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doumadono · 11 hours ago

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Warnings: fwb, finger fucking, period s*x, mentions of blood

Synopsis: navigating your period is never a walk in the park, especially with Dabi, your usual source of comfort, off base. Fortunately, your other friend with benefits is available. The question lingers - will your boss be willing to help ease your anxiety?

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The dull ache had been gnawing at you for hours, twisting deep in your stomach and making it impossible to get comfortable, no matter how many times you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders or curled up smaller on the couch. You’d tried everything, maybe a little bit of everything at once, hoping that something - anything - might finally distract you from the constant cramping that made you restless, edgy, and worse, needy. That feeling always came with the ache, twisting at you with a constant want to feel something warm, something grounding against your skin.

Dabi, your usual go-to for comfort during times like these, had vanished again - off on one of his mysterious escapades. Bastard. He was off God knows where, doing who knows what, and while you wanted to curse him for vanishing at the worst possible time without even letting you know, your mind was already drifting to the only other person you trusted for this sort of comfort.

Tomura Shigaraki. The leader of the League of Villains, and your second friend with benefits.

His door was slightly ajar, a faint blue glow casting just enough light to outline his silhouette. Shigaraki sat splayed out on the bed, his room dim, save for the flickering screen that illuminated his focused expression. His hands moved expertly over the controller, his gaze locked onto the game with an intensity that made him seem unreachable - detached, in that familiar way.

You lingered in the doorway, feeling the dull ache low in your stomach pulse, the discomfort pulling at you. “Boss…” you murmured, stepping in quietly, letting the door click softly shut behind you. You padded over, slipping under his arm, tucking yourself against him as you nuzzled into his chest. His familiar scent washed over you, grounding you somehow, and for a moment, you just stayed there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing as you sank into his warmth.

Shigaraki shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the controller, and gave a low, exasperated sigh. “What is it?” His voice was low, his eyes still fixed on the screen, and though he hadn’t yet acknowledged you fully, the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a piece of his attention that was aimed at you.

“Hurts,” you mumbled, pressing closer, your voice soft, barely more than a whisper. You buried your face against his shoulder, letting out a small whine. “Feels tight, uncomfortable. And Dabi isn’t around, so…”

A low chuckle escaped his lips, and he finally tore his gaze from the screen to look at you, his eyes gleaming with pity. “So you came to me because he’s not around, huh? What am I, second best?” he teased, though his fingers were already tracing along your waist, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “You’re interrupting my game.”

You pouted, curling against him tighter, your hand resting on his chest. “Can’t you help me just a little, boss?” Your voice was a soft plea, needy, and you could feel his chest rumble with a low chuckle as he set the controller aside, finally giving you his full attention.

“Help you, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, his fingers reaching up to trace along your hip, teasingly slow, his gaze wandering over your face, studying the faint flush in your cheeks, the way your eyes lingered on his mouth. “And how exactly am I supposed to help with that, Y/N? Indeed though, you look like you’re suffering,” he added quickly, his voice rough and low, a hint of amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. His fingers brushed along your exposed thigh as your skirt rode up, careful, as always, to keep one finger lifted. “Funny though. Dabi is busy, so you come crawling to me. Look how pathetic you are, Y/N.”

You bit your lip, giving him a look that was both pleading and lustful as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Pretty please?” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw, feeling the tension there as you let your lips linger. “It’s just cramping. I’m on my period,” you managed, feeling a wave of embarrassment rush through you, but he only narrowed his gaze, studying you as if you were some puzzle he wanted to solve.

“I guess I can help with that,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips, his hand trailing higher, his fingers ghosting along the waistband of your plain skirt.

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, the heat pooling low in your stomach twisting into something that made your whole body tighten with anticipation. “Tomura, but… I’m bleeding,” you reminded, your voice barely a whisper, half-expecting him to recoil, but instead, he only smirked, eyes darkening as he leaned in closer.

“Doesn’t bother me,” he replied, his tone laced with a dark, playful edge. “Blood never has.” A soft hum escaped him, his tone mocking, but there was a spark of interest in his eyes. His fingers pressed into the small of your back, guiding you forward with a firm, steady pressure, until you found yourself sitting on his lap, your back against his chest, his hands settling on your thighs. His grip was steady, demanding, and he leaned forward, his voice barely above a murmur as his breath brushed your ear. “Need attention that badly?”

Your heart pounded, cheeks flushed, but you felt yourself nodding, letting your arm drift up around his neck. “Maybe…” you managed, leaning back against him, feeling the press of his chest against your back, solid and steady.

His fingers kneaded the soft flesh of your thigh, slow and purposeful, sending a wave of heat through you that made your muscles tighten. His gaze flickered down as he watched your clothed pussy after he yanked the hem of your skirt up once more, his tone dropping to a murmur. “Then spread your legs wide f’me, like a good whore you are.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you obeyed, shifting so your thighs opened slightly on either side of his, giving him access.

“Good girl.” His voice was a low murmur, edged with satisfaction, and his hand trailed higher, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers trailed along your inner thigh, tracing slow, lazy circles that made your breath catch, each touch sending sparks through your body. “Look at you,” he murmured, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he let his fingers drift higher. “Already desperate, aren’t you?” His calloused hand slipped between your thighs after he yanked the hems of your skirt up with the other hand, his touch rough yet cautious, the warmth of his fingers spreading as he traced gentle circles against the sensitive skin of your pantie-covered mound.

Your breath hitched when his fingers slipped beneath the silky fabric of your panties, warm and rough against the softness of your folds, already covered in a slick arousal mixed with blood, and it was impossible not to tense under his touch.

Shigaraki worked slowly, drawing it out, the pads of his fingers pressing in against your pussy lips just enough to make your body react - an involuntary clench of your tight hole around nothingness that sent a rush of heat to your face. You glanced away, but he seemed to notice every single shift in you, the way your breaths were coming quicker, shallower, under his attention.

His smirk was faint but unmistakable, an almost lazy satisfaction that he let settle between the two of you. “Warm,” he claimed matter-of-factly, and there was something about the way he said it that made the room feel even smaller, his voice scraping low and rough. His fingers brushed your panties aside, exposing your glistening pussy to the chill of the air for just a moment before his hand covered your slit again. He took his time, tracing a line up and down the slick slit with an infuriating slowness, his eyes never leaving your face as his fingers explored with an intensity that made your whole body start to tremble. He used his index and middle finger to spread your labia, smirking wryly as he spotted your hole clenching rhythmically. “Fucking whore. I bet you’re tight too, aren’t you, sweet rose?”

You swallowed hard, feeling your face heat up, a pout already forming as he kept that steady, infuriating pace. “It… it’s uncomfortable,” you mumbled, voice catching as his fingers pressed harder against your lips.

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against the skin of your neck as he watched a pink-tinted, lucid mucus effused out of your tight hole. “Cheap whore. You’re dripping wet. Spread your legs wider f’me.”

Before you knew it, you had one foot on his bed, and the other lazily hooked over his left knee, showing off your glistening pussy so openly and lewdly that you felt like you were doing a porn shoot. Your entire attention was focused on the way he stroked and caressed your slick labia.

Tomura’s finger probed your opening which was already wet with anticipation, then traced back to the top, caressing your swollen clitoris again. He repeated this motion, tracing down, probing you, picking up your slick, thick wetness, and trailing back up to caress your clit.

“Now, tell me where it hurts.”

You whimpered, feeling your legs start to tremble as his finger slipped inside your wet, tight pussy that easily opened to welcome the much wanted intrusion. The long digit was stretching you, filling you with a deliberate fullness that made your head spin. “Right… right there, boss,” you whispered, clutching at his knee with the free hand, feeling your body tighten, a warmth blossoming in your core that sent jolts of pleasure through every nerve, so the only thing you could do was to buck your hips more into his rough palm.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled softly, placing a faint kiss to the column of your neck as you rolled your head back, his fingers moving faster, rougher now, his control slipping as he watched you come undone beneath him. “So desperate, and all that just for me.”

You were moaning like a whore as Shigaraki’s fingers fought the slippery friction of your cunny grip as he slowly finger fucked your hole.

Carefully, the white haired man curled his fingers downward and rubbed the tender underside of your pubis with soft, circular strokes. “That’s it, bitch,” he praised.

You could feel yourself getting closer, the pleasure building, overwhelming, and he seemed to sense it, too. You whimpered as the muscles in your back, shoulders, arms, and ass tensed. “Oi, Tomura!”

He chuckled, his free hand gripping your titties through your tank top, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, his pace steady but relentless. “There you go, bitch,” the leader of the League of Villains praised, his lips grazing the column of your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as his fingers curled, pressing against that perfect spot that made your body tense, and your breath hitch.

“Faster, faster,” you pleaded, grinding your hips so you rubbed your slick pussy lips against the heel of his rough palm.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” he continued, his voice a low growl as his fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing against your clit, tapping it a few times, sending jolts of pleasure through every nerve in your body. “Maybe next time, you’ll think about coming to me first.”

White haired man slipped another finger inside your bloody cunt, stretching you painfully as your core was super tight due to the period and cramps, filling you with a pure lust that made you gasp, your body arching as he pressed deeper, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clitoris. He grinned at your reaction, his finger curling inside you, hitting that perfect spongy spot that made your muscles clench, made your entire body tremble. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, adding yet another finger, pumping them in and out with a steady, deliberate rhythm that left you panting, your hips moving in time with his touch. He watched you, his gaze dark and hungry, a look of pure satisfaction crossing his face as you were falling apart beneath him. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact his protective glove was getting wet with your juices and blood.

His pace grew relentless, a rhythm that made you call out his name, on and on. The only sounds echoing around you were your soft mewls, a breathless symphony of pleasure, mingling with his low, breathy grunts. Each time the heel of his hand met your slick labia, it created a wet, lewd sound that punctuated the air of his bedroom.

You tried to close your legs when a massive orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling, but Tomura kept your legs open. He held you close, his fingers still moving slowly in and out of your abused hole, drawing out every last tremor, until you were left mumbling incoherently, breathless, completely undone in your boss’ lap.

You turned your upper body part in his arms, placing kitten kisses to his cheek and jaw, silently thanking him for relieving you.

When Tomura finally pulled his hand away, he looked down at the faint traces of blood mixed with cum smeared on his fingers. His nasty smirk widened.

Your body was still trembling, your mind hazy with pleasure as you watched Shigaraki, your breaths shallow as you tried to regain your composure.

But then, his eyes met yours, dark and steady, as he raised his hand to his mouth.

Heat flooded your cheeks, your heart racing as he brought his long fingers - slick with your arousal and faintly stained with traces of blood - toward his mouth. He paused, inhaling deeply as if savoring the scent of his quarry, embodying the essence of a predator assessing its prey. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he wrapped his cracked lips around his fingers, licking and sucking them clean, every movement intentional and tantalizing, his gaze never leaving your eyes. He hummed at the taste, palming himself through his pants without giving it a second thought.

You expected a grimace, maybe even a disgusted comment, but instead, his expression was one of dark satisfaction, his tongue tracing his fingers with an intensity that made your stomach flutter, that set your already sensitive nerves tingling all over again. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every last taste, made a soft, shy whimper slip from your lips. You tried to avert your gaze, but it was impossible to look away from him, from that wicked, knowing smirk on his face.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though you could see the amusement in his eyes. “What, did you think I’d be grossed out?” His smirk widened as he leaned in close, his voice a low murmur that made you shiver as he kissed your nose.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and undeniable excitement twist in your stomach.

He didn’t mind. He didn’t care about the blood, didn’t care that you’d practically begged him to touch you. He’d taken it all in stride, and the realization left you feeling both vulnerable and completely captivated by him.

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush as you tried to hide the shy smile threatening to show. The room felt smaller somehow, quiet, and his gaze on you felt heavy, like it held you in place. You could feel him watching you, studying every flicker in your expression, every nervous breath. Finally, you managed, “I… I just thought…”

Tomura cut you off, his voice soft but with that firm, unmistakable edge that left no room for protest. “You thought wrong,” he murmured, his hand resting just above your knee, his fingers brushing over your thigh in a way that sent an unmistakable spark through you. The warmth of his skin, the way his touch lingered, sent your heart racing, pulse pounding loud in the silence. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, the warmth of his breath so close that it made you shiver. “If you’re coming to me for this,” he whispered, each word low, deliberate, “then you’d better be prepared. I don’t do it halfway.”

A thrill settled in your stomach at his words, twisting into something deep, something that left you breathless as his hand drifted higher, thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh. You bit your lip, trying to calm the heat spreading through you, but it was no use. There was an anticipation in the air, a tension that had you leaning in, your voice soft, playful, but with an edge of your own. “Guess I owe you… for helping me out like this.”

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of his eyes on you, the slight quirk of his brow that told you he was watching, waiting.

Without breaking eye contact, you slid off his lap, sinking to your knees on the floor in front of him, one hand finding the bulge that was already building beneath the fabric of his pants. You ran the tip of your tongue along your upper lip.

His eyes flickered, interest gleaming there, the corner of his mouth curving into a look that was more than a smirk but not quite a smile. It was something darker, something that lingered, his fingers reaching out to brush over your cheek, his thumb tracing along your jaw in a touch that was gentle, but expectant before he pressed the digit against your lips, watching you part them for him, sucking the finger in your mouth like a good, obedient whore you were. “Then I’ll be expecting that repayment soon,” he whispered, his voice like velvet, “Very soon.”

tagging: @baby--vera @unhinged-bratty-boy @shonen-brainrot @shionancientsblog @irkedpomeranian @within-eyesight @misafiryanki @cyberrthegreat @grossograsso @krabkornel @roast-toast @arthurbristow @alexandhisstuff @proherodabisballsack

#shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki #my hero academia smut #tomura x reader #villain smut #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x y/n #bnha smut #mha smut #anime smut #divider by cafekitsune #mha shigaraki #mha x reader #tomura x you #tomura x y/n

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100hearteyes · 1 day ago

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I can't get this canon divergent headcanon off my mind: Nicky isn't marked for death at birth.

Instead, when he's born, Rio is right next to Agatha. Not because she has to take him away, but because she wants to be there.

Hours later, Agatha and Rio sit together under a tree, shoulders pressing and foreheads almost touching. They are mostly silent. When they speak, it's all hushed tones and lazy smiles.

Nicky is on Agatha's lap. The exhaustion of pregnancy and labour sits deep in her bones, elated and heavy and hungry, and she knows she will need to feed later. For now, though, she just wants to watch Rio play with their baby's tiny fingers and tickle his tiny feet, Death and new life so entranced with each other.

Agatha is at her most vulnerable, at her most open, her most comfortable and carefree and free. Her voice doesn't even carry that edge, the lilt and inflection that carries so many lies and masks so many truths. Here, with her two loves, Agatha Harkness is all awed whispers and tender smiles.

"We made this," Agatha breathes out, still in wondrous disbelief. She catches Rio's eyes, brimming with tears just like her own, and smiles, before planting a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead. "You and I, my love. We made him from scratch."

And Rio, gentle and loving like she only ever is with Agatha, can't hold in a soft smile as she takes in the flower of their love, so much like the ones she gives Agatha every time they meet — but this one has little toes and chubby fists and big brown eyes just like her own and he lives and he breathes and he smiles.

She wonders how she can be a mother to this creature, this miracle boy, when her job, who she is, already keeps her away from Agatha too much. How will this child grow up healthy and kind when one of her mothers kills witches to live and the other lives to collect their souls? It clutches her black heart, claws digging into it and squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

Until she looks up and finds Agatha already staring at her, and the claws loosen their grip with a sigh and a smile. Today, she can stop thinking. She can just feel the joy of her miracle.

Rio kisses one of baby Nicky's cheeks twice, "One for me and one for your mama."

Tomorrow, when Agatha has sated her hunger and Rio needs to leave, she will kiss her son's rosy cheek twice more.

Today, however, Rio looks at this boy and she can't even make sense of the immensity of the love she feels for him. And she thought that her black heart would not have space for more, what will how full it already was with her love for Agatha — but maybe it has doubled in size, because what she feels for Nicky is just as big and it somehow still fits.

Even as the terror of absence threatens to crawl its way back into her heart, Rio takes comfort in knowing that many days after tomorrow, she will return to her family and she will twice kiss her son's cheek again, "One for hello and one for the next goodbye."

The weight of Agatha's head on her shoulder pulls her back to the present. Rio takes the baby from her love's arms and holds him close to her heart.

Mother and son sleep peacefully, now. Rio presses her lips to Agatha's head, remembering all the hello's and goodbye's they have collected over the decades, and it makes her feel a little more sure that they can do right by Nicky even through the death and the hunger and the absence. Love perseveres.

#idk what just happened and how I just spat out a few hundred words about THIS #agathario #agatha all along #agatha x rio #mine #drabble #spoilers #agatha spoilers #agatha all along spoilers #nicky is alive au

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greensagephase · 2 days ago

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Nonviolent Communication - Part 21

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Día de Los Muertos, year three. Word Count: 11.6k Warnings: possible second hand embarrassment at the beginning; a new character introduced; some Spanish, but translations are in-text; mention of deceased loved ones; fluff and more fluff; face painting due to the celebrations; I think that's all??? 🤭 A/N: Hiii, just want to remind everyone that three new chapters were posted in early October. I know some readers missed one or two because the algo sucks, so check this post out to access all three chapters just in case you missed one! Music Inspo: "Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado" - Eydie Gormé, Los Panchos "Recuérdame (Arrullo)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Lucy Hernández "Remember Me (Lullaby)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores, Libertad García Fonzi Masterlist

Part 21

You look around your apartment, making sure your place looks decent for the hundredth time. It smells good, you know that. Miguel told you so when he arrived earlier for breakfast with you. Unfortunately, he had to leave because you have a guest coming.

With a sigh, you return to your small kitchen to look at the coffee pot and freshly baked pastries you made for the occasion.

Despite spending the night in Nueva York at Miguel’s penthouse, you came back to your own place to bake because you’re expecting a person you never thought you’d be welcoming into your apartment ever again: Harry Osborn.

It’s been some time since you’ve seen him and ever since then, you decided to give him another chance. After debating for so long, you felt that it was right. At least, a part of you does. You have a feeling that neither Miguel nor the rest of the spider gang are happy with your decision because of Harry ditching you when you needed someone the most. You don’t blame them. If you were in their shoes, you’d probably dislike Harry, but well, you’re not in their shoes and you know Harry personally. There’s history with him, all the way to elementary school years. How can someone ignore that? Yet again, Harry did once, you suppose. You ultimately decided to do this for Peter, for his sake.

You figured he’d be open to giving Harry another chance, to maybe find out what happened, though that’s not a revelation you’re searching for right away. You’re sure with time, Harry will share the reason for his abrupt exit from your life. You’ve wondered already what the reason or reasons were, but none of your own explanations make sense. There was never a reason for him to do such a thing; to walk out of your life like you were no one to him.

There were no signs and that’s what made it hurtful, even if you were planning on cutting ties with him anyway when you thought you were doing everyone in your circle a favor by shutting them out. It came out of nowhere, just like your encounter with him that day at the flower stand, and now, you’re waiting for him to arrive to your home once more, so many years later.

You wipe the counter with a kitchen towel, feeling a bit anxious about this considering you’re practically strangers. Sighing heavily, you wish you were either going to be alone for the next hour or so, or back in Nueva York with Miguel at the penthouse.

You look at the spot where Miguel sat earlier during breakfast, the seat now empty. The two of you agreed that it was too soon for him and Harry to be introduced, at least in person and formally, so Miguel left about fifteen minutes ago.

That’s why you’re waiting for Harry alone, even though you wish you could’ve gone through the same multidimensional portal Miguel, who looked equally unenthusiastic about leaving you, opened. He didn’t say anything, but you could see and sense the hesitation. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he had to.

Your cleaning ceases when you hear a knock at the door, realizing Harry is here. Breathing in and then out, you make your way to the door and look through the peephole to confirm. Seeing it’s Harry, you unlock and open the door with hesitation.

In front of you, Harry stares back at you, dressed in a business suit despite the fact that it’s Saturday, the second of November — Día de Los Muertos [Day of the Dead]. You notice he’s holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, but you don’t pay any more attention to it beyond that. Meeting your gaze, Harry offers a small smile, which you return.

Then, at the same time you offer your hand for a handshake, Harry steps in for a hug. He ends up running into your hand, freezing at the formal gesture before backing away in embarrassment.

“Sorry -” you start, lowering your hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that,” Harry apologizes with an awkward smile. He steps back again and then, simply offers the flowers. “These are for you. I was driving by the same little flower stand we ran into the other day, and I thought some flowers would be great since your building is back and running. Well… has been for a bit, but since I just arrived to the states, you know…” Harry trails off.

“That’s thoughtful of you, thank you,” you answer, carefully taking the flowers. “Come in.” You gesture for him to enter, closing the door once he’s inside. You lead the way to the kitchen. “Please take a seat. I have some coffee and freshly baked pastries.”

Behind you, Harry thanks you as he settles on the kitchen counter, taking one of the two chairs — Peter’s, or at least the chair that used to be his. “It’s so great to see you again,” Harry starts as you find a vase to place the flowers in. “I… Thank you for — for calling me back. I know you needed some time to think about it, and I… I’m grateful to have heard back from you. To be here after all this time.”

“I’m glad to have you here,” you answer, giving Harry a smile before continuing to fix the flowers. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re lovely.”

“Of course, I’m glad you like them,” he answers.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Harry replies, prompting you to withdraw two mugs from a cupboard, even though you already had one coffee with Miguel. You carefully pour the fresh coffee and fix some pastries on a plate before placing everything on the counter.

“It smells great in here,” Harry comments, flashing you a grin when you place the mug in front of him. “It always smelled amazing here though, with your great baking.”

You hum and offer a smile, staring at the man you never thought you’d see in this apartment again. Seeing him sitting in front of you, with the rest of the apartment behind him is a strange sight. You can’t help but think that Harry looks out of place, even though there was a time in which he visited this place every weekend. He was once in photos that decorated your gallery wall, too. You swallow subtly. “Thanks. It’s the baking. It’ll make your home smell great for hours. And, the oven will warm up the place — so it’s perfect for the colder months, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s so cozy in here. It always was,” Harry says, looking around the kitchen for a few seconds, observing, or perhaps remembering the days he used to come over.

You’re about to respond with another weak answer when there’s a knock at the door. You both look equally surprise to hear it.

“Are you expecting someone else?” Harry asks, looking over his shoulder and at the door.

“No,” you answer, putting your mug down and walking around the counter towards the door. “Let me see who it is. Might just be a neighbor,” you add, reaching the door. You peek through the peephole, feeling your spider senses act up probably out of the nervousness and awkwardness from this get together. You step back, unlocking the door while looking at Harry. “It’s your… Chauffeur? Butler?”

“Felix?” you hear Harry ask as you open the door to face the older man.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Come in. Is something wrong?” you ask, wondering if there’s an issue.

Brown eyes thoroughly scan your face, as if memorizing it. You remember this is the first time the man has seen you up close, so you disregard his focus on your face.

“Felix?” Harry says, standing next to you now. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgive me, sir,” Felix says looking at Harry to address him before turning to you. “And ma’am. Nothing is wrong. I noticed Mr. Osborn left his wallet at his apartment and decided to bring it to him since he’s driving.”

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I did pick it up,” Harry says while Felix retrieves the wallet from his own suit. “I guess I was a little… Never mind. Thank you, Felix,” Harry continues, accepting the wallet and tucking it away. “Shouldn’t be driving around without a driver’s license, huh?” he asks, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

“Certainly not,” you answer, still standing there, feeling Mr. Felix’s eyes on you. “You don’t want a ticket.”

“Definitely not,” Harry responds. “Thank you, Felix. As always, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Happy to help, sir. I’m sorry for my sudden appearance. I hope you and Ms. Y/N don’t mind the interruption,” the man says, lowering his face slightly as a form of apology before straightening again. “I shall leave you two now and return to my duties.”

“We don’t mind,” you answer, giving him a nod of understanding. “It’s kind of you to have brought Harry his wallet.”

Felix turns to face you, eyes meeting yours. You silently decide he’s about fifty years old or so, based on his demeanor at least. He nods back. “Just doing my job, ma’am, which I take very seriously.”

“Too seriously, sometimes, Felix,” Harry says with a bit of a chuckle, clasping his hand over the man’s shoulder. “He’s a great man, Y/N. He’s been working with me for years and I don’t plan to let him go until he decides to retire, which he states he has no plans on doing, so, he’ll be my right hand indefinitely.”

Offering a smile, you extend your arm to formally greet him, a sight that makes Harry wince internally when he remembers the awkward moment you both had earlier when he arrived. You introduce yourself and shake the man’s hand when he accepts yours.

“Felix. Felix Kerr,” he introduces himself, giving you a firm handshake while holding your gaze. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I have heard nothing but wonderful things about you from Mr. Osborn and his father.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. And that’s kind of you, and of Harry and Mr. Osborn,” you reply, withdrawing your hand and turning to Harry. “We’ve known each other since elementary.”

“A long time,” Harry says with a grin before he remembers that you’re not so acquainted with each other anymore. As if sensing his boss’s change, Mr. Kerr nods at him.

“I’ll be at the apartment, sir. Please notify me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Felix. I doubt I will, but I appreciate it. Careful on your way back,” Harry softly says.

“Will do, sir. Ma’am,” Mr. Kerr addresses you once more, nodding at you before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says as you gently close the door.

“It’s no problem, no need to apologize,” you answer. “You needed your wallet. Please, take a seat. Again,” you say with a soft amused smile, trying to break down the awkwardness. “Before the coffee and pastries gets cold.”

You both reach your previous spots again now that his personal assistant, or whatever title Mr. Kerr has, is gone.

Harry picks up his mug and takes a sip, smiling at you. “It’s great. Thank you for it.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile slightly, twirling a spoon in your coffee. “So… How was your trip? Did everything go smoothly?” you ask, hoping to make conversation, which you succeed because for the next thirty minutes, Harry tells you all about his trip from the elegant and luxurious hotel he stayed at, the food he ate, a brief summary of the business dealings, and what he did on his free time. You try to ask questions to keep the conversation going, showing interest. You figure this is a good way to begin to know the man in front of you again.

“But enough about me. What have you been up to? How was your move-in?” Harry asks once he’s done telling you about the different historic locations he visited on his free time.

“It went well. Smoothly,” you state. “I had to clean, a lot, but it didn’t take me too long.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says nodding, turning on his seat to look at the living room. “You had… help, I hope?”

You look at the living room, not answering for a few a seconds. “Yeah, I did. Thankfully,” you answer simply, not providing any more information beyond that, like how it was Miguel who helped you clean.

Harry hums and stands up, walking closer to the living room, still looking around. “It looks so different,” he murmurs. “Despite the fact that it’s still the same place.”

“Yeah… It’s been some time since you were here,” you reply, opting to keep to yourself that only over a year ago you redecorated the place for the first time. You don’t want Harry to know that you kept the apartment the same for years after Peter’s death, from the furniture to the placement of objects.

“I know,” Harry replies with a sigh, moving to touch the couch. “You’ve changed the couch.”

“I did,” you say, remembering that the old one is still at Miguel’s place in storage. Staring at the new one, you realize maybe it’s time to fully depart with the old one. You haven’t even thought much about it. You suppose it’s true what some people say: out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps much like you’ve been for Harry and him for you. “It was time to replace it, unfortunately.”

Harry nods and turns around, his eyes landing on the gallery wall where photos that included him used to be displayed. Now, there are photos of your new friends. With interest, Harry gazes at them, walking closer.

You watch him carefully, knowing this will be the first time that Harry looks at the entire spider gang and Miguel.

“Are these — Are these your new friends?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” you simply answer, moving so you can look at the photos, too. Your eyes spot the various photos that you left up since you made sure to remove every single photo in which you or any of your friends are wearing their super suits to avoid revealing your super hero identity and raising suspicions.

Harry nods again, his eyes stopping on a photo specifically — the one of Miguel and you with Mayday from New Year’s Eve. “Hm… That little kid again. What was her name again?”

“Mayday.”

“Mayday, that’s right…” Harry trails off, still staring at the photo.

Based on his interest, there’s no doubt in your mind that Harry is wondering about the man next to you in the photo, the one with the little kid on his shoulder.

“Is that her dad?”

“No. That man isn't her dad. Her dad's name is — “ you pause when you almost say Peter's name, realizing it might be weird for Harry to hear that you befriended a Peter after your own. “Benjamin. He's a good friend of mine along with his wife.”

“Benjamin…” Harry hums at that. “Is this ‘Mig’?” Harry asks, reminding you of your first encounter with him at that flower stand after years of not seeing each other. You were grocery shopping with Mayday and after a bit of conversation, Harry invited you to a coffee shop for a drink. It was there that Harry asked about your living situation because he had learned about the fire to which Mayday eagerly replied with ‘Mig’ — unfortunately revealing that you were staying at someone’s place. Thankfully, Harry didn’t prod for answers then. You recall his answer to Mayday’s simple response was that as long as you were safe, that’s all that mattered.

Now, it seems that Harry wishes to know more, especially now that he’s seeing all these new faces on your gallery wall. It must be strange for him, you realize, to see that the people you both knew once — laughed, ate, shared jokes and memories with — are no longer part of this space, and instead, there’s all these new people that are now your family, but strangers to him.

You stare at the photograph, at Miguel specifically. There’s no point in denying, or withholding information when you’ve left all these photographs out. You didn’t want to hide them. Hiding them would mean hiding the people who’ve brought you so much happiness, who have become your family. It didn’t feel right to hide them, the small family who took you in when you were all alone and helped you be where you’re now, not even to protect the feelings of the stranger in your living room who you once knew so well.

“Yes, his name is Miguel,” you finally say, not providing a last name. “And he’s my best friend,” you add, with a firmness and pride that leaves no doubt in Harry’s mind that you mean those words with every fiber of your being.

He turns to face you, tearing his gaze away from the man, Miguel, who seems to be in a lot of pictures with you. He hasn’t failed to notice that, of course. He'd be blind to not notice that Miguel makes up a big portion of your gallery wall.

In fact, the number of photos this Miguel is in, is the same amount as Peter, your Peter.

“Your best friend,” Harry repeats, with that thought on his mind. This man is your best friend, and he along with Peter, make up the majority of your gallery wall. This man is part of the gallery wall just as much as Peter, your previous best friend and lover, is. That thought makes Harry grow still before his eyes flicker to your left hand for a second, as if searching for something. His gaze returns to your face when he finds nothing special, yet the idea doesn’t abandon his head entirely. “I’m glad you have people to rely on,” he continues some seconds later, giving you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though you don’t notice that. “They seem like good people.”

“They are. They’ve been an amazing support system over the last few years,” you answer, turning to the gallery to scan your friends’ faces. A smile, one so warm and gentle, so tender, forms on your face.

“You truly seem happy,” Harry comments, taking notice of the smile. “I’m happy for you.” After a pause, Harry turns to the photos again. “So… This is who you were staying with… This Miguel?”

“Yes,” you simply reply. “With Miguel.”

Nodding once more, Harry turns to face the photos again. His eyes scan every photo with the man. There’s the one with you and him and Mayday on New Year’s Eve. There’s the two of you putting together some kind of furniture piece, which Harry quickly realizes is the new bookshelf in your living room.

The realization leads Harry to register the truth — this man is important to you and ingrained in your life, so much he's helped you build furniture for your apartment’s new look, which seems like a too personal task. A task that only close friends, or a boyfriend, would do. At least, in his mind it seems that way.

Harry continues to look at the photos before his phone begins to ring, startling the two of you. He apologizes for the interruption before taking the call.

Remaining in the same spot, you listen silently. It seems to be about work.

“I’ll be there soon,” you hear him say quietly. “See you in a bit. Bye.”

Hearing him end the call, you turn to face him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes… Yes, everything is okay. I just — I must go. Something came up at work,” Harry says, his tone apologetic. “I’m needed, so I must go now. Being the boss's son sometimes means work on Saturday. I’m sorry for how abruptly I’m departing.”

“That’s alright. I understand. Work is work,” you answer, genuinely. “Do you want some of the pastries to go?”

“I — Do you mind?” he asks, slipping his phone into his jacket’s pocket.

“Not at all,” you say, quickly entering your small kitchen to pack some of the pastries for him. In seconds, you gather a few pieces and wrap them up for him to take. “Here you go.” You hand him the package. “I hope you enjoy them. Maybe you can give one to your dad. Tell him I said hi, by the way.”

Harry takes the package and nods. “Thank you so much. I will. I told him I was coming here, so he knows. He was happy about it,” he says, giving you a smile before you both move to the door. Harry’s strides are long and quick, so much his handkerchief falls to the ground without his knowledge.

You stop and pick up the dark green piece of fabric. “Harry, you dropped your handkerchief.”

“Oh, I didn’t even realize,” Harry says, turning around to take it from your extended hand. He easily slips it back in place. “Thank you. For that, and for the coffee and pastries. And for having me here, in your home.” He looks down at the package with pastries, trying to formulate the words before speaking. Once he gathers his thoughts, he looks up at you again. “Thank you for the chance you’ve given me — You have no idea how much it means to me, Y/N. Thank you,” he gently states, stepping closer and looking at you.

“It was nice having you here,” you answer genuinely despite everything. “I hope you enjoyed the coffee and pastries, and of course… You’re welcomed here.”

Harry smiles slowly at you before he steps closer. “May I… May I hug you?”

You nod slowly, agreeing to it, and that’s all Harry needs. He carefully wraps his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, you hesitantly place your hands on his shoulders from beneath his arms, staring at the ceiling and feeling weird about hugging Harry after all this time.

You close your eyes slowly and think about all the times you’ve hugged your friends, the spider gang, before you think of someone else. Unbeknownst to Harry, you think about hugging that someone else: the man in your photos Harry kept staring at, Miguel.

You frown slightly. You got a hug from Harry Osborn, someone who hasn’t been in your life for years, before you got a hug from Miguel, your best friend.

At last, to your relief, Harry pulls back and so do you. You offer him a smile. “Go. Work calls.”

Reaching the door again and opening it, Harry gives you another smile. “Yeah, I must get going. Thank you again for everything. Be careful alright?” he says, already halfway out, his gaze sweeping over the place once more, thinking about the new look of your apartment and the fact that Miguel helped you — that that man has been here in your home and helped you redecorate it.

“Will do,” you reply as he begins to close the door. “You, too.”

“I will,” Harry says, waving goodbye and beginning to close the door, but stopping at the last second. You stare at each other for a few seconds. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N?”

You nod your head, confirming. “Yes, soon.”

“I’m relieved, thank you. Take care.”

“You, too,” you answer, waving goodbye.

With that, Harry finally closes the door. After a few seconds, you lock it and sigh, leaning on it. That was a bit awkward.

You finally push yourself off the door and clean up the kitchen before you hang the other photographs back on the wall. Over half an hour later, you change into your suit and slip out of your apartment for a quick patrol of your city, trying to clear your mind after meeting with Harry.

You swing around the city for almost an hour, stopping a bank robbery and a petty criminal from stealing someone’s purse in that time span. You eventually travel to Nueva York, where Miguel waits for you at the penthouse.

“Hiiii,” you say, offering a smile to Miguel as soon as you step out into the living room. You find him carefully laying out some of the decorations for his ofrenda [Day of the Dead altar] on the coffee table, preparing.

Hearing your voice first before he sees you, Miguel smiles and turns to face you. “Hey, how did it go?”

You sigh and sit down on the couch. “It went.”

Chuckling, Miguel sits down across from you as well, deciding to take a break to give you his full attention. “Was it that bad?”

“When he first arrived, he was going for a hug and I offered him a handshake,” you confess, feeling a rush of embarrassment at that. You press your hands to your forehead and sigh. “So embarrassing. And awkward.”

Miguel offers you a small smile of understanding, though his interest perks up when he hears Osborn went straight for a hug. He clears his throat. “That sounds uncomfortable. How did you handle it?” he asks, curious to know if you eventually hugged Osborn.

“We apologized to each other, and then, he gave me some flowers he brought,” you state, leaning back on the couch.

Flowers? Miguel watches you lean back, noticing the little get together got to you a bit. He hums, thinking about the interaction.

“We talked for a bit about his business trip over coffee and pastries. He eventually looked around the living room and saw my gallery wall. He asked about you,” you continue to share.

“He did?” Miguel asks, intrigued by that.

“Yes. He remembered that Mayday mentioned a ‘Mig’ that day we ran into him at the flower stand. He looked at one of the photos of you and I with Mayday, one from New Year’s Eve. He asked if you were ‘Mig’ and I confirmed it. I told him your name — just your first one — and that you’re my best friend.”

Hearing you say that, and the way you say it so proudly, brings a gentle blush to Miguel’s cheeks. He smiles fondly at you, elated with the fact that you told Osborn about him. Miguel silently wonders what Osborn thought about him and the rest of your friends, however.

“After that, he said he was glad that I have a support system,” you continue, telling him about the remainder of the get together, including the hug at the end.

The revelation that Osborn got a hug from you after all, leaves a slight pout on Miguel’s lips and a strange feeling he doesn’t have enough time to identify. All Miguel knows is that Osborn seems to have received what he wanted from the start.

“It was a bit awkward, but I suppose it will be like that for a bit, considering we’re basically strangers at this point. It’ll take some time before that feeling goes away. Anyway, I’m glad we had that little get together, no matter how uneasy it felt, and even gladder that I’m here again. I’m so excited to cook and bake, and help you set up your ofrenda,” you eagerly say, standing up.

“I’m excited, too. I started on a few things already to ease the workload. I’ve set up the other pots and pans we’ll be using, the dry ingredients, and the supplies for the ofrenda. I figured it would help since gathering the things takes a bit of time, too. I also finished the filling for the tamales [Latin dish].”

“Gathering everything is a process of its own,” you agree. “Collecting everything, or as much as you can, beforehand, helps so much. You avoid the running back and forth when you’re actually doing the task, and prevents you from entirely skipping a step because you’re all over the place. It’ll make the process run much smoother being organized, especially since we’re doing a lot of cooking! Do you want to start now?” you ask with so much excitement it’s clear to Miguel you’ve been looking forward to this.

“If you want to, yes,” Miguel answers, standing up as well. “But first, I think you might want to change into more comfortable clothing since we’re doing a lot.”

You look down at yourself, remembering you’re wearing your suit. “You’re right. I’ll be right back!” you tell Miguel, already halfway to the stairs.

After changing into far more comfortable clothes — clothes you’ve left in your bedroom, at Miguel’s penthouse — and turning on his record player, Miguel and you begin to work on the food for the ofrenda.

Hominy for the pozole [Latin dish] is placed in a pot to boil along with the necessary vegetables needed for the sauce and flavor.

With that done, Miguel makes the masa [dough] for tamales, so you can begin making them.

As always, you work together with ease. You move around the kitchen in sync, making steady progress while Latin romantic ballads play in the background.

You also open the packages of candy and set them on a tray to later offer to each of Miguel's family members.

Little by little, progress is being made. You reach a point in the cooking that allows you to take a break and have lunch before you both set up the ofrenda, using tables and shelves to give it two levels.

White tablecloths are used as the base before gorgeous and vibrant banners made out of papel picado [pecked paper] with intricate designs cut into it are hanged at the edge of each level. Colorful and handmade sugar skulls are placed throughout both levels along with white candles to be lit later on.

To finish, both Miguel and you add marigold flowers to the ofrenda. They're fresh and so lively, their scent filling Miguel's living room, where he decided to set his ofrenda this year.

While placing a flower down, you find it hard to believe that you’re here now. Three years ago, Miguel showed up to your apartment out of nowhere. Smiling, you recall that evening.

You were doing chores, specifically putting items away where they belonged and laundry. All of a sudden, you sensed a portal and when you stepped out into the living room, there he was, Miguel. He looked around your apartment, probably noticing the autumn decorations before you asked him if everything was okay. You were surprised by his random appearance and even more so because he looked calm, so your guess was that nothing was amiss. Still, you had to ask just in case you needed to change into your suit.

“Are you busy right now?” Miguel asked after he assured you everything was fine.

“I was just doing some chores, so, no…” you replied, unsure of why Miguel was there so late. He was calm and said nothing was wrong, so that meant there was no threat to the multiverse. At least, that was your impression.

After nodding and sighing to himself, he told you his reasoning for being there. “I would like — to show you something,” he said, meeting your gaze.

In the span of minutes, if even that, you were in the lab and looking at Miguel’s ofrenda for his family.

That was what he wanted to show you, his offering and way of honoring and celebrating those who were once in his life, but now gone. By doing so, Miguel also wanted to assure you that your own way of honoring and celebrating Peter was okay — that you weren’t alone. It was a way of reciprocating the vulnerability you had allowed Miguel to see on Peter’s birthday. And since you had made him part of your celebration, Miguel wanted to do the same for you, something that brought you so much tenderness at the time and continues to do so to this day.

Now, three years later, you’re at his penthouse helping Miguel set up his ofrenda again, just like last year. The difference now is that you’re here instead of at the lab because Miguel decided to set it up at home since he spends more time here than he did in the past. You hum softly and place the last flower before turning to look at Miguel just as he adjusts Gabriel's photo.

You smile at the sight. Gabriel, Gabriel O’Hara. How you wish you could’ve met him and Gabby, the same way Miguel wishes you could’ve.

Heck, Miguel even wishes you could’ve met Conchata. Perhaps she would’ve liked you. Perhaps she would’ve done better as a mother and grandmother to Gabby if all three of them were still alive. Perhaps.

You look at each photo before meeting Miguel’s gaze, both your mouths curving upwards into a smile.

“I was thinking,” Miguel says, still smiling, but with a hint of shyness and hesitation. Perhaps it’s too much what he’s about to say, what he’s about to offer. He scratches his neck nervously, his cheeks red. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, or offensive. Or… find it weird, or to be too much,” he continues, rambling without realizing it. “I was wondering if you’d like to — like to add your loved ones’ photos, too?” Miguel manages to ask at last, staring at you sheepishly. He has been thinking about it for days, about asking you, but he kept going back and forth on the idea, and now it’s Día de Los Muertos and you’re both here. Maybe it’s a stupid idea, or too much since it’s about your deceased loved ones. Miguel almost begins to apologize for the bad idea, but then he notices the look of surprise and then tenderness on your face.

You slowly smile at him, a sweet smile. “You’re serious?”

“Yes… Yes, I am,” Miguel gently replies.

“But this is for family,” you state softly, wondering if Miguel has truly thought this through.

Miguel nods and that’s how you realize that he knows, that you’re making his point. It’s for family. He’s offering your loved ones a place on his ofrenda because you’re… Family.

You’re part of Miguel’s family.

“Oh…” you simply answer, a small knot forming in your throat before you push it down by swallowing. You smile. “Are you sure? I mean…” you look at the ofrenda, thinking. “It’s your ofrenda and I don’t have any food for them anyway, and I don’t want to crowd —”

“There’s plenty of space,” Miguel says gently. “As to the food, I can help you cook just like you’ve helped me. There’s plenty of time for it.” Noticing your smile, Miguel smiles, too. “Just say the word,” Miguel continues. “And we'll start immediately.”

That’s how, a bit later, the ofrenda is no longer only Miguel’s. It’s his and yours.

Instead of only four portraits, there’s seven. There’s one of both your parents, one of Aunt May and Uncle Ben, Peter, Conchata, Gabby, Gabriel, and Miguel’s wife. Like Miguel, you’ll be offering favorite foods and snacks later on when he does, too. Additionally, you went ahead and added belongings to your loved ones that were significant to them in life. For Peter, you’ve obviously offered his record player and favorite albums.

When you place the last one, a Billie Holiday album, you step back to look at everything. There’s even more sugar skulls, candles, and banners than before. And, the scent of marigolds? It has grown tenfold because more were acquired by Miguel, who went out on a quick trip to buy more.

You smile, feeling thankful for the kind and sweet gesture and privilege to share and partake in such a beautiful tradition with Miguel.

“There,” Miguel gently says with his own smile, staring at the ofrenda with everyone now. He hums and readjusts a flower in front of your parents’ photo before stepping back, standing next to you. “We can place the food in a bit,” Miguel offers before something catches his attention through the windows.

A few seconds later, you both walk to the windows to look closer. Vibrant holographic sugar skulls decorate the sky above Nueva York’s downtown, announcing that the celebrations have started.

At the sight, Miguel smiles softly. It’s been several years since he’s gone to any of those events. Too many years. He slowly turns to face you, noting the smile and intrigue in your eyes. He doesn’t even think about it twice before he makes another offer. “Do you want to go?” he asks. “There’s always live performances, amazing food, small businesses, and great music.”

“Really?” you ask softly, looking at him. “Do you want to go?”

With you? Anywhere. Miguel grins and nods, not sharing that thought. “I’m up for it, if you are.”

You chuckle with a spark in your eyes. “I’d love to!”

-♡-

When you reach Nueva York’s beautiful downtown, the sight of sugar skulls and marigolds greet your and Miguel’s eyes. Lively music reaches your ears and the wonderful, mouthwatering scent of food sold from food trucks reaches your noses.

As you both walk side by side, you notice children eagerly pointing to the holographic sugar skulls in the sky, trying to get their adults’ attention. Countless of people walk around with their faces painted in the traditional sugar skull makeup with intricate patterns. You also notice that many girls and women walk around with beautiful and bright hair accessories, many of which include big flowers.

Pulling your jacket closer to you due to the chilly weather, you smile in delight because of the spirit. There’s always an energy to Nueva York, but tonight, you can sense a different kind — one that seems to be almost pulsing. You silently wonder if that energy comes from those who have departed this physical world, but are visiting their loved ones still on Earth once more.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a lady from a small booth beckons Miguel and you with a bright smile. You glance at Miguel before looking back at the lady, quickly realizing the service she’s providing: painting people’s faces for the celebrations.

“Would you guys like to have your faces painted? I have a special price for couples!” the woman offers, still smiling.

You look away with a small smile. There it is again.

Only three weeks ago on Miguel’s birthday, back in your universe, Mr. Stanley assumed Miguel is your boyfriend. Now, there’s this lady also making the assumption. Thankfully, Miguel didn’t seem to mind. He said it was an innocent assumption, which calmed your worries about him being offended that day.

Next to you, Miguel scratches his neck after hearing the woman’s words. Once again, someone has assumed you’re dating. Despite how many times he’s been told that personally, Miguel still finds it surprising. Do the two of you give that impression? He wonders, considering that this lady has to be the fifth or sixth person to make that innocent assumption. He then wonders how many more people make that silent presumption just from seeing the two of you walking around. Before he has a chance to think further, like what does it mean that you’re being mistaken as a couple, you smile and walk to the booth to look at the different design options. And, of course, Miguel follows you.

“You can do matching, or different designs if you wish,” the lady offers. “I can do different eye colors, too. And, just letting you know, my friend in the next booth is selling hair pieces if you’d like to complete the look, señorita [miss].”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you for letting me know,” you answer politely before looking at the lady’s work again.

“Do you want to get it done?” Miguel asks after he thanks her, too.

“I…” you trail off and look at him, wondering if it’s okay.

“If you want to, you should. It’s fun,” Miguel gently says with a small smile. “We have time, too.”

“Alright!” you happily answer before the lady leads you to a chair and begins to ask you what design you’d like.

Meanwhile, Miguel watches from the side, intrigued by the process. He leans on a street lamp, slipping both his hands into his pockets as he quietly listens to you and the lady make small talk while she paints your face. Unbeknownst to him, Miguel looks like a devoted boyfriend and/or husband, waiting on his partner.

To Miguel’s surprise, it doesn’t take long for the lady to finish the makeup, but then again, he realizes that the lady must have a lot of experience and your face is probably one of hundreds she’s painted today alone.

You stand up and look at yourself through a handheld mirror that the lady offers you, admiring and thanking her for the wonderful service before you return the mirror. You then reach into your pocket for money — cash you’ve converted to this dimension’s — to pay the lady, but before you even get a chance to pull it out, Miguel has already handed the woman a bill.

“Miguel —” you start, but Miguel politely shakes his head at you just as the lady, who silently finds the interaction cute, takes the money.

“It’s on me. Keep the change, doña [short for señora/madam],” Miguel says.

“You’re paying for two people, mijo [term of endearment; my son],” the lady says. “Let me give you your change.”

“No, that’s alright, really,” Miguel insists.

“At least, let me paint your face, mijo. You’re not only paying for your girlfriend’s, but for one more person. You might as well.”

“I don’t…” Miguel starts, but trails off. He’s unsure of how to explain to the kind lady that he’s not open to someone touching his face plus feeling sheepish because she’s called you his ‘girlfriend’.

“Your girlfriend can do it, if you want,” the lady offers, picking up on Miguel’s reluctance.

Standing there, your cheeks feel hot. Not once, but twice has this lady said you’re Miguel’s girlfriend. Pushing past that, you glance at Miguel. “I can if you want, Migs,” you offer.

Miguel looks around for a few seconds before nodding. “If that’s okay… Alright.”

Once Miguel agrees, the lady quickly sets things for you on the other side of the table, so she can continue to work if other customers arrive. In a minute or two, you’re sitting in front of Miguel with a makeup brush in your hand. You begin by painting his entire face with white paint, just like yours. While you do so, Miguel stares at the tent’s ceiling, not failing to notice how close the two of you are sitting. You’re so close to each other that your knees are slightly pressed against each other’s.

After a few seconds, Miguel finally looks at you. His gaze travels over your face, taking the opportunity to look at the painted details now that you’re closer. His eyes stop at your own, noting that you chose a light purple color for eye shadow.

“You chose purple,” Miguel states as you paint one of his cheeks, almost done with the white paint.

“Mhm,” you simply answer, eyebrows furrowed. You look away to gather more paint before resuming. “I chose it because of Gabby, since she loved the color lilac.”

Miguel’s lips part in surprise. He hadn’t made that connection, but now that he knows, his chest flutters with ternura [tenderness]. You chose it for Gabby, his daughter. He smiles, even as you work the brush against his cheek again. “That’s so sweet of you,” Miguel says very softly so the lady doesn’t hear.

You smile back, your cheeks warm. “I just thought it would be… Nice. In her honor.”

“It’s more than nice. It’s sweet, Dulzura,” Miguel answers. “It’s a sweet gesture and I like to think that wherever Gabby is… Perhaps here… She’s appreciating it.”

“I’m sure she’s here,” you answer, reassuring Miguel. “With you.”

Smiling, Miguel nods. “With us.”

“With us…” you repeat softly, your chest filling with happiness at the fact that Miguel said ‘with us’.

Once done with the white paint, you switch to black paint and begin to draw the lines on Miguel’s face. You do the cheekbones and teeth first, finding it the easiest to do. Then, you do his nose by drawing an upside down heart at the tip, finding it cute. You draw circles around his eyes next, tracing Miguel’s orbital cavities, before filling them in and adding a decorative outline.

When you reach his forehead, you think about it. You had flowers drawn on yours, but you don’t want to do that for Miguel. You wish to do something different, something more fitting for him, but what? You hum softly before you begin to draw.

You carefully draw a sun in the middle of Miguel’s forehead, with little rays coming from it to indicate that it’s shining. When you’re done with that, you add a few more details above Miguel’s eyebrows. With a smile, you pull back when you’re fully done and grab the handheld mirror so Miguel can see the final result.

“You drew a sun,” Miguel murmurs with a smile when he sees it.

“Yep,” you say proudly. “Solecito [little sun].”

Miguel’s eyes move from the mirror to you, finding a grin on your face.

“What?” you say. “Some time ago, you jokingly said you were everyone’s solecito. ‘A ball of sunshine’, if I recall correctly.”

“It was sarcasm,” Miguel says, chuckling. “I’m not.”

You sigh and put away the makeup brushes. “For them, maybe.”

“Wh-what?” Miguel stutters, caught by surprise.

With a smile, you close the paints. “I’m saying you’re a ball of sunshine. To me.” You look up, closing the last paint. “Solecito.”

“Solecito,” Miguel repeats, his cheeks growing hot. “Little sun.”

“Mi solecito [my little sun],” you say this time, nodding with a warm smile, leaving Miguel speechless when you add the ‘mi’. Your little sun. You’re saying he’s your little sun. You stand up and grab the materials before walking to the lady to return them. “Here’s everything, ma’am. Thank you so much!”

Meanwhile, Miguel’s brain is having a moment. He’s never been given such a nickname by anyone. Ever. And now he’s your little sun — your ball of sunshine. Miguel’s cheeks grow hotter the longer he sits there, your sweet nickname echoing in his mind, leaving him flustered.

Your solecito.

“Are you ready for the live performances?” you ask, standing in front of him, so eager to go while Miguel’s brain is short circuiting.

“Si [yes],” Miguel replies, clearing his throat. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Miguel forces himself to stand up, trying to push past his pleasant surprise from your new nickname for him. You both thank the lady and wish her well with her business before walking away, happy with the service.

Walking again, Miguel continues to push past his feelings when he spots the small business the lady who painted your faces mentioned earlier. His gaze quickly sweeps over the beautiful hair accessories, which reminds him of the lady’s words, about how you can complete your look with something like that. He stops walking, something you quickly notice.

“Miguel?” you ask, wondering what’s up.

“There’s hair accessories,” Miguel states, staring at one of the tables with organized accessories. He flashes you a grin and gestures for you to follow him before he walks to the booth, leaving you wondering.

You slowly reach his side, finding him already talking with the owner.

“We have several options. Are you looking for a specific color?” the woman asks.

“Hmm, Dulzura,” Miguel turns to face you. “Do you want it to match your makeup?”

You smile, realizing. “I suppose it would be appropriate,” you answer.

“Something purple, please,” Miguel politely says before the lady shows the two of you all the options she has.

The lady shows you headbands, bows, and other cute dainty hair accessories — all with the color purple in different shades. You watch with careful attention as she shows you thing after thing, all so beautiful you’re undecided on which one to buy until you turn to Miguel, who lifts a headband from another table to inspect it. Gazing at it more closely, you realize the headband has handmade flowers out of lilac and white ribbons. It also has some hints of pink due to smaller decorations glued to the ribbons for a little dazzle.

“That one, please,” you say with a smile.

“This one?” Miguel asks with a smile, moving it forward so you can get a better look at it.

“That one,” you confirm, finding it beautiful.

“We’ll take this one, then,” Miguel says, looking at the price tag. Before you even have a chance to pull out your money, Miguel, once again, pulls out his wallet and pays.

“Miguel,” you say softly.

“What is it?” Miguel asks, already knowing by the little pout on your lips.

“You can’t keep paying for everything, you know.”

Miguel grins. “It’s my treat, so please let me,” he answers with amusement before he steps closer to you. To your immense surprise, Miguel steps even closer while holding the headband in both hands. He moves them closer to your head carefully and slowly, as if to avoid startling you. And then, to add to your growing surprise, Miguel gently slips the headband on your head.

You’re so caught off guard by Miguel’s brave gesture that you’re not sure if you misheard yourself gasping, but you’re aware of your widened eyes and parted lips.

Happy with the way the headband looks and how it adorns your hair, Miguel steps back with a soft smile. A gentle blush covers not only his cheeks, but also the top of his ears. For a few seconds, Miguel seems to avoid your wide gaze out of shyness. At last, he meets your eyes, still finding surprise on your face. “Does it feel okay?” Miguel asks, slowly and almost reluctantly taking another step back to give you space.

“Ye-yes,” you answer softly, speechless. You clear your throat and smile, trying to shake off the surprise, or at least not make it so obvious that you're shocked. “Yes. It's fine. Perfect, actually,” you continue with a smile.

“Good,” Miguel says with a small grin. “Now your look is complete, Dulzura.”

“Your change, sir,” the business owner says, dropping the money on his hand.

While Miguel thanks the lady, your eyes land on a beautiful bow. It's lilac with little white pearls lining the two tails. You gently pick it up, imagining that little girl with the toothy smile who loved science and fútbol so much wearing it.

In seconds, you imagine what it'd be like if she was here. You can picture Miguel carrying her on his shoulders, both their faces painted for the celebrations. If she was walking, you can imagine her holding his hand as they walk, tugging him to the small businesses to see everything. You even imagine her pulling him to this booth and picking this very bow because it matches her dress.

Smiling, you check the tag before pulling money out. “I'd like to buy this one, please,” you tell the lady once Miguel finishes talking with her.

Miguel turns to look at you, surprised. “You should've told me you liked that one, too. I can pay —” Miguel starts but you hand the money to the lady before he can finish.

“It’s for Gabby and I wish to pay for it,” you gently reply to Miguel.

“Would you like to get this packaged?” the lady offers.

“Please. That way it doesn't get damaged on the way home,” you answer.

“Of course. Are you guys going home to your child? A little girl, maybe?” the woman asks the two of you with a smile, making another innocent assumption that you both have a daughter.

“I…” you trail off before you start to shake your head.

“My daughter — she — she's no longer with us,” Miguel explains gently, though not explaining that Gabby is just his daughter.

The lady's face softens when she hears that. “Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss,” she replies full of sincerity. She closes the small box and hands it to you, your money on top. “It's on the house, for your little girl.”

Both Miguel and you decline politely at the same time, but the lady gently pushes the box into your hands.

“Please. As a gift,” she insists, still pushing the box into your hands.

You accept it hesitantly, only to not come off as rude. You pick up the money bill and offer it again. “Please-”

“No, no. Please take it. For your daughter,” the lady continues, stepping back. “I want you to. Accept it as a Día de Los Muertos gift. I hope your little one enjoys it.”

You sigh softly and lower your hand. “Thank you so much,” you reply, holding the box carefully.

“Gracias, doña. You didn’t have to, but thank you,” Miguel says after you, sincerely thanking the lady.

“Of course, jovenes [young people; youths]. Please take care and enjoy the celebrations. Have a great night,” the woman says, wishing you well before another customer approaches the booth.

Miguel and you walk away and continue on your way to watch some of the live performances, holding the box closer to you to make sure the bow doesn’t get damaged somehow.

“That was so nice of her,” you say softly as you both reach the center of the downtown, where there’s already a lot of people waiting.

“It was,” Miguel answers, agreeing. “It was a kind gesture. Hers and yours,” Miguel continues. “I appreciate you trying to buy it for Gabby. I’m certain she would’ve loved it.” Miguel smiles at that, knowing it’s true.

You grin. “I was thinking about her wearing it with a matching dress.”

Miguel’s smile softens, imagining his daughter eager to wear her bow with a matching dress. It brings a warmth to his chest. “Thank you, Dulzura. She would’ve definitely worn it like that. I… I imagine she would’ve wanted me to do her hair in a ponytail to wear it, too.”

You both grow quiet, thinking about that vision until the live performances begin. With interest and enthusiasm, Miguel and you watch lovely performances by amazing artists, including a mariachi band, who sing some of the most iconic songs to Mexico and talented ballet folk dancers donning beautiful and authentic attires among other great presentations that keep the spirit for the celebrations high.

Towards the end, Miguel and you eventually decide to go home, but not before you run into an elderly couple who you both overhear quietly talking about not having enough money to buy food from one of the food trucks.

“Tenemos comida en la casa, mi amor [we have food at home, my love],” the elderly man said. “Maybe in a few weeks we can buy the ingredients and make this meal ourselves. We can save for it.”

“You’re right, Balby. We should go home now,” his wife answered.

Hearing that, neither Miguel nor you could simply walk away. So, you bought the couple dinner and even gave them extra money for food. You’re not sure how much it was in total, but Miguel gave them plenty and you gave them what you converted a few days ago. Knowing they’ll be enjoying a great dinner, Miguel and you wish them a good night before you walk away, wanting to go home to complete the ofrenda and have dinner.

While you both walk away, side by side as always, the elderly couple watch you from their seats.

“So you were right, mi amor,” the man says with a grin.

“I always am, Balby,” the woman answers with satisfaction. “Those two have pure and courageous hearts. And they’re meant to be together.”

“I cannot deny it,” the man says. “Even I can see that. However will we pay them for their kindness tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the woman says, watching the two figures fade into the crowd.

“How about a wager, mi amor?”

“No wagers tonight!” the woman replies before they both disappear, invisible to everyone else, to pass on the kindness Miguel and you gave to them.

[Characters from The Book of Life film; La Muerte and Xibalba (Balby)]

It takes less than half an hour before you reach the penthouse, and upon arrival, Miguel and you change into lounging clothes before heading to the kitchen to reheat the food. In the meantime, Miguel also makes pancakes with chocolate chips for Gabby, wanting those to be freshly made.

Once everything is ready, the food is offered.

Plates with tamales and pink conchas are placed. Bowls with delicious pozole, too. A fresh batch of chocolate chip pancakes is set in front of Gabby’s photograph. Apples and oranges are placed for Conchata and strawberries for Gabby. The various kinds of candy you placed on a tray earlier are distributed between Gabby and Gabriel, which include Paletas Payaso, Canel’s gum, and Pulparindos. And of course, Miguel didn’t forget his loved ones’ favorite drinks like the Jarritos and Chocomilk for Gabby.

Your parents, uncle Ben and Aunt May, and Peter had their favorite foods and drinks served, too.

To complete the ofrenda, Miguel places other offerings for his loved ones. He begins by putting a few things for his mom and his wife. When he’s done with their portions of the ofrenda, he moves to Gabriel’s part. Miguel smiles at his brother’s photo before he gently pulls out Gabriel’s green scarf from his pocket, placing it on the lower level in front of the photograph, offering it.

At last, there’s the youngest O’Hara, Gabby. Like previous years, Miguel places dolls for her, from a scientist to a soccer player and a few other toys. He offers a few new books because she loved to read, books he bought a few days ago with you at his side. From the bag in which he stored everything, he also pulls out a soccer ball. It was a must, of course. And finally, Miguel places her guitar, too, hoping that wherever Gabby is, she can enjoy her beloved guitar.

“I almost forgot,” you say softly, walking closer with the packaged bow. You offer it to Miguel, so he can place it, but Miguel shakes his head.

“You place it,” he replies. “I know you were going to buy it for her, so you should do it. It’s alright if you do so.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, not wanting to push boundaries.

“I’m sure, truly,” Miguel reassures you with a small smile, one you return.

With a nod, you open the box and pull the bow out, admiring it for a few seconds and thinking once more about a different timeline in which Gabriella was here, physically. You place it between the two dolls, silently hoping that Gabby likes it. You step back to look at the fully finished ofrenda. It took some time and love, but it’s completed at last and it’s so beautiful.

Both Miguel and you stand in silence, admiring it. The silence is a comfortable one, not out of grief despite the several photos in display of loved ones physically gone. It’s a silence of comfort and hope that those who have left too soon and unexpectedly come home, even if just for a few hours to share a meal with their living loved ones once more.

Miguel’s eyes trace every single photo in silence. He feels at peace, something he didn’t feel three years ago. There was too much pain, too much heartbreak. And, too much loneliness, even if he didn’t fully admit it to himself back then. Yet, three years later, Miguel stands in his penthouse — same one that felt so incredibly void and cold before, but now feels like home.

Home.

Miguel turns to face you. Things are different now. There’s less pain, less heartbreak. He’s learned better ways to manage his feelings, too, that’s for sure. Even better, there’s no more loneliness. With a soft sigh, Miguel finally breaks the silence. “Dinner?” he simply says, watching the way you turn to look at him with your face still painted, much like his.

“That sounds good. I’m actually starving,” you confess with a grin.

“It’s all that walking,” Miguel answers before he gestures for the two of you to return to the kitchen for food.

Due to the celebrations, Miguel and you go back to the living room with plates containing food to have dinner with your loved ones. You enjoy the food over conversation regarding the wonderful performances.

Not surprisingly, Lyla shows up halfway through dinner to play music for the two of you. She also takes the opportunity to sneakily take pictures for her secret, or not so secret, folder of digital content before disappearing again.

Eventually, Miguel and you take off the makeup before returning to the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time to prepare café de olla and arroz con leche specifically for Gabby. When all is done, more than two mugs are set on one of the kitchen counters to pour coffee into them. Together, the two of you carry the mugs to the ofrenda, placing one mug for everyone except Gabby.

“Para ti no, mija,” Miguel tenderly states with a smile on his lips. He places the mug you gifted him for Father’s Day earlier this year, the one with the two bees, filled with arroz con leche and topped with a generous amount of cinnamon powder with the rest of her food. “Estás muy chiquita para tomar café todavía, but I made your favorite instead.” Taking a step back, Miguel’s eyes soften when he looks at his daughter’s photograph. If only she were here, Miguel thinks, before he settles down on the floor with you in front of the ofrenda. He picks up his mug with coffee and takes a drink, the music from earlier still playing thanks to Lyla who left it on. “Thank you,” Miguel suddenly says, turning to look at you. “For joining me tonight and participating in the tradition… For allowing your family to join mine.”

You hum and offer him a smile, holding your mug in both hands. “No, thank you… Solecito,” you reply, using that nickname again. “For allowing me to be part of it again and for inviting my family into your ofrenda. It means so much to me,” you continue. “So, thank you.”

“Siempre,” Miguel whispers, his heart skipping a beat when he hears the new sweet nickname you’ve given him. “Always… But, seriously… Thank you for being here with me again. For accepting my offer.” Miguel’s eyes meet yours, his gaze tender. He knows that his invitation for your family to join the family ofrenda might have been too much — too personal — even for best friends, but still, Miguel couldn’t help himself from making it. He turns to look at the ofrenda again, noting how big it turned out with your family being part of it. After a few seconds, Miguel turns to face you again. “Thank you.”

You smile sweetly and nod, knowing what Miguel means. Having your family join the ofrenda was certainly a personal gesture, a much more intimate one than previous ones simply because it’s about family, and it’s a gesture you appreciate so much. “Always,” you whisper back.

Much, much later, you lean back on the couch with heavy eyes. It’s late at night, about three in the morning now. Miguel and you have spent the last few hours just talking and drinking café de olla. You were feeling alert, but all of a sudden, you’re hit with a tranquility, one that seems to caress you into a sleep. You lean into it for a few seconds, closing your eyes and feeling a warmth surround — embrace — you.

Feeling the same, Miguel’s crimson eyes flutter, but he fights the sleep. Or, tries to, anyway. He glances at you, remembering your meeting with Osborn earlier today. He thinks about the hug you two shared, pondering for a bit before he finally speaks. “Dulzura?” he whispers, not sure if you’re asleep already.

“Hmm?” you sleepily respond, your eyes fluttering just to look at him.

Miguel’s lips quirk up at the sight. You look so cute when you’re sleepy. “I was just thinking about how you said your meeting with Harry was awkward at first because he went straight for the hug,” he says slowly.

“Mhm, it was,” you confirm.

“Did the hug feel awkward, too?” Miguel asks, seeing you’re more asleep than awake now.

You yawn softly, covering your mouth, and nod. “It was. It felt weird,” you respond too softly.

Miguel hums as a response, thinking. He feels something in his chest again, something he didn’t register earlier. Envy, perhaps? Envy that Harry Osborn who has only been in your life for a few months now, if even that, has embraced you before he has, even if it was awkward.

He sighs and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s even feeling like that. It’s silly.

Right?

On top of that, Miguel also feels a bit of shame and disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry,” Miguel sleepily murmurs to you.

“What — For what?” you ask, Miguel’s words waking you up a bit.

“For… I still haven’t — You know. I haven’t embraced you yet,” Miguel replies quietly, disappointment and shame laced in his tone.

“Miguel,” you start gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for that, you know that. This isn’t a race. It’s a healing journey, and everyone needs their own pace to heal from their grief and trauma. You’re going at your pace and therefore, honoring your boundaries and yourself, which is so important. That’s all that matters to me.” You offer him a reassuring smile before continuing. “That’s not to say, I don’t wish to… One day have the opportunity to experience that — a hug from you, but everything at its due time, okay?” you murmur softly, as if there were other people in the room.

Miguel nods, reassured by your words and gentle reminder. “Thank you, Dulzura. I appreciate it…” he answers, feeling better. You’re always so understanding of him and his boundaries. After a few seconds, he continues. “One of these days,” Miguel tells you softly, sounding like a promise he fully intends on fulfilling.

“One of these days,” you repeat gently, looking forward to the day.

You both think about it — about the day in which Miguel will be open to that kind of physical touch. You think about what it’d feel like, to hold each other close. To learn what it's like to be in each other's arms.

When that day comes, Miguel knows he will hug you close and remember what it feels like to hug someone after so many years of going without a single embrace.

With that in mind, you both admire the ofrenda again. It somehow looks even more beautiful now in the dark living room with the candles’ dancing flames. It almost feels like they're waving at the two of you.

Still looking at the ofrenda, Miguel wonders if there’s a chance that both your relatives are here tonight. If they made it. He hopes they did and that they enjoyed the food and belongings that were offered to them.

As the minutes tick by, that wave of sleep rolls over you again and instead of fighting it, Miguel and you surrender to it this time. There’s a warmth that reaches and embraces you both. It’s so familiar neither of you can help yourselves from leaning into it like a child leans into their parents’ warmth for safety and comfort.

The last thing you both hear is static coming from the speakers from which music was just now playing. A soft, sad guitar begins to play, but you’re both asleep already — lulled by a warm, gentle, and familiar energy not visible to the human eye, but always around.

Remember me

Though I have to say goodbye

Recuérdame…

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: Hiiiiiiii!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter 🥺 Ever since last year, I wanted to write a short chapter for Día de Muertos, but alas, I didn't get the chance to, so I couldn't miss it this year!

Guys... I was giggling and kicking my feet when MIGUEL PUT THE HEADBAND ON OUR HEADS RAHHHHHHHHHHH AND THEN THE FACT HE FELT A BIT JEALOUS OVER HARRY HUGGING US??? (forgive me for screaming but !!!) and then the fact he's thinking more about it -- about hugging us!! 🥹

Also, don't mind the direct reference to The Book of Life. I was working on this chapter Thursday and listening to the official soundtrack for it because it's genuinely one of my fav movies ever, which I plan on watching tonight, and then the idea popped in my head to include La Muerte and Xibalba somehow and well... I did it. 😌

Also, what do we think about Harry? I was cringing while writing that part because they're so awkward!😭😭 But anyway, what do we think? 🤔 Side note, I was fighting the urge to make Felix a hot old man, I'm ngl 😔(I'm still imagining him to be hot, I'm sorry).

Ok, I think that's all and I must go now because my siblings are bothering me to help them with something. I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, show it some love! Take care everyone, and happy November! 💖

Alondra❤️

p.s. I haven't forgotten about chapter 20's comments and reblogs. I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to reply to them. I got behind because of the three chapters I dropped 3 weeks ago, but I promise I'll get to them this upcoming week!! Thank you so much for the amazing love and support as always!! I love you guys 💖💖🥹

Credits: Gif by @/halloween-pumpkin-queen. Purple dividers by @/thecutestgrotto and green divider by @/vysleix

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii @nina-from-317

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #nonviolent communication #soft!Miguel O'Hara

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ktownshizzle · 3 days ago

Text

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 5

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter warnings: so this is probably 60-70% smut or leading up to smut 😅, am I crazy?, maybe?, idk man T&C yoongi just has a bunch of tricks up his sleeve, i’m literally just a girl, tongue technology but it may not be what u expect, oral, protected sex, breast worship, nip stim, fingering, spanking, lil bit of exhibitionism, petting, office sex almost getting caught but they still finish yay, trampy Danbi and her weak-ass lines, overuse of jagi and baby because that's how I roll, if i missed anything lmk. MINORS DNI!

Word count: 7.3k (approx. 35 mins to read)

Posting date: November 2, 2024

Notes: Idk what else to say. Hope you think the wait is worth it. ☺️ Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterlist

You didn’t quite expect the night to end like this, but maybe part of you did. Spending intimate one-on-one time with Yoongi was a risk—one you knew would soften your heart even more. Despite every logical reason to pull back, to brace yourself for the shitstorm this would inevitably bring, you already made the choice. You were going to give this a try.

Yoongi offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. His grip is firm but gentle as he leads you from the cozy warmth of the living room to a quieter part of his apartment.

You don’t know what to expect when you see his bedroom. But when he opens it to usher you in, you’re hit with a strange sense of familiarity and intimacy. Like the space is so him. Minimalist but warm, with soft neutral tones that you find soothing. The bed, a king-sized obviously for the king of naps, a spread of taupe gray sheets and a matching duvet dominates the center. The dim lighting casts a golden glow over the earthy walls, but what caught your attention was the view from his huge floor to ceiling windows.

Somehow during the time it took from the living room to his bedroom, the Hangang Rainbow Bridge decided to impress you a bit more. Technicolor lights mingle with swirls of water that shoot from jets along the bridge’s edge, setting the night alight.

It’s… wow. You can’t explain the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling at the moment. You just know that there’s no place else you’d rather be.

Yoongi stands behind you, his hand still resting lightly on yours, like he’s giving you space to take it all in. But the silence doesn’t last long. You turn to face him, your hands find his chest, fingers looping the strings of his hoodie as you pull him closer.

He doesn’t resist but there’s a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he leans into you, his breath warm against your skin. His lips find yours again and all the worries and doubts you carried with you slip away. You’re in it now, fully, and there’s no going back.

Hands slide up your back, under your top and something inside you snaps. You’re impatient now, hands slipping under his sweater, tugging it upward. Your fingers graze the warm skin underneath, and he lets out a soft chuckle, amused by your urgency.

"Easy, jagi," Yoongi whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "We’ve got all night."

The audacity of this man. Looks like a fuckin snacc, seduces you with his cooking and a slow dance, decides to call you jagi—then tells you to put on the brakes?

You roll your eyes, but your fingers don’t stop. "You’re moving too slow," you complain, pulling the fabric up higher, desperate to get it off him. He laughs again, but this time, it’s softer, more affectionate. He’s clearly endeared by your impatience.

With a low chuckle, he helps you lift the hoodie off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, leaving him in a simple black tee that fits nicely across his strong shoulders. But he’s not done yet. He steps closer, hands finding the zipper of your hoodie, eyes darkening with intent. He takes his time, his fingers gliding over the metal. You can feel your breath hitch as he slowly pulls the zipper down, teasing you, dragging this out just to make you squirm.

"Let’s not rush this," he chides, as the zipper falls open, exposing your skin to the cool air. "I wanna take my time with you."

“Okay,” you mutter, lids fluttering shut as his hands push the garment from your shoulders, falling in a heap where his own lies.

One strap from your top sags with the motion, his plush lips quickly taking its place. He trails soft, velvety kisses towards your collarbone, then licks the tops of your breast, blows on it, cool air tickling the trail of wetness. A sigh escapes your mouth at the mix of sensations.

“May I?” He asks, finger hooked on the other strap of your top.

“Yes,” you respond, engrossed at the way his eyes are drinking the slow reveal of your breasts as the fabric pools at your waist.

“So perfect,” he muses, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you to stand in between his legs.

The angle is perfect for his mouth to connect with your chest effortlessly and you’re rewarded by the mesmerizing view of his pouty lips as they push and pull against your puffy nipples.

A name you’ve never used for any lover ever seems to spill seamlessly from your lips, only for the man responsible for your current state of disarray. “Baby… you’re so good at that.”

Yoongi nips your tits playfully, approvingly, and you can’t help but moan at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“Fuck—your tits,” he purrs, face pressed against your sternum while his hands push your mounds inwards to squish his cheeks. “They’re so soft, jagi. Mmm.”

Yoongi stays there for a while feeling the plush flesh against his face, and when you scratch his scalp with your long fingernails, he lets out a needy little whimper that almost sounds like a cat’s purr.

He moves to lavish your other breast, tongue darting out to coax it to peak. His eyes are transfixed on you and you can’t bring yourself to look away. He starts with kitten licks, before rolling it around your areola, and when it starts to pebble, his tongue moves faster and faster to flick at the tip and holy shit how is he so good at that?!

Lost in the feeling, you suddenly feel a tap on the side of your lips. It’s his fingers, the pointer and the middle, seeking entry. “Suck them for me,” he instructs and you do not have to be told twice.

You suck and lick around the digits and before you can even get into it he retrieves it and coats your free nipple with your own spit. The slick pinches of his fingers feel wonderful against your bud and with his mouth alternating sucks and rapid licks on the other, you start to feel a familiar yet wholly unfamiliar feeling igniting in your belly.

Yoongi’s so good and so, so fuckin’ sexy… And god his tongue. He really knows what he’s doing. You’ve never been with anyone who has made you crumble like this.

Soon enough you are panting and moaning haplessly. Your hands find purchase on the back of his neck, body tingling with a newfound sensation. When his teeth and blunt nails clamp down your nipples in unison, the stimulation becomes—fuck—too much to bear and

Wait—did you just???

Heat bursts inside your chest and your body surges forward as a sweet, subtle high, erupts within you in unexpected waves. The orgasm catches you off guard like a thief in the night. It feels like a gentle rumble, more like a preamble, and you’re already needy to feel the next.

Yoongi steadies you as your knees give way, easing you into the cushions until you’re lying beside him.

“Yoongi…” you’re suddenly as shy as a mouse.

“Mm?” he asks, amusement apparent, ‘cause of course he knows. He knows you came just from nipple play.

“I uh I’ve… never—” you stammer, crossing your arms across your chest, a little embarrassed from what they’ve just made you do. “…that’s never happened before.”

“Did it feel good?” Yoongi asks, cupping the side of your jaw to make you look at him.

“So good,” you sigh. You can’t even fault him if his ego inflates after this.

“Then stop pouting and give me back those lips,” he pulls you towards him with a smirk. You crash your lips on his, swinging one leg across his waist as you hoist yourself atop him without breaking your contact.

Your weight settles against his center and you can feel the semi under his jeans rumbling to life as you do some experimental rolls of your hips. His hands fly to your ass, squeezing them as you grind against his stiffness.

“Take this off,” you instruct, although your hands are already hoisting his tee up and off his body.

Once gone, you rake your greedy nails across his toned chest earning a tut from him as red marks immediately bloomed on the milky surface. You drag your tongue across the indents, capturing a nipple along the way, before ending on his neck and sucking softly. You enjoy the low rumbles in his throat for a bit before you push yourself out of bed, coming to stand by the edge where his legs dangle over.

Yoongi props himself up on his elbows, abs flexing to your quiet delight as he waits for your next move.

“Gonna give me a show?” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You smile cheekily, pushing your blouse down and it falls on the ground by your ankles. Belt loops are pulled and released and the button of your jeans goes next.

Yoongi’s eyes devour you as you shimmy the jeans down leaving you in a thin scrap of lace that barely covers your pussy.

Alright, so you did prepare in the eventuality that this would happen.

Newly bought and newly washed, it was something you had picked up in a boutique yesterday with Chae. White (or coconut white, as the sales associate said), it has delicate scallop trims around the leg openings and a thin waistband that criss-crosses at the back connecting to the thong. It was out of your usual price range, but you let your credit card take the hit, thinking his reaction will be priceless.

You’re right.

A pink tongue swoops outside of his gaping mouth. He shakes his head at you as if you did him dirty, but you both know that’s a look of appreciation.

He shifts to sit fully, sweaty palms immediately sliding up your legs to cradle the meat of your ass as he continues to ogle at the sight in front of him.

“This is pretty.”

“I picked it for you,” you admit bashfully.

“I know you did, jagi,” he smirks. Sniffs. And there’s something wildly erotic in the way his nose nudges the lace where you know a patch of wetness has already formed.

He pokes the fabric in the middle, exactly where your clit is hiding and that brief contact sends sparks to your limbs. Fingers pinch the lace together, gathering it towards the slit of your pussy, then he does something that makes you gasp. He tugs the fabric up and down, the rough texture of the lace rocking against your puffed up clit, arousing you in a way you haven’t felt before.

“Shit,” you steady yourself against his shoulder, as you feel his mouth take one side of your pussy lips to suck. The friction feels phenomenal. More wetness gushes out of you and you decide to put a stop to things before it escalates again.

“Wanna see the back?” Needing reprieve, you turn around before he can answer.

You hear his sharp inhale. “Shit, your body is insane.”

Something akin to pride blossoms in your chest. You admit wondering how you might compare to other people who he’s been with. Probably gorgeous people sculpted by the gods just like him. But the way he looks at you—devastating, almost devoted—you’d be a fool to think he doesn’t view you as a descendant of Aphrodite, herself.

But then he bites the waistband and lets it ping against your skin, bringing you back to the present.

“Yoongi!” You gasp, pushing him towards the cushions and the bastard just giggles as he falls.

But the playful moment leaves after a beat, and soon enough, his pants disappear from his body, leaving him in black boxers, which you quickly get rid of as well.

Oh.

Okay.

You gulp.

He got that big dick energy and now you have the proof.

Your knees sink on the mattress, between his open thighs, the perfect spot for you to worship his cock. Heavy against his stomach, veins run up towards the head—red and swollen and angry. A bead of cum pools at the tiny slit at the very tip. Cute.

“Is this for me?”

“All for you.”

You hum, delighted. “All mine,” you say and you feel him throb against your hand as you reward him with a few pumps. After a while, you let your mouth take over, first cleaning up the salty precum on the tip with swipes of your tongue, noisily licking it for his audible enjoyment.

The sheets move beneath you as Yoongi grips them, face already a picture of impatience. “Don’t tease,” he says.

You suck him with gusto, letting your spit dribble down his hard length. You fist the base of his cock, timing your strokes with each bob of your head. The breathless moans coming from his lips only spurs you to keep at this smooth cadence.

A hand threads through the side of your hair before it is gathered in a loose grip. He doesn’t guide your movements, but anchors himself on you as if he’s at the edge of his life—he sure does sound like it. Groans and grunts huff out of his throat, sound bytes you need to mentally record for use when you're alone.

“Ahh, hol’ up…” he gently tugs your hair, cock falling from your lips and slapping against his tummy.

You look up at him, wiping your bottom lip with the back of your hand.

“I need to be inside you.”

“How do you want me, baby?”

“I need that perfect ass up in the air,” he replies, lips curling up, “Don’t remove your panties.”

You both shift around the bed, and you end up face down by his pillows. You can smell the comforting scent of his fabric conditioner and maybe his shampoo, rooting you in the present.

His hands grip your waist, tracing the contours of your body, sweat lubricating the path towards

“This ass…” he says, more to himself than you. You feel him lick one of your cheeks before he bites down, making you squeal.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

He rips your lace panties in half, the poor fabric sent sailing to the other side of the room. You somehow knew it was coming when he asked that it stays on.

“Kinda cliche,” you tease and he chuckles. “You left me with no choice.”

“Well, you could’ve not ripped it actually. Those are new,” you scold him with no real bite.

His chest connects with your back, and you feel a smooch or two being deposited to your shoulder blades. “I’ll replace it.”

He hitches your hips back so you can feel the ridge of his cock between your ass, hand reaching forward towards your mound. “Let me prep you real quick…”

“NO.”

“No?”

Your patience has worn thin. “I can’t wait anymore, just fuck me.”

You hear the crinkle of foil, the adjustment of rubber, then you feel it. The tip of his dick teases your folds, coating it with the juices seeping from your cunt. Gentle in the way he plants one of his hands on your waist, Yoongi reminds you, “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

His cock finally breaches your entrance, your swollen walls accommodating his girth slowly but spectacularly. You love the burn inside. A loud moan launches itself from your throat as he bottoms out, the feeling full, stuffed, complete.

“Mmh, Yoongi, you’re so big…” you couldn’t help but clench at the delicious stretch.

“So tight, shit. W-wait, don’t do that—” Yoongi already sounds wrecked.

“Please move,” you beg, throwing your ass back once, and you hear Yoongi grunt, hands gripping your waist tighter.

He starts rocking his hips, pushing his length earnestly into you that you’re sure you will feel him if you press on your lower stomach. Your cunt is on fire, but your clit is aching for some relief.

Mind read, Yoongi tells you to touch yourself so you do, plunging your middle finger on your nub. The pleasure increases tenfold.

Yoongi groans as he continues to fuck himself into you. He doesn’t say anything else but his labored breaths are signifying his forthcoming demise.

He slips out of you and you almost scream at the loss.

Quickly you’re flipped to your back and you are hit with the sight of Yoongi’s crumbling composure, a lone drop of sweat trailing from his jaw to his chin.

He lines himself up on you again and this time the glide is smooth, your slippery cunt offering little to no resistance as he ruts against you, fast and fuckin’ furious.

“You’re fucking me so well, baby,” you praise in stuttered phrasing, and his forehead drops to rest on yours, the rhythm of this thrusts unchanging.

You frame his face with your hands and pull him towards you. You kiss him. Lick the back of his teeth. Tug at his bottom lip. And the neediest whine slips from his mouth onto yours.

“Are you close, jagi? Cause I fuckin am…” his voice is almost drowned by the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and the feral noises you’re involuntarily making.

“Y-yes…” you say as you play with one of your nipples, shuddering slightly from over sensitivity.

His pace increases even more with a sudden, breathless urgency. Every nerve in your body is buzzing to life, every part of you aware of how your bodies are connected. Maybe it’s the intensity in his eyes, or the way his tongue moistens his lips, but it’s enough to push you careening off the cliff, as your walls clamp down on his cock, body vibrating in a surge of electricity.

The way he pushes himself on to you is desperate. He looks so fucked out but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Not until the movement of his hips becomes erratic and he pulses inside of you with one prolonged moan, and the condom inside of you fills up with the proof of his pleasure.

You wish you started taking those damn birth control pills earlier.

“You good?” you ask, raking your nails against the clammy skin of his back. His head rests on the crook of your neck.

He lifts his head to level with yours, a lopsided grin on his lips. “Better. Bestest.” He looks positively drunk.

You shove a hand across his face, “you’re stupid.”

He shakes his head, rolling out of bed to dispose of the condom and to get a warm washcloth for you. He helps you clean up and you steal his tee from the floor, pulling it over your head before he can even protest.

“I can get you a fresh one,” he offers.

“I want this, smells like you,” you say.

His nose crinkles like he couldn’t stand your cheesiness, but of course he pulls you towards his body and under the duvet.

You share a brief kiss, but you’re too spent to do anything else, and soon enough, sleep claims you both.

The morning light filters softly through Yoongi’s curtains and you can see the dustmites floating in the air like glitter. You blink yourself awake, the memories of last night still wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The actual blankets are tangled around your waist, and the faint sound of movement in the kitchen catches your attention.

You stretch, feeling the pull of muscles you didn’t realize would be sore. Everything about this moment feels surreal—like you’re hovering between reality and some alternate version of it.

Yoongi pads into the room, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. He looks cozy. When he sees you, his lips curve into a soft smile.

“Good morning, jagi.” His voice is a smooth melody, the last word warming you instantly. You really can get used to him calling you that.

You bite your lip, smiling back. “Morning.”

He crosses the room in a few steps and hands you a warm mug.

His cheeks are adorably puffy, and his eyes still look a bit more squinty than usual. All you want to do is reach out and squish that face.

“Didn’t think you’d be up this early,” you say, before taking a quick sip from your cup. “Thought you weren’t a morning person.”

“Had to make sure you didn’t disappear on me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, but his eyes stay locked on yours, watching you closely.

You pout. “Why would I leave?”

Yoongi shrugs, setting his mug down on the nightstand before turning back to you. “Just wanted to make sure you don’t regret last night.” The vulnerability hidden in his tone catches you off guard, his casual words heavy with meaning.

Your heart skips, but you cover it with a grin. “Regret? Not a chance. I mean, the bed was comfortable, and you didn’t snore, so…” You throw in a teasing smile, watching for his reaction.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something behind his eyes, something uncertain. He’s usually so composed, always knowing where he stands. But right now, he seems like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

Before you can dwell on it, he leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of you. You are caught off-guard by the sudden proximity and you’re not ready for the tsunami of emotions roaring in your chest. He says your name, before carefully stating the next few words.

“I’m all in. You know that, right?”

The vulnerability in his voice is palpable, like he’s still waiting for you to pull away, to tell him this was a mistake. That this was a bad idea, like you said last night. The importance of his words hits you, your heartbeat quickening under his gaze.

All in. Wow. He really said that.

The way Yoongi’s looking at you right now, like he’s handing you his heart—fuck, it’s overwhelming. It’s exactly what you want, and you can’t explain the emotions that fill you up.

But you’re not about to let him off easy. You tilt your head, sipping your coffee slowly as you let the silence stretch just a little longer than necessary. “All in, huh? That’s a big commitment. You sure you can handle me?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm against your cheek. “I think I can handle you. The real question is… can you handle me?”

You set the mug down, leaning back into the pillows, a small grin on your lips, but your next words are as honest as can be. “Yoongi, you’re a lot to handle. You’ve got way too many strings attached. Might be more than I can take on.”

You may have said it as a joke, but you know what they say about jokes being half-meant. He knows it, too. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“We can take it slow,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna take care of you, you’ll see,” voice gentler now. “And if you’re in, I’m in—completely.”

You can see the sincerity in the way he looks at you, the way he’s offering more than just casual affection.

If you would be totally honest, you still had some doubts. There were too many variables that you both still need to discuss. But for now, there is only one appropriate response and you are willing to give it to him.

“Okay,” you finally whisper. “I’m in, too.”

The gummy smile that breaks across his face is blinding, and there’s something like relief in it that makes your heart flip. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you can’t help but grin.

But the sweet gesture turns into something else as his hands slip under the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—his touch slow, deliberate. His fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist, sending a ripple of heat through you.

You lean into him, coffee forgotten, tugging him down into a kiss that’s lazy like Sunday morning. He tastes like his Americano, and the way his lips move against yours makes your head spin.

Yoongi’s lips trail down your neck, pressing soft pecks to your skin. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer.

You move back just slightly, a teasing smirk on your lips. “Aren’t we having breakfast first?”

His eyes darken with a lazy grin, the hand from your back now moving to grasp one of your tits. “That's exactly what I’m having right now.”

You’re utterly screwed.

Yoongi wastes no time diving in your cunt, especially since your underwear is MIA. Tongue flat, he licks your slit once, does it again, and earns a desperate whine from you. It doesn’t take long for him to start making out with your clit, gamely exploring this part of your body in a way he wasn’t able to do last night. He spreads you apart, tongue moving faster and faster like it’s his only setting.

“Just like that…” you say, already feeling embarrassingly close.

He pushes two fingers inside you, gets you plugged nice and tight for him. “You there, jagi?” He lifts his head slightly, to see your reaction.

You curse, gripping the short hair on his neck only to push him back towards his unfinished business.

You feel the smirk against your folds before he resumes his messy work against your pussy, wet muscle dancing in delicious figure eights.

“I–shit, I’m cumming…”

Your legs shake, your moans get louder, and your ears are filled with static as you come, hard, his fingers almost darting out of your hole from the strength of your release.

Yoongi hums and the vibration from his lips coaxes you down from your high.

“That was…” your words trail off as you stare at the white ceiling, lungs needing to be filled with oxygen.

Yoongi dutifully cleans his own mess between your thighs. With his tongue.

When he’s done, your world tilts back to normal (ish) and before you can offer to reciprocate, Yoongi is already slinking out the room, calling after you, “Come, jagi, I cooked haemul pajeon and, don’t bring your coffee, I’ll make you a fresh one.”

If this is how he vows to take care of you, damn, you’re one lucky bitch.

You’re back to work the next day. He insisted on picking you up from your apartment, though you tell him it was not necessary as it may raise some suspicion. You both keep things professional once clocked in but you cannot deny there’s a magnetic pull that is making it difficult to keep your paws away from each other. Once in a while Yoongi catches your eye and you’re brought back to your weekend of debauchery. When he nudges his head towards the door in the back of your office, you already know what he’s asking.

You don't say no. You say, 'later.'

The office has that late afternoon hush, when most people are too buried in their work to notice anything else. It’s just you and Yoongi, tucked away in the back office closet, a space that smells like old paper and dust. You’ve been here before of course—sorting files, you know, actual work—but today, when you enter, you only have one task: you and Yoongi are set to defile the file closet.

Yoongi stands so close you can feel his breath on your neck, his hands resting just above your hips, pressing you lightly against the Ikea file cabinet you both put together weeks ago.

“Alone at fuckin’ last,” he murmurs.

“C’mere baby,” you whisper, arms slipping around his neck. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, everything else fades.

He leans in, kissing you slow—so slow you think you might combust. You push your tongue against the seam of his lips, a little insistent, because you really can’t take your sweet time in this ancient closet.

Yoongi’s fingers start working the buttons of your blouse, one by one. The way his eyes trace your skin makes every hair on your body stand to attention.

But just as his hand slips inside, the door rattles.

You both freeze. Heart in your fuckin’ throat.

“Yoongi, you in here?” Hyun-woo’s voice pierces through the thick air. The panic kicks in fast, adrenaline flooding your veins.

Yoongi pulls back, completely nonplussed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. How the fuck is he always so calm? He reaches out, smoothing your hair as if he’s done this a hundred times before. The tenderness in the gesture only makes your heart pound harder.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls out, voice steady, like he isn’t seconds away from getting caught with his hand halfway inside your blouse. “Just organizing files.”

Hyun-woo opens the door, peering in, eyes narrowing slightly.

You flash a too-bright smile. “Hi, Hyun-woo! Just teaching Yoongi with the filing. Total disaster in here.”

Hyun-woo doesn’t buy it, not completely, but the suspicion in his eyes fades as quickly as it appeared. “Right. Well, don’t take too long. That room always triggers my claustrophobia.” He pulls the neck of his shirt forward.

Yoongi replies, giving him that practiced, unbothered nod. “Just finishing up.”

As the main door to your office clicks shut, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for far too long.

“That was way too close,” you whisper, your pulse still racing.

Yoongi grins, closing the door again with a nudge of his foot. “Too close,” he agrees, voice low and teasing, as he leans in to steal a quick kiss. “But I’m not done yet.”

“Wha—” The question barely leaves your mouth before Yoongi’s hands are on your shoulders, turning you smoothly so that you’re facing the file cabinet.

“Remember when we were building this very cabinet?” His voice has dropped even lower now, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “Yeah?” Your hands are guided to grip the top corners of the cabinet, and your breath catches. What is he doing?

Yoongi doesn’t give you time to process. His voice slides closer, warm against the back of your neck. “What were you doing then?”

You frown slightly, the question catching you off guard. “Nothing…” you say, but it comes out uncertain, more like a question than an answer.

Without warning, his palm connects with your ass—firm, but playful. You gasp, more out of surprise than pain, and turn your head to find him wearing that lopsided grin that drives you crazy. “Ddaeng,” he chimes, the word rolling off his tongue with a playful edge. “Try again.”

“I was—I was helping you,” you say, though your voice is wavering.

“Ddaeng,” he says again, the second slap sharper this time. “You did jack shit. C’mon, jagi, use your pretty little brain…”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your face flush. “I was… I was looking at your hands.”

Yoongi nods approvingly, his grin deepening. “And why were you doing that, hmm?”

You hesitate, your heart thumping harder, not from nerves, but from the way he’s pushing you. You know the answer.

“Because…” You swallow the admission heavy on your tongue, deciding to go the other way instead. “You were taking too long to build it.”

SLAP! “Ddaeng,” the third is much more deliciously painful now, your bum soothed by his large palms. “Huh, I think my jagi enjoys being spanked.” He licks the shell of your ear, making your knees buckle, and his voice comes through in a suspiciously calm tone, “Lie to me again and I’m going to step out this door and leave you here dripping. I bet you’re already wet.”

“Drier than the air in Daegu.” You jest, even as your lips tremble.

You squirm as he pins you against the cabinet, his hand making quick work of the top button of your linen pants. Things are happening so fast. His hand disappears inside, hooks your panties to the side and dips one finger shallowly at your entrance. God you wanna scream.

You squirm some more, but he’s got you pressed up, not enough to hurt you, but enough to limit your movements.

“Liar,” he chuckles darkly. In one quick motion his hand flies out of your pants and goes into his mouth, tasting you. You can literally smell the heady scent of your arousal filling the tiny space, making you needy for some relief.

“Yoongi,” you whine, trying to throw your ass back against his crotch. “Baby, please…”

“Why were you looking at my hands…” he jerks back, not giving you any relief, and asks again. “What do you want me to do with them?”

“I want you to put them inside me.”

“Hmm, what else…” he starts to unbutton your blouse again, not all the way, but so he can yank one of the cups of your bra to tease a nipple.

A flick from his moist finger and you’re already writhing in desperation.

“I want them stuffed in my mouth, and—shit—my pussy. I want them… choking me.”

“Naughty girl,” he tsks, pinching your nipple between his deft fingers, eliciting a moan from you. You feel his warm breath against your ear, teasing you. “Shhh…. I thought we were gonna keep things professional.”

Christ. He knows how sensitive your nipples are and he’s getting you so worked up again you might go criminally insane. You somehow manage to reply.

“I need you…” you whimper. “To fuck me with your fingers.” another whine. “Like a goddamn professional.”

“So bossy,” he chuckles, as his other hand dips under the waistband of your panties, past your fine hairs, and into your waiting folds. His middle finger immediately finds your clit and starts rubbing it in circles. “How’s this?”

You nod, and you gulp, and you stutter, “Good, s-so good.”

Because fuck, everything just feels so damn good. Bones softening, you are merely putty in his hands. Those sinful hands that are coated with your juices, moving in sync to bring you to your demise.

He envelops your ear with his mouth, hot breath further fanning the flames in your core. The way you can hear the sounds of his licks and soft grunts in fuckin’ Dolby atmos–oh my god.

Without any warning, he plunges two fingers in your entrance, your walls immediately sucking them in.

“You’re soaked, jagi,” he husks, large hands pushing your breasts together under your bra, to give you another sensation to enjoy.

His knee nudges yours to close the gap between your feet, and, when you do, everything in your pussy feels even more wonderfully snug. His thumb provides the perfect pressure against your clit, while his fingers move in and out of your cunt with noisy squelches that are bouncing off the walls of the tiny room.

“Am I completing the task to your liking?” he asks teasingly, even though he can feel every proof of his job well done with the way your body is vibrating against him.

“Shit, y-yeah,” you breathe out, turning your head to the side, so you can try to capture his lips. He lets you have it, twirling his tongue against yours.

Mouths still connected, he thrusts against your ass, and his fingers go in much, much deeper. Yoongi swallows your moans as you grip the edge of the cabinet, holding on to your life.

“M close,” you plead. “Don’t stop.”

He sets a staggering pace with his fingers inside your clenching walls, thumb repeatedly bumping your bundle of nerves.

His other hand creeps up your neck towards your chin and your mouth immediately chases it, taking his thumb inside your mouth like a goddamn fiend as the rest of his fingers cradle your jaw.

Salt on your tongue, sweat on your back, slick against your core, a cacophony of pleasure keeps building in record speed until you can’t take it anymore.

“Take it, jagi.” Yoongi says. “Take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Finally, the threads keeping your sanity intact finally snaps and a rush of euphoria overcomes you. Yoongi attaches his mouth on the sensitive part under your ear, sucking softly while you come undone against him. An arm circles your waist as he lets you ride the wave, murmuring praise against your skin.

“Remind me to keep wet wipes here,” Yoongi says jokingly as he helps you button up your blouse.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

So much for keeping things professional.

Wait—it’s not like you’ve started fucking on the reg at work. Sure there was that time in the file closet (Monday), but that was it. You still pride yourself as a dutiful professional and want to ensure your blossoming relationship is not going to get in the way of your productivity.

But since that closet tryst, you haven’t really done much inside or outside the office. He hasn’t invited you again to his apartment and you haven’t asked him to come to yours. Granted it’s only been a few days, and you did say you were going to take it slow, but tbh, you were already feeling kinda needy.

The problem is, it’s early enough in your sex life that you still know your tally and it’s 4:1. That’s the ratio of orgasms–yours to his. You are lucky he is such a generous lover, but you need to tip the scale in his favor, and fast.

It’s thirsty Thursday. For you, at least. The moment he invites you to the breakroom for your usual shit afternoon coffee, your horny brain immediately concocts a little plan of action.

See that area behind the counter, that’s a CCTV blind spot. It’s quiet, it’s not secluded but the counter is high enough and if you open the bottom cabinet door, you get some extra shield.

“You know you’re asking for trouble, right?” he shakes his head at you, before running his hand through his hair.

You are already palming him against his trousers, biting your lip as you feel his erection grow with each pass.

“Trouble’s my specialty, remember?,” you reply, your tone light, playful.

“Mmh, jagi, fuck–” he slaps his palm on the countertop, bowing his head to watch your hand hasten its strokes. But just as you’re about to kneel, the door swings open. Fuck. You both pull back like teenagers caught sneaking out, your heart dropping into your stomach as Danbi walks in. Her eyes widen at the sight of the two of you—close, too close.

“Oh. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” she says what is so obviously an outright lie. You can feel her gaze flick between you and Yoongi, curiosity practically radiating off her.

You walk towards the fridge on the other side of the room, forcing a neutral smile. “Just grabbing some snacks,” you say, even though your stomach’s in knots.

Danbi raises an eyebrow, but then her attention shifts fully to Yoongi. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she says, all sweet smiles as she extends a hand. “I’m Choi Danbi from Accounting.”

Yoongi takes her hand, but his expression doesn’t shift—polite, but distant. “Min Yoongi,” he says, his tone cool, relaxed, as if he is not sporting a semi from behind the counter.

And then, Danbi does the thing that makes you cringe to your core.

“So, Yoongi, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d never come back. Yoongi, though, doesn’t flinch. He releases her hand and his guarded expression unchanged.

“Not really,” he says flatly. “I’m more of a ‘get to know someone’ kind of guy.”

Danbi’s eyes brighten, completely missing the hint because she is a daft cow. “Well, then—why don’t we? You know, get to know each other. Could be fun.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

You grit your teeth, trying not to let your irritation show as you slam the fridge door, glass bottles inside saluting each other. But Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, his expression still calm, still unreadable.

“I appreciate the offer,” he says smoothly, keeping his tone light, “but I’m not interested in doing that. Sorry.” His eyes flick to you for just a second—quick, but deliberate.

Danbi’s smile falters. Her eyes follow Yoongi’s glance to you, and something odd flickers across her face. She forces out a laugh, backing up toward the door. “Right. Well, can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Yoongi nods politely, but his attention is already drifting back to you.

The moment the door clicks shut behind her, you let out a frustrated sigh. “What the hell was that?”

Yoongi shrugs, clearly unfazed. “People shoot their shot. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms as you glare at him. “That was straight-up workplace harassment.”

He chuckles, amused by your frustration. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? No. Annoyed? Hell yes.”

He smirks, pulling you by the wrist back to your shared office. People walking down the hallway may see you, but at the moment you are a raging bull. You’re still fuming, muttering about Danbi’s persistence and her complete lack of subtlety, but Yoongi stays quiet, listening as you rant. By the time you step into the office, your nerves are on edge, and you can feel the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

But the second you’re both inside, Yoongi pulls you into his arms. No warning, no hesitation. His grip is firm, grounding, and despite yourself, your body softens against him.

“Jagiya,” he murmurs sweetly against your hair. “Relax.”

You try to stay annoyed, but Yoongi’s tone, his steady heartbeat under your cheek, makes it difficult. He leans back slightly, his hands slipping to your waist as he looks down at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know I’m all yours, right?”

You look up at him, biting back the last of your frustration. “I know. It’s just… she was so pushy.”

He nods, his thumbs brushing your sides in a calming rhythm. “She was. But it didn’t change anything.” His voice drops lower, more serious now. “It’s still you.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, the quiet confidence in his voice. You’ve known this for a while now, but hearing him say it—feeling him say it—it hits different.

Something shifts inside you. That underlying fear you’ve been holding onto, the doubt that maybe you’re just a phase for him, gone.

You’re all in.

Before you can say anything, Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead, his arms tightening around you, his touch both protective and possessive in the best way. “You good?”

You nod against his chest, smiling to yourself. “Yeah. I’m good.” And for the first time, you really believe it.

As you pull back to meet his gaze, a smirk tugs at your lips. “You know, you could’ve shut her down sooner.”

Yoongi grins, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Thought you might like to watch me handle it.”

You laugh, swatting his arm. “Next time, I’ll just handle it myself.”

He chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he pulls you back into his arms. “Can’t wait to see that.”

You lean into his embrace, letting the last of your frustration fade. In this moment, it’s just you and him. Everything else? Background noise.

Because you’re in it. All the way.

Notes: Phew! So… how are we? Gosh, this was honestly a beast to write for me. Did you like the chapter? Hate it? I’d love your feedback. Let's have fun in the comments!!! :)

Taglist:

@glossdebut @kam9404 @mar-lo-pap @nnybtitts08 @granataepfelchen

@perfectiondazesworld @wobblewobble822 @yoongznme @caressesurloceanlove @rinkud

@kayleefriedchicken @jajabro @tinytan-gerine @xxbibin1208 @forevercarpediem227

@yoongicatagenda @someshinesomedont @marnz1990 @iheartshopping @confidentjus

@queenbloody @whydoeyecare @sadroses98 @curlyquennn

@sexytholland @kiki-zb @hiddlestandom @babyarmybabbles @medicinemybish

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demusewriter · 3 days ago

Text

I Loved You Too Early

Summary: You've been admiring the captain of the prominent football team in your school, whom you secretly admiring from afar. You thought he was out of your reach until you saw him studying in your brother's room. Genre: brother's best friend, slow-burn Pairing: Non-idol! Jungwon x Fem! Reader Word count: Part II: 14,297 (Overall: 26,179k) Chapters: 10 (Completed) (divided in two parts) Warnings: This is heavily inspired by the Chinese drama 'Hidden Love' so, there's a big resemblance, age gap (5 years difference), unrequited love, a little bit of sprinkle of angst, fluff, time skip, just a teeny-weeny bit of fist fighting (but not too much!), and not solid proof-read because its too long (╥﹏╥). Author's Note: Thank you for patiently reading my story! I’m glad you’re still with me through the second part, despite how long it’s gotten (≧∇≦). I really appreciate you taking the time to enjoy my work. I hope you enjoyed it! (´▽`ʃƪ)♡

Please don’t forget to support ENHYPEN and the members in their projects as well. Let's show them the love and appreciation we have on their crafts. ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

Enjoy, and maybe I'll see you again next year? (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) Haha!

PART I PART II

Chapter Six

Amidst the chatter of the crowd and the rhythmic pulse of music drifting from nearby venues, you find yourself enveloped in the energy of the night.

Tonight feels different, a subtle shift in the air that whispers of newfound freedom and possibilities.

For the first time, you find yourself standing amidst the crowded club, a cocktail in hands, embracing the intoxicating energy of the night as you celebrate along with your friends the milestone of entering your senior year of college.

As you glance around taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling club scene, you can't help but wonder how much has changed.

Ever since your move to the other city after getting accepted to your dream University, you started to learn to become independent which slowly shaped you into adulthood with each passing day.

As you watch your friends lose themselves in the rhythm of the music, you can't help but realize how time flies so fast.

It seems like yesterday you were a freshman, and now, you're already in your final year of college.

You shook your head with a soft smile as you put down your drink.

You look at your friends one last time before you sneak your way outside of the club to get some fresh air.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the breathtaking sight of the city skyline glowing with lights, a mesmerizing contrast to the dimly lit interior of the club.

Leaning against the railing, you let out a deep breath, allowing the cool night air to soothe your senses. You lean your head down on your arms, which rest on the railing, and drown yourself in admiring the city lights.

The mesmerizing glow of the city lights illuminates another pair of eyes, making it look like there's a stars twinkle in their eyes.

With his arms leaning over the railing, he gently swirls the glass of champagne in his hands before bringing it to his lips for a sip.

Jungwon can't help but nod to the taste of champagne which leaves a refreshing sensation that lingers on his tongue.

He was supposed to be inside of the club enjoying the celebration of his friend's promotion but the noise was too much for him that he found the balcony as his temporary refuge from the chaos inside.

As his eyes went back to the city skyline, his head were once again flooded with loneliness.

It's been five years since he decided to move to another city to pursue his dreams, and despite achieving them and even reaching more than he expected, there is still a nagging emptiness in his soul that casts a shadow over his triumphs.

The success he had worked so hard for felt hallow, leaving him questioning whether the sacrifices he had made truly worth it or if he had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

It feels like something is missing that leaves a huge void inside of him.

As Jungwon's gaze wandered into the big city skyline that screamed mockery at his loneliness, his eyes traced the twinkling lights of the cityscape until they fell upon a figure standing five meters beside him.

Jungwon's felt his heart pound so hard for the first time as he watched her looking at the same city skyline with her head cradled in her arms in the railing with a same gentle smile that he used to adore in the past.

He can't believe that after so many years, he was now able to see some familiar face back in his hometown.

"Y/n?"

A familiar voice broke through your reverie, calling out your name with a hint of disbelief.

Startled, you glance at your side, searching for the source of the voice that had called out to you.

Your gaze settled on the figure meters away, and as you squinted to get a better look, a subtle beat stirred inside your chest.

As recognition dawned on you, your heart finally quickened its pace, its rhythm echoing a familiar tune that you haven't felt for five long years.

With each beat, the sensation grew stronger, enveloping you in a wave of nostalgia.

It was a rhythm so deeply ingrained, so unmistakably familiar, that despite the passage of time, you felt it once again, coursing through your veins like a rediscovered melody from the past.

After all those years, he is the only one that continues to stir your heart with this much intensity.

Standing beneath the glow of the city lights, he exuded an aura of masculinity that seemed to draw everyone's eyes effortlessly.

His once-boyish features had transformed into a striking display of manliness, with a jawline so sharp it could cut through the night air with ease

The black polo that he was wearing perfectly hugged his broad shoulders, accentuating every muscle beneath.

At that moment, it was as if time stood still, the world around you fading into the background as you found yourself captivated with disbelief.

"Jungwon?"

The simple sound of his name on your lips sends a rush of warmth flooding through him, igniting a smile that stretches across Jungwon's face in disbelief.

It's new that you didn't call him with the honorifics that you used to call him before yet it was the least of his problem—it's the fact that it's you, someone he hasn't seen in what feels like an eternity, who has spoken it.

"Yeah. It's me, Y/n," he softly said "It's been a long time"

His eyes sparkle with joy as he responds, and you can't help but feel a pang in your heart at the sight.

How is it that after purposely ghosting him for years, he still finds happiness in seeing you?

"Yeah, it is," you murmur, averting your eyes as guilt slowly consumes your soul. "How are you?"

"Everything's fine," Jungwon leans on the railing looking at the cityscape with a faint smile "although a little bit lonely for being away in home"

You nodded, clasping your hands behind your back. You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek, feeling the weight of awkward silence settling the atmosphere.

Your conflicted thoughts race through your mind on what to say next, wondering if you should apologize or stay silent.

As if Jungwon could read your mind, he broke through your reverie.

"You don't have to worry about anything, Y/n," his eyes find yours again, this time with more gentleness on it, making your heart beat a little faster. "I understand, you might have your own reason"

Despite the course of time, Jungwon remained unchanged. He was still the same person you remembered—understanding, reassuring, and everything you had once fallen in love with.

"Although, you owe me a dinner for all the lost time we haven't seen each other," he teasingly says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, matching it with a playful smirk.

Your eyes went wide, taken aback by what he said.

You spoke too soon; he's now become playful.

Jungwon's eyes formed into a crescent moon as he chuckles at your reaction.

"Sorry, I can't help but tease you. It's really been a long time since I've talked to someone I know from back home," he said, tucking his hands into his neatly ironed dark pants and leaning his back against the railing. "Besides your brother, of course."

"You still in contact with Riki-niisan?" You ask in surprise.

"We never lost contact with each other. I never knew your brother could be clingy" He joked, making you smile. "I also found out from him that you moved to this city to study"

His eyes found yours again, and as you looked into them, a hint of sadness reflected back at you, instantly making you feel like your heart dropped.

"I've been wanting to get in touch with you, but I'm afraid you might not want to talk to me."

As you continue to look into Jungwon's eyes, the regrets succeed in clouding not only your mind but also your heart.

Regrets about the times you had a chance back then to make up with him, thinking that if you had just been capable of handling your emotions instead of avoiding him and projecting your feelings onto him, there wouldn't be this series of "what if's" that has built in your mind.

But because of how childishly you handled the situation, you ended up hurting the person who had only pure intentions, and now he is doubting whether he was the problem when it was you to blame.

"Jungwon, I—"

"Y/n," your words were suddenly cut off when you heard one of your friends call you, her face showing signs of tiredness.

"I think we need to go home; Soo-ah is too wasted," she sighed, shaking her head as if she was stressed about something.

You peeked inside the club, trying to find the rest of your friends from the balcony. As you caught a glimpse of them, you couldn't help but feel worried.

The scene where one of your friends swaying side to side, raising a bottle of champagne, and shouting colorful words at the top of her lungs, is enough for you to end the night.

However, you were snapped back to reality when you realized Jungwon was still there with you on the balcony.

As you looked at him, he already had his arms crossed over his chest, still leaning on the railing. His eyes were on you, and a small, wistful smile played on his lips, carrying a hint of understanding.

"Go ahead, it's getting late," he said with a nod, gesturing for you to follow your friend, who was still standing by the sliding door, waiting for you to join her and go home.

Not wanting to bother your friend any further, as she looked exhausted, you nodded at him and proceeded to follow your friend to the rest of the girls to pack up.

As you walked away from the balcony, it felt like each step was stamping on your heart, making a cracking noise and echoing another layer of guilt that piled up in your heart.

You closed your eyes and clutched your chest, trying to soothe the pain you were feeling.

"What if this is the final chance?"

Your steps came to a halt.

"What if this is the last?"

As if your body took over, you turned around and ran back to the balcony with a pounding heart.

Maybe you acted like a child for ignoring him for years, thinking he might have moved on and forgotten about it, but you were so wrong.

Meeting him tonight, felt like fate had a reason.

"Jungwon!" you called. You found him still in the same position but now looking up at the sky with his eyes closed.

Those gorgeous eyes found yours once again, wide from hearing his name exclaimed by you.

"Let's do it," you said, still catching your breath. Jungwon frowned, dumbfounded by your words.

"Let's get dinner to catch up," you continued, the words slipped in your mouth feel like a weight you had been carrying for five years, slightly lifted, making you genuinely smile. "My treat."

At that moment, not only did your heart feel like it could finally breathe from the chains of guilt that caged you, but also the man who had been wishing to meet you could finally gather the courage to ask about the things he did that made you avoid him and formally apologize for it.

With a soft smile, he uttered words that came straight from his heart.

"I'm looking forward to it, Y/n"

Chapter Seven

Sometimes, it feels like the universe adores you, bestowing blessings that you don't always feel you deserve. Sure, life isn't as easy as it seems in the movies, but with the universe blessing you with people who become your strong support system, life becomes bearable.

However, just as much as the universe adores you, it can also seem to curse you with its worst imaginable trials. It felt like the universe was in that state with you when a realization dawned on you.

How can you keep the dinner that you promise when you have no means to contact Jungwon?

You slammed your head onto the open book placed in your desk with the rest of your study materials creating a loud thud. You groaned at your stupidity.

This realization have been bugging you for days.

You were ready to give Jungwon the details about the dinner you planned, but as you scrolled through your contacts, a sudden lightning bolt of awareness struck you.

You had deleted his number a long time ago.

You stomped your feet in frustration, you thought studying will help you ignore this feeling but it wasn’t working well for you.

"Still thinking about it?"

With your head still resting on the desk, you turned your head towards the sound of a voice and saw Eunhee standing in the doorway, a plastic bag in one hand and the other resting on her waist.

"Okaeri" you lifelessly greet.

After graduating high school, you and Eunhee decided to apply to the same university and, miraculously, both passed the entrance exam.

Her presence was one of the reasons your parents felt comfortable letting you move to another city for your studies; knowing someone would be there to accompany you gave them peace of mind.

"Tadaima" she greets back with a smile.

You and Eunhee had been roommates ever since freshman year, sharing both the challenges and joys of college life together, including the history you had with Jungwon.

The first time you told her about it, you got hit in the head, delivering a much-needed reality check.

She scolded you for how poorly you handled the situation, insisting that if you had told her sooner, she would have knocked some senses into you to prevent it from happening.

You couldn't help but agree and wish you had confided in her back then.

"I told you, just contact your brother; he surely has Jungwon's number" Eunhee suggested.

You knew she was right. It was an obvious solution to simply ask your brother, especially since Jungwon had mentioned they were still in contact.

It was an easy fix, a straightforward way to solve your problem. Yet, for some reason, it felt incredibly difficult for you.

The thought of reaching out to your brother and admitting that you needed Jungwon's number was daunting. It made you confront the reality of your past actions and the lingering feelings of guilt and regret.

Despite knowing it was the simplest way forward, the emotional weight of the situation made it seem far from easy.

Now, lying in your bed, you stared at your brother's message inbox. You typed out comprehensive sentences, trying to find the right words to ask for Jungwon's number, only to delete them repeatedly.

The task should have been simple, but each attempt felt like an impossible hurdle. The more you tried, the more the words eluded you, as if the gravity of the situation rendered you unable to reach out for the help you needed.

With a heavy sigh, you finally gave up and turned off your phone, placing it on your bedside table.

Ready to accept defeat and let sleep take you away from your misery, you closed your eyes.

Just as you began to drift off, your phone chimed with a notification. You reached for your phone again and squinted to the sudden brightness of the screen.

"Hi, it's Jungwon. I hope you haven't forgotten the dinner you promised ;)"

The content of the message nearly made you jump out of bed, totally erasing any trace of sleep from your mind.

The message took you aback, making you question if it was really him, as it was a mystery how he had gotten your number.

And with a wink emoji?!

It was all so new to you that it took a while to gather your thoughts and reply.

"Is it really you, Jungwon?"

As if he was waiting for your reply, he responded almost instantly.

"Yeah, it's me~"

You let out a gasp, covering your mouth in disbelief when he sent you a selfie. He was lying on his bed, wearing a black shirt with his hair visibly wet from the shower.

He was dashingly handsome.

The sight of him was enough to make your face turn as red as a tomato and cause your brain to short-circuit, rendering you completely speechless.

"I got your number from your brother when you started studying here. He insisted I have it in case of an emergency. I'm glad I kept it."

His message left you in a daze. All those years, he had your number?

The realization hit you hard, for all this time, the means to contact him had been right there, and he had known how to reach you?

The thought of him having your number all these years sent a whirlwind of emotions through you, from shock to a bittersweet.

"I've always wanted to reach out," Jungwon admitted. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me."

His words words made your heart swell with emotion. You felt a mix of guilt, relief, and a new kind of happiness. You realized that despite the years of silence, he had always kept a piece of you with him, waiting for the right moment.

"Thank you for reaching out, Jungwon," you finally replied. You bit your lip, nervous about the next message you wanted to send, something you had been wanting to say to him for a very long time.

"I've missed you."

With shaky hands, you quickly typed the next message to divert his attention from the first one.

"And yes, the dinner is still up. Are you free next Friday night?"

As you sat there, staring at your phone, with all the details being set for the upcoming dinner, you felt a sudden shift within you.

The regret and guilt began to fade, replaced by hopeful anticipation. You knew that this was a second chance, a moment to reconnect and rebuild what had been lost.

For the first time in a long while, you felt a genuine sense of happiness.

This time, you were determined to make the right choices.

Chapter Eight

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, gently waking you from a restless sleep. The sudden feeling of significant weighed heavily on your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Today was the day of your dinner with Jungwon.

Rising from bed, you went through your morning routine with a sense of purpose. This wasn’t just any day; it was a chance to make things right.

After a quick shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and stood in front of your closet, contemplating your outfit. You wanted to look perfect, not just for Jungwon, but for yourself—an expression of the new beginning you were stepping into.

Next, you moved to your vanity, carefully applying makeup that enhanced your natural beauty. A bit of eyeliner, a touch of blush, and a swipe of your favorite lipstick completed the look.

You wanted to present the best version of yourself, one that reflected the changes you had undergone over the years.

Satisfied with your appearance, you slipped into a pair of comfortable yet stylish shoes and gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror. You felt a surge of confidence and a sense of readiness to face whatever the evening might bring.

With everything in place, you grabbed your purse and checked your phone for any messages from Jungwon. Seeing none, you took a deep breath, allowing a wave of calm to wash over you.

Today was about seizing the moment and embracing the second chance you had been given.

When the time finally arrived, you felt a sudden mix of excitement and nervousness as you entered the restaurant.

You took a seat at the table you had reserved, heart brimming with hope as you awaited Jungwon's arrival.

Or so you thought would happen.

You nervously swirled the third juice you had ordered with the straw, eyes constantly darting outside and then back to your phone, waiting for a notification. Thirty minutes had passed since you arrived, and there was still no sign of Jungwon. Restlessness began to seep in, and doubts started to creep into your mind.

"Just thirty more minutes," you told yourself. "He'll come."

Yet as the minutes ticked by, Jungwon was still nowhere to be found. You tried to convince yourself that he hadn’t intentionally ditched you, reasoning that perhaps he had forgotten since you hadn’t notified him today or given him a heads-up that you were already at the meeting spot.

Sighing in defeat, you felt a lump forming in your throat, tears threatening to spill. Gathering your things, you decided to leave, hoping that some ice cream might help soothe the growing sadness in your chest.

As you left the restaurant, your phone rang. Despite not being in the mood to talk to anyone, you still answered, seeing it was your brother.

"Nini?" you tried to casually greet Ni-ki, masking the sadness in your tone.

"Are you free tonight?" he asked. You were about to decline, assuming he was about to pull one of his usual stunts, flying over to visit you as if it were just a short trip instead of thousands of miles away.

You really weren’t in the mood for his crazy antics. But his next words stopped you in your tracks.

"Can you check on Jungwon? He hasn't been answering his phone since yesterday."

The sadness and frustration that had boiled inside you as you exited the restaurant evaporated in an instant, replaced by concern and agitation as you stood in front of Jungwon's apartment door.

Ni-ki had given you directions to Jungwon's place, asking you to check on him after he'd become unresponsive. Your brother wanted to do it himself, but work had him tied up, leaving you with the task.

"Jungwon?" you called out after ringing the doorbell.

No response.

You tried again, but just like the first time, silence greeted you from the other side. Your worry intensified, and you began chewing the inside of your cheek anxiously.

Glancing at one of your brother's messages, you carefully entered the passcode for Jungwon's apartment that Ni-ki had provided.

The door clicked open after you entered the passcode, and as you turned the knob, the trembling in your hand was a clear sign of your nervousness.

You had no idea what you were about to see behind that door, and the fear of finding something horrible gnawed at you. Images from the countless crime documentaries you had binge-watched replayed in your mind, making you gulp.

You pushed the door open slowly, and immediately, the darkness inside greeted you. Cold sweat formed on your forehead as you hesitated.

This was exactly how things started in horror movies!

With a swift motion, you swung the door wide open and frantically searched for the light switch, tapping the wall until, by some miracle, you found it. The lights flickered on, and you let out a sigh of relief as you scanned the room, finding nothing unusual.

You called for Jungwon again, but still, no response. Your phone was still clutched in your hand, already open to the call app, ready to dial for help if needed. Your heart raced as you faced another door.

Jungwon's room.

You knocked once more, calling his name, but it was the same as before—silence. Slowly, you opened the door, bracing yourself for what lay inside. The room was dark, but with the lights from the hallway spilling in, you quickly spotted Jungwon lying on his bed, wrapped in a thick blanket.

Rushing to his side, you immediately noticed he was drenched in sweat, his breath labored and pained. You pressed your palm to his forehead, and the burning heat of his skin confirmed what your instincts had already told you.

Jungwon hadn’t missed your dinner out of spite or to get back at you.

He couldn’t come because he was sick.

Somehow, knowing this brought a sense of peace to your heart.

The room seemed to swirl and twist as Jungwon slowly opened his eyes to a blurry world. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, and though his body was consumed by an insatiable heat, he felt cold to the bone.

As consciousness slowly seeped back into him, the realization struck—he was burning up with fever. Struggling to focus his blurred vision on the ceiling above him, fragments of memory began to return.

He was supposed to have dinner with you.

The thought hit him like an ice-cold bucket of water, sending a shiver down his spine that was ten times colder than the fever raging through his body.

Jungwon had felt under the weather the day before, but he had brushed it off, determined to finish his work. Even though he had felt worse earlier, he convinced himself that a little rest would set him right. He had been looking forward to tonight's dinner so much that he ignored the signs. But as the day wore on, his condition only worsened until he was now bedridden.

Panic surged through him as he tried to sit up, imagining you sitting alone at the restaurant, thinking he had abandoned you. But a wave of dizziness hit him, forcing him back down onto the bed. He closed his eyes in frustration, unable to bear the thought of you drowning in negative thoughts, believing he had stood you up.

He needed to get to you, even if it meant pushing through the fever and dealing with the consequences of his stubbornness.

As Jungwon gathered his strength to make another attempt to rise, he flinched when something cool and damp touched his forehead. His eyes snapped open, and he was greeted by the sight of your gentle face, leaning over him as you carefully wiped his forehead.

Jungwon blinked, struggling to process the sight of you beside him. The cool cloth in your hand was a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating from his skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry and scratchy, and only a faint croak escaped.

"Shh," you whispered, your voice soothing. "Don't try to talk."

Your gentle tone, combined with the sight of your concerned eyes, made something inside Jungwon twist with emotion. He hadn't seen you this close in what felt like forever, and the reality of you being here, taking care of him, was overwhelming.

Your touch was calming, a balm to the chaotic storm of thoughts and fever plaguing him. He felt guilty—guilty for worrying you, for not being able to show up like he had promised. But the guilt was slowly being replaced by something else, something he couldn't name as he watched you care for him.

"I tried..." he began again, his voice cracking. "I didn't want you to think.."

"I know," you said softly, cutting him off. "I know you didn't stand me up on purpose."

He wanted to apologize, to explain how much it had meant to him, how much he had looked forward seeing you again. But the words wouldn't come out right, and the exhaustion tugging at him was too strong.

Instead, he just watched you, his eyes heavy but refusing to close, afraid that if he blinked, you might disappear.

As he looked like you, he had noticed something in you that he failed to realized when he first saw you at the club.

You had changed.

Gone was the carefree, youthful face he remembered from before. Now, your features had matured, carrying a grace and poise that hadn't been there before.

The roundness of your cheeks had given at to a more defined structure, your eyes still held the same warmth but with the depth that spoke of experiences lived and lessons learned. There was a quiet strength in the way you moved, in the way you cared for him, that he hadn't noticed before.

You were beautiful.

Not just in the way he had always known, but in a way that took his breath away. The realization stirred something deep within him, an unfamiliar feeling that made his heart beat in a different, almost unsteady rhythm.

The longer he continue staring at your face, his vision slowly turning blurry with only your angelic face being in the focus. It feels like every blink there's slowly a heart shapes one by one appearing, floating around you.

'It's just the fever,' he told himself, trying to push the feeling down. His thoughts were muddled, and he knew better than to trust them when he was this sick.

But even as he told himself this, his eyes couldn't stop tracing your features, his heart couldn't stop its erratic rhythm. The sight of you like this, so close, so caring, was doing things to him—things he hadn't expected, things he wasn't prepared for.

It made him uneasy, yet at the same time, he felt drawn to it, to you.

"Jungwon?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, soft and concerned.

He blinked, realizing that he's been staring, his heart still thudding painfully in his chest. "I-I'm okay," he croaked, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it to reassure you or himself.

You gave him a small, understanding smile, one that made his heart twist in that strange, unfamiliar way again. "You should rest," you said gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "You need to get better."

Jungwon nodded, though his thoughts were far from restful. As he closed his eyes, he couldn't shake the image of you from his mind, couldn't stop the way his heart was responding to your presence.

He tried to ignore it, tried to convince himself that it was nothing, just the fever messing with his head.

But deep down, he knew better.

As he drifted back into a fitful sleep, one thought lingered in his mind: you had changed,

so had his feelings.

Chapter Nine

Jungwon never felt a relief in his entire life as he open his eyes from a good sleep. He lay there for a moment, letting the stillness of the morning settle over him, before finally pushing himself up, testing his strength.

After a sleepless night and days of feeling weak, the fever finally broken leaving him feeling lighter, almost like he was waking up from a long, hazy dream.

He stretched, feeling the tightness in his muscles, but it was the good kind—the kind that reminded him he was alive, that he was getting better.

All thanks to you.

There are no days that you are not there beside him while he was battling with his sickness. Without you it will make sure take him longer to recover.

As his thoughts drifted back to you, the way you'd cared for him so gently, the concern in your eyes, the way your hand felt cool and reassuring against his fevered skin made him smile, soft smile that felt like it came from a place deep inside him that he hadn't accessed in years.

He got out of bed slowly, steadying himself as got out bed slowly, steading himself as he made his way to the bathroom. The face that looked back at him in the mirror was pale, but there was a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

He splashed some water on his face, feeling the coolness refresh him, waking him up fully. As he patted his face with a clean towel, he noticed a bright, bear shaped sticky note stuck on the bathroom mirror.

"Don't forget to take your medicine on time! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ – Y/N"

He can't help but giggled at the kaomoji that you used, quickly reminded him those notes he gets on the gifts he received when he was high school usually on his energy drink, so much similar.

He knows.

He continued his path though the apartment, finding more notes: one on the refrigerator door, reminding him to eat healthy foods, another on the nightstand urging him to rest, and even one on the kitchen counter suggesting he hydrate often.

Each note was a tiny piece of your care left behind, and with each one he read, a warmth spread through his chest.

Jungwon's fingers lingered over the last note, his mind replaying the moments when you must have placed them there. He hadn't realized how much these small gestures would mean to him.

The realization that you've been here, that you cared enough to leave these notes, stirred something in him.

With a smirk, he grabbed a pen and a small notepad, mirroring your approach. He walked back to the refrigerator and placed his first note next to yours:

"Only if you join me for the next meal"

He continued around the apartment, leaving playful and grateful replies to each of your notes:

"You've got great handwriting, by the way."

"Feeling much better, thank to your TLC."

Jungwon grabbed his phone, the weight of it in his hand grounding him as he scrolled through his messages. There were a few from his coworkers, a missed call from his boss, but it was your message that caught his eye.

"Went back to uni to attend some classes. Let me know if you need anything. :)"

He smiled and quickly typed out a reply.

"Thank you, I really appreciate everything you did for me. How about we reschedule that dinner? This time, I promise I'll be there."

He hit send, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. He hadn't felt like this in a long time—like a kid waiting for something exciting to happen, something that could change everything.

Jungwon walked into his kitchen, making a simple breakfast as he waited for your reply. He couldn't stop himself from glancing at his phone every few minutes, his mind racing with thoughts of what might happen next.

When his phone finally buzzed with a new message, he nearly knocked over his coffee in his haste to grab it.

''How about tomorrow night?"

Jungwon smiled, his heart doing that weird, excited flutter again. He quickly typed back a confirmation, his fingers moving almost on their own as he set the plan in motion.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He spent most of it thinking about the dinner. Part of him was still nervous, still unsure of how to navigate these new feelings, but another part—a bigger part— was excited. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to spend time with you.

By the time the day rolled around, Jungwon found himself standing outside your dorm, nervously rubbing his hands together as he leaned against his car, the soft glow of the evening lights reflecting on his face. His mind was spinning with anticipation, wondering how the night would go.

"Jungwon!"

The sound of your voice instantly pulled him from his thoughts. His head turned in your direction, and for a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

There you were, walking toward him in the simplest of dresses—a light pastel that flowed effortlessly with the breeze. It wasn't flashy or overly formal, but in Jungwon's eyes, it was like the world had frozen just to capture this moment.

His breath hitched as he took in every detail—the way your hair swayed with each step, the soft smile on your face, and how the gentle evening light highlighted your features.

There was something so natural yet mesmerizing about you. You weren't just the girl he had known from years ago; you really had matured, grown into someone even more beautiful than he had imagined. His heart stirred, beating a rhythm he hadn't quite felt before.

"Something's wrong?" You asked in confusion with his sudden stillness.

Jungwon snapped back to reality, quickly composing himself before flashing a warm smile.

"You... you look beautiful tonight" Jungwon said, his voice slightly betraying his nerves. He looked down to cleared his throat, missing the way you blushed with his compliment.

Jungwon stepped forward and opened the car door for you, his movements gentle and deliberate.

"Shall we?" he asked, still feeling the lingering effects of seeing you in a new light.

As you stepped into the car, Jungwon couldn't help but let his gaze linger just a second longer, feeling that unfamiliar flutter in his chest once more.

The evening was pleasant, with the sound of your laughter filling the air as you caught up on everything that had happened since you last spoke.

Jungwon found himself smiling more than he had in a while, but there was something he couldn't shake—the weight of the questions he had buried for so long.

As the conversation drifted, he saw the way you fiddled with the napkin in your hand, your eyes dropping to the table for a moment.

He knew that look. You were nervous, maybe even hesitant, and his heart tightened in anticipation.

He had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

"Jungwon," you started, your voice soft, almost unsure. He immediately turned his full attention to you, his heart beating a little faster. "I wanted to apologize... for suddenly losing contact with you back then."

There it was.

Jungwon's chest tightened, but he didn't show it. He smiled softly, nodding, trying to ease the tension.

"It's okay," he said, meaning it. He didn't want to make this harder for you than it already was. "People grow apart sometimes... but, if it's not too much to ask—" he hesitated, feeling selfish for even bringing it up, but he had to know.

"Is it okay to know why?"

He watched as you expression shifted, the light in your eyes dimming slightly. You looked down, fidgeting with you napkin again, and for a moment, he thought you might actually tell him the truth. But then you gave a small laugh, almost forced, and shrugged.

"I guess I was just...really busy" You nervously laugh "School, life, you know. It all kind of caught up with me."

Jungwon smiled, but deep down, he know that wasn't it. Not the whole truth, anyway.

He knows.

He has always known.

When you stopped talking to him, when you disappeared from his life, he has sensed there was going on. The way you had distanced yourself felt deliberate, and it hurt more than he could admit.

But what really gave it away was the gifts—the little care packages, the foods, and sticky notes filled with motivational puns and quotes accompanied with cute doodles.

He had always suspected it was you. No one else would gone out of their way to make sure he was taken care of, not like you had.

The moment you stopped talking to him, those small, thoughtful gestures had stopped too. He has noticed, and the pieces had fallen into place.

But he didn't push it. Not then, and not now.

He nodded again, forcing his smile to stay in place even though part of him was disappointed. "I understand," he said quietly. "I'm just glad we're talking again."

And he meant that.

He was happy to have you back in his life, even if there was still questions unanswered. He wouldn't force you to explain what had really happened. You had your reason, and he respected that.

But deep down, he couldn't help but hope that one day, you'd tell him. One day, you'd trust him again to share the real reason you had pulled away.

For now, though, Jungwon take what he could get. He wouldn't push, because having you here, across from him, was enough.

It was more than enough.

Chapter Ten

After the dinner, your friendship with Jungwon began to feel like it had slipped back into the comfortable rhythm it had in high school.

The awkwardness of lost time seemed to melt away, replaced by an easy companionship.

Whenever you both had free time, you found yourselves spending it together—catching dinners, window shopping, or simply grabbing snacks for a quick break.

This time, it was Jungwon's idea to got to the movies after he learned you were eager to see the latest release in a series you'd both followed.

The two of you sat through the film, laughing at the same parts and exchanging quiet comments, surrounding the both of you with warm and familiar atmosphere.

As you sat in the car on the way back, a thought crossed your mind. Jungwon had been spending so much time with you lately, always eager to hang out, always suggesting things to do.

It made you wonder.

Did he have other friends?

Friends he shared these kinds of moments with?

You hesitated for a moment before asking. "So... do you hang out like this with your other friends?"

Jungwon glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the road, his brows slightly raised at the question.

"Friends?" He repeated, as if to make sure he heard you right. You nodded, curiosity getting the better of you.

"I mean, I do have friends" he said, shrugging slightly. "But they don't really like doing this kind of stuff."

The answer surprised you a little, and it made you wonder something else. You knew he was good-looking, kind, and had that natural charm about him.

Surely, he'd had a girlfriend at some point, right?

But before you could ask directly, you found yourself hesitating.

Was that too personal?

You didn't want to pry but the curiosity kills you at the moment.

"I'm sure you've done these things with a girl before, though..." You said it casually, hoping it wouldn't sound too invasive, your gaze shifting out the window to avoid his reaction.

To you surprise, Jungwon chuckled softly. "No, not really."

Your head snapped toward him in shock. "Really?" The disbelief in your voice was clear.

Jungwon nodded, his expression calm and sincere. "Yeah, I've never had a girlfriend."

You blinked, trying to process that. Jungwon? Never had a girlfriend?

It was hard to believe, given how many girls had swooned over him back in high school—and probably still did. He seemed so...put together.

You were at a loss for words, but Jungwon didn't seemed to mind your reaction.

"Well," he said, a playful lilt to his voice, "if you know someone, maybe you could match me up."

His suggestion caught you off guard, and suddenly, a small but sharp pang shot though your chest, like a sting you weren't expecting.

You blinked in surprise, forcing a smile, but deep down, it hurt in a way you hadn't anticipated. You didn't understand why.

Why did the idea of introducing him to someone else—someone who might catch his interest—bother you so much?

The thought of seeing him with another girl, laughing, and sharing the same moments the two of you had been enjoying lately, made something inside of you twist.

Quickly, you shook your head. "I don't think I can do that." you said, trying to keep your voice casual.

Jungwon seemed confused for a moment. "Why not?" he asked, his tone still playful, unaware of the strange ache his words had caused.

You bit your lip, searching for an excuse. "I don't know any women around your age," you finally said, managing to sound nonchalant. "Most of my friends are close to my age."

It was true; you were twenty-two years old, surrounded by a vibrant group of friends your age, all still navigating the ups and downs of college life together. Your felt sense of comfort and camaraderie among them, but when it came to Jungwon, everything was different.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would actually consider dating someone younger. Surely, a guy like him would be interested in a women who were around his age—twenty-seven or older, women who had their lives more figured out than you did.

Jungwon fell silent for a moment, as if considering your response. Then, with a soft smile, his voice quieter, more serious than before said,

"Around your age, huh?" He looked at you, and there was something in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

"I'm fine with that."

His words hug in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. There was something about the way he said it—something gentle but also bold, like he was hinting at something more.

The pain that you felt earlier sudden disappeared, totally gone like it didn't happen, only to be replaced with a quick beat of your heart and warmth spreading across you cheeks.

Was he... implying something?

You looked away, quickly, trying to steady yourself. Your thought were suddenly racing, a strange fluttering sensation stirring in your stomach. You weren't sure how to respond, or if you even should.

A part of you wanted to brush it off as causal banter, but the way he had look at you made it had to dismiss.

And then there was your heart, beating a little faster, making you wonder if maybe just maybe, this was more than just two old friend reconnecting.

As the weeks passed, your time with Jungwon grew more frequent and comfortable. Each outing felt like a glimpse into a friendship that had been rekindled, a spark that had never truly gone out.

You found yourselves laughing more often, sharing more stories, and creating new memories that felt just as precious as those from high school.

Being with Jungwon very often can't help but make you realize some moments that made you wonder if there was something more between you two.

During a spontaneous lunch one afternoon, Jungwon had leaned closer, whispering a joke that made your stomach flutter.

The way he looked at you sometimes, with that gentle smile and twinkling eyes, sent your heart racing.

Sometimes, you caught him watching you with fondness when you laughed, his gaze lingering a little too long, and each time you felt an electric thrill dance down your spine.

One day, as you were both walking through a local park, he playfully nudged you with his shoulder and said, "You know, I really like spending time with you. You make everything more fun."

You brushed it off, laughing it off lightly, but inside, your mind was racing.

Was he just being friendly? Or was there something deeper behind those words?

Then, one evening, everything took a turn. Your dorm experienced a power outrage, leaving you with no way to study for your major exam the next day. You felt a wave of panic wash over you. You needed to review, and the library was already closed.

However, Jungwon didn't hesitate to invite you to his apartment after hearing your situation.

"It's no big deal," he assured you, his voice warm and inviting. "I'll inform your parents and Ni-ki."

His last words gives you so much assurance to accept his kind offer.

Once inside his apartment, you immediately settled in at his dining table, books sprawled out around you. You tried to focus, flipping through your notes and practice problems, but the anxiety of the impeding exam loomed over you like a storm cloud.

As the minutes turned into an hour, you found yourself staring blankly at a particularly difficult math problem, your frustration mouthing with each failed attempt to solve it.

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. The numbers seemed to blur together, and your concentration slipped further away.

Jungwon passed by but quickly halted when he saw your miserable expression.

"You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

You sighed dramatically. "I'm fine, just struggling with this problem"

He stepped closer, brow furrowed as he glanced at the paper in front of you. "Want me to take a look?"

Before you could respond, he pulled up a chair beside you, towel still draped around his neck from a shower, water droplets glistening in his tousled hair.

You couldn't help but stare, feeling a rush of warmth in your cheeks.

There was something effortlessly charming about him, even in such a casual state.

As he leaned over to see your work, your heart raced. It felt so nostalgic, the way he was explaining the problem to you, reminiscent of those afternoons in middle school when he'd patiently guided you through your studies. His voice was calm and reassuring, and you found yourself hanging on his every word.

But then, something on the table caught your eye. There, beside your notes, was the mug you had gifted him ages ago—the one with the garden design that reminded of you of his name.

The very reason you had stopped sending him gifts and pulled away.

The sight of the mug stirred something within you, a mix of nostalgia and warmth.

He kept it?

I thought his friends don't like it?

"Hey, is this the problem you're stuck on?" Jungwon's voice snapped you back to the present, his brow raised in curiosity.

"Yeah," you admitted, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the emotions swirling inside you. "I just can't wrap my head around it."

He studied the problem for a moment before his fingers brushed against yours as he pointed to the paper. You felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, and your heart raced again. Jungwon's closeness, his focus on you, everything felt changed with an energy you couldn't ignore.

"This part is tricky," he explained, his voice steady and clear. "But if you look at it this way..."

As he walked you through the steps, you felt a sense of comfort was over you. His presence was calming, and the way he spoke made everything feel manageable.

You focused on him, on the way his eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he explained the concepts. You were reminded once more of how much you valued not just his help but his company.

And as he continued, something deeper began to stir within you, a growing awareness of your feelings. It was becoming increasingly clear that your feelings for Jungwon didn't die down, not a single thing.

You were still in love with him.

And seeing that mug, healed something inside of you.

As you worked through the problem Jungwon had just explained, you could feel his presence lingering beside you. He hadn't left your side after finishing his explanation, and though he was silent, you couldn't share the feeling of his gaze on you. Your eyes stayed fixed on your notebook, but the heat in your cheeks grew as you became increasingly aware of him.

You stole a quick glance from the corner of your eye, and your heart skipped a beat.

Jungwon had his head resting on his arm, lying on the table just inches away, his eyes soft as he watched you. He looked so at ease, but there was a gentleness in his gaze that made your pulse race. His other arm lay near the open notebook, as if he was still ready to help but, at the moment, was more focused on you than on the math problem in front of him.

Feeling flustered, you looked down again, trying to concentrate on the numbers, but his gaze felt as tangible as a touch. You shifted in your seat, forcing yourself to refocus, yet you could still feel him looking at you, and it was making you incredibly self-conscious.

When you finally turned to him, cheeks flushed, you managed to stammer, "I-Is something wrong?"

Jungwon chuckled softly, lifting his head just a little to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, warm, and it made you freeze. He smiled, his voice a quite murmur, "Yeah, you look beautiful today."

Your heart immediately fluttered and a rush of warmth filling your chest as his words sank in. He kept his gaze steady on you, his expression unwavering and full of something that made you breathless.

"And it makes my heart go crazy," he added, leaning back slightly but never breaking eye contact. His eyes held a playful glint, but there was also something deeper, more serious.

You felt your cheeks grow even warmer as your tore your gaze away, attempting to hide the way his words affected you.

"D-don't be ridiculous," you mumbled, trying to downplay the fluttering in your stomach, even though you were sure he could see right through you.

Jungwon's smile widened, clearly amused by your reaction. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed," he teased, and you shot him a look of mock annoyance, though your blush betrayed you.

"Stop distracting me, I'm trying to study," you replied, attempting to sound stern but failing miserably as you couldn't help but smile.

Jungwon leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, still watching you with that soft look. "Alright, alright, I'll behave. But hey," he added, his tone becoming more thoughtful, "after your exam, if you're free, maybe we can go out and celebrate? Just the two of us?"

You met his gaze, your heart skipping a beat at the hint of excitement in his eyes.

"Yeah," you replied, smiling shyly, "I'd like that."

He nodded, seeming pleased, and you noticed a spark in his expression, ad if he'd already made up his mind about something.

He turned his attention back to your notebook, giving you space to study, but you could still feel the warmth of his lingering presence. It felt comforting, steady and you couldn't help but feel that this moment was the beginning of something more.

After days of studying and pouring all your energy into the exam, the moment finally arrived. As you left the exam room, a wave of relied washed over you.

You'd given it your all, and now, the excitement of the evening with Jungwon took over your thoughts. He'd promised a celebration, and you were determined to make it one worth remembering, regardless of the results.

You met him outside, where he greeted you with a warm smile. "Ready?" he asked, his eyes shining with anticipation.

You nodded, and he led you to a narrow spiral staircase that wound up the side of a building. Just as you reached the base, he extended his hands, gently holding yours to guide you up. You felt your cheeks warm at the touch, but his grip was steady and reassuring.

He seemed to sense your nerves, giving your hand a slight squeeze as you climbed the stairs together.

When you finally reached the top, you gasped at the sight ahead of you.

Spread across the rooftop was a cozy setup: a blanket laid out under a canopy of string lights that twinkled like stars, a small table with a cake and some snacks, and a perfect view of the city skyline glowing against the evening sky. The lights of the city stretched out before you, painting a breathtaking scene.

Turning to Jungwon, you felt a surge of emotions welling up. He'd gone through so much trouble for this moment, and you hadn't even received your exam result yet.

"Jungwon... you didn't have to do all this," you said, your voiced tinged with both gratitude and a bit of worry.

"But I wanted to," he replied softly, meeting your gaze. There was sincerity in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You worked so hard. You deserve a celebration, no matter what."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, and you both walked over to the edge of the rooftop, where you settled by the railing. As you admired the view, you found yourselves talking easily—about your exam, Jungwon's latest projects at work, and everything in between.

The conversation was light, punctuated with laughter, and the atmosphere felt intimate and warm.

As you finished a bite of cake, Jungwon suddenly cleared his throat, drawing your attention. He seemed a little nervous, which was unusual for him, and it made you raise an eyebrow curiously.

"So," he began, a small smile playing on his lips, "you said last time that someone was recently trying to get your attention, right?" You nodded, confirming that someone from another department in your college was indeed trying to pursue you. "What happened with that?"

"I turned him down. I don't have any feelings for him, and I felt bad letting him continue pursuing me without any feelings on my part. I might lead him on and waste his time." You took another bite, savoring the sweetness as Jungwon watched you intently. "Besides, I was too busy with school."

"So, if you weren't busy," he said, a bit more casually, "what kind of guy would you go for?"

You thought for a moment, pretending to consider it seriously. "Well... he'd have to be handsome," you said with playful grin, watching as Jungwon subtly brushed a hand through his hair, giving you a self-assured smile in response.

"Good temper?" he asked, as if he was mentally checking off boxes.

"Definitely," you agreed. " And he'd have to be at least this tall." You raised you hand above your head, gesturing a bit higher than his height.

With a chuckle, Jungwon straightened straightened his posture, lifting his chin proudly to meet the mark.

You giggled at his antics, playfully nudging him. "And, of course, he should be kind."

Jungwon looked thoughtful as he turned his gaze to the city lights. After a brief pause, he glanced back at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"You know..." he paused, nervous starting creeping up on him.

"...I think I possess the qualities you mentioned."

Your heart skipped a beat as you froze, fork halfway to your mouth. His eyes held yours, and he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

"That's why I wanted to ask you..." He hesitated, his tone suddenly soft and serious. "Can I be the man who gets to be part of your life? To stand by your side, to laugh with you... to make you smile like this?"

You stared at him, feeling an overwhelming mix of emotions. Jungwon was offering you something you'd dreamed of, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

For a moment, you felt like you were floating in a dream.

The boy you'd admired since middle school, the one who had occupied your thought through the years, the one who you silently cheering on the sidelines when he practicing for a football game, the one you effortlessly make pack gifts to cheer him up during game season... was here, confessing that he felt the same way.

It was the kind of moment you'd only ever imagined, a quiet hope you'd carried through so many stages of your life, never quite believing it would come true.

Your heart raced as you took it all in—the warmth in his gaze, the way he looked at you with such tenderness. It was like you were suspended in a beautiful, beautiful, fragile dream, and a small part of you feared that if you moved or spoke, you might wake up, and this moment slip away.

But it was real, he was real.

And he was right here, waiting for you, giving you the space to breath and to let the reality of his words sink in.

You felt a spark that immediately sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he reached for your hand and caressed it gently. He gave you a soft smile and continued, "You don't have to answer me right away. Take your time, okay? I just wanted you to know how I feel."

You could feel your checks warming, your pulse quickening, but there was a sense of calm that washed over you too. You squeeze his hand as you managed to whisper,

"Just so you know... the feeling is mutual."

Jungwon's face lit up with a soft, genuine smile, with his dimple deepening that you really love. You felt his thumb brushing over you knuckles that sent another waves of butterflies on your stomach.

He seemed content with the simple connection, knowing that there was no rush, and that the possibility of something beautiful had just begun to unfold between you.

The two of you continued to talk, your words filled with quite hopes and lingering glances.

Jungwon felt a quiet contentment settle within him, knowing he could now pursue you openly, with no reservations—only the pure, genuine love and admiration he held for you, hoping that his feelings would eventually find their way to your heart.

The days that followed Jungwon's quiet confession felt like a gentle unfolding of a dream you hadn't realized could be real.

True to his word, he started showing you, in every little way possible, how much he cared. From bringing you coffee on mornings when he knew you had early classes, to waiting for you outside the library after late study sessions, his gestures were sweet, consistent, and undeniably meaningful.

He was there with small surprises—an extra jacket when he noticed you'd forgotten yours, or a quick note tucked into your notebook remining you to take a break. And every time you looked up, he'd be watching with that soft, affectionate gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

It wasn't just the small gestures, either. When he found out you'd been stressing about an upcoming presentation, he organized a mini study session at his place, complete with snacks and calming playlist. And when he saw how nervous you were, he even practiced with you, listening intently, giving you feedback, and reassuring you that you were more than capable.

His consistency, his warmth, and the way he openly showed how much he liked you made you felt cherished in a way you hadn't expected.

And now, after a long day out together—an impromptu dinner date that had him sneaking you off to his favorite hidden restaurant—Jungwon was walking you back to your dorm.

His fingers were intertwined with yours, his thumb gently brushing against you knuckles as you both strolled through the quiet campus, sharing laughs and reliving moment from your date.

All of that with your pink purse dangling on his shoulder, a sight that made you giggle at how casually he carried it unbothered by how girly it looked on him. He wore it with a smile, squeezing your hand every now and then, as if to reassure you that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

As you strolled through the quite campus, your phone suddenly rang, and when you glanced down, you saw it was Ni-ki.

You answered immediately, expecting his usual check-in, half expecting his usual teasing tone, but instead, his voice came through dark and uncharacteristically stern.

"Have you arrived at your dorm?" he asked, and the strictness in his voice made you pause.

You glanced up at Jungwon, who squeezed your hand reassuringly, his warm smile grounding you. "Almost," you replied softly, trying to keep the peace.

"What's the matter?" you asked, hoping to keep things light.

There was a pause, and the Ni-ki's voice lowered even more. "There's a girl holding hands with a guy on campus right now..."

You were confused at what your brother saying, but his next word felt like someone throw an ice bucket over your head.

"that's you, right?"

You froze mid-step, your heart dropping as you realized what he was implying.

Jungwon stopped too, looking at you with a slight tilt of his head, concern flickering in his eyes. Your mind raced as you glanced around, searching for any sign of your brother.

And then, like a scene straight our of a dramatic movie, you spotted him—Ni-ki, walking towards you with dark expression, his phone still on his ear, eyes fixed on your intertwined hands with a cold expression that made your blood run cold.

"Riki-nii..." you whispered, pulling your hand back from Jungwon's, though he gave you a soft, reassuring look, his calm presence keeping you grounded even as a wave of worry swept over you.

A few moments later, Ni-ki was by your side, his gaze cold and intense as he sized up the situation.

Without a word, he took your purse from Jungwon's shoulder and held it firmly, then mentioned for you to walk with him. "Come on," he muttered, not giving Jungwon a glance.

You gave Jungwon an apologetic look as Ni-ki led you forward, your brother's silent insistence making it clear he wasn't in the mood to talk just yet.

Jungwon followed a few steps behind, hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw clenched but his eyes softened whenever you glanced back.

After a few moments of walking, you finally broke the silence. "I was going to tell you, Nii-san. I just wanted to make sure.... that you'd understand" you said softly, hoping he'd listened.

Ni-ki only gave you a sharp glare. "Understand? You could've given me a heads-up before I caught you sneaking around like this." He looked straight ahead, his face set in a stern expression, guiding you toward your dorm.

You sighed, trying to reason with him as you matched his stride. "We're not even together yet, Riki-nii. I didn't hide anything—"

But Ni-ki cut you off, thrusting your purse back into your hands as you reached your dorm's entrance. "Get inside," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Nini, please..." you tried, feeling helpless as he kept his gaze away from you, his tone rigid. It felt as though the brother you knew, the one who always teased and protected you, had been replaced by a stern stranger.

Just as you were about to turn to Jungwon for some support, he stepped forward, his warm hand reaching for your elbow, his touch calming you instantly. You looked up, meeting his soft, understanding eyes as he gave you a gentle smile.

"You should go inside," he said kindly, his thumb grazing your arm soothingly. "It's already dark, and you have classes tomorrow."

You hesitated, glancing between Jungwon and your brother, not wanting to leave them like this. "But..."

Jungwon leaned in, his hand moving up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch calming despite the tension between you and your brother.

"I can handle this, okay? Don't worry." He spoke with a calm assurance, his gaze never wavering, and though you still felt anxious, his words helped settle your nerves.

Reluctantly, you nodded, giving Ni-ki one last pleading look, but he remained stoic, his gaze unwavering.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked inside, glancing back one last time. You watched as Ni-ki and Jungwon turned and began to walk, their figures disappearing into the night.

The sight left a lingering ache in your chest, but the look in Jungwon's eyes reassured you that he would handle it.

You trusted Jungwon, and deep down, you hoped Ni-ki would see thins your way... eventually.

The silence between Jungwon and Ni-ki was thick, almost suffocating, as they made their way to the empty park under a dim glow of streetlights.

Jungwon felt his heart racing, the gravity of the situation sinking in with each step. He knew he was in the wrong for not speaking to Ni-ki first, for not even realizing that what he shared with you would hit his best friend this deeply.

He knew he should have asked Ni-ki's permission before pursuing you, especially since you meant so much to him. He understood the hurt and sense of betrayal Ni-ki must be feeling, after all, they were best friends, and here he was, holding onto a secret that concerned his sister.

When they stopped, Ni-ki remained with his back turned to Jungwon, his stance tense, fists clenched at his sides. Jungwon opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Ni-ki whipped around and swung a punch that landed square on his jaw, sending him stumbling back.

Pain shot through him, and he clutched his cheek, catching his breath. He barely had time to steady himself when another punch connected with his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

He doubled over, coughing as he tasted blood on his lip. Despite the pain, he didn't try to defend himself. He knew Ni-ki needed this release, needed to let out the anger and betrayal he felt.

If this was what it took for him to listen, Jungwon would endure it.

He braced himself, expecting another blow, but instead, Ni-ki took a deep, frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair, as though he was trying to collect himself.

"Jungwon," Ni-ki's voice was hoarse with anger, "I don't care if you date someone younger. I don't care if you date someone who isn't in our circle. But why... why does it have to be my sister?" His voice broke a little, caught between fury and something close to betrayal.

"Out of all the girls who chase after you, why did it have to be her?"

Jungwon opened his mouth, but Ni-ki held up a hand, demanding silence. There was so much pain in his friend's eyes, and Jungwon knew that if he tried to defend himself now, Ni-ki wouldn't be able to hear him. So he waited, fists still clenched, willing himself to listen, to let Ni-ki's anger run its course.

Ni-ki's voice dropped, his words cutting like a knife. "Tell me, are you the reason she moved here? Are you the reason she wanted to study in this city?" The accusation hit like another blow, and Jungwon shook his head in confusion, trying to process what Ni-ki was saying.

"My sister... she's liked you since middle school, Jungwon" Ni-ki continued, his voice shaking with something deeper than anger. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Do you think I didn't see it—that you were the reason she insisted on having you as her tutor?”

Jungwon blinked, taken a aback. He'd known that you were gifted in physics, but he'd brushed it off as you just being a fast learner.

But the idea, that you had pretend to need help just to be around him—made his heart ache with mix of regret and tenderness.

Ni-ki let out a bitter, humorless chuckle. "She didn't need tutoring. She was already brilliant in physics. But she wanted to help you because she likes you, Jungwon. She went out of her way for you, all without expecting anything in return." His voice softened just a bit, and Jungwon could see the pain hidden behind Ni-ki's anger.

"Do you know how hard it is to watch someone you care about quietly sacrifice for someone else?"

Jungwon felt warmth spread through him at Ni-ki's words, realizing just how deeply you had cared for him, even he hadn't deserved it. You'd gone to all this effort, all the while hiding your own feelings, and now...

Now he'd understood why he was drawn to you, why his own feelings had shifted.

You'd shown him a quiet, steady love, even when he hadn't seen it.

Finally, Jungwon met Ni-ki's gaze, eyes filled with sincerity. "I didn't know, Ni-ki. I swear, I had no ideas she liked me. I thought she was just being kind, trying to help me without any other reason. But now that I know...I can't see her that way anymore. She's become so much more to me."

Ni-ki clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he stared hard at Jungwon, trying to decide if he could believe him.

"You don't deserve my sister, Jungwon" He said, bitterness lacing his words.

The statement hit Jungwon hard, a painful truth that he felt in the core of his being. He understood—you were someone precious, someone worth protecting. Maybe Ni-ki was right, maybe he didn't serve you.

You deserved someone who would give you nothing less than the world.

But that was exactly why he couldn't walk away. He had to prove that he could be the one to give you that.

"I know," Jungwon admitted, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "i know I don't deserve her—not yet. She's kind, selfless, and she deserves someone who can measure up to that. But please...give me a chance to prove myself." He swallowed, his gaze unwavering as he Ni-ki's eyes. "Let me prove to you, and to her, tat I can be the person she deserves. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll earn her trust—and yours—if you give me the chance."

His voice softened, tinged with quite desperation. " I want to be the one who protects her, who supports he. I want to worthy of her, Ni-ki. I may not be there yet, but I'll work every day to become that person. I swear it."

There was silence, the weight of Jungwon's hanging heavy between them. He hoped Ni-ki could see the honestly in his eyes, could feel how much this meant to him. Jungwon knew he couldn't erase past or change how things had unfolded, be he could promise one thing—

that he would never take your love or trust for granted.

"Please," Jungwon continued, his voice voice barely above a whisper, "I love her, Ni-ki. Just give me a chance to show you that I'm worthy of her."

A flicker of doubt crossed Ni-ki's face, and then something shifted.

The hardness in his gaze softened, even if only slightly, as he let out long, frustrated breath. Deep down, Ni-ki knew Jungwon was a good guy. He'd always trusted him with almost everything.

And maybe, as much he hated to admit it, he was a little relieved it was Jungwon and not some stranger he couldn't trust.

"You have one chance, Jungwon," Ni-ki muttered, his voice still sharp but with a trace of reluctant acceptance. "If you mess this up...if you break her heart... I will personally make your life hell. I will destroy you. Do you understand?"

Jungwon nodded, feeling a mix of relief and respect. He straightened, ignoring the ache in his bruised face and stomach, and met Ni-ki's eyes. "I understand. And I promise, I won't let you down."

They stood in silence for a moment, tension slowly giving way to uneasy truce. Ni-ki's glare softened just a bit, though he couldn't completely mask the protective worry lingering in his gaze.

"Don't make me regret this, Jungwon," Ni-ki said, the threat clear but a hint of acceptance in his voice.

"I won't," Jungwon replied, feeling a newfound determination. For you, and for Ni-ki he'd make sure of it.

Back in your dorm room, you can't help but pace back and forth, your mind whirling with worry. Every possible scenario runs through your head, each one making your heart race faster.

You can only imagine what your brother and Jungwon might be discussing right now. Would Ni-ki react calmly, or would his protectiveness take over, sparking a fight?

You've seen him play the role of the overprotective brother before, but this time feels different, heavier.

You pause by the window, chewing your lip as you stare out at the quiet campus, your chest tightening with guilt. You know you should have told Ni-ki about your feelings for Jungwon earlier. You've heard your brother's opinions on dating enough to know that your relationship with Jungwon—his best friend, of all people—might feel like a betrayal.

The last thing you want is to be the reason they grow cold toward each other.

An hour passes, your anxious pacing only making your heart pound harder. Eventually, unable to stand the silence any longer, you grab your keys and decided to go to Jungwon's apartment, hoping he's already back. You need to see him, to know what happened, and—if nothing else—to make sure he's okay.

When you reach his apartment and knock, he open the door, and your heart drops at the sight of him. There's a fresh bruise darkening his cheek, and another on his jaw. He gives you a small, apologetic smile, but the sight of his injuries makes your concern turn to anger in an instant.

"Did Riki-nii do this to you?" you ask, voice shaking with fury. "I'm going to give my brother a piece of my mind"

Before you can turn to leave, Jungwon catches your wrist, pulling you back. "Hey, hey it's okay," he says softly, his voice soothing. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

You narrow your eyes, a scowl replacing your earlier worry. "No, you're not fine! Look at you! I trusted him to talk things out, not..." You gesture to his face, a frustrated huff escaping you. "I'm going over there. He has no right—"

Your words were cut off when Jungwon pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as though your presence was all he needed to feel grounded. For a moment, the world quiets, and you feel his steady breaths matching yours, calming you.

"Please," he murmurs. "Don't be mad at him. We already talked it out, everything's okay now."

Your heart softens, but a part of you is still bristling with protectiveness for him. He watches your face, a gentle smile curving his lips, as if he can see the conflict within you. After a beat, you sigh and nod, choosing to trust him.

Once inside, you sit him down and grab a washcloth, dabbing it gently over the bruise on his cheek. Your touch is light, your fingers trembling slightly with worry.

Jungwon watches you in silence, his eyes soft, filled with something warm and unspoken. As you concentrate on his face, he feels a pang in his chest, remembering what Ni-ki had said:

You don't deserve her.

He lets out a sigh, breaking the quiet. "Your brother's right, you know," he murmurs almost to himself. "I don't deserve you."

Your hand freezes, and you look up, frowning. "Stop saying that." Despite everything Jungwon told you about his talk with Ni-ki, the thought of your brother's words cutting him like this makes anger simmer beneath your skin again. "I swear, if he made you feel—"

Jungwon chuckles softly, his eyes filled with affection as he reached for your hand, resting it against his bruised cheek, and leaned into her your touch, cherishing the warmth you gave, with his thump brushing over your knuckles.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" His gaze holds yours, tender and vulnerable. "How did I not see it before? All those years, I was so blind."

You shake your head, thumb tracing his cheek gently. "Don't blame yourself. I never wanted you to feel burdened by what I felt. I just...wanted you to know."

He holds your gaze, his own eyes soft with a mixture of regret and wonder. "You've always treated me better than I deserve, "he says quietly. "Whether it was back then or now, you've always seen the best in me." His voice drops to a whisper. "Maybe I don't deserve you , but I'm going to spend every day trying to."

Your heart skips a beat, and before you can reply, he leans in, his eyes searching yours. "Y/n," he breathes. "I love you."

The words send a shiver down your spine, your heart swelling as his confession sinks in. "Jungwon..." you whisper, voice with emotion.

"I'm sorry I took so long to say it," he continues, his gaze steady and full of sincerity. "I know I made you wait, that I hurt you without even realizing it. But because of you, I finally saw the truth. You deserve someone who will appreciate you fully—and I promise, I won't let you regret the choice you made."

Tears well up in your eyes as his words wrap around you heart, warm and reassuring. You've always struggled to find the right words, to articulate the depth of what you feel, but as you look into his eyes, you realize that you don't need to say anything.

Without another word, you lean forward, closing the distance between you, and press your lips to his in a gentle, lingering kiss. He responds immediately, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you close as he kisses you with a tenderness that speaks of all the feelings he's been holding back.

It's soft, unhurried, a shared breath that feels like both an answer and a promise. In this single, heartfelt moment, everything you've held in silence, every hope, and every dream, finds its voice.

When you finally pull apart, foreheads still touching, he whispers, "How did I get so lucky?"

You smile, cheeks flushed, heart full, feeling like this moment was worth every hidden glance, every unspoken word. It feels like all those moments—years of quietly loving him, of small sacrifices he never even knew—were leading up to this.

You think back to middle school, how you'd linger at the edge of the field after school, cheering for him at his football games, hidden among the crowd so he wouldn't see the way your heart skipped with each play he made. Ever packed snack, every energy drink left "by accident" on his locker, was your way of showing care without a word spoken.

You'd insisted on become his tutor student, it wasn't because you needed help but to help him with his financial struggles, the extra weight he carried, and wanting to ease that burden in any way you could. Being his student gave you a reason to stay close, a way to support him without making him feel like he was in your debt.

It was never about him noticing; it was simply about making his days a little easier, seeing him smile a little brighter, and knowing you could play a part in it.

You used to wonder if loving someone silently was enough, if perhaps it was the purest form of love because there was no expectation, no demand, only quiet affection. And even though you thought it might go unrequited, your heart found joy in seeing him happy, whether he knew your feelings or not.

But now, as he stand before you, gazing back at you with the same depth and warmth you've felt for so long, fate seems has a way of hearing those hidden hopes, granting the quite wishes of a gentle heart.

Perhaps it was that purity of your love, the unwavering care you showed him, that allowed your feelings to reach him. All those moments you held your love back now feels like steps that led you to this moment—a moment that feels so much deeper because of all the waiting, all the silent sacrifices.

You realize that your patience, your quite devotion, has come back to you tenfold.

In this moment, Jungwon's love feels like it wraps around every hidden hope you held in your heart, filling in the spaces that were left waiting, growing over time. He sees you now—not just the present-day you, but the younger girl who quietly cheered him on, the one who made excuses to give him snacks, who silently offered help when he needed it most.

There's a quiet strength in his gaze, a tenderness that assures you that he won't just take your love for granted, as if he's promising not just to return your love but to honor it, to protect it with commitment that will last.

And you know now that he'll hold your heart with the same care you held for his all those years.

You feel complete.

Like you've finally come home to the love you've always longed for, only to find it more beautiful than you'd ever dared to dream.

As his hand lingers against you cheek, a soft smile on his lips, you know that his love for you is rooted not just in passion but in gratitude, in awe of the patience you showed.

His love isn't just a response; it's a promise—a promise to take care of your heart the way you took care of his, and to make you feel loved every day from here on out.

In his gaze, you can see the same warmth you've held for so long, a warmth that reflects back to you, returned and magnified. Your heart is no longer alone in its silent longing; it had found a partner in him, one who will carry it carefully.

'I might have loved Jungwon too early,' you think to yourself as you take in the softness in his eyes.

But he loved you at the perfect time.

117 notes · View notes

jaeyong-sucker · 3 days ago

Text

monster

pairing: lee jeno x male reader

genre: smut (i mean what else lmao)

warnings: monster under the bed!jeno x male reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, blowjobs, face fucking, anilingus, posssessiveness, breeding, mention of blood

note: its my first time writing something in a looooong while and i honestly forgot how to write lol forgive the rusty writing... not proofread TT... basically it's male reader and jeno fucking like rabbits since they have the whole place to themselves

your roommate has already boarded the bus. the symbolic angel on your shoulder berates you for just watching him carry the luggage that can almost engulf him while the demon cheers you on for being selfish and following the throbbing feeling between your legs. finally, you have the whole room to yourself and you find yourself thanking the chancellor for approving a two week break from your university. you don't remember the last time you spoke to the

“has he already left?” you feel its hot breath graze your neck as its scaly claws caress your waist. a blush crept up your cheeks as you hear its voice again after god knows how long.

“we have the whole room to ourselves now.” you turn around and nuzzle its hairy chest. it's the same warm chest you've known since fifteen years ago.

you were no stranger to loneliness. it was with you as early as the age of three when the kids in the park deliberately ignored you and has introduced you to the feeling of being invisible despite being present at the moment. it was there when your whole family went on a trip to london thinking everyone is present when they didn't even bother waking up the middle child (you). it followed you like a shadow from kindergarten up to college.

but there was jeno. or that was what you liked to call it. It started with the scratching noises under your bed that kept you awake at night. you thought it was just your older brother doing whatever stupid thing he thought of in the middle of the night. but then, he sleeps early and is a heavy sleeper at that. curiosity kicks in and you recall the stories your teacher told you about monsters lingering under your bed. now was the time to test it out.

gently kneeling to the floor and crouching low enough to see the bottom of the bed, you took a flashlight with the purpose of finding the monster. you didn't need the flashlight to see the faint, glowing eyes staring back at you. you froze. the scream you were about to let out got stuck in your throat. your pulse quickened as you stopped breathing. somehow, you were able to see its long arms that has scales, its claws that looked like it could kill you by one simple scratch, its dark, hairy body and scaly legs and tail. there is a monster!

kids your age would surely scream at the sight of the grotesque creature but somehow, you don't find yourself scared of this unknown being. rather, a warmth rises on your chest and you feel oddly calmed by the monster's presence. the initial fear turned into fascination. maybe you weren't alone.

“i’m y/n.” you whisper before extending your hand for the monster to shake. the monster just stares back for god knows how long before extending its scaly hand and lets out a low grunt as if to acknowledge your presence. the warmth of the gesture made up for its cold hands. you find yourself smiling at the newfound connection as you squeeze the monster's cold hands.

“i’ll call you jeno.”

since that night, you crouch down on the floor to talk to the monster about your day. whether it be receiving a long lecture about being good from your parents or the bullies at school stealing your lunch. the monster didn't seem to be annoyed at your endless yapping. well, it did release a low sound every time you said something just like how a normal person would nod if someone said something to them. you would even hand it a plate of cookies which he wouldn't touch as you talk, but would be empty by the time you wake up in the morning.

he was your only friend and you didn't bother making other friends at school. you know you wouldn't fit in anyway. you cam home one time and found a kid looking like your age sitting on your bed. the boy was handsome, dashing. he smiles at you that his eyes turn into crescents. maybe this is how the other kids whenever they saw their “crush” or something like that. that was when you discovered jeno could shapeshift into humanㅡor anything else, who knows?ㅡand this sweet feeling of having a crush. you grew up with jeno as your only friend every evening that he even followed you when you moved into a dorm for college.

jeno morphed into his human form. you don't know what happened but you were sure he'd gone shameless after knowing how your dick worked when you were in puberty. in your childhood years, he would transform into a boy with clothes on. when you were in your teens, he would appear shirtless, which made you look at his defined muscles in his upper body. later, he would appear just in boxers or wearing nothing at all.

just like right now. he smiles at you like a puppy as if he isn't aware of the effect his bare body has on you. he smiles as if he weren't aware of the tent forming in your pants as he flexes his abdomen and chest muscles and twitches his hanging cock.

wordlessly, he carries you to your bed before laying you down gently on the soft mattress. he pulls away your clothes and underwear before joining beside you. jeno stretches out his arm, which you use as a pillow, before pulling you closer by your waist. you find yourself burying your face to the warmth of jeno’s muscled chest as your hands roam in the expanse of his muscled abdomen.

you softly moan at the familiar comfort cuddling with jeno brings. this must be the feeling of highschool love. being elated and giggly and flustered and the simplest of jeno's touches. you don't care that you feel ugly with your messy hair and your bloated body. jeno was always there to assure you that you're the prettiest. one of his favorite things to do is planting kisses on your forehead, which makes you feel safe and cared for.

“i miss laying next to you,” you whisper before cupping his cheeks and kissing his soft lips.

“you’ll be sleeping next to me for the next two weeks or so,” he smiles back and presses a kiss to your temple. he carefully lays on his back before pulling you up on his chest. gazing softly at your features, he cups your cheeks and kisses the top of your head. “you are so beautiful, baby,” his low, adoring voice sends butterflies churning in your stomach. “i won't get tired looking at your pretty face, princess.”

princess. princess. he knows what he's doing when he says that word accompanied by kisses all over your face and his hands caressing your sides. he sits up and pulls you on his lap before kissing your neck while his hands finds their place on your taut nipples. his actions draw out a long moan from you. when was the last time he has touched you like this? he finds that sweet spot on your neck before assaulting it with kisses. there it goes. there goes the sticky liquid oozing from your dick in response to jeno’s kisses.

your dick stands firm next to his semi-erect one. he kisses and sucks your nipples adding up to your arousal. grunting from impatience, you pull his hair before slamming your lips to his. immediately, jeno responds, curling his tongue with yours and groping your ass. he grips the back of your head as he inserts his tongue in your mouth, dominating the kiss like he usually does. he bites your lip before slurping your tongue like he's never kissed you in years, making the kiss sloppy and messy, drool coating your lips and dripping down your chins.

your hand reaches down, grabbing his throbbing cock that got significantly harder and bigger the moment your lips met, although his cock hasn't reached its full erection. he releases a deep moan as you wrap your hand around it and give slow strokes on the cockhead. moaning from pleasure, he grinds against your hand before inserting a few fingers inside your hole.

jeno pulls away from the kiss before attacking your chest with bites and kisses. he smirks as you moan loudly as he hits that sweet prostate with his fingers. he ups your arousal by biting and kissing your nipples.

“jeno,” you moan shamelessly while stroking his cock harder and faster that it grows bigger and harder from your touch. he curses loudly as you wrap a hand around the glans before playing with the slit with your thumb. jeno loves it when you give his cock your special attention. especially when you toy at the tip and draw the precum out by playing with the slit. he leans back at the headboard, cursing and grunting and moaning in carnal bliss as you play with the tip with one hand and stroke his huge length with the other.

“suck me,” he orders and you wasted no minute getting down on your knees before wrapping your lips around his tip. you spit on his cock, lathering it with so much drool that it's nasty. just how jeno fucking loves it. you pull away shortly to admire jeno’s huge cock that is almost as big as your forearm and is so veiny. you softly lick the veins that his cock twitches and leaks desperately. not wanting to waste any time teasing, you immediately bob your head over his enormous length that it draws a delicious “fuuucccck,” from him. his hand finds itself in your locks before pressing your head down to take all of his length. instantly, you grab on his meaty thighs as you feel his hips thrust into your face.

jeno has never fucked your throat so deep that you could feel it poking your stomach. he fucks your face so rough. so rough that you feel his carnal desires. so rough that your jaw might fall off. “fuck, your mouth feels fucking amazing,” he whimpers as he penetrates your throat deeper, reaching new depths as if having your nose harshly pressed against the patch of hair on jeno’s crotch wasn't already deep enough. still, you bob your head to please jeno even if his cock assaults the walls of your throat. you want to make him feel good after all.

chest heaving and sweat trickling his body, jeno pulls you away from his cock before making you sit on his face. he wastes no time lapping and feasting around your tight hole like a hungry beast. jeno lands a harsh slap on your butt cheek before wiggling his tongue around the rim of your hole. eager to taste your ass, jeno grips both cheeks, spreads them apart before pressing his face in your ass before ravaging it.

legs trembling, you squeal out shamelessly, “more, jeno, please,” before leaning forward to suck off his angry cock. jeno eats you out so deep, so good that you feel his tongue toying with your prostate as his thumbs insert themselves inside your hole, stretching you apart. you suck him off desperately, gagging nastily as his cock hits the back of your throat. the delicious taste of his cock makes you moan around him hard that he thrusts upwards to chase the bliss your throat gives his cock.

the room gets filled with sounds of jeno slurping and spitting on your hole and you gagging on his cock and occasional squeals from you as jeno relentlessly eats you out deeper and abuses your prostate with his tongue. he buries his face deeper, almost suffocating himself in the depths of your ass as he slurps and tongues the insides of your hole, driving you crazy as he pushes you to the edge.

“jeno! close!” you whimper desperately as you grip his cock. you even grind against his face as you feel your orgasm building up. smirking, jeno pulls away before making you lay on your back. he wraps his mouth around your dick before bobbing his head eagerly, while four of his fingers stretch your hole and pleasure your prostate, pushing you closer to an awaited orgasm.

“fuck, fuck, fuck! jeno!” you squeal on top of your lungs as you release your cum in jeno’s mouth. desperate for more pleasure, you thrust into his mouth with your legs wrapped around his head. jeno moans around your dick, increasing the bliss and erupting more loads of cum from your dick. he smirks as he sees you blissed out. whole body sweaty, chest heaving, and eyes closed due to pleasure. vulnerable and naked. jeno loves seeing this sight of you and he lives for it.

impatiently, he pulls away from your cock before spitting out your cum to his palm before using it to lube his cock. none of you feel the need to reach out for the lube in the nearby drawer. the carnal needs are too difficult to ignore. not when you're both naked and too horny to be logical.

“put it in me, please,” you whimper as you feel jeno prodding your rim with the tip of his cock. you're so desperate. so desperate you could die if you won't have jeno's juicy cock inside of you. so desperate to have him when you're legs are spread out and all he needs is to insert that fucking dick inside your hole begging to be filled with his cock and eventually, his cum. with jeno's smirkㅡthat fucking annoying smirkㅡyou knew you had to beg for it.

“please, jeno. please!” you tear up as jeno takes his sweet time playing and tapping with the rim of your hols with his cockhead. if he gets childish and annoying he probably is drawing imaginary faces around your rim. “put it in now, please,” you squeal needily, begging jeno to just put that fucking cock inside.

“so fucking needy,” he chuckles as his slaps your inner thigh before inserting the tip just to pull it out again. you whimper at the absence of his cock before begging again. he could no longer be patient. he immediately inserts his cock without warning that it draws out blissed out moans from the both of you. he groans at the warm, tight feeling of your whole while you whimper at the delicious stretch his huge cock does to your tiny hole. jeno lets out a long guttural moan, praising how tight you clamp his cock before putting your legs against his shoulders. he thrusts moderately into you, knowing how you liked being stretched by his cock. his thick cock drags through your tight walls, eliciting lustful groans from you as he hits the sweetest spots inside you. the stretch is just so fucking good you could cry at how good jeno uses his cock to please you.

“fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess,” he grunts as he intertwines his fingers with yours and pinning it on the sheets. while hitting your prostate consistently, he leans down, capturing your lips for a fervent kiss. teeth clashing and tongues dancing, jeno grunts as he presses a hand down your throat, making you submit to his dominance. he smirks, ravaging your mouth as he is in control. pulling away, he gets to your neck and leaves kisses before leaving marks that would take more than a week to fade. wanting to hear you moan louder, he keans down and slurps your nipple while playing with the other by giving it soft pinches and rubs.

“oh god, jeno!” you scream as you wrap your limbs around him. your nails dig in his back and scratch, drawing blood, as he thrusts deeper and bulges your stomach. “fuck, fuck, fuck, jeno! more!” you squeal as you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in to fuck you deeper.

grunting, he presses your legs to your chest, making you whimper at the stretch in your hamstrings and the deeper position for him to penetrate you. he cages your face with his arms, making him see every blissed out expression you make as he assaults your prostate harder. “do you like this, baby? like how my cock makes you feel?” he asks before spitting a huge load on your face. dick twitching at the action, you nod and stick your tongue out, waiting for another huge load of spit from jeno. smirking, he wordlessly inserts two finger inside your mouth, making you gag at the sudden intrusion. you suck his fingers and swirl your tongue around them while looking at him with blissed out teary eyes.

“god, look at you, babe. you're such a fucking slut for me.” he chuckles darkly as he thrusts his fingers in your throat. “who would've thought the nerd in uni is such a dirty bitch under me? you'd do anything just for me to fuck you, right?” he holds your waist with a bruising grip as he slams you to his cock, meeting his deep, greedy thrusts.

“yes, daddy! i love how you make me feel good with your cock!” you squeal in between moans while clenching tightly around his cock, knowing how much jeno loves it tight. daddy. that word ignites a carnal desire inside jeno every time jeno hears it from you. just like right now where he manhandles you into all fours and fucks you wilder than he did before.

“what did you call me, princess? say that word again.” he growls in your ear as he grips your waist harsher and lands a stinging spank in your ass.

“fuck me harder, daddy! fuck me so hard that i couldn't walk for days!” you moan out, your voice hoarse from screaming earlier. on cue, jeno reaches out for your hair, giving it a harsh grip that it deliciously burns your scalp. he tugs it harshly, pulling you close to him, your back arching hard as he penetrates you from behind. “fuck, i miss fucking you like this princess,” he grunts as he kisses your back before leaving bites that would turn into bright red marks.

“i miss holding you like this and fucking you until your hold starts dripping with my cum.” he whispers nastily against your ears as he licks and bites on your earlobe. “i won’t stop fucking you until you get pregnant with my child.” you squeal sluttilly as he pinches your taut nipples and reaches for your dick and pumping it aggressively. jeno just fucks so good it's impossible for you to form a coherent word to talk back to him. what came out of your mouth are incoherent, broken moans and whimpers that just sounded musically arousing to jeno's ears. your moans go straight to his cock, stimulates it and just signals his sexual urges to pummel deeper into you to give in to the pleasure provided by sex.

“fuck, jeno! make me pregnant please! breed me that i bloat and carry your children! fuck, please, jeno!” jeno smirks as you shriek uncontrollably like a slut to which he responds by gripping your hair and pressing your head down the bed while he grabs your hands and presses them behind your back. he extends his leg to the side and mercilessly thrusts his cock, not caring about you anymore. you'll take it anyway as long as it's jeno. shrieks and squeaks come from you as jeno fucks you harsher and wilder that you cry out your pleasure in the pillows.

the whole room reeks of sweat and all that could be heard are skins slapping and grunts and moans and squeals that all came from pleasure. these get significantly intense and louder as you both near your orgasms. feeling his cock throbbing as he feels his climax, he immediately flips you on your back and jerks your dick, knowing how your body contorts in pleasure when your orgasm hints its arrival.

“fuck, i wanna breed you so bad that you get pregnant,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his temples as he grips the back of your legs and presses them next to your ears, fucking you in the deepest position yet. you tear up and whimper from the stretch and the building up orgasm. “breed me please! i want you hot cum in me, please! daddy, cum in me! knock me up, please, daddy!” you curse shamelessly, gripping the sheets tightly they could rip, but you couldn't care less. jeno's fucking you deliciously, driving you to your climax.

your moans and jeno’s grunts level the volume of the bed creaking and headboard hitting the wall. jeno doesn't stop pounding deeply into you that you feel so fucking sensitive everywhere. too blisses out and pleasured to register the scent of sweat coating your bodies and the squelchy and filthy sounds the steady thrusts jeno makes. your mind is in a haze, barely able to breathe at how fast and hard jeno fucks his cock inside you. your head is in the clouds, sensitively savoring the feeling of being fucked wildly in the best way.

“whore.” jeno lands a harsh slap on your face. his thrusts get unstable and inconsistent as his cock throbs harder and harder. growling, jeno grabs you by the throat. “you are fucking mine. got that?!”

“yes! yes! yes!” all you could do was scream in carnal bliss as thick ropes of cum spurts out from your dick as jeno moans loudly, filling you up with his hot load. his relentless thrusts don't come to a stop. they get rather intense that you swear you hear a leg of the bed crack from the strength of his thrusts. he chases his orgasm that he screams so loud that the neighboring dorms could hear. he thrusts and thrusts until he couldn't handle the sensitivity of his cock while you squirt messily all over your body that it soils the sheets.

shakily, he leans in and slams his lips into yours, eating your face hungrily. you reciprocate, dancing your tongue with his as you recover from the high of your orgasms. he pulls away, planting a kiss on your forehead before resting his head on your neck.

you stay like that for a while, waiting for your breathe to steady. when it does, jeno gently pulls out his cock from your hole and moans as he admires the sight of his cum gloriously oozing out of your wrecked hole. it's amazing how your puckered rim clenches and unclenches around nothing and couldn't meet when it clenches. jeno leans down and feasts on his release. he kisses your rim before giving it the softest of licks before slurping all his cum inside your hole. he licks the piss and the cum scattered all over your torso before passing it to you through a passionate and messy kiss. jeno plays with the fluids before passing it you as he sucks your lips and tongue.

moaning in contentment from the passionate makeout session, you pull back, and lay on his arm after pulling it. jeno pulls you close by your waist and plants a loving kiss on your forehead.

“how are you, baby?” he asks, voiced gentle as if he's a different person from the one who fucked you wildly earlier. he caresses your butt cheek, knowing how sore it felt after being the receiving end of his harsh slaps.

“so sore,” you whimper as you scoot closer, finding comfort in jeno's warm embrace as you nuzzle his chest. nothing beats the feeling of being cuddled by him after being used like a ragdoll prior. and you look to have more cuddles with him thanks to the absence of roommates.

“i love you, baby,” he lands a peck on your lips. “do you want to get cleaned up right now?”

“just… cuddles first, then we'll take a warm bath.” you reply and jeno couldn't resist cooing at how cute you respond. we'll that's what good sex does to you. and only jeno does that to you.

“take a rest, then, baby.” he lands a kiss on your forehead.

“we have the whole place to ourselves to recreate those things in your X bookmarks.”

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lilacxquartz · 3 days ago

Text

on display;

suguru geto x reader x satoru gojo

plot: satoru wanted to face time while he was gone, catching you at an awkward time, or was it a good time? — plot: poly dynamics, lap grinding, smut, phone sex/video sex, f!reader — w.c: 900ish

masterlist • ao3 • more smut

Satoru was lately often busy; always needed for missions assigned by the higher-ups who claimed that there was nobody better for the job other than him and him alone. Such inconveniently timed hiccups often left both you and Suguru together all alone—which wasn’t too bad, not at all in fact, but you both missed your frosty ray of sunshine.

Missing the connecting piece to your romantic trio often made both you and Suguru lonely, pushing the two of you to seek out physical affection from each other to numb the ache. He’d often pull you close to him, demanding that you would idly spend time together tethered at the hip or sometimes… find himself in you.

You ground into Suguru’s lap for another night, the soft rolling motions circling languidly over his already erect length that strained tight against his cotton sweatpants. His big, calloused hands hovered parallel to your hips, fiercely smacking the skin of your thighs, casting a ripple within the pillowy flesh.

“Think y’can ride me?” he softly whispered into your neck, his long, silky black hair falling forward as he leaned into you. His voice sounded needy, maybe even desperate to an extent.

You hummed and nodded against his pressed form, letting him guide you up so that you hovered over his unsheathed cock that sprang out the second that he pulled his clothes down. You wiggled down in a teasing zigzag motion, just about ready to flick your hips forward but then you heard it.

That familiar jingle.

Suguru extended his hand to dig through the fabric of your jean pockets that were tossed off somewhere along the side, fishing out your mobile phone as soon as he was able to grab hold of it. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw the caller ID, biting his lip. “Hey, it’s Satoru. Bad time, but maybe worth taking?”

Pausing for just a moment, you took hold of your phone and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning forward while quickly fixing up your hair—just a little bit. You then smiled as you picked up the call, allowing him to tune in. “Aw, hey, Satoru! How are you doing?” you asked in your usual sweet voice.

“I’m so tired like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied, sagging his shoulders into what looked like a hotel armchair. “I have been on my feel all damn day.”

“Yeah?” you replied, mirroring his pout, “they’ve been working you to the ground again?”

Satoru peeled up his blindfold, revealing his weary complexion. Deep blue and purple bags circled beneath his eyes. “You could say that again.”

He was about to say something again but then paused. His exhaustion gave way to quickly building curiosity as he took in the sight of just how… disheveled you looked—as well as the odd position you were in. With a slight raise of one of his eyebrows, he brought the phone closer as though to inspect the situation at hand.

“Are you two about to fuck?” he correctly guessed.

Immediately, you pointed the camera up to the ceiling to hide your laughter, still feeling Suguru’s cock filling out your pussy. Suguru betrayed a soft groan as you tightened around him from such convulsions, but then followed through with some laughter as well. “That obvious, huh?” you giggled, “yeah, yeah, we’re about to—”

“—I miss you both, you know,” Satoru cut you off, his voice adopting a more sultry tone. “I don’t suppose that one of you would be interested in giving me a show? It would help me unwind, you know. Maybe even relax…”

Not needing to be asked twice, Suguru pinched the phone from your grasp and then hovered the device over at a tilt that pointed at a nice, compromising overhead angle. He then mumbled something underneath his breath into your ear, smacking his free hand against the soft contours of your ass, as though to signal for you to pick up where you left off.

You, in turn, got to work right away. You ground and swivelled your hips at a hypnotic tempo, that managed to silence the two men as they watched you work your magic. Suguru couldn’t help but drive himself further into your body, thrusting in perfect rhythm with your fluid motions, letting soft grunts escape his lips as he rutted up towards your hilt. You held on tight—flinging your head forward and shuddering out breathy moans, feeling yourself—losing yourself to the blissful sensation.

Pulling back ever so slightly, you turned his chin over to face yours and pressed a heated kiss against his lips. You invaded his mouth with your tongue with loving passion, while he, too, reciprocated such passing fervour. As this happened, his phone-wielding hand drifted and panned you both out of focus, but Satoru was quick to clear his throat, reminding you both that he was still there. He tried to keep up to his best ability on the other side of the screen, after all. His shoulder slightly trembling and wiggling, hinting that he was stroking himself to the sight on display.

Suguru’s form however soon grew sloppier and you had to take over as the camerawoman, holding the phone at the best angle you could provide. With a stifling, ending thrust, Suguru then grunted in a strained voice before at last coming undone and emptying himself into the confines of your cunt. In doing so, you nearly dropped the phone as you too, finished up, hearing Satoru’s shuddering gasps follow suit as he finally caught up to the two of you.

And after a moment of mutually shared silence, the two of you were just about comfortable enough to all lay in silence and do absolutely nothing at all—all the while Satoru recollected himself with the sight of the two people that he was completely and utterly in love with—frustratingly impossibly far from reach, missing you both extremely so.

131 notes · View notes

kaliforniahigh · 1 day ago

Note

Can I have something angsty,sad,fluffy,(smutty if you want) ?

Reader is on the thicker/chubby side (a few tummy rolls and thick thighs) and she thinks Noah is only with her to say he's been with a fat chick or it's some fetish thing. Reader doesn't understand how he can be attracted to someone like her. Normal 9-5 job, not rich, shitty apartment, shitty car...just getting though life and they met by chance. Maybe he liked that she treated him like a regular person even though she knew who he was, like a "yeah, I know who you are...so what 🙄😐🤷🏼‍♀️" kinda thing.

Not gunna lie the "never been with a big girl" shit has happened way more than I'd like...and honestly, I've been really hating my body lately 😔

Thank you so much for this request! I know it took me a long time to get to it and I'm so sorry about that! I hope you still like it <3

Warnings: reader is a little hard on herself, Noah also feels insecure. Reader is fatphobic towards herself :( Besides that, this is fluff.

WC: 5.9k (this is long and I haven't proofread it yet!)

My requests are currently closed!

Noah was back home in Virginia for a couple of weeks. He really just went because his best friend, Nicholas, had begged him to. There was nothing left for him in this place anymore, and there hasn't been for years.

Even though he had a lot of bitter memories from his time here, he really tried to enjoy the moments he spent with his old friends, reconnecting and telling each other how their lives changed over the years.

Right now, he was at a bonfire, sipping on his beer, despite the chill weather that fall brought along. He looked around and saw many faces he didn't recognize from years ago. To his left, Nicholas was socializing, and he thought about how things haven't changed that much after all. His friend was always better at this than him.

His eyes were fixed on you, like they have been a couple of times during the night. You were hard to miss, with your orange knit sweater and beanie keeping your head warm. He didn't remember seeing you before, if he had, he would surely remember it.

You talked animately with your hands, sporting smile on your face that made your eyes crinkle. If he could describe your aura, it would be warm and inviting, and he felt a pull towards you, suddenly having the urge to come up to you and stike up a conversation.

He held himself back, though, because you seemed very engrossed in the conversation you were having with your friends, and he didn't want to intrude or bother you.

"You're still brooding in the corner?", he was so distracted by you, that he didn't even notice Nicholas approaching him.

"I'm technically not in a corner", Noah pointed to the wall he was leaning against. Nicholas fixed him with a look.

"You should try and talk to a few people, at least this one time", Nicholas sounded like a mom scolding a child and it mildly irritated Noah.

"I will, once I finish this beer", he settled on saying, but deep down, they both knew that Noah would stay in this exact same spot for the rest of the night.

"Whatever, man. I'll talk to Josh over there, he said something about Eric cheating on Alex with their babysitter, and I wanna know all about that. Do you remember Alex from high school?", Noah scrambled his brain, and he could vaguely remember an Alex from high school.

"Is she the one who fell down the bleachers once?", he asked, the memory slowly coming back to him. He should feel bad that this embarrassing moment is what he remembers her by.

"That's exactly the one", Nicholas exclaimed, his hand slapping against Noah's chest. "Apparently her luck didn't get any better. I'll get the scoop and then I'll tell you on the way home", Noah smiled at his friend's antics and watched him walk away.

Averting his gaze back to the gathering happening around him, he found himself watching you again. He really needed to break his habit, otherwise you would think of him as a total creep. His stance and unapproachableness already didn't help him at all. He decided to go look around for something to eat, sure that he saw some snacks around here somewhere.

"He's leaving", your friend said beside you. You had to keep yourself from looking at him. Your friends have been annoying you for the last 15 minutes about the hot guy who apparently couldn't stop looking at you.

"Good, would you stop bothering me now?", you said.

"Y/N, you need to talk to him. Have you seen this man? He is hot and he's totally into you", Charlie said, an exciting tone on her voice.

"And you gathered all that from the few minutes we've been standing here?", you looked at her with a disbelieving look on your face.

"We've been here for at least forty minutes and he hasn't stopped looking at you!", she exclaimed, as if she had it all figured out.

"He could've been looking in the general direction, not at me", you reasoned, trying to forget the way his gaze felt on you. He couldn't have been looking at you out of all people from your group of friends.

"Y/N", Charlie sighed, the excitement vanishing from her features. "You need to stop sabotaging yourself. Why is it so impossible for a man to be interested in you?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I'm gonna go grab another drink, ok?", you did what you always do when someone brought this up in conversation, you left and didn't look back.

Is not that you thought it was impossible for this man to be interested in you, you just thought it was unlikely. You spotted him right when he walked in, his height made him impossible to ignore. And even though he was wearing a hoodie, you saw the tattoos all over his neck and hands, the latter making you incredibly flustered. You never thought you could find someone's hands so attractive.

Meanwhile, you came to this gathering right from work. Your hair was a mess and you had no option but to slap a beanie over it. Your outfit was nothing interesting, just a sweater to keep you warm in the changing weather. Thinking about it now, the color was even a little silly. Who wore orange sweaters?

You arrived at the table where the drinks were set, eyes surveying for something interesting and non-alcoholic, since you drove here. You were so engrossed with whatever was in front of you, that you almost - almost - didn't notice a presence beside you. Like you said, he was hard to miss.

"You, hmm... you need help finding something?" You heard a voice and you knew exactly who was next to you. You looked at him and the first thought that came to your mind was how tall he was compared to you.

He had to look down to meet your eyes and you had to crane your head back to look back at him.

"Oh, I'm just looking for something that's non-alcoholic", you answered him, with a little laugh, knowing that those beverages were hard to find in these places.

"Yeah, it's going to be a little difficult", he said, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the table set in front of you.

"It's ok, I kind of expected it. I'll just go look for dome water", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Wait, I think I saw some stuff in the fridge earlier. Do you want me to get it for you?", he pointed at the house behind the both of you. His eyes were hopeful, like he wanted to do this for you. You thought it was adorable the way he actually wanted you to have something else other than water, and you didn't have the heart to teel him no. So you said yes and saw him walk into the house.

While you waited, Noah was crossing his fingers that his friends had something in the fridge other than booze and stale food. Yes, he lied to you about seeing something in the fridge earlier, but he couldn't let you drink water at a party. He also didn't know where the urge to please you came from, but the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He made his way to the fridge and opened it, and he immediatly spotted a few cans of Red Bull. They were of different colors - probably some tropical flavor - and he hoped you liked energy drinks, otherwise, he would look like a fool in front of the girl he thought was extremely cute.

He grabbed one of them and made his way back to where you were waiting for him.

"Here, I hope you like energy drinks?", he couldn't help but let some nervousness seep into his voice.

"Thank you, and I do", you answered him, and you visibly saw some tension leave his shoulders. "This is actually perfect. I'm so tired because I came right from work. Maybe this will wake me up a little", you said as you cracked the can open.

When he heard you say that, he wanted to pat himself on the back, but settled on giving you a contained smile instead.

"So", he sensed the lull in the conversation, and since he wasn't ready to stop talking to you yet, he decided to change the topic. "Who are you here with?"

"I'm friends with Charlie, she's Josh's fiancee", you answered him. He knew that Josh had gotten engaged in the last few months. Him and Nicholas knew Joah and Charlie from high school, and both of them were surprised it took Josh this long to ask the girl to marry him. Maybe if he was better at keeping contact with his friend, he could've met you way earlier.

"I saw you talking to her earlier", he pointed out and you cursed yourself, because your friends were right. He was watching you. "How did you two meet each other?", he asked and leaned against the table. He refrained from asking you to go inside and sit on the couch.

"We went to college together a few years ago. We were roomates and clicked instantly", you told him and he did the math in his head. You were friends with Charlie for what? Nine or ten years now? Shit, he really could've me you earlier. "What about you? Haven't seen you around before", you threw the question back at him, taking a sip from the drink in your hand. He had to avert his gaze from the way your lips wrapped around the rim, which was very distracting.

"Oh, I've known Josh for years. Us and a couple of other people here went to high school together", he saw your eyes light up with this information, visibly impressed.

"Oh my God. How come have I not seen you before?", you were shocked that you never noticed this man at any of the parties Josh and Charlie usually threw.

"I moved out of here really young. I live in LA now, so it's difficult to visit", he kept the information that he was in a band to himself. He liked the way you seem to not know who he is at all.

"I think he's mentioned having friends in LA before", you mused, but didn't dwell much on the information. "I don't blame you, LA seems to be much more interesting than here"

"Yeah, a little crazy out there. Not a dull moment, that's for sure", you agreed, and he wanted to know more about you, but refrained from asking what you did for a living, afraid that you would ask him back, and he sure didn't wanna lie to you.

"I never left here, I just assume from the stories I hear", he was surprised to hear this, not for the fact that you never visited other places, but because he couldn't imagine someone spending their whole lives in this place.

"You never felt the urge to go somewhere else?", he couldn't help but ask you. You thought for a second before answering him.

"I mean, I would obviously love to travel to other places, but I don't know if I would actually move somewhere else", he hummed, and you continued. "My whole life is here, my parents are here, and I know this city like the back of my hand. I guess I like the familiarity of the place"

He could understand that. Not everyone had a traumatizing childhood and teenage years like him. He guesses he could like the place if it wasn't tied to such bad memories.

He was about to ask you something else when Charlie approached the two of you, and he noticed the knowing look on her face the second he saw it.

"Hey, you two", she said as she rested one hand on your shoulder. "We're playing a board game in the living room, and Josh wanted me to ask if any of you would like to participate"

Noah waited for you to answer first, half hoping you would say no, just so he could talk to you for a little but longer. However, what you said instead crashed his hopes of talking to you for the rest of the party.

"I would love to, but I should be heading out. I'm dead tired and really need some sleep", you had an apologetic look on your face, and when he really took the time to look at you, he did notice your slightly droopy eyes.

"Thank you for coming, I know work has been chewing your ass lately", Charlie told you, but you dismissed her with a wave of your hand.

"You know I love hanging out with you guys, so it's worth the effort", you said with sincerity in your voice and you and Charlie exchanged a hug and goodbyes.

Turning back to face him, you noticed that you didn't really want to leave, but needed to before you got even more tired. Suddenly, you realized you never got his name.

"Well, we've been talking all this time and I never asked your name", you chuckled at the absurdity of it.

"My name is Noah", he extended his hand for you to shake. "What's yours?"

You took his hand in yours, noticing the way it entirely encompassed yours. You observed the details on the tattoos he had on his knuckles and hands, and you wondered once again if they continued up his arms and shoulders. "I'm Y/N"

"Well, Y/N, it's been a pleasure talking to you", he gave you soft smile and you wanted to get lost in his eyes and the way he was looking at you right now. As if you were the greatest thing that's happened to him the entire week. Little did you know.

"The feeling is mutual" you smiled back at him, having to let go of his hand, as to not turn this into those too long handshakes. "I should get going", you said and started to turn around before he stopped you.

"Actually", he started, prompting you to look back at him. "I was wondering if I could get your number", he had the same hopeful look on his face as earlier, when he asked you if he could grab you a drink. You looked at him for a few seconds before answering.

"Yeah, of course. Here it is", you handed him your phone and he put his contact in, giving it back to you.

"I'll text you so you can add mine", you tapped your screen a few times and after a couple of seconds, his phone vibrated on his back pocket. "There, now we have each other's numbers", you pocketed your phone.

"Text me when you get home?", he asked and you were caught a little off-guard, but couldn't deny you loved the way he genuinely seemed to care about you.

"Of course. I'll let you know", you smiled and contemplated giving him a hug, just to feel the way his arms would wrap around your body, but thought it would be too much for a first encounter. You settled in a little awkward wave as you turned around to make your way out of the backyard and in the direction of your car.

Noah, on the other hand, was frozen in place. When he spotted you, he was sure he was doomed to watch you from afar the whole night. But when he saw you by the table full of drinks, looking a little lost, he decided to take Nicholas' advice and mingle a little.

For someone who hated this city so much, he was actually feeling a little disappointed in having to leave in a few days. He always felt like there was nothing else worth sticking around for here, but as he replayed your smile in his head, and how your skin felt in his in those couple of seconds he shook your hand, he couldn't help but think he could stay here, if it meant he got to experince moments like this with you again.

He decided to make his way back inside, the party now with only a few people left. He sat on the couch as he watched Nicholas and his friends play a game of Monoply on the dinner table.

A few minutes went by when he felt his phone vibrate in back pocket. Fishing it out, he saw it was a text from you.

You: Hi! Just letting you know I got home safely :)

He felt a smile take over his face as he replied to you.

Noah: Hey! Glad everything went alright. Have a good night and sleep well x

You: Thank you :) Enjoy the rest of the party!

Noah: I'm about to leave soon actually. Talk to you tomorrow?

You: Sure! Drive home safe and let ME know when you get home? ;)

Noah: I will, but something tells me you'll be asleep by then

At home, you were leaning against the bathroom counter, your toothbrush hanging from your mouth, stupidly grinning at your phone.

You: I'll wait up :)

The next day was chores day for you. Clean the house, get the laundry done, change the sheets and whatever else you needed to do around the house.

Even with the music blaring through the speakers to keep you entertained while you loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, you couldn't help but let your mind run wild with thoughts of Noah.

You couldn't let go of the fact that he was so nice to you, despite never having seen you before. It's not that guys were never nice to you, it's just that the niceness came with the intentions fo something else, and you didn't want to think of Noah as one of those people.

Closing the dishwasher and starting the cycle, you made your way to the bedroom to collect all the clothes that needed washing.

As soon as you got in the room, you stopped in your tracks, your image on the mirror on the opposite wall from you catching your attention.

This was obviously a lazy day, and there was no use in dressing up to clean the house, but still, you could see the wisps of hair and the frizz sticking out from your bun, that sat atop of your head.

You wore a baggy t-shirt and some gym shorts, turning a bit to the side, you observed the fat of your thighs basically swallowing the tight fabric.

Nowadays, you weren't so worried with the way you look as you were as a teenager. A lot of therapy over the years helped you accept yourself. But you can't say it didn't leave any traumas behind.

Before you could even realize what was happening, the voices in your head were already sabotaging you.

"See? You were right. Noah is probably not attracted to you at all"

"He probably made a bet with someone about how he could charm the fat girl no one wants"

"He's tall, tattooed and handsome. You're just you"

It didn't matter anyway, he's doesn't even live here. His life in LA is probably more interesting than anything this city could offer him. He'll leave soon and your life would be back to normal. He'll probably not even text you, your phone number lost in all the other numbers he probably has in his phone.

Huffing with annoyance at how the day took a turn, you hurried to gather the clothes and make your way out of the room.

At the Ruffilo's house, Noah was laying on the couch, with his phone in his hand, open on your text thread with you from last night.

To be honest, he wanted to text you right when he woke up, but didn't want to come off to strong or bother you on your day off. Now, as it was nearing 3:00 pm, he was tired of holding himself back.

He's been contemplating on how he could ask you out for the entire day, and decided he should keep it simple. Maybe ask you out to eat some dinner. Nothing too fancy, just some burgers, fries and a milkshake at the place he loved to go with his friends as a teenager.

He even though about taking you to the lookout he always went to, to clear his head when the noises in his head got too loud. He hasn't been there in years, and now was a good time to try and resignify what the place meant to him.

So, he started typing.

Noah: Hey! Remember me?

He sent the text and stared at the screen, biting the nail on his thumb. He waited a couple of minutes for an answer, but the bubbles showing that you were typing a reply didn't appear on his screen.

You could be busy. Or you could already be out with someone else. It's the weekend after all, why would you spend it rotting away on the couch like him?

He knew if he stayed here, he would drive himself mad. So he decided to make his way uptairs to take a shower, and hopefully take his mind off of you for a few minutes.

Meanwhile, you were debating with yourself. After your dilemma earlier in the day, you weren't expecting to get a text from Noah. Actually, you were kind of hoping he wouldn't contact you, because you weren't ready to unpack what you were feeling for this guy you just met yesterday.

But here you are, mind running in circles thinking about what to say to him. Should you even reply? No, that's out of the question. You always thought it was rude to leave somone on read, especially on purpose.

You couldn't deny that you were curious to find out what he wanted. So, without dwelling much more on it, you started typing.

You: Hey there! Of course I do. Yesterday wasn't that long ago.

You wanted to lock your screen and chuck your phone across the room. But you weren't fifteen anymore, so you resorted to scrolling through social media as you waited for his responde. Eyes wandering to the notification bar every few seconds.

If this was just a booty call, you were going to be extremely upset. Would it be so bad though to have a one night stand with the hot guy?

Your phone vibrated in your hand, a text coming through.

Noah: Just wanted to make sure

What's up? You having a good weekend?

You: If good means cleaning the house the entire day, then I'm having a great weekend. What about you?

Noah: Well, now you're just making me feel bad, 'cause I didn't do anything the entire day

You: That sounds perfect, actually

Noah: Since your weekend has been so strenuous, what do you think about having some dinner?

Did he just ask you out? Were your eyes deceiving you? You didn't know what to tell him.

You obviously wanted to spend more time with him, enjoying the time you spent with him yesterday. But your mind took you back to earlier in the day. You hated yourself for always assuming the worst in a situation.

Maybe he didn't even mean anything by asking you to have dinner with him. Maybe he was just being polite. But why would he be polite to someone he just met?

Ultimately, you decided that this didn't have to mean anything more than just two people eating together. Besides, you were curious to find out what his intentions were. If he even had any.

You: Sounds good. What are you thinking?

Noah: Do you like burgers?

You: Oh, I love burgers!

Noah: It's set then! I know just the place

I'll pick you up at 7?

You: I'll be ready :)

Noah was sat on his bed, towel still wrapped around his hips, looking stupidly at his phone, a grin on his lips. He pondered a lot during his shower, and decided that he was done waiting. He didn't have much more time in his hometown, so he wanted to make the most of the time he still had with you.

He knew it was still too early to call this a first date, but he was nervous as if it was. He really hopes you like what he has planned for the two of you. It's nothing too fancy or too special, a simple dinner overlooking the city at night, but it held a lot of meaning for him.

Getting dressed and going downstairs to get some water, he knew he'd be stressing until it was time to leave to pick you up, so he decided to play some games on his computer to try and distract himself a little.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and overanalyzed your outfit like you've been doing for probably the past 10 minutes. You wore a dress that went down to about your knees, it was a deep wine color, and threw on a leather jacket on top, just in case it got windy outside.

You opted to go for comfort instead of anything fancy, so deciding that this outfit was enough, you went to your closet and grabbed your pair of Vans and slipped them on your feet.

Noah should be here in about 15 minutes, and you wanted to be ready. He texted you a little earlier asking for your address, you gave it to him and just told him to text you when he got here. Since you lived in an apartment, it would be easir for you to come down and meet him at the entrance.

You didn't have to wait long until you phone chimed in your hands, a text popping up on the screen.

Noah: I'm here :)

You: I'll be down in a second!

Locking the door behind you, you waited for the elevator. Your legs couldn't seem to keep still, and you realized you were nervous for whatever was about to happen when you met him outside.

Do you hug him? Do you shake his hand? No, that's too formal of a greeting. But would he want to hug you this soon? He seemed to be a reserved person.

You didn't have much more time to overthink on this situation, because soon you were stepping inside the elevator. You cursed yourself for living only on the third floor, because before you could freak out a bit more, the doors dinged and you stepped out.

When you laid eyes on him, he was standing outside his car, back leaning against the passenger side door, long legs crossed and hands tucked into his pants' pockets.

You almost stopped yourself in your tracks. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, and you could see the tattoos decorating both of his arms. You almost wanted to just stand there and admire the way looked waiting for you.

But you couldn't allow yourself to look like a fool on the first time you were going out with him. So you put on a smile and walked over to him. You didn't have to overthink anything at all, because as soon as you got close to him, you heard him say a "hello" and stretch out his arms for you to give him a hug.

He felt warm and sturdy against you, and you noticed the way his arms circled your shoulders and around your neck. You could feel his muscles through the fabric of your dress, and it made you a little dizzy.

When you both parted from the hug, you said "hi" back him.

"C'mon in", he gestured to the car and opened the door for you. You situated yourself on the passenger seat and he shut the door behind you, making his to the other side.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?", you asked, as you buckled you seatbelt and watched him do the same.

"I know this place that sells some really good burgers. My friends and I used to go there all the time. I hope it's still good", he answered and started driving.

"Burgers are always nice", you pointed out.

"Not always", he quickly looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

"Are you particular about your burgers?"

"It's not that I'm pinky or anything. It's just that I knwo when a burger is bad", he explained himself while taking a right turn and entering another neighbourhood.

"And what is a bad burger in your opinion?", you turned yourself slightly on your seat, so you could look at him better.

"Well, first, the bun has to be sealed, so it isn't soggy from the sauce", you nodded along to his explanation. "Then, the burger has to be thick enough to be juicy, and it can't be cooked for too long because then it becomes dry", he makes a face as if dry burgers are a personal attack to him.

"I guess you're right about all of that. Maybe spending four years in college kind of messed up my idea of good food"

"You ate a lot of weird stuff?", he asked you.

"It's incredible the stuff you can come up with on a budget", you shrugged and he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.

Not too long after, Noah's pulling to a vintage looking diner, but you notice him going to the drive thru instead of parking.

"We're not eating here?", you found yourself asking before you could stop.

"Shit, I didn't ask you", he stopped the car in the line and looked at you. "I was thinking about eating at this place I know, I think you're gonna like it", you could tell his confidence wavered a little bit, but you gave him a smile anyways.

"It's ok, I don't mind eating somewhere else"

The line progressed quickly and in about fifteen minutes, you were grabbing your order and Noah was driving again.

You noticed he was driving to a less populated area, and more trees came into view, the headlights of the car illuminated the path ahead.

"I clearly didn't think this through because this totally looks like I'm kidnapping you or something", he chuckled a little, but you could tell he was nervous.

"I didn't think about that", you told him. Maybe you thought this place was a little weird, but you weren't going to comment on that.

"We're almost there, ok", you nodded and true to his words, a few turns later, the car arrived at a clearence. Noah drove a little bit more and parked the car.

Looking through the windshield, you could see the light from the city below you and the stars shining bright above you.

"You were right. I really do like this place", you stated, still a little bit in awe. How did you not know about this place?

"I'm really glad you like it", he said, watching you observe the place around you. "Well, let's eat before the food gets cold"

You ate and talked, now feeling more comfortable with each other's presence. Noah told you he used to come here as a teenager all the time, though he didn't tell you the reason.

He didn't feel the same emotions now as he did before when coming to this place. It felt like a new life now for him, e new beginning, and he was to have someone like you here with him.

You did tell him though, that this was one of the best burgers you've ever eating in your life, and that you would totally eat there more. He couldn't hide the smile on his face.

After you were done, he gathered all the wrappers and cups and got out of the car to put it in the trash can that was not too far away from the car.

You sat there, observing him and wondering if you were the only one feeling like this was more than just two people who just met each other going out to dinner.

He got back and sat down on the driver's seat. Looking out into the city, he said "I kind of don't wanna go yet"

"I don't either", you agreed. You felt a weird sense of calm on this place, with him. "I can tell that being here means a lot to you. And you don't have to tell me anything, but I'm glad you brought me here"

He didn't say anything for a while, and you both just sat there in comfortable silence.

"I never liked coming back here, to my hometown", he started, you just looked at him, not saying anything, not wanting to rush him. "I have really bad memories from this place. But don't know, being here this time, meeting you, made me feel like this city still has some good in it"

"Noah, I'm hardly anyone important", you reasoned.

"It's not that. I just feel like you're here because you wanna be, and not because you want to get something from me", he looked down at his lap.

"Why would I wanna get something from you?", you were feeling a little confused now.

"it's just always the way it works. Charlie never told you whar I do on LA?", he questioned you, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"She told me you're in a band. Which I googled and you guys look pretty good at what you do", you noticed his eyes widening when you said this.

"So you know?", his voice was a little smaller right now, aprehensive.

"Of course. Josh would never shut up about his friends who went to LA and got famous", you laughed quietly at this. "I'm sorry that people made you feel worthy only if you have something to give them"

He looked down again, but you continued. "But I was serious when I told you that I'm not anyone important. I'm glad to be here right now, and I really enjoy your company, but you're going back to LA soon and then this is the last thing you'll think about"

"I don't think that's true", he was quick to disagree with you. "Before arriving here, I felt dread coming back to this place. Now I feel like I don't wanna leave. You're the reason for that, and I'll never forget the way you've made me feel this past two days. Because I haven't felt his normal in years", you didn't know what to say to that, so you just looked at him.

He straighted his back, and leaned his elbows on the center console, his face now closer to yours.

"Will you give me the pleasure of tasting your lips before I go absolutely insane?", he was looking right at your eyes, voice low as if there weren't the two of you here.

"We can't have you going insane, can we?", you said and leaned closer, brushing your lips on his.

You felt his hand going up your neck and gripping your jaw. He licked his lips and you closed your eyes, and soon you felt the plush of his lips on yours, slow at first, but then he got a little more urgent, picking up his pace.

His tongue teased your lips and you granted him entrance, you whimpered at the feeling of his mouth on yours, and he held your face tighter.

After parting, you were both panting, you with a smile in your face at the feeling of his thumb carresing your cheek.

"How am I supposed to ever leave this place now?", he wondered out loud and connected his lips yours again.

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