#And in case anyone is thinking of trying to twist my words here: | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bettystonewell · 2 months ago

Text

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 2

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 4.1k words

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, language, referenced physical abuse, referenced sexual assault, injuries to reader

A/N: I wanted to have this out a few hours earlier, but my brain couldn’t help playing around with things… Enjoy ❤️

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

The way the heat radiated off of you was just as Dean remembered, reminding him of what little memories he had of his mom of all things.

Your softness. The curve of your hips. Your body moulding perfectly into his had his blood thrumming in his ears and down below. Okay, that was nothing like his mother, he hoped, but he was enamoured. Had they been dealing with witches or wood nymphs, he’d say spellbound, struck by a potion or curse and growing soft.

It was hard not to be when his inner alpha acted so possessive over you.

‘Mine,’ it rumbled. Snarling and gnawing away at his resolve piece by piece, even though hours earlier, the responsibility and temptation of a mate was something he didn’t want.

‘She deserves better,’ he tried to reason with himself. Though anyone and anywhere different was an improvement on living here with your alpha in this middle of nowhere cesspool, and ‘We’d never hurt her,’ countered him back.

No, he would not. Nor would Dean ever try to scent or mark you while you were injured. He was determined by that. Knowing if he was gonna claim you, he’d have to wait and do things right. If you agreed and became his, anyone who tried to whisk you away as he had just done wouldn’t live to tell the tale, and…

What the hell was he thinking? Claiming you? Making you his?

How ‘bout where the fuck was your supposed alpha? The one whose stench soured your own. The one he hadn’t bothered looking for, and rather just picked up and took off with you.

Yeah…

Dean would never let you out of his sight. He’d never do this to you in the first place, either though, and his fingers flexed where they held you.

He was quick to release them.

‘Round your side and under your knee, the action caused your thighs to squeeze together and your breath to hiss on its inhale.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

He didn’t dare use omega again. Not now. Not to your face. His alpha could call you that term all it wanted, but with your matted hair now feathering the stubble on his chin when you shook yours, his gut churned.

“No. You’re helping me,” you said. “I should be thanking you.”

You may as well have struck him with a blade. Reached right through skin and flesh and into his stomach cavity and assisted the churning; further twisted his insides with your bare hands to yank them out, even. Hell, he’d do it himself. Save some time. Same effect.

“Yeah, well, I let you go back to your alpha before I knew how he’d treat you,” he said. And he should’ve known better, but so should you.

“I told you I—”

“Don’t.” He clicked his tongue. “You know I’ve thrown a lot of punches? Been on the receiving end of them too, and there’s no way those injuries were from a doorknob. So you wanna try me again?”

“I said I fell,” you whispered, and Dean stopped in his tracks, crackling the gravel beneath his boots. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Well, no, he could. You’d used that lie already in the park.

He bent his torso to leer a cocked brow, regretting that decision the second his spine moved. What little light there was above revealed more than he’d bargained for.

Yes, your thighs tightened above his arms. But so did every joint, muscle and nerve ending in his own body along with them.

Your right eye and the opposite cheekbone had distinct patches of mismatched colour, spreading. He’d say you were wearing lipstick. Only the last time he checked, makeup didn’t come with a clear, watery film around it. No. Dean knew an uppercut when he saw one. He knew the strength of an aroused alpha, too.

The shirt you wore had ripped more, and though his initials were still sitting right there, they were harder to distinguish because abrasions and puncture marks now covered them.

He felt sick. That churning in his gut would spill over you if he weren’t careful.

How?

Why?

You were his mate. Even without his scent, the swelling that billowed from your neck gave that away.

You weren’t in heat; from the scent, he wasn’t in rut, and that information just made Dean’s blood boil more than it already was. “Did he force his knot on you?”

“Ritchie…is my mate.” And your pause was telling.

“I don’t care who he is. That’s not what I’m asking you. What did he do to you?”

As if a switch had flicked, or in this case, floodgates opened. The stench of your alpha’s sack wafted up into his nose, along with more fear from you.

Your eyes filled with tears. Your limbs scrambled to pull away from him. The added stench of pine and a cheap aftershave that wasn’t his swept through the remnants of cum and sweat. But as much as that recoiled him, Dean still leaned back, taking a firm grip to shift your weight in his arms. He wasn’t letting you go.

He took a deep breath over the shame hitching in his throat, and, “I’m sorry,” he said again. Only this time, it held more than one meaning. He just hoped he could make it all up to you.

When Dean reached the motel carpark, his feet kicked up faster across the ground. “Sammy!” he yelled, not caring who heard him - he’d punch the lights outta anyone who got in his way.

His steel cap boot was raised and ready to strike the chipped wood as he yelled a second time, only for Sam to beat him to it by opening the door. His mouth, just as wide.

“Dean?”

There was no lost puppy in sight. No soft and caring younger brother who could get even a drill sergeant to crumble with one look. His eyes scanned their way across your form, though, widening along with everything else before they narrowed, honing in on where Dean’s initials should’ve been. “What—”

“What do you think?” Dean curled his frame through the door, allowing your feet to enter the room before him and the fluorescent lights to highlight the marring on your skin.

“I’ll get some ice,” Sam said, and swept his way to the fridge.

“Grab the first aid kit, too,” Dean barked back as he carried you over to his bed.

He dipped your toes to the floor, keeping his arms near as you found your footing; lifting a fraction to see the full extent of his claim. The bruising was still forming. Your skin wouldn’t turn black and blue for another couple of days, but the swelling, plus the dried blood and weeping cuts, showed early signs of infection.

His stomach stopped mid flip only to drop like a stone, heavy and solid. It sloshed the bile up his pipes, crashing over that hitch in his throat, and it burned. His shoulders shrunk. His knees buckled below him.

How could… Damn. Nope. He could ask that ‘til the cows came home. Until his mouth was black and blue from lack of air, it changed nothing. You were still injured. Most likely in more pain on account of holding yourself up now.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he said. Course, it wasn’t a command, but your hesitation made even his toes clench.

He needed to sit. Chuck. He needed to punch your alpha’s head in - both of them - and he dropped to his haunches, encouraging you down, too. Arms rested on his thighs, holding himself up even though every molecule and thought weighed him down.

He could hunch over this way. Push the acid and lack of self worth back into the pit of his gut and away from you. Close enough to touch when needed - and fuck, he wanted to - his knot still twitched at the thought. Skin crawling with an itch he shouldn’t scratch, just to add on to all the other effects the sight of you did to him.

But what to say? What to do? You still sniffled. Gaze well directed away from him and looking down. It was really fucking awkward, spinning miles ‘round Sammy’s looks in the car.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to see those eyes of yours up close if they were gonna rival the puffiness of your injuries, but he tried getting their attention, anyway. His amber greens flicking over his initials again and running with it. Anything to drown out everything else.

“You know the, ah, the W stands for Winchester.” His boyish chuckle tethered off when your lip curled. “And you’re—”

Dean knew your name from the missing persons sheet, but hearing you repeat it then and there was a much needed do-over. If it weren’t for your injuries staring you both in the face, you could almost class this moment as normal if he tried hard enough. You’d been with him on the hunt after all, and if he just ignored the last two hours, his shower, the park, this could simply be agood old stich-up. Nothing more.

“Right.” He repeated your name, surprised at the way it rolled off his tongue with a pleasurable rumble. It suited you. Hell, it suited him. “Will you let me clean you up?”

“Okay,” you whispered, head nodding. Mouth and body out of sync until he gave you a nod back and your smile spilled a smidgen further into your cheeks.

There you were. Sort of. The omega he’d seen at the nest before he’d touched you and brought all this on.

His fingers flexed. Insides unravelled into a warmth that made his heart thrum faster and his head feel light. “Then we’re gonna need a few things,” he said, and stood up, distracting his mind and knot as he scoured the room for something that resembled a washcloth and a basin. Made easy by the grime and grease before him.

The film on the fridge. The stench of cigarettes competing with Ritchie’s. You didn’t belong with him, but you didn’t belong here either. That became more apparent as he moved throughout the room, collecting what he could.

Coffee-pot, brewed twice with water for cleanliness, then usage. A clean shirt from his duffle, sniff-tested first, and a bottle of Jack he found in Sam’s. By the time Dean returned to sit before you, chair and supplies in tow, he’d returned with the ice, and a compress was made. Dean’s shirt doing wonders.

“Here. Hold this.” He brought the icy bundle up to your mate’s claim and placed it over the inflamed skin. There was that outta sight, outta mind again, except your fingers brushed over his on handover and he took pause through your latest hiss.

It was like a scene from a crappy romance movie. Some guy getting all worked up over the girl.

The kind were they were almost always soulmates, of course, and always meeting in high school or college and in the most convenient of places - funny ‘bout that.

You in the park, all banged up and injured. Your mate, nowhere to be seen. Of all the cases Sam could’ve found. Of all the people, being the one they needed to rescue was as far-fetched as one of those movies, too. But then there was that warmth from your skin. His damn gut and the newfound tingling of his nerves. It was all too real.

Was this it? Was this his crappy movie?

You were here, and he was here and…Sam was hovering over his shoulder.

“Ah, Dean, sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you real quick?” he said from behind.

He didn’t want to talk to Sam. Real quick never meant real quick for starters, and he had a feeling he knew what he was going to say.

“What’re you thinking?” he’d ask. Or “What’re you doing, Dean?”

Well, Dean didn’t know himself, besides knowing he wanted to be near you. To keep you under his watchful eye. His alpha, ready to strike if Sam or anyone else so much as looked at you the wrong way.

Damn instincts. But was it them, or the pull of being a soulmate? His body reacting and telling him he should want you? His alpha’s primal desires drawn to you like a mother, bonded and bound to her pups, after a single look?

His alpha snarled at that.

Dean sighed. ‘Okay, maybe not.’

He crooked his neck over his shoulder, flicking his eyes over your hand first. “Can it wait?” he said as they landed on Sam’s bitch face.

“No, it can’t.”

He should’ve known.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam said as he paced under the awning outside the room. His hands shoved in his pockets, straining them, arms stiff as a board, even though his elbows flapped everywhere like some giant chicken.

“She’s hurt.” Of course, Dean knew full well what he’s actually meant - he didn’t need to play dumb. He had planned to come to Sam in his own time after he’d finished helping you as intended. Thanks to the interruption, though, he was now indignant, standing tall even with the messed up insides. They still dragged him down, but he put up a fight.

More so, when Sam struck the cord, he wished to forget.

“What happened to her being nothing to you?” he said all too knowingly.

“I wanna help her.” He needed to.

“And you can. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing. She already has a mate and—”

Dean shook his head. “The son of a bitch raped her, Sammy,” he said, self-blame replacing his usual gruffness and spitfire. He wasn’t at fault for what had happened to you. He understood that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some accountability.

Your alpha had struck you because of him. He’d attacked you. Forced himself on you in what Dean could only presume to be a bout of jealousy, and all he saw was the part he’d played by taking you home to him.

“You know that’s not on you.”

“Yeah.” Yet his eyes grew dim all the same. He lowered them, focusing on the ground. His boots scraping the pavement, now the most fascinating thing in the world over Sam’s, which widened when he said, “And I ain’t letting her go back to him. If she doesn’t want me, that’s her choice, but there’s no way that fucker will ever lay a hand on her again.

“O-kay. Let’s ignore the part about you wanting her for a second. What’re you planning to do about him? If they’re bonded, chances are he’ll be sniffing ‘round here soon.”

Dean was hearing what his brother was saying. He was, and he had a solid point. He’d need a plan to set you free, but bonding? “I don’t think there’s a bond between ‘em. I found her in the park outside their building, and he was nowhere in sight.”

“He could be asleep?”

Dean’s chin receded into his neck. “You realise how ridiculous you sound?”

“Do you?”

Those words turned Dean’s body still as if he were made of stone. Eyes stuck and narrowed like the wind had changed. Jaw tight. Maybe he had fallen asleep after popping his knot. The asshole hadn’t filed the report when you were taken, your coworker had, and “I’ll deal with him if he shows,” he said.

“Dean. That’s not what—”

“Are we done?”

Sam sighed. His right hand left his pocket, and he gestured back to the room behind. “I’ll be in the car.”

Dean hadn’t even finished closing the door behind him when the smell of fresh tears flooded his nose. He’d swept across the tattered carpet once again and sat on the end of the bed next to you before his mind had even registered it was happening.

Just as his own instincts had pushed him to you, yours buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. His flannel soaked up your tears.

He wanted to ease your pain, but what could he say? He didn’t have the right to comfort you because he hadn’t protected you when you needed him. His soulmate. Not that he understood what that meant.

He was a grunt, with nothing to his name, and you were, well, he still had no fucking clue besides knowing you had his initials on your skin.

The norm was for him to want you. The scary thing was, he did. Far too much for his liking.

He had lusted over you and continued to do so even now, when he was supposed to be helping you. If your mate’s jealousy was dangerous, Dean’s instincts were more so.

They swooped his arm behind your back, letting your fingers grip his shirt. Letting your tears soak into it. He even had the audacity to brush his lips through your hair and place a chaste kiss, only to feel disappointed when your body tensed and you let him go.

“I’m sorry.” You sniveled and swiped at your eyes. Only to wince when your palms got too close. “Where’s your brother?”

Of all the things you could have said, your concern for someone other than yourself had him more smitten. There was seriously something wrong with him.

“He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

Your hands wiped at your eyes, and you pushed yourself out of his hold. “I don’t want to put him out.”

He should’ve been happy you’d considered Sam, but his inner alpha snuck through, rough and a little snappy. “He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

“I don’t want to put him out.”

“You’re not,” he muttered, reaching down to pick up his now wet shirt that had dropped to the floor below. He didn’t want to talk about Sam. He didn’t wanna talk about your mate either, though he knew it was inevitable. “Let’s get more ice on your neck. We gotta stop that swelling.”

He stood up and moved to the table where Sam had left the bucket earlier, and after refilling his makeshift compress, came back and took your hand again. “Here.” He positioned it over the icy bundle to hold it in place. “You’ll need some on your eye too, but that bite is a priority at the moment.”

Of course, there was still that ulterior motive to keep the offending section of skin covered, but as selfish as it was, Dean hoped that by forcing his own scented item over the top of it, you might form a bond with him.

Yeah. He was delusional, so he set the internal struggle aside, and got to work.

His hand reached for a piece of gauze floating in the now tepid water and squeezed the excess back into the coffeepot, while the other cupped your chin and pulled you to face him. With steady fingers, he brought it up to your cheeks and dabbed as gently as he was able.

“Sorry,” he said when you hissed at the touch. He needed a recording if it would save his throat some pain and allow that lump to heal. “If you wanna do this yourself, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No.” Your head jiggled more than shook. “It’s bad enough I can feel it.”

Dean could understand that. Not that he feared what he saw. For him, what he couldn’t grasp was seeing your face marred that crushed him, raising the question of how.

He knew the logistics of it. You’d been struck a number of times, and while he still suspected jealousy was the cause, it made no sense. Why would your mate do this to you?

“Do you love him?” He knew he was crazy to ask, but truthfully, he wanted to know if this douchebag did or not.

“What?”

It was a simple question, and very telling that you answered that way.

“Your alpha. Do you love him?” He repeated, waiting for any unspoken clues you might give.

You took your time. For Dean it was agonising, but when you did speak, his heart panged with relief and dismay. “I thought I did,” you said. “But I didn’t think he’d do this either.”

Dean’s eyes glassed over your neck. Your claim didn’t swell like that earlier. It seemed unusual to him for an Omega not in heat. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I met my soulmate.”

He swallowed hard. “So he did do this because of me.”

Your head moved against him. “He didn’t believe me when I told him you didn’t want me.”

You had struggled to finish your sentence, but you didn’t need to for Dean to understand. Though he couldn’t see your face, the room was now flavoured with rejection, and while it relieved his doubts of self-worth, it upset him to know you thought that.

“But I do want—”

“Please don’t. That’s not you doing the talking. Your instincts are.”

Just as you’d said, your neck and the punctures that formed a ring around it continued to draw his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. Mine are affecting me, even though I have a mate. If you had wanted me, you wouldn’t have taken me home.”

Dean often struggled with words, spitting out whatever came to him at the moment, whether they were full of shit or something else. But he wouldn’t let that thwart him. Not when the stakes were this high.

He dropped everything and adjusted his arms to scoop you up into his lap.

Your chest heaved, your brow grew sweaty, and his sharp senses heard the blood as it flowed to all the correct places in your body. Inside his, it did the same.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” Dean’s fingers moved on their own accord, pulling the hand and arm that attached to them to trace over the scratches and cuts that covered your shoulders. “I thought you’d be safer with him.”

“So did I,” you said. And it sliced him deep.

You hadn’t meant it that way, but Dean’s psyche was so full of self-loathing that even though he wished you weren’t, he had already decided you were fearful of him.

Depleted and forever quick to act, he lifted you with ease and set you back onto the bed. “I should get you some more ice.”

He picked up his shirt and moved to stand, but before he could, your gentle touch gripped his arm. “Alpha?” The pleasant sound warmed his ears and tugged at his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not scared of you.”

You were more perceptive than Dean thought.

“Well, you don’t need to be scared of him anymore either,” followed the smirk that curled his lips as his back turned away from you. He really did need ice.

Four hours later, Dean was still wide awake while you slept under a pile of blankets in the bed next to him. Wearing sweats instead of his jeans, he sat up against the headboard. His ass, purposely on top of the covers. His knot just as alert as he was.

Morning wood had never been more painful.

It hadn’t taken long for you to go down for the count after the first-aiding was done, no doubt exhausted as well as sore, but he worried about how your body would react when it woke up.

Last he’d seen you walking, your step held a jockeys gait. All movement, purposeful and slow.

You’d had no issues showering. It had just taken some time. Maybe if he’d helped, things would’ve gone faster, but he didn’t dare offer. Even though his inner alpha wanted him to.

You’d also had no issue stealing his jacket, having taken it when you thought he wasn’t looking. The washed-denim sleeve poked out, as did your toes next to it. The sight of both bringing out his biggest grin.

No wonder he couldn’t sleep. It was just a shame he had to confront your mate.

He wasn’t scared at all. Nope, far from it. He couldn’t wait to punch the fucker’s lights out. But you were still his, and a small fragment of Dean’s mind feared you may choose him, even after the horrible treatment you’d endured at his hands.

With a groan, he leaned over and fished for his phone. It was close enough to six to not be too early for coffee, and he swung his bow legs to the ground, stretching his arms out wide; gaining two large cracks from his neck and shoulders as muscle and bone satisfyingly pulled away from each other.

He then braced himself to stand with his hands on his thighs, but the sound of blankets shifting and a fresh wave of omega scent laced with undertones of him flew under his nose, stopping him in his tracks. It brought another smile to his face and another rush of blood to his groin.

But he had a job to do. A mission. A quest. And without further ado, he jumped to his feet and shuffled towards the bathroom, keeping his morning wood pointing in a direction he hoped you couldn’t see if you were to rouse. There was no way of hiding it when he was standing.

He was quicker about things behind the closed door. No one could argue Dean Winchester wasn’t a multi-tasker. From brushing his teeth to taking a much needed leak, he accomplished it all under the icy stream he’d chosen to cool himself off with.

Thoughts of you, Ritchie, and what he was going to do plagued him while he washed. They continued to follow him as he dried off, then carefully slunk through the main room to further afield outside, where he found Sam cramped on Baby’s back seat.

The deep brown mop of Sam’s hair rose behind the matte black paint of the Impala’s side, sticking up against the window from the static that came with a cooler morning’s air.

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean fisted the glass above his brother’s head for added effect. Sam was lucky he hadn’t opened the door on him, because that had crossed his mind.

He wasn’t that cruel. Mediocre at best.

“I need you awake, man,” his voice hissed through the cracked open window.

“Dean?” Sam’s startled head flayed around the Impala’s cabin.

He stepped back to give his brother space to get out, throwing the room keys at him when he surfaced with no warning.

Sam’s large hands fumbled as they landed on his chest. The silver tumbling through his knuckles like a creature come alive. “What’s going on?”

“I need you on babysitting duties.”

“Babysit—Where are you going?” Sam stared at him dumbfounded until Dean flashed his best smirk.

One could say he was being cocky, and maybe he was. But in this instance, he needed all the confidence he could muster.

“To deal with Dick,” he said.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Are we feeling the connection? Do we hate her mate? Did I name him Ritchie just so I could make a tonne of Dick jokes? You bet I did! Have I used it enough? Eh, time will tell, but I sure had fun with the next one!

Chapter 3 - Confronting - 07/03

Inside, Dick’s every movement was under his scrutiny. He wanted him to fuck up. To say or do something stupid. That way, Dean had probable cause. It would make whatever he ended up dishing out sit better on his conscience if he heard Dick admit it himself.

So Dean poked the bear. Outright asking him, “Did she say that while you were raping her?”

“I marked her as mine.”

Those words were Dick’s second mistake. He’d just given Dean the chopping block.

“And I suppose she didn’t ask you to stop when you hit her and tried to scratch my initials out of her skin, either?” Dean’s voice remained void of all emotion, even as the anger bubbled in his gut. If he held a mirror to his soul, Dick’s face would have been its reflection.

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

@stoneyggirl2 @winchesterwild78 @missywinchester15 @deansbbyx @kr804573

@lyarr24 @salemslostwitch @mostlymarvelgirl @ladysparkles78 @multiversefanfics

@31miw-inkpsycho

@montlynamechange @deansimpalababy

@justherefortheficandsmut

@emma1998sblog

@livingdeadblondequeen

@spn-fanfic-reblog-writes @losers-clvb

@looneyoompa @linkilocks11 @nellybellyy

If you'd like to be tagged in this or any of my other works, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

215 notes · View notes

sakur4ii · 2 months ago

Text

Code Name: Rabbit

Chapter 2: The Rescue

←previus next→

English is not my first language!!

Warning: kidnapping, death, mention of corpse, mention of prostitution.

January 18, 22:00 PM

You're furious right now, and your heavy footsteps give it away. As soon as you finished watching the footage from all the cameras at that specific moment, you got up from the couch, changed into black, comfortable clothes, and put on your mask.

You're armed—one gun on each side of your belt and knives tucked under your pants in case of an emergency. You enter the building practically fuming, but even with your heavy steps, you're silent due to your lack of footwear—a signature trait of Rabbit that Lyara always found amusing.

You climb the stairs, noting the deafening silence, the cold beneath your feet as you ascend each step. You try to control yourself, reminding yourself not to kill anyone the moment you reach your destination. As you arrive at the base of the stairs leading to the third floor, you glance at the camera Lyara installed—when it recognizes someone, the live feed is displayed on a screen on the third floor. Good. They know you're here, and you want them to.

You start climbing the stairs, your brow furrowed—it's been that way since you left your apartment. You reach the door, which only opens when you place your hand on a touchscreen, identifying you as one of the few people with access to this floor. The door slides open, and pastel colors flood your vision—a bunch of sofas, a mini kitchen, a giant TV, and the bathroom door, all visible from the entrance. Everything except what lies behind the curtain against the back wall.

Seated on the couches in the center are the girls Lyara asked to gather, Omar, and the one person you’d shoot on sight if you could.

Judging by their worried expressions and the fact that no one greeted you, they’ve already noticed your bad mood. So you decide to keep this short and walk toward the center.

"Dan, come to my office, please." You manage to keep your tone calm.

You don’t see it, but Dan swallows hard.

You move to the curtain and push it aside, revealing a door. You open it and step into your office without looking back, walking toward your desk and pulling out one of the guest chairs.

Dan—the guard or bodyguard responsible for securing the stairs leading to "The Forbidden Garden"—enters your office, shutting the door behind him. Smart choice. You offer him a seat, and with poorly concealed anxiety, he decides to take it.

Without him noticing, you draw one of the guns from your belt, step behind him, and press the barrel against the back of his head. His face twists in absolute horror.

"I think you know why we're in this situation right now, so start talking, or I’ll blow your brains out." Your voice remains eerily calm, though inside, you’re itching to pull the trigger.

Dan starts stammering.

"They blackmailed me! I swear!"

"Who?" You press the gun harder against his head, urging him to keep talking.

"A man—from the Garden! He was wearing one of those white escort masks..."

You shove the gun against his head again, and he stammers once more.

"He asked for information about you and her. I told him the little I knew, then he gave me his phone number and told me to call him the moment she was alone in the building. Please, don’t kill me."

The man looks like he's about to burst into tears, sweating like a pig. There's something he’s not telling you, and that only deepens your frown.

"What did he blackmail you with?" You push the gun harder against his skull, and his reaction confirms you hit the right question.

Before speaking, he swallows loudly.

"I already told you everything. Please, don’t kill me."

You lean in close to his ear, tilting your head so he can't see you, but he can catch a terrifying glimpse of your mask.

"With. What. Did. He. Blackmail. You?"

"He offered me a million dollars."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to shoot him.

"Please, please, please..."

You almost pity him. Almost.

Your jaw tightens. This idiot can’t be serious. You knew something was off about him when Lyara hired him, but his record was spotless—too perfect for someone wanting to work in one of the darkest corners of Gotham. Lyara convinced you it was just paranoia. And now, this man has betrayed you both for money. Fantastic.

"Give me the phone number and get out. You have one week to find another job. You're fired."

Dan pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, sets it on your desk, and bolts out of your office as fast as he can.

You start pacing the room, replaying the traitor’s words in your head.

Then, you slam your fist into the nearest wall, ignoring the dull pain in your knuckles and the fresh hole in the concrete.

---

January 18, 23:45 PM

The night is dark; you can hear the crickets and the cars. Hidden in the bushes, you watch the kidnapper’s house, ignoring the cold and staying as concealed as possible. A drone hovers near one of the house’s windows, and even from a distance, you recognize it as one of Oracle’s drones. Fuck. You need to find a way inside without Barbara detecting you, and you must be careful—there’s a chance one of the Bats is already inside.

The house is registered under Marcel Gravois. Unfortunately, the man is dead, so you dug deeper, discovering that Elliot Gravois, Marcel’s grandson, inherited this house and several other properties. You have to thank Lyara for teaching you her hacking tricks, and also thank Elliot for being an idiot—it was as easy as tracking his number and pulling his IP. It didn’t give you an exact address, but this is the only house under a Gravois in the area.

Elliot Gravois seems to be involved in illegal activities beyond kidnapping; otherwise, Oracle wouldn’t be here. But you’ll investigate that later—right now, your priority is finding Lyara.

Silently, you step out of the bushes, feeling the cold grass beneath your feet. Near the house, you hear sounds of a fight coming from the top floor. You move in the opposite direction from where you saw the drone.

There are several windows. You approach the nearest one and pull up with all your strength—nothing, it’s stuck. You move to the next, but it has wooden planks nailed across it, so you don’t even try. The third is also locked. Frustrated, you approach the wooden door—also locked.

You sigh in resignation. Kicking the door down feels like a bad idea, so that leaves you with one option—the window near the drone. You walk toward it, and of course, it’s open. The drone turns toward you. You wave and make a shushing gesture, hoping it gives you the benefit of the doubt—or that you don’t end up in a cell within seconds.

"Alright, here we go," you think. You jump onto the window frame and, as quietly as possible, slip inside the house. The first thing you notice is the intense fight happening upstairs—walls shaking, furniture crashing, like they’re having a good time.

You reach for your belt and draw one of your pistols. Keeping controlled steps and maintaining a Low Ready stance, you begin clearing the perimeter.

The living room is surprisingly neat. No photos, no television. You check the kitchen—it looks used, but not much. Moving into the hallway, you notice a smaller drone following you. You turn—it’s another of Barbara’s drones. You ignore it. She was going to keep an eye on you anyway.

The hallway is empty—no paintings, no pictures, just closed doors. You scan each one. A bedroom with a bathroom—empty. A guest room—empty. A bathroom—empty. At the end of the hall, a different door. You press your ear against it—silence.

You glance at the drone, then press yourself against the wall, keeping your gun close to your shoulder with the barrel pointed upward. Your free hand grips the doorknob, turning it slowly and silently. As you open the door, you peek inside—a staircase leading down. A basement.

Your free hand returns to your gun, still aiming at the ceiling. Moving sideways, you descend carefully, step by step. The dust and dirt beneath your feet make you wince, and the creaking wood makes you tense. The drone behind you is getting on your nerves.

It’s pitch dark. If it weren’t for your rabbit mask, the dust would have you sneezing. Halfway down, the fight upstairs is no longer audible. If something happens to you down here and it’s not worth it, you’ll blame Barbara for the rest of your life.

A faint light catches your eye as the staircase takes a sharp turn. More steps lead further down. You crouch slightly, spotting the light illuminating a chair at the end of the basement. But it’s not empty—you see sock-covered feet.

Another step down—you see knees. Another—you see a lap. Step by step, until you finally see the unconscious figure.

As soon as you recognize the hair color, you holster your weapon and rush forward, heart pounding with anxiety and fear. You reach her and check her pulse.

Thump, thump, thump. Steady. You exhale in relief.

You bring a finger under her nose—she’s breathing evenly. Just unconscious, with some bruises.

Kneeling, you begin untying the rope binding her feet to the chair. That’s when you notice her dislocated knee. That bastard.

You start planning how to get Lyara to the hospital without revealing your identity. You pull the knife from beneath your pant leg and cut the ropes. But just as you finish freeing her, you notice the drone rotating between you and a whiteboard you hadn’t seen before.

Annoyed, you step away from Lyara and approach the board, noticing the photos pinned to it and the desk cluttered with papers beneath.

As soon as you see the images, your stomach churns.

Each picture shows a different woman. Some are naked, others clothed. Some are badly injured, while others show no physical wounds but wear expressions of despair, horror, fear—even rage. None of them were okay.

One of the photos is of Bea. Taken in this same basement.

You scan the papers on the desk, fury building inside you. Careful not to leave fingerprints, you sift through them. They’re reports—each woman listed like cargo. Names, ages, details. Some pages even have sticky notes—probably from Elliot Gravois.

Then you reach Bea’s file, and your heart sinks.

Name: Beatriz Sullivan

Age: 26

Sex: Female

Accepted or Rejected: Rejected

Reason: Not a requested woman. Clients do not want transgender women.

Post-it: January 18, The Burrow

Hands trembling, you pull out your phone and take pictures of everything—papers, images. You’re going to get to the bottom of this. You’re going to find out why Elliot Gravois made this personal.

Stowing your phone, you return to Lyara. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, you lift her bridal style and prepare to leave.

The drone follows, but this time, it moves ahead—leading the way. Good.

You ascend quickly, squeezing through the doorway without jostling the blue-eyed girl. The fight upstairs still rages. Practically sprinting through the hall, you hear a loud crash above—then silence. The fight is over. Shit.

Reaching the window, the smaller drone peels away, leaving you with the larger one, still stationed outside. You sit on the windowsill, swinging one leg out, then the other, making sure Lyara’s head doesn’t hit the frame.

You start moving quickly—but freeze. A shadow stretches from a nearby building.

You look up—and there it is.

Gotham’s most feared and admired silhouette.

You feel his eyes piercing into your soul. But you don’t have time for this.

You start walking again.

You don’t care if he follows. You’re heading straight to the hospital. You already have a plan.

---

You leave Lyara with the doctors and run out of the hospital—you need to get to your apartment as soon as possible, and luckily, it’s close. You sprint through the streets of Gotham, staying within the shadows. Your bare feet press against the cold pavement, adrenaline surging through your body, but all you can think about is Lyara.

Once you reach your apartment, you pull off your mask and rush to your bedroom. You change into something comfortable but not the clothes you usually wear as Rabbit. You get rid of your weapons, keeping only the knife hidden in your boot. Then, you head to the bathroom, wash your feet, and put on your shoes. Taking a moment, you run your fingers through your hair, throw on your signature cap, and leave your apartment. As you descend the building’s staircase, your phone rings—it’s a call.

You don’t stop walking. You keep moving down the stairs, exiting the building as you answer the phone.

—"Hello, good evening. Am I speaking with [Name] [Last Name]?" A woman’s voice comes from the other end of the line.

—"Yes. Who is this?" You respond, masking your breathlessness, pretending you weren’t waiting for this call or running through the streets.

—"I’m calling to inform you that Lyara Valtieri has been admitted to Mercy Hospital. Your number is listed as her only emergency contact. Could you come in to fill out some paperwork and discuss her condition?"

—"Of course. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes."

The woman hangs up after telling you they’ll be expecting you. You shove your phone into your pocket and start running even faster, this time with the wind at your back.

The night is surprisingly calm for Gotham, and you reach the hospital without any distractions or obstacles.

Inside, the stark white lighting is blinding compared to the dark streets. You approach the reception desk. The receptionist immediately recognizes your voice and hands you some forms to fill out. After completing them, she gives you directions to Lyara’s room. You thank her and head toward the elevator.

As you press the button for the third floor, you think about what the receptionist told you. Lyara is stable—some bruises, but the only serious injury is her dislocated knee. A couple of months in a cast, followed by rehab, and she’ll be good as new. Now, all that’s left is to wait for the drugs in her system to wear off. After some final tests, she’ll be discharged.

You step out of the elevator, making a few turns—right, then left—until you find room 407. Your hand grips the doorknob. You take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and exhale slowly. Carefully, you crack the door open and peek inside.

Lyara lies unconscious on the hospital bed. The receptionist mentioned that she had woken up briefly, given her name, begged for you, and then passed out again.

You step inside and close the door behind you. Dragging the stool from the corner of the room, you place it beside her bed and sit down, gently taking her hand in yours.

Guilt settles in your chest. If you looked in the mirror right now, you'd probably have the expression of a kicked puppy. You truly feel awful. Both of you knew what you were getting into when you turned The Burrow into a place where information is sold—a meeting spot for the rich and the criminals, a refuge for women desperate for money.

You still remember how recruitment worked at the beginning—wandering through Gotham’s red-light districts, handing out business cards with the club’s address and a wad of cash to women who needed an escape. How difficult it was to earn the respect of the criminals in the area. And thank god it was Lyara who handled the rich clientele, because you can’t stand them.

At some point, exhaustion takes over. you don't even notice when you fall asleep.

---

As soon as Barbara saw a person wearing a black bunny mask with bulging red eyes, she should have alerted Tim, who was inside the house fighting with Elliot Gravois, informing him of an unwanted company and a possible threat. However, it was the gesture for silence that made her hesitate, because who sees a drone and asks for silence? So she decided to stay quiet and follow this mysterious person, there was no need to distract Red Robin for now.

What Barbara didn’t expect was to find a poor girl kidnapped in Gravois' basement, nor did she expect the mysterious person to come just to save her. She imagined her surprise when she saw the amount of information in that basement. She watched as you took pictures but decided to let it go, preferring to focus on helping you protect the girl, guiding you through the house.

—Who is that?— A rough voice asked over the communicator.

—Not a threat, let them go, the girl in their arms needs a hospital.— Oracle responded without room for debate, earning a grunt from Batman.

—Try to find the girl, maybe she can give us useful information.

—Of course.

Red Robin captured Elliot Gravois and decided to be the one to interrogate him. He didn’t touch the evidence, it wasn’t necessary; Barbara had scanned it with the drone, and the physical evidence could be handed over to Commissioner Gordon. While Red Robin interrogated Elliot, Batman called Nightwing. As soon as Oracle found the kidnapped girl’s name and the hospital she was admitted to, she sent the information to both of them so they could investigate together.

Barbara continued to delve deeper into the girl’s life. Her name was Lyara Valtieri, there was scarce information on her besides living in an apartment in the Upper East Side and owning a nightclub in The Narrows, nothing particularly important. There was barely any information about her parents, but it seemed she came from a wealthy family. This only made it more puzzling that she had been kidnapped, as up until now, the kidnapped women were prostitutes or homeless women without families—women who wouldn’t be missed. This made her furrow her brow in confusion.

She reviewed the information again—wealthy family, apartment in an affluent area, nightclub in The Narrows... Where was this nightclub located? Her hands quickly typed, finding the address and the name of the nightclub. "The Burrow" sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it... oh wait, of course! It was the nightclub her father mentioned at lunch, where they found a murdered woman... She typed again. Beatriz Sullivan, 26 years old.

A hunch led her to search through the reports she had scanned with the drone. She went through a lot of names of different ages and found what she was looking for. One of the women kidnapped by Elliot Gravois was that girl, Beatriz. Why did he leave the body at that nightclub? Why did he kidnap the owner? How could the two women be connected?

The night was going to be long.

Mercy Hospital; January 19, 4:57 AM

Your consciousness slowly awakens. You begin to hear muffled voices that become clearer as you start to stir. You feel a tight grip on your hand, which is strange because the grip seems like a pattern. You don’t open your eyes, even though your back hurts and you want to stretch, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to pretend to sleep. The voices are now clearer in your head, a man is speaking to Lyara.

—Did you know the man who kidnapped you?— The voice is serious but kind, with a tone of understanding, as if not trying to pressure her. You’ve heard that voice somewhere before.

—No, I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.— Lyara responds, she’s lying, but that’s something only you can tell. And even if the man notices, it could go unnoticed, as if she wasn’t sure she hadn’t seen him, as if she had forgotten, but the man doesn’t press.

A second voice surprises you, and this is when you’re grateful to have your face hidden between your arms because your eyes widen in surprise. Now you understand that the grips were Morse code "don’t move" was what Lyara wanted to tell you.

—Do you know the person who saved you? The girl with the bunny mask?— The voice is rough and intimidating, dry but direct, it’s impossible not to recognize it, because it’s Batman’s voice, and now you know who the other man was—Nightwing is in the room too.

You close your eyes again and try to focus on your other senses, especially touch and hearing.

Lyara tightens her grip on your hand, she’s good at acting but is too tired, afraid of slipping up if she hasn’t already. Two years ago, you both created an entire story for situations like this. You repeated the lie so many times that you almost started to believe it yourselves. But should she really? She could just say she didn’t know what they were talking about, she was unconscious anyway. Now she would appreciate having woken you up when she woke up.

—I’m not sure what are you talking about, Mr. Batman.— She opts to say.

Now, Batman is no fool, he’s been observing, scrutinizing her gestures and micro-expressions, but from his position at the door of the room, he can’t see the person who is sleeping next to her very well. He can’t see the grip on their hands because she made sure to hide them away from the bed, hoping Nightwing noticed that.

This interrogation isn’t helping them, they’re not getting any useful information, Batman grumbles. Nightwing looks at him over his shoulder and catches the message “let’s go,” so as soon as the younger one says goodbye, they both leave the room.

Once they leave, Lyara starts breathing normally again; she didn’t even know she had been holding her breath. You lift your head and stretch your back. The pain you had been ignoring starts to become unbearable, and the crack of your bones from stretching doesn’t surprise you. You let out a yawn.

—Oh my god, my heart almost fell out of my chest.— Lyara says, putting a hand on her chest and letting out a long sigh.

—How long have you been here?— You raise an inquisitive eyebrow that doesn’t last long, then rub your eyes to clear away the sleep.

—About five minutes before you woke up, when I noticed your breathing change, I almost freaked out.— She laughs and takes your hand when you place it back on the bed.

You can’t help but look at her with a mixture of concern and admiration. Even with the bruises on her face, even with a cast on her leg, she still finds a way to laugh.

—We’re going to have to talk about a lot of things, Lya.— You tighten your grip, and she gives you a sheepish smile.

—I know.— She whispers.

🩷🩷🩷

Tag list!!

@anamiranda7383 @crystal-freak24 @serlazvi @regloml @jscrawls @cxcilla @heartjwonie @pix-stuff @hjgdhghoe @ritzes28 @zlovesreading @astrelz @omnivirgo @onlybe-satanonce

#x female reader #x reader #x fem reader #dick grayson x reader #batboys x reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #cassandra cain x reader #damian wayne x reader #duke thomas x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #stephanie brown x reader

163 notes · View notes

thewertsearch · 15 days ago

Text

TG: do you want me to set u up w the files now GT: Ooh, these illicit hacked warez which i heartell were recently jimmied piping hot off the interclouds? TG: ahahah i love that you were barely even joking with that statement bup yeah basically GT: The silicon pickpocket strikes again!!! Whom is the wiser? Nobody.

pffffft

You know what this is? This is real, genuine charisn'tma, right out of a Discworld novel. Jake is just so bizarre, with his stilted vocabulary and 'accent' that would be anachronistic in literally any time period that you can't help but enjoy his dialogue. He's likeable, in the weirdest way possible - which sort of parallels John, a guy who's likeable in a very straightforward way.

TG: im not letting either of you run this file on your shitty brainwashy propaganda helmets or anything else u got to wear to run

I'd understand if you were saying that to Jane - but this helmet was inherited from Jade, who should be entirely trustworthy... right?

Does Roxy know something about Grandma Jade that we don't? Something suspicious, perhaps?

GT: Then you have decided to play in spite of your reservations? […] TG: i have every reason to want to play it TG: im actually dying to play it ok

If Roxy's situation is anything like Rose's, then she's living in a remote mansion in upstate New York, with a mother she feels completely alienated from, and no IRL friends to speak of.

Of course she wants to play Sburb. She's desperately lonely.

TG: you believe me right TG: about the bad shit that could hapen GT: Of course i do. GT: What sort of friend would i be if not?

Belief without understanding, like I said before.

Maybe that's the deal with Hope, actually - it's all faith, and no logic. Eridan, who desperately sought out romantic partners with no understanding of why he failed, certainly seems to fit that mold. Hope, then, would be the Aspect of trust, belief, and, in Eridan's case, absolute delusion.

TG: ok well TG: dont say that to jabe TG: *n

Seems that Roxy's also aware that there's something up with Jane. Well, if anyone can undo the damage the Tiaratop has done, it's probably the girl who can look at its source code.

TG: jane never believed my crap TG: never any of my warnings about the baroness TG: didnt believe any of the stuff about my mom TG: and so on and so on and soon TG: til after awhile i just stopped even trying to convince her hard or bring up any crazy shit TG: because u know doing a lot of songs and dances to convince somebody who thinks youre jush shitting them all the time kind of wears on a friendship TG: and who even needs that

...although, Roxy's not describing Jane's repression as if it's artificial. In other words, she thinks Jane's unwillingness to face uncomfortable truths is a real facet of her personality - and perhaps she's not entirely wrong.

Now, let's not get it twisted, here - I do still think that Jane's being brainwashed to ignore any evidence that her corporation is evil, or that her grandmother is the Condesce. But she's also ignoring other uncomfortable truths - ones that are far less supernatural.

B2 Rose - although I hate to admit this - is showing all the signs of being a neglectful and irresponsible Guardian. If Roxy has tried to open up to Jane about this, and she's summarily brushed it off, I really don't think we can chalk it all up to brainwashing. Would the Condesce really brainwash Jane into ignoring all negative information, in any context, ever? How does that benefit her?

No, this feels a lot more like Jane just doesn't want to think about... bad stuff. There's certainly precedent for that, in her family, as John's always shrugging off bad shit - and as we're seeing here, that's not always a good thing. If you're shrugging off your friends' problems in lieu of supporting them, that's not on your evil tiara. It's on you.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 6 #s186 #4225

146 notes · View notes

cherbii · 4 months ago

Text

VELVET!

ft. Toji Fushiguro

summary -> being a mob wife comes with its perks; riches, glamour, and your smitten mob husband who would do anything to prove his love for you, even if that’s taking you in the middle of the casino!

warnings -> language, violence, deaths, murder, dead dove do not eat, smut! p in v, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sēx, voyeurism, mdni

Smooth jazz played on the gramophone in the casino, the dim lights match, creating a warm ambiance. It all bounces off the gold of Toji's thick ring, wrapped around his ring finger.

Toji Zenin had many titles: godfather, kingpin, mob boss, don, capo. It didn't matter, because to you, he was your husband, and you were his pretty little wife he'd kill for.

You'd sit next to him when he gambled, like as of now, sat in a dazzling dress, makeup done right, eyeing the way his muscles bulged in his shirt or the way he sucked on the cigar.

God, you were a lucky woman, but Toji was a lucky man.

You didn't whisper a word of what he did to anyone, not the suspicious cases of money he had, or the blood stains you'd find on his clothes, none of it mattered, because you love the man too much to let him go.

Another mob wife sat next to you, one of a lesser clan, sipping on a dry martini. "I get bored sitting here, I'm not good at gambling so I don't play, if I were, I still wouldn't." She told you through her glass.

The corners of your lips turned up. "You don't have to tell me twice, but in a way it's nice. I get drinks and a great show of my husband winning." You replied, raising your own glass to your lips, a boulder of a diamond shimmering in the ambiance.

"Tch, you're such a kiss ass. I bet you are just waiting for the moment he loses and snaps." The other woman commented. She had a slight smirk on her face as she took another sip.

Meanwhile, Toji continued to play poker, he kept winning hand after hand, showing no emotion or signs of trouble, as if it were all simple.

A noise of amusement left you, your drink rippling in the glass. "Oh, darling. Please don't get this twisted, you see, my husband never loses." You said before finishing your drink.

The woman beside you scoffs as she finishes her drink as well, "So you're just his pretty accessory then."

You could hear the click-clack of the cards hitting the table. Toji was yet again winning another round. "Or rather, he's mine, don't you think?" You shot her a grin.

She grits her teeth, seemingly growing irritated, "I bet you're only with him cause of his money." She spits back.

Again, Toji kept winning round after round, not even breaking a sweat.

Your lips pursed as you attempted to suppress your grin. "You're right, I'm in it for the money," you said. "Definitely not because there's love, or passion, or orgasmic sex, no."

Her jaw dropped, completely frozen on the spot from your words, meanwhile Toji turned to look at you, his eyes filled with a devilish look and a smirk on his face. He continues to play poker, however, he seems rather entertained.

A few men at the other tables also look over in shock by the sudden bluntness to your response.

You could hear another man make a comment, "Jesus, I wonder what else that mouth can do." They snicker, earning a glare from Toji that made them shut up rather quickly.

You gesture by tipping your glass in the direction of the woman's husband. "Why? Does he not fulfil or fill you? Poor thing, must be why you're so stuck up." You murmured to her.

A sharp inhale was heard from the woman, you had clearly struck her ego, she knew that. Her cheeks flushing in anger.

Toji smirked as he continues playing, he just knows this won't be good. He was rather enjoying it, he was entertained.

The woman takes a small sip, clearly pissed but trying to keep a calm demeanor, "That isn't the point. But I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand." She says sharply, still with a tone of anger behind it.

Toji could be seen smirking, clearly showing that he isn't even listening to his poker game anymore. His attention completely stolen away by the bickering. You raise a brow, watching as she flagged down another waiter. "To understand what? That I'm not fulfilled, nor filled?"

She scoffs once again, she clearly didn't pick up on you throwing her words back at her on purpose.

Toji couldn't deny that he enjoyed when you defended yourself, it made him proud, it fueled him. He also couldn't deny that he loved watching you fight back, cause it was a turn on. He was a man of power and influence, but no one had a tighter grip on him than you.

"Please, I bet he doesn't breathe your way," she huffed. "Probably to busy getting with other woman than to pay attention to some gold digging whore."

"Oh don't call me such names," you wave a hand dismissively in the air before your voice dropped. "It's only reserved for my husband in the bedroom."

The other woman seemed stunned once again by your words, Toji nearly choking on his cigar. He began coughing loudly, though it was mostly to cover up his laugh. He was clearly amused. He then quickly regains his composure.

Before she could reply, you turned to look at your husband. "Baby?" You pouted.

He slowly glances, his lips slightly curling upward, he could see that you were planning something to piss the woman off even more and he was quite excited. He hums while he replies, "Yes, doll?"

You let out a sigh. "The bitch next to me doesn't think you fulfil or love me? Isn't she right?"

Toji grinned as he licked the scar on his lip. "She's right." Toji sarcastically said.

The woman's jaw dropped once again, this time in pure shock. Her own husband was now glaring at Toji, however, Toji simply smirked, continuing with his sarcastic response.

The other customers had their own reactions, some shocked, some holding in their laughs.

Other people had now been paying attention to the interaction, rather than Toji's gambling. They were all shocked by your boldness and Toji's response. Toji seemed excited, loving the little show that was playing out.

"You don't fulfil me? Ah well, guess I'll have to find someone who does," you feigned a look of sadness. "Maybe Shiu will."

Toji chuckled lowly, the game discarded, with the hand closest to you, he reached up and grabbed your chin. "No, doll, Shiu won't, but, let's play a game."

"What game?" You asked. His grip on your chin was gentle yet firm, you could see a smirk across his lips yet also a dangerous glint in his eye, his own type of way to say he was being serious, but also excited.

The others who were watching simply watched in curiosity, this was quite the show.

Slowly, he forced your head to turn, until you were staring at the woman's husband. "You're going to tell me if you think these men here can fulfil you, alright? Let's start with him." Toji told you.

Toji's voice was low and firm, the other woman was now staring at you, she clearly couldn't believe this was actually happening. The husband of the other woman now had a scowl on his face, he wasn't pleased by Toji using his wife to prove a point.

However, Toji's tone changed to a more loving one, as you could tell his grip on your chin was gentle, not wanting to hurt you by mistake.

You let out a hum as you thought, eyeing the man and ignoring the copious amounts of glares you got. “I mean, I guess but he doesn't seem like he has stamina, y'know. Not someone who could last more than a round."

The other woman could be heard making a choked noise as the other men burst out laughing at your comment, some were shocked by how blunt you were being.

Toji didn't even try and hide it, he laughed. He found it all hilarious, he loved every moment of it. He loved watching all the men look at you, some seemed jealous, others intrigued, and some shocked. He took pride in that, they could look but never touch.

Toji could see the scowl on the man's face, clearly pissed. He knew you were still going to go off, Toji was loving this whole thing, but he was also very much aroused by it.

You felt him steer your face until you faced another. "And him?"

Toji held your chin in place, letting you look directly at the man. The man seemed a bit older, a well dressed fancy man, probably some sort of office worker or something.

That's when you heard the loud choking noise once again, Toji had to stop himself from laughing, this was amusing to him. The older man sat slightly frozen, looking directly at you and then at Toji.

You smiled at him. "I'm sure he could, he has grey hair so he's older, and must be more experienced."

The other woman couldn't speak, she was in complete shock that you kept going and now it seemed you were actually considering it. Toji smirked, feeling his grip on your chin slightly tighten.

The older man had a surprised look on his face, though he was more smug now, he did like the idea.

"One more, doll," Toji said before moving your head until you faced the last man. "Now him."

Now you faced the last man, a younger man with blonde hair and a well dressed suit on as well, who was trying to control his expressions.

"No, too young," albeit him looking your age. "Probably would last three seconds."

You could hear the two other men laughing once again, the other woman was completely speechless at this point, probably ready to snap at any minute.

Toji couldn't stop himself from laughing along with the men, it was like watching a train wreck. He then made the game just a bit harder, pulling your chin back to him.

"Okay, now the actual last one. What do you think? Think I can satisfy you?" He asked, staring into your eyes.

You could see the glint in his eyes, it was clear he loved having all the other men looking at you, as if you were his possession.

Toji was excited, he loved seeing the faces on the other men and loved the way you spoke to them.

"You might have to show me, Toji, once we're home."

Toji smirked, letting a small chuckle slip from his lips, he knew he had it in the bag. His hand moved from your chin to your thigh, patting it gently. He was getting a little hot and heavy from the current scenario.

This entire show had the whole casino intrigued, men were beginning to stare at you as if they had any shot.

"Oh, doll. Why wait? Clearly these people think I'm...subpar." The word tasted like poison in his mouth.

He glared at all the men, though he had his signature smirk still on his face. He began to rub his hand up your inner thigh, his gaze never once leaving you as he spoke.

Toji chuckled lowly, as if he was mocking the men. He knew they never had a shot with you anyway.

"Right now?" You whispered, a gasp caught in your throat as his hand moved higher.

His smirk grew wider, you could see the lust in his eyes now, he loved the way you spoke, he loved how you were playing along now.

He leaned in close to you, his voice a low tone as he replied. "Right now, doll."

Almost out of reflex, your legs spread, giving Toji more access to where you yearned him.

Toji loved watching the reaction from everyone else, how they were all still watching. Meanwhile, his fingers grazed you through your clothes, he was a tease.

He felt himself beginning to grow excited from others looking at you and the fact he knew you were also being turned on from it.

Toji glanced around, noticing the men were starting to stare more and more at you. He loved knowing that they all wanted you, but it was clear that you were his. It was only his touch that you could feel, only his eyes that you could look at.

He continued to rub his hand on your inner thighs, keeping his fingers barely touching you. He then leant back before grabbing the crystal glass and downed the drinks, at the same time his fingers shifted, now running over your clothed core before he slammed the glass down.

With a long sigh, Toji reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the shiny, black gun. "If anyone here tries to object or even stand up, I'm putting a bullet between your eyes. Now we wouldn't want the lovely ladies to see that, now would we?" Toji said to the men.

The men sat quietly, seemingly intimidated by the threat, though their eyes remained on you. You could see them staring, they had a mixture of jealousy, sadness, and shock.

Toji loved the current scenario, the men's reactions to you, watching all of them squirm in their seats, just because they knew they couldn't have you. It was exciting for him.

You groaned, feeling the patch in your underwear and the pressure Toji applied grow.

Toji smirked. You were his, and it was clear no one could take you away. He could see the other men begin to shuffle in their seats, as if trying to hide their obvious excitement.

He turned his head to look at one of the many bodyguards Toji hired. "Kick everyone out but these at this table." He briskly said to one.

The bodyguard began to herd the rest of the men along with their wives out the casino. Some of the men were still shooting glances your way, but others were trying to avoid making eye contact with Toji. It seems his reputation as a mafia boss is still well known.

Toji smirked once again, looking back at you, his fingers continued to rub you through the fabric.

Now it was quiet, except for your soft whines, having pairs of eyes watch you, or avoid you.

"I don't feel very fulfilled, Toji." You whined, raising your hips to push yourself closer to his fingers. Toji chuckled, loving how you sounded, how desperate you were for his touch. He loved seeing the other men react to your noise, they wanted you as much as he did, yet he had you all to himself.

He then began to rub you even more, he wanted to see the other men become jealous.

"So greedy." Toji tutted, sliding his hands to the edge of your panties to pull them to the side.

He licked his lips as you continued to make small whimpers. You could tell by the look on his face that he loved how this whole scenario was playing out, he loved watching all the men stare as his finger teased you.

He knew how jealous they were, he also knew that only he could give you what you wanted, not them.

A loud curse flew from your lips when his calloused fingertips found your aching clit. "Fuck, Toji."

Toji smirked, the other men were completely jealous as they watched the scene. He chuckled as he began to rub you in small circles, enjoying the sounds you made.

You could see by their faces how they wished this was them, but it wasn't, it was Toji, only him. And that drove him wild, as did those noises that flew from your mouth.

Toji continued rubbing you, loving how you kept making noises for the men to hear. The men still had their eyes on the scene, seemingly not knowing what to really say or even not daring to say anything at all, lest they meet Toji's wrath. A few men tried to move their attention elsewhere from you, but it was obvious that it was difficult.

"Come here baby, sit on my lap."

He removed his hand, glistening with your arousal, and allowed for you to climb on his lap, back facing him, before your legs spread and his fingers went back to the previous actions.

Now on his lap, Toji could see and hear everything the men were watching or not reacting to. You could see their faces, filled with jealousy, sadness, and pure anger that it wasn't them with you. You were all his.

As Toji began to rub you again, his lips landed on your neck. He wanted to mark you in front of all of them, to show you belong to him and him alone.

"Open your legs for me wider, doll. Let them see that fucking pussy." Toji instructed as his other hand went to hike your dress up your hips.

You could hear the men shift in their seats as they watched, some of them were trying to get comfortable, you could see by their flushed faces that they were completely jealous, but wouldn't even dare look away.

You moved the way Toji asked, his fingers sliding along you, as the other men watched the display. Toji loved being the only man you could ever want or

His fingers moved down, now prodding at your weeping hole before pushing in two of his thick fingers, cold ring pressing against your thigh.

Toji let out a groan at the sound it made. "Hear that boys? That's the sound of fucking success."

The other men watched as you made noises of pleasure that Toji earned.

You moaned, feeling his fingers curl and push against that delicious spot within you. "Oh my god, Ji!"

You could feel his smirk against your neck, he loved seeing the men's expressions on their faces. The way they saw what you could do for him, how you could moan for him.

He chuckled lowly, not wanting to make a loud noise. He loved that they watched, unable to help but stare.

Your soft lips fell open and your back arched. Toji groaned, you squirming against him was providing some pleasure to his aching erection.

He continued to thrust his fingers in your pulsating cunt. Toji knew the other men wanted you as much as he did, and loved every second of this, it sent him on a power trip.

"Mm, my pretty little wife," Toji purred into your skin, tongue dotting out to lick over the teeth indents on your skin. "Show these boys how I make you feel real good."

The men watched as Toji began to tease your skin, some of them wishing they were Toji, but they weren't. They could watch, but they could never have. Toji loved calling you his, he loved being able to call you his wife, he loved doing it all while the men watching, seeing what you did for him, what you provided for him.

Your head fell back. "You're so good to me. I—ah—love how you make me feel!"

His grip on your thighs tightened, enjoying how you fell against. Toji loved showing off how you couldn't be anyone else's no matter what anybody thought.

"My good little wife, you sound so pretty." His fingers pumped in and out of you at rapid speed, wet sloshing sound echoed into the velvet of the casino.

Toji eyed the man to his left, seeing he was visibly turned on.

"You. Are you enjoying my wife's reactions? Does seeing her get pleasured arouse you?"

The man's face turned a deep red, completely caught in Toji's gaze, as the other man noticed what was happening, he shot a small glare at the other. However, you could see the mans eyes were completely on what you and Toji were doing.

He remained quiet, not daring to admit his arousal, but also unable to turn away. Toji clicked his tongue. "I asked you a question, boy."

The man swallowed, a lump in his throat as he spoke, in a quiet voice, as if ashamed. "Yes..." He said, not making eye contact with anyone, not even looking away from the display, unable to turn away.

Toji nodded, a grin splitting his face. "Good, and you?" He turned to ask the older man who'd been staring at his lap.

The older man sat there, his face flushed as if embarrassed or ashamed. He gulped before answering, knowing if he didn't that he would suffer the wrath of Toji. He cleared his throat, "I...am." He replied, his voice barely holding it together. He couldn't look away either, he had grown attached to how Toji and you were.

"Yeah, how could you not?" Toji asked rhetorically, fingers still ramming into you, sending waves of pleasure to course through your veins before he looked at the woman's husband. "Now you, are you enjoying the sight of my pretty wife?"

The woman's husband sat in his seat, trying to avoid everyone's stares and not look at the lewd display the two of you were showing. He cleared his throat as he replied, a small tinge of bitterness behind it. "No, absolutely not." He said, though he was completely lying.

Toji knew it, you knew it, and everyone who saw could tell. Toji wanted a reaction.

Toji let out a sound, it was almost a growl. "No? You don't like my wife?"

The man swallowed, clearly lying. "No, I don't." He continued to lie, though his eyes seemed to move to look down a bit, the sounds of your pleasure as Toji worked you filling the air, filling that man's ears.

"To…ji…l want to cum!" You whined, withering on his lap, feeling a fire burn in your lower tummy.

Toji smirked, he could tell that it was starting to drive the man mad, his eyes couldn't keep away. Toji wanted to rub it in, so bad as he continued to please you.

You could hear the man groan as you moaned, the men all began to have flushed appearances on their faces.

Toji loved it all, all the jealousy, jealousy from men watching his wife be pleasured by him, it made him feel powerful. You could hear Toji chuckle low as he whispered to you, leaning to your ear as he kept his voice low, so only you could hear you. "Say it louder for me, doll?"

You mewled, your vision going hazy, making the casino lights blue into one bright mess. "I wanna cum, Ji! Need to cum on your fingers—aw fuck— please!"

Toji loved how you reacted, but he loved more how the men were jealous. As you said your response, all could see they were getting antsy.

One by one their eyes darted to different locations, some of them even began to bounce their legs slightly, as if getting impatient.

"Shh, doll, I got ya. But first I need to talk to this gentleman, okay?" He said to you, planting a kiss below your ear before facing the woman's husband again. "So again I ask, do you have a problem with my wife? Do you not like her?"

The man continued to look away, he knew you were off limits, so was his wife. He kept his expression as best as he could. He cleared his throat, "I don't find her attractive, nor do I like her." He replied.

The other men were all growing frustrated, one of them shifting in their seat almost every other minute, as if they wanted to leave.

Toji chuckled, his fingers curled into once more, having you see stars. "Ya hear that, doll? He doesn't like ya. What a fool."

All you could see in that moment was stars, pleasure coursing through your body as Toji hit your sweet spot without mercy.

The woman was beginning to get jealous as well.

“'Ji! ‘Ji! so close!” You moaned.

Toji loved the way you called his name as you felt pleasure, it drove him wild.

Toji could see the men were growing envious, he loved seeing their glances, the way their fists were clenched. He loved the way their legs were shaking in their chairs, desperate to give into the pleasure they saw you in.

"I hear ya. Cum for me doll."

You knew Toji wasn't going to deny you. Meanwhile, all the men could hear your call of pleasure as your body tensed on his lap.

Some of them could see a bulge growing as they sat, trying to hide the fact it aroused them to watch. The whole ordeal made Toji feel in charge, made him feel like he was in control, he was addicted to it.

"Fuck!" You screamed, orgasm crashing down on you like a tidal wave. As you cried out, a low groan from many of the men were heard in the room, you could tell by the sounds of men shifting in their seats that they were getting antsy. Toji was loving you and the attention the men were giving, he knew that you were only his.

There was a look of pure jealousy in the woman's eyes as you cried out, the man's wife trying to hide her jealousy with a poker face, but Toji could see right through it all, loving every second of showing you off to

Everyone, you were his and he loved showing it off to people. The men were growing jealous, their faces red, their fists clenched, the sounds of groans and grunts filling the room, the woman had a jealous expression on her face, as did the other ladies who arrived before the situation started.

Toji pumped his fingers in and out of you until you slumped, blissed out. He extracted his hand, fingers glossed with your cum, craning his neck to look at the man.

“Ya sure ya got a problem with her?”

The man couldn't control his facial expressions, jealousy apparent in his eyes as he stared at the gloss on Toji's fingers.

The men seemed to grow antsy, some seemed angry that they couldn't have you, others jealous and annoyed by the situation. However, it was a mixture of both from the man who sat before Toji, his words slipping out before he could think.

"I said she isn't that attractive." He said in a snappy tone.

"That's unfortunate." Toji sighed, hand shooting out to grab his gun, flicking the safety off before cocking it to the man and without a blink of the eye, shot him in the chest, the sound resonating in the casino.

You could hear the men shout as the sound of the gun rang out, blood hitting the ground. A dead body laid limply on the chair, however the men didn't seem to move, as if in shock at the sudden turn of events. Though some of their eyes drifted to the sight, as if they were happy he was no longer the threat.

Toji placed it back down, the gunmetal wet with your arousal now before his lips found your neck. "For the record, doll. I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world." He whispered to you.

Your heart fluttered. "Thank you, baby. I think you're the most handsomest man ever." You replied, twisting your body around to face him, legs cradling his waist.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you close as you sat on his lap. A small hum of appreciation escaped his lips as you called him the most handsome man. He had a small smirk on his face, loving the fact that the men sat there and watched him hold you, loving how you belonged to no one other than him.

"I'm the luckiest too. Not everyone gets to have a wife like you." He raised a thumb to caress your cheek

His words sent you crashing forward, slamming your lips onto his, fingers curling around his collar while his around your waist and in your hair.

Toji could taste the lipstick on your lips, the taste he had fallen in love with over the years, the way your taste is mixed in with his. The way your fingers curled around his collar and in his hair, your body against his. He loved every second, he held you close, he held you so only he could have you.

Not a single man could touch you without suffering a fate similar to the man laid on the ground.

Toji held you close, his tongue dancing with yours, his hand on the back of your head holding you, making sure you didn't slip away. "Hmph...Toji?" You asked softly, pushing yourself closer to him.

His eyes stared into yours, he hummed to let you know he was listening, though he didn't remove his hand from the back of your head.

"I don't think they got the message enough. Show them how you really pleasure me." You purred, reaching a hand between the two of you to squeeze at his clothed bulge.

His breath hitched, you could feel him twitch as you did. A smirk grew on his face, loving you, loving how you felt against him. And most of all, his gaze drifted to the men, who had all seemed to still stare.

He would make sure they got the message, that you were his, and only his. He moved his hands, pulling your face close to his as he whispered into your ear, low enough so only you could hear.

"How would you like it, doll?" His breath tickled the skin of your neck as he spoke, though he didn't hesitate to continue the moment. He knew exactly what he was planning, but would see what you wanted first.

A shiver ran through you. "I want it rough, ‘Ji. I don't want to walk for days, and l'd like everyone here to never forget...if they make it out alive."

He smirked, loving the way you answered. "My good wife, of course, I'll satisfy you." He spoke softly into your ear, before his hands slid down. He ran the tip of his fingers up your thighs while locking eyes with the men.

His fingers found your dress and in one fluid movement, he ripped it almost in two, exposing more of you to him. "Toji! I liked this dress." You huffed, looking at the slit that ran almost over your whole stomach.

Toji chuckled, his eyes staring at your almost ruined dress. "I'll buy you as many dresses as you want, doll. I’ll get them custom made if I have to." He replied as his hands moved to your thighs. He began to gently caress them, rubbing small circles, as his gaze remained on your now exposed body.

You sighed, raising your hips to access his belt. He kept a firm grip on your thighs as you raised your hips, and moved his own, as if helping you in your quest.

His eyes moved to all the men watching, his smirk still on his face. He had so much power in this moment, that only he knew.

Hastily you unbuckled his belt, desperately wanted to free him. His breath hitched with every small movement, every small pull of material that you did towards his belt. He wasn't in control of his actions, all he cared about was you. He helped you by pushing himself at just the right angle, helping you along as you unfastened his belt.

You sighed when it came undone, now tugging his pants down, boxers somewhat going with, now exposing the tuft or hair he had at the base.

He groaned, the sight of it was making it hard for him not to do anything just yet. He could see the excitement in your eyes, and could tell by the looks on the other men's faces how they wished they had this.

"Help me, 'Ji." You huffed, leaning back.

Without hesitating he lifted you up a bit, not lifting his hands from your thighs as he did so. He then began to help, pulling his pants down a bit, but leaving his underwear for the moment. "There ya go, doll." He said, his words filled with a deep tone.

You grunted, hands flying for his boxers and yanking them down, exposing his long, thick girth. It swayed back and hit his stomach, angry red tip weeping with precum.

He groaned with a slight chuckle from his lips. His breathing began to get heavier, every movement you were making was getting him more riled up.

He was starting to get excited from showing off, as well as showing how in power he was, and how you never had to worry for anything, because no one could take you from him. Your eyes moved to his, you could see his usual eyes, but also a sense of danger behind them.

You felt yourself clench at the sight, already hiking your hips up to take him.

Toji then adjusted his grip and you, shifting you so you were more on top of him and able to take him more. You could see the men's hands gripping tighter to anything as they watched the two of you.

Toji stood up with a grunt, holding you with his muscular arms as if you weighed nothing. "You ready, doll?"

You could feel the power behind those muscles, the fact he could hold you up so easily was a turn on to you, and clearly to the men. Toji kept you close and secure as he asked you.

"Uhuh, show the-show me how good you make me feel."

With a smirk on his face, he pulled up and down slightly, and then thrusted upward. He wanted to let out a groan, but was fighting it back, at this point he didn't care much how you felt, he wanted to show the men watching how he could please you, how you were his.

He held you close to his chest as he began to raise you by your thighs, using them to do most of the moving as he kept you close so he could hold onto you. The men watched closely, the way you and Toji were acting with each other, the way you seemed to melt with everything Toji did.

He used you like an object. Cock slamming into you, balls slapping against your ass, having you cry out.

"Fuck, yes!"

Toji grunted in pleasure as he continued, wanting everyone to hear you, hear how good you feel, hear how good he makes you feel.

If you looked up, you could see the looks on the men's faces, how a few of them were shifting in their seats, how they wanted to be the one getting you to make these sounds.

He held you under your shoulders, fingers flexing against your skin. He held you so securely, yet his grip was firm, like he was afraid you'd slip away. He wanted to pull you close, kiss your neck, but he also wanted the men to see everything.

So, Toji took a step forward before placing you on the betting table, cock still relentlessly bruising your cervix. One hand moved to your waist while the other swiped over your breast and pulled at the fabric of your dress, freeing your bouncing breast.

Toji's mouth watered at the sight. He brought his calloused thumb over your peaked nipple.

You could see Toji's smirk, he was almost loving watching the men who were jealous. How you had that effect on him, even as the jealous onlookers glanced your way, he still was obsessed with you.

"So gorgeous. So goddamn gorgeous." Toji praised, hand trailing over your stomach before it returned between your legs, thumb sticking out to rub away at your aching clit.

You could see Toji's eyes rake over your body as if he was taking everything in, how he felt so deeply about you. The men's eyes were also trailing all over you, how your body reacted to every small movement and touch Toji made

Your arms flailed around, crashing into the chips, sending them jostling down. "F-Fuck, 'Ji! Just like that!"

A few gasps were heard, though it mattered nothing to Toji. All he wanted to do was to make you feel good, and make the men feel as inadequate as possible because they had no chance.

His gun lay by your hip, still coated in your previous arousal, it way almost symbolic, dare I say, of the situation.

Quick, rapid gasps left your lips, you choked on moans at the same rhythm his thumb flicked your bundle of nerves. "Hah—ah—won't last long—!"

In the moment, Toji could tell you were close, that was all Toji could focus on. He wanted to show the men how you were only his, to make them jealous, to make it clear you belonged to him, only him. He kept his eyes on you, seeing pleasure roll through your body. He loved all of this, loved every second of his actions

"I know, doll. You wanna make a mess for me?" He knew he was going to bring you to a release soon, he knew you were going to be in complete bliss under him. He could still hear the sounds of discomfort from the men watching.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" You changed like a mantra, nails digging into the material of the table.

Hearing you, feeling you, watching you, it was a complete turn on for Toji.

His breathing was heavier, not as heavy as yours, but heavier. He wanted to see you like this all the time, like this in front of everyone so they all knew they didn't really know anything and weren't worthy of a chance

He added his forefinger with, now pinching your clit. "Cum for me, doll. Need to feel my wife cum on my cock." He grunted, only for you, he knew he owned every second of this, and it was driving him wild

Pleasure wracked through you and your whole body shook as you came hard, getting your cum over Toji's cock, thighs and even the table below you.

Toji grunted as you came, you could see his eyes dark as he watched you. The other men's breathing grew harder as they watched, some of them shifted, they just couldn't look away.

You could hear the way most of them were breathing, like they were holding back from something, like they wished they were Toji, but couldn't be, they weren't worthy

"Fuck, doll. Gonna fill this greedy cunt up." Toji grunted, fingers digging into your hip before he spilled inside you.

When Toji finally reached his peak, you could hear a few sounds of relief from some of the men. However, they were all still jealous, how they wanted to be the one who was able to do this, yet they weren't.

Toji didn't move for a moment, he wanted this moment to last forever, the look on the men's faces, all of it, only for you. He let out a small grumble as he held you close, his breath could.

You could see Toji's breathing hard, he could keep going if he wanted, but he felt he had his fill. He wanted to show everyone around that they had nothing on him, all the men in the casino watched you both with jealous eyes. You could still feel his hands against your thighs, still holding you close.

With a wince, Toji pulled out, his grip grew a bit tighter around your thighs. His eyes were low, trying to catch his breath. You could hear some of the men let out groans, trying to disguise it as a cough, though it was obvious.

Toji's breathing was still heavy, his eyes still dark from the whole ordeal. He began to pull himself up to be standing, and began to pull you with him

He looked to the side, at the young man next to him, seeing he had a large wet patch on his crotch. "Shit, doll. Fucked ya so good the boy creamed his pants, heh."

The man’s face was bright red, the fact that he had made such an obvious reaction, but couldn't hide it very well, was obvious. You could see the men trying so hard to maintain their composure, but it was obvious to tell some of them were jealous as well.

Toji began to gently straighten his clothes up as he held you, still making everyone watch, and still showing off your body

He then grabbed you and spun you around to face the woman, even though you were dripping cum, tit still out, makeup running down your cheeks. "Tell me, girl. Does she look fulfilled to you?" He asked her.

The woman was shaking. "You killed... my husband." She whispered, trying not to look at her husbands body that limply sat next to her.

Toji clicked his tongue, and let out a chuckle, ignoring her words. "That's not answering my question,” Toji replied, his grip tightening on you slightly. "Just answer the damn question." Toji said, his tone was harsh, almost threatening.

The woman flinched at Toji's harsh tone, and let out a shaky breath. "...Yes." She muttered

Toji smirked, it moved his scar. “That's fucking right,” he turned back to you. “Come on, doll. Let's get out of here.” He slid his jacket off him, before he threw it around your shoulders.

As he slid his jacket around you, Toji began to walk, guiding you out of the room, showing you off to the men in the process. You could see the men watch you all the way out, they looked upset, envious, desperate, though they said nothing.

"Oh, one more thing," he turned to face you, one hand reaching for his pocket, other cradling your jaw. "Kiss me, doll"

You could see his eyes, still the dark, possessive eyes he had only for you. You knew he liked showing you off, but he still wanted something only he got.

When you looked at him, you thought you saw his gaze become softer, only for you. You were the only one who could see him like this, the only one who could see Toji like this. You knew you were the only one in the world who could get his attention, and he wanted a kiss.

Your lips were bruised, but still beautiful, the lipstick he loved was smeared slightly. He could see how you looked still a little dishevelled, but perfect in his eyes, to him, you were perfection. You were the only thing he would ever call perfection, he smirked softly as he waited for you to kiss him.

So quickly, you threw your arms around him and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed you back, his one free hand resting on the back of your waist. He pulled you close, still in front of everyone in the casino. Toji wanted everyone to see how you belonged to him, how he was the only one who got your kisses, your time, your everything.

"Don't turn around." He murmured to you, and that's when you heard it. The cocking of a gun, the screams, gunshots, then silence, all while you devoured the whiskey you could faintly taste on your husband's lips.

You ignored the mess behind you, focused on how his mouth moved with yours, how you could taste him through it all, how his other hand rested on the back of your jaw, how you heard his breath mix between kisses. While Toji seemed cool and calm, you could tell he was just as into the kiss as you were.

Then, he broke the kiss. "I love you, doll." There you stood, outside the casino, the cold air hitting your face, you could still feel your lipstick smeared, your legs shaky after everything, your legs slightly numb.

Toji held you close, he didn't want to let anything happen to you, he wouldn't allow it. He loved you, he had for years. You were his, only his, and he would tear anyone who got close to you to shreds.

God, did you love your mob boss husband.

on Pinterest and what do I see? crazy coincidence

&& if anyone saw how the “” looked different, it’s coz I copied this from my wattpad book i made specifically for this account 😼

#ᶻz 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐈 #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji x y/n

394 notes · View notes

capslocked · 1 year ago

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 3

[prompt: fingering] male reader x kim chaewon 2.5k words

Chaewon hates that you’re actually good at this.

To be clear, there’s plenty more that Chaewon hates; it’s not exhaustive, just that bit.

She hates losing. Hates whenever anyone talks over her or doesn't give a second's worth of attention to whatever it is she's trying to say. She absolutely loathes it whenever her friends insist on complimenting her appearance when she doesn't have her clothes or makeup or hair or attitude down just yet.

But the thing she hates most? There's reason to believe it might be that her friends laugh at your jokes, or that when you roll up your sleeves and smile, they all notice things they normally wouldn't (and like it), even when Chaewon fixes them a look just this side of sour and scowly.

Realistically however, and Chaewon doesn't seem to mind admitting this part out loud - especially once you stop teasing her thighs with kisses that tickle the crease where her legs meet her hips - you really are good at going down on girls.

This, is absolute truth.

"Fuck," and "me," she breathes out, harsh little syllables coming with her fingertips knotting into your hair, right above the nape of your neck. She crashes down into the pillow behind her. Back and hips tensing - thighs all spread wide. She probably gives a bit too much, but Chaewon's the kind who gives, then turns around to take some more:

"You can-" is cut short when she gasps at the sudden, slow touch of a finger at the sensitive bundle of nerves atop her folds. There and back. "Ah - a little more, fuck, god. Again."

It's your mouth. The exact right movements - pulling and kissing, sucking gently, fluttering your tongue. Then harder and harder and harder, licking against the crease. That's what has her toes curling and feet flat to the bed. Little fistfuls of cotton sheets twisted up in her grip.

Actually, It's the flat of your tongue, soft and slick and moving on her clit in these long and languid sweeps that really makes the tears in her eyes begin to sting - like all that ache around her pussy is nothing compared to the one simmering in her stomach - like if only she could unwind around you a little bit faster and have her body turn to water and utterly ruin your sheets, she could catch her breath - and find her voice again.

You pull her puffy lips into a kiss, a devilish little suction, and her thighs press tighter and tighter together, around the sides of your head until you start to get a little dizzy. With a hand splayed open across her thigh - a tiny tickling gesture - you urge her to spread. Beg for breath.

Only to your surprise, she closes her legs completely.

"Asshole. Fuck," Chaewon sighs out.

"Did you think you'd lose me?" You kiss your way up from her hips to the flat of her stomach and grin into her skin.

"Was about to kick you," she rolls her eyes, then raises an arm and pushes her bangs off her forehead - wiping a sheen of sweat with the back of her palm. "No mouth."

"No mouth?" You cock your head, giving her an innocently questioning look.

"It's..." Chaewon is barely a hair's length away from what you expect. "Don't kiss me either. Unless you wanna make out, in which case actually, the answer's also no. I don't want to taste myself."

"Chae, you actually taste pretty good."

"Stop." Chaewon's sigh has a lilt, something obviously worried in the noise. Tucked into the shape of her half-lidded eyes. "I'm literally too turned on for this."

"So you want me to touch you."

Here’s to that what Chaewon doesn't say, "I want you to stick three of those fingers into my pussy and fill me 'til the knuckle and eat my ass while your thumb is tucked deep in my cunt. I want it to hurt, how badly I'm aching for you to fill and ruin and tear me the fuck apart."

She instead asks, "what the fuck do you think?"

"But no mouth," you repeat, slowly running your fingers down the creamy skin along her thigh, watching how she shivers when you brush a certain spot near her knee, and feeling a tightening grip on the opposite hip.

Chaewon groans a bit, lips twisting down.

"Can I perhaps, like, ask why?" you ask, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses into the flesh of her leg, down from her knee, over the curve of a thigh - but not, determinedly, into her where she's hotter and softer and practically melting, from all this pressure built up inside.

"Mind your own business," she mutters back.

You look. Chaewon's pussy is so, so pretty. Wetness gathering at the glistening, flushed hood. She's fluttering: desperate for the faintest touch. It's hard to imagine yourself doing anything other than making her writhe and gasp and wail on your mouth and lips and tongue, as your undoing - reducing her to an exhausted, sweat-drenched, wracked mess, the kind of spent that follows with long, long sighs and whispered curses under her breath.

With a fingertip ghosting touches around her cunt, Chaewon lets out an unexpectedly high-pitched whine. One that fades, bit by bit. Into an eventual murmuring - begging?

"Baby," you say, when you just can't resist. "I just want to make you-"

"I said, I wanted-I want-" and then with the pillow over her face, her groan, muffled, "look - it's fine. It's...great, even," is what you think she means by "amazing," but she continues, "you're literally the best thing I've ever felt, please. Fuck-come on. Keep touching."

You slow your hand, smoothing down the soft skin over her thighs.

And as soon as your lips cover her hole, from where she's wet and dripping and open, her hands fall to her side, pillow sliding into the corner of the sheets. "It's too good."

You're kidding. With a tip of your head, and your most self-satisfied little smirk, you ask, "too good?"

"Can you shut the fuck up, I hate you. I really fucking do," she says in what you figure was meant to be a dismissive sigh. One that's something stuck in a guttural moan and the squeak of mattress springs. "Please, you make me cum too fast otherwise."

You chuckle, trying your damnedest not to keep the mood going and actually get her to enjoy the moment - the best orgasm of her life, you want her to remember. To deserve the bragging rights.

“Odd complaint, princess.”

The stare she has fixed on you - over the space where her shirt is bunched up over the arch of her ribs - cuts right through you, if a bit hazy. And with her hands over her face, squirming her hips closer to you, she says, “don’t fucking call me princess.”

The implication is not lost on her. You let out an apologetic laugh, bringing your mouth, if briefly, closer to the peak of her hips and blowing a cold breath.

Chaewon just mutters something that sounds vaguely like, "fucking prick, just go back down."

Which is where she ends up. Or, starts. Because now she's lying back on the pillows with her hand slung across her forehead, leg up and bent and calf draped over the crook of your elbow, her eyes rolling back as you start to touch her - really, earnestly; work her up again, thumb rubbing the length of her clit. You can hear Chaewon's breath leaving her chest, in a broken pattern, until the sensations finally allow her to settle into one smooth inhale.

And then, slowly, just the length of one finger up to your first knuckle, the second - you slip inside her so, so easily. Then almost all the way. Her body tense, and her cunt, deliciously soft.

When you stroke and rub and slide your way back in, adding another digit, the noises she begins to make - your name, then god - sound raw, like a far-off cry and a drawn-out wail. There's a swishing sound whenever you get really slow and rhythmic, with the push, that turns slick-wet from the hot, milky way her insides get all sticky with her own want, before you can press more kisses into the bone of her hips and lap against the same skin - almost biting.

"Tell me if you want to stop," you whisper, the hot, humid breath of which does not fail to cause her spine to bend.

"Don't."

She's half-swearing, half-whimpering.

"Fuck you," is what follows next. As she wraps a hand in the hair around the base of your skull and pulls you close, right into her thighs and hips.

It's the small pleasures that have always gotten to you the most, the smallest, most vulnerable and unthinkingly personal acts, like, you think, when she presses the heel of her hand over her eyes and half-smiles, when the palm spreads out across the flatness of her stomach, as if, somehow, her whole self could not be any more delicate and devious at the exact same time.

And you are compelled, because of course, you are compelled: to be anything and everything Chaewon asks for in this moment, you tell her.

(Here's the embarrassing part. For her, really.)

You have your thumb tucked up along the muscle of Chaewon's thighs, opening and stroking a straight line from where your finger is still nestled all the way up the entirety of her folds, "so good and so," before circling the tensed point in a delicate, feather-touch, "tight, baby."

"Shit, oh, that's. You're." And all you do is hum, agreeing, adding another stroke and letting your lips fall into her open thigh. Your finger fucking her cunt a few times before twisting back and pulling out.

"You're making me feel so," and her whole body relaxes. Not only her voice. A shudder that breaks up her spine and spreads to her thighs, loosening. And looser and looser.

And at the exact same time she's saying: "hot."

Chaewon runs the pad of her thumb over her lip, bucking her hips into the flutter of your fingers. The soft, velvety heat of her cunt takes quickly to the slow circle-stroke, slide and curl, repeat, again. Her whine is longer, louder. More-so once her whole body tightens up once your fingers fuck into her, especially deep, in short-rhythmic staccato strokes, rubbing at her from the inside until she's shaking all over and can hardly breathe.

"Fuck, the way you're so-" Chaewon's heels digging deeper, "oh, deeper. Right there, please right there–."

This isn't even the worst of her embarrassment. When her stomach gets visibly tensed, muscles bunching and giving, and your free hand falls to rest on top of it. All this friction happening within her. Just beneath the surface of her skin and how that must be lighting every nerve along her spine and sending them all aflame, so overwhelmed and tightened, only relaxing in small increments whenever you move a bit too slow, to a bit more pressure - adding the extra touch, kissing her everywhere between her thighs, right into the dips between them. Close but not there. So frustratingly near, and she barely has the air left in her lungs to make a frustrated noise, but somehow finds the impetus to let the weight fall out of her body - let her limbs stretch open, give, release the tension.

Then all those incoherent twitching spasms: "God. Now-"

When the sudden ache inside her walls hits, it catches first in her chest, spreading out where the fist curling into the covers can't hide. "Right there, right there," she's panting, nodding her head in these tiny little shakes, rocking her hips into the movement and pushing them into your touch. And you just nod back.

Her orgasm hits her like a fucking lightning storm: blinding and thunderous, heavy.

Chaewon simply cries out when she unravels, finally, and the sound is a little wrecked. Cursing your name, god's.

Her hand is twisted in your hair, and she pulls, twists and wrenches, an arm tossed over her face when it feels like you're rushing, surging waves breaking all along her senses, the pads of your fingers pushing into the ridges, knuckles wrapping, knocking at her core, finger prints seared into her skin and pressing into that knot of pleasure, swollen and raw.

She just exhales into a groan and runs a palm down her face and throat, and breasts, rubbing a bit harshly at the tops of her shoulders. You raise yourself over her, until your head's just next to her collarbone, not speaking but watching how her breaths are slowing - the moment they become steadier, like a boat to shore.

You prop an arm over her, carefully, letting Chaewon twist her palm, finger the tips of yours. It's like listening to music, hearing how she laughs and swallows around this haze. Her whole body in the dreamy afterglow, writhing a little when the ache crawls back up through the space between her hips and she settles onto her side, curling up in your half-embrace.

"Oh, well. Look what you did to me, fuck," she murmurs. You can't help smiling.

"Too fast?" you ask, lowering your head, propping yourself up on a single elbow and gently placing a kiss along the top of her hair, tangling her fingers with your own.

"You're really annoying," she huffs. She tries her best not to blush, but the glow in her cheeks is quite apparent - especially once it reaches her ears. You laugh right into the top of her head, and she playful slaps a fist to your chest. "Go to bed, idiot."

"To think - you said you liked me."

"Said. Said, being the key word here."

When you roll over - slightly onto her and slip a thigh between her legs - Chaewon groans, and her hands press into your back. The touch is light. Practically nothing. Then you're grinning down at her, a sly smile playing in your eyes. "Maybe it’s my turn," she murmurs, "to make you squirm."

"No mouth?" you tease. "You might need the help sweetheart."

"Fuck that. Absolutely not." Chaewon rolls and turns until she's on top of your thighs, pinning you gently in place. She’s fixing her hair into a clumsy little ponytail, hallmark signs of impatience, that says, "if I want to suck your cock, I'll do it," she glares a little, but her smirk is turning the corner, and her whole face softens.

"Shouldn't have laughed earlier, asshole."

(And here is the start and end of all you think you know, watching as she places a trail of kisses down your chest.)

#chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #izone smut #le sserafim chaewon smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

2K notes · View notes

skimmingmilk · 5 months ago

Text

"If it helps, one of the many scenarios my brain likes to twist around is imagining Sonic's perspective of No Cracks In A Closed Loop (and I adore Tails getting to be a badass and pulling off the impossible, too- my brain just likes to spin on the angst sometimes)" - @manynerdthings

A/N: So I was inspired...

I think it's safe to say this helped a lot xD Thank you, manynerdthings!

This is a continuation of my fic "No Cracks in a Closed Loop"

No Cracks in a Closed Loop — Sonic's Side

"Sonic."

That single word—no, just the voice alone—was enough to cut through the adrenaline rush as pure chaos energy sang through his veins and ignited every nerve with its spark. In a flash of light and sound, Super Sonic punched a hole through the Starfall-titan-wanna-be by using his own body as a projectile. A cocky grin cut across his muzzle as it wobbled in place, setting its sights on him instead of the city it had been about to level; its laser cannons aimed directly at the fault line.

This fight wouldn't last twenty seconds. They'd already won.

"What's up, partner?" Sonic said into the comm as he shot skyward.

The streak of gold drew the mech's cannon higher, until it cleared the tips of skyscrapers and nearby mountaintops by the time it shot at him. The laser's heat didn't even singe his fur, firing at full power into the stratosphere instead of drilling deep into the crust of the planet. It zinged past the satellite Tails was communicating from, but Super Sonic's gaze didn't linger on it for more than half a second—already more than certain it was out of the laser's range. Speeding through the air, he whirled around towards the mech for his next move. He was going to cyloop Eggman's newest addition to his junk pile right off its feet.

Swerving down in a sharp arc, Super Sonic avoided the next blast while he swung around to try and circle it. It's clawed hand swiped at him before he could complete his first circuit. He shot straight up before it could catch him, homing attacking it in the face instead.

The comm was still quiet. Tails must've swapped to their own channel. Super Sonic flew backwards, putting both the titan and the distant satellite in his line of sight. Whatever he had to say, he didn't want anyone else to hear it.

Super Sonic's brow furrowed as a barrage of bullets opened up on him. He weaved between the hundreds of projectiles glinting dangerously in the sunlight, but his chaos energy and speed worked in tandem, as fluidly as a dance, while he searched for another opening to try the cyloop again.

He could beat this thing without it, sure, but it was the fastest way to take it down.

"Tails? Still with me, bud?" Super or not, Sonic still spared a second to check in, static ringing in his ears as he burst through the center of the mech's chest plate for a shortcut.

"I'm here," Tails answered, but his voice sounded faint, like the feedback was drowning him out. "Sorry, I…" Super Sonic started his cyloop. "I just wanted to—" He was halfway around. "I'm sorry—"

Sonic closed the loop. A burst of chaos energy swelled up with a deafening boom. The air rippled with the force of it in great gusts of wind that rocked the trees and the grass of the nearby hills. Waves rose up in the bay, their white caps scraping the bottom of the golden bridge that marked the edge of the sea. The fake titan lifted into the air, sparks crackling off its metal casing as its system overloaded. Super Sonic didn't give it a second to recalibrate itself.

Faster than anyone could see, he smashed into it on all sides. A tiny mote of golden light against the towering behemoth, but it struck every weak point, fried every circuit, as the chaos energy pressed in on it from the outside. Metal crunched and caved it on itself, contorting into a twisted configuration until it no longer resembled a machine.

A cheap imitation of the ancients' attempts to defend themselves, designed only to destroy instead of protect.

Super Sonic grabbed onto mech's arm—or maybe its leg, it was hard to tell at this point—as the cyloop's effect faded, catching it before it crushed Westopolis. He swung it around and around, gritting his teeth as he built up momentum and set his sights on the ocean out ahead of them. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Super Sonic let go.

The mech's remains were flung through the air, over the coastline and beyond the bridge that cut off the bay from the sea. It crashed into the water, the ocean spray shooting up into the air in a tower of mist once it hit the surface. The waves rolled aggressively towards the coastline, but ultimately broke apart in the bay before they could do too much damage. Some millionaires might have to replace a yacht or two, but that wasn't Sonic's problem.

As he dusted his hands off, he could finally acknowledge the warning bells Tails's last words to him had set off. "Hey, what was that, bud? I didn't catch—"

Super Sonic turned towards the satellite, addressing it like he would Tails, but it was gone. Instead a cloud of smoke filled the space where the satellite had been not ten seconds ago. Metal shards and fire rained upon the bay. Everything in pieces. Everything gone.

His comm was in chaos. Unintelligible voices shouted over one another in a cacophony of white noise that was already fighting a losing battle to the ringing in his ears. But he still noticed one voice was missing. He couldn't hear it.

He hadn't heard any of it.

Over the sonic boom of his cyloop and the screeching of metal as he demolished the titan, Sonic hadn't heard the satellite explode.

The satellite his little brother was on.

He'd been trying to tell him something.

He'd been trying to tell him something before a satellite exploded with him on it.

"I'm sorry."

Tails.

Super Sonic shot off like a bullet, speeding towards the black cloud of smoke and smoldering debris like there was even a chance—

No. There had to be a chance—

"I just wanted to—I'm sorry—"

Why? What happened? What did you do, Tails?

He hadn't even properly seen him off before he left. Tails had been trying to hack into Eggman's satellite remotely while Sonic was out chasing after the faux titans. He told them all about his plan to board the satellite and everyone agreed it sounded like the right call, so long as he could do it quickly. They needed to disrupt the signal, after all, and Tails was their best shot.

That was what he'd said, wasn't it? "You're our best shot, Tails. I believe in you, partner."

Their best shot, but not the only one. Not if it meant this.

Nothing was worth this.

Sonic didn't need to breathe while super, but his lungs still burned twin holes in his chest as his own nervous system caught fire. Golden sparks flicked off his quills as he raced through the air. Fiery eyes frantically scanned each scrap of metal that fell, but they must've already been irritated from the smoke because they burned and blurred with the rest of the world around him—

"—onic, wait! Come back! Sonic!"

One voice.

Super Sonic stopped. He stopped so fast and so suddenly, it felt like his own soul completely missed the memo. Like everything inside him continued to hightails it towards where Tails had been without him, leaving him empty. Hollow. Cold.

A vacuous space in the center of himself where there'd once been something.

The chaos energy inside him didn't know what to do with that.

With so much… nothing.

Stunned, he could only float in place for a stupid second until he remembered he'd stopped for a reason. With a sharp turn, his stare locked onto a splash of orange amidst the blotchy colors of the rest of the world bleeding into one another. Like he was still moving too fast to see clearly. Like he couldn't catch up to himself.

"Sonic…" Tails's voice broke like it had on the comm, but it wasn't with pain guilt fear regret static.

Vision clearing, Sonic could see him now. At the edge of one of the hills overlooking Westopolis and the bay. Tails just rubbed at his nose with a sheepish sort of grin, like the explosion was a minor miscalculation. A hiccup. My bad, he could hear him saying, like he was standing in the middle of his workshop, covered in soot and singed fur, one hand on his hip and a fire extinguisher at his feet.

Like he was fine.

Like he hadn't been incinerated in the fiery inferno smoldering above them.

Tails lowered his hand, eyes shining as they looked up at him, reflecting the very sky Super Sonic was caught in as the satellite's remains fell all around him. He'd been on that satellite. Just seconds ago, Sonic had been so sure of it.

He'd been so sure he'd lost him…

Then Tails opened his arms to him and laughed.

All at once Sonic crashed back into himself, chest heaving with a sharp inhale as his heart lurched forward.

Faster than a blink, Super Sonic barrelled into Tails and sent them toppling down the hillside. They smacked hard against the ground, but Sonic took the brunt of the fall even with the world spinning around them. His arms encircled Tails tightly, one hand protecting the back of his head while the other braced the small of his back as they tumbled and whooped like a pair of idiots. Pure joy radiated through him, burning brighter than the chaos energy coursing through his quills. It knocked the emeralds right out of him. The seven gems fell into the grass around them as the two mobians eventually rolled to a stop.

Sonic clutched Tails to him, shaking with breathless laughter as he felt his little brother hug him back just as tightly. "I'm here," Tails was saying, and it took a minute to realize he'd been repeating the words while Sonic's hands were trembling. "I'm here. It's okay, big bro. I'm here. I’m here."

"And you say I'm the one that's gonna give you a heart attack," Sonic wheezed, not bothering to give himself room to breathe if it meant letting go for even a second.

"Can't let you have all the fun." Tails smoothed his hands over Sonic's spines to try and settle him, his touch purposeful and grounding. "Deep breaths, big bro. You're gonna pass out."

"Nuh-uh," he argued, but filled his lungs with his next inhale anyway, then let all the air ease out of him.

"That's it. There ya go," Tails encouraged, but Sonic couldn't help his snort of indignation at being coddled and pushed away from him.

Except Tails just tightened his grip; fingers curling in his fur like they'd be forced apart if he didn't. He hid his face in the crook of Sonic's neck, his breaths coming only a little too fast. But his hands were shaking, too, and his twin tails wound around them both as if they were enough to protect them from the next threat.

Sonic didn't pull away. He just sat back, the eleven-year-old practically in his lap, and rested his hand atop Tails's head.

"Gave me a real scare there, pal," he said, voice low and gentle as he smoothed out his fur, picking at the grass and brambles they were both covered in.

"…Scared me, too."

Sonic's heart clenched, the open admission like a bludgeon to his protective instincts, even if his pride assured him Tails could handle it. After all, the proof had all but climbed into his lap. But now that he was looking at him—really looking at him—he could see his fur was mussed up from more than just a tumble at supersonic speed. A streak of blood stained his fur on his shoulder and there was a lump near the center of his back that filled Sonic with an angry fire hot enough to burn through the atmosphere when he so much as brushed against it with his fingers.

Tails didn't flinch when he grazed it, but his muscles gave an involuntary spasm that rippled beneath his fur and his hold on Sonic tightened. It was enough to quell the roiling rage to a simmer. Something he could stick a lid on without worrying it would boil over if left unchecked. It wasn't what Tails needed from him right now.

But Sonic still wanted some answers.

"What happened up there?" he asked.

Tails shook his head. "Just a bit of a closer call than I thought it'd be. But I'll be okay. I am okay."

Sonic instinctively bristled, prepared to be shut out of whatever it was he'd gone through. "Tails—"

"I'll tell you someday," he promised, pressing his paw over Sonic's heart. "I mean it. But right now we've got a lot of Eggman's mess to clean up. There's still six other titans out there and I'm sure everyone else is worried."

Sonic sighed, as exasperated as he could manage when he was still just glad this kid was alive. "Gonna hold you to that," he threatened, ruffling his fur to muss it up on purpose. "You owe me. Nearly shocked the Chaos Emeralds right outta my system."

"Says Mr. Guy-Who-Loves-Adventure," Tails teased as he pushed himself up to stand. "You should be used to it by now."

Sonic snorted when he was offered a hand up, but he took it nonetheless. "When I go gray early, I'll know exactly who to blame."

"Don't worry. I'll help you dye your quills, old man," Tails snickered, but it broke off with a wince as a sharp twinge ran through his back.

Sonic was quick to lay a supportive hand at his hip to steady him. "Look who's talking. At this rate, you're gonna be right there with me setting the record for the world's youngest old timers."

Tails sent him a look, but accepted the help nonetheless as he leaned his weight against him. "Did you really have to knock us all the way down the hill like that?"

"Heh. Well, in my defense, wasn't exactly thinking straight." Sonic scratched at his nose, giving him a not-so-subtle onceover. "Didn't bang ya up too bad, did I?"

"Nah. I'll bounce back," Tails assured him, giving him a pat on the back.

"You always do," Sonic agreed warmly as they took a few steps in tandem so they could start collecting the Chaos Emeralds on their way back up the hill while Tails alerted everyone to their status on his comm and checked in on everyone else as well.

Sonic just listened, taking in the rise and fall of his voice, his steady assurances and sighs of relief to hear that the world hadn't fallen apart in his absence. Even if it very nearly did. As far as Sonic was concerned, anyway.

But he was okay now. That was what mattered. And whatever it was that happened on that satellite—whatever reason Tails had for calling him seconds before disaster—he would trust that his little brother would come to him when he was ready. Because he'd be there for him. No matter what.

Keeping his arm looped around Tails’s waist even after they made it back up the hill, Sonic looked up at the smoke still fading from the sky. He tightened his hold on him. It felt like another lifetime, like another him had first seen the explosion and feared the worst. Tails followed his gaze, quiet again with all the calls taken care of and winded from the uphill climb. Through his labored breaths, there was the slightest tremor that traveled from his chest to where he stood pressed against his brother.

"…Scared me, too."

"Hey, whatever happened up there," Sonic broke the silence, his voice drawing Tails back down beside him. "Whatever you did, I'll bet it was seriously way past cool." He glanced over at him, waiting to catch his eye before giving him a wink.

All too easily, Tails grinned up at him, the shape of his smile the spitting image of his brother's. "Way past is definitely one way to put it."

———

Five years later…

———

"You've been quiet all day, partner. Something going on in that big brain of yours?"

Everyone else had split off for the night. Team Dark vanished sometime after lunch, after Rouge once again tricked Shadow into accompanying her, and Team Chaotix had an appointment for their next case. Amy took Cream back home to Vanilla while Tangle and Whisper left to help Jewel out with some Restoration business.

Which left just Sonic and Tails lounging on the couch; the former picking up where Vector had left off in the game he'd been playing, tapping away at the controller while the latter watched.

Tails hummed in acknowledgement, so Sonic let him have a minute of quiet to collect his thoughts. He picked at one of Whisper's cinnamon muffins, crumbs scattering across the coffee table, but he didn't eat any of it. He hadn't had much of an appetite since slinking out of his lab earlier that afternoon.

It probably had something to do with the quiet and the way he'd been kinda clingy. Sonic had planned on going for a run as soon as Tails retreated back to his lab to tinker with whatever gadgets he had tucked away back there, but he seemed pretty content to stay curled up on the couch beside him. Still, Sonic could adapt. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and slumped back into the cushions as he wandered aimlessly around in a game he couldn't remember owning.

"Do you remember that time you went up against Eggman's seven fake titans?"

Sonic let out a low whistle. "Boy, is that a blast from the past. What about it?"

When Tails didn't immediately continue, Sonic pressed the pause button, then shifted against the cushion to sit up and face his not-so-little-anymore bro. The sixteen-year-old fox tore his gaze from the screen to watch him instead, eyes bright from television's glow. Looking at him like that, for a split second, Sonic could still see the insecure, little fox kit he used to be in the way his shoulders hunched up as if to make himself smaller. To take up less space in the world.

Sonic draped one arm along the back of the couch, leaving space for him to lean into if he wanted it. No matter how big he got, there'd always be space for him.

Tails scooted closer and rested his head against Sonic's arm. "I needed to disrupt the satellite signal powering the Chaos Emerald vaults, but Eggman locked me out of the remote connection so I had to access it directly—"

"On the actual satellite," Sonic interjected, fingers drumming against the back of the couch. "I remember."

Tails released a long exhale. "Well, he set a trap. A way to slow me down so I wouldn't be able to unlock the emeralds for you in time. The same code that would disrupt the satellite's signal would also cause it to self-destruct. Eggman banked on me having enough self-preservation that I wouldn't engage it without trying to disable that function first."

"But you set it off anyway."

"I set it off anyway," Tails confirmed with a decisive nod. "It was the outcome with the highest percentage of saving people. The fastest way to help you guys. I thought I could get out in time. I should've gotten out in time," his voice lowered, eyes distant as if he was reliving the moment right there on their couch. "But I couldn't. Not on my own. I needed… help."

Sonic tried to follow him there, even if he didn't much like to relive that day in his waking hours. "So you called me."

"Not… exactly." Tails sat up straighter so he could look him in the eye. "I knew you'd come get me if I asked, but then countless lives would've been lost if the titans had gone on unchecked, even if just for a couple of seconds. Sometimes that's all it takes…" Tails's fist clenched as he dropped his hardened gaze to his lap. "I made the call to initiate the self-destruct in order to save people. I couldn't take that back. I couldn't take you away from them. Not again."

A younger Sonic would've snapped at him—would've argued over the value of his life with him until he wasn't the only one blue in the face. But at twenty-three, Sonic had fought more of these battles than he cared to count and never once walked away a winner. So he sat back, held his tongue, and let Tails explain himself.

"I called you to say goodbye," his voice lowered to a whisper, "I wanted to give you that, at least.”

He'd had a feeling. It wasn't one he dwelled on freely, but sometimes the thought wandered in uninvited. Moreso during the first couple of months after the incident, when everything was still fresh and closer to their present.

Before Sonic could respond, Tails pressed forward. "But then an older version of myself traveled through time with two Chaos Emeralds to save me. He said it was the only way. Because at the time, only the two of us knew what transpired on the satellite. We created a temporal paradox, a loop without a proper origin, but as long as it was contained between the two versions of me, nothing could disrupt it. That's why I couldn't tell you before. I wasn't sure… I didn't know if the future version of myself had told you what happened and if that would open up possibilities in the time stream that would botch the encounter entirely." Tails lifted his gaze to seek out Sonic's again, and he could see the eleven-year-old sitting in front of him like it was that very same day. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you."

"Nothing to apologize for, bud. I get it. I wouldn't want to mess up the time stream for that particular moment either." Sonic shifted the arm draped along the couch so he could cup the back of Tails's head, idly ruffling the fur there. "But if you're telling me all this now…" he drawled, moving to scritch behind Tails's ear. "Charmy wasn't the one who swiped Shadow's Chaos Emerald earlier, was he?"

Tails shrugged, muzzle quirking up on one side. "When he showed up with it today, I just had this feeling that it was time to make my move…" Tails explained. "I've been feeling it for a couple weeks now, to be honest. I had all the equipment I'd had on me that day and I looked close enough to how I remembered. I knew I probably had to go back soon. Just needed everything to align so no one would interfere. Today seemed good…"

Sonic tilted his head as Tails trailed off, his eyes still a little distant. "Well, you made it back in one piece, didn't you? Mission accomplished."

"Yeah. Mission accomplished," he echoed, but whatever was on his mind continued to fester. "I thought I made a mistake."

"Hm?"

"There were only three seconds left," Tails whispered. "I thought I messed it all up. I thought I killed us both—"

"You—"

"I was so sure it would work because it already had, but there was still the possibility I could've gotten it wrong. I could've caused a split in our realities. Created two timelines where I ceased to exist, except in this one no one would've known what happened to me and two of the Chaos Emeralds would be lost to time. How would any of you have known where to look?" Tails rambled, pressing his hands over his face. "I estimated the time of day with a standard deviation of a couple of seconds, but those seconds could've been what killed us—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Sonic hushed, shifting to wrap both arms around his little brother as he slumped against him. "You didn't. You're here. You're right here with me, see?" He gave him a firm squeeze, smile tugging at his muzzle as Tails hugged him back tightly. "Atta boy."

"Stupid…" he mumbled into Sonic's shoulder. "Why does this still work so well?"

"Heh. What're big brothers for?" Sonic huffed out a chuckle. "Listen, you can't live a life of what-ifs, bud. It'll drive you outta your mind. I should know. And I know you know that, too." He felt Tails's nod against his cheek. "You did exactly what you set out to do. And heck, you used the Chaos Emeralds to travel through time! When did you learn how to do that, huh? Holding out on your big bro?"

Tails snorted, but it got him to relax enough to pull back. "Figured if I could use Chaos Control, time travel was just an added boost. Like adding a supercharger to the Tornado's engine."

"Tch. You figured." Sonic rolled his eyes, but the warmth in them was nothing but fond. "Give yourself a little more credit. You did something incredible today, Tails. You defied time and space to save yourself. And not only that, you gave yourself a future to look forward to. Because who wouldn't want to turn out to be like you?"

It was Tails's turn to roll his eyes, though it was his own chuckle that betrayed him. "That's what I told me."

"And wiser words were never spoken," Sonic assured him as he gave his knee a firm pat.

"I dunno. Could make a case for the consequences of rewriting timelines and creating unsustainable permutations of past and future events." Tails grinned.

"Now you’re just being smart," Sonic snorted.

"Well, I am a genius." Tails bumped his shoulder to Sonics. "But I also learned from the best. Even eleven-year-old me picked up on that."

"Well, he's a genius, too. He knows what's up." Sonic slung his arm around Tails’s shoulder, this time his turn to watch as his brother picked up the video game controller to continue where Sonic left off.

He let him, taking his turn to be content as he watched Tails figure out the game faster than he did and go farther than Sonic could. They said nothing for a few minutes, Tails working out the rest of his pent up feelings through the game while Sonic quietly processed what he'd just been told. He wasn't a stranger to time travel, not by a long shot, but even so, it wasn't what he thought the answer to that day had been. As much faith he had in his best friend, his self-sacrificial tendencies were something he couldn't help but take notice of. After all, he'd learned from the best, hadn't he?

But it wasn't with bitterness or disdain when he set his gaze on the teen beside him. That wasn't possible; not when he saw every age at once. Not when he was in absolute awe of how far his kid had come.

"Tails."

"Sonic," Tails answered instinctively, matching his tone with the hint of a crooked smile.

"Thanks for saving him."

Tails blinked and paused the game so he could look at Sonic. In the light from the television screen, green eyes glimmered with a depth that took him back to a younger version of his big bro, who was trying to do everything in his power to be there for him. Because he wanted to be. Because he needed to be.

One tail curled around Sonic's back and draped over his lap, giving back the same reassurance he always gave so freely.

"Anytime, big bro."

187 notes · View notes

loving-barnes · 1 year ago

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - NEED

A/N: CHAPTER TEN is here! I'm sorry it took me so long. I just had a lot on my plate. Enjoy!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: I have decided to not give any warnings. Please remember this story is 18+.

Summary: Things move forward between Logan and Y/N.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience. MINORS DNI!

Words: 4300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Nine

LOGAN HOWLETT - NEED

Jean stood next to a hospital bed, looking down at unconscious Y/N. She had a chart in her hands, checking the data she collected the past three days. Three days - that’s how long Y/N was out of the present.

Logan didn’t want to leave her side once they removed the collar from his neck. The wounds immediately healed, and he became a new person. Jean managed to send Logan away. He insisted on staying by Y/N’s side until she’d open her eyes. Luckily, Jean persuaded him quickly. Even Storm wanted to remain by her side all the time. The friendship between her and Y/N blossomed fast.

When Storm arrived with the rest of the team, she was horrified when she found Logan wounded and weak next to an unconscious body. There was a slight fear Logan wouldn’t be able to heal from the wounds. When Hank and Jean freed Logan from the collar, the healing happened quickly. No one would tell he was fighting for his life hours ago.

Jean enjoyed the silence in the medical room. The only thing she heard was the beeping sound of a heart monitor.

The door to the room opened. Charles wheeled in, followed by Hank, Logan and Storm. Before anyone could ask anything, Jean gave them an answer. “No change. She’s stable, well, but still out.”

Charles was the first to approach the bed. His hands caressed Y/N’s exposed forearm, where he kept staring at the lightly radiating skin. It was fascinating. Charles didn’t have an exact answer for that. All they knew was that it had to do something with her mutation.

“You said it happened before?” The question was for Logan.

“Yes. It was the day we saved the boy and came back here. I noticed her eyes glowing.”

Charles thought about it. “Mutations can evolve. It is one thing you get to master your powers and manipulate them. In some cases, more abilities can be developed. I think this could be the case. Y/N’s mutation is evolving. I believe ner powers will rise to the surface very soon.”

“So, what? You will test her like a lab rat,” Logan scoffed, not fond of the idea. “Hadn’t she had enough of that?”

“I’m not saying we will test on her. That will only happen if she’d want to,” Charles said. “We have to wait until she awakes. It can be minutes, hours, or even days. Her mind is locked. I can’t get inside, no matter how much I try.”

“You said she created a force field around the whole school,” Storm looked at Logan. “Her energy got drained to the last bit. No wonder she’s been out for three days now. She’s never done anything like that before. She could have died.”

Jean approached the woman on the bed. She grabbed her hand, scanning the skin. “Why has this been happening for three days?”

“I forgot to mention one thing,” Logan cleared his throat. He crossed his arms over his chest. It got everyone’s attention. “The leader of the Trask unit that came to school was Y/N’s mother.”

“What?” they all said in unison. All eyes were on him.

Logan nodded. “After the accident with Y/N’s sister, her mother joined Trask Industries. She wanted revenge for her lost child. Turns out, she became a respected, high-ranked person there.”

There was silence. The information about Y/N’s mother was shocking. “That is a plot twist,” Storm commented.

“Y/N didn’t know about it, just to clarify,” Logan added strictly.

“She had her eyes on me since I escaped the lab in Salem,” said Y/N’s voice from the bed.

They all turned to the voice. Logan was the first by her side, staring at her face. Her eyes were open a crack. She was getting used to the light. Y/N blinked a few times before her eyes moved to look at Logan. He saw that her irises were glowing like the colours of the force field - silvery and blue. When she blinked again a few times, they turned back to normal.

“JJ was a trap,” she continued. “It gave away my location. Because of me, the children were in danger. Everything that happened was my fault.”

“No,” Storm walked to her from the other side. She grabbed Y/N’s hand. “You couldn’t know that would happen. All you wanted was to save the boy. And you did it. How could you know it was a trap? Also, you protected the whole school. The building is standing still because of you.”

A yawn escaped Y/N’s lips. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes,” Jean nodded. She had a gentle smile on her face. “They are all back in school. Colossus took them away just in time. The building is standing, and it is all thanks to you.”

“Good,” Y/N closed her eyes. “I’m glad no one got hurt.”

Charles opened his mouth, ready to ask a question. Quickly, he shut it, dismissing what he wanted to ask. “We’ll talk later. Rest,” he suggested.

As they walked away, Y/N opened her eyes and found Logan staring at her. His face was filled with worry. She winked at him. It was a sign to stay. Everyone left while he remained by her bed. The door closed. They were officially alone.

Slowly, she pushed her body up until she was sitting. She stretched her arms. Logan got closer to the bed. Her eyes traced over his body. She realised he wore a simple black T-shirt that perfectly showed his muscles. Her mouth opened, almost dropping down on her lap. Damn. There was an urge to touch his stomach, to feel the abs underneath her touch. She clenched the bedsheet tightly.

“How are you feeling?” Logan’s voice brought her back to reality.

Y/N gulped. “Tired,” she replied. “It might be because I’ve been out for… how long?”

“Three days.”

“That long? Shit,” she shook her head in disbelief. Y/N moved her body. She sat at the edge of the bed, legs hanging in the air. “How are you? What did I miss?”

“A stamp of approval from Scott,” Logan laughed when he said that. “And I’m fine.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped. “Wow, I was expecting everything but that. Wait ‘til he hears about my mother being a part of Trask Industries. He will hate my guts once again. If not more.”

Logan’s eyes took in every detail of Y/N’s face. She had an amused smile on her face. Her eyes were shining with her natural colour. Her hair was all messy and tangled. And yet, she was the perfect thing he ever saw. Logan couldn’t believe he was able to kiss her that night. That dammed night when they were attacked.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Y/N noticed it. She took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what was about to come. She could feel it in the air. It got thicker and heavier with lust and something beautiful. She didn’t have the time to whisper his name. Logan’s lips found hers in a feverish kiss. One hand grabbed her by the neck to pull her body as close to his as possible. He had to lean down to reach for her lips.

Y/N’s left hand was feeling the hard abs on his abdomen. The other hand pressed against his cheek. She could feel the beard scratching the skin of her palm. How come he was so hot with that mutton chops beard? He could pull it off.

Logan broke the kiss. He sighed, annoyed. Y/N raised a brow. It was a silent question. She wanted to know why he stopped. “You’ll have a visitor in a few seconds.”

“Ah,” she chuckled. Y/N found it amusing. Logan was visibly unhappy someone had to interrupt them again. On the other hand, she admired his advanced hearing. No one needed to know something was happening between them. It was too soon to show. The first thing they needed to do was to talk about it and define what this thing was between them.

As he stepped back, the door opened. Kitty walked in with Jerome by her side. Y/N’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “Hi, JJ!” A smile spread across her face.

“He wanted to see you,” Kitty said when they approached the bed. “He heard us when we talked in the hallway. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” Y/N nodded quickly. Her eyes trailed to Logan. He had his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the child. Y/N wanted to laugh at him. It was funny he was jealous of a kid. When JJ sat on the bed next to her, she patted his head.

“Are you feeling okay?” JJ asked her. “I’ve heard what happened. Everyone knows what happened. You saved the school!”

Y/N blinked a few times. She didn’t know what to say to that. “Yeah, she did,” Logan stepped in. “She got to warn us before the attackers came.”

“That’s badass,” Jerome said excitedly. “How did you know about it? Do you have a new mutation? My friends asked about you,” he kept talking fast. “You are like a celebrity among the students. You are a hero,” he explained.

“Oh,” Y/N was not pleased with that information. She didn’t want to be a hero. “There are better heroes out there. Look at Professor Xavier or Storm, Kitty… they are the real heroes here. I just did what was necessary.”

“I wish I could see it,” JJ sighed, upset that he wasn’t there. Colossus took him and the children to a safe place before the soldiers marched in.

“I’m glad you managed to get to a safe place with Colossus,” Y/N dishevelled his hair.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Kitty used the silence to ask her.

“Tired,” she gave her the same answer as she had said to Logan. “Thanks for bringing JJ here. At least I know he’s well,” and she pressed a gentle kiss on top of the boy’s head. He slowly became the little brother she never had.

When Kitty took Jerome away, Logan was relieved to be alone with Y/N again. This time, he sat next to her on the bed. His hand found the back of her neck. He started to massage it. Y/N’s eyes closed. She almost purred. A moan escaped her mouth. Logan’s eyes widened at that sound, and he grinned. “That was a pretty sound. You should make more.”

She glared at him. “Dirty mind.”

When he stopped, he leaned closer. “Let me take you back to your room,” he whispered. He kept breathing in Y/N’s scent.

“Again, dirty mind,” she chuckled.

Logan pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “You are the one with a dirty mind. I didn’t mean it like that, princess.”

Y/N watched as he got closer, wanting to kiss her again. She pressed an index finger to his lips, stopping him. “I need to do one more thing before we leave,” she said, staring into his eyes. She reached for one of his hands and brushed her fingers against his knuckles. “Scratch me with your claws.”

Logan raised his brows, pushing away a little. “What?”

“Please, do it,” she begged. “I need you to scratch me with them. You’ll see why.”

“No,” he shook his head and pulled away from her. His eyes focused on the floor, frowning. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You will not hurt me, I promise you. I need to see something. Either you will scratch me with a claw, or I will find a knife and do it myself.”

He growled like a wolf. When Logan clenched a fist, one of the claws slowly came out under his skin. He then turned his body to her. Y/N prepared her forearm. Before he could change his mind, Logan cut into her skin, making her bleed. A second later, the wound lit up like the colours of her forcefield and started closing in front of their eyes.

“Shit,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know I could do that. That’s new.”

“Damn,” Logan sighed. “That explains why we didn’t find any bullet wounds on your body. There was blood but no gashes. You can heal.”

“I can heal,” she nodded. Y/N buried her face into her hands, sighing loudly. “Holy shit, I can heal. That might explain why I could remain alive all these years in the labs. I know it happened when they attacked us. I remember being shot. I remember the pain. When I looked a few seconds later, the wound wasn’t there. I just needed to be sure that it wasn’t a hallucination.”

Logan grabbed one of her hands and pressed a soft kiss on top of it. It was a sweet, loving gesture. “Come on, princess. I’ll take you to your room.”

“Aw, such a gentleman,” she patted his beard-covered cheek playfully. “I should get wounded more. You’ll treat me like a princess every second of my life,” she teased.

“Very funny.”

They left the lowest level underground. Logan kept her close to him but didn’t touch her. They kept some distance between them in case someone decided to appear out of nowhere. He kept an eye on her in case she would show any sign of weakness.

The atmosphere changed when they arrived at the main level. The students were walking around the hallways, chatting. None of them were holding books. It meant only one thing - it was already afternoon.

One by one, they turned their attention to Logan and Y/N. When they found their teachers walking down the hallway, they stopped talking. The attention was now on them. Fingers were being pointed at them, as well as whispers spreading around.

“That’s her,” someone said.

“She saved the school.”

“They protected us.”

“She teaches English.”

“I want to be as cool as them.”

“Miss Y/L/N can make forcefields.”

All Y/N could hear in her mind was freak, weirdo, murderer. You killed her! You killed my baby!

Y/N closed her eyes and stopped walking. The attention was unpleasant. Logan noticed her face. His hand found Y/N’s lower back. It was a gentle gesture. He pressed his fingers lightly against her. Logan kept watching her face. He could see how her breath quickened. “You okay?” he asked.

Y/N gave him one gentle nod. When she opened her eyes, they started to travel around the place. They captured every single child that was staring at her. Their looks were different. The thoughts that were screaming inside her mind eased. They were barely whispers. Before, she’d feel like the biggest weirdo on the entire planet. Now, the feeling was different. She didn’t want to run away from it. Y/N was aware that she and Logan protected the whole school.

Y/N continued to walk through the crowd of students. She headed to the stairs with Logan close behind. No one asked a thing. No one wanted to talk to her. Y/N appreciated it all.

“The kids look up to ya,” Logan said when they climbed all the stairs to the third floor. They stopped in front of Y/N’s room. “They always do when someone becomes a hero,” he made a face.

“I’m no hero,” she shrugged. It made her feel uncomfortable. “I only did what was necessary.”

Logan sighed. “You sure you’ll be fine?”

She leaned against the closed door and smiled. “Yes, I will. Thank you, my knight in shining armour. I shall give you flowers for your bravery,” she bowed to him a little, laughing.

“Text me if you need me, and I’ll come to you, princess,” he winked at her.

Y/N walked into her room. She closed the door, sighing. Logan left without a kiss. Why was she so upset about it? Rolling her eyes, Y/N walked to the bathroom. She needed to shower the last three unconscious days and a fight where she came face to face with her mother.

. . .

It was ten in the evening. The whole school was silent. The students were in their rooms, already asleep. During school days, they all had to be in their dorms before nine.

Y/N was inside her room the whole time. After a long hot shower, she changed into fresh clothes. She then fell asleep on her bed for a few hours. Her body was tired. It called for a nap. Now, she was sitting on the bed, finishing a French braid. Y/N could smell the coconut shampoo on her body. Her mind kept wandering to Logan, her mother and back.

How is it that when something nice was happening, a shit from the past had to appear at the exact moment? Shaking her head, she tied the end of the braid with a rubber band.

There was a knock on the door. Before Y/N could open her mouth, the door slowly opened. Logan walked in, frowning. When he noticed her sitting on the bed, his face softened.

“What’s with the face?” she asked, grinning.

He closed the door behind him and approached the bed. “I was worried, okay?”

Y/N kneeled on the bed, laughing. “Aw, that is so sweet. The big bad Wolverine was worried about me.” Her eyes watched as he took a seat next to her. “I’m sorry for giving you wrinkles. I fell asleep after the shower.”

Logan huffed, nodding. And then, in a mere second, Logan grabbed her into his arms. One held her by the waist while the other was behind her neck. Their lips connected in a sloppy, passionate kiss. At this point, Y/N wasn’t even surprised by his sudden action. All she could do was think about him - his lips, his touch. Their tongues pressed together, mouths sliding hungrily. They got lost in their passion.

“I was worried about you,” said Logan when their lips disconnected. “I was going crazy watching you unconscious on that damn bed,” he admitted. “I’d be really pissed if something happened to you.”

Her finger gently stroked the bridge of his nose. “When I saw you with that collar, powerless, I knew I had to do anything to protect you. You became a simple mortal human being. It wasn’t nice to see you all wounded and defeated. I was worried that…”

Logan’s brows raised. “What?” he asked softly.

“We wouldn’t be able to start whatever it is between us,” she looked away.

Logan sat on the bed and brought her onto his lap. His hands held her by the hips, gripping them tightly. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts to his chest. “Oh, princess,” he sighed, staring into her eyes. They travelled to her lips. “Good thing we survived. We can now continue where we left off.”

Y/N felt the thrill rushing through her body. However, her face heated up. Suddenly, she was shy. Logan saw it all. One of his hands rested on her cheeks. “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. “Well, the last time I had something with a guy was over five years ago,” she made a face.

“We don’t have to…”

“But I want to,” she stopped him by pressing a finger to his lips. “I want to, Logan. I-” Her eyes scanned his green ones. There was something on her lips she wanted to say. It was too soon to confess. Y/N knew what she felt for him, but she didn’t allow herself to say it out loud. After she swallowed the truthful words, she said, “I want you.”

The air changed in the room. With a gentle touch, Logan traced the curves of her body, feeling the tremble of excitement beneath his fingertips. As their lips met in a tender kiss, they both felt the rush of passion surge through them, melting away any lingering doubts or inhibitions.

The first pieces of clothing were gone in mere seconds. Logan took off Y/N’s T-shirt, showing her exposed chest to his eyes. He licked his lips as his eyes observed her beautiful breasts. When Y/N took off Logan’s white tank top, her nails lightly scratched his chest, enjoying the feeling of him under her fingertips. Slowly, they undressed each other, savouring the unveiling of skin, each moment building the intensity of their connection.

Y/N expected that, at some point, Logan would become rougher and impatient. She was surprised when he took his time and didn’t rush things. His touches were gentle and loving as if she were a fragile doll that would break under his touch.

“You smell so good, princess,” he growled. His mouth wrapped around her hardened nipple and sucked on it. He was rewarded with a moan. He sucked on it, circled it with a tongue. When he let it with a pop, Logan looked at her, grinning. “Next time, I will fuck ya like the naughty girl I know you are.”

“Logan,” she whispered his name.

He continued to lavish attention on her breasts. His mouth moved from one nipple to the other, alternating between bites and licks that sent shivers down her spine. He loved how she responded to his attention – it only fueled his passion further.

The moans kept escaping Y/N’s lips after every touch, every stroke and lick. The sound of her moans and gasps filled the air, making Logan’s dick throb painfully.

He grabbed her by the waist and laid her down on the bed. He positioned himself between her legs. “What a beautiful view,” he commented, eyeing her naked upper body.

Her hands reached for the big belt he wore. Y/N unfastened it, unbuttoned the jeans and pulled down the zipper. She realised he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Y/N’s brows raised up, and she grinned at him. She was met with his semi-hard length begging to be taken out of the jeans.“You like going commando?”

“I was in a hurry,” he said, grinning.

Y/N took him out, stroking him slowly from tip to base. She felt him twitch under her touch. He had a nice dick - perfect length, veiny, and he trimmed his pubic hair around his penis and balls. She heard him moan and curse under his nose.

“Fuck, baby girl,” his eyes rolled into the back of his head when she squeezed him harder. He stopped her movements. Logan took her hand off his throbbing member. He brought the hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I want to be inside of you.”

Logan took off his jeans while his eyes remained on Y/N’s movements. He followed her hands - how they reached for the hem of her shorts. She took off the fabric with panties, and she exposed her pussy for his eyes to see. “Fuck,” he growled.

Once they were both naked, Logan positioned himself at the entrance of her wet pussy, looking down at her face with a mix of determination and desire burning in his eyes. He ran his thumb along her clit, making her squirm.

One last kiss before he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed in. He watched Y/N’s reaction carefully, seeing the way her face contorted into a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. “Shit,” he cursed. “So tight.”

He started to move slowly, allowing their bodies to become one. Logan didn’t want to hurt her. His eyes were locked with hers with every move he made. He wanted to take his time, to savour every moment of being inside her, feeling her surround him completely.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Faster, Logan. Please.”

Hearing her pleas, Logan's feral instincts kicked in, and he responded by increasing the pace of his thrusts, driving into her tight pussy with forceful strokes. He watched her breasts bounce with every snap of his hips. “You are so fucking pretty like this,” he praised her.

Another loud moan escaped Y/N’s lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed him closer to her body, pressing her lips against his in a feverish kiss. It was sloppy and dirty, all tongue and teeth. One of his hands sneaked between their bodies. His thumb found her clit, and he started to toy with it.

Her walls clenched around his length. “Ah, fuck!” she gasped. “I’m so close.”

“Good, baby girl,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t hold up and come for me, pretty girl.”

He heard her cry out and felt her body tense as she approached climax. Logan increased the tempo of his movements even further, driving himself into her. He watched as Y/N reached her peak. Her eyes closed, walled gripped his cock tightly as waves of pleasure ran through her body.

Logan’s release followed a few seconds later. At the last moment, he pulled out and spilt his seed over her lower belly, grunting. “Ah, fuck, fuck,” he cursed.

Logan’s chest heaved with each laboured breath. The scent of sex and sweat filled the air around them as they lay there, spent and satisfied. Y/N turned her head to look at him. She watched as he breathed heavily. A smile appeared on her lips.

“Damn,” she whispered.

He turned his head, catching her eyes. Logan grinned at her. “That’s it?” he teased.

“I am speechless. Isn’t that enough?” Y/N winked at him. She rolled to her side, snuggling her naked body to his. Her fingers absentmindedly started to stroke his chest, brushing through some of the hairs.

Logan managed to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. “How are you feeling?”

Her eyes locked with his. “Happy,” she replied simply.

“How about one more round?” he suggested.

Y/N smacked his chest playfully. “Insatiable man.”

He grabbed her hand and led it down his body to his hard length. Y/N wrapped her fingers around his cock. “What can I say. I can’t get enough of you.”

She giggled. “Cheezy. Fine, one more round.”

“This time, you will ride me, pretty girl.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female rader #Logan Howlett x reader smut #Logan Howlett x female reader smut #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Wolverine x reader smut #Wolverine x female reader smut #Marvel fanfiction #A touch of Hope #Logan Howlett smut

748 notes · View notes

itendtothinkalot · 5 months ago

Text

mr oh so popular (grumpy x sunshine ish)

summary: your life has always been pretty normal—nothing too exciting, just the usual. but then, bam! you walk past the campus heartthrob, yeonjun, only to find him face down on the ground, knocked out cold. and of course, your best friend insists on dragging him home to nurse him back to health. but here's the twist—why is he not as awful as you thought he'd be???

genre: flluff

characters: yeonjun x f!reader, best friend!beomgyu

words: 14k

warnings: period talk i guess, cuss words

There’s something magical about walking across campus at night. It’s quiet, the stars are out, and the looming stress of exams feels a little less crushing. Well, until your best friend opens his mouth.

“You know, if I had superpowers, I’d probably choose invisibility,” Beomgyu declared, waving a half-eaten popsicle like a scepter.

“That’s unoriginal,” you said, kicking a stray pebble across the pavement. “What’s the point of invisibility anyway?”

“Uh, everything? Sneaking into movie theaters. Skipping boring lectures. Spying on people to see what they say about me—”

You stopped walking and shot him a look. “Beomgyu, no one is talking about you. Or me. We're invisible enough.”

Beomgyu groaned, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Speak for yourself. I am not invisible.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to prove it. Right on cue, the sounds of cheering and laughter erupted from the quad, where a small crowd had gathered.

“Case in point.” Beomgyu pointed toward the commotion. At the center of it all, like a deity holding court, was none other than Choi Yeonjun.

There he was, perched on a bench, his grin brighter than the lampposts around him. Someone had thrown a varsity jacket over his shoulders, and it only made him look more cool (which you would never admit to anyone). People hung on his every word, laughing at jokes that probably weren’t even funny. Typical.

Beomgyu sighed, pointing at the popular male. “Y’know what, I changed my answer! That’s the kind of power I’d want. Not invisibility—charisma.”

You scoffed. “Charisma isn’t a superpower.”

“Tell that to him.” Beomgyu jabbed his popsicle stick in Yeonjun’s direction, where he’d just effortlessly flipped a water bottle, earning cheers like he’d just solved world hunger.

“Ugh.” You groaned, grabbing Beomgyu’s sleeve to pull him away before he started gawking in public. “I don’t get the hype. He’s not even that hot.”

“Not even that hot?” Beomgyu scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, you have to admit he’s objectively good-looking. Like, the guy could model for a skincare commercial. Dude’s poreless.”

“Sure, if you’re into guys who have a cardboard personality” you muttered.

Beomgyu snorted. “I’m just saying, there’s a reason half the campus follows him around like lost puppies. He’s got charisma or… something.”

“Well, good for him,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Meanwhile, the rest of us are just trying to survive finals week without a parade every time we turn in a paper.”

Here’s the thing about you two: You’d like to think you’re invisible to the student body, but that’s only half true. You’re invisible. Beomgyu, on the other hand, is doing just fine socially. Not popular, but just cool enough to get invited to parties and group chats. And yet, here he was, sticking to you like glue.

He calls it loyalty. You call it his inability to let go. Not that you minded. You loved him as much as he loved you.

Listen, you weren’t considered lame. You weren’t “unpopular”. You just… never stood out. Regular clothes. Regular reputation. Just… regular. It didn’t bother you most of the time. But when you stood next to Beomgyu—who, on his worst day, could still charm an entire room—it was hard not to feel like his boring sidekick.

“You know what your problem is?” Beomgyu asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm, let me guess,” you said dryly. “I don’t appreciate Yeonjun enough?”

“Well, yeah, but also, you don’t try to stand out. Like, at all. Maybe if you wore something other than jeans and that same hoodie every day—”

“It’s comfortable,” you snapped, defensively tugging at your hoodie.

“Comfortable doesn’t get you noticed,” Beomgyu countered, skipping ahead of you and turning to walk backward so he could wag his finger at you. “Look, you’re pretty but you’re always–”

“Gyu. I don’t want to be noticed,” you muttered, but your protest was drowned out by a sudden loud cheer coming from the quad.

Both of you turned instinctively. Of course, it was Yeonjun again, grinning like a celebrity as someone snapped a picture of him doing… I don’t know, something amazing. He could probably sneeze and get a standing ovation.

Beomgyu sighed dramatically. “Dude, just look at him”

You groaned and kept walking. “Let’s just get back to the apartment before you write him a fan letter.”

Beomgyu chuckled but didn’t argue.

—

“Crap.”

The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. Beomgyu, who had been sprawled across the couch scrolling on his phone, glanced over at you with a raised brow.

“What’s your problem?” he asked, not even bothering to sit up.

“I think…” you trailed off, your face already flushing with embarrassment. “Ugh. I think I just got my period.”

Beomgyu blinked at you for a solid three seconds before casually returning his gaze to his phone. “So? Deal with it like you always do.”

“I can’t!” you snapped, flailing your arms. “I’m out of everything. Pads. Tampons. Literally everything.”

“Okay…?” He looked at you blankly, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation.

“Okay? Beomgyu, this is an emergency. We need to go to the convenience store. Now.”

“We?” he repeated, his voice laced with protest. “Why do I have to come? You can go by yourself. You’re a fully functioning human with feet and hands.”

You shot him a glare, “Because I don’t want to walk there alone in the middle of the night, and you’re supposed to be my best friend. Remember? Loyalty and all that BS.”

He groaned dramatically, dragging his hands down his face. “This is not what I signed up for..”

“Oh, please. Like you’re doing anything important.” You gestured to his phone. “Come on, Beomgyu. You’re being useless, as always.”

“That’s Mr. Useless to you,” he grumbled, but he finally sat up, grabbing his jacket off the armrest. “Fine. Let’s go. But I’m not carrying anything embarrassing.”

“You’re carrying the basket,” you said, already grabbing your own jacket.

“What—? Hey! No way! You’re just gonna fill it up with feminine products and egh…”

The walk to the convenience store wasn’t too long, but Beomgyu made sure to complain the entire way.

“Why can’t you just stockpile this stuff like a normal person?” he whined, dragging his feet as you power-walked ahead of him.

“Why can’t you just shut up and help me?” you shot back.

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store were a welcome relief. You beelined for the feminine products aisle while Beomgyu lingered by the snacks, pretending he wasn’t with you.

“CHOI BEOMGYU!” You called him over.

He looked up as if embarrassed to be around you, “Don’t use my maiden name in public like this!”

“Hurry up!” you called over your shoulder.

He reluctantly shuffled over, standing awkwardly next to you as you scanned the shelves. “Do you really need me for this?”

“Yes, because if I faint from blood loss, someone needs to carry me out,” you said dramatically, grabbing a pack of pads and throwing it into his arms.

He caught it, holding it like it was a live grenade. “Why am I holding this?”

“Because you’re the basket now,” you said, grabbing another pack just in case.

“Oh my god, wait—why is this, like, 16 inches?” Beomgyu asked, holding up a pack of pads like it was radioactive. His eyes were wide with genuine horror. “How big is your vagina?”

You shot him a deadpan look. “I don’t see you complaining when you’re telling me stories about you and your girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend!” he corrected, practically shouting. “And I told you not to bring her up.”

“Oh, please. You’ll be calling her tomorrow, begging her to take you back. Like you always do.”

“I’ve matured since our breakup,” he insisted, puffing out his chest in mock dignity.

“You broke up yesterday.”

Beomgyu sighed dramatically, letting his arms go limp, the packs of feminine products dangling helplessly. “I don’t get paid enough for this friendship.”

“You don’t get paid at all,” you reminded him, already walking toward the register.

“And that is the problem,” he muttered under his breath, trailing after you with the enthusiasm of a kid being dragged to the dentist.

At the register, the cashier barely blinked at the assortment of items Beomgyu dumped onto the counter, but he was already bracing himself for humiliation.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispered to you through gritted teeth as the cashier scanned the pads.

“I wasn’t going to,” you replied innocently, though you couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

Beomgyu glared at you, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment.

As the cashier handed over the bag, Beomgyu grabbed it like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “Let’s go. Now.”

The walk back was surprisingly quiet—at least until Beomgyu couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I feel like I’ve just leveled up as a person. Like, this is a huge character development for me. I should probably put ‘Women’s Rights Activist’ on my Tinder profile.”

You snorted, shifting the bag in your arms. “Right…because you didn’t just complain the whole time we were in there.”

“I’ve changed…I am in fact the world’s best Female Supporter. Write that down.” he declared, nudging your shoulder.

“You’re not right but not wrong either,” you said dryly, rolling your eyes. “But don’t flatter yourself too much. You’re just barely tolerable to the female specimen.”

“Admit that I’m an amazing best friend though,” he said, flashing you a grin. “You’d be lost without me.”

“You’re right,” you conceded, smirking as you turned the corner toward your apartment complex. “Who else would I drag into my nonsense?”

He threw his arms out dramatically, like some tragic hero in a play. “Exactly. I’m basically a saint. Carrying the weight of this friendship on my—”

He froze mid-sentence, and you almost bumped into him.

“Can’t you see where you’re going, you noob?” you groaned, peeking around him—and stopped dead in your tracks.

Right there, sprawled across the pavement in front of the building like a very poorly placed mannequin, was none other than Yeonjun, the school’s King himself.

“Is… is he dead?” Beomgyu whispered, clutching your arm in a panic.

“Why would you say that?!” you hissed, smacking his hand away.

“He’s not moving! Look at him!”

And he wasn’t. Yeonjun, campus royalty and the undisputed king of cool, was lying face down in the middle of the pathway. His designer sneakers were scuffed, his shirt was wrinkled, and his golden hair was sticking up in about twenty different directions.

“We should call someone,” you muttered, reaching for your phone.

Before you could dial, Yeonjun stirred, groaning like something out of a zombie movie. Beomgyu yelped and practically jumped behind you.

“He’s alive!” Beomgyu whisper-shouted, like that made things any less terrifying.

“Barely, he’s drunk like hell.” you muttered.

And then it happened. Yeonjun pushed himself up on shaky arms, blinked at you both with bleary, unfocused eyes… and promptly threw up all over the pavement.

Both of you screamed.

—

You knew Choi Beomgyu was going to be the death of you one day. He was too kind for his own good, and you were convinced that if an armed robber ever needed help, Beomgyu would probably assist them without realizing the situation. He was nice. Too nice.

“I still don’t see why we had to help him,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you leaned against the kitchen doorway.

“He was lying on the ground in the middle of the night,” Beomgyu said, grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

“And?” you countered. “Maybe his friends ditched him for a reason. Ever think about that? What if it’s some kind of prank?”

“It’s 12 AM, not exactly prank o’clock,” Beomgyu replied, filling the glass with water. “I’ll grab him some painkillers. Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

“Why do I have to stay with him? What if he wakes up and murders me?” you protested.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Beomgyu said with a roll of his eyes. “He’s barely conscious. Relax.”

And with that, Beomgyu disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with the stranger.

You turned your gaze to Yeonjun, sprawled out on the couch like some tragic hero from a drama. His disheveled hair framed a face that was undeniably handsome, even with the faint scent of alcohol still lingering in the air. At least Beomgyu had cleaned him up and changed him out of his puke-soaked clothes into something fresh.

With hesitant steps, you approached him, unable to resist examining his face more closely. He looked peaceful like this, his breathing steady.

Then his eyes fluttered open.

You screamed, stumbling back.

“Whoa, whoa!” Yeonjun groaned, holding up a hand as if to shield himself from your outburst. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” you snapped, heart racing. “You’re the one who just woke up like a zombie in the middle of the night!”

Yeonjun winced, pressing a hand to his temple. “Can you not yell? Feels like my head’s splitting in two.”

You froze, unsure of what to do. Beomgyu had left you alone with this stranger, and now he was awake and talking. Great.

“Where… am I?” Yeonjun croaked, his voice hoarse.

“Our apartment,” you replied curtly, motioning to the space around him. “You passed out on the street like an idiot. Beomgyu thought it’d be fun to drag you here instead of letting you rot out there like a normal person would.”

Yeonjun blinked, the name striking a faint chord in his alcohol-muddled mind. “Beomgyu?” he repeated, the syllables sluggish on his tongue.

“That’s me!” Beomgyu chimed as he entered the room, balancing a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of painkillers in the other. He grinned at Yeonjun, his usual sunny demeanor unbothered by the tension. “Hey, glad you’re awake! Here, drink this.”

Yeonjun looked between the two of you, his confusion deepening. “Wait… you both found me on the floor of…where?”

“Yeah,” Beomgyu replied cheerfully, handing over the water and pills. “You were passed out outside the convenience store. We couldn’t just leave you there.”

“We could’ve,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at Beomgyu.

Beomgyu ignored you and focused on Yeonjun. “You didn’t look like you were in any shape to get home on your own, so we brought you here.”

Yeonjun hesitated, taking the glass of water with an awkward nod. “Thanks, I guess… but, uh, do I know you guys?”

“I’m Beomgyu,” Beomgyu answered, flashing a smile. He gestured toward you, introducing you. “Pretty sure we share a few classes.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, clearly unimpressed.

Yeonjun squinted, his mind struggling to place you both. “Yeah, you do look kind of familiar…”

“Kind of?” you scoffed. “Unbelievable. You pass out drunk, and now you can’t even remember who dragged you off the sidewalk. Typical.”

“Don’t mind her,” Beomgyu said, brushing off your snarky tone. “She’s just cranky because it’s past her bedtime.”

You shot him a glare. “Cranky because you invited a total stranger into our apartment without asking. Much less one that reeks of alcohol.”

Yeonjun, still processing everything, shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “So… this is your apartment? Like, you two live together?”

“Obviously,” you replied. “Welcome to our apartment. We’re kind of like Good Samaritans. Except I’m not.”

Yeonjun let out a weak laugh, unsure if he should be offended or amused. “Well, uh… thanks, I guess. I owe you one?”

“You owe me nothing,” you said with a smirk. “But you owe Beomgyu. Big time.”

Beomgyu chuckled, waving off the comment. “Just rest for now. Drink the water and take the painkillers. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Yeonjun nodded, sipping the water slowly. He couldn’t help but notice the way Beomgyu’s easy-going warmth contrasted sharply with your sharp tongue. Despite the headache and the awkward situation, a strange comfort crept into his chest.

“I’ll try to remember this,” Yeonjun muttered with a faint smile.

“You better,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Because if this happens again, I’m leaving you on the sidewalk next time.”

Beomgyu just laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to her. She acts tough, but she’s nice deep down.”

“Deep, deep down,” you corrected.

Yeonjun chuckled despite himself. He had no idea how he ended up here, but something told him this wasn’t going to be the last time he saw the two of you.

You had gone to bed, hoping the night would pass quickly so you could finally deal with the unexpected guest in your living room. Helping people wasn’t the issue—you just hated helping those who didn’t seem to need it. Besides the fact he was piss drunk in the middle of the night after what seems like a frat party…seems like a life choice.

But sleep wouldn’t come. You’d been tossing and turning for over an hour, and Beomgyu’s loud snores echoed through the paper-thin walls of your apartment. With a groan of frustration, you gave up and decided to warm some milk, an old remedy that usually worked.

As you shuffled toward the kitchen, you noticed Yeonjun sitting on the couch, hunched over his phone, scrolling aimlessly. You hesitated, torn between retreating to avoid interaction or saying something. Socializing wasn’t exactly your strong suit, and starting a conversation felt like scaling a mountain.

Before you could decide, Yeonjun broke the silence.

“What do girls mean when they say they want a break?” he asked, turning to look at you.

Caught off guard, you paused mid-step, clutching the mug in your hand. For a moment, you considered ignoring the question entirely. But the earnest look in his eyes made it hard to brush him off.

You sighed, setting your mug on the counter as you leaned against the kitchen doorway. "That’s... a loaded question," you replied cautiously, eyeing him. "Depends on the girl, I guess. What’s the context?"

Yeonjun let out a soft, bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in messy tufts. "My girlfriend said she needed a break. No explanation, no real reason. Just… ‘I think we should take a break.’ What’s that even supposed to mean?"

You tilted your head, considering his words. "Could mean a lot of things," you said, grabbing the carton of milk from the fridge. "Maybe she’s overwhelmed. Maybe she’s bored. Or maybe she wants to break up but doesn’t want to say it outright."

His face fell, and you immediately regretted the bluntness.

"Sorry," you added quickly, pouring the milk into your mug. "I didn’t mean to sound harsh. It’s just… it’s better to be honest about what it could mean, right?"

Yeonjun leaned back against the couch, his phone forgotten in his lap. "Yeah, I guess. But I don’t get it. I thought everything was fine between us. We didn’t even fight. It came out of nowhere."

You turned on the stove, the faint hum of the burner filling the silence as you stirred the milk absently. "Sometimes it’s not about fighting," you said after a pause. "Sometimes people just… drift. Or they need time to figure things out. Doesn’t mean it’s your fault."

He stared at the ceiling, his jaw tightening. "It feels like it is, though. Like maybe I wasn’t enough."

You frowned, feeling an unfamiliar pang of sympathy. This wasn’t your usual realm of expertise, but seeing him so dejected tugged at something in you.

"You know," you started, glancing at him, "if she really cares about you, she’ll come back. And if she doesn’t, well… maybe she wasn’t the right person anyway."

Yeonjun turned his head to look at you, a faint, almost sad smile playing on his lips. "You sound like you’ve been through this before."

You snorted, turning back to your milk. "Not at all. I’m just good at reading people. Comes with the territory of being socially inept."

That earned you a soft chuckle, and the sound surprised you. It was the first time he’d laughed all night.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, his voice quieter. "For not sugarcoating it."

You shrugged, pulling the mug off the burner and pouring the warm milk into your cup. "Anytime. But don’t expect me to turn into a therapist or anything."

He nodded, his smile growing a little stronger. "Got it. No therapy sessions… just unsolicited midnight wisdom."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at your lips.

“You want some?” you asked, pouring another glass of warm milk.

Yeonjun nodded, leaning back against the couch. “If you’d let me.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” You slid the glass toward him, the faint clink breaking the quiet.

He smiled as he took it. “Thanks. You know, now that I’m more sober, you’re actually a lot less scary than I thought.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Scary? You thought I was scary?”

“Well,” he began, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips, “I was drunk, passed out, and your initial idea was to leave me on the street.”

You shrugged, unfazed. “The drunk thing seems to be on your own accord, so… not really my problem if you ended up like that, now is it?”

Yeonjun chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re brutally honest, aren’t you?”

“Only to people who can take it.”

“And you think I can?”

“People are probably telling you every day how much they love you or want to be with you,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “I figure you can handle a couple of reality checks once in a while.”

Yeonjun blinked, then smirked. “Oh, so you pay attention to me?”

“It’s literally hard not to,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “You’ve got a whole posse everyone looks up to on campus. You’re kind of hard to miss.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on his knee. “Huh. And here I thought I was invisible to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not invisible, just… irrelevant. Until now.”

He laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Wow. You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“Why would I? You asked.” You sipped your milk nonchalantly, but you couldn’t help noticing the glimmer of genuine amusement in his gaze.

“Well,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here’s to being ‘less irrelevant.’”

You huffed out a quiet laugh despite yourself. “Don’t push your luck.”

“And if it counts for something,” Yeonjun added, his tone softening, “I really liked your speech last term. The one at the student rally—about climate change?”

You froze mid-sip, staring at him. “What?”

“It was you, right?” he pressed, tilting his head slightly. “You organized the whole thing?”

Your mind raced. No one had ever given you credit for the rally before. Most people either didn’t notice or assumed someone else was behind it. It wasn’t that you did it for recognition, but hearing Yeonjun bring it up left you momentarily speechless.

“Yeah,” you said finally, setting your mug down. “That was me.”

Yeonjun nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “I thought so. It was really good. You had everyone paying attention, and I don’t just mean your speech. The whole event—it felt… important. You made it feel important.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Compliments, especially about something you’d poured so much effort into, weren’t exactly something you were used to.

“Well,” you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, “it’s not like I did it alone. There was a team.”

“Sure,” he said, his smile widening slightly, “but teams still need someone to lead them. And that was you, wasn’t it?”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, the usual sarcasm you armed yourself with felt unnecessary.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice softer than usual. “That means… something.”

Yeonjun studied you for a moment before his smirk returned. “See? You’re not as scary as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, the gesture felt lighter. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” he teased, raising his glass to take another sip of the milk. “I think I might be warming up to you.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you turned back toward the kitchen. “Good luck with that.”

—

The next morning, when you woke up, Yeonjun was already gone. On the coffee table, he’d left a note and, for some reason, a $10 bill. You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your face. You weren’t running a hostel, that was for sure.

Beomgyu wandered into the living room, rubbing his eyes, and picked up the note. “Ten bucks?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Does he think we’re a bed and breakfast for broke drunk kids? Also, why couldn’t it be a twenty?”

“What a switch-up from the ass-kisser last night,” you teased, grabbing the note from his hand.

“I couldn’t taint my image in front of campus royalty himself,” Beomgyu shot back, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, already heading toward the bathroom. “We’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass ready.”

As Beomgyu disappeared to get dressed, you glanced at the note again.

Thanks for the milk and the reality check. Maybe see you both on campus sometime?

It was signed with a small doodle of a smiley face, and you couldn’t help but shake your head.

Later that day, as you rushed through the crowded hallways of campus, you spotted Yeonjun. He was surrounded by his usual group, his laugh ringing out above the chatter. For a moment, his eyes met yours across the sea of students. He nodded before turning away.

Typical.

You knew nothing would be different. One night and a single conversation didn’t change anything, especially with someone like Yeonjun. It wasn’t as if his whole life hinged on that brief interaction. You and Beomgyu took your usual seats in the corner of the campus café, bantering like you always did.

You were mid-laugh at one of Beomgyu’s dramatic impressions when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with Yeonjun.

“Hey!” he said, his smile easy and confident, like he’d done this a hundred times before.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh, hey?”

Beomgyu arched an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. “Royalty graces us with his presence,” he quipped under his breath, loud enough for only you to hear.

Yeonjun chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Mind if I join you guys for a bit?”

“Sure,” you said before Beomgyu could say something snarky. You gestured to the empty chair across from you.

Yeonjun slid into the seat, setting down his bag. “So, I’ve been thinking about last night.”

“Oh no,” Beomgyu muttered dramatically, earning a light kick under the table from you.

Yeonjun grinned but stayed focused on you. “You were right.”

“About what?” you asked, genuinely puzzled.

“About the reality check,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You said people tell me what I want to hear all the time, and... yeah, you weren’t wrong. It’s refreshing to hear someone call me out instead of sugarcoating everything.”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I wasn’t trying to give you some big epiphany. Just speaking the truth.”

“And I appreciated it,” Yeonjun said. “I’m not here to make it weird or anything. I just... wanted to say thanks. Also, you guys were a lot cooler about the whole drunk mess thing than most people would’ve been.”

“See?” Beomgyu piped up, smirking. “I am cool.”

Yeonjun laughed, and for a moment, the usual air of aloofness that seemed to follow him was gone.

“Well, if you want to thank us,” you said, crossing your arms, “you could’ve at least left twenty bucks instead of ten.”

Yeonjun raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted for next time.”

“Next time?” Beomgyu echoed, feigning horror.

Yeonjun shrugged, his grin widening. “What can I say? You guys might be growing on me.” Although his eyes were lingering on yours when he said the latter.

You rolled your eyes, but even you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. Maybe, just maybe, one night could change more than you thought.

“Well, I’ll catch up with you later!” Yeonjun said with a wave before getting up and walking off.

You watched him go, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Beomgyu leaned over and poked your cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Ooooh, someone’s got a crush,” he teased.

“No, I don’t,” you shot back, swatting his hand away.

“Your ears are all red just from looking at him,” Beomgyu continued, undeterred.

“Oh, shut up. I just think he’s an okay person, that’s all,” you muttered, feeling the heat on your cheeks.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure, okay. Whatever you say.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying you with a playful smirk. “So what the hell happened last night while I was asleep anyway?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “We just talked. That’s it. Besides, he has a girlfriend or whatever.”

Beomgyu’s grin widened. “So you’re one of those kiss-and-don’t-tell types of people?”

“For the love of god, shut up,” you groaned, shoving a donut into his mouth to stop him from saying more.

He chewed, still grinning, but thankfully kept his comments to himself. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit of relief. The whole situation felt like a weird blur, but it wasn’t like you owed anyone explanations—least of all Beomgyu, who always had something to say.

“I’m just saying,” Beomgyu mumbled around the donut, “You’re not fooling anyone.”

You crossed your arms, giving him a pointed look. “If I say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing.”

Beomgyu grinned, clearly not convinced, but dropped the subject for now. "Whatever, you're still blushing."

“Shut up, Beomgyu,” you muttered again, but this time, you couldn’t quite stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

Beomgyu stood up, giving you a playful nudge. “You know, if you wanted to talk more about Yeonjun, I’m all ears. I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

You shot him a look, then grabbed your bag, shoving it over your shoulder. “I’m not talking about him. Ever. End of story.”

Beomgyu chuckled, following you out of the café. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

—

It was one of those rare times when Beomgyu wasn’t glued to your side. Usually, he was either at band practice, you were holed up in the library, or both. So, here you were, typing away at your thesis, getting lost in your thoughts, when you felt the chair next to you squeak as someone sat down. Not that you cared; the library was always packed on a Friday evening.

“Hey!”

You looked up to find Yeonjun grinning at you, his smile nearly infectious.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I saw Beomgyu, and he told me you’d be here. Looks like he knows you super well!”

You blinked in surprise, not quite sure how to react. The last time you saw him, things were casual, but this felt a bit more… personal? You adjusted in your seat, offering a small, polite smile.

“Oh, uh, yeah. He knows me better than I’d like to admit,” you said, feeling a bit awkward.

Yeonjun chuckled, his eyes still sparkling. “He said you’d be buried in work. You really take your studies seriously, huh?”

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. “I mean, I have to. It’s due soon.”

“I get that,” Yeonjun said, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed smile. “I’m actually impressed you’re still here. I would’ve bailed a while ago.”

“I’m just used to it,” you replied, glancing back at your screen. “I’ve got to finish this.”

The conversation lapsed into a quiet hum until you looked up at him, confused. “W... why were you looking for me? Do you need something?”

“Oh, I just… had fun talking to you the other night,” Yeonjun said casually, as if asking you out wasn’t the most difficult thing in the world. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner after this.”

He smiled, that damn perfect smile that made your heart skip a beat. You were caught off guard. You’d thought what happened the other night was just a one-time thing. You didn’t expect an actual friendship—or more—to come out of it.

“You want to have dinner with me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alone?”

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Are you gonna murder me?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “No, I’m not gonna murder you.”

He cracked a smile. “Then yeah. I do. I think dinner with you sounds pretty good.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to read the situation. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company; it was more the suddenness of it all. But something about the way he asked—like it was a simple, natural thing—made you pause. Maybe you were overthinking it.

“Alright,” you said with a shrug, trying to sound casual. “I just have a couple of pages left. You can just…do something else first while you wait. I don’t want to bore you.”

“No, I’ll wait.” He smiled, resting his head in his arms on the table, turning to face you with a bright grin on his face.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “You’re just gonna stare at me for the next hour or so?”

“Yeonjun smirked, his gaze never leaving you. “I don’t mind. You’re much more interesting than any textbook.”

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm slightly, but you kept your cool. “Is that so?”

He nodded.

You ignored him, focusing on your work, trying to push back the heat creeping up on your cheeks. You hoped he couldn't tell just how nervous you were with him sitting right next to you.

How were you even supposed to react? The only guy you ever hung out with was Beomgyu, and the two of you couldn’t be more platonic if you tried.

“Hey, so like, are the two of you dating?” Yeonjun asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up from your paper, staring at Yeonjun for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Me and Beomgyu? No? No. That’s gross. No. No. Never.”

“That’s a mildly offensive reaction that I will not tell Beomgyu about.”

“Oh, trust me, he’d give you the same response if you asked him.”

Yeonjun chuckled. “You two just seem attached at the hip.”

“Well, he’s my only friend, and somehow he’s clingier to me than I am to him. I don’t know why.”

“It could be because you’re really great company.”

“Oh, who else would think that?”

“Me?”

“We’ve had one conversation—”

“Two,” he corrected, grinning.

“Two conversations,” you repeated, rolling your eyes.

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly closer. “I don’t know… I think we’re off to a solid start. Besides, it’s rare I actually enjoy talking to someone this much.”

You glanced at him, then smirked. “You seem to have the whole school at your feet. I’m pretty sure you could find someone if you just threw a fish hook out there.”

“Well… they’re not as blunt as you.”

“Do you not have anyone telling you the truth to your face?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do. My best friends. Soobin, I don’t know if you know him.”

“The tall one who does girl group dances on TikTok?” You chuckled, remembering the viral clips.

Yeonjun laughed, nodding. “Yeah. He’s great, but sometimes, you know, I don’t want him to worry too much. He treats me like his own child sometimes. It’s weird, especially since I’m older.”

You laughed softly at that. “I mean, I get it. Sometimes, friends can be overprotective, even when they don’t need to be.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone a little more serious now. “But I guess it’s nice to have someone looking out for you.” He paused, giving you a sidelong glance. “Even if it gets a little annoying.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes people just want the best for you, even if it’s a little over the top.”

“Like you and Beomgyu,” Yeonjun said with a teasing grin.

“Are you sure the two of you aren’t a thing?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Positive.”

“Really?” Yeonjun sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He’s just the only person who gets me.”

The conversation lingered in the air for a moment, and you returned to your work, but this time it felt a little less overwhelming, the atmosphere more relaxed. Maybe this wasn’t so weird after all.

—

At dinner, the atmosphere was calm at first, with you both eating in relative silence. Then, suddenly, Yeonjun slammed his chopsticks down on the napkin, causing you to jump, wide-eyed, and look up at him.

“I want what you and Beomgyu have!” he declared, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of a few nearby tables.

You blinked in confusion. “We have nothing.”

“Precisely,” he said with a sigh, leaning back in his seat. He looked both frustrated and thoughtful. “You remember the girl I told you about? My girlfriend—well, ex, I guess.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“We’ve been together for two years,” Yeonjun continued, running a hand through his hair. “And lately, I’ve started to realize... maybe I’ve just been keeping her around for comfort.”

You paused, taking in his words. The sincerity in his voice was clear, and it made you reflect on what he was saying. "What do you mean?" you asked carefully.

Yeonjun sighed again, the weight of his thoughts showing. “I don’t think I’m in love with her anymore. At least, not the way I should be. It’s like I’ve been holding on because it’s easy, because it’s familiar. And now... I don’t even know if that’s enough anymore.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he was admitting. “That sounds tough. But... maybe it’s better to face that now, rather than later.”

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t know what to do about it,” he said, his tone mixed with frustration and uncertainty.

“Sometimes you don’t have to have everything figured out right away. It’s okay to take a step back and think about what you really want. You can’t just keep holding on to something for the sake of comfort.” You spoke slowly, feeling the weight of your own words as they fell between you two.

Yeonjun nodded, though his expression remained conflicted. "I don’t want to hurt her, but I also don’t want to keep pretending. I don't want to be stuck in something out of habit."

You nodded, understanding where he was coming from. "But didn’t she ask for a break?”

“She usually does that to get my attention.”

“That sounds not at all toxic.” you laughed.

Yeonjun let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, it’s not healthy. But every time she does that, I feel like I’m losing her. It’s like I’m always on the edge of something—whether it’s fixing things or making them worse.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in a bit. “So, it’s the constant cycle of drama keeping you in the relationship? Feels like a never-ending loop.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, pretty much. It's exhausting. But when it’s good, it’s really good, and I guess I keep thinking maybe we’ll get back to that.”

“But that’s the problem, right?” you said softly, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re holding onto the highs because you're afraid of letting go of the lows. But in the end, it’s the pattern that’s unhealthy, not just the relationship itself.”

Yeonjun nodded, the weight of your words sinking in. “I’ve been trying to avoid facing that. It's easier to stay in something familiar than to face the unknown, even if it means staying in a cycle that doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, giving him a knowing look. “It’s scary to let go, especially when you’ve been holding onto something for so long. But sometimes, letting go is the only way forward.”

The conversation lulled once again. You kept your eyes firmly on your plate, despite feeling his gaze on you. His persistence was relentless, especially with that sweet, almost oblivious smile he kept throwing your way.

Geez, it’s like he doesn’t know how cutehe is, you thought, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Hey,” Yeonjun’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft yet curious. “Did you mean it when you said you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

You nodded nonchalantly, shoving some rice into your mouth. “Yeah.”

“That’s surprising.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How so? I thought it was pretty obvious.” You chuckled, brushing it off with another bite.

“Well, it’s just...you’re so pretty.”

His words hit like a rogue wave. You inhaled sharply, immediately regretting it as the rice caught in your throat. You choked and coughed violently, tears springing to your eyes. Yeonjun froze, wide-eyed.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?!” He reached out, panicking as you thumped your chest, struggling to breathe.

“Water—” you croaked, pointing desperately.

He fumbled for the glass in front of you, but in his haste, managed to knock it over, sending the liquid cascading across the table. Both of you stared at the spreading mess before he scrambled for napkins.

“Seriously?!” you managed to rasp, still half-choking.

“I panicked!” he shot back, dabbing at the table like his life depended on it.

Finally catching your breath, you glared at him, tears streaming down your cheeks from the ordeal. “This—this is your fault!”

He raised his hands defensively, his expression guilt-ridden, before breaking into a sheepish grin. “How is this my fault?!”

You shook your head, not wanting to admit that his words had thrown you completely off guard.

“What? Has no one called you pretty before?” he joked, his tone light and teasing.

You froze, the teasing suddenly landing in a spot you weren’t ready to acknowledge. You looked at him quietly, lips pressing together in a thin line, before turning your gaze away.

His grin faltered, replaced by a soft curiosity. “You’ve…never been called that before?”

“And why would anyone ever call me that?” you said, rolling your eyes in an attempt to deflect, but the slight edge in your voice betrayed you.

“Because you are,” he said simply, his tone devoid of the usual playfulness. “I’ve always thought so.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You’ve always thought so?” you echoed, skeptical.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Since the first time I saw you. You just don’t seem to realize it, which is kind of insane.”

Your face warmed, and you tried to mask it with a sarcastic laugh. “Right, and I suppose this is the part where I swoon over you and your grand compliments? Oh great Yeonjun, do sprinkle me with some more compliments!”

Yeonjun chuckled, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You can swoon later. For now, I’ll just take the victory of seeing you blush.”

“I’m not blushing,” you retorted, pushing your plate away dramatically.

“Sure, sure,” he said, smirking as he sat back. “Let’s just say you win this argument because I’ve won something else tonight.”

You stared at him, incredulous, before bursting into laughter. “And what is that?”

“An image of you choking on rice.,” he quipped, his grin widening.

“You’re an idiot.” You shook your head, unable to fight the smile tugging at your lips.

—

Days passed, and before you knew it, Yeonjun started showing up during lunch, casually plopping himself down next to you and Beomgyu like it was the most natural thing in the world. At first, Beomgyu gave him suspicious side-eyes, but Yeonjun’s easy charm wore him down.

Soon enough, Yeonjun began bringing his friend Soobin along. Quiet at first, Soobin would sit awkwardly beside Yeonjun, nibbling on his food while the rest of you chatted. But it didn’t take long for Beomgyu to drag Soobin into his whirlwind of jokes and antics, and suddenly the four of you were a group.

Once or twice a week, the four of you would find yourselves huddled together during lunch or after school, trading stories, cracking jokes, or, in Beomgyu’s case, plotting unnecessarily dramatic ways to prank unsuspecting classmates.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but the dynamic had shifted. What was once just you and Beomgyu had expanded into something bigger—and, maybe, better.

“I can’t believe it’s not just the two of us anymore,” you muttered to Beomgyu one afternoon as you watched Yeonjun and Soobin argue over who was better at Mario Kart.

Beomgyu smirked, leaning back against the cafeteria bench. “Oh, come on, you’re having fun. Just admit it.”

“I was perfectly content with it being just us,” you said, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “But… it doesn’t suck having them around too.”

“Yeah, it’s the first time I’ve seen a duo as chaotic as us,” Beomgyu said, motioning toward Yeonjun, who was dramatically accusing Soobin of cheating.

Soobin, clearly exasperated, shoved Yeonjun lightly. “How do you even cheat at Mario Kart? It’s literally luck!”

“You took all the item boxes!” Yeonjun shot back, crossing his arms in mock betrayal.

“Wow,” Beomgyu said, shaking his head with feigned seriousness. “And I thought we were immature.”

“Y’know we can hear you two, right?” Soobin rolled his eyes.

“Kinda counting on it,” you replied with a shrug, sliding onto the bench between Soobin and Yeonjun. “Now, enough. I don’t need the two of you to end up throwing popcorn around like last night.”

“We picked it up straight after,” Soobin defended himself.

“I found two stray kernels behind the couch yesterday,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you, giving Soobin a playful shove on the arm. "Two. Stray. Popcorn pieces. I rest my case."

Soobin groaned dramatically, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, I’m guilty. But next time, I’ll make sure Yeonjun eats all the evidence.”

“Me?” Yeonjun exclaimed, looking offended. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the one who knocked the bowl over in the first place!”

As the three of you bickered, Yeonjun’s gaze shifted for a moment. He noticed the way you laughed at Soobin’s retort, your head tilted slightly as you leaned closer to him. And when Soobin smirked and flicked your shoulder in retaliation, Yeonjun caught the glimmer of fondness in your eyes.

A thought crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome: Do they like each other?

He shook his head slightly, trying to push it away. But the more he observed, the harder it was to ignore. Your casual ease around Soobin, the way you teased him without hesitation, and the soft way Soobin seemed to glance at you when he thought no one else was looking—it all painted a picture Yeonjun couldn’t ignore.

“Earth to Yeonjun,” Beomgyu’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Yeonjun blinked, realizing everyone was now staring at him.

“You’ve been spacing out for a solid minute,” Beomgyu teased, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing,” Yeonjun said quickly, plastering on a smile. “I was just thinking about… Mario Kart strategies.”

Soobin snorted. “Sure you were.”

Yeonjun’s smile faltered slightly, but he forced himself to focus on the moment instead of the nagging thoughts in his head. If there was something between you and Soobin, he’d figure it out eventually—or, at the very least, stop thinking about it so much. Or so he hoped. In fact, he didn’t even know why that thought bothered him.

—

You glanced at your watch, then scanned the area for your friends, who were now ten minutes late. Weird, you thought. Sure, they were always late, but for lunch? Never. You were just about to call Beomgyu when his text came through: Gonna be a bit late, sorry! Not long after, Soobin messaged the same thing.

You sighed, already bracing for a solo lunch when a pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders from behind.

“Boo!”

You screamed out of reflex, jerking forward and nearly tripping, only for Yeonjun to catch you by the arms. For a moment, you were staring directly into his eyes, close enough to see the tiny flecks of brown in them. Your face heated up as you pushed him away.

“You—you little shit!” you shouted, your voice louder than you intended. “You scared me!”

Yeonjun burst into laughter, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on, that was barely a scare!”

“Don’t do that!” You smacked his chest lightly, half-annoyed, half-flustered.

Still grinning, Yeonjun checked his phone. “Looks like it’s just the two of us for lunch today.”

“Oh dear god, save me,” you groaned dramatically.

He laughed again, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the canteen. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It'll be fun. Let’s go!”

To be honest, you still felt a little awkward hanging out with Yeonjun alone. You couldn’t stand the attention the two of you seemed to attract. With Soobin and Beomgyu around, there was always someone to deflect the focus, but being alone with someone as popular as Yeonjun was... exhausting.

Every few minutes, a girl would walk up to make a casual pass at him, twirling her hair or giggling at whatever he said, while Yeonjun just smiled politely. If it wasn’t a girl, it was some frat bro bounding over with a fist bump and a loud, “Dude, it’s been forever!”

It was tiring.

You sat across from Yeonjun, trying to focus on your lunch while he chatted casually, seemingly unbothered by the interruptions. When yet another girl sidled up to your table with a too-sweet smile and a “Hi, Yeonjun~,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

When she finally left, you leaned forward and deadpanned, “Is this what your life is like every day? Because I think I’d rather die.”

Yeonjun chuckled, resting his chin in his hand. “Pretty much. Jealous?”

“Not in the slightest,” you shot back, stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork. “I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “having lunch with you is definitely the highlight. You don’t try to flirt with me.”

You choked on your water at his words, coughing violently.

“Are you okay?!” Yeonjun asked, wide-eyed as he handed you a napkin.

“I’m fine,” you wheezed, glaring at him through teary eyes. “Stop saying things like that. You’re gonna kill me.”

Yeonjun just laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leaned back in his chair. “See? Lunch with me is fun.”

“Sure. If it means being interrupted like a million times,” you sighed softly, taking another bite of your food.

“Though…” He paused, his gaze shifting toward you.

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Though what?”

“I did wish you would,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You tilted your head, confused. “Would what?”

“Never mind.” He waved it off quickly, shaking his head. “It’s stupid.”

“Dude…” You narrowed your eyes, now fully intrigued.

He hesitated for a moment, then let out a nervous chuckle. “I wish you would…flirt with me.”

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him, stunned.

“Y’know,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “I get it all the time from other people, but I don’t get it from the one girl who I think would actually be good at it.” He chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head. “It’s stupid, forget I said anything.”

“Why on earth would you think I’d be good at flirting?” you asked, baffled. “I’ve never done that in my entire life.”

Yeonjun smiled, soft and genuine. “Honestly? I think I’d like anything you said to me.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you couldn’t form a reply.

“Oh crap, I forgot ketchup,” he said suddenly, standing up. “I’ll be back.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you sitting there in stunned silence. His words replayed in your mind—“I think I’d like anything you said to me.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was he just joking, or was there something more to it?

You picked at your food absentmindedly, your thoughts spinning. When Yeonjun returned with his ketchup, he was back to his usual cheerful self, as if he hadn’t just casually dropped that bombshell.

“So, what did I miss?” he asked, settling back into his seat.

“Absolutely nothing,” you replied quickly, avoiding his gaze. But deep down, you knew this lunch had changed something between you—and you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

–

Yeonjun paced his room, running a hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn’t stop. His thoughts had been circling like a storm, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t find a way to calm the chaos.

What was this feeling?

He’d never felt like this before—this unrelenting, all-encompassing focus on someone. On you.

When he slept, he dreamed of you. When he woke up, you were the first thing on his mind. In class, during every lecture, every fleeting second, he found ways to connect everything back to you. A joke you’d made, the way you furrowed your brow when you were deep in thought, the way you smiled.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Was it your smile? Or maybe it was your silliness—the way you could laugh at yourself and make him laugh, too. Or perhaps it was your honesty. The way you didn’t sugarcoat things. You were real with him in a way no one else ever dared to be.

But then his chest tightened as another thought crept in. The idea of Soobin liking you—of you liking Soobin—it hurt.

It hurt more than it should.

And Beomgyu—Beomgyu knew you better than anyone else. That bond, that closeness. It twisted something in Yeonjun’s chest, a feeling he hated acknowledging.

The idea of anyone liking you, of anyone else being the person you chose, was unbearable.

He groaned, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over his face. What the hell was he supposed to do with these feelings?

He had to get rid of these feelings fast especially since he knew you didn’t feel a single thing for him.

—

The bass of the music pulsed through Yeonjun’s body as he walked into the crowded house, a drink already being shoved into his hand by a friend he barely recognized. The room was alive with laughter, chatter, and the occasional shrill cheer as someone won at beer pong.

He should feel at home here. Normally, he thrived in this chaos, weaving his way through groups with a charming grin and a quick joke. Tonight, though, the party felt... off. But this was what he needed, right? To get over you.

Yeonjun scanned the room and spotted a girl standing by the bar, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She caught his eye and smiled, and for a moment, he let himself fall into autopilot.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly, leaning casually against the counter. “Can I get you a drink?”

She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sure. What are you having?”

They exchanged playful banter as he poured her a drink, his usual charm kicking in effortlessly. She laughed at his jokes, leaning closer, and for a second, Yeonjun thought he was doing it—distracting himself, drowning out his thoughts of you.

But then she said something—he didn’t even register what—and her laugh didn’t sound like yours. Her smile didn’t light up her face the way yours did. Her words didn’t carry that teasing edge you always had when you talked to him.

And suddenly, it hit him.

He didn’t want her.

He wanted you.

His hand froze mid-air, the glass he was holding tipping slightly. The girl furrowed her brow, confused. “Are you okay?”

Yeonjun blinked, snapping back to the moment. “Yeah, uh, sorry,” he said quickly, setting the glass down and stepping back. “I just—I need to go.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned and pushed through the crowd, his chest tightening with every step. What the hell was he doing here?

He didn’t want some random girl at a party. He didn’t want to distract himself or pretend his feelings didn’t exist.

He wanted you.

And for the first time, he realized just how badly.

—

The four of you were gathered around your usual table at lunch, the cafeteria alive with chatter and clinking cutlery. You were in the middle of an impassioned rant about how your student rally had antis, your hands animatedly emphasizing every point.

“I mean, can you believe some people still think it’s not real? Like, the science is right there!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Yeonjun leaned forward slightly, his chin propped on his hand as he watched you with an almost dreamy expression. He wasn’t really hearing the details of what you were saying—he was too busy soaking in the way your eyes lit up, the determination in your voice, the little wrinkle between your brows when you were especially frustrated.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow as he noticed Yeonjun’s expression but stayed silent for the moment.

“And don’t even get me started on corporations acting like individual recycling efforts are enough to fix the problem,” you continued, your voice filled with passion. “We need systemic change, not just—ugh, whatever.” You sighed, leaning back and crossing your arms, visibly exasperated.

“You’re so right,” Yeonjun said suddenly, his voice softer than usual, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Thank you?”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you said a moment later, standing and grabbing your bag. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you were out of earshot, Beomgyu leaned across the table, pointing a fry at Yeonjun. “Okay, what’s your deal?”

“What?” Yeonjun asked, startled, though the tips of his ears turned pink.

“You’ve been staring at her like she hung the moon,” Soobin chimed in, smirking as he sipped his drink. “It’s painfully obvious.”

Yeonjun tried to laugh it off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you know,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his grin mischievous. “You’re whipped. Admit it.”

Yeonjun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Can you two not?”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Soobin said, laughing. “Just tell her already. This whole lovesick puppy thing is kind of embarrassing.”

Yeonjun peeked through his fingers, glaring at him. “She doesn’t feel that way about me, okay? So just drop it.”

Beomgyu and Soobin exchanged a look, their teasing smiles softening slightly.

“Well, she’s not going to know if you don’t tell her,” Beomgyu said after a moment, his voice unusually serious.

“Yeah,” Soobin added. “And honestly, she’d be lucky to have you.”

Yeonjun looked down at the table, his heart racing as he replayed the way you’d smiled while talking about something you cared so much about.

Maybe they were right. But the thought of risking your friendship still terrified him. Especially a friendship like yours.

—

The library was unusually quiet for a Wednesday afternoon, save for the occasional rustle of papers or the soft murmur of students whispering to one another. You and Yeonjun had claimed a table in the far corner, textbooks sprawled out in front of you as you both attempted to study. Well, you were attempting; Yeonjun was too busy doodling cartoonish faces on the corner of his notebook and cracking terrible jokes that somehow still managed to make you smile.

“Okay, but seriously, why do you write your notes like this?” he asked, pointing at your color-coded bullet points. “It’s like an art exhibit for highlighters.”

“Because it works,” you replied, swatting his hand away before he could smudge your meticulously written notes. “Maybe if you stopped doodling and actually read the material, you wouldn’t need to borrow my notes every time.”

“I’m a visual learner,” he said with a smirk. “I need diagrams, not words.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. Just as you were about to nudge him for his lack of effort, a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey, Yeonjun,” a girl said, her voice dripping with a mixture of shyness and flirtation. She held a notebook to her chest, her gaze flicking briefly to you before focusing solely on him. “I was wondering if you could help me with something from class.”

Yeonjun blinked, caught off guard. “Me? I’m the last person you should be asking.”

The girl leaned in a little too close, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, c’mon, it’d be fun~”

Your hand froze mid-note. You tried not to react, keeping your gaze fixed on your textbook, but the awkward tension was palpable. Yeonjun, to his credit, just laughed nervously and said, “You could always e-mail your professor,” before the girl finally left, albeit reluctantly.

You barely had time to process the encounter before another girl appeared five minutes later, giggling as she asked him to sign her notebook because it was “a good-luck charm.” Then came another, offering him a snack and batting her eyelashes so furiously you were surprised she could still see.

By the third interruption, you’d had enough. Not because you were angry, but because it was clear you couldn’t get any studying done with 100 girls coming up to get their way to him. You quietly stood, gathering your things. “I’ll give you some space,” you said lightly, trying to sound nonchalant. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up. “What? No, wait—” He grabbed your wrist before you could step away, his grip firm but gentle. His voice was louder this time, drawing the attention of the girls hovering nearby. “Actually, girls y’know what, I’d really appreciate it if everyone understood that I already have a girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened in shock as he turned to look at the group, a confident grin spreading across his face.

One of the girls frowned. “Who?”

He pointed directly at you. “Her.”

You stared at him, absolutely floored. “Excuse me?” you whispered harshly.

Yeonjun only shrugged, leaning back in his chair like it was the most natural thing in the world. “What? It’s true. Well, kinda,” he muttered under his breath, low enough that only you could hear.

The girls exchanged looks, clearly skeptical but unwilling to press further. One by one, they walked away, their disappointed expressions oddly satisfying. Once they were gone, you yanked your arm free, glaring at him.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed, your cheeks burning.

Yeonjun grinned, completely unapologetic. “What? You were gonna leave me to fend for myself. I had to do something.”

“You couldn’t just say you weren’t interested like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

You groaned, sinking back into your chair. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still here,” he pointed out, smirking.

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

—

The cafeteria was buzzing with its usual chaos—trays clattering, voices rising, and the occasional shriek of someone almost spilling their drink. You were balancing your lunch tray, trying to make your way to the table where Beomgyu and Soobin were already seated, but as soon as they spotted you and Yeonjun walking in together, their heads whipped toward you like they’d just uncovered the scandal of the century.

The grins on their faces were impossible to ignore.

“So,” Beomgyu began as soon as you sat down, his tone dripping with faux disappointment. “You confessed to my best friend without even telling me?” He sighed dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d personally betrayed him. “I thought we were closer than this.”

You froze mid-bite of your sandwich. “What?”

“Don’t act innocent,” Soobin added, his usually calm demeanor betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He tilted his head toward Yeonjun, who had taken the seat next to you with the utmost confidence. “We heard about the library incident.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, glaring at Yeonjun. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Yeonjun raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin only widening. “All I did was save you from leaving me alone with those girls.”

“Save me?” you repeated, incredulous. “You told everyone we’re dating!”

“Well,” Beomgyu chimed in, leaning forward with an eyebrow raised, “if you’re not dating, you two sure are doing a great job pretending otherwise. You literally walked in here together.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because we were coming from the same place. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Soobin said, his tone suspiciously neutral. “And sitting next to each other? Laughing like you’re in your own little world? Totally platonic, right?”

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Nothing is going on. Yeonjun made up the girlfriend thing to get those girls off his back, and somehow, everyone else decided to turn it into a school-wide announcement.”

Beomgyu gasped theatrically. “So you’re fake-dating? This is even better.” He clapped his hands together like he’d just won the lottery. “This is straight out of a drama. What’s next? A contract?”

“Don’t give him any ideas,” you groaned, glancing at Yeonjun, who was clearly enjoying this far too much.

“I mean, it’s not the worst idea,” Yeonjun said, casually leaning back in his chair. “You get fewer annoying questions, I get fewer confessions to deal with—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off. “This is not happening.”

“Why not?” Beomgyu said, clearly loving every second of this. “Think about it. You’d make the perfect fake couple. The ‘grumpy and sunshine’ dynamic is a classic.”

“I am not grumpy!” you snapped, and Beomgyu cackled like he’d just proven his point.

Soobin, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “You know, for something fake, you both seem awfully comfortable around each other.”

You stared at him, your brain struggling to form a coherent response. Yeonjun, on the other hand, just smirked.

“See? Even Soobin agrees,” Yeonjun said, shooting you a smug look. “Maybe there’s a reason everyone’s buying it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “The only reason everyone’s buying it is because you’re too convincing for your own good.”

“Or,” Beomgyu teased, resting his chin on his hands, “because you’re secretly in love with him.”

You choked on your drink. “I—absolutely not!”

Yeonjun just grinned, leaning closer. “You sure about that?”

—

The café was buzzing with lunchtime chatter as you and Yeonjun settled into your seats. It was supposed to be a group lunch, but Beomgyu and Soobin had bailed last minute, claiming an urgent League of Legends match that couldn’t wait. Typical.

“Well, their loss,” Yeonjun said, popping a fry into his mouth. “More food for us.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “Do you ever get tired of eating fries?”

“Never,” he replied with a grin. “Fries are the love of my life. No offense.”

“And why would that be offensive?” you said dryly, sipping your drink.

Midway through your conversation, Yeonjun stood up. “Gotta use the restroom. Don’t eat all the fries while I’m gone.” He shot you a playful wink before walking off, leaving you to roll your eyes again.

As you sat there scrolling through your phone, a girl approached your table, her perfectly styled hair and designer bag making her stand out. She stopped right in front of you, arms crossed, her gaze sharp.

“Hey,” she started, her tone clipped. “I’ve heard the rumors, and I just have to ask—are you really dating Yeonjun?”

You looked up, mildly surprised by the confrontation. “Uh, I guess. Why?”

Her lips twisted into a skeptical smile. “It’s just... you don’t really seem like his type, you know? No offense.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “None taken,” you said with a shrug, matching her energy. “But what’s his type, exactly?”

She blinked, clearly not expecting you to stand your ground. “Well... someone more... polished, I guess. Someone who matches his vibe. I’m just saying, you don’t seem like the kind of girl he’d go for.”

You set your drink down and met her gaze directly. “Cool. Thanks for your opinion. Anything else?”

Before she could respond, Yeonjun reappeared, his steps light but his expression sharp as he overheard the conversation. “What’s not to like about her?” he asked casually, sliding back into his seat beside you. His sudden presence made the girl stiffen.

“She’s smart, funny, and gorgeous,” Yeonjun continued, his tone unwavering as he gestured toward you. “And for the record, she’s perfect for me.”

The girl’s mouth opened and closed like she was searching for a response. Finally, she managed to say, “It’s just…You could do so much better.”

Yeonjun tilted his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “There’s no such thing as better,” he said, his voice firm. “She’s already the best.”

Without breaking eye contact with the girl, he leaned toward you, his hand resting lightly on your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Which…well, caught you off guard.

When he pulled back, the girl looked utterly flustered, “I-I...hope the two of you are happy together then. I’m sorry.” she muttered before spinning on her heel and walking away.

Yeonjun turned to you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “That wasn’t too much, was it?”

You blinked, still processing what had just happened. “Uh... no?” Your cheeks heated up from the sudden intimacy.

“Good,” he said, grabbing another fry like nothing had happened. “Now, where were we?”

—

The cool night breeze swept over the two of you as you walked side by side down the dimly lit street. The sound of your footsteps filled the comfortable silence between you, the faint glow of streetlights illuminating Yeonjun’s sharp features. You stole a glance at him, your heart oddly heavy as you mulled over your thoughts.

“Uh, y’know…” you said softly, your voice barely cutting through the quiet.

“Hm?” he replied, turning his head slightly to look at you, his hands stuffed casually in his jacket pockets.

You hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You… you kinda stole my first kiss, you know.”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in alarm. “Wait, that was your first kiss?” he asked, voice rising with panic. “Oh my God, I didn’t—I didn’t know! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeonjun,” you interrupted, laughing softly at his frantic apologies. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I just kissed you to get that girl to leave, and I didn’t even think—”

“Yeonjun,” you said more firmly, cutting him off again. “I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

That seemed to stop him in his tracks. He blinked, staring at you withcuriosity. “Really?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You looked away, your cheeks warming despite the cool breeze. “Honestly, I felt like I’d never lose my first kiss anyway,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “I’ve always thought it’d never happen.”

Yeonjun frowned, stepping closer. “What? Why would you think that?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile and attempting to wave it off. “It’s nothing. Let’s not—”

“No,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “Why are you so afraid of liking someone? Or being with someone?”

You bit your lip, looking away. “I just…” You hesitated, unsure if you could even put it into words. Finally, you sighed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I just feel like I wouldn’t be good enough for anyone.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and when you finally looked up, Yeonjun’s expression frustrated.

“Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice tight. “You’re the best person I know. Anyone would be lucky—so lucky—to even have you like them.”

You blinked, startled by the intensity of his words. “Yeonjun—”

“No,” he said, his tone firm. “You don’t get to say things like that about yourself. It’s not true, and it’s… it’s so frustrating that you don’t see what I see.”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. It wasn’t hurried or fleeting like before—it was soft.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breathing uneven. “It’s just crazy how you don’t see how fucking amazing you are. You’re smart, you’re literally the prettiest person I’ve ever seen and honestly I don’t understand why you’re so cute. You’re the only person I’ve ever liked this much and it’s killing me.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded slowly, your eyes still wide, your heart thudding against your chest.

“I’m stupid,” Yeonjun muttered, stepping back slightly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I didn’t mean to scare you—I shouldn’t have just blurted that out like that—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “I’m not scared at all. I just…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“You just what?” he asked, his tone softening as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks warming. “I don’t really know how to deal with this,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve never... I’ve never had anyone say something like that to me before.”

Yeonjun’s brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “You deserve it,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. “You deserve to hear it a hundred times. Every single day. You deserve to feel loved and appreciated and—and wanted.” His voice softened as he added, “Because that’s exactly how I feel about you.”

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in. “Yeonjun…” you started, but you couldn’t find the right words to respond. Your mind was a blur of emotions, too overwhelmed to sort through them.

He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around them. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” he said quietly. “I just… I need you to know how I feel. And I need you to stop doubting yourself because you’re everything to me.” He paused, then added with a small, almost shy smile, “Even if I totally botched this confession and stole your first kiss”

A laugh escaped your lips despite yourself, breaking the tension. “You didn’t botch it,” you said, shaking your head. “It was... really sweet.”

He grinned, his confidence returning just a little. “Yeah? Sweet enough to get you to go on an actual date with me?”

Your heart fluttered, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” you said softly, a smile spreading across your face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? Ouch,” he said dramatically, swinging your joined hands slightly, his teasing smile lighting up his face.

You chuckled, looking at him through your lashes. “I don’t know. You did kinda steal my first kiss.”

Yeonjun stopped walking for a moment, tilting his head as if deep in thought. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he said, “You can have it back.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again, softer this time, as if savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, you were laughing, your cheeks warm and heart racing. “Actually, I think I’d rather you keep it,” you said, your laughter spilling over as you leaned forward to kiss him again, this time initiating it yourself. “Here,” you murmured against his lips.

Yeonjun smirked as you pulled back, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Two can play at this game, y’know.”

“Oh, can they?” you teased, arching a brow as you started to walk again, pulling him along by the hand.

He followed easily, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Oh, they can,” he said confidently. “But fair warning, I’m really good at this game.”

“Guess I’ll just have to keep up,” you replied, smiling. “Though, I’d appreciate it if we kept this a little secret for now. I don’t really need Beomgyu asking me for every detail.”

“Right…” Yeonjun nodded thoughtfully, though his grin didn’t falter. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. We’re friends! In fact, haven’t we gotten closer?”

You gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. “He’ll probably want to interrogate you. Or worse…”

“But we’re friends…?” he repeated, as if that would shield him from the chaos to come.

“You don’t understand,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head. “He might be Beomgyu, but he’s insanely—and I mean insanely—protective.”

Yeonjun blinked at you for a moment before laughing. “Protective? Beomgyu? Are we talking about the same Beomgyu who steals fries off everyone’s plates and pretends to faint when he’s asked to help with anything?”

“Yes, that Beomgyu,” you replied with a deadpan expression. “The same one who ‘accidentally’ tripped a guy in middle school because he thought he was flirting with me. Protective doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Yeonjun let out a low whistle, his laughter fading as a hint of nervousness crept into his smile. “Okay, maybe I underestimated him. So what’s the plan? Do I avoid eye contact? Pretend I don’t exist?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “No, just… don’t give him a reason to go full interrogator mode, and we’ll be fine.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Yeonjun muttered. He glanced at you, his playful smirk returning. “But you’re worth it. If I have to face Beomgyu’s wrath, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “He hasn’t even started yet.”

Yeonjun chuckled, but there was an undertone of determination in his voice as he said, “Let him. I’ll handle it. I like you too much to let Beomgyu scare me off.”

His words caught you off guard, your steps faltering for a moment. “Yeah, youre saying this now.”

He stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression sincere. “Of course I do. Beomgyu might be protective, but he’s also your friend. If he sees how serious I am about you, he’ll come around.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you smiled softly. “You’re being too cute right now. It’s really bothering me.”

Yeonjun grinned, leaning in just slightly. “The one time I don’t mind bothering you.”

–

The two of you were great at hiding your relationship—for a solid four days.

Beomgyu stood in front of you and Yeonjun, arms crossed, an exaggeratedly serious look on his face. “So,” he started, narrowing his eyes at Yeonjun, “you’re really dating my best friend?”

Yeonjun nodded, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably as a grin tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I am.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened dramatically. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me? Huh? Was I supposed to find out at your wedding? Were you even going to send me a save-the-date card?!”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Beomgyu, it hasn’t even been a week—”

“Don’t interrupt me!” he snapped, pointing at you with mock seriousness before turning his attention back to Yeonjun. “You. You toad looking son of a bitch. Answer the question.”

Yeonjun shrugged, clearly amused. “Toad looking– Honestly, Gyu? I was hoping you’d just figure it out and not make a big deal.”

Beomgyu gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been personally betrayed. “Gyu? You lost your Gyu privileges when you didn’t tell me about the two of you dating! And…not make a big deal?! I’m her best friend! It’s my job to make this a big deal! What kind of boyfriend are you if you don’t respect that?”

“Okay, okay, I respect it,” Yeonjun said, holding up his hands in surrender. “But you’re being a little dramatic—”

“Dramatic?” Beomgyu cut him off, pacing in front of you both like a detective in a crime drama. “Dramatic is when I trip a guy for flirting with her. This? This is serious. I need answers. What are your intentions with my little girl?”

“Little girl?” You scoffed.

“My intentions?” Yeonjun repeated, clearly holding back laughter. “I like her. A lot. I want to make her happy.”

Beomgyu squinted at him like he was trying to read Yeonjun’s soul. “Hmm…lame answer but okay. But what about—”

“Beomgyu, stop,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not my dad and Yeonjun’s not on trial.”

Beomgyu ignored you, snapping his fingers at Yeonjun. “What’s her favorite color?”

“Uh… blue?” Yeonjun said, glancing at you for confirmation.

“Wrong. It’s green,” Beomgyu said confidently, even though he was completely wrong.

“It’s actually yellow,” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “Even I don’t know where you got green from.”

Beomgyu gasped again, this time looking personally offended. “How dare you keep secrets from me?”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s her favorite food?”

“Spaghetti!” Yeonjun answered quickly, as if it was obvious.

Beomgyu sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Lucky guess, nimrod.”

“Nimrod? Really?” Yeonjun shot him an exasperated side-eye. “You’re pulling these nicknames out of nowhere now, huh?”

“Talking back to your father-in-law?” Beomgyu glared, clearly annoyed. “Strike one, Choi Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun blinked, flustered. “My father-in-law is younger than me by two years. This is ridiculous.”

“More back talk, huh? Strike two, fuckface,” Beomgyu snapped, his tone dripping with annoyance.

Yeonjun threw his hands up in frustration, leaning back in his seat. “What the hell, man? Why are you so worked up? I’m literally just trying to answer your questions.”

Beomgyu’s glare intensified. “It’s not about the answer, Yeonjun. It’s the respect you should have for me, as her best friend, I am literally obligated–”

“No, you’re not.”

Beomgyu ignored you, “OBLIGATED to earn my respect and you’re just making it harder for me to give you my approval.”

You watched the exchange with an amused expression but also a growing sense of secondhand frustration on Yeonjun’s behalf. Beomgyu’s intensity wasn’t helping the situation.

Yeonjun finally sighed, slumping in his seat. “I’m not even trying to be difficult, Beomgyu. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to respect the fact that you’re dating my best friend,” Beomgyu muttered, arms still crossed. “I’m watching you, Yeonjun. You mess this up, I swear—”

“Alright, alright,” Yeonjun groaned, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I get it. Strike three is coming, right?”

Beomgyu shot him a look, his eyes narrow with annoyance. “You better believe it, dumbass.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, covering your face. “Are we finally done?”

But Beomgyu wasn’t finished. He turned to Yeonjun with a dramatic flourish, holding his shoulders. “Listen up. When you’re holding her, you need to know you’re holding my whole world.”

“You got that off Pinterest, didn’t you?” you deadpanned.

Beomgyu waved you off, completely ignoring the comment.

But before Beomgyu could continue his interrogation, he suddenly stopped, his expression shifting into something softer. “Wait, I just realised…” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re really dating now. Like, for real. You’re all grown up…”

And then, out of nowhere, Beomgyu lunged forward and wrapped you in a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice muffled and suspiciously emotional. “I’ve watched you grow up, and now you’re dating this idiot! I can’t believe it!”

You froze for a moment, torn between laughing and tearing up yourself. “Beomgyu, are you… crying?”

“No!” he said, his voice cracking. “Shut up. It’s allergies.”

Yeonjun snorted, leaning against the wall. “Wow. Didn’t realize I was dating into such an emotional family.”

Beomgyu shot him a glare, though he didn’t let go of you. “And I cannot stress this enough, you better take good care of her, Yeonjun, or so help me I will cut your balls off when you’re sleep—”

“I will,” Yeonjun said sincerely, cutting him off. “I promise.”

Beomgyu sniffed dramatically before pulling back, giving you one last look. “Fine,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I approve. But only because I like you, Yeonjun. Don’t ruin it.”

Yeonjun saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you turned this into a whole event.”

Beomgyu grinned, his usual mischievousness returning. “What can I say? I live for the drama.”

#yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #txt fic #txt oneshot #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fic #yeonjun one shot #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together

402 notes · View notes