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ahundredtimesover · 1 year ago

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I Want You to Stay (09) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; use of the term slut in a derogatory way, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 18.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I return to uni. On another note, I hope you enjoy this!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Seeing you standing in his kitchen donned in that pastel-colored blouse makes Jungkook stop in his tracks; you’re exactly who he needs to wake him up.

It’s been weeks of vacation, which also means weeks without his usual routine. It’s striking how being absorbed in his work has altered him in that sense - he looks for the stress, for the long hours, for the isolation that’s demanded of his job. Perhaps there was just really nothing to look forward to, and work was an excuse for all those things because there wasn’t much else going for him. Ironic, considering everything he can do with what he has, yet nothing seems to be what he’s looking for, even if deep down, he knows what it is.

This is something that Hoseok and A-yeong made him realize during the trip as he watched them gush about the pretty streets and marvel at the fjords and immerse themselves in the view of the northern lights.

His cousin, the President of the company who makes decisive decisions and conducts press conferences and signs off on billion won projects, is the same man who squealed during a husky ride in Finland, laughed his butt off when he slipped on a glacier, and muttered words of love to his wife as they all watched the bright evening sky over the lake in Norway. There was so much passion in him, something A-yeong mirrored, whether it was about work or his relationships or just about everything in life. Hoseok looked forward to that trip, to that time with his wife, to that break, to seeing the scenery and feeling peace.

While Jungkook found himself constantly thinking about the Arts Center and upcoming projects and new design ideas… and the one person who connected him to all those - you. It felt like he was rushing towards something because the achievement was the goal, and while he stopped by the mountains and marveled at the water as he sat on the cliffs, his mind was racing, chasing something that he couldn’t even grasp.

That’s how the past six years have been. Perhaps more, he thinks. Maybe 20. He’s never allowed himself to just be. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know who he is outside of what he does; he doesn’t know much of how he is outside of being an executive and heir, and so during the moments when he isn’t functioning as such, he’s a bit lost, just existing in a place he’s visiting, not knowing how to interact, how to breathe; not knowing how to connect or to be free.

You’re the bright spot amidst it all. With you around, he still seems to be wandering while stuck in a certain spot, but he’s not alone because you’re there. With you around, there’s a sense of calmness somehow, with your smile and your presence warming the coldest parts of him that he’s left untouched and unfeeling for years.

So when he walks towards you, his eyes fully opening now to see you better, he hums in satisfaction.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, prompting you to turn around. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

“Really, Mr. Jeon? I thought the three weeks felt fast,” you giggle. “But it’s nice to see you, too. Were you able to rest out there?”

“Somehow,” he replies, taking the glass of water you give him.

“Is that why you passed on your morning workout to sleep in?” You raise an eyebrow, thinking that he’d slept in when you walked into his penthouse earlier without the usual sounds from the gym that you’d gotten used to.

“I was pretty jet lagged,” he groans. “Couldn’t sleep so I did it last night to tire myself out and then I finally fell asleep three hours ago. It’s a miracle I woke up after the tenth snooze of my alarm.”

“Ooh, that is not good, considering all the documents on your desks and messages on your inbox,” you shake your head. “What if I move the team meeting to tomorrow so you don’t push yourself too hard today? You could’ve taken the day off.”

“And have a worse day tomorrow? No thanks,” he chuckles. “I’m fine, but I agree with moving the meeting.”

“Just take it slow,” you advise. “I brought some pastries because I know your fridge and pantry are empty. I’ll get them ready shortly.”

“I’ll wash up then.”

You follow not long after, preparing his outfits for the second half of the week, then setting out the breakfast for both of you. He returns to the kitchen wearing the brown suit you chose for today, looking just as handsome as you remember. You fix his tie like you always do and meet his eyes like it’s reflex, the warmth bubbling within you when he returns your soft smile. You take your seat a chair away, taking your iPad after to start going through updates when he stops you.

“Not yet, please. My mind’s still half asleep.”

“Okay, sir,” you respond. “We can talk about your trip instead. How was it?”

Jungkook finds himself more engaged in telling you about it, not like how he was when his best friends met him for dinner last night and he was too tired to narrate how it went. But you ask with such excitement that he ends up sharing more than what he planned.

He talks about the Vikings museum and historical tours, the bike rides and coastal walks, the calm but lively cities and the breathtaking waterfalls. He even mentions the things he’d only kept to himself - like that one evening when the sky looked like one of Lee Jaemin’s paintings that had him staying at the balcony with a glass of wine while basking in its beauty, and when they were in Hans Christian Andersen’s hometown and he wondered what kind of fairytale character he would be, and that he learned he really enjoys hot springs during the winter. They’re random thoughts that he just ended up saying, somehow feeling natural and comfortable in sharing them with you.

You indulge him, asking more and sharing your thoughts, too. You even throw in the occasional teasing remark and playful laughter. You ask about the scenery, expressing your yearning for the outdoors that you said you never really appreciated before, as the open space always overwhelmed you.

He passes you his iPad where he’s opened the folder of the photos that he took with his camera, a gift from Taehyung who’d said that Jungkook needed to go out more and “feel the sun.” He rarely used it but a Northern Europe trip seemed like the perfect excuse. He’s used to assessing interiors and marveling at structures from afar, but this time he got to appreciate what lies beyond his walls, beyond the little world he’s been burrowing himself in.

“These are stunning, Jungkook,” you gush, dropping the formalities as he shares something that feels so personal. “I didn’t know you had the talent for photography, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it a talent,” he shakes his head. “I took it as an elective during university and it helps with design ideas. I should at least take nice photos if I need inspiration or a basis. I don’t really do it much, though.”

“Did it make you feel good, at least?” You ask, wondering what else gives him satisfaction.

“Somehow. It makes me feel good when I’m looking at the pictures. I’m transported to that day and that place again, like a holder of memories and desire for the good things.”

You go through the photos - dozens of them. He didn’t take too many, just one or two shots of every scenery. Beyond the majestic landscape, there are the everyday scenes - people talking at a cafe, strangers enjoying the park. There’s a couple holding hands, laughing at each other; from the silhouettes, you can tell they’re Hoseok and A-yeong, a moment that Jungkook probably thought too precious to not capture.

Something in you stirs, as the photos elicit a mix of awe and yearning. You look at Jungkook and you think it’s what he felt, too.

There’s a saying you heard about watching what people photograph to learn what they fear losing. With Jungkook, it seems as if these - freedom, tranquility, connection, intimacy - are things he wants; somehow they seem to be what he fears having.

“It’s nice to have a keeper of good memories, isn’t it? Of that reminder that beautiful things exist and that they’re tangible, you know?” You say, returning his gadget.

“It is,” he responds after a beat of silence, seemingly processing your words. “We forget sometimes. Or maybe, we just don’t know what that’s like. In that case it’s like an illusion. But it’s still good to have that, I guess. It’s still something.”

You don’t know what more could be said. It feels too personal or even intimate of a conversation to have with your boss on a Wednesday morning as you eat breakfast in his apartment. So you let it go, smiling as you say you’re glad he got to have some rest.

He says that so does he and then asks about how your holiday was as you both head to the car. You talk about it during the ride, how you spent a week in Wando with your mother’s partner’s family and then drove to Jeonju, how the entirety of your break had you stuffing your face with food and bonding with them, and how they drove you back to Seoul last weekend, thankful that for those two weeks, they had you around.

You don’t tell Jungkook that some days, you’d think of him, wondering how he’s doing. You don’t tell him that you’d seen A-yeong’s posts and that he looked at peace in them, that there was a softness in his eyes that you’ve rarely seen on him. You don’t tell him that despite the vacation that you said you were looking forward to, you were also looking forward to this - having him back, sharing stories, and living in the silence alongside him.

You wonder, as you glance at him looking out the window, if this is what you meant about savoring the moment, enjoying what’s in front of you, and feeling less alone. Because right now, those are exactly what you feel.

Jungkook wanted to wait to get to the office before proceeding to work matters, something that surprises you because he always gets down to business immediately, not unless he’s recovering from a hangover. But he blew you off even in the car, wanting instead to listen to your stories and then doodle on his leather notebook again for the rest of the ride. You end up meeting with him for an hour before he settles in, then he goes to lunch with his father, meets with your team, and then decides to visit the Arts Center mid-afternoon.

Work is back in full-swing just like that, and you pull the energy from within you to manage the crazy week. There are start-of-the-year events to attend and organize, a board report and meeting to prepare for, new projects to initiate, and a major one to monitor.

You’re glad that despite all that, Jungkook allows you to have a four-day off on the succeeding week so you can celebrate your birthday with a road trip down coastal towns with Jimin and Soomin. It’s a silly thing to do in the middle of winter, but they insist that warmth is most satisfying when it’s cold outside, and you don’t disagree. You’ll definitely be sighing in relief when you hold the steaming hot hotteok in between your hands, and it’ll be the best one you’ll have.

It’s Thursday and you’ll be back in a week. You’ve just finished briefing Do-hyun, who’ll be covering for you while you’re away, and you get off your chair to grab tea in the pantry. Jungkook’s voice stops as you, as he stands by his door and asks if you’re already leaving.

“In an hour, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “Is there anything I can help you with until then?”

“No, nothing,” he says. “I’m actually about to leave for dinner with Taehyung and Seokjin.”

“Oh, alright, sir,” you hum. “Goodbye, then. And I’ll see you next week. Just know that you’re the only one who can disturb me.”

He laughs in response. “Come on, I won’t be badgering you, especially on your birthday. It’s your one week away from me. You have to savor it.”

“So should you,” you counter. “But okay. I will.”

“Good,” he nods. “I’ll just fix up and go ahead then.”

He returns to his room and you’re just the tiniest bit disappointed that he didn’t properly greet you but you suppose that’s good for you. So you go to the pantry and end up chit-chatting with the team, finding yourself smiling when you look up and see Jungkook by the door, who tells everyone not to stay too late before he heads out.

You arrive back at your desk, your heart beating fast at the sight of a small brown bag on your table.

For your trip. Something to help remind you that beautiful things exist and they’re tangible, the note reads. Happy birthday.

Your mind goes to a conversation you had not long ago, about how photos can elicit certain emotions and be a keeper of memories, especially of good ones. You know this is from Jungkook, and you also have an idea of what this might be, which is why you open the package right away.

Still, it catches you by surprise, especially when you find two disposable film cameras inside. They’ll definitely be enough for your upcoming trip and you know the photos will come out amazingly. You’re ecstatic.

Perhaps this is why he wanted to leave before you did - you’d thank him and he’d be terrible at accepting it again, then you’ll call him out for it. Maybe it was good he hadn’t stuck around to see you act this way. At least he didn’t see you with that silly smile on your face.

But Yoongi does as you head down the elevator, smirking at you when he sees the bag you’re holding and the familiar handwriting on the card.

“I’m guessing you’re not fighting it anymore, huh?” He says, teasing yet somehow still comforting.

“I’m trying not to, even if I know I’m being stupid,” you admit. “I can at least have these fleeting moments of joy after I walk away from this.”

“Retain the good memories. That’s one way to let things go,” Yoongi advises, as he exits the carriage on the parking lot floor.

The doors close on your smiling face, and he chuckles to himself at the irony of things. That’s how he learned to let you go, after all.

You return to work the following week with a spring in your step, with Jungkook noticing as you heat up the fried rice that you told him you’d be preparing for breakfast. You hum as you go about in the kitchen, feeling energized after the last few days you’ve had.

It was freezing, but you, Soomin, and Jimin went a little crazy and ran down the beach whenever you drove by one, something you all did as kids living in Busan. The drives from town to town were slow but they had you all singing to your favorite songs, munching on chestnuts and bungeoppang, and stopping over viewing sites for fresh air and photos.

You used Jungkook’s gift a lot, taking pictures of things that elicited strong emotions and good memories - purple and orange skies, snow melting on the pavement, the crashing ocean waves turning white at the tip, an empty playground in the park, Soomin’s infectious laughter, Jimin’s angelic smile.

The cold was an excuse to seek your best friends’ warmth and they took advantage of it. It reminded you of those few years growing up with them before you returned to Daegu for college, something you and Jimin reminisced about, and something that you thanked him for after what seemed like ages. You recalled how he approached you first as the new girl who entered school in the middle of the school year, how he followed you around because you were always alone and was scared of loud noises, and how he’s never left your side since then.

Every night during that trip, he hugged you as you tried to fall asleep, knowing you needed it for the cold you felt inside and out. He was next to you when you talked about Jungkook gifting you the cameras and admitted that it made you feel good, that it made you happy.

“I’m glad he’s showing you kindness,” Jimin had said. “But… just be careful, okay? Your heart is capable of a lot of good things. Pain is the last thing it deserves.”

“I don’t really know what my heart is capable of,” you replied. “My brain does the hurting but my heart… I don’t know what it does. I don’t know how it works.”

It left him speechless then and somehow, you were glad that he just held you tighter, only because it was the only way you wanted to be comforted at that moment. But you also knew that whatever your heart ended up doing or experiencing, Jimin and Soomin would be there to help you make sense of it, to pick up the pieces should they need to.

“It seems as though your birthday rejuvenated you, ___,” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. “You look much lighter and relaxed.”

“Only because I haven’t checked my emails nor taken new instructions from you,” you laugh as you serve the fried rice in bowls then head towards him. You fix his suit again and speak casually like you’ve gotten used to. “Once I open that iPad and see what I have to deal with, relaxed would be the last thing I’ll be.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “Let me savor this then.”

His words catch you off guard and they prompt you to meet his eyes - soft yet piercing, then he turns shy and turns away from you. Perhaps he’s surprised at what he’d said, too.

“Work is stressful and your calmness rubs off on me most times,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ve got a busy few days ahead and I want that calmness to linger.”

“It will,” you assure him. “And yes, I feel rejuvenated, and that’ll probably last me for days so that will linger, even if I’m stressed, so don't worry. You’re gonna do well. I don’t doubt it one bit.”

Jungkook’s meeting the Culture Minister next week to present the Arts Center’s plans and activities leading to its opening to the public, which is why you think he needs that calmness as well. The team has been helping him with the preparations and while you felt bad that you didn’t get to contribute as much, he assured you that all the notes you left him have been instrumental.

But still, his words affect you. Is this calm and relaxed version of you all he wants to savor? Does it mean anything more?

The thoughts wander away as you have breakfast with him, and he asks if you wish to talk about work later on but you insist that you’re mentally ready for it all. He’s the one who gives you updates this time, and just like that, you’re back to your usual routine.

You glance at his plate, all clean right after because even this dish, he savors. And you realize that doing things for him, no matter how simple, makes you happy, too, especially when his lips turn up in a small smile and he nods in satisfaction.

“Good, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“It’s infinitely better than mine,” he hums.

“So, it’s really, really, really good then?”

“You don’t even know how mine tastes like.”

“True. But Taehyung said once that yours was really delicious and I’ll take his word for it. Seokjin agreed and I believe them.”

“Wow, really? That’s a rare moment where they praise me,” Jungkook laughs.

“You should savor that, too.”

“I should. Heavens know the last time that happened. And when it’ll happen again.”

“That’s kind of hard though, isn’t it?” You say, being a bit reflective as you go back to your daily routine after a trip that you wholly enjoyed. “Savoring things… capturing them, appreciating them. Like, you have to be in the moment, you have to be present, and that’s not easy to do.”

“It isn’t,” he responds after a while. “You have to care enough for something to be worth savoring, I guess.”

“Exactly. But how do you do that when everything is temporary - things, feelings… people. Not all of them are meant to stay,” you reply, meeting his eyes as they seem to be in deep thought.

“Maybe they will… if you ask them to,” he softly says.

“That depends.”

“On what?” He asks.

“If they have a reason to,” you shrug.

Your faraway eyes tell him that you’re in deep thought, perhaps processing the exchange that even Jungkook can’t fully wrap his head around. But you turn to him not long after, smiling as you take the plates to clean up, as if you’d just snapped out of a trance, of a moment of honesty.

He watches you from his seat. There’s an aura about you that truly feels more relaxed, yet there seems to be an added layer of pensiveness, of deep thinking that could easily be mistaken for savoring the moment when you might be questioning it, perhaps wondering if it’s real… or worth caring about in the first place.

Even until now, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him hanging on to every word you say, like it’s some secret message or code to learning who you are and what your fears and pains and hopes and dreams might be.

In the past months, his moments with you have allowed him a peek inside - there’s this yearning for something that you’re not ready for; there’s this knowledge of the fleeting nature of the world that you want to capture as memories because that’s the only way you can make them stay; there’s this desire for companionship that terrifies you more than anything.

But then again, as he sees that soft courage in your eyes, maybe he knows why - he has the same fears as you, and perhaps that’s terrifying, too, as he realizes that much of what he’s scared of is tangible.

He fears the emptiness left in your absence and the silence surrounding him when you’re gone. His trip over the holidays made him think so; this past week when you were away solidified it. There’s a lot of you to miss. He’s unsure how to deal with these thoughts and feelings; he doesn’t know how to move forward and be professional when you affect him this way. All he can hope for is that you’ll always find a reason to stay close to him, that you’ll always find a reason to want him around, and that every moment you share is something worth it enough for you to savor but that you both never have to let go.

You think about the conversation with Jungkook later that night on your way home. There’s something about the impermanence of the world that’s always scared you; things break and wither away all the time and you fear the loss in their absence. Perhaps it’s because you’ve experienced various types of losses throughout your years of living.

You lost that childhood innocence the first time you saw your mother cry, then when her smile that finally returned was wiped off, and then when her hopeful eyes became filled with tears out of fear. You lost that comfort of a routine when you left Seoul at 10 years old, and then that stability when you said goodbye to your life in Busan. You lost that security when you decided to come back here with a dream tucked away, burdened with a debt and a past that you couldn’t escape. You lost that feeling of freedom when your favorite library closed, and then of safety during that night at the restaurant when you were hurt and exposed.

It’s hard to savor things when you know you’ll lose them one day. But that’s also precisely why you should, as what these past months have been showing you, you think now. The absence reminds you that something good was in its place, and that at one point in time, it made you hope that you deserved it, that you were worthy of having it.

But as you lay in bed that night and think of how much of Jungkook you thought about while you were away, you start to think that maybe things aren’t as temporary as you once believed. He was in the icy streets that you walked on and the warmth of the hot chocolate drink you had. He was in the drizzle on the playground that you wiped off and the touch of the leather notebook you saw at one of the shops.

And perhaps that was the difference - you didn’t just stand by; somehow it felt like you connected with them - they were tangible, within your grasp, and that made them linger, that made them feel real. In your mind, that’s where they stayed.

The tail-end of winter marks the time when you’ve settled in the new year. All your backlog from the holidays and your short birthday break have been worked on. Operational plans and goals for the year have been finalized. The Board report and meeting are over and major events have been scheduled. Things are picking up now as the Arts Center is near its completion, with the consequent promotions and marketing on full speed. That last bit has been contracted to a subsidiary company but Jungkook is still on top of most things, which means that so are you.

You accompany him to meetings with different departments regularly, and that’s on top of monitoring the other small projects that the VP office is working on, which is also on top of supporting Jungkook’s executive functions. In a blink of an eye, you’re back to the hustle and bustle nature of your job, and you’re reminded of why it’s been so hard to get out of it, and also why you can’t wait to do so.

There’s just so much going on all at once, and given how you are, you give all of yourself to it because it’s the only way to get things done; it’s the only way to get through it without feeling like you’re taking for granted all that you’ve been given and achieved. But it also means you’ve lost the sense of meaning of most other things, and you wanna be able to do something that means something to you, something of good memories, of beautiful things that are tangible that you can touch and feel.

You let go of the thoughts when Do-hyun and Yohan pop in your area to say goodbye. It’s another long night for everyone and you’re glad that they finally listened to you and decided to go home. You say that you still have a couple of things to work on when they insist that they walk you to the bus stop, telling them once more that you’ll be fine.

“It’s forecasted to rain soon,” Do-hyun informs you.

“I’ll get a cab, don’t worry,” you assure them. “Finance needs these files first thing tomorrow morning and we’ve got that ocular at 8. Thank you though.”

“Fine, but let us know when you’re home, okay?” She says.

“I will. Get home safely, you two.”

You get back to work, and with the peace and quiet in the office with you being the last one here, you manage to finish what you need to in an hour and then finally call it a night. You head out and sigh to yourself once you see the lightning strike, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the rain will begin to pour. You manage to bring out your umbrella by the time it does, then turn at the corner to look for a cab so you can avoid those who’ll be hailing from the main road.

There are a few people who have the same idea as you, and it’s after some time before you spot one, with the driver slowing down once he sees you. But right as you start speed walking towards it, some man decides to get ahead, running past you and bumping you in the process, causing you to lose your balance. The wet pavement doesn’t help, as you slip on your foot and fall to the ground. You try to get up but jerk in pain when you do, realizing that you’d hurt your ankle, a foreign feeling that has you immediately worrying.

After all the times you’d found yourself under the rain, this is the worst moment of all - you’re hurting, all alone, and completely worn out. You’ve had a really long day and you don’t have the energy for this; all you want is to go home and have some rest. But you know there’s no other way, so you shift on your bum, manage to get up and strain your arms in the process, then you limp to the nearest post you can find using your umbrella as a walking stick then stand on one foot.

The rain has weakened a little, so you’re at least not getting even more wet, but it’s still winter and you’ve started to freeze. There are no other cabs in sight and all ride-hailing apps have been such a pain to book. Knowing that it’ll be tough to get home in any way at this stage and that you won’t be able to manage on your own, you decide to call Mr. Ri. He’s always told you that if you need help for anything, he’s another person that you could call.

It’s half past 8 in the evening. You’re banking on him being on the way home after having dropped Jungkook off at his building after a dinner meeting at 5:30.

“Hey, ___. Is everything alright?” Mr. Ri asks, knowing you rarely call at this hour.

“Not really,” you sigh, the shiver in your voice evident. “Have you dropped Jungkook off?”

“Not yet. But what do you mean, not really? What happened?”

“Are you driving?”

“No. I’m still waiting for him to finish. Tell me, are you in danger?” He presses, and you hear the worry in his voice.

You told him about Chi-won some weeks after it happened, and Mr. Ri, having known you for many years, knows you’re not one to usually reach out. He’s made it a point to check on you regularly, and calls like this would definitely ring some alarm bells.

“I’m not in danger but I hurt myself,” you say, quickly appeasing him that it’s probably just a sprained ankle and not that serious. “I just can’t get any ride and I can barely walk. I was hoping you were on the way home.”

“I’m not but I’ll go get you, okay? I’ll tell Jungkook and we’ll drive to you right away.”

“Mr. Ri, he’s in a meeting!”

“That’s most likely over and now they’re just chatting over drinks,” he reasons. “I’ll get him. You know he’ll want me to.”

“You don’t know that,” you stammer.

“You weren’t there with him the days after what happened that night at the restaurant, ___,” he huffs. “I just knew it was really bad because of how worried he was, and he’s never been that way. So yes, I know he’ll want me to get his ass out of there and be on the way to you. Plus, I’m sure he’ll fire me if I don’t.”

“Fine,” you concede. “Just don’t make it sound so bad because it really isn’t.”

“You know I can’t control how that kid reacts,” he hums. “Just send me your location.”

Mr. Ri heads out of the driver’s lounge and rushes to the restaurant where he manages to send a message to Jungkook that you’re stranded somewhere with possibly a sprained ankle. He says it as it is, knowing that Jungkook won’t need much to decide on ending the meeting and go to you, which he does right away.

“What happened?” He asks the older man as they both walk towards the basement parking.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask any more questions,” Mr. Ri responds. “She’s somewhere near the office. We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Try for 15,” Jungkook instructs.

He calls you right after and he immediately picks up on your chattering teeth.

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?”

You’re a little surprised when Jungkook calls this soon, and with how you’re trying to move past whatever attraction you have towards the man, this really isn’t helping.

“Just… cold. My umbrella flew away,” you laugh. “The wind’s picked up and I think it’s gonna rain again.”

Just as you say so, it starts, and you pick up on the change in Jungkook’s voice. You’ve since learned that he’s not fond of it, always closing his eyes and trying to tune everything out with even just a drizzle. But he continues talking and asks what happened, trying to keep you company. You narrate the incident and attempt to play it off as something minor, although the longer you stay leaning against the post, the more pain you’re starting to feel.

“We’re five minutes away. We’ll be there soon,” he assures you then drops the call.

Jungkook clenches his fist and closes his eyes as the rain continues to pour. With the sound of the thunder, he jerks in his seat like he always does, but he pushes forward, knowing you need his help. He takes deep breaths just as he’s learned to do, and not long after, Mr. Ri informs him that he sees you just meters away.

The car slows down and Jungkook looks outside the window. He can see you leaning against a pole on one foot, drenched and shivering, your eyes closed as you wait for them to arrive. He meets Mr. Ri’s eyes in the rear view mirror as they halt, and with the rain just barely stopping, the older man nods and exits the car.

Jungkook watches from inside as Mr. Ri runs to you. He sees the smile on your face despite the droplets on the window. The older man takes your bag then helps you walk, leading you to the car where Jungkook manages to push the door open.

You slowly enter with as much energy you can muster, wincing in pain when you have to adjust your foot inside. You sigh in relief as you feel the warmth and dryness of the car, prompting you to apologize for getting it all wet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook shakes his head. “We’ll take you to the hospital, okay? And I won’t accept no for an answer.”

You nod in agreement, knowing that much as you’re causing him inconvenience right now, you’re too tired to argue. You lean your head by the window and try to catch your breath.

“Have you had dinner? He asks.

“Not yet. I was supposed to grab it on the way home.”

“We’ll pass by somewhere after the hospital.”

“Okay,” you look at him and smile.

Jungkook isn’t surprised when you don’t counter him. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion, as he sees it in how your smile isn’t as bright as what he’s used to, with it fading as you turn away. You’re still shivering though, despite the car heater being turned up. He doesn’t have a towel to dry you up, though, so he instead removes his coat and instructs you to lean forward so he can place it over your shoulders to warm your back. He takes his puffer jacket from the front seat and puts it over your lap right after, giving you warmth there, too.

“Is that better?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mouth. “Thank you.”

His scent wafts through your senses, allowing you to breathe and feel all of him at once. It’s the closest thing to tangible comfort you’ve gotten from him, and you hate how good it feels.

You’re just about to fall asleep when the car comes to a stop. The rain has subsided and perhaps that’s why soon after, you hear Jungkook open his door and then your door, too. He removes his coat over your back, placing it back inside, then he holds onto your forearms to help you climb out. He takes his jacket and instructs you to wear it, giggling at how you’re being swallowed in it.

“I look ridiculous,” you pout as you sit on the wheelchair that he’s asked the nurse to get.

“Just a little,” he teases.

He walks next to you as you’re wheeled inside the hospital, staying close by when you explain to the ER doctor what happened. She assesses your foot and lower leg, diagnosing you with a sprained ankle like you expected, and proceeds to wrap it in elastic bandage.

She treats the minor scratches on your palms you got from the fall then writes you a prescription for painkillers. Jungkook takes it so he can buy them for you after, then he helps you settle the bill with your insurance.

You’re quite uncomfortable - you’re still a little wet and the bandage feels foreign around your foot. But you’re also feeling a bit shy, now that Jungkook is the one pushing the wheelchair towards the pharmacy nearby. He parks you at the side while he buys the medicine, and as you look on, you can’t help the relief mixed with giddiness that you feel despite the pain that’s close to overtaking you.

He stands by the counter with his white dress shirt slightly untucked and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands are in his pockets while he waits for the pharmacist to return, and amidst everything that’s going on, you’re still able to admire how overwhelmingly handsome he looks, especially given what he’s doing right now for you. His side view is quite blinding, so you’re slightly embarrassed when he turns around and calls your name again after you missed it the first few times.

“Dazed and tired?” He asks as he walks back to you with a pack of medicines.

“Definitely,” you say, which isn’t a lie; it’s just not the whole truth. “I just want to eat and have a nice bath and then sleep.”

“And you’ll do all that soon,” he assures you. “We’ll pass by whatever’s open on the way to your place. Just make sure you don’t have the hot water on, okay? And then elevate your foot when you sleep.”

“Yes, I heard everything she said,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Including the full-on rest that’s required of you for the next few days?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because that’s what you’re gonna have. You’re on leave until you’re able to walk properly again, Ms. Cho.”

“So now you’re being formal,” you tease, flashing him a playful smile. “But yes, Mr. Jeon. The instructions are understood.”

“Good,” he laughs softly. “Glad you’re not being stubborn about it.”

“Oh, not with this one, not when I’m this tired and in this much pain.”

His look turns sullen at the admission of what you’re feeling and you wish he didn’t feel this bad. But you can’t deny the way it’s giving you butterflies, prompting you to scold yourself internally because learning how caring he is isn’t exactly what you need to get over a crush. This is definitely the worst part about being injured, you decide.

You make it out of the hospital and he helps you again as you enter the car, sliding in next to you as he ensures that you’re warm.

You pass by a noodle house on the way, and he buys you some more food for the next day despite your insistence that he didn’t have to. But you’re too tired to argue some more, and you doze off a little during the drive to your apartment, with your half-awake self mumbling your apology about taking up his time.

Jungkook playfully shakes his head. Knowing you’re probably shallow sleep-talking, he disregards your words. He just gets glimpses of you, comforted to know that you’re at least getting the most rest you can have, given your current state. The painkillers will kick in soon and that’ll help you sleep better, but right now, he wishes he could do more for you.

In the deepest crevices of his heart, he wants to hold your still shivering hands and maybe hug your trembling body. He wants to stay with you until you’re warm and comfortable in your bed, perhaps assure you in whatever way that you’re not alone, that there’s help whenever you need it. He can’t imagine how it would’ve been like for you being under the rain, cold and hurt with no one around.

On second thought, he can, and that’s the thing about it. Even if you get out of it with just a sprained ankle - considering how much worse it could’ve been - it’s still terrifying being alone and powerless, paralyzed on the spot and not knowing if anyone will show up. He wants nothing more than for you to get over that and be able to move past it because he knows how haunting it could be; he knows how restraining such memories are.

But he also knows that there’s not much he could do - not with the unnamed feelings he can’t express, and not with the line he still believes he shouldn’t cross.

So he settles for glances and soft smiles at your fluttering eyes and slightly parted mouth. You look tired but peaceful; he thinks it’s quite endearing. It also feels intrusive so he looks away, out into the streets that he’s able to somehow see now. He thinks about the timing of it all - your late night and his dinner out, your injury and the bad weather. He’s thankful that the rain subsided and that allowed him to help you as much as he was able to, and that he got to you in the first place.

You arrive at your apartment with you now fully awake, and Jungkook heads to your side right away. Pulling you out of the car requires more strength from him, and despite your terrible condition, the butterflies appear once more when he instructs you to hold onto him for support. You have to act unaffected when you feel his broad shoulders and taut arms, with your hands gingerly laying on them; you wonder if he feels anything, too, under the thin material of his dress shirt.

His left hand only grazes your waist but his hold tightens after you grant him permission, perhaps knowing that it would be harder for you if he holds you that loose, he asked you to put your weight on him after all. Despite your agreement, you still hold in your breath, a silly attempt at slowing down your quickening heartbeat. He’s never been this close, and you’re unsure if you want him to be anywhere else.

You suspend your thoughts for the shortest of seconds until you both manage to get up the few steps to your door. Mr. Ri helps in unlocking it, and you settle on the dining chair that Jungkook pulls out for you after you both enter.

As you release a breath and watch him look around, it’s then you realize that your boss - the Jeon Corporation Vice President who lives in a penthouse in an exclusive district in Seoul - is in your tiny studio apartment that’s literally just the size of his bedroom. You’re not ashamed one bit but you are a little shy, so you jokingly welcome him to your “little mansion.”

“It’s nice,” he hums, looking around some more, which he doesn’t need to move to do.

The small round dining table, the off-the-wall kitchen, and the three-seater couch are all in the open living space. There’s a half-wall that separates your sleeping area, with your double bed against it and the tiniest of balconies just off of it.

You’re quite proud of what you’ve made of the place, with the plants in the corners, some chic art pieces on the walls, and photos with your friends and family on stick-on frames resting on the shelves. It’s cozy and comfortable for you, and you feel quite proud when Jungkook’s lips turn up when you respond that you’re happy here when he asks.

“It’s everything I need,” you hum. “And it’s in a safe part of town. My neighbors are older couples who are all kind.”

“That’s good,” he says, turning to you. “Will they be much help to you while you recover?”

“I’ll be okay,” you insist. “I have a crutch. I’ve got food to heat up, and my place is so small that I don’t have to move around to get things done. I don’t really need help, you know?”

He scrunches his eyebrows, seemingly unconvinced.

“Watch,” you say, your shallow confidence pushing you to grab the crutch next to you then using it to walk towards him so you could prove that you’re capable enough to look after yourself.

But your unfamiliarity with it leads you to mistime your step. Before you know it, you’re tripping on your foot and losing your balance, and as your life is about to flash before your eyes thinking that you’re gonna fall once again and make your injury worse, Jungkook’s reflex kicks in and he steps forward to catch you. You feel his grip on your waist gradually tighten as if to keep you steady, as if to make sure you’re alright. He’s so close, you can feel his breath as he pants, the worried look on his face something you’re familiar with by now. But he stays there, inches away, and so do you.

He’s bending, so he stays leveled with you. You can see his long eyelashes resting on his honeyed skin and the endearing curve of his nose. He looks so soft like this, comfortable even, with his big round eyes looking like the most innocent ones you’ve ever seen.

The voice in your head suddenly becomes loud enough and you break his gaze, realizing then that you’re also clutching onto his shoulder for support. You give him a look of apology but he just laughs, something you’re thankful for because the last thing you want is for the tension to thicken.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you? You think it’s that easy?” He shakes his head, his tone sounding like he’s both teasing and reprimanding you.

“It seemed like it,” you shrug, allowing him to help you back on the seat, disregarding the slightest bit of giddiness you feel as he has one hand on your free arm while the other ghosts over your waist in case you fall again.

“It’s not. And I know this because I’ve used this before,” he says. “So since you’ll be by yourself, we have to make sure you can at least use the crutch without falling, okay?”

“Fine,” you concede, listening to his instructions carefully then trying to do it on your own.

It takes some getting used to, but after a few tries, you manage to at least walk without tripping. You plan on just staying in bed or on the couch tomorrow anyway so you’re not that worried. Even if Jungkook still seems to be.

“I’m okay,” you insist. “I’m gonna survive. But you should head home. It’s getting late and you have that ocular in the morning. I’ll just have to email Chin-sun about accompanying you and—”

“None of that,” he interjects. “I’ll be the one to tell her and I don’t want you worrying about work tomorrow, okay? You’re gonna take your medicine and just rest.”

“You’re demanding, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Only when I’m dealing with someone as stubborn as you,” he counters.

You just laugh at him answering back, enjoying your banter more than you should, then he says that he’ll go ahead, for as long as you’re sure you can manage. It takes another five minutes until he makes it out the door. But before he disappears, you call his name, your heart skipping a beat when he turns around, as if he’s just hanging onto your every word.

“Thank you,” you say. “I know it was a long day and it was raining but… you still came for me.”

“Just recover quickly, okay? I’ll check on you in the morning.”

You nod and he leaves. And just like that, you’re once again on your own - damp, injured, and extremely tired. Jungkook’s presence remains in your apartment though, and there he is again, making you smile and making you feel things you shouldn’t.

You don’t mind being alone. In fact, you enjoy it. But during the times when you don’t want to be, he just happens to be there. And being the stubborn woman that you are, deep down, you like it that he is, that in your own little world with the walls up so high, he’s become a frequent visitor. You’re just not sure if you want him to stay just yet.

You wake up the next morning feeling faint and sore, and it’s probably the painkillers having lost their effect. And there’s a reason why, seeing that it’s close to midday when you finally get out of bed. You manage to stand and walk to the kitchen with no issues, and you take your medication and heat up the food that Jungkook bought for you last night. It’s when you’re seated that he calls, bringing that smile to your otherwise uneventful day.

“Hello?”

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Just fine. I took my medicines for the day and I’m about to eat lunch,” you reply. “And you? How was the ocular?”

“It was good. It has a lot of potential so I’ll run down the details with the teams and propose it. But speaking of sites, remember what I said about Hoseok and I thinking of a Scandinavian-inspired mid-rise in the mountains?”

“Yeah, the one you came up with during your trip. Are you gonna push through with it soon?”

“Perhaps. I’ve gotten emails of proposed sites for some other projects but I’ve seen a few that could work with this idea,” he shares. “There’s one in Gangwon that’s near the town center so it would be practical for many. There’s even— ah, why am I saying this to you now? You’re off the clock.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. Jungkook doesn’t always show this much excitement with the projects he has to manage so when he does, you encourage him. It’s also an excuse to hear more of his voice. “My mind’s not prepared for being home today anyway so I’m a little disoriented. But that’s good. I can look into the sites and we can do an ocular whenever you prefer.”

“Alright, that’s something to schedule for next month. But uh, you sure you’re fine? Does your ankle still hurt? Did you get proper sleep?”

“Well, I slept like a baby,” you giggle. “And I at least remained in one position. It still hurts a bit but it should be okay in the next few days. I’m just gonna have to replace the bandage tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Just make sure to ice it and keep it elevated.”

“Yes, boss,” you tease, earning you a groan. “But uh, thank you for checking up on me. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead.”

He’s silent, and you suppose it’s him again not knowing how to respond to gratitude, so you follow it up by saying that you’ll eat your meal now and reminding him of his meeting at 2PM.

“You better not be checking your emails and my calendar right now,” he warns.

“I’m not. I just memorize your schedule,” you defend.

“Okay then, I’ll go ahead.”

Jungkook drops the call and sinking in his seat, he sighs in relief. He managed to get through that conversation without sounding extremely worried, which is what he’s been since last night. His busy day today actually includes constantly worrying about how you’re doing, but he supposes it’s too much to let you know. Sure it’s just a sprained ankle, but knowing how you tend to move about, anything can happen. You were all alone for some time last night, too, just waiting for a way to get home. And that’s another thing he worries about - that fear latching onto you, that helplessness weighing you down.

He asks Mr. Ri if he’s heard from you, thinking that you’d probably be more honest with him, but the older man says you told him the same thing.

“Don’t you believe her?” Mr. Ri wonders.

“I do, but she’s quite stubborn though,” Jungkook laments.

“Well, I’ve known her for a while and she tends to just deal with things on her own,” Mr. Ri says.

“But she shouldn’t. She’s injured.”

“I think it’s natural for people who’ve been alone for many years to be that way,” the older man shrugs. “I mean, you’re the same.”

Jungkook doesn’t disagree. And if you’re truly anything like him, then you’d just push through the pain and force it to stop hurting so you can go back to your normal busy life because doing so keeps you from thinking of how lonely it feels when you’re sick or hurt and there’s no one around. It’s how he’s always been, too, he admits to himself.

The thought disturbs him, which is why he messages you three more times during the day and then again the next morning, asking if he could drop by. He’s expecting you to insist that you’re fine and he doesn’t need to, so it surprises him when you say that he could.

You’re pacing back and forth in your mind since you’re unable to physically do so, but the thought of Jungkook visiting you this Saturday morning is a lot for you to handle, even if you did say it was alright for him to come. The truth is, you wanted him to, only because selfishly, seeing someone be that worried about you gives you some form of comfort.

You called your family yesterday and told them about the injury, which they obviously panicked about. Your mom asked if you needed her to come to you but like always, you said she didn’t need to. You told Yoongi about it, too, and he was worried as well, in the classic way that he often is; he had food delivered to you for dinner last night so you didn’t have to think about it. You only told your best friends about it this morning and they were furious you waited so long to let them know; they were packing their stuff right as you were speaking to them two hours ago.

You know you have people to depend on and would be at your doorstep anytime you ask. These are the same people who’ve done that for years and you fully accept their care and attention; it’s become a part of you and your healing process. But when someone like Jungkook who, for whatever reason he has, shows you the same, it feels different; he goes out of his way to show it to you, and he’s not even someone who normally does it. It’s a new kind of comfort, one that you find yourself seeking. So when he called earlier and asked if he could drop by, there was an internal sigh of relief.

Over half an hour later, your doorbell rings, and you limp your way towards the door to open it.

Other than being in suits, you’ve only ever seen Jungkook in his gym clothes - half naked as well - and in night out wear. You realize that this is the first time you’re seeing him in a casual outfit, and with a jacket over a sweatshirt and a brown beanie, he looks different - there’s that boyish charm that you’ve never seen; he looks softer, kinder, still reserved but a lot more comfortable.

You let him in after your greetings, then you turn to him and smile.

“It’s really the suit, I know it now,” you tease. “It’s what makes you look intimidating.”

He looks at his attire then frowns at you. “So how do I look now?”

“Not intimidating.”

“Wow, what a surprise,” he playfully rolls his eyes. “Whereas you…” He eyes you in gray leggings and a blush jumper, looking soft and comfortable and even more like the bright spot he’s realized you are, but he’d never tell you that. “You look injured.”

“Gee, what a surprise. I feel injured, too,” you laugh. “But uhm, it’s nice of you to visit my humble mansion once again.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing better,” he hums. “And bring some more food so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You eye the beef brisket with rice and say that you know what you’ll be having for lunch. He responds that he might just go back to the restaurant and meet his best friends there, too. You return to your seat on the couch, realizing there’s not much room for him to sit on, but he gets to you first, standing in front of you and eyeing the elastic bandage on the table.

“Aren’t you due for a redress?” He asks.

“Yes but uh, I can’t actually reach my foot,” you say with an embarrassed smile. “I’m not really flexible so I’ll just wait until Soomin and Jimin arrive.”

“I can do it,” he offers, thinking that the bandage isn’t serving its purpose if it remains loose. “I mean, I’ve dressed myself on my own before so I’m familiar with it.”

It’s probably the painkillers but something possesses you and you agree, your mind too out of it to take the words back. A part of you wishes you had, especially when your heart does a thing when he kneels on the floor and slowly takes your injured foot. You wiggle your toes in reflex, as if they’re shy, too, and Jungkook laughs at your silly antics, especially when you admit that you’re a little ticklish.

But he softly looks at you right after and asks if he’s hurting you, and you shake your head, unable to say anything else and process that you really allowed this man - your boss and in-denial crush - to do this.

You sit there, charmed by the way he looks determined to get this done. He removes the old bandage and wipes your ankle before wrapping it with a new one. His hands are large and quite rough but he’s very gentle, making sure to not lift your foot too high and that the bandage isn’t wrapped too tightly. Once he’s finished, he lays it on the table and looks up at you to ask if it feels okay.

“Yes,” you shyly smile. “Thank you. That was, uh, that was really nice of you.”

He nods and stands up to throw the trash in the bin, wanting to quickly hide his smile at how wholesome you looked in thanking him.

He proceeds to look around, taking more of your home in. There’s something very calming about it, and it’s more than just the plants that you have and the right amount of sunlight coming from the balcony door and kitchen window. There’s also something familiar, as he looks through your shelf of photos, seeing your mom and her partner for the first time. She looks a lot like you. She has a nice smile like yours, and she sees that same joy on her face as he’d seen on you, as she hugs you tightly in one of the pictures.

The familiarity is similar to when he first had a whiff of your scent - old rose like the one his mother used to wear, one he remembers as a child when he still clung to her. There are those memories that stick with him. Others he doesn’t have anymore but that’s good, he supposes. Seeing your shelf, he sees all the good and tangible things you hold dear.

“The photo on the far right, the one with Soomin and Jimin. We took that during my birthday trip using your gift,” you tell him. “It came out really nicely.”

“It did. Did you finish the film? What else did you take photos of?”

“We used it all up,” you smile. “And just a lot of the scenery and the three of us. We all divided them so we could have copies and just remember how fun that week was.”

“Good, that’s what I hoped.”

Jungkook stands there, his jacket now off so his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are in his pockets as he looks through your shelf. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s seeing, if any of this makes him curious. It’s as if he’s taking in all the small parts of who you are that he can see displayed before him. He turns to you and your eyes meet again, and for a moment, it feels like you’re really seeing him and he’s really seeing you, like there’s something only both of you share and understand and want and can give.

But the doorbell ringing disrupts it, with you wondering who it could be since your best friends won’t arrive until an hour from now. Jungkook walks to the door and opens it, surprised to see Yoongi who’s just as surprised to see his friend in your apartment.

“Hey, you’re back. And… here,” you smile, attempting to stand up but Yoongi tells you to stay put.

“I flew home last night and thought I’d visit and get you some food, but it seems like I’m second in line,” he says, his smug face causing you to glare at him.

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” Jungkook defends. “I won’t stay long.”

“Of course you do. And I won’t stay long either. I don’t wanna disturb anything.”

He smirks at his friend, prompting Jungkook to glare at him as well.

“Yah, chill, you two. I’m really just passing by,” Yoongi reiterates, making his way now to sit on the arm of your sofa. “Just wanted to check on ___ and make sure she’s well-fed.”

“I’m injured, not starving, okay?” You groan. “But thanks. What have you got there?”

“Noodles, custard buns, and some tarts. Wasn’t sure what you’re into when you’re incapacitated,” Yoongi shrugs.

“I’m very much mobile,” you correct him. “Just… slow and limping.”

Jungkook pulls your dining chair and sits in front of you, and the three of you talk as if this isn’t weird at all. You’re all colleagues - you and Jungkook consider Yoongi as your friend, but you don’t know if you should consider your boss as such, and you don’t know if he considers you the same. You’ve definitely experienced a lot of things that could qualify what you have as friendship, but even then, there’s something more about it, something a little more intimate, different, terrifying.

You brave through this dynamic and learn that Yoongi likes to tell Jungkook off a lot. It’s the kind of bluntness you expect from Yoongi’s no-nonsense attitude but it’s refreshing to see him be more straightforward towards someone like Jungkook who you’re used to seeing as commanding and serious. Jungkook takes the hits, seemingly unbothered as they bicker, and it’s another side of him you enjoy seeing - the smiles and laughter are natural, and there’s this comfort about him that you suddenly want more of.

The time passes quickly, with the doorbell ringing again signaling that your friends have arrived. Yoongi gets up first to open the door, greeting them who do the same. You manage to stand up with Jungkook telling you to be careful, and when it dawns on them who else is in your apartment, Jimin’s face turns sour and Soomin’s goes from confused to amused.

Jungkook looks taken aback by the cold welcome, but he manages to introduce himself to them.

“Oh, we know,” Jimin says dryly. “You’re the one who gives her so much work that she had to do overtime again and that’s why she got hurt.”

You feel the tension come like a strong wave and you try to lower the level a little bit.

“He also brought me to the hospital and got me some food,” you tell Jimin, whose bitterness isn’t unfounded. He did listen to you complain about this very man all those months ago. “He’s just checking up on me, making sure I’m alright, the way you guys are.”

“As we should,” Jimin huffs. “At least we don’t cause you any injury or pain.”

“You don’t. But you do make things better so could you do that, please?” You say, opening your arms for a hug, something to appease him before it gets even more tense.

Jimin has the sweetest smile but wouldn’t be afraid to burn anyone down with his looks if they deserve it. Jungkook did at one point, but you obviously feel very differently about that now. But still, you glance at the man, hoping this encounter isn’t putting him off too much, and with the slight tinge of guilt in his eyes, you suppose it hasn’t.

Jungkook turns away, partly because a reminder of how he’d treated you before makes him regret even more how you both started, and partly because seeing you affectionate with any man - even if it’s your best friend - makes him a tiny bit jealous, only because it’s something he can’t be with you. Seeing you that way with Hajoon months ago was different; Jungkook had been more shocked than anything. But this time, given that his attraction towards you seems to grow every second, and that he’s been wanting nothing more than to comfort you, there’s more of that feeling of loss, of hope that it could be him one day, even if that’s something that’ll probably never happen.

“I know you dislike him but tone it down for now, okay?” You whisper to Jimin. “My place is too small to contain all this tension.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Seeing him just reminds me of what you had to go through because of him,” he says before pulling away. “But he did help. And well, Soo and I are still upset that you didn’t tell us sooner. You know we would’ve driven here on Thursday night.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why. You both had something big going on and I could wait,” you reply, a reason you give them everytime.

Wanting a short breather from all this, you excuse yourself and ask Soomin to help you with something in the bathroom, and she heads there right away.

“Can you make sure that those two don’t murder each other?” You whisper to Yoongi as you gesture towards Jimin and Jungkook.

“It would be entertaining if they did, but yes, I’ll try,” he chuckles.

You walk to where Soomin is and after closing the door, she looks at you with the same amusement that she’s had since she arrived.

“What in the romance drama is this!” She exclaims, lowering her voice when you scold at her to keep it down. “All your three men coming to your home to make sure you’re okay? Talk about making an impression.”

“They aren’t my men, okay!” You scowl at her. “They all just happened to have the same thought. And no, Jimin doesn’t count.”

“Whatever,” Soomin laughs. “It’s just… I know you’re hurt and that you’ll be okay but it’s just amusing to see them show up for you like this. Especially the big boss. He’s way hotter up close, I can tell you that.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you frown. “I wish there was a potion I could take to make him look unattractive to me so that I’d stop being so giddy at everything he does. And fuck, Soo, I haven’t been like this in ages. Or ever.”

“Well, you haven’t been this accepting of someone’s attention, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, and I’m being silly. I might just be putting myself up for disappointment here,” you groan. “I mean, I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I know what I’m not supposed to feel. And he’s not making it any easier.”

“Your situation isn’t easy in the first place, hun. And there are many reasons why,” she sighs, wishing there was a way to uncomplicate this very complicated relationship you have with Jungkook. “But whatever it is you think you shouldn’t feel, think about what he may be feeling, too. He wouldn’t be making all this effort since Thursday night for this to just be nothing.”

“I wish none of that means anything. That’s probably gonna be easier, right? That he doesn’t feel anything remotely close to what I do? That’s probably better than dealing with all the complications.”

“Maybe, but we don’t really know,” Soomin says, pulling you in for a hug. “But also think about how new and different this feels. It might be worth it in the long run.”

You fall into her embrace, knowing that during the toughest times of your life, this was your saving grace. It’s no different when you’re confused and in need of guidance, and though you’ve always made decisions for yourself with knowledge of the consequences, Soomin was there to back you up during the times when you were going in somewhat blindly. She wants you to be happy, and you won’t really know if continuing to feel what you do about Jungkook will make you so. If all else fails, well, you could always go back home, or maybe return to Busan and start a life there. Jungkook will just be a memory; you hope to the heavens it’ll be a good one.

You shake away the thoughts and finally go back out and are relieved to find some peace. Jimin’s washing your dishes while talking to Yoongi who wipes them dry. Jungkook sits on your sofa, looking around quietly, but he stands when he sees you approach him.

“I’ll go ahead,” he says, gesturing towards the door. “I… I think you’ve got everything you need.”

“Let me walk you there,” you smile.

He’s outside the door when you thank him again then apologize if Jimin made him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. I’d be protective of my best friend, too, if I learned how their boss treated them,” he responds.

“I, uh… those were hard times and I may have complained quite a bit about you,” you pout. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure I deserved it,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky you have them. I mean, my best friends tease me a lot and say shit about me to my face and behind my back.”

“Oh come on, Seokjin and Taehyung love you,” you laugh. “I’ve seen it, but you all also said you’re like that to each other; it’s how you guys grew up. I mean, I was the new girl in school and Jimin and Soomin have been protective since day one, whereas your best friends have shown you tough love since you were kids. They said you never accepted their affection so they switched tactics.”

“That’s fair. I was always shy and then turned into a bitter, introverted child. There was no transition, I guess. Now we’re adults and have just stuck with each other because we’re all we’ve ever known.”

“Well, you make decisions to stand by people, Jungkook. They do with you and you do the same with them. Plus, you’re not that insufferable,” you tease.

“At least you don’t think so. Not anymore, I hope,” he says softly, looking away.

“People deserve second chances. You gave me some and more and I… I’m glad you did. I at least get to see this side of you that’s helped me a lot these past months. I’m thankful. And I hope you know that.”

Jungkook just nods, unable to reply through words again. You let him, knowing it’s his default response. He walks to his car and turns around for a final goodbye, leaving you in anticipation for when you’d be with him again.

“Well, that was a long goodbye,” Yoongi says, surprising you as he stands behind you. “And no, I didn’t hear anything.”

You turn to him with a playful frown. “I was just making sure that Jimin didn’t make him feel too bad. I mean, I know I complained a lot but still. I didn’t want Jungkook to think I cursed his existence or something.”

“You did at one point though,” Yoongi laughs. “But it’s acceptable. Jungkook was rude, and heavens know how much shit I gave him for treating you the way he did.”

“You did, huh?”

“I always told you I’d look out for you, ___. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between us, I was always going to have your back.”

“You’re heaven-sent, Min Yoongi,” you smile. “I wish I could do half as much as you do for me.”

“You do more. I hope you don’t ever doubt the comfort that your presence gives to people. Maybe that’s what it’s done to Jungkook. And I know he hasn’t felt much of that in years.”

It’s Yoongi’s last words before he says goodbye, and they stay in your head for the next few days. Maybe Soomin’s right - all that Jungkook has been doing might mean something, and you hope that finding out what it is will all be worth it.

Jungkook decides to meet with his friends at one of his favorite restaurants for lunch. All he planned on doing today was visit you and he has nothing else going on for the rest of it. The club scene has become boring for him, and going to one only to bring home a woman to hook up with is no longer appealing, not when you invade his mind all the time.

Being welcomed in your home was refreshing. And even if it was awkward, meeting your friends allowed him another peak into your world. You choose the people you allow in, and you don’t choose many of them. The ones you do stay for a long time, and that’s the kind of person you seem to be. You value relationships so much that’s why you don’t have many of them, and with all that you went through and the vulnerability you’ve both shown each other, he’s started to hope that one day, he’d be deserving of that, too.

“So did you feel like a fish out of water being there with her actual friends?” Seokjin asks. “Because I don’t know what you’d consider your relationship with her is. Boss-assistant feels too simplistic at this point. Are you friends? Are you more? Or is that all too ambiguous?”

“I don’t… know,” Jungkook sighs. “We’re all that but we also aren’t. We’ve gone through so much that it doesn’t seem like there’s a way to define what we are. But I feel like I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable and we’ve connected because of that.”

“And what about you? Have you been vulnerable in front of her?” Seokjin asks.

Has he? Jungkook thinks. Maybe that first time he asked for your help with his new role but he supposes it’s nothing compared to what you’ve shown him, intentional or not.

“Not really. I… I don’t let myself be. That’s still distance I need to establish,” Jungkook reasons.

“More like, because you know that if you do show that side of you, you’re scared you’ll find out that she’ll understand, and that having her next to you is what you need to heal whatever parts of you that are still hurting?” Seokjin counters.

“I don’t want to need her, you know that. There’s a boundary I shouldn’t cross. She’s my assistant and—”

“You’ve been treating her like the most important person and it’s not hard to miss,” Taehyung interjects. “You were never like this, not since Chaerin.”

“I don’t even know what it is about ___ that just makes me consider risking things, you know?” Jungkook sighs. “I’m always torn with what our reality is and what we could be but I’m afraid that if we cross that line, we’ll have to make sacrifices. I… I’m finding myself wanting her around all the time. When she leaves, I want her to stay. When she’s not there, I want her to come. But at the same time, I don’t want her too close because I don’t know if I can have her or if I can want her. Because I don’t know what of me I can give that won’t hurt her,” he admits, with a bit of help from some whiskey.

“Maybe if you let yourself be vulnerable, you’d know,” Seokjin advises. “Some people would run and hide but there’s always that one person who wouldn’t. That might just be her. And then you’ll learn what you can give, too.”

Jungkook lets his friends’ words settle and then thinks about them throughout the night that he spends all alone in his penthouse, with another glass of whiskey in his hand as he looks out the balcony. A part of him wants you to run and hide when you see who he really is, what he hides and what he’s ashamed of. Maybe that would be easier, he thinks; maybe that would hurt less.

You return to work the next Tuesday, having gone to the hospital the day before and being cleared to return to your usual routine. Jimin and Soomin stayed with you until that evening, with you rejecting their insistence to stay another day. You can manage, you assure them. You’re able to walk properly now and would just need to do daily exercises, wear the elastic bandage for another week, and forego the heels.

Jungkook’s pleased to know that you’re doing better and makes sure you don’t walk around if you don’t need to, so he’s been the one going to see you when he needs something. He also postponed some potential site visits for the project that he and Hoseok are working on until you’re fully capable, which is why it’s three weeks later when you find yourself in the car with him, on the way to some towns in nearby provinces on an early Friday morning.

Mr. Ri called in sick today and Jungkook didn’t want to deal with a chauffeur he doesn’t know, so he decided to drive instead, thinking it’s more efficient that way. These are all initial checks and being that you’re the only one from his team who’s privy to the details, he wanted you to join him as a sounding board and also to get your own thoughts about what you’ll be seeing. He has a vision in mind and he needs to translate it properly; you’ve been helpful these past months in making sure he’s able to do that.

Disregarding what this time alone with you would do to him, Jungkook meets you in his penthouse, telling himself to focus on only one thing today, and that’s finding the right place for his planned project.

You leave early for a quick stop at a cafe and then head north to some towns in Gyeonggi province. There are some properties and land that are up for sale, and you prepared the information about them beforehand, allowing Jungkook to play around with the timeline and budget in his mind, even drawing rough drafts on his iPad as he assesses them. You’re both in work-mode, discussing each site on the way to the next one, with you searching for more details along the way and him, stopping on the side of the road to add an idea that he comes up with on the spot.

It’s a little chaotic, as his mind goes from one thing to another, but you suppose this is how Jungkook naturally is. You’ve seen him perform his duties in various ways, but this is when you see the most raw side of him, and it’s quite the privilege to see. He always said he preferred the creative aspect of the job, which is why he enjoyed his time in Singapore, handling the design department. You contend that he’s grown tremendously in his executive role. As Hoseok has said, Jungkook relates to his staff better now, and has even engaged and attracted more partners with his great ideas.

You’re quite sentimental going on this trip with him. It wasn’t long ago when you were going to work with anxiety, anticipating his next criticism so you can prepare yourself, and then going home feeling like a failure. So much has happened since then, and you could even say that you’ve found comfort in your daily routines; doing something different like this is now exciting and something you look forward to, especially since it allows you to go outside, see the sights, and breathe the cool air.

“You okay there?” He asks, noticing your silence.

“Yeah. I was just thinking how 10 months ago, this would’ve stressed me out so much.”

“What? Going on a road trip?”

“Pretty much going anywhere with you,” you laugh. “Car rides even with Mr. Ri made me freak out, and I was so scared to make a mistake or make you wait for information that I couldn’t find. And now here we are - I survived the last five hours with you and not once did you groan at me.”

“Wow, I must’ve been a really terrible boss to make your standard for a non-stressful day to be that low,” he laughs before turning serious. “But I… I’m… I’m sorry, for all the stress and anxiety that I caused you. I was being selfish and irrational about it. I hate change and you were the biggest one, even with my new role. I took out all the frustration on you and I shouldn’t have.”

He says more than he expected, but it’s also the apology that he should’ve given—that you deserved —months ago.

“I forgive you,” you say softly, glancing at him before returning your eyes towards the road. “I always knew my limits and I guess I let you push it and that was on me. I could’ve stood up to you, too.”

“You did though, more than once. And that knocked some sense into me.”

“I guess,” you hum. “And then things improved and I’m just glad they did.”

There’s a prolonged silence after, as you both opt to bask in the scenery around you. There’s that understanding and acceptance of how things were and that regardless of what’s going on in your own minds, you at least have this. You think to yourself that this just makes leaving that much harder, but at least this is one more memory you could take with you.

You make it to Hwacheon in Gangwon past noon, and this is where you spend most of your time in, as the sites are spread out around the county. There are areas tucked away in the mountains while there are those closer to town with grand views. It’s in the latter where you grab some lunch and go through some of his plans, and you take in his ideas, learning from him in the process.

It’s late in the afternoon when you inspect the final site, which is in an area in the neighboring Chuncheon county. It’s got potential for another project that CEO Jeon is looking to do, and with your notes completed, you and Jungkook start the trip back home. You would reach the tail-end of the Friday night traffic by the time you return to Seoul, the GPS says, and so both of you savor the sky’s changing colors as it transitions to the evening, letting the soft sounds of the radio replace the silence.

Barely 30 minutes in, the rain starts to pour, and it’s seconds later when it dawns on you what that means, as you hear heavy breathing next to you. You turn to Jungkook whose hands are tightly gripping the wheel, with sweat lining his eyebrows despite the cool temperature.

“Did the forecast say it was gonna rain?” He asks, the mix of panic and frustration evident in his voice.

“Yes, but not until late in the evening,” you say, checking your phone to make sure you got the correct information.

Your heart breaks upon realizing that at midday, the weather station warned that there was going to be a thunderstorm, with rainfall coming in around this time. You inform Jungkook, and despite all the progress in your relationship, your heart breaks a second time when he says that you should’ve constantly checked, that the weather changes all the time and you should’ve been mindful, and that now you’re both gonna be stuck on the road because he’s unable to drive and you don’t know how to. His tone is harsh, accusatory, as if it was something you could control, as if everything was your fault, just like how it was before.

Jungkook stops on the side of the road as the downpour continues, and he leans his head on the steering wheel now as he takes deep breaths. You tell him he could breathe better if he sits straight up, but he ignores you.

A part of you wants to remark how it’s ironic that just earlier, he was apologizing for the way he treated you, and now it’s like you’ve both taken a few steps back. You want to say it’s not your fault, that you wouldn’t even have known that the rain affected him this way if you hadn’t seen him be nervous about it when you went home from the gala last year. But you think about the way his eyes looked earlier, how they filled with worry and fear, like there was a sense of powerlessness that you know a little about.

So you settle for a bit of grace and understanding, thinking they’re what he needs.

“I don’t know why this is on me,” you say softly. “I didn’t know how bad it was but if I did, I would’ve checked constantly and I would’ve had us turn back the second I saw that forecast. And if I could drive, I’d drive us back as fast as I could. I’m sorry.”

He slows his breathing and sits up. His hands still tightly gripping the wheel but his eyes are downcast, and you suppose there’s more sadness than anger, so you stop pressing your nails on your skin, which you’d started doing in anticipation of him arguing with you about it.

“I don’t like the rain,” he shares, his voice low. “I… I have a bad memory of it as a kid and I just get reminded whenever it starts. I panic when it gets louder and I just… I can’t stay out here when that's all I can hear.”

His honesty surprises you. You can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for him, even more that he has to suffer through this right now in front of you, considering how hard it is for him to express how he feels. You don’t know how bad this weather is gonna go, and at this pace, the thunderstorm will probably reach you by the time you make it back to Seoul. So you do what you do best, and that’s to come up with options.

“There’s a guesthouse not far from here,” you say after checking the map. “It’s the closest one. We could spend the night there and wait out the rain. That’s better than being stuck here or continuing the drive back to the city.”

He nods in agreement, knowing there’s not much he could do. He doesn’t want to be stuck here; even more, he doesn’t want to unload on you nor have you witness how much worse it could be.

He keys in the address you give him while you call the property and ask if they still have available rooms. They do, so you reserve two and sigh in relief that that’s one problem solved.

You make it there in 15 minutes. Jungkook heads out the car first with the rain having eased up a bit, and you retrieve his luggage from the trunk, the one he keeps there for emergency trips and instances like this one. It has enough clothes for a day, and you’re glad that at least he has something to change into.

You make it inside and meet the owners then introduce yourself, stating that you reserved two rooms.

“I’m so sorry but we had to give up one of them,” the woman says. “A family came in with a baby and we couldn’t turn them away. The weather’s going to get worse tonight and we try to accommodate as many people as we can. I hope you understand.”

“That’s… that’s okay,” you say, knowing you would’ve done the same.

The thought of sharing a room with Jungkook feels too intimate and definitely not good for your heart, added to the fact that you’re probably not his favorite person right now, so you try to find a way out. You turn to the living room and see the sofa that’s big enough for you, so you ask if you can just stay there instead.

“Our cleaners will be using that space since they can’t go home due to the rain. I’m sorry again, Miss. Your room has twin beds so I hope that eases your worry somehow.”

“It’s fine, we’ll manage,” Jungkook says from behind you, hoping to the heavens that he will. He has one fear, and that’s you seeing how he really is during times like this.

He takes the key and walks up the stairs to the room you’re given. It’s spacious with a fair enough distance between both beds. He takes the one farther from the window then gets his clothes from his bag. It dawns on him that you don’t have your own with you, so he offers you his sweatshirt.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. “It’s gonna be cold and you’re gonna need it.”

“So will you. You can’t be in wet clothes, not in this weather.”

“It’s happened before,” you shrug.

“___, just take it,” he insists, placing the item on your bed. “I have a top here that I can wear and the blankets will be enough. This is loose but it’s at least better than damp clothing. And you can go ahead in the bathroom. I’ll just give Mr. Ri a call.”

You nod and head out, taking his jumper and the towel with you. You’re given some basic toiletries, and the warm shower is just what you need for that bit of comfort after a stressful evening. As you’re about to dress up inside, you hear a knock on the door.

“I asked the lady if they had spare pajamas for you and she gave me a set,” Jungkook says from outside. “I’ll leave them on a stool by the door.”

You wait for him to leave before getting them and putting them on. It’s a plain set of shorts and shirt that’s a little big but it’s way better than your damp skirt and blouse, which the owners offered to wash and dry for you for tomorrow.

You return to the room with Jungkook sitting on the floor, and you give him back his sweatshirt that he turns down.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t you get cold easily? You’ll need that.”

He walks out, barely meeting your eyes. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed when he returns half an hour later, the sight of him with damp hair in black sweatpants and a white sleeveless top doing things to you. But you shake the thoughts away, especially as he once again creates that distance. He doesn’t look at you when he settles in bed, nor when he switches off his bedside light, and definitely not when he turns around to face the other way. You sigh to yourself, feeling even more alone now with him acting like this.

You can’t really blame him though. Dealing with something that elicits painful memories is difficult, and you understand the tendency to isolate yourself and push people away when that happens. It’s what you do sometimes, but still, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you a little when Jungkook does this to you, considering how good your relationship has become, regardless of your stupid attraction.

Settling in your bed, you decide to turn around and face the window. You focus on the droplets creating their own artwork on the glass, in hopes that it’ll help you take your mind off Jungkook, even if he’s literally just a few feet away from you. The last thing you want is a strained relationship, and you hope that this doesn’t make him fall back into his old ways. Although he’s experienced a few stressful moments these past months, they weren’t personal, and you suppose situations like this are when his emotions truly come out.

The rain has gotten stronger again and you’re pleased that Jungkook isn’t awake for this, based on the soft snores you hear. You’re about to fall asleep, the sound hypnotizing you a little, but that’s when the first blare of thunder strikes, causing you to jerk in bed in surprise. It used to scare you because of what it reminded you of, but you learned how to manage it after the first hit; the succeeding ones are no longer triggering. In fact, you just think of how it used to drown out the sounds of what you were truly afraid of.

Just then, you hear distressed moans. The sounds of frantic breathing and shifts on the bed follow right after. And then there’s a restrained groan, like a call for help that doesn’t fully come out, and that’s what alarms you. You immediately get off the bed and rush to Jungkook’s side. You see that he’s still asleep, his body - now uncovered by the blanket - is tense, despite his efforts of turning about. The low sounds of almost-cries convince you that he’s having a nightmare.

Thunder hits once again and it’s much louder this time, eliciting another frantic response from Jungkook. He’s kicking the covers while gripping the sheets, and with another roar of thunder that causes him to scream, that’s when you decide to wake him up.

“Jungkook, hey, listen to me,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed and keeping his head still with your hands. You’re able to control him as he continues tossing and turning, repeating his name until he slowly opens his eyes. “Hey, you’re safe with me, okay? Just focus on my voice.”

He’s awake now and you see the worry in his eyes, but you talk to him calmly, wanting him to trust you. It works, as he nods and slows down his movements. But he’s still breathing heavily, his lips chattering and the rest of his body shivering.

You anticipate another hit of thunder, and you’re able to shield him from it, pressing your palms on his ears, trying to drown out the sound. You stay that way, thumbing his temples as you tell him it’s okay, that you’ve got him, and that it’ll be over soon. You hold his gaze to let him know that you’re not going anywhere, and his pretty eyes that often look so far away are now overtaken with fear.

“Just look at me, alright? And follow my breathing,” you instruct him, your voice as gentle as you can make it despite your own worries for him.

He does as you say, his hands gripping your wrists as if to keep them there, and you assure him that you won’t let go until he says so.

“You’re doing good, just keep breathing,” you repeat, pacing your breathing with his until you’re doing it together.

You don’t know how long you stay that way, with his head between your hands and your eyes locked on his. It takes a while, but the thunder eventually stops and the rain eases. Jungkook finally calms down and you slowly release him from your hold. You watch him shut his eyes, as if in desperation to let everything go, before he opens them again.

“Is that better?” You ask, moving just a bit farther from him to give him space, but you remain close, wanting to be next to him in case something happens again.

“Yeah, that was, uh… that was tiring,” he huffs.

“I think the thunder has passed but if it happens again, I’ll be here, okay?”

He nods, his soft and desperate eyes now looking at you to express his gratitude. You want so badly to hug him, to hold his still-shaking hands and assure him that he’s not alone, that you won’t let anything hurt him for the rest of the night, and that you understand it all - whatever it is he’s afraid of, and why he keeps it all to himself.

But you suppose that’s going too far. You’re afraid that you’d want to stay there, even more if he doesn’t want you to. So you nod as well and think that he at least has this to comfort him, that he at least knows you’re just there.

You walk back to your bed and lie down, facing him this time. You smile, wanting that assurance to be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep again. Jungkook does the same as he settles under the covers, patting it down so he could see you better. You both stay there, safe in your corners, your eyes telling each other things you can’t say.

Whatever distance you felt earlier has shortened. Right now, with both of you falling asleep to each other’s view, he’s never felt so close.

The morning after heavy rain is always bittersweet. There’s the reality of the damage it caused but you also can’t deny that it gives life to other living things. What it also does is make way for clear skies and give you that fresh, rainwater scent of the grass and the trees. It’s what you see and smell when you open the bedroom windows, reminding you that the evening has passed and the worst is over.

You spot Jungkook seated on one of the chairs in the garden, and you hope that the view is making him feel better, with the nightmare from last night slowly drifting away from his mind. You dress up in the dry clothes you find hanging on the doorknob of the room then head downstairs, surprised to see food prepared in the dining area. The tofu stew and grilled mackerel are so appetizing, and the loud rumbling of your stomach reminds you that you didn’t eat last night, with all the stress making dinner your last priority.

“Hello, dear. It was a pretty hard evening so we prepared something for our guests,” the owner says, her radiant smile reflecting the brightness of the day. “You may call your friend outside so you can both eat and get ready for a long drive home.”

You thank her then call Jungkook, his eyes brightening when he walks back inside and sees the food. He engages in conversation with the owners, asking about this town and the surrounding ones, and what their appeal is to non-residents. You gauge that he’s doing a bit of research himself, and you think he’s at least not too out of it to still do so.

“You’re free to stay until noon,” the owner informs you. “You can enjoy the view outside; it’s really pretty now that the sky has cleared. I’ll be making tea shortly as well.”

Jungkook says he’ll return to the garden and you wait for the hot drinks before following him. You’re unsure if he wants you around but you try, sitting next to him then sighing in relief when he doesn’t move away.

“I was 10 years old when my parents sent me and my brother to a cabin somewhere in Hwasun,” he starts. “I thought they were coming with us but it was just me and Jeong-sik and some staff. He and I never got along. If he wasn’t ignoring me, he was teasing me. But that day, he convinced me to play hide-and-seek, saying that by the time he finds me, our parents would be back. We were outdoors and I ended up wandering too far, so close to the woods that I couldn’t find my way back. My brother hadn’t come and I was getting scared. And then it started to rain.”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“It started getting stronger and the skies had become so dark, I could barely see anything,” he continues, his eyes fixed towards the mountains faraway. “The rain made the ground slippery so I decided to just sit by a large tree and hope someone would find me. It felt like hours and maybe it was. The thunder was so loud then and it kept going and going and going. And I was drenched and all alone, and no matter how hard I screamed, no one could hear me.”

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, feeling your heart break as he narrates a painful memory that you can relate with.

It’s only close to what you experienced yet it feels so real to you. You can feel his fear and his pain in the tremble of his voice, in the way he grips on the edges of the bench, in the way his jaw clenches at the memory, like it’s one he’s tried hard to bury yet can’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

But this feels so personal, and you don’t want him to feel like he needs to share it with you.

“You don’t have to explain,” you add. “I know it’s difficult to share something like that.”

“But I want to,” he responds, turning to you now. “Because I’ve carried the memory with me for 20 years and I’ve been dealing with it all on my own. But that’s not an excuse to treat you the way I did last night. That’s not a reason for me to take it out on you and especially to blame you. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry, ___. I…”

He looks down, perhaps trying to gather the courage he needs to be honest with you, to be vulnerable with you.

“I don’t want you to think that I didn’t need you because I did,” he adds. “I was scared and I didn’t think I needed you but you were there and I’m so sorry.”

You sit there and watch him cower onto himself, and somehow you see the little boy who was scared, who was wondering why he’d been left alone, who was waiting for someone to come find him or perhaps… someone to sit there and be with him until the rain stopped. There’s a lot he carries; there’s also a lot he buries, as if there’s a bottomless hole within him where he keeps everything hidden but it still feels too heavy, too much, taking from him every time he hides something new.

You don’t say anything for a while, as you start to see Jungkook for who he really is. You feel the weight of his words and how much it took for him to say them. It’s not that his experience makes him different, but now that you know the pain he’s been carrying with him, you’re able to see the other parts of him that he’s unable to show, perhaps too afraid that someone wouldn’t understand, or that they wouldn’t stay if they found out why he keeps his distance and why he pushes people away.

Your silence prompts him to look up. You meet his eyes and see the sadness in them and it feels like he needs more than just forgiveness.

“We do things we don’t mean to when we’re afraid,” you tell him. “It doesn’t always mean we intend on hurting them. And I understand that, more than you know. I’ll never take that against you.”

Jungkook nods, shifting again towards the view as he lets your words sink in. He was hoping for forgiveness, but he got so much more. Maybe there’s a reason why you’ve been patient and gentle with him ever since the beginning. Perhaps you’re carrying your own burden and painful memories that you’re unable to share and deal with, too, and though he’s nothing like you, there’s comfort in knowing that you’re the same somehow.

He senses you turn back to look at the mountains, and the silence prompts him to continue the story of an experience he’s only shared twice before - once to his best friends and another time with Chaerin, all of whom have seen this side of him - the scared and vulnerable side. They were understanding and supportive as well, trying to find ways to comfort and help him deal with it. You’re the third and the one he’s known the shortest time, yet he feels more comfort with you than anyone who’s ever tried.

“I fell asleep at that tree while waiting,” he recalls. “The next thing I know, I was being carried back to the cabin. The rain had stopped but it was still dark, and I was tended to until I fell asleep again. I was sick for days and I didn’t see my parents until we were back in Seoul. It’s just a hard thing to remember. I know we have selective memories and I always wish that’s one thing that I don’t ever have to remember but life isn’t that kind, I guess.”

“It isn’t. But we learn to face those fears though, and manage them. It’s the only way we can get through it,” you say.

“Have you?” He asks, wondering if that’s another similarity he shares with you.

“Not really. I wouldn’t be alone and where I am if I have,” you say. “But I’m trying. And I’ll continue to.”

“That makes one of us,” he sighs.

“Well, it’s not always easy if you’re not quite sure what you’re really afraid of,” you respond. “Is it just thunder?”

“Yeah… but once the rain starts, it tells me that thunder could come. It doesn’t always but it’s what my brain tells me. Then I get anxious and I… I don’t know what to do. Like I’m paralyzed and unable to think or move. I just… stay there and sometimes, I don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Well, it rained when I got injured,” you remind him. “But you managed to get me to the hospital. And you stayed with me. That’s definitely something.”

“You were hurt and it was more important that you got treated,” he reasons. “That was scary and I guess my brain told me to get shit done that moment.”

“So… do I always have to be hurt for you to get through the rain when it starts getting bad?” You ask.

“Don’t talk like that. I can’t have you going through that again,” he frowns at you.

The way he reacts to the thought of you being hurt gives you that warm feeling again. But it reminds you that you feel the same. You don’t want him to be scared, you don’t want him hurt, too.

“Fine. But when it starts to rain and you’re all alone and you feel like you can’t manage, you call me, okay?” You tell him.

“And what would that do?”

“That way I can talk you through it. Maybe go to you if you want me to.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because during the times I was afraid and alone, you were there,” you bravely say, turning to him and prompting him to do the same. “Sometimes something triggers those memories but then I think of how you stayed with me in the alley and in the playground and in my apartment. I think of you and I stop feeling scared. Maybe you can think of last night when it starts to get bad, too. And we can just create more of those memories to override the bad ones. Wouldn’t that be better?”

He savors your words, not realizing how much you’ve held onto your moments together. And he understands that now. The way you held him together last night is ingrained in his mind, and if that’s how it feels to be with you during his darkest moments, he starts to wonder how good it would feel during the good ones.

Maybe he’ll start with this, as you both sip citrus tea while looking at the lush mountains out on the horizon. He’ll continue with the scenic drive back to Seoul and a stopover at a cafe for some iced coffee and conversations about good memories. And at least for today, he’ll end with the sight of you walking to your apartment and then turning around to wave him goodbye, and then your smile giving him warmth on this cold afternoon.

The door shuts and he starts the trip back to his place - empty, lonely, just like how it’s been for years, all his pent up emotions bringing him to this point of isolation. But there’s you - the feel of your touch, the soothing sound of your voice, and the gentleness that got him through the night.

He misses you already. And much as he knows he’s in big trouble, thinking about you and wanting you is all he could do.

Series Masterlist

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook #jungkook fanfic

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theempressofthenile · 11 months ago

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The Sun & The Nakshatras.

Here My Take On The Sun In Each Nakshatra. Staring with Ashvini thru Chitra!

Let me know what you think!

Ashvini Suns

Very fun light-hearted individuals when you give them a try. Have a hypnotizing presence that can go overlooked. Not for everybody and they don't try to be. Def needs a friend who fully understand them because they can be misunderstood a lot. There character plays nicely with more arrogant personalities, this is so that they can make space for their own confident nature that people typically mistake as egotistic. They know what they want and want it right then and there. Can have a tempting vibe to them. Can be promiscuous or charismatic, if they're both we might have a problem (all jokes).

Bharani Suns

Intellectuals. Have this inner knowing that somethings up. Can be gentle, carefree and fun or can be your worse nightmare. Your pick. The universe picks them as the harbringers of light. Destiny awaits them to conquer the messages aligning with the stars, and they use this gift of knowledge in the fruits of creation. Creativity is their strongest suit. They can merge religion and knowledge from outside things into some practical magic. Destined for greatness even at an early age.

Krittika Suns

Strong prominent auras. They are capable of shining a light in a room when it is time to remove what no longer works. They are fiery in nature, and are connected to the lightening that strikes within everything and everyone. The Krittikas with the sun placement deal with issues with males in society if they are a woman, if they are a male they may deal with power plays and might not like dealing with individuals to much. They can have a temper on em. When they utilize their power, they can make the world shake with just their energy alone.

Rohini Suns

Sweet like candy bar. The definition of a muse. Talented individuals. Have a liking for things that get their minds going. Super patient and can hold a conversation about anything. Philosophers who just want someone to listen to them. Rohini suns can definitely keep you on your feet with how they move. There is a intriguing energy when it comes to them. You have no idea who they truly are under the surface.

Mrigashira Suns

Mystifying with their words. Their vibration. & Their sword. Practical minds, divine creators. These are definitely people you want to get to know, and possibly understand a bit more. Their behavior comes solely from the mind but their environment is what inspires them to continue on and evolve. They have a lot of options in this life, and they try to use as much of it as they possibly can. Genuine spirits who's heart is just that of gold. However, once you cross them, it'll be hard to get to know them again.

Ardra Suns

The most useful. Can be a beacon of joy, a lover, a fighter, a friend. Someone you can truly depend on. They have issues with people who voice their opinions too much when it comes to their expression. Ardra suns have a glow to their auras that most can find pretty intriguing, but they've got to keep new company every so often due to jealousy and other tangent things becoming an issue after a while. If they aren't careful with the company they keep, they can go down to ruin. But if they commit to being true to themselves, and finding solace in their divine nature they can conquer just about anything in this lifetime.

Punarvasu Suns

Like the ocean, they're waves morph into the wisdom of the merits deep inside of their big bodies of divine magic. Their words are impeccable, their energy is soothing and magnetic. They are enraged with a guilt from past lives, family members, or things out of their control. They are mother natures favorites, and they are gifted in the worlds of writing. Journals, Poetry, Film, all the like... They are storytellers who's worlds bring us to our knees. They are angels in disguise and need a voice hear and there. Mystical in expression, Odd in one, and pretty special in another.

Pushya Suns

The muses of the water. Mothers gift to the Gods. There is a deep bond to the roots of the tree, and they give their all to bring forth this beautiful energy from within. They take knowledge very seriously, and go out there way to search for it in many regions if they would like. A natural at connecting the dots. A open minded individual who's heart is sure to keep beating for the thousands of children and people who need it most. Love is infinite, and they give their all to let you know it.

Ashlesha Suns

Seduction is their foreplay. Very magnetic. Their powers and abilities manifest in getting what they want when they need it, and can have it in the palms of their hands by tomorrow. That is because their minds are like that of the serpent. They use their minds to go after what they need by hypnotizing you as a form of conquest. You think your tantalizing them until they finally strike. You never see them coming. Can be sweet and charming, but can also strike you like a siren.

Magha Suns

A strong & deep bond with the universe. Individuals who know how to create a good power play. You can't one up these people. A very dignified, regal presence. Ancient in devotion, which means they put power displays of ancestral divination in all that are, and all that they commit themselves to. In this heaven that they live in, they must commit to the soul in so many ways. So that they can move higher into devotion to source, their creator. It is so deep, that they will push many mountains just to receive the divine insight of the ancestors, so that they can build castles & creations for the like-minded. Powerful energies connect them to higher planes.

Purva Phalguni Suns

The kings & queens of diamonds and rings. Luxuries and all things that glitter. This venus nakshatra has is AAALLLLL. and they know it too! Natural born creators whose soul purpose was to make art, be noticed and be heard! Can be well known for their looks, their attraction, their mystery, and their artistry. Can be animated, fun, loving, sensual creatures. Definitely keep your eyes peeled for em, their devoted to themselves like the gods & goddesses that they are! Playful spirits with an easy going energy. High maintenance personality.

Uttara Phalguni Suns

Devoted to the ancestral knowledge of creation. Very deep bonds with people that they truly care about. Can have the whole entire universe if that is what they claim. Can have books full of knowledge inside of them, go on, ask them anything! Star power is infinite, and they shine the brightest when they do what works. Their energy is enchanting, oozing with delight. Carefree, bright, and intriguing souls who's very purpose is to shed light on the things that matters most. They are loving, divine creatures who captivate you with just their very essence.

Hasta Suns

Temptress energy. Devoted to themselves & God. The original muse. They can keep the world talking about them, thats just their nature. No, they aren't the gossipy type. Just the one to really get things going when they have something in mind they want to manifest. Speaking of manifesting, they are impeccable with attracting things to them. Their known to have magical hands, after all ;)

Chitra Suns

Known to be the bright one, their energy is polarizing to say the least. They have a unique beauty to them. Something that no one could compare it to. Their energy is a one of one. Magnificent beings who came to let the world know that they exist. Like a goddess, they deserve offerings. Their energy is the prize and they know this too! Highly intellectual but you just don't know it yet. The definition of a bad b! On everyone's mood boards too! Can have what they want with just a blink of an eye, because their faces are just that damn good looking. ;)

This is pt.1 on my astro observations on the sun signs in these nakshatras. will post the others soon!

#vedic astrology #vedic astro observations #vedic astro notes #deja's vedic astro observations #chitra #ashwini #bharini #nakshatras #sidereal astrology

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saphronethaleph · 5 days ago

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Life Support Issues

“All right, so… where do you have the plans?” the Rebel technician asked. “An R2 unit like this could have a hundred hiding places.”

R2 beeped and whistled.

“Ah, I see,” Threepio said. “Yes, Artoo has reminded me that in fact the plans are not only in a data card, but also redundantly stored inside his own system – that’s how he was able to access the systems so readily. He will be able to transfer them quite readily through a standard data access port.”

“We can get that set up, sure,” the tech agreed, gesturing, and his assistant brought over a cable.

As he did, though, Threepio looked with interest at his old friend and counterpart.

“Were you supposed to do that?” he asked.

R2 beeped again.

“Yes, I suppose it is a good thing that you did, but I’m asking if you were supposed to,” Threepio replied. “Don’t try and play semantics with me, Artoo.”

R2 provided a long string of bleeps and whistles, and C-3PO stepped back.

“You did?” he asked. “Oh my… well, I suppose I did ask you to do that first one.”

“Do what?” the tech asked, halfway through plugging in the cable.

“Well, we were on the Death Star,” C-3PO replied. “And while rescuing Princess Leia, Master Luke and their friends, I had Artoo shut down all the garbage compactors on the Death Star, and then open the door to the one that they were in. Artoo has informed he that, in fact, he opened all the entrances shortly before we left.”

He made a displeased noise. “In addition, he flushed all the drinkable water into the black water systems, raised the temperature in the food storage areas to two hundred and fourteen degrees centigrade, and sealed the doors to every lavatory on the ship. I am also reliably informed that the artificial gravity generators have been independently set to what he calls ‘shuffle’ and that the plumbing system on the Death Star is comprehensive enough to permit him to transport fluids randomly around the entire plumbing system through a series of several thousand distributed commands which trigger on and off at random, at times ranging from five minutes to three days.”

A pause.

“Also, that reversing the gravity in the shuttle and vehicle maintenance bays produced a quite satisfying crunching sound of valuable equipment breaking. Artoo, did you really have to do all of that?”

R2 whistled, helpfully.

“Yes, I suppose they did blow up Alderaan,” Threepio admitted. “I’m just worried that at this point we might be committing war crimes ourselves.”

“This is becoming ridiculous,” Tarkin said, as blaster fire crackled up and down the corridor. “Half the ship is fighting itself and the other half is trying desperately to find a fresher.”

The firing intensified outside, then Darth Vader loomed imperiously out of the door and the various factions went from exchanging fire to fleeing.

“Have you found anything about what happened?” the Sith Lord asked, returning his attention to Tarkin. “I could believe one of these failures was accidental, but this is clearly deliberate.”

“It has been a little hard to gather information,” the Grand Moff replied, testily. “Since my analyst team is having to defend their access to a shuttle bay which might have an intact shuttle and the last Star Destroyer to try and render assistance was destroyed by two thousand turbolaser batteries all firing on it at once on automatic. But clearly there has been some sort of unauthorized access.”

“The plans,” Darth Vader said, firmly. “The Princess clearly passed them off to someone. The same group as her rescuers… Kenobi’s team. Kenobi is dead, but the smuggler ship must have had a strike team…”

He trailed off.

“But this is the work of an expert slicer,” he resumed. “A normal commando team couldn’t have done this much damage this quickly.”

“There is a report that one of my analysts found,” Tarkin said. “That a golden protocol droid and a blue-white astromech droid were acting suspiciously near Docking Bay 327.”

“Ah,” Darth Vader said, his tone somewhat different. “That explains everything. In fact, I am suspicious that there must be something we have missed.”

“Vader?” Tarkin asked.

“R2 has left us something else,” Vader answered. “I can feel it.”

Tarkin started giggling.

“...ah,” Vader declared. “There it is.”

“Nitrous oxide?” C-3PO asked. “Really?”

R2 whistled.

“I don’t care if you had to improvise and that it’s easily produced from available life support gases,” C-3PO replied, shaking his head. “Really, R2.”

#star wars #darth vader #r2d2 and c3po #r2d2 #c3po

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grounded-parasocial · 4 months ago

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Words of Affirmation 🗣️♥️🗣️

YR-Anniversary Love Language Fic Rec List

@books-books-smolderinglooks suggested Love Languages as a theme to celebrate for the YR season 3 anniversary! So I am celebrating with fic rec lists!

Words of Affirmation - because our boys love unsolicited compliments and encouragement!

Thou Wilt Whisper, "No Pang Shall Be Mine" @invisiblewille by signedmeraki (E -149K)

Took a while (but we made it) @hergrandplan (G, 3K)

Kiss your tongue, strike a match @unfortunate17 (E, 3K)

forever i'm yours @goldenwilmon (E, 22K)

I don’t feel like our love is brand new @prince-simon (E, WIP 395K)

What’s your name again? @vvachillessongvv (E, 1.6K)

Philtatos @zee-has-commitment-issues (E, 3K)

eat up every word @phneltwrites (E, 2K)

pornboys<3 series by insieme (E -multi- 68K)

It’ll tear me apart when you go @hergrandplan (E - 5K)

we'll make a home on the cracks (glowing review) @bigalockwood 27K T

Words to say that meant a lot to me @phneltwrites (E - 1.6K)

We Never Painted by the Numbers, Baby @alltoowille (E- 13K)

You crave the Applause / yet hate the Attention @skibasyndrome (E -22K)

Land Between Our Bodies @phneltwrites (E -WIP -88K)

While The World Goes By queerfrogprince (E -11K)

And the mirrors gon' fog tonight @skibasyndrome (E -2K)

Hotel Suites and Twisted Sheets @embracedthevoid (E, WIP -68K)

**This is in no way an exhaustive list so please do the community thing add your rec picks!!

💜 Happy S3 Anniversary and Happy Reading!

(love language- gifts list & acts of service list)

#yr fanfic #yr fic rec #love languages #words of affirmation #yr-anniversary #wilmon #young royals #thank you yr fanfic authors #grounded-parasocial yr fic rec list

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website-enjoyer · 1 month ago

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hi! if ur in canada the postal workers are going on strike again this friday. that is may 23 2025! why this is important:

this is a fight by workers against the canadian state to keep the postal service from being gutted and privatized, as profits from package delivery move to private companies like Amazon

postal workers are proposing tons of plans to keep post offices relevant in the internet era especially in rural areas, like serving as community hubs, offering postal banking, and doing check-ins on elders—the government and canada post management want to scrap the whole thing for parts

the current defunding of public services in canada like education, healthcare, and now the postal service enables increased military spending to meet NATO commitments, making these public sector fights an anti-imperialist issue

despite the importance of this battle and the viciousness of the enemy, workers are held back from fighting all-out by the legal labour relations system which makes it extremely hard to win by outlawing solidarity strikes and incentivizing high-level union bureaucrats to submit to back-to-work legislation

postal workers need public support to stand a chance of winning this battle—when they were on strike in december as part of this same fight, they were receiving only slightly upwards of $200 a week in strike pay while being constantly vilified by the media and in some cases, being arrested

what you can do, on your own or ideally with a political organization of the working class:

learn about the postal workers' demands directly from the source, and about the events of their recent strike in december from working-class media so that you can have accurate conversations with the people in your life about this strike

take some time this week to create visible public support for postal workers in your community, such as by putting up supportive posters on community mailboxes—creating this kind of community support was crucial for giving education workers the confidence to execute their illegal strike in 2023. here is an example design

raise the issue of supporting postal workers in your union, or talk to people you know in unions about doing the same—in particular, public sector unions need to be actively pushed to stand in solidarity with each other right now

find your nearest canada post distribution center and go to the picket line on friday! bring snacks, cards, donations, homemade signs, union flags—and talk directly with workers about what the strike means for them

organize public outreach to build support for the postal workers' demands—it can be as simple as printing out a petition and spending a couple hours standing outside your local grocery store with some friends collecting contact information, or as involved as a fundraising campaign to supplement local strike pay

okay thanks for reading :)

#words #canada

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ruruvxz · 11 months ago

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“10:36”

Girlfriend!Kim Minji x Cheater!Reader

ft. Marsh Danielle

↳ synopsis: L/N Y/N, named one of the sweetest girl in the planet finally rots her girlfriend’s heart. Any sane person would feel sad, maybe even a little regretful and accommodating for all their wrong doings. Not Y/N though, she's kept it in for a long time, her heart has gone bitter and cold, and she knows what she’s doing is wrong, but who can blame such a sweetly wretched heart.

↳ cw: cheating, commitment issues, morally gray reader, codependency, Minji is lovesick and blind, hurt no comfort, reader has implied chronic depression, victim blaming, swearing, pure angst

↳ word count: 4.6k

a/n: read this Karina fic where she kept cheating on me… which gave me an striking idea, mentally ill, unapologetic, rude and overall not a good person, Reader! anyways you don’t need to listen to 10:36 but I highly recommend listening to it since it’s such a great song. And yes I am personally beefing with Y/N even if I wrote them (fluff ver. apple cider)

Your eyes looming to the TV, not paying attention to whatever was playing. I mean you couldn't concentrate due to your phone blowing up, notification after notification of all your failed hookups barking at your phone like a rabid pack of dogs. God, do people know when to shut up nowadays? It was aggravating how much they pleaded for closure, and who were they to demand that from you? You're the sweet innocent Y/N L/N after all.

Before you even got to text them back some bullshit excuse your eyes darted to the front from the sudden click. You carefully examined the door pushing it open at an agonizingly slow pace, sighing as your eyes met Minji's as she slid her way inside, her eyes bagging with how deeply exhausted she was. She meets your blank stare with a meek smile, pushing down any emotions built inside of you after your recent rendezvous with another lover, you put on your best fictitious grin.

"Baby!" You cheered, getting up from the leather couch, the same one Minji gifted you when you both first moved in with one another. Quickening your pace as you ran towards her, wrapping your arms around her neck, Minji was left letting out a coy smile before kissing your cheek. Usually, she would be greeted by another empty living room with the kitchen light dimly lighting the surrounding vicinity, it was depressing but she had a 9/5 and you took the night shift. (Or that's what you would tell her.)

Needless to say, seeing your bright smile was more than pleasant, her overworked eyes lightening up as you continued to hug her. "Ah, bug, you're still here?" She smiled hugging you tighter, grasping you almost as if you were to disappear at any moment in time. As you both stand in each other's embrace your mind couldn't help but let your mind drift to someone else.

"Fuck, I wish Danielle was here with me..."

You knew how terrible it was to imagine someone else's grasp, especially since you were imagining your girlfriend's best friend of all people... And to be frank, there was no other valid explanation for feeling this way. But you felt so devoid of any strong emotion, it truly made you feel disgusted with yourself but what could you do?

Minji softly grabbed a piece of your hair to stroke before you eventually led her over to the couch to spend some quality time with her. I mean, that's the least you could do after what you went off doing while she wasn't home.

Danielle messaged you late last night wondering if she could plan an outing for the next day, and you (not-so) hesitantly agreed to her offer. It was a terrible thing to do since you've already learned about her immature crush on you, but it wouldn't lead to anything, right? Nevertheless, you still decided to get lunch together, and she brought you to your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. (Not exactly, in reality, it was something you despised because it was the only restaurant Minji would bring you time and time again. Danielle, and many others, were under the assumption it was somewhere you LOVED going to. And who could blame them, you would always post photos promoting the establishment whilst hiding out Minji from any photo.)

It was a fusion restaurant, but the overall atmosphere was an American-style family diner. The ones you'd see in 80's sitcoms that Minji begged you to watch with you, it was tacky, but they stayed engraved in your head. Danielle would drag you to the table nearest to the window to get the clearest view of the sky, but you'd much rather sit in the booth in the corner, hidden away from the world. Of course, of how accommodating Danielle was she gave in to your request, despite that hiccup the day "outing" continued as scheduled. Eating her meal she ordered claims that the burgers are "The best she's ever had since moving from Australia" but in reality, you think it's nothing special.

You ordered the same thing you usually do, carnitas tacos messily plated on a plastic dish, it usually tasted so bland though somehow sharing it with her tasted so much better than eating it with anyone else. You hated to admit it because you already had someone waiting for you at home but she made the world stop for a bit, made staying still for a moment seem so... bearable. For once in your pathetic existence you felt like you understood something and just wanted to sit down and talk.

"Mmm, Y/N—it's really good!" Danielle spoke up, parts of her burger decorated the corners of her face as she munched. Laughing at her childlike behavior you wipe the excess crumbs off her mouth, noticing her slight blush plaster across her face as you pull back to speak.

"Mhm?" You replied turned off your phone and flipped it over on the table giving her your full attention. Her voice was just too adorable to ignore. You knew you found yourself despicable for giving her more attention than you had given Minji for the past few months. But you couldn't stop yourself, it was so lonely and you just needed a warm body to hold, just until your girlfriend could come back to you.

She nodded her head hurriedly before shoving another fry into her mouth before she spoke once more. "Yup!! Look open your mouth" She'd pick up the fries and line it up up to your mouth, cautiously leaving your mouth agape before she shoved the fries into your mouth. It surprised you how fast she inserted it into your mouth you started aggressively coughing before she apologized profusely.

After your little outbreak, you start laughing uncontrollably at how concerned she looked, she whacked your head from the other side of the table while you continued to laugh. But you didn't have the heart to tell her that the fries she force-fed you tasted like generic McDonald's fries but, with that face, could you say anything? Danielle looked so captivating, an allure you hadn't felt in months, and before you knew it it was already 8:14. Minji comes back at 9 and you shouldn't risk coming home late AGAIN.

"Ah, I'm so sorry Dani, it's already so late, I need to be home at 9." You commented cutting her story off short about how she met up with a coworker of hers during some mindless shopping spree. She looked understanding but disappointed nevertheless as she was hoping she could spend more time with you even if it was in this cramped restaurant.

You looked into her eyes once more before getting up to take your leave, she looked stumped but quickly regained her composure as an idea flashed across her mind. "Okay! I'll drop you off at the train station then!" She stood up and let her hand out for you to grab. Once you stood up she interlocked your fingers together, your heart beating out of your chest as she did. What person would react like this to a friend, let alone someone who was in a relationship, but god were you one sick bastard to reason with yourself? You knew you'd done worse with others so why was this any different?

After minutes of slow walking and talking mindlessly with one another you finally arrived at the station, it was a tad disappointing but you knew it had to end soon. Climbing up the stairs your hands continued to lock in with one another, you felt her suddenly yank away. Turning back to see what happened you noticed one of her heels came off, but coincidentally your train just arrived.

"Oh Y/N go on, I'll get on the other one, it's just another 10 minutes!" She defensively said. Instead of listening to her you ran down the stairs and grabbed her heels, even if you were struggling a little bit to get back up you were happy to help her. You handed her back her heel as you heard the train plow through once more, the screeching metal tracks lingering as it drove off.

Danielle looked down at you as you handed her the heel with a worried face, she looked so bothered but you reassured her. "Even if the train leaves, it's worth it, it's worth waiting for you" You smiled before grabbing her hand once more and dragging her back up to the platform, the light-dark enough to cover her red face.

"Y/N" She laughed as she dropped her bag and hugged you tightly, her embrace was soft and loving you didn't want to leave it. (Nor do you deserve such an affectionate interaction.) You broke the hug before she led you to a, presumably empty, seating area, the sunlight dropping and sinking. While you sat there together Danielle was content sitting down with you in complete silence as it meant being by your side.

"I'm sorry for making you wait." She sighed awkwardly trying to break the silence you created, her body immediately straightened as you rested your head on her shoulder. Her breath hitched as you grabbed her warm hands, the nightfall being significantly colder.

"It's fine that we have to wait, I love you." You trailed off, your mind not proceeding with the bullshit you slurred out of your mouth. It was a force of habit, no matter if it was Danielle or Minji, those stupid strings of words haunted your every moment. (Maybe if you were a little cautious, if you learned to shut your mouth maybe you wouldn't have to be calling people at night while Minji was in deep sleep, explaining in slurred words "I have this thing where I— I can't be by myself— but look...")

The memory of what you accidentally slipped up to Danielle came back to haunt you, why would you ever say that, but regardless you couldn't break your facade now, not with Minji resting quietly on your lap. "How was your day love" You twirled her hair as she dozed off by your touch, she was so soft and delicate. It reminded you of how she'd do the same after a long day, her hands caressing your head like a dog. She was silent but that's who she was. As you ran your hand through her jet-black hair, you were all over he, losing yourself, all before she snapped you out of your daze to speak. "It was okay, but great now that you're with me." She smiled underneath you, she reached her hand above to your face to caress your mellow cheeks, and your heart ached as she did so.

"How was yours, my dear?" She lifted her head dragging you a bit down to intertwine your lips tenderly, as she pulled back and laid back down on your thighs you felt your teeth sink into your lips. It was a force of habit but thank god she hadn't noticed as her head was locked into the TV, you felt yourself about to throw up at the idea of telling her what you did. As usual, you tried to play off what happened this afternoon like nothing happened.

Your hands shook as you continued to play with her hair wondering what lies you would spit through your teeth. "Mmm, nothing much I hung out with some friends then went back home to wait for my wonderful girlfriend." You beamed smiling hopelessly to not break the persons you've created.

"Friends, who? I'd love to meet them." She chuckled, turning her head back to meet your gaze, your hands slowly lifting up and away from her head. You rested them on the armrest, coughing at the thought of her finding you were out and about with her best friends who she didn't even know you talked to.

"Just Dani! She's asked me if she wanted to get lunch with her." You answered honestly, if you hadn't you knew you'd just dig yourself a deeper hole and lead to another heated argument, where you'd end up running off to sleep the night somewhere else.

"Oh." She scoffed, the realization of her best friend and her girlfriend being closer than she'd expected hurt her feelings a little more than it originally should've.

"What's wrong with that." You bite back, annoyed about how sassy she was becoming day by day, as if you were doing something— someone, she wasn't aware of.

"It's just... didn't know you were close with her like that." She raised her body from my lap and sat properly looking me in the eye, clearly annoyed by the situation. (To be fair, as hard as you tried to be sneaky with your late-night affairs, by claiming you had a night shift, she picked up on your inconsistencies fairly quickly. How you'd leave either before she arrived or after she slept became more and more oddly suspicious. Or how you'd often slip your phone away to your back pocket whenever she came closer to you. It was all messing with her brain and the sudden "connection" you had with Danielle made her more and more suspicious.)

"I guess but isn't, Dani—Danielle one of your closest friends, yet you talk shit like this about her?" You retorted, trying to hide your offense terribly at her statement, of course, she didn't mean any harm with what she said but it felt as if she was insinuating something. Something you didn't like. You took off your gaze from hers as you rested your head on your palm and raised the volume of the TV to drown her out.

Rightfully annoyed at your reaction she raised her voice just a little bit. "Well sorry, I'm sorry I feel uncomfortable by the fact you chose to get lunch with my friend, instead of your girlfriend!" She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, her frustration was enough to cause global warming. You bite your tongue once more, you didn't want to say anything you regretted but you couldn't just let her take a jab at you without any conviction.

"I mean, she didn't do anything to you? Yet you're being so aggressive." You replied as you grabbed the remote with your free hand to skim through the channels, every new show being broadcast made you even more aggravated. How could there be nothing good showing? You mashed the next button again and again as you heard her open her mouth once more.

"That's not what I meant it's just, for the past few months you've cared about going out with me? Sorry for feeling like that's so terrible!" She scorned as you still didn't pay any attention to her, continuing to skim through the shows on air today. You pushed your tongue to the inside corner of your cheek before you asserted another retort.

"Maybe if you weren't always so defensive and angry I would hang out with you" You laugh sarcastically under your breath annoyed, and you finally landed on Law & Order. It was Minji's comfort show but you couldn't care less about what she liked right now, all you wanted her to do was pipe down and calm down. She clenched her jaw at how dismissive and disrespectful you were, the fact you weren't even looking at Minji added more salt to the wounds.

She grabbed your shoulder yanking you hard enough to look at her, you paid her one single glance before swatting her hand away from my shoulder. She looked dumbfounded, as for the first time in her life she finally raised her voice, this time with real intention to get off on you. "What the fuck— Y/N! What is up with you recently??"

Oh, she's testing you right now, your blood pressure has risen significantly and you felt it harder to focus on what they were saying in the show. Finally giving in you pushed your head to lock into her enraged state. "You know what's fucking 'up with me' it's your attitude? I can't even hang out with my friends anymore?"

Minji was most definitely fed up at this point as she stared back at you, clenching her fist, stopping her from saying something atrocious. "Oh no you DEFINITELY can, you know what you can't do? Fucking leave your girlfriend in the middle of the night saying you have a night shift and leave me alone in our bed!" She spat out as she stood up trying to get that notion into your thick skull.

"I'd rather be in someone else's embrace than be with yours! FUCK, you're so fucking suffocating!" You shouted back, quickly regretting what you said, realizing a little too late that you had released a bit more information than you were trying to let on. But before you could take it back and apologize she was already standing over you, her hands covering her mouth.

Minji’s jaw unclenched, processing every word that came out of your mouth. "What." Her voice sounded shaky, she tried her hardest to sound stern but you knew her long enough to know it was just a facade. Her face turned into someone who had just been told their loved one died, completely and utterly in disbelief.

It hurt seeing Minji so hurt, but it felt so good to get that out of your chest, she's been suffocating you for a year now, she should know where you’re coming from. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying for fairly long but after moving in with her it became harder to leave. "Fuck. It’s just—" You stopped before continuing “I wanna love you but I'm scared so I rather pretend” You stood up and turned your body away from her, you didn't want to look at her at all. If you did, maybe you’d just run back by her side and then the cycle continues once more.

She covered her face between her palms, and looked up at the ceiling, just praying she'd wake up from this sick and twisted dream. "Y/N, please tell me. Are you?" She mumbled underneath her hands, but enough for me to tell what she said.

"Am I, what? Am I cheating on you?" You turned back at her with a disgusted face, not at her, but at yourself, you couldn’t fathom how you’d do something like this. After all, you experienced the same thing. You felt sick to your stomach but you knew she should already puzzle the answer together, yet she's still trying to ask.

"Just answer the fucking question" Her voice bubbling up with rage, after all the years of committing herself to you, you turn your back and do this? Oh how badly she wanted to make your life miserable after this. But a part of her didn't want to ask this question, she wanted, somehow, someway, you would turn a full 180 and tell her this was all some sick twisted joke.

“Fuck you Y/N… truly, fuck you— you kept me like a secret but I kept you like a fucking oath.” She spat out, grabbing out to you, the weight of your actions felt like a knife digging itself deeper into your heart. You were too cowardly to look at her, let alone answer her question. For someone so confident about cheating on her, you know stood in front of her unwilling to face the consequences.

"I—“ You cut yourself off, you did feel awful as you stared into her fiery gaze, but what was the point she already knew? "I’m so sorry.” You blurted out, it honestly came out as a statement then it did an apology, and by the looks of it, she looked even more infuriated.

"FUCK Y/N, PLEASE JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!" She screamed at you, making you jump a little, but with your broken ego, you weren’t going to take that, with crossed arms you announced your wholehearted answer.

"Yeah, I did, and it wasn’t with Danielle. Don’t worry about her…" You bitterly bit back trying to get it in through to her, you were truly so despised at this moment, but to save face you preached some half-assed excuse.

"You know Minji, it isn’t my fault— You're selfish, how do you not get it. For as long as I remember you've only ever thought about yourself." You said, leaving Minji to stand in utter anguish at the shit you were spewing. How could she be the selfish one? You bit back your tongue before realizing this was probably the only moment to let out everything you’ve built up over your whole relationship.

"I reach for you and you’re not there, I'm so fucking numb but you don't care. A part of me feels for you, but it hurts, it hurts so much." Her stare etching deeper into your mind, she didn’t bite back, but you could see through her fuming portrayal that tears were pooling from her eyes.

"enlighten me, my dear, why am I still here? Why did you even— why did you even pick me? You don't talk to me, you never want to talk about anything and you’re always just with Hanni. I know you're confused and hurt, but when I needed a warm body to hold, you were never there. And when you where you wanted too much from me— I didn’t know how I could give you everything" You inched closer to her wiping the tears off her face, she placed her hand on top of yours. Maybe this was the only emotionally intimate time you both had in months. As you rested her hand on her plush cheeks, you took a moment to appreciate her beauty one last time, she was gorgeous, undoubtedly, gorgeous.

(You couldn’t admit to yourself that this reminded you about the first time you met, your eyes locked with hers as she stumbled out of another stress-inducing meeting. She looked so out of it so you graciously offered her your apple cider, under the pretense that it was apple juice. You examined her as you were a bit surprised a young girl like her was working this late into the night, it was already 10:36. You looked back at her while stopping to laugh loudly as her eyes winced while chugging down your drink. She looked so annoyed but somewhat happy she met you, her drowsy eyes lighting up as you offered to get her an actual drink at a nearby bar. You had a bad habit of analyzing her, her hair smelt like a sweet fruit punch, and her smile was so infectious.

You remember holding her face just like this as you led her back to her apartment, she looked dazed out of her mind as you pulled her on her leather couch to rest. In a drunken state, she commented on how she liked your hair and pulled you down into her lap to play with it. You couldn’t stop your face from heating up but she didn’t happen to notice, she looked down at you and complimented the jacket you wore. So after that you always wore it, and even at this exact moment, you were wearing that stupid jacket once more.)

"I didn’t— as much as I hate you right now maybe we just got lost in translation… no— maybe I asked for too much." She weakly smiled biting back her rage while staring deeply at you.

"I've done the math there's no solution, we'll never last, I’m so sorry Minji, there’s just no universe where I can see our happy ending." Minji closed her eyes, biting her lips, maybe she already lost you, or maybe she never had you in the beginning, but all she knew this would be your last moments holding each other. Your heart constantly aching throughout the whole ordeal, as she leaned her head closer to yours your lips slowly touched, having one last passionate kiss, until you broke it up. Minji looked at you with sorrowful yet entrancing eyes as she connected your foreheads, forcing you both to lie in the moment.

"in the morning you're not in my bed, I'll just sleep until I fall dead, my love" She joked weakly as you intertwined your lips together once more before letting out a deep sigh. "I guess this is where you get your stuff and leave, Y/N" She pathetically laughed and more tears streamed down her face.

"Yeah, don't worry I'll be gone by tomorrow..." You turned away taking a breather, before taking one last look at the living room that we had built together. The walls were decorated with inside jokes and pictures you took together, you inspected every one of them, knowing she’d probably throw them out later on in life. Your eyes landed on the coffee pot she gifted you on your anniversary, she built it during her pottery lessons to surprise you, it didn’t work so well, but it was cute. You sigh as you look at the pictures all from different occasions like when you celebrated your first Christmas with her, or when she met your parents, the memories of each decoration hitting you like a train.

"Where are you going to go?" She asked trying to figure out where you’ll run off to now, you laughed for a moment, before looking back at her. Her hands balling up as she awaited your answer, you cupped her face again and smiled at her question.

"Probably crash out with my ex-roommate if she still has a spare room somewhere."

"Oh, uhm…" She laughed elegantly and hugged you tightly not wanting to let you go. "I'll drop you off wherever— whenever you need to go, just please stay with me tonight. It's only…” She trailed off looking at the clock.

“10:36,” You both say in unison.

guys count how much I referenced other songs… anyways back to writing fluff im literally started to tweak out

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pamperedollie · 4 months ago

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XOXO. જ⁀➴ THREE

. ۫ ꣑ৎ “didn’t think he’d be your type,”

summary. careful who you shake hands with, Y/N—deals with the devil always come with fine print…

word count. 7k

warnings. jealousy, slight angst, language

“Seriously, Drew?” you sigh, throwing your head back dramatically. Sunlight streams through the wide windows of the downtown diner, practically calling–begging for you to get out of this place. The faint sound of car horns and city life buzzes outside, it’s a pleasant reminder that somewhere out there, normal people are having normal lunches–not forging fake dating contracts.

You sit back up, crossing your arms as your eyes meet Drew’s again. He buries his face in his hands as if deeply regretting the choices that brought him here. Groaning, he aggressively scribbles something onto the tiny notepad between you. You arch a brow, “What now?”

“We can’t be stupid and sloppy about this, Y/N” he mutters, as if he was explaining something to a child, it strikes a chord in you.

You stare at him through your lashes, glaring, “We’re practically adults. You think we can’t navigate a fake relationship without a rulebook?”

Drew shakes his head and keeps scribbling. You chuckle dryly in complete disbelief. Before he can get too carried away you snatch the notepad from him. Your eyes scan his hastily written words; No public fights

You look back up at him, taking a deep breath. He’s smirking, like he wrote it just to piss you off. Sighing you roll up your sleeves, preparing to commit, “Fine fully.” you mutter, “Let’s just come up with five rules, we don’t need to write a college essay with citations.” you remark.

He shrugs. “Fine.”

“First off,” you say, gently tapping the pen against your chin. “This whole thing–done and through by June.” You glance at the light dusting of snow covering the city outside. Six months should be enough. You hope.

Drew tilts his head, pursing his lips. “Make it July.”

You groan. “Why?”

“We have to be together on the senior trip.” He leans back as if its a non-negotiable. “If we stage the breakup before then, can you imagine how up-our-ass everyone will be on that trip?”

You huff, he’s right. “Fine.”

Drew grins as you write it down. “Next,” he says, leaning forward. “You’re my plus one at every annual ball, gala, and brunch.”

You sigh loudly. “God, do I have to?”

“Yes,” he replies instantly, not even entertaining the idea of compromise. “So that means we have to plan for the Winter Gala very soon…” He trails off, letting it settle in.

You groan again, dramatically dropping your head onto the table. “Whatever.” your words muffled.

“My turn, then!” You suddenly jump up, half of you wanting to take this seriously, the other half tempted to make something up just to annoy him. “Oh!” You snap your fingers. “We have to come up with a backstory and stick to it—how we met, how long we’ve been ��dating,’ all that.”

Drew smiles maliciously. “Oh, we can make it good…”

You scribble it down, then pause. “Alright…next.” You hesitate, tapping the pen against your lip before saying. “No ‘cheating’.”

He raises a brow.

“If something gets out about you messing around with someone it’d be humiliating,” you explain, avoiding his gaze.

Drew barely hesitates. “Got it.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He adds, “But that goes for you too, then”

You snort. “Oh, wait, you’re serious?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, you notice a flicker of amusement in them.

You shake your head, grinning, tapping the pen against the table. “Okay, one more…” You glance around the diner as if inspiration might strike.

Drew smirks knowingly. “Well, isn’t it obvious?

You look at him, already tired of his bullshit before it’s even begun. “What?”

He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, warm hum. “We can’t fall in love.”

You jolt back, caught completely off guard. You scoff, letting out a dry laugh. “Trust me I won’t have an issue with that,” you remark looking him up and down condescendingly.

His smirk falters. “Whatever you say.” He crosses his arms, looking up at the ceiling in mock boredom.

You’re too busy laughing to notice how your foot moves under the table–your heel accidentally brushing against his leg.

You freeze, your eyes flicking down as your breath catches in your throat.

He notices. Because why wouldn’t he? Smirking, his voice is slow now, teasing almost, “Relax.” h

He chuckles. “And trust me I won’t any issues either.”

The rhythmic clack of your Manolo Blahniks against the marble floors echoed through the towering Vogue lobby. It was 9:00 AM sharp—earlier than you had ever willingly stepped into the office—but today was different. Today, you weren’t just an intern. Today, you were walking in as Vogue’s newest junior designer.

Unable to contain your excitement a quiet giggle bubbles from your lips as you strut these floors like a runway. Your hair was in a voluminous blowout, framing your face as if you were Donna Summer yourself. You wore a chic brown knit turtleneck resting over a perfectly fitted pencil skirt, your favorite birkin hanging from your forearm stuffed with sketchbooks, notes, and ideas just itching to be turned into reality.

The way you walked these halls–head up high–was with a confidence that came with knowing that you worked for this and you belong here. No more stiff blouses and pinstripe trousers, you weren’t a shadow in the background waiting to be told what to do–Today, you were seen.

But as you neared the elevator, you quickly realized that half the office had gathered around it like it was the only source of oxygen in the building.

Oh, right.

The new Political Correspondent was starting today—the so-called dreamboat that half the office was already obsessed with. But nothing was getting in your way today.

Rolling your eyes, you veered off, heading toward the stairwell instead. If you took the stairs to the second floor, you could avoid the mob altogether.

You glance at the gleaming elevator door, it looks practically untouched. You caught your own reflection in the kob before pushing it open, the creak of the heavy door echoing through the empty stairwell.

And then–almost so quiet you would’ve missed it if you weren’t so aware this morning–a shuffling sound.

Your eyes narrowed as something–or someone–shifted behind the staircase. You decide to brush it off, you couldn’t let something like this shake you on your first day. Who knows? Maybe this is normal for 9:00AM.

You carry along, making your way up the steps, but then–

A heavy exhale echoed through the space, sending a chill down your spine.

“Hello?” you called, hesitating to continue walking. “Are you okay?”

A heavy gasp escapes from your lips when you see it. Stepping out from the shadow–him.

Harris Vanderbilt.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that fit him a little too well, his chest rose and fell in an attempt to catch his breath.

You tried–really tried so hard not to stare.

With an easy smile, he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing the thin layer of sweat that had gathered around his temples before jogging up towards you. “What are you doing here?” he asked extending a hand.

You blink, raising a brow. Slowly shaking his hand, you have no idea what the fuck is happening. “What are you doing here?”

He chuckled, still a little out of breath. “Oh didn’t you hear? I’m starting as Political Correspondent.”

You exhaled, chuckling. “Of course.”

“This your first day, too?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

His hands casually slid into his pockets as his gaze flickered over you, slow and deliberate. “Well, you clean up nice,” he murmured, like he was slipping in a secret before you could catch it. “What’s your job here?”

Suddenly you’ve got Deja Vu, always Harris–with the sly compliments.

You chuckle nervously. “I’m starting as Junior Designer.”

His smile widened, genuine and warm. “Really? Holy shit.”

You suddenly feel the warmth of his arm sliding around your waist, pulling you in for a side hug. “Congratulations, Y/N. You deserve it.”

Your breath hitched.

He patted your shoulder like it was nothing, oblivious to how your heart stopped from his touch. “Feels like just yesterday when you were designing dresses for my mom and her friends,” he mused, chuckling.

You managed a small laugh, too flustered to form words.

By the time you two reached the second floor, your short catch-up was coming to an end. Harris exhaled, slowing his steps.

You sigh. “My floors right here, so…”

He nods.

But then–

“Wait.”

He stops you at the door, you turn back, eyebrows raised.

His voice was smooth casual–but there was a quiet confidence underneath. “We should do this again.” his lips quirked into a small, knowing smirk. “Find me at lunch.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

Fighting the urge to turn around you took a few steps forward–only to fail at the last second.

You turn to see Harris still standing there, leaning in the doorway, watching you walk away. When your eyes met again, he winked.

You turned back instantly, heartbeat hammering.

No distractions!

The room is completely silent, thick with that tension that only comes with being in the presence of someone who doesn’t tolerate mistakes, nor does she have time for them.

You–try–to mimic her, sitting perfectly poised, spine straight and your fingers sneakily skimming over the edge of your notepad, but your mind is restless. Across from you was Nova Kaine herself, you’d met with her enough times to not squirm at her presence but there was something about the way her dark brows furrowed in concentration as she pinned fabric swatches and editorial tear sheets onto the mood board, she was in her element.

You could see the slightest movement of her lips as she mumbled to herself, barely audible, as if she was having a back in forth with the ideas swirling in her head. “Turquoise…oh, and gold. Of course!” She steps back, analyzing her creation–figuring out what to do next. She leans in again, shifting a fabric scrap slightly.

Your fingers tighten around your pen as you take a quick glance at her open sketchbook, but you find yourself unable to shift your gaze, catching a glimpse of her designs. They are stunning–fluid yet structured, timeless yet impossibly modern. Her winter collection was inspired by the elegant silhouettes of traditional Egyptian gowns, you noticed how Nova often pulled from history for her designs–her last collection being a modern twist of the Regency Era of Great Britain. But she never failed to give them that unmistakable Nova touch–while the designs were classy they were also trashy, effortlessly cool. You could see the designs coming to life, shimmering under studio lights, sculpted against bodies out of paintings.

She sighs, her movements slowing as she taps her long acrylic nails against the edge of the board, she seems satisfied with the product–for now. Then, without missing a beat, she turns to you.

“Okay.” she exhales. “I need you to take this to Priscilla. Tell her it’s for the shoot.” She grabs a folder from her desk, holding it out without even looking at you.

You take it instinctively, gripping it tight, and repeating in your head, “Priscilla. Shoot. Priscilla. Shoot–” But before you can even register the task, she’s already onto the next thing.

“Then, go to the patterns department. Across the hall, and keep going left until you find Sebastian–ask him for the fabrics I requested.”

Reaching for your pen, you stammer. “Wait–sorry hold on.” You flip open your notepad. “What else?”

Nova barely glances at you. “Patterns, Sebastian, Fabrics. Then come back and look into…” she pauses tapping a pen against her chin, “Gabriette Beaumont. I want you to draft me a solid concept for a shoot featuring her in my Spring collection, that has to be done by tomorrow morning.”

You nod quickly, scribbling it down.

She takes a breath, but you know not to let your guard down just yet. “And you can do whatever after that, as long as your back by three,” she says, finally her gaze meeting yours. “We’re meeting with Sabine Sinclair about my next collection.”

The shock runs down your spine at the name–Sabine Sinclair, editor-in-chief, testamaker, and curator of Vogue. You’ve spent years studying her features in the glossy pages of Vogue, neglecting homework to listen to the sharp wit of her interviews, you’re fully aware that a single nod of approval from her could change the course of a designer’s career forever.

You swallow hard, trying to swallow down your anxiety with it. “Got it.”

Nova finally stops moving, she’s looking right at you now, taking you in like she’s measuring whetehr you can handle this, whether you should handle this.

It’s a lot but yet, instead of feeling overwhelmed, you feel something else entirely.

Ready.

You’re not running errands anymore, fetching coffee.

This is real, you’re working under Nova Kaine–the Nova Kaine whose built her own empire with nothing but raw talent and ruthless determination.

This is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

The cursor blinks at the end of your last sentence. You exhale, stretching your fingers, resting from the relentless typing. Your lunch break started fifteen minutes ago. You glance over at Nova, who’s fully immersed in her work, the rhythmic whir of the sewing machine echoes through the studio.

Leaning back in your chair, you clear her throat. “The concept is ready. Would you prefer for me to print it out so you can have it on paper?”

Nova barely glances at you, entranced in her work, she only nods in approval. “Yes. Great work, Y/N.”

You blink, caught off guard by the praise. Nova Kaine–the Nova Kaine–just told you “Great Work.”

Your lips twitch into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.” You nod trying to play it cool as you push back your chair and head toward the door.

Stepping into the hallway it all hits you, you’re in the Vogue building, where tall impossibly elegant models strut past. Where designers argue passionately over fabric swatches, while assistants–wide eyed and frantic–dart between rooms, balancing coffees and garment bags.

The air smells like Chanel and ambition.

You can’t help but revel in the chaos, it feels like home.

The hum of the printers fill the empty copier room, The air crisp, almost too cold as if the AC is working overtime. A stark contrast to the warmth still clinging to your skin from rushing around all morning.

You exhale, steadying yourself as you connect to the printer’s network. You watch as the moodboard prints, the images stacking–Soft summer hues, Marie antoinette draped in pastels, extravagant cakes adorned with sugar roses, sprawling gardens kisses by golden sunlight. The vision is coming together, you can’t help but smile at the photos.

Then–

Clack. Clack. Clack.

That sound of polished loafers against marble echoes through the room, it’s a sound you instantly recognize. The once-quiet space tightens with his prescence, a chill crawls up your spine before you even see him.

“You’re not avoiding me, are you?” His voice, smooth and testing.

You glance over your shoulder, and there he is–Harris leaning lazily against a nearby printer, his smirk just as self-assured as ever.

Your breath catches for half a second, but you recover quickly, shaking your head with a dry laugh. “No–no, I just got on my lunch break,” you say, rolling your eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, not buying it. “You didn’t expect me to come running right at noon, did you?” you add, turning to fully face him now.

He’s relaxed–you can’t help but notice his bicep flexing slightly through his linen shirt as he rests his arm against the copier, his gaze unmoving.

His laugh fades, but his smirk lingers. And then–his eyes flicker downward, just for a second where if you blinked you’d miss it. But how could you? His eyes flicker from your face to your hips, back to your face.

Quick, and subtle.

A warmth spreads up your neck before you can stop it.

“So you’re on lunch, then?” His voice casual, but something was lingering behind it–something knowing.

“Yeah,” you say, without hesitation.

Harris licks his lips, nodding as if he’s already decided something for you. “Get your stuff and meet me in the lobby in ten.”

He turns to leave but doesn’t go without leaving his mark–his hand slowly brushing over your shoulder, just enough to leave a ghost of warmth behind.

You stand there, completely paralyzed, gripping the printer pages as you take a deep breath, trying (and failing) the fight the uncontrollable smile tugging at your lips.

You take in the scent of fresh dough and melted cheese as you step into the cozy pizza shop. It’s small, warm, and busy to enough to feel lived-in without being overwhelming. The hum of conversation mixes with the faint sound of classic rock playing from an old jukebox in the corner. The booths are worn but comfortable, it’s the kind of place where regulars are greeted like family. Clearly, Harris is one of them.

He’s got an arm resting on your back, guiding you toward a booth near the window, his hand brushing against your lower back as he gestures for you too sit, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. You slide into the seat, watching as he heads toward the counter to order.

You begin to notice how at ease he is here. He leans against the register, forearms resting casually on the counter, his expensive watch glinting under the warm lighting. He’s talking to the girl behind the counter–a host, maybe an old friend–whoever she is, she’s laughing. But it’s not just any laugh, it’s that soft, secret kind of giggle that your stomach twist.

She tucks a loose curl behind her ear, looking up at him through her lashes, while her murmurs something just low enough that you can’t hear. He leans in closer, grinning, and you swear you catch his fingers briefly graze her wrist.

You shift in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of the situation you’ve put yourself in, suddenly you can feel the way your blouse clings to your skin in the steamy room, the warmth of the booth pressing against your back. The way your jaw tightens as you watch him–observe him–effortlessly mimic that same smooth, irresistible charm he used on you.

What are you doing here?

The thought creeps in and before you can stop it your mind is racing. You drop your gaze to the menu, pretending to read it as if the words were at all conceivable.

You don’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But something about it unsettles you.

Maybe it’s the way the girl’s eyes flicker over to you, taking you in, analyzing you before leaning in just a little closer to Harris, like she was in on something you weren’t.

Or maybe it wasn’t her. Perhaps it was the realization sinking in–what did you think this was?

You’re sitting here in a pizza shop WAITING for Harris Vanderbilt, knowing full well the deal you entered with his brother not even two days ago.

But, for some reasons that you don’t want to admit, that whole ordeal least of your worries.

Harris effortlessly slides into the seat across from you, his signature, ever-present, easy smile playing on his lips. He rests his elbows on the table, leaning in slightly, the warmth of his gaze locking onto yours. You tell yourself not to react, but it’s the way he looks at you–curious, amused, like he’s almost solved a puzzle there’s just one last missing piece–it pulls you in. Before you know it, you’re inching closer, leaning in without realizing it.

His smirk widens. “So, what’s going on with you and my brother?”

The words land like glass shattering in the middle of the room. You jerk back in shock, a sharp breath catching in your throat. How the hell did that get to him so fast?

You struggle to stay composed, to play the part. “We’re dating,” you say, forcing a casual sigh, and avoiding his gaze.

Harris tilts his head, unimpressed. His smirk doesn’t falter, but there’s something behind it–teasing, skeptical. “Really?” He hums, his voice dropping just slightly. “You don’t look too happy about it.” He leans in even closer, his voice now a quiet murmur, only for you to hear. “Didn’t think he’d be your type.”

Your pulse jumps.

You shift in your seat, tugging at the last bit of nonchalance you have, but it’s so hard when he watches you like that, you know he’s noticing every little flinch–your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the menu, the sudden dryness in your throat. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

You raise a brow, forcing composure. “And what did you think my type was?” Your lips curve into a smirk, inviting him to be honest.

For once, he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans back, eyes scanning you slowly, chuckling as if he knew something you didn’t.

You struggle to maintain eye contact, raising your brows slightly, playing clueless.

He squints, lips twitching. “Nevermind.” He shakes his head, exhaling through his nose like he’s amused by his own restraint. “You know—”

At the worst moment he’s interupted, the girl from the register places a large margherita in front of you, her attention almost immediately flicking back to Harris. “Any drinks with that? Harris you’ll be having the Lemon Seltzer, I presume?” She flashes him a knowing smile.

Harris returns it, nodding. Then–almost like an afterthought–he glances back to you.

Your arms cross as you force tight lipped smile, nodding aggressively. “I’ll just take a water, thank you.”

The girl awkwardly nods and walks off. You can feel Harris’ eyes on you, waiting for something, but you give him nothing. Your gaze shifts to the menu, pretending to study it like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

He doesn’t let you get away with it.

“So,” he starts, shifting in his seat, trying to pick the conversation back up quickly. “Your first day–how it’s going?” He nods eagerly, awaiting a response.

“Fine.” Your response is quick, detached, your eyes still scanning the menu. “What about you. Harris?” You ask, your tone almost dismissive, you keep your gaze occupied with the meaningless text just to avoid looking at him.

“Great–great, but…”

Before you can register, his hand is on the edge of your menum slowly lowering it, forcing your to meet his gaze. His fingers graze yours, a fleeting touch that shouldn’t make your breath catch the way it does.

Your heart jumps into your throat.

He’s not backing down. “Tell me about yours.” His eyes search yours, looking, waiting for something real.

Your lips part, but you hesitate. You could shut this down. Change the subject. Remind yourself why you’re even here in the first place.

But instead, you exhale, conceding, your voice quieter now. “It’s actually been so exhausting…”

And just like that, you’re talking.

The meeting room doors shut behind you with a soft clickm and you release a deep breath, rolling your shoulders and cracking your back. That Sabine Sinclair was ruthless–her critiques sharp as razors, her expectations were nearly impossible, But you and Nova fought for her collection and despite the brutal back-and-forth, you won. You can feel your body ache from exhaustion, but your excitement creeps in. You can already see it now, debuting in Paris, Nova’s vision coming to life.

Before you can trudge to the elevator, Nova’s voice pulls you back.

“Hey,” she calls, stopping you in your tracks. You turn to her, and for the first time today her expression isn’t embedded in deep concentration or stubborn determination–she’s smiling. “Great work today, keep it up and I’m sure you’ll be in my position someday.”

You blink, completely caught off guard. Praise isn’t something Nova gives out to everyone, but somehow you managed to get two compliments from her today, you must be doing something right. Right?

You manage a small, grateful nod. “Thank you so much, Nova.

She taps your shoulder lightly as she passes, her arm grazing yours. “See you tomorrow,” she adds before disappearing down the hall.

You step into the elevator, exhaling as the doors start to close, the hard part is over but you’ve got this weird feeling in your stomach like you’re forgetting something awfully to important to be forgotten–suddenly you feel your stomach drop at the sight a very familiar pair of loafers.

Of course.

You lift your head slowly, and there he is.

Harris.

You immediately look back down, avoiding him deliberately.

He stands leaning against the wall, one hand holding his phone, the other casually resting in his pocket. He doesn’t speak–not right away. Instead he tilts his head over so slightly, lowering himself just enough to meet your eye level.

“Everything okay down here?” His voice is soft, teasing, but the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch.

Your head snaps up. “Shit, sorry–I was just thinking about something,”

“All good.” His smirk doesn’t waver. “What are you thinking about?”

You hesitate for a second, looking up at him. His eyes are filled with curiosity, as he smiles warmly at you.

Suddenly the elevator dings, the doors sliding open at the first floor. Suddenly a wave of people flood in–sharp suits, chatter, the scent of sweat and cologne fills the small space.

Then–

A strong hand grips your waist, pulling you in.

Your breath catches as Harris moves you out of the way just before something nearly steps into you. But he doesn’t let go.

Your bodies a pressed against eachother, so much so that you can feel the slow rise and fall of his, the warm of his body against yours. The scent of him–woodsy and clean–invades your senses. You tip your head up, and suddenly, he’s right there. Face to face.

Your mouth parts slightly, as his hand, still resting on your waist, shifts–his thumb absentmindedly brushing against the fabric of your skirt.

You don’t dare move. Neither does he.

The hum of conversion surrounding you fades into static.

His grip tightens just a bit, fingers pressing into your waist. He lets out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating between you. “Jeez, the finance floor is packed,” he murmurs, like that was the reason he was still touching you.

But his hand doesn’t move.

You stare at him through your lashes, blinking. “Mhm.”

His gaze flickers–first to your eyes, then, just for a second, to your lips.

“Yup,” he echoes, his voice now a quiet murmur.

Neither of you move, neither of you want to.

Trouble.

The sharp ding of the elevator pierces the air, your pulse hammers in your ears, your breath caught in your throat. He doesn’t move, his fingers grazing the curve of your waist, as if daring you to stay.

You can’t do this.

With careful precision, you reach down to your waist, slipping his arm away from your, the warmth of his skin vanishing in an instant. You step back, not daring to meet his eyes murmuring, “See you Harris,” before you turn on your heel making your escape.

You don’t look back.

You can’t.

The second you step outside, you keep your head low, moving quickly as your heart pounds against your chest. The cold air nips at your skin, but you barely feel it over the heat still lingering from Harris’ touch. You just pray he doesn’t follow you, that you can disappear into the city before–

Your heel catches onto the pavement. Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp as you clumsily stumble forward, bracing for impact–

But instead of hitting the cold concert, you find yourself crashing into something solid.

Someone.

His strong hands grip your arms, steadying you effortlessly. The scent hits you first, he reeks of tequila, tangled with the expensive spice of cologne. Your stomach drops.

You already know.

Slowly–dreading what you’ll see–you look up.

Straight into the stormy, bloodshot gaze of Drew.

Your breath catches, heart slamming against your ribs. He’s leaning against his car, one hand still holding your arm, his expression; unreadable. His uniform is rumpled, unbuttoned just enough to hint that he didn’t just go to school today. His eyes, heavy-lidded, flicker over you–searching and assessing.

His fingers flex ever so slightly before letting you go. Then, in that quiet, raspy drawl–

“Jesus,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Get in.”

It’s not a suggestion.

You jerk back in disbelief, you want to say something. Demand to know where he’s been, why he looks like this and why he’s even here. But Harris was inches behind and the last thing you needed was them crossing paths.

So you don’t hesitate.

You slip into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind you.

Drew settles in beside you, his grip on the wheel lazy, but his entire body wound tight. The silence between you is suffocating, the air thick with the scent of leather, cologne, and weed.

He doesn’t start the car right away. Instead he exhales sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. His fingers drum against the wheel before he finally speaks. “You said you got out at four.”

It’s quiet, but there’s an edge lingering beneath it. A hint of frustration.

He inhale deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” your murmur, the words feeling like poison on your tongue. “The meeting ran late.”

He lets out a deep sigh. The car hums as he starts the engine, focused on the road–his features unreadable.

“How’d it go?”

The question makes you tense.

You don’t respond right away, studying him carefully. There’s a slight smirk tugging at his lips. The slow, heavy blink of his tired eyes. How pale his knuckles are as his fingers flex against the leather wheel. He seems… off.

“Pretty good…” You respond, your voice wary.

You hesitate, then finally ask, “Where have you been?”

Drew lets out a quiet, breathy chuckle, but his smile is stiff and unwelcoming. His grip on the wheel tightens. “Where have I been?” he replies while chuckling dryly.

Then, he deeply exhales through his nose. “What were you thinking?”

Your stomach drops, his tone is laced with something different now. It’s not teasing, not smug.

It’s dissapointed.

You stammer, caught off guard. “What?”

He doesn’t look away from the road, his jaw tightening and lips parting like he’s searching for the right words–before, finally.

“It’s amazing how you can act so clueless.”

Your heart jumps, could he know? There’s no way.

He finally looks back at you, his jaw tightens as he shakes his head. “Don’t you remember, going on a date with my brother?”

Your pulse spikes. “It wasn’t a date,” you argue, voice rising instintictively. “We work together, is getting lunch a crime?”

Drew scoffs.

“Y/N, all we did was breathe in eachothers vicinity and now we’re ‘The Upper East Sides New It Couple!’. And you’re out with him before we even had the chance to–” He cuts himself off with an exhale, loosening his grip on the wheel. “We haven’t even made it official to the public and you’re jumping to go to lunch with another guy–my brother at that–if that got out I would’ve looked like a fool.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. You know you made a mistake but you can’t dare admit that to him.

“How’d you even find out, Drew?”

He scoffs in disbelief, jaw clenching. “How is that any of your business?”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Of course. Another fucking secret!” The words barely leave your mouth before–

SCREEEEECH!

The car jerks to violent stop as Drew takes a sharp turn into a driveway. Your body lurches forward, barely caught by the seatbelt as the tires scratch against the pavement. Your breath shudders as you grip on the edge of your seat, adrenaline spiking.

Drew doesn’t even flinch.

Without a word, he unclips his seatbelt, pushing opening the door, and slamming it shut behind him. You stay frozen in your seat, chest rising and falling quickly, trying to catch your breath. What the hell was that?

“Come on.”

His voice cuts through the air as he knocks on your window, impatient. There he was–standing right in front of Valentina & Co., the most exclusive ball gown boutique on the Upper East Side.

Your lips part in realization. The Frost Gala was next week.

You exhale slowly, blood still thrumming with adrenaline. You grip the door handle, muttering under your breath,

“Asshole.”

Then with an aggressive shove, you push the door open and step out.

The moment you step into Valentina & Co, it almost all fades away, every ounce of resentment towards Drew, this entire situation infact, all fades away–just for a second.

The boutique is breathtaking.

Soft golden lighting glows against the pearl-white walls, illuminating the cascading fabrics and glistening embellishments that hang delicately on polished racks. The air hums with the faint scent of fresh roses and expensive perfume, wrapping you in the very essence of luxury. No matter how much you hate Drew right now, no matter how much you loathe being dragged here—you can’t deny it.

This store is the epitome of high fashion.

You can feel the stunning pieces flirting with you, begging for a closer look–gowns by Oscar de la Renta, Valentin Haute Couture–fine pieces of art that you’ve only ever admired from the background. At all those charity galas, brunches, and endless fundraises, you’d always slipped into the role of observer, quietly admiring the stunning dresses in the shadows.

Now, you’re expected to step into the spotlight.

Your chest tightens.

You catch a glimpse of Drew, standing a few feet ahead. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a shift in him. The moment he notices eyes on him, his shoulders straighten, his lips curl into a perfectly rehearsed smile—effortless, practiced. “Just play along for now–we’ll talk about it later.” he whispers.

You force yourself to follow suit. The smile you offer is stiff, barely holding, but it’s sufficient.

Drew strides towards the front desk as you struggle to keep up, he leans in to whisper something to the concierge. The woman–polished and poised–nods rapidly before turning to the boutique floor.

“Close the shop!” she calls out, clapping her hands. “Everybody out–now!”

Your stomach drops, freezing mid-step. Close the shop?

Drew turns back, his expression unreadable as he tilts his head towards. His voice is softer now, almost gentle.

“Come on.”

Against all your will, you don’t argue.

You follow.

Within minutes the boutique is empty, leaving only the two your and the tired yet impeccably polished staff. You settle down onto plush velvet cushion beside Drew, smoothing your skirt instinctively.

A young woman approaches, handing you a cocktail menu. You blink, stunned.

You lean towards Drew, your voice lowering into a soft whisper. “Drinks? Really?”

He chuckles, stretching his arm lazily around the back of the cusion he leans towards you, “Well–”

Before he can finish, a frantic saleswoman rushes toward you, pushing a rack off dresses with delicate urgency. The hangers clanking together softly, silk and tulle swaying with the movement.

“There’s more coming, miss—please, enjoy!” she says, before hurrying back into the showroom.”

You barely manage to gasp out a, “T—thank you!” before she disappears.

Then, finally, you take in the sight before you.

Exquisite gowns, every stitch, every embellishment was it’s own piece of art. Breathtaking fabrics in deepl jewel tones, pastels that looked like they belonged in a fairytaile, icy blues and velvety blacks that exuded effortless power.

And yet–

“But you’re looking for gold, aren’t you?”

Your head snaps towards him. He flashes a subtle smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. He doesn’t even glance at you–just idly skimming through the gowns, fingers grazing the fabrics.

“It’s almost all you wear,” he continues casually. “It;s what you wore to mother’s dinner party…the Sinclair Fundraiser in June…”

Your breath catches.

The way he says it so nonchalantly like it was just an observation–all he noticed and remembered sent something unfamiliar curling in your stomach.

You nervously chuckle, smoothing your hands over your lap. “Yeah, well…I mean, it’s not all I swear,” you deflect, trying to sound indifferent.

But it’s so hard to ignore.

Because the truth is–up until now–you hadn’t even noticed the pattern yourself.

“Try this.”

Drew’s voice is casual but demanding, as if he wasn’t leaving room for argument. He holds up a gown–a delicate, dreamlike creation in baby pink, sheer, and adorned with floral embellishments.

Your breath hitches

The dress is something you’d never pick out on your own–soft, and ethereal isn’t your usual style–but it’s stunning nonetheless. The kind of dress that belongs in a garden at golden hour, whispering against the skin like a breeze. It was Emma Scervino, you think.

You take it from his hands, fingers trailing over the intricate embroidery. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Something in his tone is different–softer, more genuine–you glance up but before you can catch him, he’s already looking away, shifting toward the saleswoman as she wheels in another rack.

“So these are your golds and silvers,” she announces straightening the dresses. “And we’ll bring out the brighter colors next if that’s what you’re interested in.”

You offer her a polite smile. “Thank you so much!”

Drew barely acknowledges simply nodding, he already begins to comb through the gowns, fingers grazing the shimmering metallics. “But I guess this is more your style.” His voice amused as he lifts a particularly reflective number, golden sequins catching the light in an almost blinding display.

You chuckle, shaking your head–but then you see it.

“Oh, but this…” Your breath catches as your fingers hover over a golden, glittering masterpiece–an Elie Saab gown dripping in sparkling embellishments, so decadent it looks like it was spun from pure stardust.

Drew steps back, eyes flickering between you and the dress.

“Doesn’t look too different from anything I’ve seen you in.” His voice is quieter now.

You scoff. “Drew this is Elie Saab, his Fall 2004 collection–I believe. Just look at the embellishments.” You hold the dress above your head, closer to him.

He leans in, taking a closer look as he inches closer, then putting the hanger down bringing the two of you face to face. “It’s pretty.” he teases.

Turning back to rack he skims through the dresses, “But have you ever tried wearing something different, don’t you want to be a designer–you need versatility.” Without hesitation he pulls another gown from the rack–this time it was an icy silver-blue that almost glowed under the boutique lights.

He turns it in his hand, eyes flickering to you for a brief second. “Something like this.”

You tilt your head curiously. “You’re taste isn’t half bad, Drew.”

Your fingers find the tag.

Dior.

“Wait–Dior?”

Before Drew can answer, one of the stylists perk up as if she was summoned. “Oh that collection isn’t out yet,” she beams. “New collection, SS25.”

You inhale sharply, eyes widening. “Really?” You nod rapidly, carefully handing the dress back to Drew after finding out its worth.

Drew chuckles at your reaction, clearly amused. “Look at you,” he teases. “You almost look impressed.”

As the evening stretches on you soon grow tired of the endless parade of silk, tulle, and sequins. Your mind dizzy with exhaustion, and too many martinis, can hardly keep up anymore.

You groan loudly, slouching onto the plush seat beside Drew after going through another rack, your limbs are heavy from the hours spent sifting through the detailed, and intricate garments. “Oh, God, we’ll never find the perfect one. Let’s just go with the gold one.” Your voice barely projecting through your exhaustion.

Drew, equally drained–and equally tipsy–lifts his head. His tie is loosened, his usual sharp composure dulled by the draining day. “Are you completely sure?” he glances to you, but before you can answer the saleswoman enters with one final rack.

“This is all we have.” She says with an exasperated sigh.

You barely glance up, expecting more of the same—until something catches the corner of your eye.

Your breath hitches. “Wait.”

Drew straightens his posture, eyes flickering to you he slowly stands up. “What?”

“Oh-oh…” You push yourself upright, admiring the garment.

Giorgio Armani.

Your all-time favorite designer.

The collection you’d obsessed over for months since its debut, traced in magazines, dreamed of wearing.

It was a light bubblegum pink, soft, sheer yet luminscent catching the light in a way that almost made it seem alive, sentient. Romantic. Otherworldly.

You swallow, fingers curling delicately at the fabric. “I want to try this one.”

Drew doesn’t hesitate, signaling to a staff-member nearby—his silent command met with a nod.

You try the dress on, heart pounding as it sleeps delicately onto you, hugging your form—as it was made for you.

You smooth your hands down the bodice, watching the way it hugs your form—as if it was made for you.

It's perfect.

A whisper leaves your lips, barely audible. "Perfect."

You shakily open the door, the real test awaits.

You don't know why you feel so unsteady, so oddly nervous, but your gaze wavers, barely able to meet

Drew's eyes.

"Good, right?"

Silence.

Then—a sharp inhale.

You look up just in time to see it—his gaze flickering over you, then away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

He clears his throat, forcing a casual stance. "Mhm." His voice is lower, rougher.

A beat.

Then he pushes himself up, smoothing his pants with a

quick, almost restless motion.

"Very..." He hesitates, his fingers ghosting over his lips, eyes dragging over you once more before he quickly-too quickly-steps forward.

"Good—" His voice is abrupt, and before you can react, his hand is at the small of your back, guiding you back toward the dressing room.

His touch lingers for a second longer than necessary.

"We'll take it!" he calls out to the employee, voice louder than before. Almost hurried.

You don't move.

Neither does he.

You back glance to him, gripping the handle. His warm breath brushing across your shoulder, he glances down.

“Go on.”

You quickly snap out of it, rushing into the room and slamming the door.

You try to ignore it, but the moment lingered in the air.

Impossible to ignore…

— a quick thanks ♡

seriously thank u guys so much for the support, didn’t expect u guys to fw me like this ughh im so so srry for taking so long to post this i just never expected this type of love & support, thank u again for ur patience!

#black reader #drew starkey fic #drewdollie #drew starkey x reader #gossip girl au #drew starkey #gossipgirl #harris dickinson #harris dickinson fic #harris dickinson x reader

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darkdemeter · 10 months ago

Text

・issue/clipping #2・ SOLDAT'S REPRISE

⚤ Winter Soldier x Female Reader 18+ Psychological and sexual thriller — mention of previous supposed "dub-con" encounters, stalking, minor medication usage and trauma — paranoid reader — small SMUT scene, depicted as non/con sleep sex — unprotected sex — dark Winter Soldier — possible grammar/punctuation errors — I think that's it? ✎ 3.4k Things are getting out of hand. You feel like you're a ship slowly sinking into the dark depths below. You're being hunted, you just know it, but perhaps there is hope in the form of the friendly local deputy. Little do you know what the Winter Soldier is always watching your every move.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

Nobody believes ghost stories. That’s the advantage he carries, you have found. He’s a ghost and thus, any mention of his haunting presence is absolved to the grave of a dismissed and silenced voice. A cry for help.

You feel so alone here. This home that you founded for yourself, made an attempt to lead a life of normalcy and peace. A life where you weren’t spending your tired hours looking over your shoulder and praying that rounding the next corner wouldn’t be your last.

He had invaded the sanctity of the very place you were meant to feel safe in. He robbed you of the only comfort you had to cling to after everything else went so wrong.

Every shadow that creeps and waves past the drawn curtains sends you into a frenzy, feet shifting and muscles locking up with the flight or fight response kicking in as electrical surges through your skin, your gut churning and your heart rapping tight against your chest. Every inkling of something dark moving in the hallway has tears prickling the corner of your vision, imagining those cold blue eyes locked on you. Every closet, every corner — every room is now under siege of being a possible hiding place for him.

You’re forced to undertake that terrible fucking feeling that your soul has jumped out and is latched like tar to your spine.

Your doctor didn’t believe you. Nobody ever did. It made you feel alone in this town, this heavily pitched, “We’re a tight-knit community that cares for all its residents!”. Putting the product to the board really begins to measure up this so-called community and their nosey personality to happily peek into your life. Did they all know and were too scared for their own lives to help?

You couldn’t blame them, though you probably should. You just can’t.

He can be anywhere. Even now…

In the broadness of daylight you still suffer the tiresome weight of fear that steeps over you, drawing you out into a state of exhaustion that leaves you further vulnerable. You just… sense him. He’s around though you can’t pinpoint his exact location, you just know deep down in your gut that he’s watching you right now while you walk through the streets.

The leathery scuffle of your boots are trimmed by the cause of a car horn blurting out. “Hey, watch where you’re going!” the driver yells, face red and scrunched up like a swollen balloon ready to pop.

He slams his fist down on the horn again in a frightful warning. A loud, treacherous horn that signals the arrival of something dangerous, someone that can kill you – but he doesn’t. He moves like he intends to, but he never commits to the final strike. It’s like he gets aroused by the painful implication that he inflicts upon you.

It’s sunny but the air is smothered by a strange aura of fog, cloudy but not entirely that you can still see several blocks up ahead. You can see the local diner.

Just a little more.

You hear the clobber of footsteps behind you, by your guess without arousing suspicion and looking, you’d estimate… 5 feet in distance, give or take?

He really did turn you into a little paranoid freak. They’re heavy, keeping a steady pace that thins out a constant line of anxiety, each step you take he mimics it with one that echoes in the bounds of your mind. Your heart rate thumps with a bruising beat, it’s beginning to put a straining ache on your ribs.

It’s someone else.

It’s… it’s someone else…

It’s— it’s him, it’s him!

The footsteps pick up to heave a faster pace, the sickening pound of heavy combat boots floods your train of thought. You remember a time of running through the dingy lit halls in Hydra’s underground base. Their brain-fried dog easily keeping track of you no matter what corner you turned, what darkened environment you broke into in your haste to escape.

“It’s a training montage. It will ensure that he can keep track of his target.” That was what Rumlow had said to you.

You’re caught in a half spin, almost stumbling over on the sidewalk to meet him face to face, only to falter back when he looks at you with a furrowed decline to his features, confused by your reaction.

“U-uh, sorry,” you mumble and lower your gaze down. It’s someone else. Dark brown eyes, sandy brown hair cut short and tousled.

He passes you easily to meet with a girl. She’s quite pretty, you don’t believe you’ve seen her around before but maybe you have. It gets hard to finalise and familiarise faces, names and their personalities when you holster yourself up in the town’s wooded outskirts.

You like the privacy it gives you, however much it’s now put you at risk.

The joined couple talk with a cheerful ambiance of their romance, happily flourishing and unawares of the troubles you face and they turn into a nearby shop to browse its contents.

Meanwhile, you continue on towards the diner.

It’s hard to enjoy a moment of fresh air when you know you’re being hunted, being stalked by a lowly predator that hides in plain sight.

But by some divine intervention, you finally reach the parking lot of the diner. Weaving through the parked cars and across the wetted tarmac from the morning’s earlier spittle of rain, you hurry along like the obedient rabbit of his chase, hopping quickly to the false security of a burrow.

You stop just mere feet away from the inviting pavement to see the car at your side. A smile almost spreads on your lips and a sigh escapes you, your shoulders unbunched from the tension they held. You enter the diner far more eagerly, still tinged by the bleeding trail of your fear but you now hold to hope.

You avoid the eyes of the other customers that stare at you, feeling like you’re committing a walk of shame as you move with quickly paced rumbles steps, the thickened hide of your heels much louder in the soft bustle of the diner.

You see him sitting in one of the center booths that line the window panes. A fresh refill of coffee steaming from his mug, a finished palette of breakfast and now munching in a rewarding muffin as he reads over what you assume to be his latest report.

His shining deputy badge being your saving grace in this nightmare.

He only looks up to meet your eyes that smile equally as his lips do, beautiful dark honey orbs glistening with a vibrancy that’s warm and inviting.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says smoothly over the rim of his next sip of coffee.

You shoot back quickly and out of breath. “Hi, Riley.”

His detective instincts kick in immediately, sensing something amiss by the dishevelled state of yourself. Eyes sunken in by dark circles yet sorely irritated and puffy from crying. Your breath is practically rabid as you breathe in and out with attacking panic.

“What’s up, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not,” you answer shortly. His hand gestures for you to take the booth seat before him and you do, sliding down into it. “Riley, I need your help. I’m in trouble and I have nobody to turn to.”

He nods, tousled lengths of his sandy blonde hair move over his temples and forehead. His large arms cross over themselves and rest on the table.

“Of course. What’s going on?”

Your eyes fog over with that familiar heat of tears. You want to cry, to let it all out, finally finding an anchor at port in the safety Riley made you feel. Honestly he was the only good thing about this town. He was everything you needed. Maybe everything you wanted. If only you weren’t so terrified after the repercussions of your prior intimacy with the very man who now won’t leave you in peace.

Your throat starts to choke, tightening until it hurts as you try to suppress the tears and theatrics. Riley’s brows furrow and he reaches a hand forward, a strong hand that guides and protects, and he takes hold of your quivering arm. His thumb absently strokes the slivered reveal of your wrist between your sleeve and glove.

“Hey,” he whispers, “It’s alright. Deep breaths for me, that’s it, nice and slow. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

How his eyes solemnly swear that everything will be alright and that he will protect you. So why is it so hard to tell him? Is it shame that you’ll scare him away, that he’ll think you’re batshit crazy if you tell him—

“I’m being stalked.”

Something in the corner of his brow twitches, arching. A shiny spark emits in the pools of his dark eyes, catching the light from outside and revealing a vulnerable trigger that you think you misconstrued as something more than a concerned friend or an officer taking his job seriously.

“Do you know by who?” he questions with a firm press of his voice.

Shakily, you nod. “Yes.”

His eyes shift, the dark onyx pivoting left and right with a contemplative gate. Then, Riley looks back to you, almost silently pressing for you to answer. And it’s then that you hesitate. You stutter over your response, the words too heavy to speak and he understands.

“How long has this been going on? Does anyone else know?”

You want to laugh and you half-heartedly do, the sound dry and cynical in your throat. Your back presses straight into the booth seat. “I-saw saw him a few nights ago in my home!” your voice is a sharp whisper, “and I told my doctor and— and she told me that I was hallucinating, that it was just a mental relapse and I—”

Your body jerks forward as your hands cup your face, tears sting the line of your vision. You just want to live life normally. All you want is to be left in peace. Why couldn't the past just let you go?

“I— I don’t know what to do, Riley… I really don’t.”

The muscles beneath your skin contract and pull tightly, almost painfully so, your body begins to tremble with vibrating distress. “I feel like nobody believes me, I thought I could ask for your help or the Sheriff’s— Riley, I— can’t do this. I can’t…”

Your breathing becomes terribly shaken, sniffling as you attempt to calm yourself. Your body falls forward more and the instinct to crawl into a ball is powerfully overwhelming. You can feel the condensating judgment of the other diner dwellers, eyes shifting uncomfortably between you and their own business. The way that someone clears their throat loudly, stool squeaking under their weight and the ruffle of a newspaper obscuring one of the lonely patrons in the back booth, your blurry vision unable to comprehend the printed bold title or the gloved hands that hold it.

You press your head against your folded arms that lay on the table, barely making out the quickened hush of Riley’s voice coaxing you.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His hand reaches out for you and it touches you, you feel the warmth of his hand against you.

“I believe you.”

Your tear ridden eyes raise up to meet Riley’s eyes, a gasp hitched in your throat. You choke out softly. “Y-you do?”

“Yes.” He leans forward that bit closer. “And I will protect you.”

His words are a relief, a form of assurance to cling to like a lifeline. That’s all you wanted to hear. You try to mirror his smile before the waitress comes over, coffee pot held in her grip.

“Need anything else, Deputy?” she asks and Riley motions to you with a nod of his stubbled chin. Cheeks flushed with a rosy tinge and eyes puffy, you wipe away the stray rivers of drying tears and lower your eyes away from the waitress.

“Just a coffee to go, her usual. Put it on my tab and uh…” Your heart almost skips a beat the way he looks to you, dimpled cheeks as he smiles a bit wider and his dark eyes seemingly aglow with a honeyed tint. “Some apple pie or that new chocolate chip muffin cake they got?”

“Thanks again, Riley,” you say, hand rumbling the paper back in your palm a distant tune as you take a small sip from your coffee. Already, you were beginning to feel better as you walked with Riley out to his car.

“No problem. Told you I’d look out for ya when you first moved here, didn’t I?”

The memory of your first meeting brings a small smile to your lips, eyes once sunken and gloomy lighting up through the thin stream from the coffee cup. “Yeah. Still, I’m grateful for all you’re doing. I had hope but… I didn’t want to count on anything, you know, just in case you didn’t believe me.”

“Just know that you’re not alone. Anything, and I mean it, anything else happens or you don’t wanna be alone up there,” he says and pulls out his notepad and pen. He scribbles something down and hands the torn out page to you, his touch mingling against yours as you take it from between his fingers. “Just call me and I’ll be right over. Don’t worry about the hour or anything, on duty or off, I’ll find a way to you.”

The coffee and muffin cake, the caring personality, giving his private phone number to you; what could it all mean? For a split second you forget that you’re in the midst of a stalker case, that you are being haunted by the very manifestation of your past. Something in your brain offers you a second’s respite that this is just an ordinary meeting between two people, a regular occurrence that feels like a date. It’s nice to feel this sense of normalcy.

But in staring at the digits of his number a little longer, that facade falls away, leaving you to remember why he was helping you; giving you so much attention.

“Again, thank you.”

“I’ll also pass it on to the Sheriff and get his say on it. Find out what we can do to catch this guy.”

You nod as though to agree, that there is a chance that they will catch him. You wish it were possible but with what you’ve seen, what you have come to know about the Winter Soldier… all capture of him is impossible. Even if they somehow manage to track him down, he’ll be gone before they can dream of getting him.

He’s a ghost among men.

“Do you think the Sheriff will believe it?” you ask Riley, watching carefully as he clicks his tongue and the skin under his eye wrinkles.

“He’s dealt with a few cases like this before when he worked in the city. There haven't been many stalker cases here.” He shrugs then, looking around. “But even if he doesn’t, then just know you have me. I’ll make sure that you never have to worry about him again. You’re going to be okay. I’m here for you.”

That’s all he needed to hear. So, this Riley would now be an obstacle of justice in his way. Newspaper hiding the device sat on the table, the wired bud linked to his ear to listen to the bug he’d placed in your bag.

He had to listen to the way Riley was sweet talking you, how he made you feel safe. Protected. Something burns a hole in his chest and makes his blood run hot at the sight of another man making you smile. He had to sit back as he offered to drive you back home and further insist when you at first refused, only to then give in. He had to watch from the cover of his position as you dare get into another man’s car after he opens his door for you.

Of course, how could he blame him? You were a pretty little doll. But you were his pretty little doll. His little rabbit that he took great delight in chasing after, watching you whimper and fall apart under him, around him during those late and intimate hours.

His bright, icy blue eyes grow darker, colder with hate and seething possessiveness. He won’t let a badge stand in his way. Six long years it’s taken him. He lost you once and he will make sure that you never leave him again.

After Riley had dropped you off, you had made the rounds of alternating the security system and changed the digital pins. You did it every day to ensure that nothing was left to chance.

When nightfall broke over the valley and you were left in a dark, snowy solitude by yourself, you drew all curtains to close, gritting your teeth at the chattering of the rings on the pole.

You ignored the rattling tap of the tree branch you still haven’t managed to deal with. You did what work you could, tried to relax after making yourself some dinner and a warm beverage, all the while caught in a silent and haunting conflict.

You knew that Riley was just a call away. Anytime, anything you needed and he was there. But you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched by a predator.

Now you lay in bed, fast asleep around the 12:15am after you took some of that medication to help you sleep. It did wonders for nights that felt restless. They just still seem to not impact the side effect of waking up with a scream in your throat at the cost of your nightmares.

But tonight, it seems you’re granted respite. Your hips roll against something that in turn mimics the action against you. A soft, crackly whimper parts your lips and you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through your abdomen, twisting blissfully and you moan aloud.

He loves the sounds you make for him in your sleep. They way that even when your conscious mind isn’t awake, your body complies to the pleasure he gives you. He doesn’t want to think about Riley having you like this. It only speeds up the ruthlessness of his thrusts that ring your cunt walls around his length, your slick coating him as he sheathes in and out, in and out fast and unfashionably quick.

A mix of flesh and metal hold you down on the bed by your hips, fingers leaving a painful reminder on the supple there; a small puzzle piece for you to discover in the grand scheme of plan for you.

You moan again but it’s cut up, jostled with a bubbly whine as you struggle to breathe air into your lungs. Your thighs tremble and squeeze tight around whatever force that pistons between them. Your voice chokes on a whimpered sound of a name.

His heart sinks…

Your walls clench around him when he hits that spot and you cry out, stirred from your dreams and the creaking of your bed is heard in the otherwise deafening silence. That and muffled, masculine pants.

Your vision is blurred by the cover of sleep but your reaction doesn't take long to take place.

Your eyes are shot wide open and your mouth falls agape with a scream, “Solda— mmm! Mmfmm!”

His gloved hand shoots out to cover your mouth and nose, muffling the sound of your terrified screams and he forces his thrusts to quicken. He doesn’t pay any sort of worried attention to the reflective glisten of tears in your eyes, highlighting the colour of them beautifully. You cried so much from the pleasure he brought you to in those late hours that he can no longer tell the difference. He grunts at the way your slick and hot walls surround him. How he’s missed this.

Your stomach churns and twists, but your body visibly shakes and your skin goes between cold flushed and heated surges as your cunt swallows every single inch he gives you. His pace has only increased, the bevel between his dark brows shows and nothing else you can see — want to see — is hidden by that mask. With a final groan he cums, pulling out just as the first spurts paint over your outer folds and clit, smearing across your lower belly. You feel like your body has become numb with fear.

“He stays away from what’s mine… or he dies.”

THANKS FOR READING!

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on this issue's taglist, we've got: @kandis-mom @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsnikstan

#headlinesxcomics publishing #female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes smut #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic

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justinspoliticalcorner · 2 months ago

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Prem Thakker at Zeteo:

An overwhelming share of likely Democratic primary voters – 71% – say the US should restrict military aid to Israel until it stops attacking civilians in Gaza, supports Palestinian rights, and commits to a long-term peace process, according to a recent Data for Progress–Zeteo poll of likely Democratic primary voters. As the Democratic Party faces an identity crisis following its 2024 loss, the new data point is yet another indicator that Democratic voters want to depart from the party establishment consensus in favor of something more progressive.

And it’s not just Israel-Palestine. The voters surveyed were asked to choose between a more progressive and a more moderate approach to six issues: the Israel-Palestine conflict, transgender sports policy, economic policy, healthcare, climate policy, and immigration. On nearly every issue, the poll found likely Democratic primary voters clearly favored a more progressive approach. The dynamic was strongest in the case of Israel-Palestine. While 71% of respondents preferred the US condition military aid to Israel, just 20% chose the more moderate option: continuing to support Israel and “its right to defend itself,” while “encouraging efforts to reduce civilian harm and promote long-term peace” – the Biden administration’s posture.

Voters under the age of 45 felt even stronger – with 80% favoring restricting aid and just 13% supporting the status quo posture. Such numbers were striking, given how the Kamala Harris campaign refused to diverge from the Biden administration on several issues, infamously on Israel and Palestine. That stubborn refusal contributed to Harris’ eventual loss – and in the months since Donald Trump took power, the world has witnessed an even more severe ramp-up of violence against Palestinians and repression of their supporters in the US. The new polling underscores that Democratic voters have coalesced on an opinion starkly different from what the Biden-Harris administration maintained during the final year of its presidency.

Other Key Issues

The Democratic primary voters surveyed were more split on immigration – with 49% favoring a progressive approach that includes reducing deportations, expanding asylum access, and providing a pathway to citizenship for all undocumented immigrants, while 48% favored the Democratic status quo position of increasing border security while creating a legal pathway to citizenship for undocumented immigrants with long-term ties to the US. Voters were less split when it came to healthcare: 60% of respondents favored a Medicare for All system that would replace most private insurance with a government-funded plan. Conversely, 37% preferred the more moderate approach: improving and expanding the Affordable Care Act, while maintaining private insurance as the main option for most Americans. Those under 45 felt strongly: 70% supported Medicare for All, and 28% favored the latter. Climate has taken a backseat in the US discourse, but the effects have not: 2023 was the hottest recorded year on Earth – and then that record was broken again last year. Some 54% of likely Democratic voters preferred a Green New Deal, while 41% favored the Biden administration’s approach: investing in clean energy and reducing fossil fuel use over time through “market-driven solutions.” While some pundits and lawmakers fixate on “Kamala is for they/them” as the reason Democrats lost in 2024 (and not other possibilities, like unconditionally supporting a genocide, appearing as Diet Republicans, or refusing to distinguish themselves from a previously losing ticket) respondents were less cautious on the matter of transgender people. Some 63% preferred an approach that opposed federal transgender sports bans and supported allowing local school districts and athletic organizations to set participation policies. About 27% supported a federal ban to “reduce political conflict over this issue.” And on economic policy, 62% favored enforcing strong public standards and limiting corporate influence on development and building, while 31% supported focusing on building more housing and infrastructure, even if that meant less government oversight and regulation and fewer restrictions on developers.

According to Data For Progress/Zeteo poll conducted between April 9th and 14th, 71% of likely Democratic primary voters prefer that military aid to Israel be restricted.

On non-Palestine/Israel issues, the progressive side won out, and even immigration was a push.

#Polling #Israel #Gaza Genocide #Foreign Aid #Zeteo News #Data For Progress

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

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A White Picket Fence: Mike McLusky x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mqdhvtter @buckysteveloki-me @elenavampire21 @noorbindi

Companion piece to:

Hell or Highwater - You and Mike always find your way back to each other.

Everything You Need (NSFW) - You and Mike get a little rough because you both won't commit.

Battle Scars - Mike tells you how he feels after a near miss.

Insomnia - Mike can't sleep without you.

Dreams - Mike experiances a panic attack in the middle of the night.

You’re drinking a cocktail when Mike finds you at The Wardrobe, an expensive hipster bar he wouldn’t normally be caught dead in. You’re sipping from A Sex on the Beach and he thinks it’s wishful thinking on your part because the coastline around here is filthy and rocky, a casualty of the industrial complex that fuels Kingstown’s economy.

“Not tonight.” You say, shaking your head as Mike takes up residence on the stool alongside of you. “I don’t want to be around you right now.”

“Stella…” He begins but the words they just won’t come because he doesn’t have any that will make this right.

Your relationship has always been complicated. He had never meant to sleep with his FBI handler and you had never meant to fall in love with an ex-con. The two of you are at an impasse because you’d asked him to leave with you last night, to start a new life somewhere else, somewhere you could both be happy, be free.

“I have responsibilities.” He’d told you and you’d left after that. He hadn’t followed, he figured you needed to take some time to recalibrate before he returns to the issue.

“If I leave this town.” He says finally as the bartender sets a glass of bourbon down in front of him. “I might as well be putting a match to a powder keg. You know that, I know you know that so why…”

He looks at you then, sees the glossiness of your eyes as you purse your lips together. His gaze lowers to your second drink, the one he’s just watched the bartender make for you and he realises he didn’t see any peach schnapps or vodka. That Sex on the Beach, it’s a virgin which means…

“Oh.” He says, his grasp on the crystal tumbler tightening. “How far along?”

“Two months.” You tell him, poking at the ice in your glass with straw, the savagery of each strike sending a shiver up his spine. “I took the test a few days ago.”

He backtracks over the timeframe, the two of you were still using condoms at that point but the sex was vigorous. It wasn’t implausible that there had been an accident, that one could have torn without either of you knowing.

“And you were hoping…”

“Yea, but I guess now I got my answer.” You push away from the bar, snatching up your purse before you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care it.”

It’s as you start to walk away, he catches your arm. You tilt your head towards him and he sees that devastation in you, he feels it acutely in his own chest because there is nothing else he wants more than to be that guy, the one that gets the white picket fence and a happy ending. But that’s not him, it will never be him.

“I’ll go with you.” He says quietly. “To the appointment. I’ll…”

You’re already shaking your head, cutting him off and something inside him dies because he won’t get to say goodbye to that baby. It’ll just disappear into the ether, the same way everything good always seems to in Mike’s life.

“It’ll just raise questions if someone sees you at the clinic.” You say, your voice entirely devoid of emotion and he understands in that moment that this has broken you, that the relationship between the two of you, it won’t ever be the same again.

“Take care Mike.” You say before pulling away. “I’ll text you when it’s done.”

Love Mike? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mike mclusky #mike mclusky x reader #mayor of kingstown #jeremy renner

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reidmarieprentiss · 11 months ago

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Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

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

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

Word count: 14.8k

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

main masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Leave,” Spencer finished, somewhat sheepishly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Without you?” Spencer asked, clearly surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, Y/N.”

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

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

“Spencer…”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

Sorry… who is this?

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

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

She chuckled, enjoying the moment.

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

Yes, that’s me. So, about your offer…

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

You still interested in something casual?

Yes, I am. If the offer still stands.

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

It stands. When are you free?

I’m free this weekend. How about Saturday?

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

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

Sounds perfect. Looking forward to it.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forget your words there?” he teased gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“To your place?” Spencer asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know we haven’t gone all the way yet, but I want to. Do you?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt.

“Of course I do, but—” Spencer started, but she cut him off.

“But what, Spencer?” she snapped, feeling a pang of rejection. If she can’t have him romantically, she at least wants to have him fully sexually.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly, his hands moving to cup her face. “Come here.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. Spencer leaned in and kissed her, slow and tender at first, then deepening with a passion that left them both breathless. They both ignored their rule.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

“Stop asking,” she said, her hands moving to unbutton his shirt. “I’ need you.”

Spencer’s hands trembled slightly as he helped her undress, their clothes falling to the floor in a heap. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, savoring every inch of her skin as he guided her toward the bedroom.

They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated breaths. Spencer hovered over her, his eyes locked onto hers. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek.

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “So are you, Spencer.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, his body pressing against hers. Y/N wrapped her legs around Spencer's waist, feeling his hard length slide between her wet core.

“Ohh, Spence,” she moaned.

“Yeah, that feel good, baby?” Spencer's voice was thick with desire.

No one had called Y/N baby in a long time. She let herself enjoy it for now. “Yeah, please, please, I need more.”

“Okay, okay, I got you,” he reassured her.

Spencer traced his fingers down Y/N’s body, pausing at her breasts to tug on her nipples. Y/N arched her back into Spencer's hands, moaning unabashedly. His hands continued their journey down, finding Y/N’s lips and spreading his fingers to run through the length of her.

Y/N gasped at the sensation, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Spence, please,” she whimpered, her voice filled with need.

Spencer positioned himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for confirmation. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Spencer. Please,” she replied, her voice trembling with anticipation.

He slowly pushed into her, their combined moans filling the room as he stretched and filled her. They moved together, finding a rhythm that brought them both immense pleasure.

Spencer leaned down to kiss her deeply, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. “You feel so– so good,” he murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her hips to pull her closer.

“So do you, Spencer,” Y/N panted, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Spencer laughed, his ego being boosted. The pace of his hips quickened, their passion reaching new heights. Y/N’s breaths came in short, desperate gasps as Spencer pushed into her with powerful thrusts. “Spence, oh god, oh god, oh godddd,” she cried out.

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his movements becoming more frantic.

Spencer took Y/N’s thighs in his hands and pushed them up, getting deeper inside her. The new angle caused Y/N to yell out in pleasure, raising her hands to dig her fingers into Spencer’s biceps. Keeping one leg up, Spencer dropped a hand to Y/N’s clit, rubbing in precise, quick circles to bring her to her release.

“Spencer, I’m so close!” she gasped. “Oh god! I’m gonna—” Her back arched as liquid squirted out of her and all over Spencer.

“Oh my god, Y/N… did you just… squirt? I didn’t—I didn’t know you could do that,” Spencer said, his eyes wide with surprise and awe.

“I didn’t either,” she panted, still coming down from the high.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Spencer groaned, feeling himself on the brink. “I’m gonna cum.”

With a few more powerful thrusts, Spencer let out a deep, guttural moan as he reached his climax, his body tensing and then releasing all at once. He collapsed on top of her, pulling her close as he filled her up and they both caught their breath.

They lay there, their bodies entwined, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment. Spencer brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, looking into her eyes with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Y/N… I love you,” he said softly.

“What?” Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I was going to tell you earlier, but you pounced on me when I got here,” Spencer laughed lightheartedly, trying to ease the tension.

“You’re joking, right?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

“No, I’m not,” Spencer replied, his expression serious. “Why would you say that?”

“Why would you?” she demanded, pushing him off of her so she could get off the bed.

“Y/N, I’m confused. Are you upset?” Spencer tilted his head like a puppy.

“Yes! Of course I’m upset, Spencer!” Y/N shouted as she pulled on her clothes.

“Why?” he asked in a small voice, feeling hollow.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice trembling with anger and fear.

“No, we need to talk about this,” Spencer insisted, his heart aching.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Spencer. This was supposed to be casual. You knew that. It’s not my fault you fell in love,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with hurt.

Spencer stood up to pull his briefs on, his expression filled with pain. “Y/N, it’s not just about me. I thought… I thought maybe you felt the same way.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he pleaded, standing up and reaching out for her.

“Because I can't!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.

“Please, don’t do this,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t push me away.”

She shook her head, backing away. “No, Spencer. I can’t. I’m sorry.” Y/N looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of his pain. “I’m sorry, Spencer. You need to leave.”

Spencer stood there for a moment, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go.”

As he gathered his clothes and dressed, Y/N turned away, unable to watch. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.

Spencer paused at the door, looking back at her one last time. “I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with sorrow. “I hope one day you’ll believe that.”

With that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. Y/N stood there, feeling the silence close in around her. She sank to the floor, tears flowing freely as the reality of what she had just done hit her.

She had pushed away the one person who had made her feel truly loved and safe. And now, she was left with the emptiness of her fears and regrets. As she cried, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a terrible mistake.

—

Spencer was beyond devastated. Heartbroken didn’t even begin to sum it up. He couldn’t hide it from the team anymore, telling them everything that had happened. Well, not everything, but the important things. They all showed him so much love and support, trying to help him through the pain.

Emily, always fiercely protective of her friends, decided to take matters into her own hands. One evening, she stealthily left a bag of flaming dog shit on Y/N’s welcome mat. The fire flickered in the night as Emily slipped away, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Y/N, smelling something burning, opened the door to her apartment and immediately noticed the small fire on her welcome mat. Panicking, she stomped on the bag to put the flame out. The mess spread, getting into the fibers of the rug. She grimaced, realizing she’d have to throw it away. That mat was a housewarming gift from one of her old friends when she moved in with her ex. It held sentimental value, a reminder of a past life.

As she cleaned up the mess, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of her actions. She knew she deserved this. She had hurt Spencer deeply, and now she was paying for it in small, petty ways. The guilt gnawed at her, making her question everything.

Meanwhile, at the BAU, Spencer found solace in his friends. They rallied around him, offering support and understanding. He could see the anger in Emily’s eyes, the quiet sympathy in JJ’s, and the resolute determination in Derek’s. They all wanted to help him heal, and their efforts weren’t in vain.

“Spencer, we’re here for you,” Derek said one day as they sat in the break room. “Whatever you need, we’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with sadness. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Emily leaned over, her expression softening. “You’re strong, Spencer. And you’ll get through this. We’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Spencer nodded, grateful for their unwavering support. He knew it would take time, but he also knew he wasn’t alone. The team was his family, and they would help him find his way through the darkness.

Back at her apartment, Y/N sat on her couch, staring at the new welcome mat she had bought. It didn’t have the same sentimental value, but it was a reminder of the consequences of her actions. She felt a deep sense of regret, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake pushing Spencer away.

As the days went by, the weight of her decision became harder to bear. She missed Spencer, his kindness, his intelligence, and the way he made her feel safe. She missed the potential of what they could have had together. And now, she had to live with the knowledge that she had thrown it all away out of fear.

Y/N knew she had to make things right, but she wasn’t sure if it was too late or if she deserved to. The thought of reaching out to Spencer terrified her, but the thought of never seeing him again was even worse. She had to find the courage to face her fears, to try and make amends for the hurt she had caused.

With a heavy heart and a resolve to fix what she had broken, Y/N began to formulate a plan. She didn’t know if Spencer would ever forgive her, but she had to try. She owed him that much. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to mend both their broken hearts.

—

A month after Y/N kicked Spencer out, she showed up at his door. Anxiously knocking and waiting. But an answer never came. Spencer was on a case. When he got back home, one of his nosy neighbors told him, “A pretty young thing had been around knocking on your door.” His heart stopped. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and think that it was Y/N, but Spencer didn’t get many other visitors, especially of the pretty young thing variety.

Once the team returned to work, Spencer snuck into Penelope’s office and asked her for a favor.

“Garcia, do you think you can check the security cameras from my building from the last week?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

“Well duh, why my dear?” Penelope responded, already intrigued.

“I think Y/N showed up while we were gone,” Spencer admitted, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Ohhh juicy, I’m in. Give me one second to work my magic,” Penelope said, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Penelope confirmed that Y/N had in fact visited his building, and Spencer lost his breath. He thanked her and turned to leave, but Penelope wasn’t done with her sleuthing. Y/N had hurt her friend, and she needed to know who she was. She felt that she now had a semblance of Spencer’s permission.

“Uh Reid,” she called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning back to her.

“I think I know why Y/N won’t date,” Penelope said cautiously.

“What? Why? Is she married?” Spencer asked, his mind racing.

“No… she almost was,” Penelope revealed, her eyes filled with sympathy.

“What??” Spencer rushed over to the screen to see pictures and mementos of Y/N’s time dating her old partner.

“When did they separate?” he asked, his voice strained.

“About a month before she met you,” Penelope answered, her fingers still tapping away at the keyboard.

“Okay… so is that why she doesn’t want to date?” Spencer pressed, trying to piece everything together.

“No, I think it’s because of this right here,” Penelope said, pointing to the screen and showing another security video of Y/N at a bar, kissing another person, not her partner. The time stamp confirmed she was still in a relationship at the time.

“She… she cheated?” Spencer’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“Yeah, baby, I’m afraid so,” Penelope said softly.

“Oh,” was all Spencer could manage, his mind reeling.

“She probably didn’t want to hurt you, my love,” Penelope offered gently.

“She did anyway,” Spencer replied, his voice hollow.

“I know. Are you okay?” Penelope asked, her concern evident.

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted, shaking his head. “I mean, why didn’t she just tell me? The saying ‘once a cheater, always a cheater’ isn’t always true. It’s circumstantial.”

“Why don’t you just ask her about it?” Penelope suggested, her eyes full of understanding.

“I don’t know, Garcia. I need to think,” Spencer said, his voice filled with uncertainty as he turned and left her office, the weight of the new information heavy on his shoulders.

—

Y/N was sitting in her apartment in the dark, staring out the window at the night sky. She hadn't been herself lately, rather a shell of who she became while she was with Spencer. She was taking this parting harder than her breakup with her last partner. She’d been trying to work up the nerve to go back over to his apartment, but she was afraid that he was there that night and ignored her purposefully.

As she spiraled in her thoughts, there was a quiet knock on her door. She turned her head, thinking she was imagining it. Then a soft voice called out her name. Spencer.

She scrambled up, quickly walking over to the door and swinging it open.

“Hi,” she said, almost star-struck, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Hello.”

“Do you… do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, her voice shaky with nerves.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, um, why are—”

“Did you cheat in your last relationship?” Spencer interrupted, his voice steady but cold, catching her off guard.

“What?” Y/N’s heart dropped, her stomach churning with anxiety.

“I know you heard what I said.” This was the coldest Spencer had ever been with her, and it stung more than she expected.

“I, um,” her eyes welled up with tears, “yeah. I did.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, his tone demanding but his eyes filled with hurt.

“Does it matter? There’s never a good reason,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“Yes, it does matter to me,” Spencer insisted, his eyes piercing into hers, searching for answers.

Y/N huffed out a shaky breath. “Okay, well, they had a very demanding job that required them to travel for months at a time…”

Spencer listened intently, his expression unreadable as she continued.

“And at first, it wasn’t so bad. They would call often, we’d engage in intimate phone or video calls, they’d send flowers and postcards, and bring me home a gift from every place they visited. But over time, they started pulling away. Calls were missed, texts were ignored, I stopped receiving flowers. Postcards were far and few, and they didn’t have anything written on them. No more gifts, and when they were home, we barely touched. A kiss here and there, they would only touch me in the shower. Like—like I was dirty or something.”

“Then one night, I went out with our friends while they were away. They had been gone for three months; the trips kept getting longer, more frequent, like they couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. There was a person at the bar we went to, they flirted with me, told me I was beautiful, gave me the attention I was so desperate for. And when they asked me to come home with them, I said yes.”

“I regretted it immediately. I called them as soon as I left. They broke up with me, obviously, told me to have my things packed and gone before they got back at the end of the week. That was the end of that. We haven’t talked since.”

“Did they say anything else?” Spencer asked, his voice softening slightly, though the tension remained.

“They told me that they would have never done that to me, no matter how bad things got between us. That I was… a… a whore,” she choked on a sob, “and that I didn’t deserve good things, that I didn’t deserve love. I agreed with them.”

“And now?” Spencer prompted gently, his eyes filled with empathy.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Now? Now I don’t know, Spencer. I’m scared. I’m scared of being that person again, of hurting someone I care about. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe from me, but it’s only made everything worse. I couldn’t stop myself from hurting you.”

Spencer took a step closer, his eyes softening with understanding. “Y/N, everyone makes mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them. You’re not that person anymore. You deserve love, and you deserve good things. But you have to believe that.”

“I want to believe that,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “But it’s so hard. If I hadn’t been selfish that night, if I had just walked away from you… you never would have been hurt.”

“But then I never would have met you,” Spencer replied, his voice gentle.

“Was it worth it? Even though I hurt you?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Of course it was. It is. The only thing I regret is not fighting harder,” Spencer said, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Really? You don’t hate me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, Y/N. I could never hate you. I love you,” Spencer said firmly, his hands reaching out to cup her face.

Y/N was silent, tears streaming down her cheeks. The weight of his words settling into her heart.

“Please say it back,” Spencer pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

“I want to, I want to so bad,” she admitted, her voice choked with tears.

Spencer took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “Just say it, please.”

“What if I hurt you? What if I cheat on you?” Y/N’s voice quivered with fear.

“You won’t. I mean, please don’t?” Spencer chuckled lightly, trying to ease her fears.

“But you go away for work so much. What if you stop loving me? You meet someone else while you’re gone, or you realize I’m not worth the work and effort?” Y/N’s voice was filled with anguish, her insecurities laid bare.

Spencer shook his head, his grip on her hands tightening. “Y/N, listen to me. I love you. I’m not going to stop loving you because of my job. We’ll make it work, just like we’ve made it work so far. You are worth every bit of effort and more. And if I ever made you feel otherwise, I’m sorry. You deserve to know that you’re worth it.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“What was that?” Spencer asked, a huge smile spreading across his face.

“I know you heard me,” Y/N mumbled back, using his own words from earlier.

“Say it again, please. Never stop saying it,” he pleaded, his eyes shining with joy.

“I love you, Spencer Reid,” she said, her voice stronger this time, filled with certainty and love.

Spencer grabbed her, pulling her into a passionate kiss that took her breath away. Their lips moved together with a fierce intensity, all the pent-up emotions and unspoken words pouring out in that single moment.

They finally pulled apart, gasping for air, their foreheads resting against each other’s.

“Y/N,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with awe and adoration. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Spencer,” she replied, her heart swelling with happiness.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful. They had faced their fears and insecurities, and now, they were ready to move forward together, stronger than ever before.

Y/N pulled away slowly, as if in a daze. “Spence… are you hard right now?”

Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Ha. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Y/N laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Because we were having a sweet moment!” Spencer joined in on her laughter.

“Is it because I said I love you? Did you get an emotional boner?” she teased, a playful smile on her lips.

“I think so,” Spencer admitted, chuckling.

“Well, that’s a first,” Y/N said, her laughter bubbling up.

“Yeah, it’s a first for me too. Just give me a second, it will go away,” Spencer said, trying to compose himself.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N said, her voice turning sultry. “Get your sexy little ass in the bedroom. Now.”

“God, I love it when you tell me what to do,” Spencer replied, his eyes darkening with desire.

“I know, baby,” Y/N said, her voice low and seductive.

“Wait, did you just call my ass little?” Spencer asked, a mock-offended look on his face.

“Well… yeah. But I love it anyway. It fits so nicely in my hands!” Y/N said, grinning as she playfully squeezed his backside.

Spencer laughed, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bedroom. “You are something else, you know that?”

“And you love it,” she replied, pulling him close for another kiss.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Spencer murmured against her lips.

They made quick work of Spencer's sweater vest and button-up, dropping the offending articles to Y/N’s bedroom floor. Next came his pants and finally his briefs before he was pushed onto the bed, his head nestled in the large amount of pillows.

“Y/N,” he squirmed, feeling so exposed while she was still fully clothed.

“What is it, baby?” she teased, her voice a playful purr.

“I need something!” Spencer’s voice was desperate, his body aching for her touch.

“What do you need?” she asked, drawing out the moment.

“You!” he replied, his voice filled with longing.

“I’m right here,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Y/N…” he whined, his frustration growing. “Stop teasing, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Do you want me to touch you?” she asked, her tone softening.

“Yes, please,” he begged, his eyes pleading.

“Good boy… so polite,” she cooed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Can you take your clothes off… please?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Of course, my love,” she replied, a tender smile on her lips.

Y/N stripped down to her panties, leaving those on for something she had in mind. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of her, his desire for her growing even more intense.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him deeply. Her hands roamed his body, caressing and teasing, drawing soft moans from his lips.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his hands gripping the sheets.

She smiled against his lips, her hands trailing down to wrap around his length, stroking him gently. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his hips arching into her touch.

“Good,” she murmured, kissing along his jawline and down his neck.

Spencer raised his hands to cup Y/N’s ass, but she took his hands away immediately. “Hands to yourself, no touching,” she commanded, her voice firm.

Spencer whined loudly, bucking his hips into Y/N. “Do I need to tie you down?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise,” he replied quickly, his eyes wide with need.

Y/N resumed her motions, now kissing Spencer’s chest, licking and sucking his nipples while stroking his cock. Spencer moaned loudly, unable to control himself with all his pent-up tension.

“Shhh, be quiet,” she whispered, her voice a teasing command.

Spencer bit his lip, trying to stifle his moans as Y/N’s mouth and hand worked magic on his body. She continued her ministrations, driving him wild with every touch and kiss. The restraint was torture, but it made every sensation more intense, heightening his pleasure.

Y/N’s other hand roamed down his body, her fingernails lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers through him. She kissed her way down his tummy, her tongue flicking out to taste him, making him squirm beneath her.

“Please, Y/N,” he begged, his voice a desperate whisper.

“Be patient, baby,” she replied, her lips curling into a smile against his skin. “Good things come to those who wait.”

She moved lower, her kisses trailing down his abdomen, making him tremble with anticipation. Spencer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to touch her, to pull her closer.

When she finally reached his cock, Spencer gasped, his body arching off the bed. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deeper. He moaned again, louder this time, his resolve breaking.

“Quiet,” Y/N reminded him, her voice a hushed whisper as she looked up at him.

Spencer nodded, biting his lip harder, his body shaking with the effort to stay silent. Y/N’s mouth worked him expertly, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy and then pulling back, prolonging his pleasure.

“Y/N, please,” he begged again, his voice strained. “I need you.”

“You just can’t listen, can you? I thought you were gonna be a good boy for me?” she hissed, her voice low and commanding.

Spencer looked up at her with wide eyes, his desperation clear. “I am being a good boy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still talking,” Y/N said, standing up and moving away from the bed.

Spencer immediately reached out, his voice a pleading whine. “No, baby, please come back.”

Y/N slipped her panties off, stalking over to Spencer with a predatory grace. She lightly grabbed his neck, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I said: Shut. Up.”

After she finished speaking, she shoved her panties into Spencer’s mouth, making him groan deeply around the fabric. The sensation of the fabric in his mouth and the dominance in her eyes sent a thrill through him.

“Good boy,” she whispered, her voice a tantalizing mix of authority and affection.

Spencer’s eyes closed, the delicious taste of her panties in his mouth amplifying his other senses. He could feel her every touch, every movement, with heightened intensity.

Y/N climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself over him. She took a moment to admire the sight of him, vulnerable and at her mercy, before she slowly lowered herself onto his cock. The connection between them was electric, sending shivers through their bodies.

Spencer’s hands gripped the sheets, his muffled moans vibrating through the fabric in his mouth. Y/N began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove him to the brink of insanity.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her hands scratching down his chest. “My good boy.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, meeting hers with a mix of adoration and need as he arched his back at the sensation. He wanted to speak, to tell her how much he loved her, how amazing she felt, but the panties in his mouth kept him silent. Instead, he poured all his emotions into his gaze, hoping she could see how deeply he felt for her.

Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’re doing so well, Spencer. Just a little longer.”

Her words sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his body responding to her every command. The tension between them built, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased her release. “Spencer, baby, please… you can touch me now. I’m so close,” she moaned.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. His hands flew to grab her body, one sliding to her core to rub her clit with diligence and determination. His other hand groped her chest, pinching her nipples, making Y/N throw her head back and whine loudly into the dark apartment.

As she neared her release, her walls tightened around Spencer, driving him absolutely insane. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge. Watching and feeling Y/N reach her peak was almost too much for him to handle.

With a guttural moan, Spencer moved his hands to her hips and thrust up into her wildly. Y/N leaned forward with the intensity, pulling her panties out of Spencer’s mouth and hiding her face in his neck, panting heavily.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck. You feel so good. I’m so close,” he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

Y/N’s breath was hot against his neck, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Come on, baby. Cum inside me,” she whispered, her voice filled with raw need.

Spencer’s hands tightened on her hips, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate. With one final thrust, Spencer cried out, his release hitting him with a force that left him breathless.

They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in their chests. Y/N lay on top of Spencer, her head resting on his shoulder, both of them struggling to catch their breath.

Once Y/N finally caught her breath, she came back to the reality of what had happened during the throes of passion. “Hey, baby… was that okay?”

“Are you kidding? That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with wonder.

“Well, gee, thanks, Spence,” Y/N giggled, her face still buried in his neck. “I meant the underwear, and the choking, and the… you know, dominant stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. God, yeah, that was more than okay. I loved it,” Spencer said, his voice sincere.

“Oh, okay, good,” Y/N smiled, and Spencer could feel her lips curve up against him.

“You better watch out, though,” he teased.

“Why’s that, big boy?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“Someday, I’m gonna put you in your place,” Spencer said with a smirk.

“Okay, baby, I’d like to see you try,” Y/N challenged, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

They lay there in silence, taking in the comfort of each other’s presence, having never held one another after sex before. It felt new and wonderful, a quiet intimacy they both cherished.

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her back.

“Do you—do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“Oh, um, I thought this was just casual?” Spencer teased in a faux serious voice, unable to resist.

Y/N squawked and hit Spencer’s chest in indignation. Laughing, she said, “You asshole.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. And… you kind of deserved it,” Spencer said, still chuckling.

“You’re right, Spence. You got me,” she laughed. “So…”

“Yes, Y/N. I would be honored to be your boyfriend,” Spencer said, kissing Y/N softly, sealing his words.

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