#series: being to timelessness

[chocolatequeennk]

Forever Timeless, 14/23

Summary: Two months after the Dalek Crucible, the Doctor and Rose are getting used to having the biggest family on Earth. As they visit Leadworth in 1996, Victorian England, a mysterious desert planet, and Elizabethan England, those family and friends often help in unexpected ways. But no matter where they go or who they’re with, it’s always the Doctor in the TARDIS with Rose Tyler–just as it should be.

Ten x Rose, Donna x Lee

Betaed by @rudennotgingr, @pellaaearien, and @jabber-who-key

Tagging @doctorroseprompts 

Part 7 of Being to Timelessness

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13

Chapter 14: The More Things Change...

“I think you’ll like where we’ve landed,” the Doctor said as he swung his coat around and put it on. 

Rose smiled and took his hand. “Where are we? A dazzling alien city? Or maybe Earth in the far distant future?”

The Doctor squeezed her hand as they walked out of the TARDIS and closed the door. “It’s someplace you wanted to see once, but…” He gestured at the planet, then watched Rose. 

She turned slowly, and he could feel her trying to place it. “We’ve been here before,” she murmured. 

“It was raining,” he said, giving her a hint.

Rose swung around and stared at him, her eyes wide. “Pluvon?”

The Doctor nodded. “Do you remember why you wanted to see Pluvon?”

Rose shook her head. “Was that my idea? I guess I sort of remember that, but everything else kinda wiped the details from my mind.”

The Doctor flinched and tightened his hold on Rose’s hand for a moment. The memory of that “everything else” wasn’t one of his favourites—Pluvon had been the catalyst for possibly their worst fight ever, and certainly the worst since they’d bonded.

Despite himself, the Doctor felt his mood slip from contemplative to pensive as they crossed the bridge to enter the city. Rose was equally quiet, but he could tell her thoughts weren’t quite as melancholy as his.

“I think we needed that fight,” Rose said quietly as they strolled down a broad boulevard. 

The Doctor stopped and stared down at her. “What? Why?”

“We were playing it so safe, do you remember?” 

He nodded. 

“If we hadn’t been here for a monsoon… I don’t think I would have told you about how he taunted me. It just would have been there between us, like your fear of losing me, waiting to explode in our faces. We needed that fight,” she repeated. 

The Doctor shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he tried to find the flaw in Rose’s logic. Being here, he could fully remember his fear when he watched Rose dive into the raging river. The idea that they’d needed to be here…

But then… He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the TARDIS. He had very specifically set the coordinates for a sunny day. The TARDIS had steered them off course, which meant…

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, then smiled at Rose. “Here we are, finally,” he said,  pointing at the imposing building ahead of them. 

Rose tilted her head back to look at it, then studied the elegant stone sign. “Oh! The art museum!” she exclaimed. 

“The Brindisi Gallery, as requested,” he confirmed. 

Rose’s wide smile was all the thanks he needed, and he laughed and followed her into the museum. 

Rose was enchanted by all the different kinds of art the museum had. There was a whole room devoted to water art, where coloured water was artfully arranged into pictures. The pictures were so ephemeral, moving and changing as the water flowed, but the artists always managed to create new magic after one painting disappeared. 

They wandered together through a gallery of installation art, walking in between the displays. She loved seeing the artwork from different angles, watching the meaning change as you studied an individual piece, as a set, or stepping back to view the whole.

It was the room of empathic art that sparked a question in Rose. She watched the painting in front of her redraw as it sensed what she was feeling. The bluish green hues of the painting echoed her curiosity, and the mauve streaks mirrored her hesitation.

“What is it, Rose?” 

She bit her lip, then asked without looking away from the stunning artwork. “Was there a special kind of art on Gallifrey?” 

The Doctor sucked in a breath. Rose’s contemplation had been obvious to him, but he hadn’t realised the direction her thoughts had taken her. But of course she’d wonder about Gallifreyan artwork, when surrounded by gallery after gallery of art from other planets.

“Yes.” 

He wanted to tell her, but it was always hard for him to start stories about Gallifrey.

Rose held his hand and led him to a nearby bench. “Tell me about it,” she requested softly.

The Doctor leaned back against the bench and wrapped his arm around Rose’s shoulders. “Well, remember—we were called Time Lords.”

He felt Rose consider the words, and then the spark of realisation. “Did you use time to make art somehow? But how?” 

He nodded. “Time Lord art—it was a slice of real time, a moment preserved in a three dimensional painting. It looked real enough to walk into.” He tilted his head, pondering for a moment. “Come to think of it, I don’t actually know that it wasn’t possible.” 

He abandoned that line of thinking to answer her second question. “They were made using something called a stasis cube—just a little box that you would use to telepathically capture that moment in time.”

“Makes sense,” Rose said. “You’re holding a moment in stasis, so calling it a stasis cube…” 

“Yeah.” 

The Doctor tried to remember the last time he’d seen a work of art rendered by a stasis cube so he could describe it for Rose, but the memory was hazy. The harder he tried to latch onto it, the more determined it was to slip away. 

Unaware of his struggle, Rose sighed and then stood up. “Come on then, Doctor. We’ve had a day at the museum. I think it’s time we visited the little shop.” 

“And maybe had chips for dinner,” he said knowingly. 

Rose shrugged. “I might have noticed there was a cafe selling chips down in the lobby, yeah. We’ve been here a while, surely it’s time to have a meal.” 

He laughed and stood up. “I suppose I can allow it, since your birthday is tomorrow.”

Rose blinked. “My birthday?” she parroted. 

It was the second time that day that he’d managed to surprise her, and he patted himself on the back. “How do you always lose track of your birthday, but manage to remember mine?”

They started down the broad marble staircase and reached the first landing before Rose spoke. “Birthdays… I never really cared about my birthday when I was a kid. It was just another day.” 

The Doctor waited, casting a sidelong glance at Rose when she paused. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she swallowed before continuing.

“Mum tried to make it special, but she was always working or tired from working. And we didn’t have money for big parties or lots of presents, like I saw some of my schoolmates get.” 

The Doctor squeezed her hand when she paused this time. “Birthdays were a reminder of what you didn’t have.”

Rose nodded, then shook her head to dispel the melancholy memories. The Doctor had fallen quiet, and she leaned into him as they walked past the information booth in the gallery’s atrium.

“So I love that you always make a big deal of it, even if it always catches me by surprise. I never had that feeling before, the ‘oh, it’s my birthday so let’s do…’ like everyone else.” 

The Doctor tugged on his ear, his neck turning pink. Rose chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Truly, Doctor. I love it.” 

He hummed happily. “Well I love making a big deal of it, so that works out well for both of us.” He glanced at the little shop as they walked past it, but didn’t suggest stopping. “I thought you might want to visit your mum tomorrow.” 

 Rose brightened as they entered the cafe and got in line. “Definitely. I haven’t spent my birthday with her in years.” 

They ordered their food at the counter, then Rose found a seat while the Doctor waited for their baskets of the Pluvon version of fish and chips. The polished wood of the table reflected back the bright lights as she sent her mum a text. 

Jackie’s answer was quick in coming, which wasn’t a surprise. The answer itself was though, and Rose was still staring at her phone when the Doctor joined her. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She blinked and looked up at him. “Nothing. It’s just… she’s planning a party.” 

She couldn’t put into words why that left her unsettled, but the Doctor nodded. “Her life has changed just as much as yours. She probably wanted to have a party for you when you were a kid, and now she can.” 

Rose sprinkled vinegar on her food and started eating. “I guess,” she said. “Anyway, it’s only March there, which is why she hadn’t told us yet.” 

“Still keeping two timelines going,” the Doctor observed. “We haven’t synced with the Cardiff group yet.” 

Rose shook her head. “So when we jump ahead to my party tomorrow, it’ll be the first time we’ve been on the same day.” 

She turned the words over in her mind. There was something in them, something they’d talked about before…

The Doctor stared at Rose when she dropped a chip uneaten onto her plate. “Rose? What’s wrong? I know the chips are a little different, but—”

She took a deep breath and looked at him. “Timelines. We have to do time differently, now that we have human passengers.” 

“What do you mean, do time differently?”

“Do you remember our plan before? Back before Canary Wharf, we talked and decided that we’d let longer go between visits on our end than on Mum’s, so I could stretch out the years we had together.” 

The Doctor nodded. He remembered, and he’d been planning to do the same thing.

“We can’t,” she said, without him saying it out loud. “Not when we have human companions all the time.” 

“What do you…” He stopped and stared up at the ceiling. “Oh, I see. Their families would actually lose time with them, wouldn’t they?”

Rose nodded. “It wouldn’t be fair to Wilf, or for Martha’s family. We’ll have to take the slow path, even if we can travel through all of time and space.” 

For the second time that day, the Doctor’s mind worked furiously as he tried to find a way around Rose’s logic. She would lose Jackie eventually, but he was determined to give them as much time as possible. 

“Oh! But that’s only when we have humans on board!” he said finally. “I agree that if we’ve got Donna and Lee or Mickey and Martha with us, we’ll have to try to drop them off so approximately the same amount of time has passed on Earth as it did for us. But if it’s just the two of us, or maybe the two of us and Jenny, we can jump around all we want.” 

He leaned forward and looked Rose in the eye. “We can still give you decades or even centuries with Jackie, Rose. I promise.” 

She stared at him for a moment, then she picked up the chip and ate it with relish. 

oOoOo

Jackie was already running out of the house when Rose opened the TARDIS doors. “Oh, you two!” she hollered. “Six weeks without a word! You complained about Jenny. How do you think we felt?” 

Rose sighed. She should have known this would be the trade-off to syncing their timeline to her mum’s. “Come on, let’s go inside. We can tell you everything we’ve been up to.” Her mum huffed, but let go of her and led the way back into the house. 

They’d barely gotten through the front door before Jackie turned and held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear about any adventures you’ve been having on the planet Martoc,” she said harshly. “I heard all about that one planet you went to, where Jenny had to come rescue you. That’s enough adventures for me, ta.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Where in the bloody hell have you been? I haven’t heard from you for weeks!” 

“Mum, just leave it all right?” Rose said. “It’s my birthday. I promise, I’ll explain it all to you. Just later.” 

Rose saw the mutinous look in her mother’s eye and braced herself, but Pete stepped into the entryway and rested his hand on Jackie’s shoulder. “Come on, Jacks. You’ve been planning this party for weeks. Let’s enjoy it.” 

Some of the tension left Jackie’s body, and she nodded. 

Jenny met them as they entered the living room. “Hi Dad, hi Mum!” she said, giving them each a hug. “I figured you’d be right on time for this.” 

Behind them, Jackie hmphed, but Rose ignored it. It’s just going to be one of those days, she thought, letting out a sigh. 

A miniature blond cyclone whirled into them next. “Rose, Rose! Look at what I got!” 

Rose bent down to peer at the toy dinosaur Tony held up. “Oh wow, Tony! Is that a triceratops?” she asked, purposely getting it wrong.

“Nooooo! It’s a stegosaurus!” He shook his head at Rose. “Triceratops have three horns, Rosie.”

Rose managed not to smile. “Oh, that’s right. We need to have you with us the next time we see dinosaurs. It’ll take a real expert to tell them all apart.” 

“And maybe he’ll come back for his tenth birthday?” Jackie muttered.

Rose winced; she’d opened herself up for that one. 

“I’ll have you know I can tell apart all the dinosaurs,” the Doctor said. 

“Are you jealous of a four-year-old, Spaceman?” 

Rose looked past the people crowding in the middle of the room and smiled at Donna. “He always has to be best at everything,” she confided. 

Donna rolled her eyes. “That sounds like him. Come on, the table is set and I think the cook is ready to serve dinner.” 

Rose stopped at the entry to the dining room and counted the chairs. “Who’s not coming?” she asked, when she only counted ten chairs along with one child’s seat. 

Pete helped Tony into his chair and pushed it in. “Mickey and Martha were called away on a mission for UNIT this morning,” he told her. “They said to apologise for them, and promise they’ll get in touch with you as soon as they can.” 

The Doctor was fairly certain that Rose was too far into the room to hear Jackie’s next comment, but he picked it up. 

“Too bad they didn’t have their own fancy time travelling dealie, so they could just pop back and join us.”

He and Pete exchanged a glance, and the Doctor shook his head. Rose was still intent on ignoring Jackie, and he wouldn’t ruin her birthday party for her. 

But I might have to talk to Jackie later…

By the end of dinner, Rose was barely holding onto her temper. Her mum’s comments had been relentless, and it didn’t matter how much everyone else tried to redirect the conversation—she always managed to find a way to bring it up again.

She took a deep breath and carefully set her knife down on her mostly empty plate. Then she turned to Pete. “So Pete, Jenny told us last week that you had a bit of an adventure recently with the Rift.”

“Oh, at least someone is capable of making regular calls to their parents,” Jackie interjected. “Mind, I suppose I should be glad it wasn’t a year this time.” 

“Mum, would you give it a rest!” Rose finally burst out. She saw the nanny sneak in and take Tony out of the room, and she flushed for a moment, thinking about what he might have heard if he’d stayed. 

“I will not!” Jackie exclaimed. “First Pete and Jenny come home and say they had to rescue you off some planet or something because you managed to get stranded without the TARDIS. And where are your rescue buttons, I’d like to know. You texted me a few weeks later to ask if you could visit for your birthday, and that’s the last I heard from you!”

Rose took a deep breath and tried to take hold of her temper. “That was just yesterday for us,” she said, her voice tight. “We’ve been running a bit ahead, and I wanted to spend my birthday with you—my actual birthday, in our timeline.” 

Jackie sniffed, looking slightly mollified. “I wish I understood all your zooming around through time and space,” she muttered. “But I’m happy you wanted to spend your birthday with us.”

Then her jaw set, and she wagged her finger at Rose and the Doctor. “Now, I want the two of you to listen to me. I understand why you skipped time this time, but in the future, I expect you to keep yourselves linear to Cardiff time. I don’t want to wonder what kind of nonsense you’re getting yourselves into.”

Rose pushed back from the table and stood up. “You are never gonna get it, are you? We do go zooming around through time and space. That’s our life—it’s my life now, and it has been for eight years. I won’t tie myself to any one timeline just because it makes you feel better!”

She spun around and stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind her as she left. The TARDIS hummed in welcome, and Rose went home without a second thought.

Jack, Donna, and Lee all exchanged glances, then pushed back from the table and left the dining room.

The Doctor leaned on the table and stared at his mother-in-law. “Was there a reason you thought you had to ruin Rose’s birthday?” 

Jackie crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t ruin it,” she countered. “It was already ruined before you got here. How come you can’t stay in our timeline?”

The Doctor hesitated; on one hand, this was mostly Rose’s story to share. On the other, he knew she’d already told Jackie once, so this was really just reminding her of what she’d forgotten in the last five years of her life. 

Oh, and isn’t it ironic that the amount of time she was in Pete’s World wasn’t equal to the amount of time that passed here?

But Jackie wasn’t done. “You can’t understand what it’s like, Doctor—watching your only kid slip into her own world, literally a different world with different time.” Jackie sniffed. “I just want some part of Rose to hold onto.”

The Doctor sighed and set his cup down. “Jackie, Rose hasn’t slipped away. She is doing everything she can to keep this part of her life with you going. But you have to be willing to make some allowances for the changes in her own life.”

Jackie scowled. “Changes like flying around through time and space, you mean,” she said, her voice flat.

The Doctor pressed his lips together and counted to ten. When he thought he could talk without snapping at her, he tried explaining, one more time. 

“Do you remember what Rose told you, before Canary Wharf?”

Jackie’s forehead furrowed as she tried to remember. Finally, she shook her head. “That was a long time ago.” 

“Rose…” The Doctor took a deep breath, then pushed it all out in one long sentence, so she wouldn’t be able to argue. “Rose’s lifespan is a lot longer than a human’s. She’s going to outlive you by several years—far more than people normally do—so she wants to stretch out her time with you as much as possible so it doesn’t happen so quickly for her.” 

He waited for Jackie’s response. She was quiet for so long that he felt like he was in some kind of alternate reality. He hadn’t known it was possible for Jackie Tyler to be quiet for this long.

“Do you mean…” Her voice was sad and quiet. “You mean she’s gonna live for decades after I’m gone?”

The Doctor nodded. “I’ve lost people I love, and it hurts, Jackie. It hurts to outlive the most important people in your life. I can’t protect Rose from that completely, but I would like to be able to at least give her a little bit longer with you.” He stared into her eyes. “If you’ll let me.” 

Jackie’s jaw trembled and she wiped a tear from her eye. “Yeah. Yeah… I’ll talk to her tomorrow, tell her I understand.”

The Doctor looked over his shoulder, in the direction of the TARDIS. “I’ll let her know you want to apologise,” he said. Pete shook his head behind Jackie, and the Doctor held back the second part of his thought—he couldn’t promise Rose would be willing to listen.

“I think I’d better go back to the TARDIS now. I’ll let you know what our plans are for breakfast.” 

Rose’s anger had been simmering hotter and hotter as dinner went on, but the wave of fury the Doctor got when he pushed open the TARDIS door still took him by surprise. He sucked in a breath, then resolutely set out to find her.

He found Rose in her studio, mixing paints together aggressively. “You didn’t need to do that,” she said.

The Doctor watched her warily. “Would you rather I hadn’t?” 

The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to him. He’d wanted Jackie to understand, for his own sake as much as for Rose’s. Well, almost as much. Well, at least partly for his own sake.

Rose looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. “Really, for your own sake?” she said sarcastically.

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, it is annoying listening to her complain about my driving all the time. And it would be nice if she just… understood.”

Rose snorted and folded some pink into the colour she was creating. “Never gonna happen, Doctor,” she said. “You have to want to understand first.” 

She glared up at him. “And I don’t need you to explain me to my own mother.”  

The Doctor blinked; he had never thought of it like that. “Rose…” 

“I don’t need you to protect me, either, or try to make everything better for me. I can take care of myself.” 

The Doctor felt like he’d traveled back in time to the aftermath of their first visit to Pluvon, and Rose’s fears about being seen as weak. 

“I know you can,” he said, keeping his voice even. “And if you had still been in the room, I would have let you keep leading the conversation. But you left—I don’t blame you at all, for the record—and she sat there making ridiculous demands and lobbing accusations at us. You know as well as I do that if I’d just let her keep going, she would have been even more irrational in the morning.” 

Rose rubbed her hands over her face, getting a streak of forest green on her nose. “I know,” she mumbled. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

The Doctor relaxed slightly when her anger faded to frustration. Taking a chance, he smiled at her and pointed to his nose. “You’ve got something just there,” he teased.

Rose finally smiled. “Occupational hazard,” she said as she reached for a towel. 

She wiped at her face and looked at him, and he shook his head. “I think you’re going to need a mirror to get it all,” he told her. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll get some treats together for us?” 

Rose nodded and put her towel down, then tilted her head. “What are we doing for the rest of the evening?” 

He stepped back from the door to let her by. “You decide, and I’ll trust the TARDIS to take me where I need to be.” 

The lights in the corridor flashed, and Rose patted the wall. Thanks, Dear.

When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she started laughing. The small smear of paint she’d felt earlier had only been spread around when she’d tried to wipe it off. Instead of just being a daub on her nose, now it was brushed up her cheekbone like blush.

How did you keep from laughing when you saw this? she asked the Doctor as she carefully wiped it off her face. 

It took all the restraint I’ve learned in my long life.

Rose mentally stuck her tongue out at him, and the laughter that came back over the bond swept away the last of her poor mood. Her mother was who she was, and that would probably never change. 

But with the Doctor’s presence warm in her mind, she remembered something else that wouldn’t change—how much she loved him. 

“A much better thing to focus on,” she murmured as she finished cleaning up. 

oOoOo

The next morning, Rose almost stayed in the TARDIS for breakfast, but she refused to hide from her own mother. “Let me go over first,” she requested when the Doctor started getting ready along with her. “I want to clear some things up, just the two of us.” 

He nodded, and the obvious faith in her ability gave her a little bit more confidence as she walked across the garden to the kitchen door. 

She hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should knock or just go in. Before she could make up her mind, the door opened for her. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” 

Rose studied her mum for a moment. Pink dressing gown, slippers, her hair pulled back in a messy bun… The clothes might have been nicer than anything they’d had on the Estate, but otherwise it was an image straight from her childhood. Nothing changes, she thought, feeling a hint of amusement at the thought today.

“Morning, Mum,” she said. 

“Did the Doctor talk to you last night?” 

Rose blinked. He hadn’t needed to tell her the gist of their conversation, because his intent—to explain, to smooth things over—had been evident over the bond. 

Maybe I should have asked what they actually talked about.

“No.” Rose didn’t add that she’d been too upset to listen to any of the details. 

“Oh.” Jackie picked at her cuticles. “Well… He told us that you’re gonna outlive all of us by a long time.” 

Rose raised an eyebrow. “I told you that years ago,” she reminded her mother. 

“I forgot, or didn’t really understand, I guess. It’s been a long time since Canary Wharf, Rose.” 

Rose doubted she would have remembered the conversation the next day. As she’d pointed out to the Doctor the night before, you have to want to understand in order to be able to grasp concepts. The same was true with remembering them. 

Still, this was the most conciliatory her mother had ever appeared, and she didn’t want to ruin it. “I guess.” 

“So, I guess the time travelling thing is a good thing, sort of. If it means you—I—” Jackie shrugged helplessly. 

“I thought so,” Rose said noncommittally. “But you wanted us to promise that we’d keep our timeline synced with yours, I thought.” 

“That was before I understood.”

Rose still felt like there were things her mother refused to grasp about her life. Yes, the “time travelling thing” did have some side benefits, like getting to stretch out the amount of time she had left with her human family and friends. But it was also an integral part of her life. She wasn’t the Rose Jackie remembered, and she didn’t live the life they’d shared. 

For a moment, she considered pushing the issue. There was so much more than just little benefits to traveling in time. But again, she caught the uncertainty on Jackie’s face and realised this truly was the most contrite she’d ever been. 

“Thanks, Mum. I promise, we’ll stay in touch as much as possible. This time it just wasn’t, since we had to skip those weeks in your timeline in order to get us synced up.” 

Jackie smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Rose hugged her, then moved over to the counter and filled the kettle. “Now come on, fill me in on everything I’ve missed.” 

oOoOo

After breakfast and one final promise to pick Jenny up in two weeks when her internship ended, the Doctor and Rose walked hand in hand back to the TARDIS. The Doctor tossed his coat over a strut, then spun around the console, adjusting controls in rapid succession. 

“Where are we off to, then?” Rose asked. 

He looked at her across the console, his nearly giddy grin stretching across his face. “That, Rose Tyler, is a surprise. But I think you should go change while I get us to our destination.” 

Rose raised an eyebrow, but she nodded and walked down the corridor to their room. As expected, there was an outfit lying out on the bed for her. She put on the shorts and t-shirt, then grabbed a lightweight jacket before returning to the console room. 

“Well?” She held her arms out and twirled in a circle. “Am I ready for your secret adventure?” 

“Absolutely.” He grabbed his coat, then jogged up the ramp and waited at the door.

The Doctor’s quiet anticipation echoed over the bond and quickened Rose’s steps. He smiled down at her when she reached him, then pushed the door open.

Rose squinted into the night, trying to place where they were. The fresh tang of salt wafted into the TARDIS on a warm breeze. She’d just started going over a list of all the beaches they’d been to when she noticed the sand, sparkling and glowing in the moonlight.

“Welcome back to Ekbrilon, love.” The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and spread his coat out like a blanket. 

Rose shook her head in wonder and sat down with him. “This is perfect,” she whispered. The quiet, the solitude… The peacefulness was exactly what she needed after the last sixteen hours. The soft light spilling out of the console room added to the shimmer in the air.

The Doctor hummed and wrapped an arm around her waist, encouraging her to lean back into him. “And this is an untouched stretch of beach,” he told her. “No tourists, no marine biologists, no fishermen. Just you and me.” 

He shifted slightly, then held something out in front of her. “I haven’t gotten to give you your gift yet.” 

Rose took the gift, then turned to look at him. “You didn’t need to give me anything,” she protested. “I thought the trip back to Pluvon was my gift.” 

The Doctor scoffed, rolling his eyes and gently poking her in the ribs. “I believe we established earlier this week that I enjoy making a big deal out of your birthday. So go on, open it!” 

Rose slid her finger under the seam of the paper and carefully peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing a wooden box. Something about it tickled her memory, and she waited for it to surface.

“You gave me a box like this before,” she said, trying to put her finger on it. “Or…” The answer came to her. “First I saw it in your coat pocket, and then later you gave it to me.” 

The box was a little larger than the box that had held her wedding ring, but it was unmistakably of the same design.

“And as I believe I asked you that time, are you going to actually open it?”

Rose tapped her finger against her chin. “I dunno. It’s an awfully nice box. Maybe that’s the gift.”

He rolled his eyes, and just like last time, he took the box from her and opened it himself. Rose’s smirk disappeared when he carefully pulled out a small work of stained glass.

She took it from him and held it up in the faint light. “Is that…” She touched the centre of the pane gently, unable to say anything else.

The Doctor’s finger joined hers, tracing over the figure of the artist standing in front of an easel. “It reminded me of you.” After another moment of silence, he added, “I thought you could hang it in the library, where the firelight would shine through it.” 

Rose picked up the box and carefully placed the glass ornament inside. Then she moved closer to the Doctor, wrapping her arms tight around him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. After the debacle with her mother, it was such a relief to be with someone who knew her so well.

The Doctor sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. No matter what, I will always know you and love you.

[autumnrory]

i have consumed so many fairytale retellings but there are so few good ones

[dandelionjack]

inspired by fifteen trying to say shit and getting censored by the nanny filter, here’s a complete table of every doctors who and whether or not they use strong language

1 - no

2 - yeah

3 - rarely, but accurately and directly, in a dignified and sarcastic fashion

4 - ABSOLUTELY all the time. the tardis filter barely copes. we’ve all seen the K-9 clip, that’s what the character sounds like without the kids show censorship

5 - no. does he look like a man who swears to you? maybe some esoteric combination of words like fuckadoodle shitnozzles

6 - yes. duh

7 - he doesn’t enjoy it, but occasionally, sparingly, when the situation calls for it

8 - definitely . not too frequently, though. for emphasis, or for a laugh

9 - that man is a working class northerner from the 2000s and a jaded war veteran. draw your own conclusions. he knows elaborate insults you’ve never heard of

10 - cheeky little ‘fuck’ here and there with rose & martha, ALL THE TIME with donna, and swearing like hell when he starts going off the rails in the s4 specials

11 - lol no. well… he’s got an example to set to the companions that he treats like children. he’s a storybook character and he wants to be perceived as an imaginary friend, a kind almost victorian whimsical gentleman in a bowtie, and a person like that wouldn’t use crude language. with river song though? now THAT’S a whole other story

12 - the scene in dark water with the psychic paper tells us everything we need to know. twelve in series 8 was straight up pg13ified malcolm tucker. shuttity-up-up-up without the tardis filter sounds like fuckity-bye. he swears liberally, frequently, unsparingly and unceremoniously, at everyone without distinction, including clara’s students at coal hill. personally i think that’s one hell! of a fucking! bird!

13 - no. she’s all famalam hipster mum cringy kindergarten teacher. it doesn’t fit her ~vibe~. the master makes fun of this trait in the timeless children when he’s goading her about her superiority complex. says it’s such a step down from her previous self, at least that one was honest about his emotions

fugitive - she gives no fucks and takes no shit

14 - yes from time to time, like a normal human being would, nothing excessive. donna does bring it out in him though. his mouthy side

15 - this guy says cunt and serves it

[punkpandapatrixk]

🌉Your Exciting Urban Love Story ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Life’s full of twists and turns, and we don’t often know beforehand the kinds of encounters that could change our lives forever. Before events actually take place, do you know if you’re being specifically guided towards a special someone? Have you ever thought of that? Some kind of an unexpected, but destined, rendezvous? Have you ever felt the pull? 🤪⭐️🤯

‘That day, that time, at that place; if I hadn’t met you, we would’ve remained eternally strangers.’ – Suddenly, A Love Story by Oda Kazumasa

series: Friends (2002)

deck-bottom: Queen of Swords, Red Alchemist (John Dee) & Priestess of Contemplation

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Heartfelt Old-School Romance

‘Love, I know that someday real soon, you’ll be right next to me. Holding me so tight, so I will always be yours. Although we can’t be together now, remember I am here for you, and I know you’re there for me.’ – One (OST Friends 2002) by Lee Soo Young

unexpected rendezvous? – XIX The Sun

OMG this Pile has the strongest old school vibe. It feels very romantic in the sense of what you’d expect from it as depicted in movies, books and other forms of literature XD It’s open, honest, straightforward, without any pretences. This means your Destined Person is likely to show interest from the get go and make it clear to you that they’ve got intentions~ It could also be the other way around, although it’s more likely that you both share this mutual attraction from the start <3

It's very likely you meet your Destined Person during the daytime, but it could also mean outdoors or basically, where there’s a bright light for some reason LOL It’s a cheery situation and this rendezvous could happen as an ‘accident’. Like you’ll think there’s no way you could be meeting someone this important in the manner you find yourselves in! It’s just crazy! Probably even embarrassing for one or both of you XD

But, you’ll be glad the ‘accident’ happened at all. Without this tiny hiccup in the grand stream of Fate, you’d probably never crisscross each other’s paths. And what a delight it is to have met someone so similar to yourself! Someone who also lights up the darkest corners of your heart. Someone so positive and helpful and kind, and possibly also wise ;P Making you feel…what an aspiration of a person <3

ah, courtship! – 6 of Cups Rx

Your Destined Person is totally not an ex or anybody you’ve known in the past. Could also be someone from a foreign land (or you could be the foreigner in town). And yet, in spite of these immediate differences, you really do find yourselves to be very similar! Like two peas in a pod kind of similar! Which is so fascinating especially if you’re visibly different by nationality, race, custom and some such.

And yet, here you are sharing similar philosophies, taste in music, aesthetic, etc. Maybe even some past struggles with personal development, too. There are so many similarities shared between you that makes being with each other feel like a homecoming. You are awash by a sense of renewal of the spirit or of the psyche hahah This ‘foreigner’ is really just me in a different body~! And this whole thing motivates the both of you to become better people in general, but also for each other <3

There’s a genuine sense of appreciation for each other’s Souls, talents, skills and life’s many downfalls and triumphs. You both really connect on a mental level but especially on emotional and spiritual levels. And it’s such a beautiful thing because, all this time, with the people who seem more similar to yourself, you’ve never felt a connection this deep yet effortless. But this stranger… You view the world with eyes that seem to be made of the same cosmic material~

adoration ON – 4 of Cups Rx

Smile, baby~! Because your Destined Person’s smile literally brings sunshine and calm into your Life. If you get to meet them often, every day is a cosy day of fun and meaningful conversations. You see, up until the point juuust before you meet your Destined Person, Life could’ve gotten quite boring, stagnant, or you could’ve been quite disillusioned with your routine or the stream of events you were used to operating with. But when this person popped into your Life, it’s like being reborn in their inspiration.

Surely it’s Love? This much adoration. And how much you feel stronger and more excited about what could be next for you if you keep going? Surely, it’s something such as Love that could move you in this way? Yes, your Destined Person adores you in a mature and sensible way. They think very highly of you, so when you feel seen by someone just as capable, as motivated, someone so strong and positive, you can’t help but view yourself that way, too. Awesome by association, you know? :D

Their inspiration makes you go for a levelling up! That in itself—them adoring and cheering on you like that—becomes the fuel that makes Life full of wonders again! In essence, theirs is a Love that nurtures your Soul just by them having their heart connected to yours~ <3

MANIFESTING A HIGHER ROMANCE🔻💗

what signs are they receiving about you? – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

how are they feeling as you’re manifesting them?? – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Business Partners Turned Power Couple?!

‘I kind of liked it your way, how you shyly placed your eyes on me. Did you ever know that I had mine on you? So let me come to you, close as I wanna be. Close enough for me to feel your heart beating fast.’ – Final Fantasy VIII (Eyes on Me) by Faye Wong

unexpected rendezvous? – Ace of Pentacles

Ah! This the power couple Pile! XD Chances are very high that you could meet your Destined Person at the workplace. This could also be a business partner of yours if you already have a business of your own. This could also mean meeting your Destined Person during a business event, trip or meeting. Basically, your unexpected rendezvous with your Destined Person has something to do with ‘work’. For some, this could also mean meeting your Destined Person at a ‘charity event’ if that’s something that’s deeply important to you <3

You could also meet your Destined Person when doing some ‘charity work’ such as helping the less fortunate or feeding the homeless or even when building a house for somebody else! So, this is a really cute Pile in which on the day you meet, you kinda intuitively know that something special is likely to occur…but you’re not quite sure what it could be. It’s just…such a good, cheery day and your heart is very wide and open. It’s very possible this occurs outside when the sun is out, too~

Even if you’re the type that’s been thinking and manifesting your Destined Person, this sudden meeting will still be very unexpected, possibly because you’ll have forgotten all about this reading LOL On the day you meet, there’ll be other people present and you won’t be at your own house or anywhere near it. Basically, there’s this ‘work’ vibe so you’ll definitely be working on something at some other place that’s not your house or theirs, though it could be somebody else’s house nevertheless😉

ah, courtship! – Queen of Wands Rx

You probably have gotten this from other readings as well but your Destined Person isn’t your usual ‘type’ if you have any. Like you normally wouldn’t fall for a person like this, whether it’s their face, race(?), height, age, or overall style and vibe. Even if you never declared a type, your friends could tell that you had a tendency to fall for a certain look, age group or behaviour LMAO But your Destined Person is kinda totally on the outside of those preferences… AT FIRST GLANCE!

Your Destined Person is without a doubt extremely attractive, but what really draws you to them is how pure and honest they are. It’s giving, ‘With that kind of a face you could be the smoothest criminal and still get away with most things, so how are you so, so… good?’ They may have a look that gets people misunderstanding them because they’re just that attractive, but your Destined Person is really lovely on the inside. Their heart is kind and tender, and this is the type of person who genuinely wants True Love <3 They got no game.

Upon closer investigation you’ll learn that your Destined Person has a character that’s everything you’ve ever dreamt and prayed for. You’ll see how this person opens up to you very quickly because they themselves can’t deny their attraction to you. They’ll be all over you very fast but they got no game on you. That’s not what they wanna do with you. This is a person, who, when they hold you, they hold all of you in their embrace to heal you and make you safe and very happy. Quite gallant, indeed! <3

adoration ON – 3 of Cups

It’s obvious to all of your friends/colleagues that there’s something unusual going on between you and your Destined Person XD The attraction you feel towards one another is undeniable! It can’t be hidden, especially from your Destined Person’s side. Their friends will notice just how different they are when looking at you, talking to you, just being with you. There’s a kind of cheerfulness that seems to shine only when you’re around; and it’s obvious to anyone who knows you both that there’s Love here.

Due to ‘work-related circumstances’ you may not become a couple right away��in spite of the attraction—but everybody at the workplace is whispering, and possibly even gossiping, speculating if there’s something more going on between you two LMAO For the most part, most people are SUPER SUPPORTIVE of you two. There’s just… something quite pure and innocent in the way you treat each other. You two adore each other in the softest, sweetest manner. And that’s such a breath of fresh air—aspirational, even.

As a means to get to know each other, your Destined Person is likely to hang out at ‘innocent’ places with you. You could have lunch breaks together quite a lot hahah They could accompany you to a café; grab a baguette at a boulangerie with you; run errands ordained by your bosses; and other activities that seem work-related and unromantic that could potentially turn accidentally romantic by some higher power XD Well, maybe that Higher Power is really just your intent😉

MANIFESTING A HIGHER ROMANCE🔻💙

what signs are they receiving about you? – Red Physician (Galen of Pergamon)

how are they feeling as you’re manifesting them?? – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Unexpected Love After a Total Heartbreak

‘The miracle of our rendezvous changed the colour of my tears. You make me feel brand new and I wanna Love that’s brand new. I don’t worry about the dark night where I can’t see the Cosmos because I can see you. You are my Shinin’ Star and I wanna be your Shinin’ Star.’ – La La La Love Song by Kubota Toshinobu

unexpected rendezvous? – Queen of Cups Rx

Some time in the future, you’ll have your heart broken by someone who’s irresponsible—prolly downright callous and even narcissistic. The whole experience is very likely to break you apart, leaving you traumatised and may even find it difficult to trust again. In some ways, you could be questioning your worth, wondering why nobody loved you the way you wanted.

‘I asked for snuggles, but all I got are struggles…!’ kind of frustration LMAO In many ways, you could’ve given up on the idea of love and romance. You’d given so much of yourself but got nothing in return—if anything, you got garbage and mistreatment in return! So, it’s likely you’d decide to take this time for self-reflection and building a connection with yourself. But that instead is the magical part!

On the way towards healing and loving yourself, very IMMEDIATELY the Universe sends you a match who’ll answer all of your prayers! By ‘immediately’, I really mean immediately! Like, straight away you will meet your Destined Person to replace all of the heartache you’ve sustained up until that point in your Life! Dang! The manifestation works way too fast it may take you by surprise! <3

ah, courtship! – VI The Lovers

Well, yes, for some of you reading this, the manifestation of your Destined Person could be in the flesh immediately. For some of you tho, this could mean ‘meeting’ your Destined Person in the spirit first! It could be that you begin to wake up to the notion of Soulmates (even Twin Flames, hopefully the real notions of it, if you are a Twin Flame indeed). If you’re meeting your Destined Person in the spirit first…

Their aenergy could come to haunt you regularly in the forms of…let’s see:

angel numbers (this could get persistent!); repeatedly seeing names, numbers and symbols that make you wonder if these signs are related to their identity in the physical realm; coming across memes, quotes and tarot readings online that seem to redirect your attention to this notion of a higher romance—a spiritual kind of Love; aaand receiving messages while seeing glimpses of them in your dreams~

For those that’ll manifest immediately in the physical, you’ll notice—immediately—that your Destined Person is the complete opposite of whoever caused your heartbreak in the first place. That in itself will be very healing for you because, immediately, you’ll believe in Love again—maybe even in the goodness of the Lord, as the religious ones would say LMAO

Basically, your Destined Person is like a mirror-Soul to yours and by this point in your spiritual evolution, you’ll have been able to tell what’s trauma bonding and what’s a real empathetic bond based on kindness and mutual compassion ^o<

adoration ON – Knight of Pentacles

Oh! Seriously, let me just say first that you need to watch or at least find clips of Long Vacation drama on YouTube. Your Destined Person’s aenergy feels quite similar to the main guy, Sena. Very kind and caring, responsible but shy while being quite a tough and stubborn male character LMAO Your Destined Person feels very much like this part of Sena’s personality. He has a lot of compassion for the people around him but especially you, after knowing what kind of bullshit you’ve had to brave through all alone T.Tv

In many ways, they respect you a lot for your strength and courage! They feel like they could learn a lot from you. As much as they admire you in this way, they also want to be the person who babies you—they want to be allowed to take care of you. They will seriously, and carefully, endeavour to make you feel safe, nurtured, cared for…they just…really, really want to keep you safe, feeling secure in the connection. They want you to trust them wholeheartedly and will show through cute little actions how dependable they are. They will plan cute dates with you, all for you to simply have a good time <3

This person is the type that fantasises about having a Life with you, and they’re serious enough, responsible enough to truly plan everything out. Something in you—something very cute in you—motivates them to become a bigger, stronger, more dependable version of themselves! Even if you identified as a demure character and your Destined Person were the more cheerful one, they’d still think of you as the Sunshine in their Life~☀️

MANIFESTING A HIGHER ROMANCE🔻🧡

what signs are they receiving about you? – Green Geographer (Gerardus Mercator)

how are they feeling as you’re manifesting them?? – Priestess of Fertility

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

[animentality]

I don't believe the people who say the atla live action show is good.

the most they seem to say is "just turn your brain off and you'll enjoy it-" and "it's for kids! it's supposed to be braindead."

the reason atla has endured as long as it has, is because people are still finding intelligent discourse to have about its mature themes and its thoughtful story and expansive world building. it's a timeless classic because it found a balance between being light hearted and humorous, when appropriate, and completely serious when exploring its darker material. There are no fucking jokes about katara's mom dying or the genocide of the air nomads. but they are a cast of kids/pre teens and they definitely feel like kids. they grow and mature, and they joke around and have a good time, but the fucking show never felt the need to dumb itself down because it thought kids were too fucking stupid to appreciate character growth or a nuanced story.

it's actually embarrassing to be here and say well atla is supposed to be for kids, so having the emotional depth of paw patrol is fine-

I'm so sorry that kids these days can't handle a story about redemption and genocide and imperialism.

I'm so sorry that kids are being fed slop under the guise that they're too stupid to have anything else, because God knows those of us who grew up with avatar sure didn't appreciate how smart it was.

that's why WE STILL TALK ABOUT IT YEARS LATER ACKNOWLEDGING HOW MANY LITTLE THINGS WE BOTH OBSERVED AND MISSED IN THE SERIES WHEN WE ORIGINALLY WATCHED IT.

go ahead, write paw patrol the last airbender.

kids definitely don't need to know what genocide and imperialism are. they're definitely not very fucking relevant topics of the modern day!! god knows American kids in particular shouldn't know how genocides and propaganda and the total annihilation of oppressed cultures work!!

[disneytva]

Phineas And Ferb New York Comic-Con Panel Gets The Band Back Together To Discuss The Upcoming Revival

Today at New York Comic Con, Disney Branded Television officially revealed the voice cast for the highly anticipated new season of “Phineas and Ferb.” For the first time in over a decade, co-creators and executive producers Dan Povenmire and Jeff “Swampy” Marsh reunited with the rest of the beloved cast at their NYCC panel today, which also included an exclusive sneak peek of the new season.

Photos by 📷Galileo908

Phineas And Ferb panel was packed with the whole cast and crew on stage as the panel showcases interviews when the show debuted all the way back in 2008.

Vincent Martella calls the show “the most important thing” he’s ever worked on.

Ashley Tisdale mentions that she's very joyful to be here with the fans after giving birth just 6 weeks ago.

Caroline Rhea mentions that the series is one of her favorites to ever be a part of. Rhea jokes "Don't tell Sabrina"

Dee Bradley Baker says that the show has been “perfect” since the start. "there's timelessness to it, i feel it will make it go on forever"

Alyson Stoner recalls that multiple people go up to her and quote Isabella in different languages all the time

Dave Errigo Jr gets emotional on the opportunity of joining the Phineas & Ferb family all way back in 2018 with "The Phineas and Ferb Effect" from "Milo Murphy's Law"

Vincent Martella jokingly says that he has been spiraling since the show ended even he had no idea if the show would come back.

Candace is Ashley Tisdale's favorite character beacuse it allows her to be "crazy"

As previously reported, Dan & Swampy confirm that the revival takes place one year later during the duo’s next summer vacation.

Povenmire & Swampy mention that “Things are elevated”. They tease the incorporation of new stories, dynamics and ideas that they couldn’t quite figure out how to do them on the original run.

Dan Povenmire & Jeff Swampy Marsh tease that the music for Season 5 has been their favorite so far.

Dan Povenmire & Jeff Swampy Marsh show a clip of the first episode of the revival. The clip starts with Phineas, Ferb and the gang on their last day of school.

Doof spent the last year being good, now he’s evil again

“We’re Getting The Band Back Together.” is one of Dan and Swampy's favorite episodes because "it’s so thematically rich."

When asked about why there are 104 days of summer vacation within the show. "Nobody checked. It just sounded right" - The whole cast and crew confess

During the final question Dan and Swampy acknowledge Candace’s flip phone. They agree that it’s obsolete but say that at the time the show was created everyone had one.

Swampy says that the work he and Dan Povenmire have done on the show have made him feel incredibly lucky. Swampy mentions that he would love to continue working on the show forever.

Ashley Tisdale closes the panel screaming “Mom, Phineas and Ferb are making another season!” in Candace's voice.

 “Phineas and Ferb” Season 5 is scheduled to debut next year on Disney Channel and Disney+.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Too Sweet

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

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

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

Word count: 11.9k

a/n: idk man i really want him

main masterlist

part two part three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, you pulled off, just as he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 014 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. explicit smut, 18+. fingering. angst. unedited. toxic characters & toxic relationships. fluff. romance.

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 11k

series masterlist 

[ FOURTEEN ] you say, “I don’t understand,” and I say, “I know you don’t.” we thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.

The night couldn’t come close to what Rintaro had dreamt of.

Laughter rang throughout the house, the gentle murmur of the ocean harmonizing with the convivial conversations, a moment that felt both timeless and precious. The beach house, aglow with soft, ambient lighting, mimicked the warm murmurs of his heart.

Rintaro sat between his brothers on the living room, a sense of profound contentment washing over him. His gaze swept across the scene before him: his family, radiant and effervescent, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames of a nearby bonfire. His brothers’ cheeks reddened by the liquor, their faces pulled back in laughter. They shoved one another as they fervently pressed on the game’s buttons, teasing and shoving one another.

He marveled at the simple pleasures – the shared stories, the clink of glasses, the playful banter that filled the air with a blatant sense of belonging.

The night was redolent with the scent of the sea, mingling with the fragrant notes of jasmine and citrus from the garden – he’d ensured to fill the surroundings with anything but vanilla in hopes of pleasing you. Leaning back on the couch, Rintaro watched as the waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythmic cadence a soothing counterpoint to the lively atmosphere. The stars, scattered like diamonds, adorned the velvet sky – reminding him of you. How your eyes shone and glimmered like stars, or the way your face lit up each time he came close.

You no longer hated him. Or if you did, you hated him less.

You were finally looking at him like how you always used to.

In that moment, Rintaro felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude Everything felt right in his world. The beach house – a sanctuary where memories were made and love was rekindled. The laughter of his brothers, the shared glances and secret smiles. He felt connected to everything around him.

“What was that all about?”

Rintaro faced his brothers. The others who stayed around were huddled around the couch playing Mario Kart, their attention honed in on a deeply absorbed Tooru, determined to win.

“Yeah, what was that?” teased Atsumu, taking another swig of his drink. “Since when have you and Maiko become close?”

Tooru rolled his eyes. “We were always close.”

“Was close, until you got married,” corrected Osamu before sharing a knowing look with his twin. A split second later, and the twins erupted into laughter, the sound mocking and echoing. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for her.”

“I’m not. Don’t be stupid,” Tooru’s clicking on the controls got louder. “We just… fighting gets old sometimes, alright? You grow up eventually.”

“I’m pretty certain not fighting is not the same as ‘oh, I scored a point, let me run to my wife and hug her!’”

Rintaro and his brothers sniggered. It was the sight, indeed – one that both confused and amused all of them. The married pair had always been like cat and mouse, with Maiko being the cat and Tooru the mouse who ran away at the mere sight of her. But something had changed, something had shifted between the two. No one knew where it began, or how it happened. It was just there. A change so sudden Rintaro might’ve gotten whiplash, and wondered if Tooru had ever been interested in you in the first place. Or maybe he’d been so blinded by jealousy he assumed everyone was going to steal you away from him.

The thought of it made the liquor taste bitter on his tongue.

“The rest of you should get married and see for yourselves,” mumbled Tooru, “Might make you man up, too.”

His brother received a chorus of noncommittal grunts. None of them were in no rush to get married, more so because the Queen might arrange one for them. There’d been whispers here and there already how the twins might be next, and neither seemed ecstatic by the idea. Osamu was more on the neutral side, whilst Atsumu passionately went against it.

“Speaking of marriage, you and the Princess have been… oddly fond of each other.”

Rintaro’s eyes flickered to Osamu, brow raising at the hidden implications of his otherwise innocent tone. Although he knew his brother well – nothing was ever innocent with Osamu. He was merely a more discreet version of his reckless brother.

“We were always fond of each other.”

“I meant to say that she does not look like you she hates you now.”

“That’s because she does not,” affirmed Rintaro, feeling pride swell in his chest. He felt confident enough to believe in his words. He knew he’d been a good husband – he’d been attentive to all your needs, let you pull on the reigns and ordered him around like he wasn’t the Crown Prince. Curiously enough, Rintaro did not mind. He rather enjoyed that you were speaking with him again, and you’d tolerated him enough to even smile around his presence. That, and you’d finally let him hold you each time you slept. To say he was in heaven would be an understatement.

“We are finally heading in the right direction.”

“Right,” Atsumu scratched his nose, clearly not believing it. “If that’s what you say, sure. Congratulations on your everlasting marriage, brother.”

Rintaro bit back his tongue. Refusing to let his brothers ruin his night, he quickly stood up and bid them farewell. Find my wife was his only thought in that moment. He saw you rushing upstairs a while ago, but did not follow since you didn’t hear him calling out for you. Not that he thought much about it – he knew hosting and attending to everybody must’ve been quite stressful for you. You’ve been running around in circles.

Now that the night was ending, Rintaro’s only desire was to tend to you, and hold you close.

Taking two steps at a time, he quickly reached the bedroom. He hadn’t realized how eager he was to lay his eyes upon you. And as ridiculous as it sounded, he’d missed you. Having his brothers around meant both your attentions were divided. That could be changed, though. Everyone would soon retire in their rooms, and he could have you all for himself again.

Rintaro stepped quietly into your bedroom, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the expansive glass walls, casting a silvery sheen over everything it touched. He paused at the entrance, his breath catching as he saw you standing by the window. Your silhouette framed against the vast, star-studded sky. You’re wearing nothing but a silky white nightgown, the sides of it falling down your left shoulder to reveal a strip of bare skin. Bathed under the moonlight, he would’ve thought you were an angel who fell right before him.

Lost in thought, you gazed out at the night scenery.

The gentle waves of the ocean shimmered under the moon’s gentle caress, and the distant sound of the sea breeze whispering through the trees filled the air. The sight of you, bathed in the ethereal glow, made his chest tighten with something unfamiliar. Something alien, something stranger. You looked almost otherworldly, an arm wrapped around your center, and he found it impossible to look away.

The delicate curve of your neck, the lines that made up your profile – everything about you in that moment was perfection.

Rintaro felt his heart swell. Had you always been this beautiful? He knew you were attractive; he wouldn’t have bothered wasting his time on someone he didn’t find pretty. But you were always more than just a pretty face. You were so beautiful, so enchanting, standing there like a figure from a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. He was afraid just as he was bewitched – afraid he’d wake up and find none of this was real, and captivated by how ethereal you looked.

It seemed difficult to wrap his around the fact you were his, because how could he have been so lucky?

He approached you slowly, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you murmured, sensing his presence without turning. It made him smile and pause on his tracks, his gaze fixated on your back before his eyes flickered towards the glass. Through the reflection, he saw you looking back at him, your lips pulling into the smallest of smiles.

His heart stuttered in his chest. Stupid – that’s what he felt. He was as nervous as a schoolboy. “Yes,” he replied softly, his voice full of emotion. As if pulled by an invisible string, Rintaro stepped closer to you – close enough he could inhale the scent of your shampoo and bury his nose in it. That’s exactly what he did. Weak when it came to his wife, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him, resting his cheek at the top of your head. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes shining with the same light that illuminated the night. A smile played on your lips, and in that shared moment of silent connection, he felt an unspoken bond deepen between you. The night, the scenery, the serenity of their surroundings – it all paled in comparison to the beauty he saw in you.

He understood now – why men went to war and put their lives on the line because they believed in something. Because they had something, or someone, worth protecting. Now that you were in his arms, pliant and soft, wholly gorgeous and utterly his, he knew he felt the same.

He would gladly go to war for you.

In fact, there was nothing he couldn’t do for you, because of you. He understood now why people get married, because if this was how his daily life was going to look life, then it seemed a real shame that he could not live forever. A lifetime with you wasn’t enough. And for a brief moment, Iris’ face flickered through his head. This time, the image of her did not fill with him with adoration, or raging jealousy, the blinding effect of greed. He felt nothing but animosity towards her in that moment, his heart chiding him because how could he have been so stupid?

She was nothing like you. She couldn’t – and would never – come close to you.

Rintaro’s eyes softened as he studied your features. Your eyes were red, and dark circles lined them. “Hey,” he nudged your forehead with the pads of his knuckles, “What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat. It didn’t seem like it was nothing, but he didn’t push. He trusted you would tell him when you were ready. For now, he simply wanted to have you like this – in his arms, breathing in his scent, and eyes closed as he swayed you from side to side.

“I missed you.”

Your lips wobbled as you fought back a smile. “Did you now?”

Rintaro was not good with words – never have, never will. He decided in that moment it would be best to convey the emotions he couldn’t express through actions, kissing the top of your head and spinning you to face him. With your face cradled in his hands, Rintaro leant down, his lips gently – but passionately – meeting yours.

It isn’t his first kiss. But it felt like it was in that moment, his heart rampaging inside his ribcage when you made a small sound of surprise. The sound echoed through him, and he groaned, finding the last bits of his restraint breaking like a rusty chain.

Unable to help himself, he gathered you in his arms. Tapping you once on the ass, you immediately jumped into his hold, your legs wrapped around his waist. It was a blur after that – he’d fallen on the bed with you on top of him as soon as the back of his knees hit the wood. It’s nothing if not messy, just as it was sensual and slow – painfully and excruciatingly slow. Yet he couldn’t go fast, refusing to pin you down on the bed and take you hard.

Maybe it was the moonlight flittering in the room. Maybe it was your feminine, soft scent that made him lightheaded and heedy with desire. All he knew was that he wanted the moment to last, wanted to cherish every single thing he did.

So, slow it is. He was slow and took his time as he flipped you under him, using his knee to settle himself in between your legs. Your eyes are blown wide, the mounds on your chest rising up and down with each staggered breath. It filled him with a sense of achievement knowing he’d been the one to cause your undoing. Smiling softly at you, he dove in for another kiss, moaning all throughout at your taste – like red wine, soft and swirling at his tongue. With deft fingers, he reached over to slide the straps of your nightgown down your shoulder, pulling away to pepper small, heated kisses over the skin. You’re breathing hard the entire time.

And your hands are everywhere – tugging at the buttons of his shirt, pulling at the annoying pants he’d kept on. His laugh is muffled as he presses them to the nape of your neck, licking and sucking until you were keening under his palm.

He decided not to torture you any longer. Sliding his lips back to your mouth, Rintaro gently pushed you back to the pillows, his fingers finding purchase at your heat. The moment his hand came in contact with your damp underwear, you whimpered, and he greedily swallowed down the sound. You were so beautiful, so unreal.

Pushing the material to the side, he pushed two fingers and curled them in. Your reaction is instantaneous – pushing your hips off the bed, tilting your neck to the side as you gasped in his mouth. He took the chance and slid his tongue, sucking on yours while his mind ran a mile a minute.

It was as if his senses had been amped up to two.

The rustling of the sheets, the squelch of his fingers in your cunt, and the lewd, slick sounds of your tongues dancing together. It wasn’t long before you’re falling apart in his hands. Moaning, you tugged at his hair, the slight sting nearly driving him crazy. You did this to him; making him fall prey to your desire, making him bend his will at whatever you pleased. He realized you could stab him at this moment, slit his throat, abandon him – he would’ve died a happy man. Seeing you sprawled out before him, your nipples peaked and hard through the thin material of your nightgown, lips bruised and shiny with saliva. You’d never been more beautiful in his eyes.

And when you called out his name, not Your Highness, not my Prince, just Rintaro, he allowed himself to sink deep into you.

Rintaro has reached nirvana. With one hand holding you down by the hip, and the other cradling your face, his thumb caressing your lower lip, his eyes are locked with yours. The world could come crashing down, and nothing could tear his gaze away from you. He drinks you in greedily – every fluttering lash when he thrusts deep, or the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you squeezed tight around him. Beautiful, mine, mine mine mine – his throat constricts with the affection he’s trying so hard to hold back. He wanted to fuck you hard enough you left a deep imprint on the bed, the shape of your bodies embossed on the sheet. To slide in deep, and carve a space for himself inside you that no one else would reach.

He was a mess, and so were you. Wet, sloppy kisses that were more tongue and teeth than lips, with you holding onto him for dear life. It makes him chuckle, only for that same sound to come out garbled and chucked each time you tightened around him. And when you come, your cream outlining a ring around his cock, eyes shut tight and lower lip held captive by your teeth, Rintaro only had one thing in mind: marriage was a beautiful thing.

“You,” he croaked out, feeling a lump form at his throat. He couldn’t understand why his eyes glossed over with tears, or why the mere sight of you brought out with him emotions he was unfamiliar with. “I adore you.”

You reached over to cup his face, your eyes unreadable. “We should rest.”

The sheets were damp, your bodies sticky and uncomfortable. Yet Rintaro couldn’t pull away from you, not even if he were to be forcibly taken away. This is where he belonged – deep inside you, your foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling and your hands intertwined until your wedding rings clinked at the contact.

Here is where he belonged.

Kissing you one last time, Rintaro lets his arms fall around you. He collapses at your side, still buried in your warm, wet heat. He’d been mumbling sleepy nonsense as he tugged you closer to him, an arm wrapped around your midsection, your legs and his just one confusing entanglement. Slowly, his heart returned to its normal pace. It’s no longer screaming, rather humming your name. Nothing felt more right. You were there, your cheek resting on top of his bicep curled under you.

Drawing circles over your bare hip, the delicate scent of roses enveloped him, subtle yet intoxicating.

It was your scent, a fragrance that clung to you like an invisible halo. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing in deeply, savoring the floral notes that seemed to blend seamlessly with the night air. You smelled like grace and elegance, of tender moments shared and memories cherished. Like a princess from a fairytale, he thought, smiling into your skin, because you were a princess. His princess, his wife.

He loved the way you smelled, your fragrance lingering into the sheets and onto his skin long after you’d fallen asleep. Each inhalation was a revelation, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection he’d never felt before. Delicate and profound – you were kissed by the morning dew, fresh and timeless. He cherished it, breathed it in just in case he forgot before looking out the window.

Outside, the whole world stayed still. His Kingdom was out in the open, all for him to take. It was his – the land, the people, all the wealth and power one could wish for. Yet Rintaro felt no attachment to it.

The real treasure was there, in his arms, sharing the same bed with him.

The realization that he wasn’t desperate to be King anymore made him tighten his hold on you, his face buried at the crook of your neck. This was all he wanted now. To live the rest of his life like this – with you, in this home. But he knew it couldn’t be that easy. He had to sever all ties from his past before he could move onto the future, and fully enjoy the present.

Tomorrow, he would break up with Iris.

Tomorrow, he would tell you those three words he’d never uttered before.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

Through the efforts of the royal staff, the palace became a veritable spectacle of opulence and grandeur, transformed into a shimmering paradise befitting for the ninth prince’s debut ball. Crystal chandeliers hung like clusters of starlight from the vaulted ceilings, casting a soft, golden glow over the marble floors that gleamed underfoot. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries and floral arrangements that exuded a heady perfume – one that made Rintaro feel squeamish inside his suit.

Guests in their finest attire filled the grand ballroom, a sea of jewel-toned gowns and sharp tuxedos. The air buzzed with the lively hum of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of champagne glasses and bursts of laughter. An orchestra played a waltz, the music weaving through the crowd and inviting couples to the dance floor, where they glided with grace and precision.

Scanning the ballroom, it was a kaleidoscope of movement and color. Dignitaries, ambassadors, and nobles from far and wide had gathered, their presence a testament to the importance of the occasion. The most influential figures in the kingdom mingled effortlessly, their animated discussions ranging from politics to the latest fashions. The sheer number of luminaries was staggering, each one adding to the ball’s prestige and splendor. Leave it to the Queen to turn a young boy’s important day of his life as an opportunity to establish connections and flaunt her power.

At the center of it all stood Prince Tobio, resplendent in a tailored suit that accentuated his princely bearing. His eyes sparkled with excitement and gratitude as he moved through the crowd, graciously accepting well-wishes and gifts. He was the epitome of charm, engaging each guest with a smile that radiated genuine warmth.

Tables laden with an array of culinary delights lined the edges of the room, each dish a masterpiece of gourmet artistry. From delicate hors d'oeuvres to decadent desserts, the kingdom’s finest chefs had given their utmost best to impress. Servers moved with practiced elegance, ensuring that no glass went unfilled and no plate remained empty.

It was a beautiful ball, Rintaro had to admit. A ball he would’ve greatly appreciated were he not occupied digging his hands into Iris’ hip, her gown fisted under his palms. She tasted even more exquisite today, her lipstick had a touch of cranberries, and he could faintly taste fizzy champagne from her tongue.

It was an unspoken agreement between the two that they would keep their hands to themselves during public events like this. But it was far from being easy – not when Iris wore a tight-fitting gown that accentuated all her curves, leaving very little to Rintaro’s imagination. He’d seen it all, of course. He’d kissed and licked at every spot and corner of her body. He’d memorized the way she tasted on his tongue, or the face she made when he knew she was about to come. He knew all that, and still couldn’t get enough of her. Before the Princess could react, he’d already dragged her into the nearest hallway, his lips furiously crashing with hers.

Screw the party. It wasn’t like his presence was needed; all the Princes had attended. Surely they would not notice the absence of one.

Iris moaned into his mouth, her perfectly manicured nails running upward his suit. She broke free from him to breathe for a moment, but Rintaro was unbothered. He’d turned his attention to sucking down on her neck, his mind flaring with possessiveness. A strategically placed hickey for everyone to see would please him – but it would also make Iris mad at him.

“Your Highness, we should stop this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Iris,” he mumbled, uncaring as Iris wove her hands through his thick hair. “We’re just having fun, are we not? It’s not like anyone can see. I made sure we would be alone.”

“It’s not that,” she flattened her palms over his chest and gave a gentle shove. It’s enough for Rintaro to pull back, studying the way her lower lip puckered out – just like how she always did when she wanted something from him. “I just… I think our relationship is pointless. I don’t see this going anywhere.”

Rintaro chuckled, tipping her chin upwards to make her look at him. “Where would it go? You’re married. I’m in line for the throne. We couldn’t have any more than what we have now.”

“That’s exactly why we should break up. I’m married, and I’m tired of being passed around between you brothers like I’m some sort of toy. I’m a princess, Rinnie. I deserve to have more dignity than just being your… plaything, or whatever.”

“You are not my plaything.”

“I am not your wife, either.”

He stepped back. Tipping his head to the side, he let his eyes roam over Iris’ figure. She was gorgeous, that much was evident. She had sinful curves, her golden skin radiant as if she was touched by the light itself. It was fitting, he thought. Iris burned bright like the sun – passionate, fiery, and scalding. He’d known her long enough that she would stop at nothing to get at what she wanted, but her dilemma was not something he could easily offer her on a platter.

“Is that what you want, then? Title and dignity?”

Iris was a Princess by marriage, one arranged by the Queen herself.

However, Rintaro thought bitterly, no amount of elegance lessons or femininity practices could change Iris at her core. She was a Princess only by decoration, the twinkling tiara on her pretty head an accessory she received from being associated with his brother. But she was not regal – her temper too short, her lies too deceiving, and her smiles too empty.

He loved her, yet somehow the thought of sharing the crown with her felt wrong. Now that he thought about it, not even Princess Maiko would make a fitting Queen – not that Tooru would ever be in line for ascension. It was just a realization. Iris was too hollow in her heart, and Maiko was too childish.

None of them would make good Queens.

Iris shook her head, the tendrils of hair left to frame her face swaying at the motion. “I want security. I don’t want to keep fooling around with you if it risks my position. Unlike you, I don’t have a sweet, dear mother who would catch me if I’m kicked out of the Palace.”

Rintaro gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Fine. I’ll be King, then. And once I ascend to the throne, I’ll have you and my brother separated, and you shall be mine for the rest of our lives.”

She looked like she wanted to laugh at his face, which shouldn’t have to hurt as much as it did. “This is a ridiculous plan. You’re not serious, are you?”

His lips twitched. Somehow, he wanted to wipe that smug look off her face. It was a face he’d seen enough from his tutors and governesses – all too familiar with their disappointed shakes of their head, their pitying looks whenever Rintaro aimed too high. Just stick to the books, they said, there is no need for you to be great. Follow only what is expected of you. Rintaro detested that, to fit into their image of how he should and shouldn’t be.

Levelling his hard gaze with hers, he ripped himself away from her body. Scalded, burnt – that’s how he felt each time he was with her.

“Watch me.”

Rintaro stood at the edge of the ballroom, his keen eyes sweeping over the glittering crowd. His heart was set on finding a suitable potential wife, someone who embodied innocence and modesty. He sought a woman whose presence did not draw undue attention, someone who exuded a quiet grace that promised loyalty and submission. He needed a woman who would be malleable to the wife he wanted, the Queen he needed her to be. Even if it was only to prove a point to Iris that he could succeed, Rintaro still felt that he could not take his decisions lightly.

He had to consider the throne, the mother of his children, a future Princess and a potential Queen.

Observing the throng of guests, his gaze flitted past the more striking and flamboyant ladies who basked in the limelight. They were all stunning, of course. He’d be lying if his gaze did not linger longer than what was seemed acceptable whenever the ladies giggled at his attention. Nevertheless, his attention lingered on those who seemed to blend in the background, their beauty understated and their demeanor serene. Surely one of them would catch his eye. That’s all he wanted – an unassuming, plain, and dull doll whom he could shape to be good enough to stand next to him. He was the Crown Prince, after all.

He looked and looked – and there you were. In a dark blue gown, your eyes downcast in shyness. You moved with an elegance that spoke of gentleness and humility, smiling politely at everyone who greeted you. Still, he could tell you felt out of place. You stuck out like a sore thumb, plastered at the wall, staring out into nothingness and looking like you’d rather be anywhere than here.

And the best part? No other men approached you.

With his goal in sight, Rintaro approached you, impressed with the way you carried yourself with quiet dignity, your every gesture imbued with a subtle charm. You seemed unassuming, yet your eyes held a depth in them that intrigued him. He smiled to himself, deciding that a demure maiden like you might just be the perfect match he was seeking.

“Splendid ball, is it not?”

“Your Highness,” your eyes widened, and Rintaro awaited it. A crack in your composed stature, a flaw for him to point out. Yet, you did not stutter despite your initial shock, your features schooling into that of well-practiced manners in the blink of an eye. “A most wonderful ball, indeed.”

As the Prince surveyed you, his eyes were drawn to your modest adornment. You wore a simple necklace and earring set, understated yet remarkably elegant. It was vastly different from the layers and chunks of crystals the other ladies wore. It was then that recognition sparked in his mind – the jewelry was from a rare collection that had once captivated Her Majesty. He could still remember that day clearly; his mother’s disappointment when she learned it was already sold. Very rarely did the Queen not get what she wanted, but to think that you – simple, quiet, and shy – would be the one to snatch it right under Her Majesty’s nose.

He had to admit, you piqued his curiosity and admiration.

“My baby brother is finally on his path on becoming a man,” he continued, effortlessly swiping a flute of champagne when a servant passed by. You were quick to follow his action, and Rintaro couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name, and your face… Have I seen you around before?”

“Probably not, my Prince. These events are not really my thing.”

He didn’t doubt that. Shortly, you introduced yourself, shocking him as he learned you were a daughter of one of the three noble clans that helped his ancestors build the Inarizaki Empire. He hid his surprise by taking a sip of his drink, and pretended to be nonplussed.

“A lovely name for a lovely woman.”

“How very kind of you, my Prince.”

Deciding you couldn’t be any more perfect, Rintaro cut to the chase. “Are you married?” he’d blurted out, amused by the way your brows shot up. A quick glance at your gloved fingers showed that you were ringless, but so was he, and his heart was still taken by another. “Or, to be married?”

“No. I’m… as available as a lady can be.”

“Then I suppose you would not mind entertaining a Prince bored out of his mind for one night, do you?”

The internal dilemma is written all over your face. It’s obvious you didn’t want to dance, but who are you to say no when the Crown Prince has his hand outstretched?

“Oh, uh… I don’t think you would want me as a dance partner, Your Highness. I have been told I have two left feet–”

“Don’t worry about it. You can step on my feet if you require,” he encouraged, “Come on. Will you really deny your future King a dance?”

“If you insist…”

Forcing a smile to yourself that was more shy than uncomfortable, you eventually placed your hands on his. A perfect fit, if he dared to say it.

The orchestra struck up a waltz, and Rintaro led you to the dance floor. As you began to move, there was an initial and pronounced awkwardness, your hesitance palpable. You were able to follow his lead with precision, your steps flawless and elegant, yet your body was stiff with discomfort. You even stepped on him once or twice, grimacing and quickly apologizing – much to his chagrin. He hadn’t realized one could look so adorable in their conquest of trying not to crush his toes. Despite your unease, however, you danced with a grace that naturally came to you.

As the dance progressed, Rintaro’s eyes scanned for Iris. He found her stood beside Kiyoomi, her husband uninterested and unresponsive as ever. He had his back turned to her, his eyes closed as he leant against the wall. Nursing a drink in her hands, Iris’ gaze connected with his, her eyes narrowing at Rintaro’s hand resting on your waist. Then, her gaze flickered upwards to smirk at him – daring him, challenging him, to prove his words.

Rintaro clenched his jaw. He’d been so distracted by Iris he didn’t notice you’d stepped on his toes again until a short laugh bubbled up from his throat. It surprised you both – neither of you had expected he would find it funny. But he did, and he found himself inexplicably drawn to you.

When the music finally ceased, you both shared a knowing smile before doubling over in silent chuckles. Rintaro pointed at his toes, faking injuries until you were apologizing again and again – your eyes lighting up in joy.

“You are a splendid dancer. It is a shame you look like you would not entertain me for a second one.”

You placed a hand to your chest. “Of course I would never say no to you, Your Highness.”

“So you would not mind if I asked you for another dance later?”

“If it is what you would like.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

 He led you off the dance floor after that, compelled with a desire to actually speak to you. And so conversations were had, and he soon discovered your intelligence and wit, the humor lighting up your face and bringing a warmth to your demeanor. It was a warmth people from the Palace lacked, a genuinity in them he never knew was possible.

Your laughter, a sound he found unexpectedly enchanting, softened your features, making you even more beautiful. In those moments, he realized with a pleasant surprise that he enjoyed your company. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d laughed that hard, or spoke so easily with someone like he’d known them forever.

Could it be fate, then? Was he always meant to find you?

Shaking his head in laughter, his bangs fell into his eyes. “You are very pleasant company to have. I’m surprised no one has snagged you for themselves yet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Nobody is interested.”

“I find that a shame. Why wouldn’t they be?”

“There are just more eligible, more charming ladies out there. One with more charisma, and a little more grace–”

“But they do not have your humor. Or your wit,” tracing his gloved fingers to the curve of your cheek, Rintaro’s voice lowered as he spoke softly. “Or your beauty.”

The moment your breath hitched, Rintaro learned of a new desire: to learn what other reactions he could pull from you. It made him want to learn of all the most heart-fluttering lines, to memorize poetry and recite them to you, if only it would make you turn away, abashedly, once more.

“You are too kind, my Prince.”

“I am only being truthful,” he smirked, “And I have always been a lover of all that is beautiful.”

As the evening wore on and Rintaro spent more time with you, your innocent charm and unguarded nature became increasingly apparent. He felt a calculated determination solidify within him. You were the perfect person to be his Princess – not because his heart yearned for you, that was impossible. He had Iris already. Rather, your genuine demeanor and lack of guilde made you an ideal figure to shape and influence, a malleable partner who would submit to his will and fortify with his position without the complications of a more independent, fiery spirit.

You were simple, quiet, and boring. And the plan was simple enough: win your heart, marry you, become King, and cast you aside once he could finally be with the one he loved. Rintaro knew with absolute certainity when that time came, you would be too deeply in love with him. And when one was in love, one would forgive.

+

“You came.”

“It would be considered treason if I didn’t.”

Ah, yes. You and your quick remarks. It was one of the many things he liked about you. Smiling to himself, he pulled you deeper into the gardens. “Come. Follow me.”

It had been exactly three days since Tobio’s debut ball, three days since he’d laid his eyes on you. Rintaro wasted no time formulating his plan and putting it into action. He immediately called on you, made a formal visit to the Yuzuru Estate, and finished reading The Art of War if only to impress your father. That night he found out your father was also the Kingdom’s general, Rintaro hesitated. You seemed too important a figure to depose when the time came. But the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense.

He would be the future King, and the General was loyal to the crown and whoever sat in it. He would simply do his best to win your parents’ favor – which wasn’t all that hard. As soon as he arrived, your mother was swooning, and Rintaro knew he’d already won.

Today marked the first of your many dates. In a year or two, he would finally marry you.

Walking through the gardens with your hands shyly brushing against each other, Rintaro struggled to contain his emotions. It was his first time wooing a lady, much less be with someone who he’d never known before. Things were different with Iris; she approached him first. But with you… Rintaro felt that he had to be careful. Precise. Perfect.

He’d stayed up all night searching up on good date spots before deciding to invite you to the Palace. He didn’t think a public appearance for a first date would be good. Sure, he liked you, but things could still go wrong. But here in the privacy of his home, it felt more natural to act like he was this charming, effortlessly smooth Prince he wanted to present himself as.

Thankfully, the day was beautiful.

The morning sun bathed the palace gardens in a soft, golden glow, casting delicate shadows among the vibrant flowers and lush greenery. As you strolled through the grounds, he spotted you standing by a rose bush, your face turned towards the sky, basking in the gentle warmth of the new day.

For the first time, he saw you clearly in the daylight, and the sight took his breath away.

Your beauty, which had been understated under the dim ballroom lights, now seemed to radiate with an ethereal quality. The sunlight danced on your hair, highlighting its hues, and your skin glowed with a natural luminescence. The simplicity if your attire, a pale yellow dress, unadorned by the elaborate jewels of the previous evening, only served to enhance your natural beauty.

Your eyes, bright and clear, reflected the sky’s azure, and your lips curved into a serene smile as you inhaled the fragrant air.

Unknowingly, his mouth opened before he could think twice about it. “I thought you were beautiful in the moonlight, but seeing you for the first time in daylight… you are nothing short of bewitching.”

The smile on your face faltered, your fingers nervously twisting the fabric of your dress.

“Your Highness, if I may be so bold–” you sucked in a breath, grimacing, “–why are you interested in me?”

Rintaro blinked back in confusion. He was the Crown Prince. He was wealthy, handsome, and powerful. Shouldn’t any woman he showed interest in look delighted? Why did you look baffled instead?

Scratching his ear, his brow furrowed. “Do I have any reason not to be? I enjoyed my dance with you, and so did our conversations. You are… different from everyone I’ve met. I found myself unable to stop thinking of you ever since I held your hand in mine,” he said, surprising himself that he actually meant what he said. “When I formally called to your parents to court you, they welcomed me like I was their own son. I knew immediately I wanted to give their daughter the whole world and nothing less.”

Your pretty face pulled into a frown. “But you do not know me yet.”

He gestured to the gardens around you. “That is what we are here for – to get to know each other.”

“And if you do not like what you learn?”

Ah. So that’s what you were worried about?

He wanted to call you out for being silly; he would never choose someone he did not think was good enough for him. Love or not, he needed a woman he wouldn’t be ashamed to marry. However, he kept that sentiment to himself, because he, too, was curious on who you were beyond the surface.

“Test me, my Lady. You’ll find I might like you more than you’ll know,” he insisted, carefully picking out a rose and picking out the thorns. Your eyes widened in panic, but he merely brushed you off with a reassuring smile. Once the rose was picked free of its thorns, Rintaro offered it to you. “So tell me. What exactly can I do to win your heart?”

You giggled, twirling the rose between your fingers. “I believe you could win anyone’s heart. You’re a Prince, after all.”

“I do not want to steal anyone’s heart. I only want yours,” he smirked, basking in the way you hid your flustered face behind the rose. He couldn’t understand this sensation – like a flower blooming in season, his heart slowly unfurling as he leant down to your level, using his fingers to delicately pry the flower. It truly is a shame; you didn’t need to hide your lovely face so much.

“Are you saying if I were not a Prince, I would not even be worth your time?”

You huffed, turning away from him. Behind you, you could hear Rintaro laugh, the both of you knowing you were determined to not let the Prince read you like an open book. “I think… even if you were a Prince, I would appreciate it if a man took his time to get to know me.”

“I see,” he says, unfazed by the challenge. “It’s a good thing I have all the time in the world – there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing than know you, my Lady.”

The palace gardens lay before you, a hidden paradise veiled in the delicate glow of twilight. He gently guided you along the cobblestone path, his heart pounding in anticipation. This was your first date, and he listened to every word that escaped your lips. Everything you wished for was going to be his bible now, his guide into winning your heart. Not a word spoken by you was left unheard, and Rintaro already had your heart mapped out inside his head.

As you walked, the gardens seemed to come alive. Each flower and leaf whispering secrets of the past. The air was heavy with the fragrance of blooming roses, their velvety petals a riot of colors against the lush greenery. And when you walked past him, he vaguely realized the scent was emanating from you, too.

Rintaro stopped by a secluded alcove, where an array of moonflowers and lillies bathed in the sinking glow of the sun. He turned to you, his eyes reflecting the gentle light.

Reaching out, he gently took your hand and led you closer to a cluster of white lilies, their pure, delicate blooms standing tall and proud. “You remind me of these lilies,” he continued, his voice low and sincere. “Graceful, elegant, and timeless. They possess a quiet strength, a beauty that captivates and endures.”

You looked at the lilies, then back at him. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you whispered, voice tinged with awe.

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “Nor have I, until I saw you. Just as these lilies thrive here in this garden, I hope you’ll find your place in my life, bringing beauty and grace to every moment we share.”

Your nervous giggle echoed through the alcove. “That’s a little fast, isn’t it, Your Highness?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “My apologies. You couldn’t blame me for getting excited,” at his words, you both shared an easygoing laugh.

Soon, he fell into step beside you, enamored by the way you fit so perfectly beside him like this – with him standing tall in his boots, and your steps falling in sync with your dainty heels that peeked out often from your dress.

“What would your dream life look like?”

“Dream life?” you hummed to yourself, your hands joined d behind your back. “I guess… I’d want to live by the sea – with a nice, beautiful house. I want it big enough that I feel like I could walk there forever and not get tired, where there’s a sunroof and plenty of glasses so it looks like I’m being bathed by sunlight each time. That sounds perfect, does it not?”

“It does,” he could picture it already, this house of yours. It’s only the first date, and Rintaro was already eager to go out and find this house you dreamt of. And if it did not exist, then he would have to build it with his own hands. “Does this dream life include being with a loved one?”

You snuck a shy glance at him. “Well, of course, but it never crossed my mind I might get married for love someday.”

“Let the world surprise you, my Lady.”

The two of you stood there, surrounded by the fragrant blossoms and the gentle glow of dusk, the world narrowing to just the two of them. Thought not yet in love – and he could never be – Rintaro savored every moment spend in your company, enjoying your conversations and the shared laughter that echoed under the orange sky. In your presence, he felt a rare ease, a comforting companionship that hinted at deeper – more intimate possibilities – yet unexplored.

And when you gazed up at him, with your head tilted down and peeking up only from your lashes, your smile shy and reserved, Rintaro knew he had to see you again. Soonest, at best.

“May I call on you again?”

You dipped into a curtsy. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“A call you would heed, I’m hoping?”

Biting your lip, you nodded. “I’ll be there. You know I could never refuse a Prince.”

+

A week later after your first date, Rintaro realized – much to his dismay – that he does not have any pictures of you. With flaming cheeks, and a hand to cover his face, he quickly typed your name on the Internet. There aren’t much results, as he expected. But there was one article, dated six months ago when you were sighted travelling with your mother in Greece. You’re in a flowy, white sundress, waving shyly at the cameras. There’s a hibiscus tucked at your ear, the flower the exact same shade as your lipstick.

Rintaro’s arm draped over his head.

“What am I doing…” he muttered to himself, and with one eye peeking at his phone, he saves your photo and sets it as his phone wallpaper.

+

It’s around your eleventh date when he decided that he wanted to take you out personally, sans the security team and the cameras following around. It wasn’t anything extravagant; just a simple, romantic dinner at your favorite restaurant. It went like any other date – peaceful, enjoyable, memorable.

The night wasn’t any different than the others. At least not until he’d dropped you off at the Yuzuru Estate. You’d been so beautiful that night in your dress, the fabric cascading like silk spun from dreams. You’d always been like that – dreamy, a tad too good to be true.

Driving you home along winding lanes dappled with moonbeams, Rintaro sensed the weight of the moment poised delicately between them. Halting at your place, he stopped you before you could move. He was a gentleman, he should open the doors for you, but his touch felt different. He felt different. His gaze traced the contours of your face, where the shadows danced upon it. In that suspended breath, in the silence of his car where he could hear the rapid beating of both your hearts – and he thanked the Gods he wasn’t the only one nervous – Rintaro leaned in.

The first touch of your lips set his nerves on fire. Like fireworks exploding within him, his stomach tumbleweeding and crashing, like being sucked into a black hole and drowning in non-existence.

It isn’t his first kiss – that was Iris. But it might as well be his first kiss, with the way he’s immediately hungering for more. To kiss you harder, press against you with more ferocity than he ever thought he was capable of, and to pull you onto his lap because you simply weren’t close enough. No, he wanted you to take up every space and inch of his life. To breathe in the same air you did, to exist under the same stars and moon. You could consume him and he would thank you for it.

Was this how first kisses felt like? If it was, then he would willingly sacrifice one of his idiot brothers in the hopes you felt the same. That he’d made your first kiss a good and memorable experience, instead of feeling like it’d been stolen just like Iris did.

All too quickly, the moment ends. The need for air makes you both pull apart, eyes wide and breathing heavily. The kiss is short but sweet, one that Rintaro would stay up all night thinking about over and over again. He almost regretted it, how it was over sooner than he’d liked – until you leaned in and kissed his cheek, mumbling a quick “thank you for dinner!” before running out the car, and disappearing behind the gates.

Rintaro fell back into his seat. Any other time, he would’ve felt upset you didn’t let him escort you back the house. He’d let it slide for tonight – only because you were embarrassed, and that sneaky cheek kiss was enough to appease him.

He doesn’t pull out from the driveway until you were waving at him from your bedroom window. Windows rolled down, he waved back, and headed back for the Palace.

The entire ride back, Rintaro had his thumb swiping over his lips every so often.

Your lip gloss still lingers, and he can’t help but wish you’d been his first kiss instead.

Tonight, Rintaro whispered to himself, tonight he would tell you everything.

On the secluded stretch of sand where the ocean collided, Rintaro had meticulously laid out a tableau of romance beneath a canopy of stars. Each detail spoke of his adoration: a gossamer canopy adorned with twinkling lights gently swayed in the sea breeze, casting a warm glow over the fine linens and flickering candles. Seashells adorned the table, their iridescent surfaces reflecting the moon’s gentle caress.

A carafe of chilled wine stood ready, its glass catching the shimmering light of the evening tide. Nearby, a small fire crackled, casting a warm, inviting glow amidst the cool embrace of the night.

As Rintaro amidst the romantic dinner he’d prepared, a nervous anticipation fluttered in his chest.

Tonight, amidst the symphony of the waves and the whisper of palm fronds, he would finally reveal the depth of his heart. It would be more than a confession – it was also the right time to ask for your forgiveness. Until now, he still couldn’t believe you chose to be by his side after everything he did. How you chose to protect him, and risked meeting men alone, all to save his reputation. He’d hurt you, over and over, and you’d chosen to stay loyal, over and over. He had to make sure tonight was perfect.

He’d been so desperate he turned to his brothers for help: Osamu prepared the meals, Tobio went out to buy a bouquet of flowers, and Kiyoomi helped him decorating the table. Kiyoomi seemed hesitant at first, scowling down at him when he knocked down his brother’s door. Rintaro couldn’t blame him – he’d been an awful husband to you, no excuses. But he could be better. He would be better. And after seeing his sincerity, Kiyoomi eventually stopped grumbling and helped him.

“Don’t mess this up. This might be your last chance,” he’d warned Rintaro, and he couldn’t agree more. “And for the record, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.”

When Rintaro woke up that morning and you weren’t beside him anymore, he felt true fear for the first time. He felt like he was brought back to that time you’d gone for Itachiyama, and left him behind. That bone-chilling fear of seeing your side of the bed empty was enough to wake him up.

He couldn’t restart over from zero, but he could try. He would go down on his knees to beg for forgiveness if he had to. He’d do anything – absolutely anything – just to win your heart once more. He’d done it before, he could do it again. Only this time, he promised to keep your heart safe. Rintaro didn’t want to hurt you anymore.

But before he could confess to you, he had to get this over with first.

With the sun dipping low on the horizon, the sky painted in hues of melancholy gold and crimson, Rintaro made his way silently toward the beach. The gentle lapping of the waves provided a solemn rhythm to his steps, each footfall heavy with the weight of his purpose. There, amidst the soft, shining sands, he spotted Iris, her figure a silhouette he’d immediately recognize against the backdrop of the fading day. She sat with her shoulders slumped, her gaze distant and eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The air around them hung heavy with the unspoken knowledge of what was to come.

In the quietude of the moment, Rintaro approached with a heavy heart, knowing that their time together would soon unravel like the receding tide.

“Hey,” he mumbled, crossing his legs as he filled in the space next to her. Beside him, Iris rested her cheeks on her arms, her knees drawn together. Rintaro sucked in a breath. Iris looked… miserable. Her skin was dull, and dry. If he’d seen this side of her months ago, he would’ve reached over and wiped the tracks of dried tears on her face. Pulled her into his arms as he consoled her, and maybe even joked he’d beat up whoever made her cry.

But he couldn’t do that now. He didn’t want to, either.

Looking at Iris felt like looking at a stranger. Rintaro had loved her for a long time – ever since he was eighteen. Now, eight years later, and she still held a portion of his heart. Not romantically, but he’d known her forever. She’d been his first kiss, his first love, his first time, his first everything’s. She was the one who’d taught him how to handle his alcohol, the one who told him it was okay to not be so perfect, and when the time came – the one who’d been the reason Rintaro found you.

He couldn’t hate her, not really. Iris wasn’t a bad person; she was just misunderstood. She was lonely, desperate, and didn’t have a place to call home. She had nothing at all before she was suddenly thrown into a loveless marriage with a man who couldn’t stand her. And how could he hate her? He was just to blame as she was.

He was just as lonely as she was.

“Hey,” she greeted back, her voice cracked and broken.

“Are you alright?” he couldn’t help but ask, bumping his shoulder with hers. The contact didn’t set his skin on fire anymore, and Rintaro pursed his lips as he recalled it all – the times he’d obsessed over her, only for it to disappear. Like it never existed in the first place. In the back of his mind, fear loomed over him again – because what if that happened to you, too? What if, one day, you looked him in the eye and couldn’t recognize him anymore? What if one day, all the love you had for him vanished into thin air, too?

“I’m okay,” Iris said, even if they both knew she didn’t mean it.

“Kiyoomi told me you barely left your room.”

She chuckled, the sound mocking and muffled as she buried her head in her arms. “Pardon me if I didn’t want to join your play pretend of house. My entire stay here has been awful. You’re all acting like… like everything is okay.”

Rintaro sighed, “Listen, Iris… I know what we had was complicated. You’re married, and I was young and foolish. We did things we weren’t supposed to do – things we cannot take back,” he admitted, finally braving to reach over and cup her knee. Iris didn’t react, didn’t move or pull away. She remained frozen where she sat, save for the slight shake of her shoulders. Rintaro’s heart ached. “What we had was special, and I cherished it, cherished you, but I think we should finally end things.”

“You’re breaking up with me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. One Rintaro couldn’t deny.

“Yes.”

Iris lifted her head, her face tear-stained as she laughed. “You should’ve done that a long time ago, if you weren’t so damn stubborn.”

Despite himself, Rintaro’s lips pulled into a bitter smile. “That would be my fault. I thought I was in love with you.”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t know,” he said, even though his heart was screaming no, no I don’t. “I always thought it was going to be you. You were the only one who I ever wanted this much, and when I found out you married my brother, I thought my world was going to end. That I was put on this Earth just to suffer and watch you fall for someone else when that should’ve been me. But then she came, and – and marriage is not so bad. If it’s going to be like this every day, I would gladly endure the troubles of the throne. I can do anything as long as she’s by my side,” the words are spilling out of his mouth, his heart, before he could stop himself. Rintaro clutched at his chest, watching the way his wedding ring glinted with the sunset. “I’m not sure if it’s love, but I do know I can’t watch someone I care about slip through my fingers again. I lost you already; I can’t lose her, too.”

“You’re giving up on becoming King? Just like that?”

“Not entirely. The throne is my birthright,” he reminded her, hating the way she always seemed to doubt him even in their end. But he was tired, so tired, that he no longer argued. “I just want to enjoy my marriage, Iris. And I think that’s something you’ve always wanted too.”

“So that’s it. We’re over.”

“We are.”

“Good,” she sniffled, wiping her tears with the back of her palm. The relief on her voice was palpable, and Rintaro lifted his head to look at her – watching the way her face broke out into a giddy smile. “Because I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.”

“Someone like me? What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you know, Rin?” she turned to him, her smile cruel, and her eyes so cold it brought a chill down his spine. But nothing could compare to the dread he felt when he heard her next words, and that’s when he knew – his life would never be the same ever again.

The morning unfolded with a gentle whisper of anticipation when you returned to your room, a cryptic note left behind by Rintaro. It bore a simple request: “Dress up for tonight. Meet me at the beach.”

You loathed the way your heart fluttered with a blend of nervous excitement and curiosity. You loathed yourself even more for what you let happen last night – with him making love to you, and worshipping your body before you’d fallen asleep in his arms. It was slowly becoming torture. You didn’t know how to act anymore, how to keep up this act. How could you have been so foolish – believing that he could buy you a house and ignore his girlfriend, and suddenly that made everything okay? Because it didn’t. It didn’t change the fact that he loved her first, he loved her long enough that he’d gotten her pregnant.

It hurt even more the longer you pondered about it – did he know the entire time? Was that why he’d suddenly become sweet? The longer you thought about it, the more you felt sick to your stomach whenever you entertained the possibility that maybe he didn’t know.

Maybe he’d just truly had a change of heart.

Maybe he’d finally fallen in love with you.

But if that was real, all would change once he found out he was going to become a father. Iris couldn’t get rid of the baby – it was a royal child, unborn or not. She must’ve known that, too, otherwise she wouldn’t be so desperate. And what would happen next? You could lose Rintaro and Kiyoomi all at once.

You crept out of your husband’s arms the moment you came to. He was still fast asleep, looking so at peace and unaware that it felt wrong to leave. But it felt even more wrong to stay, so quickly exited the room and started early. Breakfast was served, the other Princes started playing again, until you couldn’t handle it anymore – pretending everything was fine, pretending like you couldn’t notice Rintaro’s longing stares at you from the other side of the room. You avoided him under the guise of tending to your guests, and it wasn’t long enough before he’s kissing your cheek, and went upstairs to disappear.

That was when you saw his note.

Now, you stood before an array of delicate fabrics and jewels. Choosing with care, you draped yourself in a gown of celestial blue, its silk like a cascade of moonlit waves against your skin. Jewels, glinting like captured stars, adorned your neck and wrists, adding a subtle sparkle to your reflection in the mirror.

As evening descended, you made your way down the beach, the scent of night-blooming flowers mingling with the soft rustle of your gown. There, your eyes caught sight of candles lit in the distance, a scatter of petals around a table and two chairs. The glow of lanterns and the shimmer of a thousand stars above awaited you like a secret garden of enchantment. There, beneath the velvet sky, you stood in quiet expectation, your heart racing with the promise of an eventful evening.

The dinner set up, adorned with its evening charms, you awaited Rintaro’s arrival with a patient grace. You stood there, rubbing your hands down your bare arms with growing unease as the minutes stretched into an eternity.

Each passing second seemed to amplify the rustling of the wind, heightening your senses to every distant footfall and murmur of the night. Your fingers, intertwined nervously, betrayed the inner turmoil mirrored in your furrowed brow and the anxious flutter of your heart. Time itself became an adversary, teasing you with its slow passage as uncertainty wrapped around you like a shroud.

The breeze picked up, whispering the unspoken question – where was he?

With each unanswered moment, your apprehension deepened, casting shadows upon the once-hopeful tableau of your rendezvous. When he finally appeared, a chill seemed to settle over the air despite the warmth of the evening.

Rintaro’s handsome features, usually a portrait of princely composure, were now etched with lines of sorrow and eyes that spoke of turmoil within. In his trembling hand, he held a bouquet of deep red roses, their velvety petals trembling as if mirroring his own unsteady emotions. Every movement he made seemed to carry the weight of a world crashing down upon him. The carefully chosen attire that once adorned him with regal splendor now draped over a figure that seemed to struggle beneath its weight.

As he approached, your eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes – of secrets unsaid, of a heart breaking under the strain of unspoken burdens. The bouquet he offered, usually a gesture of affection, now felt like a peace offering. A plea for understanding amidst the raging sea of emotions crashing against the shore of your fragile marriage.

The question hung at the tip of your tongue. Do you know? you wanted to ask, your fingers trembling and your eyes welling up with tears when Rintaro pointedly avoided your gaze.

“Rin,” you pleaded, closing the distance between you two as you stepped closer to him. Please, say something. Tell me, do you know? Did she tell you?

The questions die at the back of your throat as Rintaro closes his eyes, leaning forward and kissing your cheek. Your husband had never felt so far away than he did in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, and pulled away. His words were loud and clear, yet his gaze was distant – like you weren’t even there in front of him. “This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

A "The Picture of Dorian Gray"!- inspired Nanami fic in two acts (From my Jjk Penny Dreadful Series-here)

*°࿐ Synopsis: After a harrowing escape from the hell of Shibuya, Nanami Kento finds a dark, twisted method to conceal the deep wounds forever etched on his flesh and spirit. He relocates to Malaysia, shedding his former identity in search of s fresh start, driven by the allure of an hedonistic lifestyle. He quickly resigns himself to a solitary existence, prioritising secrecy above all else's -that is, until one evening at the theatre, when your paths fatefully cross. What will happen next in this unfolding tale of tragedy and rebirth?

*°࿐Tags: Act 2- Nsfw + dark content (Katoptronophilia- mirror kink, softdom!nanami, fem! masturbation, pinv, breeding kink, graphic description of scar and injuries)

This work is part of the SPOOKINKY 2024 event hosted by @tsukimefuku 🖤

"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic (...)Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." -Oscar Wilde

࿐✧˖*° Fic Moodboard here✧˖*°࿐

Beneath the dim, flickering glow of the bakery where you work everyday, you move like a shadow, wiping the counter where the day’s sweet offerings linger—croissants, chocolate éclairs—fragrant remnants of a life half-lived. The scent clings to you, comforting yet oppressive, as you linger on the past. A year has passed since you fled into this quiet corner of Malaysia, seeking escape, yearning for the hum of the ocean outside your window. Here, in the solitude of this bakery, you’ve become a ghost—part of the background, invisible to all but the clock and the empty tables.

Yet tonight, something stirs deep within you. At the end of your shift, you return to your cozy apartment, heading to your bedroom to let your fingers graze the golden ticket on your nightstand, a silent promise of a dream that has been lingering in your personal space for weeks: The Tempest. Tonight, the magic of Shakespeare’s world will finally become your own. You slip into the emerald night dress you bought for this occasion, catching a fleeting glimpse of a brand new woman reborn in the mirror, staring back with a defiant gaze.

…

The air of the theater hums with electricity as you step inside, your dress shimmering like a forest at dusk. Eyes turn, glances linger. The crowd falls into a hush, a soft murmur ripples through the room. You feel their gaze—a strange, unknown sensation, both exhilarating and disquieting- you’re definitely not used to being the focus of the attention around you. As you navigate the rows to your seat, eager to find yours and hide among the crowd of faces, a chill runs down your spine. There, across the balcony, a familiar figure watches you—a tall, elegant man, poised in a timeless black tuxedo.The tailored jacket hugs his athletic frame,  the deep midnight black fabric contrasting strikingly with his fair complexion. A white pocket square elegantly peeks out from the breast pocket, while a finely knotted bow tie adds a sophisticated touch. His reserved nature, shadowed by a hint of intrigue, seems to enchant every woman in the auditorium, inviting curiosity from all who cross his path. With an air of mystery that surrounds him, he garners attention effortlessly, embodying both charm and enigma in every subtle movement.

It’s him—Mr. Nanami, the enigmatic man who has haunted the bakery for months. Always at his corner table, always with a book in hand, always distant, as though carved from some distant age. His gaze is now fixed on you, unblinking, his caramel eyes drinking in every movement you make. Even among the crowd, he is a statue, an artifact of mystery, his blonde hair gleaming under the theater’s lights, his presence too immense to ignore.

«If by your Art, my dearest father, you have

put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,

Dashes the fire out.»

The character of Miranda finally speaks, signalling the start of the play. Lights go off, the world fading into darkness around you, but his gaze never wavers. It pulses between you, an electric current that thrums in your chest. Even as the actors bring the stage to life, Nanami’s attention is all on you. His eyes trace the delicate curve of your neck, they notice the way the silk of your dress clings to your feminine figure—every movement, every breath amplified. In the silence between the scenes, memories of brief encounters in the bakery flood both of your minds—small gestures, the fleeting brush of hands as you served his command. Every mundane act now seems to acquire a deeper meaning, hinting at the long buried electricity now resurfacing in all of its power.

The actors' words echo in your mind, their tale of rediscovery mirroring your own. You feel the thread between you and Nanami tighten with each passing scene. Your heartrate is accelerates inexplicably, his hands itch imperceptibly. By the play's end, the applause is drowned by the weight of his gaze, a fleeting glance that feels like an unspoken invitation. The crowd fades, and you are lost in the depths of his eyes—amber pools that seem to hold unspeakable secrets. What darkness lingers behind them? What truths lie hidden beneath his composed exterior?

In that moment, you are both spectator and part of the story, caught between the stage and the gaze of the man who watches you from the shadows, as if you are both part of the same forgotten tale.

The applause swells, a rising tide of sound that drowns everything around you. The faces blur, the claps echo like thunder, and your senses are swept into the frenzy. Yet, goosebumps rise along your exposed back, a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. In the midst of chaos, your consciousness fails to identify the tall figure slipping quietly behind you, a shadow stretching long across your seat. But your body doesn't: every fiber of your being tenses in alert, time stretching as if waiting for something to happen at any moment.

Nanami’s hand lingers for a heartbeat before resting on your shoulder, a firm, yet gentle touch. The unexpected pressure makes you gasp, the sound barely a whisper.

"Mr. Nanami... What a surprise," you murmur, turning to face him, your voice trembling like a prayer as you feign surprise. His name spills from your lips, the remnants of the performance still thick in the air.

"Good evening, Mrs... I apologize for the intrusion," he says, his tone softer than you expected. "I saw you in the crowd and... I couldn't resist."

His apology is followed by a smile—small, sincere, and unlike the elusive stranger you’ve come to know. You blink in disbelief, caught off guard by this sudden warmth.

"Good evening," you reply, your words stammered. "No need to apologize. I’m glad you noticed me." Beneath the surface, you are deeply surprised by the fact that he did really recognize you, a simple waitress, a face everyone easily forgets.

He chuckles softly, eyes flickering with interest as he watches you. "The actors were amazing tonight, weren't they?" he continues, easing into the conversation. " Yes, indeed” you answer “I've always been fond of drama... the way music, scenery, poetry, and dance all blend into one living thing."

He catches the spark igniting your eyes as you speak, lost in your own enthusiasm. "Yes, I think it's the perfect kind of art... a fusion of all forms. A single experience woven from many threads."

He watches you, entranced by your remarkable passion for arts. Nanami always secretly thought you looked beautiful, admiring your kind nature from afar while you served tables at the bakey. But tonight he can't help feeling drawn to your every movement, noticing every detail of you, the most attractive woman he has ever laid eyes on in a while. Suddenly a low chuckle escapes him, catching you by surprise: "A real aesthete, aren’t you? I think I’ve finally found a worthy companion for my abstract musings." He muses.

You smile back, amused by the compliment. "So…you are... an ‘aesthete’ too?" you ask playfully.

"Ah... I prefer the term hedonist. There's a difference. An aesthete merely appreciates beauty for its own sake. A hedonist seeks to immerse themselves in it, to live for the pleasure it brings. Do you understand?" He smiles wryly.

You nod, half-missing the full meaning. "It makes sense to me... though 'hedonism' isn't a word you hear much these days."

At your remark, something flickers in his eyes—a momentary hesitation. His gaze drifts away, as though lost in a distant thought. Then he snaps back,as shaken from a dream.

"I have a question for you," he says, his voice now heavier. "Since you’re so drawn to this kind of topic... what do you think? Does life imitate art, or is it art that imitates life?"

You blink, caught off guard. His question is as profound as it is unsettling. Sensing your confusion, he continues, voice tightening with a quiet vulnerability.

"I know it sounds tautological... contradictory, even. But these thoughts are born from years of reflection, of trying to make sense of life."

He pauses, and for a moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken tension. The weight of his words settles around you, and you sense his inner battle—fear of revealing too much.

"Life is indeed the most intricate of masterpieces," you say softly, your voice soothing the strain in his words. "But I believe we create it. We choose the colors, the shapes, the shadows of our existence."

His eyes soften, a long, silent moment passing between you. Then, as though the walls around him have cracked, he sighs, and his words spill out.

"I’ve always had a special sensitivity... but my past... it hardened me, consumed me. I spent years hiding from it, burying my feelings beneath logic and calculation. And when I finally faced those demons, I realized..." He trails off, the confession hanging between you.

You wait, breath held, as he collects his thoughts. "I thought the pleasures of art and literature were gone forever. I thought I had lost them. But then..." He falters again, lost in the depths of his own emotions.

You try to simplify his cryptic confession. "So... you retired early and moved to Malaysia, didn't you? It's not something to be ashamed of, it's common practice here, Malaysia is such a dreamy place. I myself have left everything behind and fled here…" You try to make him feel at ease, failing to notice the deeper meaning behind his words.

His lips curled up in a faint smile, a touch of sadness in his eyes. How could such a pure soul like yours grasp the horrors hidden behind his elegant appearance? "Yes... escaping a life I didn’t recognize anymore seemed the only choice I had a year ago."

You smile back, unaware of the weight of his past, yet moved by his vulnerability. "It seems like we both needed to escape something,then" you say gently.

He watches you intensely, and for a moment, the shadows of his past flicker in his gaze, along if something else- quiet admiration for your spontaneous genuineness. Then, without warning, he clears his throat, inviting you to continue your discussion elsewhere:

"I hope you won’t misunderstand," he says, his voice low and hesitant. "But...would you join me for a drink tonight? I’d love to continue this conversation... and perhaps share a book with you. If you'd allow me."

You accept without hesitation, the thrill of the unknown surging through you. Walking side by side along the moonlit shore, your steps are light, the air thick with possibility. The evening unfolds before you, a path leading to an unseen discovery, your heart fluttering, unaware of the darkness that lurks just beyond the light of the moon, reflected inside his golden irises.

The ebony door creaks open, a haunting sound that reverberates through the dimly lit corridor as Nanami, with an air of quiet dignity, unlocks the entrance to his home, his quiet sanctuary. Leaning forward, he flicks the light switch, and with a courteous gesture, steps aside, allowing you to cross the threshold. Click. A warm, golden light floods the space, spilling like liquid amber into the darkness, inviting you into the treasure trove that is Nanami's home.

As you step inside, the musty scent of aged books mingles with a faint undertone of turpentine, whisking you away to a distant realm where art and literature reign supreme. The air is thick with stories untold, whispers of creativity echoing off the walls. Each available inch of wall space is claimed by an eclectic mix of paintings, their colors vibrant against the deep shadows. Books of every genre crowd every angle of the refined, tastefully furnished open space that stretches before you. Your eyes widen, your jaw drops; you are mesmerized, trying to absorb every intricate detail of this artistic sanctuary.

"I hope this is to your liking," Nanami's amused chuckle pulls you from your reverie, his voice like a gentle breeze stirring the still air.

"This... all of this... is yours? The paintings, the books, the antiques? How...?" You stammer, incredulous, as you survey the vast collection that feels both intimate and monumental.

"Yes," he replies, a contemplative smile gracing his lips as he leans against the doorframe, the shadows dancing across his features. "This collection is my legacy, the thing I’m most proud of..." His voice trails off, and as you admire his possessions, you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you, filled with a blend of longing and admiration. In his mind, your figure blurs with the contours of the most graceful of Aphrodites, the missing piece of his collection, the first soul to step into his sanctuary after a long, lonely stretch of time. He watches you spin around his living room, a vision of grace in a flowing dress that clings to your curves like a delicate drapery on a marble statue.

He could grow accustomed to this sight, to you... And in that fateful moment, he lowers his guard, granting you access to the most secluded part of his soul, a realm he has shielded jealously over the years. "Why don’t you take a tour of the house while I pour us a drink? What do you prefer: Cabernet or Whiskey?" he asks, his genuine smile like a rare gem in the dim light.

"Thank you, I’d like to explore your collection further… as for the drink… you choose, surprise me," you reply chuckling mischievously, a thrilling tension crackling in the air as your eyes lock with his, an electric connection that sends shivers down your spine.

The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you venture deeper into the labyrinthine layout, navigating narrow corridors flanked by towering shelves that groan under the weight of Nanami's extensive collection. Each step draws you further into his world, a place where dreams and memories intertwine.

As you explore, you ascend the stairs to the first floor, stumbling upon a cozy library. A plush, crimson armchair beckons you, piled high with dog-eared paperbacks and a precarious tower of art monographs. The adjacent bookshelf stands as a shrine to literary giants—Austen, Dickens, Joyce—their timeless works nestled alongside a first edition of Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea."

You are about to descend when something catches your eye: A door at the end of the corridor is slightly ajar, challenges you, invites your curiosity. A thrill courses through you, an all-consuming desire to uncover the mystery hidden within. Drawn by an unseen force, you approach, your heart racing as your trembling hand hovers over the doorknob. With a gentle push, you swing the door open, and a sudden burst of light slices through the darkness, momentarily blinding you. As your vision clears, you find yourself staring at your own reflection, an astonished figure in a green dress, caught in the web of shadows.

Stepping further into the room, you realize you’ve entered Nanami's peculiar bedroom. A quilted round bed dominates the space, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling mirrors that create a dizzying effect, reflecting your image endlessly in the dim light. Your gaze travels, and you find a portrait hanging on the wall—a blond man who looks strikingly like Nanami, but marred by burn scars that crisscross his body like a roadmap of pain, telling a story of flames that once ravaged his skin. His eyes, a deep, piercing gold, seem to harbor the weight of those infernos, a flicker of fire still smoldering within.

“Is this... Nanami?” you whisper to yourself, disbelief coursing through you.

"So you found out..." a faint, emotionless voice emerges from the shadows, and you immediately turn: Nanami stands on the threshold, his attractive features marred by a mask of suffering and resignation. He holds a single book in his hands: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

"Nanami... I didn’t mean to intrude. The door was slightly open, and I..." you stammer, searching for an excuse. " But…What is this? Who is the man in the portrait?" you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling with confusion.

His gaze drops to the floor, a deep sadness enveloping him. "I wanted to lend you this book…maybe it would have helped you better comprehend this situation of mine. I’ve always related to Wilde’s work…and its Preface holds everything I’ve painfully learnt about life” his words ring hollow in your ears, emptied of any meaning. “This portrait... It represents the state of my soul. This... is what I really look like." His voice is heavy with truth, and the weight of his words hangs in the air like a dark cloud.

A storm of questions swirls in your mind, casting you into a sea of panic, while your gaze flashes between him and the man of the picture "This...  it can't be real. Nanami, what really happened? What is this story about?"

"Please, listen to me..." he interrupts, his tone now urgent, demanding your full attention. "Over a year ago, I was involved in an accident in Shibuya,on the night of Halloween and got severely injured. I barely managed to survive, but half of my body was burned, damaged irreparably..."

He takes a step closer, his expression lost as he struggles to share his truth. "When I woke up in a hospital bed, I took a look in the mirror, and realized I would have never been the same man I was.” He pauses, trying to steady his accelerated breath “ seeing my condition, an old friend of mine decided to set off, travelling the world for weeks in search of a way to restore my appearance. And I thought he had returned victorious at first, when he proposed to me an ancient curse allowing me to channel all of my pain and ugliness into that portrait. So I ended up switching places with the man now hanging above my bed. My friend helped me escape to start anew in this secluded place of Earth, but the truth is that this was never meant to be a blessing…with time I fell prey of the illusion of my appearance, trapping myself in a cage of mirrors, constantly afraid to see my real aspect resurfacing…I’ve been such a fool to forget the real nature of this expedient: a curse will always be always a curse"

He retreats, hiding behind a wall of shame and guilt. "I don’t expect you to understand. You know nothing of the world of sorcery from which I came... and...I wouldn't blame you if you turned your back at me now, pointing at me like a devil…"

As he fights to suppress the lump in his throat, you stand in front of him, your knees threatening to give in at every word spilling from his mouth. But it's in this moment that you see his true nature for the first time—a broken man, whose defenses are now crumbling under the weight of his long-buried secrets. "I’ve missed my chance with you, I cannot hide from the monster I’ve become," he whispers, his voice cracking with guilt and regret.

Without thinking, you step forward, closing the distance between you. Nanami's breath hitches as your hesitant hand cups his chiseled jaw, grounding him in the moment. It is high time to free him from the demons of his past.  "Destroy the picture, Nanami... don’t let that portrait weigh down your soul any longer." 

Your words provoke an earthquake into Nanami's world: his eyes widen, meeting the compassionate determination in your gaze. "And this doesn't change anything, I’m not leaving…You don’t have to hide anymore, not from me," you say softly, knowing in your heart that this moment could be the key to unlocking the darkness that has held him captive for far too long.

…

His resolve wavers as he gazes upon your lips, mere inches away from his, a tantalizing promise lingering in the air. The last thread of self-control snaps when you pull him closer, pressing your curves against his sculpted form. In that intoxicating moment, he crashes his mouth to yours, a desperate kiss that spills forth your insecurities in a breathless plea for understanding. Lips collide, and the world fades, leaving just the two of you suspended in a cocoon of time and space. 

Fingers roam restlessly, exploring, dancing over each other’s bodies in a fervent embrace, like lightning illuminating a starless sky with passion's raw energy. The kiss deepens, heats, igniting flames of longing as he pins you against the cool surface of the mirror, your bare back shivering at the sudden chill. He looms over you, strong and commanding, tension rippling through his broad shoulders before he seizes the lower edge of a golden-framed picture, throwing it to the ground with a shattering crash. 

The echo reverberates through the room, breaking the spell that held you. As the cursed image lies in shards, you blink to find the real Nanami before you, a man sculpted by both fire and fate, his scars merely facets of a twisted charm. He holds his breath, waiting for your response, his vulnerability laid bare in the depths of his eyes. 

You stay silent at first. Your trembling fingers deftly start to unbutton his shirt, tracing a path from fine fabric to the rough, fibrous tissue of his burned skin. “You look even more handsome in my eyes now,Nanami... ripped at every edge but still holding your original charm, like the finest masterpiece” you finally speak, voice thick with emotion “you’re strong, you can heal. Let me help you, please... let me…” The weight of your invitation hangs in the air, a siren's call that stirs something deep within him. He hesitantly captures your wandering hand, “Are you sure?” he asks, his forehead resting against yours, a silent confession of both uncertainty and deep care. 

In answer, you push his shirt off his shoulders, your hands gliding over the contours of his biceps, igniting a wildfire in his chest long thought extinguished. You offer him compassion and heartfelt affection, and in that moment, he feels worthy of love again. “I am sure, Nanami… give me all of you without restraints tonight…show me you’re willing to start anew” 

“Fuck,” he gasps, his hands gripping your waist, spinning you around to face the mirror. “See how stunning you look? You are too much for me now,do you understand it?” He desperately spits out through gritted teeth “but if you choose to give yourself to me tonight, know that there will be no turning back. I won’t accept being left alone tomorrow...” His breath tickles your neck as he nibbles at your soft skin, pulling back to meet your gaze with a gravity that sends shivers down your spine. “What do you say? Do you accept my condition?” 

“Yes,” you simply breathe out, eyes locked on the reflection before you, feeling small yet cherished in his powerful embrace. “I guess I am the luckiest of  men, then…” His warm breath cascades over the delicate flesh behind your ear, a relieved smile curling against your skin as you tremble between his arms. 

“I could hold you like this forever…” he whispers, tracing the line of your spine with his index finger. His hands find the thin straps of your dress, gently coaxing them down your shoulders. The silky fabric slips away, pooling at your feet, revealing you in all your glory. “You are a masterpiece here, the most exquisite work of art I have ever seen.”

His gaze drifts to the mirror, breathless as he drinks in the sight of your curves, fingers exploring the valley between your breasts, brushing against your hardened nipples with a soft touch that ignites a deep groan from his throat. “Look at you; I’m going to worship every inch of your delicious body tonight, just like a painter brushing the pure canvas in front of him, I will paint your body with pleasure and reverence” With a confident caress, his hand glides down, cupping your sex, igniting a spark of longing that makes your breath hitch. 

“Nanami,” your voice is a prayer, each syllable infused with need as he parts your folds, cool air colliding with your now exposed clit. His experienced fingers start to explore your womanhood and a shiver dances along your spine “So soft,so wet for me already… keep those beautiful eyes open for me,I want you to watch as we create a work of art of pleasure tonight.” his other hand cups your chin, preventing you from looking away from your entwined image.

He moves with purpose, fingers drawing delicate circles on your sensitive nub, escalating your breaths into gasps. “You know, I’ve always believed that sex is a form of art—the highest, perhaps. The sensations it creates, the way bodies merge in a symphony of unbridled passion…” His rhythm quickens, pressure mounting until you scream his name, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. 

“Let it happen, just like that, give in to it, feel the way your body yearns for mine” he encourages you, guiding you throughout your climax with his confident ministrations. “Look at you now,” he cups your jaw, tilting your head to see the beauty of your flushed cheeks and wild hair. “You are alive… the essence of beauty.” His kisses scatter across your skin, igniting every nerve, his hardness pressing against your plush curves, a testament to his hunger. 

His veiny hands unfasten his belt, pulling down his elegant pants to reveal himself to you: a glorious display of manhood, standing proud and ready in the mirror facing you. The base is girthy, the long shaft crossed by a single bluish vein up to the swollen tip, already for glistening with precum “look what your beauty does to me” his hips jacks forward instinctively as he notices the hunger in your eyes “Ready?” he asks once more, searching your gaze for any hint of doubt before entering you slowly from behind, his eyes locked on yours in the reflective surface, watching as pleasure and pain intertwine on your face. 

He’s barely halfway in but you already feel him everywhere, a melding of flesh and desire driving you mad as he fills you completely. A strangled groan escapes him. “fuck, you're too tight… "His eyes flutter shut as he revels in the sensation of your snug channel stretching apart for him, sweaty pearls coaxes his forehead, brows furrowed in concentration “you were made for me.” He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he stills for a moment, savoring the connection of your entwined bodies. 

When his hips begin to move, there is no gentleness—only a primal need. He slams against you, each thrust sending you gasping against the mirror, fingers clutching the golden frame for support. Your body turned into a canvas painted with pleasure: head tilted back, throat exposed, breasts heaving with each  fervent thrust, trembling legs on the brink of surrender.  The smacking sound of flesh meeting flesh reverberates, a wild melody echoing in the room as you surrender to the rhythm of ecstasy, bodies swaying in perfect synchronicity. 

Together, you reach the precipice of bliss. The mirror captures the art of your union, an abstract painting of two entwined souls—calling out each other’s names, your bodies slick and sticky, pressed together in a tender embrace. In that moment, you know that this is more than just a union of bodies; it is a celebration of art, love, and the unyielding spirit of desire.

 Nanami’s eyes roll back as he feels you envelop him in a fierce grip, but he forces his gaze open, eager to witness the masterpiece unfolding before him. “I'm almost there…” He announces, grunting in your ear as he surrenders to your magic. Warm spurts of his very essence paint your walls white, making you his in the most primal of ways. He groans in pride and delight when the glass reflects the lewd sight of his overflowing seed dripping down your leg. Turning to face him, a loving smile dances upon both of your lips, the calm after a storm. “That was incredible, my diamond… thank you for sharing this masterpiece with me,” he murmurs, placing gentle kisses upon your closed eyelids, the warmth of his damp hair brushing against your forehead. “You’ve shown me that with you, I can finally find my way back to beauty.” He nuzzles your noses together, laughter bubbling forth as he regards you with a playful glint in his eye. “But I fear I need more from you tonight… are you ready for another round?”

You nod, a spark reigniting within you, a shared yearning to delve deeper into the connection that has blossomed between you in the stillness of the night. Without warning, he lifts you off the ground, effortlessly cradling you in his arms, bridal-style, and carries you toward his round bed, laying you down upon the luxurious velvet sheets. The sensation takes your breath away, and you gaze up at him, wide-eyed with wonder.

He kneels at your feet, crawling onto the bed, leaving a trail of kisses along your calves, thighs, and stomach, until he reaches your lips. For a moment, he pauses, studying your moonlit features, before pushing himself into your inviting warmth once more. This time, there is no urgency; instead, he makes love to you with a tenderness that transcends flesh, his thrusts slow and deep, punctuated by soft kisses and feather-light caresses. You gaze upward at the mirror hanging from the ceiling, capturing your supine figure beneath his muscled torso, tensing with every intimate movement.

In that sacred moment of Epiphany, the truth unfurls before you: together, you and Nanami create a beauty that has always eluded you both, a beauty that defies the boundaries of time and space, a masterpiece beyond convention. You were each other’s missing piece. Each creak of the bed beneath you resonates with magic, a spell binding you to this moment of bliss and rebirth, witnessed by every mirror surrounding you.

“We are art,” you lean in and whisper into his ear, your voice filled with newfound conviction, as the night wraps around you like a cloak, and the shadows dance in celebration of your fateful union.

Thanks for reading this far!🙏

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated 💕

Don't repost my works without permission.

[chocolatequeennk]

Forever Timeless, 13/23

Summary: Two months after the Dalek Crucible, the Doctor and Rose are getting used to having the biggest family on Earth. As they visit Leadworth in 1996, Victorian England, a mysterious desert planet, and Elizabethan England, those family and friends often help in unexpected ways. But no matter where they go or who they’re with, it’s always the Doctor in the TARDIS with Rose Tyler–just as it should be.

Ten x Rose, Donna x Lee

Betaed by @rudennotgingr, @pellaaearien, and @jabber-who-key

Tagging @doctorroseprompts 

Part 7 of Being to Timelessness

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12

Chapter Thirteen: And Pretty Dangerous

Rose’s mind raced as she slid her hand into the Doctor’s. If Jenny couldn’t get to the TARDIS and the bus was out of petrol… She shook her head and pushed the thought away.

Beside her, the Doctor was still tense. She nudged him in the side and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “We’ll get home somehow,” she murmured. “Even if I have to find a way to turn sand into petrol.”

He smiled weakly. “Six impossible things before breakfast?”

“You know it.” 

She was just going to suggest they get going when an alert chimed on the ship. The Tritovore captain hustled over the control panel and turned around, mandibles clicking excitedly.

“The probe has reached its destination. But it is not a storm.”

He turned back around and tapped in a command, and the holographic view screen switched to show them what the probe saw. A million flying stingrays flew over it, shrieking as they went.

“It’s a swarm!” Rose said.

The Doctor stood inches from the display, his specs perched on his nose as he peered at the video. “There are billions of them.” 

“But what are they?” Rose asked. She joined him in front of the display, watching the aliens soar over the desert surface. One flew directly at them, and just when Rose was ready to flinch from the attack, the screen went black. “What happened?”

“We’ve lost the probe,” the Doctor said. “I think it got eaten.” He threw his hands up in disgust. “Everything on this planet gets eaten.”

“Doctor, focus,” Rose said sharply. “How far away is that swarm?”

The Doctor raked his hand through his hair and paced the bridge, glaring at the blank display. “A hundred miles. But at that speed, it’ll be here in twenty minutes.” 

Rose jolted when she heard the Tritovore chittering again—she’d almost forgotten anyone else was in the room. “If they are coming for us, they will find justice swift and unpleasant.”

The Doctor shook his head quickly. “No, no, no, they’re not just coming for us. They want the wormhole.”

“You mean they’re going to Earth?” 

The Doctor nodded. “Show the analysis,” he requested. The Tritovore turned the display back on, showing the scans of the alien the probe had managed to take before being devoured. “Incredible. They swarm out of a wormhole, strip the planet bare, then move on to the next world. Start the life cycle all over again.” 

Rose stared at the image of the alien, from the curved head down to its dangerously finned tail. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she recognised, instinctively, what the design was built for.

“They make the wormholes.”

The Doctor blinked; he’d come to the same conclusion, but he could tell Rose understood more than he did. “How?”

Rose pointed at the head. “Look at that. The air glides over their body as they whip around the planet. A whole swarm of them, going faster and faster—travelling in four dimensions, like Malcolm said.” 

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “Billions of them, flying in formation, all around the planet. Round and round and round, faster and faster and faster, till they generate a rupture in the Vortex. The speed of them, and the numbers, and the size, all of that rips the wormhole into existence.”

“And then the closer they get, the bigger the wormhole gets,” Rose concluded. 

“And this is why they eat everything on the planet,” the Doctor added. He pointed at the image. “They eat the metal and extrude it to their exoskeleton, creating the perfect protection from the wormhole.” He scratched at his sideburn as he put the pieces together into a stunning whole. “So their velocity makes the wormhole, then their body makes it safe. Perfect design.” 

“Yeaaaaah,” Rose drawled. “The perfect design that’s headed straight for Earth.” 

“Guess we’d better save the planet then,” the Doctor said, a twinkle in his eye.

Rose laughed and took his hand. “Just another day in the life of the Doctor and Rose Tyler.”  

oOoOo

Donna tried to shut out the sounds of people’s fearful mutterings. She knew the Doctor and Rose could get them home. She believed that, one hundred percent. 

But she also knew that having the ability didn’t matter if you didn’t have the resources. Jenny still hadn’t shown up with the TARDIS, and without petrol, the bus was dead in the water. She snorted at the ironic metaphor—dead in the sand, she corrected, smiling wryly. 

“How are we going to get home if the bus has run out of petrol?” Barclay asked. 

Donna opened and closed her mouth a few times, unsure how to answer. It hadn’t escaped her notice that the Doctor and Rose hadn’t mentioned the TARDIS to any of the passengers. But without explaining that, how could she reassure anyone?

“T-t—” Lee paused and took a breath. “Trust the Doctor and Rose,” he said. “They’ll come through.” 

Donna nodded. “You might not believe it, but we’ve actually gotten out of worse situations than this before.” The heat outside reminded her of Pompeii, and being shot out of Vesuvius in a Pyrovile escape pod. 

An idea occurred to her, and she brightened. “They were the ones who saved the Earth from the Daleks last year!” Everyone but Lee looked at her blankly. “When there were all the planets in the sky?” she prodded, remembering Barclay mentioning it before.

Barclay whistled. “No way!” 

Donna nodded. “Yep!”

A distant rumble of thunder echoed over the desert, giving a welcome distraction. They all looked out the window at the cloud forming on the horizon.

“It sounds like a storm,” Nathan said.

“If it rains, we’ve got water,” Angela said.

“No water.” 

Donna shivered and looked back at Carmen. It was hard enough travelling with two aliens with some sort of time Spidey-sense. Carmen’s clairvoyance was downright creepy.

Carmen stared straight ahead, seeing something none of the rest of them could see. “All of it dust.”

“Don’t now, sweetheart.” Lou wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulled her close. 

The thunder came again, louder this time, and the knots in Donna’s stomach tightened as she turned to watch the storm. 

oOoOo

The Doctor turned off the display and turned back to the Tritovores. A clock was running down in his head, but he took a breath and gave them a smile. “Well, thank you for your help. I think I know how to repay you. Would you like a lift home?”

The commander and officer exchanged a look, and the commander shook his head. “A captain can’t leave his ship.”

“Oh, don’t be so daft!” the Doctor exclaimed. “A captain can leave his ship, if there’s another ship standing by.” 

The captain shook his head, his mandibles clicking.

Rose stepped forward. “Please, commander. There’s no need for you to die here. You saw that swarm, what it did to the city. Your ship will be completely eaten in less than 20 minutes.”

The Doctor held his breath. The two aliens exchanged another nonverbal conversation, but the commander shook his head again. 

“I know,” Rose said. “I have a ship I love, too. And believe me, the thought of leaving her would just… gut me.”

The Doctor’s stomach tied in knots just at the thought. They’d lost the TARDIS a few times, or come close, and it was never any easier.

“But if she were lost—well and truly lost—I wouldn’t throw my life away just to stay with her. You can get another ship, but you can’t get another life.” 

“The female speaks truly,” the lower-ranked Tritovore said. “There is no honour in needless death.” 

The Doctor stood poised on his toes, ready to run as soon as the Tritovores agreed. The swarm was only fifteen minutes away now, and they still had to run back to the bus. Rose’s phone buzzed with a new text message in his pocket, and he sighed in relief when he read Jenny’s message.

“They’re almost to the TARDIS,” he told Rose. “She’ll be here in ten minutes.” 

Rose gave the aliens a wide smile. “See, that’s our ship. So what do you say—will you come with us?” 

The commander shook his head, but handed his translator to his second in command. “This is my ship, and it is my choice to stay. But you should go home.”

The Doctor knew Rose was going to keep arguing, but they didn’t have time. He took her hand again and started for the front of the ship, followed by the second Tritovore. “It’ll take us nearly ten minutes to run back to the bus,” he told her quietly. “He isn’t going to change his mind… and weren’t you just saying you shouldn’t give your life for a lost cause?”

Rose tensed, and he shook his head. I’m not saying a living person is a lost cause, he explained. They ducked beneath the broken bits of spaceship and could finally see sunlight. But convincing him to come was. 

Rose sighed. She knew the Doctor was right, but she hated leaving the captain behind when the TARDIS was on her way. 

Her eyes watered when they stepped into the sunlight. “Oh, that’s gonna give me a headache,” she groaned.

The Doctor squinted at her. “Come on,” he said. “We can get you some paracetamol once we’re home.” He pointed to the horizon. “All right, everyone—time to run.” 

oOoOo

Donna sat in the driver’s seat, staring so hard at the blazing sand that her eyes burned. “Where are they?” she muttered. “Come on, you should have been back by now.” 

On a whim, she pulled out her phone and sent Jenny a quick text, asking for her ETA. She closed the phone resolutely as soon as it sent, refusing to stare at the screen waiting for a reply.

A hint of something on the horizon caught her eye. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the smudge on the sky. 

Everyone leaned towards the windows on the right side of the bus, staring at the glittering cloud in the sky. “What sort of storm is that?” Angela asked. 

Sand storm. The words lingered unspoken in the air, and the tension inside the bus ratcheted up a few notches. They’d all heard stories about what sand storms could do.

But after over a year travelling with the Doctor and Rose, Donna had a feeling it wasn’t sand, any more than it was water. She glanced at Carmen, afraid the woman would give another of her dire predictions and stir up more fear, but for once, she said nothing.

Donna turned back to look at the storm clouds, but she saw something else, moving fast across the sand. “There they are!” she exclaimed, pointing to the people running towards them. She squinted, then rolled her eyes and added, “And it looks like they’ve brought someone with them. Typical.” 

She glanced at her phone, but Jenny still hadn’t replied. Hopefully that means she’s in the TARDIS and can’t reply because she’s setting the coordinates.

“Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run,” Carmen chanted.

Donna forced a laugh. “That’s all the Doctor and Rose ever do, it seems. Save the world, or the universe, but always with an awful lot of running.” 

Tiny particles of sand started swirling in front of the bus, hitting the windscreen with tiny plinks. “The wind’s getting worse,” Barclay said.

Donna listened to the wind with her heart in her throat. “Please, please, please,” she mumbled. 

And then she heard it—the wheeze and groan of the TARDIS engines. 

“Yes! Oh, it’s about time!” she crowed and leapt to her feet. Lee laughed and hugged her, but all the other passengers looked at them like they were mad. 

“What are you two…” 

Christina’s question trailed off when the outline of the TARDIS became visible. “Come on,” Donna said, gesturing at the door. “That’s our ride home, everyone.” 

oOoOo

Rose laughed when she heard the TARDIS engines. “Just in time!” she said as they slid down the last dune.

“She’s always on time!” the Doctor protested, and she didn’t bother to debate the point.

Donna and Lee seemed to be getting the passengers off the bus, so Rose didn’t veer away from the TARDIS, running straight for the ship with her key out. The ship solidified just as she reached it, and she slotted her key into the lock.

“Come on, everyone!” she called to the people shuffling across the sand. “We’ve got an angry swarm on our tail and I don’t fancy being dinner.”

The unfriendly feeling built in Rose’s gut, and she ran full tilt down the ramp. “You’re a lifesaver, Jenny,” she said as she spun around the console, setting the coordinates. “Literally, a lifesaver.” 

Jenny laughed and sat on the jump seat out of Rose’s way. “Now aren’t you glad I’m staying on Earth for a while? How would you have gotten home if I hadn’t been there?”

Rose peered over the console, waiting for the Doctor to enter the TARDIS. “I promise it’s a ship,” she heard him say, and then the Tritovore stepped through the door, followed by the Doctor.

As soon as he slammed the door shut, Rose threw the dematerialisation lever. “Next stop, London.” The time rotor moved slowly, chugging as the ship took them into the Vortex. Meanwhile, Rose rocked back on her heels and watched their passengers stumble down the ramp. 

“That’s…” Barclay breathed. 

“It’s impossible,” Nathan mumbled.

From the door, the Triotovore emitted a string of clicks that roughly translated to the same sentiments.

“This box…” Lou said.

Even Lady Christina didn’t seem to know where to look. “It’s bigger on the inside,” she murmured as her gaze moved from the console to the ceiling to the struts and back to the console. “How do you make that work?”

The Doctor winked at Rose. “In a super clever, outer spacey way.”

Carmen stared up at the ceiling of the console room. “Your ship… she sings!” Her gaze snapped to Rose. “She sings your song—the song of the Wolf.” 

Rose patted the time rotor. “Yeah, she does.” For a moment, her eyes flashed gold, then she shook her head and looked at the Doctor. “You should probably call Malcolm and get him to close that wormhole.”

“Oh, good point!” The Doctor pulled the phone and quickly called Malcolm back. “Malcolm, it’s me,” he said as soon as the scientist picked up.

“I’m ready,” Malcolm pledged.

The Doctor blinked. “Ready for what?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The Doctor leaned back against one of the struts. “We’re in the TARDIS, on our way back. But there’s something on our tail. You need to close the wormhole.” 

“Would that be a compressed burst of feedback on a counter-oscillation, perchance?” 

The Doctor bounced on his toes, a broad grin on his face. “Oh, Malcolm, you’re brilliant.” 

“Coming from you, sir, that means the world.” 

“Doctor, what sort of something?” Erisa asked. “That wormhole is now measuring ten miles and growing. I need to know the exact nature of the threat.” 

“Captain Magambo, as long as Malcolm can get that wormhole closed, there won’t be a threat.”

“Doctor—”

The Doctor smashed the end call button and slid the phone into his jacket pocket. “Hold tight, everyone, we’re almost there.” 

“Almost where?” Angela asked. “We just got into a box. Is this going to protect us from the storm?” 

The Doctor grinned at her. “Ah, Angela, Just trust me—you’ll want to grab onto something.”

“It’s not like you’re driving, Space Man.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes at Donna. “Yes, I know Rose is a better driver than I am. But we’re going to land in close proximity to another wormhole, and the inter-dimensional feedback will make the landing rocky.”

He looked around at the group. “Come on, everyone. This is your co-pilot speaking. Please buckle in, or if a seatbelt has not been provided for you, latch onto the railing in front of you.”

Jenny got up and smiled at Carmen and Lou. “You take my seat. That’ll be easier for you than trying to stay upright.” 

Angela and Nathan grabbed onto the railing that ran around the edge of the platform, while Christina and Barclay clapped their hands onto the edge of the console. The Tritovore, who hadn’t moved from the ramp, sat down on the grating and waited.

And not a moment too soon. The console room lights flashed in warning, and then the TARDIS rocked out of the Vortex like a plane flying through horrible turbulence. Rose kept her feet, barely, but the Tritovore stumbled and fell backwards. 

Rose reached out a hand to help him up, ignoring his rapid clicking. “It’s fine,” she reassured him. “We’ve made it back to Earth, where everyone else lives.”

Her skin crawled as she said it, as if mentioning the name of the planet had reminded her of the original danger. She frowned; they’d made it home, but the unfriendly feeling hadn’t gone away. 

“Doctor, I don’t think Malcolm has the wormhole closed yet.” 

The Doctor’s eyes widened and he ran for the door. “Everyone, stay here until it’s safe!” he ordered as he left the TARDIS. 

Now that he was out of the TARDIS, the Doctor could clearly feel the wrongness that had started their investigation. The wormhole was about to open over London, if Malcolm didn’t stop it now. 

He pulled Rose’s phone out of his pocket and hit redial. “Malcolm!” he said as he made his way through the cars.

“Not now, I’m busy.”

The Doctor blinked; he wasn’t used to people hanging up on him. He spun and pointed at an officer. “Where is Dr. Taylor?” The man looked at him blankly and he sighed. “The scientist. What trailer is he in?”

The officer pointed at the middle trailer, and the Doctor nodded his thanks and ran off. 

He yanked open the door of the trailer and leapt inside. “Malcolm, we need to get that wormhole closed.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I know, but it’s not working.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “I need that signal,” he said, his voice low. “We’ve got billions of hostile aliens about to fly through.” 

Erisa’s eyes widened. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

The Doctor turned so she could squeeze past him. Once she was gone, he bent over Malcolm’s displays, trying to figure out where their plan had gone wrong.

“Well, what do I do?” the scientist asked.

Outside, they could hear Magambo shout orders. “Code Red. Fire at will.”

The Doctor’s nerves tightened. If any of those aliens made it through… They’d seen what it could do.

He straightened and tapped at a number on the screen. “Loop the signal back through the integrator, and keep the signal ramping up.”

Malcolm nodded and turned to his work station. He paused and looked at the Doctor over his shoulder.

“But by how much?”

“Target at nine o’clock!”

Both men flinched at the captain’s muffled words.

“Five hundred Bernards,” the Doctor growled, trying not to yell at the other man. “Do it now!”

A few gunshots fired outside as Malcolm typed in the command. The Doctor held his breath. If this worked… if only one had gotten through…

The image of the wormhole onscreen shifted, pulling closed and then disappearing like an old fashioned television signal.

“Yes!” Both men pumped their fists.

Malcolm spun around and wrapped his arms around the Doctor’s waist. “Oh. Oh. I love you.” He backed up, and his eyes shone. “I love you. I love you.” 

The Doctor smiled awkwardly. He pointed at Malcolm, then quickly ducked out of the trailer. 

oOoOo

The rest of the passengers stared blankly at the door after the Doctor ran out of the TARDIS. “Where is he going?” Christina asked. “I thought we came in here to hide from the storm.”

Rose rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of the prickly feeling. She didn’t have the patience to explain that they weren’t on San Helios any longer, so she focused on explaining what the Doctor was doing. “That wormhole was caused by aliens. We need to make sure it closes so none of them can get through to Earth.”

“It’s always aliens,” Donna said.

Rose grinned at her. “You sound like your Gramps now.”

“Yes, hello,” Christina said. “Did you just say that aliens might be going to Earth? Are we going to be safe anywhere? Are we even safe in here?”

“The TARDIS is always safe,” Rose said without looking at her. “The hordes of Genghis Khan couldn’t get through those doors.”

Suddenly, the unfriendly feeling and the Doctor’s tension both disappeared at the same time. Rose took a deep breath and leaned on the console. 

“What is it?” Angela asked. 

“We can go outside now.” 

Nathan and Barclay looked at each other, then at the door. None of the passengers moved. “Is it safe out there then?” Nathan asked.

Rose bit back a grin. “I think I can say it’s as safe as you’re used to,” she said, gesturing to the door.

Everyone exchanged looks, clearly not sure what to make of her comment. Finally, Barclay walked up the ramp past the Tritovore and opened the door.

“It’s London!” he exclaimed. 

The Tritovore’s mandibles clicked rapidly as he tried to move out of the way of the four humans crowding up the ramp. 

Rose swallowed a laugh when they all stood in the doorway, staring out at the familiar city. “We’re back home,” Angela said.

“You and the Doctor talked about driving,” Barclay continued, “but I was sort of distracted by the bigger on the inside ship.”

“You did it,” Nathan said to Rose. “You and the Doctor, you got us home just like you promised.” 

Rose smiled. “Like I said, it’s as safe as you’re used to.” Relieved laughter echoed in the TARDIS as everyone stepped out into the street.

Donna stared at the woman still standing in the shadows of the console room. Lady Christina hadn’t stepped towards the door, and she had a feeling she knew why. 

“Rose, we still have a passenger on board,” she said. “A human passenger,” she amended, glancing at the fly creature standing across the console from her.

Rose turned around and her eyebrows rose when she saw Lady Christina. “I spotted several members of the metropolitan police outside,” she said. “I don’t suppose they have anything to do with your hesitation to leave the TARDIS.” 

Lady Christina shrugged and pushed her hair back over her ear. “I’m afraid they might not look too kindly on some of my recent actions.” 

“We found a gold cup in her bag,” Donna said. “Lee said it’s the cup of Ethel something.” 

“Æthelstan,” Lady Christina said primly. 

Rose’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re a thief.” She looked Lady Christina over, taking in her expensive clothing. “But why? Don’t tell me you need the money.”

Lady Christina was suddenly all sad eyes and slumped shoulders. “Daddy lost everything. Invested his fortune in the Icelandic banks.”

“Oh, come off it!” Donna exploded. 

Rose held her hand up. “No, if you want money, you rob a bank. Stealing from a major museum… that’s an adventure, a way of life.” 

Lady Christina smirked at her. “I don’t think you can really talk about anyone else wanting a life of adventure,” she said, looking pointedly around the TARDIS. “Flying around in this little blue box, crashing into buses that go through wormholes and so many other things. We’re not really so different.” 

Rose glared at her. There was some truth in those words, as galling as it was. “I never stole from anyone, though,” she pointed out.

“Maybe if I had a life like this, I wouldn’t either.” 

Rose pursed her lips. Part of her wanted to march Lady Christina outside and hand her over to the Metropolitan Police. It was no less than she deserved. 

But no matter how much Christina’s personality had grated on her, she still deserved a chance—just like everyone else she and the Doctor met. 

Lee cleared his throat. “I think I know the p-p-perfect place for her,” he said. “Full of adventure, and they aren’t too picky about grey morals.”

Rose stared at him for a long moment before she caught what he was saying. “The Time Agency.”

Lee nodded. “I still know people. I could get her a spot in the t-t-training program.” 

While Rose was mulling it over, Christina huffed. “Excuse me, you do realise I’m standing right here while you all decide my future.” 

Donna glared at her. “Listen here, Posh Spice, you’re getting a better offer than you deserve. Shut your trap.”

Christina’s eyes glittered at the name, but she wisely did as she was told. That tiny bit of wisdom decided Rose. 

“You have two choices, Christina. You can go through those doors right now and be arrested for your crimes.” She paused and watched Christina look warily at the door. 

“Or, you can take Lee’s offer and join the Time Agency. It’s plenty of adventure and thrill, and not too much rule following.”

Christina shifted from one foot to the other. “What about the cup?” she asked finally.

Rose almost withdrew the offer at those selfish words, but she managed to rein in her temper. “Oh, the cup is going back to the museum no matter which option you choose.”

Christina scowled, but after a moment she nodded. “I suppose it’s the better option. Orange really is not my colour.”

Lee smiled, then looked at Rose. “My Vortex Manipulator is back in Cardiff. If you and the Doctor will drop us off at home, I can take Christina to her new life.”  

Rose nodded, then held out her hand. “I’ll take the cup back now.”

Lady Christina sighed, but she pulled it out of the bag. “You wouldn’t believe what I went through to get that.”

Rose rolled her eyes, then walked out of the TARDIS. She could hear a UNIT officer telling all the passengers they would be screened and debriefed, but that didn’t concern her. 

The Metropolitan Police were hovering near the group of passengers. One man in particular kept standing on his toes, straining to see everyone in line. “I’m looking for someone,” he told another UNIT officer. “A woman, with long dark hair.” 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen her. You’ll have to wait behind the line, sir.” 

“But she’s mine!” 

Rose made her way towards him. “Are you looking for Lady Christina?” she asked. 

He spun around. “Yes! Where is she? I know she was on that bus, I saw her.”

Rose bit her lip. “I’m sorry, she didn’t make it back. But,” she went on quickly before he could launch into a rant, “I did find this in her bag. I hope this helps.” 

She held out the cup, which he took and passed off to a subordinate without looking at it. “I didn’t want the cup; I wanted her. Where is she? She can’t get away from me this time.” 

“I told you, sir, she isn’t in London. She’ll never be in London again.” Strictly speaking, it was the truth. The TARDIS was its own dimension; inside the ship, Christina wasn’t exactly in London.

By this time, the rest of the passengers had taken notice of their conversation. “That’s right,” Barclay said. “All of us left that ship together. You saw us.” 

For a moment, Rose thought the police officer would storm into the TARDIS and search her. Finally he spun around and walked off in a huff. 

oOoOo

The Doctor wasn’t alone when Rose spotted him. Rose studied the UNIT officer as they approached; she was familiar, somehow.

“Doctor, Ms Tyler, I salute you whether you like it or not.” 

“We’ve met before,” Rose said, and the memory snapped into place. “On the Valiant. You were part of the team that came to debrief everyone after the Master’s death.” 

Erisa nodded, a slight smile on her face. “And I know from that encounter not to ask if you’ll help with the paperwork.” 

The Doctor laughed. “Well remembered, Captain.”

Erisa nodded. “Now, I take it we’re safe from those things? I did hear that you lost a passenger.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows rose and he looked at Rose. “Did we?” 

She shook her head. “We’re helping someone relocate and start a new life. The Metropolitan Police wouldn’t understand.” 

“Ah,” Erisa said. “Yes, he’s been quite insistent that one of your passengers belonged to him. But the creatures?” she asked again, focusing on the part of the story that concerned UNIT.

The Doctor shrugged. “They’ll start again. Generate a new doorway. It’s not their fault, it’s their natural life cycle.” 

“But we’ll do what we can to sort of guide the wormholes to uninhabited planets,” Rose added. 

Two familiar figures caught the Doctor’s eye, distracting him. “Yeah… Closer to home, Captain,” he said, pointing at them. “Those two lads. Very good in a crisis. Nathan needs a job; Barclay’s good with engines. You could do a lot worse. Privates Nathan and Barclay, UNIT’s finest.”

Captain Magambo glanced over at the two young men and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” She snapped another salute. “Till we meet again, Doctor.” 

“I hope so.” 

The Doctor held out his hand and smiled when Rose took it. So, we have a new passenger do we? he asked as they walked home.

Rose shook her head. Lee is going to take her to the Time Agency to train. In his words, they provide the adventure she’s looking for and won’t mind if her morals are more grey.

The Doctor chuckled. “That works,” he agreed. “Though I don’t envy her recruit training.” 

They were almost back to the TARDIS when Carmen called out to them. “Rose?”

They both turned and the Doctor smiled at Carmen. His smile faded when she regarded them soberly. 

“You and the Doctor take care now.”

“You too,” Rose said. “Keep playing the lottery and enjoying every moment of your life.” 

Carmen shook her head. “No, but you be careful. The wolf’s song, it doesn’t change—but change is coming.” She looked at the Doctor. “When there are two of you, that’s when it will happen.”

She nodded again, then she and Lou walked away.

oOoOo

If Donna and Lee noticed that the Doctor and Rose were more subdued than usual, they didn’t say anything. They waited patiently while the Doctor and Rose first took the Tritovore back to his home world. 

That’s one good thing from this trip at least, the Doctor told Rose. We managed to save someone.

And the Earth, she reminded him. 

He nodded, but she felt his telepathic shrug. That wasn’t enough to make up for whatever was bothering him, apparently.

She sat back and watched as he flew them back to Cardiff to drop off Lee, Donna, and Christina. As soon as the doors were shut, he slammed the dematerialisation lever with a force that had the TARDIS whistling in indignation.

Carmen’s words were humming in both of their minds so loudly that neither of them needed to say them out loud. Change is coming. 

Change was the one constant in their life, but somehow, this sounded different. “What do you think she meant?” Rose asked finally. 

The Doctor sighed and leaned his head back against the console. “Oh, we’ll probably meet another one of my regenerations at some point. It’s an inevitability, really. It’s surprising it doesn’t happen more often, as much as I used to hang out in London.” 

Rose shook her head. “Doctor.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.” His voice was harsh, and he took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Rose, and it honestly terrifies me. The last time we got a cryptic message about the future, it turned out to mean the Master was still around. I know it can’t be that, but—”

Rose shook her head. “That wasn’t the last time,” she disagreed. “The last time was the Pyrovile telling us that Mickey was coming back.” 

The Doctor pressed his tongue to the rough of his mouth. “I forgot about that,” he admitted. “Okay, so mysterious messages about the future don’t always refer to something bad. Though I should point out, in the broader context, that message was about Davros trying to end reality as we know it.”

“That change would have been bad,” Rose agreed. “But Mickey was coming back so it wouldn’t happen. So maybe this change… whatever it is, maybe it’s going to happen so other bad things won’t?” 

Rose held her breath as those words hung in the air. There was something there, some truth she’d landed on without knowing it. 

The Doctor scrubbed his hands over his face, and she realised he hadn’t felt that shiver in the timelines. “Hey,” she said softly, taking his hands. “We’re gonna be all right, me and you. Yeah?”

At the same time, she reached out telepathically and tugged at his anxiety, slowly helping him unravel it the way he helped her. Finally, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled her into his arms.

Rose sighed and rested her head on his chest. The Doctor pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then whispered a single word.

“Forever.”

[lazyyogi]

Loving and being loved are two very different things.

If someone loves you but you are somehow shut off, depressed, or unable to receive it, then no matter how much they love you, you will not feel it.

Yet if you love someone, regardless of whether or not they accept it, you will feel filled with love. 

That difference highlights the fact that love is a non-dual phenomenon. Love doesn’t require two people, or a subject and object.

It requires just one heart. 

Whenever it seems like love is disappearing from your life, be that in the form of a breakup or a series of unfortunate events, don’t struggle to impose your preferences onto the situation. Don’t strive to satisfy your insecurity. 

Instead, use the opportunity to uncover the real abode of love, the timeless radiance within your beating heart. 

It’s not easy and it’s not painless, but really there is no other choice.

Love shines from the placeless, timeless, sourceless source within.

So long as you require someone or something external to give you permission to access and commune with the source of love, you will be in unnecessary bondage.

But by learning to bear your heart, to allow it to break open, you can uncover the very abode of consciousness. 

LY

[pandapetals]

Photo

Xavier shows you a photo of the X-Men from their younger days.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Xavier’s office was usually a place for quick meetings, somewhere you and Logan visited only for mission briefings or occasional check-ins. But today, while waiting for the Professor, you found yourself lingering, letting your eyes wander over the collection of old, leather-bound books and the intricate wood detailing that gave the room a cozy, timeless charm. It felt like stepping into a library from another era, filled with the scent of aged paper and polished oak.

"Admiring the place?" Xavier's warm voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him wheeling himself in with a small smile.

"Sorry, Professor," you said, slightly sheepish. "I didn’t mean to snoop."

He chuckled, waving a hand to dismiss your apology. "It’s quite all right. I must admit, it’s rare to have you in my office for longer than a moment."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?"

Xavier’s smile grew, a fondness lighting up his face. "You’re a busy woman. And Logan… well, he seems rather determined to keep you occupied," he said with a soft laugh, his tone carrying a hint of mischief.

You laughed too, nodding. "He does have a habit of dragging me into all his projects. Says he’s teaching me ‘important skills,’" you replied, making air quotes with a smirk. "Last week it was ‘how to change the oil in a motorcycle,’ which turned out to be mostly him showing off while I handed him tools."

Xavier's expression softened, his eyes filled with a quiet pride. "You know," he began, his voice gentler now, "He was… rough around the edges when he first joined us. Lost, even. But you…" He paused, searching for the right words. "You’ve helped him find a part of himself he didn’t even realize he had."

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words. "I think he’d say the same about all of you, Professor," you replied softly. "This place… the X-Men… you’re his family."

Xavier nodded, his gaze drifting to a framed photo on his desk. "We are, yes," he murmured, then reached over and picked up the frame, holding it out to you. "But it’s different now. I think you’ve made him realize he’s allowed to want more than that."

You took the frame, looking down at a photograph that seemed to capture a moment frozen in time. It was a group shot of the original X-Men—Jean, Scott, Ororo, Hank, and Xavier. They were all smiling, looking so much younger, full of energy and purpose. There, slightly to the side, arms crossed and brows furrowed was Logan. He looked much younger too, but even then, there was a touch of that familiar gruffness in his stance, a man who hadn’t quite found his place.

"He hasn’t changed much," you said softly, studying Logan’s face in the photo, taking in the wild hair and the faint scowl. "Still has that brooding intensity."

Xavier chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Indeed. Though I think he’d deny it if anyone pointed it out."

You handed the photo back to Xavier, your heart full as you thought about the man Logan had become and the quiet way he had opened himself to you over time. "Thank you for showing me this, Professor."

"It was my pleasure," he said, his voice warm. "And thank you, truly, for making him the man he was always meant to be."

Later that evening, you found Logan in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with a half-hearted grumble about there never being enough beer. You leaned against the counter, watching him with a fond smile until he finally noticed and turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

"Why are you starin' at me like that?" he asked, his tone suspicious but amused.

You bit back a smirk, crossing your arms as you studied him, letting your gaze linger on the familiar lines of his face, his scruffy beard, the hair that always had a life of its own. "I was just thinking," you said, feigning an air of innocence. "Xavier showed me an old photo of the team today. You know, back when you all were young and fresh-faced."

Logan rolled his eyes, closing the fridge with a sigh. "Oh, here we go," he muttered, clearly bracing himself for whatever you were about to say.

"You had… quite the hairstyle," you teased, grinning. "Those wild sideburns, that brooding glare... Honestly, you looked like the cover of some 80s rock album. I half-expected to see a guitar slung over your shoulder."

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Real funny, sweetheart," he grumbled, though you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Didn’t realize I was signin' up to be mocked for my ‘youthful looks’ when I married you."

You laughed, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Oh, I’m not complaining," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. "In fact, I think I would’ve fallen for you back then, too."

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with a skeptical smirk. "You? Fallin' for the cranky loner with bad hair? I don’t buy it."

You shrugged, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "What can I say? I have a type," you teased. "Apparently, I’m a sucker for brooding, wild-haired men with a mysterious past."

He let out a soft chuckle, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer. "Well, lucky for me, then," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Guess I did somethin' right if I managed to get you to stick around."

You looked up at him, your hand finding his cheek, your thumb brushing over the familiar lines of his face. "You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted, Logan," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "Sideburns and all."

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes, and you felt his hand slip into yours, squeezing gently. "Love you, darlin’," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

 "We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible string"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

masterlist | next chapter

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 5k>>

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). Probably some grammar mistakes because I write things fast.

a/n: New fic alert! Hello, I got this idea and I wanted to write it, so this is going to be a series depending on how this part performs. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

When you’re young, you’re naïve

When you’re young, you know everything

But when you’re young, they assume you know nothing,

That’s why two people falling in love at the age of seventeen doesn’t seem interesting. People will assume a love like that, at that age is just a phase with a tragic ending. Tears, broken hearts, and the promises of never falling in love again.

But this one was different. You and Joel were different, two souls that had met at the age of five, growing up together as best friends, until one fell and then the other. One shared a kiss, and the best friends turned into lovers. 

Isn’t that typical?

It was. Both of you knew, but still, you didn’t listen. Both of you become one soul, destined to be together since you were two kids playing hide and seek together. 

Joel and you traveled the twisting roads of adolescence hand in hand as the years passed. Your shared love was a tapestry woven from the thread of shared dreams and whispered secrets. 

Everything around you changed as well. From the carefree days of children to the turbulent storms of adolescence, your friendship has survived it all. Some tears fell like soft rain, washing away the doubts that crept into our hearts, and there were times of joy that resonated through the halls of your shared history.

Yet, with every rock on the road, you found the strength to rise again, your hands tightly intertwined. Joel became your confidant, the keeper of your fears, and the little light of hope during the darkest nights.

When you both turned seventeen, the very age at which outsiders claimed to be the year of mistakes and growing, one kiss changed everything. The connection between you both only deepened. And when the world might have seen you as naïve, you understood the profound love of your bond. It wasn’t a youthful infatuation; it was a love story written in the stars long before you were aware of its existence. 

People whispered their doubts, predicting heartbreak and the inevitable end of your love story. Yet, in the quiet moments when it was just Joel and you against the world, you knew that your love was timeless. The promises made weren't born out of youthful exuberance; they were the solemn vows of two souls who had found their way to each other, over and over again, since the age of five.

Not even when you left Austin to go to college, the odds against you weren’t able to separate you. The odds seemed stacked against you, with skeptics murmuring that the challenges of a long-distance relationship would surely spell the end of your story. But you defied those expectations.

Letters and late-night calls became your lifelines, bridging the physical gap between you. Each word written and every shared moment over the phone felt like a testament to the enduring strength of your love. You didn’t let the rust grow between you, neither did he. 

He was there the day you graduated, being the first face, you found across the room smiling back at you with proudness. Through that look and grin, there was an oath behind, not only the survival of your love but to distance emerging even stronger. He being there meant that, after this, you both could build your life together, get married, have children, and grow old together. 

“I can’t wait to marry you” he whispered against your lips that night as you made love. 

“And I can’t wait to be your wife” you whispered back, whimpering under his touch.

But with the past of the months, the fights started. He coming home late from work, and your struggling with finding a job added a layer of stress to your relationship. Frustration crept into our conversations, and what were once gentle whispers of love turned into heated exchanges, grappling with the frustration of job rejections and the sense of inadequacy that came with each disappointment. Joel, burdened by the demands of his career, found solace in the late hours at the office.

Spending time with a colleague you dislike because of their closeness, because he seemed to treat her the way he wasn’t treating you now. 

Conversations about the state of your relationship became unavoidable. One evening, as the weight of your unspoken grievances hung heavy in the air. 

"Joel, we can't keep going on like this. I need more from our relationship, and I can't shake off the feeling that you're finding solace elsewhere."

His response was a defensiveness grunt, speaking about the pressure at work, how he needed to prove himself, and how your job search struggles only added to his burden.

“So is it my fault?” You shouted. 

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sharpness of my words. The defensiveness waned, replaced by a hint of realization. "No, it's not about fault," he began, his voice softer now, "but the pressure at work has been consuming me. I feel like I'm drowning, and I don't know how to balance everything." He sighed, “And you’re not even able to find a job” he added, the words hitting like a sharp jab amid our emotional battlefield.

He ended up calling you a mistake, and you called him a coward. 

 The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of your words sank.  The frustration that had been simmering boiled over into a heated exchange. "A mistake?" you retorted, your voice edged with hurt and anger. "Is that how you see me? As some kind of burden or failure?"

Joel's expression shifted again, torn between regret and the lingering pressure that had driven him to lash out. "I didn't mean it like that," he began, but his attempt to backtrack only fueled the growing storm.

As the argument escalated, each word became a weapon in our emotional battlefield. Accusations flew, and the once-clear path of our relationship was now obscured by the fog of resentment and hurt. The dreams we had whispered to each other now seemed distant and unattainable, replaced by the harsh reality of you present.

“Maybe we should break up,” you said, motionless, tired of the fights. “And I will leave, and take the job I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to leave you here” 

continued, the weight of the decision evident in my voice. The sacrifice echoed the painful truth that sometimes love, even when genuine, isn't always enough to weather the storms life throws your way.

Joel's eyes reflected a mix of surprise and realization, the gravity of the moment sinking in. The prospect of parting ways, of unraveling the life we had built together, cast a shadow over the room.

“Oh, are you surprised I’m not the failure you thought I was?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping through the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

The room felt charged with the emotional storm of your shared history, the dreams you had woven now frayed and brittle. The vulnerability of that moment exposed the raw truth that love, no matter how deep, could sometimes prove inadequate in the face of life's relentless challenges.

Love has not always survived. 

Joel's silence spoke volumes, his eyes reflecting the complexity of emotions that swirled within. The air felt heavy with regret, sadness, and the painful realization that a choice needed to be made.

And when the lack of words persisted, and in the heavy silence, you walked towards the bedroom, the weight of the decision settling into every step you took. The room, once a shared bright sanctuary, now witnessed the dismantling of a life we had built together.

In the dim light, you fumbled for your suitcase, hands trembling as you threw clothes inside. Each piece of clothing now felt like a painful reminder of what was slipping away. The vulnerability of that moment, intensified by the tears that blurred your vision, underscored the reality that sometimes love, despite its depth, couldn't shield us from the harshness of life's trials.

The sound of the zipper closing echoed in the room, marking the final choice that had been made. Joel remained in the doorway, a silent observer of the disintegration of a shared reality. His eyes, a mosaic of conflicting emotions, spoke of a recognition that what once was could no longer be sustained.

As you carried the suitcase, its weight mirrored the heaviness in your heart. The room, filled with the echoes of your memories from the past, felt emptier with every step toward the door. The unspoken pain lingered a palpable energy that accompanied you through the threshold of a life I had known so intimately.

The choice had been made, and in that moment, the gravity of our decision settled in—the dreams you had shared now relegated to the shadows of what could have been. The door closed behind you, and at that exact moment, you didn’t know how you were anymore, not when this was the first time you would start navigating life without Joel.

And then, when the months passed by, you were face to face again. He tried to change the ending, but it was late. He was going to be a father of a child that wasn’t yours. 

And weeks later, on a night you were out, drinking all your tears and sadness, you met a guy, and three months after, you found out you were pregnant.

Joel and you were going to become parents, but with different people. 

And it seemed like all people were telling the truth. 

When you’re young you know nothing.

Thirteen years later...

Eyes focused on the road, breathe in, breathe out, thoughts wild around your head. 

You were driving back to Austin, back to your past self, to the five-year-old you, back to the seventeen-year-old you, back to…

No, you thought.

Tara was sitting in the backseat, earphones in her ears probably listening to a song that would take her away from her reality, from moving from her home, leaving behind every single thing she grew up loving.

Just like you, you said to yourself. 

“Hey, sweets are you okay?” you asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Can we stop for a burger? I’m hungry” She avoided the question, again

“Your father is waiting for us at our new house, then we will get lunch, okay?”

She nodded, not uttering more words. She nodded, offering no more words. Then, she broke the silence. "I’m mad. I’m mad at you for leaving your life behind for Dad."

Confused, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

“You just had your job that you loved back at home; you had your friends. I had my life too and now we have to move here just because Dad said so?” Tara's frustration spilled out.

“He got a better job, that means—”

“That means nothing,” she interrupted. “Look, Mom, I know he loves me, and that he may love you, but he has always loved himself more than us. I think it's unfair for you to leave all that behind just for him.”

“Tara,” you whispered, struck by her perceptiveness. You thought it was incredible how at thirteen she was so aware of every single detail, and how much he knew you.

“I know if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t leave that life behind,” Tara spoke, her words cutting through the tension in the car. "I know there’s no man you would have done that for.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of the revelation settling in before you spoke. "There was one man before," you confessed, catching Tara’s attention. "His name was Joel," you said, the words heavy with the weight of memories, almost feeling a lump forming in your throat.

As you mentioned Joel's name, the car seemed to carry an unspoken history. Tara's eyes widened with curiosity and surprise.

“He was my best friend when we were kids,” you began, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. “We grew up together, faced the challenges of growing older, and eventually, we fell in love.”

“What happened to him?” she asked. 

"We broke up, and just when we tried to get back together, he found out he got another woman pregnant," you explained.

"He cheated," Tara concluded, a hint of judgment in her tone.

"No, he didn’t, but... I couldn’t bear to be with him, so I left."

"And then you met Dad," she deduced.

You nodded, acknowledging the sequence of events that had shaped your life. The car carried the weight of shared revelations, and the road to Austin became a journey not only through physical landscapes but also through the landscapes of your history.

Tara sat in the backseat, absorbing the complexities of your past.

"But," you added, "even though Joel and I didn't end up together, he will always hold a special place in my heart. People come into our lives for a reason, and Joel was a significant chapter in my story."

The air inside the car was a combination of anxiety and reflection as it approached its new home in Austin. Tara sat quietly in the backseat, her thoughts appearing lost in the stories you had told, still absorbing the specifics of your past.

As you approached the curb, your tires crunched on the cobblestone driveway. The foreign exterior of the new house appeared before you like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of your new existence. Dwight, your husband, stood on the porch, a bright smile on his face as he noticed the car.

Exiting the vehicle, you opened the back door for Tara, and the three of you stood together in the driveway. Dwight approached, a mixture of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

"Welcome home!" he exclaimed, wrapping both of you in a warm embrace.

Tara offered a half-smile, still processing the weight of the move and the revelations that had unfolded during the journey. Dwight, ever perceptive, sensed the mix of emotions in the air.

"How was the drive?" he inquired, glancing between you and Tara.

"Long," Tara replied tersely, her eyes flickering with a hint of weariness.

Dwight, aware of the challenges the move presented, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not easy, Tara, but I promise you'll find your place here."

The aroma of fresh starts penetrated the air as the three of you entered your new home. Dwight gave Tara a quick tour of the house, pointing out the right closets and stating to her that moving would be a good thing.

Dwight and Tara began to develop their rhythm of connection while unpacking boxes and settling into the unfamiliar home. The new place of residence began to turn from a new area to an area where shared memories would be established as the day progressed.

You couldn't help but think about Joel as you gazed around at the shifting landscape of your life, the echoes of the past fading into the background as you welcomed the present and the promise of a new chapter in your life in Austin.

It had been a week since Tara started school here, and she had begun to settle at the new school, at the unfamiliar hallways, and faces that were yet to become friends. Adjusting to a new environment, especially in the tumultuous teenage years, was never an easy feat. 

That’s what you feared the most. 

One afternoon, as you were going about your routine at the new house, your phone rang. The caller ID displayed the school's number, and a wave of concern washed over you. You answered with a sense of trepidation, already fearing the worst.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Evans from High School. Am I speaking with Tara's mother?"

"Yes, this is her mother. Is everything okay?" you asked, your heart racing.

"I'm calling to inform you that there was an incident at school today involving Tara. There was a fight, and we need you to come in for a meeting to discuss the situation." 

A mix of worry and confusion filled the air as you tried to process the information. A fight? This was entirely out of character for Tara.

"Of course, I'll be there," you replied, a knot forming in your stomach.

As you arrived at the high school, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. The unfamiliar hallways seemed to close in around you as you made your way to the principal's office. Tara and another girl with curly hair stood outside the door,

Behind the curly-haired girl, a man loomed, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, dismissing the improbable thought as wishful thinking. As you walked ahead, the distance between you and the trio narrowed.

Entering the principal's office, the air seemed charged with tension. Mrs. Evans greeted you, her expression stern but professional. However, your attention was drawn to the man beside you, and when you finally looked, Joel stood there, his mouth agape, his eyes locked onto yours.

Time seemed to hang suspended in that moment as a flood of emotions washed over you—surprise, disbelief, and a surge of memories that had long been tucked away. The collision of your past and present felt surreal, and the room seemed to blur around the edges.

You were 22 again.

Neither of you said anything, instead, you allowed the principal to talk about the situation that had happened. 

Mrs. Evans, proceeded to share the details of the incident with a measured tone, bringing the focus back to Tara and her well-being. As she spoke, you and Joel maintained an uneasy silence, glancing at each other intermittently with expressions that betrayed a mixture of emotions.

"There was an unfortunate incident earlier today," Mrs. Evans began, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "Tara and another student, Sarah, found themselves in a situation where a group of boys was bothering Tara. Sarah intervened to defend her, and the situation escalated into a physical altercation."

Your concern for Tara heightened, but a glimmer of gratitude surfaced as you heard about Sarah's protective stance. You stole a glance at Joel, whose eyes betrayed a complex mix of emotions—perhaps a reflection of his own memories and regrets.

"Both Tara and Sarah are being appropriately addressed," Mrs. Evans continued, her eyes shifting between the individuals in the room. "We take any form of violence seriously, but we also recognize the need to ensure our students feel safe and supported."

As the principal delved into the steps being taken to address the situation, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the reunion with Joel in such unexpected circumstances. The shared concern for Tara momentarily bridged the gap of years and unresolved emotions, creating an unspoken connection.

The meeting concluded with an agreement on counseling for Tara and a commitment to monitoring the situation closely. As you rose to leave, the weight of the encounter lingered. So, you took Tara, delicately by the arm, and walked away from the ghosts from your past. 

“Hey, Tara wait!” The voice of Sarah called out, getting closer to us. 

Tara stopped in her tracks and turned to face the girl with beautiful curly hair, with a smile on her face.

“What?” Tara asked delicately.

“I want you to know I don’t regret what I did for you” She began, “And I have no idea what is like to be in new a place because I’ve always been here, and I also want you to know that you have a friend here. I will defend you from all those stupid guys making fun of you” 

A grin appeared on your daughter’s face at Sarah's words, and she enveloped the girl in a hug murmuring a quiet “thank you” you had still been able to hear. 

Your heart burst, not only for the happiness of your daughter finding a friend but for the tranquility she would feel from now on. Yet you couldn’t bear to lift your gaze from the girls because you knew once you did it, you would have to look at the same face that made you leave this city.

“Okay, Tara it’s time to go home,” you said, delicately grabbing your daughter’s arm, “and thank you, Sarah, for what you did for her”

“No problem” she said, smiling at you.

Once you both, said goodbye, you and Tara walked toward the car until a voice made you both stop your pace, and your heart beated like a drum.

“Yes?” you turned around, finding the strength to face Joel.

“I think it may be great for us to talk about our daughters” Joel spoke, buying some more seconds of your presence.

“Everything is clear." your voice came in a monotonous tone.

“But not between us” he said, with an undertone.

But instead of words, a heat overcame you, and you felt the skin around your eyes burn, you lifted you hand to your eyes, preventing the tears welled up in the corner to fall. But once you did it, you started crying, not knowing how to react and facing your past in front of you, how facing the man you had loved your whole life after thirteen years without any trace of him.

Joel took a step closer, his expression concerned. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, his voice softening.

You took a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself. “It’s okay,” you said, taking a step back from his touch “I’m just stressed with all the changes” you lied, and grace a tiny smile towards him “We can talk another day when I’m settled.”

He simply nodded, caressing his chest with the palm of his hand in an attempt to take away the pain and confusion of seeing you again. 

With a daughter, and probably married to another man.

“Drive safe,” he said, with a caring touch in his voice.

You nodded, turning on your heel, walking towards the car without looking back. 

“You know her, don’t you?” Sarah asked his father, after seeing his longing expression as he watched you walking away from him. 

“I did once,” he said, still looking at your car as if you would get out and tell him you wanted to try again. 

And inside the car, the events weren’t different from outside. Once you put your seatbelt, Tara kept looking at you as if you were going to break at any moment. 

“He is that Joel, right?” She asked you carefully, trying to get her answer. 

You nodded. 

Tara nodded, her expression was pure concern "Are you okay, Mom?"

You managed a reassuring smile, even though the tears still lingered in the corners of your eyes. "I'll be fine, sweetheart. It's just unexpected to see him again after so many years." 

You took a glimpse in the rearview mirror as you drove away from the curb, leaving Joel standing there. As your mind lingered on a sudden encounter, the familiar surroundings began to blend as well. Your heart was heavier with the burdens of the days gone by, and the tears you pushed back threatened to spill over, again. 

As you drove home, the stillness between you and Tara was loaded with unspoken feelings. Your mind raced with old memories, and you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of weakness that Joel's comeback had caused in you.

What were the odds? You thought.

Meanwhile, Joel stood still, watching the car disappear into the distance. The question asked by Sarah still hanging in the air. "You know her, don't you?" Sarah questioned her father, who appeared to be absorbed in the memories that your presence had triggered.

As he tried to make sense of what was happening, his mind was in a rush of emotions. It felt strange and overwhelming to see you after thirteen years. The agony of the past came forward, and he felt for just a moment like an outsider in his own life, watching the movie of the both of you being played all over again.

Joel paused briefly before breaking the silence. "I've missed you," he said, his eyes scanning your face for signs of reconciliation.

You nodded, attempting to conceal the residual worries that had grown during the three months you had spent away from each other “I've missed us as well. Perhaps we should try again," you reasoned.

However, as the talk progressed, the truth began to appear like a storm on the other side of the sky. Joel's hesitation hinted at something more serious, something he had been holding him back. 

"But first, I need to tell you something," he finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I got involved with someone else during our time apart."

The look on your face was enough for him to know that the news he was about to deliver was going to change everything between the both of you.

“She is pregnant.” He confessed, almost inaudible. 

The room seemed to shrink as the weight of his words settled in. Shock and disbelief mingled with the pain of what it seemed as a betrayal in your mind, but you knew it wasn’t. You had hoped for a fresh start, but this revelation shattered those hopes.

He had a girl to take care of, a baby he was going to love.

"You're going to be a father?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation was a heavy blow, and you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the news.

Joel nodded; his eyes filled with remorse. "I didn't plan for this. It just happened."

“No. I don’t need an explanation of what you did when we weren’t together” Hurt, and resignation welled up inside you. "But we cannot be together. No, when you’re going to have a child with someone else. It’s not fair to any of us.” 

Joel's remorse-filled gaze met yours, and he nodded in acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. The dreams of rekindling what once was seemed to crumble in that moment, replaced by the harsh truth of divergent paths.

"This doesn’t change anything between us," Joel whispered, his voice laden with regret, trying to reach for you.

“It does!” you called out, “It does change everything” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the waves of emotion crashing within. "I hope you find the happiness you're looking for, Joel. But it can't be with me."

You stepped closer to him, cupping one side of his face with your hand, tracing his cheek with your thumb, and trying to take a picture of him with your eyes. 

One last picture, the last time you will have him this close to you. 

And you leaned in, sealing this goodbye with a last kiss, savoring the sweet taste of his lips mixed with the salt of his tears streaming down your face. He grabbed your face with his last strength holding you back from slipping from his fingers, but once you pulled away, and looked at him one last time. 

Then, you turned away, leaving the room, and, in a way, leaving a chapter of your life behind. The door closed with a soft click, sealing the end of a love story that had once held a promise, but it ended with Joel losing his princess. 

“Let’s go, baby girl,” he said after a moment, wrapping his arm around Sarah, and walking to the car. 

Tara kept stealing glances at you from the passenger seat, sensing the urgency of the scenario. The worry could be seen in her eyes, and you couldn't help but notice how perceptive she had become.

The car pulled to a stop in front of your house, which had become your new home in a place of spirits of the buried skeletons plotted to ruin your life. Tara unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face you; her face filled with apprehension. "Mom, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

You smiled, grateful for the depth of understanding and maturing in your daughter's eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that."

As you both entered the house, the now familiar surroundings did little to ease the whirlwind of emotions within you. The past had a way of resurfacing when you least expected it, and Joel's reappearance had reopened wounds you thought had healed.

Once inside, in the quiet living room, your Dwight welcomed both of you with a smile on his face, “Hey is everything okay with you Tara?”

“Yes, Dad, just a misunderstanding,” he said, as if the matter wasn’t important, passing beside upstairs. 

As you and your husband were left alone, he sensed something wrong with you.

"Hey, love, is everything okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for a glimpse of the truth.

You forced a smile, attempting to push away the turmoil that threatened to surface. "Yeah, just a blast from the past today.”

Dwight wrapped his arms around you, a gesture of comfort that, for a moment, allowed you to forget the complexities of the day. He pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, and as the warmth of his touch enveloped you, a pang of guilt swept through the figment of your mind, and you couldn’t help but feeling ashamed of yourself for tasting the lips of a man you had settled with because you couldn’t stay with the love of your life.

And you feel disgusted of wanting for him to be Joel.

And at the same time in a different place in the same city, Joel was dreaming of you again.

[aliaology]

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK, SERIES!

important note!

summary: dating jack hughes should’ve been the last thing you had done. from hearing about his play boy acts, to random hookups, you should’ve known he wasn’t bound to be loyal. bells ( y/n ) dated jack, for three years, and was ultimately broken up with one her 20th birthday after a huge argument in which she found out she was being cheated on.

now it’s no surprise that jacks brothers stayed to support him, but the argument with luke ultimately left her crushed along with the argument with trevor that left her all alone in new jersey. she finally moves back to toronto, living with her brother until she can get a stable income.

for the next two years, she slowly works herself back up and in the present time, finally releases the music she made. the thing is, its all about jack and everyone knows, including him. maybe, just maybe, coles party and the events after that can fix a love that should’ve been timeless.

pairings: jack hughes x fem!marner!reader, jack hughes x fem!oc (they arent endgame promise),

warnings: jealousy, lots of it! mentions of cheating, slut-shaming, yelling, alcohol use, underage drinking.

extra: so readers album is just gonna consist of taylor swift songs 😞😞 so wtvr!!

CHAPTERS:

part one (social media!)

part two (social media!)

part three (irl!)

part four (social media!)

part five (irl!)

part six (irl!)

part seven (irl!)

part eight (social media!)

BLURBS:

ORIGIN:

y/n (about her!)

[yourmidnightlover]

getting it over with - ch 1

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: after relentless teasing and being the butt of too many jokes, you ask bucky to help you become more experienced in… a particular area of your life

warning: precious bucky, virgin shaming?, virgin reader, slight male!oc x reader, sexual harrassment, illuding to sex, talk of sex

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i am working on part 2 in my other series, timeless. i've been debating two different ways i could take it and it's been an internal battle trying to figure that out. that being said, i can't help myself and started writing this and so here it is! this will likely be a simple mini series with smut in the later parts, probably the next one tbh. anywho... enjoy!

another night with the girls, and yet another night of beng singled out and ridiculed over a miniscule part of your life. 

you were a well accomplished woman and yet all of your hard work has consistently been overlooked in nearly every conversation because of your extracurricular activities. or, well, more like your lack of extracurricular activities. 

you had been working with the avengers for five years now as their pr manager, living there for a little over three after finding it was easier to represent and present the team in a brighter light when you knew more about them. it was after you moved in that you got much closer to james ‘bucky’ barnes, who you’ve coined the nickname of ‘jamie’ for. your friends also began to question why you hadn’t, in their terms, “banged,” one of the avengers you happened to live with.

truth be told, you did enjoy spending time with them, especially bucky. but, that would be crossing a line. you were practically employed by them. well, technically you were employed by tony, but that didn’t change the fact that they were your clients. it was just particularly easy to find the good in the people who constantly saved the world. well, that, and you were supposed to make them look good anyway. 

the most difficult one to paint in the golden light was definitely bucky. you were great at getting the media to lean into his humanity and reminding them of how he had been tortured into what he became. you’ve imagined him to the public as “sargeant bucky barnes,” giving him back the title he earned rather than the name he was branded. he was still wary of venturing into the eye of the public, but everytime he did there were less people yelling at him and more people giving pitying looks and whispers. sure, he would rather not be recognized at all, but whispering was a hell of a long way from harassment. 

bucky was grateful for everything you’d done for him. truth be told, you were grateful for everything they had done for you anyway. hell they had repeatedly saved all of humanity, helping their reputation was the least you could do for them. 

but regardless of how well of a job you’ve done making the avengers’ reputation way lighter, somehow the only thing your old friends could talk about is how you’re somehow still a virgin.

“god, i can’t believe you’re still a virgin sometimes. especially being surrounded by hunks like him,” stephanie spoke up as she flipped her bleached hair behind her shoulder. “i would’ve tried my luck long before i cleared their name, girl. i mean, that sergeant guy has the prettiest blue eyes, and have you never wondered what he could do with that metal hand of his?” 

you rolled your eyes, “he’s more than a pretty face, steph. he’s actually really sweet, too. his humor’s a bit old, kinda like a grandpa.”

“well, if he’s a grandpa then i’d gladly be his sugar baby,” she squeaked as she sipped on her vodka cranberry. 

“can we not talk about him like that?” your face furrowed in embarrassment and you only hoped that she would take your blushing as remnants of the alcohol running through your body.

“why?” she scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “do you want him or something?” she paused, seeingly waiting for your response. clearly, your silence was answer enough. “oh my god you like him, don’t you?” 

“no, no, it’s not like that,” you shook your head as you downed the rest of your drink. “i just spend a lot of time with him because of the job, y’know?” 

“why don’t you just get him to pop your precious cherry?” she ventured as she stood from her stool. 

boy, had you wished for that. mostly in your wildest dreams, but part of you hoped it could maybe happen. but then, you would wake up and were reminded of your place in the world. besides, jamie was over 100 years old. there’s no way he’d want someone who didn’t know what they were doing in the bedroom. 

“or,” steph interrupted your thoughts. “we can get out there and find you a different guy to pop your cherry,” she finished with a wink as she grabbed your hands, pulling you from your seat and to the dance floor. 

you managed to sneak a glance at the clock before the crowd surrounding you made it more difficult, reading the time being 11 pm. you told the guys you’d be back before 1, so that gave you enough time to please stephanie and then politely excuse yourself. 

surprisingly, you had begun to enjoy yourself. the music wasn’t so bad with the surge of confidence the alcohol running through your veins gave you. after a few too many drinks, you were in your own world. finally unbothered by the nagging thoughts of your friends and the weight of your job on your shoulders. 

you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder before turning to see a sweet smile. he had big, brown eyes and shaggy hair, broad shoulders, none that compared to the men you lived with, but they were nice nonetheless. 

“hi,” he said even sweeter than his smile, keeping his hands to himself politely. “i-i’m noah.”

“well, hello, noah,” you smiled as you stepped closer to him, uncharacteristically throwing your arms around his neck as you continued to sway to the music. “y/n.”

“i-uh-you-you’re gorgeous,” he stuttered as his hands modestly found your waist.

“you really think so?” you said teasingly before leaning up to his ear. “i think you are super cute, yourself.” 

at this point, you had nearly forgotten all about stephanie’s presence at all. maybe she had already left with another guy, herself? who knows. right now, all you knew was that you didn’t know brown eyes could be so pretty. mayb you didn’t want to wait anymore. maybe you didn’t want to be the old virgin in your friend group anymore. maybe noah could change that.

“you’re unreal,” he chuckled as he continued to sway with you for the next song until you began to kiss on his neck. 

“you taste so sweet,” you commented in his ear before kissing right below it. he pulled back, giving you a sweet smile before connecting your lips together. 

“you taste sweeter, believe me,” he huffed out a breath as you reconnected your lips with his. 

“i think i want you, noah,” you whispered against his lips so softly he wasn’t sure he even heard you. “pretty please?” 

“ye-yea, sure,” he guided you out of the bar, you needing nearly all of his support to even walk out of the threshold of the door. 

“think ‘m sleepy, noah,” you mumbled against his neck as the cold air hit your face, as if it had began to sober you up.

“you just said you wanted me…?” he perplexed as he pulled you aside into the ally to gather yourself. 

“‘m sorry, noah,” you shrugged as the cold air hit you again. “‘s cold outside, can i go back in?” you turned to walk back inside when he grabbed your arm, probably a bit more harsh than he intended to. 

“what the fuck?” he sounded disappointed. “i complimented you, i let you make the first move, and now you just wanna back out?” he pulled you closer to his body. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“i-i dunno, i just got confused i think?” you stumbled as you tried to back away once more. “it’s too cold out here, noah.” 

“maybe this’ll warm you up,” he grabbed your pliable face and brought you back in for a kiss before you tried to push him away again.

“y/n?” you heard a raspy voice call out. “what the fuck?” you turned to see your jamie confused.

“jamie!” you tred to wiggle out of noah’s grasp once more, a disgruntled look on your face as you did so. “jamie…” you were now limply wrestling out of noah’s grasp as he scoffed at the situation in front of him. 

“what?” he said in disbelief. “you wanna lead me on and leave with this guy?”

“noah-”

“i think you need to back of the lady, alright, man?” bucky spoke up as he stepped closer towards you. “she’s clearly a bit drunk, just let me take her home and we’ll be on our way. no harm, right?” he tried to reason with the douchebag. 

“no harm?” he grasped your arm tighter before he continued, making you wince slightly. “so this bitch is able to fucking lead me on and then leave me high and dry and there’s ‘no harm’?”

“okay, i’ve tried to be nice about this,” without a second of hesitation, he had noah’s arms behind his back, not enough to seriously injure him, but just enough to harm him enough to not tempt him to do any more harm. “you will apologize to miss y/n for talking to her the way you did, you will walk away, and you won’t do anything like that to any woman in the near future, understood?” noah nodded. “am i understood?!” 

“yes, yes!” bucky nudged him further in your direction as you were leaning your back against the brick wall for stability. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“for…?” bucky taunted.

“i’m sorry for talking to you the way i did.”

“good boy,” bucky teased as he released the man, letting him run away and not sparing him another glance before he made his way closer to you. 

“‘m sorry, jamie,” you stumbled forward and threw your arms around him. you had never been so openly affectionate, especially with bucky since you knew his aversions. since you were so drunk, you simply didn’t register the unspoken boundaries you had unintentionally set in place for yourself. “didn’t wanna make him mad. jus’ changed my mind s’all,” you buried your face in his neck. 

“you have a right to change your mind, doll,” he soothed as he gently rubbed your back, leading you to steve’s car he borrowed. 

“y/n?” you snapped your head to look at bucky as he spoke. “i don’t want you to be so late again, doll. it’s almost 2 am. had me worried sick about ya,” his hand danced on your knee, you assumed to comfort you after the events of the night.

“i didn’t know,” you shook your head. “i swear, i just lost track of time. s’not like me to do this. i just got so mad and wanted to get it over with, y’know?”

“get what over with?”

“you won’t laugh at me?” you grabbed his hand that was resting on your knee and turned in your seat to face your body towards him. “never, doll,” he chuckled at your serious tone.

“i’m tired of bein’ a virgin,” you said with a sense of disappointment. “don’ want people makin’ fun of me anymore.”

“that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, doll,” he shook his head as he put the car in park before running to your side of the car and helping you out. “some people want to save that moment, i get it.”

“no,” you groaned as you leaned into him. “i don’t wanna save it. i was just scared at first, and then i didn’t want to, and now it’s too late because nobody wants to be with a virgin.”

“that’s not true, y/n,” he shook his ehad as he pressed your shared floor on the elevator. 

“would you wanna have sex with me?” you wondered aloud as bucky began coughing loudly. “don’t be mean,” you huffed and crossed your arms, figuring he was trying to hide his laugh. “steph said i should get you to ‘pop my cherry’ but i knew you would’t wan-”

“hey, that’s not what i meant,” he stopped your train of thought. 

“so you do wanna ‘pop my cherry’?” you awed at the man as the elevator doors opened. 

“i wan’ you to stop referencing it as ‘popping your cherry’,” he grimaced as he said it himself. 

“you wanna have sex with me? bang? do the deed? take my virginity? make love?”

“stop it,” he groaned as you giggled, leaning into his chest even more. “i wanna have this conversation when your sober, if you even remember it.”

“i’ll remember, my sweet jamie,” you held onto his arm as he walked you to your room, helping you get into bed before going into your bathroom and returning with your bin of skincare. “this is why you’re my sweet jamie,” if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. 

he began using your makeup wipes to remove the remnants of makeup that had survived the night, followed by micellar water to remove the excess remover from your face. you knew he had seen you do your skincare routine after having so many late movie nights with one another, but it was still flattering that he had remembered it all so well. he finished applying your toners, serums, and finally your moisturizer with gentle hands, his metal one providing a nice cold surface that woke your skin up a bit more. it wasn’t until you reached up to grab his flesh hand that he noticed the bruises lacing your arms. 

“god,” he sighed as he looked down at his lap. “i’m so sorry i was too late, doll.”

“you weren’t too late,” you shook your head at his negativity. “you were perfectly on time. you saved me. i don’t-i don’t know what would’ve happened had you not shown up. i-”

“i don’t wanna think about what could’ve happened, please,” he shook his head as he held onto your bruised wrist softly, tenderly rubbing his cool metal hand over the damaged skin before pressing a kiss to it. 

“will you stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, as if you were scared he would say no. as if he would ever tell you no. 

“only if you’re sure,” you nodded eagerly with a grin before he crawled into bed with you. 

bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist as you laid on his chest, breathing in his scent as his soothing heartbeat calmed you down after the nights antics. 

“i’ll remember tomorrow, jamie.”

CHAPTER 2