#thank you all again so much for your thoughts and feedback!!

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Four)

Summary: “I wonder what color your eyes were…” Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him. Word Count: 3176 Warnings: still no smut, triple asterisk denotes a POV change as usual Notes: Happy birthday @kaya-nets ! Here is a surprise midweek update as a little gift, and a thank you for being the first person on tumblr to leave feedback on Dove! It is greatly appreciated, especially since I had a hard today. I hope you had a great birthday! AO3, Masterlist

“It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

Ghost was sure no word had ever sounded so beautiful. To hear someone calling him by his name again, after all this time, was… he had no words to describe it. If he were religious, he might’ve called it a come-to-God moment. But his dog tags said No Preference for a reason, and that reason was that Ghost had stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago.

As he looked at his little dove, holding his tags and giving him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, he thought that maybe he’d finally found one he’d happily worship.

He groaned softly, trying to say hello back, and then gestured at her, cocking his head to the side in question.

“What is it?” She asked. He pointed at his dog tags again, then at her once more. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and he grunted, like that would help her understand what he was asking. Maybe it did, or maybe she just remembered how first meetings were typically supposed to go, because her brows went up this time and her pink lips parted, a rosy blush darkening her cheeks. “Oh! Oh, my name, of course. I’m Lelia Par—Addams. Lelia Addams.”

Ghost caught the slip, and the mix of panic and sadness that flashed through her eyes at it. He couldn’t exactly press even if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He had no desire to see his dove upset.

He tried to say her name, despite knowing it was useless. But it was just so pretty. Lelia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

That was one of Johnny’s favorite chat up lines, Simon’s voice in his head said distantly, sounding both exasperated and wistful. Ghost ignored it. He didn't know who Johnny was and no amount of trying to force his ruined mind to cough up the memory of him would work. But staying in his dove’s presence, might. She was the reason he’d remembered the name at all.

“Thank you for saving me, by the way,” Lelia said a moment later, handing him his dog tags back. She still looked faintly embarrassed. “Both times… I— I would be dead without you. I suppose not all soldiers are bad…”

Ghost knew that if she were aware of all he’d done, both before and after he’d turned, she wouldn’t think so highly of him. Nonetheless, he would very much have liked to find whichever soldiers made Lelia decide she was better off out here on her own, instead of back on a base, safe and warm and fed. He thought about the way her eyes had looked broken and glassy as she’d spoken about the place she’d come from, and how she’d insisted she’d rather be ripped apart than go back, not a trace of exaggeration in her voice. Whatever had happened to her there must have been hellish.

Ghost wanted to move forward to comfort her, but he’d seen the way she’d gagged and grimaced when he got close to retrieve his tags, slipping them over his head once more. He knew that he smelled something awful, that he always would no matter what he did, but he would at least try to clean himself, for her sake. She couldn’t afford to lose the little food she’d eaten.

There was a stream not far from here, he’d been near it yesterday before he’d decided to investigate all the noise. And he was fast, faster than he had been when he was human. He could be there and back in half an hour, tops.

Lelia, on the other hand, barely looked like she could make it to the front door.

He was incredibly reluctant to let her out of his sight for any length of time. Even just going around to the back of the cabin to dispose of the body earlier had made him twitchy. And if it was just a matter of his smell, he’d wait until tomorrow, when she was rested enough to make the trip with him. But it wasn’t. He could see just how dehydrated she was—chapped lips, dry skin, a constant tremor in her hands… she needed clean drinking water, now. And if he could get some from the stream for her to boil, she would be set.

He would have barricaded the door for extra protection, but it opened outwards rather than in. Shoddy installation job if he’d ever seen one. So instead, he pointed at her, and then at the bedroom. He awkwardly put his hands under his ear and then closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He bumped his broken jaw as he did, and his teeth clacked against each other loudly.

He heard a little giggle, soft and high pitched. He opened his cloudy eyes to see his dove watching him, a pretty smile on her cherubic face. Her laugh was beautiful, pure and sweet. It was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. The sunken skin around his eyes crinkled a little bit, the only evidence of his smile.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go take a nap,” Lelia said, still giggling, as she headed for the bedroom. She disappeared inside, the door closing behind her. He waited until he heard her heartbeat slow and her breaths grow steady, and then he quietly moved the couch in front of it, blocking her in. He didn't want to risk her waking up, finding him gone, and getting herself killed while looking for him. If she decided to look for him. She might not—just because she asked his name and gave him a sweet smile didn’t mean she cared about him, the undead soldier who’d inserted himself into her life and wouldn’t leave her alone. That was alright, though. Ghost was so starved for human interaction that he’d take whatever he could get. And hearing his name from her lips was more than he’d ever expected.

Even if it was less than what he wanted.

With his dove secure, he left the cabin, making sure he didn't hear anyone nearby. There were a few infected a ways away, but if she stayed put—which he’d made sure she would—they wouldn't smell her. He was more worried about other people, but he couldn’t smell or hear anyone within range, so he felt comfortable enough to leave. Barely. He grabbed the large, rusted pail he’d noticed behind the cabin where he’d dumped the other zombie’s body, and then he was off.

-*-

When Ghost saw his reflection in the stream, he understood why Lelia had been so terrified to wake up and see his face first thing.

He’d known he looked bad, he wasn't an idiot. Just because his eyes were clouded didn't mean his vision was. He could see how disgusting the other zombies looked, and he figured he looked much the same.

None of that had prepared him for actually seeing himself.

Blood and gore covered every inch of him, bits of flesh stuck between his teeth and blackened gums—his teeth, which were permanently bared in a snarl, because his lips had rotted away.

That was the most horrifying part, he thought. Not the grey, sunken skin, the milky eyes, or all the gore and viscera. It was that his lips were gone, and he couldn’t kiss his dove even if she’d let him.

You’re disgusting.

The words echoed in his head, and he knew it wasn’t just about his visage. He shouldn't have been thinking about his dove like that. It wasn't as bad as his earlier thoughts, but just about. He was dead. A nasty, rotting corpse that happened to be able to walk around. There was something wrong with him to even be contemplating doing more than hugging Lelia. That was bad enough. She’d never want him to touch her in any way, she’d shown him that earlier when she’d kicked him while he was trying to check her for bites.

But maybe she would let him get a little closer, at least, if he didn't smell so bloody horrid.

It was that possibility that had him methodically strip out of his ragged tactical gear. He washed each piece in the knee-deep stream, even his mask and his boots. He laid them out on the bank to dry, moved a little further upstream, and then repeated the process with his body, dumping bucket after bucket full of water over every part of him.

The amount of congealed black blood and pieces of flesh that came off was concerning. He just hoped that none of the latter was his own.

Finally, he was done, and he stepped out of the stream and redressed in his still damp gear. Moving upstream for a third time, unwilling to contaminate his dove’s drinking water, he filled the bucket once more and began his trek back to the cabin, moving briskly but carefully so as not to spill.

Lelia was still asleep by the time he returned, and so he put the bucket down on the kitchen table, moved the couch away from her door, and then set about starting a fire. There was a small stack of roughly chopped logs next to the old, wood burning stove, and he placed a few inside. He searched through some of the drawers and found a book of matches, letting out a triumphant grunt, unable to believe his luck.

Except of course, things couldn’t be that easy.

Ghost’s fingers were far too stiff and clumsy to light a match. Fine motor skills were difficult for him, his muscles permanently locked in rigor mortis. Even piling up the logs in the stove had been difficult, as had carrying the bucket. He’d had to wrap his arms around it and hold it to his chest because his fingers wouldn't quite bend enough to grasp it by the handle.

After finally getting one of the matches to light, only to immediately drop it on the floor and burn a mark into the wood, Ghost gave up. He would just have to let Lelia do this part.

He moved the bucket onto the stovetop before quietly walking over to the bedroom. He reached out for the door knob and hesitated for a long moment, before letting his hand drop as he turned back around. She’d closed it for a reason, and he didn't need to see her to know she was alright. Her heartbeat and breathing were loud enough. So instead, he resumed his position as her zombified guard dog, and barricaded her door with his body while she slept, standing between her and anything that could bring her harm.

***

This time, when Lelia woke up, she knew exactly where she was.

The tiny bed in the cabin smelled of dust and old mothballs, but it was still far more comfortable than either a tree hollow or the bed she'd shared with Andrew back on the military base. She let herself luxuriate in it for a moment, exhaustion still pulling heavily at her no matter how long she had slept. Finally, she got up, walking over to the door and opening it—only to startle when she found Simon standing directly outside.

“Oh!” She gasped, hand clutching her chest, right over her racing heart. Then, she registered the lack of blood and gore on his face—which looked far less decayed now that it was clean—and the lack of a stomach churning odor wafting over her. He still smelled of death, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before. “You’re— you’re clean!”

Simon groaned quietly. He was staring at her, as if waiting for something. She blinked several times, and then spoke again. 

“Did you— did you do that for me?”

She knew she hadn’t hid her reaction to his stench well enough. She felt a bit bad, but she also couldn’t help but be relieved he'd noticed and decided to do something about it.

Simon jerked his head up and down in a nod, jaw wobbling. He shifted back and forth a little bit, then tilted his head to the side and let out a questioning grunt, milky eyes downcast. He almost seemed… nervous? Shy? Or like he was looking for her approval. She couldn't quite tell. But the thought was endearing, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “This is much better, really. I appreciate it.”

Despite the fact that he couldn't really make any expression, Lelia got the distinct impression that he was pleased with her answer.

Simon shuffled back, and then stiffly gestured for her to follow him. She did so, curious, and she found she could remain quite close to him without being overwhelmed by the urge to vomit. She still left a meter or so between them, as was proper. She doubted he wanted her crowding his space, after all.

He led her over to the kitchenette, and then gestured to a bucket on top of the stove. She peered inside it, and found that it was full of water. She brightened considerably, licking her dry lips.

“Can I drink this?” She asked, already reaching for the bucket. She was so thirsty, she’d even drink orange juice, right now. And she hated orange juice.

But Simon grunted, reaching out and stopping her hand with his own. His glove was slightly damp, and she blinked, frowning as she looked at him again.

“You’re wet,” she said, finally noticing that his gear was dripping a little bit. He grunted, ignoring her, and then gestured at a matchbook next to the stove. She stared at it in confusion, not knowing what he wanted her to do, before turning her attention back to the trail of water he was leaving in his wake. “You shouldn't walk around in wet clothes. You’ll catch a cold—”

Lelia paused, looked at Simon’s already dead self, and blushed.

“Well. Maybe you won’t, but still. You’re getting water everywhere. You should take them off to let them dry,” she continued, trying to recover. Simon gave her what she thought might have been an amused look, if the little crinkles around his sunken, milky white eyes meant anything. Though it was entirely possible she was just imagining it. “There’s a closet in the bedroom. I’m sure I can find you something to wear while you wait.”

Eager to escape after her blunder, she retreated to do just that. She heard Simon let out a grumble that sounded suspiciously like an exasperated sigh, but she didn't let that stop her. She let out her own noise of victory when she found a set of flannel pajamas that looked like they would fit her zombie.

When she returned to the kitchen, Simon was in the process of removing his gear. Lelia watched as he struggled with zips and buckles—he was making progress, but very slowly—and took a step closer to him.

“Do you need help?” She asked innocently, never one to just stand idly by.

***

Simon froze, damnable buckle falling from his stiff fingers. It had taken him ages to get all this off and back on again at the stream, but he’d managed. He would manage again… but his little dove was offering to help. To stand close to him, to touch him, or at least his clothes… he knew he should have said no, that she was just being kind and didn’t actually want to get anywhere near him—but she sounded so sincere, and he was so fucking desperate. So he groaned quietly, almost ashamed, as he jerked his head in a nod, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

Lelia set the clothes she’d found for him on the arm of the couch and then approached, starting with removing his helmet. She was so small, she couldn’t reach even when she stood on her toes, and he had to crouch down a little bit, knees creaking.

“You’re blonde,” she said, surprised. He looked down at her. She was close enough that he couldn’t smell anything but her, and it was intoxicating. But not nearly as intoxicating as the feel of her body heat, so near yet so far. He sniffed discreetly, once again trying to place the floral scent on her skin. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect that. I wonder what color your eyes were…”

Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him.

She moved on to unbuckling his vest, and then unzipping his jacket once he’d gotten the bulky gear out of the way. Underneath was a plain black t-shirt, the least destroyed item of clothing he had on, but also the foulest smelling. Her delicate little nose wrinkled slightly, and he would have found it adorable if he weren't so embarrassed. He reeked, still, and she smelt so delicious he began to drool again. He reached up to wipe it away, but his dove beat him to it, using the sleeve of the jacket he’d just discarded. She seemed entirely unphased, rather than repulsed like he thought she’d be, just giving him a smile before stepping back.

“No buttons on that,” she said as an explanation. He didn’t dare mention the buttons on his combat trousers, once again disgusted by his own thoughts. He pulled his t-shirt off after a second of hesitation, knowing the grisly sight that lay beneath. Grey, translucent, thinning skin smattered with deep gashes in several places that would never heal. They were accompanied by faded tattoos and dozens of scars, including a patchwork of rough, burnt flesh over his bicep and left shoulder, going all the way down to his hip. He reached quickly for the dry shirt, but Lelia stopped him.

“Your gloves,” she said, staring at his torso with a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't positive, though, he could tell that much. She tore her gaze away a second later, gently grabbing one of his hands and pulling it closer to her as she undid the velcro strap at his wrist. She slipped her fingers beneath the wrist of his glove, and he felt her skin directly against his own for the very first time.

He groaned, resisting the urge to grab her hand and keep it where it was. He couldn’t feel the softness of her skin, his own senses too numb for that, but the heat of it practically scorched him in the most pleasant way. It sank all the way down to his frozen bones, and when it slipped away as she pulled his glove off, it was agony.

She repeated the process with his other glove, and his bare hands twitched as he fought not to clutch onto hers and not let go. Finally, he regained control of himself, grabbing the flannel pajama shirt and pulling it on. It was a couple sizes too small, clinging to him like a second skin and stopping an inch or so above the waistband of his combat trousers, but it would do for now, even if he felt ridiculous.

“You’re shivering,” his dove said, frowning. “I’ll fetch you a blanket.”

She turned around and headed back into the bedroom, and he took the chance to shuck off his trousers. It was almost as if the warmth of her touch had reinvigorated his hands, or perhaps it was just luck, because he managed to get the button on the third try, and the zip on the second. He stepped into the too-small flannels just as she was returning with the quilt he’d given her earlier. He tried to avoid taking it—though he felt cold, he knew it was all in his mind—as he didn't want to contaminate it with the smell of death. But Lelia was stubborn, and she just wrapped the blanket around his shoulders for him, so he looked like he was wearing a flowery, quilted cape.

“There,” she said with a pleased smile, before bending down to pick up his gear and head over to the door. He followed her, a silent, massive, undead shadow, unwilling to let her go outside without him. He stood guard as she hung the clothes over the half-rotted wooden banister of the tiny porch, and when she came back in, he grunted to get her attention again before leading her back to the kitchenette. He tapped the matchbook, then pointed at the pile of firewood in the metal belly of the stove.

“You want me to start a fire?” She asked nervously, and he nodded, pointing at the logs again. She paled. “I don't know… I’ve never done that before. What if I burn myself?”

Ghost didn't like the thought of her getting hurt any more than she did, but they didn’t have a choice. She needed drinkable water, and right now, boiling what was in the bucket was the only way she was going to get that. So he fumbled for the book of matches and then pressed it into her hands—and if he let out another pleased groan when her warm skin touched his again, he hoped she misread it as encouragement.

His dove looked afraid, but she notched her chin and accepted the matches, clearly trying to put on a brave face. He let himself wonder at the fact that she had never used matches before. What kind of world had she lived in, prior to the end of it? Based on her nice clothes, posh accent, and utter lack of survival instincts, he imagined it was something privileged, something sheltered. He would’ve scoffed at the thought if he were still alive—pretty little rich girl with a pretty, perfect life. Had the dead not risen, she likely would have never known pain or fear or struggle. It would’ve angered him back then; the injustice of it all. The jealousy. Now, he just felt sad. She deserved a life like that. Not this hell on earth. She was woefully unprepared for her new reality—and she had suffered for it. The men she had had to rely on to keep her safe had put that haunted look in her eyes that spoke of a pain familiar to him, if unnamable. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. That he couldn’t kill each and every person that had ever contributed to her suffering. But there was nothing he could do about that, now. All he could do was keep her safe, keep her alive. And maybe even make her laugh again.

It took a few tries, and several broken matches, but Lelia finally managed to get one lit without immediately dropping it in fear. She tossed it into the stove, and while Ghost would have advised her to hold it to the corner of one of the logs, first, it did the trick, and the fire caught. He gave her a groan of approval, and admired the way her face lit up with pride, a rosiness dusting her cheeks as she grinned. She was always beautiful, but when she smiled, she looked like an angel. Something far too good and far too pure for this hellish plane and all the monsters that lived on it, both alive and dead.

Together, they watched the water boil. It was about as exciting as watching paint dry, and took only slightly less time due to the old fashioned stove and small flame. He didn't mind, though, as his dove eventually began to fill the silence with mindless chatter, telling him about the meals her private chef—oh, so she’d been rich rich—used to make for her. Ghost was informed very seriously that Román was the best cook in the world and could have had his own restaurant, but he liked hearing Lelia’s in-depth analysis of his meals too much to leave. Ghost thought it was adorable that she believed that that’s why the chef had stayed, rather than the money he was making. Then again, Ghost had stayed because of her too, so maybe there was some truth to her words after all.

When the water was sufficiently clean, he grabbed the bucket and moved it off the stove so it could cool down. Curiously, he didn't feel any heat from it, despite knowing it had to be hot enough to burn. It only made him crave his dove’s touch even more, the only source of warmth in his cold, undead life.

He searched through the cupboards again as they waited, looking for some sort of cup. He found a single dusty mug with a large chip near the rim. It was no crystal champagne flute, like she was clearly used to, but it would do. He handed it over, and Lelia made a face but thanked him nonetheless. She unbuttoned her pink tweed jacket and untucked a section of her still clean white blouse underneath, using it to wipe out the mug. He stared.

Look away, Simon’s voice in his head ordered. Ghost reluctantly obeyed. You’re a vile creature. You don’t get to look at her like that.

Even if Ghost was alive, he'd probably think the same thing. He’d been old and monstrous then. He was dead and monstrous now. He'd never lived a life in which he would deserve a sweet thing like her. But he still wanted, in this life and the last.

So when Lelia smiled at him after drinking her fill of the purified water, lips still wet and shiny, he tried to ignore the phantom sensation of his undead heart pounding in his chest.

[elitadream]

Guys I'm getting SO MANY asks about this concept, Idk whether to keep my inbox open or not/hj. 😭🙇‍♀️ I sincerely enjoy all your thoughts and questions on this, but there's no way I'll be able to answer them all at this rate.

If you don't get a response from me, I want to apologize in advance and let you all know that I nonetheless read every single comment I get. And they all make my day.

Thank you. 🥺🙏💟

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—” 

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips. 

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly. 

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.  

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest. 

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips. 

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both. 

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger. 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall. 

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses. 

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair. 

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence. 

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door. 

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening. 

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara. 

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy. 

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands. 

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose. 

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue. 

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that. 

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y. 

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small. 

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself. 

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer. 

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him. 

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission. 

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye. 

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours. 

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought. 

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist. 

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips. 

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place. 

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind. 

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow. 

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear. 

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing. 

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision. 

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this. 

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable. 

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back. 

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression. 

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth. 

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone. 

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt. 

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway. 

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.” 

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally. 

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb. 

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords. 

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms. 

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him. 

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day. 

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold. 

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness. 

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you. 

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters. 

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten. 

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you. 

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin. 

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way. 

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot. 

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts. 

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach. 

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again. 

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself. 

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over. 

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe. 

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second. 

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words. 

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. 

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles. 

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him. 

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is. 

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up. 

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow. 

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you. 

“Really?” 

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic. 

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology. 

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering. 

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off. 

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you. 

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?” 

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately. 

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark. 

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation. 

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have. 

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot. 

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again. 

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast. 

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his. 

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise. 

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear. 

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore. 

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit. 

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance. 

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt. 

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed. 

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking. 

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried. 

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.  

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles. 

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one. 

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body. 

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself. 

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh. 

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.  

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else. 

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm. 

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?” 

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly. 

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked. 

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off. 

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination. 

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk. 

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass. 

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush. 

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked. 

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are. 

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers. 

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft. 

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence. 

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands. 

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly. 

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso. 

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten. 

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense. 

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.  

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up. 

He’s still perfect. 

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear. 

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit. 

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him. 

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent. 

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him. 

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod. 

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately. 

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging. 

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths. 

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle. 

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to  someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever. 

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest. 

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely. 

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours. 

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times. 

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you. 

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment. 

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin. 

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you. 

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows. 

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders. 

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again. 

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish. 

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are. 

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance. 

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly. 

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous. 

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for. 

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly. 

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time. 

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you. 

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two. 

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you. 

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours. 

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you. 

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre. 

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in. 

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static. 

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak. 

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern. 

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good. 

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling. 

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you. 

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound. 

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good. 

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums. 

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him. 

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses. 

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily. 

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster. 

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect. 

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face. 

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear. 

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies. 

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are. 

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt. 

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine. 

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe. 

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure. 

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him. 

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good. 

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it. 

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him. 

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps. 

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you. 

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward. 

But it’s too much all combined. 

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers. 

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained. 

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob. 

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach. 

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you. 

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly. 

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment. 

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes. 

���Hi.”

He smiles. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back. 

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage. 

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs. 

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe. 

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile. 

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms. 

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be. 

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you. 

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face. 

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for. 

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies. 

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems. 

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself. 

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin. 

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile. 

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty. 

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now. 

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color. 

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks. 

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too. 

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.  

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves. 

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves. 

You want the same. 

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.” 

-

part eight

[endearng]

Third time's the charm

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: During one of your movie nights with Spencer, you decide to, once again, take the lead. Or, you got cockblocked so often that you almost thought it wouldn't happen. WC: 3.1k Warnings: smut (nipple play and dry humping); reader thinks spencer might be asexual but he's just a shy puppy; they are desperate for each other; "ruined" movie night; virgin!Spencer my beloved. (I guess that's it. If I forgot something, please let me know!) A/N: Aaaand here it is! I didn't think I'd write smut so soon, hehe. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it - it's actually a sequel to Dearest friend, but can be read as a stand-alone. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 Masterlist

"It’s nice we finally have some time for each other," you hummed in agreement. "Thanks for coming over," Spencer said.

"You don't have to thank me," you said, sitting down on his couch after placing the drinks you chose from his fridge on the coffee table. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you confessed. It got him blushing.

Spencer started one of your movies. It was your choice: you usually took turns picking out a movie to watch together whenever you had the chance, since neither of you were keen of going out that often and you didn't have much time outside of work. It was a fun opportunity to know more of each other through your personal taste, since he often chose foreign films about humanities and you, well, you made him watch Easy A, which got him talking about Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter.

After the movies, you would talk to each other about it, maybe mentioning a personal experience that you remembered thanks to a particular scene or a character's arch. Maybe you would kiss.

Which was a problem. Well, not a problem, but, you see, you didn't have much time together other than going to each other's houses and out on a few dates, which were your favorite: Spencer often found the most beautiful, cozy places to take you, like coffee shops, museums, bookshops and libraries, followed by a nice dinner at a local restaurant. It was during one of those dates that something gave him the nerve to touch your hand. Holding hands quickly escalated to having his hands around you at all times possible, and it got to the point where you nearly had to peel off of him when he got too comfortable and you sadly had to leave to do something. These moments of physical touch were making you go insane, thinking about making a bolder move on him, but you thought that maybe he wasn't ready. Plus the fact that you seemed to be interrupted whenever things got too heated.

If you had a nickel for everytime you and Spencer had to stop right before you got intimate (in any way, really), you'd have two nickels, which isn't much, but it's weird that it happened twice. It was like the universe (more like Hotch and the gore that surrounded the team) were set on a mission for you to never have sex again. Besides that, more extreme thoughts plagued your mind and told you that maybe he wasn’t attracted to you like that. It often made you go home feeling a little bit insecure.

You knew that it was better to assume, but you were only human. After some pep talk with yourself on the way to his place, you convinced yourself that you would have to have this conversation with him, sooner or later. You thought so hard about this that you even came up with the possibility that he was asexual — you were fine with it if he was, obviously, because being with him made you feel whole. Still, you wanted, you needed to get this off your chest before you exploded with assumptions and unrequited feelings. Unrequited desire.

You decided to try to be subtle. Scratching the back of his head with your nails lovingly, you both watched the movie. "What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you. You could see the goosebumps on his arm, that must have been the trigger for the question coming out of his lips. You gave him a soft smile.

"It's called affection, pretty boy," you kissed the tip of his nose. "And I don't intend on stopping anytime soon."

You kissed his left cheek when he turned to look at the TV screen.

Then, you turned his head gently to kiss the right one. He glanced between your eyes and your lips, so of fucking course you were about to kiss him, but you decided to tease him a little and pecked the tip of his nose and gently kissed his forehead instead. He breathed out a laugh. Ticklish. It made you wonder where else he would be sensitive.

Stop, you slut of a brain.

When you were about to kiss his lips, you withdrew your face from his, smooching his cheek instead. He sighed, oblivious to your real intentions, impatient and utterly, stupidly in love with you.

Oops. There goes your heart. Out the window. Taking your judgment with it.

"Spence?"

"Yes?"

"Can I do something?"

"Yes," he answered. "You know can do anything, baby."

"This is a very dangerous thing to say to a girl who has the feelings I have for you," you said, grinning. His expression morphed into one that almost looked like sheer panick.

You slowly moved to straddle his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you if he wanted to, his legs trapped between yours. You sat yourself on the top of his thighs. He watched every movement feeling like the world stopped and there were the both of you, moving in slow motion, movie long forgotten behind you. His breath hitched when he came to his senses and noticed the position you were in, now that you've done what you had. "Is this okay? It's more comfortable than kissing you like… well, that," you laughed softly.

"Yes. I-It's perfect," he breathed out, hands finding your waist.

You lips finally met his in a kiss that had both of you sighing. You found out that Spencer was a really good kisser — and you were proud to be the one with whom he practiced kissing to perfection —, your lips easily falling into a passionate rhythm. Gasping for air, you pecked him on those perfect lips that were red and puffy from all the assaulting you were doing, but he quickly pulled you in for another, this time, sloppier than ever, encouraged by your own boldness. He was french kissing you. Fairly used to it, but not with the intensity of it, you groaned in welcomed surprise, hands finding the nape of his neck and getting a grip on them, not so gently as you normally did. You pulled his hair down, breaking the kiss, lips tingling and lungs screaming for air. He smirked, feeling smug at the state he left you in.

You rose slightly from his lap, still holding his head and looking straight into his eyes. By holding yourself slightly above him, the pendant of your necklace grazed his chin, like he had imagined many times after watching you fiddle with it. God, it was finally coming true, having you in his arms and intending to let you do whatever you wanted to him and him only, the way that it should be ever since the day you met. You nearly made him go insane, pulling you closer to his body than you ever were, acting like a desperate madman. You smiled down at him and kissed him again, more feverishly than before, trying to tell him through that kiss that you were his. Biting his lower lip and earning a fucking moan, you sat yourself down on him again. You felt his bulge against your clothed core and the light contact made you feel lightheaded.

You were so caught up on him that it almost made you forget you needed to talk to him first. Unfortunately, as you tried to catch your breath and to find the right words to speak, Spencer felt his insecurities creeping up on him. Despite knowing it would be best to talk to you, he felt like voicing it out loud would push you away from him — which he didn't want. He was very comfortable with the indecent small distance between your bodies.

He was fidgety. You knew you needed to address this because your boyfriend wasn't the best at voicing his needs — you remember and giggled internally at how you had been the one to knock on Spencer's door asking him to put an end to your suffering by telling him how you felt. Heh. Kudos to you.

"I wanted to talk about this with you," you murmured, now feeling his kisses peppering the skin of your neck. You knew how much he was hiding from you because he wouldn't stop moving and it was very distracting, but if you didn't speak, it would be the end of you. "I'd ask if you were okay with me and you like this, about taking further steps, shit." You moaned when he fucking bit you and kissed you right after.

He pulled away from you, hands flying up to the back of your head. Foreheads touching, eyes locked in yours. "I want it. I want you, I mean. Been wanting you for some time now—a very long time, yes." He strongly shut his eyes closed, most likely working up the courage to say something. "But I don't want to... disappoint you," he finished, sounding insecure.

Not on your watch.

"Me too, Spence. God, I want you so bad," you answered, unable to look away from him, who now looked down, paying close attention to the rising and falling of your chest. "Hey, look at me, please," you pleaded. His eyes met yours. Oh, those maddening eyes... "Believe me when I tell you, baby, I want you. And if you don't want to do anything, you don't have to. I won't push you, of course. I just wanted to have a conversation with you before, because setting boundaries is important and consent is hot—" he laughed quietly. Making jokes was your go-to way of making situations lighter and he was glad for it then. You smiled when you noticed the sound he made. "And I'm also positively certain that you wouldn't like to have our first time on your couch."

"My first time," he revealed. softly. Eyes not meeting yours.

Oh.

You didn’t falter. "It doesn't change much, baby. I still stand for what I just told you," you assured him, "I want you to enjoy yourself, Spence."

Looking back into your eyes, he declared, "And I want you."

"You can have me," you answered, "You already have."

"You'd need to guide me. You know, hands-on activity. Because I’ve never done it before…" he trailed off.

"Lucky for you, I'm great at teaching."

His grip finds your waist, lips anxiously waiting for yours — and when they touched to mold perfectly in another breathtaking kiss, he felt complete. Like nothing bad could ever happen in the world just because you were in it. His past, his insecurities, the awful things you both saw on the field, nothing mattered. Looking at you, touching you, was a nearly an out of body experience. The things you got him thinking by just kissing him. And he thought his insecurities would get the best of him. Jokes on them, you exist.

You look at him through hooded eyes. "I've never felt like this before. I feel... tingly," he confessed, lovely smile on his face, eyes blinking.

"You're feeling good, handsome," you answered, glancing at his dazed eyes.

A beat of silence. Swallowing second thoughts. "Can you make it better?"

"Is that a request or a challenge?" You asked, grinning.

"A request." He answered shyly, hiding his face on your neck, peppering kisses on your skin. You were going to explode.

"Oh, don't talk to me like that," you shivered, feeling absolutely lost, "I might spoil you and give you everything you want," you sighed.

"Let me have it, then," he answered, voice muffled by your skin.

"I'm all yours, Spencer."

He had the audacity of blushing as his fingers played with the hem of your shirt. You smiled at him. In this state, if he asked for you to run naked around town, you probably would. It was dangerous, to say the least. Softly, yet desperate, the words left his lips. "Can I take this off?" He sucked in a breath. "Please?"

"Yes, pretty boy, you can," you answered. "You can have anything. I thought I already said that."

"Yes—You did. You did," he breathed out between needy kisses across your skin, getting rid of your shirt in no time.

At first, he was mesmerized by the sight in front of him. He hadn't seen many naked (or semi-naked) women in front of him, but you were something out of this world. The bra you were wearing matched your skin tone and pushed your breasts together and there was the fucking necklace, almost mocking him by being constantly so close, too close to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. The view was almost overwhelming by itself. You looked at him, but he couldn't possibly come up with the words that would describe you in that moment. Words had failed him, nothing else in his mind but you. The tool he used to communicate, to access the world and how it shaped reality, to comprehend the mind of another person, to get to know others... He had nothing left. Except from the pulsing of his boner against your clothed pussy, that is.

Just like that, IQ of 187 slashed to 60, Emily Prentiss said, once. Funnily enough, when you passed by wearing a sundress.

Unable to talk but, oh, so able to use his hands, they traveled up to your breasts with a featherlight touch, which didn't stop him from feeling your heartbeat. He let his hands trail over the soft and sheer fabric of the bra you were wearing. Finding your nipples, his touch got more intense. He licked his lips. His actions made you shudder and sent a spark of excitement to your sex. "Pretty," he said. "So, so pretty, my girl."

"Do you like it?" You asked, breathless from a little touching. Pathetic. "I got these thinking of you. Wanna look pretty for you, Spence."

"You are," he said, looking into your eyes, his own foggy, hands reaching to touch your neck. "You're pretty all the time, it's so unfair to me," he murmured. "I really like them on you, but… can I take ‘em off?"

"Yes. You can do anything, Spence."

Spencer wanted to burn the sight of you, in that slightly disheveled state, in the back of his mind so he could remember it forever — not that he would have a hard time trying to remember anything. Nevertheless, he did everything so slowly, almost as if trying to tattoo on the tip of his fingers the softness and temperature of your skin. He inhaled deeply, consumed by your floral-scented perfume and lifted his hands to unclasp your bra. His fingers curiously, but unhurriedly, lowered each of the straps. Like opening a gift that had been so carefully wrapped he didn't want to ruin.

But did he wanted to be ruined by you.

The sight of your bare chest was marvelous, to say the least, and he timidly grazed his fingertips against the exposed area, eliciting goosebumps and a soft whine. His mouth watered, thoughts simply reduced to the need of having you in his mouth. The striped pattern on the soft skin of your breasts around your nipples were faint, barely there, unless if you took a close look at it. It goes without saying that he was blatantly gazing at your bosom at this point.

Pupils dilated, he looked up at you, hungrily, drawing his face closer to you, curls tickling the skin of your collarbone. He inhaled your scent, mind blanking. Tortuously dragging his lips on your skin (and unintentionally smearing some of his saliva on you, he was drooling, after all) as a silent request, the necklace brushing his forehead slightly. The grind of your hips against his answered his plead to taste you.

"Oh—you're so, so good to me, princess," you moaned when he finally wrapped his lips against the nub, playing with the other.

You felt almost overwhelmed with the attention you were getting and the reaction you were having to said attention. Your underwear was sticking almost uncomfortably against your core and you felt yourself aching for some relief, aching for him. So, as Spencer worked his hot tongue on your tits, licking, softly biting, sucking, making a mess on and of you, you busied yourself by chasing the relief you both desperately wanted. The solace it provided you both with was exhilarating and made you feel dazed.

Steadily rocking yourself against him, you earned a few grunts. "You're making a mess of me, pretty boy," you murmured as he switched his attention to the other boob.

"Give it t'me—I want it, I deserve it," he breathed out, body aching with lust, cock pulsing against your covered clit. His words only fueled the fire inside you, the coil in your lower stomach threatening to snap at anytime now.

"Yeah, you do, my boy," you breathed out, pulling the hair on the nape of his neck, nearly tasting your orgasm, "gonna look so pretty when you come for me, won't you, baby?" Both hands gripping your hips, mouth never leaving your skin. You sure would be bruised by tomorrow, but this, this was definitely worth it.

"Yes—Yes, I will," He whined. He fucking whined.

"Tell, me—ah—where do you want to cum, baby?"

"Shit—" until then, you were sure that was a word you'd never hear him saying, let alone that freely. "Gonna—Shitshitshit," moaning out your name.

That's when it hit you that he had cummed his pants. It was such a fat load that it had seeped through both his underwear and his slacks — which prompted you to reach your own high with a moan of his name directly into his ear.

Both of you feeling dizzy, you slump against him, feeling his arms wrapping your frame as you rested your head on his shoulder. You both took deep breaths, the only sound in the room. Well, besides the movie you both totally ignored.

"I can't get up right now... My legs feel wobbly," you chuckled. "Are you okay, Spence?" You asked, looking at him when you didn't get an answer.

"Yeah, 'm fine," he answered, "I mean, I'll be fine as soon as I recover from you."

You laughed sincerely, "From me? What have I done to you?"

"You gave me what I wanted, you spoiled me, you broke me," he said, a silly smile adorning his pretty face. You pushed him playfully. "I can't even explain what I'm feeling right now. My brain has stopped working ever since you straddled me. Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, babe."

"Wrong answer. You're so gonna keep doing that to me, so you'll definitely be trying to killing me from now on." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

[monzabee]

diet pepsi - ln4 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lando have a rather interesting way of resolving an argument. 

Pairing: lando norris x fwb!reader 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: kinda cute ass fighting so fluff??, sex in a car, fingering, penetration, manhandling, no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it!!), cursing, minords dni!! 

Request: “okay but what about good old car sex with lando pleaseeee” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, who knew addison rae had the power to make a song that made me write this whole thing under 3 hours?? i certainly did not. secondly, i thought it would be nice to take a little break from the charles-carlos drama, and before i finish the third and final part to that little mini-series, i thought you guys would enjoy a little treat in the meantime! i have to admit writing for lando again was an interesting experience for me, but who knows, maybe i'll do it more often (i have one request that i'm obsessed with so that’s definitely coming your way as well!) also, i have an oscar fic in the works as well, so maybe the sudden change in mclaren also started to affect me lol. a quick psa, i know many people asked me in my last fic, but i do NOT have a taglist and i won’t be making one any time soon either! anywaaays, i hope you guys enjoy this fic, and feedback is welcome as always! thank you to the anon for their request, and good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking that in my car.” Lando complains, shooting you a sideway glare as you sip your choice of beverage contently.  

You tilt the cup slightly in his direction, grinning. “Relax, it’s not like it’s going to explode, nor it is your car.” 

“It might as well,” Lando mutters, eyes back on the road. “Knowing your luck, the second I hit a bump, that thing will be all over the place and I’ll have to explain what happened to Zak. Do you even know how much it costs to clean these seats?” 

You laugh, swirling the drink in the cup. “You’re being dramatic, it’s not like you are the one to detail the cars you use. It’s fine, I’ve got this under control.” 

“Famous last words,” Lando grumbles. His grip tightens on the steering wheel as if he’s preparing for impact. 

You glance at him, amused. “Are you always this paranoid about your car, or is it just me?” 

“It’s you. Definitely you.” He shoots you another look, this one laced with mock suspicion. “You have a history, you know.” 

“Oh, puh-lease,” you drawl, rolling your eyes as you turn your upper body to face him. “Tell me one time I actually made a mess in your car, and I’ll throw away this can right now.” 

Lando doesn't hesitate as he answers quickly. “Monaco. Last year. You remember that smoothie incident, right?” 

You blink a couple of times, taken aback. “That doesn’t count! That was your fault for speeding around the corner like a maniac. How was I supposed to hold on to it?” 

He smirks, clearly enjoying the memory. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh? You were the one who insisted on bringing a smoothie into my car five minutes before a race.” 

“You didn’t even have to brake so hard,” you mutter, crossing your arms defensively. “I had it under control until you decided to turn it into a F1 race.” 

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “Doesn't matter. I still won, throw it away now.” 

“That doesn’t count, it was clearly your fault!” You complain, holding the can protectively. “There’s no way I’m tossing this because of your bad driving.” 

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Bad driving? I think I’d take that up with the people who hired me to race professionally.” 

“Professionally doesn’t mean you’re not reckless,” you quip, a playful glint in your eyes. “Especially when there’s a smoothie involved.”  

“Fine,” he contends, shrugging, “how about that time I made you come too hard, and you leaked onto the seats?”  

This manages to shut you down for a moment, with eyes nearly bulging out of your head, you gasp at Lando’s sudden choice of words. “Lando!” You exclaim, reaching over the console to hit him on the arm gently, “That’s vulgar!” 

Silently chuckling at your reaction, he reaches over as he places a hand on your upper thigh, his hand tightening as you hold his wrist in warning. “It’s the truth,” he reminds you with a smirk, “don’t go shy on me, now, you were the one to get the seats all messed up because of how wet you were.” If you weren’t blushing before, your face most definitely resembles a tomato now as he continues his stream of consciousness, “Not that I’m complaining, though, I’m pretty sure I came in my pants when I made you cum just from my fingers.”  

 “You– you did?” The question flies from your mouth before you can stop yourself.  

The smile that overtakes the smirk on Lando’s face is almost sweet, and he coos at the innocence of your question as he squeezes your thigh again. “Oh baby,” he coos, “it was the hottest thing ever.”  

Your thighs attempt to trap his hand as you inadvertently press them tighter together, your nose scrunching up in confusion. “But it was messy.”  

“That was the best part,” Lando confirms, his thumb caressing your skin. “I loved getting to clean you up afterwards, didn’t I? Almost as much as you loved it.” 

“Sure.” You mumble, shrugging as you do your best to ignore his burning stare. You’d be worried about the fact that he was supposed to be driving if it was someone else, but considering he’s a F1 driver, you don’t comment on Lando’s lack of his surroundings as he pushes your thighs apart. “What are you doing?” You ask, confused as he moves his fingers further up your skirt.  

“You just focus on finishing that drink, okay?” He mumbles as his fingers pull your underwear to the side. “I’m suddenly in the mood for something sweet myself.”  

“Lando, I don’t think we should do th–hat.” Your voice waivers towards the end as his fingertips press on your clit, drawing lax circles on the bundle of nerves. “Lando,” you try to warn him, but your voice comes out as a high-pitched whimper.  

He shushes you gently as his fingers spread your wetness around your skin, causing you to bite down on your lip to silence yourself. Lando lets his dissent known by clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mumbling, “Don’t silence yourself, let me hear you, baby.” And when you give him what he wants and let out a loud moan as your hips involuntarily buck against his hand. Grinding the palm of his hand against your puffy clit, Lando uses your wetness to slowly push two of his fingers into you, drawing out another moan as you lean your head against the headrest. “My God, baby, look at you. You’re already making a mess on the seats.”  

“N-no,” you manage to whine, shaking your head as you give him a pleading but stubborn look, “I’m not making a mess.”  

“No?” He asks, mocking the pout that has found its way onto your lips. “Then who is so wet against my hand that it’s dripping, huh?” You're not sure if it’s his words or the way his fingers keep moving in and out of your cunt, but in either case, the overwhelming need of just something more causes you to attempt to put the can in your hand down, when Lando tuts again in warning, “You don’t get to put your drink down until you first come on my fingers.” 

After his words set in, you finally come to your senses, suddenly opening your eyes as you give him a shocked look. “Wha–what?” You ask, “What if I spill?” 

He shrugs, an innocent smile on his lips as he throws you a glance, “I guess you’ll just have to be careful and not spill it.” The smile on his lips grows as you let out a frustrated sound, and he responds by moving his fingers in a come-hither motion to git the spot, which causes your body to arch into his touch. “Are you going to give me what I want?” He asks, his concentration still on the road as he tries to find a secluded spot to park the car.  

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, voice shaky as you focus on not dropping the can in your hand, “I will, Lando, just keep doing that.”  

“Doing what?” He asks in a faux-innocent tone, as he goes back to simply continuing the pistoning movement of his fingers. “Like this?” He asks, with a shit eating grin on his face as you whine. “Or, like this?” He asks again, but this time, he repeats the movement of his fingers previously as he hits your g-spot again.  

You can’t control the scream that gets released from the back of your throat as your body shakes violently. “That,” you breathe out, your free hand holding onto the seatbelt so tight that you can feel it starting to cramp your hand a little bit, “don’t you dare stop doing that.” 

Lando lets out a low chuckle, clearly satisfied with your desperate plea. His fingers continue their relentless pace, teasing and coaxing you closer to the edge. “Oh, I won’t stop,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet commanding. “Not until you give me what I want.” 

Your entire body feels like it's on fire, the combination of his skilled fingers and the impossible task of not spilling your drink has you teetering on the edge. The car feels smaller, the world outside irrelevant, as Lando’s attention is focused solely on you. Being so consumed by the way Lando’s fingers move in and out of your cunt, you don’t even know that the car you are in at the moment has been abandoned in the side of a deserted road. You grip the can tighter, your hand trembling as the tension builds in your core. “Lando,” you gasp, a hint of desperation seeping into your voice. “I— I can't—” 

He smirks, enjoying your struggle. “You can,” he counters smoothly, leaning slightly closer while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “You can do it, just let it go, baby.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, drawing another loud moan from your lips. 

“Lando, please,” you beg, your voice almost cracking under the weight of your impending release. “I’m going to—” 

“Good,” he cuts you off, his smirk widening. “Let go for me, baby. And don't you dare spill that drink." 

His words are your undoing. With one final flick of his fingers, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out your high. Your head falls back against the seat, your hand gripping the can so hard you’re not surprised it bursts under the pressure. 

His words are your undoing. With one final flick of his fingers, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out your high. Your head falls back against the seat, your hand gripping the can so hard you’re not surprised it bursts under the pressure. 

You hear Lando’s satisfied chuckle as he eases his fingers out of you, giving your thigh one last affectionate squeeze. “Good girl,” he murmurs, glancing over at you with a proud smile. “Look at how good you look.” He shamelessly holds his fingers in front of your face, then without missing a beat, he brings his fingers into his mouth. The way he moans is nothing short of sinful, and you watch him with your lips parted as he mumbles around his fingers, “I think you spilled it a little bit.” 

“E-Excuse me?” You stutter, looking at Lando with the horrified look on your face. “No, I didn’t!” 

Lando raises an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he glances down at the mess on the seat. “Oh, but you did,” he teases, licking his lips after savoring the taste of you on his fingers. His eyes gleam with amusement as he points at the spot between your legs. “Not the drink, though… you.” 

Your face burns with a mix of embarrassment and desire, your breath still uneven as you try to process what just happened. “That’s not what I—” you stammer, crossing your arms over your chest, but Lando just laughs softly. 

“Relax, love. It’s nothing a little cleaning can’t fix.” He leans back in his seat, eyes never leaving you, his hand returning to the steering wheel like what just happened was the most normal thing in the world. “Besides, I’d much rather clean you up later.” 

You feel the heat spread through your body again, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a wave of arousal wash over you. Lando’s confidence, the way he handles you with such ease, is almost intoxicating. But as much as you’re enjoying the moment, a small part of you knows this is ridiculous. 

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, trying to regain some composure, though your flushed cheeks give you away. 

Lando just grins, completely unbothered. “You love it,” he says casually, shooting you another one of those playful sideway glances that makes your heart race. “Admit it. You like when I make you lose control.” 

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to throw a retort his way. But you can’t deny it, not after the way your body reacted to his touch. “You’re lucky you’re good at this,” you finally concede, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Lando’s smile softens, just for a moment. “Good at a lot of things,” he says, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. Then he pulls the car to a stop, turning off the engine before leaning toward you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “And I’m just getting started.” 

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter one ♡

Summary: Joel Miller has been your best friend for four years, and your trust in him is as solid as ever. However, things go awry one night after a heated argument, and you find yourself in a position you never thought you'd be in: naked, underneath him, with his eyes devouring you like there's no tomorrow. And when you wake up the next morning, you know it right away, reality piercing your chest; things will never be the same again.

Word count: 9.4K

A/N: Okay, I was planning for the first chapter to be 4K words MAX, but my imagination went crazy with this lol I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing this <3 warning: ANGST! don't forget to leave feedback, tell me what you think!

If you want to be on the tag list, let me know too.

You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadn’t wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didn’t know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance, the kind that accompanies unmet expectations.

"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.

She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; they’re nice—you’ll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "It’s your birthday; don’t be so sullen."

"I didn’t know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said quietly, as Cassie started back to the living room.

She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder. "Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. She’s really into him."

And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasn’t long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. You were surprised to find Brianna’s boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling absently through his phone with a glass of water in hand.

He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile. “Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice warm but reserved. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier…”

“No worries,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “Thanks.”

He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. “Are you having a good time?”

You gave a slight shrug. “It’s…” but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.

“It’s okay. I don’t love my birthday either.” His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence. “I didn’t want to admit it,” you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. “What was your name again?”

“Joel,” he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think she’s having a rough time.”

Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadn’t pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, “How old is she?”

“Four. Her name’s Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. “It’s only the second time she’s been with this sitter, and apparently, she’s been crying all evening.”

“Oh, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically. “She’s little. Changes like that must be hard on her.”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone. “I should probably get going. Brianna won’t love that idea; we’d planned to stay out…” He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. “You think she’ll be too mad?”

“No,” you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldn’t be pleased. “Go be with your daughter. She’s little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.”

A grateful smile spread across Joel’s face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional, yet steady. “I hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,” he added with a quiet laugh. "Wish me luck."

You chuckled, meeting his gaze. “Good luck, Joel.”

He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression, like an unclaimed memory. And, as expected, Brianna didn’t understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.

“You knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,” Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.

You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful pictures someone had put on the television.

You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.

“He broke up with her,” she began to tell you. “He told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.”

It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.

Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joel’s warm, steady gaze stayed with you, like a whisper that hadn’t fully faded.

Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: you’d moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.

It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. The song—one of those upbeat ones that made even housework feel light—had lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.

You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.

“Oh, hello,” you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girl’s sudden appearance had given you.

She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.

“Hi. What’s your name? Do you live here?” she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.

Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like she’d been coming here all her life. Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. “Yep, I just moved in.”

She looked unimpressed. “This house was empty for a while. I didn’t like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the ass—”

“Sarah!” came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly. Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.

When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught. You knew him.

“Sarah, you can’t just leave the house like that,” he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.

He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.

“Joel,” you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.

His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that you’d just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes, a brightness that seemed familiar.

That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joel’s presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand. Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldn’t deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything, from driving you to doctor’s appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew you’d need a ride. Over time, he became the best friend you’d ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else scattered—Cassie overseas, old friends moved away—Joel became your rock.

It wasn’t something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And maybe that’s why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of you—Sarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulder—sat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon. There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he “wasn’t really looking for that sort of thing.”

Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his gaze, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasn’t worth the confession.

One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard. She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.

“Yeah, it’s like… the third time they’ve gone out,” Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. “I don’t know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,” a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.

You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.

"And who stayed with you last night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.

“Uncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. “We had fun, but I kinda wished you’d come too. Hey, what do you think?” she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.

“It's perfect,” you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. “Why didn't you call me then?”

Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.

“You were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.”

Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. He’d even made an excuse for Sarah’s benefit. So, there had been three dates—three times he’d kept this woman a secret. A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.

In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stove—Joel’s favorite—when the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress you’d chosen, one you knew he liked, though he’d never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.

Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. “Don’t look, the table’s not ready.”

You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“I don’t need to see it—I can smell it, and it smells incredible,” Joel grinned beneath Sarah’s tiny hands, which she’d plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.

“Too bad you don’t smell incredible,” Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"

You laughed, catching Joel’s raised brow at her.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.

Joel snorted, brushing Sarah’s hands away from his face.

“That’s the smell of a hardworking man,” he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. “Y’all oughtta know.”

*

Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.

You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue. You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.

After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.

Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with grandeur.

“Make a wish!” Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.

Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.

He reached for your hand, pressing a warm, lingering kiss into your palm. “I’m not that old,” he muttered with a mock frown.

Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb. “You’ll be forty in four years,” she teased, catching your amused expression.

Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarah’s delighted giggles. It felt like home.

Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.

He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.

“I took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?” Sarah asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. “It’s perfect, baby.”

“Let's watch the movie later,” Sarah said. “You can't fall asleep.”

“Let's see which one of us falls asleep first,” you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.

You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.

“I saw it and thought of you,” you said, mimicking his gesture.

“How much did you pay for this?”

“Don't worry about it, it had to be yours,” you noted as you stood up and took it from his hand. “Here, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.”

“And what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel to Rome to exchange it?”

You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders, a comfortable, familiar movement.

“I know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.”

“So?” he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.

“Lookin’ good, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. “Bet someone special will love it, too.”

Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought of your gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her -whoever she was-, running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it, and you loved it.

“Okay, now, open the envelope,” you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.

Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.

“Sunshine, did you pay for this?” he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.

Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destination—somewhere none of you had been but would love.

When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. “Let me cover part of it.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “It’s my birthday gift to you, Joel. It’s all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?”

“That's right,” Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too good to me.”

But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.

Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarah’s mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didn’t she see how extraordinary they were? Didn’t she realize what she’d lost?

You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinner—a bottle you’d brought back from your last trip to Italy—and Sarah’s lemon soda. Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Fallen soldier,” he whispered, smiling.

You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarah’s hair. “She’s tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.”

Joel sighed, an apologetic note in his voice. “I know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.”

Curtis and Viper 2 was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling he’d take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest. Now, without Sarah’s chatter, you’d have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.

You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.

“Thanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,” he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.

“I'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.”

“Doesn’t matter. You helped her, and I’m grateful. I mean that. For today, and for… all these years.” His voice softened, almost reverent.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. “You’re my family, both of you. Really, I’m the one who owes you thanks.”

He shook his head and leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.

“Not at all,” he replied, leaning back again.

You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, he’d make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“So, what did you do last night?”

He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you could’ve noticed. “What?”

You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didn’t sound like you’d spent all day thinking about it. “I just… didn’t see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.” It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.

Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. “Oh. Yeah… I just went out for a beer with Tommy,” he answered, his tone a little too casual.

Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not. 

It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.

“Joel,” you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. “You’re lying to me.”

He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didn’t let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Tommy was with Sarah last night, here,” you pointed out, your voice firmer this time. His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized you’d caught him.

After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. “Alright, yeah. I know.”

The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.

“Why would you lie to me?” you pressed. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?”

Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance. “It’s… it’s nothing serious,” he mumbled. “Just getting to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.”

“What? what you're saying doesn't make sense. You’ve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?” you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.

“It’s not like that,” he insisted, but his voice sounded unsure.

“So if I call Tommy right now, he’ll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?”

Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt you’d tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.

“What if I did?” His voice was almost philosophical, his gaze intense and challenging. “This is my private life. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?”

You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself. “You’re right, Joel. You don’t owe me explanations. But you don’t have to lie to me, either.” You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. “You’ve never hidden your relationships from me before.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.

After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.

“Because of this.” He gestured between you, his tone gentle but firm. “This reaction, right here, is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

What Joel was saying didn’t make sense. Your frustration wasn’t over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.

“Oh, just stop,” you snapped, voice sharp. “I’m not mad because you’re dating someone, Joel. I’m mad that you lied to me. They’re two completely different things.”

He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face. “No, it’s always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seeing someone?”

And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousin—a woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe you’d let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.

“That was different,” you argued, exasperated. “She wasn’t nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.”

He gave a bitter, half-smile. “Maybe, but it wasn’t your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you always—” he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, “you always step in. Always get defensive.”

“That’s not true!” Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. “You’re just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me, don’t insult me with these flimsy excuses. Or if you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”

He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice low and measured, the words hanging between you like a dare.

“Sure about what?” Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and… something else you couldn’t place, mingling with the haze of the wine.

His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. “That you don’t care. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Because I know you, i know you to well to know you’re just jealous.”

Jealous. He thought you were jealous.

He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.

But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than you’d expected. The openness you’d once trusted was fracturing. You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words he’d thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.

Honestly, he could go fuck himself.

Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time, his voice heavy with irritation.

“Just go away, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice was calm, almost pleading.

You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. He’d have come in anyway.

“I mean it, God. Go home,” you insisted, your voice wavering, betraying the anger mixed with something else.

He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. “Can we just talk?”

“Talk?” you repeated incredulously. “Talk about what? About how wrong you are?”

He didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened. “Don’t act like what I said was crazy,” he said, voice steady but a little sharper now.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up. “Oh, so now I’m jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you must’ve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if that’s the case, then we’re having the same conversation, aren’t we?”

Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. “No, Travis is just a jerk. And I don’t like him, plain and simple.”

Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored him—everyone except Joel. He couldn’t seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.

Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. You’d told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadn’t accepted was because of Joel’s disapproval.

You shook your head, exasperated. “Travis isn’t a jerk, Joel, you just don’t like him. He’s nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if we’re being honest here. Everyone loves him; you’re the only one who has a problem with him.”

“Then everyone’s as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.”

“Oh, really? Or maybe… you’re jealous of him?” Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.

Joel’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.

“Don’t turn this on me,” he said. “This isn’t about Travis or me.”

“No?” you shot back, voice edged with challenge. “So if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldn’t bother you at all, right?”

He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something you’d never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you. He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. It’s your fucking life.”

“And you can do whatever you want too, Joel. That’s the fucking point!” you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. “I don’t care what you do! It’s already clear you don’t get it, you don’t get anything, ANYTHING!”

Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasn’t long before he closed the distance again, though he didn’t get as close this time.

His voice was lower, a thread of something hard in his tone. “If you’re so insulted by the idea of being jealous, maybe that’s something for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?”

“Are you drunk, Joel?” you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.

He laughed, an odd, choked sound. “Oh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired, and you’re not exactly young, Joel,” you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. “Alcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.”

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker. Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.

His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.

“You don’t know how to lie,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.

The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you. With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.

But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something you’d never seen before—desire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need. A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.

With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.

He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.

Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.

Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again. “Joel,” you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, his voice low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.

You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all. 

No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.

You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness. 

His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.

In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.

You weren't wearing a bra (your dress didn't require it) and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.

“I’ve always loved that dress,” he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.

“I know,” you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips, the moment igniting an intimacy that made your heart race.

His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.

His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

Joel’s eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.

His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction that echoed in the space between you. But he didn’t linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.

He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.

Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.

“Precious,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.

He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.

He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.

“Ah—Joel, I’m going to—I’m going to—” You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.

His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, “Mhm.”

You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.

“Fuck me, you’re so wet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of you—your cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.

From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.

Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.

You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.

With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you. It wasn’t until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.

He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.

Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.

Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form. 

There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.

With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadn’t expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.

“Slow, baby,” he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."

You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldn’t quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.

The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him. He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.

His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him. 

You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts - or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him - he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him. 

“Oh God,” he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt both intimate and vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.

A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever penetrated you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.

Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your buttocks created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure. 

A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.

You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against yours, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.

And then it hit you: It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for four years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?

“I thought you didn't like me,” he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. “Such a bad liar, baby, look at you.”

You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.

His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.

Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you. When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.

He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.

He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth. Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...

No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.

When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.

Joel was gone.

taglist: @orcasoul

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

(Part 2 FINALE)

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Synopsis: Miguel had left Y/N for another version of his old wife in hopes of getting his old life back. To only realize the mistakes he’s made.

Link to Part 1

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!reader

Warnings: very heavy mental health, ANGST LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, ALL OF THIS IS ANGST, mentions of death/almost dying, long term establish relationship, cheating, swearing, therapy, physical fight, blood, feral protective miguel?

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A/N: hello again! this one is more heartbreaking and longer than the first part oof… Very low dialog up until closer towards the end! wanted to just get through telling the story itself and the emotions. It’s just a very heavy storyline!! I want to say thank you so so much for showing so much support for part 1 i had no idea it would receive that much attention :O !! i wrote this out kinda fast as i didn’t want to loose the momentum of the idea. so apologies for any mistakes! all feedback is greatly appreciated ~

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You used to make Miguel coffee everyday, with one cream two sugars, and he would nag about how he hated the taste. It was to your liking, not his. As you would sneakily take sips out of his mug while working next to him. Why didn’t you just get your own coffee? You claimed you could never finish it and just wanted a taste out of his. Miguel would roll his eyes at you every time he caught you but he adored it. He had secretly grown to love the way you made it and had become his only way of making coffee after meeting you.

Now as this version of his older wife made it the way he is suppose to like coffee, bland and straight, he found himself bothered by it. Going as far to correct her even though this was what he had been claiming to have missed so much. He was now seeing himself teaching someone else how to love him like you did…

He was only a shell of the man he was when he had Gabriella. Even though the copy of his old wife has her same personality, the relationship couldn’t be exactly how it was before because he had changed so much. You had helped him become whole again. His tastes and likings had all switched to everything about you. The charm he found in his old wife doesn’t hold a light to you now and he was getting frustrated. He had wanted this so badly. He felt like those babies who whine and cry wanting to eat a lemon and once they get their way they realize the sour truth.

Miguel never truly realized what it was like to loose you until three weeks after he told you the truth. Over the years the idea of losing you terrified him but he only ever thought of it being in death. He never considered separation when everything was perfect for both of you then. There were times he believed that you were made just for him and he treated you like his queen. Which you truly were to him in his spider society. Why would he ever throw that away? Look at what he did.

He gave himself every excuse in the book before you knew he was cheating on you. ‘This is only for research.’ he would think every time he found himself back in that universe. As everyone knew he was so serious about his work, obviously this is just him getting to know more about certain universes and canons. Lyla was the only one seeing straight through him knowing where he was actually going. Things kept tumbling and the more he found out about the place and spent time with her the more his grief and yearning returned. It was all just there, so reachable.

There was a time his mind tried to snap him back out of it while cheating on you and made him realize the guilt. The first time he kissed this woman you were there in his mind. He came home right after and held you without saying a word. You never questioned him, just showed him comfort as much as you could. Lightly stroking his back, you never over stepped or pushed him when he was vulnerable with you. He only closed his eyes and held onto you tighter processing how you were always too good for him. He was converting to living two different lives; his old self during the day and then coming home to you. He didn’t want to let go of either at the time.

Once he found out he could safely have Gabriella again was when he became distant with you. The shame of using you for research made him become stoic. He didn’t want to admit how wrong he was treating you. All while you were always being so loyal and trusting towards him. Things were slowly slipping through the cracks and he knew he couldn’t up keep it. He wished he could have had that conversation with you so much differently but it was over. Now he had his old life back, a dream he had his mind set on.

He ignored the shakiness in his hands when he returned to her after letting you go. ‘It’s all for the best.’ is what he would repeat in his mind as a mantra. His new girlfriend truly had no idea who he really was or what his background was. Miguel continued to feed her lies to the point where he even started believing them himself getting too lost in avoiding what he’s done. He believed he was happy as he spent time with her.

When she got too close to finding the truth after finding his wedding ring in one of his pockets, he set her off course from it by revealing his spider identity and taking her to HQ. This was the day that everything felt like it was crashing around him. Being reminded of his marriage, having to face his friends with his new lover, sharing his personal spider life, his work with someone who wasn’t you. He excused himself rushing to an unused office room while his chest was tightening. Pupils dilating as he realized it was his first time having a panic attack.

Nevertheless he continued to push it all aside and act completely normal with his girlfriend. He was feeling your absence the most while working. You had became an extension of him. He had trained you from scratch and you helped him build this society he has now. You knew the ins and outs of everything and fought perfectly alongside him. Now that he was on his own he let his girlfriend be there for him when he got stressed, but there always was a knot in his stomach he never could get rid of.

The more his mental health ate at him late at night the more he considered searching out for you. There was no closure between both of you and he never got to listen to how you feel. What was your opinion on all that happened? Do you hate him?

He wanted to speak with someone so badly but he dug himself in a hole too deep. You were gone, he was lying through his teeth to this poor woman he’s kept for some fantasy, he felt too ashamed to say anything to his friends, he would rather die if all his workers found out how big of a piece of shit he is. Anytime Lyla tried peeping a word that wasn’t work related he would snap. He had pushed everyone away and now he just felt alone.

Regardless he would wake up in the morning and swallow all his dark feelings. He would remember his grief of when he lost his family and it would put him back in the moment. He has another chance. He was happy with the direction he was going in now.

Right?

—

The day he found out you were at HQ he felt his heart stop. He was mid mission trying to call for Lyla but she wouldn’t answer. Frustrated he tried looking into what was happening only to see her busy having a conversation with you. It felt like something took over him when he opened a portal in less than a second. Without thinking nor wasting a heartbeat he rushed back. Just a glimpse of you, maybe just to hear a word out of your mouth. The feeling of having you back in HQ was making him ignore all his insecurities. How he would coward at the thought of trying to reach out to you before. You were in his home, your home, and the thought drove him wild.

You were already long gone though. Lyla stared at him not saying a word. The quietness in the room making his ears ring but his thoughts were screaming in his head. He stood there frozen still trying to recollect himself. He was the one that left you, what is wrong with him?

Again he went back and forth in his own head trying to convince himself ‘You wanted this.’ but if he did why is he feeling like someone just killed a puppy in front of him? Why is he here fighting with his self if this is really his dream? Why did he try chasing after you? The wounds of his past grief were too deep. He never took the time to properly heal and now look at what he’s become.

“Miguel, what’s this?” He was startled turning around seeing his girlfriend holidng your watch and skimming through the divorce paperwork addressed to him.

There was no more hiding, no more lying. He swallowed hard even though his throat was dry. He let everything he had kept away rise to surface. It hurt him to see the beautiful face his old wife shared contort into such anger and pain while finding the truth.

She didn’t stay, but for some reason he wasn’t upset. Though he longed for his daughter, he knew it would have never been the same now. He finally closed the door on his past. His heart had made the choice this time but it’s too late. Now grasping onto the divorce papers left by you, emptiness spread through his soul.

—

You on the other hand did not find yourself crying by yourself on a rooftop for long. The shift in the air from your arrival alerted the local spider-man immediately.

“It didn’t work out, did it?” He crouched down next to you as he noticed your watch gone and your missing wedding band.

Peter Parker knew both you and Miguel. Your husband had come to do many rounds of research in this universe when he took you. Eventually offering this Peter a spot in the society, which he politely declined due to just being busy enough here. You both never spoke much but always had an appreciation for each other.

“Do you need a place to crash at?” He continued while trying to get you to look at him. Reaching his hand towards you.

You had absolutely no one and you had been gone so long you couldn’t even go back to the little you had. When you met Miguel you didn’t hesitate to never look back and now it filled you with regret. How naive were you to put all your trust and reliance on him.

You took Peter’s hand. You were ready to start your own life and be your own person now.

—

Peter Parker was nice enough to let you stay with him as long as you needed it. You both had became ‘besties!’ as he would love to poke at you. The first month with him you were a disaster really but he showed you how he liked to cope using his spider abilities.

The first thing he helped you with was getting a new suit. Your old one resembled too much to Miguel’s and you felt suffocated every time you put it on. Peter had taught you to use your current emotional pain on whichever sad little villain was making trouble out in Brooklyn that night.

“Come on, we got multiverse spider-woman helping me keep these streets clean now!” He would taunt at the men while watching you easily take them out a little bit too aggressively. His feet kicking up and down while he sat on the side of a building watching you. The crime rate did go down a bit once word got around how strong your punch was. Peter’s just happy he can now spend some nights to himself.

You got yourself a job at the mart on the corner to help cover bills for Peter and save up. You were grateful enough the owners never batted an eye when you would disappear during a shift to either suddenly go cry uncontrollably or beat the shit out of someone at a nearby robbery. Next thing you were enrolling yourself back in university, wanting to finish that degree you never did.

It wasn’t too long that some of your older spider friends would stop by to check in on you. Seeing them was difficult sometimes, you were internally itching to ask about Miguel. Things were going okay for you on a very slow path of breathing step by step. You never wanted to feel that hurt again and so you very well pretend like Miguel didn’t exist if you could.

You couldn’t ignore the hurt resurfacing when you passed couples on the street. Or when you found yourself going to fidget with your wedding ring just to remember it’s gone. You can’t just move on from a relationship that was so deeply apart of you and lasted so long. You gave everything to him and it will take you much time to get yourself to build trust again.

After two semesters, you finally had your graduation. All the things you learned while in Earth-928 paid off as you barley had to study. Passing top of the class, you immediately got an offer for an internship opportunity with Alchemax and was able to get an introduction tour of the building beforehand.

What you hadn’t realized was that Alchemax had been looking for that girl who snuck into their offices a couple years ago. Who made another dimension’s spider appear and then went missing herself soon after. They had kept as close tabs on you as they could and how foolish you were to think your little break in wouldn’t come back to bite you. The moment you stepped foot back in their building, it was over for you.

—

Miguel had spent a whole year in much deserving therapy. Nothing could stop the embarrassment he felt when Peter B signed him up with HQ’s best spider-therapist after 3 months of constant out bursts. No one could come near the man when he felt like he had lost everything. Those first initial months were difficult for everyone around him.

Therapy did help, he hates to admit it, but it was a very rough ride. He finally was able to understand his deep inner term oil and heal his issues but moving on from you? No, he could never.

You were the only one who had sincerely stood by his side, always rooting for him. He never fell out of love with you despite of everything that he did. He just pushed everything down too deep and was blinded by obsession. Till now he could never deny that he still loves you. Maybe if he just would have went to therapy years ago instead of acting out on unsolved grief none of this would have happened. The guilt always making him toss and turn at night.

He would have big temper tantrums when he would find his coworkers going to visit you time to time and not sharing any details. He needed to know if you’re okay. Did you already move on? He longed to find you and speak with you but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. He was so self destructive and this was what he deserved.

Everyone avoided him completely when he overheard someone saying you were living with Peter Parker. Fighting crime with him and having a cute little home life. Peter followed you around now like a puppy. Miguel did not take the news well at all. Let’s just say, the large bill replacement for his monitor screens was what snapped him out of that rage.

He also wanted to strangle Hobie Brown every time he saw a glint in his eye when your name was mentioned around. Yet Miguel couldn’t hate the kid either, as Hobie was one of the people to try help repair the damage he did to you. How badly he just wanted to hold you and shield you in his arms from any other people taking you from him as if he wasn’t the idiot to let you go in the first place.

Everyone’s big, powerful, scary boss was really just a grumpy, wallowing-in-self-pity, sensitive, lonely man now. Mention your name too much to him and watch him start crying or take it out on whatever he could find nearest to him. He would some nights scroll through your wedding photos while listening to your last tracked log with Lyla. Your words cutting through him deep like long sharp knives. How he urged to go tell you it was all wrong and how guilty he was for making you feel like this.

Despite it all, he still believed in being the best of the best. He used his work to distract himself from his sorrows, to become numb. Even though his divorce paperwork were set next to him on his desk to remind him the pain. He never signed it.

—

“We can’t tell him!” Jessica gritted through her teeth. Small group of spider-people were hovered around Lyla taking in the new found information.

“Her canon events have always been uncertain, we can’t just stop and fix this one?” Gwen Stacy suggested in hopes.

“We have never prevented a canon event of hers or the people involved in it. It could be even more dangerous than a regular canon.” Peter B spoke grimly.

“When ‘as danger ever stopped us?” Hobie spoke up.

“Everyone get your gear.” Lyla added to the stress of the situation.

—

You couldn’t open your eyes properly with a strong blinding light being held above you. Arms and legs secured on top of a metal surgical table. You could feel the warmth of blood scattered on certain parts of your body, slowly starting to dry. It was a mix of yours and the people you had tried fighting through to get out of here when you realize the trap you were reeled into. Different people in lab coats poked and pried all around you while you were tied. Your mask was thrown on another table and your suit had large gashes across it.

Soon you also could feel the presence of Peter Parker being brought to the room, thrown slumped in the corner breathing heavily. They had gotten you too good. They knew everything and had planned this so detailed.

“Now you’re going to help me open the multiverse.” Kingpin loomed around you. All you could feel was searing pain as a laser aimed right at your chest.

—

Miguel was already staring out the window to the glowing night lights of Nueva York when he saw a big hole appear in sight of the skyline. His eyebrows furrowed while he was trying to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t a second later when all alarms started going off in his office.

“Qué carajos?” He exclaimed seeing the alerts of a possible universe collapse. “Lyla! Why wasn’t this being taken care of already?”

“I already sent people.”

“Then what are they doing?” He yelled. His confusion and anger only furthered when he saw a red alarm for a canon event.

“Canon event?” He whispered to himself. He always knew when these were happening, there were none scheduled for today. There was no way he would let one passed him, it’s not like this could magically appear? His jaw dropped in realization… a new canon event.

“Lyla, tell me the truth. Why wasn’t this reported to me?” He made the atmosphere turn cold. She knew he already figured it out.

“A new canon event was received this morning being given to Peter Parker. Of Y/N L/N’s death.” The words from Lyla made Miguel’s body go still. His eyes raced side to side while he processed it.

“No!” He roared, a fist slamming into the nearby desk. His massive strength breaking it in half.

“Boss, you can’t go on this mission only using your emotions.” Lyla warned. However Miguel was already half way stepping through a portal to find you.

He appeared, watching his team struggle to shut down the machine causing the collapse. Outnumbered by the amount of Alchemax puppets. A different kind of rage filled him as he saw you, for the first time in a year, suffering. Miguel was never one to act reckless while on missions but he had no plan here and just ran off the pure adrenaline the fight or flight had hit him with.

His claws tore into the backs of his enemies as he jumped beast-like across the room. Not hesitating spilling blood across the wall while he took everyone down as fast as he could. His team could only watch wide eye with an unsettling fear as they saw Miguel lose himself to his spider sense. While he fought they took the opportunity to take apart the machine.

Miguel was panting heavily, pupils blown wide glowing red, and fangs dripping with venom as the room slowly silenced. Kingpin laid on the floor slowly trying to drag himself after being beaten to a pulp. It was over. Peter B stopped him from doing anything further. Knowing Miguel would kill the man, Peter B let the team finish up to give Kingpin to authorities. Miguel turned frantically to look at you seeing the other spiders step away. Peter Parker was hunched over you in tears. Miguel fought the urge to snap at Peter and grab his hands off of you.

Your vision was too blurry and everything felt like it was burning. A shape that seemed too familiar came into your peripheral vision and you tried to push yourself up.

“Miguel?” Was the last thing you croaked before slumping back passing out. Miguel catching you in his arms before you could hurt yourself further.

“It’s her time.” Jessica spoke behind him. Yet he was refusing to let go. He had never defied the way the timeline worked since he created his society. He would never break the rules and you both had promised each other before not to. If there was a situation like this you both agreed to save the universe first. How stupid was he to think he would listen to that now facing it in-front of him.

He never got to tell you what happened. He never got to apologize. He never got to tell you one more time that he loved you. Even if you in result just spat in his face, at least he was able to talk to you one more time. You were never a placeholder or someone to fill a hole in his heart. His whole heart belonged to you and he couldn’t let you go thinking you didn’t mean anything to him. No matter the consequences, he needed to tell you.

“Call all the teams to control the damage of a possible universe collapse.” He turned to Jess with Y/N tightly in his arms. The spider-people watched speechless as he opened a portal and disappeared.

—

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—

Two weeks you laid motionless in the HQ’s medbay.

The clean up after breaking the canon was a little intense. They were able to get it under control as the event started to fade from your timeline once you were returned and starting to heal in Earth-928.

The spider society would remain silent near the medbay. The lights always being dimmed and hushed whispers between staff to not bother the distressed O’Hara. He refused to leave.

Your Peter Parker had now joined the team, much to Miguel’s dismay. Everyday your friends would come in and check to see how you were. Some telling stories about their day or any gossip updates you missed, in hopes that it would get you to wake up. They would ignore the gloomy Miguel who was basically glued to the seat next to you not saying a word to anyone.

At night Miguel would play with your fingers and softly stroke your hair all while pleading “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. Por favor mi alma.” He knew it wasn’t his place to beg this after what he did, but he didn’t mind the words falling on deaf ears.

Miguel hadn’t eaten in days, he felt too nauseous from anxiety to even try anything. Pavitr had done the favor to bring you and Miguel’s favorite empanadas from a small street vendor downtown. Hoping to get Miguel to at least try the food before he ended up in a hospital bed next to you due to starvation.

You started to blink open your eyes, spots surrounding your vision. You could hear a soft breathing to your right side and you slowly felt your sense come back one by one. It felt like you just had a really rough nap.

“Oh my god that smells so good.” You moaned, sitting yourself up to try to look at where the smell of food was coming from.

You were met with a wide eyed Miguel holding a box of empanadas. His jaw slacked open acting as if he’s seen a ghost looking at you. Confusion hit you first for a second and then you start to panic.

Why was he here? Why was your ex-husband sitting right here? You started to push away from him and Miguel caught on to your panic.

“No, no, no mi amor stop.” He tried calming you. “You’re hurt, you’re going to open your stitches.”

You suddenly remembered everything that happened right before you blacked out. At that moment you forgot the hurt you had towards your ex-lover. Gathering yourself you just stared at him. “I’m suppose to be dead.”

Tears rimmed your eyes. Why did it feel like life just hated you so much?

Miguel engulfed you in his arms as you started to cry. You didn’t care right now. You had ached for this feeling again, so alone, with the comfort Miguel used to bring you. Just for a moment you could pretend like how it was before.

“We can’t do this Miguel.”

He knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to let you leave his arms yet, as he let his self hold harder and push your head closer into his the crook of his shoulder. The tickle of your breath on his neck, he just wanted this forever.

“She left. Almost a year ago.” He let out to you. A big weight coming off of his chest. You pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes while you watched him avoid your gaze. You felt bad to say you could feel a bit of satisfaction bubbling in you.

“Good, she deserved better.”

“So did you.” Miguel sighed playing with his hands. Your eyes widened when you saw the ring still on his finger. He let you stare. “I-I could never. I couldn’t.” The emotions struggle to come out of his mouth. You understood him though. You always did. Placing your hand on top of his you just nodded.

“Please stay here.” He whispered.

Miguel had broken you in so many ways. Yet he almost ruined another universe just to keep you alive. You both needed time to talk and coming out a coma right now isn’t good timing.

“I finally became my own person when I went back in my universe. I enjoyed my independence.” The words pelleted at him. He could only hold his breath as he waited for you to continue. “I’ll stay… but not for you.”

It wounded him deeply; but he deserved it. This place will always be a home for you even if he wasn’t apart of it. Before he can tear his gaze and turn away, you reached out to hold his face close to yours. Your fingers gently rubbing on his cheeks as you slowly look at him properly after so long. You let your thumb smooth over his frown lines and he leaned into your touch closing his eyes.

“Let’s give us time.” Was the words you blessed that opened every door of hope he could find. He would take it, he would absolutely take it. He has to fight for you, he has to prove to you. He would do anything but for now he’ll be on his best patiently waiting for you.

Both of you sat comfortably without speaking, only the faint background beeps of the hospital monitor making up for the silence, while passing small glances. For once both of you felt a missing warmth you didn’t realize you needed. Sharing empanadas with each other, just maybe it will be alright…

—————————————————

The end!!! Thank you so so much for your time in reading my story. i really really was so happy with all the comments and feedback on pt 1 it really meant a lot!!!

i hope this was ok ~ i apologize for how long it was i was thinking of doing another part but just wanted to finish this up. I was in such a conflict how to end this. i hope it wasn’t too cliche or anything i’m just a sucker for very wanty needy dramatic stories. It’s a hopeful ending tho~ i couldn’t pick with just happy or sad.

So many of you had tons of amazing suggestions which I appreciated so much. I was such a mess trying to figure it all out. Many of you wanted to see Y/N move on with another person but I ended up going this route. I used Peter Parker as an obv character in y/n’s universe but it’s not tied to any specific one and you guy can think of him more to your liking if you want to!

If any of you would like a small drabble or imagine of another route of this story or just anything angsty/possessive and rarwrarwbarkbark miguel. I’d be glad to help lol!! My request box is wide open~ i had so much fun writing this!

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[astraystayyh]

this is me reading btw if u wanted to know I LOVE UUUUUUUUUU I LOVE USER FELIXSBAKINGBUD I LOVE THEM 💓💘💗💘💗💘💗💘💗💗💘💗💘

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess; i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter ii. to remember

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. allusion to mc having a bad family history with alcohol. suggestive in the end (allusion to sex but no smut). reader had she/her pronouns.

word count : 11k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me/already gone/enough.

chapter i. skz quotes series masterlist.

A.N: PT. 2 IS HERE!!!! i hope you'll enjoy this one, she's my baby and i put so much work and thought into her, so feedback is highly highly appreciated!!! thank you to my @forlix for being with me every step of this journey, i love u the most<33

Day 33. 

With a gentle, absentminded sweep, your fingers trace the delicate contours of your wrist, a faint dance with the pulse beneath your skin– the cocoon of the soul you’re gradually growing accustomed to. It is a trying task, you've found out, to no longer yearn to flee from your body, leaving the weight of your worries for your bones and flesh alone to bear. 

A subtle fragrance floats in the air surrounding you- the familiar gardenia and honey tones of your sweet perfume. It is a scent you reserve for special occasions, such as this one- your first date, in three months according to the world, in more than a year for your memory. 

You swiftly retrieve a mirror from your pouch, checking your appearance for the tenth time in mere minutes. Your nude lipstick is still, unsurprisingly, in place, and you smile reassuringly at your reflection. She smiles back, though sometimes you half-expect her not to. In defiance, perhaps, maybe even repulse. 

The melodious chime of the café's bell captures your attention, and the man you've been awaiting finally enters. He confidently strides in, clad in a blue polo and black slacks, an evident effort poured into his appearance. 

Standing before you, his warm, gleaming eyes meet yours, effortlessly melting your lingering worries. You smile at him, he beams at you. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” Changbin, your date, asks as he pulls the chair adjacent to you. 

“No, just in time.”

Two weeks ago. 

Day 17. 

“Use me. Use me to remember,” Minho whispers, the distance between your lips resembling the thin edge of a blade. 

You close your eyes, the world narrowing down to the sound of your heartbeat, a rhythmic drum drowning out any attempt at coherent thoughts. Kiss him, your heart chants, kiss him and all your memories will flood back. But what if they don't? What if the abyss persists before the brightest beam of light?

A tender kiss lands on your forehead, gently interrupting your tumultuous thoughts. Minho’s lips are as warm, as soft as you remember them. They're now imprinted into your skin, no longer a hazy memory beyond your reach.

His hands cradle your hair, smoothing it down, making the ringing in your ears soften. You surrender to his gentle embrace, to the soft tide of emotions rippling from him to you, pulling your wounded soul to safe shores. 

“You need to forgive yourself,” he whispers, his words echoing against your skin, lips still pressed to your forehead. A rush of warmth overwhelms you, all your senses coming to life, ringing the alarm- he sees you, he sees through you.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures, a sudden cooling balm against your scorching wounds. These are the words you've been aching to hear. You didn't know, but Minho did, reading between the lines of your quivering lips and your reluctance to look into his eyes. 

He knows you better than you know yourself. 

“Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“But all I do is hurt people,” you confess, tears streaming down your face like a relentless downpour, soaking Minho's hands. 

You expect punishment to strike you, bolting lighting aiming straight for your heart as you finally admit to your biggest sin- the shadow of sorrow that trails your every step. It is the way it has always been since you were a child. It is what you fled from. 

What you don't expect is for tenderness to cradle you instead— in Minho's warm hand as he gently guides you to his chest, your ear resting above his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic cadence akin to a lullaby- you shouldn't apologize for existing, you hear it sing to you. 

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. you’re forgiven, okay? I forgive you. Today and tomorrow. I'll forgive you until you'll forgive yourself.” 

“Okay,” you nod, muffled words against the fabric of his shirt.

“Now, will you please come back with me? The cats will miss you a lot if you don’t,” he suggests, pressing his cheek onto the crown of your head. 

“I don't want to leave them,” you reply in a small voice, dewdrops gathering in your eyes at the thought of running again. 

“You don’t have to. It’s your home too.”

“Okay,” you sigh in acceptance, relief, encircling his waist with your arms. He is all inviting, like an open book, and you're resting between his pages, scribbled with love confessions for you. 

The world stills, waves slowing their relentless crash against the shore, as you draw in a deep breath from the pits of your soul. You don't remember all you’ve once felt for Minho. But you know it must have been safe, like stumbling upon a haven and then learning it was specially carved for you. 

“I miss you, Minho.”

“I know, I miss you too.”

Day 19. 

“Minho, can you come to the kitchen please?” your voice reverberates through the house, weaving through the air and reaching the bedroom where Minho has been ensnared, his less-than-graceful complaints echoing loudly for the past hour. You had sealed him within without explanation, only making him promise not to leave the room until you told him to, much to his dismay, and deep down, amusement. 

He chuckles lowly to himself as he rises from the bed, before making his way to the kitchen. There, he finds you near the doorway, hands concealed behind your back, dusty flour adorning your cheek like an artist’s absentminded paint stroke.  

“So…,” you trail off and Minho smiles, crossing his arms before his chest.  

“So?”

“A situation may have happened.” 

“Which situation?” he inquires amusedly, attempting to peer past you into the kitchen. Your extended arms block his view.

“You know how I got a concussion from the car accident,” you ask. 

“I do.”

“I think it may have affected my cooking abilities.”

“But you didn't have any to begin with?” he muses, tilting his head to the side innocently. 

“Shut up,” you playfully admonish before clasping your hands in a silent plea. “Will you help me?” 

“Mm, what are you making?” he inquires, leaning against the doorway.

“Pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“For you.”

“Oh.” 

A blush creeps up Minho’s neck as he grapples to find a reply, his surprised gasp hanging into the air. You giggle faintly, entertained by his sudden speech impairment. 

In response, Minho takes a step forward, delicately brushing away the flour on your cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth. “How did this get here?”

“Huh?” you sputter, pink splashing across your cheeks like spilled Rosé. 

Minho is testing your waters, dipping one toe in, hoping he’ll find your reassuring embrace lurking beneath the surface. Did you blush from the heat of the stove or his touch? Minho doesn’t know. Minho needs to find out. 

“And you also forgot this,” he lightly pouts, reaching over your head to the hanger behind you, caging you between his arms. 

He’s sacrificing his heart, placing it on the frontlines of hurt once again. Yet, when you look up at him, dewy eyes flickering to his lips, Minho feels a single match lighten up in his core, not enough to burn all his doubts. But enough to signal hope. 

Hope is a perilous possession, akin to cradling a fragile glass that threatens to shatter at the slightest tremor. Hope is the only thread Minho can now hang onto. 

“You forgot your apron,” he finally says, withdrawing two aprons from the hanger. He drapes one over your head before placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you around. He silently ties the strings into a ribbon, his fingers brushing against your spine. He can distinctly remember the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips, silky, smooth, intoxicating. 

“There, a pretty knot,” he whispers, not moving back an inch, waiting for you to swivel around. Yet, you remain silent, undoing your hair from its loose ponytail. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, resembling the unveiling of curtains, and Minho senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

“Tie it for me?” you whisper, handing him the hair tie without looking back. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Minho inhales deeply.

“Sure,” he says, voice thick with emotion, he needs to drink water. He needs to drink you in. 

He gathers your hair strands in another low ponytail, trembling hands as they brush against the nape of your neck, akin to powerless leaves before the autumn breeze. He’s close, so close to you, so much his chest almost brushes against your back. 

As soon as he’s done, Minho swiftly steps back before doing something he’ll surely regret, like placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, or worse, confessing that he misses the simple act of brushing your hair at night. 

“So, pudding,” he clears his throat, rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. your eyes follow his movement, lingering on the veins protruding on his forearms. Minho feels a bit foolish for wanting to flex for you. 

“It’s really easy actually. bring me two eggs?” 

“Sure,” you grin, heading for the fridge as Minho retrieves sugar from the cupboard, throwing away the odd liquid mixture you managed to conjure. 

You stand beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed as he explains why the milk needs to be brought to a boil before adding the cornstarch, or how adding the vanilla at the very end will help preserve its flavor. You listen intently, nodding along, and the tension between you dispels, leaving place for something comforting, familiar– you’re erasing the remnants of his sobs, the sight of him crumbling over the green kitchen tiles. 

“Let's leave it to chill,” he finally says, closing the fridge’s door. 

“Okay,” you nod, packing away the butter. Minho leans against the countertop, an ember of curiosity ablaze at the tip of his tongue

“Why did you want to make pudding?” he asks and you freeze in place. 

“To see if I’m capable of not being a lost cause,” you respond playfully but the undertones of your voice indicate otherwise- laden, charged. One more match that you could light up? 

“Really?” he says softly, taking one step toward you. 

“No,” you giggle faintly and he nods, a gentle smile unfurling on his face, gradual as the eclipse of a moon.

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift. That's why I locked you in the room. I even bought little birthday hats for the cats, silly I know, and very late, but, turns out I’m a horrible-” 

“I wanna see the birthday hats,” he cuts you off.

“Really? They’re really ugly.” 

“It's my birthday gift, right?”

Five minutes later, you and Minho are seated on the floor, legs crisscrossed, three perplexed cats before you, and on their heads, obnoxiously neon green hats.

“They look so…” you tilt your head, assessing the view before you. 

“Stupid?” Minho suggests, eliciting a startled snort from you that swiftly transforms into an almost maniac cackle, which in turn, catches Minho off guard. He gazes at you bewilderedly before succumbing to a fit of giggles, which intensifies your laughter, as you punctuate his shoulder with light hits, tears streaming down your face in an attempt to regain composure.

One hundred matches light up in Minho’s heart at the sight, all at once.

“My God, they look so stupid, I’m so sorry,” you laugh harder, your body collapsing to the ground, hands tightly clutching your stomach. 

They can laugh again, the house sighs in relief, something other than sobs can still echo within my walls. 

Day 22. 

“I miss the sea,” you sigh softly, cradling a cup of chamomile tea between your hands. Minho, absorbed in his book, glances up to find a melancholic expression etched on your face—a poignant blend of sorrow and longing that he knows weighs heavy on your heart. 

“We saw it over at the bridge, no?” he ventures tentatively, setting the book aside on the living room table.

“Yes, but I miss the sand, and the waves lapping at my feet. I miss feeling the sea, not just seeing it.” 

“I’d take you, in a heartbeat,” he says assuredly, ready to bring you the moon if only you dare ask. “But it's far, and you can't get into a car.” 

“I can try.” 

“You can?” he questions, hope budding in his eyes.

“I mean- I want to, it's just… I don't know,” you retract, nails drumming anxiously against your cup, gaze lost into the amber liquid.  

“Talk to me, yeah?” he smiles softly, draping a reassuring hand on your arm. His thumb swipes across the slate of your shoulder, and an impossible knot in your throat untangles. 

“The accident took a lot from me. My health, my memories, a year of moving forward.” You quiet down, eyes meeting his in a barely veiled vulnerability. Silence speaks of your hardest loss— him. 

“Can you help me get the sea back?”

Minho’s radiant smile is louder than any spoken agreement.

…

Thread by thread, drop by drop, your fears unravel as Minho lowers all the car windows’ before gently guiding you into the car seat, dispelling any prospect of feeling confined within the vehicle. 

He remembers everything, even the panic that gripped your being when you went into his enclosed car, nearly a month ago. 

“Can I blindfold you? It might help, so you wouldn't see the car lights since it’s night,” he suggests.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” you agree, your hand lightly gripping the car seat.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out gently, “I'm here, okay? The second you feel overwhelmed I'm stopping this car.”

“Will you drive safely?” 

“Of course. I promise you.” 

Your nod is met with the softening of Minho's eyes, as he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind the curve of your ear. 

“I'm proud of you,” he whispers, tone laden with so much tenderness, love, that your throat becomes a garden, vocal cords bound not by thorns but the delicate blossoming of flowers. 

With a gentle touch, Minho wraps a tie around your eyes, cocooning you in a tranquil darkness. His hand seeks yours instinctively, fingers intertwining with yours akin to the wind weaving through the strands of your hair.

In this moment, every fracture within you is delicately filled by Minho.

He starts driving, a soothing piano instrumental playing out of the car’s speakers- his hand still in yours. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a soothing path across your palm. 

“Follow my touch.” A gentle sweep to the right, an invitation to inhale slowly. “In,” his voice guides, and you draw in a deep breath.

Another caress to the left, a silent directive to release your confined breath. “Out,” he whispers, and you exhale, surrendering to the rhythm orchestrated by his thumb.

He raises the music’s volume, his touch becoming a maestro, speaking silently to you. You’re grateful for it, for the way in which he’s driving- avoiding curbs and speeding, safely, making the wheels float across the road. 

Your heart still constricts in your chest, anxiety squeezing your veins, bleeding them dry, but you focus on Minho’s thumb, you let it guide you, like a compass navigating the dark tunnels of your heart. 

“We're almost there,” he reassures as he stops by a red light. 

“I look silly, right?” you reply, giggling a bit. 

“What?” he asks, confused. 

“I can feel you looking,” you clarify. 

“How so?”

“My right cheek is tingling.” 

Minho snorts incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“You have a piercing stare. You're like melting through my skin and vibrating my bones.”

“Idiot,” he chuckles. My my my idiot, Minho grieves to say once again. The human heart is peculiar, he learns day after day, mourning the loss of a myriad of minuscule things, even words. 

“And, you don't look silly,” he clears his throat minutes later, as he finally parks by the beach.  

“You look pretty,” he utters, unraveling your blindfold, and you blink, caught between the sudden light and the weight of his words. “You always do,” he concludes, a whispered confession that lingers like the afterglow of a sunset, painting your world in golden hues.

“Minho, I…” you trail off, eyes landing on the vast sea ahead, blending into the sky in an alluring shade of turquoise. “We're here!” you shout bewildered, a magnificent grin on your face. 

“We are,” Minho smiles, drinking in the delight in your expression. 

“Oh my god I missed the sea!” you giggle as you undo your seatbelt, quickly opening the car’s door and taking off running. 

Minho follows closely behind, captivated, as he watches you glide across the shore, the sand ricocheting off the soles of your shoes. You look like a fairy, bending the wind to your will, coaxing it into a choreography that mirrors the rhythm of your movements, your messy footprints marking your pathway to happiness once again. 

Upon the sand, you finally settle down, and Minho walks over, sitting beside you. Both of you quietly gaze ahead, entranced by the moon's silver glow caressing the water’s surface. Each shimmering wave resembles glistening diamonds, a celestial mirror reflecting the lights in the sky.

“Have I ever told you why I love the sea?” you speak after a while, tone softer, more content. 

“You did.” 

“Can I tell you again?” you say. Can I tell you what I still remember? He understands. 

“Of course.” 

"There was a beach near our home, back then," you reminisce, a nostalgic aura enveloping your words. “And whenever I felt lonely I used to go there and watch the waves, to calm me down. But, one time, I was really overwhelmed so I ended up crying. And then, coincidentally, it started raining too.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, a hint of amusement in your voice. “At that moment, I chuckled at the timing, how the sky was crying with me.”

“Ever since that day, I liked to believe that the sea is made up of the sky’s tears, the ones that fell in sync with those of humans, so it'd comfort us. And the tears grew from a pond to a river, to a vast ocean, as humans cried more and more. That's why sometimes the sea’s waters are gentle because those are tears of happiness falling somewhere. Sometimes they're stormy, since someone is crying out of anger. Sometimes they're melancholic, just relentlessly crashing against the shore, because someone is in pain. Like we are.”

A tranquil hush falls over the night as you quiet down, before turning around to meet Minho’s teary eyes, mirroring yours.

“And if the sea persists through tempests and tranquility, if it goes on despite the myriad of emotions it holds within, then so will we.”

Hope isn't fragile, as Minho once believed. Hope scrapes its bloody palms against the rough surface as it climbs defiantly to the pinnacle once again. Hope picks out rugged stones with weathered hands and builds a home out of them. Hope is strong, it clutches onto the thinnest threads so we’d endure and endure once more. As many times as we need to. 

“Well, the sky isn't crying right now,” Minho notes.

“I know,” you smile softly, “Because we're holding on to hope.” 

Day 26. 

Under the soft glow of the TV, Dori settles comfortably on your shoulders, nuzzling her tiny nose onto your face every now and then. Soonie and Doongie are a bit far away, playing with a piece of yarn, captivated by its vibrant red threads. 

It is an ordinary, comforting setting to watch a movie with Minho, on a Sunday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap while his cats lounge around. So familiar that the world around you blurs, like the vague brushes of an impressionist painting— a vivid déjà-vu sensation clinging to your body. You’ve lived this scene before. You want to live it again, now and in the future. More and more. 

However something is different— your skin tingles, a buzzing sensation that travels from thigh to knee to hand, as if your body knows that something’s amiss. Minho’s touch perhaps, his palm casually resting upon your skin. 

You don’t know where this urge is coming from— to lay your head on his shoulder, to have him run his fingers through your hair. Even more, to lose yourself in the nutmeg and peppermint notes of his cologne, to disintegrate your worries into his hold and rest. 

“Would you mind if some of my friends came over?” Minho speaks up suddenly, cutting off your trailing train of thought. 

“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly before clearing your throat. “I mean, no, I don't mind. Who are they?”

“Han and Chan. They’ve been asking about you for a while now.” 

“Sure, this is your home.”

“It is yours too,” he says, gaze locking onto yours. His eyes are like a dark tapestry woven with threads of stardust- you’d never tire of looking into them, into the universe they seem to cradle within. 

Do you know that there is a galaxy inside you? You almost slip out, words in an urgent race against your mind. You barely stop them at the tip of your tongue, before smiling and peeling your eyes away from his, painfully, like scratching a burn scab long before it heals. 

…

“They’re here,” Minho announces as someone knocks on the door. 

“Okay,” you smile, a tad nervous. You’re not even sure what for. 

“If they annoy you too much tell me, I’ll kick them out,” he reassures, raising his brows playfully at you. 

“That's mean,” you giggle, albeit soothed by his words.

“They already love you,” he grabs your wrist, his thumb gently swiping over your pulse. “No need to be worried.” 

He drops it, as though a countdown is ingrained into his brain— never to touch you for more than ten seconds. Wouldn't it be selfish, pathetic even, to ask him for more? 

As Minho heads to open the door, you linger in the living room, idly fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. It is a weird circumstance to greet strangers who know you— you may have brushed against their shoulders in an alley and not known who they were. 

Your thoughts dissolve as two men saunter into the living room, stopping in their tracks once their eyes land on you. They’re both beautiful– that is the first thing you note, closely followed by how relieved they seem to see you. Simultaneous soft sighs escape them, gentle smiles blooming across their faces. Tentatively, you return the gesture.                          

Minho takes the initiative to introduce them. “Yn. This is Chan,” he points to the man on the right, clad in black from head to toe, his smile grows wider, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents, two dimples peeking gleefully on his cheeks. 

“And Han,” the younger man, sporting a Supreme t-shirt despite the cold, beams at you, highlighting his round cheeks, and an adam-apple that weirdly resembles a heart. 

“I want to hug you but Minho put us on a strict no-touch notice because of your ribs,” Han speaks first, a small pout tugging at his lips as he glances at Minho, who simply rolls his eyes at his words. 

“You can never keep something for yourself,” Minho sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You stifle an amused giggle. 

“And she technically doesn’t remember us so it’d be weird for her to hug a stranger,” Chan notes, offering you an understanding smile. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a creepy way! more of ‘Oh my god I’m so happy you’re alive, thank you for still being here, I was so worried about you’.”

“But were you worried?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Of course, I-”

“Then why weren’t you at my bedside?” you question, an eyebrow raised, and Minho chuckles at your words. 

“W-what?” Han asks, glancing worriedly at the two men by his side. 

“Why weren’t you there sobbing when I woke up? It doesn’t look like you were worried,” you muse, throwing a wink to Minho who walks over to you.

“Right, you should’ve sent her a pic of you crying,” Minho adds, as you drape a hand on his shoulder. 

“A picture for every day you didn’t come see me,” you say solemnly as Han’s face grows paler by the second. 

“I-I didn’t, I really was worried, I swear, I kept asking Minho every day about you and…” he trails off as giddy smiles break out on your face and Minho’s before you both burst out laughing. 

“You guys are evil,” Han laments, as Chan pats his back in faux sympathy, a string of giggles falling from his full lips. 

“I’m sorry. we made you dinner to make up for it,” you grin and Minho looks at you pointedly. 

“He made you dinner,” you correct with a huff, and Minho smiles, satisfied, raising his brows smugly at his two friends. 

“Let’s choose a movie then!” Han claps, turning to the TV as Minho sidles by his side.

“I’ll set up the table,” Chan announces.

“I’ll help you,” you offer, and he nods, clearly grateful for your assistance.

You’re taking out four plates from the cupboard, Chan effortlessly bringing out the glasses, clearly familiar with the nooks and crannies of your home, when he suddenly speaks.

“How are you, Yn?” 

“Do you want the truth?” you ask back, and he grins. “Always.”

“I’m okay. Right now. I don’t know if I’ll still be tomorrow, you know? It all fluctuates so much.” 

“Mm, I understand,” he says, and something about his tone indicates that he isn’t saying this just to comfort you. “And that’s okay too. What you went through wasn’t easy, but good times will come again. They always do, you know, just like the sun always comes back after the rain.”

“The sun,” you repeat, as you glance out at the living room, where Minho is laughing at something Han just said, his head tipped back, bunny teeth peeking out. 

Perhaps the sun rays were by your side all along. 

“Thank you, Chan,” you beam at him. “Truly, for being worried about me too.”

“It's nothing to thank us for. We care about you, even though you don’t remember us,” he pouts, a hand on his heart in mock offense. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got amnesia!” you chuckle. 

"Excuses!" he drawls with a playful tone as he exits the kitchen, and you can't help but laugh quietly to yourself. You recognize what he's doing—making light of your accident to alleviate the weight on your heart.

The night blurs in your memory, but this time it is tinged with happiness and laughter. The three men recall fun stories of their time together, a seven-year bond rooted in love and care, albeit silently. You witnessed it in the details—Chan ensuring the food was on their plates first, Minho peeling shrimp for Han, the latter rubbing Chan’s arms when he complained of being cold.

Then you saw it directed towards you– how they put on the movie you wanted and watched in anticipation as you took the first bite of food, draped the fuzziest blanket around you, and rushed to your side simultaneously when you stumbled on your feet.

You were loved, although you didn’t know of it. The accident took away your memories but it didn’t plague theirs. 

“Thank you,” you beam at the two men as you walk them to the door. Opening your arms wide, you invite them in for a hug. Han embraces you first, a large smile on his face, and you gently beckon Chan in too. “Easy,” he whispers in Han's ears, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs. They both pat your back as you wrap an arm around their respective shoulders before leaning away.

“I’ll call you,” Minho bids them farewell, tipping his chin forward. They wave to him before finally leaving

You close the door, leaning against the auburn wood. Minho watches you, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Good?” he inquires, closing the distance between you.

“Mm, good,” you reply with a smile as he halts just an inch away. His intoxicating scent envelops you, permeating your bones and flowing through your veins like liquid warmth.

A torrent of memories floods your mind—images of you pressed against this same door. It is dark, a stark contrast from your first memory, a lone lunar beam of light slashing through the night. Minho’s hands grip your waist with a fevered urgency, while yours entwines around the nape of his neck, in passion, in hunger, almost as if you were deprived of him for so long.

You angle his mouth closer to yours, his lips pressing against your own repeatedly, a desperate attempt to brand the contours of his mouth into your soul. His hair, a cascade of midnight silk, tickles your fingers with an electric charge, like the crackling of the air before a storm. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, seeking entrance, one you willingly surrender, white flag easily thrown to the ground. With every kiss, your bodies meld together, so much so that you could merge into the door, disappearing into the shadows as one.

“What's wrong?” Minho breaks your trance and you snap out of your reverie, a bright flush adorning your cheeks. 

“N-nothing,” you stammer. 

“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” he asks, coming closer, his hand pressed to your forehead. His woody scent envelops you once again– everything about him is enticing— his cologne, his lips on you, his fingertips dragging underneath your shirt, his eyes piercing yours, undressing you before his hands ever could.

“Yn?” he questions and you grab his jaw, angling his face away from you. 

“Stay like this, don’t look at me for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just… please,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and yet he complies, his side profile now facing you.

How does he live with these memories each time he looks at you? 

You take in a deep breath, focusing on his silhouette. It might seem counterproductive to fixate on the same man consuming your thoughts, but how could you not when he was mere centimeters away, his eyes averted from yours?

You exhale softly as your gaze glides along the graceful curve of his neck, a solitary mole resting just beneath his sculpted jawline, leading the way to his plump lips, a cupid's bow delicately carved by the hands of the divine archer himself — crafted to be kissed, to be adored.

Your eyes trail up, tracing the high bridge of his nose, another mole perched at its pinnacle, sharp and smooth as if chiseled by a master sculptor, one who dedicated months to perfecting his artistry. His eyes are a mesmerizing brown, punctuated with long lashes that flutter like the delicate wings of an angel with each slow blink.

Minho sweeps aside strands of his hair, his fingertip delicately fluffing them upwards. It dawns on you, a sudden revelation of the necessity of art — to immortalize such beauty for generations to come.

You imagine admirers gazing upon Minho, sighing in sheer amazement, their hearts tightening with emotions that words struggle to encapsulate in the face of this epitome of beauty. Inside and out, you reflect, inside and out. 

“You told them not to drink around me, right?” you ask softly.

A blush grows from the base of Minho's neck to the tip of his ears, like roots expanding into the soil. He sighs before finally looking at you.

“I did. How’d you figure it out?” he wonders.

“I asked Han if he wanted a drink, but he refused so categorically that I assumed he didn't like alcohol. But most of his stories were of him drunk,” you chuckle quietly, and Minho shrugs sheepishly.

“We get loud when we drink. You don’t like that,” he says simply as if it’s a given, an absolute certainty that he’d do anything but make you uncomfortable.

He's beautiful, the light of his heart basking his face in a glow that even Michaelangelo's skillful hands wouldn’t be able to replicate.  

And he loves you. 

Till when? Your heart sounds out in alarm. Till when will he love you? What if the grains of sand slip away from the hourglass before you can reciprocate his love? Two stars colliding at disparate speeds, never converging into a singular entity, destined to erupt and scatter into cosmic dust.

How long do you have left? How many more days will he love you for? 

How many more days do you have to love him back? 

Day 30. 

Minho is sick. 

He tried his best to conceal it from you, as he came back from his dance studio, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead, a thin sheen of perspiration above his right eyebrow. Yet, his uncharacteristic silence betrayed him, as he quietly retreated into the shower, emerging with a solemn expression on his face. 

Seated on the bed, book long forgotten by your side, you bit your lip tentatively. “You're okay?” you inquired, perched on the edge, concern etched in your gaze.

“Mm, just tired,” Minho responded, his attempt at reassurance falling short as he laid down on the floor mattress. “Can you turn off the lights?” he softly requested. “Hurts my eyes.”

“Yeah, of course. Will you sleep now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then. Good night, Minho,” you uttered gently, the veins in your heart tangled with worry. “Good night,” he whispered in return.

In the stillness of the night, you were roused by soft whimpers escaping Minho's lips. He writhed in apparent discomfort, his features contorted with an unseen anguish. His pupils moved furiously underneath the thin layer of his eyelids, betraying the tumultuous thoughts raging in his mind. 

You've never seen Minho so disrupted in his sleep, mouth slightly hung agape as if he struggled to breathe in the depths of his dreams. Your worry for him came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You lean over the bed, gently shaking his shoulders. “Minho, wake up.”

“No... no-no, don't-don't go,” he whispers, caught in the vines of a restless dream, seemingly wrapping around his mind, trapping him in. “Minho, come on wake up,” your pleas grow more insistent, but so do his. “Don't go, s-stay,” he implores, voice broken, prompting you to abandon your bed and join him on his mattress.

“Minho!” you call out, shaking him until his eyes finally flutter open. He gasps for air— as if inhaling his first breath on this earth, shooting upright, wide-eyed and disoriented. 

His gaze locks on yours and he instantly cradles your face in his sweaty hands, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump into one another. “You didn't go,” he whispers, and you shake your head. “I'm here.”

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing his hold on you and sinking back into the pillow. 

“Minho, what's wrong?” you ask softly, afraid you're treading on stormy waters.

“I… I don't know. I don't feel good,” He admits, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if the fabric morphed into a vise around his throat. A flush creeps up his neck, red dots splashing across his ivory skin. A droplet of sweat traces a slow path down his temple, as the white fabric clings uncomfortably to his warm skin.

“Do you have a fever?”you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, sensing an unusual heat radiating beneath your touch. “Minho, where is your thermometer?”

“Bedside drawer,” he breathes out.

Fetching the thermometer, you gently tug at his chin, opening his mouth to check his temperature. “Stay still”" you instruct, watching anxiously as the numbers climb steadily.

“40°C, fuck Minho, you have a really high fever,” you exclaim as he shuts his eyes, an unmistakable weariness claiming him, rendering him malleable, akin to the silk pillow he's resting on. 

“I feel dizzy,” he admits, burying his face into the covers. 

“You need to take a cold shower now,” you urge a sudden lump materializes in your throat at the sight of his suffering. 

“It's okay, I'll just sleep.”

“No, no, it's far from okay!” you almost exclaim, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as if you were peeling an onion—your own emotional layers unraveling, exposing the depth of your concern for Minho.

“Minho, please, you have a really high fever,” you plead, feeling an unexpected surge of panic at his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yn… are you worried about me?”

“I am.”

“It feels nice. Please be worried about me more,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, eliciting an incredulous laugh from you. 

“You are so unbelievable, my god,” you pull him up and he doesn't resist, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“Okay?” you ask, running your hand through the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in your shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know, you'll sleep after the shower,” you reassure softly, guiding him to the bathroom, his entire body weight leaning onto yours. There, you turn on the light, your right hand holding Minho's waist tightly as you lead him to settle atop the toilet.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Are you planning to undress me?” he smiles lazily, hooded eyes locked onto yours.

“No, I just-” you stammer, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because I don't mind.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me while you're sick.”

“I always am, I can't help it,” he says, raising his hands as a silent signal for you to remove his shirt.

“You're awfully candid tonight,” you observe, seizing the edges of his shirt and drawing it over his head. His tongue glides across his lips, his gaze drawing tantalizingly slow over your form, and you clench his shirt tighter in your hands. He's the one with the fever, yet it's you who feels ablaze, flames of longing licking at your every sense.

“Come here,” you beckon, the icy water now flowing as you turn the knob. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, guiding him under the frigid cascade, soaking you both.

“C-cold,” he stutters, and you nod, your breath escaping in short, visible puffs.

“I-I know, just a little longer,” you reassure.

2 a.m. is a peculiar time to shower, the water droplets echoing against the tiled floor is the only sound that can be heard. That, and your labored breaths in tandem with the chilly embrace of the water filling your bones. The quiet makes way for other unspoken sentiments to surge forth, electric and palpable, heightened by the way Minho gazes at you through the liquid curtain, his hands clinging tightly to your arms for stability.

Droplets of water weave seamlessly through his hair, and an unexpected pang of jealousy grips you— you envy the liberty of those water beads as they thread through his locks, tracing the contours of his broad shoulders, nestling in the enticing recesses of his collarbones, without fearing the consequences of such acts. You don't dare look further down, wary that the rivulets on his skin may lead to your own undoing. Instead, you close your eyes thanking the stars that you weren’t wearing a white shirt, which would have turned translucent by now. You don’t even want to contemplate the consequences of such a premise.

After a few minutes, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and swiftly enveloping Minho in a towel.

“Go change, I have some spare clothes in here. Oh, and don't wear a top,” you instruct.

Minho chuckles quietly and you roll your eyes. “Shh. Make sure to dry your hair too.”

Taking your time in getting dressed, you peel off each wet layer, depositing them into the washing machine, before donning a spare pajama from a cabinet. You stroll to the kitchen to pour Minho a glass of water and retrieve medicine from the drawer, lingering at the counter long enough to ensure he'd be dressed by the time you return to the room.

You knock softly before opening the door, and the sight of Minho freezes you in your tracks. The room basks in warm, orange hues from the lamp's glow, playing upon Minho's skin and casting enticing shadows on the contours of his muscles—a masterpiece created by the skilled hands of light. His toned arms rest between his legs, back against the headboard, and an inexplicable urge to flee washes over you, your heart sinking to your knees in the face of his long-avoided vision of beauty.

You swallow the tumultuous thoughts raging within you before handing him his medicine, which he drinks diligently. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you're relieved to find a slight reduction in his temperature. “It will go down more once the medicine takes effect,” you assure.

“One of my students had a nasty cold. I think I got it from him,” he explains, and you nod, your hand lingering near his. Your fingers twitch as his pinky brushes against yours—akin to birds fluttering their wings in anticipation, awaiting, aching for a release from their cage, at last.

“I'm tired,” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. “Lay down,” you gently instruct, and he complies, resting his head on the pillow.

“It's cold,” he whines, swaying like a child throwing a bedtime tantrum. He's endearing, melting the frost that had gathered in your heart.

“You have a fever, silly,” you chuckle, pushing strands of his hair from his forehead, twirling them around. “Your hair's gotten longer,” you muse as you braid a tiny section of his bangs, only to undo it again.

“Can you play with my hair some more?” he requests softly.

“Of course,” you reply, threading your fingers through his locks, jet black as if all the stars in the sky collided, leaving behind nothing but a dark abyss.

“Please stay healthy, Min. Take care of yourself too.”

“But I like it more when you take care of me,” he pouts, before sighing shortly after. “I'll probably regret a lot of my words tomorrow, right?”

“Why is that?” 

“Because you don’t feel the same for me,” he confesses, leaving you silent, grappling with the echoes of his words. What do you feel for Minho?

The question jolts the breath from your windpipe violently, an unyielding force crashing against your lungs till the answer finds its footing on your tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally speak, cringing at the sound of your voice disrupting the fragile quiet. 

“Anything.” 

“Where did your scar come from?” you inquire, gesturing towards the mark just below his belly button.

“I got surgery a long time ago. I’m kind of self-conscious about it,” he confesses, a bit shyly. 

“Really? But it’s beautiful, it looks like a strike of lightning,” you sincerely remark, coaxing a tender smile from Minho, unfolding like the gradual sunrises of autumn.

“This is exactly what you told me months ago.”

“Did I?”

“Mm, and then you traced it with your fingertips,” he grabs your hand, hovering it over his stomach. You can easily slip out of his grasp; you choose not to. 

“Like this?” you murmur, tracing his scar gently, fingertips grazing his skin like a lit fire, subtly enough not to scorch. His flesh tenses beneath your caress, muscles constricting as you navigate from right to left—a trajectory of dusty stars akin to the Milky Way, his skin soft to the touch, rippling beneath you with thinly veiled goosebumps.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his gaze wide, running furiously over your face. Yet, your attention lingers on his skin, shadows dancing across its surface, its honeyed hue a shade you wish to sear behind your eyelids. Your hands ascend and descend, mapping his body which blushes in response, as if his very being memorized your touch, imprinting your fingerprints onto its memory. You slide down his forearms, pausing over his fragile veins, seemingly offering you his life.

Silence envelops you, punctuated only by the weighty exhales escaping you both, for there are feelings that words cannot encapsulate, no matter how much human languages strive to, ultimately succumbing to the profundity of silence— the one language only souls comprehend.

Your hands ascend to his neck, thumb grazing the tender skin cradling his pulse. It resonates throughout your bones, echoing from his being to yours as if you’re harboring two lives within you.

“You… you could've kissed me over at the bridge,” you whisper, bringing to light the question that’s been lingering at the back of your mind. “Why didn't you?”

“I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because you longed for our past or our future. I wanted you to want me in the present,” Minho explains, vulnerability seeping into his words, like honey melting into a warm cup of tea. 

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice a fragile murmur, even as your head leans forward, hair cascading around Minho’s face, enclosing him in an intimate curtain. Minho gently grabs your hand and cradles it against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to the center of your palm. 

“Right now. Do you want me?” he asks simply, offering himself openly to you. 

Do you want him?

After a momentary pause, you tentatively lean in, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. A resonant exhale escapes him, as your lips trace a path along his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of tiny kisses. Moving to the tender skin beneath his eyes— as easily bruised as your emotions—you bestow soft pecks to it as if seeking forgiveness for every tear he shed in your name.

His eyes remained closed, his trust evident in the surrender of his being to you. The answer to your internal query is written all over his features— the hushed exhale escaping his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tranquility nestled between his eyebrows. 

Yes. Yes, you do.

Your lips finally meet Minho’s in a delicate union, unmoving like rose petals folding onto one another. A surge of warmth emanates from the depths of your heart, coursing through your entire being like sunrays, submerging your soul in a tranquil white glow.

Leaning away ever so slightly, you press a tender kiss on his lower lip, enclosing it between your own. Your hand cradles his jaw, running gently through his damp strands. Your lips move against his slowly in a saccharine kiss, parting, only to meet again, in the same tenderness, perhaps a growing one as you become accustomed to the contours of his lips, to the languid moves of his mouth, following your rhythm. You were leading the dance, his lips mere puppets to your heart’s wishes. He didn't rush you, only allowed you to kiss him, whichever way you wanted. 

A pause, a moment suspended in time, your hands trembling as they rest upon his cheeks, his palm hovering above your own, offering a comforting press. The gesture reassures you in your curiosity that won’t be satiated, urging you to seal your lips on his with a tentative fervor. The world outside dissolves into a distant murmur, the seconds blending into a timeless run, you slamming the door before your worries protesting at the entrance of your mind. Tomorrow, you’ll find the answers. Tonight, you are kissing Minho.

As you press a final, lingering kiss to his velvety mouth, visions of you at peace flood your being. You see yourself sinking into the warm pool of your aunt’s country club, you see yourself walking on the beach with sand molding to the contours of your feet, you see yourself laying on the grass while observing sunrays weaving through the trees. And then, amidst your most serene memories, the act of pressing your lips to Minho stands out, the warmth of his mouth against yours eclipsing all other sensations.

Leaning away, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, and Minho's hands cradle your hair.

"Which lip balm do you use,” you giggle against his bare skin, relishing in the sweet taste of his lips.

“Yours.”

Day 31.

Minho’s nose is buried in the crook of your neck, his arm draped across the expanse of your stomach. He sinks further into you, binding himself to your body, anchoring his hold on your being. You are warm, your skin is soft to the touch and Minho doesn’t want to wake up from this tender dream, akin to plummeting into a sea of silky pillows, falling into a blanket of clouds. 

Except, he's awake, Minho realizes with a jolt. He blinks repeatedly, allowing the sunrays to stream to his eyes, his pupils dilating once they settle on you— so much their obsidian depths swallows the brown of his irises whole. You stir beneath his touch, making your cheek press upon the crown of his head. He's fully awake now, snatched from the velvet threads of his dreams made up of you, thrown into your arms once again after thirty-three days. 

A soft gasp escapes Minho’s lips, the air stolen from his lungs as if it was yours to claim. Echoes of the night replay in his mind— a fever, you tending him to me, a cold cascade of water, you tracing his scar, and then, the kiss.

You kissed him. A long shiver runs down his spine at the memory, a subtle twitch that stirs you from slumber once again. 

What does one kiss mean? The question dances wildly in Minho’s mind. More importantly, what do you want it to mean? 

Minho whines softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relishing in the fragrance of your hair, in the serenity that floods his being each time he’s around you. This was his most restful slumber in weeks, because you were near, his mind recognizing you, relaxing underneath your touch, drifting to a mindless sleep. 

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from you, a bittersweet departure from your arms. Work was calling his name. 

He prayed you’d call his too soon. 

….

You wake up to an empty bed, the only lingering trace of the night you spent being the tingling of your lips, as if aching to be kissed once again. You sigh, running a hand through your face. It was much easier to succumb to your heart’s wishes when it was late at night, when minho laid bare beneath your touch, so enticing in the gentlest of ways. When you were cradled by the moon’s soft glow, blanketed by the night’s cloak of darkness.

But it was light now, the sun was glaring as it streamed through the windows, exposing all the flawed ways of your mind.

What does one kiss mean? 

Nothing, if it wasn’t minho who you had kissed. If it wasn’t as tender as the meeting of your lips. 

The tomorrow you believed far quickly came, and you still beheld no answers. A few hours drifted by and you still knew nothing. What does this kiss mean? It's late afternoon and you’re strolling through the park nearby and you can't find an answer. The question rings in your mind as you sit by a bench, and you still don’t know.

“You seem preoccupied,” a voice quips up nearby and you startle. You hadn’t even noticed the man sitting by your side. His arms crossed before his chest, making impressive muscles constrict beneath the snug fabric of his black shirt, a cascade of fluffy black curls sat at the top of his head, a slight smirk etched on his lips.

“Pardon?”

“I said you seem preoccupied.”

“No i heard that,” you roll your eyes subtly, “do i know you?”

“No. You just look worried, that's all.”

“You really don’t know me?” you ask, a tad apprehensive, unsure if this was someone else your memory faulted you of. 

“No? Are you a celebrity of some sorts?” he inquires, tone much more cheerful, angling his body towards you.

“No, i’m not,” you giggle, before quieting down, an exhausted sigh escaping your body. “Is it that obvious then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so,” he pouts sympathetically, tone almost desolate and you huff, burying your face in your hands.

“Do you need help with something?” he offers after a while, his concern evident in the frown of his brows. You are comforted by the anonymity of talking to a stranger, you were but a blank canvas to him. You wouldn't see him again, anyways. 

“I feel lost. I can't seem to find the answers I'm looking for.”

“Maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.”

Oh. 

The guy claps his hands suddenly, long before you could dwell on his words and their implications

“I actually have a question for you!” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“No?” you chuckle, amusement dripping from your voice. “I don't know you?” 

“That's the point of a date.”

“Are you this bored?” you smile, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“I'm not bored. I just need to take my mind off things,” he shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. but you somehow see beyond it, right into the dull twinkle of his eyes. Maybe he also couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

“So you're using me?” you fake outrage and he giggles, a high pitched sound that reverberates through the playground, making some kids nearby stare at you. You stifle a surprised laugh. 

“I'm not using you if I tell you upfront why I asked you out.”

“You are right, but i decline your kind offer,” you say solemnly and he nods, shaking his head in defeat.  

“Here is my card, in case you change your mind. Or need a little escape, call me,” he smiles, handing you a sleek black card before getting up and dusting his pants. “See you,” he says, as if he was sure you'd call him back. you stare in disbelief at his retreating figure, before glancing down at the card. 

Mr. Seo Changbin, you read, CEO of Gold’s Gym— the largest gym branch in the country.

Oh wow.

The amused smile lingers on your lips as you gaze ahead, lost in thought, contemplating the words spoken by Changbin. Maybe he was right; perhaps you are afraid of asking the right questions. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide to take the longer route home, eventually finding yourself outside your favorite bakery; the one you discovered on one of your many walks with Minho.

You go to open its door when an unexpected tingling at the back of your neck freezes you in your tracks. Your heart tightens in your chest as you turn around slowly, greeted by the sharp eyes of two familiar faces—Lia and Mari, your coworkers from before your accident. A tentative smile graces your lips, but the alarms of warning in your mind intensify. 

“Hey, yn!” 

“Hey, guys,” you greet back, taking a step backwards from them. 

“How have you been since… You know, your accident,” Lia pouts, but the question lacks sincerity, as if they were wearing masks before you, concealing their true intentions. You wonder which one they'll put on next.  

“Good, i’ve been good,” you force a smile, as their eyes move up and down your body, judgment dripping from their gaze.

“We wanted to come see you but we didn’t know if you were still at your listed address. Since your boyfriend lives there.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I still live there.”

“But didn’t you forget about him?” Lia feigns ignorance and you feel anxiety picking at your skin like relentless protruding needles. You want to run. 

“Lia that’s rude. I think he's her ex-boyfriend now," Mari chuckles, mockery palpable in her tone.

“Poor Minho, he must suffer a lot. Say hey to him from me,"Lia smiles, a chilling feline grin, her eyes narrowing down like a hawk peering at his prey. 

“I will.”

“We’ll see you at work. If you’re still able to keep up with the tasks,” they leave, ugly laughs echoing after them, and an urge to throw up overtakes you, the scent of pastries furthering your nausea. You hasten your steps toward your building.

You’re almost safe, almost, keys trembling in your hand as you struggle to enter your apartment, when the door adjacent to you opens. Your neighbors smile at you, although it is a gesture tinged with pity. You painfully smile back before slamming the door.

Yeart hammering in your chest, you press your back against the door, hand clawing at your throat. 

“Did you know she got into a car accident, and apparently she forgot her boyfriend?”

“Really? They were so cute though.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.”

Their words suffocate you, stepping atop your lungs, syllables choking you from within. Is this what everything thought of you? Did they all pity you for the accident? For forgetting your lover? Did they see you as a burden, a parasite plaguing his life? Is this what Han and Chan saw when their eyes lingered on you? Is this what the librarian and florist whispered to each other each time you passed by? 

You didn’t know these people and yet they had their minds set on you, fixated storylines you couldn’t change, no matter how much you tried to rewrite them.

Your thoughts spiral like the unloosened screws of a ticking clock. Minho, the unanswered questions, the expectations of others—everything converges in the base of your mind, making your ears ring cacophonically within your skull.

You slide down the door, fingers trembling as you take out your phone then Changbin’s card from your pocket. You dial his number with haste. You needed a breather, to talk to someone who knew nothing of you, of who you were, of who you could be. 

“Hello?” his voice booms clearly through the phone.

“Changbin,” you breathe out. “Let's go on a date tomorrow.”

You were asleep when minho came back from work, your back turned towards him, soft exhales escaping your body. He didn't want to disturb you, so, he made sure to come earlier the next day, a strawberry and cream pastry in his hand that he knew you loved. Perhaps, you’d both talk about your kiss today, what it meant for you both. 

But, he doesn’t find you home. The only indication that you had just left was the lingering scent of your perfume, tickling his nose as if to mock him. Poor minho— the gardenia and honey tones spelled out in the air; the one fragrance you strictly reserve for dates. The one you used to put for him.

It looked like you found your answer after all. 

Day 33. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” 

“No, just in time,” you smile as Changbin pulls the chair in front of you, settling down with ease, a pang of confidence coloring his movements.

“How are you, today?” 

“Better, i think,” you falter under his scrutinizing gaze, your facade cracking. “I don't know, it’s all complicated,” you sigh and he nods, signaling for the waiter to take your drinks order. Chai latte for you, hot chocolate for him. 

“Spill, what’s preoccupying you?” he leans forward, arms crossed on the table. 

“You don’t even know my name,” you giggle, looking around at the warm interior. Cozy, faint music playing in the background, taupe chairs and amber tables, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air. Minho would like it here. 

“What's your name?”

“Yn.”

“Okay, Yn,” he emphasizes, a slight smirk on his face. “Spill.”

You shake your head as the waiter places down your drinks, wrapping your fingers around the heated cup, hoping the warmth would seep into your being through your palm lines. 

“Did you want to become a therapist by any chance?” you muse, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No, it’s just fixing others' problems helps me forget my own,” he winks and you snort at his honesty. it was admirable, how frank he was to a complete stranger. 

“Fine, it’s a long story, but basically…” you lick your lips, wondering what’s the best way to go on about this. “I got into a car accident and I lost my memory of the past year and so.”

Changbin winces at your words and you sigh. “Yeah. Except I was in a relationship before…”

“And you totally forgot about it?”

“I did. It hurt him a lot.” 

Changbin nods in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. He places his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing you. 

“But how does that make you feel?” 

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You're the one who lost your memories after all.” 

“I feel guilty for forgetting such a relationship.” 

“Why is that?”

“Because everyday i can see why I fell in love with him.”

“And you don't love him now?” 

“No,” you quickly say before pausing, shoulders dropping under the weight of your questioning. “I don't know. It's complicated.”

Changbin absentmindedly tugs at the charms of his bracelet, gaze flicking down to his wrist for a couple seconds, before locking on yours intently.  

“Describe him to me in one sentence.”

“You sound like my annoying French teacher,” you roll your eyes and he huffs, not offended in the least. “Look, I just want to know my competition.”

“Do you have a retort for everything?”

“What can I say? I'm witty and all that,” he shrugs confidently and you giggle before quieting down, muling over his question. “In a sentence…” you muse, fingers drumming along your cup. You don't even realize that a fond smile has unfolded on your lips, but Changbin does.

“He's the light rain that falls during spring, that makes the flower bloom and the smell of earth waft through the air. He brings things back to life, in a way.” 

Changbin smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. “Can you really not see it, or are you hiding the truth because you're scared?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Yn, he brought you back to life.” 

“I… no.” you pause, voice faltering. “Did he?” 

You see Minho pushing you on a wheelchair to your home. Minho protecting you from your mind. Minho washing your hair. Minho making you tea. Minho baring his soul to you. Minho helping you cook. Minho bringing the sea to you. Minho holding your hand. Minho comforting you before comforting himself. Minho forgiving you so you'd forgive yourself. Minho devastating himself so you'd piece your heart together. Minho, minho, minho.  

“Fuck, he did,” you whisper in realization, as a grand feeling swells in your heart suddenly, pushing your heart against the confines of your ribs. Flowers bloom into your entire body, petals melding into the coursing blood in your veins, butterflies fluttering their delicate wings across your chest, an effulgent light flooding in like the sun was spilled inside your very core. 

“Aren’t I so smart,” Changbin grins, satisfied at the awestruck expression on your face.

“What should I do?” you ask anxiously, gripping the edges of the table. 

“Go talk to him. Don't waste any more time.”

“You are right, oh my god,” you grab your purse, standing up abruptly. “I have to go, I…”

“It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm always the side chick,” he sighs in faux sadness and you giggle, swatting his shoulder. 

“Thank you so much. I'll repay you for this, I promise!” you start walking before stopping and turning around. 

“Oh and Changbin?”

“Yes?”

“You know what to do too. They made you that bracelet right? You haven't taken your eyes off of it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “those are my lines.”

“They are mine now too,” Laughter dances from your lips as you flee the café, taking off running to your home. It was near, merely a five-minute walk, nestled beside the playground where you encountered Changbin. Yet, urgency propels your steps, a fervent need to reach Minho swiftly. You had wasted thirty-three days, three million seconds that could’ve been spent with Minho. You don’t know how many more breaths the universe might extend, what if the stars tire of your reluctance and blow the winds of his love to another soul? You couldn’t stomach it. 

You climb up the stairs, chest heaving, breaths escaping your being in an erratic rhythm. you didn't even know what to say, your words remained unscripted, unsure of what confessions will spill forth when your eyes will meet Minho's. Yet, you're not worried. You know that whatever surfaces would be surging from your heart. 

What you don’t anticipate is for an uncharacteristic silence to find you at home, the scent of your perfume faintly wafting into the air. Minho sat in the living room, a bag by his side, his head downcast. The cats watching you from the corner of the room. 

A desert- dry sensation clings to your mouth, your tongue heavy as if crafted from lead. Your once vibrant excitement extinguishes, much like a match blown out, leaving only a lingering stench behind. 

“Minho?” 

“Yn,” he responds, eyes actively avoiding yours. “I was waiting for you. I... I'll be gone for a few days, a week at most.”

“What? Where to?”

“I already told my parents to come pick up the cats so you don't have to worry about feeding them. The fridge is stacked, so you-” his voice falters, “so don't worry about that either.”

“Minho... what-what are you saying?”

“I need time away, alone. I'm sorry, I tried, I tried so hard, Yn, but there is only so much I can take,” he whispers, and your heart shatters, tiny million pieces blown away by the wind.

“Minho, look at me,” you crouch before him, your hands resting on his knees. He still avoids your gaze.

“Minho, please,” you plead, and his eyes finally lock on yours. They glisten with tears, reflecting light akin to a celestial mirror.

“My heart hurts so much, but it's not your fault. Loving me once doesn't mean you'll love me again, and it's okay if you want to see other people. I just... I need to go somewhere, for a little. I need to make room for the pain because it's overwhelming me,” he confesses, his words eating at your insides. Was it too late? Have you lost him?

Minho gently takes away your hands before standing up. Fear overwhelms you as you watch his shoulders drop, his eyes glazing over the walls one last time. He will come back, but not here, not to you. He's bidding goodbye to the home and you because you killed his hope. He would leave everything behind but echoes of him that you'd be sentenced to hear alone, every day, every night.

“Minho,” you seize his wrist, “Minho, don't go.”

"Why?" he asks in the smallest voice you've heard from him. He's like a river cut off by a dam, yearning to run back home, to flow the way it used to, back to you. His heart rings loudly in his ears, pain overwhelming him, yet your touch calms him down. You are the knife and the medicine, the scorch and the cooling balm; you are everything at once.

“I'll make room in your heart, I'll take out all the bad weeds and start again. Just don't go.”

“What do you mean?” He's breathless, hope inflating in his heart, clouds parting to reveal the sun.

“I know things won't go back to the way they used to. I don't think I'll ever remember everything, but I want you to tell me,” there is a lump growing in your throat, but you push it away. Your voice breaks and cracks, yet you still speak. You need him to know.

“I want you to take me to all the places we've visited and then tell me how we fell in love in them. I want you to show me how I loved you,” your hand trails down his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him closer. “I want to learn you, what you like, what you hate, what makes you angry and what makes your heart flutter.”

“And I want to love you, not because you love me, but because my heart chose you," your hand travels up his arm, settling right down at his cheek. Your thumb swipes across his tender skin. “I choose you over and over again. It's you, Minho, it's always been you.”

“You want me again?” he says tentatively, eyes wide, pouring onto yours—your galaxy to love, to admire, to peer into for the rest of your life.

“I want you. Please don't go.”

“Swear it, please.”

Instead of ephemeral words, you softly press your lips to his, as you did last night. “I swear,” you whisper against his mouth. “I'm falling in love with you,” you peck his lips, hand snaking up against his neck, moving his mouth closer to yours. “Not falling,” you say, pressing your forehead to his, nuzzling his nose against your own. “I'm coming back. I'm coming home.”

“You came back to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I'll always do,” you promise, a grin overtaking your mouth. “Can you kiss me, Minho?”

Minho blinks in amazement, his eyes darting all over your face, each blink resembling the capture of an image. He's stitching this moment into his mind, the hue of your cheeks and the gleam in your eyes. He missed the way you're looking at him, the slight shiver running through you as he brushes his lips against your own, slowly savoring the feel of you so near. His hands find your jaw, cradling it softly, and then he kisses you, just like how he dreamed of doing for the past month.

The kiss is dizzying, far different from your previous one. You’re no longer grasping at elusive cigarette smoke, fleeting through the gaps between your fingers. You are no longer awaiting a beacon of remembrance to shine upon your mind. You have minho, and he's delicately nibbling your lower lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His tongue glides across the tingling expanse, soothing down the pang of hurt, asking you for more. You willingly give it to him in a fervent, whirlwind kiss, his hands finding solace in the curve of your waist, while yours become poets, weaving tales in his hair, tugging at his strands the way you've always yearned to. 

It is muscle memory, to press your body against his, to gasp into his mouth, to match the rhythm of his tongue, the way it circles tantalizingly around yours, the way you groan against his mouth, as he briefly parts from you, his giggle a sweet prelude to meeting your lips once again with increased fervor. His tongue weaves words against the roof of your mouth— I missed you, I want you, I love you.

Minho snakes his hand around your lower back, guiding you back until his legs find the couch. He eases you down, fingers hooked through the loop of your jeans. You kiss him again, a cadence as natural as breathing. Time unravels, rewinding to mend the fractures in his heart, erasing thirty-three days of heartbreak in mere seconds. You kiss him, again and again, thirty three days of longing exploding in your touch.  

“Are you crying?” you whisper against his lips, your thumbs delicately swiping across his damp cheeks. Unaware of his flowing tears, he closes his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “I'm here,” you reassure, peppering his face with kisses – from his ear to his nose, cheeks to the corner of his mouth. “I'm here, honey. I want you.”

“Only me?” he questions, tone fragile.

“Only you,” you kiss him again, tenderly, inhaling life through his lips. “Let me show you how much, hm?”

Your lips trace a path down his neck as you draw his shirt over his head. An ivory canvas, he is meant for you to mark, to touch however you desire. Your lips graze the scar on his stomach, kissing it in the way you've ached to do since two nights before.

You're sinking to your knees before him and yet you’re the one in control, rippling shivers all over his skin. He’s impatient, needing you close, so he quickly pulls you up, before hovering over you, his hands drawing everywhere, running wild across your body. He missed the plush feel of your skin, the contours of your body that he yearned to explore once again. He's a prisoner deprived of the light for so long, sinking into the sun once again. 

Minho's eyes never leave yours, as he touches you, moves in you in ways your soul seems to remember. He's gentle, removing strands of your hair out of your eyes, smoothing down the side of your head. All encompassing, drinking in your moans and groans, burning you up and soothing you all at once. “Good?” he asks, again and again, waiting to hear your affirmation before picking up speed again. Your answer is yes each time he asks, as he seals the void in you, the one he's been carefully stitching up for the past weeks. You store his glazed eyes and scrunched eyebrows in the gallery of your mind, you make room for new memories with Minho. 

You're overwhelming him, in the most beautiful ways, contradicting feelings coursing through him like a rain flood. He's aching yet relieved to have you beneath him, lost in waves of pleasure so he grabs your hand to anchor himself, entwining his fingers with yours, before bringing it to his mouth, placing a tender smile on your palm. You beam at him, trust reflecting in your eyes as you bare your being to him. It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you as his guiding star.  

Your eyes never leave Minho’s, a shimmering pool mirroring your emotions. You see everything you feel in him—your better reflection. You had missed him, you were home now. “Miss you,” he whispers as he buries his face in your neck, seemingly hearing your thoughts. “Missed you so much,” he mumbles as your hands tangle in his hair, tears descending gently upon your cheeks, as they are on his. “Please don't leave me again.”

“I won't- I won't,” you promise, as light floods your vision, reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. Colors burst before your eyes in a kaleidoscope, resembling shades of Minho— the warm brown of his eyes, the honeyed hue of his skin, the pink tint of his ears whenever he's embarrassed, the red of his lips, swollen as they kiss you. Tonight and tomorrow and every day after this one. 

Day 1.

In the hushed aftermath, your head rests upon Minho’s bare chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, calming down as the seconds trickle by. His arm curls around your body protectively, keeping you from slipping off the couch. Your knuckles trail up and down his shoulders, soothing the places where you had scratched too hard. His hand seeks yours, delivering a kiss as tender as the silence enveloping you—quiet and secure. The forgotten past doesn't matter; you will rewrite your story once more.

“Do you think our designated stars are sad somewhere far away?”

“Why would they be?” 

“I don't know. Don't you think it's bittersweet how they missed out on so many days of loving one another?”

“I don't know, did they?” he muses, planting a tender kiss on your shoulder. “I think mine loved you all the same.” 

[ham-st4r]

Coffee & Cream - L. HS

Pairing: virgin heeseung + virgin female reader!

Warnings: love making, unprotected intimacy, angst, lots of crying, jealously, cursing, verbal and physical abuse, alcohol, blood, violence, assault, injuries, police, pet abuse, pregnancy, lots of fluff, heeseung is adopted, homelessness, slowest of slow burn, fairytale, they both just little softies for each other.

Summary: one chilly night after a long work shift, you’re unfortunately forced to walk home. Cause you left your bag at work, half way through your journey you stumble across a homeless man who you naturally offer money to, and he though he refuses. You give it to him anyway, and down the road, you’ll find that those two dollars changed not only his life but yours as well.

Number of words: 36k+?

Note: Hello, everyone. Here It is, finally. I’m so happy with how it turned out. This is by far my favorite story of all, so I hope you enjoy it. sorry for the long wait; I just wanted it to be perfect, and I think I achieved that. Please, please, please reblog and leave feedback. I put a lot into this, so I’d love to hear all of your opinions. With that being said, thank you all for being patient with me. I present to you

“Coffee & Cream”

Find your way around!

9:03 pm

You were on your way home from work with nothing but the idea of sleep on your mind after the tiresome shift you had just finished working. You walked a few blocks down the road, arriving at the bus stop minutes later. You reached for your bag to get your payment ready, and that's when you realized you had forgotten it at work, which left you with absolutely no money for the bus and instead of going back to the cafe you worked at to get your bag you opted to power through the walk home, even though your feet were killing you. "Come on, y/n, you got this, just a little longer." You gave yourself a pep talk on the way there. It wasn't that long of a walk from the cafe, so you'd be home soon enough. It was just very inconvenient.

You picked up your pace a bit. After all, it was well past nine, and you didn't know what kind of danger you might run into, especially as a woman walking alone at night.

Walking further down the road, you slowed your steps when you saw a man bent over rummaging through a trash bin, and your heart immediately softened.

You assumed he was probably searching for empty cans to collect money or maybe even something to eat, which made you undeniably sad.

You always had a soft spot for the homeless and less fortunate, and whenever you could, you'd always lend them a helping hand, not only cause you would want someone to do the same for you if you were in their situation but also because you were a person with a big heart and you wanted to give back when and wherever you could.

You reached for your bag again to give the man some money, but obviously, it wasn't there cause you had negligently left it at work. "Darn," you sighed softly. You contemplated going back, but by now, they had probably already closed down for the night, and you didn't want to trouble the employees who were cleaning and getting ready to go home.

You patted down all your pockets in search of spare change, and to your luck and the homeless man's luck, you found two whole dollars, which, now that you thought about it, you could have used for the bus, but oh well, it was going to better use now anyways. "Excuse me, sir," you said softly as you walked towards the unknown man. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to give this to you."

"I don't need your help," he replied in a harsh tone, making you frown instantly, you thought he would have been happy to receive the money, but he almost sounded offended that you even offered.

However, you didn't let it get your mood down. You just left the two bills on the bench next to him and continued your journey home.

Heeseung took a glance at your back while you walked home, then at the money you had set down, and as much as he didn't want to, he took the two dollars you gave him cause he knew he'd be looking for bottles and cans till early morning just to get enough to buy himself some dinner for the night.

He zipped up his hoodie and went to the convenience store across the street, grabbing three items off the shelf and paying for them. With the money you gave him, he bought two cups of ramen and a single meat stick.

He walked to the back of the store and prepared the noodles. Once they were done, he sat down in the corner of the store, slurping up the ramen within just a few minutes. He hadn't eaten in three whole days, and he cherished every last bite of that meal. Finally, he could get some peace and quiet without his stomach rumbling every other minute.

Once he finished eating, he left the store, blowing a deep breath into the chilly night air as he headed back to what he called home, which was an alleyway that was only a few blocks from the convenience store.

He whistled down the narrow path, and he couldn't help but smile as he heard the familiar sound of a mental chain rustling against the pavement. "Hey, boy!" He kneeled down in front of his dog, Mylo, who was giving him thousands of little kisses everywhere. "Did you miss me?" Mylo jumped on his lap and licked all over his cheeks excitedly. "Yes, you did," heeseung giggled. "I got you something!" He pulled the beef stick from his pocket, and Mylo's ears perked up at the sound of the plastic being torn. "Here you go, buddy!" Mylo was absolutely ravenous, and ten seconds didn't even pass before the whole thing was completely devoured.

Heeseung couldn't help but feel bad as Mylo sniffed the empty packaging, searching for more food. "I'm sorry, Buddy, that's all there is". Mylo let out a sad whimper, nudging the empty plastic with his nose, and his ears drooped down when he realized there was nothing left. "I know, I know, come here." heeseung wrapped Mylo up in his arms, stroking his back while he hugged him. "Don't be sad, buddy. Daddy's got an interview in a few days, and we'll be off the street in no time. You'll have more dog treats than you even know what to do with promise," Mylo's eyes lit up at the mention of dog treats, one of the few words he actually understood. "Yeah, you like the idea of that, huh?" Heeseung said with a chuckle, reaching into his dingy bag and grabbing Mylo's makeshift dog bowl, which was made of a gallon jug with the top half cut off. He filled it with some sink water he got from the convenience store and served it to Mylo. "Drink up," he said, lying down on his sleeping bag. He released a deep sigh while Mylo lapped up his water.

Heeseung wasn't always homeless, but that didn't mean his life was any better than it was out here on the streets.

After all, being adopted into an abusive family wasn't his ideal childhood, nor was it an experience that he wished for; nevertheless, he didn't have a choice but to live with them after his biological parents so willingly gave him away.

He doesn't know why his real parents would have a child and then just throw them into the world to grow up with complete strangers.

A part of him wanted to know why, but he wasn't ready for the truth cause he was afraid that the answer would be far from good.

He knew he wouldn't be able to accept it, knowing that his parents had him by mistake, or maybe he would just be a burden to them, or maybe they abandoned him cause they just didn't love him.

No matter the reason, he was too scared to find out, so he convinced himself that maybe they just didn't have money to feed an extra mouth, or maybe his parents were too busy and they gave him to an adoption center so he could find a loving family that would take care of him.

Those all sounded better than all the previous options, so as the years passed by, he never resented his parents for giving him up for adoption. Instead, he created a good image of them in his head and believed strongly that no matter where they were, they were thinking about him and loving him from afar.

And that positivity is what kept him going for so long. It's what made him the man he is today. Well, that and Mylo.

Even growing up with adoptive parents who abused him, he always looked on the bright side, but he could only take so much, and after the verbal abuse turned physical, he walked out without looking back. There was no way he could stay there. The only thing he took with him was his dog Mylo, who was always by his side through thick and thin.

Heeseung remembers the first and only time when his father hit him. He was playing around the house with his basketball ball, and being a careless young kid having fun, he accidentally threw the ball across the living room and shattered his father's 75" TV. As soon as the TV hit the floor, he knew that he was in big trouble, so he ran to the dining room and hid under the kitchen table, attempting to hide from his dad. Needless to say, that wasn't much of a shelter cause his dad easily yanked the chairs from the table and pulled him out by his leg.

He remembers crying in fear and apologizing over and over again. He begged his father not to hit him, but his dad didn't listen, and he pulled his belt from the loops on his pants, whipping him countless times with the leather, leaving large welts all over his small arms and legs. "No wonder your parents gave you up. You're nothing but a useless pain in the ass," his dad yelled at him as he continued hitting him.

That incident is how heeseung found out that he was adopted in the first place, and he cried even harder as he laid there and took every blow, too shocked by the devastating news to even fight back.

Soon, the blows came to a sudden stop, and he heard Mylo growling. Everything had happened so fast, and before he knew it, Mylo was biting his dad on his arm, sinking his large fangs and puncturing his dad's flesh. "Ow, get off me, you stupid dog!" His dad then turned to Mylo and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying across the room and making him whimper in pain. "I'm not done with you, you hear me." he pointed his finger in the crying boy's face, and little did anyone know that would be the last time heeseung saw his family.

Mylo ran over to heeseung, nudging his cheek with his muzzle.

Heeseung overheard his dad calling his mother, and that's when he used the chance to escape. He ran out the front door with Mylo and his leash, and that was the start of his homelessness.

But he didn't have a choice. It was either to get abused or run away, and running away seemed like the safer option.

Despite being homeless, he wouldn't change his mind about the decision he made all those years ago. Living out here was hard, but living with people who were supposed to love you but treated you like you were less than human was harder than anything he'd ever faced in his entire life. He expected that from strangers, not family.

Once Mylo finished his water, he snuggled up next to heeseung, licking his cheek a few times before resting his head on his chest. "Goodnight, boy." heeseung kissed his head and shielded him from the cold air with his shaggy hoodie. Today was rough, but at least they had food in their stomachs, and at this point, Heeseung couldn't ask for more as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

☕️.

"Can this place get any busier?" You said to yourself as you heard the doorbell ring, indicating that more customers were flooding into the small cafe.

"I'd say so," your co-worker Sunghoon replied as a group of students came bustling through the very busy doors one after the other. "No break for us" he chuckled and made his way over to the cash register.

"Tell me about it," you say as you finish cleaning the dishes and get everything ready to prepare the nonstop orders coming in.

A few minutes later, sunghoon came to the back, dragging his feet with his shoulders slumped. "Can you take orders for me, and I'll make them? I think my head is going to explode if I hear iced Americano one more time." he sighed and rubbed his temples in exhaustion. "Where's Niki when you need him?"

“Off enjoying his vacation remember?” You chuckled softly. "Hang in there." You pat his shoulder. "Only five more hours," you say, adding to his misery.

"Now, why would you remind me? Like seriously, what is wrong with you?" He glared at you, but you knew he was only kidding, partially anyway.

You giggled at his expression on your way out of the back to switch places with him and take orders.

That's just the relationship you had with each other day in and day out. Joking about each other's misery was what got you through the long and dreadful days of working at the cafe; some days were good, some days were bad, and some days, like today, were the definition of hell.

Surprisingly enough, it came to an end much sooner than you had both expected, but the time does fly when you're busy. "We don't get paid enough for this," Sunghoon grumbled while wiping down the last table as it was now closing time.

"But it pays the bills," you chimed as you cleared the register.

"That it does," he hummed. "I'll finish closing for the night. You should head home before it gets any darker," he advises, knowing you normally walk or take the bus home.

"Aww, sunghoon, you're the best," you squeal. "You're always so considerate."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, but you could tell deep down he was happy by the little smile forming on his lips.

"Lunch is on me tomorrow. You can get anything you want," You promise.

"I'm holding you to it!" he shouted so you could hear him in the back as you gathered your belongings, not forgetting your bag like the last time.

"See you tomorrow!" You waved on your way out.

"See you, y/n. Be safe." he waved bye after he let you out and locked the doors behind you.

You shivered as the cold wind blew across your face. It was chilly but somehow refreshing after being cooped up all day. You breathed in the night air and decided to walk home again instead of taking the bus after your busy day. Tonight, you would like to take a break from being surrounded by so many people.

You took the same sidewalk home as before, and just like last night, you saw the same man from yesterday digging in another garbage bin.

You automatically reached inside your purse and took out the first bill you found, which just so happened to be twenty dollars. Despite the questionable pay at the cafe, you did make great money in tips, so twenty dollars was really nothing to fret about for you. "Here you go, sir," you said politely.

Heeseung turned around at the sound of a familiar voice, and he saw you standing there, extending your hand out to him with a twenty-dollar bill. He knew you were the same girl from last night cause of your work attire. He couldn't understand why you were trying to help him. Most people didn't even look his way, let alone give him any change when he begged for it, so why were you? Especially after the way he treated you last night.

He looked at you, a blank expression on his face while you smiled genuinely and beckoned him to take the money.

Before heeseung could tell you off, Mylo's ears perked up at the sound of your voice, and he jumped off the bench to greet you, nearly tackling you in the process. "Woah! Where did you come from?" You giggled as he slobbered all over your face. You didn't mind it at all. You had a German shepherd at home, and she was the same exact way every time you got back home from work. "What's your name, Hmm?" You talked to him in a cutesy voice while you patted his head, searching for a name tag, but you frowned when you didn't see one.

"Mylo!" Heeseung said sternly and tried to tug him back, but he wouldn't listen. Usually, He was a very well-trained and well-behaved dog, but sometimes, even Heeseung couldn't get him to listen. "I'm so sorry," heeseung said to you as he grabbed Mylo by his collar and held him back.

"It's quite alright. Nice meeting you, Mylo." You waved to him while heeseung held him back. "Here, take it." You extended your hand once again, giving him the twenty-dollar bill.

"I'm fine," heeseung declined rudely and turned around, getting ready to walk back home empty-handed.

"You may be fine, but what about that guy? A big dog like him, I'm sure he's hungry all the time," you reasoned cause you could literally feel his spine when you were petting him, and you're sure he probably needed to eat even more than your shepherd and that's saying a lot considering she ate pretty heartily.

Heeseung took a peek at Mylo, and you were right. He was huge, and Heeseung knew he wasn't getting half the nutrition he needed, especially with the fall coming soon, so he reluctantly took the cash. It was humiliating to accept help from others, but he swallowed his pride for Mylo's sake. "Say thank you," heeseung said to Mylo, and he walked towards you, brushing his head against your leg before going back to heeseung's side, panting softly and waging his tail excitedly.

You smiled at how well he was trained. Your dog definitely wasn't as well behaved as him. She was actually clumsy and quite the opposite. "Well, have a good night," you said to heeseung, and he just nodded his head. "And you too, Mylo." You continued your short walk home, and once you arrived, you could hear your fluffy friend barking and scratching from outside the door. "Hi!" You said excitedly as you opened the door and greeted her. 

She sniffed you intensely. At first, you were confused by her odd behavior, but realized that she was probably smelling Mylo's strong scent on you. She looked at you and tilted her head to the side with what you assumed to be curiosity. "Yeah, I met a dog just like you," you said in a baby voice. "He was big and brown and cute." She sat down in front of you, wagging her tail excitedly. "And his name is Mylo…" you trailed off as you thought about the similarities in their names. "Mylo and Myla, what a coincidence," you said as you walked over to your kitchen and refilled her food and water bowls. "Maybe you two could meet sometime," you said out loud, but she paid no attention to you as she dug into her food straight away. "Oh, I see, you're too good for boys, huh?" You laughed and patted her head before going to your living room and plopping down on the couch. "What is there to watch?" you scrolled through endless shows, and before something piqued your interest, you had dozed off on the couch with the TV still on.

☕️.

Later that same night, heeseung went to the convenience shop and bought some proper food for Mylo. "Wait here," he said to Mylo and tied his leash to the bike rack outside before going into the store. 

Once he grabbed the bag of dog food, he went straight to the register to pay, not without getting a judging look from the cashier first, but that was nothing new to him. If the number of glares he received were in the form of a dime, he'd be rich.

Kind of ironic.

"Your total is 8,59$" the cashier mumbled, and heeseung handed him the twenty dollar bill that you had given to him.

He looked out the store window while he was getting rung up and saw a group of boys surrounding the bike rack where he'd left Mylo. He stretched his neck to see if anything was happening, and he heard loud barking just a few seconds later. "Mylo!" He gasped in panic and ran out of the store immediately. All of the kids quickly scattered and ran near some bushes at the back of the store where they couldn't be spotted. "Hey!" Heeseung called out to them, but he didn't see the direction where they had all run off to. He just hoped they were long gone from the area. "Are you okay, buddy?" He bent down worriedly, checking Mylo for any injuries, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none, but unfortunately, they had cut big patches out of his fur, destroying his lovely coat. "Oh, thank god," he whispers, hugging Mylo tightly while on his knees. "You're too nice, boy. You should have bit the crap out of 'em" he laughed quietly and stroked his back. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He quickly ran back into the store to grab the food and his change, making sure to check the window every second in case the kids came back. "Time to go home and have dinner." heeseung left the store and unhooked Mylo's leash, walking him across the street to the alleyway they stayed at. Little did he know the same kids from the earlier saw exactly where he and Mylo went.

"Look what I got!" He said excitedly while pouring Mylo a bowl of kibble. "Eat up." heeseung patted his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he watched Mylo digging in. "It's good, huh?" He chuckled. "Yeah, it is."

After Mylo ate, heeseung spent the rest of the night cuddling with him and singing him many different songs until they both drifted off to sleep together.

☕️.

You awoke to your face being licked and slobber wetting your cheeks, and, of course, you knew who the culprit was. "Good morning to you, too, myla." You sat up and stretched, looking at the time and seeing that you overslept for the millionth time this week. "Are you kidding me?" You rubbed your eyes tiredly. "Myla, why did you let me oversleep?" You played with her floppy ears, and she just wagged her tail, not understanding a lick of what you were saying.

You did your morning routine faster than the speed of light, and you spilled not only water but her kibble as well in your hurry so as not to be late for work. "Sorry, myla, see you later!" After you left, she curled up by the front door and huffed out a breath, missing you already.

You made it to work right on time, and the store was packed just like yesterday. Your brain was scattered from it still being early in the morning, but as soon as you punched in, you somehow managed to put on your apron, compose yourself, and take orders efficiently.

You knew the day would be a long, tiring one.

☕.

"Wait for me here, Buddy, and don't be noisy. Daddy will be back soon, okay?" Mylo sat down obediently while heeseung shielded him from the wind and made his way out of the alley.

He went to the nearest bus stop and waited impatiently for the bus to arrive. About five minutes later, he bought a ticket and was boarding to head to his job interview.

He took his seat and looked outside the window, enjoying the ride and scenery. Riding the bus definitely beats walking, but he didn’t have the luxury to ride it every day; he would only take the bus on special occasions like today.

Fifteen minutes later, the bus stopped and dropped him off at his designated location.

He walked into the tall building, taking one long breath, preparing himself for the interview before going to the restrooms to freshen himself up.

He quickly brushed his teeth as best as he could without a toothbrush and washed his face with hand soap from the dispenser. He sighed at his dingy appearance. Dark eye bags, unruly hair, and a scruffy face stared back at him in the reflection. "You can do this," he mumbled to himself and turned off the water, slicking his hair back with his fingers and changing into a cleaner shirt he kept in his backpack.

He exited the bathroom and went to the front desk to inform the receptionist of his upcoming interview. "Hi, my name is heeseung. I have an interview at four thirty with Mrs. Kim," he spoke softly to the receptionist as she typed in some information and made a phone call. "Take a seat anywhere you like, and she'll be right with you, sir."

"Thank you." heeseung smiled politely and took a seat.

A few moments later, a woman looking to be in her mid-forties approached him. "Hi! You must be heeseung?" She asked, extending her hand for him to shake.

"Y-yes, hello," heeseung replied nervously.

"Right this way." She led him to the back where her office was and shut the door behind him. "Have a seat." She sat down after him, leafing through some files. "Mmm," she frowned when she didn't see a resume under his name.

Heeseung gulped, nervously bouncing his leg up and down.

"I'm not seeing your resume." She looked through more documents and still came up with nothing.

"I uhh don't have any prior experience, ms." he looked down at his lap; whatever confidence he had completely disappeared at that moment.

"Well, you must have some prior experience in the work field. Tell me about your previous jobs." She closes the folder and places it on her desk, looking at him with a smile.

"This is the first time I've ever been interviewed," he said quietly. "I've never worked before."

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably when she looked over his appearance. "First time for everything, I suppose. What about school? Did you get a GED or graduate?"

"No, ms" he shook his head, and he had a bad feeling about what was going to come next.

Ms Kim let out a long sigh and rested back in her chair. "Well, heeseung, I'm sure you're a fine young man, but without any credentials, I simply cannot hire you for this job because we require a high level of education along with years of experience with very few exceptions in between,"

"But ms, please, I need this job. I can learn if you just give me a chance, I promise," he pleads.

"I'm sorry, but our company policies state otherwise. If it were up to me, I'd give you a shot, but-"

"You don't understand I need this job. I'll do anything, please, I beg of you," he says, desperation seeping into his tone.

"I'm sorry heeseung-"

"Sorry isn't going to fix my situation!" He raised his voice. "I can't live out there anymore. Do you hear me? I need to get off the street. It's not safe for me or my dog."

"Sir-"

"Please, ms! I have nothing! Can't you see?" He begged desperately, tears gathering in his eyes cause this was the one opportunity he needed to get on his feet, and he could feel it slipping out of his grasp.

Ms Kim had already hit the security button under her desk, and heeseung was being held back by his arms within seconds. "Get off me. I'm not doing anything wrong, ms Kim. Please give me a chance. I'll do anything." Tears rolled down his face as he got escorted out of the building by security. Once they had kicked him out, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Fuck!" He yelled and punched the side of the building, gaining the attention of the other citizens passing by, but he didn't care.

"Just fucking great," he said once he cooled down a bit and took a look at his wounded hand. He trudged down the sidewalk, completely demotivated, as he returned to the bus stop. "No job, no money, and an injured hand," he mumbled to himself on the way there, and he hung his head low while boarding the bus. "At least Mylo's waiting for me at home," he says, trying to look on the bright side of his very, very shitty day.

He stepped off the bus when it came to a complete stop. He was about to walk home, but his stomach growled. He tried to ignore it, but after he took another step, it happened again and again and again.

He supposed he should probably get something to eat cause it has been a full day without food, and he knew his stomach wouldn't stop until he got some type of nutrition in his body. Thankfully, he still had eleven dollars and some change from the money you'd given him the other night, so he could make good use of that.

He took in his surroundings; there was a small cafe a few blocks away, and he could definitely use a coffee to boost his rotten mood.

☕️.

You finally got a break between customers, but soon enough, the bell rang again, and you saw a man walk in. You did a double take, and if your eyes weren't mistaken, it was the homeless man you had been giving money to the past few nights. He looked a little better today, which made you smile brightly before walking to the register to take his order. "Hello sir, what can I get started on for you?" You asked politely and awaited his order.

He finally made eye contact with you and recognized that you were the girl who had been giving him money the past few nights. "I'll have a small black coffee and a breakfast sandwich, please." he places his order.

You nodded with a smile and gave him his total. "That will be 6.03$." 

He reached into his pocket, searching for the money, and his brows creased in confusion when he only saw a five and some change. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened at the store last night. He didn't look at his cash back before leaving and must've been shorted on his change. "That fucker” he mumbled under his breath, and that was the last straw for him today.

"It's on me, so don't worry about it," you said kindly when you saw he didn't have enough money to pay, but it was fine. You'd be more than happy to pay for his meal and make his day just a little bit easier on him.

"I already told you I don't need your fucking help!" He yelled, drawing attention to himself at the register. "Just mind your own fucking business and leave me alone. I'm pathetic enough; I don't need your pity." You flinched at his harsh tone, and he turned away from the register, storming out of the cafe, leaving you shocked and rendered speechless.

"What a fucking psycho," Sunghoon said, appearing from the back after hearing all the ruckus upfront. "Sorry, I couldn't come sooner. Are you okay?" He asked and patted your back comfortingly.

"Y-yeah, just a little startled, that's all." You blinked a few times to try and collect yourself from the homeless man's sudden outburst.

"Do you know him? What did he mean by not wanting your help?" Sunghoon asked curiously.

"I… don't want to talk about it right now." Sunghoon immediately backed off when he saw the uncomfortable look on your face.

"Hey, why don't you take a break? It's slowed down a bit, so I can handle the register," He offers.

"Thanks, hoon," you said with a small smile, still a bit miffed by what just happened.

☕.

"Hey, Mylo," heeseung mumbled. Once he returned home, Mylo perked up, greeting him with kisses immediately. "No kisses for me today, Buddy. Daddy's been a very bad man," he sighed and laid on his sleeping bag, trying to close his eyes and sleep. However, it was far too noisy at this time of day, and his stomach still wouldn't stop growling, but after the shit day he had, he didn't feel like going out to eat or search for cans.

Time seemed to pass by slower than ever, especially with the mood he was in, but at least Mylo seemed happy eating his kibble.

He thought about everything that happened earlier today, and no matter what, he couldn't get the look of your startled face out of his head or the way he unintentionally harassed ms Kim. He's lucky he just got kicked out and nothing more. "I'm such an asshole" heeseung covered his face with his palms sighing out loud.

Mylo nudged his elbow, but Heeseung still wouldn't budge. He kept his face down as tears gathered in his eyes.

Today was probably the worst day he'd ever had, and everything just kept piling up on him day by day.

He couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, there wasn't even a tunnel at this point, and if Mylo wasn’t with him, he probably would have given up a long time ago.

His adoptive dad was right.

He was useless.

After his breakdown, the sun had set, and he was finally able to get some sleep once the lively city died down, but not for long.

Heeseung woke up later that night from the feeling of something touching him and disturbing his sleep. "Mylo?" He said groggily, and his eyes couldn't even adjust before he felt a hard kick on his stomach, making him groan in pain. 

"Wakey wakey asshole," Heeseung popped up but was instantly thrown back down and kicked in the chest multiple times. He tried to lift his fist, but someone had him pinned down arm by arm, and he was absolutely defenseless.

The last thing he heard was Mylo's barking before he passed out from a brutal blow to the face.

He woke up at god knows what time to Mylo sitting on top of him and nuzzling his face into his neck. "Thank goodness you're okay." heeseung hugged Mylo tightly, breathing a sigh of relief, as Mylo whimpered at his owner's tattered face and poor condition. "Don't be sad. Daddy's fine. I can take a hit, you know that." 

Heeseung tried his best to stand up but he underestimated his injuries. "Ow! fuck!” he grimaced in pain as he fell back down, coughing uncontrollably from all the hits he took right in the center of his frail chest.

There was no way he could go back to sleep like this and possibly get into even more danger, and he couldn't waste a whole night without looking for any form of money, and Mylo's food was already running dangerously low.

He willed himself to stand up after a minute, and he untied Mylo, hobbling down the alleyway and getting ready to go on his nightly hunt for money.

Halfway down the street, he had to sit down and take a breather on one of the benches because the pain had started to really set in. "Daddy needs a minute." he tugged Mylo's collar, and he came back, sitting next to heeseung on the bench. "We're going to get lucky tonight, boy, I just know it." even though he knew his words held no real stock, he said them out loud to reassure and convince himself to believe those words were true just so he could keep going.

He heard the sound of footsteps growing nearer, and he quickly got off the bench just in case the stranger would start any conflict. He was in no shape, or form to defend himself or Mylo after getting beat up so badly.

"Hey," you said, causing him to stop in his tracks when he heard your familiar voice.

He turned around and saw you standing there with a hardened expression, a bag in your left hand, and a coffee cup in your other. "Y-yes?" He answered softly, almost like he was scared of being scolded by you and ashamed to face you after what he did today.

"Despite you being rude earlier, I still got this for you." You showed him the two items in your hand. It was the exact order that he had placed earlier in the afternoon. "I thought about not even getting it for you, honestly, but before I misjudged you, I thought maybe you were just having a bad day," you said kindly, even though you were still kinda angry with him. "So, in case you are having a bad day, I bought this for you, hoping it'd turn your bad day into a good one." 

He was hesitant about accepting help from you, but he decided to accept it this time since he rudely declined earlier.

He tried to grab the items from you, but he winced in pain. You frowned at the sight of clear discomfort on his face, and when he stepped a bit closer to you, the light from the street lamp hit his face just right. You could see bruises and cuts everywhere on his swollen face.

You gasped quietly as he took the items from your hands, and you didn't have time to react before he turned around and walked away. "Wait!" You stopped him and reached into your purse. "Here," you said, handing him a bag of dog treats you had bought earlier for the express purpose of giving them to Mylo.

"Thank you," he muttered. Mylo barked excitedly, knowing exactly what it was, and wagged his tail while sniffing the bag. "Let's go home, boy," he tugged on Mylo's leash, but he didn't budge. Heeseung looked behind his shoulder and saw Mylo rolling around at your feet, and you had ducked down to give him a belly rub. "Mylo!" Heeseung called to him sternly, and he retreated back to heeseung's side with a displeased yelp. "Let's go." with that, heeseung limped along the sidewalk, and you sighed sadly. He looked fine earlier, but now he looked bloody and bruised, and you didn't miss the bald patches on Mylo's back. You assumed someone had assaulted them, and your heart ached at the thought. You couldn't imagine how hard that must have been for them, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how scared they both were.

You knew he told you to mind your business, but how could you do it when he looked like he could barely even walk?

You sighed as you walked back home. You unlocked your door and were instantly greeted by Myla. "Hi, girly!" You said happily, and she nearly tackled you in excitement and started licking all over your face.

You smiled happily, but a few seconds later, it turned to a frown as you remembered poor little Mylo. He looked so excited to see new faces, and you couldn't help but think about how he and Myla would get along. They were both German shepherds and had the same playful personality, plus she would love the company.

Your thoughts wandered to what the homeless man's personality was. He seemed cold and harsh and mean, even a little scary, but with a sweetheart of a dog like that, you figured there had to be more layers to the mystery man.

Your thoughts went far beyond that, and you started thinking about if he was always homeless, what his story was, and how he got to be who he is today.

Strangely enough, your thoughts went to an even more personal place, and you found yourself thinking of how he looked when he entered the cafe. He was fairly tall. He had a slender build and quite a handsome face.

You shook your head, erasing that thought from your mind cause who the heck thinks like that about someone they don't even know? "Sleep, that's what I need, sleep." You slapped your cheeks lightly, convincing yourself that you were just tired, and that's why you were having such irrational thoughts so late at night.

But even as you laid your head on your pillow to go to sleep for the night, your mind was still stuck on the guy with the Shepard named Mylo.

☕.

Heeseung was more than floored when he ate the food you had bought for him. It was delicious, the best thing he's had in years. He doesn't know if it was cause you gave it to him or maybe it's just cause he was so hungry, who knows. "She's a nice girl, isn't she Mylo?" Heeseung said as he fed him the dog treats you had bought. "I can tell you like her." he chuckled and took a sip of the hot black coffee. "I like her too." Mylo tilted his head at the sudden change in heeseung's tone. It was a fond one, something neither of them was used to hearing. "What is it?" Mylo cut his eyes at heeseung and turned back to eating his treats. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's not like I like her like that or anything." heeseung put his hands up in defense as if Mylo actually understood what was being said. "What am I even saying?" he smiled, embarrassed as he caught himself thinking about you for no apparent reason. "She's just a nice girl," he convinces himself that that's all he thought of you.

Even if he did like you more than that, who is he kidding? He couldn't be a good boyfriend, let alone a man. He had no way to provide for you, no car, no job, no money, just his bummy self, and what girl would want someone useless like that?

He sighed at the thought as a feeling of loneliness crept up on him slowly but surely; nevertheless, he shook it off. He had Mylo, his best friend, and that was enough. Besides, he had enough things to worry about, and a relationship wasn't one. "No more treats, you're gonna get sick," he said as he took the bag of treats away from Mylo. He put them inside the brown bag you had given him earlier, and his eyes nearly bulged from his head when he saw a bunch of bills in the bottom of the bag that he somehow hadn't noticed until now, but he supposed he was so excited about eating that he barely even looked.

He excitedly dumped the cash on the ground and counted it as a hundred dollars in small bills. "We're rich, Mylo!" He jumped up from his sleeping bag, and Mylo, just as excited, stood up on his hind legs, putting his paws on his owner's shoulders. "We're rich, we're rich," he sang happily while dancing with Mylo. "We're rich, we're rich, we're rich." nothing but excited barks and laughter came from the alleyway as heeseung's and Mylo's night came to a very sweet end.

☕️.

For the next few weeks, you gave the homeless man and Mylo dinner. You got a free meal from the cafe every day, so it was nothing for you anyway. Plus, you were more than happy to do it for him even if you did have to pay for it. The genuine smile on his face was worth more than any dollar bill in the world. "Goodnight, Mylo," you said in the same baby voice that you used for Myla, and heeseung did his best to hold back a laugh, but nevertheless, he thought it was adorable.

"Say bye-bye, Mylo," heeseung said after a couple minutes of letting him play with you.

For the first time since you saw them, he actually seemed to be in a good mood, and it put you in a good mood, too. "Goodnight, mystery man," you said playfully.

He merely nodded and smiled before he walked back home.

☕️.

"He is kinda cute, and his smile is so sweet," you talked to yourself while you lay in bed after getting home later that night, still feeling giddy after the small yet sweet moment with the homeless man down the street.

Myla was sitting at the edge of the bed, just staring at you while you lay there with a smile on your face, reliving earlier events. "Hey, don't judge me," you pointed your finger in her face. "I'm sure you'd like Mylo too," you argued, and she still just stared at you. "Hey, I'm not the one sleeping on a jacket with his scent on it," you smiled proudly while Myla nuzzled her face into the jacket more. "You're so cute," you giggled and shut your lamp off, drifting to sleep, and it was no surprise who was on your mind before you closed your eyes.

☕️.

Heeseung's life at the moment is better than it has ever been, all thanks to you. He didn't have to be out late at night searching for money or food cause you had been providing him with it every day, and he was so thankful for that, more than words could even express, but the least he could do was go see you and apologize properly for the way he treated you in the beginning.

Finally, he could afford the basics that he needed. 

Recently, he bought a new outfit, a simple white shirt, blue jeans, and a toothbrush and toothpaste to brush his teeth.

A few days later, he went to a rest stop and took a shower after what felt like years. It was quite far from him, but it was definitely worth the bus ride. 

Once he was finished cleaning up, he couldn't help but smile at his appearance. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he felt like a new man completely. He took the bus back home to get Mylo's approval first before going to the cafe to see you. "Okay, today is the day, Buddy. How do I look?" Heeseung asked Mylo as he did a little spin.

"Woof woof!" Mylo rubbed himself on heeseung's leg, giving what heeseung could only take as his approval.

"I'll be back soon, alright? You know the drill, okay? No noise." he rubbed Mylo's cheeks one last time before starting his journey to see you.

He decided to walk instead of wasting money on the bus because the walk was about ten minutes, give or take, and he was no stranger to walking.

The cafe bell rang, making you pop your head up, looking at the customer who entered, and you smiled in surprise when you saw handsome, or at least that's what you referred to him as in your head cause you still hadn't gotten his name yet. 

"I'll take it," Sunghoon immediately interjected when he recognized the same man who came in a few weeks ago and yelled at you.

"It's okay, hoon, I got it," you assured him.

"Sure?" He asked one more time.

"Positive, we worked it out," you whispered, and sunghoon gave Heeseung one last look before walking away. "Hello!" You greeted him happily.

"H-hi," heeseung scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. You didn't even notice his stutter cause you were too focused on taking in his beauty in the daylight. "I-I just came here to apologize for the other day and all the trouble I caused. I was having a terrible day, and everything just kinda came tumbling down on me at once, and I know that's not an excuse to act the way I did. That's not like me at all, but yeah, I'm really sorry," he said sincerely.

He couldn't help but blush when you smiled at him so brightly. "Apology accepted…?" You trailed off, not knowing what to address him by.

"Oh! Heeseung, I'm heeseung," he chuckled after his initial awkward pause.

"Nice to finally meet you, mystery man." he chuckled at the nickname you'd given him.

"You too.." he squinted his eyes at your name tag. "Y/n," he said softly. There was another awkward pause before he cleared his throat. "I uhh also wanted to thank you for all you've done, and I'm f-forever grateful, but you don't have to." 

"It's no problem," you told him truthfully, still admiring his looks. He looked so much healthier and happier than when you first met him, and that made you feel so warm inside, knowing you were assisting him in getting back on his feet.

"But-" he tried to protest, but you shut it down right away.

"Would you like to order anything" you cut him off before he could argue.

He dropped his shoulders in defeat. By now, he knew you wouldn't take no for an answer. "I guess I'll have a black coffee," his stomach grumbled on cue, letting you know he wanted more than just a coffee.

"Black coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Anything else?"

"No, mam," he laughed and reached for the money in his back pocket, but you had already cashed him out and went behind the counter to prepare his order.

Heeseung sighed softly. He had a tough time accepting your generosity, but he couldn't lie. It was so much nicer to finally have someone to rely on instead of doing literally everything on his own. Because of you, he could get more sleep. His dog was well-fed, and so was he.

He supposed if he thought about it long enough, he had taken all the burden on himself to provide cause no one on the street would even give him a dime, and when that happened, he turned his back on people just like his parents turned their backs on him. He took on all one hundred percent of the responsibility and made a living for Mylo and himself.

So when you showed him sympathy or kindness, he didn't know how to react cause it was a foreign concept to him. He just got upset and thought you were feeling pity for him, which made him feel weak and incapable of doing it alone. But, after getting to know you for a while, he was able to open up to the idea of getting help cause, to him, it seemed like you genuinely wanted to lend him a helping hand, not just cause you felt sorry for him, but cause you actually cared and that's all he's ever wanted was to be seen, heard, and cared for, and well, here you are, doing all that for him and so much more.

You were smiling absentmindedly as you put a free pastry in his bag along with his sandwich.��"You're in rare form today," Sunghoon chimed.

"Hmm," you hummed in agreement, neatly packing heeseung's food. 

"Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain handsome customer, would it?" He teased.

"Nope, nothing at all," you lied, and Sunghoon could see right through it.

"Sureeeeeee," you both came out from the back, and you slapped sunghoons shoulder playfully as he teased you.

"I don't blame you." he put his hands up In defense with a chuckle.

"What a lucky guy," heeseung muttered to himself, watching the interaction between you and your co-worker as he went to the register after you called his order number.

"Enjoy!" You smiled and handed him a smaller cup with whipped cream in it, and you wrote Mylo's name on the cup with little hearts surrounding it.

Heeseung smiled at the adorable treat you prepared for his furry friend. "Thank you," he said while chuckling. "You're definitely gonna be his new favorite after this." 

"With an owner like you, I'm sure that's impossible," you replied and only realized how flirty that sounded after it came out, but you didn't regret it when you saw him smile shyly.

"O-oh," he laughed awkwardly, and a blush crept up his neck. "T-thanks," he stutters.

"Of course! Have a good day, heeseung, and be safe, okay?" you smile.

"Yes, mam," he saluted and bid you goodbye. As soon as he got a block down the street, he had to lean against the wall and take a breather cause he was literally shaking with nerves. "Gosh, she's so beautiful," he breathed out with a hand resting on his racing heart.

"With an owner like you, I'm sure that's impossible." Sunghoon mimicked your tone after listening to your guy's whole conversation while he "cleaned" the tables.

"Shut it, hoon," you said, smiling uncontrollably.

"Yes, mam," he said while laughing and putting emphasis on mam. "Well, aren't you guys just so cute? "

"Stop it, or I'm leaving you here if you don't knock it off," you threatened playfully.

"You might as well. It's dead as hell, and we only have a few hours till closing," he suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" He nodded without a second thought. "I'll stay another hour and help you clean, and then I'll go deal?"

"Deal and oh, tell me all about this enemies-to-lovers trope. One day, you're fighting, and the next, you're flirting," he laughs.

"We're not flirting!" You buried your head in your hands, totally embarrassed, but you can't lie. You did want to talk about the little crush you had on heeseung.

☕️.

“Hey, buddy! Did you miss me?” Heeseung giggled, kneeling down and nearly getting pounced on as soon as he offered Mylo his treat. “Yeah, she’s definitely your favorite,” he says, plopping down on his sleeping bag and grabbing his own food from the brown paper bag. “Delicious as always,” he says after the first bite. “Mylo, I think your daddy’s in love,” he smiles to himself, feeling full cause of your kindness alone, and he would definitely cherish this peaceful moment for years to come.

Thanks to your amazing friend and co-worker, Sunghoon, you could go home early once again while he stayed behind and closed up for the night. One of these days, you were definitely gonna have to return the favor.

You took the bus home this time cause you were extra tired that evening. The sun had begun to set, and it was a bit chilly outside, so you were enjoying the warm ride home. You smiled as you passed the bench where you first met heeseung. 

You were lost in thought about your guy's first encounter until you saw something in the corner of your eye. You turned and looked down the alleyway where heeseung stayed. You may or may not have watched him occasionally just to ensure he got home safely.

You smiled and looked a little more closely, hoping to catch a peek at him even though you had already seen him today, but what you saw made your smile drop altogether, and your heart raced with nothing but fear. “Stop the bus!” You screamed to the driver and they immediately halted after hearing your panicked shrill.

You ran out of the bus and down the alleyway without thinking twice about the dangers you might face. “Hey!” You yelled on instinct, gaining the attention of the group of teenagers that you saw from the bus. A few of them stood up and started walking toward you while the others continued to beat heeseung and Mylo. With nothing but fear in your eyes. You quickly pulled out your phone and called the cops. As soon as they saw you with a phone in your hand, they all scattered away. Despite the fear running through your veins, you ran down the alley and saw exactly what you feared. “Are you okay?” You asked him softly and crouched to his level to inspect what they had done to him. Heeseung was balled up on the ground, hugging Mylo so he would take the brunt of the blows.

He flinched when he heard your soft voice, and he slowly peaked up at you, his body still shaking in fear, and his face was barely even recognizable. “I-I’m fine. What are you doing here? You could have gotten hurt,” he scolded you while checking Mylo for any chance of injury. Thankfully, he was able to shield him from most of the brutal assault.

Once he responded coherently to you, you were able to calm yourself, and your heart settled with relief. 

After your initial panic, you noticed you still had your phone in hand. You put the device to your ear and told the operator your exact location, letting them know that someone had been injured.

Heeseung quickly snatched the phone away from you, hanging up immediately. “Are you crazy! Why would you call the police?!”

Your brows raise in shock from the sudden shift of tone in his voice. “I- I thought-“

“Obviously, you didn’t fucking think 'cause now I have to find somewhere else to stay,” he said frantically while trying to pack up his belongings so he could leave before the police came, but he heard all the sirens in the distance, and it was already too late. “I’m fucked” he said weakly and fell down to his knees.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to help,” you said, and you were confused, not knowing what the harm was with calling the police. You couldn’t let those group of assholes off the hook after what they did to him and Mylo.

“You can help by getting the fuck away from me!” He yelled. Not only was he embarrassed you saw him like this, but he was also injured, sad, and scared for his life.

You were left speechless from his sudden outburst. You didn’t know what you did wrong and you didn’t know what to do, so you slowly got up and walked out of the alleyway, leaving him alone to hopefully cool off and explain what was happening.

The cops surrounded the area, blue and red lights flashed everywhere as you talked to the officers about what happened. Now you know why heeseung mentioned he had to find another place to stay cause once the police found out he was homeless, they practically turned a blind eye to the whole situation and denied your request when you asked them not to give him a fine and not only that, they didn’t even want to treat his wounds which was totally unfair. He was homeless, but he was still a human, and they were treating him like less than.

Unbelievable, you thought. You knew the world was cruel. Sometimes, but this was just too much.

Heeseung held his head low the entire time, and it took every last ounce of strength for him to hold it together when they fined him a hundred dollars for sleeping on owned property, his world felt like it was falling down around him, and everything in the background sounded like high pitched noise as the cops drove away from the scene.

Twenty minutes ago, he was the happiest he’d been in years, and just within a blink of an eye, all that was taken from him.

You went back to heeseung after everything had been concluded, hoping he had calmed down a bit after the incident. “I can pay the fine, heeseung. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault,” you say dejectedly. “I should have minded my own business. I just wanted to help you.”

He didn’t say a single word to you while packing his bags, even though the sad tone of your voice made his heart ache. It wasn’t your fault he was a homeless loser. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be him, and right now, he’s just upset with himself. He knows he should have never gotten anyone else involved in the shit show he called his life.

Once everything was gathered and stored in his backpack, he stood up, getting ready to make his leave.

Except Mylo had other plans and stayed planted to the pavement. “Mylo, it’s time to go.” heeseung tugged him along like usual, but Mylo resisted.

“Heeseung, I’m sorry,” you apologized again, and you were nearly on the verge of tears cause everything that happened was all your fault. You just wanted to help him, that’s all.

“Mylo!” Heeseung shouted.

“Heeseung, please,” you said softly, hoping he’d at least accept the apology before he left and you never saw him again.

“Just leave me alon- ow fuck!” He whimpered, feeling a sharp pain in his side. Before he could catch his balance, he lost his footing, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for you immediately rushing to his aid and balancing him. He practically collapsed in your arms, and you held him upright, using the brick building next to you for leverage to help him stand. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help,” he cried softly, still trying to walk under his own power, but he stumbled, and once again, your hands were there to catch him, saving him from the fall. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice giving out finally as his entire body succumbed to the pain.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you reassured him and hugged him close to your body. A second didn’t even pass before he had you wrapped tightly in his arms.

“I’m scared,” he cries softly, holding on to you like his life depended on it, and mylo finally sat up, sitting down next you with heeseung as he nudged him gently with his muzzle, sensing his owner’s sadness. “I’m so scared, y/n,” he whispered, leaning into your touch.

A few of your own tears had fallen down your cheek, and you could hear the pain and sorrow in his voice, and it broke your heart to bits to see him like this. “Don’t be. You can stay with me until you find a new place. I don’t mind.” You stroked his hair softly.

“No, no, no, I couldn’t ask that of you.” he shook his head, clutching tighter onto your shirt, terrified to let you go. You holding on to him was the only thing keeping him sane right now.

If he was being this open and vulnerable with you, practically a stranger, then you knew he really must be feeling at his lowest right now, and that’s the last thing you wanted for him cause deep down, you knew there was so much more to him than just a homeless guy that has a hard time accepting kindness.

“You’re not asking; I’m telling.” You dismissed him right away. There was no way you’d let him stay out here another night cause what happened tonight was bad enough, and you weren’t willing to take any chances either cause if something worse happened to him, you don’t know how’d you be able to handle that just the thought made you feel sick. “Are you okay to stand?” You ask him gently once his tears have subsided.

“I think so,” he sniffles while you help him up. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes.

“Don’t apologize, heeseung. You’ve done nothing wrong. Are you okay to keep going?” You adjusted a little, carrying most of his weight on your shoulder. He nodded weakly, trying his best to assist you despite his bruised ribs and busted face. “My apartment is only a few minutes away. Will you be okay til then? We can take breaks if you need to.”

“I’m okay. I think I can make it,” he surrendered to your offer, too worn down and tired to say no to you. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder, walking him and Mylo to their new home.

You stopped at the door once you arrived. “Don’t be scared, but I have a dog as well, and she can get very excited when she meets new people,” you warn him before entering.

Heeseung smiled a tad bit, wincing when the cut on his lip stretched. “Mylo’s good with the company,” he responds, his voice low and horse, a big contrast to how he sounded earlier in the evening.

“Okay, great!” You welcomed them inside. “Myla, we have visitors!” You cheered, and she was already waiting at the door for you.

“Woah!” She jumped on heeseung immediately. “Ow ow ow,”  he grimaced when she nudged his face. He had no idea when you said you had a dog that you meant a full-grown shepherd almost identical to his own. 

“Myla, sit,” you scolded her, and she sat down on the carpet, showing you the whites of her eyes. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine; she’s just like huge,” he chuckled and coughed immediately after due to the pain in his chest. 

“Take a seat on the couch,” you quickly Instructed. 

“But I’m all bloody and dirty,” he reasoned, unintentionally looking at you with puppy eyes. You just grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

Meanwhile, Mylo was still frozen by the door. As soon as he saw Myla, he stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to the side, looking confused.

“Go say hi,” you gestured to Myla, and she walked over to Mylo, sniffing him. She recognized his scent immediately and started licking his head, but he just backed away further into the corner, hiding himself.

Heeseung watched Mylo’s odd behavior. He was always great with new dogs, but all of a sudden, he was being standoff-ish. “Mylo,” heeseung said in a stern tone, and Mylo quickly ran over to the couch, hiding behind heeseung. “What has gotten into you, hmm?” Heeseung chuckled, and Mylo peaked around his back to stare at Myla.

You and heeseung both just giggled at his cuteness. “Wait here. I’ll just go and get you some medicine and bandages for your wounds.”

“Thank you.” After a moment, you had gathered everything, and heeseung half smiled once you came back to the living room with all the supplies in hand.

“Come on, boy, you have to sit down so I can heal your daddy’s wounds,” you said sweetly. Mylo obediently laid down on the floor and curled up around your guy's feet. “Gosh,” you said once you turned on the tableside lamp and saw just how badly he was injured.

“That bad, huh?” He laughed dryly. “Imagine I let a bunch of teenagers beat me up,” he said pitifully.

“I don’t know any one man that can fight off four people,” you said, trying to lift his spirits, and it must have worked cause he smiled softly, feeling appreciative of your comforting words as he laid back on the couch so you could do your work. “This is gonna sting, but only for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, already anticipating the sting, and it made him nervous for the pain that was inevitably about to come.

You poured the peroxide on a cotton ball and dabbed at the blood that had started to harden on his cheek and lip.

“Hmm.” He clenched his jaw from the sting, and you noticed his discomfort right away. “Sorry,” you whispered while applying some ointment to his face, hoping it would help take away the sting as you placed a single bandage on the wound. “Does it hurt anywhere else?” You ask once you finished nearly his entire face.

“N-no, I’m fine, thanks,” he lied. It hurt just about everywhere, but he didn’t want to burden you, and he was sure it’d heal on its own anyway, as it always does. He’s taken enough beatings to know.

“Okay, are you hungry or?” He declined once more with a tiny shake of his head. “Well, are you sleepy?” You asked, and he nodded his head. You’re not sure if he was aware of this, but he was pouting, and he looked so cute, just like a little baby. “Wait here.” You patted his knee and got the spare room ready for him.

Heeseung laughed as he watched Mylo digging his nails into the carpet and dragging himself towards Myla.

By the time you came back from blowing up the air mattress and getting a few things set up for heeseung, you came back and saw Myla and Mylo coupled together on the carpet, and it was too freaking adorable how they were already getting along. “I think that’s a good sign” you grinned at the sight.

“I think so, too,” heeseung agreed. It was nice to see Mylo interacting with more of his kind, even if he was behaving a bit strangely. “Myla and Mylo,” heeseung let out an airy laugh as he watched them snuggling up to one another like they’ve known each other for years.

You smiled warmly at him. “So it’s not much, but there’s a bed, and I also have some spare toiletries in the bathroom. Sorry in advance if they all smell like flowers.”

“I like flowers,” he gave you a genuine smile.

“Oh well, good then, I guess that’s it. If you need anything, my room is across from yours. Don’t hesitate at all. Just call me even if I’m asleep, alright?” 

“Okay,” he said quietly and got up from the couch. “Mylo,” he whistled. “Bedtime.” Mylo jumped up and scampered over to Heeseung, following him down the hallway. “Goodnight, y/n. Thanks for all of this. I really mean it.” he wanted to say more, so much more, but the last thing he wanted to do was get emotional again. The first time he cried in front of you was embarrassing enough.

“Of course, goodnight, heeseung.” he gave you a small smile before going into his new room. “This is home, Buddy.” Heeseung kicked off his pants and laid down on the mattress to sleep. “Wow,” he sighed in relief from the feeling of the soft air mattress hitting his back. “I told you we were going to get lucky, boy,” heeseung whispers while hugging Mylo and getting ready to sleep.

You smiled when your face hit your pillow, and you couldn’t have been happier knowing that heeseung and Mylo were together, safe and off the streets, and they could finally rest peacefully.

☕️.

Heeseung had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of scratching noises. He quickly shot up, alert from the sudden disturbance. He took in his surroundings, breathing a deep sigh of relief once he realized he was safe at your apartment and didn’t have to worry about being assaulted again.

He heard the scratching noise again and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Mylo was digging on the door and probably scraping the paint with his claws. “Cut that out!” Heeseung whispered shouted and got out of bed, putting his pants on and quietly opening his door, assuming Mylo needed a bathroom break. “Come on, it’s this way,” Heeseung tiredly mutters while Mylo is busy sniffing the bottom of your bedroom door.

You stirred from your sleep when you felt Myla jumping off the bed. She looked back at you, wagging her tail and waiting at the door for you. “Gotta go potty?” You grabbed your robe and tossed it on, yawning before opening the door. “Woah,” You jumped slightly when you saw heeseung and Mylo standing right outside your door.

“Sorry,” Heeseung whispered.

“Hey, it's not your fault Myla has to use the bathroom,” you assured him.

“Same with him,” heeseung chuckled, pointing at Mylo.

You both shut your bedroom doors and walked to the front door, but neither of the two moved from their spot.

You and heeseung made eye contact, a knowing look taking over both your features. “Sorry,” heeseung mumbled, feeling like it was his fault for the disturbance.

“Stop apologizing,” you chuckled. “It’s alright.”

“Sorry- I- okay.” he dropped his shoulders and sighed.

“So I guess we can both agree that we’ve lost our sleeping partners.” You say, watching the two of them nuzzling each other.

“Guess so,” Heeseung laughs softly. Mylo and Myla lay next to each other on the ground, and clearly, they weren’t going to leave each other's side tonight. “Goodnight, y/n,” heeseung mutters as he goes back to his room.

“Night, heeseung,” you smiled and shut your door behind you, hoping to get a good night's rest after everything that happened today.

☕️.

Finally, you were both able to rest through the night after the disturbance. You had a day off today, which was perfect cause heeseung wouldn’t be alone on his first day with you. You didn’t have much on your to-do list, so maybe you could do something later, like shopping or getting some food for dinner with him if he was feeling up to it.

You did your usual routine, fed both the dogs, and then made a small breakfast for yourself. You didn’t want to cook anything for heeseung cause you were not sure what time he would wake up, and you didn’t want it to be cold, so you waited til later for him.

Except later came, and it was about four in the afternoon, and still, no sign of heeseung. You assumed he was just really worn out, so you took the dogs for a walk, but not before leaving a note in case heeseung woke up before you got back. The last thing you wanted was for him to worry about Mylo's whereabouts.

After half an hour, you came back from the dog park, and heeseung was still nowhere in sight. You spent the rest of the day playing with the dogs and watching TV. Before you knew it, the day was already over. It was midnight, and heeseung never showed. You cracked the door and checked on him before you went to sleep just to make sure he was okay, and you smiled to yourself. He was more than okay; he was still sleeping very very soundly.

You pouted slightly cause you were excited to see him today, but if he was that tired, you wanted to give him time to rest. After all, he needed it. You just hoped his bandages would hold until the next morning.

☕️.

The next week went by like this, except you knew that he came out of his room when you saw your strawberry shampoo spilled on the tub floor and his old clothes folded neatly near the laundry basket, not to mention the missing ramen in your cupboard.

Heeseung was horrified to step out of his room and face you. The first night was okay, but after things settled in, he couldn’t help but be embarrassed by how he treated you when you tried to help him and how he broke down like a newborn baby crying in your arms. “What the hell were you thinking?” He said to himself out loud in his room. “Ow,” he whimpered in pain when he turned on his side in bed; he lifted up his shirt, and if he wasn’t mistaken, his wounds had gotten infected badly. There was pus oozing from them, and they felt worse than the day he got them. He was applying the ointment you gave him every day, but it wasn’t working. Little did he know he needed a lot more than ointment for his level of injuries.

He got up out of bed and hobbled onto the bathroom to get more ointment. To his luck, or maybe not to his luck, you had just gotten home from work and caught him in the doorway. He thought about scattering on back to his room, but it’d look very obvious that he was trying to avoid you if he did that, so he just greeted you politely before going into the washroom. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey!” You said happily cause he was finally up and awake. “Feeling any better?” You asked, hoping to hear a positive response to your question.

“Umm… yeah,” he said, a bit unsure, and he was unaware that he was holding his side, a clear sign to you that he was still in pain.

“Does it still hurt there?” You looked down to where he was holding, a small pout making its way to your lips.

“Yeah, but I think it’s getting better.” Once again, he lied so you wouldn’t be caused any inconvenience because of him.

“Here, let me take a look. Umm, do you mind if I just lift this up a bit?” He shook his head as a no, you proceeded to peel back the shirt, and he bit his lip to conceal the pained sound that was dying to escape when the material of his shirt brushed against his wound.

“Am I all good?” He asked once he saw you blankly staring at the area where he was still badly hurt.

“Go wait in your room for me, okay?” You couldn’t help the sound of disappointment in your voice. Your tone let him know the seriousness of the situation, and he nodded his head, doing as he was told like a little kid being scolded.

You came in a few minutes later with your hands full of all types of first aid supplies. You sat down next to him, breaking the silence as you shyly instructed him to lift up his shirt.

He nodded again and lifted up his shirt, revealing the angry, infected welts on his skin. There was more than you had originally seen, even more on his lower abdomen and upper back. “Umm, I can’t really, you know, reach all the spots if you don’t..” your words faded out towards the end in hopes he would understand what you meant and not make the situation awkward, but he just stared at you blankly, obviously not understanding what you meant. “The shirt you need to uhh,” you motioned for him to take his shirt off, and his eyes automatically went wide; nevertheless, he complied and took off the article of clothing. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” You asked with a sigh, looking at all the swollen cuts on his body.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my problems,” he mumbled.

“Well, for as long as you stay with me, your problems are my problems.” The room fell silent once again. What else could he say to that? He sat still while you cleaned his wounds. Luckily for him, it wasn’t bad enough to go to the emergency room, but if he waited a few days longer, you don’t know what would have happened.

He hissed in pain when the peroxide bubbled around one of the many wounds covering his frail body. “Sorry,” you blew on the area to make it feel better. “You’re doing so good,” you told him when it got to some of the really bad areas. “Just a little more,” you whisper while cleaning up the rest of the cuts. “Now, is there anything else you want to tell me?” You look at him with a skeptical raise of your brow.

He gulped and turned to look at you. “N-no,” he stuttered just like last time, which was a good indicator that he was not telling you the truth this time either.

“Heeseung,” you said his name in a warning tone. “If you’re hurt somewhere else and it goes untreated, it could get very bad, and you’re not a burden to me at all, okay? I offered, so let me take care of you, yeah?” 

☕️.

This was probably the most unintentionally awkward thing you have ever done, and despite focusing on the task at hand, it was hard to focus when he was in nothing but his underwear while you treated the wounds on his thighs. “Ow,” he flinched from the burning sensation of the disinfectant, and you rubbed his thigh softly, trying to distract him from the pain; he tensed up at the contact but quickly relaxed under your careful touch. 

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” He leaned back on his palms, head tilting back while he grimaced in pain.

“A-ah, o-okay,” his breath shudders the moment you apply more ointment to his thigh.

“There, all done,” you finally finished and wrapped his legs up successfully, as well as his upper body.

“Thank you so much.” he threw his head back, exhaling deeply. That was probably the hardest thing he’d done in a while. The pain he felt was literally excruciating.

He reached for his shirt, unknowingly leaning into you a bit. Your breath hitched in your throat at the proximity, and now you were only a mere few inches away from each other.

He held his breath while staring at you, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips before he caught himself and looked away, clearing his throat softly. “Uhm” 

The air was already awkward, but now there was a certain tension circulating. It felt stuffy, and you could barely even breathe it in. “I-I’ll let you get dressed.” You turned away from him, too flustered to look at him any longer.

You’re shocked you even had the composure for those words to come out coherently.

You felt bad for even thinking like this while he was injured, but you couldn’t help but notice that he was even more handsome up close.

“Yeah,” he breathed out as you walked to the door, fumbling with all the supplies you had in hand. 

“Just come down for breakfast soon, okay?” you say while grabbing the door knob and excusing yourself.

“I will,” his voice comes out soft as you shut the door, leaning against it and clutching your beating heart.

You felt like squealing. How were you going to be able to handle living with him?

☕️.

“Breakfast,” heeseung said as he paced back and forth. “Breakfast?” The last time he had breakfast was heck if he knew. He hadn’t even sat at a dining table since he was a young teenager. “Breakfast.” While he was pacing, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, and his face was scruffy. “Eww,” he mumbled while running his fingers through the strands of his hair, looking back at his disgusting appearance.

At some point, he was able to gather the courage to leave his room or technically your room and go to the kitchen, where he could smell the bacon you were cooking. 

Your back was turned to him, and he opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it before anything could come out. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments and shoved his hands inside his pockets. “H-hi,” he greeted and teetered himself back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Oh, hi!” You whipped your head around at the sound of his voice and smiled at him. “You’re just in time. Have a seat.”

He took out a chair and sat down while you finished making him the tasteless black coffee that he always seemed to enjoy, or maybe it was just cause it was the cheapest thing on the menu.

“Here you are,” you said softly as you served him his food. 

“Last time I’ve had this much food was more than eight years ago,” he said while looking at the piled-up plate before him. 

You frowned upon hearing that cause that probably meant he had been homeless or at least struggling for a good amount of years, and knowing that made you sad.

He took note of your sad expression and quickly changed the topic so he wouldn’t sour the mood any more than he already had. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Thank you” 

“It’s okay, and you’re welcome,” you smiled. “Mylo’s just out in the front playing with Myla,” you told him as you took a seat at the table with him.

“You’re not eating?” He asked as he took a bite of bacon, a satisfied hum coming from the taste. Home-cooked breakfast has always been his favorite.

“No, it’s like 7:00pm,” you said while giggling.

He lowered his head in pure embarrassment, a shy smile playing on his lips. “Right,” he chuckled, only now realizing just how late he had slept in.

You watched him eat in silence with a smile, and it warmed your heart to see him eating and enjoying the food you made just for him.

He took a break from eating before speaking again. “After my infection goes down, I’ll find a new place to stay and get Mylo and me out of your hair. He’s a pain in the butt, and I’m not much better off,” he informs and takes a sip of coffee.

“Would you like some cream for your coffee?” You ignored his comment entirely cause you weren’t letting him go back out on the street, and that was final.

“Y/n-“

“Yes? Okay then,” You smiled and got up from the table, grabbing some coffee creamer.

He sighed softly while you added some personality to his hot beverage. “Thanks, but I really don’t need all this. I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want to bother you.”

“Do I look bothered? I’ve cleaned your wounds without complaint. It’s my pleasure to cook for you. Myla loves the extra company, and so do I, so what seems to be the issue with you staying here” You fold your arms on the table and wait for a response. You weren’t trying to sound so rude, but you were adamant about him staying because it wasn’t safe for him out there, and anytime the thought of him leaving crept up in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel agitated.

When you put it like that, it didn’t sound bad at all, but he just felt like a burden. Maybe it was because of his terrible upbringing, where he was told that everything was his fault and the world would be a better place without him in it. He doesn’t know, but still, he just didn’t feel right accepting your hospitality. “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” he politely refused.

You sighed. You didn’t want to be rude, so you excused yourself. “I’ll go check on the dogs,” you said quietly and left the table.

Heeseung lowered his head and sighed deeply. He didn’t want you to be upset with him or displeased or whatever you were, but he wasn’t your problem to solve. He needed to do better by himself for himself, not freeload off your kindness.

☕️.

Heeseung has been staying with you for a few weeks now. His wounds almost cleared up completely after he let you treat them daily. Although it was like pulling teeth, you managed to get it done, and by some type of magic, you were able to convince him to let you take him shopping. “So what all do you need?” You asked once you pulled out a shopping cart.

“Umm, toiletries?” He scratched his nape, staying close to your side like a child would his mother.

You smiled and nodded, leading him to the health and beauty section.

You stopped at the end of the aisle, and he stood next to you, not moving a single inch. Even though you were waiting for him to lead the way, you cut your eyes at him, and he was still frozen there, just like a statue, so you cleared your throat. “Umm, you can get anything you need.”

“Oh!” He made a face of realization as he went to pick out items before you could notice the embarrassed blush on his face.

You stayed at the end of the aisle, and he came back like two seconds later with a trial-size toothbrush and toothpaste that cost $1,09

“Really? That’s all you need.” You look at the single item in his hand, trying your best not to judge his choice in necessities, but you can’t help it.

“Yup,” he replied, dropping his item in the cart.

You sighed. This was going to be a long day.

You went down the aisle with him this time, helping him pick out some things he needed that weren’t travel-size. “Let’s see…” you hummed. “You need this, this, and this.” You grabbed a full-sized tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a bottle of mouthwash. “And these also,” you say, adding some toothflossers. “What next?”

“Some body wash, maybe I don’t know,” he mumbles out, playing with his fingers out of uneasiness when he sees the prices of everything you had just dropped in the cart.

“Okay, let’s go” Once you get down the body wash aisle, you nearly groan in annoyance when he bought a three-in-one after smelling more than ten different body washes.

You knew he liked the $10,00 dollar bottle cause the way his eyes lit up when he smelled it, but of course, he chose the two-dollar bottle cause it was cheap. Not to say there was a problem with being frugal. It’s just he didn’t need to be on a budget when he was with you.

You took the three in one out of the cart and put it back on the shelf, grabbing the one he really wanted. “I-“

“Heeseung,” you stood in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders as you gave him a serious talk. “Money isn’t an issue. Just pick whatever you want without a thought.” he nodded at you, eyes blinking rapidly as he hung on to every single last word that you had said to him. “So from now on, just get anything you want, okay?” You didn’t want to force anything upon him cause you knew spending this type of money wasn’t an everyday occurrence for him, but you hoped he’d get used to the idea of it because he deserved to shop like everyone else even if it was new to him.

“Okay,” he said softly.

Finally, you thought to yourself now that he had taken the initiative to lead you around the store to do some shopping of his own, and it was refreshing to see him adding all different types of stuff to the cart without checking the price tag. “I could also use a razor,” he said while rubbing the little scruff on his chin.

“Razors are this way.” You chuckled lightly and guided him to the shaving section. He followed you and picked out a razor and shave cream. “Does this one smell okay?” He showed you the aftershave he was thinking about getting.

“Hmm,” you hummed in agreement. “It suits you. You’re going to get all the ladies,” you joked, and he chuckled.

“All the homeless ladies on the block.” Your mood instantly shifted the moment he mentioned that. You didn’t want to think about him leaving in a week. You didn’t want to think about him being homeless again. He had only been staying with you for a few weeks, and now he was already leaving soon.

You were definitely going to miss him.

Living alone wasn’t easy for you. That’s why you had gotten Myla in the first place, and as much as she cheered you up, there was nothing like having the company of another human. You’d invite Sunghoon occasionally, but he was always too busy with school, plus his relationship, so it had just been you and Myla for years.

But now that heeseung was staying with you, that loneliness was gone, unfortunately for you, though it would only be temporary.

“Anything else?” You muttered sadly, which went completely unnoticed by him.

“Some new clothes would be nice,” he says enthusiastically.

“Okay,” You took him to the men’s section for clothing, your feet suddenly feeling heavier as a feeling of dread set in your stomach.

You unintentionally spaced out while he was shopping for his clothes. The thought of him not being around anymore was really getting to you, and you didn’t even know why it was bothering you this much.

“Y/n?” He called you, but you didn’t answer. “Y/n?” He repeated, this time turning around to catch your attention.

“Hmm?” You snap back to reality, noticing a questioning look on his face.

“Are you feeling sleepy?” He inquired with a hint of concern. “If you are, we can go.”

“No, I was just thinking about something,” you told him truthfully. You did have a day off today, so you felt good. You weren’t feeling sleepy at all. You assumed he took your saddened state for you being tired, but you were feeling okay.

“Okay,” he smiled, but you could tell that he was trying to hurry by the way he was sifting through the clothes rack. After a few moments, he had finished getting everything, which consisted of a few shirts and a couple pairs of joggers. “Okay, I’m done. That’s everything.” he clasps his hands together.

“Are you sure?” you reply, just to be completely sure he doesn’t need anything else.

“Oh, umm,” he was more than a little embarrassed about saying it to you, but it just dawned on him that he needed some new underwear. “I uhh need. I mean, never mind,” he concluded, not being able to bring himself to say it in front of you. For some reason, he just felt extremely shy suddenly, which was weird because you had seen him in his underwear already, but this felt different.

“Come on, what is it?” you urged him to tell you you’re sure he was just worried about the bill, but it was okay.

“It’s really nothing,” he gulped and avoided eye contact with you, hoping you wouldn’t ask again.

“Don’t worry about the cost. I have it, alright?” You patted his shoulder, assuring him it was okay to add more to the cart.

“It’s fine, let’s go.” he started walking away from the men’s clothing and heading to the checkout.

“Heeseung, come back and just tell me what it is,” you insisted.

“The dogs are probably getting hot in the car. We should probably leave.” he gave a reason as to why you guys should leave.

“Well, you should probably tell me otherwise they’ll be in the car all day.” You knew that was a threat, but you didn’t care. If he needed something else, he was going to get it.

He walked back over to you, finally giving in to your hardheadedness. “Ineedsomenewunderwear,” he quickly rushed out, blush already creeping up his neck.

“What?” You asked, your brows creasing in confusion. You couldn’t make out a single word he had just said to you.

He cupped his hand around his mouth, leaning in your ear and whispering it to you like it was top secret. “I said I need some new underwear.” he leaned back, a wide-eyed expression on his face as you realized what he said loud and clear word for word.

“Oh….ohhhhhhhh,” you laughed awkwardly. “I’ll just be over here,” you said and gave him some space to search for some underwear. “Sorry”

“Thank you,” he mutters shyly.

“Gosh,” you dropped your head in embarrassment once you got far enough away from him. You didn’t mean to pressure him into telling you like that. You weren’t trying to make him uncomfortable; you just wanted to make sure he got everything he needed.

Around five minutes later, Heeseung finished, and you went to the checkout area with him trailing behind you like you were his protector or something, but you thought it was cute.

Once again, you caught him looking at something, and you followed his line of sight. He was looking at the candy on the check lanes, which you thought was adorable, but that’s all he did. He just looked and looked away. 

It’s been ages since he had any candy, but it wasn’t a necessity, so he didn’t buy it. That’s what his stepmom always told him: if he didn’t need it, he shouldn’t buy it.

Well, little did he know you didn’t think like his stepmom, and if he wanted candy, then he was going to get it. “Pick all you want.” 

He now knew better than to fight with you, so he just put what he wanted into the cart, and you smiled that he was finally understanding that it was okay to buy things for himself.

After checking out, you two got back into the car, making a split decision to stop at the pet shop since you had a second mouth to feed. Mylo had already eaten nearly all of Myla's food.

As soon as you and heeseung entered the store, you were getting multiple compliments on how adorable the dogs were, and other people were politely smiling at the two of you while you roamed the shelves.

You bought a lot of stuff, probably too much stuff, but if Myla liked one thing, it was toys, and she just had a habit of destroying one after the other, so you’d be down to a few toys in no time.

Heeseung picked out some of Mylo’s favorites and let him pick out a few new toys as well. more like him picking them up and slobbering all over them, leaving heeseung no choice but to pick those. It’s been years since Mylo had a real toy. Heeseung had made him a makeshift toy out of a sock and shoestring, but that was nowhere near as fancy as the ones that the store had, especially the ones that squeaked. After shopping, you both continued to the register, where the cashier gave you two endless compliments. “Since you’re such a sweet couple, I tossed in a few dog bones as well,” the worker winked playfully as you and heeseung thanked her shyly, neither of you bothering to correct her before leaving the store after spending a couple hundred dollars, nearly making heeseung’s eyes pop out of their sockets.

Heeseung literally blushed the whole car ride home after that compliment the cashier gave you two, and thankfully, you didn’t notice his fidgeting in the passenger seat. It’s just that he’s never had a girlfriend or a girl that was even interested in him, so when he heard what the cashier said, he couldn’t help but entertain the thought of being your boyfriend a little.

 Or maybe a lot.

You weren’t much better off. You didn’t notice him fidgeting cause you were fidgeting for the same exact reason. You even went as far as to make up scenarios of you and him together in your head until you pulled into your driveway.

You hoped that wasn’t weird.

You, heeseung, and the dogs arrived home safely, and you entered the apartment together, hands full of groceries. Heeseung speaks up after sitting down the grocery bags that he insisted on carrying most of despite being a bit sore still. “I’m gonna wash up before dinner,” he said to you while you put some of the food items in the fridge.

You hummed in acknowledgment, leaving out the items you were going to make dinner with.

While heeseung was in the shower, he shaved off all of his facial hair. It’s been ages since his face had felt so smooth; the warm water cascading down his back felt like heaven on earth, and he didn’t take one bit of this for granted. He relished every last second using everything you bought him to freshen up with. When his shower came to an end, he stepped out, and he could have cried at the appearance that stared back at him in the mirror. Now, that’s a face that looked recognizable. He definitely grew up, but behind it all, he was still just that little boy who ran away from home all those years ago. He smiled at his reflection, but there was just one little thing that was missing.

As soon as the thought popped into his mind, he spotted a pair of scissors on your bathroom counter, and without a second thought, he trimmed his hair way down.

He definitely wasn’t the best at it, but he was good enough to make himself look presentable. Being homeless forces you to learn a lot of things most people take for granted, and haircuts just happened to be one of the many things he learned while being out on the road for so long.

He combed his fingers through his hair, completely satisfied with his new look. He felt lighter and overall better than he had in years. He changed into the new joggers he/you had bought and a plain black shirt before coming back out to the living room.

“Are you always this on tim-“ your words got stuck in your throat when you turned around and saw him looking like a completely new man. You knew he was handsome under the scruff and overgrown hair, but you didn’t realize that he was that handsome, and to be honest, you had lost your train of thought entirely.

He noticed your stare, but he was far too self-conscious about his appearance to understand that you were actually checking him out and not judging him. “I-I think I got a size too big,” he laughs nervously. He was never that beefy of a guy, but there was a point where he was way more nourished than he is now.

His voice brought you back to reality. “No, no, it’s good. It fits just fine,” you assured him and turned your back to the stove so he wouldn’t see your flustered face.

Your answer makes him smile, and he went from feeling self-conscious to confident just like that.

Dinner was a lot less awkward than your first breakfast together, and you could slowly see yourself getting used to something like this. Of course not with heeseung cause he was leaving, but maybe someday soon you’d find a boyfriend, and he’d eventually move in with you, or you'd move in with him, but that was all just wishful thinking you hadn’t had a man ask you out or for your number since high school, and unfortunately you had to reject it cause you were just too busy with studies at that time.

Little did you know while you were lost in thought, Heeseung had been full-on shamelessly checking you out every chance he got, but he didn’t think much of it. He assumed it was because he hadn’t had any interaction with a women in so long, but even when he was around girls at school, he’s never paid attention to them the way he did you, but you were a different story. You were literally an angel from the first time he met you till now, and how could he not be attracted to such a sweet girl who was beautiful not just on the outside but on the inside as well. A huge plus was you having a shepherd, too. He thought that it was so adorable.

Perfect for him.

He’d, of course, never act on it, though, cause as he saw it, he just stumbled across an angel to help him get through a hard time for now, and then he’d be back on his way to fending for himself and living the only life that he knew how.

After dinner, you both said shy goodnights to each other before you headed to bed. Mylo and Myla had snuggled up to each other about an hour ago. From the looks of it, they wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, and since you and heeseung were two bleeding hearts, neither of you could separate them, so they peacefully slept in the living room together all night.

☕️.

The last week of his stay flew by. You and heeseung hung out a bunch after he had gotten more comfortable around you, so comfortable that when you came home from work, you saw him spread out all over the couch with Mylo on his chest and the TV on.

He must have been sleepy, you thought, but you didn’t mind him sleeping on your couch cause he needed the rest. You put a blanket on him and muttered a small goodnight before leaving the two alone for the first time since they got here. You finally got to sleep with Myla again. She had grown quite fond of Mylo, and now they were nearly inseparable, which warmed your heart, but it just hurt knowing that this would all come to an end so soon.

☕️.

And end it did.

Heeseung was leaving today, and despite spending the whole day with him, going out for ice cream playing at the dog park, and even having dinner together, you were still gonna miss him and Mylo with your whole heart.

“So I guess that’s everything,” heeseung said once he finished packing his new backpack courtesy of you.

“I guess so,” you fake smiled at him as he walked over to your door, readjusting his backpack on his shoulders. 

“Umm, c-can I ask you for one last huge favor?” He questioned once he and Mylo stopped at your front door.

“Yeah,” you breathe out while fighting back your tears. 

“Can I please have a hug?” He asked with a forced smile of his own. It hurt him like crazy to leave, but he didn’t want to ride on your coattail any longer than he had to. He was all healed up and had more than enough supplies to go it alone, plus you had even given him a hundred dollars even though he refused it five times before finally giving in.

“Of course.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and wrapped your arms around him, inhaling the scent of his aftershave one last time.

“Thank you for everything, y/n. You’re really a great person, and I’m so glad I met you. These past few weeks were so much fun.” his voice nearly cracked, but he fought it off along with the tears that threatened to spill out as he tightened his grip on you before letting go. He released one last breath as his hands rested on your shoulders before dropping down to his sides.

“My pleasure!” You replied with only a few words cause if you didn’t, you knew you would start balling your eyes out like a newborn baby.

“Come on, Mylo, say bye-bye,” heeseung tugged on his leash like he always did, and Mylo rubbed himself against your leg. “Bye, y/n,” heeseung said before turning to the door so you wouldn’t see his tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

“Bye, heeseung,” you said in the softest tone. He could tell you were getting emotional, too, and he had to get out at that exact moment cause if he didn’t, he was sure he’d never gain the strength to leave.

He left despite Mylo resisting when he was being separated from his new best friend. Heeseung shut the door without looking back and walked down the steps while Mylo kept trying to fight his way back inside your apartment, clawing at the door until he was panting due to exhaustion. “Come on, Mylo, it’s this way,” heeseung mumbled and finally broke down, letting his tears fall cause he just couldn’t hold them in anymore.

Myla was digging at the door after it shut, and you weakly sat next to her on the ground, balling your eyes out just like you knew you would when heeseung left. 

Myla continued to whimper at the door, waiting for Mylo’s return, but it never came, and she curled up next to you where you had sat down on the floor after heeseung left. You cried and cried until you had no more tears left. It hurt far more than you had ever imagined it would.

You couldn’t believe it was actually over. It felt like just yesterday you were cleaning his wounds, and now he’s walking out your door, walking out of your life for good.

☕️.

After heeseung’s departure, he walked and walked and walked some more until he found a new spot he thought was suitable. He had gotten everything all laid out, setting up the new area and trying to replicate what he had when he was with you, but it just wasn’t the same.

“Well, it’s just you and me again, Buddy,” heeseung said to Mylo as they sat down in yet another alleyway. It definitely wasn’t as closed off from the street as his old spot, but he didn’t have a choice. It’d have to do. “Our new home,” he patted Mylo on the head, but of course, he wasn’t his usual cheery self. “You already miss myla, huh?” Mylo’s ear perked up at just the sound of her name. “Me too,” heeseung chuckled sadly. “And I miss her mommy.”

He flopped down on his sleeping bag, attempting to sleep the sadness away, but he just couldn’t get comfortable—no matter the position or how many times he tossed and turned. After sleeping on the bed, you had given him. It was hard to go back to sleeping on the cold hard ground.

But eventually, he grew so tired that his eyes had no choice but to flutter shut, and his shivering body succumbed to sleep. 

When the morning came, he tried to get up and do his normal routine, but the drive just wasn’t there like it used to be. He sat in bed feeling unmotivated and miserable all day. It had only been a few hours since he left, and he already couldn’t stand it.

He was cold, his body ached, the smell of your bacon wasn’t filling his nostrils, and the idea of being found by that same group of teenagers wasn’t helping his current situation at all.

He’s been doing this his whole life, so why now was it so hard? How come after meeting you and Myla, his life changed so drastically? How come after being alone for so long that, he suddenly craved your care and hospitality more than anything in the world.

Suddenly, his train of thought was broken when he felt warm tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t even know when he had started crying; nevertheless, he tucked himself into a ball and buried his head in his sleeping bag. No matter how positive he tried to be, he couldn’t help but think about the fact that he was probably going to live the rest of his life out on the street without ever seeing you again.

He started to reminisce about the first day you two met and how he treated you so harshly but soon opened up to you after seeing how kind you were. He thought about all the food you bought him, all the money you gave him, how nice you were to his precious Mylo when you didn’t even know him.

He remembers going shopping with you, and the laugh he let out was bittersweet as he remembered the little underwear incident.

Good times.

Heeseung thought of himself as the black coffee he always used to drink before you came into his life. You swooped in and managed to brighten up his bland beverage with cream, turning the dull, uninteresting liquid into something colorful and delicious, and that’s exactly what you did to him. You took his old, meaningless life and made it worth living.

It’s quite a funny analogy, but you were like the cream to his coffee.

☕️.

You took vacation the day after heeseung left cause you were in no shape or form to function at your job. You didn’t even want to get out of bed, and Myla seemed so lonely when Mylo left that you couldn’t find it in your heart to leave her alone.

For the whole day, you ate comfort food and curled up on the couch cause you were in no mood to cook, nor did you have the energy to.

Myla didn’t even eat. She spent her time moping around the house, looking for Mylo. You assumed when she had no luck, she laid down in the twin dog bed she and Mylo always used to share. You supposed his scent still lingered there by the way she was sniffing it. 

Even though he had just left, it felt like time seemed to go by as slowly as humanly possible, and with each minute that passed, the absence of heeseung brightening up your living space was crushing you inside more and more.

The reality of him being gone hit even harder in the morning when he wasn’t there to join you for breakfast.

When he wasn’t there to take the dogs for a walk.

When the smell of his aftershave wasn’t lingering in the air.

When he wasn’t cuddled up on the couch with the two dogs while you were cooking.

You know you shouldn’t have done it, but you stood from the couch, your feet leading you straight to the spare room he used to stay in. You twisted the knob taking a peek inside, just to see it completely empty, and your heart sank cause for some reason. You thought maybe, just maybe, this was all a nightmare, and he might still be there sleeping peacefully on your air mattress.

☕️.

The weekend had rolled around, and only a few days had passed since heeseung decided to go it alone. It was three in the morning, yet he found himself standing outside on your doorstep. 

About an hour ago, he had already packed up all his stuff and made the journey back to your apartment. He’d been cussed out, people threw trash at him, and to top it all off, it had started to rain, and he just couldn’t take anymore.

He now knows why he couldn’t go back to the life he used to live after he left your place. It's because after having some normalcy for once, he saw just how messed up his life had truly been being homeless and on the streets. Before you, he had absolutely nothing to compare it to, but after spending time with you, his eyes were opened. He realized that the things he’d been searching so desperately for his whole life were waiting for him behind the walls of your apartment, and he didn’t hesitate to walk an entire hour back to your home.

Heeseung took a deep breath at your door before knocking. He knew the hour was nothing but ungodly, but if he had spent another night alone, he would have lost himself out there.

You had passed out on the couch some hours ago after eating carelessly and drinking beer all night, a new daily routine of yours ever since heeseung left.

You popped up out of your sleep when you heard a knock on the door. After your eyes somewhat adjusted, you looked at the time and couldn’t help but feel startled because who the heck would be at your door this late at night? It’s not like you knew anybody in this area and you hadn’t ordered anything.

You got up quietly, tiptoeing to look through the peephole, and you thought your eyes were deceiving you, so you rubbed the sleep from them, blinking a few times before taking another look, and there stood heeseung covered in the rain at your doorstep.

Your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

You backed away from the door in pure shock, a hand covering your mouth as your eyes watered. You couldn’t believe he was actually back.

When heeseung got no answer, he couldn’t help but lose hope, his shoulders slumping in defeat, but he has never been the give-up type, and he wouldn’t start now, so he decided to knock one last time before calling it quits cause if you were asleep, he didn’t want to disturb you at this hour.

You opened the latch and the door to be greeted by heeseung smiling at you with a drenched and panting Mylo sitting next to him. “Hi, y/n,” he said softly, and just at the sight of your face, his smile dropped, and he broke down in tears just like the day you let him stay with you. “I don’t think I can take being alone anymore.” he buried his head in the crook of your neck and clung to you like you were his lifeline.

You instantly hugged him back, not caring about your clothes being soaked by his wet ones. He was shaking, and his cheek that was pressed up against yours was cold as ice. “It’s okay. You’re here with me now. You’ll never be alone again,” you told him and patted his back softly as you warmed him up in your embrace, tears pricking your eyes at his current state.

Mylo quickly ran over to Myla, his leash dragging against the carpet. As the two reconnected, she licked the raindrops off his face while he licked hers.

You pushed the door closed behind him and guided him to the couch. His hold on you tightened just in case you tried to let him go. “I’m sorry, I-it’s just I have nowhere to go. I have no one to turn to and no one who loves me,” he sobbed quietly and opened up to you in his state of desperation. “No one to take care of me, no one to hold me. It’s just been me all by myself for years, and I just can’t do it anymore. Since I met you. I don’t want to live the way I used to.” he paused. Trying to collect his breath but failing due to the sheer amount of emotions flowing through him. “My step-parents abused me when I was little, and I ran away, and since then, it’s just been me and Mylo, and I just can’t.” he was all over the place, but you were able to piece together everything, and he completely broke down in your arms letting out the most painful sobs you’d ever heard. “I’m tired, I’m just so tired,” he sighed into your chest, entirely exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“Shh,” you stroked his head softly to calm him down. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore. Just let me help you. Let me take care of you, and when you get tired, you can rest cause no matter what, I’ll always be here when you need me,” you assured him, trying to keep it together yourself cause this was all very nerve-racking for you as well to profess such care and promise all these things to him, but no matter how nerve-racking it was you knew that your words were coming from your heart and deep down you knew you could fulfill every last one.

“D-do you really mean that? You won’t ever leave me like my parents did, will you?” He asked, and he almost sounded desperate for any type of affirmation at this point, desperate to be cared for by someone.

“Look at me.” You cupped his face in your hands, his cheeks still cold to the touch, his soft brown eyes staring into your own. “I’ll never leave you, and that’s a promise.” Your body acted on its own, and you kissed his cheek softly; his eyes twinkled shut, his breathing almost evening out the moment your soft lips touched his cheek, melting all the cold away with your warmth.

You both held each other in silence for at least twenty minutes before breaking apart after he had warmed all up. “You okay now?” You asked tenderly while stroking his back.

“Yeah, I think so,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for this.” he glanced at the wet couch. “I’m sorry for coming so late.”

“Don’t worry, let’s get you cleaned up yeah?” he reluctantly released you from his grip, and you led him to the bathroom.

You stood outside the door while he undressed himself. He handed you his wet clothes, and he stepped into the shower, washing away all his trials from the past few days.

You put the discarded laundry in the washer machine while you waited for him to finish.

When he came from the bathroom, he looked much better despite his tired, swollen eyes, and you assumed all he wanted was to sleep after everything that’s happened. You informed him that you would also be taking a shower, and he nodded in response, still looking a bit shaken from the whole experience.

After your shower, you entered the living room, and heeseung was still sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall. “Heeseung,” you whispered his name, and he jumped in response, making you frown. You wondered just how much he had endured out there, but that was a conversation for a different time. “Time for bed.” You grabbed his hand gently and led him to your room instead of letting him sleep alone tonight. It just wasn’t sitting right with you, especially cause he looked so broken and out of it.

“A-are you sure?” He asked when you patted a spot on the bed for him.

“Positive” This time, he really didn’t fight you cause even if it was just for tonight, he didn’t want to go to sleep alone again.

He got under the covers with you and maintained a good distance until you tugged his body towards yourself and wrapped your arms around him. After feeling your warmth, he immediately hugged you back and tangled his limbs with yours, holding you like you were his personal giant stuffed teddy bear, and you smiled softly at the innocent, childlike gesture.

You slowly stroked his back, and not even a minute later, he was passed out in your arms. Your heart swelled at the sight of him sleeping so soundly. You put your head on his chest to get comfortable, inhaling his refreshing aftershave while you fell asleep to the steady rhythm of his calming heartbeat and his comforting warmth.

☕️.

Heeseung woke up next to you, snuggling closer to you, a habit he had with Mylo every morning. “Good morning, Mylo,” he whispered. Usually, he’d be getting his morning love from Mylo by now, but when he didn’t feel licks and slobber on his face, the embarrassing reality of what he was actually doing washed over him. 

He slowly opened his eyes and saw you sleeping next to him, and he squeezed his eyes back shut.

How could I have forgotten I went to bed with her last night? He thought to himself.

Well, at least you were still sleeping and didn’t hear him embarrassing himself.

He opened his eyes again and took in your features up close. You had a little mole that he hadn’t noticed before cause it was so tiny. Your eyelashes occasionally fluttered, and you gripped his waist, nuzzling your head into his chest in your sleep.

Needless to say, his heart was racing in his chest when you did that. He couldn’t lie that it felt absolutely amazing how you were holding onto him right now, but he knew if you were awake, you wouldn’t be doing that, so to save you any embarrassment when you woke up, he slowly peeled your arms away from his body.

About a minute passed before you found your way back to his side of the bed after it got chilly. You hummed in contentment when you found his warmth once more.

He just gave in and let you hug him. He tried so hard to resist the urge to hug you back, but he couldn’t. He wrapped his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest while he stroked your arm lightly. He figured it would be fine since you’d be up soon anyway. 

Little did he know you were hungover from last night and you wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. Only a few minutes tick by, and soon his eyes slowly fell shut. He didn’t want to go back to sleep because the dogs probably needed checking up on, but your warm embrace was slowly but surely aiding him to fall back asleep in your arms peacefully.

Eventually, sometime in the evening, you stirred awake and noticed something very tall and very big sleeping next to you. All the memories from last night came flooding in, and you gasped when you remembered that you had kissed him, well on the cheek, but it was still a kiss. You probably made him feel so uncomfortable and weirded out by your stupidity.

You really felt like kicking yourself for doing that, but you blame it on the drunkenness cause if you were sober, you would have never done that.

At least you convinced yourself of that.

The headache wasn’t too bad, and the room didn’t feel like it was spinning, so that was a good sign that you didn’t drink too much.

Or so you thought.

Your eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when you saw what time it was, but you quickly remembered you were on vacation and you didn’t have work, so you allowed yourself to relax, deciding to stop worrying so much and just enjoy the afternoon with heeseung.

Speaking of, he looked so peaceful sleeping next to you, and as much as you hated to disturb him, he needed to have a proper meal.

But staying in bed for five more minutes wouldn’t hurt. You looked up at him, and you heard little snores coming from his pouted lips. You unknowingly lifted your hand and smoothed your thumb over his cheek and then his chin until you were eventually brushing his bangs out of his eyes to get a better look at his face. He nuzzled his face into your warm palm while still asleep, and your heart melted. He was so precious, and everything he said to you last night came into your mind as you admired him.

What type of people could hurt such a delicate soul?

Sure, he was a little crusty around the edges at first, but when he opened up and started to get more comfortable with you, he was a real sweetheart. Occasionally, he’d make your coffee before work, or he’d do the laundry just so he was doing something instead of using you for a free place to stay, and he even included Myla, taking her on walks with him and Mylo, treating her as if she was his own.

Maybe you were getting too ahead of yourself, but in the last month, you had really grown quite fond of him.

Your thoughts were cut off when he started to stir out of sleep. One of the two dogs had started scratching on the door, and you quickly withdrew yourself from him before he noticed you watching him sleep like a weirdo.

You hopped out of bed and looked down at the door. Of course, it was no other than Mylo and Myla staring you in the face, probably asking to go out or for food.

Heeseung sat up and rubbed his eyes, combing his fingers through his hair while he looked at the two waiting at your guy's door.

You walked out quietly and fed them both, giving heeseung time to fully wake up before going back and checking on him, and admittedly, he looked so cute under the covers relaxing. “Morning,” you said softly.

“Good morning, y/n.” he smiled tiredly, his eyes barely even open as he greeted you.

“Uhh, about last night,” you started out slowly, trying to find the best and quickest way to go about this. “I was drunk last night, so I might have done something weird, just so you know.” You chewed at your lip nervously. “Like everything I said was true, but I tend to get really affectionate when I’m drunk, so the kiss was…” you trailed off a little, trying to save yourself the embarrassment of having this conversation.

“Because you were drunk?” He finished your words for you after putting two and two together.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and stood there awkwardly.

“Oh,” he said, disappointed, and you missed the frown on his face cause you were too busy staring blankly out the window. “Okay,” that’s all he could say. There wasn’t anything else that came to mind, and he felt like the air had just been sucked out of the room as a weird tight feeling in his chest made its presence known.

“Yeah, sorry for that.” You clasped your hands together and concluded, hoping he’d forgive your stupidity. “I’m gonna go make something to eat. Do you want anything?” You tried to switch the topic smoothly, but it didn’t seem to work.

“No, thank you,” he declined with a clenched jaw, getting out of bed and going to the restroom without another word.

You buried your face in your hands, and you couldn’t help but be upset with yourself because of what you did. What made it worse was the fact he actually seemed upset about the kiss. Gosh, the last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable in a space that was supposed to be safe and comfortable for him, but you did just that.

The only time you saw heeseung was when he took the dogs on a walk and came back inside, but for the rest of the day, he shut himself inside his room with Mylo.

“She was just drunk,” he laughed pathetically at himself. “Should’ve known.” he doesn’t know why he foolishly thought you might have actually been interested in him in some way. “Gosh, I’m so stupid,” he scolded himself for his ridiculous assumption about you kissing him on the cheek. “But you,” he scratched Mylo’s chin. “Mylas smitten with you huh?” He laughed. “Well, at least one of us got the girl.”

He rolled over on his bed, thinking of where to go from here, but first things first, he needed to see you. He sighed and got up out of bed, approaching you while you were sitting on the sofa watching TV with Myla. “Hey, y/n, can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked softly as he entered the living room.

You were surprised that he even showed himself to you after your nonsense earlier, and you immediately felt your heart drop. He was probably going to tell you off for kissing him and asking him to sleep with you in the same bed. He was probably going to make boundaries and not talk to you anymore unless necessary. Before more bad thoughts crept up in your head. You answer with a small yet nervous nod as he takes a seat beside you on the couch.

“So, umm, I don’t know how to even start this,” he sighed as Mylo sat down at his feet.

Yep, this was it. He was getting ready to tell you he didn’t want to stay here anymore. Yep, y/n, you really blew it this time. “It’s okay. Just start when you’re ready,” you said calmly despite all the anxiety filling your body.

He smiled at you, appreciative of your welcoming nature. “So I’ll just get straight to the point: I have no education or previous experience of anything, and no one wants to hire me, so unfortunately, until I can get that settled, I have no way of getting a job,” he explained the fact to you hesitantly, feeling ashamed and embarrassed that as a young adult, he had absolutely nothing going for him.

You breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t telling you off for kissing him last night. You imagined he was going to tell you something so much worse. “Come work with me at the cafe. I can get you in. I guarantee it.” You knew you’d have to do some sweet talking, but your manager was a good guy. He hired you when you were at your lowest, so you’re sure he’d help a guy in need like heeseung.

“But I don’t have any experience,” he worries.

“Okay, hear me out on this.” You quickly dialed your manager's number and put the phone on speaker. “Hi, boss,” you chirped when he answered.

“Y/n! Hi, you just can’t seem to get enough of this place even when you’re on vacation,” he chuckled.

“Well, boss, it’s something really important. A good friend of mine needs a job,” you unknowingly start biting on your nails out of nervousness.

“Oh! Great! Niki just went back home for the holidays, so your timing is impeccable.” You smiled slightly at that. So far, so good. You gave heeseung a thumbs up.

“There’s just one thing… he was homeless, and he doesn’t have any prior experience or anything, so I was hoping maybe you could hire him in and just give him a chance.”

You heard a long sigh over the line. “That’s asking for a lot. Do you know I need someone reliable for this position? It’s nearing fall, and that’s when we’re the busiest.”

You looked at Heeseung, and he nodded his head enthusiastically, showing you that he’d be more than reliable and you trusted him. “He is,” you said, feeling more hopeful by the second.

“You know what? I’ll give him a shot, but I won’t be nice just because he’s your friend.”

“You won’t have to. I know he’s perfect for the job,” you said with confidence.

“I trust you,” he replied. He was stern, but you knew he was a good guy, and he wouldn’t regret giving heeseung a chance.

“Thank you, boss.”

“No problem, y/n. Bring him in for an interview next Wednesday.” 

“Will do!” You hung up and smiled at heeseung, who was already staring at you with the biggest, brightest smile on his face. You literally were his guardian Angel.

“You’re amazing!” He smiled even wider, tackling you in a hug. Out of pure joy, he swears if he got the job, he’d do everything to repay you.

☕️.

“Y/n, I’m so nervous,” heeseung whined, adjusting his dress shirt for the thousandth time.

“Don’t be.” You stood in front of him, taking his hands off his shirt and fixing his tie for him so he wouldn’t have to fidget with it anymore. “You’re gonna do great, I know it.” You had already rehearsed at home, and he did excellently; he had absolutely nothing to worry about. If he hadn’t told you he didn’t have prior experience before, then you wouldn’t have known with how professionally he answered all your questions.

He nodded at your words and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the interview. “Thanks, y/n, I really mean it.” 

“Anytime.” You smiled at him and checked your watch. “It’s time.”

You cheered him on quietly as your boss made an appearance from the back of the cafe. “You must be heeseung?” 

“Yes sir, nice to meet you.” heeseung stood up and took confident steps towards your boss, extending his hand for a handshake. He looked back at you and smiled one last time before going in for his interview.

You felt nervous for him, but you don’t even know why cause you knew he’d do great.

Not even twenty minutes later, he came out with a beaming smile on his face, and you could already tell he had good news. Your body reacted out of excitement, and you immediately ran to him, engulfing him in a big hug. “I got the job!”

“I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you. I promise I’m going to repay you in full.” he rocked you back and forth in his arms, and this had to be the best day of his entire life.

☕️.

After you and heeseung went back home, you were both just relaxing on the couch, talking about any random topics that came up while the TV played in the background. Heeseung was extra chatty today. The excitement of getting a job still hadn’t left his body yet.

He smiled and scooted a little closer to you as the two babies stuffed themselves on the couch next to you guys. “I know I haven’t even started the job yet, but as soon as I do, I’ll repay you, I promise.”

“Heeseung, thank you, but there’s no need, really,” you tell him earnestly.

“Y/n, you’re too nice to me. You’ve given me everything, and I’ve done nothing in return for you. I want to pay you back. Please let me.” he looked at you, eyes full of nothing but sincerity. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay, but you’ve done more than you know,” you tell him, resting your hand on his knee.

“What do you mean by that?” He tilted his head curiously.

“Where do I start?” You sat up straight, hand still softly stroking his knee. “First of all, you’ve given this place life. You gave Myla a friend, and you really brightened up my days. Everything is just better when you’re around, you know?” You retracted your hand nervously, playing with a stray thread on the couch.

“How?” Everything you told him just now was a completely foreign concept. He felt like a burden. He never felt appreciated or cared for. He always just felt like he was an obstacle in someone’s way, rather that be down a random alleyway on the street or back at his adoptive parent's house, so your words were confusing to him, to say the least.

“Cause you’re just fun to be around.” You grew flustered as soon as the words left your mouth. “I like your company, and you make me feel comfortable and safe.” 

“Me? You mean that? Like actually?” he mumbled while looking down at his lap.

“I do.” his head quickly shot up at your words, and you could see the tears gathering in his eyes. No one had ever told him anything like that in his whole entire life, and he couldn’t fathom how anyone could feel that way about him, especially cause all his young adult life, he was told that he was useless, and now here you are telling him the exact opposite.

He quickly hid his face in his palms, hiding his tears from you. “I-I think I need to be alone right now.” he stood up abruptly and walked to the spare bedroom while you sat there half worried, half confused.

“Did I say something wrong?” You whispered to yourself.

Heeseung was just far too overwhelmed with emotions to even respond to you. He wasn’t trying to walk out on you like that, but he needed to gather himself first. He didn’t know what to do; everything he’d felt with you in these past few weeks was so weird, not in a bad way, but in a way that he’d never felt anything like it. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you or anything you’ve done for him so far, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He was so so thankful for you.

You played with the dogs on the couch for the meantime despite being worried about heeseung. You gave him some time to himself before you went to check in on him. You knocked softly on his door prior to entering. “Heeseung?”

“Yeah, come in.” he quickly wiped his tears as you entered, but anyone with eyes could see he had just been crying.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly and took a seat beside him, your hand automatically stroking his back soothingly.

“I’m more than okay. I’m perfect,” he smiled, pulling you into his arms and hugging you impossibly close. Naturally, you hugged him back cause you absolutely loved his hugs. They were so warm, and they could take any stress away. You felt content just being in his arms.

“Are you sure?” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, and he hummed in response, hugging you a little tighter.

“I’m just overjoyed, that’s all,” he sighs in contentment.

“Oh, I’m glad.” You patted his back gently, relieved that you hadn’t said anything offensive to him. “I was thinking if you wanted to, we could celebrate your employment with dinner.”

“Ooh, okay, what are we gonna make?” He asked, releasing you from his arms, an excited expression on his face.

“Oh umm, I was thinking of going out to eat,” you tell him your idea.

“Wow, okay, that sounds fun. I’ve never eaten out before. What should I wear? How should I act?” He hopped off his bed, searching through his very, very small wardrobe, which reminds you you need to take him shopping again. All he had was loungewear and a suit for his interview.

His excitement was absolutely adorable to you, but when you found out he’d never been to dinner before, that broke your heart. Something that most people do naturally was something foreign to him, and you realized in that moment you took a lot of things for granted. “Just wear something comfy,” you smiled.

☕️.

“Be good while I’m gone. Don’t mess up any more of y/n’s furniture, got it? She’s kind enough to let us stay here, so we must respect her.” Mylo just sat there, tail wagging while he looked at his master. “You don’t got it, do you?” Heeseung frowned. Mylo had already practically destroyed your table in the kitchen, and something deep down told him Mylo wasn’t going to stop until the living room furniture was polished in his scratch marks.

“Heeseung, it’s fine. Besides, I needed a new table anyways.”

“But-“

“Come on, we’ll be late for our reservation.” You grabbed his head, leading him to the door.

“Wait, how do I look?” He was in a plain white dress shirt, black slacks, and hair slicked back to perfection, and he smelled delicious.

“Handsome,” you complimented him as casually as you could despite your heart pumping wildly in your chest.

“You look beautiful,” you thanked him shyly as you both just kinda stood there awkwardly until one of you came back to your senses after staring at each other for far too long.

“The reservation,” he mumbled slowly, still taking in your beauty.

“Yeah,” you whispered and shook your head to break out of your trance, finally leaving your apartment, praying that the babies would behave while you were both gone.

☕️.

Going out and spending time with heeseung really made time fly by. He was just so down to earth you never really got the chance to settle down and talk to him one-on-one, but after tonight, you learned a lot of things about him. Despite his past, he was very bright and hopeful. He was an extremely humble and admirable person, and you could tell once he got on his feet, he was going to have a very bright future ahead of him and you’re just happy you could help him get there..

The dinner went smoothly. Two hours passed by way too soon, and it was already time to go back home, but you were hoping you could both do this again sometime really soon.

The both of you gasped in pure shock the moment you entered your apartment. “Mylo! Get off of her!” heeseung shirked, but it was a bit too late for that. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry,” heeseung quickly apologized as you closed your apartment door and stood outside with a shocked expression, trying to take in the fact that the two of your babies were mating while you both were out.

“Well, I think the furniture is the least of our concerns,” you joked.

“Yeah,” heeseung laughed along with you, still a bit shocked as well. From what he could tell, Mylo wasn’t showing any signs, but he supposed it was mating season after all. Time had really flown since he started staying with you.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” Heeseung looked up at you, his honey-like eyes staring into your own, and just like at dinner, you couldn’t peel your eyes away from them. “You know, while they have their alone time,” you chuckled.

“Sure, a walk sounds nice,” he smiles, taking your hand in his as he helps you down the stairs. He immediately lets go the moment you reach the bottom of the steps, and you’re kinda disappointed at the loss of contact, but you and him didn’t have a relationship quite like that, so holding your hand would be a bit inappropriate at the moment. “So I guess we’re gonna have a bunch of baby Mylas and Mylo’s running around the apartment.” 

“I guess so.” You still couldn’t believe that they actually mated. That was the last thing on your mind when you guys left for dinner.

“Ohh, I already have some names,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Myah for a girl and Myles for a boy.”

“That’s really cute, heeseung, but surely we can’t keep all those puppies,” you say. Of course, you wanted them, but where would they all go?

“We can’t keep them?” Heeseung pouts.

“Where would we put them all? She’s gonna have at least four, and that’s at least,” you exclaimed. You heard they could have up to 15, and if that happened, you were going to be in for a real surprise.

“Yeah….you’re right,” he replies, already sulking cause he couldn’t keep all the baby puppies.

“We can keep the puppies.” You tell him to lighten his mood and his eyes light up right away as he looks at you.

“Really?!” He says excitedly.

“But,” you say sharply. “When they grow, we have to take them to a shelter or something.” his shoulders immediately slump down again.

You really aren’t sure what’s going on in that little noggin of his, but did he really think you could have an apartment full of adult shepherds?

“Okay,” he literally sounded just like a child who couldn’t get their way, and you shook your head softly, deciding to deal with that problem a bit further down the road.

“So…” you continued your little walk, enjoying what was left of the warm weather. “Did you enjoy your time?”

“I loved it. I haven’t had so much fun in ages. Do you think we could go out again sometime soon?” You smile softly, nodding your head. One thing you liked about Heeseung was that he was never shy about showing his gratitude and thankfulness. “I know I already said it, but I’m gonna keep saying it. Thank you for everything.” he came to a stop and turned to you. “You really saved my life, y/n, and I mean it. Without you, I would have lost hope by now.”

“Nonsense,” you laughed it off. You weren’t going to take all the credit for his hard work over the years.

“No, really, I was giving up until you came along and gave me something to look forward to. Gave me some type of hope that if I just held on a little longer, something special would come my way or someone special.” he took a step closer, his eyes locked on your lips until they darted to your eyes before he engulfed you in a hug and again you were a bit disappointed cause you really, really thought he might have kissed you with they way he looked at your lips, but you’re sure you just imagine that cause who were you kidding? He probably didn’t even like you like that, plus your relationship was purely platonic, so it’d be weird if he kissed you, even though you really wished he did.

“You’re gonna make me cry, heeseung.” You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close.

“Please do. I don’t want to be the only one crying here,” he chuckles as warm tears roll down his cheeks.

“Okay,” you laugh slightly, your own tears now wetting his dress shirt.

Eventually, it got late, and after his heartfelt confession, you both went home. If you didn’t catch Mylo and Myla in the act, you’d think they slept the whole time while you and heeseung were gone, but no.

You and heeseung tiptoed together down the hall so you wouldn’t wake the babies and finally go your separate ways after spending the whole day and night together. “Thanks again for today. Goodnight y/n,”

“Goodnight, hee,” you whisper, and he only registered what you called him once you closed the door, and he went to sleep with a silly little smile on his face from the nickname you’d given to him.

☕️.

“So Hoon, this is my good friend heeseung, and you’ll be training him today.” your vacation was over, and this was heeseung’s first day on the job, so the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. You were so excited you got to work with him on his first day.

“Woah Woah Woah, I never signed up for any of this. When did you become the boss?” Sunghoon raised his brow with a teasing look.

“I’m not the boss, but I’m the boss of you, so you do what I say.” You put your hands on your hips, speaking matter-of-factly.

“Yes, boss,” he saluted, making you giggle. “Hi, my name is Sunghoon.” he quickly turned to heeseung, shaking his hand politely.

“Hi, I’m heeseung.” sunghoon nodded and focused his attention back to you. 

Heeseung just stood there awkwardly, watching you and Sunghoon laugh and converse amongst yourselves. He didn’t know what exactly he was feeling when he saw you and Sunghoon talking, but whatever it was didn’t feel good, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Heeseung just moped around for the time being, looking at all the different coffee machines until you two had finally stopped talking. “Alright, time to get you familiar around here. My name is Sunghoon, and wait, I already said that. Never mind, just follow me.” he put his arm on heeseung’s back and led him to the back while you gave him an excited little wave.

Hours passed by, and the training was going smoothly. Sunghoon had no doubts about your friend. He’d do just perfect here. “I knew you’d be good at this. With your skills and that face; you’ll be getting all my tips in no time,” Sunghoon laughed.

“What do you mean? Your tips? Is that like a good thing?” Heeseung asked curiously.

“Well, good for you, bad for me,” he chuckled. “If you think you’re ready, I can show you how to take orders as early as today.”

“Oh yes, I’m ready,” Heeseung said, determined he wanted to know everything so he could perform his absolute best. Ever since he stepped into the building, he wanted to prove himself and be the best worker he could be.

When the customers started coming in, heeseung was a bit nervous in the beginning, but he got over it after the first few customers and took the orders smoothly. Just after one day, he was already proficient in everything, which was kinda scary to Sunghoon but also very good.

“What did you do to him?” You asked Sunghoon as you both watched him working away from the back. He was handling each customer so professionally it took you at least a week to get that comfortable, and here he is doing it all in one day.

“Don’t blame this on me. You’re the one who brought that freak of nature in here.” sunghoon put his hands up in defense, going to make some of the orders heeseung was taking.

“You’re doing great.” you walked up to heeseung when things started to slow down a bit. “And it’s only your first day,” you congratulated him, patting him on his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks.” he was still feeling weird from what happened earlier, and he didn’t feel like talking much right now unless he had to. Whatever this stupid feeling was in his chest, he hoped it’d go away soon so he could focus on work fully.

“Boss will want you at full-time right away,” you smiled.

“Cool,” he forced a laugh as some more customers came through the door.

Odd, you thought, but shook it off. He seemed to be acting different all day, but he was probably a little stressed from taking on so much work in one day. “Here, $1,76 is your change, and your order will be right out.” he smiled politely at the customer as you watched from a distance while cleaning tables.

The customer in said topic was absolutely beautiful; she had long blonde hair, blue eyes, a pretty smile, and perfect skin. To top it all off, she was so polite.

You knew heeseung was just doing his job, but to see him smiling at her so brightly while he barely acknowledged you at all today made your stomach turn.

But you shook that off, too, cause you and heeseung weren’t dating, and you were just being a little irrational at this point.

Heeseung was the same with you throughout the rest of the shift, and even when you guys went home, he wasn’t talkative. He didn’t eat dinner, and he barely managed to mumble out a goodnight before he went to his room and never came back out for the rest of the night, which was especially odd because he always used to want to watch TV with you before bed.

You just sighed, wondering what could be on his mind and making him act so differently towards you, but again, you chalked it up to stress and hoped he’d be feeling better by tomorrow after a good night's rest.

Needless to say, you went to bed in a sour mood, hoping the next morning would be better.

☕️.

Except it wasn’t.

The girl that you had been envious of previously came back the very next day.

Your blood was already boiling the moment she came in, and you had grown tired of her overly affectionate attitude towards him very quickly.

At first, you weren’t too bothered. You thought she was just being polite to him, which was fine, but when she came back and started making small talk with your ma- heeseung, you could barely even hold it together, and what made it all worse was that he still wasn’t acting like himself. He rarely talked to you at all this morning and if he did it was only if he needed help with something.

Yet he was perfectly fine with chatting away with her. Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you? You couldn’t help but wonder.

“If looks could kill, that girl would be six feet under,” Sunghoon chimes as if you needed his two cents right now.

“Whatever.” You tossed the towel over your shoulder, going to the back to wash down some dishes so you wouldn’t have to hear her, but you still did, unfortunately, and what you heard next made you take an early break.

“Here’s my number.��I was thinking we could go out on a date sometime,” she handed him a piece of paper with her number on it.

“O-oh,” heeseung blushed a little. This was the first time he’d ever been asked out before, well, except for you, but that was different, and he didn’t really know what to say or do. “Okay, yeah, sure, we can go out sometime.” he smiles a little awkwardly.

“Great! Bye, cutie,” she waved to him, and he stood there with the biggest smile on his face.

“Bye,” he said softly, and he tucked the number safely into his back pocket.

You took your apron off and slammed it on the back counter before taking a break.

You knew you were overreacting, but you just needed a minute for this to all settle in, but before you could even let your frustrations out. Heeseung was sitting right next to you, and you had to play off your anger and disguise it as being tired. “Hey, y/n, how come you’re taking a break so early?” Heeseung was finally starting to feel a little bit more like himself now that you and Sunghoon weren’t literally joined at the hip. He felt like he could get your attention back on him, at least while on break, that is.

“Just tired,” you reply, completely uninterested in having a conversation right now.

“Ah, I see.” he clears his throat. “I’ll ask you later then.”

“It’s fine, hee,” you tell him, and he goes ahead and continues on.

His heart started to beat quicker hearing the nickname you gave him, but he did his best to compose himself.“So, like, this girl just asked me out.” Oh no, you really wish you hadn’t told him to tell you because this is the last thing you want to hear about right now. “And I’m really nervous about it because I’ve never been asked out on a date before,” he picked at his nails.

So he didn’t think of the other night he spent with you as a date?

Ouch.

But again, you guys weren’t dating, so it really wasn’t a date, even if you really wanted it to be. “That’s great! Heeseung, it’s okay to be nervous on your first date.” You patted his shoulder comfortingly despite feeling a growing ache in your chest.

“I just don’t want to mess it up or make a fool out of myself, you know?” He poured out his worries to you. “Cause, as you know, I have a habit of saying too much sometimes,” he laughs softly.

“You won’t, hee, I promise.” you smile and stand up, not having the physical or mental strength to talk to him about this any longer cause the thought of him with another girl that isn’t you was tearing you apart inside which you know is stupid because you’ve never even made any advances towards him. Still, you just wanted to take things slow, apparently, though that wasn’t the best approach cause someone had gotten to him before you could work up the courage to. “Just be yourself.”

“Just be myself,” he whispered while you were walking away. He took the piece of paper with the number on it out of his pocket and looked at it. “She’s right.” he stayed outside on the back steps, enjoying the last little bit of his break.

☕️.

“Y/n! I’m heading out now. Could you tell me how I look?” You heard heeseung shouting from the living room while you were lying in bed with a headache cause all week, all he did was talk about his stupid date, and all week, you had to pretend that you were happy for him.

“You look good,” you said once you went to the living room and saw him standing there in a very, very attractive outfit.

“O-oh,” he looked down at his outfit, rethinking his choice cause whenever you called him handsome, he felt confident, but since you said he just looked good, he started feeling a little self-conscious about himself. “Just good? Not handsome?” He pouted.

You sighed and walked closer to him. “No, hee, you look handsome as always. Go and enjoy your date, okay?” You corrected his tie, took a little piece of lint off his top, and patted his chest.

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles as he exits the door, feeling warm inside after getting your approval.

☕️.

You were literally seething on your bed, and you couldn’t take it, knowing that the man you liked was out on a date with some girl who probably didn’t even deserve him.

You almost knew for a certainty she only asked him out that day cause of his looks. It’s not like she gave him food and money when he was on the street. Where was she when he was alone and scared? Exactly, absolutely nowhere.

But you were and still are and always will be.

But you knew that was a stupid way of thinking. He doesn’t have to be obligated to like you just cause you willingly took care of him, but still, you wished he felt the same way about you that you felt for him.

As sad as it was, though, you were still happy for him. He’s come so far, and he deserves to be happy after all he’s been through. You just wanted him to be happy even if things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to, even if you weren’t the one that made him happy.

When ten o’clock came, heeseung was thanking his stars because he had the absolute worst time ever. He thought he was gonna have fun like the dinner you took him out on, and it was everything but that. 

He knocked softly on the door, hoping you were still awake at this hour. “Hi, y/n,”

“Hey, hee, did you have fun?” You asked after calming yourself down from all the negative thoughts that you had previously.

“Oh gosh, no, she kept asking me to drink, and I don’t drink. I tried it, though, and it was really bad, and then out of nowhere, she tried to kiss me, and I obviously declined because I wasn’t interested, plus her breath smelled like alcohol, and then she got upset, and we didn’t even get dessert” he pouted. “And she kept asking if I wanted to Netflix and chill. I don’t even know what Netflix is, and to my knowledge, we were already chilling,” he whined, going on and on about the horrors of his date.

Something told you he didn’t have much experience in the dating scene either, and you had to stifle your laugh because he looked so adorable and clueless. After hearing about his date you knew your suspicions about her liking him just for his looks were true, but you still couldn’t believe she was that forward with him, especially drinking on the first date.

“I’m sorry. We have ice cream in the freezer. Are you still up for some dessert?” You suggested hoping to save his terrible night with a sweet treat.

“Yes, please,” he sighed. All he wanted was to change his clothes and spend some time with you after his horrible date. “Y/n, what’s Netflix and chill?” He asked innocently while you both sat at the table and ate ice cream together. This was already ten times better than his date.

Oh, boy, were you in for a ride. Not only did you have to explain to him what Netflix and chill was, but you also had to tell him about why people typically asked other people out on dates and the expressions he made once he realized that were precious but also hilarious.

“Eww, no, No Netflix and chill, just dessert,” he whined. He knows better than to go on a date again, if you could even call it that.

“Okay, just dessert,” you laughed and ruffled his hair, serving him and yourself some more ice cream. You both went to the living room and cozied up on your sofa, watching some TV and enjoying each other’s presence for the rest of the night.

☕️.

You felt bad for liking the fact that heeseung’s date went bad, but you quickly erased those silly thoughts from your head. He was single, and he could be with whoever he liked, and you accepted that, which you’re so glad you did cause, apparently, he was the most wanted man; everyone at the cafe was fawning over him, not just you and Sunghoon but guys and girls too. It was busier than ever after he got hired there. The tips they left for him were insane, not to mention all the numbers he got from women. he just ignored them, though, after that horrible date he went on, he wasn’t up for going on another one anytime soon, besides hanging out with a girl that wasn’t you just didn’t feel right to him anyway. No one made him feel safe and comfortable to be himself like you did.

He was already having a rough day after his failed date last night. On top of all the compliments, small talk, and outward flirting he was getting, it was just a little exhausting, and when he saw you and “Hoon” talking, it just soured his mood even more, that same weird feeling bubbling up in his chest, again. “Y/n, can you help me with the register, please?” He knew darn well he didn’t need any help, but if it stopped you from talking to that guy you called Hoon, then he was more than happy to pretend he needed help. “Thanks, y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he smiles and awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder, attempting to show you some type of affection even though he doesn’t really know how.

You do your best to hide your flustered state and reply. “You’re welcome. I’m always here for you.” You placed your hand over his, which was still lingering on you, sending jolts of electricity through his body, awakening all the little butterflies in his tummy.

Not even five minutes later, after your guy’s little moment, you were in the back with Sunghoon talking again about god knows what while heeseung used every last tactic to split you guys up, but somehow, you always found your way back together again.

“You need some help?” Sunghoon asked heeseung, who was angrily scrubbing away at the dishes after closing.

“No,” he said without even looking at Sunghoon.

Sunghoon smiled a knowing smile. Heeseung was so obvious it was adorable. “I know you like y/n, and I know you think we have something going on, but I’m taken, and y/n and I are just really close friends.” he could see the jealousy just oozing off of heeseung for the whole day the same jealousy that was oozing off you just a week prior.

“What are you on about? I don’t like y/n like that, and if you guys are dating, I don’t care either,” he replied harshly.

“Pretty sure she likes you too, and maybe when you’re not looking like you want to bite my head off, you could ask her out,” Sunghoon jokes.

“She does?” heeseung says excitedly, his eyes lighting up, causing Sunghoon to let out a hearty laugh. “Wait,” heeseung sighs. “I-I'm sorry, I just don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what the heck is happening to me,” he pouts, unknowingly dropping the sponge he was using in the sink, his shoulders soon deflating in defeat.

“You’re jealous you’re in love, and you’re confused about it, and you don’t know it, that’s it.” sunghoon pats heeseung’s shoulders. “But no worries, once you ask her out, it’ll all be fine. Trust me, I was just like you before I got with my girl.”

Heeseung gives him a small smile. “You think she likes me back? It doesn’t seem like it,” heeseung said innocently. His mind couldn’t help but wander back to the time you said kissing him on the cheek was a mistake. Since that day, he just gave up hope that you would like him back altogether.

“She likes you back,” Sunghoon assured him. “She definitely likes you back,” he says, remembering all the jealous glares you were giving to the customers today.

“O-oh, okay,” he blushed. “When should I do it?”

Oh brother, where did you find him? Oh yeah, on the street. “When it feels right,” he gave heeseung a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Now go home with y/n. I’ll finish up here.” he took heeseung’s spot in front of the sink.

“But-“

“It’s alright, just go home,” heeseung thanked him profusely and already thought of a million ways to repay him the next time he saw him.

☕️.

When it feels right.

It always feels right. He thinks he feels right whenever he’s with you. Right now, being on the couch while you sit and watch TV together feels right. “Y/n? Can I ask you a question?” You shift your attention to heeseung, who is already turned towards you, looking at you with a serious expression on his face. 

“Of course.” You turned down the volume on the TV so you could answer his question while giving him your full attention.

“I like you. Do you want to go out on a date with me?” He says softly, eyes showing heavy emotion as he waits for your answer. He’s a little tense and really nervous, but he’s still smiling, that pretty little smile of his.

Your ears must be wrong or something cause there’s no way the Lee Heeseung wanted you to go on a date with him.

Not when he has people lined up quite literally asking him for his number on a daily basis.

But when he stares at you, not saying anything else and waiting patiently for your answer, you realize that he is indeed asking you to go out with him, and he’s one hundred percent serious. “Yes, heeseung, I would love that!” You all but jump on his lap excitedly. “Of course, I want to go on a date with you!”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, hands automatically wrapping around your torso. “Okay,” he breathed the deep breath he was holding for the last minute. “I can’t wait,” he mutters. 

“Me neither,” you whisper, getting lost in his sweet brown eyes.

“Do you want to go now?” He doesn’t want to rush it, but he really wants to spend another day with you, like the one you both celebrated during his employment.

“Sure, hee, we can go now.” You smile at him, unable to contain your excitement.

“Okay!” He returns your smile and goes to his room to get dressed cause, of course, he has to look handsome for you.

Meanwhile, you’re squealing onto the couch, ruffling your hair cause you were about to go insane lee heeseung actually liked you back and wanted to take you out for a date.

When you looked up, Mylo and Myla were staring at you with their eyes wide and ears pulled back from your loud shrieks. “Don’t judge me,” you pointed at them and ran to your room to get dressed and ready for your date with heeseung.

☕️.

After you both stood in the living room for at least five minutes complimenting each other's outfits like broken records, you finally left the house.

It was all fun asking you out, but when it came to the part about actually going out, Heeseung didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know how to drive, so he was already feeling a bit self-conscious when you had to drive. He hadn’t received his first check yet, so he couldn’t even treat you, and now his mood was down. 

You were both having a good conversation, but he got lost in thought, wondering what you’d think about him not being the one taking the initiative. After all, he was taking you on a date, not the other way around. “Hee, are you okay?” You ask when you saw him completely zoned out.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he sighed, fake smiling at you, and he couldn’t help but think after tonight, you’d probably never want to go back out with him ever again. Little did he know you were having the best night of your life. You weren’t thinking about how he didn’t drive you. You weren’t thinking about how he didn’t pay. All you were thinking about was how much fun you were having with him and how lucky you were to be out on a date with the person you liked for what felt like forever.

“No, you’re not. You haven’t even touched your ice cream, and you love ice cream.” You furrow your brows, wondering what changed so suddenly, everything was going fine, and then suddenly it wasn’t.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he apologized out of nowhere, making the situation even more confusing for you. Before you could even ask why, he went on to explain. “I know you’re disappointed with our date, but I just want you to know that when I get my check, I’ll take you out somewhere. I promise I’ll pay for everything, and with all the tips I’ve been getting, I’ve been saving up for a car, and I know I haven’t even paid you back yet, but I swear I will and-“

“Heeseung, what are you even saying?” You ask him in disbelief.

How could he possibly think you were disappointed? You were literally having the best night of your life all thanks to him.

“I’m saying that I’m still just a useless bum, and I’m sorry I can’t give you more.” Your heart breaks when you see his eyes begin to water. The now beautiful date outside on the balcony all of a sudden turned gloomy.

“Hee…” You place your hand over his, and he retracts it, resting his hand on his lap as he looks down. “No,” you whisper and scoot your chair next to his, leaning into his side. “I don’t want more; I just want you.” he looks up, his teary gaze meets yours, and your eyes look so beautiful and sincere that he can’t help but get lost in them. “I don’t care how much you have or how much you don’t have. I just want you.” You cup his cheek, stroking it softly with your thumb. “But if you insist on giving me more than kiss me,” he sucks in a sharp breath and quickly tries to compose himself, which you find adorable like everything else he does. At least a minute passes before he even moves, but you don’t mind cause you’d wait forever for him.

“But-“

“Kiss me, hee, please,” and he does just that. His eyes slowly flutter shut. The last image he remembers is of your beautiful eyes and your soft, puckered lips. As he leans in, placing his lips on yours, his body heats up immediately, and the chills he had gotten from the ice cream prior completely wither away. He lifts his hand, cupping your cheek as well while his warm lips rest against yours, and the kiss is so soft, so sweet, so delicate that he almost feels like he’s going to cry cause he’s never felt anything like it ever and seconds later he does cry a stray tear rolling down his cheek as he reluctantly separates himself from you.

He never said it to anyone, not even his adoptive parents, but for some reason that he can’t pinpoint, the words just come out of his mouth like it was just any ordinary thing to say to someone. “I love you.” When he hears himself, his eyes widen, almost like he was scared of what your reaction would be, and you laugh softly cause he was always such a sweetheart.

Your own eyes get teary while you swipe the tear off his cheek. “I love you too.” his whole body melts, relaxing into your touch as his smile spreads so wide that it reaches you, and you can’t help but smile back as he sniffles softly. 

At that moment, you didn’t have a doubt in the world when you said those words to him. If anything, it felt natural, like a weight had been lifted, and you had finally poured out all your feelings that you kept bottled up for so long, and it felt amazing.

While you were staring at him, he pecked your lips again before pulling away.

No words needed to be spoken. The love reflected in each of your eyes, and as the night continued, it was filled with laughter, longing smiles, and endless shy glances as you took turns feeding each other the now melted ice cream, but somehow, even though it was melted, it tasted sweeter this way.

☕️.

Hand in hand, you both walked to the same little dog park that you and he went to the day he left. You were so glad those days were behind you. You both sat on the bench together, reminiscing about the first day you both met.

“And you remember when you yelled at me at the cafe?” You asked, laughing softly.

“Oh god,” he hides in the crook of your neck, whining about the embarrassing memories. “I’m still so sorry for that.”

“You were like, I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone,” you teased him further. At the time, it wasn’t exactly a laughing matter, but looking back at it now, it was funny, especially to see how far you both come now. 

“I remember,” he sighed. “It was the night before that group of assholes attacked us. You had given me some cash, I went to the convenience store and bought Mylo some food, but before I could pay, I saw that they were messing with Mylo, so I ran outside, and next thing you know, they’re running off, I went back in the store, grabbed my change and left without a second thought and then the next day I had an interview which went horribly by the way, so I take the bus back home, but before that, I went to the cafe and placed my order and when I went to pull out the money I’m short cause that cashier took my change” you listen intently to his story, that was a lot happening in the short time span of a day.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been so hard.” You kissed his cheek, your hand moving to the back of his head to play with his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

“It was baby,” he sighed. “So hard.” The pet name slips out without him even knowing, and it makes your heart beat like ten times faster cause he called you baby. You were literally screaming inside.

“So you tried to get work in the past?” You ask, toying with the little hairs on his nape as his eyes fall shut, enjoying the sensation of your warm fingers on his skin. He could stay like this forever.

“Hmm, many times, and I failed many times. I prefer not to go into detail if you don’t mind,”

“It’s okay, I understand.” You kissed the crown of his head.

“A lot happened in the past nine years, but it was mainly just me finding different alleyways to sleep, going days without food. People judging me for being homeless, which wasn’t fair because they didn’t even know my situation,” he leaned back, sitting up straight, your hand still resting on the back of his head. “I didn’t choose to be homeless. I was forced. What would anyone else do if they were being abused at home? Just sit there and take it, no? So I left, and I never looked back, and even after all the stuff I’ve been through and how bad I’ve been treated just for having less than someone else, it was still better because, in some twisted way, it was better to get hit and yelled at by strangers than your own family you know?” He sniffles, unable to hide his emotions when talking about his past. “Since my real parents turned their backs on me, I turned my back on people, and that’s why when you tried to help me, I assumed you were just like the rest, just giving me money cause you pitied me, and that’s the last thing I wanted cause it made me feel pathetic, made me feel like I was incapable, made me feel weak and useless” he wipes away some of his tears as you rub his back. “But you just wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he laughs, and you smile softly despite the tears you had shed somewhere when he was telling you his story. “That day down that alley, that’s when I knew you were different cause no one had ever gone through that much trouble just for me, and I still think about that day every day. You literally saved me from my old life. You gave me something to look forward to, and you gave me a reason to keep going. It’s funny telling you this now, but the time I left after you took me in, I thought about all our moments together, but one stood out to me the most,” he smiles.

“What’s that?” You say, swiping his cheek where the tears had dried up. 

“I thought to myself about that day when you offered me cream with my coffee.” You furrow your brows, wondering where he was going with this. “Before you, I used to just drink plain black coffee, and after you, I started to drink it with cream.” he held your hand in his thumb, circling the back of it. “And from that moment on, I always said to myself, you were the cream to my coffee. You brightened the dark, bland beverage with light and sweetness, and since that day, I’ve never had black coffee.”

The smile that grew on your face was probably the most genuine, sincere, pure thing heeseung had ever laid his eyes on.

You couldn’t help but hug him so tight, his words hitting every nerve in your body, lighting it up with nothing but pure joy and happiness. You had no idea he thought that highly of you. Sure, you went out of your way to help him, but the fact he said you literally saved him warmed your heart to no end, and if you had the chance, you’d gladly do it all over again. “I love you, coffee,” you confessed, your hands still tightly wrapped around his waist.

“And I love you, cream,” he grins as the sun sets behind you two, bringing this lovely date to its end.

☕️.

“So, did you ask her?” Sunghoon whispers to heeseung while you’re obliviously taking orders.

Heeseung enthusiastically nods his head. “She said yes, and we went out together,” he nearly squeals.

“Ha! I told you!” Sunghoon pinched heeseung on the cheek, making the elder male turn an even brighter shade of red.

“Told what?” You went to the back, where heeseung and Sunghoon looked to be talking and slacking off.

“What? Told who? What happened? I didn’t hear anything. Did you hear anything?” Sunghoon rambles.

“Nope, nothing!” Heeseung practically shouts his reply as you stare at the two in confusion.

“Is that dust? Wow, you know what? I think that’s dust, haha. Let me just squeeze by here.” Sunghoon leaves to go clean the imaginary dust, leaving heeseung all by himself.

“Am I missing something here?” You ask.

“No, nope, nothing at all,” his response is quick as he goes back to washing dishes, and you finished making the orders like nothing ever happened.

“Strange,” you mumbled but shrugged it off, besides heeseung and Sunghoon seemed fine the rest of the day, so you didn’t question it again.

“Hey, y/n, I was thinking if you want, we could go on another date today. You know, if you want, you don’t have to. I’m sure you’re probably tired from work, and I thought it might be nice just to maybe go out and relax, but yeah, you know, actually, never mind because you-“

You quickly cut him off with a soft kiss on his lips. Luckily, most of the customers had cleared out by now, giving you the green light to show affection to your adorable co-worker. “I’d love to.” You walk away from him with a smile while he stands there like a deer in the headlights, softly touching his lips.

“Uhh yeah, okay,” he completely drops what he’s doing and goes from behind the register to clean the tables, even though you were already doing that. 

“Heeseung?” You call to him cause he is literally right next to you, helping you clean the same exact table.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“The register isn’t going to count itself,” you tell him playfully, noticing how ever since you kissed him, he seemed like he was slightly out of it.

“O-oh, okay.” he acknowledged what you said but hadn’t fully processed it yet. “Ohhhhhhhh right, yeah right.” his ears turned bright red, and he scurried on back to the register diligently counting the drawer, and you shook your head softly.

He was impossible.

☕️.

The date was going great. Of course, heeseung loved every last bit of it. He could literally go on a date with you every single day. That’s just how much he loved being with you, except there was a one tiny little problem, nothing major, but he was just so lost in thought. What were you talking about? Well, he doesn’t exactly know. He can’t listen because he’s been thinking about asking you this for weeks now, and when you take a small break from talking, he slips it in. It’s so out of place for anyone else, but it’s perfect for him. “Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” He struggles to make eye contact with you. His eyes are shaking, and his heart is racing, yet he just can’t seem to look away from you, no matter how shy or flustered he gets.

You were talking about work one moment, and the next, your very handsome date is asking you to be his girlfriend. You’re stunned, you’re shocked, flabbergasted, and every other term used for astonishment when he asks you that, and all you can do is smile, which automatically makes him smile and he’s hoping that’s a good sign. 

His eyes gleam with hope, and your eyes gleam with nothing but joy as a few tears well in them. “Yes, heeseung, I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend.��� You nod softly, an even bigger smile gracing his lips now that you’ve said yes.

“Great!” He says, followed by a laugh, getting a bit teary-eyed himself. “Why do we always end up crying when we’re together?” He jokes, his smile turning into a slight frown as he breaks out in tears of happiness. 

You giggle through tears and reach your hand out, intertwining your fingers together with his. 

“My girlfriend,” he whispers, bringing your hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. 

“My boyfriend,” he grins, and he doesn’t think that his life could be any better than being here with you right now. He’d do it all over again just to be sitting here staring into your beautiful eyes, calling you his.

☕️.

The whole way back home, heeseung just couldn’t seem to part from you, and neither could you. He’d hold your hand, or you’d rest your hand on his knee while driving home; even when he got out of the car to get the door for you, he glued his hand to yours again, helping you upstairs to your little apartment.

Normally, after a date, you’d both say your goodnights and get ready for bed, but tonight was different. Once you set the keys down on your little coffee table, he just stood in the living room staring at you, almost like he wanted to say something or do something. The feeling was very much mutual as you walked closer and closer to him, placing your hands on his waist; when he leaned in, that was the only sign you needed to close the distance between the both of you as you captured his lips in a soft kiss. 

He hummed softly, his hands mimicking yours, encircling your waist. After a few seconds, you’d both separate, but this time, the kiss lasted a bit longer than all the previous pecks you had given each other. 

The more you took his breath away, the needier the kiss became. He dragged you closer, pressing your body flush against his. His tongue, messily searching for an opening to push between your lips that were closed but soon opened up for him.

Your teeth clash in the beginning, and the kiss is a bit messy and uncoordinated until you both get the hang of it.

Needless to say, you’re both just as inexperienced as each other. You were too busy with school for boys, and heeseung, as sad as it is, didn’t even have a prospect of any intimacy, but he’s okay with that cause it was worth saving himself all for you. 

“Y/n,” he whispers on your lips, nails digging into your hips as he backs you up to the couch, and you sit down. He climbs on top of you, hands going to cup your cheeks. As he deepens the kiss, your head feels light, your body is warm to the touch, and you don’t know where this is going, but you don’t want it to stop.

He straddles your waist, practically sitting on your lip, his lower body grinding softly. He doesn’t notice this, but you do and place your hands on his hips, guiding his movements as you both kiss like your lives depend on it.

You slip your hands under his shirt, fingers tracing the warm flesh of his waist as he whimpers into your mouth. 

He pulls away for a nanosecond to take a breath before locking his lips together with yours again. “Y/n,” he moans when his bulge brushes against you.

You gasped into his mouth, the new and foreign feeling making your body alight with excitement. You trace your hand down to the front of his jeans. It’s almost automatic how you do it despite not having prior experience, but it just feels right. 

“O-oh,” he moans, pulling away from the kiss and breathing heavily, trying to understand what’s happening to his body.

“Sorry, was that too much?” he shakes his head no immediately.

“No, it just feels so,” he gulped, his eyes falling shut. “Overwhelming,” he laughs slightly, trying to pinpoint exactly what he’s feeling.

“Feels that way for me, too.” You bat your eyelashes, lips glossy and swollen from all the kissing.

“Yeah?” He smiles, nudging his forehead against yours before going in for another quick kiss, and this time, you slip your hand into the band of his pants, touching him over his underwear.

“F-uck” he trembles, body shuddering while you massage his length, and he can’t even kiss you properly anymore. “T-too much.” You take your head out of his pants, muttering another apology. “No, please don’t apologize. It felt so good,” he breathes out. “Too good,” he chuckles softly while stroking your cheek. “I just think that maybe we should wait,” he suggests, and that option sounds good to you cause you’re not sure if you could go all the way with him right now without feeling like your heart was going to explode.

“Yeah, let’s wait.” You cup his face and peck his lips.

“Okay.” there’s no denying that both of you are wet and throbbing with need, but the timing was everything, and you wanted your first time to be something that you both remember as the best time of your lives, not to say it wasn’t but in the needy state you both were in taking it slow might be for the best.

He pecks your lips one last time before climbing off of you. “But if it’s not too much to ask, could we maybe sleep together tonight?” he plays with your fingers, eyeing you while he awaits your answer..

“It’s not too much to ask,” you smile, taking his hand and guiding him to your bathroom so you can both get changed and clean up before bed. Besides, Mylo and Myla had overrun his room, so he didn’t have much choice. It was your bed or the couch, and you were definitely not letting him sleep alone on the couch.

☕️.

“You’re not the only one with a girlfriend.” heeseung was up early in the morning, far earlier than you. He had already taken both dogs out for a walk and made breakfast for you both. “Looks like we both got the girl after all,” he chuckled and poked Mylo on his stomach playfully as he rolled over and wagged his tail. “We made it, boy,” he whispers softly, lying down next to him on the floor. “No more sleeping bags, no more alleys, no more winters all gone,” he cheers, playing with Mylo's floppy ears. “And all the treats you could want.” he opens the bag of treats, feeding him a little more than he probably should, but he deserves it. “Our girls are beautiful, aren’t they?” He giggles. “Most perfect girls in the world.” The whole while he’s going on and on about you and Myla, you secretly watch him from the hallway, your heart feeling full of nothing but love as he plays with Mylo. 

“Morning, hee,” you greet him, and his head snaps in your direction. He jumps up from his spot, hugging you immediately.

“Morning, my love! Mwah,” he kisses your cheek, leading you straight to the kitchen where breakfast is all laid out. “I was waiting for you.” he pulls out a chair, beckoning for you to sit down in front of the many fruits and varieties of food he cooked all by himself.

He sits beside you, practically joined at the hip, but you don’t mind, you loved being close to him. “Thank you, baby.” You kiss his cheek and he blushed. Gosh, he was so adorable.

“Try it!” He says anxiously with a smile, hoping that you liked what he prepared since he didn’t do a lot of cooking, but he tried really hard for you.

You excitedly try the first bite, and your eyes light up immediately. “Hmm, it’s delicious, hee!” You say, going back for another bite. He breathes a sigh of relief and picks up his fork to eat with you.

“Glad you like it, baby,” he kissed your cheek.

You were both eating in silence, enjoying the morning together, until you heard soft whimpering coming from under the table. You looked down to see Myla curling up around your feet. “Oh, my poor baby.” You reach under the table, patting her head softly.

“What’s wrong, girly?” Heeseung leaned down, taking in her state. She looked fine earlier. “Do you think?” You nod softly, already knowing what he’s getting at. “Hmm, should we take her to the vet?” 

“I guess” You leaned up, resting your head on heeseung’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, it’s mylos fault.” heeseung glared over at him, who was peacefully lying down in the living room still.

“Heeseung, it’s fine,” you giggle. “She’ll be fine” 

“Yeah, she will,” he agrees as you both continue with breakfast.

An hour later, heeseung cleaned up the kitchen while you took a shower before work. Mylo was now sleeping next to Myla in their twin bed.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pouted. Heeseung had the day off, but unfortunately, you didn’t, meaning you’d have to be away from him for eight whole hours for the first time.

“Me too, but at least I’ll be able to check on Myla.” he stood up from the couch, back hugging you. “Be safe, okay? And call me on break if you get the chance.” he kissed your neck softly, and you melted into his arms. “Gonna miss you so much, baby,” he whispers, rubbing his hands along your curves. “Think about me, yeah? I’ll for sure be thinking of you.” You’re not sure if he was aware of the way he was making your body feel so early in the morning, but you assume not when you turn around and you’re met with the most innocent smile ever.

“I will, I promise.” his face lights up, and he leans in for a kiss before sitting back down on the couch.

“Bye!” He waved cutely, and you ran back over to the couch, kissing him again before leaving. 

“Bye,” he giggles, chasing your lips again, and if you don’t leave now, you’ll be late.

☕️.

“It’s just you and me, babies.” heeseung had been laid out on the couch for the first two hours while you were gone. He’d check the time every minute and sigh when the time wasn’t going by any faster. He definitely needed a distraction; otherwise, he’d be lying down all day until you got home.

He thought of things he could do, but nothing seemed of any interest if it didn’t involve you, but then it clicked: there was one thing he could do.

He left the couch, going to take a quick shower and then prepping Myla for a trip to the vet. He figured since he was home, he might as well; the sooner she gets checked up on, the better. 

There was a vet not far from your house he remembers cause he used to pass by there every single night without fail. Luckily, it was in decent walking distance. 

Once he arrived, it took at least half an hour for him to get seen, but it was well worth the wait; besides, he was free all day anyway.

“Myla?” One of the workers called, and heeseung quickly jumped to his feet as they guided him to the back. First, they checked her weight and then put her on the table where they’d be doing her check-up. Heeseung listened to everything intently, making sure to take notes of everything she should be eating, and he nearly cried when she got her blood drawn, but other than that, everything went well. She was a healthy and very pregnant dog. He also bought her a different kind of food, one that had everything she needed, and with that, he was on his way back home.

Except where you worked, which was only a few minutes away. “You wanna go say hi to mommy?” He rubbed her chin softly. 

He made the short walk to the cafe, smiling brightly when he saw you behind the counter taking orders.

You were running around like a chicken with your head cut off, and the moment you heard the bell ring, your head snapped up in the direction, and you smiled, the tension in your shoulders deflating the moment you saw heeseung standing at the door.

“Y/n?” Sunghoon calls, and he nearly rolls his eyes when he sees who’s in the direction you’re looking in. “Alright, if you’re gonna stand there and be useless, you might as well take a break,” he jokes, and you turn to him, pushing him by his shoulder. 

“Can I really take a break?” Your eyes gleamed at Sunghoon, and of course, he couldn’t say no to you, not only you but also your boyfriend, who was giving him puppy eyes from across the cafe.

“Yes, but you’re paying for my lunch.” he pushes you out of the way and takes on the register.

“I’ll pay for your lunches for the rest of your life. Thank you, hoon, I owe you so much.” you slip off your apron and go outside with heeseung, sitting on the outdoor chairs. 

“Hi, baby,” he smiles shyly. “I was in the area, so I just thought I’d drop by.” 

“That’s so sweet, and I see you have company.” You cupped Myla's face in your hands.

“Yeah, I had so much free time. I took her in today. Every single second without you feels like hours,” he sighs.

“I’m sorry, hee, only five more hours. What did they say? Is she okay?” You said, slightly worried.

“No worries, she’s fine. We just have to keep a close eye on her and make sure she gets everything she needs,” he quickly assures you.

“Can’t believe it’s almost time for her to have her babies.” You looked down at her, and her belly was really round.

“I know.” he smiles fondly at you both. “I also can’t believe your break is almost up,” he pouts.

“Hee…” you held his hand across the table, your break wasn’t almost over but you supposed thirteen minutes to him probably felt like thirteen seconds, which admittedly it felt like that for you too.

“I know, I know, it’s just I've never really been away from you this long since we kissed, and it’s harder than I thought,” he speaks his mind.

“Yeah, it is pretty hard. I keep accidentally calling Sunghoon by your name, and he’s so over it,” you giggled, causing heeseung to let out a chuckle of his own.

Once his laughter fades out, he stares at you, appreciating every last moment he spends with you. “I love you.” he holds the back of your hands to his lips, eyes falling shut as he presses soft kisses to them.

“I love you too.” Just as his lips parted from your skin, the timer you had set went off. “I’ll see you soon, baby.” You stood up, petting Myla on the head before you went back to work. “See you soon babies.”

Heeseung stood up with you, sending you off with one last hug and kiss.

After you enter the building, he sighs, a bittersweet smile on his face as you turn around and wave to him one last time.

On his way home, he thinks that being without you would definitely take him some time to get used to.

☕️.

You were on your way home, the smile never leaving your face. The closer and closer you got, you took the bus this time so you could get there even quicker.

Heeseung and both the dogs perked up as the sound of keys jingling outside the door caught all their attention. “Mommy’s home!” heeseung rushed to the door. You could barely even see inside your apartment before he engulfed you in a hug. “Thank god you’re home,” he sighs into your hair, missing your scent.

You melt in his arms immediately, all the stress from today leaving your body the instant you feel his welcoming embrace. “Missed you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“So did we,” he parts from you, letting the dogs greet you as you enter and get undressed. “I made dinner for you.” he guided you to the kitchen where the table was set. There were a few candles lit and a vase of flowers right in the middle.

“Hee, you didn’t have to.” you looked up at the set up. It was so amazing. It looked like you were at a restaurant. You never experienced anything like this before, and it was going to make you cry.

“Why? You don’t like? I can change the-" You turn to him, hands wrapping around his shoulders before he can finish whatever his sentence was.

“I don’t just like it. I love it hee; I love you so much.” You kissed him deeply, pressing your lips on his as you stroked his cheek.

“I love you too, y/n,” he whispers as you both separate from each other.

He took out a chair for you to sit on and pulled out his own to be right next to you, just like he did in the morning.

He cut into the steak he cooked, feeding you the first piece. “How’s that taste?” He hopes it tastes good, considering what it took for him to make it.

“It’s amazing, just like you.” You pecked his lips, and with that, you both ate, and he asked you to tell him all about your day. He could listen to you talk for hours.

And he did.

He talked to you throughout dinner and dessert, even while he was prepared a bath for you.

He was currently in the living room waiting for you to come out. The kitchen was already cleaned, and all that was left to do was to patiently wait for you so you both could go to sleep together.

Which wasn’t any longer than fifteen more minutes. “Hi,” you smiled and plopped down next to him on the couch, cuddling up to his side.

“Hi,” he slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Ready for bed?” He asked, stroking your back.

“Hmm, aren’t you showering too?” You asked curiously.

“I took one a little while before you came home,” he pressed in the face in your neck, placing a few gentle kisses there.

“No wonder you smell so good,” you chuckled, his kisses tickling your neck.

“You smell better,” he whispers in your ear, kissing just beneath the lobe, sending a shiver up your spine.

He grabbed your thigh, hoisting you into his lap, his lips never leaving your skin. “Hee,” you moan the moment you feel his tongue running along your skin.

He doesn’t even know what came over him, but he missed you so much today that he needed to feel you everywhere, every square inch he needed to memorize, so next time he was without you, he could imagine you in full detail.

You smelled so good, your skin so warm on his body, and the way you made sounds that he only ever heard come from your lips was all it took to set him off.

His hands were timidly resting on your waist as you moved your head so you could kiss his lips instead. 

The same scenario from a few nights ago, was now unfolding again on the couch. This time, the position was a little different, but the same want and need was there.

You unknowingly started to grind your hips, your core in direct contact with the bulge in his sweats. “Y/n,” he whimpers, his head falling back against the couch as you litter his pretty neck and Adam’s apple in countless kisses.

The grip on your waist was firm, his fingertips needily digging into your skin as he began guiding your movements, pressing you down flush on his growing crotch.

“Hee,” his name mindlessly slips from your tingling lips as you lose yourself and succumb to an undiscovered yet enticing pleasure.

“You feel so good, Angel,” he groans softly. His hips evidently had a mind of theirs as he bucked them up into you, softly grinding against your heat.

“Ahh,” you mewl and hide your face in his chest. You’ve never once made a sound like that before, and you were slightly self-conscious until you heard him let out one quite similar to yours. 

His hands slid up your shirt, cautiously roaming your skin and being drawn to your soft breasts almost on instinct. 

The tank top he was wearing gave you access to kiss and bite at his shoulder as you rubbed yourself on him desperately.

“Seungie.” Hearing you whimpering yet another nickname that you made for him sent his mind into overdrive, the length in his pants growing harder every second.

He rolled your nipples between his fingers, giving you a different kind of pleasure. “I’m here, baby,” he cried out, the heat growing hotter and your breaths getting heavier the longer you rut against each other.

You ran your fingers through his hair desperate to feel his lips on yours once more. You lifted your head off his shoulder to find his soft pink lips. 

The pace of your movements grew more rapid, and almost instantly, you both knew you wouldn’t be able to stop now, too lost in the feeling of each other's bodies. “Yes,” he hissed against your lips, meeting each of your thrusts in perfect sync.

You both pulled away, staring into each other's eyes, panting. Your hair was messy, and you were both out of breath, but your lower bodies never ceased movement until, in the corner of heeseung's eye, he noticed Mylo and Myla sleeping in their dog bed.

You leaned in for another kiss, but he quickly pointed to them. “Oops,” you giggled silently, and heeseung hoisted your legs securely around his waist, his hands on your bottom as he carried you to your bedroom, making sure to shut the door.

The air was still very much tense despite the minor pause. The bulge in his sweats was evident, as well as the wet patch on the crotch of them.

He followed your line of vision, blushing at how wet his pants were due to both your combined arousal. “Sorry,” you whisper awkwardly.

“Don’t be.” he closes the distance, kissing away the awkwardness. Your hand gripped the hem of his black tank top, tugging it upward. “Take it off, baby.” You do just that, and slip it over his head.

It wasn’t the first time you saw him like this, but given the setting you initially saw him shirtless in, thoughts of attraction were the last thing on your mind, but now.

Now, it was so different. Your hands were glued to his body, roaming his soft, freshly washed skin. Everything about him was absolutely perfect.

He blushed as he felt your small, dainty fingers touching him everywhere. “Your turn?” He tilts his head, waiting for your answer, and you nod your head, struggling to pull your hands away from him long enough for him to take your sleep shirt off.

“Yes,” you mutter quietly and his breath hitches in his throat. Just the idea of seeing you topless admittedly made him twitch in his sweats.

Button by button, one by one, he opened your shirt, revealing the most perfect beauty he’d ever laid his eyes on.

You, in your full beauty, no clothing in the way to block the magnificent sight before him.

He gulps, sliding the material off your shoulders, his eyes blown wide as they scan every inch of you. 

Cupping both his hands over your chest, he groans at the softness of your breasts, and you whimper quietly in his mouth as he bends down to kiss you.

One of your hands was back in its rightful place, his left pec, while the other massaged over the tent in his sweatpants.

He moans continuously in your mouth, bucking his hips into your hand over and over again until he feels that he needs your touch skin on skin.

He grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Something wrong?” You breathe against his lips.

“Mm-mm, just,” he mumbles back, guiding your hand inside his underwear so he can feel you touching his flesh. “Perfect.” he whispers and cups your cheek, his other hand still pleasuring your right breast as he deepens the kiss.

Your hand shyly runs along his length. He’s so warm, pulsing to the touch, and the glide of your hand feels so slick as you work him from tip to base.

Your nails rake down his chest, gripping the band of his sweats to pull them down.

He quickly helps you slip them down, kicking them off the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but the boxers you had bought him, but he isn’t half as shy for you to see them as he was in the supermarket. If anything, he wanted you to see and not just the boxers but everything that hid underneath them.

“My turn?” You ask with a giggle, and just like you, he nods, smiling.

“Your turn” he hooks his thumbs inside your shorts, slipping them down your beautiful legs.

He gasped when he was met with your bare body. He wasn’t expecting you to be nude under those shorts, and for a split second, he was just staring at your core glistening in the moonlit bedroom, and you just kept getting more and more beautiful by the second.

“You like what you see?” You say playfully, knocking him out of his daze as he frantically nods his head. 

“So much, you’re so perfect,” the words came out of his mouth in one long drawn-out moan, flustering you to a point you thought was impossible after he had seen undressed. “I need you.” he drew your body as close to his as possible and kissed you while his hands mapped out your body.

“Then have me. I’m all yours.” he guided your hands to the waistband of his boxers, motioning that it was okay for you to take them off. 

Your hands were slightly shaking with nerves and excitement as you peeled down the waistband, revealing all of him and he was

Beautiful.

“Like what you see?” He raises his brow, teasing you the same way you did to him, and somehow, the moment was both equally playful as it was sensual.

You’re so glad you both waited cause right now, everything was perfect, and before it even ended, you knew it was going to be something you’d remember for a lifetime. “You're beautiful, hee.” You kissed his chest, taking in everything. Nothing about him was flawed. Everything was perfect, even the little mole on his ear.

He hid his face in your shoulder and hugged you, strumming the length of your back with his soft fingers as you did the same. “Love you,” he pecks the top of your head.

“I love you too.” Without another word spoken, he took you to the bed, laying you flat and getting under the covers with you resting between your legs in the space you made for him.

He stroked your cheek, his eyes scanning every breathtaking feature on your face.

Your hands wrapped around his torso, pulling him into you as you shared another kiss.

He grunted softly at the contact of your lower bodies rubbing together. The feeling was so intense that it made his heart race in his chest.

You gasped, feeling him firmly pressing himself between your legs, thrusting his hips continuously as his length slipped through your glossy folds.

Only seconds after he climbed on top of you, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to become one with the man you so deeply loved. “Hee, will you be my first?” 

He leans back, his eyes blinking open slowly as his movements come to a stop. “Yes, I will,” he whispers, eyes full of nothing but pure genuine love. “With great honor,” he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. 

“And y/n, will you be mine as well?” His eyes search yours, waiting for what he knows will be a yes answer.

“Yes!” You answer so enthusiastically that it makes him giggle, and he loves you so much that it almost makes him cry.

With one last kiss of approval, you hook your legs around his waist as he rests his arms beside you and angles himself to be perfectly aligned with you.

He pushes his hips forward, slowly sinking into your welcoming warmth, and he sighs in contentment as he feels you opening up just for him. “Y/n,” A gentle moan sneaks past his lips as he slips inside of you with ease with the help of your body's natural lubricants.

“Oh, hee.” You circle his shoulders, your mouth parting open and letting out the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard.

He feels so good. The warmth of your body, the way you hugged him in all the right places, and the nonstop calls of his name let him know you were feeling just as good as he did.

And you absolutely were. You felt so full in your heart, your mind, and your body. He held you so close as he made you one with him.

With every thrust, you professed your love for each other, whether that be with words, loving touches, or sounds of pleasure; you were both so in tune with one another that even at the height of pleasure, you were side by side on the edge of experiencing the greatest euphoria of all.

“You feel so amazing, Seung.” he locked his lips with yours, sealing your words off with a kiss.

“You do too, my angel, my sweet angel.” he twitched within your walls with each of his thrust. The motion was smooth, making it all the more pleasurable as your fluids mixed together and made the sweetest sounds between your conjoined bodies.

Your silky walls fluttered around his throbbing girth, tightening even more with each second that passed.

Both your moans increased in pitch, your breaths becoming erratic, as well as his movements and the constant rubbing of his abdomen against your sensitive nub brought you and him to the brink of bliss. The squeezing of your core sucking him in made him feel lightheaded as he went in and out. The sensation sending both of you the end as you covered one another in the essence of love. “I love you, y/n,” he confessed to you through a messy kiss.

“I love you, heeseung.” The number of times you both shared I love you’s was endless as the pleasure raced through every fiber of your bodies. He thrusts slowly, bringing you both down from cloud 9.

Your bodies were covered in sweat; you could barely breathe. There was a string of saliva connecting you both together, and the amount of sheer love you both felt in the moment was unlike anything either of you have ever experienced. It brought tears to both of your eyes.

He stayed still, hugging your tired body in his strong arms, never ever wanting to let you go.

You both stayed like that for a while, just sharing each other's breath and feeling your heartbeats sync and become one with the other.

He rested on his elbows, looking into your eyes and gripping your hands, clasping them with his cause. No matter what, he still just couldn’t get close enough to you, but when you kissed him, he felt complete. Every part of him was touching you, and every part of you was touching him. “Thank you for being my first, hee,” you speak up first, whispering softly to him in the vulnerable state you were both in. “It was everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

“You’re welcome. I’m so happy I can be that for you. Thank you for letting me be your first, and thank you for being my first,” he rested his forehead on yours, nudging you softly.

“You’re welcome.” The sincerity of your voice makes him melt, and he thinks after this, somehow, he loves you even more. “I love you, coffee,” you smile, stroking the back of his hand with your intertwined fingers.

“I love you, cream.”

F I N

Tap coffee for a surprise ☕️

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hey!!

could i maybe get a roommate fic where carmy’s getting ridden and about to come and has no filter so it slips out that he loves her

Baby, Please.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long. it was only a matter of time.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. carmy’s a bit pathetic at some points in this (you’re welcome)

word count - 2.4k

authors note - ah shit, here we go again. I always end writing carmy as a little bitch in these, sorry lmao (i’m not). but here it is!! a love confession!! will they ever talk about anything, I hear you ask? we’ll see…

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

Carmen automatically smiles when he hears your keys clinking against the lock in the front door.

As soon as he clocks it, he rolls his eyes at himself. You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach when your roommate comes home on a random Thursday evening.

And yet here he is, sitting on the couch, trying to play it cool - as if he hasn’t been waiting for your return for the last hour and a half.

You’re usually back from work before he is, and suddenly he’s grateful for it. He couldn’t do this everyday. Sitting, waiting for you to come home as if you’ve been gone for months rather than nine or so hours. The apartment feels a little bigger, a little colder without you in it. Carmy wonders how he lived here for so long without you.

You swing the door open, kicking off your shoes instantly. Throwing your bag onto the counter, you take in the sight of your home. It’s clean, tidied, more organised than you’ve seen it in a while. Carmy’s been putting the work in while you’ve been gone.

“What happened, Carmen? Are you okay?”

“W-what?”

“Were you stress cleaning?”

He laughs, all full and warm.

“No, babe. Just regular cleaning.”

He rises from the couch, coming over to press a kiss into your cheek before slipping your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it up behind you.

“Carmen, what’s that smell?”

“Tomato and basil slow baked rigatoni. Homemade garlic bread. And then, if you have any room left… my homemade snickerdoodles.”

“Did you… cook for me?”

“Yes I did, baby. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been at work all day.”

It’s all so domestic, so thoughtful, so heartfelt, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You step forward into his space, looping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He grins at you when you pull away.

“What was that for?”

“A thank you,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I really won the roommate lottery, huh?”

“We both did,” he chuckles, covering your face in kisses while you squirm in his arms.

Eventually, he lets you go, but not before raking his eyes up and down your figure very slowly. He takes you in - your work clothes, the way your hair is falling out slightly, your bare feet. As much as you want to let him devour you, you’re starving. A different kind of hunger to his.

“Dinner first. That after.”

“What after?” he plays coy, trying to fight the smirk off his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Berzatto. It’s not a good look on you.”

With that, you leave the kitchen to get changed, laughing as you go.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sink further into Carmy’s side on the couch, trying desperately to pay attention to the vintage sitcom that’s playing on the TV.

All you can focus on are the rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. They keep getting higher, brushing the seam of your pyjama shorts occasionally. Every so often, Carmy leans in to press a kiss onto your temple, into your hair, behind your ear. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could eat that pasta every day for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.”

Carmy laughs, and the sound rumbles through both of you.

“I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You sit up, then, turning in your seat to look him in the eyes.

“Carmen. You cook for me almost every day.”

“Yeah, but… not really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Most of the time when I’m cooking at home, I’m trying a new recipe, or perfecting an old one - for the restaurant. And then we both eat it for dinner. But tonight, I actually picked a recipe I knew you’d love, and made it for you. Because I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as you do it.

“You know I don’t mind either way, right? Whatever you make is always delicious. Except for that weird duck mousse from last week. That was… awful.”

He shoves you playfully, laughing when you topple backwards onto the couch cushions. Climbing onto you, he digs his fingers into your ribs, chuckling as you try to squirm away from him.

“Stop, before I kick you in the stomach or something,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and keep him still.

When that doesn’t work, you resort to dirtier tactics. You roll your hips up into his, watching as his face changes when he realises what you’re doing. The tickling stops, replaced by fingertips gripping your sides in a completely different way.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into your neck as he drops his head down. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Minx.”

“Well you wouldn’t stop, so…”

“You’re usually telling me not to stop, honey. ‘Oh, Carmen, don’t stop baby, don’t stop’…”

You laugh as he mocks you, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You still want me though, huh?”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension thickening in the air. Carmy’s eyes go dark as he looks down at you, gaze raking across your face. You nod in response to his question, chewing at your bottom lip.

“You gonna let me thank you for dinner properly, Berzatto?

Who is he to say no to an offer like that?

You tighten your legs around his waist and pull his hips down to yours, flipping you both over on the couch. You settle with your thighs on either side of his, your weight keeping him anchored down to the cushions.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your gentle fingertips. “Pretty, pretty boy.”

Carmy’s hips buck up into yours at the praise.

“You’re so fucking predictable,” you giggle as he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Love what?”

His voice is all strained and breathy already, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Being my bitch.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but his tightening grip on your waist gives him away. You lean in to press your forehead to his, breathing him in for a moment. Carmy tilts his head up to meet your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you whine.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, melding your lips against his. You let him explore your mouth, winding your hips down into him in a steady motion. You lean back to pull his shirt over his head, yours following suit shortly afterwards and ending up in a pile on the floor.

Carmy kisses his way across your chest, nipping and sucking as he goes. You’re way past the don’t leave marks stage. Neither of you care anymore. You rake your nails down his stomach, smirking when he shudders, goosebumps rising across his skin.

You tip forward to bite at the muscle of Carmy’s neck, licking a stripe up his throat as you go. He tastes like his minty shower gel and cinnamon sugar from the snickerdoodles. It’s the perfect combination to make your mouth water.

He tangles his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, trying to tug them down. You go to stand up to help him, but the whine he lets out stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Carmen, if you want my pants off, you need to let me stand up.”

“You can do it here.”

He pulls you back down into his lap, ignoring your raised eyebrows. You manage to slip your shorts and panties down one leg, rising awkwardly on the other to try and get them off. You kick them to the floor, chuckling as you settle back over Carmy’s hips.

“Happy now?”

“Very happy,” he mumbles, reattaching his lips to your jaw. “The happiest. Got the prettiest girl in the world naked in my lap right now.”

Heat rises across your chest at the compliment, head ducking down to avoid his eyes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tugging down the waistband of Carmy’s sweatpants.

You pull them and his boxers off in one fell swoop, dropping them onto the floor. When you take him in your hand, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, looking up at you through thick lashes.

“Wait, baby.”

You freeze instantly, finally meeting his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. Just need to get you ready first.”

You shake your head, gentle smile on your face. He’s always thinking about you. Selfless boy.

“I am more than ready, Carmen.”

When he looks at you with skepticism in his eyes, you decide to make a point.

You trail your fingers down your stomach, pulling them through your wetness when you reach it. Sliding a digit inside, you rock your hips, throwing your head back. You can both hear how ready you are, and it makes Carmy groan.

“Oh, fuck.”

He’s whispering in awe, careful not to spook you when you’re so clearly in your own little world. You add another finger, and Carmy has to grip your hips as hard as he can to stop himself from flipping you over and having his way with you.

You remove your fingers and shove them straight into Carmy’s mouth, panting as he laves his tongue around them. You both whine in unison. Always so in sync.

“I’m more than ready,” you whisper into his jaw. “Promise.”

“I believe you,” he croaks, wrecked already. “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You line him up, sinking down ever so slowly. You want to feel every inch, every ridge, every movement. You don’t want to miss anything.

You both drop your heads back in bliss, chests heaving against each other. You’re adjusting, while Carmy’s trying to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want it to be over too quickly, but it so easily could be if he isn’t careful. He runs his hands up and down the bare skin of your back, admiring how soft you are.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. “Shit, baby.”

“You feel so good. So big, Carmen. Fuck.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you can’t help but tease, running your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Talk like that. Fuck.”

“Oh,” you laugh in fake realisation. “You like it a little too much, huh?”

He leans his head forward to rest on your chest, gasping when you lift your hips up to drop them back down. It’s all so slick, so easy. It’s like you’re made for each other, made to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

You can’t help but want to push him a little further. He’s always so quietly domineering, so seemingly in control, that you love when he allows himself to fray at the edges slightly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you off.

“So you don’t want me to tell you how you’re filling me up just right? That you’re so big, that you feel so fucking good? That I could sit here for hours? That I’ve never had it like this with anyone?”

Carmy’s hips buck up involuntarily, and you chuckle a little cruelly.

“Baby, please.”

“Okay, Carmen. Okay.”

You press a sugary sweet kiss to his lips before settling your hands on his broad shoulders to give yourself some stability. You set a steady rhythm, winding your hips up and gliding them back down with a clear purpose. Your knees ache, and your hips are being held open a little too wide, but you feel delirious with it, high off the pleasure. It’s good. So good.

“Shit, honey. Fuck. S’good, yeah? So good. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You’ve always found his babbling amusing, but right now there’s nothing funny about the way the sound of his voice pushes you undeniably closer and closer to the edge. You never want him to stop talking.

Carmy moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, rubbing soft but intentional circles onto your clit. It sets your nerves alight, whole body buzzing with anticipation.

You keep your rhythm going, even as it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate. You can feel that Carmy’s close, that he’s sitting on a knife’s edge waiting for you. You realise, suddenly, that you want him to come before you. You want to undo him.

You move one hand to tangle in his hair, while the other settles at his throat. You don’t squeeze too hard, just enough to turn his moans into breathy little ah ah ahs.

“Baby, please. Fuck, so close. So good, honey. You’re so good.”

Your grip tightens in his curls, making him groan. Your hips get faster, and so do his fingers on your clit, the pressure more insistent now.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, don’t stop baby. Fuck, I love this. I love you. Keep going, so close. Atta girl.”

Your brain is too lost in your actions to register his words. Instead, you press your forehead to his, kissing him gently in contrast to the violent slam of your hips. This juxtaposition seems to be Carmy’s undoing, his grip on your hip tightening so much you hope it’ll bruise.

He emits the most gorgeous moan you’ve ever heard when he comes, which sends you straight over the edge. You tighten like a vice, whole body shuddering with it. Your climax seems to last forever, every single one of your nerves fried and frayed.

You both come down slowly, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving. You’re panting into his mouth, smoothing out his hair where your fingers have ruffled it. Carmy’s arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sit like this for a while, completely at peace in each other’s company.

Eventually, after what could have been hours but was probably minutes, you break the silence.

“So we should probably talk about the I love you, huh?”

@jazminsjaz @buendiabebeta @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[chocum]

COMING DOWN !

— bunched up, sweet little whimpers, he always gets so sensitive under your touch feat. choso kamo

WARNINGS. femreader (she/her) x goodguy!cho :3 mentions of violence/death, sub cho, dom reader, overstimulation, begging, blowjob, premature ejaculation ;( crying + 1.2k wc note. i’m so insane abt choso it’s actually scary, he’s all i think about. tysm for all the support on my first post. love u all! feedback + reblogs are appreciated! also art by @/swag_yay on x. ty again & enjoyyy ᡣ𐭩

choso hated missions with a passion that pierced his very soul.

his cursed energy manipulation and combat skills are unrivaled, making him crucial to a mission’s success, but the relentless nature of them drained him beyond words— both mentally and physically.

they feel so repetitive: eliminate curses, protect civilians, prevent damage. eliminate curses, eliminate curses, eliminate.

he has always been driven by a deep desire to protect everyone he could, especially those who were unable to do so themselves, but the constant cycle of violence and death confused him—wrestling with self-doubt, doing mental gymnastics, trying to justify his actions. the cognitive strain became a heavy burden that compounded during missions, further exhausting him like heavy buckets of water dousing an already flickering flame.

and after meeting you — his sweet, sweet girl — his hatred for missions only grew.

the ache of missing you constantly gnawed at him. your homey scent. your taste still fresh on his tongue, preventing him from concentrating because, in his mind, he’s still tangled in your sheets, stealing sweet kisses that linger on his lips long after they’ve left yours.

when out scouting, he would catch glimpses of couples hand in hand in the streets sporting deep smiles, making his stomach twist— his brows pinching together, deepening the ridge between them.

his sole solace was the thought of returning home to his pretty girl once everything was over— it pushes him to keep going, to keep fighting, even avoiding shoko because he preferred your clumsy little hands to patch him up.

finally done with his latest three-week mission — a seeming eternity away from you — he was being driven to your place, to you, home.

head lolling back against the car seat, he spreads his legs wider, rolling his hips to adjust himself, before sinking, letting the leather seat swallow him whole. he tilts his head to the side, deep purple irises flickering, to watch the familiar scenery— large leafy trees crowding the darkening highway under evening skies.

after he waved his goodbyes, giving thanks to his driver, he stumbled up to the door, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the keys underneath the dim light of the porch. on the other side, the distinct sound of the lock clicking open causes you to bolt up, rushing to greet him.

he pushes it open and there you are. looking up at him with that big smile he adores so much lighting your face— pretty eyes sparkling with relief. you squeal and fling your arms around him without hesitation and he does the same, burying his face into the side of your neck, feeling your hair brush against him, inhaling deeply.

you always smelled so good— a blend of your natural scent and hints of vanilla from your body wash. he’s been craving that scent for so long, growing dizzy now that it finally embraces him, his body falling limp, so weak in your smaller arms.

you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, fingers gently tracing the smooth lines on his face— lines that seemed deeper since you’d last seen him.

“i missed you so much” you hummed faintly as he cupped your face, nuzzling your warm cheeks against his rough hands.

“i missed you so much more”

he leaned down to find your lips. they felt so much softer than he remembered. kissing you deeply, his calloused hand cradling the back of your neck, drawing you closer into the warmth of his embrace.

and when you moan against him— oh, it sounds so sweet, the blood rushing to his cock so quickly. next thing he knows, he’s rutting against your thigh, pressing against you so, so desperately, almost mounting you.

“what’s wrong cho?” a soft whine escapes him at the sudden loss of contact, “tell me, baby, use your words”

“i’m sorry,” he breathes, a pretty blush crawling up his neck, “just missed you so much— got excited”

“i know, my pretty boy, but ‘m here now, okay? let me take care of you. i know you missed it.” you take his hand, drawing him to your room as he follows obediently, shutting the door behind him, “did you touch yourself without me?”

he shakes his head, his fluffy hair cascading down to rest on his shoulders. “you .. you told me not no”

“good boy”

you push against his shoulders, gently guiding him to sit on the bed, his breath hitching so sweetly watching you lift yourself to straddle his waist. connecting your lips once more, hips grinding against him so slowly— rocking back and forth. his mouth now tinted pink and tenderly swollen from your ardent kisses, you move down to his neck planting a trail of light ones along the sensitive skin, each touch eliciting subtle little quivers and soft exhales. his fists bunch up the sheets, he—

“sorrysorrysorry” he babbles breathlessly— endlessly, his pants turning damp, material darkening as his cock twitches and pulses so cutely, cum drooling out his sensitive slit, “just feel so good against me. been so long. couldn’t even touch myself when you sent those pictures. it’s so sensitive”

“shhhh ‘s okay, cho.” a finger pressed against his pout— pushing its way in for him to suckle on warmly before you slide down to your knees. trailing your hands down his thighs, tugging on the hem of his pants, “i’ll clean you up”

he’s still so hard— his tip blushing, crying white cream, and when you take him in your hands, his hips jerk up for you— body still coming down from his high and you’re already taking him in your mouth, cruelly, licking fat stripes up his twitchy length.

“fuck ‘s too much baby, i just- wai, wait, please.” he’s pawing at you, pushing against your head, but he sounds too cute, crying and whimpering around you for you to stop— looks too cute with the prettiest pink blush shrouding his body from the tips of his heated ears to his curled toes.

you gargle and gag around his cock— exaggerating the sounds because you know it drives him insane. he loves when you get so nasty and messy for him, foamy spit bubbling around where his cock plugs your mouth up. your hands move to cup his warm balls, caressing and squeezing gently, coaxing him to cum for you again.

“ah f- baby, i’m so fucking— please. wanna cum for— you. gonna be so good, gonna—”

he cums salty, thick stripes straight down your warm throat with a whine so pretty you wish it was recorded so you could play it over and over and over.

and he’s crying— it’s too much, feels too good — sweetly hiccuping, sniffing as he hides his face behind his hands. such a pretty boy. he’s growing limp in your mouth and you pull off with a whine before kissing up his shaky legs.

“did so good for me, cho, missed having you like this” lightly moving his hands to pet at his damp cheeks, watching keenly how he leans into your touch, wiping pretty doll-like tears with your thumbs.

knowing that he has you to take such good care of him once he’s home will forever ease his mind while he’s away, a comforting thought that lingers like a soft embrace, even in your absence.

[sugarcoated-lame]

Sometimes A Bride | Jake Seresin x Reader

18+ only, minors DNI

Jake Seresin x female Bradshaw!reader

part two of Always A Bridesmaid

Synopsis: You’re having some pre-wedding jitters and there’s only one person you know can help calm you down.

or

You and Jake sneak off for a quickie before the two of you say ‘I do.’

WC: 11.5k (another long one oops)

warnings: a smidgen of angst?, anxiety, mentions of alcohol, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, slight overstimulation, i think jake calling reader a good girl deserves a warning, unspecified age gap (reader is in around mid-late 20s, jake is in early-mid 30s), once again jake being too damn charming for his own good, tonssss of disgustingly sweet tooth-rotting fluff, really sweet fluffy moments with big bro bradley, natasha being the best sister-in-law and maid of honor, jake still being an absolute menace, i'm literally the worst at coming up with titles for my fics, moodboard is not any indication of reader’s appearance

a/n: The very long-awaited (I’m sorry 🤍) sequel to Always a Bridesmaid. Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck around and shown the first part so much love and support, and waited so patiently for this story! I love y’all 

beautiful dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

〰・♡・〰 reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated! 〰・♡・〰

You love weddings. 

It's a fact you try to remind yourself of as you take a deep breath, taking in your reflection in the vast vanity mirror.

Hair styled to pristine perfection, professionally done makeup better than anything you’d ever be capable of doing yourself, in a gorgeous white dress that fits just right and makes you feel more beautiful than ever.  

You love weddings. You love the fancy clothes, all the chatter and the sweet scent of champagne flowing through the air at the reception, the contagious laughter and dancing.

But, most of all, you love getting to watch two people profess their love for each other and promise themselves to one another for the rest of their lives through beaming smiles and tears of joy. 

It’s been a little over three years since Bradley and Natasha said ‘I do’, and after meeting the love of your life at your big brother’s wedding, how could you not love them? 

Three years since that fateful night that you met Jake and both of your lives were changed forever, and the two of you have been pretty much inseparable ever since. Well, nearly ever since.

Initially, both you and Jake were scared by just how much you liked one another. 

After spending the night together at your brother’s wedding — and the morning after — you had feared that it was just that rose-colored haze of love in the air that comes along with weddings, and you wondered if that magical pixie dust was going to wear off eventually — and take your feelings with it. 

But it never did. 

Even at the beginning, back when Jake had tried to push down his feelings for you and said he couldn’t offer much more than no strings attached fun, ‘because I’m going to be away on deployments and dangerous missions all the time, and because you’re Bradshaw’s little sister.’ 

Because he ‘didn’t have time for anything serious’ – but really, because he was afraid of just how strongly he felt for you – even then, you were so drawn to him and Jake couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed spending time with you.

How he thought about you and that amazing night you’d spent together nearly every second of every day. 

From the moment he’d wake up in his boring, lonely apartment, to the hours spent in briefings or flying dangerous maneuvers in his F18, to the moment he’d go to sleep alone every night in his bed that all of a sudden seemed too big. 

And, what scared Jake the most was that it wasn’t just the sex – though, that was definitely a great part of it – that he yearned for. It was just you. 

You, with your bright eyes and your radiant smile, your melodic laugh and effervescent personality. You had quickly wormed your way into his heart and lit him up from the inside out. 

He no longer found himself wanting the mundane and meaningless hook-ups or one night stands that places like the Hard Deck had to offer, which had become routine for him since his time as a young pilot at Top Gun. 

You brought Jake’s world from dull grayscale to vibrant technicolor and he found that he just always wanted you around. 

He’d never felt that way about anyone before, and it terrified him.

You’d never wanted anyone so bad, and you were fearful that it wasn’t going to last. 

But, try as you might, the two of you just couldn’t seem to stay away from each other for long. 

Once Jake got his head out of his ass and he took you out on a few proper dates – which, naturally, ended in you fucking each other’s brains out a few more times – you both agreed to try to take things slow, because your feelings for each other were real and neither one of you wanted to mess things up. 

However, you quickly learned that there was no such thing as slow when it comes to you and Jake. Before you knew it, things between the two of you had become pretty serious, and you realized – much to your brother Bradley’s dismay, that the two of you share a very real connection. 

Through all of the ups and downs — triumphs and hardships, happy times and tears, the silly fights and even sillier make-ups that these past three years have brought the two of you. 

From going mad missing each other when Jake is away on deployments, up until his recent request for a more permanent position at Top Gun so he can be closer to home – closer to you –  you and Jake have stuck together through it all like super glue.

Three years of unconditional love and support, of growing and becoming better together, loving and living life with your best friend.

You’ve never been quite sure if you believe in the concept of soulmates, but if they do exist, you’re positive that Jake is yours.

And, you love weddings… so why are you currently freaking the fuck out, today of all days? Oh, right… because it’s your wedding day. 

You’re pretty sure that your vision is beginning to blur, your body growing a little dizzy as you watch the constant stream of people flitting all around you through the glass of the large vanity mirror.

Your bridesmaids chatter excitedly as they too work to finish getting ready, sipping from mimosas as they make their way into their dresses while Natasha – the best sister-in-law and best maid of honor you could ever ask for – helps to keep everyone focused and on schedule. 

She paces the room with her phone in hand, probably texting Bradley to make sure things are running smoothly in the groomsmens’ suite as well. 

There are at least three people at any given moment hovering around you like bees, fussing over your hair, doing last minute touch-ups on your makeup, and making sure there’s not a wrinkle in sight on the beautiful wedding gown of your dreams that you’re oh-so nervous for Jake to finally see. 

Not nervous because you’re worried he won’t like it – he’s told you plenty of times that he’d be more than happy to marry you if you were wearing a trash bag – but because this is your big day, the beginning of the rest of your lives together and you just want it to be perfect. 

After all the months of painstaking planning – from centerpieces to seating charts, the choosing the color of the napkins to the dinner menu and countless trials of cake flavors. From finding the perfect venue, to the best floral arrangements, and of course the dream wedding dress. 

After being so hyper-focused on this day for months, now that that day is actually here, you just need everything to be perfect.

Not even the two and a half mimosa’s you’ve had this morning have been enough to quell the stress currently coursing through your veins, and the buzz of the busy bridal suite is beginning to make your head spin. 

Between all of the running around you’ve done since waking up — way too early — this morning, the little bit of alcohol and all the commotion going on around you now, your face feels too hot, a tiny sheen of sweat beginning to shine through your makeup.

You can’t help but wonder if Jake is feeling this flustered right now too. Probably not, the man is cool and calm about just about everything; it’s one of the things you love about him.

As the makeup artist powders your nose for the fifth time in ten minutes in an attempt to tamper down the shine, you feel your resolve beginning to crack. You try to take in a deep breath to shake the nerves, but feel as though there’s not enough air in the room to fill your lungs and you find yourself feeling like you need to escape. 

As if she can sense your distress from all the way across the room, Natasha — ever the dutiful maid of honor — materializes behind you with a comforting hand on your shoulder, politely excusing the makeup artist and everyone else that’s currently milling around you, before meeting your gaze through the mirror with a gentle smile. 

Though, you know your sister-in-law too well and you can see the concern in her brown eyes.

“You okay?” When Natasha gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, you close your eyes and heave out a deep sigh, grateful for a moment of calm. 

It’s in the same moment that you open your eyes and give her a nod and an unconvincing smile that there’s a knock on the bridal suite door just behind you, and you turn your head to find Bradley opening it a crack and peeking his head in. 

“Everyone decent?” Your older brother asks, meeting your eyes with a soft look and you swear you could cry.

Through all her running around to help make sure that your day is perfect, you’d seen Natasha on her phone and you figure that, always knowing just what you need, she must have texted Bradley – and that’s exactly what she did. 

Natasha had let her husband know that his sister was feeling some pre-wedding jitters and could use some reassurance that she knew you could only get from your big brother, and he immediately made his way from the groomsmens’ suite to come to your aid.

“Yeah, come on in!” Natasha calls out with one last squeeze to your shoulder before meeting Bradley at the door and greeting him with a quick kiss on his cheek.

She gently pushes him towards where you stand in front of the large mirror smoothing your hands over an invisible wrinkle on the flowy white skirt of your dress, before ushering the rest of your bridesmaids and everyone else to the other side of the large suite to put their finishing touches on their looks and give the two of you some privacy. 

You turn around to face Bradley, standing there in a classic black suit with a bow tie, and you could swear your brother gets a little misty-eyed as he takes in the sight of you in your lavish white dress, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mustached lips when he asks, “You okay, sis?”

You think about lying for a second and telling him that you’re just fine, but this is Bradley -– your big brother and self-appointed protector for all your life, even when you don’t always want or need him to be, and you know that he’d be able to see right through you.

Blowing out a small sigh, you carefully take a seat on the plush couch that sits in the nearest corner, making sure to arrange all the layers of fabric that surround your lower half in a way that they won’t become too wrinkled.

“Honestly… I’m kind of freaking out.” You tell your brother as he joins you on the sofa. Your voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough that he’s able to hear due to his close proximity.

You’re looking down at where you nervously wring your hands in your lap when Bradley speaks. 

“Why? You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His words are matter-of-fact, but his voice is soft in that comforting, brotherly tone that’s only reserved for you.

“I- I don’t know.” You tell him with a light shake of your head. “I guess I’m just nervous?” 

The words come out as a question and your gaze lifts to meet Bradley’s before you continue on.

“You know, it’s such a big, important day that I’ve spent so long dreaming of and planning for and– that I’m going to remember for the rest of my life and I just…” your voice trails off as you realize you’re rambling, stopping to take a breath before you continue. 

 “I just love Jake so much and I… I just want everything to be perfect.”

Bradley takes in your frazzled expression, nodding in understanding. “You’re right, it is a big deal, and it’s totally normal to have some nerves.” 

The pensive look on his face shifts to one of what looks like amusement as he glances across the room to where his wife is chatting away with the rest of your bridesmaids, before leaning closer to whisper conspiratorially. 

“I was scared shitless when I married Nat.” 

Your eyes widen at Bradley’s confession, a small puff of laughter escaping your lips as you question him, “What? Really?”

“Yeah,” Your brother’s smile grows at the sight of your own, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “But, then I remembered that I was marrying my best friend and all of those nerves just sort of melted away.”

“Which is why you should believe me when I tell you–” Bradley reaches over to take your hands in his, his brown gaze warm as he speaks earnestly.

“It’s going to be perfect no matter what happens, because you and Jake will be together.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up a bit at your older brother’s reassurance. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Bradley gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “In fact, I know so.”

“Because, I have never seen you happier than you have been these past few years since you’ve been with Jake.” That small smile never leaves his lips as he continues talking and your heart nearly melts in your chest at the sincerity of your big brother’s words. 

“It’s clear that the two of you love each other very much.”

You have to admit it’s a bit of a shock to hear those words from Bradley of all people – sure, things have gotten a lot better between your brother and your fiance over the years, but you’d still consider them frenemies at the best of times. 

You realize that you haven’t said anything in response, being too stunned to speak, when Bradley continues on with a knowing smirk on his face as he takes in your dumbfounded expression.

“Trust me, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the idea of you dating Jake in the beginning, but I see how much he cares about you. Above anything else.” 

You nod your head in agreement, but not without a laugh and a playful roll of your eyes. With your brother’s reassurance that everything would be okay so long as you and Jake are together, and the reminder of just how much your husband-to-be loves you, now you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face if you tried. “Yeah, he does.” 

Bradley takes in the lovesick smile on your face and tilts his head, raising a brow in question. “We feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” Feeling much more calm now, it’s your turn to squeeze Bradley’s hands, nodding happily at him before releasing them. “A lot better. Thank you.”

“Good.” Bradley stands, offering his hands to pull you up off the sofa as well, before pulling you into a hug. 

With a quiet instruction to ‘call me if you need me’, your brother releases you from his arms, venturing over to Natasha to place a small peck to his wife’s lips before making his way out the door and back to the groomsmens’ suite.

You really do feel a whole lot better, but all this talk about your fiancé and his love for you, and how truly, utterly happy he makes you, has you missing him. Yearning to be with him in this very moment, and you realize that the only thing that would really put your mind at ease is right now Jake himself. 

Jake’s head perks up as the door to the groomsmen’s suite opens for the second time in about fifteen minutes to reveal Bradley, adorning a tux matching that of all the other groomsmen. 

It’s still crazy for him to think about the fact that your brother, who was so adamant about you not seeing Jake all those years ago, would be one of the groomsmen at his and your wedding. 

“Where’d you disappear to, Rooster?” A relaxed smirk lifts up the corner of Jake’s lips as he fixes his tie in the mirror.  

“Just went to check on the bride-to-be.” Jake’s smile softens just a bit at the mention of you.

“You know, I never thought the two of you would last this long, so I had to check and see if my sister was ready to back out yet.” 

Bradley drops down onto the sofa next to Bob and Coyote, who are quietly snickering at his teasing of the groom. 

“Oh, ha-ha.” Jake’s smirk grows devilish at the joke, turning his sights on the mustached man ready to tease him right back. “Face it, Bradshaw. We’re gonna be brothers real soon.” 

Bradley only rolls his eyes goodnaturedly at his soon to be brother-in-law, a fact that Jake has made a point to remind him of, all the time, since the two of you got engaged a little over a year ago. 

“How is she, though?” Jake asks, and Bradley can hear the sincerity creeping into the blonde’s tone. 

“She’s good. Was just dealing with the usual pre-wedding nerves, but it’s all good now.” Bradley tells him honestly. 

Jake only nods in response, already retreating into his head, into his worry for you, causing your brother to speak up again.

“Jake, I promise, everything’s good.” Bradley reassures him with a small smile.

“Yeah… good.” Jake nods once more, making an attempt to paint the best smile he possibly can on his lips.

He’s not worried because he thinks that you might not want this, or him – he knows without a shadow of doubt just how vast your love for him is – but, because he knows how you get when you put your heart into something and that you’ll drive yourself crazy trying to get everything perfect.

Jake’s seen firsthand just how painstakingly you’ve worked to plan this wedding, all the months spent making sure that every little detail is just right. 

He knows that all of that time and stress, culminating to this one day, is likely weighing on your mind now that the day has finally come. 

And in this moment, Jake wants nothing more than to just be able to see you – to hold you and comfort you and let you know that everything is going to be just fine.

He knows the old superstition that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the ceremony, but…

“Fuck it.”

The two words escape under Jake’s breath just before he’s shrugging on the jacket to his tux and quickly making his way to the door. 

“Where are you going, man?” Javy questions his best friend, drawing the attention of the rest of the Daggers — sans Phoenix who’s with you getting ready in the bridal suite — toward where Jake stands in the now open doorway, one hand on the knob and one foot already out in the hall. 

“Just gotta check something with the wedding planner. Be right back.” 

It’s not a total lie. Sure, you had forgone hiring a wedding planner and chose to do everything yourself — with the help of Natasha and Penny of course -— but that technically made you the wedding planner. The guys don’t have to know that.

Jake traverses the winding halls of the venue, the anticipation of seeing you building up as he walks briskly in his dress shoes until he finds a door with a paper sign that reads, ‘Bridal Suite’ in loopy, cursive lettering.

Taking a breath, he knocks on the door, and he’s lucky to find that a moment later, it’s you who answers.

“What-” Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re hardly able to get a word out as one of Jake’s hands grasps yours, swiftly pulling you out of the door and into the hallway with him. 

You don’t get a chance to finish your question, because within seconds your fiancé is practically sprinting down the long hallway, pulling you along with him with his large hand wrapped around your smaller one. 

You can't help but giggle at Jake’s antics as the two of you run through the halls, watching his free hand reach for a few knobs along the way only to find them locked, finally stopping when he finds a door that seems to be open. 

He quickly peers into the room just to make sure that it’s empty before gently pulling you into the dark space, lit only by the natural light that shines in through the windows, and closing the door. 

You're still laughing breathlessly when you find your words again, Jake’s own breathy chuckle mixing with yours in the quiet of the room.

“Wha— Jake? What are you doing, you’re not supposed to see me in my dress before the ceremony!”

“Screw that, my girl needed me.” His warm hand is still in yours, his free hand moving to clasp your other one. That emerald gaze that you’ve come to know so well bores into you as he smiles down at you lovingly.

Your eyes lift to meet Jake’s and it’s like any and all nerves just melt away.

You always feel safe when Jake is near and just the sight of him now, being in his presence, has a toothy grin making its way onto your face.

Another giggle escapes you, trailing off into a content sigh as you look up at the gorgeous man in front of you.

The two of you just gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and with a light shake of your head, your grin becomes coy. 

“Hi.” You find yourself whispering into the quiet of the room.

Jake lets out a chuckle, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling up in the way that you love when smiles at you. “Hi.”

Without letting go of your hands, Jake takes a step back to really take you in for the first time since breaking you out of the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. 

Finally getting a good look at you in your wedding dress that beautifully accentuates the shape of your body, your makeup done to perfection — though Jake doesn’t think you ever need it — and hair styled prettily but still flowing and free just the way he likes, renders your soon-to-be husband practically speechless. 

All he can say is, “Wow…”

You can hear the pure awe in that one word and can’t help but smile bashfully, heat rising in your cheeks. Jake’s compliments still manage to make you flustered, even after all this time. 

“Wow, yourself.” Your gaze sweeps up and down the length of his body, taking in the crisp black tuxedo and matching bow tie, and the white dress shirt underneath. Appreciating the way it fits him just right, how you’re still able to tell just how toned his body is even under the layers of clothing.

Jake’s hands tenderly squeeze your own, pulling you a little bit closer once again as his eyes search out your own. “You doing okay, honey?”

And though you were definitely feeling anxious before, you couldn’t be more content than you are now when it’s just the two of you, standing here holding hands with the love of your life.

“Yes,” You nod gently. “I’m just a little nervous.”

You look down at your joined hands before quietly continuing. “I just want this day to be perfect.”

“Hey,” Jake lightly swings your joined hands to get you to look up at him again, and when you do, you see that he’s still wearing that confident smile. “It’s going to be perfect because it’s all coming from you. And everything you do is perfect in my eyes.”

You have to bite back your giggle at his sentiment, in disbelief that this sweet man is soon going to be your husband.

“It’s going to be perfect because it’s us. Together.” You correct him with a playful grin. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jake’s hands leave yours, wrapping warmly around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug. Nestled in his embrace, your own arms wrap around his middle, your head moving to lean on his chest, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne as he leans his head on top of yours. “Together.”

The two of you stand like that for a few moments, wrapped snugly in each other’s warmth, Jake beginning to sway you just lightly as you breathe each other in.

It’s with your cheek pressed against his pec that you finally take a look around the room the two of you are standing in, realizing that it’s another suite similar to the one you had been getting ready in earlier.

“You know,” You lift your head from Jake’s chest to look up at him as you speak, a playful tone filling your words. “This feels oddly familiar to the night we met.”

“Sneaking off to a dark, empty room,” You continue with a growing smirk, arms unlatching from around Jake’s waist and pulling back just a touch, his own arms falling from around your shoulders. “Just the two of us.”

Your hands slide gently up Jake’s torso over the fabric of his suit jacket, up past his broad shoulders to rest at the back of his neck. 

Jake’s gaze leaves you for just a moment to glance at the space around you. An airy laugh leaving his lips as his hands reach for your hips over the soft fabric of your dress to pull you a little bit closer, his green eyes falling back onto you. 

Faces just inches away from one another, the two of you share matching silly grins as you think back to the night of your brother’s wedding. A look of pure love and adoration passing between your eyes and his as you both absorb the fact that you’re here, three years later, at your own wedding. 

“Yeah, we’re just missing the champagne.” 

Jake softly brushes his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he leans in to connect his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. 

Tasting the remnants of the sweet mimosa on your lips, he hums against them before pulling back just slightly. “But it seems like you’ve already got that covered, Sweets.” 

The familiar nickname paints his favorite smile on your lips that has Jake diving back in for another kiss, this one deeper as his tongue dips into your mouth to taste the lingering sweetness of champagne and orange juice on your tongue.

His large hands pull you in closer by the waist as your fingers find the short blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, a groan falling from Jake’s mouth and into yours as your fingernails gently scrape along his scalp.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your body still responds to his touch after all this time; your knees going weak, and you’re practically melting into him as you feel wetness begin to pool in the skimpy, lacy white panties of your bridal lingerie that you’ve been dying to show Jake since you picked it all out a few months earlier.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated, lips slotting feverishly together as though one can only find much-needed oxygen within the other’s mouth, tongues swirling in a well-known dance and relishing in the familiar taste of one another. 

Jake’s hands are all over you, pulling your body flush against his as he sucks your bottom lip between the both of his. Your skin feels hot from his touch even through the fabric of your dress, and the realization of his quickly hardening length pressing against your hip has you mewling against him.

Jake pulls back from the kiss, his gaze still hungry, but you also catch the mirth in his eyes as he chuckles at his bride-to-be.

“Always so needy for me.” He slowly shakes his head with that classic, cocky Jake Seresin smirk that still makes you weak in the knees. 

“Me?!” You scoff, eyes wide as you look up at him incredulously, though you’re fighting back a smile because you know he’s right. 

“Well, I’d say someone is also pretty needy.” 

Your hand leaves the back of his neck to travel between your bodies to prove your point, reaching down to palm at his hard length through the fabric of his dress pants. Your brows raise in a playfully vindicated look that screams ‘I told you so’, as Jake lets out a groan at your touch. 

“Yeah, o-okay.” Jake’s chuckle is breathless this time as you cup your hand around him a little more firmly, grinning up at him and batting your lashes. “Always needy for you too, Sweets.” 

His hand wraps around your own to remove it from his bulge, already missing the friction as he brings your knuckles up to his lips in a sweet kiss before letting it go.

Before you even know what’s happening, both of Jake’s hands are reaching down to grip your thighs through all the layers of lace and tulle, a squeak emitting from your throat as he sweeps you off your feet and carries you over the nearest wall. 

“Jake! What are you-” Your arms circle around his shoulders, legs parting of their own volition to make room for him between them. Bracketing his hips as your back lightly hits the wall, the fabric of your dress all bunched between the two of you exposing your calves as he holds you in his strong grasp.

Large palms wrapped around the underside of your thighs, his weight pressed against your front and the wall at your back keep you upright as you giggle in your soon-to-be husband’s arms. 

Jake is beaming back at you, the adoration in his green eyes clear as they crinkle up due to his grin. 

“I love you, so much.” He lifts a hand up to your face, the backs of his fingers caressing along the soft skin of your cheek and Jake shakes his head as if he can’t believe that this is real, that you’re real. 

He leans in to press a soft, but dizzying kiss to your lips before murmuring against them, “I wanna show you how much.”

A part of you feels like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice, at just how well Jake loves you and how he’s never shy to make it known. 

But mostly, you just feel the white-hot pooling of arousal growing in your belly, your eyes glazing over with a look of both love and lust as you gaze back at him.

“Yeah?” You nod up at him in a daze, biting back a grin as you take in the hunger in those pretty green eyes. 

“Yeah.” He places a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes you whimper and you can feel his smile against your skin. “Let me show you.” 

You nod your head again, mind in a haze of want at the feel of his warm breath on your skin, your hands squeezing at Jake’s broad shoulders. 

Feeling the velvety-soft fabric of his black suit jacket beneath your fingers, it’s only then that you’re shaken out of your stupor and you remember where you are – what today is.  

“Wait-wait, Jake, we can’t!” Your fingers continue to absentmindedly play with the fabric covering his shoulder. We’re supposed to be getting married like… now.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the predicament you’ve found yourselves in, though it’s very unsurprising for you and Jake. 

Jake’s laugh mingles with your own as you begin to lightly shake your head, and you feel his strong shoulders shrug beneath your grasp as you watch his lips quirk up into a mischievous grin. 

“All our guests–” Jake interrupts your words with another quick peck on your lips, laughing at your stunned expression. 

“The guests…can wait.” He states matter-of-factly. “Can’t exactly have a wedding without the bride and groom, now can they, Sweets?” 

Jake’s smile is smug and you can’t fight the one materializing on your own lips as you continue to shake your head. 

“Besides, would we really be us if we didn’t sneak off to have sex at a wedding?” He finishes off the question with a kiss to your jaw before trailing his lips down the column of your throat, lightly nipping at the skin of your neck – careful not to leave a mark – before soothing it with his tongue.

Jake was right. It had happened the night you first met at Bradley and Natasha’s wedding, and had become a tradition of sorts for the two of you at every wedding you’d been to in the three years since – and there have been quite a few.

You can feel your resolve quickly beginning to crumble as Jake presses his hips more firmly against yours, his hard length pressing up against where you need him most, the friction not nearly enough through all the layers of fancy clothing. You’re already soaking through your panties for him and you know you’re a goner.

You drop your head onto Jake’s shoulder with a sigh, before looking back up at him through your lashes. 

“Fine, but we have to be quick.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you give in, but with the most stern tone you can muster and it only makes Jake laugh. 

“Ain’t nothing slow about me, sweetheart.” You can’t stop the snort that escapes you, or the playful roll of your eyes at his words, leaning up to kiss that stupid grin off of Jake’s face. 

“Please, just– just shut up and fuck me already, Seresin.” you manage to get out through your giggles.

“With pleasure.” Jake’s lips claim yours in a hungry kiss and you feel one of his big hands venture underneath the skirt of your dress, traveling up your thigh and past the frilly fabric of your white garter in search of your core.

When his fingers brush against the damp lace of your panties, you choke out a gasp against his lips and Jake pulls back to take in your expression — your brows furrowed in pleasure and eyes heavily hooded with need. His kiss-swollen lips lift up into a smug smirk as he feels how wet you are for him. 

Jake’s deft fingers press more firmly against that wet spot, rubbing along your seam through the damp fabric. You can’t hold back your whine, already writhing against him as his thumb finds your clit, expertly circling it through the lace. 

“So wet and I’ve barely even touched you.” He breathes out a laugh and there’s a hint of smugness to his words — because of course there, it’s Jake — but you can also hear the awe present in his voice, see it in his emerald gaze that burns into you lovingly and it makes heat creep up your cheeks.

His hand dips beneath the waistband of your panties and you and Jake groan in unison as his fingers make a few quick circles around your wet, swollen clit. 

Your head falls back against the wall behind you and Jake takes the opportunity to kiss at your neck again as his hand dips down further to collect more of your wetness. 

“Already all ready for me, Sweets?” Jake’s words are whispered next to your ear as his fingers graze your entrance, your hips bucking toward them of their own volition.

“For you, ahh–” Your words are cut off by a shaky moan as Jake slides two long fingers inside of you, up to the knuckle in one swift motion. Your breath hitches and you’re practically melting against him, your voice already sounding wrecked as you whimper for him, “Always.”

Jake groans at how easily your slick walls envelop his fingers, gushing with new arousal as he fucks them in and out of your tight hole to get you ready for his cock -– not that you really need much prep with the way you’re already soaking his hand.  

“Such a good girl for me.”

Your walls clench tight around his digits, from both the praise and the way he curls them inside of you, that coil in your belly quickly winding up. 

“Fuck- Jake!” He can hear the desperation in your plea of his name, can feel it in the way your hips chase his fingers each time he pulls them almost all the way out. You’re already feeling so close, but you’re needy for more. Need to be full of him. 

Your perfectly manicured nails dig into Jake’s bicep, the heel of your foot pressing into his backside in an attempt to pull him closer as you gaze up at him through your lashes. “Please, baby– need you.”

“I got you, honey.” 

Your chin falls against your chest and you cry out as Jake scissors his fingers inside of you a few more times before they retreat completely, leaving you clenching around nothing and keening at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

The hand that was in your panties begins to trail slowly back down your thigh, and though you can’t see it through all the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the trail of slick it leaves along your skin in its wake. 

As Jake clutches your thigh in his firm grasp to hold you more securely against the wall, his other hand moves to the tent in his tight trousers where his throbbing length has been neglected.

How he’s able to hold you up with one arm while the other hand unfastens his dress pants is beyond you, but it’s moments like this that you’re grateful to have a big, strong naval aviator for a husband-to-be. 

Jake pushes his suit pants and underwear down just far enough to finally release his cock and you can’t help but moan at the sight of it. Long and looking almost painfully hard, the tip red and angry and weeping with precum. 

Jake lets out a groan as he wraps a fist around his length, relishing in the friction as his hand moves along the shaft and works to spread the pearls of his arousal from his tip down to the base. 

His hand then leaves his cock to push up the skirt of your dress as far as it can go. 

Deft fingers pry the seat of your panties from where they stick to your slick-soaked core, and gingerly move the fabric to the side so he can access your dripping cunt before he grabs ahold of himself again.

Jake lines his tip up to your entrance and pushes in slowly, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that pushes the air out of your lungs, stealing your breath and leaving you dizzy with it as his tongue tangles with yours. 

Your hands glide up the soft, expensive fabric on Jake’s arms, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as you gasp and writhe against him. Relishing in the feeling of him all over you. 

His lips covering your own, short breaths mixing with yours as you both pant and moan into the frantic kiss. His strong body, solid as the wall behind you as his front presses taut against you to hold you up, his long cock pushing deep inside of you with every single thrust and leaving you feeling so unbelievably full of him.

Jake pulls back from the kiss and looks down to where the two of you are connected. His length glistening with your arousal as it moves in and out of your tight walls, your beautiful, intricate wedding gown all bunched around your hips as he fucks you, and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him when he thinks about how crazy this is.

“Wha-what’s so funny?” You ask breathlessly through kiss-swollen lips, your eyes that had previously been shut tight in bliss now opening to search out his green ones. 

“Just— this,” Jake’s gaze lifts to meet your eye as he continues to laugh, unsure if his brain is going fuzzy with pleasure, or if that’s just the intoxication of being with you. 

“My beautiful, perfect bride,” his hips slow just a touch, pressing forward in a particularly hard thrust that has you gasping and clutching onto his shoulders tighter, you and Jake moaning in unison before he continues, panting through his words.

“All a mess for me — fuck– right before we’re supposed to say ‘I do’ in front of all our family and friends– and pretty much everyone we know.”

Your eyes widen, lips tugging up into a bashful smile and you can’t help but giggle along with him, burying your head in his shoulder and speaking into the soft fabric of his jacket as he continues to fuck you.

“Oh god… well, I’m sure there’ll be some time to steam the dress again before I have to walk down the aisle.” 

You can feel Jake’s laughter reverberate against your cheek just before he cups your chin, lifting your face back up to be level with his and beaming at you with that megawatt smile. “There's my wife!” 

You’re both still grinning when he pulls you in for another kiss. Teeth gnashing against one another’s, mingled laughter and moans coming out in breathy puffs against each other’s lips as his cock works inside of you, his hips still moving against yours at an even pace.

“This is crazy.” You can barely get the words out, still giggling between messy kisses. 

“Yeah,” Jake punctuates with another press of his lips on yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and drawing out a quiet whimper as he pulls it back towards him and releases it before continuing. 

“It is crazy,” – Another kiss – “You make crazy, Sweets.”

With one more firm peck to your lips, you feel both of Jake’s hands wrap tighter under your thighs, rough fingers squeezing your ass as he hikes you up a bit higher against the wall, pressing impossibly closer to keep you firmly in place. 

The change of the angle combined with his thrusts accelerating in speed has you crying out loud as he ruts up into you, Jake’s lips moving to cover yours once again and muffle the sounds of your moans. 

You shudder against him as his tip prods against that spongy spot inside you that makes stars appear behind your closed lids with each and every thrust, and you feel that coil beginning to tighten again, the familiar heat rapidly licking at the base of your spine.

Jake knows you’re close when your nails begin to dig into his shoulders through the jacket of his tux as you gasp for air, your lips parting from his with a string of saliva still connecting them for a moment that makes him growl as your head lulls back to lean against the wall. Eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you quietly, breathlessly, cry out his name like a mantra.

Your body is sandwiched tightly between Jake’s and the wall as his length fills you, hips pinned to yours and barely able to pull out on each thrust for how tightly your walls are clamping around him, the coarse but neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock deliciously grazing your clit and setting your whole body alight.

He's the only thing keeping you upright when your orgasm hits you. His mouth swallows your cries as your whole body goes taut, holding Jake in a vice grip as you fall apart on his cock. 

Jake can feel it as all of the tension leaves your body. He continues in slow, shallow thrusts, the quiet of the room only accentuating the salacious sounds of your release flooding around him as he works you through your high. 

He pulls back from the kiss as your moans begin to subside to get a look at your fucked out, blissful expression. 

Your eyes are still closed, lips parted and now devoid of any of the nude-pink lipstick shade you’d been wearing before, and your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat. 

Your chest rapidly rises and falls beneath the fitted white bodice of your wedding gown, accentuating your cleavage with each little pant as you try to catch your breath.

“So fucking pretty, honey,” Jake begins a light trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your warm cheek, and up to your hairline where he whispers against the slightly damp skin. “My beautiful bride.”

Your hands scramble for purchase on his back, whimpering as you attempt to pull him in closer. 

“Jake- '' Your legs tighten around his hips, heels pressing against his backside where they’re crossed at the ankles, your desperate mewl mixing with Jake’s deeper grunt as the movement pushes him even deeper inside of you.  

“‘M so lucky to- to get to call you my husband,” Jake swears that his cocks swells just that little bit more at your loving words. “Cum for me. Wanna feel you.”

“Fuck.” The sweet praise whispered from your pretty lips sends him into a tailspin. 

You’ve barely come down from your high when Jake’s hips quicken their pace as he begins to chase his own release, the beginnings of overstimulation making you cry out a string of broken moans, incoherent whimpers of curses and his name. 

The fullness and the delightful drag of his cock through your tight walls making you clench around him harder, and the assault of his tip against your g-spot leaving you feeling boneless, your grip on his shoulders tightens like you’ll float away at any moment.

The way your velvety walls are squeezing him, your release soaking his length and the obscene sound it creates as he continues to fuck into you, have Jake right on the edge of his own high. 

His head falls to your shoulder where he grunts deeply into the crook of your neck. 

“So good, baby. So good for me.” He praises, peppering sweet kisses to your hot skin, a stark contrast to the harsh force of his hips pounding against yours as they begin to lose their rhythm. 

After a few more sloppy thrusts, Jake finishes inside you with a strangled groan. The familiar sensation of his cum filling your still-spasming walls pulls a contented sigh from your lips. 

Jake’s lips dot a trail of soft kisses along the heated skin of your shoulder and neck, then under your jaw before he lifts his face to be level with yours. Pressing his forehead against your own, the two of you stay there just breathing each other in as you catch your breath.

When the groomsmen realize just how much time has passed with still no sign of Jake, and with only minutes until the supposed start of the ceremony, Bradley is seeing red. 

For a moment, jumping to the worst conclusion — that Jake may be standing his little sister up on her wedding day — and he’s just about ready to murder the groom.

It’s only when Natasha knocks on the door to the groomsmens’ suite, looking frazzled as she asks him and the other Daggers if any of them have seen the bride, letting them know that you’ve gone missing as well, that Bradley and his wife both quickly come to the realization that the two of you must be together. 

So, Natasha and Bradley begin the hunt to find the soon-to-be newlyweds, the latter rolling his eyes before grumbling, “They’d better not be off somewhere fucking.”

Natasha only responds with a snicker because she knows that’s probably exactly what the two of you were doing. She offers her grumpy husband a sympathetic look and gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze before they split up to search through the maze that is the halls of your wedding venue. 

In no rush to move just yet, you and Jake just rest for a moment, foreheads pressed together, your body still sandwiched between his broad frame and the wall. His softening cock still inside of you, puffs of air warming each other’s lips as shallow pants become more steady breaths.

You know that you and Jake’s little er —detour— has almost definitely put things behind schedule for your big day, but in this moment you honestly couldn’t care less. 

When it’s just you and the love of your life, bodies intertwined and relishing in each other’s warmth, shared breaths becoming one, you can’t help but think that this day already couldn’t be more perfect.

You feel a flurry of excitement, your heart bursting at the thought that it’s always going to be like this. Solace in the fact that you’re Jake’s and he’s yours, that this is only the beginning of the rest of your lives together. 

He seems to share in the sentiment, pulling back to admire you for a moment before you feel his smile against your skin when he lightly presses his lips to your forehead. 

One of his hands reaches up to cradle your cheek, those green eyes are boring down into your own with that look of pure adoration once again as Jake moves to speak.

“God, I can’t wait to marry you,” His voice is breathy and full of awe–almost a laugh, eyes crinkling up at the corners in that way that you love as his smile begins to take up more of his face. “I’m so happy that you’re gonna be my wife.”

“Jake…” If you thought your heart was bursting before, you think it’s about ready to break free from your chest now, your eyes glistening with emotion as you lovingly look up at him through your lashes.

“You’re gonna make me cry and I don’t want to mess up my makeup any more than I probably already have,”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, smitten as ever as your hand makes its way up to cover his where it still rests on the side of your face. “But, to have you as my husband… I couldn’t be happier.”

Jake leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering against them. “Love you, Sweets.”

It’s only after you return his kiss and those three little words that have become as easy to you as breathing, that Jake finally pulls out of you and the two of you let out a simultaneous sigh. 

He reaches down to where the mix of his and your release begins to dribble out of your spent hole, a shattered moan falling from your parted lips as your head lulls back against the wall once more. 

Your legs begin to shake from the overstimulation as two of Jake’s long fingers push his cum back into you, expertly thrusting them in and out a few times before pulling them out again, and you find yourself grateful for the sturdy wall behind you when he purposefully brushes them against your oversensitive clit, leaving you breathless as he shifts your panties back into place to keep his cum inside. 

Your mind is cloudy of all things but Jake — his scent and his warmth and the feeling of his hands all over your skin, his pretty green eyes and his voice and his gorgeously cocky smirk — each one of your senses being invaded by him and you couldn’t be more content. 

And, you love knowing that underneath all the layers of fancy lace and tulle, right before the biggest moments of your lives, that you have his cum inside you.

Just as you part from one another, a knock on the door causes you to jump. 

You can hear Natasha out in the hall calling out your names and you and Jake share a look, wearing matching guilty smiles. 

However, it’s not long before his smile shifts into a more of a smirk, and you have to bite back a giggle as he rolls his green eyes playfully before leaning in to peck your cheek, pulling back to mouth the words ‘you good?’. 

With your grin and nod of confirmation, Jake leaves you with one more kiss, fastening the button on his pants and straightening out his dress shirt as he makes his way over to the door.

He pulls it open, still wearing that signature smirk on his face and Natasha glances up at him before she cautiously peeks her head in to see you too, hair smoothed out as much as you could manage on such short notice, the skirt of your wedding dress now back in place and hiding the fact that Jake’s cum is soaking through your underwear and beginning to drip down your thighs. 

“Thank god you’re clothed. I wasn’t looking to get scarred for life today.” Natasha breathes a sigh of relief and steps fully into the room. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t find us five minutes earlier.” Jake chuckles as you lightly smack his chest, that ever-cocky smile on his handsome face that you’ve come to love so very much over these last three years. 

You can’t help but snicker along with him when you catch sight of Natasha’s nose wrinkling in disgust. 

“Ok, ew… And you’re lucky I found you and not Bradley.” Natasha gives Jake a glare before clapping her hands in front of both of your faces. “Now come on, hurry the fuck up. The ceremony — your wedding ceremony — is about to start soon.”

You nod your head frantically, as if only just remembering where, and when, you are.

“Right, yeah! I just gotta go… clean up a bit.” you squeak out to your sister-in-law with a bashful grin before scurrying off the bathroom of the suite you’d snuck into. 

Natasha just gives Jake a deadpan look that conveys her slight disgust before leaving the room, making her way out into the hall to call Bradley and let the him know that she’s located the happy couple. 

After taking care of the mess between your legs and wiping off the smudged remnants of your lipstick in the bathroom mirror, you return to find Jake, who’s leaning up against the wall opposite the door, looking cool and calm and handsome as ever in his tux. 

Making your way over to him, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, letting out a little snort as your hands reach up to delicately fix his hair where it sticks out in a few places—no doubt from your tugging on it during your recent activities. 

Once Jake’s golden locks are back in a more presentable state, you smooth a hand down the nape of his neck, leaning up to attach your lips firmly to his. 

Jake groans into it as his mouth moves against yours with just as much fervor, his hands reaching blindly for your waist to pull you in closer, and the two of you share one last passionate kiss that you hope conveys both your love for him and your excitement to be marrying him — though Jake already knows. 

“Alright, Natasha’s going to kill me if I don’t get back in the next two minutes.” You pull away from his lush lips, reluctantly and breathlessly, wanting to live in this moment with him forever. 

Your arms unwrap themselves from behind Jake’s neck, but you don’t get very far when he reaches out to take one of your hands in his own, and you can tell he’s just as reluctant to end the moment too when he brings it up to his lips to kiss a trail from your knuckles to the tips of your fingers.

“Yeah, I’m not really looking forward to dealing with your brother either.” 

His words make you laugh in that sweet, boisterous way that he’s so ready to hear for the rest of his life and with that, Jake chuckles and lets you go, his hand still holding onto yours until you’re too far out of reach. 

Jake calls out your name just as you reach the door and you stop short, turning around to face him just as you pull it open. You stand in the threshold, brows raised, and look at him expectantly. 

“See ya out there, my beautiful bride.”

You’re surprised your cheeks don’t perpetually hurt from how much this man makes you smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, my dashing groom.” You leave him with a playful wink and that intoxicating smile, in a flash of flowing white fabric as you quickly retreat into the hallway. 

Jake chuckles to himself, moving over to the mirror to make sure he looks presentable, smoothing a hand over his hair and giving himself one last once-over before he makes his way back to his groomsmen. 

Trailing behind Natasha, you quickly make your way through the halls back to the bridal suite, giving her your most innocent smile when she peers back at you over her shoulder with a pointed look.

Your sister-in-law sends you a half-hearted scoff and a playful roll of her brown eyes, but you can see the smirk just beginning to grow at the corner of her lips before she turns and reaches out to open the door. 

“Come on.” Natasha half laughs, half groans, ushering you into the room.

Before you know it, you’ve got a plethora of people surrounding you once again — one giving your dress a very last minute steam to get rid of any wrinkles your activities with Jake a few minutes earlier had caused, others rushing around to touch up your hair and makeup and to finally pin up your veil. Although, this time around, you find that you’re unbothered. Feeling a lot more at ease, and you’re back in tip-top shape in record time. 

You’re practically vibrating in excitement and anticipation as Natasha and the rest of your bridal party shower you with hugs and their own squeals of excitement and encouragement before they make their way outside to the beautifully set up venue to get into their places for the ceremony. 

You give yourself one final once-over in the mirror, unable to curb the smile that grows at how beautiful you feel. 

It's only a few moments later when Bradley pokes his head in the door once more to ask if you’re ready. He takes in the giddy — and much more self-assured than earlier  —  smile on your face when you turn to him and nod your head excitedly. 

“Ya know, you can still back out of this if you wanted.” Your brother jokes, his tone teasing as his mustached lips form into a sly grin.

With a punch to your older brother’s shoulder, you pin Bradley with a pointed look and a sarcastic ‘ha ha’.

“Come on, I’m sure the Bronco would make a great getaway car!” He chuckles as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Bradley!” You move to punch his arm again, but he quickly ducks out of the way this time, and though your eyes are now narrowed at him in a feigned scowl, Bradley can tell that you’re not really angry with him by the way your lips are fighting back pulling up into a smile. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to hold my peace when that part comes up.” He raises his hands up in surrender and you can’t help but laugh along with Bradley’s joke, though not without a playful shake of your head and roll of your eyes. 

“You better!” Your big brother flinches as you lurch at him again, but this time, instead of hitting him, your fingers reach up to pinch his ear and it’s like the two of you are kids again; you giggling maniacally while Bradley — now a big, tough 6’1 fighter pilot — yelps in pain, arms flailing as he tries to get out of your grip.

He’d probably pull your hair like he did when you were kids too, if it wasn’t all styled to perfection with your beautiful sheer veil pinned to the crown of it, all ready for your big day. 

“I will, I will!” Bradley hisses through his teeth, chuckling as you release your hold on him to grab your bouquet that’s a beautiful mix of both yours and Jake’s favorite flowers, and then move to link your arm with his to begin the path down the hall. The path to the rest of your life and you couldn’t be more excited. 

As your brother guides you through the venue’s winding halls towards the doors to where the outdoor ceremony is being held, a gentle grin befalls your lips as you think about how you got here — and your big brother’s part in all of it. 

“You know… I know you told all the guys at your wedding to steer clear of me.” 

Bradley stops in his tracks at your divulgence, pulling you to a quick stop as well and nearly tripping you over your heels and the fabric of your long wedding gown.

“You wha- huh? You know?!” 

Admittedly, Bradley thought he was taking that secret to his grave.

“Yeah, I know.” You can’t help but giggle at your brother’s flustered expression. “Jake told me, a few months after we started dating.”

You’ve known for almost three years and you never said anything. Huh. 

Bradley stands there with his lips parted, but no words are coming out. He’s still in shock at the fact that you’re laughing about this. 

“So… you’re not mad?” He asks the question apprehensively, a grimace on his face as he awaits your answer. 

“No, I’m not mad.” You shake your head, still smiling as an airy laugh escapes you. 

“Well, maybe I was for like a second back then. But, I appreciate how much you want to protect me, Bradley. Even if it does make you an idiot sometimes.” 

You playfully roll your eyes and Bradley finally relaxes, shoulders dropping as he laughs along with you. 

“For what it’s worth, you and Jake actually aren’t a half-bad couple.” You playfully smack his chest in response to the — albeit sweet — jest. 

“Thank you.” You beam up at your brother, content knowing that that’s his way of letting you know he truly is happy for you and Jake. 

Bradley links his arm with yours again and continues leading you towards the doors. “I wish Mom and Dad could see how beautiful you look today. They’d be so proud.” 

“Oh, come on, Bradley! You’re gonna make me cry off my makeup!” You whisper-yell at him half jokingly as you finally reach the doors that will lead you out to the ceremony — to where you’ll very soon be married to the love of your life. 

“Me too.” Giving Bradley’s arm a gentle squeeze, the two of you share a smile, knowing that your parents will be there in spirit. And grateful for the fact that your uncle Mav who’s always been like a third parent to you will be there too. “Now, come on. Let’s go get me married!”

The wedding ceremony goes off without a hitch — albeit a little bit later than planned. 

When the music starts and Bradley walks you down the aisle, you’re surrounded by the smiling faces of friends and family. 

Although, your eyes are only on Jake — looking so unbelievably handsome in his tux and his wide smile and you can’t believe just how lucky you got — and his mossy green eyes are focused on only you. 

Both of your eyes shine with tears and it’s as if only the two of you exist in that moment when you meet him at the altar, the two of you happily joining hands with matching lovesick grins adorning your faces.

Though he’ll never admit it — and Natasha will never let him live it down — Bradley definitely shed a few tears himself as he listened to you and Jake exchange your vows. 

It’s been a long day of running around getting ready for the ceremony — and sneaking off for a quickie, of course — before marrying your soulmate in front of practically everyone you know, then taking countless family photos and enjoying a cocktail hour with your friends and family showering you and Jake in congratulations and well wishes. 

But, it’s all worth it because you’re finally able to call Jake your husband and you couldn’t be happier.

You’re both more than ready for the reception, ready to let loose and enjoy your time together as a newlyweded couple. 

After a nice dinner comes the best man and maid of honor speeches from Javy and Natasha, and a speech from Uncle Mav that includes a few embarrassing anecdotes about your childhood that have you giggling as you hide your face in Jake’s shoulder. 

Then it’s time for the newlyweds to make a toast before sharing your first dance to Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere, the first song you and Jake danced to on the night when you met three years ago at your brother’s wedding. 

The two of you hold each other close and sway along to the music without a care in the world, Jake dipping you towards the end of the song and claiming your lips in a long kiss that has the entire room cheering — although again, it’s as if you and Jake are the only two who exist in that moment.

When Jake pulls back from the kiss, one of his large palms is still cupping your cheek, fingers gently grazing your skin as his green eyes gaze down at you in adoration. 

“I can’t believe you’re my wife.” He lightly shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m never gonna stop saying that — my wife.”

You’re smiling against one another’s lips as you pull Jake down for another kiss, giggling when you mouth parts from his. 

“I love you so much, my husband.”

You can see that familiar look of both adoration and hunger beginning to overtake Jake’s features in response to your words as your first dance comes to an end.

After sharing what would traditionally be a father-daughter dance with Mav, he returns you into your husband’s loving arms as others begin to join in on the fun, the dance floor now filling up with your guests. 

Jake sees his opportunity to whisk you away from the dancefloor, using the commotion to make a sneaky getaway — again. 

You should be used to it by now — his large hand warmly encompassing yours and pulling you along with him — but you still can’t help the giggles that break free as you quicken your pace to match his as best as you can in your heels, sprinting until the two of you have disappeared from dancefloor, and soon from your wedding reception entirely.   

Out of the ballroom doors and into the empty hallway, the loud music and sounds of your guests having fun now a muffled to barely-there background noise, you find yourself alone with Jake. Your husband.

You pull on Jake’s hand to bring him to a stop in front of you, turning him around and pulling him in closer to you as you lean your back against the closed door, gazing up at him with a lip-bitten smile. 

“What are we doing?” You question through a breathless laugh, although you’re pretty sure you already know the answer. 

Jake’s broad frame crowds you in closer to the door and you find your breaths coming in quicker as he presses the front of his body up against yours.

Your eyes flutter shut as he leans down even closer, his nose gently brushing yours, lips just shy of touching your own. His breath fans against them and it sends a shiver down your spine, a jolt going straight to your core when he speaks.

“Well, we’ve gotta consummate our marriage, Sweets.” Jake whispers against you, his mouth just barely grazing your own. “And I’d like to consummate it as soon as possible.”

The evident hunger in his voice has you frantically nodding against him, eyes still squeezed shut when you feel his front press impossibly closer to you — and the growing bulge there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, honey. Gonna consummate the shit out of you.” 

Jake’s whispered words, and their mirthy tone, have you bursting into a fit of giggles, your head falling back against the door behind you. His own laugh joins in with yours as you shake your head at his silliness. You love this man so much.

Your hands reach up to the sides of his neck to pull your husband down for a kiss, lips and teeth clashing as neither of you can break the smiles from your faces. 

“You’re such a dork, Seresin.” You whisper sweetly against Jake’s lips.

“Yeah, but you love it… Mrs. Seresin.” His large hands squeeze your hips, both the heat you feel on your skin through the lacy fabric of your dress and the name making you giddy.

“Well… lead the way, Mr. Seresin!” 

You’re unable to contain the massive smile that breaks out on your face as Jake presses one last kiss to your lips, before grabbing your hand and beginning to pull you along with him once more, and you don’t care where takes you as long as your hand gets to be intertwined with his for the rest of your lives. 

•

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Thank you for reading! x

taglist: @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @kmc1989 @onethirstyunicorn @avengersfan25 @fictionalmenloversblog @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @praline357 @girlsclub2004 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @marvelogic @djs8891 @diorrfairy (pls let me know if you'd like to be removed 🤍)

tagging some others who might be interested: @hangmanssunnies @blue-aconite @sunlightmurdock @rhettabbotts @doreenwnsng @watchtowerindistress @dingochef @floydsglasses @lynnestra44 @ryebecca (i'm going to reblog and also tag all the rest of the people who reblogged part one! 🤍)

[maxtermind]

absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing? 

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. 

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace. 

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them. 

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while." 

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her." 

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[vettelsvee]

ALMOST CAUGHT | Oscar Piastri

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

oscar piastri x gf!reader

word count: 1151

summary: oscar and his gf get a little bit horny, but they need to do things quick before someone catch them having sex

warnings: +18, smut (p in v, protected sex), dom!oscar, risk of getting caught

a/n: idk how this turned out because i don't think i'm good writing smut. however, i'll try to improve! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You were lying on the sofa, in your living room, watching a movie as your family had gone shopping at the local mall. Oscar wasn't there either because he had taken Blueberry, the puppy you both recently adopted, for a walk. You had decided not to go because you weren't feeling well. Nevertheless, you were lying on that sofa, eating M&M's and watching a Turkish TV show out of sheer boredom, where the newlywed couple protagonists argued about who would do the shopping.

"When will you be back, Piastri?"

Just as you were thinking about that, Oscar sent you a video of himself and your pet along with a message:

"I might have a little surprise for my girl :)"

You didn't know what he meant, so you asked him what for. Minutes later, he replied that he was saying nothing until the correct moment. Despite your desperation to know what the Australian man had planned, you resisted the urge to keep asking him.

You fell asleep and didn't even realize it, so it was the sound of the front door opening that woke you up. Then, you noticed how small but quick steps were moving back and forth. Alongside them, larger steps slowly approached the couch where you lay.

"Hello, love," you composed yourself a bit from sleep and noticed it was Oscar. "Are you okay?"

"What... what time is it?" you asked curiously. You had completely lost track of time, and you didn't know when you had fallen asleep or how much time had passed since then.

"It's eight twenty-five," the brown-eyed guy replied with a smile.

You noticed he kept smiling, so you kissed him. It was a short but passionate kiss, in which both of you realized that every day you were more in love.

"And what's that about?" Oscar smiled again and positioned himself on top of you, while you couldn't stop telling yourself that he was perfect for you and wondering what you had done to deserve him.

"I'm waiting for the surprise you were going to give me."

You were giving him a too enticing look, and slowly he was starting to get aroused. He wanted to have sex, just like you, and both of you knew each other's thoughts as if they were your own.

"You'll have to wait, darling, but I think we can do something else while you wait."

As soon as Oscar answered, he began kissing you, something that as it progressed became faster and more desperate. You followed along with your tongue, but you were worried that your parents and siblings might appear at any moment.

You decided to stop. Or at least try to.

"Oscar…," no matter what you said, he kept kissing you, now going all the way down on your neck, making you release small moans every time you spoke. "Piastri..., stop..."

Seeing that he wasn't going to stop, you forgot about the possibility of your family catching you having sex and that became the least of your concerns.

With a quick change of position, now you were the one on top of your boyfriend, making movements to further provoke his excitement. Meanwhile, he began to remove your shirt, leaving only a pink bra with blue teddy bears exposed. You knew that wasn't the best attire for situations like the one unfolding, but at that moment you didn't care because there was enough trust - besides, there would be other moments to wear better lingerie.

His kisses trailed down your neck again, but with the main difference this time being that he was leaving marks. You removed his sweater, but it wasn't enough for you: you wanted more, so you didn't hesitate to unbutton his pants, struggling a bit to take them off.

You immediately started playing with the waistband of his boxers, and both of you felt the nervousness growing, although you didn't pay much attention to it. In the end, it wasn't the first time you risked getting caught, and to be honest, you got very horny at that thought.

He removed your pants just as you had done to him earlier, taking the opportunity to position himself on top of you. You knew it was about to begin when he took a condom from his pocket.

You were eager for him, so you removed his underwear, leaving him completely naked, while you remained in your underwear.

"This can't keep going on like this, babe..." the boy said, eager to enter you.

He started removing your bra, immediately moving down between your legs, where he began to touch over your underwear before taking it off.

"Oscar..." you moaned once again.

"For God's sake, shut up already," he demanded, which only aroused you more. "I need you to stay calm, not acting like a desperate whore. I thought you were better than that."

At his words, you got absolutely in shock, but in some way it turned you on hearing Oscar speak like that. 

"Are you sure you want to do this? Will you stop acting so desperate if I enter you this quick? With no previous games and…"

"Of course. You better shut up now and start fucking me," you interrupted him, answering without hesitation.

Once again, and as if he didn’t kiss you on the forehead and began to insert himself into you.

At first, he was going slow, but as the minutes went by the speed increased. Unfortunately, you tried to control your moans, something that Oscar seemed to do perfectly just in case your parents arrived, but you couldn’t hold them. It was great, and you didn’t want it to end.

"Damn it, Oscar!" you screamed, but you still hadn't reached orgasm.

"Wow, I didn't know I was that good at sex," he said proudly, surprising you. "I thought you always faked your moans."

"Shut up and keep going," you answered with a voice slightly interrupted by Oscar’s moves. "I'm close."

A few minutes later, both of you were lying on the sofa, after cumming without much difficulty.

However, your post sex kisses and talk ended as soon as, after getting dressed, you saw you twins brothers standing next to the living room door, seeing you both in absolute shock. 

"Come on, you gotta be kidding me!" Louis, one of the twins, yelled, while you kept signaling him to be quiet.

He started running up the stairs quickly and shouting without hesitation while Liam, your other brother, was sending a voice message to his best friend telling him that he caught his sister and her boyfriend having sex. 

"I guess we won’t be having any more surprises at home for now, love," you said, seeing the commotion you had caused in a moment. "I hope they don’t tell my parents, because if they freak out…”

“We’ll freak out, I know,” Oscar said. “Really, I get it, Y/N. I guess I’ll have to take you to Disneyland to fuck you in one of those Marvel hotel rooms full of Spider-Man merch. Maybe we could try something with some kind of costume on and...”

“You’re taking me to Disneyland?!” you screamed, interrupting him fully surprised.

“I couldn’t keep it anymore so… surprise, babe? Any ideas on what I have just said to you?”