to spill over.

"You won't," you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." Jude pulled you close again, his arms wrapping tightly around you as if he were afraid to let go. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. It was comforting, grounding, like everything was falling back into place. After a moment of quiet, you broke the silence, your voice soft but teasing. "So... all that about not being able to think straight... you really couldn't function without me, huh?" Jude's laugh rumbled through his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

"Not even close. I was a mess. Ask my team… Ask Tobs, Trent, go ahead ask Whit… a mess." He told you. You giggled, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest as you looked up at him.

"Guess I'll have to stick around then. Don't want you playing like shit. Madridistas might come for me." You giggled. He grinned, leaning down to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there.

"Yeah, you do that. But not for them but because I don't ever want to be without you again." His words, though playful, held a sincerity that made your heart swell. You tilted your head up, capturing his lips in another kiss, feeling that familiar warmth rush through you. When you finally pulled away, both of you were grinning, the earlier tension replaced by a lightness that felt like home.

"I love you," you said softly, the words spilling out so naturally, it was like you'd been holding them back for far too long. Jude's eyes softened, and he cupped your face again, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"I love you too. More than anything." He whispered. You both lay there, wrapped up in each other, giggling quietly as the weight of everything finally seemed to lift. It felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be, and the joy of finally saying those words to each other filled the room with a kind of lightness you hadn't felt in a long time.

In a twist of fate, when you were back in Madrid with Jude it just so happened to coincide with Aurélien’s big birthday party. So as the day rolled around, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves, unsure of how things would go. To be sure, you messaged Aurélien, asking if it was still okay to attend. His reply was instant and playful—he said he'd be offended if you didn't show up. That made you smile, easing any worries you had about the night. It felt like you saying you were back with Jude he knew this was platonic that the flirting had run its course. It wasn’t all that real to begin with.

As you got ready for the party, Jude was never far from your side. Ever since the reconciliation, ever since you got to Madrid, it felt like you couldn’t get enough of each other, your connection stronger than it had ever been. Jude, true to his playful nature, decided to stay close, settling on the ottoman in his ensuite as you perched on his lap, doing your makeup in the mirror. His arms wrapped securely around your waist as you applied foundation, both of you savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. You were sitting on Jude's lap, trying to focus on your application, but he was making it nearly impossible. His arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you in the mirror. You could feel him shifting slightly beneath you, clearly not content with just sitting there quietly. As you reached for your next product, Jude’s voice broke the silence.

“Do you have any lip balm f’me, angel?” He asked. Without a word, you nodded, pulling out your trusty Laneige container from your makeup bag. Jude leaned forward slightly, lips pursed and ready, clearly expecting you to apply it for him. You shook your head, a small giggle escaping as you dipped your finger into the balm and gently swiped it across his lips. His lips, already perfect, now had a soft sheen to them, and you couldn’t help but admire them for a second longer than usual.

“There,” you said softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips, smiling against them. "I needed some too." But Jude wasn't having that. He grinned, pulling you a little closer,

"Nah, nah, nah I need more," he said, clearly enjoying the game. His lips found yours again in a longer, slower kiss, and you melted a bit against him, enjoying the feeling of being so close. When you pulled away, he gave you a cheeky smile. "Well, now you took it all! Give it back." He yelped. You giggled, shaking your head with a scrunched-up nose.

"Nope, it's mine now," you teased, pretending to turn back to the mirror to finish your makeup. Before you could get too far, though, Jude tugged you closer, his lips meeting yours again, turning it into a playful make-out session. Each kiss was soft, tender, and laced with laughter. When you finally pulled away, your cheeks were flushed, your heart fluttering as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. Jude, still holding you close, cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"Thank you for sharing with me. That was so very generous of you." His voice dropped into a teasing tone. You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully, turning to face the mirror again.

"Honestly so ridiculous," you muttered, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. Jude just squeezed your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection.

"Only for you," he whispered with a smirk, and you felt your heart skip a beat at how effortlessly he could make you fall for him all over again. With a smile, you finished getting ready, both of you wrapped in the warmth of the newfound closeness that seemed to permeate every moment together. The night was still ahead of you, and despite the unknowns that came with it, you felt more grounded than ever. You and Jude were together, and that was all that mattered.

When you arrived at Aurélien’s party, it was exactly what you expected, exactly as he described —lavish, chic, and vibey. You were in a sheer draped taupe dress from The Attico, a dress that Jude had already vocalized he was eager to take it off you. It was the kind of night that promised good times, great music, and plenty of socializing. Jude’s hand rested low on the small of your back, his fingers grazing the curve of your ass in a way that felt possessive yet comforting. It stayed there as you both walked in, cameras flashing around you from the paparazzi stationed outside to capture any and all movements of Madrid footballers.

“You okay?” You kept your smile poised, but Jude could sense the tension in your body, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You nodded, but something made you turn and look at him.

“Are you sure?” you asked him softly, catching his eyes. You were worried that being photographed together might be too much. Afterall… you were not his girlfriend. He just loved you. Things were finally calming after your ‘split’ so you didn’t want to rock the boat just yet regarding labels.

“I took far too long to show you just how sure I am.” He smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. That melted any lingering anxiety. You relaxed into his hold as you both made your way inside, the music already buzzing, and a sea of well-dressed partygoers filling the room. The space was sleek and glamorous, just as you imagined Aurélien would have it. Spotting the birthday boy, you immediately walked over, greeting him with a smile and a 'Joyeux anniversaire!' in French. He grinned at you, replying with his usual charm, while Jude followed up with a warm ‘Feliz cumpleaño’ in Spanish, giving his teammate a quick pat on the shoulder. Aurélien, ever the gracious host, pulled you both into a brief conversation.

“I’m going to grab us drinks, angel. What do you want?” Jude cooed, leaning down to you once again.

“Surprise me, please,” you said, smiling up at him. Before he left, Jude gave you a soft kiss, right there in the middle of the party, without a care for who might be watching. It was a kiss full of reassurance, as if to remind you that he wasn’t going anywhere. You watched him disappear into the crowd, his presence still lingering in the space he left beside you. As Jude returned with two tequila glasses in hand, he spotted you across the room, leaning in close to Aurélien, whispering something in his ear. Jude's heart sank, and a familiar knot twisted in his stomach. You looked gorgeous, radiant even, and there you were, so close to another man—even if it was just so Aurélien could hear you in the loud venue, Jude’s jealousy flared up instantly. His jaw tightened, and for a split second, he felt the overwhelming urge to react, to storm over and pull you away, to claim you as his. The thoughts raced through his mind, irrational but powerful, fuming with possessiveness. Then, you lifted your head, catching his eye. Your face softened the moment you saw him, sensing the brewing storm behind his calm facade. You let out a quiet sigh, your expression gentle but understanding. It was as if you knew exactly what was going through his head. Jude’s gaze locked with yours, and in that instant, something shifted in him. The envy that had been clawing at him melted away. Your eyes held no secrets, no hidden intentions. There was only warmth, and it softened the hard edges of his jealousy. He smiled—tentative but genuine—realizing that the very thing he feared was the one thing he no longer had to worry about. You were his. Completely. He made his way over to you, handing you the tequila with a slight grin, masking the inner turmoil he had just experienced.

“For you, beautiful,” he said, his voice more casual than he felt. There was a brief pause, your eyes searching his, and you gave him a knowing smile.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied, taking the glass. Without saying anything more, you reached up to give him a reassuring kiss on the cheek. It was quick, simple, but it was enough. Jude’s hand slipped onto Aurélien’s shoulder as he wedged himself playfully between you two, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Alright, alright. Can I at least get a couple of French phrases so I’m not feeling completely left out?” His tone was light, disarming, and it made your heart swell. Seeing him manage his jealousy like this—a little playful, a little vulnerable—felt like a relief. He wasn’t storming off or brooding; he was leaning into the moment with humor. He wasn’t going off to try to make you jealous.

“Erm… give me a ‘Je t'aime.’” You smiled at his request, offering a simple phrase for him to try. Aurelian shook his head thinking it was a bit funny you were instructing Jude to tell you he loved you. Jude repeated it, but the pronunciation was hilariously off. You couldn’t help it—you burst into laughter, and even Aurélien joining in beside you. You tried to be encouraging, really, but the more Jude tried to nail it, the worse it got. Your laughter bubbled over, and in an effort to help or just to get him to stop, you squeezed his cheeks together, your lips barely an inch away from his as you mock-scolded. “Okay okay. Please stop butchering our language!” You giggled. Jude’s eyes sparkled with amusement as his lips curled into a tight smile under your grasp. He looked ridiculously adorable, and even you had to fight the urge to kiss him. His butchered French was charming, and in that moment, all of the stress, jealousy, and tension seemed to dissipate.

“Oh mon dieu, mate. At least learn how to tell your girl you love her.” Aurélien pretended to be exacerbated by Jude’s attempts. He had watched the whole interaction with a smile. “I think it’s time you take him to France. Culture him a little bit.” Aurelian suggested teasingly.

“She promised she would,” he said, the possessiveness now replaced with pure affection. Jude grinned, his arms sliding around your waist as he pulled you close. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it. The idea of taking Jude to France with you, showing him your world, your home, was something that suddenly felt so real, something you actually wanted. The intimacy of that shared experience, introducing him to the places and things you loved, filled you with warmth.

“I did, I promised. Maybe soon.” you murmured softly, resting your head against his chest, the noise of the party fading away in the background as the two of you stood there, lost in each other.

“Maybe soon.” Jude mischievously echoed you. You didn’t pick up on it, but there was a glint in Jude’s eyes, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Ah well, après la pluie, le beau temps.” Aurlian turned to you and said. It was a proverb of sorts that translated to “after the rain, comes lovely weather" in English. It is an optimistic saying that conveyed the idea that after a difficult or challenging period, better times would follow. It was sweet of him to kind of reinforce that he was happy you two were back together. Jude looked between you two confused.

“It's a way of saying ‘if you hang in there, better times are to come.’” You smiled at Jude. “It is better now.” You cooed, wrapping your arms around him a bit tighter.

“I’m gonna be better for you.” Jude whispered just for you to hear. “For you always.” You hummed kissing his neck but pulled away momentarily to double check if any of your lipgloss had got on him but Jude immediately pulled you back to him. “C’mere. I need some, you stole mine earlier.” He teased pressing his lips to yours as if he could steal the lip product from you again.

As the night wound down, the atmosphere at Aurélien’s party was still buzzing with laughter, drinks, and the hum of conversation. You were off chatting with a few friends you hadn’t seen when Jude discreetly pulled Aurélien to the side, a playful but serious expression on his face.

“Hey,” Jude started, leaning in a little. “I need your help.”

“What, need another French lesson? You’ll need more than one, bro.” Aurélien raised an eyebrow, smirking with a chuckle. Jude laughed breathily and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Something like that. How do you say ‘my angel’ in French? I could Google it, but…” he trailed off, a sheepish grin forming. “You’ve heard my French. I need to say it right.” Aurélien laughed, clapping Jude on the shoulder.

“Okay lover boy.” His teasing tone was light, but there was admiration in his eyes. He could see how much Jude cared about you.

“Just help me out. I want to get it right.” Jude rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the affection in his voice. With a smile, Aurélien obliged, slowing his speech so Jude could catch every syllable. ‘Mon ange,; he said, enunciating clearly.

“Mon… ange?” Jude repeated it, his brow furrowed as he tried to mimic Aurélien’s smooth pronunciation.

“Not bad,” Aurélien nodded, his grin widening. “You’re getting there. A few more tries, and maybe she won’t laugh at you.” Jude let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“I’ll take that. Thanks, man.” As Jude walked back toward you, he was determined to use the phrase in just the right moment, and this time, he wasn’t going to mess it up. The thought of seeing your face when he said it made him feel a little giddy inside. He may not have been fluent in French, but he knew exactly how he felt about you—and that was something he was determined to express in any language. When Jude came up behind you, his warm lips pressed softly against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice, low and intimate, was a gentle command as he whispered, "Let’s go home." He told you and you nodded, feeling the pull of him in every fiber of your being. But then he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "Je t’aime, mon ange." His pronunciation was a little rough around the edges, and you couldn’t help but smile. You loved him more for the effort, for trying to speak the language you adored. Your heart swelled, and you felt like you could cry, knowing that if you turned around, you’d be unable to stop the tears. “I said I love you, my angel…” Jude added nervously, his voice unsure for the first time that night. “Did I say it wrong?” You shook your head, the emotion too thick to form words at first.

"No, no... it was perfect. You’re perfect. Say it again, bébé." Finally, you managed, your voice trembling with both laughter and tears. Jude smiled, his grip around your waist tightening as he kissed your shoulder.

“Mon ange.” He said it again with a gentle murmur. The way he said it—soft, loving, and just for you—was all the reassurance you needed. You giggled, though a little teary-eyed, feeling overwhelmed by how much you loved this man, who was trying so hard to be everything you needed. In that moment, there was no one else, no party, no noise—just you, Jude, and those two words that hung in the air, wrapping themselves around you like a promise.

You and Jude made your way back home after the long night out with friends, the city alive with the lingering hum of excitement and the warmth of good drinks. Stumbling through the door of Jude's, you giggled uncontrollably, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol. Everything seemed funnier, lighter, and as you both kicked off your shoes, you couldn't help but laugh at how utterly clumsy you felt. Jude flopped down onto the couch, a goofy grin plastered on his face, and you followed suit, half-falling into his lap as your body relaxed against his. You could feel his chest shaking with laughter beneath you, and you leaned up, your face inches from his, your breath still tinged with the sweet taste of wine.

"I like when you say mon ange," you murmured out of nowhere, your French accent slipping out effortlessly. You were tipsy, sure, but in that moment, it felt like the perfect time to tell him that. Jude blinked at you, clearly amused but confused.

"How do I say it agin. Mon...what?" he asked, attempting to mimic your words, but his British accent twisted the phrase into something unrecognizable.

"Mon ange," you repeated, laughing softly. "'My angel! What Aurel taught you." You poked him playfully in the chest. "Come on, you can say it." Jude chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement as he attempted to say it again.

"Mon... anj? Nah, now I’ve lost it" he said, his accent still heavy, but the effort was there, and it was adorable. You couldn't stop giggling, half from the alcohol and half from how endearing he looked, trying so hard to get it right.

"No, no, no-listen," you said, sitting up straighter on his lap, your hands framing his face as you tried to guide him. You exaggerated the pronunciation, breaking it down for him. "Mon. Ange." You said it slowly, making sure he caught the subtle softness of the French pronunciation.

"Mon...ange," Jude said again, this time a little better but still far from perfect. You beamed at him anyway, nodding in approval.

"So good!" you praised, giving him a playful pat on the cheek. You sat back slightly, feeling your body sway from the wine as you continued, "Now, say 'J'adore mon ange." Jude raised an eyebrow, the mischievous glint in his eyes only growing as he repeated after you.

"J'adore... mon ange." He cooed. You clapped your hands together, proud of him, even if it was still slightly off.

"That was perfect, baby!" you exclaimed, your laughter bubbling up again, your chest warm and light from the fun of it all. Jude grinned, leaning forward slightly, his hands settling on your waist as you swayed slightly on his lap.

"Do you know what else I'm very good at?" His voice dropped lower, more teasing. You raised an eyebrow at him, still giggling but intrigued now.

"Oh? What's that?" You asked. Jude's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"This," he whispered, and before you could react, he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. The laughter that had been spilling from your lips moments before melted into something else entirely. His kiss was warm, full of a longing that seemed to bubble up from deep inside both of you. You pressed yourself against him, fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you with a passion that made your head spin even more than the wine had. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to steady yourself. Jude looked up at you, a satisfied smirk on his face. "See? Told you I was good at something." You laughed, shaking your head as you playfully swatted his chest.

"I'm still not sure if your French was that good," you teased. Jude shrugged, pulling you back down onto his chest.

"I'll work on it. But for now..." He trailed off, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as you lay there, both of you content in the cozy quiet of the night. The world outside seemed far away, and all that mattered was the warmth of Jude's body beneath yours, the lingering taste of wine on your lips, and the fact that, right now, everything just felt right. "Bedroom," he murmured against your mouth, his voice hoarse with desire. You nodded, too caught up in the moment to form words. Jude scooped you up effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He carries you down the hall, your laughter mingling with his low chuckle. The anticipation was killing you, and you couldn’t wait to feel more of his body against yours. With a swift motion, Jude tossed you onto his bed, the soft sheets welcoming your fall. You landed with a soft 'oof,' a giggle escaping your lips as you looked up at him. But before you could move, Jude's hand rested gently on your shoulder, his eyes holding a playful warning.

"Stay there f’me, gorgeous," he whispered, his voice laced with seriousness. Obeying his command, you remained on your stomach, your mind racing with anticipatory lust. You arched your back slightly, offering yourself to him, your skin sensitive to the cool air. Jude's fingers trace the curve of your spine, sending shivers down your body. Then, he straddles your thighs, caging you in, his warmth enveloping you. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his breath hot against your neck. He peeled your dress down by its straps taking it off completely, leaving you bare. His hands glided over your hips. You squirmed beneath him, anticipation making your skin electric. With expert hands, he slid the only thing left on you, your panties, down your legs, his touch gentle yet firm.

"Spread your legs, baby," he instructed you, his voice a low rasp. You complied, your heart racing as you felt more of the cool air on your exposed pussy. Jude's fingers ghosted over your wetness, teasing you, making you crave his touch all the more. Then, he plunged his tongue deep inside you, his mouth devouring your sweetness. Moans escaped your lips as he ate you out with abandon, his tongue flicking and circling your clit. Your hips thrust involuntarily, seeking more of his delicious torture. Jude's hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he continues to pleasure you from behind. “Just arch like that. Just like that.” He instructed you and you did but not because he told you but because of the way he was licking you. “Good girl.” He praised you. He moved to suck at your sensitive throbbing clit before he dragged his tongue back through your folds. "Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned between licks, his voice sending vibrations through your body. He brought his fingers to your entrance as he focused on your clit and thrusted them inside of you. You whined and pushed back against him. You reached out behind you and grabbed for him. You wiggled your ass back desperate for more. He groaned. Your senses were on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release. As you teetered on the edge of ecstasy, you could feel Jude drag a finger closer to your other hole. You whined as he slid a finger into your ass, his other hand continuing to work inside you, his tongue diligent on your clit. The stimulation sent you spiraling into a vortex of pleasure. You cried out, your body trembling as waves of orgasm washed over you. Jude's finger in your ass and his mouth on your pussy were driving you wild. You were helpless to do anything but surrender to the sensations flooding your body. "That's it. There she is. That’s my angel." he encouraged you, his voice a low purr. Your climax ripped through you, leaving you breathless and spent.

“Please fuck me, baby.” You whimpered. Jude wasn't finished with you yet and you didn’t want him to be. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your wetness. He slowly pushed inside of you, he filled you, his cock sliding deep inside your pussy. He fucked you slowly at first, his movements controlled, allowing you to adjust to his size. Your body clenched around him, drawing him deeper, begging for more. Jude's hands gripped your as, guiding your movements as he set a relentless pace. He slapped your ass hard. The sting burning deliciously.

"You like that, huh? My cock pounding into your tight pussy?" he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. He slapped your ass cheek again, the fat of your ass reverbing. You could only nod, your voice lost in the haze of pleasure. He hooked his arm under your leg and flipped you onto your back, his eyes blazing with desire. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. "I want to see your gorgeous face when you cum, angel," he growled, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. He pounded into you, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more primal. Your bodies were slick with sweat, the scent of sex filling the air. You met his every thrust, your nails digging into his back, leaving marks of possession, he was yours. You dragged your heel down his muscular back.

“Jude, baby… You’re gonna make me cum.” You whimpered. As he drove into you with abandon, you felt your orgasm building again, an intense pressure coiling within you. Jude's lips found your neck, his teeth gently scraping your sensitive skin. Nibbling leaving his own marks of possession.

"Cum for me, angel," he demanded, his voice raw with need. “Play with your clit while I fuck you.” Jude commanded. His words alone were all it takes to send you over the edge again. You moaned out his name as your body shuddered, Your pussy convulsing around his cock, your juices leaking. “Be a good girl f’me. Cum with me.” He demanded as you made a mess on his length. You clung to him tighter than before. Your vision went a little blurry when you felt his warm cum begin to pump deep inside of you. He kissed you everywhere he could, his body trembling against yours.

“I love you so much, Jude.” you smiled shyly looking up at him. You cupped his face and brought him towards you. You gently kissed him; soft and gentle. In the aftermath, you lie entangled, your hearts racing and your breaths mingling. Jude’s hands caressed your body with tender reverence.

"My beautiful beautiful angel," he managed to whisper, his voice hoarse with passion. “Love you more than anything.” He smiled, his brown eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

When you woke up feeling like your head was caught in a vice, every throb a reminder of last night’s party. You let out a groan, rolling over to shield your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows. Your body ached from exhaustion, the weight of the hangover mingling with a tinge of worry. Hangxiety quickly crept in, mixing with the remnants of fall out with Jude. The evening had been incredible, filled with laughter and kisses, but now, in the harsh light of morning, your thoughts started spiraling. Jude hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, and it gnawed at you. What if things were slipping back into the same pattern as before? No labels, no clarity, just an undefined, well now defined connection. You shut your eyes tight, staring at the inside of your eyelids, your chest tight with uncertainty. You were scared. Scared that despite all the love between you now, this might just be a repeat. What if it was all just the same, but with love added into the mix? If it was even possible, this might hurt even more. What if he didn’t want to put a name to it, to make things official? You had no idea where he stood. Sure, he said he wanted forever but then why not the title. The thoughts rattled around your head, compounding the headache that throbbed behind your eyes. Your heart ached with the fear that maybe this was still fragile, that maybe you weren’t on the same page after all. All you wanted was to feel secure in what you both were now, to hear the words from him that would ease all this worry. But until then, it was hard to shake the creeping doubt. As your thoughts spiraled you felt Jude stir beside you, his body warm and close. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you gently into his chest as if he could sense the discomfort radiating off you.

"Morning," he whispered softly, his voice heavy with guilt that lingered in the spaces between his words. Aurelian's birthday party had left you with a wicked hangover, and all you wanted was to stay nestled under the covers.

"Feels like anything but a good morning." You whined. You buried your face into the pillow.

"Nah, was a good night. Now, it’s a good morning." He chuckled lightly, though it lacked its usual spark. You turned your head slightly, cracking open one eye to look at him. His face was soft, filled with concern, though there was a shadow behind his eyes, something he wasn’t saying.

"I just want my bodega’s bagel or just anything, something to survive." You complained, missing the shop near your New York apartment that had always nursed your worst hangovers. Jude smiled, though it was more apologetic than teasing. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

"I’ll get you anything you want." He cooed. The way he said it, with such quiet desperation, made you pause. It made you question if you had maybe mistakenly voiced your upset about not being his girlfriend in a drunk haze or in your sleep. You couldn’t help but feel like he was trying to make up for something. Like he was trying to repair something deeper, something that couldn’t be fixed with sweet words and soft kisses. You pushed the thought aside for a moment, instead choosing to focus on the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

"Why are you being so nice?" you asked, your voice teasing but with a hint of genuine curiosity. He sighed softly, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your arm, the rhythm almost soothing.

"Because I want to be. Because you deserve it." His words should have comforted you, but there was an edge to them. The guilt in his tone was unmistakable. You shifted in bed, trying to sit up, but he held you tighter, not wanting to let you move away from him.

"Jude, you’re being very..." You trailed off, searching for the word, "attentive this morning." You smiled but more in confusion than happiness. His eyes met yours, and the weight of the unspoken things between you seemed to hang in the air. He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing your cheek.

"I just... I want to make sure you're okay. That you’re happy, angel." His words made your heart ache, a reminder of the one thing that would make you a lot happier right now. You were nothing to Jude once again, more specifically at the moment, you weren’t Jude’s girlfriend, once again.

"Okay….Now about that bagel," you whispered, trying to lighten the mood as you rubbed your eyes. Jude chuckled softly, his guilt still lingering but overshadowed by his relief.

"I’ll get you a hundred if you want." He smiled as you rested your head on his chest.

"One’s enough. And some coffee wouldn’t hurt." You giggled. Jude kissed the top of your head again.

"Anything for my angel," he whispered. You wished he said ‘anything for his girlfriend’ but you’d take just the bagel and being his angel for today. The soft luxury of Jude's bedding cradled your tired body as you laid there, completely enveloped in warmth and comfort. Despite the offering of food you were too exhausted to move. But the feeling of Jude's hands gliding over your bare back and the trail of soft kisses he placed along your neck stirred you, enticing you to move. You mumbled something fairly incoherent, not ready to face the world yet, really wanting to fall back to sleep in Jude’s arms instead. Maybe if you woke up sometime tomorrow you’d be his girlfriend. Jude chuckled softly at your resistance, his laughter warm and familiar. "Come on, you need to get up f’me," he said, his voice gentle but insistent as he continued to run his hands over your skin, his touch soothing yet awakening at the same time. You grumbled again, pouting up at him with sleepy eyes, wanting nothing more than to stay right there. Jude leaned in closer, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. He lingered there for a moment, the sweetness of it making your heart swell despite your grogginess. When he pulled away, he looked down at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. "I promise it'll be worth it," he whispered against your lips, his voice playful. You couldn't help but smile, even through the haze of exhaustion, disappointment and the dull ache of your hangover. If Jude was insisting, you knew he had something up his sleeve that would make waking up worth it. You sighed, stretching out under his touch, finally starting to give in.

"It better be, Judey" you teased, leaning in for another kiss, already knowing that whatever the day held, being with him made it all worth it. You sighed deeply, rubbing your hands over your face, still feeling the weight of sleep clinging to your body. "Another kiss please" you asked, your voice soft and pleading. Jude smiled at your request, immediately obliging with a sweet, lingering kiss that sent warmth through your chest. Without missing a beat, Jude pulled you up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, making you squeal in surprise.

"Come on, sleepy girl," he teased, carrying you toward the en suite. His laughter filled the room as he gently set you down, nudging you into the shower. The hot water helped to wake you fully, and as you scrubbed away the remnants of the night before, you couldn’t help but wonder what he had planned. When you emerged from the shower, you walked into the wardrobe—and stopped dead in your tracks. Your jaw dropped at the sight before you. A garment bag from Cult Gaia was hanging neatly, and alongside it, several boxes and shopping bags that made your heart skip a beat. Jude appeared behind you, his arms snaking around your waist, his chin resting on your bare shoulder. "What do you think?" he asked with a playful grin.

"It’s perfect." You giggled, nodding eagerly. “But what is all this?” You turned in his arms to look up at him, excitement bubbling up inside you. He kissed your temple softly before pulling back to admire the display.

"It’s for you.. Now, get dressed f’me." He smirked with a wink. With a childish smile of your own, you dove into the packages, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. He had gotten you a white Alaia Black 'Le Cœur' Bag, Amina Muaddi silver heels, Bottega Veneta aviator sunglasses and the most unreal… stupidly insane BVLGARI serpenti diamond & emerald earrings. It was a full look you were obsessed with… you just weren’t exactly sure what it was for.

"How do I look?" When you were finally dressed in the stunning green embroidered mini dress with an open back he had carefully picked out, you stepped back into the room, doing a juvenile twirl for him, the heavy fabric swaying elegantly around you. Jude’s eyes softened as they swept over you.

"Beautiful. Really, really beautiful." He shook his head, smiling almost to himself. You blushed at his words, feeling the sincerity in them.

"Jude, baby, this is fucking nuts. But what exactly are we doing? Where are we going? It's really early to be this dressed up.” You asked. The question that had been gnawing at you all morning since you saw the gifts slipped out.

"You’ll see." Jude simply shook his head, a teasing smile playing at his lips. As much as you wanted to press him for answers, you knew he wouldn’t tell you, the mystery only added to the excitement anyways. The way he was taking charge, showing you that he was committed to god knows what, but committed nevertheless, it made your heart race. It wasn’t just about the surprise—though that was certainly thrilling—it was about the fact that Jude was showing you, in ways big and small, that he truly wanted this, wanted *you.* Your heart fluttered, feeling a warmth of reassurance and joy flood through you. Jude had then told you to pack, and so you did—haphazardly, tossing things into your suitcase with barely any thought as to what you might need. You just went for basics, essentials, and then naturally accessories.

When the car you two had gotten in pulled up to the airport, confusion flickered in your eyes. You turned to Jude, about to ask a million questions, but before you could get a word out, he placed a gentle hand behind your head, laughing softly.

"No," he said with a grin, preemptively answering the question you hadn’t even asked yet. You boarded the private plane, your eyes widening as you stepped inside. It was like stepping into a dream. The cabin was filled with flowers—vibrant, fragrant blooms arranged so beautifully—and there, waiting for you, was your favorite champagne, the bagels you had requested which both confused and impressed you, hermes pillows and throws. It was your dream plane, it was your dream just in general. You giggled, the sight of it all making you cling tighter to Jude’s arm. These were things you loved, Jude included. As you settled into your seats, you looked up at him with playful suspicion.

"Why are you doing all this?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity but softened by the affection that always lingered between you.

"This is all long overdue," he said, taking your hand in his. "But you can expect it for the rest of your life with me." Jude turned to you, his expression serious but warm. You tilted your head, a little smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

"What? Not knowing where I’m going?" You added a hint of sarcasm, but there was joy in your tone. He laughed, the sound deep and rich, shaking his head.

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" He asked, raising his brow. You couldn’t help but smile, biting your lip before shaking your head.

"No, of course I am. It’s just... I wasn’t expecting—" He cut you off gently, lifting your hand to his lips.

"No," he said again, but this time his tone was softer, more sincere. "I mean, you can expect me to show you how much I love you. I’ll make sure you never have to worry about anything, not anymore." His words hit you deeply, sinking into your heart in a way that made you feel warm all over. You exhaled slowly, a sense of peace washing over you.

"That," you whispered, "I’m okay with." And so, you nestled into him, the hum of the plane, the scent of flowers, and the bubbles from the champagne making it all feel surreal, your handover fading almost entirely. But more than any of it, it was Jude’s presence—his reassurances, his promises—that made you feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be. The mystery of where you were headed didn’t matter as much anymore. Maybe you weren’t his girlfriend but this was nice as is. You were with him, and that was enough. As the plane began its descent, you peered out of the window, and the familiar skyline came into view. Paris. Your heart clenched as a wave of emotion hit you. Jude felt like home but this was home—your home. The city’s beauty, its charm, it all rushed back to you in a flood of memories. You felt the lump in your throat grow as tears threatened to fall. Jude, sensing the shift in you, pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"It’s okay," he whispered, but that only made the tears harder to hold back. As you stepped off the plane, the cool Parisian air hit your face, and that was it—you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They slipped down your cheeks, silent but heavy with meaning. Jude noticed instantly, pulling you into his arms. "Come here, baby" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held you tight, his warmth grounding you. You composed yourself after a few moments, taking deep breaths, letting the familiar scent of the city settle into your bones. Jude didn’t rush you; he just stood there, holding you until you were ready. Once you were, you both made your way into the car waiting for you. Driving through the Champs-Élysées, your heart swelled again, this time with excitement. You looked around, beaming, taking in every bit of the city. The streets, the people, the energy—it was all so alive, and you couldn’t wait to see what surprise Jude had planned. Curiosity got the best of you, though. You leaned forward, switching to French, and asked the driver where you were headed. Jude shook his head with a smirk, catching onto your plan. "I don’t know the exact words," he said, his voice teasing, "but I know enough to tell you—you can’t ask that." The driver chuckled, meeting your eyes through the rearview mirror. ‘Sorry, madame,’ he said in French, his voice light with amusement. You couldn’t help but laugh too, leaning back into your seat, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. Whatever Jude had in store for you, you knew it would be special. And in that moment, with the city you loved all around you and the man you loved right beside you, it didn’t matter where you were going. As the car came to a stop outside the Grand Palais, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of curiosity mingled with excitement. The grandeur of the building before you was breathtaking as always, its elegant architecture standing proudly against the Parisian sky. But something about this moment felt different. It wasn’t just the beauty of the building, or the magic of being back in Paris—it was the way Jude held your hand, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was guiding you toward something important. He stepped out first, turning to offer his hand as you followed. The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver of anticipation through you, but still, you couldn’t quite place what this surprise was. The sound of your heels clicking against the cobblestone echoed softly as he led you through the grand entrance. The doors swung open, and your breath hitched in your throat. You stopped, your feet rooted to the floor as you took in the sight before you. The Grand Palais was empty. Utterly and beautifully empty. The vast space, normally bustling with art exhibits and visitors, now held nothing but the soft echo of your breath and the overwhelming scent of flowers. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of white and green floral arrangements blanketed the entire floor. The pale petals seemed to glow in the soft sunlight that poured in through the tall, arched windows, casting a delicate light across the room. The greenery intertwined with the blossoms gave the scene a sense of life, of rebirth, as if the entire space had been transformed into a garden. You blinked, struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of what was happening.

For a moment, the enormity of it all made you feel dizzy, your heart racing with an emotion you couldn’t name. Jude stood behind you, his chest warm against your back as his hands rested on your shoulders. Slowly, he guided you forward, his movements gentle, as if he knew you needed a moment to take it all in. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, "You okay?" He asked. You nodded, but you couldn’t find your voice. Your heart was pounding, your throat tight as you looked around, trying to absorb the beauty, the effort—everything. He moved to stand in front of you, his hands sliding down your arms to take your hands in his. The touch was grounding, anchoring you in this surreal moment. Jude’s face was soft, his eyes searching yours, full of love and a tenderness that made your chest ache. He took a step back, just enough to reach into his back pocket, and then he pulled out a well-worn notebook. He had earmarked a page. It was crinkled as if it had been looked at a hundred times over. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, it seemed like something he’d had for ages which confused you, he’d never mentioned a notebook before. It was the notebook—the one he had kept during the time you were apart. He held it carefully, smoothing out the edges of the page with his thumb. His eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, as if seeking permission, before he began to speak.

“The date was… months ago,” Jude began, his voice low and steady, though you could hear the emotion lacing each word. “I wrote this when… when I didn’t know if we would ever get back to this place. I was scared I’d ruined everything, that I wouldn’t have another chance.” He cleared his throat, glancing down at the paper again before continuing. “I wrote about you. About how… how I knew I’d be the luckiest man alive if you were mine. I wasn’t sure I deserved you, not then, and honestly, sometimes I still don’t. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every day, every night. The whole world was drenched in you. You were always there, in everything. I just wanted you back in my arms.” His voice wavered slightly, and your heart clenched as you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. “I wrote about how losing you felt like an injury I’d never recover from. It’d be the worst of my career. Like a wound that would never heal. And I knew I had to fix it. I had to fight for you. But I wasn’t sure if I even deserved your forgiveness. I wasn’t sure if this was the one game I was going to lose.” Jude paused, his hands gripping yours a little tighter as he searched your face. “But I knew… I knew I’d fight for you. No matter what. Because I love you. And you’ve always been worth the fight.” Tears welled in your eyes, your chest tightening with emotion. His words were raw, honest, and they hit you in a place so deep you hadn’t realized it was still aching. You had never heard him speak like this, maybe when he came to New York but not with such vulnerability, such openness. The weight of it all—the flowers, the empty gallery, the note, his voice—pressed down on you, filling you with a love that was almost too much to hold inside. Jude’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you in the moment. His eyes never left yours, and for a long, quiet moment, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the soft rustle of the flowers and the distant hum of the city beyond the windows.

“Jude… this is… I don’t even know what to say.” Finally, you found your voice, though it was barely more than a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice soft as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I just need you to know. I love you. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you that.” Tears spilled over, and you let out a soft laugh, overwhelmed by everything—by the love in his words, the thoughtfulness behind every little detail, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “So much.” Jude pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand smoothing over your hair as he held you there, safe in his arms, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the Grand Palais. And in that moment, you knew—without a shadow of a doubt—that this was home. Not Paris, not New York, maybe not even Madrid but just simply wherever Jude was. Wherever you were together.

“Angel…” Jude pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his forehead still resting against yours. He cupped your face in his hands. He took a deep breath and it was as if you felt it in your own lungs. You had an inkling what he was about to say but it was almost too far fetched to wrap your head around. “I wrote something in here in an attempt to try to articulate what you meant to me, what I wanted to say if I got the chance… so here it is… my attempt.” He took a deep breath. He dropped the book to his side. He cupped your cheek with one hand and looked deep into your eyes. “I love you with all that I am. I never told you but even if you were to leave I know that you would always be my forever, even in your absence, it’d be you. You are my minute of quiet in a world whose screams echo around me. And to be with you angel, that's all what I want and I know I can be all you need.” You were pretty sure then and there your heart stopped beating. Jude was kind and sweet but the fact that he had written those words, memorize those words about you made you ache. He took another breath shutting his eyes. As if he was getting a little shy and the vulnerability and it made you all the more smitten. “I know at that match, I realize now, my hesitation was an answer for you and I guess what I’ve been waffling about here is that free of any hesitancy, I want you to be my girlfriend.” He asked you and a sly smile tugged at his lips. You let out a breathy giggle just taken a back this was happening after everything. “Would you let me be your boyfriend?” Jude asked you. The softness in his gaze, the warmth of his breath against your lips, made your heart skip. You didn’t answer, you were in shock. His voice was low, filled with sincerity, when he said, “I’m going to need a real answer.”

“Yeah. Of course, yes, please.” You smiled, biting your lip, teasingly holding out for just a second longer. The moment you said it, his face lit up, his smile so wide it made you giggle. In one swift movement, he scooped you up, wrapping his arms around you as he spun you around, your laughter echoing through the grand, empty space of the Grand Palais.

“Yeah?” He asked you again and you nodded. The flowers beneath your feet seemed to blur as you were lifted into the air, your arms draping around his neck, holding on to him like you never wanted to let go. As he twirled you in his arms, you felt light, like every worry or hesitation that had ever lingered between you was fading away, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of love and excitement. You kissed him—softly at first, then deeper, savoring the way his lips met yours, the way his hold tightened as if he couldn’t get enough of you. After a few spins, Jude slowed, carefully lowering you back down to the ground. You sniffled, suddenly overcome by a rush of emotion you didn’t see coming.

“Jude this was so not necessary to do.” You pouted at him. The beauty of the moment, the weight of his words, the reality of what you were stepping into—it was all so much. Jude immediately noticed concern flashing across his face. He brushed a tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle.

“Angel, it was. I wasn’t right before. It wasn’t reflective of how I felt. This… this is how I feel about you. Grand Palais filled with flowers, notebook keeping Jude is the Jude you get.” He smiled embarrassed. You mouthed a shy and silent ‘okay.’ “So the notebook, I, uh… I kept this while we were apart,” he admitted softly, his eyes a mix of nervousness and sincerity. He handed it to you, the leather cover slightly frayed from use. “I wrote in it when I didn’t know how or if I could talk to you.” Your breath hitched as you took it from him, the weight of the notebook feeling heavier than it actually was. You gently opened the first page, his familiar handwriting filling the space. Each page was dated, and it was clear he’d been writing regularly. Every thought, every emotion he couldn’t share with you in real-time was laid out on those pages. The first entry was raw, written the day after your fight. It detailed his confusion, his anger at himself, but mostly his longing for you. As you flipped through, the words shifted from heartbreak to love, to memories of your time together and dreams for the future. “I didn’t want to lose you, even if we weren’t speaking,” Jude said quietly, watching your face as you read. “So, I just… I wrote everything down. All the things I wanted to say.” You felt tears prick at your eyes as you skimmed an entry where he talked about a song that reminded him of you, how he’d play it on repeat some nights just to feel closer. Another entry mentioned how he saw your favorite snack at a shop and nearly bought it, before remembering he couldn’t bring it to you.

“I’m… Wow.. You... You kept all of this?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion stumbling around your words. Jude nodded, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance to tell you I love you let alone show you this. But I want you to have it. It’s yours” You looked up at him, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. He had always been thoughtful, but seeing it all laid out in his own words—vulnerable and unfiltered—made you realize just how much he had been carrying, even when you weren’t together. Without thinking, you leaned forward, kissing him gently.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, the notebook clutched in your hands like a lifeline. “This means everything to me.” Jude smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“You mean everything to me.” After Jude handed you the notebook—his words, his emotions—washed over you like a tidal wave. You felt suddenly lightheaded, a rush of dizziness making it hard to keep your balance. Your knees buckled, and you instinctively squatted down on the polished floor of the Grand Palais, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The beauty of the place around you seemed to blur, the vibrant flowers and the soft light refracting through the massive glass ceiling turning into an overwhelming kaleidoscope of emotions. Jude watched with a sympathetic smile, his brow furrowing as he knelt beside you. Without a word, he gently guided you onto his lap, his arms wrapping protectively around your frame. You clutched the notebook to your chest, your tears falling more freely now, staining the cover of the notebook with small dark spots. The softness of Jude's touch was grounding, and he held you in his lap like you were the most precious thing in the world. “It’s okay,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head as he softly rocked you. “I know... it’s a lot.” You tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky laugh mixed with a sob. You felt so exposed, so vulnerable in that moment, as if all the time you spent apart had come crashing down in one intense wave of emotions. Jude’s hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, his body warm and steady beneath you. He tilted his head down, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. “I’ll warn you, angel,” he said softly, his voice carrying a tender amusement. “It gets a little... graphic.” He smirked seeing you come across the page detailing how much he missed the way you’d wake him up with head. Through your tears, you managed to giggle, a small hiccuping sound escaping as you leaned back to look at him. His eyes sparkled with that boyish mischief you loved so much, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin. He was trying to make you laugh, to pull you out of the whirlpool of emotion you’d fallen into.

“Wow…” you giggled, your voice still a little choked with the remnants of tears. Jude’s grin widened, his eyes narrowing slightly in playful warning.

“Yeah... maybe just... skip a few pages. Come back to those…Or don’t.” His laugh was low and soft, and the sound of it was like a balm to your raw emotions. “I wasn’t exactly subtle about how much I missed you.” You pressed your face into his chest, giggling through your tears now. The sobs mixed with laughter, your shoulders shaking as you clung to him, feeling the mix of relief, joy, and the ache of everything you had been holding onto for so long. He squeezed you tighter, his chin dipping to rest against the top of your head. “I wrote everything I couldn’t say. Even the stupid stuff.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “I didn’t know how to get it all out. I just... I couldn’t lose you again even in my head.” He cooed. You sniffled, carefully wiping under your eyes, feeling your breathing slowly start to calm.

“You won’t,” you whispered into his chest, your voice small but filled with a quiet certainty. “You won’t lose your girlfriend.” You smiled. Jude’s arms tightened around you at your words, his lips pressing firmly into your hair as if he was sealing a promise. The world around you, with its grand beauty and splendor, faded away. All that mattered was the feeling of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, and the notebook in your lap that held the words he couldn’t say. You sat there in his lap for what felt like ages, just holding onto each other, the weight of everything that had been unspoken now lifted. Eventually, Jude leaned back a bit, brushing his thumb across your cheek to wipe away the last of your tears. His eyes were soft, filled with that deep, unwavering affection that always made your heart stutter.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 14 - This House xx

#jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #footballer x y/n

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quirekey · 1 month ago

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pretty please write more abt d-16 and megatron im THIRSTY for more of him

Okay so anything about D16 / Megatron? Aight bet lets do this….. I MADE IT ANGST AAAAA

[ D16 / MEGATRON ] x [ GN!READER ]

[ d16 / megatron x cybertronian!gn!poet!reader ]

READER INTRO

You were a famous Cybertronian, known for your poetry. You loved to write about melodramatic stories that would give deep and unheard meanings. You are graceful and seemingly magical, being able to put somebody at ease with a few simple words. Your poems consisted of many types of romance because you thought that romance is something that really digs deep into somebody’s spark. You never had many friends because you weren’t social, but you did admire others that could socialise. Many cybertronians look up to you and you stay humble, including D16. Just to mention, you did have a cog.

HEADCANONS

- D16 has many idols that vary and one of them is you. He admires your fantastic vocabulary and the amount of emotional depth you are able to add to your poems. You looked so dreamy, the way you spoke, walked and wrote. D16 may or may not have a small crush on you.

- D16 was one persistent fan and his relentless want for your attention did give him a wanted ending. When you are out, many Cybertronians are talking to you and are wanting to receive writing tips, signatures or even just small glances and waves. D16 knew this so he made a gift (a little piece of energon and a letter) and was able to give it to you despite the crowd.

- You opened your gift when you got to your quarters and this warmed your spark so much. His gift was so miniture and cute. You then read his letter and it felt like you melted on the spot.

“From- D16 To- (Y/N)”

“Hi, I really wanted to talk to you in person but you seem out of my league so I thought a letter would fit best. I made this letter to tell you that you have inspired me to start writing myself. Your poems are so nice to read after every mining shift and I hope you make more in the future.”

- After you read the poem, this tiny miner has been lingering in your mind. You thought you had these thoughts because of his tiny gift, but they have gotten pretty far. You wanted this tiny bot in your arms, you wanted to show him the love and affection he deserves. You made a personal poem about how a mere gift has grown into undefined feelings.

- When you see him, you would talk straight to him first. This did catch him off-guard every time because his idol was talking to him. You would bring him gifts that you thought he would like and you would also give him one of your treasured pens. Though it was hard for him to take care of these gifts, he did try pretty hard to keep them clean and in-quality.

- You guys eventually became close friends and he does confess his love for you. He tried his best to be stoic but it was hard to keep his fluster away. You couldn’t resist him but decided that it’s best to be friends due to his and your part in society. You did like him back so there was still a chance.

- One day you were able to build the courage and tell the cogless bot how much you loved him. How you yearned to have him in your arms and for you to whisper words of sweet affirmation into his audio receptors. You had a serious problem with this lingering love so you had to spill it.

- Fortunately, you two started dating in secret. To make it short, it was very wholesome. Though you two were constantly distanced, you both knew that you were in each other’s processors.

- When he went from being D16 to Megatron, this conflicted you. Your brain told you to stay in Iacon with the autobots and Optimus Prime. Your spark told you to leave with the bot you have loved from the beginning and join the Decepticons with Megatron. Your spark that has been growing and blooming took over and you left Iacon for Megatron’s love.

- Megatron still had love for you and gave you a special role that did not require you to do any work. You wanted you to be happy. Just because he changed, doesn’t mean his spark has changed.

- All you do is write poems in your spacious and dim quarters. It's hard to feel comfort due to the yelling outside your room and it’s hard to get inspiration for your poems because all you are doing is evil. Sure, it isn’t impossible but it feels like it is in the situation you were in.

#transformers #transformers one #tfone #d16 #transformers x reader #megatron #megatron x reader #d16 x reader #d 16 #tfo

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eemamminy-art · 2 months ago

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If you're willing, would you share some of your thoughts about zenos? I just met him in my playthrough and I'm already obsessed and curious about how people misinterpret him

I have many thoughts on Zenos ahaha you can find a lot of my long-winded rambles about him in my tag for him! There will definitely be spoilers in this for both stormblood and endwalker, so if you're just going through stormblood for the first time I'd advise saving this to read later!

But in reference to the thing I was talking about with my partner yesterday was mainly like, how there's this idea people have of Zenos that he enjoys killing when it's simply not the case. Now don't misunderstand-- he doesn't hate it either. He's not remorseful. He's not even trying to justify the action. It's just totally meaningless to him.

When he's urging on the wol to be more violent and to let themselves loose against him, it's not for the sake of simply sowing more destruction. He wants to bring the wol down to his own level in order to debase himself. The reason he wants to encourage the wol to hurt him is because being challenged by them is the only thing making him feel alive. The destruction is something of just a natural consequence of that, of showing the wol that Zenos sees them as two sides of the same coin. Zenos is the emperor's attack dog more than his son, the wol is in turn the alliance's attack dog more than their ally (or so he thinks!).

When he talks about "the hunt" it's less this whimsical mass murder that people point it out to be, and really him seeking purpose, meaning, and happiness in the only messed up way he knows how. As a child he was only given praise and attention for causing harm, so he seeks an opponent that can harm him in return so he can feel something, anything. When he's collecting weapons from fallen warriors, they're not trophies or spoils of war, he's specifically interested in the history of the weapons.

I think it's maybe easy to forget, I mean stormblood was so long ago now and while the characterization is still there in endwalker, it's colored by the perception of others. Isse and the other Domans choosing freedom over fear, no matter how hopeless things are.

Jullus wanting to know why he would betray his countrymen and pleading to his empathy, when Zenos was shaped into a weapon by that empire and holds no love for his nation. Alisaie telling him that while he may have found a spark of joy in fighting with the wol, without empathy for others he will find himself alone and bereft of the one thing that makes him happy.

Zero trying to wrap her head around the way Zenos discarded lives as though they were nothing, while bearing some undefinable emotion toward the wol (obsession, competitiveness, devotion, fondness-- she's not able to define it and I think it's meant to be vague for the player's sake). All these characters in their words with and about Zenos do lay it out clear that he is someone who is devoid of emotions except for the relationship he has to the wol, but I think because they are rightly condemning him for the lives he has taken and destroyed, people misconstrue that to mean he likes killing. There's a sort of malice attributed to his actions when it's really just nihilism.

Now, I'm not saying that because he didn't like it, it means it's fine or something. I know people like to interpret it that way when you like a villain in anything lol. All this to say, this idea of Zenos being a psychopath gleefully murdering people is so far from the truth. He's a very broken man with deep traumas and depression, finding happiness only in wanting to be hurt and killed by the wol.

Maybe at the end of the day, it doesn't matter whether he likes it or doesn't-- I find to most people it makes no difference, so it's easy for them to conflate the two things. But I think Zenos' very existence challenges how the player views their own actions. In the same way that Elidibus in the ShB 5.3 quest Faded Memories reflected back at them all the death and destruction that the wol has caused-- intentional or not-- I think Zenos serves a similar purpose narratively. He questions why, he questions what are good or evil really, and asserts that there's no point in trying to find a justification for death and murder.

I can see why it makes people uncomfortable! He's reminding the wol that they have killed just as much as he did, and questioning the "justice" behind the wol's actions. It's an uncomfortable thing to think about. I think it would be fun to have a wol that comes out of endwalker as a pacifist tbqh!

(Not to get on a tangent, but I totally thought post-HW and especially with the DRG 70 quest, that Estinien was going down that road. I was really sold on the idea just by my own interpretation of his actions and words, only for him to be not only just fine with fighting still but to be actually kind of into it for the sport, just with more humility and empathy now. Total missed opportunity imo! But this is not a post about Estinien!! 😤)

Going back to Zenos though, I think it's easier for people to not grant him a shred of empathy and to write off all his actions as those of a madman. He does after all say he wants the world to burn, for the selfish reason of having the wol all to himself. I get it's uncomfortable for the player character to be the one at the center of his attention. I get it!! But gosh there is a much more interesting character in there than just "guy who gets off on killing", if you just open your eyes and ears for a moment.

I do think that, given the themes in ffxiv's story overall, that granting empathy and forgiveness to even the worst of people is kind of the driving force behind a lot of characters' motivations. Raubahn recognizes Ilberd did all he did for the sake of their shared nation's freedom and future; Estinien recognizes Nidhogg was grieving and in pain as much as he was, leading to vengeance; Hien recognizes the cruelty of her family and others in Doma failed Yotsuyu every moment of her life, shaping her into a tyrant; Lyse recognizes the unrest in Ala Mhigo failed Fordola, pushing her into the false hope the Empire offered; all the scions and the wol recognize how the unsundered ascians bore the responsibility of their entire people on their shoulders and did the unthinkable to try to save their own; Wuk Lamat recognizes Sphene acts out of love and preservation for her people, no matter what it takes. On and on and on.

So I find it odd that Zenos never gets that sort of grace! It's easier to just make an enemy out of him than to see things from his perspective, even while most of the other antagonists are given some degree of empathy while still acknowledging they were wrong and had to be stopped.

He's really neat. I'd put him under a microscope and study him if his ass wasn't too big to fit on the slide.

#me: yeah I'll just write a quick explanation here #also me: let me cite my sources tho 🤪#I've probably said a lot of this stuff before but yeah here you go #hope that any of this makes sense #endwalker spoilers #ffxiv #text #zenos yae galvus

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pinesfandomhell · 1 month ago

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Some Arcane characters and their fragrance types/notes

because one of my main interests is fragrance and I saw people doing this over on tiktok. not indicative of how I feel about any of them and certainly not legit character reads, just a silly post for my own brain worms lol. long post

featuring, in order: Mel Medarda, Jayce Talis, Sky Young, Viktor, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Lest, Salo, Sevika, and Steb

Mel Medarda’s whole vibe is very considered, and there’s no reason this wouldn’t extend to her perfume choices, imo. She’s prepared for every situation. Specifically, she would love a fairly neutral, lightly floral fragrance for work. Not overcomplicated, think waterlily and sandalwood. At home, no one will ever be able to tell me she isn’t THE warm vanilla girl. Overpowering 8 step warm vanilla shower routine. After her mage realisation, I think she would lean into some more spicy, citrusy scents. Verbena and pepper.

Jayce Talis. Look. I see people’s Dior Sauvage headcanons, and I hear them. I see you. However, I have to disagree on the specific choice as a matter of my own sanity. Dior sauvage when i find you. I do think he’s a spicy, herby fragrance wearer though! Sage, basil, rosemary, and cardamom. A really fresh edge. For sure has an ‘ol reliable’ that he’s repurchased 5 times and doesn’t even think when applying any more. People gift him new ones but he forgets to wear them.

Sky Young would love something very chill and low-key, clearly identifiable and not too many notes. Approachable and friendly but with personality. Coconut & sea salt, fresh linen & white florals, and cashmere & almond are some go-to combos.

Viktor is not an everyday fragrance wearer by any means, but maybe puts something on when he isn’t just in the lab. Partial to a paper note, and likes the subtle; the kind of thing you have to be very close to pick up. If he was more interested, he’d be into weird niche stuff, but alas. Green tea, fennel. Smells like straight ozone in s2.

Vi is still working out what she likes. She only wears something when she needs a bit of a confidence boost. She wears warm, comforting smells: spicy and musky. Cinnamony, peppery, a little green. She likes things that indirectly remind her of the outdoors. She has one ultra sweet sugary thing, which she doesn’t wear, but reminds her of her sister.

Caitlyn Kiramman, through s1, would be a powdery lavender wearer. Maybe with some sort of sweet, creamy note too, like white rabbit sweets. It was probably gifted by her parents. In s2, she goes darker and smokier. Deep amber and a little woody, occasionally an oud. She wears less perfume in s2 as well.

Lest would wear something edgy and sweet and intoxicating. Vanilla rum, cut with tobacco, lemon, and a woody note that smells like a bar. On anyone else, this would be completely too much, but she pulls it off with ease.

Salo is pink peppercorn galore, bright yet serious. Certified bergamot warrior. Cashmere base note. He thinks he’s the shit for this but he smells like a rich aunt. Still kind of serving though, actually. He has like 7 fragrances and they all smell identical.

Sevika. Oh my god. She smells so good and no one will convince me otherwise. She smells like Glass Animals’ Zaba album. Really heady, like incense and boozy cherry and orchid. Dark and intense, but with a little lemongrass brightness to back it up. A little sugar too, when you least expect it. Head turner for sure and she loves it. Will not tell anyone what it is.

Steb wears herby, but in an interesting way. Tarragon and dill, really fresh but almost medicinal at first. Cloves and star anise. There’s a twang of samphire too, green and a little salty. Bitter and almost intimidating. Kind of undefinable. Very identifiable.

#very obviously self indulgent post i just like when my interests collide #hopefully not too ooc #but probably is #so sorry about that #random headcanons lmao #arcane #mel medarda #jayce talis #sky young #viktor arcane #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #lest arcane #salo arcane #sevika arcane #steb arcane

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reidmarieprentiss · 7 months ago

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Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down

Summary: Reader cheats on her partner, then meets Spencer and strikes up a fwb situationship. He wants more, she won't allow it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+) with plot, angst !!, comfort

Warnings/Includes: reader's sexuality is undefined -- the only partner she has with specified pronouns is spencer, smut (18+) additonal warnings under the cut, fwb, commitment issues, insecure reader, anxiety, (un)requited feelings, reader cheats on her ex, both of them are in love but reader won't admit it, heartbreak, alcohol consumption, supportive team, angry emily prentiss

Word count: 14.8k

a/n: this is so angsty hahah i live for the angst ,, this was also entirely inspired by love you like a sailor by @reidmania pleasee check them out they are one of my favorite authors on this app !!!

main masterlist

Additional warning: oral (m&f receiving), fingering, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), nipple play, slight sub Spencer, mild choking, pet names

Y/N stirred awake, blinking against the unfamiliar light streaming through the thin curtains of her new apartment. The ceiling above her was stark white, a blank canvas that mirrored her current state of mind. Disoriented, she tried to gather her thoughts, but they scattered like leaves in the wind. It had only been a week since her partner had thrown her out, and the reality of her new life was still sinking in.

She sat up in her new bed, the wrought-iron frame creaking beneath her. The intricate designs on the bed's soft cream paint seemed almost out of place in this fresh start, a relic of a life she was trying to leave behind.

The room was sparsely furnished, just a few essentials she had managed to gather in the short time since she had left. The large windows behind her bed let in plenty of natural light, giving the room a bright and airy feel. The wooden plank floor gave the room a warm and rustic touch, grounding her in this new reality.

Y/N sighed, pushing aside the bedding and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The cold floor was a stark reminder of her new circumstances. She needed to start her day, to find some semblance of routine in this new, chaotic chapter of her life. She padded over to the bathroom, still not used to the cold floor on her once warm feet. Turning on the shower, she stepped in, letting the warm water cascade over her.

As the water washed over her, she couldn’t help but think back to that night. It was a night like any other: her partner was away on another work trip, leaving Y/N alone once again. The loneliness was suffocating, and she had gone out with friends, desperate for some semblance of normalcy and connection. The bar was lively, filled with laughter and chatter that provided a temporary escape from her solitude.

Then she met them—a charming stranger who paid her the kind of attention she had been starved of for so long. Their eyes never left hers, and their words were filled with warmth and interest. She felt seen, heard, and wanted. In that moment of weakness, she indulged. Their conversation turned into a night together, a decision she regretted the moment the sun began to rise.

Y/N shook off the memory and leaned her head against the cool tiles. She missed her partner, missed the life they had built together. The friends they once shared that her partner got in the breakup. The shower was her sanctuary, a place where she could let her emotions flow freely. Tears mingled with the water as she stood there, trying to wash away the guilt and the regret. But no matter how much she scrubbed, the weight of her actions remained.

The argument had escalated quickly, emotions running high. Y/N’s pleas for understanding were met with cold rejection. In the end, she was left standing alone, her partner’s words echoing in her mind: “I want you out. I’ll be home by the end of the week, you need to be gone by then.”

With a deep breath, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. Today was a new day, and she had to find a way to move forward, no matter how daunting it seemed.

—

Sitting in her cubicle one month later, Y/N was absorbed in her work when a familiar head of hair popped over the top. It was Alice.

"Hi, Y/N!" Alice greeted with her usual enthusiasm.

"Hi, Alice. How are you?" Y/N responded, slightly taken aback by the unexpected visit.

"I'm good! I was wondering if you had any plans tonight?"

Y/N was a little confused. She didn’t have any plans, but she had also never been invited to hang out by anyone from work before. They were all a bit clique-y. And while Alice had always been very sweet, she herself had her own group with Charlie and Taylor.

"Uh, no. No, I don’t. What's up?" Y/N asked, trying to mask her surprise.

"Well… Charlie, Taylor, and I are going to get drinks tonight at The Thirsty Felon. Would you want to come with us?"

"Oh, sure. Thank you for the invite," Y/N replied, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement.

"Great! We’ll see you there at 7," Alice said with a bright smile before disappearing back over the cubicle wall.

Y/N sat back in her chair, processing the unexpected invitation. Maybe, she thought, this could be a step towards making new friends and finding a new sense of belonging. For the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of hope.

—

Spencer sat at the bar, visibly uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room. He leaned closer to JJ, who was sipping her drink and looking far more relaxed than he felt.

"JJ, you dragged me out to a bar called The Thirsty Felon. I could be at home watching the new Doctor Who episode," Spencer complained, his voice tinged with frustration. "Do you even know what we do for a living?"

JJ chuckled and shook her head. "Spence, you need to get out more. It's just a bar. Besides, you can't spend every night at home watching TV. You need to socialize a bit."

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I socialize plenty... at work."

JJ gave him a sympathetic look. "Look, I know it's not your scene, but sometimes it's good to step out of your comfort zone. You might actually have fun."

Spencer raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn't argue further. As he took a reluctant sip of his drink, he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about being in such an unfamiliar setting.

The Thirsty Felon was a typical dive bar, with its worn pool tables under vintage Coors lamps and a jukebox that Penelope was enthusiastically feeding quarters into. Morgan and Emily were at one of the pool tables, engaged in a friendly yet competitive game. The walls were adorned with retro beer signs, and the air was filled with a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and classic rock tunes.

Despite the casual and lively atmosphere, Spencer felt out of place. He watched as Morgan took a shot, sinking a ball into the corner pocket, and Emily clapped in appreciation. Penelope, meanwhile, was bouncing slightly to the beat of the music she had just selected, her face lit up with a bright smile.

JJ nudged Spencer, drawing his attention back to her. "Come on, Spence. Just relax and try to have a good time. We're all here together, and that's what matters."

Spencer managed a small smile, appreciating JJ's effort to include him. "Alright, I'll try," he conceded, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd rather be home with his favorite TV show.

—

Y/N sat in a booth with her coworkers, Alice, Charlie, and Taylor. They were clearly close friends, sharing inside jokes and laughing heartily. Y/N tried to listen and catch on, but it was difficult when they basically had their own language. She felt like an outsider, longing to be part of their camaraderie but unsure how to break in. After a while, she excused herself to go get another drink at the bar, hoping a moment alone might help her gather her thoughts.

As she approached the bar, she found herself standing next to a man who seemed equally out of place. Spencer Reid sat there, looking around nervously. JJ had just left to dance by the jukebox after being dragged over by Penelope, leaving Spencer all by himself. When he felt the presence of someone next to him, he turned, expecting it to be JJ.

“About time you came back, I was getting ready to—” he began, his expression softening as he saw Y/N instead.

“To what?” Y/N asked, curiosity piqued.

“Leave,” Spencer finished, somewhat sheepishly.

“Oh, well, don't let me stop you. I wouldn't mind leaving myself,” Y/N admitted with a hint of a smile.

“Not having fun?” Spencer asked, sensing a kindred spirit.

“More like witnessing others have fun and not knowing how to join,” Y/N said, her eyes reflecting a mix of longing and isolation.

“I… completely understand what you mean. I just haven’t been able to explain it before,” Spencer replied, offering her a kind smile. “I’m Spencer.”

“Y/N,” she responded, her tone unintentionally cold. She didn’t feel that she was worthy of the time of someone who looked so sweet, not after what she did.

Spencer, however, seemed undeterred by her tone. He saw something in her eyes that mirrored his own feelings of displacement. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said sincerely.

She nodded, knowing he wouldn’t think that if he knew. Luckily, she didn’t have to say anything as the bartender came over and took her order. However, when she went to pay, Spencer cut her off.

“I got it, you can put it on my tab, R-e-i-d,” he spelled out for the bartender.

“Oh no, I can’t let you do that. That's too nice,” Y/N protested, feeling guilty.

“It’s my pleasure. I hope your night gets better,” Spencer said with a gentle smile.

“Uh, yeah, thank you. You too,” she replied, her voice softer now.

As she turned around to leave the bar with her drink, Y/N noticed her coworkers stumbling out of the bar in a pile of giggles. They obviously forgot in their drunken states that they had a fourth party with them. With a big sigh, Y/N turned back around and sat in the seat next to Spencer at the bar.

“Back so soon?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“My group just left,” she explained, a touch of frustration in her voice.

“Without you?” Spencer asked, clearly surprised.

“It would appear so,” Y/N confirmed, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. If you don't mind me saying so, they don't sound like very good friends,” Spencer said, his brow furrowing in concern.

“No, that's fine. They’re just my coworkers,” Y/N clarified, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well, that's good, I suppose. Um, I’m here with my coworkers too if you want to stay with us,” Spencer offered, his voice filled with genuine kindness.

Y/N knew she shouldn’t accept such a kind offer, but he was just so pretty with his big, hopeful brown eyes, and pushed back, silky hair, and god, those adorable glasses.

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” she managed a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Spencer and Y/N chatted for a while, their conversation flowing effortlessly. After some time, Y/N started to get antsy and asked, “Do you want to play pool?”

Spencer hesitated. He knew he wasn’t good at pool, but he agreed anyway because he’d never had a girl talk to him for this long outside of work or school. “Sure, why not,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

As they approached the pool table, they found Derek and Emily still playing. Derek raised an eyebrow at Spencer, smirking knowingly.

“Since when do you play pool, Pretty Boy?” Derek teased.

“Shut up,” Spencer mumbled, his face flushing slightly as Derek laughed and patted him on the back.

Derek then leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Maybe you can get her to show you some moves.”

Spencer blushed profusely and shoved him away with a bashful smile. When he turned back, he saw Y/N racking the balls, her face in pure concentration. He found himself captivated by the sexy way she bit her tongue and furrowed her brow. Then she looked up and caught him staring. Shit.

Much to his relief, she didn’t say anything, just walked over to the cue sticks, turning them before finding the one she wanted. “Do you want to break, or me?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Uh, you, can you?” Spencer replied, a bit flustered.

Y/N nodded, smiling a bit as she realized Spencer must not have a lot of experience with pool. She lined up her shot, her movements fluid and confident. With a sharp crack, the balls scattered across the table, and she looked up at Spencer with a triumphant grin. He felt his pants get tighter and his IQ drop a significant amount.

“Your turn,” she said, handing him a cue stick.

Spencer took the stick and approached the table, trying to mimic her stance. He took a shot, but the cue ball barely nudged another ball.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said encouragingly. “Just take your time.”

As they continued playing, Spencer couldn’t help but notice how patient and kind Y/N was. Despite his lack of skill, she never made him feel embarrassed. Instead, she offered tips and gentle corrections, making the game more enjoyable.

At some point, after a few drinks, Y/N boldly stepped behind Spencer and put her hands on his hips, angling them before leaving one hand on his hip and placing the other on his back to bend him just so. Spencer was sure he was flushed head to toe, his mind reeling. He liked that she was manhandling him. And in public, no less.

Derek and Emily’s mouths were open, watching the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and amusement. Y/N then leaned forward and traced her hand down Spencer's arm, showing him how to hold the cue stick properly. Her touch was firm yet gentle, and Spencer's heart raced.

“Breathe in and out with me,” she instructed softly. Spencer focused on matching her breaths, trying to calm his nerves. When he finally took the shot, the ball rolled smoothly and made it into the pocket.

Spencer was so excited that he turned around without thinking and kissed Y/N.

The kiss was quick, a spontaneous burst of joy, but it sent a jolt of electricity through both of them. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and Spencer immediately stepped back, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Spencer stammered, mortified.

Y/N blinked, then schooled her features. “Uh, it’s fine,” she said somewhat distantly, her pink cheeks the only thing giving her away.

“I don’t know what came over me, I’ve never done something like that before. You’re just so pretty and helpful—I—I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s fine. Let’s just finish the game,” she replied, trying to move past the awkward moment.

So they did, albeit a bit awkwardly. After Y/N sunk the 8-ball, she looked to Spencer to say goodnight.

“Wait, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him.

“I’m really sorry if I ruined things or made you feel uncomfortable,” he said, taking a stabilizing breath. “But I had a lot of fun tonight, and I would love to see you again.”

“Spencer…”

“Oh, okay. You’re not interested, that’s okay,” he said quickly, his face falling.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—I don’t really date,” she admitted, leaving out the part about her past relationship.

“Oh.”

“But if you wanted something casual, no strings attached, I could do that,” she offered.

“Oh, wow, okay, um, like sex?” he squeaked out, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yes, Spencer, like sex,” she confirmed, her tone gentle.

“I mean, I’ve never had sex with someone I wasn’t dating before…”

“It’s okay, Spencer. It was just a suggestion. Goodnight,” she said, turning to leave.

“No!” Spencer blurted out, making Y/N turn back again.

“Can I at least get your number? So I can think about it?” he asked, his voice earnest.

Y/N smiled, feeling a bit of warmth spread through her. “Yeah, of course.” She took a napkin from the bar and scribbled her number on it, handing it to him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, holding the napkin like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Y/N said softly, giving him one last smile before heading out.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, watching her leave.

As Y/N walked away, Spencer stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. He was still holding the napkin with her number on it, almost in disbelief.

“Did you just get her number, Pretty Boy?” Derek asked, sidling up next to him with a wide grin.

“Yeah, I did,” Spencer breathed, still somewhat dazed, leaving out the part about how and why he got her number.

“My man!” Derek exclaimed, clapping Spencer on the back with a hearty laugh. “Look at you, getting numbers and making moves!”

Spencer chuckled nervously, tucking the napkin safely into his pocket. “Thanks, Derek. It was... unexpected.”

Derek gave him a knowing look. “Well, you never know where things might lead. Just take it one step at a time.”

Spencer nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. He had a lot to think about, but for now, he was just happy to have made a connection with someone new. As he and Derek rejoined the group, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement about what might come next.

—

Spencer did think about Y/N’s offer, but the BAU got called away on back-to-back cases, leaving him with little time to make a decision. Meanwhile, Y/N assumed he just didn’t want to turn her down outright and accepted that she wasn’t going to hear from him.

Three weeks after the night at the bar, Y/N received a text from an unknown number. Since she didn’t recognize it, she ignored it while she was at work. It wasn’t until later that evening, with a glass of wine in hand, that Y/N was scrolling through her phone and remembered the text. She opened it up to see a message from Spencer.

Hey Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t text you sooner. I got really busy with work. I’d like to take you up on your offer.

Y/N felt her pulse pick up, not believing what she was seeing. Good things didn’t happen to her anymore, not like this. Karma’s a bitch and all that. Still, she couldn’t refrain from teasing him.

Sorry… who is this?

There was a pause, and then her phone buzzed again.

It’s Spencer. From the bar? With the pool game?

She chuckled, enjoying the moment.

Ohhh, right. The guy who needed help shooting pool. Got it.

Yes, that’s me. So, about your offer…

Y/N took a sip of her wine, her mind racing. She hadn't expected to hear from him, but now that she had, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement. She typed back quickly.

You still interested in something casual?

Yes, I am. If the offer still stands.

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. Maybe good things could still happen, even if it only lasts for a little while.

It stands. When are you free?

I’m free this weekend. How about Saturday?

Saturday works. Let’s meet at your place around 7?

Y/N was nervous he wouldn’t want her to come over to his place, but she had decided not to allow anyone into her new apartment. She wanted to keep it just for herself, not wanting anyone to witness the vulnerability that comes with seeing someone's living space.

Sounds perfect. Looking forward to it.

She set her phone down after Spencer sent his address, her heart racing with anticipation. She had no idea where this would lead, but for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of excitement.

—

The days leading up to Saturday passed in a blur of nerves and anticipation. Y/N spent extra time planning what to wear, what to say, and how to handle the evening. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be the start of something significant, even if it was meant to be casual. She wasn’t going to let herself get attached, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy herself.

When Saturday evening arrived, Y/N found herself standing outside Spencer’s apartment door at precisely 7 PM. She took a deep breath and knocked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Spencer opened the door almost immediately, looking slightly nervous but with a warm smile on his face. “Hey, Y/N. Come in.”

“Thanks,” she said, stepping inside. His apartment was neat and organized, except for the stacks of books covering pretty much every surface. It felt welcoming, and she relaxed a little.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Spencer said, leading her to the living room where a bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting on the coffee table.

“Yup,” Y/N replied, glancing around at the books and knick-knacks that lined the shelves. The apartment felt cozy and lived-in.

Spencer poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to her. “I hope you like red,” he said, extending a glass to Y/N.

“Uh, yeah, I do, thanks.” Y/N accepted the glass and, feeling a sudden rush of nerves, downed it all in one go.

“Oh, good. Would you like some more?” Spencer asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, that would be great,” she replied. He poured her another glass, and she immediately downed it as well.

Spencer watched her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, then took a step closer to him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Already? I thought we could talk for a little bit,” Spencer said quietly, his voice gentle.

“I don’t really want to talk. I want to fuck,” Y/N said bluntly, her eyes locking onto his.

Spencer was taken aback by her bold words, but he supposed that was what their arrangement was supposed to be. He took a moment to gather himself, then nodded. “Okay.”

Y/N closed the distance between them, her hands reaching up to cup his face as she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was urgent, almost desperate, and Spencer responded in kind, his hands finding her waist.

The intensity of the moment took over, and soon they were moving together towards the bedroom. Spencer tried to keep his thoughts in order, but the feeling of Y/N’s body against his was overwhelming. He had never experienced anything like this before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

As they reached the bed, Y/N pulled back for a moment, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Spencer nodded, his heart racing. “Yes, I’m sure. I want this too.”

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. She dropped to her knees in front of him.

Spencer let out a surprised gasp, not expecting things to move so quickly. Y/N immediately began unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down with practiced ease. Once they were around his ankles, he kicked them off, following her motions in a haze.

Y/N brought her hand up to palm over Spencer’s cock to make sure he was ready. His breath hitched at the sensation.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Just Y/N,” she corrected, her tone firm yet teasing.

“Ungh,” Spencer groaned as Y/N licked above his waistband before dipping her fingers in and pulling off the last barrier.

The intensity of the moment left Spencer almost dizzy with desire. He couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated, but he was too caught up in the sensations to overthink it. Y/N’s touch was electrifying, every movement sending waves of pleasure through him.

As Y/N continued licking her path downward, Spencer felt himself shaking in anticipation.

Finally, Y/N licked Spencer's cock from root to tip and sucked him all the way down in one go. Spencer moaned wildly, not knowing what to do with his hands. He ended up tangling them in his own hair and pulling, the overwhelming sensations nearly too much to bear. Y/N didn't notice, and if she did, she didn't care. She bobbed her head and swirled her tongue around his length as a penance for all the wrong she’d done. This was her apology for not going on a date with him.

Her hand came up to cup his balls next, rolling them in her hand. Spencer had never had anyone touch his balls before. He tensed up and came in her mouth.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice shaky with a mix of embarrassment and relief.

Y/N pulled off and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, having swallowed during the surprise. “It's okay, Spencer. That’s kind of what I’m here for,” she chuckled softly, trying to ease his tension.

“But you didn’t get to… you know,” he stammered, feeling a twinge of guilt.

“Cum? It's just us, you can say it,” she replied, her eyes softening.

“You didn’t get to cum,” he repeated, the words feeling foreign yet necessary.

“I don’t need to,” Y/N said, her smile reassuring. She reached out and touched his arm gently. “We can try another time.”

Spencer looked at her, still catching his breath, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, appreciating her more than he could express.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Can I use your bathroom? I’d like to clean up before I go home.”

“Huh? Yeah, it's down the hall to the right,” he replied, feeling a pang of dejection. “You’re going home already?”

“Spencer… this is just sex, nothing more. I thought you knew that,” Y/N said gently, trying to manage his expectations.

Spencer’s face fell, but he nodded in understanding. “I know, I just… I thought maybe we could talk after.”

Y/N sighed softly, feeling a mix of guilt and regret. “I don’t really do that. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer said quickly, trying to hide his disappointment. “I understand.”

Y/N gave him a small, sad smile before heading to the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, Spencer pulled his briefs on and sat on the edge of the bed, his mind racing. He had known what the arrangement was, but he couldn’t help the flicker of hope that had ignited within him.

When Y/N returned, she looked more composed. “Thank you for tonight, Spencer. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, forcing a smile. “Thank you too.”

She nodded, grabbing her things. “Take care, okay?”

“You too,” he replied, watching as she left his apartment. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Spencer alone in the quiet room.

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The night had been incredible, but now he felt a strange emptiness. He knew he had to respect her boundaries, but part of him couldn’t help but wish for more.

—

Meanwhile, Y/N was having similar feelings as she made her way home. She had wanted to stay. She wanted to talk to Spencer about anything and everything, to learn all that there was to know about him. The connection she felt was undeniable, and she found herself longing for more than just the physical intimacy they shared.

But she knew that neither of them deserved that. She didn’t deserve someone as good-hearted as Spencer, and Spencer didn’t deserve someone who had cheated on their partner. The weight of her past mistakes bore heavily on her, and she couldn't bring herself to believe she was worthy of someone like him.

As she drove through the quiet streets, Y/N’s mind was filled with thoughts of Spencer. She remembered the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his interests, the way he smiled shyly, and the gentleness in his touch.

When she finally reached her apartment, she sank onto the couch, her thoughts still racing. She poured herself a glass of wine, hoping it would calm her nerves, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside her.

Y/N knew she needed to protect Spencer, and to keep the walls up around herself to avoid hurting someone again. But part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to let those walls down, to let someone like Spencer in.

As she sipped her wine, she made a silent vow to herself. She would keep her distance, for both their sakes. She would respect the boundaries they had set and try to move forward without letting her feelings get in the way.

But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

—

“Uhhhh, oh god Spencer! Oh please!” Y/N moaned, her voice filled with desperation.

Spencer hummed around her clit, the vibration adding an extra layer of sensation that sent shivers through her body. He increased the speed of his fingers, his movements precise and deliberate inside her, driving her closer to the edge.

Y/N's hands gripped the sheets tightly, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her. “Spencer, I’m so close,” she gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

Spencer didn’t let up, his focus entirely on her. He wanted to give her everything she needed, to make her feel as good as she had made him feel. He could feel her tensing around his fingers, her body trembling with the intensity of her impending release.

He released her clit from between his lips, licking down through her lips and laying his tongue flat before shaking his head back and forth rapidly. Y/N screamed in pleasure, feeling the friction of Spencer’s glasses brushing against her inner thighs. She had selfishly asked him to keep them on during their time together because he looked so sexy and nerdy, it turned her on to no end.

Spencer thought her scream was out of pain, and he went to pull back, worried he had hurt her. But Y/N, right on the edge, quickly put her hands in his hair and held his face to her core, guiding him back into place. Spencer moaned into her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure, and resumed his actions with renewed fervor.

Y/N's grip tightened in his hair as she felt herself teetering on the brink of ecstasy. Spencer’s relentless movements, combined with the sensation of his glasses against her skin, drove her wild. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, and she could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

With one final deep suck and push of his fingers he tipped her over the edge. Y/N cried out, her body convulsing as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Spencer continued to move his fingers gently, prolonging her pleasure until she was completely spent.

As she came down from her high, Y/N looked at Spencer with a mix of awe and gratitude. “That was… something,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“Something?” Spencer laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, still catching her breath.

“Forget your words there?” he teased gently.

“Brain no work, can't think,” she replied, managing a small smile.

Spencer moved up beside her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ll give you a second,” he said softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

“Don’t do that,” Y/N said suddenly, her voice more serious.

“Do what?” Spencer asked, pulling back, concern etched on his face.

“Don’t kiss my forehead. That’s too intimate,” she explained, trying to maintain the boundaries she had set.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he said, his expression falling slightly.

“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling a pang of regret. Now there was an awkward tension in the air.

“I’m gonna go pee,” Y/N said, needing a moment to herself.

When Y/N came back from the bathroom, Spencer was sitting on the bed in his briefs, no longer hard. He looked up as she entered, his face a mix of confusion and uncertainty.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment,” Y/N said, feeling the need to address the elephant in the room.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Spencer replied, looking down at his hands.

“Actually, I was thinking—we probably shouldn’t kiss at all. Not even on the lips, just to make sure we don’t blur any lines,” Y/N suggested, trying to establish clearer boundaries.

“Oh.” Spencer stared at the floor, processing her words. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Y/N could see the disappointment in his eyes, and it hurt her more than she wanted to admit. She took a deep breath and sat down next to him, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. “Spencer, I really do appreciate you. I just need to keep things simple.”

Spencer nodded, forcing a small smile. “I understand. We’ll keep it simple.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, her heart heavy with the unspoken emotions between them. They had agreed to something casual, but the reality of maintaining that distance was proving to be more challenging than either of them had anticipated.

—

Y/N and Spencer continued their arrangement for about six weeks with no hiccups. It was easier to avoid wanting to hang out when Spencer was frequently gone on cases. Though it did remind Y/N of her last partner and why it didn’t work, only reaffirming why she and Spencer could never be together. She had no trust in herself anymore, so why should anyone else?

There was a dinner party at Rossi’s coming up that weekend, and Spencer really wanted to bring Y/N. Not only because he really liked her, despite saying he was okay with keeping it casual, but because the team kind of assumed they were dating.

He never told them they were dating, but he also didn’t correct their assumptions. Most of them were there to witness the night he met Y/N and to see her give him her number. They knew he texted her, and they also knew he had a special shine to him nowadays, so they put two and two together. Spencer wasn’t comfortable telling them the truth.

So, he called Y/N when he got back from his most recent case and asked.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Spencer,” he started, trying to keep his nerves in check.

“Hey, Spencer. How are you?” Y/N replied, her voice warm.

“I’m good, thanks. I was wondering if you’re free this weekend,” he said, getting straight to the point.

“This weekend?” Y/N repeated, a hint of hesitation in her voice. “I think so. Why?”

“Well, there’s a dinner party at my coworker Rossi’s, and I was hoping you’d come with me,” Spencer said, his heart pounding.

“A dinner party?” Y/N asked, clearly surprised. “Spencer, you know we agreed to keep things casual.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But I have to go, and... the team kind of assumes we’re dating.”

“You didn’t tell them the truth?” Y/N asked, a bit incredulous.

Spencer sighed. “I know I should have, but it’s complicated. They saw us together, and they’ve noticed a change in me, they’re all profiles, you know. I just... didn’t correct their assumptions, I don’t really need them knowing what I get up to on my own time.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, thinking. “Spencer, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Just this once. It would mean a lot to me.”

She sighed, feeling torn. She didn’t want to complicate things further, but she also didn’t want to disappoint him. “Okay, I’ll go,” she said finally.

“Really?” Spencer’s voice lit up with relief and excitement. “Thank you, Y/N. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“I hope so,” she said with a small smile. “I’ll see you this weekend then.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face.

As they hung up, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and dread. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake, but for now, she would try to focus on enjoying the evening and supporting Spencer.

—

Saturday evening arrived, and Spencer picked Y/N up in his Volkswagen. She thought it was a very fitting car for him—practical, unassuming, yet with a certain charm.

As they drove to Rossi’s, the air was filled with a mix of anticipation and a hint of nervousness. Y/N turned to Spencer, deciding to break the silence. “So, how do you want me to behave tonight?”

Spencer glanced at her, a bit confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said, playing with the hem of her dress, “how would you want your girlfriend to act? I mean, if I’m going to pretend to be your girlfriend, I should know what you expect.”

Spencer smiled, touched by her consideration. “Just be yourself, Y/N. I like you for who you are.”

She nodded, but inside, she felt a flutter of excitement. The prospect of acting like she was in a relationship, even if just for one evening, was thrilling. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to feel close to someone.

“Okay, but... should I hold your hand? Stand close to you?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Spencer chuckled softly. “Sure, if that makes you comfortable. I don’t have any specific expectations.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Alright. Just let me know if I do anything that feels too... girlfriend-y.”

“I will,” he promised, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

They arrived at Rossi’s house, which was already bustling with the team and a few other guests. Spencer parked the car and turned to Y/N. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, taking a deep breath.

They walked up to the door, and Spencer rang the bell. Within moments, Rossi opened it, greeting them with a warm smile. “Spencer! And you must be Y/N. Come on in, everyone’s excited to meet you.”

Y/N gave him a polite smile and followed Spencer inside. The house was warm and inviting, filled with the sound of laughter and conversation. As they stepped into the living room, the rest of the team turned to greet them.

“Hey, Spencer! Y/N!” JJ called out, waving them over.

Y/N smiled nervously and followed Spencer’s lead. He gently took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they approached the group.

“So, this is the famous Y/N we’ve heard so much about,” Derek said, giving her a friendly smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Y/N replied, feeling a bit more at ease.

As the night progressed, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Spencer, feeling a mix of gratitude and something deeper she wasn’t ready to name. For now, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment, savoring the warmth of the evening and the connection she felt with Spencer, even if it was just pretend.

—

The evening was in full swing, with everyone mingling and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Y/N was feeling more comfortable as the night went on, especially with Spencer by her side. She had been sipping on champagne, the bubbles making her feel pleasantly lightheaded.

Just as she was starting to relax completely, the girls—JJ, Penelope, and Emily—approached with mischievous smiles.

“Mind if we steal Y/N for a bit, Spencer?” Penelope asked, already linking her arm through Y/N’s.

Spencer tried to playfully protest, but there was a genuine reluctance in his voice. “Hey, don’t take her away! We were having a good time.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll bring her back in one piece,” Emily teased, winking at Y/N.

Y/N laughed, letting herself be pulled away, though she cast a reassuring glance back at Spencer. He smiled, but the look in his eyes showed he wasn’t entirely pleased with being separated from her.

The girls led Y/N to a quieter corner of the room, where they settled into a small circle. Penelope handed her another glass of champagne, and Y/N accepted it gratefully.

“Alright, spill,” JJ said with a grin. “We want to know everything about you and Spencer.”

Y/N smiled nervously, taking a sip of her drink to buy herself some time. She knew she had to be careful with her answers, especially with the champagne making her feel more talkative than usual.

“Yeah, like how did you two meet?” Emily asked, leaning in eagerly.

“Well, we met at the bar,” Y/N began, sticking to the truth. “He was nice when my coworkers ditched me. We just... hit it off.”

“And what’s it like dating Spencer Reid?” Penelope asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Y/N laughed softly. “He’s sweet. So smart and kind. He really listens, you know?”

JJ nodded approvingly. “He’s definitely a good guy. How long have you been together?”

Y/N hesitated for a split second. “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now,” she said, which was technically true.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s he like outside of work? We only get to see the genius profiler side of him.”

“He’s really fun,” Y/N said, smiling at the thought of Spencer. “He loves talking about all kinds of things—books, history, science. It’s fascinating to be around him.”

Penelope leaned in closer. “And how’s the romance department? He’s a total gentleman, isn’t he?”

Y/N blushed, trying to keep her composure. “Yes, he’s very respectful and caring,” she said, avoiding any details that might hint at the true nature of their relationship.

The girls continued to pepper her with questions, and Y/N answered each one honestly but carefully, ensuring she didn’t reveal anything that would give away their arrangement. Despite the slightly nerve-wracking interrogation, she found herself enjoying their company.

Meanwhile, Spencer watched from across the room, trying to hide his anxiety. He trusted Y/N, but he couldn’t help but worry about what she might say under the influence of champagne.

After what felt like an eternity, the girls finally let Y/N go. She made her way back to Spencer, a smile on her lips and a lightness in her step.

“Did you survive the inquisition?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of distress.

“I did,” Y/N said with a laugh. “They’re just curious about us. I think I handled it okay.”

Spencer smiled, relieved. “Thanks for putting up with them.”

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, feeling a warm glow from his praise. “Actually, it was kind of nice to talk to them. It’s been a while since I had friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer said, his expression softening with sympathy. “But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Y/N nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah, it felt good to be part of a group again. They’re really nice.”

“They are,” Spencer agreed. “They’ve been my family for a long time.”

Y/N looked at him, appreciating his openness. “Thanks for including me tonight. I know it wasn’t part of our original arrangement.”

Spencer squeezed her hand gently. “I wanted you here. You mean a lot to me, Y/N. More than just... well, you know.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She knew their relationship was supposed to be casual, but moments like this made it hard to maintain that boundary. “Spencer…” she said softly.

“I know, I know… I just wanted you to know,” he replied, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Okay, thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stood there for a moment, the party continuing around them, but in their own little bubble, everything else seemed to fade away.

“Do you want to stay a bit longer, or are you ready to head out?” Spencer asked, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

“I’m ready to go,” Y/N said, her voice steady but her heart racing. “But let’s not rush.”

Spencer nodded, understanding the unspoken words between them. They said their goodbyes to the team, who were all smiles and warm farewells, and made their way out to the car.

Once they were on the road, in the seclusion of the dark, empty road, Y/N reached over to put her hand on Spencer’s thigh. She was determined to show him just how grateful she was for tonight.

Spencer tensed slightly at the unexpected touch but quickly relaxed, his eyes flicking to her hand and then back to the road. “Y/N…” he started, but she shushed him gently.

“Just drive,” she whispered, her fingers tracing slow circles on his thigh.

The tension in the car shifted, becoming charged with unspoken desire. Spencer’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he focused on the road ahead, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Y/N leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. “I want to thank you properly for tonight,” she murmured, her hand moving a little higher.

Spencer swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet tender. “You’ve been so good to me, Spencer. Let me do this.”

He nodded, unable to find the words to refuse her. Y/N quickly worked open his belt and pants, pushing her hand inside his briefs. She stroked his cock, feeling him harden quickly in her hand.

“Y/N, god,” he groaned, his voice trembling.

“Feel good, Spence?” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

That was the first time she’d called him anything other than Spencer, and it made his stomach tighten with want. Even more so as she unbuckled her seatbelt to lean over and take his head inside her mouth.

Spencer let out a strangled moan, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as she moved. The sensation of her lips and tongue on him was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his focus on the road.

“Y/N... oh god,” he managed to gasp, his body trembling with pleasure.

She continued her ministrations, her mouth working him expertly. The combination of her touch and the thrill of their public setting sent waves of pleasure through him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, and it was taking all his willpower not to lose control completely.

“Please, Y/N... I’m so close,” he panted, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel so hard.

Y/N hummed around his cock, the vibration pushing him even closer to the brink.

“Already, Spencer?” Y/N teased, her voice a playful whisper in the darkness.

“Your mouth feels so good, I can’t help it,” he panted, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Okay, you deserve it. You’ve been such a good boy.”

“Oh my god!!” Spencer thrust his hips up as soon as she wrapped her lips around his tip and he came. He didn’t know he would have that reaction to being called a good boy.

“Aww, did you like that? Do you want to be my good boy?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“Y/N… don’t tease me,” he pleaded, his voice strained with desire.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughed softly and tucked him back in his pants before fixing them up.

Spencer reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her smile widening. “Now, let’s get you home.”

They resumed their drive, the air between them charged with a new level of intimacy. Spencer couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, his heart swelling with affection and something deeper he was hesitant to name.

As they pulled up to her apartment, Spencer parked the car and turned to Y/N. “Thank you for tonight. It meant a lot to me,” he said softly.

“I’m glad, thank you for bringing me,” Y/N replied, her eyes reflecting the same unspoken emotions.

They shared a lingering look before Y/N got out of the car. As she walked to her door, she looked back and gave Spencer a final wave. He watched her go, feeling a warmth in his chest that he knew was more than just physical satisfaction.

As he drove home, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that their relationship was evolving into something more. And for the first time, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make it work.

—

One day, Y/N asked Spencer if he was free, hoping they could spend some time together outside their usual arrangement. Spencer regrettably had to say no; he had already made plans with Derek.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I have plans with Derek tonight,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

Y/N brushed it off with a casual smile. “No big deal, Spencer. Maybe another time.”

But inside, she felt a pang of hurt. It was silly, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling rejected. Spencer hated that the first time Y/N had tried to initiate something more, he had to say no. He hoped she wasn’t too upset, but he tried not to let it show when he was hanging out with Derek. But of course, Derek noticed.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, what’s up? You’ve been off all night,” Derek asked, giving Spencer a concerned look.

Spencer sighed, realizing he couldn’t hide his feelings any longer. “It’s Y/N,” he admitted. “I feel like it’s gone too far. I’ve developed serious feelings for her, and I know I have to confess or end it.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were dating her?” Derek asked, looking genuinely confused.

Spencer shook his head, feeling a mix of frustration and sorrow. “No, we’re not really dating. We agreed to keep things casual, but… I can’t do it anymore. It’s too hard.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so all this time you’ve just been casually seeing each other?”

“Yeah,” Spencer admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to complicate things, but now it’s already complicated. I don’t know what to do.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, first off, you need to let her know how you feel. Otherwise, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself. And this way, you’ll know how she feels too.”

Spencer looked at Derek, his expression filled with uncertainty. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Derek gave him a reassuring smile. “You won’t know until you ask. But from what I saw at the dinner party, she’s definitely into you. All the girls swooned over your relationship. A room full of profilers couldn’t tell that you two weren’t in love.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Derek confirmed. “You should have seen the way she looked at you. She’s got it bad, Reid.”

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thanks, Derek. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, man,” Derek said, clapping him on the back. “Just go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Spencer nodded, determination settling in his chest. He knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Y/N and let her know how he felt. And he hoped, with all his heart, that she felt the same way.

—

The next day, Spencer called Y/N and asked if they could meet up. There was something important he needed to talk to her about.

“Sure, Spencer. What’s up?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I’ll tell you when we meet,” he said, his voice serious.

“Okay, why don’t you come over?” Y/N suggested.

“To your place?” Spencer asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

“Okay, yeah,” he agreed, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

Spencer couldn’t believe Y/N was inviting him over. He had never been to her apartment before. All of their meetups had been at his place, and she had never explained why. He assumed it was another way to keep her distance, but now she was asking him to come over. Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she did share his feelings.

As he made his way to her apartment, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of what he would say. He felt a mixture of nervousness and hope, his heart pounding in his chest.

When he arrived, Y/N was waiting at the door, a small, nervous smile on her face. “Hi, Spencer. Come in.”

“Hi,” he replied, stepping inside. He looked around, taking in the cozy, inviting space. It felt like a glimpse into a part of her life she had kept hidden from him.

“Nice place,” Spencer said, trying to ease the tension.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, closing the door behind him. She couldn’t believe she had invited him over. She didn’t know what she was thinking. This was her space, her private, intimate space. Once he saw it, he’d know more about her. He’d see pictures of her family, he’d get to meet her cat, he’d probably ascertain her favorite flowers and colors based on her decorations.

Spencer took in the surroundings, his eyes scanning the living room. The sunlight streamed through large windows, casting a warm glow on the cozy, eclectic space. The room was filled with a mix of bright colors and soft textures, creating a welcoming atmosphere. A large plant stood in the corner, its broad leaves adding a touch of greenery to the room.

He noticed the bookshelf filled with a variety of books and knick-knacks, hinting at her diverse interests. The walls were adorned with framed photos and artwork, providing glimpses into her life and memories. He saw pictures of Y/N with what he assumed were her family and old friends, all smiling and happy.

As they moved further inside, a fluffy cat with a patchwork of colors trotted over, rubbing against Y/N’s leg before giving Spencer a curious look. “This is Muffin,” she said, bending down to scratch the cat behind the ears.

Spencer smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. “Hi, Muffin,” he greeted, crouching down to pet the cat, who purred in response.

He stood up and continued to observe, his profiler mind at work. The dining room table was covered with a cheerful blue and white striped cloth, and the vases of fresh flowers added a splash of color. The space felt lived-in and loved, a reflection of Y/N’s personality.

She’s soft and sweet, Spencer thought, noting the pastel hues and the gentle ambiance. Eclectic and bright, he added, taking in the mix of vintage and modern decor. He could see she liked to remember those close to her and keep bright colors around, suggesting a cheerful and sentimental nature.

“Y/N, your apartment really is lovely,” Spencer said sincerely, turning to her with a smile.

She blushed, feeling a mix of pride and vulnerability. “Thank you, Spencer.”

Spencer took a step closer, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I’m really glad you invited me over,” he said softly. “I feel like I’m getting to know you even better.”

Y/N looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine affection and curiosity there. Her heart raced, and she made a bold decision, avoiding the emotions coursing through her. “I want to have sex with you.”

“What?” Spencer's eyes widened in surprise.

“I want to have sex with you, Spencer. I want to feel you inside me,” she repeated, her voice steady.

“Y/N…” Spencer began, struggling to find the right words.

“I know we haven’t gone all the way yet, but I want to. Do you?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt.

“Of course I do, but—” Spencer started, but she cut him off.

“But what, Spencer?” she snapped, feeling a pang of rejection. If she can’t have him romantically, she at least wants to have him fully sexually.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly, his hands moving to cup her face. “Come here.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. Spencer leaned in and kissed her, slow and tender at first, then deepening with a passion that left them both breathless. They both ignored their rule.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

“Stop asking,” she said, her hands moving to unbutton his shirt. “I’ need you.”

Spencer’s hands trembled slightly as he helped her undress, their clothes falling to the floor in a heap. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, savoring every inch of her skin as he guided her toward the bedroom.

They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated breaths. Spencer hovered over her, his eyes locked onto hers. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek.

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “So are you, Spencer.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, his body pressing against hers. Y/N wrapped her legs around Spencer's waist, feeling his hard length slide between her wet core.

“Ohh, Spence,” she moaned.

“Yeah, that feel good, baby?” Spencer's voice was thick with desire.

No one had called Y/N baby in a long time. She let herself enjoy it for now. “Yeah, please, please, I need more.”

“Okay, okay, I got you,” he reassured her.

Spencer traced his fingers down Y/N’s body, pausing at her breasts to tug on her nipples. Y/N arched her back into Spencer's hands, moaning unabashedly. His hands continued their journey down, finding Y/N’s lips and spreading his fingers to run through the length of her.

Y/N gasped at the sensation, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Spence, please,” she whimpered, her voice filled with need.

Spencer positioned himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for confirmation. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Spencer. Please,” she replied, her voice trembling with anticipation.

He slowly pushed into her, their combined moans filling the room as he stretched and filled her. They moved together, finding a rhythm that brought them both immense pleasure.

Spencer leaned down to kiss her deeply, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. “You feel so– so good,” he murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her hips to pull her closer.

“So do you, Spencer,” Y/N panted, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Spencer laughed, his ego being boosted. The pace of his hips quickened, their passion reaching new heights. Y/N’s breaths came in short, desperate gasps as Spencer pushed into her with powerful thrusts. “Spence, oh god, oh god, oh godddd,” she cried out.

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his movements becoming more frantic.

Spencer took Y/N’s thighs in his hands and pushed them up, getting deeper inside her. The new angle caused Y/N to yell out in pleasure, raising her hands to dig her fingers into Spencer’s biceps. Keeping one leg up, Spencer dropped a hand to Y/N’s clit, rubbing in precise, quick circles to bring her to her release.

“Spencer, I’m so close!” she gasped. “Oh god! I’m gonna—” Her back arched as liquid squirted out of her and all over Spencer.

“Oh my god, Y/N… did you just… squirt? I didn’t—I didn’t know you could do that,” Spencer said, his eyes wide with surprise and awe.

“I didn’t either,” she panted, still coming down from the high.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Spencer groaned, feeling himself on the brink. “I’m gonna cum.”

With a few more powerful thrusts, Spencer let out a deep, guttural moan as he reached his climax, his body tensing and then releasing all at once. He collapsed on top of her, pulling her close as he filled her up and they both caught their breath.

They lay there, their bodies entwined, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment. Spencer brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, looking into her eyes with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Y/N… I love you,” he said softly.

“What?” Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I was going to tell you earlier, but you pounced on me when I got here,” Spencer laughed lightheartedly, trying to ease the tension.

“You’re joking, right?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

“No, I’m not,” Spencer replied, his expression serious. “Why would you say that?”

“Why would you?” she demanded, pushing him off of her so she could get off the bed.

“Y/N, I’m confused. Are you upset?” Spencer tilted his head like a puppy.

“Yes! Of course I’m upset, Spencer!” Y/N shouted as she pulled on her clothes.

“Why?” he asked in a small voice, feeling hollow.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice trembling with anger and fear.

“No, we need to talk about this,” Spencer insisted, his heart aching.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Spencer. This was supposed to be casual. You knew that. It’s not my fault you fell in love,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with hurt.

Spencer stood up to pull his briefs on, his expression filled with pain. “Y/N, it’s not just about me. I thought… I thought maybe you felt the same way.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he pleaded, standing up and reaching out for her.

“Because I can't!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.

“Please, don’t do this,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t push me away.”

She shook her head, backing away. “No, Spencer. I can’t. I’m sorry.” Y/N looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of his pain. “I’m sorry, Spencer. You need to leave.”

Spencer stood there for a moment, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go.”

As he gathered his clothes and dressed, Y/N turned away, unable to watch. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.

Spencer paused at the door, looking back at her one last time. “I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with sorrow. “I hope one day you’ll believe that.”

With that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. Y/N stood there, feeling the silence close in around her. She sank to the floor, tears flowing freely as the reality of what she had just done hit her.

She had pushed away the one person who had made her feel truly loved and safe. And now, she was left with the emptiness of her fears and regrets. As she cried, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a terrible mistake.

—

Spencer was beyond devastated. Heartbroken didn’t even begin to sum it up. He couldn’t hide it from the team anymore, telling them everything that had happened. Well, not everything, but the important things. They all showed him so much love and support, trying to help him through the pain.

Emily, always fiercely protective of her friends, decided to take matters into her own hands. One evening, she stealthily left a bag of flaming dog shit on Y/N’s welcome mat. The fire flickered in the night as Emily slipped away, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Y/N, smelling something burning, opened the door to her apartment and immediately noticed the small fire on her welcome mat. Panicking, she stomped on the bag to put the flame out. The mess spread, getting into the fibers of the rug. She grimaced, realizing she’d have to throw it away. That mat was a housewarming gift from one of her old friends when she moved in with her ex. It held sentimental value, a reminder of a past life.

As she cleaned up the mess, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of her actions. She knew she deserved this. She had hurt Spencer deeply, and now she was paying for it in small, petty ways. The guilt gnawed at her, making her question everything.

Meanwhile, at the BAU, Spencer found solace in his friends. They rallied around him, offering support and understanding. He could see the anger in Emily’s eyes, the quiet sympathy in JJ’s, and the resolute determination in Derek’s. They all wanted to help him heal, and their efforts weren’t in vain.

“Spencer, we’re here for you,” Derek said one day as they sat in the break room. “Whatever you need, we’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with sadness. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Emily leaned over, her expression softening. “You’re strong, Spencer. And you’ll get through this. We’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Spencer nodded, grateful for their unwavering support. He knew it would take time, but he also knew he wasn’t alone. The team was his family, and they would help him find his way through the darkness.

Back at her apartment, Y/N sat on her couch, staring at the new welcome mat she had bought. It didn’t have the same sentimental value, but it was a reminder of the consequences of her actions. She felt a deep sense of regret, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake pushing Spencer away.

As the days went by, the weight of her decision became harder to bear. She missed Spencer, his kindness, his intelligence, and the way he made her feel safe. She missed the potential of what they could have had together. And now, she had to live with the knowledge that she had thrown it all away out of fear.

Y/N knew she had to make things right, but she wasn’t sure if it was too late or if she deserved to. The thought of reaching out to Spencer terrified her, but the thought of never seeing him again was even worse. She had to find the courage to face her fears, to try and make amends for the hurt she had caused.

With a heavy heart and a resolve to fix what she had broken, Y/N began to formulate a plan. She didn’t know if Spencer would ever forgive her, but she had to try. She owed him that much. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to mend both their broken hearts.

—

A month after Y/N kicked Spencer out, she showed up at his door. Anxiously knocking and waiting. But an answer never came. Spencer was on a case. When he got back home, one of his nosy neighbors told him, “A pretty young thing had been around knocking on your door.” His heart stopped. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and think that it was Y/N, but Spencer didn’t get many other visitors, especially of the pretty young thing variety.

Once the team returned to work, Spencer snuck into Penelope’s office and asked her for a favor.

“Garcia, do you think you can check the security cameras from my building from the last week?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

“Well duh, why my dear?” Penelope responded, already intrigued.

“I think Y/N showed up while we were gone,” Spencer admitted, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Ohhh juicy, I’m in. Give me one second to work my magic,” Penelope said, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Penelope confirmed that Y/N had in fact visited his building, and Spencer lost his breath. He thanked her and turned to leave, but Penelope wasn’t done with her sleuthing. Y/N had hurt her friend, and she needed to know who she was. She felt that she now had a semblance of Spencer’s permission.

“Uh Reid,” she called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning back to her.

“I think I know why Y/N won’t date,” Penelope said cautiously.

“What? Why? Is she married?” Spencer asked, his mind racing.

“No… she almost was,” Penelope revealed, her eyes filled with sympathy.

“What??” Spencer rushed over to the screen to see pictures and mementos of Y/N’s time dating her old partner.

“When did they separate?” he asked, his voice strained.

“About a month before she met you,” Penelope answered, her fingers still tapping away at the keyboard.

“Okay… so is that why she doesn’t want to date?” Spencer pressed, trying to piece everything together.

“No, I think it’s because of this right here,” Penelope said, pointing to the screen and showing another security video of Y/N at a bar, kissing another person, not her partner. The time stamp confirmed she was still in a relationship at the time.

“She… she cheated?” Spencer’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“Yeah, baby, I’m afraid so,” Penelope said softly.

“Oh,” was all Spencer could manage, his mind reeling.

“She probably didn’t want to hurt you, my love,” Penelope offered gently.

“She did anyway,” Spencer replied, his voice hollow.

“I know. Are you okay?” Penelope asked, her concern evident.

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted, shaking his head. “I mean, why didn’t she just tell me? The saying ‘once a cheater, always a cheater’ isn’t always true. It’s circumstantial.”

“Why don’t you just ask her about it?” Penelope suggested, her eyes full of understanding.

“I don’t know, Garcia. I need to think,” Spencer said, his voice filled with uncertainty as he turned and left her office, the weight of the new information heavy on his shoulders.

—

Y/N was sitting in her apartment in the dark, staring out the window at the night sky. She hadn't been herself lately, rather a shell of who she became while she was with Spencer. She was taking this parting harder than her breakup with her last partner. She’d been trying to work up the nerve to go back over to his apartment, but she was afraid that he was there that night and ignored her purposefully.

As she spiraled in her thoughts, there was a quiet knock on her door. She turned her head, thinking she was imagining it. Then a soft voice called out her name. Spencer.

She scrambled up, quickly walking over to the door and swinging it open.

“Hi,” she said, almost star-struck, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Hello.”

“Do you… do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, her voice shaky with nerves.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, um, why are—”

“Did you cheat in your last relationship?” Spencer interrupted, his voice steady but cold, catching her off guard.

“What?” Y/N’s heart dropped, her stomach churning with anxiety.

“I know you heard what I said.” This was the coldest Spencer had ever been with her, and it stung more than she expected.

“I, um,” her eyes welled up with tears, “yeah. I did.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, his tone demanding but his eyes filled with hurt.

“Does it matter? There’s never a good reason,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“Yes, it does matter to me,” Spencer insisted, his eyes piercing into hers, searching for answers.

Y/N huffed out a shaky breath. “Okay, well, they had a very demanding job that required them to travel for months at a time…”

Spencer listened intently, his expression unreadable as she continued.

“And at first, it wasn’t so bad. They would call often, we’d engage in intimate phone or video calls, they’d send flowers and postcards, and bring me home a gift from every place they visited. But over time, they started pulling away. Calls were missed, texts were ignored, I stopped receiving flowers. Postcards were far and few, and they didn’t have anything written on them. No more gifts, and when they were home, we barely touched. A kiss here and there, they would only touch me in the shower. Like—like I was dirty or something.”

“Then one night, I went out with our friends while they were away. They had been gone for three months; the trips kept getting longer, more frequent, like they couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. There was a person at the bar we went to, they flirted with me, told me I was beautiful, gave me the attention I was so desperate for. And when they asked me to come home with them, I said yes.”

“I regretted it immediately. I called them as soon as I left. They broke up with me, obviously, told me to have my things packed and gone before they got back at the end of the week. That was the end of that. We haven’t talked since.”

“Did they say anything else?” Spencer asked, his voice softening slightly, though the tension remained.

“They told me that they would have never done that to me, no matter how bad things got between us. That I was… a… a whore,” she choked on a sob, “and that I didn’t deserve good things, that I didn’t deserve love. I agreed with them.”

“And now?” Spencer prompted gently, his eyes filled with empathy.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Now? Now I don’t know, Spencer. I’m scared. I’m scared of being that person again, of hurting someone I care about. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe from me, but it’s only made everything worse. I couldn’t stop myself from hurting you.”

Spencer took a step closer, his eyes softening with understanding. “Y/N, everyone makes mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them. You’re not that person anymore. You deserve love, and you deserve good things. But you have to believe that.”

“I want to believe that,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “But it’s so hard. If I hadn’t been selfish that night, if I had just walked away from you… you never would have been hurt.”

“But then I never would have met you,” Spencer replied, his voice gentle.

“Was it worth it? Even though I hurt you?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Of course it was. It is. The only thing I regret is not fighting harder,” Spencer said, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Really? You don’t hate me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, Y/N. I could never hate you. I love you,” Spencer said firmly, his hands reaching out to cup her face.

Y/N was silent, tears streaming down her cheeks. The weight of his words settling into her heart.

“Please say it back,” Spencer pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

“I want to, I want to so bad,” she admitted, her voice choked with tears.

Spencer took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “Just say it, please.”

“What if I hurt you? What if I cheat on you?” Y/N’s voice quivered with fear.

“You won’t. I mean, please don’t?” Spencer chuckled lightly, trying to ease her fears.

“But you go away for work so much. What if you stop loving me? You meet someone else while you’re gone, or you realize I’m not worth the work and effort?” Y/N’s voice was filled with anguish, her insecurities laid bare.

Spencer shook his head, his grip on her hands tightening. “Y/N, listen to me. I love you. I’m not going to stop loving you because of my job. We’ll make it work, just like we’ve made it work so far. You are worth every bit of effort and more. And if I ever made you feel otherwise, I’m sorry. You deserve to know that you’re worth it.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“What was that?” Spencer asked, a huge smile spreading across his face.

“I know you heard me,” Y/N mumbled back, using his own words from earlier.

“Say it again, please. Never stop saying it,” he pleaded, his eyes shining with joy.

“I love you, Spencer Reid,” she said, her voice stronger this time, filled with certainty and love.

Spencer grabbed her, pulling her into a passionate kiss that took her breath away. Their lips moved together with a fierce intensity, all the pent-up emotions and unspoken words pouring out in that single moment.

They finally pulled apart, gasping for air, their foreheads resting against each other’s.

“Y/N,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with awe and adoration. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Spencer,” she replied, her heart swelling with happiness.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful. They had faced their fears and insecurities, and now, they were ready to move forward together, stronger than ever before.

Y/N pulled away slowly, as if in a daze. “Spence… are you hard right now?”

Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Ha. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Y/N laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Because we were having a sweet moment!” Spencer joined in on her laughter.

“Is it because I said I love you? Did you get an emotional boner?” she teased, a playful smile on her lips.

“I think so,” Spencer admitted, chuckling.

“Well, that’s a first,” Y/N said, her laughter bubbling up.

“Yeah, it’s a first for me too. Just give me a second, it will go away,” Spencer said, trying to compose himself.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N said, her voice turning sultry. “Get your sexy little ass in the bedroom. Now.”

“God, I love it when you tell me what to do,” Spencer replied, his eyes darkening with desire.

“I know, baby,” Y/N said, her voice low and seductive.

“Wait, did you just call my ass little?” Spencer asked, a mock-offended look on his face.

“Well… yeah. But I love it anyway. It fits so nicely in my hands!” Y/N said, grinning as she playfully squeezed his backside.

Spencer laughed, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bedroom. “You are something else, you know that?”

“And you love it,” she replied, pulling him close for another kiss.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Spencer murmured against her lips.

They made quick work of Spencer's sweater vest and button-up, dropping the offending articles to Y/N’s bedroom floor. Next came his pants and finally his briefs before he was pushed onto the bed, his head nestled in the large amount of pillows.

“Y/N,” he squirmed, feeling so exposed while she was still fully clothed.

“What is it, baby?” she teased, her voice a playful purr.

“I need something!” Spencer’s voice was desperate, his body aching for her touch.

“What do you need?” she asked, drawing out the moment.

“You!” he replied, his voice filled with longing.

“I’m right here,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Y/N…” he whined, his frustration growing. “Stop teasing, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Do you want me to touch you?” she asked, her tone softening.

“Yes, please,” he begged, his eyes pleading.

“Good boy… so polite,” she cooed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Can you take your clothes off… please?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Of course, my love,” she replied, a tender smile on her lips.

Y/N stripped down to her panties, leaving those on for something she had in mind. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of her, his desire for her growing even more intense.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him deeply. Her hands roamed his body, caressing and teasing, drawing soft moans from his lips.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his hands gripping the sheets.

She smiled against his lips, her hands trailing down to wrap around his length, stroking him gently. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his hips arching into her touch.

“Good,” she murmured, kissing along his jawline and down his neck.

Spencer raised his hands to cup Y/N’s ass, but she took his hands away immediately. “Hands to yourself, no touching,” she commanded, her voice firm.

Spencer whined loudly, bucking his hips into Y/N. “Do I need to tie you down?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise,” he replied quickly, his eyes wide with need.

Y/N resumed her motions, now kissing Spencer’s chest, licking and sucking his nipples while stroking his cock. Spencer moaned loudly, unable to control himself with all his pent-up tension.

“Shhh, be quiet,” she whispered, her voice a teasing command.

Spencer bit his lip, trying to stifle his moans as Y/N’s mouth and hand worked magic on his body. She continued her ministrations, driving him wild with every touch and kiss. The restraint was torture, but it made every sensation more intense, heightening his pleasure.

Y/N’s other hand roamed down his body, her fingernails lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers through him. She kissed her way down his tummy, her tongue flicking out to taste him, making him squirm beneath her.

“Please, Y/N,” he begged, his voice a desperate whisper.

“Be patient, baby,” she replied, her lips curling into a smile against his skin. “Good things come to those who wait.”

She moved lower, her kisses trailing down his abdomen, making him tremble with anticipation. Spencer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to touch her, to pull her closer.

When she finally reached his cock, Spencer gasped, his body arching off the bed. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deeper. He moaned again, louder this time, his resolve breaking.

“Quiet,” Y/N reminded him, her voice a hushed whisper as she looked up at him.

Spencer nodded, biting his lip harder, his body shaking with the effort to stay silent. Y/N’s mouth worked him expertly, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy and then pulling back, prolonging his pleasure.

“Y/N, please,” he begged again, his voice strained. “I need you.”

“You just can’t listen, can you? I thought you were gonna be a good boy for me?” she hissed, her voice low and commanding.

Spencer looked up at her with wide eyes, his desperation clear. “I am being a good boy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still talking,” Y/N said, standing up and moving away from the bed.

Spencer immediately reached out, his voice a pleading whine. “No, baby, please come back.”

Y/N slipped her panties off, stalking over to Spencer with a predatory grace. She lightly grabbed his neck, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I said: Shut. Up.”

After she finished speaking, she shoved her panties into Spencer’s mouth, making him groan deeply around the fabric. The sensation of the fabric in his mouth and the dominance in her eyes sent a thrill through him.

“Good boy,” she whispered, her voice a tantalizing mix of authority and affection.

Spencer’s eyes closed, the delicious taste of her panties in his mouth amplifying his other senses. He could feel her every touch, every movement, with heightened intensity.

Y/N climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself over him. She took a moment to admire the sight of him, vulnerable and at her mercy, before she slowly lowered herself onto his cock. The connection between them was electric, sending shivers through their bodies.

Spencer’s hands gripped the sheets, his muffled moans vibrating through the fabric in his mouth. Y/N began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove him to the brink of insanity.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her hands scratching down his chest. “My good boy.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, meeting hers with a mix of adoration and need as he arched his back at the sensation. He wanted to speak, to tell her how much he loved her, how amazing she felt, but the panties in his mouth kept him silent. Instead, he poured all his emotions into his gaze, hoping she could see how deeply he felt for her.

Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’re doing so well, Spencer. Just a little longer.”

Her words sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his body responding to her every command. The tension between them built, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased her release. “Spencer, baby, please… you can touch me now. I’m so close,” she moaned.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. His hands flew to grab her body, one sliding to her core to rub her clit with diligence and determination. His other hand groped her chest, pinching her nipples, making Y/N throw her head back and whine loudly into the dark apartment.

As she neared her release, her walls tightened around Spencer, driving him absolutely insane. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge. Watching and feeling Y/N reach her peak was almost too much for him to handle.

With a guttural moan, Spencer moved his hands to her hips and thrust up into her wildly. Y/N leaned forward with the intensity, pulling her panties out of Spencer’s mouth and hiding her face in his neck, panting heavily.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck. You feel so good. I’m so close,” he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

Y/N’s breath was hot against his neck, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Come on, baby. Cum inside me,” she whispered, her voice filled with raw need.

Spencer’s hands tightened on her hips, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate. With one final thrust, Spencer cried out, his release hitting him with a force that left him breathless.

They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in their chests. Y/N lay on top of Spencer, her head resting on his shoulder, both of them struggling to catch their breath.

Once Y/N finally caught her breath, she came back to the reality of what had happened during the throes of passion. “Hey, baby… was that okay?”

“Are you kidding? That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with wonder.

“Well, gee, thanks, Spence,” Y/N giggled, her face still buried in his neck. “I meant the underwear, and the choking, and the… you know, dominant stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. God, yeah, that was more than okay. I loved it,” Spencer said, his voice sincere.

“Oh, okay, good,” Y/N smiled, and Spencer could feel her lips curve up against him.

“You better watch out, though,” he teased.

“Why’s that, big boy?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“Someday, I’m gonna put you in your place,” Spencer said with a smirk.

“Okay, baby, I’d like to see you try,” Y/N challenged, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

They lay there in silence, taking in the comfort of each other’s presence, having never held one another after sex before. It felt new and wonderful, a quiet intimacy they both cherished.

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her back.

“Do you—do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“Oh, um, I thought this was just casual?” Spencer teased in a faux serious voice, unable to resist.

Y/N squawked and hit Spencer’s chest in indignation. Laughing, she said, “You asshole.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. And… you kind of deserved it,” Spencer said, still chuckling.

“You’re right, Spence. You got me,” she laughed. “So…”

“Yes, Y/N. I would be honored to be your boyfriend,” Spencer said, kissing Y/N softly, sealing his words.

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briarlovesclara · 2 months ago

Text

//mismag 2 spoilers

okay guys we did it. We're here. Behold, the official sequels (!) to my relationship chart. the one on the left is immediately after the finale, the one on the right is several years down the line. enjoy ❤️

(as always, details, alt id, and elaboration under cut.)

OKAY VERSION 1:

Sam and Evan: absolutely nothing has changed since the first post, but now they both know about it. Start an undefined relationship but they're both down bad.

Sam and K: I see the light and I apologize for my ignorance because they are BOTH incredibly down bad. They haven't figured it out yet because they're trying to figure EVERYTHING out but it's there.

Jammer and Evan: Jammer's feelings parallel my first post. What does that mean for him? It means locking his wings and coming over every month to see his people. Evan doesn't need to know what they have; he loves it. No notes from him.

K and Jammer: no labels! They are each other's. When someone asks, they respond "that's my K/Jammer". Nothing else needed.

Jammer and Sam: forgot to put the arrow back mutually to Jammer, but I feel like in the last episode they both sort of realized that they could be Something. At least for me, sometimes I meet or know a person and I suddenly think, "oh, I could definitely develop feelings for them". If you know you know and they're aware, but cautious about it.

K and Evan: controversial, but I think they're both down bad in the finale. They still hold that love so close to the surface. You will see where this goes with the next chart.

×××××

okay i was going to finish this last night but tumblr deleted a good chunk of my written out thoughts for the second chart so i got sad so let's do this again

×××××

VERSION 2:

Sam and Evan: pretty straightforward. They became partners of undefined type after the finale, and then one day they started saying "I'm in love with you", and then they both overthought it that night and came back in the morning like "we do need to talk about that" LMAO. probably get married eventually.

K and Sam: more complex. They're best friends who are also dating in the literal sense of they go on romantic dates. When K visits, they have dinners out and alone time at the house, but they just call it best friends (unless someone disturbs them out in public, in which case it's "leave my girl/boyfriend alone").

K and Evan: they're divorced in a romantic way. They make being exes romantic without actively dating. In 7 years they've kissed like 5 times. Their souls have a deep, old connection that is unshakeable and they are also very close friends. They're kinda funny with it too. They're hanging out and someone messes with one of them? "Hey that's my ex-boyfriend you're talking to." Confusion with style points. They love it and cherish what they had.

Sam and Jammer: they are comfortably friends who are in love with each other. Jammer probably has other romantic relationships and stuff, he's just in love with Sam, 1/5 platonically and 4/5 romantically. Same with Sam. She has her partner, her friend she's dating, and her friend Jammer she's mutually in love with.

Evan and Jammer: literal life partners. They will be together for the rest of their lives. They are each other's number ones, best friends, soulmates. In what way, you ask? What are you, a cop?

K and Jammer: more mature version of their version 1 relationship. Fully established and communicated QPR. Whereas most of the pilot program is vibes and unspoken and just love without labels, they are straight up in a QPR. Once they figure it out it's not a big deal, but when either approaches a new romance it's "by the way, I have a queer platonic partner. Here's the boundaries we have in our relationship."

TLDR: happy family :)

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rimatsu · 29 days ago

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prefacing this 4am tipsy ramble by stating that i believe bucktommy have endgame potential. that said. i'm of the opinion that the breakup was NECESSARY bc building on top of fragile foundations is only delaying/worsening the inevitable collapse. their relationship was not dysfunctional by any means, but it was admittedly surface-level. again the execution was pisspoor, but 806 highlighted bucktommy's biggest issues: a lack of communication, a superficial understanding of each other and opposite responses to stressors. neither of them attempted to redefine the initial parameters set in 705 (exploring something undefined, formless) even when their relationship clearly evolved past them. that is until buck had his questionable epiphany. point is neither of them wanted to disturb the status quo (having an effortless, uncomplicated good time together) so they didn't really attempt to know each other beyond the carefully curated facades they present (bc they're both complicated, troubled individuals with deep-rooted abandonment issues they'd rather not address.. same fears different font).

yes, buck is comfortable with tommy (his most authentic self, even, accepting of care unlike the way he behaved with previous SOs (masks my beloved <3)) — but he's not at ease (or in tune) with his sexuality yet, and frankly he's unprepared for the reality of committing to a man. so unprepared he didn't even consider it until josh led him to the realization that tommy could in fact become more than Cool Suave Boyfriend. yes, tommy wanted to be buck's last, but he never gave buck a fair chance: he had already unilaterally decided that he was nothing but buck's introduction to Men. a defeatist mindset that doomed them from day 1.

the good thing is that lacking communication can be easily resolved with a willingness to open up dialogue (versus the tidbits of information they shared before deflecting with Horny). buck and tommy didn't part because of irreconcilable differences/conflicting aspirations (taylor), or incompatible lifestyles (ali) or because they were attracted to each other for the wrong reasons (natalia). if anything tommy is a foil for abby, the other great transformative love of buck's life: they both entered a relationship with buck aiming for casual, just fun with an expiration date with the eager younger guy, except tommy actually fell in love with buck. except tommy wants to be his last. except tommy nearly reached out after the split but ultimately chose not to. we were shown the bubbles. that was DELIBERATELY emphasized: both parties have regrets.

i LIKE the breakup bc it could be exactly what they need individually to come back together as a stronger, cohesive unit. it could be the opportunity to reassess, reevaluate, correct.

now i have my (strongly worded) opinions abt the #letbuckfuck spiel.. but hell, i think seeing buck temporarily regress to past behavior could be interesting, if only to cement the fact that he's not cut out for aimless hookups. frustrating to watch, yes; a disservice to his character, certainly; but it could serve a purpose. multiple ones, even:

1. offer the opportunity to actually address buck's bisexuality and the hangups he harbors. reaffirm to the audience that buck is still very much so attracted to women (yeah we know how bisexuality works but the 70 yo liberal watching 9-1-1 on network television might still be a bit confused). confirm that buck's queerness exists outside of his relationship with tommy. that he's still queer when he's in a m/f relationship. have him state in no uncertain term that he likes men, plurals; that he does in fact identify with the bi label. bc labels are descriptive and helpful and unifying, they're the basis of community, and he shouldn't escape internalized/external negative connotations surrounding bisexuality by taking refuge in undefined

2. as previously stated, a string of failed flings can reassert the fact that buck craves emotional, romantic intimacy more so than carnal pleasure. that casual romps might be very enjoyable in the moment but are ultimately unsatisfying for a man that flourishes when he's in love and is loved in return. that buck doesn't feel the need to revert back to a previous version of himself (one he dislikes today) just because he missed out on having sex with another demographic in his younger years. i could even see buck internalizing what tommy said/what buck heard (what if he's right? what if i'm blinded by excitement? what if i need to fuck my way through a lineup of different men to figure out what i really want? can i really trust myself about this when i spent 3 whole decades in the dark?) and feeling vindicated when he reaches the same conclusion he did back in 806: buck knows his own mind. he's not a clueless child. impulsivity doesn't imply idiocy.

3. tommy is no longer buck's only man. his judgement is not clouded by novelty. and that doesn't change anything. he's still the guy buck wants to build a future with. buck spends months tentatively dipping his toes back in the dating scene without success because he keeps comparing everyone to his ex. there: renewed conviction, absolute certainty. passivity is finally abandoned.

i'm focusing on buck bc he's my beloved blorbo and the main character, but tommy could use some introspection as well — and some room for grace. seeing a character so terrified of being hurt he once denied himself a solid shot at love ultimately chase after his happiness is so delectable to me. there's no reward without work, no victory without effort, no battle won without risk etc etc. let tommy gain the family he longs for, let buck prove tommy is worth keeping, worth fighting for.

i'm losing steam here. it's been said before and i'll say it again: tommy slots perfectly in buck's life. he's been fundamental to buck's growth long before they even met, a pivotal figure in his journey to Self Actualization, linked to literally everyone buck cares about. they're so compatible, so complementary, so narratively intertwined it'd be ridiculous to leave bucktommy languishing in the '6 months lovers' category.

the material for endgame is there. there for grabs. but the showrunners might not grab it bc they see no value in that potential story??? which is so preemptively frustrating it's driving me insane with anticipated annoyance. please timothy do not fumble this gold mine you (accidentally?) stumbled upon

#bellinis + bt brain rot do Not mix well #will revisit with a clearer mind bc i could yap yap yap abt them forever #if this makes no sense sgain: i'm inebriated #bucktommy #rima.txt

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merbear25 · 4 months ago

Note

Hi Meerr! It's Cami ☆

I thought your kinktober event had closed, so I'm happy it didn't! I wanted to ask you for something that's been on my mind for a while. I've been thinking about having sex in a cemetery (look, Idk where the thought came from, but it's eating me up) aaaand then I saw that the Day 19 seems free. So, I'd like to request something with Law (yk, my man) or Mihawk. Fem reader.

Thank you! I adore you and your work ♡

Cami!!! Girl, you KNOW how much I adore writing for you. Either of those men would've been great, but I couldn't resist writing for your man. Hope you like it 💜🧡

No one understood what you saw in him: the man who seemed to sulk at parties and stalk the grounds that housed the dead. Getting to know him was difficult, getting him alone even more so. There wasn’t a challenge you couldn’t overcome, so long as you wanted it enough—and Law was a challenge that you had your heart set on.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, public sex (cemetery), vaginal penetration, undefined relationship, somewhat rough, dirty talk

The dead don’t speak (Law)

The silent type. An air of mystery that had many gravitating to him, though next to none were kept in his orbit. With the intensity of the sun, he turned many away while completely shattering any ideas of having a future with him. Even when leaving a trail of broken hearts, you followed that path to him nonetheless.

His cold, deadpan stare didn’t phase you. In fact, it sparked further interest in you. The exterior he wore of stern bleakness began to show some cracks the more time you spent around him. Although his expressions remained relatively unchanged, there were bits of warmth in his attitude towards you: softened looks, a more relaxed stance, and allowing you to be physically closer to him. When you sat together, your legs brushed against each other, walking together led to your hands lightly grazing, and the eye contact you shared lingered more and more.

With no lines drawn to show the extent of your relationship, there was still an evident understanding of the mutual trust—a friendship that you cherished, and one that he wouldn’t trade for anything.

Sitting outside on the bench that you frequented together, the unusually sunny weather was coming to an end. The clouds were rolling in, thick gray that hung above without any threat of rain. The overcast set an ominous curtain over the town.

You took a deep breath, while closing your eyes. The smell of crisp leaves filled the air and their scent carried past you, the wind brushing through your locks.

His stare was locked on you. Unwavering from the gentleness held in your face, the intensity could be seen even through shut eyes.

“Yes?” You asked softly. You felt him shifting away from you. “You were staring again. Is there something on your mind?”

“I wasn’t staring.” His denial was unconvincing.

You hummed in understanding, guessing that this type of attention was making his lightly tanned cheeks burn.

“Would you…” he began, clearly embarrassed before he even spat out the question, “like to go for a stroll? There’s a place not far from here that is beautiful this time of year.”

Despite the slight hesitation in his tone, you saw through that—knowing that this was his way of wanting to connect.

“I’d love that.”

The twisting path passed over the road and through the tall trees; the changing colors of the leaves were breathtaking even under the gloomy sky. Approaching the knee high black metal bars, the perimeter they set was overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. Most of the headstones were illegible, unable to tell the stories of those to whom they were assigned.

“This cemetery has been lost to time it seems.” Law gestured to the faceless stone markers.

Your solemn nod could be felt even with his back turned.

“But they live on in other ways,” he continued. “And the life that surrounds them sinks into the earth and reaches them.” Leaning against one of them, his eyes burrowed into you, seemingly hanging on each way your facial muscles twitched.

“And how often do you come here?”

“Fairly often. Even those without names deserve visitors.”

The melancholic tone when paired with the grim audience should have sent chills down your spine, and yet you were left entranced by his dark charm. A faint smile played on your lips.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t deny them that.” You walked towards him, not sure what move you were playing at or how he’d react once you got there, but he had a pull on you, one which was growing stronger and stronger.

He unfolded his arms and his stern gaze softened. You positioned yourself between his legs, the uncertainty of how he would react caused your heart to pound like a drum. As you leaned in, his lips parted slightly and his eyes fell to your lips, giving you every reason to believe that he had the same idea.

Your first kiss started feverishly, but within the first few moments, the blanket that was covering your carnal interest was ripped off and left the both of you exposed to the elements. Desperate for warmth, you threw your arms around his neck. He snaked around your waist, pulling you tightly against him.

One of his hands traced the outline of your body. Each curve you offered him was a temptation in its own right: your hips, the subtle dip in your waist, and the soft curvature of your breast. Your sweet sounds were muffled against his lips. When his hand trailed along your jaw, his thumb gently gripped your chin, pulling it open. His own need to explore your mouth overwhelmed you, but you gladly drowned in the pools of your lust.

“Oh, Law,” you gasped in a shaky breath.

“What is it?” He breathed.

“I want more…”

He groaned from your admission. Pushing you against the cold stone, he hesitantly slipped his hand under your panties. The slick warmth waiting for him fueled his actions.

“Already so wet for me? Such an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He growled against your ear, licking your earlobe to make you shudder.

Promptly, he picked you up and balanced you on the thick slab. The forceful tug of your pants and underwear left red marks along your hips and outer thighs.

The cool autumn wind grazed against the exposed skin, luring Law’s tattooed hands to roam your lower half. The firm squeeze of him on your hips made you gasp softly—his hands somehow being colder than the chilly air. Holding you closely, his touch was firm yet caring. Your legs were hooked over his forearms, leaving his hands to caress your back and hold you in place.

As the head of his length pressed into you, your body welcomed him eagerly. The spasms coursing through your lower half made your breath hitch, causing you to choke on your own moans. He pulled himself closer to you, his fingers digging into your back as he groaned from the sheer bliss of you wrapping around him.

“Hold onto my shoulders.”

When he began bucking into you, your fingers tore at his long-sleeved shirt. Your hot breath against his ear as you panted through the surges of bliss only fanned the flames of passion. His craving to feel you unravel fueled him—slamming into you became a necessity.

Chasing that high but wanting to enjoy each moment fogged his mind. He was getting lost in the moment: your legs trembling, your sloppy cunt coating him entirely, and your lewd sounds passing those soft lips of yours.

“So fucking good,” you moaned.

“Yeah, you like that? Like how I make you feel? Hm?” His thrusts grew more aggressive. That image he had of you screaming his name and losing your mind was going to become reality—he’d make sure of it.

You whimpered a meek ‘yes’ that was barely audible above the slapping of wet skin. His grip on you tightened. The sting of his nails in your back made you quake, practically shoving you over the edge right there and then.

He reached his breaking point, though. Unable to hold back from the intoxicating aroma flooding between you, his desperate drive bullied against your g-spot. Clawing at his shoulders, the convulsions of your orgasm sent him spiraling into the abyss.

Cries for each other fell on the ears that would never be able to gossip of your questionable deed. The sound of newfound lovers echoed in the woods, and your huffs of descending ecstasy tangled with the caws of the crows perched above.

The beads of sweat on his forehead began trickling down the sides of his face. You wiped it away with your thumb. Stroking him, your tenderness melted his harsh exterior like butter. Pressing his lips against yours, his body which was cool to the touch earlier had warmed up from the heat of the moment.

You weren’t sure where your relationship with Law would lead. However, for the time being, you sat next to him in contentment. The afterglow of your escapade was dimming, but the connection you had was burning brighter by the day.

#kinktober 2024 #one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #op #one piece x you #one piece smut #op x reader #op x you #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d law x reader #law one piece

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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

Text

Throne

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: smut, sugar daddy themes (not au), undefined relationship, dominance, teasing, aegon can be such a fucking asshole, guilt tripping, neck play, angst, public pleasuring, punishments (yay), dirty talk, fem!receiving oral, fingering, begging, delayed orgasm, blood play, degradation, aftercare, aegon's ownership of reader

a/n ok ok ok i actually really enjoyed writing this smut. so much. i just love me a good dominant man that does what he wants (within reason ofc we love consent here)

summary Y/N is taught a lesson by Aegon

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read time: 11 mins 1 second

“What is it?” she asked, bursting into the throne room angrily. No bows, no titles, just anger.

Aegon smirked at her devilishly, watching her approach him with such an angsty tone.

“I cannot just simply ask for you to pay me a visit?” he asks, unfolding his legs from the childish position on the Iron Throne and straightening his back.

“I don’t like being torn from my studies just because you wish to see me.”

He laughs out loud, almost mockingly. “A ‘Hello your Majesty’ and perhaps a bow would have done.” Aegon scoffed, staring her body up and down like she was a new shiny toy. He noticed the dress she was wearing; the one he had commissioned for her after she was such a good girl after their previous endeavors together. She earned it- she deserved it.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Aegon said, rubbing his legs until he got to his knees and finally stood.

“Have you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him.

“It’s rude to deny your king of what he wishes. I called upon you nearly an hour ago.” Aegon declares as he skips down the stairs, meeting her halfway and softly grabbing her wrists. He was just as an impatient man as he was a gruesome King. He holds her at arm’s length, looking her up and down once again with hungry eyes.

“And you are what I currently desire.”

She catches her breath as she stares at him. “You called me out of my studies… for this?”

She stares at him, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The room feels suffocating as if the tension between them has thickened the air. Her initial confusion morphs into a wave of disappointment and frustration, evident in the deep furrow that forms between her brows.

Her disgust was off-putting to him. With a menacing glare, so different from the adoring one he had for her moments ago, he pulled her close and brought his fingers to her chin, and forced her to stare into his gaze. His face contorts, momentarily betraying a flicker of vulnerability, as her disgust pierces through his facial facade. In response, his expression transforms, and his previously adoring gaze is replaced by a cold stare that bores into her soul. “I can do what I want, when I want. I am the King. Do you understand?”

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of his position of authority.

She does not reply, her lips tightly sealed as she gazes into his tired eyes. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days. In fact, it was clear that he hasn't slept in days. The exhaustion seeps into every fiber of his appearance, affecting his posture, his movements, and even the cadence of his voice. His shoulders sag, burdened by the weight of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and perhaps watching over her every movement. She wasn’t obedient enough yet for his liking, evident by her previous actions of the day.

“Do you understand?” he asks once again, this time with more anger backing up his tone. Aegon was not one to be denied, especially when he felt such ownership over her. His grasp on her wrists became tighter as his breath now drew on her ears. “You act like you don’t deserve this dress. I had it made for you. Act like you deserve it, love.”

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, closing her eyes as his words flew through her. She let out a shuttered breath.

Aegon smirked at her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a kind smirk to most, but she could recognize the evil behind his mask. “Not good enough,” he groaned.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t wear it anymore. You are misbehaving, hm? What happens to disobedient girls? Do they get to keep all the presents they were so gracefully gifted?”

Aegon’s hand moved to her neck, softly squeezing it. It didn’t harm her, if anything it would be seen as comforting. But she knew, she knew how Aegon worked. His hand traveled from her neck to her collarbone, touching the stone necklace that rested on her chest. “So pretty,” he whispered, fingering the stone. As he got bored of that, his hand traveled to her neckline. Right between her cleavage, he dipped his fingers under her hem, feeling the top of her breasts.

She looked beyond him and to the Iron Throne, feeling the oh, so familiar guilt mixed with pleasure wave crash upon her once again.

Aegon’s fingers moved from her chest, following the hem of the neckline of the dress up to her sleeve, and pushed her left sleeve down exposing her shoulder. “What shall your punishment be?” he asks her, bending over slightly to kiss her shoulder ever so softly. His hand moved to her cheek now, cupping it and forcing her to look at him once again.

“Punishment? What for?” she asked. He couldn’t tell if she was toying with him or being serious. He let out a cruel little laugh. “For being late to my summoning and disobedient to your King.” he scoffed, stating his words like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You treat me as such even though I treat you so kindly. Do you know how many coins this dress cost the crown?” he asked, pulling down her other sleeve. She shook her head no.

“More than I pay any one of these useless studs in a year.” he said, looking around at the six guards that stood obediently in the throne room. They all looked the same and sat perfectly still, their only intention to protect this arrogant man and the crown.

She quite adored the dress. Aegon really did well with this gift, it was spot on to what she wished for. Perhaps above her wildest dreams of what it could be, it most definitely exceeded her expectations from their… their strange agreement. The dress, in every aspect, seemed tailor-made for her. It was neck tied with a few buttons around the back of her neck and with a short sleeve. It was colored a deep gold and bronze. The colors seemed to breathe life into the fabric, casting a radiant glow that shimmered with every movement she made. The neckline plunged, showing off her assets quite nicely. It had beautiful traditional embroidery, one fit for a noble of quite high standings. The waistline, designed with precision and purpose, hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her frame with a subtle grace. A bust of gold adorned the ensemble, meeting at her navel and drawing attention to her slender waist, creating a beautiful pattern that enhanced her natural beauty. It was floor length and seemed fit for a Queen.

“You will behave. Even if I have to teach you a lesson. It’ll do you better than any of those stupid Septas teaching you how to be a Lady.” he whispered to her, now grabbing her hand at her side and entwining his fingers with hers. It was a surprisingly kind gesture, one she didn’t expect from him.

He led her to stand in front of the Iron Throne, her back to the chair and he stood a step below her. It felt almost wrong, as he was the King and she was just a noble Lady. She looked at him with a confused face, unsure of what he was doing. Aegon had a terrible grin displayed as he looked her up and down once more. Aegon placed his hand on her stomach, pushing her back into the throne.

“Aegon what are you…”

He shushed her quickly and harshly.

“You will obey. Do you hear me?”

She nodded. He got down on his knees, reaching out one of his hands for her to place her hand in. He graciously accepted her hand, kissing it slowly, giving each finger its deserved attention. She was flushed, embarrassed at what the guards must have been viewing at that moment.

Little did she know, that was the easiest part of this she would have to endure in terms of embarrassment.

“Did I ever tell you how pretty your hands are? So gorgeous.” he kissed her palm. “Especially when they are around my cock. That’s my favorite, seeing your pretty little fingers work for me.”

Her eyes widened as he said these words. A red tint came to her cheeks, but that only made Aegon want more of a reaction from her.

Aegon dropped her hand, now placing his hands on both of her thighs over her dress. “I want no complaints from your lips. Do you understand?”

She was hesitant to answer him again. Furrowing his brows, he was angered by her rebellion. He grabbed down on her thighs harder now, his thumb trailing dangerously close to her core. His eyes met hers once again, waiting for a response.

“Mhm,” she whined out, feeling the pressure building between her thighs.

“Good girl.”

With a sudden movement, his hands left her thighs over her dress. Aegon lifted her legs to his shoulders, each leg resting on each shoulder. He moved his hands to cradle her lower back, pulling her closer to his face. She squirmed, as she did not expect this move from him at all. She didn’t have time to complain. His hands delved under her skirt, pulling at her undergarments and swiping a finger over her bundle of nerves.

He laughed at her reaction, watching her squirm under his touch was one of his favorite sights.

“Hold your pretty present for me.” he ordered, speaking sweetly with a hint of cruelty as he bunched up her skirt, holding the expensive fabric in his hands for her to grasp. She listened.

“B-but Aegon, the guards.” she protested. He looked at her and rolled his eyes, smirking and staring at her with a look that she was the most idiotic woman in the world. “Fuck the guards, my love. Perhaps they’ll enjoy the pretty little noises you’ll make for me. Stroke their own cocks to the memory of your wails after their shift.”

She gasped at his words in shock. Her gasp was followed up with another one, but a pleasurable one. Without warning, Aegon delved his face between her thighs and began lapping eagerly at her cunt. There was no warning, just an over sense of his tongue on her.

Y/N let out a guttural groan, her hands moving straight to his hair. She pulled ever so lightly, her head resting against the back of the throne as he worked his magic. “But if anyone… if anyone were to see.” she says between breaths, now looking down at his blonde head between her thighs. He stopped momentarily and looked up at her. He licked his lips, as her juices dripped off his chin.

“Then they will see that I am very obviously busy.”

He returned to his place between her thighs, but this time brought a finger to her and inserted it.

“Aegon!” she cried out as he did, pushing herself forward and more eagerly into his grasp. She could feel his chuckle on her cunt as he stopped momentarily. He kissed her and continued his multitasking of eating her out and fingering her. His nose sat perfectly within her. It was almost as if his nose was made just for her cunt.

He works for a while more, he could feel her pulsating around his fingers. This only drove him more mad, as if he was drunk off of her. He inserted another finger, revealing another groan from her that went straight to his cock. He pumped in her faster by the second, he was sure she was going to cum any minute now. “Are you close?”

She nodded eagerly. A smile came to his lips. “Do you want to cum?” he asked, his wrist beginning to hurt with the angle he was pumping his fingers in and out of her. Oh, how he would suffer for her pleasure.

“Use your words,” he says sharply. “Tell me how you want it.”

“I-I…” she could barely form a sentence. “Tell me,” he ordered her. “Beg for it,”

Her hips rolled against his touch as she cried out for him. “P-please, let me cum.” she whispered out, with all her might she had left.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, dear.” Aegon teased her cruelly, her words weren’t enough to satisfy his needs. “Say my name like I’m yours, like you fucking mean it.”

“Aegon,” she breathed out, trying her best to keep her eyes open. “Louder,” he demanded. “Say it like you mean it.”

“Aegon!” she blurted out, loud enough for anyone down the hallway to hear her voice. “Just like that, yes.” he praised her, brushing his free hand up her thigh. His touch sent chills down her spine, a foreshadowing of what was about to come. He could feel her heat rising, her climax was definitely near. He kissed her thigh, looking up at her pretty face as she moaned, her head bowed back and her left hand in his locks. This is exactly how he wanted her; this was what she deserved. A fitting punishment for a brat such as herself.

“Yes, you can do it. Come on my fingers, pretty girl.” he says, moving his fingers to her clit and circling it just as he knew she enjoyed it. She tried to speak his name, but she couldn’t process the syllables to do so. She had used the last remnants of her voice moaning his name only seconds ago as he had requested. Only a strange mutter mixed with a moan came from her. “Oh yes, just like that.” he says, adding now a third finger temporarily, stretching her out. Aegon was pleased by her lack of words. She nods as he does so, with her hands moving from being entwined in his hair to absolutely anything around her.

Usually, when they were in bed, she would grasp the sheets when she became close. It was something to ground her, making her feel stable in her weak state as she would cum. Now as she was surrounded by swords, there wasn’t much to hold on to. But that thought didn’t occur to her, as she was too obsessed with the orgasm that currently racked through her body. She let out a cry as she stupidly grasped a sword, slicing her finger as she came.

Aegon didn’t notice this at first, all he could do was watch her cunt clamp down on his fingers. He smirked evilly as he kissed her slit once more, then grabbed the bunched-up dress from her waist and made her modest once again.

She was still breathing heavily from her orgasm, but her eyes were on her now sliced finger. “Fuck,” she whispered. That caught Aegon’s attention. He now stood in front of her, ready to scold her for her language, but then saw her wound.

“You stupid woman.” he scoffed, grabbing her wrist. He inspected the cut. “How could you be so dumb? Grabbing the Iron Throne?” he asked, looking at her with a certain look of disdain.

“I suppose you want me to fix it.” he groaned, looking into her eyes. A sense of embarrassment has filled her, more than already had. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“Good. You’ve learned your lesson.” he smiles with dead eyes, his power trip coming to its height as he praised her.

He takes her finger into his mouth, licking off the blood. Y/N groaned as he did, as his tongue swiped the cut roughly. Aegon enjoyed watching her in pain, swirling his tongue on her cut as he did with her clit just minutes ago.

After the wound was empty of blood, he swallowed hard. So obviously, letting her know that her blood now rested in his throat. As a way to let her know that he truly does own her.

“Do you want a bandage? I would hate for that to get infected.”

He lets go of her hand.

She inspected her now-cleaned cut, but more blood seemed to seep through. Y/N knew all too well that it wouldn’t be that easy with Aegon.

“Do you want one?” he asks her. She nods. He comes close to her once again, grabbing her chin like he did before, and looked into her eyes, their faces only inches apart. “Use your words, love.” he says quietly but dominantly.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asks, raising her chin slightly.

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he purred once again. Aegon snapped his fingers at the nearest guard, and within seconds a bandage is delivered to him, along with some sanitizing liquid in a vile. The guard returns to his place. Y/N struggled to look the man in the eyes, knowing all six guards heard her moments before.

He carefully took her hand, treating it with such grace. “Such a shame to see your pretty fingers hurt. Be more careful next time, dear. I don’t like my things to be broken.”

Aegon took some of the sanitizer and placed it on her cut. It made her pull back her hand slightly as she seethed at the pain. “You could have warned me,” she hissed. Aegon rolled his eyes. “Watch your tongue, girl. I am doing you a favor.”

He closed the vile and placed it in his pocket, and began to unwrap the bandage. “Is it too tight?” he asked her, looking up at her with kind eyes. She knew that his care wouldn’t last long, so she enjoyed it while she could. “No, my King. Just right.” she replied. He smiled as she used his proper title, the feeling of love he had for her returning momentarily. Aegon tied off her bandage, lifting her wrist and kissing her finger.

"There we go," he says proudly, looking from her hand and back to her. Aegon was in awe of what was his. She looked absolutely gorgeous in her post-orgasm state. He huffed proudly.

“All better.”

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