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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

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Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on.

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call.

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming.

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on.

“Thank god. You got everything?”

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere.

“I believe so--”

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently.

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.”

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat.

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--”

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.”

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally.

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego.

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen.

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother.

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you.

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much.

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.”

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades.

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat.

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?”

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him.

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists.

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--”

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.”

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--”

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.”

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously.

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious.

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him.

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly.

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say.

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.”

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing?

“Mr. Han--”

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?”

“What’s going on?”

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says.

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek.

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.”

“Mr.--”

“If I have to tell you one more time--”

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.”

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.”

“What? That’s-- This is insane--”

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--”

“Huh?”

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.”

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--”

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks.

“Sir--”

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.”

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur.

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.”

“Oh god,” you utter.

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns.

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious.

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house.

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands.

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.”

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes.

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs.

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.”

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?”

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses.

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him.

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.”

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.”

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp.

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.”

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.”

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.”

“Right, sir.”

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.”

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...”

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious.

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!”

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs.

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her.

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.”

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman.

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand.

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?”

“Mom,” Lloyd utters.

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.”

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door.

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?”

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers.

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back.

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts.

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls.

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.”

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--”

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps.

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...”

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average.

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?”

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you.

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?”

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.”

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?”

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door.

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the gray man #dark!lloyd hansen

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smartkookiee · 2 days ago

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Wounds We Never Show // Ch.5 — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: Drinking, Swearing, Fighting, morning after regrets, flashbacks(2x) , mentions of cheating, previous relationship trauma, college flashback, stupid ex boyfriend, bothering yoongi (cause he deserves to be bothered), vic laughs in your face, yeah more confusing feelings ❥word-count: 8.8k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Four Years Ago - Just before Melanie and Namjoon met.

“Holy shit.” You set down your drink on the table. Your eyes landing on Jungkook, who just happened to enter the same bar you and your friends decided to have a night out at.

Who you haven’t seen in a year.

It was just a casual outing and you had a rough shift so a few drinks were going to hit the spot for you right now. You and Melanie invited Ash to join you to hang out. She was a new friend to the both of you and you really wanted to get to know her better. No better way than to have a few drinks and sit and talk.

Ash, glanced in the direction you were looking. “What is it?”

You shake your head and take another sip of your drink, tracking Jungkook across the bar as he seemed to greet some guys he seemed to know.

“Oh it’s nothing. Just some guy I knew in college.” You try to brush it off, tracing the rim of your drink. The past frustrations are bubbling up.

“Which one?” Melanie leaned close, as you pointing him out subtly trying not to pull focus to your little group. “Oh wow. He’s cute, did you guys date or something?”

You stifle a laugh, “No, I fucking hate that guy.”

“What happened?” Ash tilted her head glancing over to Jungkook. Her curiosity peaked.

“Oh it’s a long story.” You wave your hand trying to breeze past to another subject.

“Oh come on spill.” Melanie bumped her shoulder into yours, encouraging you to open up. You and Melanie had only known each other a few months and although you had gotten close pretty quickly. This Jungkook thing was old news and not something you even had to worry about anymore.

“He’s just an ass. We got into a huge fight and I said some things, he said some things and we can’t stand each other. This is the first time I’ve seen him since.” You try to keep the details as vague as possible.

“Damn that sucks.” Melanie nodded, “It wasn’t’ like a secret love affair or something scandalous like that?” She teased and your eyes shot open in shock.

“Yeah if I ever sleep with that guy, someone needs to get me a brain scan because something is seriously wrong with me.” You laughed giving a nonchalant wave of your hand, as if brushing off the question.

Ash pursed her lips, “I mean… He’s cute so maybe you would be totally sane.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

“Awe crap.” Jungkook ran a hand over his face as he sat up in his bed. The whole night comes back in a quick flash.

It was real though… the two of you had slept together… again.

You sat in a frustrated but dumbfounded daze next to him. Silent, staring at the ground. Recounting every single step from the night before. How Jungkook found you buried in the sea of people. Helped you get to the bathroom, one second you were fighting and then the next…

You both stayed silent like this for just a moment before you took the pillow behind you swinging it around to hit Jungkook. “You idiot.”

Jungkook blocked himself from getting hit in just enough time. “What?”

You swung the pillow again, hitting his arms with a thud. “Stupid dumb idiot.” You really weren’t sure if you were saying this to him or to yourself now. Felt good to take the frustration out on him with the pillow.

“You think I planned this!” Jungkook spat back with you in annoyance, “I’m clearly just as shocked as you are.” You swung the pillow one more time to hit him but this time Jungkook grabs it. “Stop!”

You get up from the bed with an exaggerated groan, mumbling some things under your breath. You walked and grabbed your pants pulling them back up your legs with some frustration and force. “Shut up. Make me. What the hell was that?”

As you quickly dressed, your phone slipped out of your pocket and clattered to the floor. You snatched it up, wincing as the screen lit up: almost 9 AM. You didn’t have any pressing plans today, but staying here was the last thing you wanted.

Jungkook got up from his bed. Jungkook, still standing, watched you with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, and what about you? Kiss me, Jungkook.” He pitched his voice in a high, mocking imitation of you.

You shot him an incredulous look, pointing at him angrily. “I do not sound like that.” You storm past him, shoving him, grabbing your bra. “What about you? Let’s get out of here and I prefer a bed.” You pitched your voice as well to mock him back.

“Well I do.” He nods his head to the side but then shakes his head, “Not the point. You wanted it just as bad as I did.”

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. “Fine, whatever. Maybe I did. But I swear you placed some demonic spell on me.”

“I should be the one checking myself for hex’s if anything!” Jungkook says, checking out his arms and chest dramatically.

You stormed out of the room, your eyes now adjusting to the daylight as you glanced at his apartment. It looked completely different now. His place was so nice and clean. Well put together and he actually had things well decorated. How annoying. Jungkook threw on a pair of sweatpants and followed you down the hallway, his tone turning serious.

You bent down to put on your shoes, frustration bubbling up as you fumbled with the laces. “I don’t do hookups. I’m too busy. What a load of crap!”

Jungkook leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. “Hey, that’s true! Between the trial I’ve got coming up and all the other crap in my life, I’m genuinely surprised.”

You narrowed your eyes, not slowing down as you tried to shove your other shoe onto your foot. “Yeah, like I’m supposed to believe that.”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Says the one who swore after last time this would never happen again.” He looked at you with a smirk, his gaze unwavering. “I remember that pretty clearly. You always keep your word, so what happened?”

You froze mid-motion, turning to face him with a frustrated, exasperated sigh. “I had a lot to drink, my judgement was skewed. Okay?”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, and he stepped closer, his voice teasing but with an edge of something more. “So did I. Still doesn’t explain why we’re here, does it?”

You paused, a bitter laugh escaping you as you patted your pockets, checking for your keys. “I don’t even know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh at how big of an idiot I am, or cry about ending up in bed with you again.”

You yanked the front door open, spinning on your heel just before it slammed shut, giving him a sarcastic middle finger over your shoulder as you walked away.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, calling after you. “Fuck off!”

The door slammed shut behind you, and you darted down the hallway, the elevator feeling like the only escape. You needed to get out of there, fast. You needed to breathe. To feel something that wasn’t this—whatever this was.

The moment you stepped into the elevator, your mind flooded with flashes from the night before. The elevator doors shut, but in your mind, it felt like you were still there with him, every second replaying itself in vivid detail. You remembered the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, the way your body betrayed you. How you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were fighting and then you were in it.

What the hell was that? You didn’t have an answer, only questions swirling in your head.

And why… did it feel so good?

You couldn’t shake the image of his face, between your legs, from your mind for the rest of the day. It lingered with you, haunting every moment. You forced yourself into a cold shower just so you could force yourself to not think about anything other than keeping yourself warm. You tried to stay busy, distracting yourself from the truth that kept creeping back. That whatever skills Jungkook had with his tongue had left its mark on you, and you wouldn’t easily forget it.

You weren’t the only one haunted.

As good as Jungkook was at pushing things from his mind, this was not something he could easily do this time. He couldn’t get the moments in the bathroom out of his mind, how just for one moment you both just surrendered and you actually laughed at him. Felt like you could be friends almost. You may have looked like friends to anyone else… very complicated friends.

It’s not like there wasn’t a time when you two couldn’t have been friends.

In fact there was a time when you were friends, before it all went south.

Jungkook had been thinking about that time more often lately, about how you two bridged the gap before. Which was really funny to think about now, considering this week. That there ever was a time where you two really got along, and got along well.

Funny enough it was a pretty similar instance to every time you encountered each other this last week.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Five years ago

You decided a break was long overdue. Between the mountain of homework and David, your ex, relentless texting you, your mind felt like it was on the verge of imploding. A quick walk to the convenience store on the edge of campus seemed like the perfect way to clear your head, just enough to get back to work without screaming into your pillow.

David has been spending weeks trying to get ahold of you. Trying to explain himself again and make you look like an idiot again because he’s convinced you twice to get back together with him, why not one more time?

The store’s door jingled as you pushed it open, a wave of cool air brushing past you. The cashier barely glanced up from his phone as you headed straight for the energy drinks. Your eyes scanned the rows until you grabbed two cans—one for tonight and one for the impending hell of tomorrow.

You turned, heading to the snacks, but as soon as you rounded the corner of the aisle, you collided with someone.

“Shit—” you muttered, barely managing to keep hold of your drinks.

“Maybe look where you’re going,” came the familiar, clipped voice. Of course coming from Jungkook.

You blinked at him, your stomach twisting with instant irritation. “Oh.”

Jungkook just brushed past you. You had spent several weeks of your project meeting together to work but you had been icing him out. He had tried to smooth things over, even had a friend come and try to decipher what issue you had with him was. You really had nothing to say to your ex’s friends after what happened. Seems Jungkook has finally gotten the hint you didn’t want to be friends and just wanted to get this project over with.

You rolled your eyes, clutching the cans tighter as you moved to the shelf beside him, pretending he wasn’t there. His presence, of course, was hard to ignore, especially when he turned his head to glance at your selection.

Jungkook had become pretty fed up with your cold shoulder. He had tried being nice but your weeks of angry muttering and silence really got under his skin. When he had no idea what he had even done wrong, and with how his week had been going he didn’t really have any patience left for you. He grabbed what he liked but the both of you had ended up in the same aisle again.

You both took a small glance at what the other had collected.

“Really? Energy drinks and chips? Healthy.” He remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Your face twisted in some confusion at his comment,“Really? Beer and a box of instant noodles? Classy,” you shot back without missing a beat, nodding at his haul.

“Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on my diet.” He said, deadpan, before turning his attention to the shelf again.

“I just have eyes.” You grabbed a pack of granola bars and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

Jungkook had noticed your recent choice of beverage from your last few meet ups for the project. Always the same and always two. “You know, those won’t magically help you stay awake. Might want to try water—or sleep.”

“Wow. Riveting advice, Jungkook,” you said over your shoulder. “Maybe next time, write a self-help book. Call it How to Be Annoying in Five Easy Steps.”

His lip curled into a half-smirk. “And you’d call yours How to Be Petty Without Even Trying.”

“Catchy,” you shot back. “I’ll let you write the foreword.”

“Pass. I’d rather not waste my time.”

“Then stop talking to me,” you snapped, giving him a pointed glare before brushing past him.

Jungkook leaves you alone, doesn’t even entertain you anymore. That was fine though, you needed to get back to your homework. You checkout with your stuff and get out of there pretty quickly. Pushing the door open, you start home but are immediately greeted with satan in the flesh.

“Oh god damn it, I cannot catch a break.” A puff of air leaves your lungs, exhaustion setting in. “How did you even know where I was David?”

“Baby I know everything about you. You always come here on your study days. Which is always Thursdays. Around this time.” He says it so matter of fact, because he does know you too well. It made your skin crawl.

“I’m not your baby.” You try to walk past him but he steps in front of you. “Stop texting, stop calling, and don’t ever show up somewhere I frequent again. It’s creepy.”

“Please just hear me out.” He starts but you put a hand up to him and push him away.

“No David, because you will make the same promises that you have made me over and over again. Once again making me look stupid. You give me the same stupid speech every time that I ‘am the one’, and it was a ‘mistake’, and that it was ‘just a one time thing’, and that ‘I’m so special to you’, blah blah blah.” You rub the side of your head with your free hand that doesn’t have your bag.

“I was wrong, every single time I was wrong. I’m here because I know you, I know that in that bag you have two energy drinks because you are going to drink one tonight and you are going to keep one for another day!” He keeps blocking your way, you keep trying to step around him but he’s not going to let you go until he gets his whole speech out.

“So what? You know one thing about me? Anyone who spends any amount of time around me knows that!”

“That’s not all. I know you. I know how you look when you are frustrated about something and you scrunch up your nose.” He took a step forward but you maintain the same distance between the both of you. “I know that you say you are a fan of action movies but you much prefer something funny or thought provoking.”

“Please stop.”

“I’m not here to give you the same speech again. I want you. We will graduate and I want the life we talked about forever ago. I’m not making the same promises like before. I will do anything to prove to you I am the most serious I have ever been.” David begged, he was making that same face he made very single time. One that made you believe it but you weren’t falling for it anymore, you were just pissed off now.

Right at that moment you heard the store door close behind you. Great, just great. Now Jungkook gets to experience this embarrassing moment for you. Since he’s one of David’s closest friends, probably help him. Say something like ‘David is so awesome and amazing’. You turn to look at Jungkook, who seemed to be confused about what was transpiring in front of him. David has stopped talking at this point and is also looking over atJungkook.

Jungkook observing the both of you, he could tell something is off.

“Hey man.” David calls over to him, voice suddenly diffused and cheerful, and he waves a little. “Haven’t seen you around, how’s it going?”

“Uhh,” Jungkook looked at his plan of escape and seemed to abandon it but didn’t come closer to the two of you. “Good man, Just busy.”

You were trapped. You wouldn’t be able to get out of this, but still the look you gave to Jungkook suggested that you needed help getting out of this situation. You could only hope he sees it, and sees that even if you have been treating him like crap he may be the only person to get David to back off.

“You should come hang out, everyone misses you. ” David spoke up again, trying to fill the weighing silence between the three of you.

“I’m okay, actually.” Jungkook says, his voice is monotone and unwavering. Almost mad? He took a couple steps closer to the two of you. Jungkook had caught on to your look for help. “Everything okay here?”

He could tell you were extremely uncomfortable, and he knew if David had an idea he wasn’t going to let it go. For whatever reason, that was you right now.

“Yeah, we are just talking really quick.” David spoke in place of you, before you could get a word out.

David placed a hand on your shoulder and you immediately recoiled away. Jungkook right at that moment got an idea. He had no idea if it would work or if you even really wanted his help. He decided it was worth a shot though.

“You ready to go?” He spoke directly to you.

It surprised you and you stared at him for a moment with a confused look, one David was unable to see from standing behind you.

“Uhh…” Your eyebrows screw together.

“You guys know each other?” David stepped into the space that was between you and Jungkook.

“Not really.” You say, which was the truth.

“We are working on something together.” Jungkook fills in the blank, almost too quickly after you. He was looking directly at David, and was standing taller now.

“Well, can we just have a minute?” David asks. His demeanor changed in response to the change in Jungkook’s tone and stance. Defensive.

Jealous?

“No we need to go.” Jungkook comes over to you and takes the bag out of your hand, adding it to the arm he already had his on. You almost on instinct protest him but hold yourself back. Whatever Jungkook was doing was working and you just might be able to get out of here. Hurricane David would pass.

“Y/N I just need a minute.” David looked a little flustered by the intrusion.

“No. We are done.” You speak abruptly and move closer to Jungkook’s direction.

“Seriously?” David looks at you, he was definitely frustrated, and that filled you with sense of relief.

“Yeah. Seriously.” You say.

“Head home David.” Jungkook steps backwards in the direction towards campus. “I think it’s time we left as well.”

“Fine, go then.” David snorts, he takes a quick step over to Jungkook, leaning into his ear and then says something else inaudible to you. Which, after a moment, results in Jungkook pushing David harshly away from him.

“Hey let’s go.” You grab onto Jungkook’s arm and you head towards the direction of the dorms. Quickly. David doesn’t get another word in, you and Jungkook kept the same pace and moved in quick silence.

“What a fucking douche.” Jungkook finally says once you guys are far enough away.

“I thought you were friends?” You ask, now confused. Wasn’t he like Jungkook’s best friend? That’s how David always described him.

“Not anymore.” He looks at you, “I hope he didn’t bug you too much.”

“Oh, he will. He’s probably going to text me any minute.” You dread it in fact. He was annoyingly persistent in the times you guys were… off.

“How do you know him?”

You let out a sigh. That was a loaded question indeed.

“It’s a very long and taxing story.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Maybe after a drink or five.” You shake your head, joking in your tone.

Jungkook then ruffles around into his bag. Pulling out a can of a drink that was juice and alcohol mixed together. A mango flavor of some kind. You glance at it and then back up to Jungkook.

“I’ve got time.”

Jungkook walked you back to your dorm. Usually you wouldn’t invite guys up but your roommate was out for the evening and you weren’t too worried about it right now. You both sat on the ground in your room. Opening up your drinks and sitting, and you begin to explain the long complicated history between you and David. How he cheated once, begged you to come back, cheated again, begged you to come back again, and then shocker… cheated again. Then made you out to be the insane one to everyone you knew. David had this uncanny way of just getting into your head and you were not letting it happen this time.

Jungkook just sat silently and listened. He didn’t try to interject or try to defend David in any way. Just let you get it all out. Which just only piqued your curiosity on their relationship even more. Were they not close like you had been told? Did something happen?

“And so that’s how he ended up here. Seeking me out again.” You take a sip of your second drink for the night.”

“What the fuck is wrong with him.” Jungkook shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

“And every time, he made me look just more and more like an idiot. For believing that each time he wants me and wants to be really committed. I kept believing it could happen, but every single time the rug is pulled out from under me and everyone is laughing at me for not seeing that he was going to do it again.” You sigh, you sank down onto the floor further. Feeling like it was dragging you down into it.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think he is an asshole.” Jungkook discards his can into the plastic bag that you two had used for garbage.

“I was nervous when you came out of the store tonight. I thought you guys were still friends.”

“No, absolutely not. He pulled some crap a couple of months ago and I hope I never see him again. Clearly he thought we were still friends.” Jungkook picked at his fingernails while talking.

“He calls you his best friend, you know.” You look to see his reaction and Jungkook snorts.

“That’s rich.” He tilts his head. “He’s certainly not mine. We were pretty close though.”

“Not close enough to meet me I guess. His on and off girlfriend.”

Jungkook paused for a second, clearly trying to carefully choose his next words. “He never mentioned you.”

You sat up, you eyes narrowing for a second. “What?”

Jungkook chewed on his lip for a moment. “He never really mentioned he had a girlfriend. Not around his friends at least. I had no idea he ever had a serious relationship.”

You blink one and twice for a moment, taking in his words. You’ve met some of David’s other friends, but he never mentioned you? Not even as a fling? You just laugh because it all makes more sense now. It’s a bitter laugh.

“Great.” You rub your hands over your face, “That just makes me look even dumber when I would go around being like heres a picture of my boyfriend. Maybe I was just a dirty little secret all along.”

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook didn’t know how to respond. The whole thing just sucked.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you with all of this. You didn’t even know anything. You really didn’t know what he was doing. Any of it.”

“Wait, all this freezing out and bitterness towards me for weeks had to do with David?” Jungkook scrunched his face at you.

“Yeah, you were his best friend. As far as I knew at least. I assumed that you had to know about all the stuff he was doing to me and the cheating… I just labeled you an asshole like him.” You fidgeted in your seat a little uncomfortable, and you didn’t look up to him. “It was easier to hate you than to hear you out I guess.”

“Huh.” All the pieces were suddenly falling into place now. for Jungkook.

“David and I were also so on and off. Makes sense why we never met–”

“And I didn’t remember you when class started.” Jungkook nodded, his jaw open in realization. “Because there was nothing to remember.” Every interaction between the two of you suddenly made so much sense now.

“Yeah so I’m sorry for all the bitterness and undeserving frustration. I really thought you knew and were playing dumb.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, trying to hide yourself away.

“Trust me, if I had known any of that, I probably would have kicked the crap out of him.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I swear I never knew he was seeing someone. Anytime he mentioned… anyone… he would just say oh this ‘girl I slept with’ or ‘this chick I was with’.”

It was like a new kick in the chest hearing this new piece of information from Jungkook. David lied to everyone, it wasn’t just you. Some weird comfort in the fact that no one really knows him, not even people he hangs out with all the time.

“I know now that was all bullshit, I hope you know.” He tries to reassure you.

“Thanks.” You give him a half smile. “God, now I really feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t, you didn’t know. None of us knew.” He waves you off, “Water under the bridge now.”

You sigh, “I hope so… Maybe we can start over. Now that you already know I’m kind of an asshole maybe we could actually be friends.” You sip on your drink.

“Yeah… okay.” Jungkook nods with a small grin at the corner of his mouth. “That would really piss David off.”

You give him a confused look, “Why would that piss him off?”

Jungkook sits up crossing his arms, “He has a bit of a complex and I would bet if we were hanging out. His head just might explode.”

“Oh I would pay to see that.” You laugh under your breath. “Plus being friends will probably make this project a whole lot easier.”

“Don’t speak too soon, we are starting the hardest part this week.” Jungkook groaned a little.

“Don’t remind me,” You glanced over to you piled homework at the end of your bed, “Speaking of, I should get back to my stuff now. This was nice though, actually… talking.”

“Yeah, it was.” Jungkook stood as well, he patted his pants checking he had everything he needed.

You shuffled around in your bag from the convenience store and pulled out a bag of chips and handed them to Jungkook.

“For helping me, it’s not much but it’s a start.”

“Anytime. Text me if you need help with the project.” Jungkook accepted your offer. It was a nice first step to actually being friends. Plus your new found bond of hating the same guy also helps.

With that Jungkook left. You got yourself up off the floor and back onto your bed. Picking up your phone to actually check what time it was but seeing you had missed a handful of texts. Not surprising at all.

David: come back.

David: pls

David: you expect me to believe you aren’t fucking that guy?

David: hope you have fun.

David: i bet he won’t even be able to get it up for you.

David: pls answer me.

David: can’t believe you would do this

Wow. Jungkook was right about that complex thing. Except you didn’t need him bothering you anymore. So you finally got up the courage to block his number.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

Jungkook had been back at work for a few days, but something was off. He moved through tasks like a machine—efficient, precise, but utterly lifeless. To most people, it wouldn’t seem like anything was wrong. His work was spotless, his demeanor polite, but to those who really knew him, it was clear something wasn’t right.

Jimin, for one, had definitely noticed. Jungkook was usually social, always cracking jokes or giving over-detailed play-by-plays of his workout routines. This week, though? Radio silence. It was like his body was here, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Jimin had informed Taehyung of the weird change in Jungkook’s behavior and Taehyung encouraged Jimin to put some pressure on.

Curious—and more than a little nosy—Jimin sauntered over to Jungkook’s desk, a file in hand. Jungkook was hunched over his computer, eyes glued to the screen, typing furiously.

“Hey, I need the paperwork for the Johnson case,” Jimin said, leaning against the edge of the desk.

“Uh-huh. I’ll get that right away,” Jungkook replied without looking up, his tone flat and mechanical.

Jimin narrowed his eyes. Yep, Jungkook wasn’t listening.

“Oh, and you’re in charge of picking up two-thousand cupcakes for the office party in two hours,” Jimin added casually, watching for a reaction.

“Okay,” Jungkook said, still typing.

Jimin smirked, crossing his arms. “Cool. While you’re at it, I’ll invite Y/N to the office. Maybe she can snap you out of whatever funk this is.”

The reaction was immediate. Jungkook froze, his fingers hovering above the keyboard, his foot—previously tapping incessantly—stopping mid-bounce. Slowly, he turned to Jimin, his wide-eyed expression betraying a mix of panic and guilt.

“Y/N is coming here?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Why would you do that? Wh—Why would you invite Y/N here?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the overreaction. “Relax, I was joking. She’s not coming.”

“Oh,” Jungkook muttered, turning back to his computer a little too quickly. “Right. Joking. Cool.”

Jimin didn’t let it go. He leaned in closer, scrutinizing Jungkook like he was a puzzle to solve. “Why the sudden jumpiness at the mention of Y/N? You were so calm and collected about them last week.”

“I’m not jumpy,” Jungkook said immediately, his tone defensive. “I just… thought it was weird. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Jimin wasn’t buying it. He knew Jungkook too well. “Okay, spill. What’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all week—more robotic than usual. Did something happen?”

“No,” Jungkook said, a little too quickly.

Jimin crossed his arms. “Lying isn’t your strong suit, Jungkook.”

“I’m not lying,” Jungkook insisted, avoiding eye contact.

Jimin smirked knowingly. “Uh-huh. Because you have been walking around here like you’ve seen a ghost or something the last few days.”

Jungkook groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. Haven’t slept super well. Can we not do this right now?”

“Fine,” Jimin said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But whatever’s eating you, you should probably deal with it before the trial tomorrow. Can’t have our golden boy flubbing his arguments because his brain’s stuck on something else.”

Jungkook glared at him but didn’t respond, turning back to his computer.

As Jimin walked away, he couldn’t help but grin. Something had definitely happened, and now he just had to figure out what.

Jungkook sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts were a tangled mess, and no amount of work could drown them out. This whole situation with you had him rattled in a way he couldn’t explain.

Normally, this would’ve been easy to brush off. It wasn’t guilt because there was nothing to feel guilty about. And it wasn’t shame either—no one knew what had happened between you two, and even if they did, he wasn’t the type to care about whispers.

So why couldn’t he shake this feeling? He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. He could only imagine a huge reason is this is really the only time he has slept with someone outside of being in a relationship with them. It was strange for sure, especially because it’s not just that it’s someone random…

It was you.

Jungkook can only assume he feels so out of sorts because of those two factors. He also has no intention of getting into a relationship with you. So you were right, although he would never admit it to you, this should never happen again. It was completely throwing Jungkook off, and he can conclude Taehyung’s stupid theory is wrong. Plus it was not helping your relationship, you two were still acting exactly the same as before… plus sex.

“What are you even doing?” Jungkook muttered as he leaned back in his desk chair.

His phone buzzed on the desk, the vibration breaking through the noise in his head. He glanced at the screen, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he saw Namjoon’s name.

Namjooooooon: Hey mel and I are planning to get everyone together Saturday. You in?

Namjooooooon: ps y/n will probably be there. Melanie misses them too much to not invite them…

Jungkook paused thinking if it would be a good idea. You two hadn’t parted exactly well but not as explosively as other times. He could keep himself in check for sure. He just wasn’t too sure if all this time he was sending around you was withering him away or not.

Jk: I’ll be there.

With that he placed his phone back on the table, forcing himself to dive back into his work. He had a long day and an even longer few weeks ahead of him and he needed to stay focussed. He needed to put a pin in whatever this feeling is and deal with it maybe another time.

On the other hand, you had done a great job at not having any feelings at all.

You had managed to push everything from the weekend out of your mind—or at least, you told yourself you had. You threw yourself into work with the kind of laser focus that made your coworkers pause. It was probably the most productive you’d been in weeks. Charts updated. Paperwork completed. Patients checked. You almost didn’t feel like yourself, but that was the point, wasn’t it?

Unfortunately, in your single-minded determination to stay busy, you’d also been unintentionally dodging Vic. She’d tried to grab you a few times, but somehow, you always managed to slip away with the excuse of an urgent task. You told yourself it was for the best. If anyone was going to see the guilt of the weekend written all over your face, it was her.

Still, as well as you were doing at shoving your questionable life choices into a mental box labeled “Ignore Forever”, your thoughts betrayed you sometimes. The absurdity of it all would creep in at random moments. Like now, as you absentmindedly flipped through patient charts at the nurses’ station. You couldn’t help but think about a time when the idea of even entertaining the thought of Jungkook would’ve sent you to the ER, convinced you were having a mental breakdown.

Maybe you really did need professional help.

As if on cue, Yoongi plopped down at the station, clearly in no mood for nonsense as he typed furiously at the computer. Perfect. A distraction. You slid your chair closer, the sound of the wheels catching his attention.

“Yoongi,” you whined, leaning dramatically into his personal space.

He didn’t even look at you, just sighed as though bracing for whatever chaos you were about to bring. “What can I do for you Y/N?”

“What are all the symptoms of a brain tumor?” you asked, propping your chin on your hands.

Yoongi froze for half a second, then slowly turned his head to look at you. “Why? Do you think one of the patients is exhibiting some strange behavior?” His voice was flat, but the shift in his tone betrayed his concern.

“Nope,” you said breezily. “I’m asking for me.”

One eyebrow shot up, but he still didn’t miss a beat on his keyboard. “Well, I’m pretty sure you don’t have a brain tumor.” He finally finished typing and swiveled his chair to face you fully. “But just to be safe, you can always page one of the neuro dude bros. That’s their thing, not mine.”

Yoongi knew that most of the nurses, including yourself, had a major distaste for the neuro residents. The guys in particular were acting like it was a frat. It was his way of teasing.

“Ugh, I hate all the neuro residents,” you groaned, flopping back in your chair. “You, however, are conveniently here and a very qualified doctor.”

He smiled faintly, clearly unimpressed. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

You gasped, clutching your chest in fake betrayal. “Come on, one little head CT. I’ll even write you a glowing review on RateMDs.”

“Sure,” he deadpanned, standing and ruffling your hair as he moved to leave. “Let’s just order an expensive, unnecessary scan for fun. I’m sure Dr. Kim will love that.”

You trotted after him as he headed for the elevator. “Hear me out. What if I do have a brain tumor? We could be solving a medical mystery together. Dr. Kim would forgive us in a heartbeat!”

He snorted as the elevator doors opened. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“This isn’t over!” You called as the doors closed on his smirk. Defeated, you trudged back to the nurses’ station and sank into your chair, picking up where you left off with your paperwork. You were so close to the finish line, so close to clocking out, when Vic’s voice cut through the hum of the station like a scalpel.

“Are you avoiding me?”

You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. Slowly, you turned in your chair to face her. Vic was leaning casually against the half-wall of the nurses’ station, arms crossed, her expression far too knowing for your comfort.

“What? No!” you said quickly, too quickly. “I’ve just been… busy.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she pushed off the wall and grabbed the chair next to you, plopping down with an audible sigh. “You’ve been a blur all week,” she said, propping her chin on her hand. “Every time I see you, it’s like you’re ducking behind walls or conveniently getting pulled into a room. I haven’t even had a chance to properly harass you.”

“Well, you’ve got me now.” You said with a nervous laugh that sounded more like a squeak.

Vic tilted her head, studying you with the precision of a predator sizing up its prey. “I do. So, why do you look like you’ve committed a crime?”

“No crime. Same old me. Nothing new.” You shake your head maybe a little too vigorously for convincing, but Vic decides its been a long day so maybe you were just being weird.

Vic stared at you for a beat longer, clearly unconvinced. But to your relief, she shrugged it off, picking up a tablet and tapping her stylus against the screen. “Alright, fine. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t scare you away or something. I desperately need you to stay up here as long ass they’ll let me have you, after all”

You exhaled slowly, grateful she wasn’t pressing further—for now.

The two of you sat in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of the nurses’ station filling the air: keyboard clicks, faint beeps from patient monitors, and the occasional chatter in the background. Except your mind was far from settled. The thing was, you couldn’t talk about this situation with Ash or Melanie. Ash had never kept a secret in her life, and Melanie? She’d tell Namjoon in a heartbeat. And once Namjoon knew, it’d be over for you.

Vic was your best bet. Sure, she’d laugh at you, but you could handle that. You’d endured worse. And keeping it bottled up was slowly driving you insane.

Finally, you rolled your chair back and turned toward her. She was immersed in her tablet, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

“Okay, there’s one thing,” you said hesitantly, gripping onto the edge of your seat harder than you had realized.

Vic’s head popped up, her brows arching. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, twisting your fingers together nervously. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Promise.”

She rolled her eyes, setting the tablet on her lap. “Who am I going to tell? Mr. Jones in 342? He’s not exactly a vault of secrets.”

“He’s a blabbermouth,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from her. Mr. Jones was in a coma. He wasn’t on this floor but everyone knew about him since he had been here a few years. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Okay. So, uh… it happened again.”

Vic’s brow furrowed in confusion, her head tilting slightly. “What happened again?”

“Me and…” You lowered your voice to a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. “You know who.”

Vic stared at you, blinking once. Then twice. You could see the gears turning as she connected the dots. And then her jaw dropped. “You what? Say it again, because I need to make sure I’m not hallucinating.”

“Jungkook and I…” You swallowed hard. “…again.”

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. And then she erupted into laughter—loud, unabashed laughter that had several people glancing your way.

Vic tried to stifle her laughter, but it bubbled out anyway, her shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry, but this is gold. What happened to ‘it didn’t fix anything, and you still hate him’? Is he just that good?” she teased, her grin positively wicked.

“Vic!” you whined, swatting at her arm, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed your embarrassment.

“Okay, okay,” she said, raising her hands in surrender, though the smirk on her face didn’t budge. “But seriously, what are you going to do now?”

You let out a long, drawn-out sigh, slumping back into your chair like the weight of the world was pressing down on you. “Avoid him. Forever, if I can manage it.”

Vic tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “Yeah, because that worked so well the first time.” She shook her head, laughing softly as she turned back to her tablet. “You’re a mess. But I love you for it.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “I am not a mess. I’d like to think I’m actually very well composed.”

Vic snorted, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “Right, right. Say that again when you’re not—”

“Victoria.” You interrupted sharply, cutting her off with a pointed look.

“Damn, alright. No need to use my full name like I’m in trouble. Anyway... how did it happen?” Her teasing tone softened slightly as she leaned forward, genuinely curious now. “Walk me through it. Start to... unfortunate finish.”

You groaned again, rubbing your temples. “Do we have to?”

“Oh, absolutely. This is the best thing that’s happened all week.” She said, propping her chin on her hand as if settling in for storytime.

With another sigh, you gave in, recounting the night in as much detail as you could bear—the tizzy outside, then the bathroom and then how you two made it to the unthinkable end. Your shift had ended in the time it took you to explain everything and Vic had followed you to the locker room while you got your stuff.

Unthinkable maybe a few months ago.

“I’m jealous. I wish I had something this entertaining happening in my life. The most interesting gossip I have is about Dr. Kim’s surgery this morning.” She leaned against a locker next to you as you had gotten your stuff.

“Be glad because it’s a pain in reality.” You sigh, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Now I need to go home and wash this extremely long day off of me.”

“Well don’t stumble into Jungkook's bed on your way there.”

Just before you leave the locker room, You turn back to her. “I hate you.”

“Love you too baby. Get home safe.” She waves for you to get out of here. Escape while you still could.

You exhaled deeply as you exited the locker room, the weight of the day pulling at your shoulders. Every muscle in your body ached, and the thought of a hot shower and your bed felt like a distant dream. As you reached the elevator, you spotted Ji-eun shuffling slowly down the hallway, her IV bag trailing behind her like a stubborn shadow.

“Goodnight, Ji-eun,” you called out, giving her a small wave as you pressed the elevator button.

“Leaving so early?” she teased, her voice light but tired as she made her way over to you. You could tell from her slower steps and the way she leaned slightly to one side that today hadn’t been a good day for her.

“Short shift today,” you replied with a warm smile, masking your concern. “You should be off that leg if it’s bothering you.”

“Never,” she quipped, standing up straighter and puffing out her chest in defiance. “Can’t you see? I’ve got all the energy in the world!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “All right. Come on, let me walk you back to your room.”

Ji-eun beamed, looping her arm through yours as if you’d just made her day. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Someone has to keep you in check.” You teased, giving her a gentle nudge as the two of you started down the hallway.

“So,” She began, her tone shifting to one of playful curiosity. “You haven’t updated me on your annoying boy this week. Still giving you trouble?”

You groaned inwardly but couldn’t help smiling at her persistence. “Just a little, but nothing I can’t handle,” you said lightly, hoping to steer the conversation away.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” Ji-eun said, narrowing her eyes at you. “What happened this time?”

You hesitated but gave in under her expectant gaze. “I ran into him again. It... wasn’t great. We fought again.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching your arm like you’d just revealed a scandal. “How thrilling! And here I was thinking my life was dramatic with all these needles and IV bags.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No more run-ins this week, though, so that’s a win.”

Ji-eun gave your arm a comforting squeeze. “Progress. Honestly, I wish my boys would talk about things like this. All they ever discuss these days is what’s happening at work.”

“Either of them coming by tonight?”

Ji-eun shakes her head, “No they both are so busy. My youngest especially these days. My husband will be here after too long though.”

“Good, and trust me, you’re not missing much. I would accept work gossip over boy drama any day.” You said, though your smile wavered slightly as the truth of your own words settled over you.

When you reached her room, you helped her ease into bed, adjusting her blankets and making sure she was comfortable. You still hadn’t gotten the chance to meet any of her family yet but her hospital room had been filling up more and more with things from home and things to keep her entertained. It was nice to see what she elected to have around her here.

“You’re a saint,” Ji-eun murmured, her voice softer now, the day’s fatigue catching up to her.

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “You need to take it easier since your treatments are going to just make everyday tasks even harder.”

“I’ll try. Goodnight, Y/N.” She points for you to leave dramatically and you comply.

“Goodnight,” Leaving with the weight of your shoulder now really barring down on you now.

You got onto the elevator and heading down to the garage. Your phone buzzing in your pocket.

MEL: ME YOU ASH. SATURDAY NIGHT. IN OR OUT.

You laugh, thank god Melanie was back in town. You really needed a good night in with her and Ash so this text couldn’t come at a better time.

:IM IN

MEL: AMAZING

MEL: small detail I may have let out

MEL: It will also include the boys too..

MEL: BUT YOU ALREADY AGREED SO YOU CANT BACK OUT NOW

Which you knew meant Jungkook. Great.

:that’s fine It'll be fun no matter what

You could very well keep it together. Just stay one arm attached to Melanie and nothing could go wrong. You missed her dearly and of course Namjoon. Although he probably didn’t miss the sleepovers you, Ash and Melanie would have where he ended up getting kicked out of his own bed.

Which very well may happen again this weekend.

You continued about your week normally and so did Jungkook. Jungkook’s week had been consumed by the trial, which included long days in court, late nights reviewing documents, and the constant hum of pressure to perform. Yet, despite the chaos, things were looking up. His team was solid, their arguments tight, and with the trial on recess until Monday, Jungkook felt unusually optimistic. Optimistic enough, in fact, to accept Taehyung’s invite for a drink—a rarity for him during trial season.

Both Jungkook and Taehyung tried to rope Namjoon into coming out as well, and Namjoon was almost convinced. Then about forty five minutes ago he was texting something about having to prepare the house for the invasion, cryptically. They both were completely unsure what that was supposed to mean.

Taehyung was already waiting in a booth when Jungkook arrived, beer in hand and a mischievous grin ready to pounce. As Jungkook slid into the seat across from him, Taehyung gave an exaggerated round of applause. “Mr. Responsible Lawyer Boy, gracing me with his presence. This is truly an honor.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile as he set his whiskey down on the table. “Don’t get used to it. I’ve still got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me tomorrow.”

“Of course you do,” Taehyung said, raising his beer. “But look at you now—drink in hand, no case files in sight. Dare I say, you’re almost acting human.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Jungkook replied, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’ve still got a trial to win. But things are going well enough that I figured I could afford one night off. Or at least an hour.”

“Rare footage of Jungkook actually relaxing,” Taehyung said, pulling out his phone and pretending to film him. “Better capture this before you start muttering about depositions and cross-examinations again.”

Jungkook smirked, setting his glass down. “I’d be careful if I were you. That phone footage might mysteriously disappear.”

Taehyung chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Alright, mystery man. So, what’s got you in such a good mood? Jimin’s been saying you’ve been acting... off this week.”

Jungkook sighed, he figured he would hear something about earlier this week. Jimin and Taehyung were already in Jungkook's business enough so any change in behavior does not escape them, “Of course he has. Between the wedding and this trial, I’ve had a lot on my plate. That’s all.”

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung said, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “You’ve barely had any time for me. Do you know how neglected I feel? My best friend, abandoning me in my time of need?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes again. “Poor you. You were one of the groomsmen if you remember. I saw you the entire time.”

“Poor me indeed! You were so busy trying to one up Y/N the whole time.” Taehyung exclaimed, throwing an arm over his eyes in mock despair. “I’ve had to survive on scraps of attention while you’ve been off doing... whatever it is you’ve been doing.”

“Work,” Jungkook said pointedly. “Once this trial is over, I’ll have plenty of time to make it up to you. My mind’s just been... all over the place lately.”

“Something bothering you?” Taehyung asked, leaning in a little too close for comfort. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

Jungkook pushed him back with a laugh. “No. Nothing in particular.”

“Hmm.” Taehyung took a long sip of his beer, clearly not convinced. Jungkook could sense now Taehyung was dancing around something. He had something he wanted to ask. “Jimin said you’ve been quieter than usual. That’s weird, even for you, especially this close to a trial. Thought there might be something on your mind.”

“If this trial goes well, it’s a huge opportunity for me. Potential promotion. That’s all.” Jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. Still unsure where Taehyung is taking this.

Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering this. “Makes sense. But, you know, I thought I might’ve had an idea why you’ve been acting so strange...”

“Tae,” Jungkook said, narrowing his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

Taehyung grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Nothing, nothing. Forget I said anything.” He sat up straight, switching gears with a dramatic clap of his hands. “I do know how you can make it up to me for all the lost hang-out time, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook said, skeptical. “What’s that?”

“If you tell me what’s going on with you and Y/N.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter

Taglist!: @akkhddhfairys @njcxlewxrld @kooklovee @ericawantstoescape @pitchblack0309 @rpwprpwprpwprw @lanie97 @httpjeonlicious @jollis87 @oopscoop @rinkud @deepikhaprakash @chuuritoz @jkslvsnella @eisthv @bangatanily @smwhrinthehaze @jjkologys @nono13bnd @vantelover1306 @jalexad @sadgirlroo @chimmisbae @smoljjks @miniesjams32 @daskewl @kookienooki

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

a/n: Maybe not the most exciting chapter but I have been very excited to show that college flashback. Although not the most important piece of their history - it is important none the less... because they were friends once?? hmmmmmm.

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jhilsara · 1 day ago

Text

Of Bookstore, Coffees, and Late Nights

Sunshine!Reader/Southern!Reader/Plus Sized!Reader

Summary: After Spencer is shot he can't do much in the field for a while, being stuck to the offices in Quantico. His insomnia starts to amp up and instead of an urge for McDonald's at 1 AM he finds himself desperate for a new book and a coffee. Somehow, he finds the Midnight Owl, the late night bookstore/cafe open at weird hours with a cute southern co owner who probably gets the same amount of sleep as he does.

She also makes the best coffee that is disgustingly sweet. Exactly how he likes it.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: Mentions of Season 5 100 episode and canon typical BAU themes

|Next

The one with the late night bookstore

If Spencer could pace, he would, but his new semi-permanent crutch situation was impeding his mobility. He hasn’t been able to sleep, much less relax with the knowledge of Hotch being stabbed by George Foyet in his own home. Or how it’s clear that Foyet is playing an extreme game with the BAU, but mostly Hotch. Spencer didn’t even want to think about poor Haley and Jack being thrown into witness protection. These were scenarios Spencer knew came with the job he does, but seeing it happen to people he knows and cares about, makes his stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine if it was his own mother being threatened. It sends a cold chill down his back. He needs a distraction.

Spencer’s eyes drag over to his used and abused bookshelf. Looking through his collection trying to find something to read. Even for a distraction he’s not very interested in rereading any of the texts on his shelf. His go to comfort of Sherlock Holmes doesn’t even seem all that appealing at the moment. He needs something that isn’t about criminals or detectives right now. Too bad nothing else on his shelf seemed to catch his eye. Spencer eyes his clock and the analog clock on his wall tells him it’s two in the morning. He’d be lucky if anything besides a dingy twenty-four-hour cafe was open, much less a bookstore.

He sighs and looks over at his discarded laptop on his desk. He boots it up to see if maybe he could at least check how early the library opened. He could try to sleep but his insomnia was eating away at him, trying to focus on anything else but work seemed harder and harder. Spencer had to get out of his apartment. He looks up the library hours as well as a few bookstores. Just trying to see how soon he could sit down and avoid the never-ending running of his brain. He’s surprised when he finds a bookstore that was advertising its hours as open. Surely that was wrong. He spots the phone number on the webpage, and he decides to call to double check.

The line rings for roughly two seconds before it’s picked up, a melodic voice on the other line states, “Midnight Owl, this is Y/N how can I help you?” The cadence of the woman’s voice much too chipper for the middle of the night.

Spencer’s shocked into silence for a moment before he responds, “I thought the hours posted were wrong...” He finds himself stating.

“Nope!” She replies, unbothered by his blunt response. “We’re open 24/5, only closed on Fridays and Saturdays!” She tells him brightly, “You wouldn’t be the first to call thinking we posted our hours wrong though. More common than you think.”

He coughs awkwardly and finds himself nodding even though she can’t see it. “Okay, great, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem, swing by some time we have the best drinks crafted by yours truly!” She jokes with a soft laugh trailing her sentence. She drawls out the end of her words in a way that has them twisting together as sweet as the tea he’s almost positive she drinks.

“Have a good night.” He states before hanging up the phone.

He looks at the address listed and finds that it’s just up the street, barely a block away.

Spencer eyes his crutches for a moment debating on whether he should go or not. His good leg shakes in anxious movements as he sits on his couch. What were the odds that there was a bookstore up his block that was open at odd hours that catered to him? He knew the odds; they were incredibly low . He shrugs to himself and hobbles to grab his crutches, he’ll check it out. Why the hell not? If it’s too good to be true he can add it to the list of places he’ll never visit again like that one coffee shop downtown that burns everything he’s ever ordered.

He desperately needs to get out of his apartment.

Y/N’s night at the Midnight Owl was going slowly. You had a few regulars wander in, which you were happy about since the store had only officially been open for four months. There was a couple that sat on the loveseat in the cafe every Thursday night reading their books together and drinking the cafe’s famous homemade lavender lemonade. Not that you could brag about it, your co-owner makes pastries and premade drinks. All homemade family recipes. On the opposite side of the store was the guy who came in every other day to check for anything new. He grabs a coffee and roams the stacks for an hour. Sometimes he buys, sometimes he doesn’t. He comes in at the same time though, so you’re pretty sure he works a graveyard shift.

There were a couple of students at a table in the cafe section clearly up studying and writing papers. The semester for school had only just started a month ago, but the influx of students coming and going was increasing by the day.

You loved your little bookstore, and during the day it was popping. A rising trendy place for local university students. You preferred the quiet of the nights though. It gave you time to make orders for books, restock, and change out displays. It was methodical cleaning and sorting that kept you sane. Your daytime life was overly complicated and having your own corner of the world was nice. It felt like a safe bubble that didn’t necessarily feel like work.

You’re in the middle of compiling a list of books to reorder that have already sold out when the front doorbell chimes telling her someone just entered. You are behind a stack finishing what you're writing on your notepad when you calls out, “Be right there!”

You bound around the stack to the counter to meet the newcomer, “Welcome in! How can I help you?” you asked happily pushing your hair behind your ear nervously.

You scan the guy from head to toe, he’s definitely new. He looks like a grad student, probably around your age. His mousy brown hair is tied back into a low ponytail and he’s in a well-worn Caltech shirt and sweatpants. The oddest thing about him is the crutches he’s sporting as he comes in. You send him a warm smile.

Spencer looks at the woman standing at the counter and finds you’re not what he expected you to be. You look like the moon; you have features that are soft and delicate, and your eyes shine with the bright ambience of the bookstore. Spencer almost loses his train of thought as he takes in the bookstore worker’s features that just made you seem so inviting.

It takes a second before he registers that you asked him a question. “Oh, yes,” he rushes out awkwardly. “Is the cafe still open?” He questions, tilting his head to the empty-looking bar on the other side.

You nod happily, “It is! I’m the only one who works the night shift, so I run the register and the cafe. Would you like something?” you ask him, already walking toward the counter that holds the cabinet of pastries and coffee machines.

“A latte would be great actually.” He says in a much clearer voice.

“Can do.” You grin at him radiantly and it’s so infectious he finds himself returning one. You turn and almost have a skip to your step as you walk, far too awake for him to deem reasonable for two in the morning.

Spencer watches her as he slowly moves forward on his crutches, she almost dances around the machines as she makes his latte. She’s humming to the music that he’s finally registered playing in the bookstore. She’s radiating a warmth that Spencer doesn’t get to see much day to day except for the one and only, Penelope Garcia. Garcia looked and acted like the sun, one giant ball of pink and blonde energy. He watches the worker move around her workstation making his latte and it’s seamless how she moves, it’s her second nature. She’s just at ease here, which settles his uneasy nerves about trying a new place out in the middle of the night. He looks around and sees a few people mingling about.

Spencer takes time to look around the store and notices how it feels much more lived in than any box stores he’s been to. The overhead lights aren’t fluorescent like a normal store but a few well-placed wooden chandeliers that are carved to look like vines. Every other light is a floor light or table lamp that has mismatched covers and stained glass. He turns to the large windows, and he guesses the store probably gets great sunshine when it’s daylight. The multiple house plants by the window and on the empty tables being a good indicator. The ambiance is so inviting, not to mention the amount of comfortable faux leather seating he sees.

He could imagine spending a lot of time here, it was just so cozy. Spencer can’t imagine he would have missed this place opening but with all the cases they’ve been busy with, he actually isn’t surprised at all.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by her placing the drink on the pickup bar, “So what ails you?” Your voice carries to him, and you tilt your head waiting patiently.

“Excuse me?” He finds himself stuttering out.

You shrug nonchalantly, “Well, it’s the middle of the night and I’ve never seen your face in here before.” You state the fact like it's so obvious.

“So, what’s buggin’ you?” Your voice drawls out sweetly as you look at him expectantly.

It’s almost like the lights in the cafe frame her from behind, bright and dazzling. She’s clearly personable and Spencer isn’t used to people with Y/N’s personality being overtly kind to him. He’ll see how long it takes her to dismiss him like most people do. It doesn’t annoy him like it used to, he expects it really. Especially when his own team and friends do it almost regularly.

You are waiting patiently for his response with unwavering kind eyes.

“Insomnia,” He settled on admitting to you, he gave you a tight lined frown. “I needed a new book; I’ve read through my catalog.”

Your eyes light up, “That’s my specialty! I mean, I make a mean latte, but my favorite part of this place is the books.” you whispered conspiratorially.

“So,” you come around from the back of the bar and put your hands on your hips, “What genre were you looking for? Or was it a specific book?” you ask him.

“Fantasy, preferably. I’ve read all of Tolkien and Gaiman’s works.” He tells you.

You nod in understanding your eyes giving a quick look of him from head to toe, “You look like a man who’s read The Hobbit and American Gods .” You said, almost more so to herself.

Spencer gives you a quizzical look, unsure if he should be insulted or not. You read his face and your own cheeks flush with embarrassment. Your hands start moving exaggeratedly as your voice pitches, “Not in a bad way! I promise, I’m here for a well-read person! Not that you have to have read those two authors to be well read, I just-” You take a deep breath and stop yourself.

“Sorry, I just mean, you look like you’ve probably read some of the most popular titles in that genre.” Your voice grows smaller, and your face is bright in a flush as you rush through your words, drawling them out in that voice that sounds like sugar. You bite the inside of your cheek forcing yourself to stop talking.

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head, “I get it, you’re good.” He tells you reassuringly.

You sigh in relief, pushing your hair out of your face nervously, “Sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant you probably want something different and not recommended every time you ask for fantasy.”

Spencer just gives you a smile, “I appreciate it.” He shifts his weight on his crutches to awkwardly sip his latte.

You usher him over to one of the comfortable chairs with a nice side table lamp that has beautiful green and red stained-glass roses on it.

“Here sit, I’ll grab some recommendations, and you can let me know what you think.” You don’t even give him a chance to rebuttal before you’re off and disappear into the stacks.

The silence that followed her absence was overwhelmingly loud, except for the soft music playing from the speakers. Spencer takes his time drinking his latte and it’s delicious. Better than the place the BAU grabs coffee from, and much better than whatever was in their coffee pot at the office.

You pop back out from the stacks within ten minutes holding at least five book options for him to sort through.

“These all have different sub-genres but are fantasy in nature. Let me know if any look good to you.” You hand them over to him happily. He notices you biting the inside of your cheek again, as you watch him look over the books.

You’re rocking on your feet, as you watch Spencer thumb through the books, reading the summaries keeping his face neutral. You start picking at your nails trying not to seem like a dog waiting for its owner. You should busy yourself with something else besides trying to gauge Spencer’s reaction to the books, but you can’t help it.

Spencer pauses on a book with a bright colorful cover that was in the middle of the stack. It’s the only one he pauses on and your face lights up.

“I loved Howl’s Moving Castle !” Your voice pitches up in enthusiasm. You start talking with your hands again, “It’s fun, and the cast of characters who, in a magical world, feel so relatable. The two leads also have great dialogue! I was genuinely laughing out loud.” Your face splits into a grin as you explain the book to Spencer without spoiling anything.

You are so filled with joy as you talk about the book, it doesn’t take him but a second of listening to you to know he’s sold. He’s reading this, your genuine joy selling him on it. He doesn’t have to look through the rest of the stack, though he’s sure you’ve likely read all the books you offered him.

“I’ll take it.” He said, moving to stand up to purchase it at the counter.

You move to stop him, “Don’t worry about it! You can pay on your way out. You look like you’ve been struggling with those crutches.” You tell him waving him back down to sit.

“Just relax, drink and read. It’s what the Midnight Owl’s for.” You chirp happily shooting him a triumphant look as you move to walk back to the counter.

You go back to working on creating an order for books back at the checkout counter. You have the work desktop open back to the list of books you were cross referencing for prices. You go back and forth from looking at your handwritten list to researching prices from different distributors.

The couple who was there earlier finally get up, waving goodbye to Y/N.

“Have a great night y’all! See you next week.” You tell them with your own wave that’s brief as you make the order.

The only noise in the store is some shuffling and the music playing overhead and you humming along to it. It’s a mix CD you burned a few years back and most of the songs are still your favorite. You keep meaning to make a new one, but you just haven’t had time. Your eyes wander from your computer to check on your new customer reading in the corner. You don’t want to hover, but you try to gauge if he’ll be a regular or not. You hope so, he seemed nice enough.

Spencer can feel her eyes on him occasionally, he can see her fidgeting behind the counter. Every other song he can spot her leaning out of the corner of his eye to look over to him. He tries to hide his grin; he knows that look well. She’s trying to see if he’s enjoying the book. Spencer tries to read at a normal pace, even though he can read twenty thousand words per minute, that defeats the purpose of him trying to get out of his apartment to just devour this book. Plus, he kind of enjoys watching the store clerk.

She’s full of energy and he has no idea where it comes from, but it’s almost a nervous energy. She’s constantly moving, either fidgeting or walking through the stacks to check or tidy the books. She’s also passed in front of him a few times to check the cafe machines or even grab a pastry he’s sure has been there for too long, and she feels bad about selling it.

Spencer stays there for a few hours; he really doesn’t notice how long until the door opens and the bell chimes again.

“Morning!” The new woman cheers sleepily.

You wave at her, “Morning Josie. There are still a few pastries left from yesterday, but I put them in the back fridge for you.”

The new woman, Josie, waved back, “Thanks, I’m going to prep for today.”

Spencer finally looks at the time and realizes it’s five in the morning, he sighs standing up. He grabs his crutches and pushes himself toward the counter to pay for his book. If he’s lucky he could get an hour or two of a nap before work.

He gently slides the book over to you and your whole face brightens, “Have you liked it so far?” you asked him.

Spencer grins “It’s charming. You were right about the cast; it’s a great blend of characters that shouldn’t fit as well as they do together.”

You nod excitedly. “I don’t know if you’ve gotten to a certain part, but I won’t spoil it, I loved how they explain the magic that affects Sophie! It was a fun book.”

Spencer hands over some cash to pay for his book. “I’ve liked it so far. I’ll have to ask for another recommendation.” He tells you.

If you were a dog, your ears would be pointed up and tail wagging, you cannot contain your pure joy.

“Absolutely! Anytime, it’s one of my favorite things.” You push your hair back and you look down at the table nervously pushing his book back toward him with his change.

“I’m always happy to see a returning face.” You said looking up at him, your eyes sparkling. “I’m Y/N by the way, I don’t know if I introduced myself.”

Spencer takes the book and his change; you smile brilliantly at him, and he feels a little enchanted by the bookstore clerk. He returns it. “Spencer. It was nice to meet you.”

He gives you a small wave before walking out, crutches pushing him forward.

The one about Halloween

You have decided that you do not care if it’s only September, you are decorating for Halloween. Maybe it’s that you’re festive or maybe it’s from growing up in a southern community that went all out for decorations, but you are determined that the Midnight Owl will be the place to be for October. You’ve also planned a few events for the spooky month for all ages.

There are a few reading hours planned for children during the day, costume contests, and some trick or treat candy lined up to buy. Your shopping list was filling up quickly. For the nighttime events you’ve gotten together with Josie to throw a movie night every Sunday night at eight in October. You’ve already planned a lineup of movies to play and popcorn to order. You still can’t decide on having two movies or not, a family friendly one first and then a scary one. She’ll figure it out.

To say that you are bubbling with excitement is an understatement.

You're in the middle of dragging out one of the boxes of decorations from the attic when the door chimes open.

“Welcome in! Help yourself to shop or if you wait a few minutes, I can fix you a drink at the cafe!” You shout from behind the large box you’re carrying. It’s not heavy, filled mostly with paper and plastic decorations. The box itself is just quite large, and it blocks your view when you walk.

“What are you doing?” A soft chuckle passes through, and you recognize it immediately. It’s your new favorite regular.

You set the box down in a huff behind the counter and look at Spencer exasperatedly.

“If you must know, I’m preparing for Halloween.” You said matter-of-factly.

Spencer’s hazel eyes light up, the same way he gets when he’s about to tell you a long list of facts about something. You love it when he gets excited. It’s contagious.

“Oh, please continue then. It’s never too early for Halloween.” He said happily.

You let out a burst of laughter and it echoes in the room, “Thank you! Finally, someone who understands.” You tease him.

Spencer’s been coming in almost every night since his first visit. It’s only been a month, but you love talking to Spencer. He’s full of endless information and he loves to read just as much, if not more, than you do.

He has an unfair advantage though. He had admitted how quickly he could read to you in passing a few weeks ago and your jaw dropped. You didn’t believe him at first.

“Okay, that’s the fifth book you’ve finished in like two days Spencer. Are you even actually reading them?” You had teased him, when he returned to the shelves looking through the selections.

“Of course I do. I just happen to read twenty thousand words per minute.” He said easily running his fingers along the spines of the books as he pursues.

You scoff, “Yea right.” you rolled your eyes. “Just say you skim through them.”

Spencer shakes his head, “I’m serious, I have an eidetic memory too.” he said.

You blinked at him a few times in disbelief before just bursting into a fit of small giggles.

“Wow, I wish I could read that fast. I’d get through my TBR so much faster!” you said impressed.

Spencer pauses looking at you, trying to assess if you're trying to make fun of him or not. Your face is split into a wide grin, and he realizes you are intrigued by this little tidbit. You didn't think it was weird, that he’s weird.

Spencer felt his face flush a bit, and he just shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s just a really cool fact about you.” You said, like it was obvious.

Spencer mouth tighten into a fine line, and he shook his head, “That would be a first.” he had mumbled under his breath.

You didn’t press him, but you did file away in the back of your mind his response for later. Clearly Spencer wasn’t used to someone reacting positively to this tidbit about him.

You look at Spencer as he stands there watching you. He’s in his work clothes, which you're used to by now, but it’s the opposite of what he wore when they first met. He’s in a purple button up shirt that he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. His cardigan is hanging off his faded brown leather satchel sitting against his hip. He’s leaning on his crutches as she assesses him.

“C’mon,” you said waving for him to follow. “Let’s make something fall flavored to get rolling with the season.” You suggest a small smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer just nods and follows you toward the cafe section.

“Are you a fan of pumpkin flavors or do you prefer other autumn flavors?” You ask him as you walk around the counter to the coffee machines.

The pickup counter for the cafe doubles as a normal place to sit and Spencer grabs a stool to sit in, leaning his crutches against the counter.

“I only like my drinks sweet. Flavor isn’t too important.”

You hum in acknowledgement and get to work on making him a drink. “I’ll just surprise you then.”

Spencer brings out a few books he’s reading and places them on the table. While you make his drink you ask, “What’s your favorite book to read to get into the spooky spirit?”

He perks up, “There’s plenty of options, I think I prefer something classic like The Shinning or maybe even an old compilation of ghost stories. Those are always good.” he said passionately.

“Ooh! I’m obsessed with the paranormal!” you gasp in excitement.

Spencer feeds into the enthusiastic response, “Did you know there are a multitude of categories of the paranormal? Most people only associate it with ghosts or demons, but ufology and cryptozoology are also subcategories. Personally, as interesting as ghost or demon possession stories are, I’m far more fascinated by cryptozoology and the creatures that different areas of the world claim to see and state they have proof of.”

Spencer realizes he’s rambling and tries to cut himself off, but your eyes are wide as you actively lean against the counter giving him your rapt attention.

You notice his abrupt stop and you tilt your head, “Keep going, you have my full attention! I’m trying to get into the spooky spirit!” You drawl out, your rich accent seeping through.

You turn to grab his drink and hand it to him. It's in a nice burnt orange colored mug, “It’s a maple chai latte. Felt like fall to me.” you said quietly, having a matching mug with him. You lean against the counter and bat your hand at his forearm.

“C’mon tell me more!” you giggled.

Spencer stared at you in awe for a moment, before he tried to hide his expression through drinking his latte.

“Ghost hunting became popular in the early 2000s, but it’s been around since the 1920’s and even before then there were popular ghost stories told throughout history! Humans have always been interested in the afterlife which is why we’re probably so fascinated by looking for proof of the afterlife.”

You nod and sips from your own mug, “Have you ever watched those ghost hunting shows before?” you asked curiously.

Spencer shook his head no. “I don’t watch a lot of television.”

You hum in thought, “Yeah, that checks out. Well, they’re super cheesy and trashy. Love them to be honest.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asked, leaning closer against the bar.

It felt like it was only the two of them in the bookstore. Inside their own bubble, the world moved slowly inside the confines of the Midnight Owl.

“This is gonna sound so awful!” you laughed lightly shaking your head, “There’s a show called Ghost Adventures, and the main guy, Zak Bagans, he’s such a dick to the ghosts! He instigates all the time, and I mean, regardless of if ghosts are real, he goes in hot ! Not to mention he always throws his costar Aaron into the worst places! It’s just insane, absolute trash.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“But you love it?” Spencer asked.

You gave him a deadpan stare, “Oh absolutely, it’s the best kind of quality trash.”

You burst into a fit of giggles and Spencer couldn’t help but find it contagious.

“Aaaaaaanyway~” You drag out, moving to grab your box of decorations.

“Wanna help me decide how to decorate?” you ask him, grabbing a pumpkin garland out of the bin and tossing it dramatically over your shoulders like a scarf.

Spencer brushes his loose hair out of his face and nods. He may still be useless on crutches, but he could help... Kind of.

You empty the containers of the bin on the counter where Spencer’s sitting and he quickly grabs his mug to lift it up to avoid being knocked over from the avalanche of orange and black. You smile at him apologetically before trying to dig out your favorite decorations.

Spencer’s face is twisted in a look of frustration as he sits in the corner reading. He came in a while ago and besides his drink, he hasn’t spoken much to you.

Which isn’t a bad thing, tonight was one of the busier nights. It was mid-October, and the festivities had been nonstop. Tonight was vampire night, which upon entering the building Spencer was already grimacing. There was a special drink deal on the board hanging above the cafe for anyone buying a vampire related book. Twilight , Dracula , Carmilla , Interview with a Vampire, just pick a title it was an option with its own fun themed cafe drink that was absolutely red.

It wasn’t like you knew he had just finished working on a case that involved vampirism, but the odds weren’t in his favor for finding an escape from the most recent case. Halloween season had its ups and downs he supposed.

There was no way of explaining his slightly irritable mood. Spencer hadn’t mentioned his work to you. You never asked, and he didn’t feel like explaining that he spent most of his waking hours profiling serial killers. In the past it hasn’t made the best openers in conversation. It’s also nice to have this small corner of his life not be coated with unsubs, victims, and death. It’s just his favorite bookstore.

Spencer looked up to see you making more drinks, the cafe was popular tonight. Your chatting up another woman who’s laughing at the joke you told her. The other woman is holding a book that Spencer is positive is a vampire novel.

“And I have one raspberry mocha for a Carmilla lover!” your voice rang out and you handed over the drink to the customer.

“Come back Sunday for our movie night, we’re playing Beetlejuice !” you said and waved goodbye to the customer.

For eleven o'clock at night the shop was busy. Busting out drink after drink and ringing up books at the cafe register. It was your idea to do a deal with a themed book and drink combo, but you didn’t expect to still be busy into the night. You hadn’t even had a break in customers to say hello to your regulars.

For business, this was great, for your own mental health, you were struggling. You just needed it to slow down enough to catch your breath. You should have scheduled someone else on shift with you, but you weren’t about to call for help now. It was your mistake, and you'll live with it. You made a note to make sure someone is on shift with you tomorrow night for a different themed deal.

After another round of five more customers there is finally a break. You sighed leaning against the counter and took a grounding breath. You don’t move for a minute, just catch your breath before you look up and catch Spencer from his chair looking at you. You shot him a shaky smile that is supposed to be reassuring but actually looks like you’re about to cry. Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he decides to get up and come over. The cafe was still bustling but no one was sitting at the counter. Spencer shoves his book into his bag, grabs his crutches and hobbles to the counter.

“Busy night?” he asked, already knowing the answer but trying to see how you were doing.

Your eyes look up into his hazel ones and you look worn. “In my head, the whole vampire boom and Halloween themed event seemed like a good idea. For profit, absolutely. For my sanity? I never wanna see another Twilight shirt or raspberry flavored item for a while.” you said in a groan placing your head against the counter.

“What is Twilight ?” Spencer asked.

He doesn’t know anything except that it has something to do with vampires and its popular enough that the victims of the latest case were also obsessed with it. He knows it’s a book, but besides that, he has no clue.

You slowly move to look up and blink at him for a moment, trying to deduce if he’s being serious or not. “Very funny Spencer, I know you’re not asking what the pop culture phenomenon Twilight franchise is.” you replied with a laugh.

After a moment of looking at Spencer’s confused face you realize he was in fact, unaware. Your eyes widen.

“Wait, wait, wait, you seriously don’t know? I mean it’s like everywhere. The second movie is coming out in less than a month. I don’t think I’ve sold so many copies of a book in my life. I can’t keep New Moon on the shelves.” you said almost exasperatedly, but the smile on your face gave it away. If Spencer didn’t know any better, he’d think you were getting a kick out of it. He knows by now you won’t make fun of him; you're elated for a completely different reason.

“I just know it’s popular and about vampires.” He replied with a shrug.

“Oh my god, I get to explain Twilight to you.” your face splits into a massive grin, your energy returning quickly.

Spencer quirks an eyebrow, “I thought you were over hearing Twilight ?”

“No, no, no, no! This is totally different!” you're almost vibrating with excitement. “I’ve read all the books, I’m gonna let you borrow my copy next time you’re in! Actually, I’ll give you the first two since you read so fast!” her words are running together in a run on sentence she’s talking too fast. Your accent came through stronger than ever with your eagerness.

He doesn’t have it in him to turn you down, you're just so thrilled. Spencer just finds himself too caught up in your joy to tell you he had no interest in the book series. He finds himself agreeing to borrow your copies.

“I can buy them if you need me too. I don’t want to take your copies unless, you’re sure.” He offers.

You shake your head, “I can’t keep them on the shelves long enough for you to buy them. Just go ahead and take my copies.” You move to make Spencer a drink that isn’t one of the red blood themed drinks on the menu. “It’s not a big deal. I do have a lot of sticky notes in there though, my friends and I read it for a book club night.”

He sits up a little straighter, suddenly becoming more interested in reading these books. Not because of their pop culture relevance but because he could read your commentary. There was something special about that, sharing a book with annotations.

“I’ll bring one too.” He finds himself offering before he can think.

Your face glows as you hand him a chai latte. “I’d love that! It’ll take me a bit longer to read than you will.” you joked lightly.

“It’ll be worth it; I haven’t had someone to talk to about books since my mom.” He said looking down at his drink, his eyes growing distant for a split second.

You open your mouth to ask but quickly shut it, biting the inside of your cheek to stop. You might be nosy, but you knew when to not pry. It was how Spencer seemed to be somewhere else in his mind, if only for a moment. It was enough to know that you had no business asking him to open a can of worms he maybe didn’t want to. Instead, you turn around to grab a set of fake vampire teeth to put in your mouth. They were small and awkward and not cute by any means, but if you could get him to smile, that was all you needed.

You patiently wait for Spencer to look back up at as you rest your head in your palm and keep your face neutral. The fake teeth are making your mouth uncomfortable, but you’ll survive.

When Spencer does look up and sees you dramatically batting your eyes at him and grinning madly with children’s plastic vampire teeth, he can’t control the bubbling laughter that takes over him. His shoulders shake with the full body movement, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Where did you get those?” he asked through his fit.

You turn to spit them out into the trash, your mouth disgustingly filled with drool from the uncomfortable teeth. You cover your mouth and grab your own drink to flush out your mouth.

“They were a gimmick for the themed drinks tonight.” you finally replied. “Good for a quick joke not for actually wearing.” you said groaning.

“Pretty sure they are made for children’s mouths.” Spencer teased.

You shrug and sigh, “Well, being a vampire for Halloween is off the list of options this year. I don’t want to wear those for a whole night.”

“Probably better off.” He said trying to not immediately focus on Dante and his manager coercing a mentally ill young woman into committing vampire ritual like murders.

“Yeah, the whole thing with that celebrity kinda left a sour taste in my mouth.” you mentioned grimacing.

“Dante?” Spencer asked for clarification.

“Yeah, it was all over the tabloids,” you pointed to the magazine stand by the main register. “Got them in this morning.”

Spencer tries to not make a face as he sees them, “You read that?”

You let out a loud snort of a laugh. “No, no, no, oh god!” you stand up a little straighter and push your hair back. “I don’t trust a TMZ article as far as I can throw it, but those murders are real. Making it look like vampire bites...” you shudder, “that just skeeves me out.”

Spencer drinks from his mug but nods his head in agreement. He didn’t peg you to believe paparazzi reports. The magazine articles would be wrong anyway; they didn’t make the arrest until that afternoon. It was refreshing to see someone not believe everything they read.

“If vampires are off your list, what other costumes are you thinking about?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“No idea.” you groan out in irritation. “I usually do group costumes with my friends but, kind of hard when they live 600 miles away.”

“South?” he asked.

You snorted with a roll of your eyes, “Aw geez what gave it away?” you tease with an exaggerated drawl, making your accent thicker than normal.

Spencer shakes his head in amusement. “Very funny. Why move here?”

You tense up, avoiding his doe eyes. You look down biting your lip nervously. “It’s uh, a long story.” you said quietly.

Your body almost looks like it’s trying to shrink in on itself. Spencer doesn’t need to be a profiler to understand your body language. Whatever it is, you’re not ready to share it.

Instead, he tries to be reassuring that he’s not prying for information.

“I’m a transplant too. I grew up in Las Vegas.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’ve never been, is it really just the strip filled with casinos or are there nice pockets of peace and no tourists?” you asked.

You sigh, “It is a lot of tourists. There’s plenty of local places, ones that are only there if you’ve grown up knowing how to get to them.” he told you in a quiet voice, almost conspiratorially.

Your mouth splits into a smile that reaches your eyes, “So you’ll be my tour guide, right?”

Spencer’s face heats up from the suggestion and your giggles fill the room.

“I’m just teasing you,” you pat his arm reassuringly before going to grab a pastry from the front display.

“Come on and split this last cookie with me, I know I'm not going to sell it.” you said grabbing a chocolate chip cookie and warming it up before cutting it in half.

Spencer’s face is still tinted pink but the soft cookie and the way it melts when he bites into it and seeing you look happier than earlier, is enough for him. A small corner of peace in the world inside the Midnight Owl.

The one after Haley’s funeral

You’re sitting at the checkout counter reading the book Spencer most recently traded with you. It’s one of the Sherlock Homles books, which you had admittedly never read before. You've watched plenty of films and shows but reading it never really crossed your mind.

You joked about making Spencer watch The Great Mouse Detective when you finished so you could explain your first introduction to Sherlock Holmes. He had no idea what you were talking about, which you found charming in its own way. You loved introducing Spencer to the pop culture media that just filled your brain. Even if it was trashy. You had promised him The Great Mouse Detective was anything but trash. A childhood classic for sure.

You take your time reading the books Spencer lent. He started leaving small post-it notes for you in them with commentary and questions. It was like you two had your own language, and it was books. Even if he let you borrow a genre you had no interest in, you suddenly were invested. It was a way to get to know him, and in turn he took your books happily. Your annotations were way more scattered brained and filled with tiny commentary to yourself.

You saw Spencer reading one of the books you let him borrow and he laughed, loudly, in the middle of the store. You both flushed in embarrassment. It was a busy night, filled with university students studying late at night, so it was mostly silent besides the music that was playing through the speakers. You knew you had written something insulting about one of the characters in that sticky note. You were creative with your insults, and you had completely forgotten to take that out before giving it to him. Spencer teased you about your comments on Gale from The Hunger Games for the rest of that night.

You’re in the middle of The Hounds of Baskerville when the door opens. You look up to greet them but your face falls when you see Spencer, he looks terrible. You slowly close the book and move to walk toward him.

His eyes were hollow and the normal dark circles under his eyes seemed impossibly darker than usual. Spencer just seemed sad and defeated. You hadn’t seen this side of him and all you wanted to do was press your thumb to his forehead and smooth out the furrow of his brow. To get him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” you asked gently walking toward him. You reach out to rub his arms affectionately, “What happened?”

Your voice is soft and sweet, the way you said honey with your southern drawl feels like a hug. Spencer just needed a minute. One second of peace. The image of Haley’s body unmoving with blood still fresh behind his eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” His voice comes out a little rough. He’s haggard from the flight from Nashville and he really didn’t want to go home.

The only comforting place he could think of immediately was the Midnight Owl, of you. Your warm voice and comforting drinks were the only things he could stand to be around.

Your face softens at his words, and you tilt your head, “Do you need a hug?” you asked softly.

There’s a shaky sigh that escapes Spencer’s mouth and he just nods his head, unable to form the words.

You pull him into your embrace gently, your arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly. You rub soothing circles into his back and Spencer holds onto your waist. Your body radiates heat and it's comforting as he shoves his face into your shoulder. You smell like vanilla, cloves, and parchment paper and his whole body relaxes into you. You hold onto him until Spencer pulls away, not wanting him to feel like he was a burden. The store was empty anyway, it's been a slow night.

He takes a deep breath before peeling himself off. He moves his hands to hold your arms so he’s supporting himself. Your eyes soften as you look him over, her hand coming up to cup his face.

“You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” You whisper softly.

Spencer relaxes against your touch and doesn’t say much, just hums in response. He eventually finds his words, “My friends wife died recently, and it just, it was a shock.”

He doesn’t want to get into how Haley died. That his job makes him and his coworkers targets. The people they love. George Foyet died at Hotch’s hands for killing Haley and attempting to kill Jack. Spencer watched Hotch’s face crumble, fall and lose what he loved the most. He knew Hotch didn’t want to divorce Haley, he loved her and his son with his whole heart.

That love had cost him Haley’s life.

“Oh hun,” your voice brings him back, “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’ll be fine. I’m just processing it.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, you’re allowed to process and grieve, especially if you knew her.” you tell him firmly. “C’mon, go sit down and I’m gonna make a delicious warm drink and we can just relax alright?”

Spencer gives a tiny, tight smile and lets you grab his hand to pull him to one of the nicer chairs. He sets his cane against the arm rest and is floored by how easy everything is with you.

You don’t push or pry for information, let him ramble, and Spencer doesn’t think he’s had a real friend outside of the BAU in a long time, much less someone his age. As much as he loves his team, there are times where they don’t understand him. It’s a lot easier to be himself with you. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what he’s doing most of his days, and he could argue with himself that you don’t know him. Almost 90% of his life is the BAU, and who is he if he isn’t Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI agent in the Behavioral Analyst Unit? A small part of him hopes he could be the person he becomes when he enters the Midnight Owl.

He’s too lost in his thoughts to notice you walking over with two steaming mugs.

“Here, it’s just tea but I think you need a relaxing drink. No caffeine.” you said with a sweet tone looking him over.

You sit on the arm rest of the chair cradling your own mug. “Can I try something?” you ask him.

Spencer drinks from his mug, but he mutters an agreement under his breath.

“Lean back fully in the chair.” you instructed.

He does as he’s told, he lowers his hands to his lap, mug still warmly pressed into his hands. Spencer isn’t sure what you’re trying to do until your hands are running through his hair, feather light. You’re not massaging his scalp, just the lightest of touches as you card your fingers through his long hair. Spencer’s eyes close and he almost moans from how the tension leaves his body immediately.

You let out a tiny snort but continue the motions.

“My momma used to do this when I was little.” you whisper to him, keeping a low voice.

“I would be asleep in an instant.” you emphasized with a quiet snap of your fingers.

Spencer’s eyes flutter open to look up at you, his big doe eyes looking up to see your soft features be highlighted in the warm glow of the lamps. You look down at him and tilt your head.

“I might pass out like this.” he murmured in a low voice.

“You can if you want. Promise I won’t let anyone bother you... not that anyone’s coming in anytime soon.” You drawl out looking around at the empty shop.

“Just a quick nap, twenty minutes.” he told you, voice already fading and his eyes growing heavy.

You don’t respond to him, just continue stroking his hair until he falls asleep. He felt the warm mug leave his hands and he heard ceramic clank onto the wooded side table next to him.

You watch Spencer sleep, giving him much longer than twenty minutes. His dark circles told enough; he needed this nap more than he was letting on. It takes less than five minutes for Spencer to pass out. His body relaxed into the chair with all tension leaving his body. You slow down your movements until you feel safe enough to stop. His small snore a sign he was asleep.

You moved to stand and went back to your duties, which wasn’t anything more than inventory tonight. Mondays were always slow.

You moved about the bookshop, filing away books, crossing off things on your checklist, and beside the few customers that came in for less than twenty minutes each, the night was quiet. Enough so that you let Spencer sleep much longer than twenty minutes.

Spencer sleeps peacefully for most of the night. You check on him occasionally, and besides the few snores, he’s sound asleep.

Around four in the morning he stirs awake, blinking blearily and looks around the store. You hear him and poke your head out from behind a shelf.

“Good morning sunshine!” you teased in a chipper tone.

Spencer looks at you confused before looking down at his watch. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, tone not accusing, just confused.

You shrug and make your way over to him, “You looked like you needed the sleep.”

You gently reach your hand up to smooth the furrow of his brow. “You’ll die young from all that stress you’re carrying on your shoulders.” You tell him softly. The way you’re gently touching his forehead is like you’re trying to erase the stress and pressure.

Spencer sighs into the light touch, “For sleeping on a chair, it was pretty peaceful.” he murmurs.

You snort in amusement. “Well, at least I know they’re comfy.”

“I sleep on planes frequently, so this is much better.” he said.

“Travel a lot for work?” you asked.

Spencer just nods. Not wanting to explore too deep into his job. The job that was leaving him sleepless most nights.

“Do you feel any better?” you ask quietly.

He nods solemnly. “Better than when I arrived.” he said with a shrug.

You frown but don’t press, you push his hair back again giving him a reassuring smile.

“I’m a good listener if you ever need to talk. Promise.” You hold out your pinky finger in the childish gesture of a pinky promise.

Spencer finds himself smiling, finding it charming. Regardless of his problem with germs, it doesn’t feel so intense with you. You’re not a stranger anymore. He hooks his pinky with yours.

“Not now.” He whispers. “But someday...”

“Someday.” you reaffirm.

The one about family

Spencer’s surprised to see that you’re not working one random night in November. He knows that, of course, You can’t possibly be working every single night he comes in. It just throws him off when he doesn’t see you immediately. The sunshine woman behind the bar making him a new sickly-sweet coffee to try. You’ve only ever missed one day max two, so he doesn’t think much of it. Just a blip on his night.

One night without you suddenly turns into half a week. Every day Spencer walks in and it’s not your bright bubbly voice greeting him. It’s one of the handful of people who work the late-night shift. They aren’t strangers, Spencer’s ran into a couple of them occasionally. So, when Spencer comes into the bookstore to see, yet again, Robert, manning the front desk lazily flipping through a magazine, his mild frustration turns to worry. You've been gone for four days and none of your coworkers seem to know why.

What if you’re sick? What if something happened to you? Did you take a vacation? What if you’re in danger?

The thoughts consume Spencer so much he almost calls Garcia to track you down. Or at least give him your address to check on you. He pulls himself together and realizes that it would be a bad idea and an invasion of your privacy. He’ll just have to wait it out.

Spencer does wait, mostly because he’s forced too. The BAU never truly stops working.

When he finally sees you again it’s near the tail end of November and way too close to Thanksgiving for his liking. He feels like you've been gone for ages, but it’s only been two weeks. The door chimes behind him as he walks in, he’s expecting to see your eyes light up with a smile on your flushed pink cheeks. The way you’ve always greeted him.

Instead, he sees a side of you that he’s not used to at all. You look tired, exhausted. The dark circles under your eyes could compete against his natural ones. You’re wearing glasses which he’s never seen on you before. Her hair is haphazardly tied up, and You're in a large well-worn sweater that reads, ‘Read Banned Books’. He doesn’t think you've slept much, if at all, since he last saw you.

You look like a zombie, barely functioning.

You don’t even register Spencer enter; you're standing at the checkout counter finishing a transaction with a customer. You're swaying on your feet the whole time.

Spencer lets you finish the interaction before coming over to the counter, concern clear on his face.

“Y/N?” He says your name softly as he approaches.

Your eyes fly up to him and widen a little in surprise, your body reacts with a small flinch. “Oh god Spencer!” You give a soft laugh, your hand coming up to clutch your chest, “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.” you try to calm yourself down.

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and Spencer can tell. It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re not yourself. Her eyes are only half open, your hands shaking from what he can only assume is the obscene amount of caffeine you probably have in your system. Everything just seems muted, not the bright colors he used to see you framed in.

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve been gone for a while.” he prompts, trying to get something out of you. A clue to what might have happened. Anything.

You shake your head, “I’m fine, everything’s fine.” You said it a little too quickly.

Spencer doesn’t buy it, but he’s kept enough secrets to himself to know he probably shouldn’t go looking into friends’ private lives. Some things he knows he’d rather keep to himself... but seeing you like this, he wants to help.

You avoid his eyes and start to play with your hands on the counter. “I-” you open your mouth but promptly shut it again. You bite your cheek with a frown plastered on your face.

“Sorry, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” you said quickly before turning to grab some books from behind the desk to busy yourself with.

You don't want to talk about or think about it. It’s been a long two weeks, and you just need some normalcy. Something that you know you can do and enjoy.

You feel Spencer’s eyes burning into you. You try to keep your usual high energy, you truly do. Everything has been so rough this month; you just need a break. The bookstore was your one solace. The Midnight Owl wasn’t just a job, it was your home. Your safe haven.

You didn’t want to bring your real life here, not when sometimes your only highlight is seeing Spencer and sharing books back and forth. If he starts asking about your life outside the four walls of your shop, you don’t know if you can hold yourself together. Not today.

“Y/N,” he opens his mouth trying to get your attention again.

“Really Spencer, it’s fine, I’m fine!” you tell him, a short tone to your voice.

You spin on your heels to walk somewhere, anywhere, else. “You know I have your book actually, let me return it. I left some notes in there.” You make it five or six steps before you falter and sways again. Spencer reaches out to grab and steady you.

“Forget the book, you don’t look fine.” He makes you face him. “You look exhausted.” He chastises you.

You deflate immediately and let Spencer guide you to a chair. He gently sets you down and he pries the book out of your hand and places it on the side table.

“Sorry, you don’t have to take care of me.” you murmur feebly swatting him away. “I just...” You take a deep breath. “I had to take dad to the hospital on Tuesday and it’s just been downhill all week...” you admit timidly. You pushed your glasses up to your hairline and pressed the heels of your palm to your eyes.

“I haven’t gotten much sleep.” you admit.

“You’ve run yourself ragged.” Spencer lowers himself to be eye level with you. “Is he home now?” he asks gently.

“No, they’re keeping him one more night.” you said with a heavy sigh.

Your arms fell in between your knees, and you lean your head back exhausted. “It’s just been hard this past year...” your voice is small and lingers with sadness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked hesitantly.

Spencer maybe doesn’t like talking about his hardships, but he’ll listen to yours if you let him. He wants to desperately ease your mind, see you smile.

You look up at him, eyes wide as you assess him. “I don’t want to put my problems on you Spencer.” you give a tight smile. “I’ll figure it out.”

Spencer reaches out to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Talking about it doesn’t mean that you’re inconveniencing me. I'm just worried.”

You sigh, already feeling him chip away at you. You didn’t stand a chance against his big doe eyes looking at you like you were fragile.

You take a deep breath before answering him, “My dad has ALS, he was diagnosed a few years ago... I’ve been taking care of him.” you admit.

“Where we were, the doctors just weren’t cutting it. So, I did some research and of course there were stellar doctors in DC... plus my baby sister came here for university so I just thought... maybe it would be easier. On all of us.” The tone of your voice gives your worry away.

“Anyway, he just, he had an accident and fell down the other day. His legs are finally giving out and he’s being so stubborn about needing a wheelchair.” Your voice shakes and you close your eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” you finally admit looking up at Spencer with watery eyes.

Spencer understands. He’s spent most of his life taking care of his mom because of her own illness. While your dad is suffering from something different, he understands. Probably more than you realize.

“I get it, I do.” he said. You go to retort, but he cuts you off. “I took care of my mom for a long time. She...” He pauses looking at you, debating for a moment on if he should tell you.

“My mom has schizophrenia, and I committed her when I was eighteen.” he tells you with a tight frown.

“It’s hard to take care of your parents, especially when it’s their job to take care of us.” He tells you sincerely.

You have tears pricking your eyes, “Oh Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’m telling you this because I understand. I promise I do, it’s not easy.”

You take a shaky breath; your heart feels like it’s a thousand pounds. “Does it ever get easier?” you ask softly.

Spencer squeezes your hand, “No, it doesn’t. There are happy moments though. Moments where you know you’re doing the right thing, even if it’s difficult.”

You sniffle and wipes your face, “Thanks, I uh, I needed that.” you said with a small smile.

It’s getting closer to Christmas. The bookstore is decorated and busier than ever. There’s a handful of special events but between people coming in to buy presents and university students staying all night to study for finals, you have your hands full.

There’s a second staff member working nights with you this month until the holiday break starts for the store. You and Josie were adamant about closing the bookstore between Christmas Eve and New Years. If someone needed a book that badly they could go to a big box store.

What you really don’t need right now is your baby sister coming to your place of work and harassing you about Christmas and your dad.

“Bridget, I don’t have time to discuss this with you right now!” you hiss out at your younger sister. “You didn’t spend Thanksgiving with us and daddy really wants you to come home just for Christmas.” you chastised your sister with a frown.

You have a pause in customers for the moment, but you know that the large study group is coming in half an hour like they have been for the past week and half.

“That’s not fair Magpie!” your sister groans in frustration using your nickname to try and be sweet. “I made these plans months ago; Mark really wants me to spend Christmas with his family.”

You cross your arms and look at your sister sadly. “Birdie, we don’t know how much time we get with dad-” you start but is cut off.

Bridget’s face scrunches in disgust at her sister’s words and huffs exaggeratedly. “Good god Y/N! He’s not gonna die over the holidays, stop fucking guilt trippin’ me over every decision because it doesn’t revolve around dad!”

Bridget’s annoyed and you can tell, she always tries to skirt around her problems when she’s frustrated. She thinks you’re trying to back her into a corner.

“Birdie-”

“It’s Bri. I go by Bri here.” Her sister crosses her arms and looks at you in annoyance.

“Look, I know dad’s sick, I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were Bridget.” you said defensively.

She rolled her eyes, “I didn’t decide to pack everything up and move dad out to DC. Just because you’re closer doesn’t mean I’m going to stop living my life to take care of daddy.”

You bite your tongue. Trying to not fight with your sister, but your irritation rises in your throat. Burning words of resentment linger in your mind.

“Fine. Would you please just call him on Christmas and please come by after the New Year. He really misses you.” You try to plead with your sister.

Bridget just waves goodbye as she walks out the door, “Will do. See you next year Magpie.” she almost ran out the door.

You deflate, your shoulders dropping. You almost don’t hear Spencer walking up next to you holding a gift bag in his hands.

“I didn’t know your sister visited you.” he said.

You look up at him and smile at your favorite regular. Your friend. You think they’re allowed to call each other friends now. He already saw you cry and that was a big step.

You shake your head, “Yeah, we’re not as close as we used to be.” you mumble under your breath.

Spencer nods his head. He never had any siblings, but he can read your face well enough to know you’re not thrilled.

“Still close enough for nicknames, Magpie?” he asked, biting back a smile.

“Childhood nicknames, Birdie and Magpie. Cause we were birds of a feather.” You said looking down at your hands sadly.

“It’s fine.” you shrug it off and give a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. You lean against the counter. “What’s that you got there?” you asked, changing the subject.

You’re pointing to the gift bag in his hands. You tilt your head curiously.

“Oh, this is,” he flushes for a split second rushing his words out. “This is for you. I know you’re closing for the holiday soon and I don’t know if I’ll have a last-minute work call or not so., I brought your Christmas present.” He fumbled through his words quickly, but he held out the small bag.

You light up immediately. Your eyes shimmer with excitement. “Aww, Spencer! This is so kind thank you!”

You bend down below the counter and grabs your own item, “I actually have your present too.” you said shyly, handing him a wrapped package.

Spencer is quiet as he gently takes the gift from you, a tiny smile on his face. He brushes his hair back out of his face as he looks at you softly.

“This is so kind thank you.”

Giddy giggles consume you, and you hold the gift bag. “Should we open them together or do you want to wait until Christmas?” you asked.

Spencer shakes his head, “No no, you can open it now.” He reassures you.

You smile, biting the inside of your cheek and open your present. Under the tissue paper is a sweater that’s twice your size and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever felt. You pull it out and it’s a purple crocheted sweater with a beautiful sun right in the middle. It reminds you of one of the tapestries from the late nineties that would have been in Practical Magic or something like that.

“Oh Spencer, this is perfect.” you say quietly holding it tightly to your chest. “Thank you so much, I love it.”

You pull off your cardigan and immediately shove the sweater on. You nestle yourself inside it and grins widely, “It matches your scarf!”

Spencer just takes in your joy and how you light up, and he’s happy he could make you feel better.

“Well go on open yours!” you said excitedly pushing your wrapped package toward him.

Spencer gently peels back the wrapping paper and uncovers a white box; he opens the box to find a ceramic mug. It's custom made, with some uneven texture. It’s glazed a speckled purple and wrapped around the bottom is a quote, “Some books are so familiar that reading them is being home again.” -L.M. Alcott

Spencer is quietly inspecting it, and you start explaining. You push your hair behind your ear, “I uh, I took a pottery class in my free time this past year. Since you’re here so much I thought you would like your own mug.” you said hesitantly.

Spencer’s eyes widen, “You, you made this? For me?” he asked in surprise.

You nod, looking down at the counter nervously.

Spencer makes his way around the counter and pulls you into a tight hug. “This is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me.” he whispers to you.

You return the hug holding Spencer tightly. You press your face into his shoulder, and you feel infinitely better than how your night started.

When they pull apart you play with the edge of the new sweaters' sleeves, a small blush on your face. “Do you go visit your mama for holidays?” you asked him.

Spencer shakes his head, “Not all the time. My job doesn’t usually care if it’s a holiday or not.” he tells you.

You nod, “Well, I hope you get to this year Spencer. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll try to see her soon.”

You nudge him lightly, trying to keep the tone light, “Want a fresh drink in your new mug?” you tease.

Spencer chuckles but nods his head. “I’d love that.”

“We’re about to test run if I’m actually good at pottery. So, fingers crossed it doesn’t leak.” you joke moving to the cafe counter at the back of the store.

Spencer watches you walk away, with a skip in your step like the first night he came to the Midnight Owl. The way you easily glide through the crowd and chatter with customers and giggling.

You shine bright like a star, like the sun.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #x reader

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ofthecaravel · 1 day ago

Text

Heavy Crown

Summary: Prince Sam's premonition can only be quelled by the presence of his personal guard.

Tags: 18+ content!!!, flowery ass fancy ass medieval adjacent talking, suggestive conversations, minor minor angst

Words: 11k

A/N: Hear ye, hear ye, I do decree that none of you can look me in the eyes ever again after reading this.

~~~

It’s the window that did it, really. At least, that’s what the prince had said.

It was a tall, grand window positioned opposite the bed that slept across the wide length of the bedroom, with heavy velvet curtains that were drawn in the evening and undone in the morning to reveal the shimmering glass. Despite the effort it would take and the noise it would invoke if those curtains were to move, Prince Samuel insisted his guard be removed from his post outside his chamber doors and instead spend his evenings beside the window.

“I have terrible dreams of someone coming through the window and slitting my throat in my sleep,” Samuel explained to his father the king, tearfully clinging to his arm. “I ask David replace Daniel’s post and Daniel stay with me. He’s the only one I trust to handle an intruder if my dreams turn out to be premonitions.”

Of course the king had relented to his youngest child, third in line for the throne and yet the undisputed favorite. Riding the aftershock of a rambunctious rebellious phase that had Samuel turning the palace inside and out when he was a youth, his parents would do just about anything to keep him satisfied and away from the fine china. And so, Daniel of the royal guard ended up sitting stoic and alert in a plush chair in front of the window night after night while Samuel slept.

That is, until the prince started to spend his time in bed talking instead of sleeping.

Talking to Daniel.

It was all very innocent at first. That’s how Daniel remembers it. A week or so into this operation, Daniel jolted from a light doze by the soft bell of Samuel’s voice reaching out to him in the inky black of the room. If it were daytime, he would have passed his time quite quickly admiring the ornate intricacies of the vanity, the trim of the wall, the frame of the bed, the patterns of the quilt, the body beneath them…

“Daniel?”

“Your Majesty?” Daniel startled, getting to his feet in an instant and his hand going straight to the sword on his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s the matter, you can sit,” Samuel insisted, amusement lacing his voice and making Daniel feel suddenly silly for reacting the way that he did, despite it being his duty to do so. “It’s just that I can’t sleep.”

“Oh,” Daniel said simply, sitting gingerly back down on his seat. “Should I request something from the kitchen?”

“Is that what you would do for yourself?” Sam asked.

His tone was odd. Daniel couldn’t quite place its intent. He felt self conscious under Samuel’s scrutiny, which was something the prince seemed to subject him to often. When he stood beside his throne at the edge of the room during court, he could always feel the heat of Samuel’s eyes on him in his peripheral vision while keeping his gaze on the doors and whatever danger may lay behind them. Daniel burned often during court.

“I…suppose I would,” Daniel answered honestly. “When I was young and couldn’t sleep, my mother would bring me milk and a slice of bread and it would make me plenty drowsy.”

There was a moment of silence as Samuel considered his words. Immediately, Daniel worried he had said too much about himself. It felt wrong to mention himself at all in the presence of royalty. Everyone’s lives were supposed to revolve around theirs. Lucky for Samuel, Daniel was more than happy to mold his life to make Samuel’s easier.

“Request this from the kitchen,” Samuel ordered in a bored tone, yawning as he said it. In doing so, he completely betrayed his facade of being far too awake for his own liking, but Daniel didn’t seem to notice as he got to his feet and whispered the demand to the guard outside the door.

After this occasion, Prince Samuel spent every night provoking more and more conversation out of his otherwise silent guard.

“Daniel?”

“You must be up early in the morning, Prince. You should rest.”

“You know I struggle to do so.”

“Your struggle would be helped by an attempt to rest.”

“I’ll have your head for that,” Samuel snapped, but they both knew it carried no weight. “I mean only to ask for your opinion. Or have you risen above matters such as morals?”

“What opinion do you require, Your Majesty?”

“You also know I hate when you call me that.”

“It is what you are to me,” Daniel stated plainly.

In truth, it was more so what had been taught to him. He was reminded often how lucky he was to receive a position with such high honor, and to refer to who he protected as anything less prestigious than they were was entirely unacceptable. Even titles that were within his right to use sometimes felt too intimate for him to be using. Once, when Daniel had first been appointed to serve the youngest prince, he had called him “my prince” and proceeded to feel an uncomfortable warmth in his face for hours after it had left his lips. This was due in part to the stare Prince Samuel had subjected him to after he had said it. It was a stare he felt had never really quite left him.

“Call me Samuel,” Samuel insisted. With a shift in the blue of the night, Daniel could tell he had flipped from his back to rest his pillow on his cheek to face Daniel. “If only in my quarters, call me that. If you resist, I will order you to.”

“What opinion do you require…Samuel,” Daniel forced out, feeling a strained heat in his body as he made himself speak the name. It felt so wrong. Salacious, somehow. He was not meant to know his protectee in this way. He was not meant to want to know his protectee in this way.

“At the ball we will host this coming weekend, do you recommend I wear my robes of blue or red?” Samuel asked, pleased by Daniel’s subordinance. “I’d like to wear my crown as well, if that changes your opinion in any way.”

“This may be a question best suited to your tailor,” Daniel replied, despite having an immediate answer in his head. “I don’t know much in ways of fabrics and drapery.”

“But what do you prefer? On me?”

“I prefer whatever you feel flatters you best.”

Daniel felt everything the prince wore flattered him best. He could walk the castle grounds wearing robes stitched together with curtains and rugs and Daniel would still think of it for hours.

“You are impossible, Daniel,” the prince whined, loudly flipping onto his back once more and disrupting the goose down pillows and mattress that cushioned him. “If you are not suited to answer such simple questions, I ask you fetch David from outside the door and-”

“The red,” Daniel cut him off quickly, bristling in his seat. “I recommend the red for you.”

There was a span of silence that seemed like forever to Daniel as he felt the smug satisfaction drifting from Samuel reach him from across the room.

“Thank you for your council, Daniel,” Samuel hummed. “Now I can rest.”

“Rest well…Samuel,” Daniel answered him.

If it were easy to see, you could’ve seen both their smiles in the dark.

After a lifetime of being told of the untouchable power and dominion the house of Kiszka held over their kingdom, and even those that stretched far beyond the sea, it felt somehow dangerous to bend to the friendship that was forming between him and the youngest prince. When Samuel’s prodding questions turned into rambling, these mythical figures that Daniel had sworn his autonomy to were stripped of their mystique and glory until they were simply people. With Samuel’s words, a king and queen that bowed the heads of nations and dropped members of the court to their knees turned into overbearing parents whose strongest arsenal held only embarrassing nicknames instead of weapons. The steely eyed general of an army, a cunning strategist, and a charitable princess were reverted to mischievous children united against their youngest brother, armed only with peach pits for tossing and sticky hands made for pulling hair. Samuel spent his time on the outskirts of royal importance mapping their lives and their trajectory. And now, as Daniel slowly warmed up to him, he finally had someone to report his findings to.

“My father has spent another useless afternoon in talks with the high court from that prissy kingdom in the mountains about a bride for Joshua,” Samuel announced one evening as he smoothed his quilts and Daniel took his post in his chair. “I know he’s first in line, but we all know he’s just going to keep scaring those poor girls away as he always has.”

“Joshua would make a fine king,” Daniel responded. As weeks of chatter turned into months, he had reclined from a tense posture to a casual lean, even allowing his legs to cross comfortably. He did it then, massaging the back of his sore neck with a hand while Samuel fluffed his blankets with snaps of the wrist.

“Yes, but he doesn’t want to be a ‘fine king’,” Samuel sighed, taking advantage of the warm light the still lit candles cast through the room so he might make proper eye contact with his guard. “He’d rather spend all day drawing his maps and goofing off with his men. Honestly, I don’t even know what they all actually do. We haven’t needed to “strategize” for anything in years. We’re a peaceful people!”

Daniel hummed thoughtfully and nodded sagely, carefully keeping his mouth shut. Daniel knew well what plans of action that the royal guard appointed to the eldest son often carried out, but he decided it was not his place to relay that to his little prince.

“I will share a sentiment of mine if you swear not to repeat it,” Samuel proclaimed, finally settling his legs under the silks and fine Egyptian cotton while keeping his back to the carved headboard.

“There is nothing I would not swear to you, Your Highness,” Daniel answered solemnly.

“There are times when I feel this whole system with its relation to my family and our kingdom is just so…”

The prince trailed off, tilting his head to the ceiling and thinking. Daniel used this beat of quiet to admire him without shame or quickly darting eyes. The low, pensive slope of Samuel’s eyebrows over his foxlike eyes, down to the straight descent of his nose and the sculpt of his lips…all of it invited Daniel in.

“The monarchy, I mean. Well, I can’t say I care for it much most days.”

Daniel blinked in shock, jolting out of his haze and twisting at the hip to face the prince head on.

“But you are so favored,” Daniel responded, taken aback by Samuel’s words. “There are legions who would give their lives for the power you hold.”

“They can have it,” Samuel grumbled. “I know if my brothers and sister were here, they would agree with me. When Joshua is king, I pray he fulfills the rearrangement we all crave.”

“What is it you crave?”

Samuel fell silent and turned his gaze to Daniel, who received it with a slow intake of breath through his nose and a neutral expression as the prince’s handsome eyebrows tensed almost pleadingly before smoothing out. It was an exchange that lasted only a moment, but it struck a tightly strung chord in Daniel as Samuel let out a weary sigh.

“I wish my siblings and I could trade our roles,” Samuel admitted, shrugging loosely and smoothing his hair with a graceful hand. “Jacob would happily play king if Joshua gave him the title. He has so much respect from our people as it is, and I know they would feel secure under his rule. Joshua could keep his affairs inside the castle the way he prefers…or perhaps his duties could take him to neighboring kingdoms and he could gain their favor that way. He’s sweet with his words when he wants to be. His diplomacy could take us far.”

“I suppose that would leave you to switch duties with your sister the princess,” Daniel joked. He watched curiously as Samuel’s face flickered with what looked like the beginnings of a smile, but he quickly turned his face towards the shadowy corner of the room that slept to his left.

“There is already not much difference between our positions,” Samuel carefully answered. “With my brothers in line before me and little chance of war ever knocking on our doors, what is left for me? Correspondence I do not understand, taxations I hate to enforce, audiences with counsels in languages I struggle to speak. Veronica would thrive with these responsibilities, I’m certain of it. If I could gift it to her, I would. With lace and bows.”

Daniel frowned sympathetically as the prince became lost in thought, drawing a knee up to his cheek and resting his head while Daniel watched over him and considered his perspective.

To Daniel, Samuel’s life had always seemed like the ideal hand anyone could be dealt. He had never considered the unsavory clauses in the contract of his life, and he felt almost cruel for it. The princes and princess were ever opulent and commanding when he had been in their presence, but as Daniel observed the youngest prince, he couldn’t help but think that he looked small. Vulnerable. He didn’t know that was something a prince could be.

“If there was anything I could do to change things,” Daniel began, his voice low and measured as he carefully worked through his response. “I would do that for you. For all of you. Many long for the control you wish you could shed. Forgive me for finding it strange to hear these sentiments, but I swear to never repeat them. Rest easy knowing this.”

Samuel was quiet for a minute longer before turning his eyes back on Daniel. His face was rosy and smiling in the low light. The weight of his lashes cast shadows that trickled down his cheeks.

“And may you rest easy knowing your kindness does not go unnoticed,” Samuel replied softly.

“I would be a fool to be unkind to you, Your Highness.”

“There is control you hold, Daniel, when you address me. Or have you forgotten?”

“My apologies. Samuel.��

Samuel grinned and began to scoot down under his blankets, happily bundling himself up as he beamed at Daniel across the room.

“Keep up with your kindness and someday I will let you call me Sam. Until then, you can call me your friend.”

Daniel startled while Samuel bid him a quiet goodnight and turned away from him, sinking into the mattress and sighing peacefully as Daniel’s face began to simmer with recognition. He strode around the room and extinguished the candles, pondering their conversation as he fell back into repose on his chair, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes against the needling slivers of moonlight that ventured through the curtains.

To call the prince by a nickname felt overwhelming. Their friendship washed over him in cold waves, and he choked on its implications until the hours of the early morning. The thing that truly worried him was not the weight of their comradery. It was the fact that he wanted more.

“You amuse me, Daniel.”

“For what reason is it tonight?”

“Months now you’ve watched over me in my chambers and yet you still sit so far from me.”

“Is that not the purpose of my presence?”

Samuel grinned impishly at Daniel’s back as he kept it turned to allow Samuel to put on his nightclothes without audience. At first, Daniel had waited outside as he dressed, but now they had picked up a habit of Samuel having Daniel follow him directly from the parlor after dinner and making him face the wall patiently while they chatted. Which Daniel did with no qualms, of course, but that didn’t mean his neck and ears didn’t flush with anxious heat as he thought of the prince undressing within arms length of him. Even in nightclothes, Samuel was always covered head to toe, leaving much to the imagination. Daniel had begun to admit to himself that he imagined more than he found suitable for someone in his position, and it filled him with deep, dark guilt.

“You are exceedingly tall, I do not worry about you getting to the window in record time if the occasion arose,” Samuel hummed as he buttoned his shirt. “Your legs would carry you quickly.”

“Where would you prefer me to keep my station, then?” Daniel asked, somewhat nervous.

“Sit in the chair beside my bed,” Samuel demanded coolly, flouncing over to his bed and taking a moment to run his fingers over the red velvet chair that sat near where his head would soon lay. Daniel met his eye with a look of level headed surprise, but Samuel only smiled innocently as he cracked his neck and crawled under the covers. Daniel hesitated, but started his stride to the spot beside the bed despite it. Samuel frowned and held up a hand well acquainted with attitude.

“Ah, my candles?” the prince requested sharply, rolling his wrist to gesture at them. Daniel froze once more, waiting until Samuel made a little “shoo” motion to do his round around the room to extinguish them, feeling that same panicked warmth beginning to twist his stomach into confused knots. This change of routine was odd, but wasn’t the entire situation? Perhaps there was nothing to be divined from Samuel’s sudden appeal.

In the bed, Samuel watched Daniel as happily as he always did when he bowed to his every demand. His happiness was layered with a familiar, often caged stirring that he also felt when watching his loyal guard. He had decided a week in advance that it would not be left caged much longer. Samuel tried not to betray his excitement and contradictory apprehension as Daniel turned back to him and their eyes met.

“Oh, the day that I’ve had,” Samuel lamented as Daniel approached him and cautiously sat down, already feeling shaky from the proximity. “I’ve begun to think I’m unwell from all the worrying I’ve done.”

“You’ve looked well enough,” Daniel offered optimistically.

“I don’t feel well,” Samuel groaned, dramatically smacking the back of his hand against his forehead. “Tell me, Daniel, do I feel warm?”

With the small amount of moonlight peering in, Daniel was able to see the prince’s glittering, expectant eyes looking up at him as he removed his hand and seemingly waited for Daniel to replace it with his own.

“I’m not permitted to touch any member of your family unless it were under emergency circumstances,” Daniel explained clearly. “But I can tell you that if I were to, I wouldn’t expect to feel any warmth that would warrant concern.”

“Daniel,” Samuel whined, playing with the intonation of his name in a hushed, low voice that sent a refreshing chill through Daniel. “Tell me, who do you see in this room? It’s only me, isn’t it? And I have no reason to make a report of any kind when I’m the one requesting your aid. Now, would you please?”

Fighting to keep steady, Daniel placed a careful hand on the prince’s forehead. Samuel closed his eyes at the contact and smiled with such pride it bordered on lechery.

“You feel very normal,” Daniel appraised, allowing himself the pleasure of letting his hand rest for a moment longer than he felt was appropriate. When his muscles twitched slightly and he was reminded of just what he was doing, he went to lift his arm. However, Samuel’s hand was up in a flash to cover his own and press his palm flat against Samuel’s skin.

“Keep it there for a moment longer, if you may,” Samuel whispered. “It is the first comfort I’ve felt all day.”

“What has kept you in such a state of anguish?” Daniel asked, desperate to distract himself from the drunken feeling that was seeping into him through Samuel’s touch. His hand on Daniel’s was a reminder of his humanity, as well as the startling reality that this person Daniel tended to and thought of day in and day out was capable of not only being touched, but wanting to be touched.

“My father, as always,” Samuel griped, his eyes still closed but his dark brow crinkling in distaste. “He is hardly elderly and far from ill, and yet he’s begun to invest more and more of his time into arranging prospective brides and suitors for my siblings and I to hold an audience with. It is simply maddening, all this talk of travel and weddings.”

“You do not wish to be wed?” When Daniel asked it, he heard a glimmer of hope in his words that drove his guilt deeper through him.

“To a stranger? A stranger that I will be strung to for my entire life? A stranger who I must treat well or potentially risk breaking an allyship with an entire foreign nation? I would never wish for that. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. I’ve always wished to marry for love.”

Samuel breathed out a pitiful, longing sigh and his thumb began to massage the back of Daniel’s hand, who stared at the sight as if frozen to where he sat. It was a misplaced attempt at self soothing by the prince, Daniel decided. He decided upon it mostly to avoid further cluttering of his thoughts. And cluttered they certainly were.

“Perhaps you will find love with your princess,” Daniel offered soothingly. “Many in your position do. Besides, it’s not as if you would be able to find love with anyone within the palace walls that would be permissible for you to marry.”

“I know this,” Samuel replied darkly, suddenly bitter and sharp as his thumb ceased motion. “Am I not allowed to wish?”

“Of course you are,” Daniel replied, relenting in an instant. “I am truly sorry for-”

“No apology is necessary,” the prince cut him off. He opened his eyes and turned his doe eyed stare on Daniel. “You are right, after all. Forgive me. My headache is making me cruel.”

“You’re never cruel,” Daniel murmured. “Not to me.”

The sentiment was well placed, but ultimately untrue. In the years he had served alongside the prince, Samuel had never shied from lighting the short fuse of his temper in his presence and basking in the praise Daniel would lay upon him in an attempt to quell his tantrums. As Daniel thought about it, he thought of how it had been a while since Samuel had dealt him an outburst. Before this instance, it had to have been months. What had been subduing him?

A minute passed in silence. Samuel’s grip on Daniel’s hand weakened and for a moment, Daniel wondered if he had begun to drift into sleep. He wondered how long he could stare at the dreaming face of the sleeping prince before it felt sinful. However, Samuel let out a huff and spoke once more.

“There is so much I don’t understand,” Samuel sighed, mournful and serious. “To talk of it for hours on end has sent me spiraling. I’m nearly afraid when I think of my wedding night.”

“You should hold no fear towards it, Your Highness. I think it’s a night to look forward to. What would make it so terrible?”

“Simply that I don’t quite know what I will do when the door is closed and I am alone with my new bride. I don’t know what I will do when we are supposed to finalize our wedded duties and…consummate the union.”

Daniel felt the air leave his chest and he dearly wanted to remove himself from the room entirely as the imagery of Sam’s words began to unfurl and spin in Daniel’s mind. What made it all the more excruciating was the physical rise in temperature he felt under his palm. It sizzled somewhere inside Samuel and reached out to him. Daniel sent up a prayer begging for the prince to stop looking up at him the way he was, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I trust your advisors will arrange an education for you before the time comes,” Daniel managed to say, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “You shouldn’t worry about that at all. Think of the ceremony and-”

“I don’t trust those stuffy clods to know what happens,” Samuel continued on, glossing over Daniel’s smooth attempt to change the subject. “It will all be so clinical and calculated as their lectures always are. I will leave more inept than when I began. I’m told consorting outside of conjugal relations occurs far more frequently in the kingdom than it ever does inside the castle. If I were to be the one to decide, I would want someone of a more common class to teach. To show me.”

Daniel stared at the plain cuff of his sleeve resting against Samuel’s hair as Samuel tilted his head towards him ever so slightly, his grip on Daniel’s hand applying a pressure so light that anyone who was not so attuned to it may not have even noticed. But Daniel noticed. He noticed nothing else. He breathed only through his nose as he attempted in vain to pull his usually very clever brain out of its state of bewilderment at Samuel’s peculiar behavior.

“Perhaps you can have it your way,” Daniel answered meekly. “You could have it arranged.”

“I am permitted most things if I play my hand right, but my parents would never allow this,” Sam asserted, a slight gravel dusting his voice. “I’m certain they fear the corruption of my thoughts. They definitely fear that I’ll try to exorcise my urges with those of lower status. It may be too late for that, unfortunately for them.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you speak of,” Daniel murmured, cursing in his mind when he heard his words waver as he spoke. Samuel seemed to catch this and smiled with a feline flirt at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sure you do,” Samuel retorted in a voice just as quiet but twice as assured. “You know which tutor I would request if I were to have things my way.”

Daniel couldn’t find any feasible way to respond to the prince’s suggestive tone. He watched with rapt attention and wide eyes as Samuel turned over onto his stomach and manually moved Daniel’s hand to cup his cheek, closing his eyes as he nuzzled into his palm before looking up at him again with lowered lids and his eyebrows nestled together in undeniable desire. Daniel swallowed thickly as a fuzzy wash of adrenaline blurred inside him at the sight. He found himself unable to look away from the prince despite it being the one thing he knew he should be doing. It didn’t cross his mind once to simply remove his hand and stand away.

As a member of the royal guard, Daniel had been trained to be highly knowledgeable and reliable for countless scenarios that could besiege him or those he swore to defend. And yet, there had been no counsel in matters of temptation, something that seemed frivolous and borderline impossible coming from the royals themselves. Temptation stared up at him now, with parted lips and artfully crafted words that had drawn him in and trapped him before he had the wherewithal to realize how far he had fallen. Daniel thought of the evening when he had told the prince that there was nothing he would not swear to him. If he denied him now, he would be breaking that vow. If he denied him now, he would be denying himself as well. Hadn’t he spent enough time doing that?

“You ask me to advise you?” Daniel questioned when he gathered the strength to speak once more. Samuel smiled, the high apple of his cheek pressing against Daniel’s palm as he leaned into it once more.

“Yes,” Samuel answered, sounding near breathless. “Consider it an education. For this evening, you will act as I will when I have my princess. I will act as the latter.”

“I…don’t know how we would go about this,” Daniel stammered, feeling his throat begin to tighten anxiously as Samuel tilted his jaw and brushed his lips under Daniel’s thumb. “This is already-”

“I’m aware of the circumstances, Daniel,” Samuel interjected, his lips buzzing against Daniel’s skin as he spoke curtly. “I have been aware of them for a while. Too long. A moment longer would feel torturous, if I’m being perfectly honest. And now I have given you this circumstance to uphold your responsibility of fulfilling royal need while also fulfilling yourself, which is a grace that I presume you have not been often given. Now would you please stop acting as though either of our titles or birthright have any kind of meaning to each other anymore and join me where I lay?”

Struck speechless, Daniel wavered for only a moment before obliging the prince as he always did and getting to his feet. In doing so, he finally ripped himself from Samuel, whose expression darkened with upset and confusion before calming as he realized that all Daniel was doing was removing his sword from its scabbard and leaning it against the wall. He unbuckled the scabbard and tossed it on the chair, remaining silent and stone faced as he usually did. Despite this, inside Daniel’s mind, he felt such overwhelming excitement and improper giddiness that it warranted this mask of calm. Samuel grinned with pure satisfaction as he made a show of throwing off the covers and sitting up, patting a space on the bed next to him. Daniel lowered himself to the mattress and stared down at the eager prince, who leaned his thigh against Daniel’s and smiled smugly.

“How wonderful to have you so close,” Samuel hummed quietly, turning his head to the side to appraise Daniel’s face through the cover of night. “You are always over my shoulder or at a distance, it seems.”

“It is not as though this is the first time you have seen me,” Daniel muttered, following Samuel’s cue to keep their voices hushed.

“It feels like it,” Samuel whispered, lifting a hesitant hand to trace the proud slope of Daniel’s freckled nose. “You are exquisite. I shall send you to my portrait painting session next week in my stead.”

“I thought we were to be discussing your education.”

“I thought I made it clear enough that “discussion” would be kept at a minimum,” Samuel rasped, leaning forward slightly and staring unabashedly at Daniel’s lips. “Must you keep playing the fool? Do you enjoy causing your prince such distress?”

“Certainly not,” Daniel answered sincerely. “But I admit I cannot help but feel a great amount of hesitation towards this…indulgence. There will be consequences.”

“There is not an earthly soul I would speak of this to,” Samuel insisted, shifting forward further so that he could place a firm hand on Daniel’s chest. “I haven’t even prayed for it. It has lived inside of me only in dreams. There is no one who would know but you and I, and it shall stay that way if you keep it from the ears of the guard.”

“The guard stands post outside your door as we speak,” Daniel reminded Samuel, leaning in as he spoke in urgency. “And he especially has sharp ears, which is why he holds the position he does.”

“The guard has been relinquished from his post for the evening,” Samuel whispered, his dark eyes sparkling wickedly with clandestine glee. “My father was informed this morning that my anxiety has been quelled enough by your presence to warrant this.”

Daniel was astonished by this admission. His eyes worked their way over Samuel’s face, which was painted with growing licentious pleasure as he continued further into the space between them. Daniel’s cheeks burned with a furious mix of shock and sudden, inexplicable appetite.

“You have made me your concubine,” Daniel seethed with searing heat of inextinguishable and undetermined source.

Samuel held his fiery stare for an agonizing amount of time before moving. Samuel’s hand on Daniel’s chest smoothed over his collarbone and shoulder before finding purchase behind his neck, where he gripped and pulled Daniel forward until their noses slid side by side and Sam’s lips fluttered against Daniel’s when they moved once more.

“I have made you my king,” Samuel hissed fiercely, his words rushing over each other as they spilled out. “I have languished over you, an act truly unbecoming of a prince, wouldn’t you say? I spend every day mourning your absence and every night gratified by your presence. Do not dare speak of my feelings towards you when you know so little of their depths, Daniel.”

“Surely you can’t have ‘felt’ this way for long.”

“Since the day of my 18th birthday and you knelt and swore your life to my family. To me. You looked up from your knee and I have not known peace since. From that day on, you have stayed at my back like the sun on my skin and remained in my mind like a hymnal I cannot forget. How can you not know this? How have you not felt it?”

“How could I?”

Samuel let out a frustrated breath and removed his grip from Daniel’s neck, sitting back slightly and petulantly pushing his hands against Daniel’s chest in annoyance. A breath of bottled relief trembled from Daniel’s throat as he watched Samuel’s tantrum, unresponsive to the prince’s irritation as he attempted in vain to absorb all of his revelations. The warmth of Samuel’s face against his own was still at the forefront of his mind, where Daniel was certain it was never to stray.

“How could you not feel it? Half of my days are spent trying to catch your eye. Did you think I only meant to distract you from your surveillance?” Samuel snapped.

“It is what is accomplished in doing so. You have always been terribly distracting,” Daniel confessed. It felt wrong to say, but Samuel’s expression lifted ever so slightly and Daniel watched his pout rise to a delighted, slightly smug smile.

“As are you,” Samuel responded. His hands on Daniel’s chest relaxed and he suddenly seemed shy of their presence against the linen. He gingerly curled his fingers into his palm for only a moment before flattening them and smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric dotingly.

“Why do you think I mean to shift my duties when my brother comes to power? There is no time for them when my head is filled with such dreams,” Samuel murmured wistfully. His brow was still knit as if in the throes of his grievance, but his voice was newly bashful. Daniel, slowly becoming emboldened by Samuel’s words as well as being blinded to the reality that lay outside the door, finally found the strength to reach for the prince. His hand rose and allowed a single finger to remove a stray wave of mahogany hair from Samuel’s cheek and tuck it behind his ear. Samuel froze at the contact and stared up at Daniel in wonder.

“You keep saying you have these dreams that torment you so,” Daniel began, continuing to push back the prince’s hair with a gentle hand. “And yet you’ve told me nothing. Please…tell me.”

Samuel looked at him longingly for a second more before leaning into Daniel again, his arms going around his neck and Daniel’s own impulsively moving to Samuel’s waist. There was a flurry of reflex and motion as Daniel clumsily pushed himself back further onto the mattress and the prince ended up on his lap, clinging to Daniel wildly as his lips went to his ear. In order to speak, he resisted the urge to bite.

“It matters little if I’m asleep or sitting on the throne. In these dreams, we are far from dynasty and these ridiculous rules that keep me from you now,” Samuel purred, his longing tone sending nettles of adrenaline biting at Daniel’s insides.

“We ride horses during our days and sit beside one another for meals, with no qualms of hierarchy to keep us apart. Then, at night, we make love like the Greeks.”

Samuel’s sentence ended in a heavy, drawn out whisper that echoed in Daniel’s ear. Samuel drew back slightly to observe the way Daniel’s eyes fluttered shut and his lips pressed to allow a shaky swallow pass through his throat. Daniel’s long, wide hands held the length of the prince’s hips, and Samuel enjoyed the flicker of unintentional pressure that pulsed through Daniel’s fingers.

Daniel’s face was tense with emotion and thought but entirely unreadable. Samuel’s body became alight with nerves as he worried himself into a stupor that he had done what he was so scared of doing, which was driving his beloved guard away from him and all of his heavy, silly feelings. He knew he had come on strong, but he hadn’t been able to conceive of a way where he could tell Daniel what he thought and not tell him absolutely everything.

“I have known you all my life, Samuel, and yet I am realizing there is so little I know about you,” Daniel finally said. There was a dreamy fascination to his deep voice that made Samuel’s nerves flutter again, but in a different sort of way. Daniel’s head tilted and one black eyebrow arched as he regarded Samuel, and Samuel felt his hips tightening involuntarily as he fought not to adjust himself on Daniel’s lap.

“Even after all the time we’ve spent in these chambers when you were meant to be resting and I was meant to be alert, it seems there is much about you I’ve never known. You enjoy little deceptions is what I have realized just now, hearing you speak this way to me.”

Samuel’s eyebrows raised listening to Daniel. Part of it was the haughty royal blood running through his veins beginning to boil at the audacity of someone daring to call him out, but another part of it that was well acquainted with this royal attitude was secretly thrilled that he was being seen by Daniel.

“If your sexual education has been so lackluster it warrants guidance with hands and not quills to parchment, you would not know of the Greeks and their habits,” Daniel pointed out with the beginnings of a smile. “Certainly not enough to fantasize about it day and night. It makes me wonder about what other little lies have brought me to you in this way.”

With all his years of repression and dissatisfaction, Samuel found his mouth hanging open as he panted with anticipation, his needy hands coming up to clutch Daniel’s slightly stubbled jaw and tilt it to align with his own. Samuel needed more than anything to kiss him, but Daniel spoke again before he could strike.

“May I ask one thing?” Daniel requested with a voice so gravelly and soft it could not be heard even mere inches away from where they clung to each other.

If either of them had been paying attention to anything besides the feeling of the other’s erratic heartbeats joining where their chests rested only centimeters apart, they may have realized this was the first occasion where Daniel had requested something of Samuel. A subtle reclamation of power that would aid him in hours to come.

“You may,” Samuel permitted.

“I took post in your room because of a dream so intense that you spoke of it to the king and insisted that I was your only reprieve. Were there really any ever nightmares of assassins? Or when you spoke of intensity, were you speaking of these dreams you’ve just told me of?”

Samuel leaned back to gaze at him fully, anchoring himself with his hands still on Daniel’s face as Daniel’s hazel eyes kept post on Samuel’s mouth, awaiting an answer in whatever form it came.

“No nightmares,” Samuel breathed, feeling rare shame as he admitted it. “I only find nightmares when I think of my life as it is planned out for me, the same way I find dreams when I think of life as I have planned it for myself. When speaking falsely of nightmares, I secretly spoke these dreams to life. At least, I hope I did. Do you suppose I did?”

“Perhaps,” Daniel answered mysteriously. “But we’re not in that realm of reality right now, are we? I recall your ‘lesson’ for this evening was that I was to play the prince and you were to play my princess. Or do you not want that anymore?”

Samuel’s last string of restraint holding him back snapped and he used his grip on Daniel’s jaw to pull their lips together and melt into the desperate, fiery kiss he had dreamed of since the day they had met. Samuel’s lower back reacted innately and arched lightly at the contact, and Daniel’s fingers dug into his clothed skin as they moved together in awkward, blissful harmony.

While they kissed, Samuel’s mind was following the plots of a hundred, preplanned daydreams that all ended in similar fates of him tangled in bedsheets. Daniel’s mind, on the other hand, was entirely blank. His mind couldn’t begin to paint pictures when his focus was kept solely on the shivering, heavy breathing royal that bruised his lips and pulled at the thick hair nearest his scalp.

“Call me that again,” Samuel begged breathlessly when they had no choice but to break for a breath of fresh air. “Call me what I am in your arms.”

“I will do whatever you ask of me,” Daniel sighed, one hand smoothing down Samuel’s thigh and holding the back of it. “My princess.”

Samuel, betraying the lasting legacy of his intimidating, affluent ancestry, burst into flushed giggles and buried his face in the crook of Daniel’s neck. Daniel let out an airy little laugh of his own and nuzzled his nose into the silken hair by Samuel’s ear.

“My funny little princess,” Daniel hummed. “Spoiled, funny little princess who loves to deceive. I’m left unconvinced you’re prepared for the ways of the Greeks, so I’ll count that as another deceit.”

“No fair,” Samuel lamented, his voice muffled by Daniel’s linen tunic. “Don’t you think we should try nonetheless?”

“As your advisor, I must recommend we begin on a much smaller scale,” Daniel whispered, planting a kiss against Samuel’s hair and squeezing his waist. “We’ll start with having you lay down. Simple enough.”

“I do not want ‘simple’,” Samuel whined further, swinging his leg off of Daniel’s lap and theatrically dropping sideways to land with his head on the pillow. “But I suppose I will be willing to postpone such extremities of the body if it is what you suggest.”

“You are too gracious,” Daniel teased lightly. He took the time to slip off his shoes and then turned to carefully crawl over the prince, still feeling an immense sense of wrongness at making contact with the expensive quilts and sheets. He felt that all too familiar sliver of panic and unease being so close to the prince. However, the returning awareness of the precariousness of the evening quickly faded as Daniel’s face came to hover over Samuel’s, who stared up at him with naivety and his bottom lip tucked gently between his teeth. A sight like this was enough to remind Daniel that he would risk losing his head if it meant getting to see Samuel like this for even a single second more.

“You have me laying now,” Samuel whispered, his cool hands rising to hold Daniel’s jaw once more. “What would be the next course of action?”

“I suppose I…” Daniel trailed off nervously, his eyes fluttering as he looked down the graceful throat of the prince and followed it down to the pearl buttons of his nightshirt. “I would undress you.”

“Proceed then,” Samuel grinned giddily. “We are lucky indeed I have no petticoats and corsets for you to strip me of.”

“You will certainly struggle more than I on your wedding night,” Daniel murmured as he hesitantly began to undo the buttons of Samuel’s shirt. His breath came in sharp shivers as the thoughts of Samuel with another person came in stride with the unveiling of the prince’s smooth skin under his hands.

“I will struggle because it will not be you I’m with,” Samuel replied with a frown, looking down at Daniel sitting back on his lap to finish undoing the last of the buttons and pushing the thin fabric off of his shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Samuel took in a shaky breath when Daniel’s fingers hovered along his waistband, but he watched with curiosity as Daniel’s face flickered with conflicted emotion before removing his hands and bowing his head to press a kiss to the bony crest of Samuel’s collarbones, who received the touch with a smothered sound of surprise. Daniel continued kissing along his collarbones and chest, taking a pause in his journey to flatten his tongue over the prince’s nipples, looking up to gauge his reaction and seeing only the underside of Samuel’s jaw as he tossed his head back against the pillow and whimpered.

“You are exceedingly sensitive,” Daniel noted calmly, beginning a slow descent past Samuel’s ribcage and down his toned stomach. “Is it forbidden to touch yourself before you’re wed?”

“It’s a sin!” Samuel exclaimed, propping himself up on his elbows to face Daniel properly, who looked amused by his sudden outburst. “It is no conjugal matter. You mean to say you do?”

“Who is there to see it happen?”

“God!”

“If He was so insistent on punishing me for a sin as egregious as you make it seem, He would not have blessed me with such ecstasy as you,” Daniel whispered, keeping his eyes on the flushed prince as he kissed just under his belly button. Samuel let out an unbelieving huff of air, allowing one hand to weave itself in the raven dark curls of Daniel’s hair as he shook his head.

“I have laid with a devil,” Samuel muttered, a little breathless as Daniel’s sharp, freckled nose dragged along his skin. Daniel chuckled softly and the hot breath on Samuel’s skin drew another involuntary noise from Samuel, causing him to cringe slightly with embarrassment.

“There is no part of this exchange that is free from what others may define as ‘sin’, fair prince,” Daniel remarked. “But ‘sin’ is only what we make of it. I fear it is often confused with pleasure, which is, in truth, the farthest thing from what I find sinful. But if you so desire, we can pray after all is said and done.”

“I will decide then,” Samuel insisted, trying hard not to pant as Daniel’s chin pressed against his waistband. “As for now…”

“Ah, yes, your lesson,” Daniel smiled, sitting up once more. “Now, when the time comes, matters of anatomy will be quite different, I hope you know.”

“You think yourself funny,” Samuel groaned, rolling his eyes. “I know quite well.”

“A skilled teacher always checks,” Daniel joked, his fingers now ghosting over the raised lap of the prince. “A pity, truly, that you will not be met with the beauty I know lies under my hand now.”

Samuel flushed and watched with the heartrate of a hummingbird in flight as Daniel looped his thumbs and began to slowly tug down Samuel’s pants. Before his straining member could meet the cold night air, Samuel found himself reaching out and grasping Daniel’s wrists, who looked at him with a startled expression and rosy cheeks.

“Do you not think the princess would attend to her prince first?” Samuel asked hurriedly, trying not to sound desperate and finding himself unsuccessful as Daniel’s eyebrow arched curiously. Daniel blinked once before smiling slowly and looking down at where Samuel held him by the arm.

“I suppose it would matter whether the princess felt the obligation,” Daniel started, flicking his forest eyes back up to Samuel’s before finishing his thought. “Or if she felt the want. There is a world of difference between the two sentiments.”

“She would want to,” Samuel answered, releasing his grip on Daniel and leaning in slightly to deliver a look of insistence. “This, I swear. The prince would be crazed to think otherwise.”

“I always feel crazed in your presence, it cannot be helped,” Daniel breathed. He sealed the distance between them with another fervent kiss before pulling back and getting off of the bed, standing tall as a cliff’s face in comparison to the seated prince, who stared up in wonder as Daniel began to remove his shirt.

“Well, I could have helped with that,” Samuel complained with a pout. Daniel laughed and fully pulled his top off, revealing his broad shoulders and a dark scattering of hair across his toned chest. Samuel’s pout quickly fell at the sight, his dark eyes widening ever so slightly as another one of his dreams came to fruition before his very eyes. Daniel shrank slightly under his gaze as he usually did, but after Samuel reached out mindlessly to brush his fingers against the muscles of his stomach, Daniel found some confidence stored deep inside.

“If you had helped, you would have dawdled,” Daniel accused, tossing his hair off his shoulder with a flex of his neck as he began to unbutton his simple black pants. “And I trust my princess would want her spoils sooner rather than later, would she not?”

Samuel only nodded in response, feeling incapable of answering with words that would keep him anywhere close to his princely status. Daniel smiled at him fondly as he allowed his pants to fall, leaving him in only his undershorts, which kept his now distracting erection barely covered as it left its outline along the thin, white fabric. Spoiled as ever, Samuel had a hand on it the moment it was freed. He gave one, slow, curious stroke of his hand, allowing soft skin to slide along his palm and wrenching a fluttering groan from the back of Daniel’s throat at the sensation and sight. Daniel inhaled sharply as Samuel’s jaw hung open, staring unabashedly at the length.

“I will admit I now understand your urgings to proceed with caution,” Samuel stammered. “I will no doubt require an…adjustment period.”

“I will see to it personally,” Daniel purred, taking hold of Samuel’s chin and raising his eyebrows at him encouragingly. “But we mustn’t worry about that tonight. There is much to be done if we are to beat the sunrise.”

Daniel prepared himself to return to the bed, but before he had the chance to move, Samuel dipped his head to purse his lips against the flushed head of Daniel’s cock, leaving a chaste kiss and wrenching a strained groan from Daniel’s throat. The hand on Samuel’s chin swam swiftly into his hair, holding him still so that Daniel was pulled forward into the hot velvet of Samuel’s mouth. Emitting a slight gag, Samuel looked up with watery eyes as he panted around Daniel’s length, finally dragging his tongue along the underside of it and feeling butterflies of affirmation as Daniel’s head fell backwards with a sigh.

After a few minutes of cautious soothing with his lips and tongue, Samuel leaned back, wiping a small stream of spit off his chin with the heel of his palm.

“Is this alright?” Samuel asked with a slight crack in his voice.

“If it’s not enjoyable for you, you can use your hand,” Daniel instructed through shallow breaths. “Or we can turn attention to you, if you think-”

Samuel answered him by returning his mouth to Daniel’s cock, smiling when he breathed in and allowed further passage into his throat. Daniel resisted the urge to toss his head and stare up at the gracious stars to thank them for bringing him here. Instead, he kept his eyes on the prince and his eager if adorably clumsy pace, enjoying the slow bob of his head as he suckled gently.

“Have you practiced this often in those dreams of yours, Samuel?” Daniel rasped, feeling disappointingly close to finishing. He wanted to stretch this perfect blue night as long as he possibly could before it felt entirely greedy. With his mouth still firmly attached, Samuel gave a slow nod, his head pushing forwards and back with the motion of it and causing Daniel’s eyes to roll into his head reflexively. He thought of Samuel sleeping mere feet from him for months on end dreaming of occasions such as this and reveled privately at the thrill it gave him. Daniel felt almost powerful, and found himself thrusting into the prince’s mouth, who responded with whimpering gags and tears beginning to glimmer in his pale waterline. Had it been only an hour ago, Daniel would have dropped to his knees in a moment at the sight of Samuel in tears. But now, he found it shockingly erotic.

“You’ve practiced well,” Daniel breathed, nearly unable to speak as all of his senses became lost in the warmth of Samuel’s mouth. “You betray your “innocence” again with your knowledge.”

The prince’s gaze met Daniel’s as he slowly pulled off of him and Daniel registered an amused flicker in the amber of Samuel’s eyes. To Daniel’s surprise, Samuel had no snappy retort to deal in retaliation. Samuel simply kept his eyes firmly on Daniel as he steadied his breathing through flushed, swollen lips and nuzzled his cheek against Daniel’s cock.

“My apologies,” Samuel finally rasped with a creeping smile. “If you were anyone else, you would understand the lengths that someone would go to get you close.”

“How close would you like to be?” Daniel teased, heart racing so fast he feared it would burst before he got to unwrap his regal present entirely.

“Closer,” whispered the prince, turning inwards to deliver one last kiss to Daniel’s erection before rising to his feet and pressing their bare chests together. “Much closer. Deeper.”

“I told you to wait for that,” Daniel grinned against Samuel’s lips, which were brushing against his as the prince’s hands grasped his exposed waist and smoothed up and over his ribs. Under Samuel’s graceful fingers, Daniel’s skin was as soft and hot as the first rays of sunlight on Samuel’s pillow in the mornings. The prince swallowed thickly at the sensation, losing himself for a moment at the thought of greeting Daniel in his undressed state between sun warmed sheets.

“I don’t want to wait,” Samuel grumbled for the millionth time as he spoke into Daniel’s mouth.

It was clear he was beyond sullen that he wouldn’t be getting the Grecian love he had so hoped for, and while Daniel always found Samuel’s persistence and lamenting overwhelmingly endearing, there was a flicker of irritation inside him at having to repeat himself so frequently. There was so much of him that was still terrified to speak sharply to the prince, but then he became assured in the remembrance that this evening was free of consequence for him. Daniel’s hand snaked around the small of Samuel’s back and drew Sam even closer at his request, keeping Daniel’s member trapped between them in a self made chamber of warmth and reactive muscles.

“When you stand as I do, you will have just as little tolerance for any incessant needling from your princess,” Daniel murmured in a firm hush as he watched Samuel’s eyes widen from his words and the new presence pressed against his stomach. “You will respect my authority on this matter, do you understand me? You will wait and you will air no more grievances about it.”

“I understand,” Samuel answered hurriedly, his voice as weak as Daniel could ever imagine but his tone was enthusiastic in a way that spilled over into the shaking urgency of his hands as they dug into Daniel’s flesh and pulled him into a steamy kiss. Samuel followed an instinct and opened his mouth against Daniel’s to dip his tongue in, whimpering softly when he felt Daniel smile. Enveloped in warmth, Samuel needed more.

“Daniel,” Samuel whined as Daniel’s mouth traveled across his cheek and along his jaw. “Lay with me. Test my patience no more.”

Instead of answering with a sharp tongued quip like he wanted to, Daniel bowed to his whim and placed a firm hand on Samuel’s chest to gently push him backwards onto the plush mattress. He, too, could wait no longer. With eyes closed and tongues shyly lapping at each other, they managed to maneuver themselves under the blankets and Samuel went as limp as a rag doll to assist Daniel with sliding his pajama pants off. With them both entirely exposed, Daniel lowered himself further down onto Samuel’s body and grinned wickedly against Samuel’s lips when the prince sighed into his mouth at the relief of their skin touching so solidly. Without even meaning to, Daniel’s hips reacted and gently ground into Samuel’s own narrow hips, jolting Daniel with a silken electricity that reminded him that he had neglected to get a good look at the prince’s own erection.

“Look at you, princess mine,” Daniel rumbled with a smile, straightening to sit with his knees pressing against the backs of Samuel’s thighs and admire the sight before him. “Divine, are you not? There’s no breath left in my chest.”

Samuel simply stared up at him as he panted for air, his eyes alight with a greedy gleam and his thick hair already frazzled and clinging to his neck and cheeks in sweaty rivulets. He looked desperate and, for the first time, wholly unroyal. With Daniel’s hand between them, they made eye contact and Daniel was struck by Samuel’s needy humanity. Daniel curled his wrist over Samuel’s slim cock a few times as he glided his fist from shaft to tip, which wrenched out a chesty groan from behind Samuel’s clenched teeth. But knowing what he knew about Samuel, he abandoned that venture quickly in favor of another proper demonstration. Samuel answered this with a frustrated outcry, grabbing at Daniel’s hand to attempt to replace it from where he’d removed it, but Daniel pulled away. He was to be Samuel’s teacher, after all. There was no time to waste.

“As I said prior, there will be a difference in anatomy,” Daniel explained breathlessly, skimming his hands up and down Samuel’s slim thighs. “I will attempt to remedy this to the best of my ability to aid in my teaching.”

“Please,” Samuel weakly responded. “Hurry. You torture me.”

“You are theatrical,” Daniel teased, guiding Samuel’s legs so his thighs pressed together and were drawn halfway up to his chest. “This will be far from torturous.”

Samuel propped himself up on his elbows and scrutinized the odd position Daniel was holding him in with his dark eyebrows drawn together and his flushed lip in a pout.

“Most unusual,” Samuel commented snidely. “And how would you say this-”

Before Samuel could continue his chiding comment, Daniel rose slightly and pressed the tip of his dick between Samuel’s thighs, clamping them together impossibly tighter around his length as he slid it along the supple furnace of the prince’s skin. In doing so, he found that when buried to the hilt between the prince’s thighs, he was sliding alongside Samuel’s own flushed cock. They both sighed moans of appreciation at the touch and Daniel flexed his hips backward to retrieve himself from Sam, pulling out entirely only to spit in his palm, soothe the saliva over his cock, and then return it to the valley he’d created for himself and their aching lengths.

“God,” Samuel whimpered through a shivering groan. “You are His mercy.”

“Is it too much?” Daniel worried as he struggled to halt the quickening pace he was setting for himself. Samuel let out a harsh bray of a laugh and his head fell back.

“Not enough,” Samuel complained haughtily, tensing his thighs and making Daniel swallow a squeak at the ecstasy of tight muscle. “Are you always so gentle?”

“Would you prefer me to not be gentle?” Daniel asked with an arched brow, leaning further over Samuel so that the tips of their noses were touching. “Consider it a test of what you’ve learned thus far, and since you know so much already, your Majesty, I expect you to answer correctly. Tell me: what would the princess most prefer?”

“He’d prefer it faster,” Samuel whispered, wearing a mischievous smile and daring to reach out his rosy tongue and lick across Daniel’s bottom lip. “Much faster.”

“He?” Daniel questioned with amusement, his tensed hips aching for movement but feeling unwilling to give the palace brat what he wanted too quickly.

“He,” Samuel confirmed, his own brow arching in a mockery of Daniel’s. “There will be no princess but I. I’m going to steal you away before they even get the chance to try and find me one. You have my word on that.”

“Steal me away to ride horses and sit side by side?” Daniel echoed with a cocky grin of his own, stealing Samuel’s words from when he’d been sat in his lap.

“Yes,” Samuel giggled in affirmation. “Not only that. We can watch the sun set over the hills. I could even sleep in your arms. Perhaps we’ll do all of those things for a very long time.”

Daniel’s stomach tensed in a different way then, twisting with longing so strong that he felt his heart reaching for Samuel’s own as their chests hovered over the other. They stared at each other for a moment that seemed to reach so long that it sent them out of time and space; into their own pocket of the world where seconds passed so slowly that they had nothing to do but study the face of the man they were beginning to love.

“I would like that,” Daniel replied softly. “Very much.”

“Wonderful,” Sam smiled, hands coming to rest on Daniel’s jaw. “Don’t forget to make love to me first. Or have you forgotten?”

“How could I?” Daniel purred, drawing his hips back and then forward so he could slide up against Samuel’s cock nice and slow. “When you feel this good? Never.”

The prince replied with a broken moan and cried out when Daniel began to thrust enthusiastically, fucking his thighs and member subsequently as Daniel’s ragged breaths moistened his lips and sent his head spinning. Samuel reached as best he could from his position and his state of mind to pull the covers up higher over Daniel’s waist and back, adding lustrous fabric and humidity that dewed on their skin deliciously. The friction, the weight of Daniel all over him, the drip of sweat into his mouth and rolling along his chest, the untouchable high of getting what he wanted…

Samuel was drunk.

Struck dumb.

And, in a moment’s time, cumming hard and hot on his stomach with his eyes rolled into his head and his nails digging into his guard’s shoulders. Daniel took note of it immediately, unable to look away from the mess the prince had made for them both to enjoy. He watched it trickle and glide against the flush of his own erection, providing a delicious new sensation as his thrusts grew erratic to signal the beginning of the end.

“Sam,” Daniel choked out, letting out a follow up gasp before coming to a shaky halt and spilling into the pool of cum that Samuel had already made. Samuel went entirely slack and sunk against the pillow and mattress, uncharacteristically calm and quiet as Daniel’s arms struggled to hold him up any longer and his breaths punched out in raspy huffs.

Blindly, Samuel reached out to the side and pulled a richly embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of the pajama shirt he’d long abandoned in favor of his carnal lesson. Ever the prince, he weakly held it up for Daniel, who took it from him with a chuckle and laboriously wiped down Samuel’s stomach. Samuel plucked it from his fingers and dramatically tossed it to the side, into the dark of the room that seemed to rematerialize around Daniel for the first time in what felt like ages. With his head clear and his dick softening, he remembered where he was done. What he’d just done.

And then, before he began to spiral in the expanse of reality crashing down on him, Daniel felt a tender hand reaching for the soft hair at his temple and fingers sliding against his scalp soothingly. He looked back down at the prince and was overwhelmed by his beauty; Samuel with his half lidded eyes and ruddy cheeks seemed to be somehow glowing as Daniel drank in the sight of him. His prince. Samuel’s dreamy smile lingered as he stared into Daniel’s dark eyes, expression slowly growing somber and contemplative as he continued to trace loving rows through the waves at Daniel’s right temple.

“Daniel,” Samuel breathed, his devotion as evident as if his name were a prayer. “Get me out of here.”

Daniel inhaled steadily, the heavy blanket of protectiveness he harbored towards his little prince bearing down on him then like the hand of justice choosing him as its weapon. At first he said nothing, instead leaning down and pressing an impassioned kiss against Samuel’s accepting lips. He let the kiss stretch on, welcoming the quiet warmth of Samuel’s tongue in his mouth and humming at the comfort. Then they parted and Daniel spoke, his vow relayed in a low and serious tone.

“I swear,” Daniel promised. “Soon these will be all our nights. This, I swear.”

After a few minutes of convincing, Daniel agreed to settle into the bed and hold the prince until he fell asleep. Daniel kept him flush against his chest and waited what seemed to be only a moment or two until Samuel was breathing steadily, his closed eyes darting around in a dream. Daniel couldn’t resist kissing his sleeping face with featherlight touch and tracing the bridge of his nose as Samuel had done to him earlier in the night. Silently vowing again that someday soon, Samuel would wake up in one of his dreams, where Daniel would be waiting with open arms and a racing heart. Daniel would honor the promise he’d made to his prince time and time again and deliver exactly what Samuel demanded of him.

No matter the consequences.

~~~

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