#not to mention the tension in that first being through the roof

[thetormentita]

spes ultima dea - chapter 1

Audaces fortuna iuvat. —Virgil

Pairings: Ofc x Lucius Verus, Ofc x Ravi (platonic)

A/n: just lemme play a bit with the idea, we all are gonna like it

Warnings: mentions of slavery, blood, ptsd (possibly?), angst

Rating: Mature (+16)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

She stays at a corner of the courtyard as the newcomers are forced to come into the ludus.

“Where do they come from?” She mumbles, her eyes observing them with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Each of the men carries an air of reluctance and resolve, their bodies marked by past conflicts.

It is a sunny day that one, and she always hates when new gladiators are brought into the ludus and the sun shines upon the sky. The voices coming from the busy streets not far from where they are bring her sour memories as the stranger men are gathered in front of their new owner to be properly inspected like if they were just a horse or any worthless merchandise.

“Not sure” the healer puts a face, one of his arms brushing her, like wanting to shield her in case any of the new gladiators puts his eyes upon her. “Heard something about Numidia.”

“Where is that?”

“Past the sea.”

She observes them, silent, her brow furrowed and her hands clasped tightly together. She can’t help but think of her own experience and the tension that came with it. She recalls the days she first arrived, feeling like a prisoner in unfamiliar surroundings, forced to adapt to the rules and rhythms of the place, punished for not understanding a language foreign to her.

They stand apart, almost half hidden, as their dominus talks to the new gladiators, not understanding a word of what a strange man in a toga is talking about, shaking his hands with rings in half of the fingers. They observe in silence, trying to remember all those faces now etched with emotions: some with quiet defiance, others with palpable fear—none of them there by their own volition.

Her eyes stop by a face, a specific face who seems to understand all the nonsense being told, who looks like he would gladly rip the dominus’s head from his shoulders out of rage. There is a fire in his eyes, burning brightly, refusing to be extinguished by chains. She bites her lower lip as she observes him, getting familiar with those specific features, unable to look away.

“Something wrong?”

Ravi’s dark eyes are upon her, and despite she is not looking at him, she knows he has raised an eyebrow.

“Do Numidians speak latin?”

“Not that I know, why?”

She lifts her chin to the newcomer whose clenched jaw threatens to shatter his very teeth. “He seems to understand everything,” she whispers.

Ravi follows her gaze, scrutinizing the young man who seems so effortlessly defiant. He clearly has nothing to lose, like Ravi when he first arrived at Rome, or herself, but the difference is that he is not as defeated as any would be in his position.

“First or last?”

“First.”

It takes them a while to be able to go and see the newcomers. Their dominus always likes to sermonize them as well, remind them of their position and the expected brevity of most of the newcomers. It always stings to her, because she thinks of Ravi and the years he has spent as a gladiator and feels bad for him, to have to live with that gruesome shadow of a man constantly under the same roof.

She has lost track of time long ago, but it always is the same ritual: fetch the small wooden crate, the vat and some pieces of cloth and pass through every cell to tend the possible wounds from their capture. No matter the origin of the new people bought by their dominus, it is always the same. She starts walking with the crate between her arms, almost hugging it, heading down the dim corridor. The air is heavy with a mixture of incense and sweat, a scent as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.

She lives between warriors, and each bears the mark of battles past and those yet to come, even herself.

Despite wanting to visit the appealing stranger first, they are forced to start with another man, whose cheek shows a cut from brow to jaw and his hands are clearly injured. They stop by the entrance of his cell and she takes a deep breath to settle herself before stepping inside. The man’s eyes dart to her, a flicker of fear quickly masked by stoic indifference.

It is always her, not Ravi.

“Alana” she puts an open hand on her chest to introduce herself and then does the same with the Indian “Ravi.”

They do the same with every single one of them, a ritual as ingrained in her as the breathing that steadies her hands. Countless faces she has seen through her years there as a slave, and very few have made it. It always hurts her.

“You are wounded” Ravi kneels before the gladiator, hands constantly open and seen in a gesture to the stranger to let him realize they are there in good faith “We will fix it, allright?”

His voice is soft and modulated, a gentle balm against the tension radiating from the man’s rigid form. She observes him in a momentary wonder each time before she remembers that he had also been a newcomer to the ludus once, and that he also brought scars and wounds from his capture.

The gladiator’s tense shoulders relax minutely, acknowledging Ravi’s words, though he doesn't speak their language. He lets them do in silence, flinching here and there when they clean the gash of his face with vinegar or she stitches it with care.

“Sorry.” She mumbles each time she feels he is in pain because of them.

“They don’t understand you.”

“It is the same. Compassion doesn’t need words.” Alana insists, her gaze steady as she works with gentle hands.

It is a small group, and quickly they get to the cell in front of the man who has awaken in her a cautious curiosity. His eyes follow her movements, from the door in front of their destination, a mixture of wariness and gratitude reflecting in their depths. She lingers while Ravi unlocks the door, and looks at him in silence, biting her lower lip as she uses to do when she is deep in thought. There is something in his eyes, a depth that pulls at her.

“Come on” muses Ravi, calling her attention as they both get into the cell she doesn’t want to.

They repeat the same as they have done with the rest, mainly to let them give them a name despite knowing most of them will not be known as such, or may lose it in favour of something else, more suitable for their dominus or the editor or the audience to match their fierceness and get more coin to the ludus.

“Beware.” Ravi’s eyes are upon the man, and quickly Alana draws his attention to him. “His hands.”

He is shaking. It is impossible to know if it is because of fear or cold, because the jails at that side are cooler than the ones they are in front of, and she places herself before the man with a kind gesture upon her face.

“You are hurt, we will fix you.” As she talks, she points to her body, specifically where they can see he has any injuries. “Can we see you better?”

None of them are aware that the man in the cell in front of where they are has approached the entrance of his new home and is watching the scene with attention.

“They are good people, Itzar.” He says in Punic, only for the man to understand, voice loud enough to try his best to impose respect to him. “Let them do, they are friends.”

Itzar glances from the speaker to the pair before him. The shake in his hands lessens, replaced by a terse nod, but his eyes betray something else, a deep well of suspicion and unease. They dart between his saviors and the bars that bind him, assessing the reality of their kindness.

Alana steps closer, her voice soothing and gentle, attempting to bridge the chasm of distrust despite knowing that the chances of getting understood by the gladiator are almost none. Cautiously, Itzar extends his hand, scarred and trembling, towards Alana, allowing her a glimpse of the wounds he sustains.

“We have to clean this, or you will get sick” she murmurs, gathering her supplies with practiced efficiency after years tending to injuries worse than that. “This will sting a little.”

“Itzar, let them do.” The voice calls her attention, and when her eyes spot the man at the cell in front of them again, she finds his gaze locked intently on the interaction. “Stay still and let them do.” Despite not understanding a bit of what he is saying, somehow she feels reassured by the command in his voice. The certainty cuts through the chaos of her thoughts, anchoring her as she works.

“Do you think he is their leader?” She mumbles to a cautious Ravi, who places himself at the other side, letting the stranger observe the procedure and how she works, but at the same time keeping a wary eye on him, and observing the man called Itzar, ready to act if necessary.

“Possibly. Or maybe he already knows he has come to hell and is trying to make peace with it,” Ravi replies, his voice low yet unwavering as he watches Alana’s nimble hands clean the wounds with care.

“He is looking?”

“Aye. At you. Maybe he is as curious about you as you about him.”

“Shut up.” She hisses, frowning as she finishes bandaging the wound, trying to ignore the growing heat in her cheeks.

She has grown used to be among warriors, and even has developed certain friendship with some of them, something unspoken but respected. Whenever she has the chance to go to the market or to run errands for the domina, she brings back a sweet, or any knick-knack in an attempt to cheer them up, and they cherish these small tokens, grateful for her quiet kindness amid the grim reality of their lives; some of them have the chance to give her back some of that kindness with a part of their food because gladiators are the ones to eat the most among the slaves in the ludus, or anything they can put their hands on to show their appreciation. She likes it despite the chances of most of those men to die at the arena, it gives her life as a slave at the ludus a meaning.

As soon as they have finished with Itzar they leave his cell and they turn to face the latest of the group, who has gone to the end of his cell and has his eyes upon them, silent, with his hands open for them to see.

As Ravi unlocks the door, she exchanges a knowing glance with him, aware of the quiet determination etched into his features. Once the entrance is locked again—as the dominus has stated hundreds of times as a sort of cowardly reassuance—she leaves the crate on the floor and introduces themselves again, her eyes upon the man.

“Hanno.” He answers, still, his voice steady despite the circumstances.

“Will you let us—?”

Both Ravi and Alana stop when Hanno uncovers his chest, revealing bruises and gashes here and there, totally not expecting him to cooperate that easily.

“Can you sit on the cot, please?”

As Hanno obeys, Ravi takes a piece of cloth and soaks it in the vat before handling it to Alana, his sharp eyes observing every movement with meticulous care. Gently, Alana begins to clean the wounds, her touch as tender as circumstances allow.

“This may sting a bit.” She murmurs as she works on his wounds as she has learnt from Ravi, carefully making sure the worst they will do it leave a scar upon the skin. Hanno remains silent, slightly wincing but steadfast as she works, his gaze unfaltering as it focuses on a spot above Alana’s head, possibly to not make her feel uncomfortable; she has enough fighting back her own thoughts as her fingers traverse the network of scars and bruises along the muscled chest, her lower lip trapped beneath her teeth as she tries to focus.

“His back” mumbles Ravi, almost startling her. “He was flogged.”

Alana hesitates briefly, exchanging a glance with Ravi, her gaze filled with concern and understanding. She nods, after a moment, turning her face to Hanno, realising the beautiful blue of his eyes.

“Can you turn to face the wall, please?” She gestures as she talks, her voice carefully gentle. “We need to see your back.”

Hanno complies, shifting with a slight grimace and Alana thanks him with a whisper, moving to tend to the more severe wounds on his back, heart heavy with every silent wince that escapes him as she cleanses his wounds, gashes that speak of a brutality she can only imagine. Ravi watches silently, his own heart weighed down with memories, standing by to assist if needed.

The place is quiet, the only sound the steady rustle of bandages and the soft, careful breathing of the three occupants. Hanno's shoulders tremble slightly with each touch, muscles taut and tense.

“Sorry” she mumbles, brow furrowed in concentration as she works diligently, her eyes roaming his broad shoulders as she can only imagine what has that man gone through before ending there with them.

The world outside seems a distant blur, the heavy silence punctuating each moment of care she affords him. She has so many questions to make him she doesn’t know where to start, but at the same time she forces herself to try and not engage in further contact with him because he would not be the first to die at the arena on the next day. She halts as the thought hits her, glancing briefly at Ravi with questioning eyes. Ravi meets her gaze, understanding her unspoken concern. It is hard to end a season alive, and he knows it well.

As she finishes with the gashes, her eyes go to the mark under his shoulder blade, a half scarred symbol made with a heated iron bar, branding him forever as property of the arena. Its edges are harsh, healed crudely over time, a testament to the brutality his body has endured. A gasp escapes her lips, and Hanno closes his eyes as if bracing himself against memories that gnaw at the edges of his mind.

“I—” for the first time in ages she hesitates. “There is something to help you heal.” Her hands meet Ravi’s by the crate, and Alana knows that he has seen it as well, because his expression is painted with the same mix of fury and compassion that she feels. “It is an ointment. It will help with— that.” She goes to face Hanno, with the little jar between her hands to show him, and he nods before she gives it to Ravi to apply it. “Thank you. For helping with your friend. I understand, this is not good for anybody.”

Hanno manages a faint smile, the gratitude genuine amid the storm of dread surrounding them. His stern features soften when their gazes meet again, and he nods slowly, acknowledging the compassion extended to him.

[magical-reid]

Ricochet

Pairing: Bucky x Fem! Reader

Slow Burn/ Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 1.4K

Reader’s POV

The elevator ride to the top of Avengers Tower was too quiet, too long, and too nerve-wracking. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this—I was supposed to be excited, grateful even. Joining the Avengers was a big deal. The deal.

But all I could think about was the man waiting on the other side of the shiny metal doors.

Bucky Barnes.

The Winter Soldier, they used to call him. The Ghost. The most terrifying assassin in history. Now, they called him an Avenger. A hero. A man trying to rebuild his life, just like me.

Except, he hated me.

The elevator dinged, interrupting my downward spiral. I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag, straightened my back, and stepped into the common area.

It was bustling. Clint Barton was leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee. Wanda Maximoff was cross-legged on the couch, nose deep in a book. Sam Wilson was half-shouting something about a sparring session.

And then, there he was.

Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, piercing blue eyes narrowed in a look that could melt steel. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky’s POV

I saw her before she even got off the elevator.

The new recruit—great. Another kid with a chip on their shoulder and something to prove. Fury had said she was talented, promising even. But Fury said a lot of things, and I wasn’t buying it.

Especially since she was Hydra-trained.

I crossed my arms tighter, keeping my mouth shut as the others greeted her. My stomach churned as I watched her, trying to read her body language. She stood tall, confident, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Good. She should be nervous.

“You’re the new girl, huh?” Sam said, clapping her on the shoulder like they were old friends.

“Yeah,” she replied, glancing my way for half a second before looking back at Sam. “I guess I am.”

Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight clench of her jaw. She knew who I was, knew what I thought about her being here.

“Welcome to the Tower,” Sam said, oblivious. “What’s your specialty?”

“Close combat,” she said. “And infiltration.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” I said, pushing off the wall. “You’ve got ‘infiltration’ written all over you.”

Reader’s POV

It took every ounce of restraint not to throw my duffel bag at his head. He was testing me, pushing my buttons, and it was working.

“Okay,” Sam said, stepping between us with a strained smile. “Let’s just… ease into this. No need to kill each other yet.”

Yet.

The tension lingered, thick as smoke, as Bucky gave me one last icy look before brushing past me and disappearing down the hall.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Bucky’s POV

The new girl—Y/N. Fury had mentioned her name in passing—was trouble. I didn’t need Steve’s optimism or Sam’s over-the-top friendliness clouding my judgment. People didn’t just walk away from Hydra clean.

I knew that better than anyone.

She was going to slip up. Eventually, she’d prove me right.

The problem was, part of me almost didn’t want her to.

Two Weeks Later

Reader’s POV

I’d managed to avoid Bucky for the first couple of weeks, which was harder than it should have been considering we lived under the same roof. But there was no avoiding him in the field.

Our first mission as a team had gone sideways fast. Hydra—not that it was surprising—had set up a trap, and now half the team was scattered in the woods outside the compound while Bucky and I were stuck together.

“Stay close,” Bucky barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos.

“I know how to stay alive,” I snapped back, dodging behind a tree as bullets tore through the air.

“Yeah, but for how long?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I slid my knife from its sheath, took a deep breath, and bolted toward the nearest Hydra soldier. The element of surprise worked in my favor. I took him down quickly and efficiently, just like I’d been trained.

But the second soldier saw me coming.

“Damn it,” I muttered, raising my blade, but before I could strike, a blur of black and silver tackled the guy to the ground.

Bucky.

He stood over the unconscious soldier, shaking his head. “You’re reckless.”

“I’m fine,” I bit out, wiping blood from my cheek.

“For now.”

“Why do you even care?”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him as more soldiers approached.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

I wanted to argue, but something in his tone made me listen.

Bucky’s POV

She was going to get herself killed.

I didn’t trust her—not even a little—but I didn’t want her blood on my hands. She was brash, stubborn, and reckless, but she wasn’t incompetent. That’s what made it worse.

Because if she wasn’t Hydra anymore, if she really had turned her back on them, she didn’t deserve to die like this.

“Bucky, behind you!”

Her voice snapped me back to reality just in time to block the incoming blow. The Hydra soldier hit hard, but I hit harder. I turned and delivered a swift kick to his chest, sending him flying into a tree.

When I turned back to Y/N, she was watching me, something unreadable in her eyes.

“You okay?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

She nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Good,” I muttered. “Let’s keep moving.”

Later

Reader’s POV

By the time we made it back to the jet, I was running on adrenaline and pure spite. Bucky hadn’t let up the entire mission, barking orders and criticizing every move I made.

But he’d also saved my life. Twice.

“You’re lucky I was there,” he said as the jet doors closed behind us.

I rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.”

Clint, sitting in the pilot’s seat, let out a low whistle. “This is gonna be fun.”

Bucky ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “You want to survive out there? Start listening to people who know what they’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I snapped.

“Do you?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“Better than hiding behind everyone else.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might actually yell. Instead, he turned and stormed toward the back of the jet.

Bucky’s POV

She was infuriating.

She didn’t know when to quit, when to listen, when to shut up. But damn it, she had fire.

I hated that I noticed it. Hated the way my heart skipped when she called me out, the way my mind replayed her voice when I was alone.

I hated the way she looked at me, like she was daring me to prove her wrong.

But most of all, I hated the thought of something happening to her.

Weeks Turn to Months

The missions kept coming, and so did the tension. Every time we worked together, sparks flew—anger, frustration, heat. But somewhere along the line, the edges softened.

It started small: a hesitant “good job” after a successful mission, a shared smirk when Tony made a particularly bad joke.

And then, one night, everything changed.

Reader’s POV

The training room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of fists hitting the punching bag. I’d come down to clear my head, but I wasn’t alone.

Bucky was there, shirtless and focused, his metal arm gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

I froze in the doorway, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.

“Gonna stand there all night?” he asked without looking up.

I scowled, stepping into the room. “Didn’t know you owned the place.”

He smirked, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You here to train or to sulk?”

“Both,” I admitted, grabbing a pair of gloves.

We worked in silence for a while, the air thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t until I landed a particularly satisfying hit on the bag that he finally spoke

Part 2

[redmyeyes]

❝ The army made a man out of my Skippy. ❞

FELLOW TRAVELERS 1.08, ❝ Make It Easy ❞

[melancholy-of-nadia]

infatuation (m) | myg

title: infatuation pairing:��yoongi x f. reader rating/genre: m ; smut ; agust d universe (AgustDverse based in Haegeum) ; gang leader / mafia AU summary:  Living with fragmented and blurry memories has lead you to live under the roof of Bangkok's biggest secret crime boss, Agust D, as his bodyguard. Though, being confined to the mansion most of the time has made you feel isolated, craving freedom and answers. When he decides to take you out to dinner for the first time, the atmosphere is charged with tension and suspicion. You're not the only one who's patience is wearing thin, however, instead, it's discovering this man's infatuation with you that will lead you to change your mind. warnings:  weapon mention (katana), reader has minor amnesia, back and forth arguing, murder mention, deep fish imagery/analogy, haegeum!suga mention, dominant haegeum! agust d, making out, penthouse s*x, f*ngering, cl*t stimulation, orgasm denial, choking, power imbalance, bl*w job, bre*st play, spiting, deep throating, pet names, agust d praises you by calling you "good girl", unprotected s*x, lowkey breeding k*nk, choking, possessiveness, multiple orgasms, uh i think that's it!... yandere? haegeum!agust d maybe note: it's been a year since i uploaded my first fic in this universe i call the AgustDverse. Also the first fic that got me into writing bts fics! I've been requested to continue this universe by my dear friend @daegudrama. I don't know if it'll ever become an actual cohesive series, but if you guys like it, let me know! also this is veerrrryyyyy much unedited im sorry i will edit later word count: 6.0k drop date: August 6th, 2024 7:30pm PST mood playlist | ao3 link – –

You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—nestled within the mansion walls of a mafia boss masquerading as a police detective. 

Known as Agust D. 

How did you get here? It's a question that continuously echoes through your mind like a constant drumbeat. 

It’s not an easy question to answer. It’s actually pretty complicated. Time travel? A quantum jump? You don’t know whatever scientific phenomenon this is. 

But for your own sanity, you decided not to dwell too much on it, especially when the present demands your full attention.

Agust has let you live here under the guise of acting as his bodyguard, which is perhaps the strangest thing you've ever done. You had no prior guarding experience, but the katana sword that hangs by your side now tells otherwise. This item is a constant reminder of your supposed purpose here: to protect the mansion, to protect Agust D. But deep down, you know there's more to this arrangement than meets the eye.

Tonight, however, is different. Agust D, the enigmatic master of this mansion, has extended an invitation—an invitation to dine at an upscale Chinese restaurant. It's a rare opportunity to step beyond the confines of these walls, to breathe in the outside world, if only for a fleeting moment.

As you stand before the full-length mirror in your room, you can't help but feel a surge of apprehension. The maids have stated that Agust D insisted you wear a black satin dress he selected for the occasion—a garment that feels foreign against your skin, yet somehow fitting for the night. You’re too used to wearing a collared white button-up and a plaid skirt for most of the time while you’re at the mansion. You don’t know how long you’d been wearing that, but definitely longer than a young girl who’s in prep school.

Adjusting the delicate fabric, you take in your reflection, the unfamiliarity of the attire almost unnerving. 

A knock at the door interrupts your contemplation, and without waiting for a response, Agust D enters, his presence commanding the room. Dressed in a tailored black suit that exudes power and authority, he regards you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You look stunning," he remarks, a hint of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips. "Are you ready to go?"

With a half nod, you follow him down the stairs and out of the mansion, the cool night air wrapping around you like a shroud of secrecy. Then you hop into the black sports car, which Yoongi decides to drive this time instead of his chauffeur.

The journey to the restaurant is silent, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of the piano music playing, which came from connecting Agust D’s phone to the car’s aux.

He really does love Ryuichi Sakamoto’s music, you comment internally to yourself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, you're met with the grandeur of an upscale Chinese eatery perched on the top floor of a hotel building. The space is a harmonious blend of modern elegance and traditional opulence. As you step inside, the ambient chatter of elite people and the soft clinking of cutlery fill the air, creating a lively yet refined atmosphere that contrasts sharply with the muted silence of the mansion.

The restaurant’s interior is a feast for the senses. Rich, dark wood paneling lines the walls, accented by gold and red details that evoke a sense of luxury. Elegant lanterns hang from the ceiling, their warm, golden light casting a gentle glow across the room. The tables are adorned with crisp white linens, polished silverware, and delicate porcelain dishes, each piece carefully chosen to complement the sophisticated ambiance.

The scent of Chinese cuisine mingles with the faint aroma of incense, creating an inviting and tantalizing atmosphere. The restaurant's design features intricate latticework and traditional Chinese artwork, adding a touch of cultural authenticity to the modern setting. Plush, comfortable chairs surround each table, offering a sense of intimacy and relaxation.

As the restaurant host takes note of Agust D standing beside you, there’s a brief moment of panic in his eyes. He quickly ushers you both to a secluded corner of the establishment, a private nook separated from the rest of the dining area by elegant silk drapes. This area, though separated, still enjoys a view of the city skyline through large, floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking panorama of the illuminated city below. 

You are seated across from Agust, but there’s still a subtle awkward atmosphere surrounding the both of you when he orders and after the food arrives. 

For a moment, the clinking of silverware against porcelain fills the silence before Agust D finally speaks.

"Do you still not remember anything?" 

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in the depths of your eyes about how to respond to him. "Bits and pieces," you admit, your gaze lingering on the dimly lit surroundings. "But nothing concrete. It's like trying to grasp at shadows."

His expression remains impassive, but you catch a fleeting glimpse of something else—something akin to regret, perhaps, or even longing. "It will come back to you," he says, his tone softer than before. "With time."

You only nod, going back to eating one of the xiaolongbao at the center of the table.

The air between you and Agust D grows heavier once again with unspoken words. You don’t like the silence. As someone who is very self-aware of their self, you feel compelled to break the silence to not be stuck in your head. 

"Agust D," you begin tentatively, the name feeling foreign on your tongue yet strangely familiar. You don’t refer to him by name often, as you opt for ‘sir’ or the occasional ‘Hyungnim’. "Why did you bring me here tonight? You never do this sort of thing…"

He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well, you've been cooped up in that mansion for so long," he replies cryptically, his gaze piercing through the facade you've carefully constructed. “Thought it would be good to treat you for your work.”

"But why now?" you press, unable to suppress the curiosity gnawing at your insides. "And wearing this?" You refer to the short piece of black fabric covering you.

Agust D's lips quirk up in a wry smile, though there's no warmth in it. "Maybe I wanted to see how you'd be like out… not on duty," he muses, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or perhaps I simply wanted company for the evening."

Company, huh? From the outside, it looks like you’re on a date. You wouldn’t doubt the restaurant staff is already gossiping from behind the curtains partitioning you from the rest of the world.

You can't help but feel a sense of unease at his words, a nagging suspicion that there's more to his motives than meets the eye. "Is that really all?" you press, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

For a moment, Agust D's mask slips, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the facade of indifference. "There's always more to say," he murmurs, his gaze turning distant as if lost in memories you can't access. "But some things are better left unsaid."

What does he even mean by that? You feel like every time you speak even a bit casually to this man, you only end up more confused and maybe even a bit more scared.

"Agust D," you venture cautiously, "...are you still looking for Suga?"

At the mention of the name, a shadow passes over Agust D's features, his expression hardening into a mask of resolve. "Suga," he repeats, the name dripping with bitterness and contempt. "Of course I’m looking for him. That man is nothing but trouble. I need to get rid of him."

You can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man whose name hangs between you like a specter, a reminder of the past you can't quite grasp. "But why? Why do you hate him so much?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agust D's eyes darken with a mix of anger and regret, a storm raging beneath the surface. "He’s got my face and that in itself is a danger to all of us," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "He could also be the answer to everything I've lost, but it’s better if that answer is never revealed."

The words hang heavy in the air from a confession laden with pain. And as you gaze into the depths of Agust D's eyes, you realize that beneath the cold exterior lies a man haunted by his past—a man who, like you, is searching for answers, but afraid to confront them. You want to pry into what he means, but you’re scared that he may act aggressively. So instead you change the topic.

"Don’t you know his whereabouts though?" you inquire softly, your voice laced with concern.

Agust D's gaze meets yours. "I do," he confirms, his voice low and measured. "He’s in Chinatown. Living in an apartment at the end of Weng Nakorn Kasem. But I can’t act on impulse. I’m too heavily involved in the Asia Pacific Police Union, and that already involves too many variables, too many unknowns."

A sense of foreboding settles over you as you listen to his words, the weight of his burdens pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. "What do you mean?" you press, your voice barely a whisper.

Agust D sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't move against him yet," he admits, his tone laced with resignation. "Not until I know how many people are on my side. There are spies within the organization. If I act too quickly, I could end up getting myself killed…"

The gravity of his words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the fragile truce that exists between you. And yet, despite the dangers that lurk in the darkness, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope. If you help him in capturing Suga, then maybe you’ll be able to piece your own puzzle together.

But would that even be a good idea?

"Agust D," you say softly, smiling gently at him, "you know you don't have to face this alone. Whatever happens, I'll stand by your side. Not like I have much of a choice anyway." Your words trail off at the end. He doesn’t comment on it though.

For a moment, there's a vulnerability in Agust D's gaze, a fleeting glimpse of the man beneath the mask. He reaches out to take your hand, his expression softening ever so slightly at your words. "Thanks," he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dimly lit restaurant.

“It’s my job after all.”

––––––

After finishing dinner, the two of you begin to walk out of the restaurant, entering a long hallway that leads to large red sliding doors that exit.  Your eyes drift toward the grand wall aquarium positioned near the exit, its towering glass panels reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights.

The aquarium is a masterpiece of design, housing a diverse array of aquatic life within its transparent confines. Colorful coral reefs sway gently in the water, their vibrant hues casting mesmerizing patterns of light and shadow across the sandy substrate below.

But amidst the bustling underwater ecosystem, your gaze fixates on a lone goldfish, its sleek form gliding gracefully through the water. Its vibrant orange scales shimmer in the ambient light, a stark contrast to the subdued colors of its surroundings.

A pang of concern tugs at your heart as you watch the solitary fish navigate its artificial habitat. Don't goldfish typically reside in tranquil ponds, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature? Is it even safe for them to be confined within the confines of this glass enclosure?

Lost in thought, you fail to notice Agust D's departure until you feel a gentle tug on your arm. Startled, you turn to find him regarding you with a curious expression, his gaze flickering between you and the aquarium.

"What's on your mind?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing display before you, your thoughts still lingering on the lone koi fish. "I was just...thinking about that fish," you admit, gesturing toward the aquarium.

“The goldfish?”

“Mhm,” As you stand there, watching the solitary koi fish swim about, a wistful sigh escapes your lips. "I wish I were a fish sometimes," you murmur.

As funny as your sentence sounds, you thought the older man would laugh at you for making a comment like that. However, Agust D's gaze flickers at you, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. 

"Why's that?" he asks, his voice soft with intrigue.

You pause, contemplating your answer as you watch the graceful movements of the fish. "Uh, well they seem so free," you explain, your voice tinged with longing. “They get to go wherever they want. move through life with such ease in the water, not burdened by the weight of the world.”

As you continue to watch the fish, a sense of yearning wells up within you—a desire to shed the constraints of your human existence. "Sometimes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, "I wish I could trade places with that fish just so I could be able to live freely, to live without my own burdens."

Agust D nods in understanding, a silent reassurance amid your musings. "But you know, even fish have their own struggles. I mean, look at it, it’s trapped in this Chinese restaurant’s aquarium as entertainment for guests, fighting to survive in a place it doesn’t belong,”

Sigh.

He’s right. But you hate the fact that he’s right.

“That still doesn’t change what I said. Plus, I don't want to be that fish.” you interject, your voice laced with a hint of sadness. "Slowly destroyed by its surroundings… not belonging there."

Agust D's brow furrows in contemplation, his gaze returning to the small goldfish. "So what are you trying to say?" 

"I don't want to feel like that," you admit. "Trapped in a world that doesn't feel like home, constantly struggling to find where I belong!"

And you hate it because that is exactly how you’ve been feeling right now. You’re living with a man several years older than you, who is probably the most dangerous man in Thailand, maybe even all of Asia. And you have no idea why you stuck here with him, but where could you really go? Where are you actually from? Where is home?

Agust D's expression hardens slightly, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Life isn't always about feeling at home," he counters. "Sometimes it's about surviving where you are and making the best of it."

No! He doesn’t get it.

You feel a flicker of irritation at his words, your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. "That's easy for you to say," you retort, tone sharp. "You're not the one who's been confined to that mansion, to these guarding duties, waiting for memories to come back."

His eyes narrow slightly, a spark of challenge igniting in them. "You think I don't have my own battles?" he snaps back. "I'm out there every day, dealing with threats you can't even imagine."

"At least you have control over these things. You have the entirety of this city wrapped around your finger," you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. "At least you know who you are and what you're fighting for!”

The tension between you two shifts. Agust D steps closer, his presence looming, but you refuse to back down, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.

Inside, you're a storm of emotions—anger, confusion, and a touch of desperation. How can he be so dense and unreadable, yet so annoyingly calm? It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes. Every word you say seems to bounce off him while his expression remaining infuriatingly stoic. You want to scream, to make him understand just how much this is tearing you apart, but he stands there, unmoved, as if your turmoil is nothing more than a slight breeze in his world.

“Agust, you–”

"Fuck…you're so hot when you're upset, doll," he murmurs, interrupting you with a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. Before you can react, he grabs your arm, pulling you toward the exit.

Huh?

"Hey!" you protest, your frustration mingling with a surge of adrenaline. But Agust D doesn't relent, his grip firm as he guides you out of the restaurant and into the elevator.

As the elevator doors slide shut, sealing you both inside the confined space, the tension between you reaches a boiling point. "What are you doing?" you demand, your voice a mix of anger and confusion.

Instead of answering, Agust D pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with a fierce intensity. Your initial resistance melts away as the kiss deepens, the heat between you igniting into a blazing inferno powered by unknown frustrations beneath the surface.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you glare at him. "You can't just—" you start, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

"I can and I will," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a husky whisper. "Because right now, all I can think about is you."

Your frustration mingles with a heady mix of desire, the lines between anger and passion blurring as you give in to the moment. As the elevator ascends, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you.

When the elevator dings softly, signaling its arrival on your floor, you find yourselves in a private hallway in the hotel building, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to the intensity of your kiss. Agust D pulls back, his eyes dark with desire and determination.

"We're not done talking," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through you. "But right now, I need you."

Your eyes are left wide open, feeling hormones coursing through you.

This can’t be happening. Is this all a dream? Yes, this has to be. And what’s with the scenario? Are you that sexually frustrated? You admit you’ve never done this sort of thing and have only spent your free time reading erotica for entertainment. 

But to dream about fucking the very man keeping you captive within his mansion and living as a bodyguard. There has got to be something wrong with you. Maybe you’re experiencing Stockholm syndrome? But you’ve not once felt emotionally attached to this man.

Though there have been times you’ve looked at him and thought about how beautiful he looked.

Shit.

Maybe you’ll go along with this. Everything else be damned, for now.

“Show me then,” You word out, which only fires him up more.

Agust D’s grip on your arm is firm but not painful as he leads you down the luxurious hallway to a penthouse suite, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. Your thoughts are a chaotic jumble, torn between the logical part of your brain screaming at you to stop and the primal part urging you to give in.

As soon as the door to a suite clicks shut behind you, he’s on you again, pushed against a wall, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. You respond in kind, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Every touch, every kiss feels electric, igniting a fire within you that you didn’t know existed.

In the back of your mind, you know this is wrong. You know you should be resisting, should be fighting against the pull he has on you. But right now, in this moment, all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his lips move against yours, the way his presence consumes you.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, showcasing his possessive nature. “I refuse to let you go.”

His hands start to inch up under your dress until he reaches your core and starts flicking at your clit. You gasp, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. He watches your reaction with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “To feel me, to know that you’re mine?”

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can do is nod, your body arching toward his touch, craving more.

“Good,” he says, his fingers moving with a deft precision that has you teetering on the edge. “Because I’m not stopping until you know that you belong to me.”

He continues his ministrations, his touch driving you wild with need. The logical part of your brain has long since surrendered, leaving only the raw, primal desire that burns within you.

His fingers slide below your black lace underwear until he inserts them inside you with a sly grin. You can't help but moan at the invasion, your body trembling with anticipation. He moves them in and out, hitting just the right spot, causing you to writhe beneath him.

"This is what you get," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "For. every. time. you. talked. back. to. me. today." He growls, punctuating every word with a thrust inside your pussy.

“F-Fuck A-Agust!” And holy shit does it feel so good.

As lust starts to fog your mind and the air fills with moans, you don't know what's happening to you. But you don't care. The fire inside you is burning brighter by the second, and you can't get enough of the man who's taken control of your body and mind at this moment

Yoongi places his thumb on your nub and plays with it, squishing it in circular motions, then using his finger to rub it a little faster then slowing down only to fasten the pace again. You felt a very familiar feeling boiling up in your lower belly threatening to unleash itself.

“I’m not gonna let you reach your high yet.” 

Suddenly, he removes all his fingers from you and you whimper immediately, the absence of his touch leaving you desperate for more.

Yoongi bites down against his lips, eyes quickly traveling from your face and down your body, “Huh…W-Wait..P-Please…” You pant heavily, trying to rub your thighs together to pick back up the pace that was headed toward your release

“I thought you wanted to leave me, doll?” He leans in closer, chuckling in your face, and you shake your head. At this moment, you realize that he’s hard under his dress pants. “Are you sure? I don’t give orgasms to people that won’t obey me.”

“I-I’ll prove it to you!” You drop to your knees quickly, placing your hands on both of his sides. “Oh? And how will you do that?” He gives you a curious look, already knowing what to expect from your sudden submissive behavior. While he spoke, you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling it down along with his boxers to reveal his cock.

“Oh fuck…” You let out in the smallest whisper. He wasn’t long per se, but more than average. But the girth… holy shit. Will it even fit in any of your holes? And the way his precum is already pearling on his tip just from what you two did earlier? You swallow nervously, but you’re not one to back away from a challenge. “Like this.” 

You hold his cock gently from the base, proceeding to gather spit from your mouth and letting it drop on it. You proceed to move your hand, spreading his precum and your saliva on his dick, managing to get a good slide and starting to move your hand quicker. You looked up innocently, already noticing a flicker of Agust’s facade fade as he felt himself slipping away in pleasure. In his mind, he was tempted to say fuck it all and let himself fuck against your hand, but he knew better than just to let himself become an animal. After the prep, you part your mouth and slowly take him in, the stretch already starting to hurt your jaw from his wide size. In the meantime, you just suck around his head and use your hand to deliver pleasure to the rest of his shaft, earning deep-sounding curses and moans while your tongue swirled around him. 

His eyes are glued to you, watching you work his cock with your kitten-like licks. Though, this isn’t enough for him. He wants to thrust up down your throat so bad and fuck you until your voice was sore. He wants to see how much you’re willing to take in that small mouth of yours.

And that’s exactly what he does. He places his hand on your head, giving you small pats and rubs disguised as encouragement for your efforts. Then his hand starts inching towards the back of your head until he suddenly grabs a handful of your hair and forcibly pushes his dick further until your smacked against his pelvis.

“Seems like you still need practice. Don’t worry, I’ll train you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on your hair as he begins to thrust into your mouth. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag reflexively, but he doesn't let up, pushing deeper with each thrust. Your eyes start to water, now holding onto his sides for dear life, but you force yourself to take it, willing your throat to open up and accommodate his girth. His palm comes up to your cheek to rub your cheek, feeling himself on the other side enter in and out of you.

He grunts with each deep thrust, his hips pistoning in and out of your mouth as you struggle to keep up with his rhythm. You feel like you're choking, but you don't want to disappoint him and prevent you from reaching your orgasm after. However, it doesn’t take long for him to come undone, swallowing saliva and cum down your throat. He removes himself and you begin to cough erratically. You have never deep-throated before, so it’s a miracle you didn’t throw up or die from this. It’s definitely not as easy as porn makes it seem. You’ve been lied to by the media! “Haah… Holy shit…” You groan, trying to catch your breath and stabilize your heart rate.

“You alright?” He questions, voice tinged with slight worry as he fixes his pants and underwear back up and leans down towards your face. “I lost myself for a bit…”

“It’s okay–” You pause, shocked for a moment to hear your voice sound hoarse. Despite that, Agust chuckles, using his palm once again to rub against your cheek to comfort you, smiling softly. “Good girl. Now you’ll get your reward.” With this, he guides you to the master bedroom, his grip on your arms firm yet careful, leading you through the opulent suite. The room is a testament to luxury, with rich, dark wood furniture that you knew Agust requested in the hotels he invests in and soft, ambient lighting that casts a warm glow over everything. The large windows offer a stunning view of the Bangkok city skyline, but your focus is solely on him.

He pushes you gently onto the king-sized bed, the plush mattress sinking beneath your weight. The silk sheets feel cool against your skin, starkly contrasting the heat building between you. Agust D stands over you, his eyes dark with desire, a predator savoring his prey.

He slowly removes his jacket, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching as he unbuttons his suit vest, followed by his shirt, revealing his semi-muscular and beefy figure beneath. You’ve never seen him like this before, as he’s a very reserved man when it comes to his body. But each inch of exposed skin sends a fresh wave of anticipation through you.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Now, let me take care of you.”

He climbs onto the bed, sitting between your legs where his hands start trailing up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. His touch is electrifying, each caress igniting a fire in your core. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of burning kisses from your collarbone to your ear.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

“Good,” he says, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Because once I start, I won’t be able to get enough of you.”

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, and driving you to the brink of madness. He slips the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall away completely, leaving your body exposed and vulnerable beneath him. His eyes rake over your body, a dark hunger in his gaze.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “My doll.”

He lowers himself, his mouth finding your breast, sucking and nibbling until you’re arching into him, your fingers tangled in his slick black hair. He trails kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself between your legs.

You gasp as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. “Ready for your reward?” he asks, his voice a seductive whisper.

“Mm..” You only make a sound and nod due to the lust clouding your mind. How do you say words? Do words matter?

He pinches your clit slightly which makes you jump and arc your body a little.

“Words, doll.”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to finally speak out, your body wiggling around close to his face eager for him to move. 

He doesn’t hesitate after your verbal consent, his tongue flicking out to taste you from your clit down to your entrance, drawing a cry of pleasure from your lips. He works you expertly, starting with his tongue sucking against your clit, then eating you out in your entrance. 

And holy fuck does he have you wrapped around his finger with these ministrations. You had heard rumors of him being good at oral sex from the women at the events you would accompany him to, but fuck, the actual thing doesn’t compare to their mere descriptions.

His tongue soon returns to nibble and suck at your aching bud, with his fingers replacing his place inside you. And before you know it, you’re lost in the sensation again, body jerking as every nerve ending is set aflame as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

And Agust D knows it, smirking against your pussy as he feels you tighten against his fingers. “Come for me,” he growls against your skin, his voice a command that you can’t resist.

With a final, shuddering gasp, you fall apart, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. He holds you through it, his hands and mouth coaxing every last bit of ecstasy from your body until you’re left trembling and spent beneath him.

He pulls back, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watches you recover. “Such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with pride. “But we’re not done.” 

He stands up and swiftly pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing his cock, red and eager. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, your mind racing.

Oh? Is he going to put it in?!

“Huh? W-Wait you–”

Before you can finish speaking, he puts your legs on his shoulder and aligns himself to your entrance, his eyes locking with yours. The heat and intensity of his gaze make your heart race.

“You’re on birth control, correct?”

“Yes…”

You’d be surprised that he knows this fact, but he does look over your medical records after all. You’d also question the ethics of this, but not now.

“Then we can go all out,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “And I’ll show you that you’re truly mine.”

He pushes into you, his cock stretching and filling you completely.

“F-Fuck!” You gasp, the sensation is overwhelming, fueled with pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. He pauses movements for a moment, allowing you to adjust, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

Your eyes close as you try to focus on relaxing your body.

“Look at me,” he commands suddenly, his voice low and firm as he holds your chin. “I want to see your face when I take you.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” You meet his gaze, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. There’s a primal hunger in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to keep up with the intensity of his pace. The feeling of him inside you is overwhelming and does not compare to his or your own fingers pleasuring you.

“Do you feel that?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper. “Do you feel how your pussy is being molded by my cock?”

“Y-Yes!” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling. “I feel it!”

“Good,” he says, his thrusts becoming faster, more intense. “Because you won’t ever be able to be pleased by another cock as long as I live,”

His movements are relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slap of skin against skin, and the ragged gasps and moans that escape your lips. 

As your eyes meet his, he suddenly wraps his hand around your neck, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. His grip is firm but not painful, sending a rush of adrenaline and arousal coursing through your veins.

“Doll, you like being choked while I fuck you? Having you wrapped around my fingers now.”

“F-Feels so mmh good!” You mumble, your breath hitching as his grip tightens slightly, the sensation heightening the pleasure coursing through your body.

You never thought you’d be so turned on by choking. You don’t know if it’s you getting high off the lack of oxygen and feeling pleasure, or giving up your life’s control to this man before you that has your toes curling.

The pleasure builds up to an unbearable peak once more, but this time, you know that he is feeling the same thing too. His thrusts become harder, more forceful, each one sending shockwaves through your body. His hand on your neck adds an edge to the sensation od dominance and possessiveness that leaves you breathless.

“Come for me, doll,” he growls, his voice a command that you can’t ignore. “I want to feel you come around me as I do at the same time.”

With a final, shuddering cry, your orgasm crashes down, your body convulsing in pleasure. He follows you soon after, his grip on your hips tightening as he spills into you, his own release mingling with yours. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless, clinging to each other as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and satisfied as he looks down at you with a smile that exposes his gums. He lays down next to you and pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a tender, possessive kiss. 

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, the words a promise and a declaration.

“You’re mine,” he repeats. “I’ll never let you leave.”

At that moment, as you lie there in his arms, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t want him to. The world outside may be complicated and uncertain, but here, with him, everything feels right.

This is your home.

All you want is for this man to be infatuated with you for the rest of your life.

This is how things should be. Right?

–

– tbc?

✨ let me know ur thoughts! how are you feeling?! ✉️

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. two (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 14k (i'm so sorry).

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, crying, mentions of drinking and drunk behavior, mature language, petty behavior, insults, hwang hyunjin and hwang yeji cameos omg, yunho being a misunderstood puppy i fear, yunho and reader really hate each other but not so much anymore, pet names (princess), negative mentions of body image, mention of panic attacks/panic disorder, no smut on this part but so, so, so much tension oh god these two idiots.

NOTES: hi everyone! so, sorry for almost taking a month to finish the next part of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of the stories on my masterist! i also forgot to mention before that gunho is older in this universe bc i think he's younger than yunho irl?? i'm not sure bc i don't look into their families like that lmao. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: october 12th 2024.

masterlist - part one - part three.

Yunho has never been more stressed in his entire life. 

It's easy to tell and it's an issue for you. When it's evident someone is not comfortable, that's when the vipers get together and organize their attacks. 

And right now, he's your date for the night, so you can't really let that happen. 

The gala is breathtaking, as expected. The room is lit with fairy lights all around the roof and they mimic stars. It's the theme of the night and the beautiful dresses and suits everyone is wearing it's enough to let you know both your mother and Yunho’s mom kindly threaten everyone to follow their delusions as well. 

It looks like a very expensive prom and it's pretty but you hate it. Maybe because of the overall situation you went through today or your lack of sleep but you hate it. 

Or maybe it's the amount of eyes you have on you tonight. Twice the usual amount, if the warmth on the back of your neck is any indication of how much people are gossiping about you and Yunho right now. 

When you walked in half an hour ago, Yunho on your arm, everyone went silent as you said your hellos and went to your assigned seats. 

And then the murmurs started to fill the room slowly until they became unbearable and, eventually, you started to acclimate to them, like you always do. 

Yunho is a completely different story. It shows that he's not used to this, the fidgeting of his feet and his leg going up and down and bouncing the table cloth on both his and your leg triggers something that only causes further annoyance.

You're seated (just the two of you, because your brother and his are at a completely different table for some reason) at one of the main tables, near the stage where a talented kid who, you're sure, is the son of one of your father's friends, is playing the violin beautifully and you can't even focus on that because Yunho keeps sighing like he doesn't want to be here. 

Now, you know he must definitely would rather be doing anything else but, like you told him before, he agreed to this so he has to start fucking owning it. 

Leaning in, you curl your lips up in feign sweetness and discreetly place your hand over his leg “You need to stop that before someone notices it.” 

Head snapping back at you, he leans in as well and blinks a few times “How would anyone not—”

“They will,” you assure him, smile never leaving your lips and you hear as the people around you start to clap their hands for the end of the performance “Now clap and hold your breath because my mother has been itching to get on that stage.” 

Leaning back, you get to clap for a few seconds before the commotion dies down and then, just as you predicted, your mom gets on the stage. 

You don't even turn to see Yunho’s reaction at all but you do hear him clapping for your mom once everyone starts clapping too. 

“What an spectacular opening act that was,” she points to the various musicians that filled that half hour of snobbery and you try to repress how much you want to cringe at that. Your mother never really cared for the arts at all “I want to thank you all for attending…” 

Her voice fades into the background as you zone out, like you always do. The way of coping with the long, long events you're forced to attend to has always been zoning out and letting your body do the work for you. 

You clap, you smile, you bow and react accordingly like a robot that has been programmed to do so. Like an extra in a movie who gains the attention of the audience because someone always comments on your appearance, your posture or a specific expression you made at a random moment of the evening. 

Magazines, papers and social media users who don't have anything better to do are always that audience you strike to appeal to. That has always been your job, that's why your mom is using you to try and restore the image of Jeong Tech, too. 

The people outside of the tinsel circle love you, the people inside of it pretend to love you and everyone gets their end of the deal at your expense. 

You feel kind of bad that Yunho got to experience life outside of it and now it's being dragged by his mother to the eye of the hurricane, where everything it's mostly silent until it's not. There’s this question on the tip of your tongue, this curiosity nagging at you since earlier today. 

After witnessing the hurt on his face and the indifference to his feelings displayed by his mother, you can only come to the conclusion you got their relationship wrong all these years. 

The safe detachment you felt for him is suddenly teetering the dangerous line of interest you’ve always drawn in between you and it’s enough for you to feel bad when you turn to see him and catch him forcing a soft smile that, to everyone else, might seem genuine. 

But you know him better than that. At least, you know his mannerisms well enough to not be fooled by it. Even if you didn’t know his true feelings about tonight, about what’s about to happen now that you hear your mother utter your dad’s name to introduce him and bring him to the podium, you wouldn’t be fooled by it. 

There’s another round of applause for your father that you barely follow because, you suddenly notice, you’ve been a little too entranced by Yunho for a few seconds too long. Turning to the man who’s partly responsible for your headache tonight, you catch his speech exactly where you’re supposed to. 

“... And thanks to them, we’re positioned in a place where we can help new companies navigate and grow in a market that’s typically eager to chew and spit them out. When I first came up with the idea of Kim Innovation, there was one man who stood beside me as I presented it to the board. My best friend and someone who, barely a few years later, came up with the idea of revolutionizing the tech industry as a whole, please welcome…” 

Sometimes, you wonder if your dad loves Yunho’s dad more than he ever loved you, your brother or your mom. Turning to Soohyun, he sends you a smile and a look that hints to you that he’s probably thinking the same thing. It takes a lot for you to not giggle but the smile that curves the corners of your lips is somewhat genuine for the first time since you sat down. 

Hell, for the first time today. 

There’s cheers on a closeby table and you don’t have to turn to know it’s Yunho’s mom. She might truly love that man, which is a lot considering they did to her what she’s doing to her son. 

Arranged and married off. You never considered actually falling in love before but falling in love with the man who was cherry picked for you sounds like an actual nightmare. 

Thank God that’s not a possibility when it comes to Yunho. 

Again, your selective hearing works wonders because you are able to straighten your spine and prepare for the part of the speech that actually matters to you: “... And now we’re even blessed with the chances of our family remaining bonded forever. I’m sure you all noticed our youngest walking in together, huh?” The room makes an amused noise and you shake your head at your dad, pretending to be playfully ashamed by the call out “It’s impossible not to when they look so good together. We wanted to let everyone know tonight instead of announcing it through a notice or the press. But I'm blessed to call Jeong Yunho, the future of blockchain engineering and cybersecurity at Jeong Tech, my son in law. Yunho, you have always been like a son to me, so I trust you to take care of my dear daughter’s heart long enough to see my dreams of officially bringing our families together come to life.” 

You want to gag at the thought. You want to cry and scream and beg everyone to see right through this lie but everyone erupts in cheers for the fake relationship you’re officially in so the only thing you can do is force yourself to think about something that makes you blush and turn to Yunho to pretend you’re moved by your father’s words. 

Only to find him already staring at you with the same artificial emotion. There’s an understanding in his eyes that you think might show on yours as well and he hesitates a little before grabbing your hand in his hand over the table, visible for everyone. 

Your heart doesn’t skip a beat, your stomach doesn’t flutter with butterflies but instead drops at the oh’s, ah’s and aw’s you hear around you. When his father takes the microphone from your father’s hands and you’re sure the image of you both is no longer on the screen placed above the stage, you lower your hands under the cloth. 

He squeezes yours before harshly letting go and you open and close your palm to get a grip on yourself so you can endure the rest of the speeches with a smile. 

Your brother and Yunho’s brother take the stage for what it feels like another fifteen minutes and after that they announce that dinner is about to be served in five and to enjoy the rest of the gala and the music and the acts for the rest of the night as they step down, so you take the opportunity to get up. 

Looking at you like a child that’s about to be abandoned at the grocery store line, Yunho gets up as well “Where are you going?” 

“To get a drink,” you return immediately with a kind smile that’s far from honest and lean in a little for only him to hear you “Notice how the only thing they’ve been bringing us is water? That’s my mom’s doing,” taking a few steps into the drink table, you turn to him over your shoulder and speak a little louder this time “Want anything, babe?” 

It looks like it takes a lot from him to not grimace at the nickname and you internally laugh but your fun dies as soon as he takes your hand and pulls you to the table himself “I’m coming with you, there’s an old lady that has been staring at me for the past twenty minutes and I’m scared.” 

Feeling overwhelmed by the sudden physical intimacy you both are displaying, it takes a few bits for you to answer. At the table, you grab a champagne flute and try to have some self control but end up downing half in one gulp “Ah, grandma Park. You might know her granddaughter Sooyoung,” looking at him, he stops sipping at the own flute he got ahold of and shakes his head. You sigh in disappointment, now that no one is close enough to hear you “Of course you don’t. She’s pretty and one of the only genuine girls I know. I can get you her number after this whole sham is done.”

“Y/N, I don’t want you to play cupid for me. In fact, I don’t want to hear from you once we break up,” he nudges you softly with his arm and the look you send in his direction makes him groan a little. You both know there’s not a chance in hell of that happening but wishful thinking never hurt anyone “You know, I—”

A voice behind you both interrupts him and you close your eyes tightly when you recognize it right away. 

“Well if it isn’t the it couple of the month,” as you turn, the Hwang siblings smile at you with what you can only recognize as mischievous delight. Yeji is exclusively staring at Yunho and Hyunjin’s eyes move from your date to you before he chuckles like he knows something no one else does “I couldn’t say I saw it coming but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless, wasn’t it, Yeji?” 

His sister ignores him. 

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I know Y/N, of course, who doesn’t,” she giggles and your smile tenses a bit, so you hide it behind your glass and gulp the other half of the flute down “But we’ve been missing each other a lot, mister Jeong.” 

“It seems like you know him well enough,” you half-heartedly joke and her brother smiles at you with a complicity you don’t really want “Yunho, this is Hwang Yeji and this is her brother, Hwang Hyunjin. I am sure you know their father, he owns HW Records.” 

“Yes, of course. Huge fan of his artists,” he says with such kindness you might actually start to believe him and then he bows a little “It’s a pleasure.” 

“The pleasure is all mine!” Yeji returns brightly and batting her fake lashes. She’s so pretty, you think, but that doesn’t really work in your favor when it’s blatantly obvious she’s flirting with who is supposed to be your boyfriend. 

Yunho notices it too, because his hand moves to your back and he takes a step closer to you. 

Hyunjin’s brow arches a bit as he takes his actions in and then there’s that glint in his eyes, the one you see on mean people when they secure a target to bother for the day. Because that’s exactly what he intends to do “I have to say, Y/N, I didn’t think you had a taste for… Humble men.” 

Without outright saying it, you know he’s challenging you. He’s testing whatever you have with Yunho because he’s a smart, privileged and cunning little shit and, as soon as he sees a crack on the foundation of your lie, he’s going to run his mouth. 

You can’t let that happen. Knowing he suspects something else is going on pisses you off because it means you’re not doing something right and you hate losing. 

Pretending you're confused, you furrow your brows a bit before chuckling “Is that not something to look for in a partner?” 

“I was never expecting you to come public with a relationship in the first place,” he says, hands behind his back and not-so-innocent smile on his lips. Then, he looks Yunho up and down with squinted eyes “But I was certainly not expecting you to come forward with someone who chooses public education over private, for example. Should I take this as a hint that you're furthering your education in a private school, Yunho?” 

He's trying to strike a nerve and you pray Yunho is smart enough to catch him in the act. Turning to him, your smile doesn't waver as you wait for his answer.

Taking a deep breath, he lets it out while he answers, forcing himself to smile “It’s not in my plans, no.” 

“But Y/N did… It just doesn't really make any sense, does it, Yeji?” 

Snapping out of whatever spell Yunho's presence got her in, she shrugs “No, it doesn't. Private schools are better and you don't mingle with people whose connections are useless for your future.” 

Immediately, you can tell that's what their parents told her. An easy way to fool the dummy into perpetuating their status. It's pitiful and, quite honestly, infuriating. 

“Useless for your future,” her brother repeats with a nod “That's an interesting way of putting it, isn't it? Kind, even,” they both nod and you swear your eye twitches a little “Really, Y/N, I have to give it to you. You always end up surprising me one way or another.” 

Yeji joins right after “You have a lot of status, girl! It's really inspiring that you can overlook such a big difference in your relationship,” she says, like she's not trying to jump Yunho’s bones “I'm cheering for you guys!” 

That does it. Is not the blatant classism or the fact that they are deliberately trying to get under your skin but it is the fact that neither of them has any actual indication your relationship with Yunho is fake. Meaning, they're trying to mess with your family intentionally. 

Because you might hate Yunho as much as he hates you but he's still, somewhat, family. 

“The last time I checked Yunho is the son of the owner of one—If not! The best cyber security company in the country,” you start, kind tone slipping right through the cracks and you hope they take it as a I had enough of you making fun of my man instead of what it truly is “A company he's going to work for if he wants to because you got, what?” you turn to Yunho, who's staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face “Two, three badges and one trailblazer award already? For that program you helped develop your second year?” he nods and your smile comes back when you turn to the siblings “And he hasn't even graduated yet! But I'm sure you didn't know that, did you?” 

Yeji blinks like you just spoke in a foreign language and Hyunjin’s smugness has disappeared completely. 

“You didn't know it because he's humble enough to not parade around like he owns the place, which… He kind of does,” it's your turn to shrug before turning around and placing the flute down back on the table “Oh! By the way, Hyunjin, I heard you placed second on that competition last month,” pouting you make a show of truly pretending you're sorry for him “That really shows us that it doesn't really matter if you go to a private music school or that your dad is a great producer, we can't always come on top, hm?” 

It's a petty and middle-schooled argument but you simply don't care. If people target Yunho, they're now targeting you as well.

And you can't stand when people like them try to stomp you to the ground. 

Hyunjin is about to retaliate but you turn to Yunho quickly, a different glint in his eyes now “Dinner is late, isn't it? Well, we better take the opportunity and go for that dance you promised me, babe,” seemingly tongue-tied, he only manages to nod “It was lovely to talk to you two, as usual.” 

When you drag Yunho to the dancefloor, where there's only a few old couples you recognize and he probably doesn't, it feels like you can breathe a little bit more. 

If you're being honest with yourself, you would really like to scream and pierce a hole through a wall with your fist. Your chest isn't heaving but the sensation it normally brings spreads around your body and it takes over as you secure your arms around Yunho’s neck and start swaying to the sound of an… Ed Sheeran cover? You're not really sure, you're not paying that much attention either. 

“I swear I could kill them,” you mutter under your breath and that finally jolts your dance partner back to reality, because he looks at you like he can't believe you defended him and holds your waist softly, at a safe distance, a little unsure on why you brought him to dance “They're so useless, living off their daddy’s money and gloating.” 

Yunho chuckles “I think you might hate them more than me.” 

Squinting your eyes at him, his joke does little to quiet down your anger “Don't be jealous, Yunho, you still hold the first place for most annoying human being in my heart.” 

He doesn't seem to mind the insult “You didn't have to do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Go off on them because they were trying to bring me down,” he whispers “Or bring me to the dancefloor, either, we could've just walked off, I mean… You're not good at this.” 

“We went to the same ballroom classes, Yunho, we've danced before,” you remind him, rolling your eyes a bit “And I had to defend you because you weren't saying anything back.” 

“Because I don't really care what they think, Y/N,” he explains softly and you gulp as your eyes roam around his face. You prefer when he's screaming at you, insulting you even. This soft, fake mask he puts on whenever he's in public makes you forget who he truly is: the annoying kid who played with worms on your first playdate “And you shouldn't, either. They were clearly trying to pick up a fight.”

“No, they weren't,” you hate that your experience in these types of situations is shining so much but Yunho seems clueless even if he just firsthand experienced what you tend to experience with the circle you move in “They weren't picking a fight, they were trying to catch us in a lie.” 

“How would they know we're lying, Y/N?” he sounds a little exasperated as he steps softly to the beat, moving you with him. 

“Because they know how this world works. Not your world, not your friends' world, but my world.” 

“Your world it's the same exact one as mine,” he counters quickly, getting a little annoyed judging by his tone “There's truly not much of a difference—” 

“I'm glad that at least you got to experience what ninety nine percent of the world's population experiences, Yunho, but you got away from it and forgot everything about what goes on in here,” moving your head carefully, you signal to the gala and the attendees “I need you to remember highschool and everything that you lived there: The falseness, the appearances and the cliques. The importance of money and grades and education, of connections… It all matters here.” 

You shouldn't be instructing him. That's not really part of the deal and, at first, you thought he was faking aloofness out of spite. Now that he seems as confused as a free spirit being trapped in a glass bottle and put out for display, you feel the need to. 

So he doesn't drown you both. 

“Think of it as one big highschool where the wrong decision, the wrong response can get not only you but me and our families into great trouble.”

As the song ends and everyone claps for the performer, he lets out a sigh “I hate this.” 

“It's your life now,” you remind him and that sorry feeling stirs up inside you as well. You're not one to regret decisions but it does sting a little that you didn't fight more for your stance on this fake relationship. It makes you dizzy and so you take a step away from his barely there embrace as you see the food trays start to make an appearance through the doors “I need to go to the bathroom.” 

“I'll go with you.” 

“To the bathroom?” 

“I don't want to—” 

Sighing, you step closer again and bring your hand to his cheek, thumb caressing the skin there roughly and plastic smile on your lips “Go and bother our brothers. I'm not fucking babysitting you, Yunho, you were born first so you're technically older than me.” 

He pouts for a second and you pinch the skin on his cheek condescendingly. When he notices, his jaw clenches and you smile in victory. 

“Witch.” 

“Grown ass baby.” 

You hear him mumble a whatever under his breath when you turn around and head to the bathroom to get yourself together and hopefully get through the rest of the night without any newfound and unnecessary drama. 

Locked in a stall, you make sure to delete all social media apps. With the speech your dad gave tonight, there will be more speculation now than ever. You can already see the headlines and it draws a sigh out of you because, well, you hate the press as much as the next nepotism baby out there but, most importantly, you hate that the media reads your character wrong. 

No, not wrong. The press usually gets the manufactured part of your personality, one that has become a part of you after all these years of perfecting it. People on social media, though? They read you wrong. 

You hate being misinterpreted. Your mom once said that it was a blessing because then the people who actually know who you are will be the ones closest to you. 

And that's yet to be seen. 

If the earlier encounter with the Hwangs gives away anything, is the fact that you don't actually get to be yourself around anyone ever. 

Except your brother. 

And Yunho. 

The thought of Yunho being one of the few people who know you the best brings a shiver down your spine for the second time today. 

Yunho?!

You should consider making actual friends. That's so sad. 

Not sadder than the way you freeze when you stand up and try to reach for the stall lock. Voices echo through the bathroom and it only takes you a quick second to realize who it is. 

“Yeah, I genuinely don't know who the fuck she think she is,” Yeji’s voice is not the sweet, dumb and whiny tone you are unfortunately forced to hear everytime you speak with her and it would startle you more if it weren't for the fact that she's talking shit about you on the phone “And she probably gets to kiss him tonight and every night from here on out. They were dancing together… In matching outfits! Girl, I know,” she complains, groaning a bit “Like I haven't been thirsting over Yunho’s fine ass for years.” 

Wanting to smack some sense into her again, you move your hand on the lock but she goes on with her babbling and that makes you stop again. 

“There’s absolutely no way they'll last. Not privately, at least. Have you seen her lately?” she scoffs and you hear something move, like makeup in a bag and you assume she's reapplying her lip gloss or something because you can barely hear what she says next. 

And you really, really wish you hadn't. 

“She can barely fit in that tight dress, the hair is getting old too. She's bo-ring,” breath getting caught in your throat, you look down on your dress and suddenly you can see on yourself what you normally see on the mirror “I don't know how but I'm totally getting his number tonight and when he gets to know me that's when he'll realize she's nothing but a kind-of-pretty face and money,” she giggles “I have to go back… Yup, love you, bye!” 

Heels clacking against the polished tiles of this pristine bathroom, you listen carefully until the door closes again and let out the shaky breath you've been holding in. 

What's sadder than Hwang fucking Yeji having a friend she can call to gossip in the middle of a function while you don't? 

Hwang fucking Yeji being able to cut through you with her words. 

Getting out of the stall, you make quick work of washing your hands and avoiding the mirror while you do it. You get out, the sound of cutlery softly hitting plates and fine conversation leaking through the main door that leads you back to the gala it's enough to make you gag a little. 

Like actually gag, the smell of food on top of passing by trays makes you gag. There's a waiter to your left with a tray full of champagne flutes, so you stop her with a genuine kind smile and take two from her. Thanking her, you turn to the door again and make sure nobody is looking in your direction. 

You need to get yourself together, so you make your run for it. Passing the main door in a dash, you walk up the stairs that surely would lead you to a room. 

You've been in this venue many times so the halls are familiar and the room you're aiming to is unlocked and with its lights on, like it's been waiting for you to find comfort in the mild emptiness of it. 

There's a big floor to ceiling arched window with white curtains drawn and a sill wide enough to be converted into a reading nook if someone from your circle actually cared to read and not gossip at an event like this. 

There's a table in the middle with a lovely white cloth covering the surface and a vase in the center of it. You never had a favorite flower, but foxtail orchids are beautiful and the pop of color they bring to every space usually brings you some sort of joy before you remember the significance of them. 

Love, beauty and strength. 

Three things you ardently wish you had but seem to lack. 

Luxury is usually attached to the meaning, fertility as well but the main significance of it does nothing but replay Yeji’s words in your head and you can't even enjoy the fucking flowers as you should right now. 

Moving to sit by the window, on its sill and with your back against the white fabric and the glass, you let your eyes close as you try and remind yourself the reason this event took place. Who you are, what you mean to the people downstairs and the duty you have to fulfill tonight all blend together into a big mush of junk inside your head and all you can see it's the flashes of the paparazzis and how awful you're going to look on those goddamn photos. 

Being mugged down by Jeong Yunho of all people. Fucking great. 

Circling back to him, your mind lands on the same thought you had before Yeji barged into the bathroom. Yunho knows you. 

Hell, he might've been your only actual friend. Even for a day, that first playdate in his backyard, but he probably was your first and only friend even if it ended before you two could make proper good memories together. 

That's so sad. 

Again, you should consider making actual friends. But yet again, you have to admit to yourself that there's no one that can understand you better than him and even then… 

He would never get it. He has a solid foundation, a bed he can fall onto at the end of the day, full with love, comprehension and genuine laughter, probably. 

You've been giving him shit all day for forgetting the world he was born into but now, as you take in a wannabe calming breath and then sip the sorrows away, you kind of wish you two would get along. 

Would he introduce you to his friends if you two actually liked each other? Not romantically, of course (because that's never going to happen), but would he, if you two were friends to begin with? Would you be accepted into their group? Would they make you feel an ounce loved and supported? Is that what Yunho feels when he's with them? 

What do they make him feel, exactly? 

“Ugh.” 

The alcohol is making you sappy instead of angrier. You should be angry. That's the only way of facing things here, in the real world, in the one you actually belong to. Instead, you just feel sad. 

You take a second to wonder again how he must be feeling right now. Leaving him all alone, you hope he at least got the sense in him to attach himself to his brother's hip or yours so someone can stop the vipers from getting to him and his pride. 

You know how easy it is to get his ego hurt by something so silly as insulting his choice of lifestyle, his detachment from this (to them) superior whirlwind of falseness and money. 

But, yet again, he didn't even attempt to defend himself earlier. It's conflicting and it confuses you a bit because… Why didn't that side of Yunho come out? The one who's so eager to back his choices up, the one who yelled at his mother back in your living room? 

Does he really don't care at all what people think of him? 

Must be a blessing, to have that side of you quiet and locked away. You don't have the same luck as him because, even now, as you chug the first flute down in an attempt to silence Yeji’s voice and drown out her words in your head, you know you care. 

You care, you care, you care. 

You care so much you try to hide the champagne behind the curtain when you hear footsteps approaching and the doorknob turns, heartbeat picking up because you definitely don't want to see your mother, your father, your brother or anyone right now. 

Only to reveal the current subject of your obsessive mind, with a plate on his hand and his eyebrows furrowed before his eyes focus on your form hiding behind the table. He's tall enough to see you all the way from the door (of course he is) and your shoulders deflate as you pull your drinks from behind their white haven. 

“Ah, it's just you.” 

He closes the door behind him, scoffing and pointing at the second glass next to you “Were you expecting someone?” 

“The grim reaper, maybe.” 

“My mom? Your mom?” He asks and it's funny but you don't laugh “Well, she's looking for you.” 

You straighten your back at that and take a gulp out of your flute “I've been gone ten minutes, what could possibly be so important for her to be looking for me?” 

“Something about a picture with the governor's grandson?” he shrugs “I didn't pay attention to her, I was fixing you a plate.” 

He offers the food and you sigh, shaking your head to reject his seemingly nice action. 

“And why would you do that?” He looks annoyed when your eyes scan his form and then he uses his chin to point towards the cup next to you and then the one that you elegantly raise to your lips before emptying it. 

“Is that your second or third? I don't remember how many you had at the main table earlier.” 

“I can handle my alcohol pretty well, Jeong.” 

Walking towards you, you take the hint and put the empty flute down on the floor, taking the second one and creating some space for him on the sill “Still, you should eat something.” 

“I’m not particularly hungry right now.” 

“Still…” He offers the plate again and you glance at the food in it. It’s some brown rice and chicken with steamed vegetables. It smells delicious but instead of desiring it, your physical reaction is to swallow a gag. 

“I'm good.” 

Scooting a little more to create more space in between you, you close your eyes again and gather some patience because the sigh he lets out tells you you're going to need it. 

Nothing happens. He doesn't say anything but you do hear the clanking on the fork against the plate and peel your eyes open so you can catch him eating the food that was supposed to be for you through the corner of your eye. 

It's always entertaining seeing how much of a foodie he is.

Instead, he's extending the utensil towards you with some food in it. 

“I'm going to ram that piece of asparagus so far up your—” 

“Okay, I give up,” the fork clanks against the plate again and he gets up momentarily to leave the plate on the table “Didn't really want to deal with your drunk ass tonight, but that's alright.” 

“You've never dealt with my drunk ass because I don't get drunk around you,” you turn to him, crossing your arms. Your back is against the window frame, the way it uncomfortably digs into your spine keeps you grounded “In fact, I don't even get drunk. Ever.”

He imitates your movements “You're such a liar.” 

“Am not.” 

“Yes, yes you are. Do I have to remind you of our graduation party?” 

“Do I have to remind you of our graduation party? I think you're projecting again.”

Especially when it was filled with drunken babbling and awkward energy, the one you can only tell is in the room by being kind-of-sober. 

Yunho was definitely gone and faded, texting with someone (a friend, you remember him saying) on his phone for most of the night and then something happened with said friend (again, his words not yours) so he took your drink from your hand and a bottle from the table and made out with three boys and two girls that night. 

Right in front of you. 

It was traumatic, really, because you never wondered how kissing him would feel until that night. 

And never again since then. 

Your special power, you want to tell him, is remembering every single time Jeong Yunho looked and felt like an actual human being around you. 

Like just now, for example. Getting you food and trying to feed it to you is not really something he Yunho you know would do. So… 

“What's gotten into you? Pity?” cutting right to the chase, your eyes move around his face to catch any movement that might give away that you're right “Because of what you saw this afternoon?” 

“Guilt. Because of what I did this afternoon,” he corrects and your eyebrow raises, his lips go into a thin line before a pout sets on it and you fix your stare on it before looking at his eyes again “You were asking me to stop yelling at you and I didn't listen.” 

You hate that. This. The sudden vulnerability and the thread it's starting to knit between the two of you. 

“That was going to happen regardless of you yelling or not,” you assure him, chugging the drink down and resting the flute next to the other one, on the floor “You don't have to worry about that or me.” 

“Of course I worry,” the softness in his tone is sickening. The way it tugs at your icy heart strings and threatens to break your walls down it's disgusting, so you turn to him with a scowl “I worry about you running your mouth about this… relationship.” 

You scoff out a chuckle “Oh, of course you suddenly worry about that,” nodding, your eyes shut closed again while a bitter and sarcastic smile curves your lips “The dirty little secret will always be safe with me, Yunho, don't pretend you don't know that. Even if you don't want to tell me the reason you came here tonight or the thing that made you not curse your mother for involving you in it, it's safe with me.” 

Yunho’s voice is stern and yet it sounds like a whisper away when he speaks again “Why are you doing it?” 

“Because it's my duty and I owe it to them,” you answer without missing a bit, a little matter of factly and all “What kind of question is that?” 

“No, it's not—”

“Yunho, it was clearly a question—” 

“No, dumbass, shut up for a second,” he lets out an exasperated breath and you look at him, very annoyed. “I'm saying that it's not really your duty.” 

“Yes, it is.”

He makes a face “Not really.” 

“Yes, really,” you push him with your hand on his shoulder and he barely moves “I know you're not familiar with gratefulness or anything close to that feeling but they really gave me everything I own and made me everything I am, Yunho.” 

Clicking his tongue, your fake boyfriend looks disappointed at your reply “They didn't give you your brain, that's for sure,” he murmurs, shrugging “Your intelligence is all yours.” 

“Well, they put me through the best schools and paid for my tuitions and tutors and programs and—” 

“Acquired knowledge and connections are meaningless when you're not smart enough to know what to do with them,” he says like he can't believe you would say that out loud “And you know what to do with them, Y/N.” 

Rendering you completely speechless, the only thing you manage to do is stare at him while your chest vaguely heaves and your mind twists and turns at his words. It strangely warms your heart that he thinks you can give yourself credit for your brains and, in normal circumstances, you would agree with him. 

But this is Yunho and you have to say something to antagonize him, right? 

“W-well, I—” 

“Oh, there you are!” 

Great, the grim reaper. 

It's a little pathetic how quick you stand up and try to cover up the flutes on the floor. Yunho gets up as well and your mother looks delighted to find you both in a room together but you're sure it's because it serves some kind of purpose in her agenda of delusions. 

“Good, you're here too. Yunho, dear, you've been splendid tonight. Did you like the suit?” your fake date nods and smiles a little and she looks satisfied with that “Good, good. I'm glad it fits you just right, not like…” her eyes land on you briefly and then go back to him “Well, not everyone has that privilege, hm?” 

“I'm sorry?” he asks and his tone lets you know he's actually a little taken aback by the sudden jab (you are too, not being used to your mother doing it in front of everyone else). 

It's also a little pathetic how quick you recoil when her eyes locate the plate on the table, untouched, but a plate of food is worse than ten bottles of alcohol in her eyes. 

“Oh, that's why the dress looks a little tight!” she says, condescendingly “Y/N, dear, have you been eating?” 

You feel it again. The stillness before the chaos, the way your body locks up in place and your mouth trembles with fury but it's unable to speak up, to tell her everything she needs to hear. 

Monster. Wench of a woman masquerading as a sadistic piece of—

“I-I haven't, mother.” 

“You're already wearing a somewhat tight dress, Y/N!” 

“Auntie—” Yunho’s voice cuts through but she takes a few steps in his direction and ignores you completely, even if you have started to shake a little. 

Feeling small, useless, helpless and humiliated, you turn to the white wall and start counting the imperfections on it. If you distract yourself, you won't have to fix your makeup later. 

If you distract yourself, you won't have to hear her calling you out for “overreacting” to her words. 

If you distract yourself, you save Yunho from feeling any pity towards you again. It doesn't matter if he said that's not the motivation behind his behavior tonight, you know there has to be some part of him that pities you. 

Like there's some part of you that pities him, just a bit. 

“Now that you are going to have to spend some time together, dear, you have to stop her from doing these sorts of things. The editors work overtime trying to hide it and even then…” 

Her words, Yeji’s words, your own words that you whispered to yourself earlier today in front of the mirror, they all feel heavy on your neck, threatening to crush it under the weight. 

Under your own weight. 

Oh, you feel sick. 

“Auntie, you can't speak to her like that.” 

Yunho is not raising his voice by any means, but the tone is stern and firm and leaves no space for mistaking it as other than a warning. 

Whatever that means for your mother. 

“Now that you're going to have to spend some time together,” she repeats, dismissing Yunho’s warning “You're going to learn that this is the only way you can shut her up when she gets going, dear. She's a very grumpy human being, aren't you, Y/N?” you don't answer or turn and she sighs “See?” 

Closing your eyes, a heavy sigh leaves you before another one follows it and soon your chest is heaving and your hyperventilating while trying to blink away the tears that gather on your eyes. 

Back connecting to the wall, you look up to find Yunho staring at your mother like he discovered some part of her that's new, like he's disappointed and somehow never saw this coming but he says nothing. You also find your mother staring at you and after assessing you quickly again, she rolls her eyes and steps away. 

“She’s also, apparently, very sensitive and can't take constructive criticism well,” she says and when she reaches the door, she looks at you both over her shoulder “Compose yourselves and come out. We have some pictures to take in five minutes.” 

When she closes the door behind her, you release another trembling breath and Yunho practically runs towards you. 

“I've never heard her talking like that to anyone, does she… Y/N, is she—” you shake your head, clearly not having the energy to explain or defend your own mother and he takes the hint immediately “I just never heard her saying anything like that.” 

“You're really lucky, then.” 

He quickly scans your face for something you're not sure he's going to find. You're trying to steady your breath and scare the tears away with the breathing techniques you were given in therapy. 

Yunho finds whatever he's looking for anyway. 

“Don’t listen to her,” he starts and, just like in the afternoon, he looks unsure of what to do with his hands, so he just raises them and lowers them before swallowing hard “You can eat everything you want and this dress would still look beautiful on you,” and his words do nothing but to raise your panic levels a little bit more. Why the hell is he complimenting you? You chest raises and falls a little harder now, your heart beats a little quicker and you whimper a little “Oh, fuck, no, I'm sorry I didn't mean… I did mean it, actually.” 

“Huh?!” 

“To tell you that you look beautiful! Because you do and— Fuck, princess, please don't cry, it's not worth it” he whispers the last bit when cover your eyes with your hands softly and you nod, trying to assure him you won't without saying a word “Did you bring the—” 

Did you promise you were going to bring them? You don't even remember. If you did, you wonder what makes him think you would follow through with that silly promise, considering you're trying to cover your issues up in the first place. 

“No, I didn't. I can't just pop them whenever I feel like crying, Yunho, they're only p-preventative,” you mumble but the question is enough to distract you, to ground you. The only thought passing through you being: don’t let them know. Don't let it show. Don't become carnage for them to pick apart and consume even more “I've been drinking, too, it's not safe to take them.” 

The stillness of the room when you both shut up is what allows you to come up to the surface after almost drowning in your panic. Your breathing steadies, your heart only pounds a little faster when you feel hands on top of yours and soft fingertips caressing the skin of them when they bring them down. 

Opening your eyes to find Yunho staring at you it's not unexpected, the cautious way he regards you is. You can't even bring yourself to break eye contact with him because he did, after all, just tried to help you. 

Again. 

And God knows you don't own Jeong Yunho absolutely anything but you can try and not bark at him when he slowly inspects your face, pupils coming and going like he's trying to read you even more. 

He seems to ignore that this, and the way he saw you earlier today, is as vulnerable as you can get. 

“You know what? Fuck this.” 

“What?” 

“Fuck this. We're leaving.”

Next thing you know, your mind catches onto your body's movements when he already dragged you to the hallway and to the top of the stairs “Yunho, we can't.” 

He takes a few steps down and you follow, a little irritated. 

“Fuck this and what they want from us, Y/N.” 

“I can't.” 

He pauses and turns to you, you take the opportunity to release yourself from his grasp and raise your chin a little. From this position, you're taller than him but not for much, especially not when he climbs up a step back. 

“You're seriously going back out there after all the shit your mother just gave you?” 

“Yes,” you answer right away and you can visibly tell that he's pissed at you. Only this time, it comes with zero gratification for your pride. “You're free to leave and do whatever you want but I have a responsibility with my family that I can't just walk out of.” 

“But—” 

“But what, Yunho?” shoulders deflating and arms dropping to your sides, it feels like you're never going to get yourself, your reasons, through his thick skull “What are we going to do if we get out of here now, hm? Get in a car, go for some fast food? End up on a rooftop somewhere or a park or whatever spot you think is cool and calm to reflect on our shitty families, Yunho?” 

He doesn't say anything but the tick of his jaw it's indicative of how your words are hitting him. You're glad and not out if pure pettiness or spite, for once. 

“And then you expect me to magically renounce everything I have, everything I am, because you have a little revolutionary anti chaebol spirit inside of you?” you scoff, leaning in a fraction “This is not a movie, Yunho. I'm not a damsel in distress, I don't need you to tell me how awful my mother is or to save me from her. Now,” you lean back and then take the steps down “I'm going in there, I'm taking the stupid pictures she wants me to take and, if you're planning on staying, I'll leave with you when all of our parent's friends are drunk enough that they don't notice us leaving.” 

You look back up at him and he closes his eyes, indecisiveness written all over his expression. 

And that's, probably, the biggest difference between you both. 

But you feel some sort of safety when he opens them up again: There, pissed and all, is the image of the Yunho you know. 

And that’s exactly who you need tonight. 

“Please don't leave that plate of food up there,” you mumble and he's about to say something else when you interrupt him “I don't want to eat it, I just want you to go back up there so I can go inside first. The last thing I want is for people to think that I'm so in love that I lost all of my decorum in a staff closet or something.” 

It takes him a second, but words come out of his mouth and under his breath “Ew.” 

Your eyes almost meet the back of your head at that. 

“You wish, Jeong.” 

You take the rest of the steps down and then take a huge breath before stepping back into the gala. 

The first thing you do is look for another drink. 

And drink you do. 

You only notice Yunho didn't leave after his brief debauchery of anarchy when you feel his presence next to you, his hand on yours or your arm or your hip the rest of the night (as fake as it feels, it’s a good facade for everyone who’s playing close attention so you welcome the fact that he’s not pissed enough to blown your cover off with a tiny bit of gratefulness), especially when Yeji gets too close or attempts to initiate a conversation. 

You hate that your chest swells with victory when you see her face fall after the last attempt to steal your fake boyfriend. 

But you don't really notice if she puts more effort into doing it. After a particular coctel, you're left dizzy enough that the rest of the night passes in a blur and you're operating in autopilot by the time Yunho leans in and whispers that he's taking you home. 

Why is Yunho taking you home out of all people? 

Well he's not, not really. He’s not driving you anywhere. In fact, he’s making you freeze as he waits for something, hands on his hips and everything. 

“Where's your driver?” 

He looks around the empty street, waiting for the car that brought you two to the gala to appear and you drunkenly giggle, back against the brick wall “Home with his family, I hope.” 

“So who's driving us?” 

“The helicopter, it's parked on the roof.” 

He turns to you “The what?” 

“I'm getting an uber, Yunho. Get yours.” 

“I said, I'm taking you home.” 

“Did you?” you frown as you look through the apps on your phone until you find the one you need. Quickly typing the name of the place hosting the event, it takes a few clicks till it lets you know they're finding a driver for you “I don't remember you saying that. I remember you stuttering in front of grandma Park when she called you handsome,” you lock your phone and look back up at him “Oh and you blushed just like that, too. You look so dumb.” 

Defensively, he stutters out “I'm not blushing.” 

You giggle again and point at his silly, stupid, concerned face “Yes, you are,” a notification makes your phone light up “My car is a minute away.” 

“Our car.” 

“Oh my God,” you groan, “you're a pain in the ass.” 

“And you're drunk!” He points out and you roll your eyes “I despise you princess, truly, now more than ever, but it's against my principles.” 

You scoff, loudly and then laugh at him, at his words, at his mask “You can stop pretending now, Jeong. I don't buy it like everyone else does- Oh, the car.” 

As the uber comes to a stop, you manage to not stumble your way to it and to ignore Yunho’s hands (open and willing to catch you in case you fall) because you certainly don’t need his help. He should know it by now. He shouldn’t even open the door for you, but here he is, ever the gentleman in front of everyone else and a total ass behind closed doors.

Although today…

No. Pushing the thought aside, you ironically bow to “thank him” for his kindness. 

“Buy what exactly?” He asks before you can get in. 

The door is open now, yellow light on both yours and Yunho’s faces, and the driver is trying to conceal (very badly) the fact that he’s paying attention to your conversation, so you put on a smile and shrug to dismiss his question “I’ll tell you later, dear. Thanks for walking me to the car,” his confused expression makes you want to giggle again, but you save it “Text me when you get home, hm?” 

Before he can argue with you some more, you get into the car and welcome the warmth radiating from the leather seat before attempting to close the door. 

Only for it to be pulled open again “Move,” he says a little harshly and then looks at the drive “m-my love.” 

Oh, he’s so bad at this. 

But he doesn’t really leave room to kick him out of your uber when he forces his way in “Good evening.” He says to the driver and smiles at the man behind the steering wheel as well before the door closes and the car is surrounded by darkness again. 

Hands grasping the seat and Yunho’s arm, you think maybe you should've listened to him when he told you to eat something. The world spins a little when the car starts moving and it really takes everything in you, for the first time ever, to pull away from Yunho’s firm arm and make space in between you like you always do. 

There’s silence at last. Until there isn’t. 

Your mind it’s never truly quiet, is it? 

Dizzy and everything, you start planning the rest of your night and your next day. You don’t have to go into the office, so you can take care of everything at home. Okay, cool. There’s this thing you need to talk to HR about and also you need to schedule the lunches you’re bringing to the orphanage. What day is it? Ah, right, you still have a few more days to make everything pretty for the children. Is Yunho on your schedule for the week? You forgot to check, you forgot to ask. The calendar should be updated by now, considering your mom’s main assistant was not at the event tonight and that means she’s working overtime tonight. Probably making sure there’s no wrong headlines on the immediate news outlets and curating the comments on the instagram posts and—

“Whatcha' thinkin' about?”

Silence again. 

Only this time, it’s because you notice Yunho’s fingers on your arm and your head snaps towards him so fast it makes you dizzier. 

Nothing you care about, you want to tell him. Nothing important, nothing that would make an actual impact and close the bridge between you and him enough for him to be handling you with some much care for the umphtenth time today.  

“I’m just really tired,” you say instead and, for once, you’re not lying or deflecting. You’re so fucking tired “I didn’t sleep last night. I was working on something.” Again, not a lie, even though you were working on ways of preventing this entire day from happening. 

“Well, we’re a few minutes away.” 

“I’m a few minutes away.” You correct in a whisper which makes him giggle under his breath and that prompts you to stare bitterly at him.

You don’t ask him what the fuck is so funny but you find out once you reach the gate of your house. Not waiting for him to get down and open the door for you (because you don’t expect him to get down with you at all), you bid your goodbye to the driver -not Yunho- and get out of the car so fast it feels like someone pressed the fast forward button on you. You’re more sober now than what you were at the start of the car ride but it still proves difficult to slide the panel of your front door up and let it read your thumb print to gain access. 

“Stupid fucking thing.” You say in a distracted murmur when it wont read the print and almost let out a scream when someone grabs your opposite thumb and raises it to the panel. 

It reads right away and you turn to Yunho with a scowl on your face “I hate you.” 

“My brother designed this thing before Jeong Tech moved on to cybersecurity exclusively,” he reminds you “Careful with what you say about it.” 

Looking at the street, you find it empty again “Walking home or what?” 

“Stop pretending to not know I’m going to help you in, Y/N.” 

“I don’t need your help!” 

He looks at the thumb he’s still grabbing and the back at you before raising a brow “Sure.” 

Groaning, you take your thumb back to open the gate. You don’t even attempt to close it on his face but you don’t wait for him as you speedrun your front garden and, when you get up the stairs to your front door, it opens on its own. 

Well, not on its own. There’s a staff member smiling kindly at you. She’s one of the new ones, the young ones (younger than you, even) who won’t even tell you their names at your mothers petition, so you usually don’t insist on it because it causes them stress. You shake your head “Did she make you stay up late tonight?”

“Yes, miss Kim. She instructed me to stay the night in case either you, mister Kim or her needed some help.” 

“Help with what?” you say with a tint of annoyance in your tone and you see her bow instinctively at Yunho, who you presume is right behind you now and she offers her hands immediately to take his coat from him but you wave yours so she can stop “Please, go to your room and sleep. If she gets angry because she doesn’t find anyone to help her undress tonight, I’ll deal with it.” 

“But… Miss Kim, your guest—”

“Mister Jeong Yunho,” you don’t turn to him but you guess he bowed to her again because she hurriedly does the same “He’s not staying for long,” you hope. “Please go and get some sleep, dear.”  

She hesitates and your face softens at the slight panic you recognize in her eyes very, very well. 

“I’ll deal with her,” you promise with a genuine smile tugging at your lips “Now, go.” 

Obeying, she bows deeply at both of you before smiling back at you for a split second before disappearing through the staff aisle. There’s not many staff who stay in the property after hours and the ones that do usually stay when your parents need them but you find it quite annoying. 

Not for you but because you’re grown people. There’s not many things the staff do for you besides your breakfast every morning and your clothes -because you couldn’t convince your mom to let you do it yourself- but for her? For your dad? They do almost everything.  

At their grown age. Ugh. 

Getting into the house, you slip your high heels off and you hear the door closing and some shuffling, letting you know Yunho is doing the same. 

“You’re not welcomed here, Jeong, please go away.” 

“Shut up and look at your phone, will you?” 

“Hm?” 

Unlocking it, it’s immediately floated with messages from a new group chat that consists of Yunho, his brother, your brother and you. 

The texts are very clearly written by two drunk idiots (your brothers) and one sober idiot (Yunho) and there’s even a selfie taken in the very same room Yunho found you in earlier today. Frowning, you move to the last texts. 

kim soohyun: mjom and dad 4nd mom and dad are going home to have a little after party in like an horu hbtw  gunho oppa ♡︎: so wer’e going otoo! hehe. stay in your room y/n if u don’t eant to deal with yaunti she’s a lil hdrunkies  kim soohyun: mhm but n o funnhy business  kim soohyun: oh wait  kim soohyun: you’re anot actually ua thing hahahahaha @yn u loser 

Oh you’re going to kill him. Both of them. The three of them, actually, now that Yunho takes the opportunity to send a laughing emoji at what your brother said and when you look up at him, he’s giggling again. 

“What the actual fuck.” 

“He’s funny!” He defends himself right away and you groan before heading for the stairs. The texts and the fact there’s going to be some sort of movement on the house when it’s supposed to be cold, empty and, most importantly, in total silence, it’s enough to sober you up. 

“This is the worst day of my life.” 

Yunho does not follow you. But this house, at this point and with him disregarding your wishes of exiling him out of your life, is as much his as it is yours, so you just let him be downstairs while the darkness of your room engulfs you. You move like that, with the street lights and the moonlight leaking through the big balcony window and toss your purse and phone on the bed. 

Getting your accessories off, they clink and clank on your vanity by door and breathe a little more calmly now that the weight of them is not on you. Slowly, but surely, the stress and sensory overstimulation of the night makes it way off you as well. 

It’s not only until you get to the zipper of your dress that you remember why you needed someone to get you into the dress in the first place. It’s stuck, per se, but you can’t really reach it no matter how much you bend and twist and there’s some noise downstairs that it’s making your eye twitch a little bit. Maybe what’s making it is the ice machine built in on the fridge but you also hear some pans and you find it hilarious that Yunho, out of everyone, is the first non-contractually obligated person to touch the kitchen in years. 

Losing the battle against the zipper and sweating a little bit, the last wave of dizziness from all the drinks you had comes in and so you lower yourself to the floor, near the balcony door and just close your eyes. 

Now that you're home, the lack of sleep really gets to you. It feels like ten minutes or ten hours  simultaneously when someone turns on the light in your room and the sudden intrusion of it burns you a bit when you open your eyes and stare at the ceiling. 

Yunho scoffs from your door and you hear your foodsteps approach until he’s on your line of vision, eyebrows creasing at the sight of him “You’re so fucking weird, I swear.” 

You mumble your jab out “Yeah, laying on the floor in the dark after an exhausting day of dealing with your presence it’s not as weird as it sounds, buddy.” 

He ignores you.

“Made you some food.” 

Suspicious. Slowly, you sit up. There’s a tray on your vanity with bowls and glasses of water and you want to yell at him for putting it there in the first place but the smell of buldak invades your nostrils and your stomach grumbles in response.

You didn't even know you had buldak anywhere in this house. Weird. 

“Is it poisoned?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs “why don’t you find out?” 

Your stomach grumbles again, begging. Your heart races as you glance at the tray again, anxious. Your rotten mind makes you delay your words, already telling you you’re going to regret it. 

But you’re so hungry. 

“Did you put cheese on it?” 

Yunho is sitting at the edge of your bed now, manspreading and with his elbows on his legs, his hands in between them. This coat is off now, you don’t really know where he left it at but it’s gone and his hair it’s not perfect anymore, like he ran his hand through it a couple of times. He smiles a little at you when he answers, low and teasing, like he can’t believe you asked him that “Obviously.” 

You wish you could convince yourself that the gulp you just did it’s due to your sudden appetite. And it kind of is. But the truth of the matter is that the ramen had nothing to do with it. 

He looks good like this. He doesn’t necessarily looks like the manchild you know and even if it irks you a little that he insists of taking care of you with this little, insignificant detail (after all, he’s going to get out of your life and your complicated relationship with food will endure till the end of times), you can’t really deny the sudden blush it brings to your cheeks. 

Clearing your throat and reaching behind you to open the balcony door, you point to the tray with your chin “Alright, bring it here.” 

It’s truly a shame you can read it in his face that he’s counting this as some sort of victory and, if it were anyone else, you would hate to disappoint them when they inevitably notice further on that this effort of correcting your nasty habits are futile as long as your living with the source of the issue under the same roof. But since it’s Yunho, you don’t really care. 

You don't care, you don’t care, you don’t care. 

The way your heart squeezes and you feel like crying when he intently watches the first bite you take out of the noodles it’s nothing, it’s just your emotions getting mixed in with the spicy taste of them and the cheese and the way your stomach finally gets some sort of relief after being partially empty the entire day. 

You don’t care that he made a little bowl for himself as well. And you definitely don’t care that he’s sitting beside you, eating his food and occasionally glancing at you to check your reaction and you hate him for it. 

It triggers the part of you that doesn’t really know how to behave, the same part who thought of him fondly this afternoon when he wiped your tears away and calmed your nerves. When brought you food upstairs at the gala, when he brushed his fingers against your arm in the car, when he helped you in. 

When you saw his expression after his mom yelled at him. When he got upset after your mom yelled at you. 

It's like you can see it: the knitting needle moving faster than ever, interspersing your lives even more and in the worst way possible, the only way you don't want it to happen is because it's unexpected and you haven’t prepared for it, because it's unnecessary. 

The way your heart is beating for him right now is totally unnecessary. 

“What?” He asks when he notices you staring “I know it’s not that bad, princess, I live in a dorm most days of the week,” he adds, laughing a little and you look down at your noodles again, halfway done “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s ramen.” 

“We had this or did you bring it with you?” Stupid question but right now you need to distract yourself from your sudden burst of feelings and vulnerability. 

He looks at you like you’re a weirdo, again “And kept it where?” 

“In that birdnest you call hair, for example.”

“Okay, you know what—” he stops when he hears you laugh and drops his argument alongside his chopsticks, only to laugh a little as well “Smartass.” 

“I’m just hilarious, dude,” you say, shrugging it off like you’re humble or something “Where do you think Soohyun got it from?” 

“Definitely not you.” 

“Tsk,” you shake your head “you have no humor. I don’t know how mister Park stands you.” 

That seems to bring the memory back. Assuming he forgot because you both had better things to focus on, he brings his palm to his head rather harshly and you cringe at the sound it makes. 

“Right! How do you fucking know him, Y/N? I thought you only knew Yeo.” 

“Who?” 

“Yeosang,” at your furrowed brow, he turns a little in your direction and sighs “The guy I was with that one time you saw me at the bowling alley, like a year or so ago I think.” 

Oh, that guy you totally didn’t remember existed until now. Barely remembering that day, you recall it was one of those days you went along with the plans your classmates had at the time. A bowling alley? A public bowling alley? It seemed like such a normal endeavor until you spotted Yunho at the entryway talking with, you assumed at the time and confirmed now, his friend. 

When he saw you and barely raised his hand to wave at you, you remember the feeling of embarrassment washing over your and your cheeks turning red and then excusing yourself and leaving the scene immediately, like you were caught red-handed enjoying shit you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying. 

“Ah,” you tilt your head “I forgot about that,” you obviously didn’t, but you pretend you did “I didn’t know his name, though, I didn’t say hi to you or anything.” 

“Didn’t expect you to,” he shrugs it off “He asked me if you liked me that day and I asked him what gave him the impression you did,” that takes you off guard and you the noodles get caught up on your throat a little before you force them pass it and mumble out a tiny what? “Mhm, I didn’t understand either and he told me to forget it but I remember it because he didn’t even see you that well that night.” 

“Maybe he’s fucking crazy,” you offer and he gives you a look “It would suit you if you friends were crazy, I’m just saying.” 

“Suit me? That's crazy.” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“How do you know Hwa, Y/N?” 

You almost ask him who that is when it clicks on his head that he’s talking about Park Seonghwa. Thinking about him, about your tiny hiccup early this morning and the acute possibility there was of him saying yes to your proposal makes you scrunch your nose in momentary resentment. Because, really, you’re glad he said no. 

Yunho might not be used to this world of tinsel and fakeness anymore but he’s cut for it. Seonghwa? He didn’t look like he would last a second actually involved in it. 

Good for him. 

“He’s working for my brother,” you finally answer after a few seconds of staring at your noodles and sipping a bit of water and Yunho open his eyes at the new information “He’s working on his spaces and aligning his chakras or whatever Soohyun is into these days,” sighing, you think about that dumb tree he made you paint on his wall and then stare at the half finished canvas that’s facing the wall next to your vanity for a few seconds “Probably going to renovate his apartment, too. Soohyun said he’s tired of minimalism or something?” 

“That definitely sounds like Hwa,” he nods and you wonder what he means by that but don’t pry “And his girlfriend?” 

“The mechanic?” you ask and Yunho shrugs “He told me she was his mechanic,” you clarify before continuing “He brought his motorcycle to the building because something was wrong with it, I guess. They’re together together now?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“She’s really cool,” you smile at the memory of the girl “She looks really cool, at least.” 

“Yeah but he just met her.” 

“And?” 

“Isn’t a little too early to call her his girlfriend?” 

“How the hell would I know that?” you ask and you don’t mean to sound defensive… But you do a little bit so you clear your throat and shrug one more time and decide to joke your way out of it “Should he wait like fifteen years so that his mom forces him to be in a fake relationship with her or something?”

Yunho doesn’t laugh. 

You finish your noodles in silence until he groans and you turn to him.  

He stares at his phone and then closes his eyes, regretfully “God, they’ve been calling me for a few hours now.” 

“They found out?”

“I don’t know.” He whines, resting his forehead on his palm as he looks through some messages. 

You take the opportunity to distract him, tease him a little bit if that’s able to get him off his phone “Do you know anything ever?” 

“I know you’re annoying as fuck even when I make you food and all.”

It works because he locks his phone and stares at you with a pout that feigns innocence and  hurt. 

“Oh, wow,” you gulp the rest of the water down and wipe the corners of your mouth with your fingers before propping yourself up on your knees and then all the way up “And just when I thought we were finally getting along.”

He gets up as well “Is that a thing?” he asks, taking the tray from the floor and leaving it on top of your vanity again, which gains him a look that he ignores “Us being friends?” 

“Well, no,” you turn to him on your way to your walk-in closet “We were born to hate each other and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” 

“We should at least try, Y/N. I have a schedule with you now.” 

You don’t hear him follow you but when you turn after finding your pajamas for the night, he’s resting his shoulder on the door frame and the same thought as before crosses your mind. 

Why is he attractive like this? Under the soft light of your walk-in closet and with his tie loose and messy? 

You don’t if that is what possesses you to walk towards him, slowly, like a lioness towards her prey and stop just before your chest touches his middle “Is that why you want to get along? Or is it because you’re still pitying me, Jeong?” 

He says nothing, eyes lidded and breath picking up along yours. 

“Is that why you brought me food at the gala? Why you suggested us leaving, defy our parents' wishes only after you saw the way she treated me? Is that it?” 

You want him to tell you yes, that’s exactly what it is. Because that alone can effectively kill the desire that suddenly rushes through you, unbidden and foreign. If you lean a little, if you grab his tie and pull him down towards you… Maybe he’ll reject you, maybe his rejection will kill the feeling down too. 

So you lean in just a fraction. 

And Yunho stays put. 

What the hell is going on? 

“I don’t pity you, Y/N,” he lets you know for the second time tonight “I understand you,” he says, his eyes scanning your face and looking for something. He seems to find it, he seems to be satisfied with it as well “I finally understand you and I think you understand me too. Do you?”

It takes you a bit, but you nod and he tilts his head just a little bit, like saying see? 

“And because of that, you want us to be friends?”

He breathes out and it hits your cheek. Your chest heaves a little at that “Don’t you think we could at least try to get along, princess?” He asks in a whisper. 

You take your time pretending to think about it like the proposal isn’t tempting, like you didn’t already answer yourself inside your head. Truly, you’re a little lost at the closeness and a little dizzy at the way his pupils seem to be committing you to his memory. 

There’s this sudden tension you never let yourself feel before and your mouth hangs open a little when he leans in another tiny, molecular fraction into your space. 

And then common sense takes over. Pushing him away and into your room just to move past him, you shrug “Truce until we break up, it is.” 

“Truce, then.” You don’t need to turn to him to know he’s smiling. 

“They updated it?” you don’t have your phone with you but you can already foresee the amount of activities you have together just to put up with the charade. He looks at you, confused after whatever that was “The calendar?” 

“O-oh, yeah, uhm… I don’t see you for the rest of the week except on saturday morning and afternoon, here it says, um…” at the day mentioned, you freeze “It says: Ask her to take you with her to her saturday activities?” 

“You don’t need to, I’ll tell them you were with me.” You dismiss the idea right away, pretending it’s not a big deal and moving to your big mirror to try and unzip the dress one more time. 

“Why? What do you do on saturdays?” 

Giving him a look, he puts his palms up defensively. 

“I thought we were friends now!” 

“Having friends means sharing your personal agenda with them?” You ask, beyond confused.

“It’s technically my agenda too, so…” 

“I don’t know why it’s your agenda too because what I do on saturdays it’s not necessarily public information and… Oh, stupid zipper,” you look around your vanity for something that can help you get it down “And,” you continue, failing at the task in hand “It’s not really something for everyone. So I’m guessing it’s some sort of way your mom or my mom are punishing you for lashing out this afternoon.” 

“Ok, but what is it?” He murmurs and you stop your movements. Yunho is suddenly behind you. Entranced with finding something that could help you out, you didn’t even notice him closing the distance in the background on the reflection on the mirror. But when you look up he’s there and your poor, poor heart picks up again.

“I volunteer at an orphanage that’s not really… Well, it’s not the best at taking care of the kids but I’m working on that,” you answer, cautiously, catching his surprised expression in the mirror “I bring them some food and toys and since it’s nearing halloween we wanted to decorate the space a little bit but the kids they’re not… Sweet and innocent,” you try to explain, gulping when Yunho raises his hands and his fingers start fidgeting with the zipper “They’ve been through some shit so they cause a little bit of trouble when people go and visit them. They’re used to seeing me but not you, so…” 

“They’re going to bully me?” he asks, regarding you through the reflection with a tiny smile “I can help you this saturday if you like… It’s stuck,” the pout returns to his lips and you can only hope he’s not able to hear your heartbeats the way you hear them of your ears, the way you feel them on your throat, especially when the zipper gives in and it slides easily down the length of your body. He leaves it at an appropriate distance, where it doesn’t show too much skin and it doesn’t feel impossible to pull it down yourself, either “There.” 

“T-thanks,” you stutter out fast, wondering why he’s not pulling away and time stops ticking when you catch him taking a look at your exposed skin, his cheeks darkening a bit or so you think “I t-thought you had that thing this weekend?” 

“Honjoong’s gig,” he nods “that’s at eight that day. So I can go with you on— I want to go with you.”

What is this? What’s this sudden change of heart? What’s this tension, this mutual understanding, this sudden feeling of wanting to have him around for that? 

Your walls are falling down and that’s dangerous. 

Your clothes might fall down too, if he keeps staring at you like that. 

“Sure,” you mumble out and, for the first time in forever, you welcome with a hug and a kiss on the forehead the sound of the garage door opening and signaling that your parents and his are finally home “Y-you should—” 

He pulls away, awkwardly and almost tripping with the carpet. 

“Y-yeah, no, definitely—”

“I’m going to t-take a shower, so…”

“Oh, yeah, you stink again, um—”

He almost makes it through the door when he turns around and takes the tray “Thank you, by the way.” 

It catches him off guard, you can tell.

“Thank you for today. For showing up, for making me food and everything else.” 

His smile brings that fluttery softness emotion back and you point to the door before he can say anything back. 

“Tell them I’m asleep, please.” 

“Yeah, okay, hm… See you saturday?” 

“Sure.” 

“Okay,” he smiles again and you walk to the door so you can see him out of your room and lock it like his brother suggested over text “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Night, Jeong.” You whisper and, finally, you breathe in the normalcy of your room again. 

Only this time, you look around and see the image of Yunho at the edge of your bed. And again, sitting by your balcony with you. And again, when you move through the walk-in closet to get to your bathroom behind it, you turn and the memory of him leaning on the door frame plagues your mind like a virus. 

You’re in so much trouble. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is part two of three (possibly more if the story extends that far). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓕our

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you encounter a few problems in your apartment. luckily, your handy next door neighbor comes to your rescue. his kindhearted actions keeps leaving you speechless.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, swearing, pet names, tension, little angst, reader has arachnophobia (a little self-indulgent), terrible military knowledge, backstories, miguel is a sweetheart

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

a quiet saturday to relax.

the gloomy weather as a cherry on top. gray, puffy clouds covering the sky. gentle breezes passing by, flowing through the trees. the forecast said it would rain later in the afternoon. oh it’s just perfect.

the perfect weather to snuggle on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you, a few snacks on the coffee table, watching your favorite movie or show, and luna laying beside you. the perfect day off.

as you head to the bathroom and turn on the light, there is a thick black spider in the corner of the ceiling. you let out a terrified scream like you’ve seen a horrifying monster. well, technically spiders are horrifying creatures to look at. not to mention your terrible case of arachnophobia. you’ve hated spiders since you were a child. while playing outside with the neighbor kids, a spider was crawling on your arm and you screamed bloody murder.

you’ve been traumatized since.

when you lived with your parents and roommates in college, someone else would kill the spider when you found one. they were understanding, although they would pick fun at you sometimes.

but now, as a young adult living on her own, there’s a fucking spider in your bathroom and the entire floor must’ve think you’re being murdered.

luna is barking and running up to you as you bolted out the bathroom. she barks when you’re scared. you try calming her down so your neighbors don’t get upset while your heart is pounding like a fucking drum. blood pressure through the roof.

you screamed so damn loud that someone is knocking on your door.

oh fuck.

the last thing you want is an upset neighbor and might dial 911 for a ridiculous misunderstanding.

approaching and opening the door with shaky hands, your next door neighbor stands in front of you with the biggest concerned look on his face.

“what happened? are you hurt?” he sounds a bit breathless. eyes filled with panic and chest heaving.

a huge wave of embarrassment hits you, making you grimace. you were right, your neighbor believes you are screaming bloody murder.

“no no, i’m fine. it’s just— oh god.” you groan, that wave of embarrassment hitting you like a fucking brick. a hand covering your face, rubbing the temples of your forehead frustratingly.

his frown deepens, growing more concern. miguel was about to repeat the two questions but you manage to speak up again.

“i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you, i just—“

“what happened?” he sounds more serious, desperately wants to know the issue.

you close your eyes and inhale a deep breath, preparing to embarrass yourself in front of your next door neighbor. “there’s a big ass spider in my bathroom and i freaked out.”

you spit it out so quickly that you believe he can’t understand at first, but he did.

a big weight was lifted off his chest. the panic leaving his body. you aren’t hurt, that’s good. his expression relaxes a bit but his brows remain furrowed.

a spider scared you, seems natural.

but the scream you made tells him that you are deadly afraid of it. a scream that made his heart stop. miguel never bolted out his apartment so quickly.

“do you need me to kill it?”

you finally look up at him, taken aback by his offer. “oh- no, it’s okay. i’ll probably just spray poison.”

from a great distance, you thought.

“i’ll kill it so you’ll feel safer.” miguel insists.

did this man just make your heart skip a beat for the millionth time?

yes, he did.

you shake your head. “no, it’s okay, seriously. i don’t wanna bother you with my stupidity.”

“hermosa, leaving you alone with a spider that made you scream will bother me.”

how is this man so fucking nice?

you also don’t miss the new pet name, making your cheeks more warm than they already are.

a hinge of guilt lingers in your heart. this man has fixed enough of your problems, he can’t fix more. especially a stupid one like this one. although he did insist on you asking him for help when needed. and you know he won’t stop insisting until you give up.

with a quiet sigh, you accept. “alright…”

moving to the side, you allow him to enter your apartment once again. you show miguel to the bathroom, stopping in front of the door. you offer him the poison but miguel insists toilet paper is enough. his hand will finish the job. although, he still takes the poison as extra precautions.

miguel notices the hesitation and fear illustrated on your face. the noticeable distance you set yourself between the bathroom door. your hands folded together and pressed against your chest, a sign of fear. the sight makes him frown.

he also noticed the lack of eye contact. miguel can sense the embarrassment and it’s completely understandable. he doesn’t blame you one bit.

although, he does wish to see your eyes for a second.

as miguel heads into the bathroom to deal with the bitch ass spider, leaving the door closed so you don’t witness it, you remain outside waiting anxiously. scooping up luna in your arms and holding her for comfort. the harsh thud makes you jump a little.

miguel killed it. bless him.

you hear the toilet flushing as miguel exits the bathroom. the bitch is gone for good.

“it was hideous.” he says amusingly.

you softly chuckle. “yeah, thank you.”

“of course. you okay, now?”

“yeah now that the bitch is gone.” that earns you a soft chuckle from him. “sorry for scaring you, you probably thought i was murdered or something.”

“you did sounded terrified but i’m glad you weren’t hurt. it’s okay, don’t feel bad about it.”

“my bad case of arachnophobia explains it all.” a soft, awkward chuckle escapes your lips.

he frowns ever so slightly, lightly nodding. “it’s understandable. if there’s a spider, don’t hesitate to call me over.” miguel said sincerely.

this man keeps making your heart flutter with his sweet acts of service and kindness.

walking back to the living room, you past by your bookshelf which miguel stops in front of when he notices one of the shelves is slightly crooked.

“you need a new shelf.”

his statement makes you turn around, glancing at the crooked shelve. “oh- well, it isn’t that bad. it seems fine.” you shrug.

miguel looks at you with a disbelief expression. “fine? chica, the poor shelf is on the verge of breaking.” he gestures at the shelves. “those books will fall.”

you wave off with a hand. “it’s fine, give it three more months then it will collapse.”

to you, it really did seem like it was just slightly misplaced and can still manage.

to miguel, the shelve looks like on its last brink considering the amount of books on it.

you have a lot of books, he thinks to himself.

it’s not a bad thing. people have their hobbies. it’s just fascinating to him. miguel wonders how many books do you read in a week? or maybe even a day?

“give it three more seconds and it will collapse.” he said. “let me fix it for you.”

you simply blink at him, surprised. “no, you don’t have to. you already killed a spider for me, you don’t have to do anything else for me. plus, that isn’t a big a issue so don’t worry.”

“hermosa, do i have to remind you that you can always come to me for help?”

okay, again with the new pet name.

it makes you weak.

“ya sé, but that i don’t need help with that shelf. at least not now, it’s perfectly fine.” you said nonchalantly.

one of his thick brows quirks, a deadpan look settled on his features. “i’m two seconds away from walking back to my apartment to grab my tool box.”

this man really never backs down. there’s really no need for him to fix that dumb little shelf for you. it does look fine, to you at least. but your heart can’t deny his kindness and you know he offered to fix things for you. for free, as a reminder.

there’s no point of arguing because it’ll waste both your time. in the end, you accept his help, causing miguel to break into a little smile.

how could you say no to that smile?

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

miguel is fixing your shelf and you’re in the kitchen cooking dinner. he’s been too invested in fixing it to realize you’re making dinner for you both. that’s how you’re repaying him, he just doesn’t know it yet.

“your shelf is fixed.”

pausing the cooking, you quickly walk over and see the now fixed shelf. not that crooked anymore.

“thank you.” you flash him a smile, he hums in return.

you return to the kitchen, miguel following you curiously after putting away the tools in the box, placing it on the marble counter.

“¿qué estas haciendo?” miguel asks softly beside you, peeking at what you’re cooking.

“teriyaki chicken, one of my favorites.”

“qué rico.” the smell of the sauce invades his senses, causing his stomach to rumble a little.

you feel him stepping away, turning around to see miguel about to put on his shoes.

“adondé vas?”

“home.”

“you’re not leaving without food.”

he quirks a brow amusingly before lightly shaking his head. “i appreciate it, chica but i’m okay, gracias.”

“you helped me today so i’m repaying you with food.” you place your hands on your hips, standing in sassy posture. “i ain’t taking no for an answer.” you smirk.

the hint of authority in your tone intrigues him. his lips match yours. he got a hint of your sass at the bar with all your friends that night. to see your true self, sassy and interesting sense of humor yet caring. just so authentic with some sass, miguel was intrigued.

that’s why he couldn’t stop admiring you that night.

he was given the privilege to see the other side of you, the true side. you aren’t just his neighbor.

“pues… i can’t say no to that smell.” he smirks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

after serving yourselves, you offer to do it for him since he’s a guest but miguel kindly insists he’ll do it himself and to not worry, you sit at your little dining table across from each other.

“wow… that was the best teriyaki chicken i’ve ever had.” miguel gently wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“oh you’re being too nice now.” you playfully roll your eyes, unable to hide your smile.

“en serio.” he smiles. “it was really delicious. it’s different from other ones i’ve had, it was incredible.”

you shake your head, smiling. “well, kudos to my mom. she makes it the best.”

“she’d be very proud.”

the comment warms your heart.

“reading is your hobby, huh?” he asks.

you nod. “since i was a kid. it relaxes my mind, especially after a long ass day at work.”

“favorite genre?”

“murder mystery, or sci-fi.”

“i noticed the amount.” he gestures at the bookshelf.

“can’t help it, they’re that good.” you chuckle.

miguel chuckles as well. “i don’t doubt it.”

“is building things your hobby?” resting your elbow on the table, you place your chin in your palm.

“robotics club, remember?” a smirk on his face. “still do, when i’m not away.”

“you said you served 9 years, verdad?”

“sí and still counting.”

“what made you decide to sign up, if you don’t mind me asking?”

miguel goes silent for a few seconds. you notice how his eyes immediately tear away from yours. the way his shoulders tensed for a moment.

oh fuck, was that too personal?

you’re about to apologize but he finally speaks.

“my brother wanted to, i signed up with him.” miguel reveals. “he always wanted to join the military since we were kids. he wanted to be a soldier, like the bucket o’ soldiers from toy story. i couldn’t let him out of my sight so signed up with him.”

your heart warms at the adorable story. “brothers stick together, huh? that’s cute.”

the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly, not a complete smile like before. “este güey, pinche loco. couldn’t leave him alone for 5 seconds without him getting his ass busted.”

“the glories of having younger siblings.” you chuckle.

miguel nods. “you too?”

“no, i’m actually the youngest.” you laugh softly. “i wasn’t getting my ass busted, though.”

that elicits a chuckle from him. “how many?”

“two, a brother and sister. my sister is the oldest.”

as you tell him stories about you and your siblings, you realize miguel never mentioned his brother’s name. you’re curious to know.

“oh by the way, you never told me your brother’s name.”

you notice his shoulder tense again, seems hesitant to answer your question. it worries you a little. each time you mention his brother, he tenses.

“gabriel.” he reveals.

a nice name.

“it seems like your mom really liked the ‘el’ part.” you joke, softy chuckling.

silence follows after, making you look at him to see the solemn look on his face. his gaze on the empty plate in front of him instead your own.

fuck, you might’ve pushed it too far.

what’s going on with you tonight?

“i’m sorry, that was rude of me to say—“

“don’t be, please.” miguel quickly reassured you. “it’s true, she did like the ‘el’ part. she did like matching things with each other, even with her own kids.” he offers a kind, small smile. his gaze back on yours.

his smile makes you feel a little better. you offer one of your own, sharing gentle smiles.

glancing at the two empty plates, you reach to collect his plate but miguel grabs it and yours, standing up from his seat.

“wait, i got it—“

“don’t worry, chica. i can take them for you.”

“you’re a guest, you shouldn’t have to.” you try to take the dirty plates from him but miguel slowly moves them out from your reach.

“you cooked for me, i should wash them.” he insists in a gentle manner.

“es mi casa, i’m the one who should wash them.”

“at least let me help you.” miguel pleads.

you really insist that he shouldn’t since he’s a guest but you know arguing over a topic that doesn’t need to be argued about is unnecessary.

you accept his help but only to pass the dishes, you still insist on washing them. miguel simply laughs at your stubbornness but agrees, saying as long as he gets to help you. plus, you can’t deny that smile.

once the dishes are done, it’s time for miguel to return to his home considering it’s dark outside.

“thanks for your help today.”

“siempre. your dinner was delicious, gracias.”

“be expecting that more often.” you smirk.

“you don’t have to, chica.”

“i want to, it’s my gratitude.”

miguel can’t help but chuckle, appreciating your kindness. luna slowly approaches him, her tail wagging as she sniffs at his feet.

“she likes you.” you glance down at her with a smile.

“i’m glad she approves.” he jokes.

you say goodnight each other, thanking miguel one last time before he leaves. you close the door once you see him enter his place. scooping luna in your arms and shutting off everything in the kitchen, you head to your room for the night.

just as you past by, you stop in front of the bookshelf. you stare at the newly built shelf miguel did for you today. the sight and memory makes the corner of your lips curl up into a smile.

a memory you won’t forget.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes

( ◟ ࣪⠀ׅ ♱⠀𝓝ote. special shout-out to @aphinthestars for the bookshelf idea! thanks for helping! dedicate this chapter to you! )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[claws-and-quills]

Not So Silent Treatment

A/N: This is the first time ever written anything on Logan in a really long while. Shootout to my bestie @callsignred for the idea!

CW: Profanity, Primal Hunter/Primal Prey Kink, Mentions of Male and Female Anatomy, Unprotected Sex (we're all adults here 😂), Slight Praise Kink, Oral (Female Receiving), Over Stimulation

Word Count: 5,089 I really outdid myself on this one

It had been a few days since you and Logan had returned back to the Mansion after a mission that had gone awry. The tensions that lingered between you and Logan were so thick and suffocating that you could cut through them with a knife. The mere idea of being in the same room, much less under the same roof of the Mansion as him made your blood boil. You could still hear his words. They were practically burned into the back of your mind.

During the mission, you had refused to take orders from Logan towards the end. It was a do or die situation, and you let your emotions get in the way of your judgments. If it hadn't been for you having your own healing factor, that day would have been your last. While attempting to take down a rogue mutant, you and Logan both had been overtaken from underestimating this mutant. You refused to flee despite Logan yelling at you to get out of there. In turn, you sat there on the bed you usually shared with Logan, gazing up at the roof.

The bed felt so empty without Logan laying next to you. After the argument each of you had, he had refused to sleep in there with you. This hurt worse than that piece of steel that had impaled you through the left lower portion of your abdomen. Neither of you would apologize for the things that each of you had yelled at each other. It was in the heat of the moment and out of irrational emotions. You sigh with exasperation, tossing and turning, unable to find sleep.

“This is stupid…all of this is stupid.”

You curse under your breath and force yourself up and out of the bed. The emptiness of the room felt suffocating. It felt as though someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto your chest. Glancing at the small clock that rested on the dresser, the time read 02:45. It was almost three in the morning on the fifth day, and still, neither you nor Logan spoke a word to each other. You angrily grab a pair of your jeans and a tank-top to replace your pajamas. At this point, you had figured maybe getting out of the mansion for a little while could do you some good.

Cracking the door open, you glance both ways around the hall to be sure no one was wandering this late. Seeing it empty, you quietly exhale a breath and sneak towards the staircase and tiptoe down to the first level of the mansion. Parts of you begged that Logan was asleep, but your heart screamed that he would be awake and that you could try to talk about what happened. Straining your eyes, you try to see if you can see the figure of Logan on the couch. Your gut nagged at you to sneak closer, but you also wanted out of there for a few minutes. Fresh air would do you some good, and hopefully a jog around the campus would tire you enough to be able to sleep.

Furrowing your brows, you sigh dejectedly and quietly snake your way out of the door of the mansion. The night air was cool and crisp. The pale moonlight had cast an eerily familiar glow across the night sky. Stars twinkled like tiny lanterns against the blanket of black sky. The moisture that clung to the air had formed a ghastly ring around the moon, and filled the air with a soothing chill that prickled at your skin.

Once you are far enough away from the mansion, you bring yourself into a light jog. The cool, night air stung your lungs and gripped your chest, almost constricting your lungs. Cursing, you push yourself to pick up your pace. The only sounds you could hear were the chirping of crickets and the light fluttering of your heart in your chest. In that moment, your legs brought you further and further away from the mansion. The farther away you managed to bring yourself from there, the closer you drew to breaking.

Your chest grew tight and the back of your throat began to burn with emotion. Tears had begun to sting the corners of your eyes, and before you knew it, your knees were crumbling from beneath you, sending you to the ground onto your hands and knees. Hot tears fell from your eyes, staining your cheeks as you punched the ground. Your emotions hit you like a runaway freight train. Anger. Sadness. Remorse. Hurt. They surged through your veins like a hurricane threatening to tear you apart from the inside out.

Your mind wandered back to the mission. You could still picture everything vividly. Hear everything vividly.

“Get out of here! Go! I can handle these assholes!” Logan had yelled at you while struggling against the rogue mutant and several of its cronies.

“No! I'm not leaving here without you! We came here as a team, we're leaving here as a team!” You had retorted. Ya'll were outnumbered and potentially outmatched. But neither of you wanted to give up so easily. Your protesting against Logan had distracted him enough to leave him vulnerable. Even if it was just a few seconds, you saw the impending attack coming.

“Logan!!!” You cried out, rushing to him and hastily pulled him out of the way of the approaching attack that landed you injured. You didn't care about your own well being at that moment. You had pulled Logan out of the way, but landed yourself severely injured and the rogue mutant had escaped.

As you thought back to it, the more tears that fell down your cheeks. You were mad at yourself, mad at Logan, mad at everyone and anyone possibly that was involved on that mission. But that wasn't even the part that had hurt you the most. It was the argument after you had recovered.

“When I tell you to leave, I mean it. You could have gotten yourself killed! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was trying to protect you! You're welcome by the way. No thank you. No that you're glad I'm okay. No nothing?! Just straight to tearing into me?!”

“Protect me? By getting yourself killed?! Oh, very smart. Perfect. You almost got yourself killed and we failed the mission thanks to you!”

“Fuck you. You can be a real prick, Logan. A real fucking prick.”

“Rather be a prick than an idiot, Princess.”

“Just get out. If you're just here to lecture me, then get the fuck out! Get out! I'm done!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

That wasn't how you wanted things to go. It wasn't how you pictured things would go. The last thing you wanted to do was to yell at Logan the way you had, much less end things on such a sour note. You sniffle, wiping your eyes on the back of your wrists. The damage was done. The words were said. You curse under your breath at yourself for breaking down again like this. Just as you began to move to get to your feet, you could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Your heart crawled its way deep into your throat, making you almost choke on your own breath. You recognized that stride; Logan. What the hell was he doing out here?

He walked next to you without a word. His brows were knitted together tightly, eyes dark and lost in thought. Without a word, he plops down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the dark labyrinth of forest that surrounded the mansion. A rich had worked its way into his jaw as he silently mulled things over in his head. There was so much he wanted to say, but yet he still remained adamant on not breaking his silent treatment towards you.

It took everything in you to not stare at him. Your heart somersaulted in your chest. It felt like you were laying your eyes on him for the first time all over again. You missed him, and he missed you, but both of you were too level headed to say anything. You swallow dryly as the corners of his lips twitch slightly. Fuck. You knew he could hear the way your heart was fluttering. You wanted to stay mad at him, but at this point, you didn't have the energy anymore. Before you can open your mouth, by some miracle, he broke the unofficial oath of silence between you two.

“Stop trying to fake it. I can hear it , y'know.” You wanted nothing more than to pounce on him right then and there, but you kept your composure. Sniffling again, you shrug off his comment.

“I was jogging. Of course my heart is going to be beating a little harder, Captain Obvious.” You practically hiss at him. It was growing harder to stay mad at him. You missed him. You missed his voice. You missed the way he smelled of oak, leather, and mint. You frantically blink away the tears that threatened to form in the corners of your eyes.

“Can tell the difference, Princess. Don't have to lie about it,” he states bluntly. He knew he was getting under your skin at this point. You hated how smug he appeared to be. You hated how he could be so comfortable doing this without so much as an apology. At this point you'd be satisfied with a half-assed ‘I was wrong’ from him, but you knew that would never happen.

Silence then fell between each of you again. You tried your best to ignore him being there, focusing your attention on anything but him. But his presence was damn near unbearable. He had sat close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, but just far enough to be right out of immediate touch. You catch yourself glancing at him, eyeing him up and down. With the white beater he wore, you could see how visibly tense he was. His biceps looked tense, hard even. His chest slowly rose and fell with steady breaths. It felt impossible to pry your eyes off of him.

“Y'know, for being so mad at me, you sure are starin’ a lot. S'there something on your mind?” He finally turns to face you, cocking his head to the side. You tried your best to look away from him, but for some reason, he just wasn't having that. He moved closer to you despite your efforts to keep your gaze away from him. He finally settles himself in front of you; the way he was crouched in front of you forced you to drag your eyes towards him. His gaze was hard on you, but something about it was different. Part of you half expected another lecture to come from him.

“If you came out here to give me another lecture, you're wasting your time.” You state bluntly and try to turn away from him, but he grabs your knee tightly in his hand, dragging you closer to him. The sudden tug earns a soft yelp from you. The force causes you to fall against your back into the grass. Logan moves to rest his weight on the palms of his hands on either side of your head, his knees encasing your hips leaving you with nowhere to go. Your heart thundered in your chest and ears. As much as you wanted to stay mad at him, your body instinctively gave in to how easily he could overpower you. You felt mad; you felt hopeless; but underneath everything, you wanted him–no–needed him back. Tears began to burn the corners of your eyes again, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut again to keep the tears from falling.

Logan audibly exhales a heavy sigh. He moves his hand to gently rest on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. Seeing you like this tore him apart on the inside. This hurt him in ways he never knew he could hurt. “Look at me. C'mon, hey. Hey…look at me, please. You know damn good and well I don't like beggin’ now, Darlin’.”

His gaze was still hard on you, but his voice was surprisingly soft. You finally open your eyes to gaze up at him. God you wanted him so badly. You finally move your hands to gently rest against his chest. His heart thrumbed rhythmically deep in his chest; every beat you felt against the palm of your hand pushed your anger down further. You knew it, and he knew it too that neither of you meant all of those words from before. “Lo…I--I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…”

Your sentence is cut short as he presses his lips against yours for a hungry and needy kiss. He tasted heavenly on your lips, sinful even. His tongue flicks against your lower lip, begging for entrance. Your lips part with a needy moan, allowing him entrance. His fingers find their way into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging harshly to force you to crane your neck as another sinful moan fell from your lips. The new angle allows him to deepen the kiss even further. Your arms snake around his neck, wanting to hold him there and never let go.

He breaks away from the kiss to hungrily gulp down air. A string of saliva remained connected between both your and his lips. His eyes close again as he presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent and slowly exhaling a shaky breath. “M'sorry too. I really am. Thought I–I was going to lose you…” He buries his face into the hollow of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites along your pulse. The heat of his breath against your skin sends bolts of electricity through your body. A layer of goosebumps scratch their way onto the surface of your skin.

“Lo…” You whine quietly, craning your neck to give him better access. The scruff on his chin scrapes against your skin, making your eyes flutter as your entire body begins to grow hot. You wanted him. Needed him. A soft gasp escapes you at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your tender skin just above your collarbone. Any harder and you knew his teeth would draw blood, but you didn't care. You wanted him to take you, to mark you, to make you his again. “Lo, please…my god, please…”

He releases your shoulder, his mouth leaving behind a rapidly bruising hickey there. You couldn't help the heat that you felt growing in the pits of your gut and loins. Your thighs ached and your pussy burned for him and his touch. You lift your head to gaze up at him. He was hunkered down on all fours, his eyes were dark, primal even as he licked his lips. He could still taste your sweet and tender skin on his lips, and he wanted more, needed more. Your heart began to thunder uncontrollably within your chest. Fear and arousal filled your body. The sweet scents made his pupils dilate as he breathed you in once more, growling lowly deep in his chest.

“Run. Run little lamb. I'll be kind enough to give you a headstart.” He husks through a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes was so much more than a wanting need. This was a primal want, a hunger–a hunger that only longed for you and your body. Your legs felt weak with fear and arousal. There was only one other time you had experienced Logan like this, and by God's did you want to experience it again. You're slow to get to your feet. Your head is swimming with different emotions and scenarios.

“Lo–”

“Ten seconds, little lamb.”

Fuck, he was serious. You were almost too afraid to turn and run.

“Nine.”

He was standing at this point. He stood close to a foot over you in height. The corner of his lips twitched into a near snarling grin as he started to walk–no–stalk towards you. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, you manage to find the strength in you to try to run. You didn't know where you would run to; all you knew is that your legs went into overdrive, carrying you wherever you could. All you knew is that you had to run. Run as far and fast as you possibly could. You glance over your shoulder, seeing him still standing there with his eyes still trained on you.

‘Five. Come on legs, move! Faster dammit! Faster!’ Your thoughts raced wildly. You had two options, run to the forest or try to run to the Mansion. You felt hopeless, cause at any second, you knew Logan would be on you like a rabid and hungry animal. The thought of that only added to your growing arousal. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable. You needed some sort of friction to help with the ever growing ache.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! Oh god, I can hear him. Move legs! Move faster, dammit!’ It was undeniable. You knew Logan was now rapidly closing in on the distance you had made from him. You could hear every breathy, pant he took with every step he made towards you. Taking one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes widened in shock at how quickly he moved across the ground. He was on all fours, bounding towards you with no intention of stopping until he had you in his grasp. You try to force your legs to move faster, but your calves begin to burn. You were doomed. Your chest and lungs burned with every breath you gulped down. He was drawing himself closer by the second. You could see his silhouette on the ground behind you growing nearer. You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“Not fast enough, little lamb.” His voice rasped as he grew closer. Within seconds, his arms are curling around you as he tackles you down to the ground. Curling his body around yours, he takes most of the impact as you're both sent tumbling across the grass. You desperately try to push him off, but it’s to no avail. You're pinned to the ground by him, but still, you desperately try to wriggle free from him which only makes him growl with pleasure at your struggling.

“Logan, please.” You whine again, chest heaving and body aching. You try to rub your thighs together for friction, but that idea is short-lived. Using his knees, he forces your thighs apart while hungrily crashing his lips against yours. The heat of his mouth swallows up your moans.

“Please what? Use your words, little lamb.” He husks against your lips. His hands snatch your wrists as you try to touch his chest, pinning them above your head. Like this, you were completely at his mercy, awaiting to viciously and lavishly be devoured by him.

“Need you. I need you. Please. Logan, I need you.” You beg hopelessly beneath him. He growls lowly under his breath, his entire body vibrating against yours as he does so. You weren't sure how much longer you could handle this. Your entire body felt like it would explode at any moment from the anticipation. “Logan, I need you…need you to take me…claim me…fuck me…”

“That's a good little lamb,” he husks again. His voice is raspy, bassy even. Leaning back onto his heels, he pulls you flush against his chest with a sinister smirk. “Tonight, you're mine, and only mine.” In one fluid motion, he's onto his feet, pulling you along with him as he tosses you over his shoulder with ease. You clamp a hand over your own mouth to muffle your pitiful squeak. This was it, you were done for, but by the gods did you need this. For days, each of you had been starved of attention, affection and each other's touch. Each of you needed this more than either of you could comprehend.

His chest was heaving. The scent of your arousal was driving him crazy. He could hear your heart fluttering rapidly in your chest, your shallow breaths, and the soft, muffled whimpers of need that you desperately tried to hide through the palm of your hand. Every step, he grew closer to the Mansion where he quietly entered and made his way up the stairs with you. You prayed that everyone was still asleep; that no one would be able to hear the way he was going to fuck you.

He sets you down so that he can open the door to the bedroom he shared with you. You practically stumble through the door, eager for his touch to be on you again. Once the door is closed and locked, he's on you again like a feral animal. His lips crash against yours as he backs you up towards the bed. He breaks the kiss for a moment, eagerly tugging your shirt up your body and over your arms, tossing it somewhere across the room. You take the opportunity to hike his beater up his stomach and chest; grabbing the garment and tugging it over his head, he tosses it as well before reconnecting his lips to yours.

His fingers maneuver around the waist of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them with ease. Your hands wrestle with his, eagerly tugging both your jeans and panties down your thighs while trying to kick off your shoes. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest at your eagerness. Gripping your hips tightly, he guides you to lay back onto the mattress where you finish kicking off your shoes and garments. He drags his eyes across your body. The moonlight casts soft shadows across your curves, making him drag his tongue across his lower lip.

“You next,” you pant to him. You needed him like a drug. Against his will, you sat up and eagerly reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle due to how your hands trembled. He groans as you eagerly tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs; his erection springing free from the confines of his boxers. You move to take him into your mouth, but he stops you with a harsh hand on your throat.

“Oh no, princess. Not this time. Tonight, you're mine. You belong to me.” The words sounded like sinful silk coming from his mouth. You scoot back onto the mattress, heart pounding as he follows right behind you. Beads of sweat rested along the ridge of his brows and his back glistened in the pale moonlight of the room as he drew closer to you. He wraps your legs over the top of his shoulders, dipping his head into the aching heat between your thighs. He slowly drags his tongue through the slick folds of your cunt. You moan heatedly, arching your back slightly at the sensation. He growls into your slick cunt, sending vibrations straight to your core as he drags his tongue through your cunt again, pausing over your clit where he draws tight, deliberate circles over the bundle of nerves.

His fingers dug deep into the fleshy parts of your thighs, his nails leaving tiny crescent shapes that were bound to bruise later. A needy growl falls from his lips as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Your legs trembled at the sensation, making you desperately grind yourself into the demanding heat of his mouth. He pulls away briefly, only to dive back into the heat between your legs. His tongue plunges into your sopping and trembling cunt; the scruff on his chin adds the friction you desperately needed. Your hands manage to find the crown of his head; your fingers become entangled in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you desperately chant his name.

“Mmph–fuck, Lo…don't stop, don't stop…” You chant through desperate, breathy pants. He was edging you closer and closer to your first orgasm. He could feel the way your pussy flexed as you were nearing your first orgasm of the night. He groans at the way you ground your cunt into his mouth. His hand releases your thigh, plunging two fingers deep into your trembling core. His tongue flicks against your clit again, and again, drawing you closer to spilling over the edge. He draws his fingers away, only to plunge them deep into you again in rhythm with the movements of his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….Logan, I'm so close…please–” Your eyes roll to the back kf your head as your vision goes white. Your first orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your thighs shake and tremble uncontrollably as you desperately try to push him away from your aching clit, but his grip on your thigh helps to hold you down in place. It felt as though your whole body was lit ablaze while you rode out your first high of the night, gasping for air as he finally pulled away once he's finished lapping you up.

“You're doing so well for me. Look at you, making such a mess for me like a good girl.” He coos while massaging your thighs. The remnants of your orgasm glisten on his chin as he drags his eyes across your body again. “I fucking need you. Crave you. We're just getting started. Don't tell me you're all fucked out already.” He places a tender and chaste kiss to your clit, and then onto your stomach, working a trail up the length of your body until he meets your lips. You eagerly and hungrily kiss him, tasting yourself upon his lips and tongue.

“No. Need you. Please.” You beg against his lips. He rests his weight on one of his forearms, using his other hand to swipe the head of his cock through your still ever weeping cunt. A shaky sigh falls from your lips as his cock slowly fills your still sensitive and overstimulated folds. He pulls out, only to snap his hips against yours, filling you to the brim as he buries his entire length into you up to the hilt. You groan into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His lips find yours again, desperate and needy. Your lips part, allowing him more access into your mouth. Your tongue meets his, dancing for dominance through the kiss. He tasted heavenly sinful on your tongue; you could still taste the faint remnants of yourself in his mouth and saliva. He snaps his hips against yours again, grinding his hips against yours. You whimper out out needy moan as he somehow buries himself deeper into your folds. Every thrust of his hips was harsh and deliberate, filling you to the core and splitting you open more.

You break away from the kiss, your lips meeting his jaw with a trail of kisses along his jawline and to his neck and throat. You trail your tongue along the length of his pulse while dragging your nails down his back. He growls almost primitively, snapping his hips once again. The room is filled with the sinful sounds of skin colliding against skin; the sounds mixed into the soft symphony of moans and groans that come from both you and Logan.

“Do it again. Fuck…” He groans against the shell of your ear. Nodding, you rake your nails down his chest this time, your nails leave behind welting scratch marks on his skin. Your back arches up from the mattress as he slips a hand between your bodies; his fingers find your clit, drawing tight circles around the bud, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you. Desperate for more, you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the back of his thighs. Your toes curl as another coil begins to tighten in your abdomen. His cock throbbed deep within your quivering pussy, his length dragging along your walls made your legs tremble and shake.

“Lo…Oh fuck, I'm so close…” You pant desperately. Your hands rest on his shoulder blades, your nails sinking into his chiseled back. His thrusts stutter slightly, faltering as he grew near the edge. You could feel the way his cock throbbed that he was close to orgasm. “Oh fuck…please, Logan…don't stop, Don't stop…” You chant, burying your face into the hollow of his neck.

“Fuck…you're so tight. Feel so fucking good. Want you to cum on my cock. Cum for me, princess. Fuck…” He groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin with every desperate pant that escapes from him. He slips his other arm underneath your back, pulling you close against him as the walls of your pussy tighten and contract around his cock. Your vision blurs to white again as you cry out his name like a sinful prayer. He groans heatedly, his back arching as his orgasm finally hits not too far behind yours, painting the inside of your cunt and cervix white.

His thrusts slow until his hips finally still against yours. He pants raggedly against your shoulder, removing his hand from your abused and overly stimulated clit. He gazes down at you, his expression soft and brows furrowed with concern. The back of his throat burned with emotion as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He asks softly, his hand gingerly cups your cheek.

You shake your head, placing a tender kiss on his nose. “No. Not at all. I'm so sorry, Logan…for everything. I didn't mean any of what I said…”

“Ssshhh…I know, I know…” He gently pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back with you laying on his chest. His heart pounded rhythmically against your hands. “I'm sorry too…I was a dick. I shouldn't have yelled at you.” His eyes fell on the jagged scar that now claimed the lower left portion of your abdomen. His eyes soften more as his hand gently touches the scar for the first time since you had been released from the infirmary.

“Guess this means we're on talking terms again? No more silent treatment?” You try to tease lightly, which earns a chuckle from Logan.

“Oh,I think we're well past the silent treatment, princess.” He gently pulls you down for another chaste kiss.

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ PINKY PROMISE ୧

Summary: Y/n finally confronts her abusive dad, leading to a massive argument, where she leaves the house.

Warnings: Angst, daddy issues, violence, cussing.

Notes: English is not my first language, so I’m sorry about any mistake!

୨୧

Im on the living room couch since my dad left the house. My eyes blink slowly, struggling to stay open. I see on my phone, 2AM. The big yellow light only makes me drowsier at each second that goes by. As soon as my eyes close, I hear the door opening, automatically getting my attention.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. I watch the old man walking through the living room with a bottle of beer in his hand. The familiar smell of alcohol fills the room. He looks in my direction, his eyes narrowing as they land on me. “What the hell are you doing still up?" He asks with a tone of accusation.

I hesitate before answering, finding the right words. “I.. I was just waiting for you, dad.” I reply. The tension in the room is big.

"Waiting for me? More like waiting to nag me, you little brat." He scoffs as he walks over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and getting another alcoholic drink.

I feel the rage burning inside me, but I push it down, knowing it will only make things worse. “I was worried about you” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “You were gone for hours, and..”

But before I can finish my sentence, he cuts me off with a bit of a laugh. “You are just like your mother, always putting your nose where you are not called” He takes another swig from the bottle. I put my phone in my pocket. I start getting up, maybe going to bed was actually the best idea, but it looks like he still has things to say. “You're the last person who should be worried about me, little bitch.”

All his words just remind me of how much I hate him. Since my mom died, nothing has been the same. He started getting into alcohol, drinking every day. I have bruises from all the times he had ever hit me. I hate when he mentions my mom, like he didn’t even loved her. I turn myself to him. “It’s not my fault you go out to drink like a fucking addicted, just because you can’t stand the idea of mom not being here anymore!” I say. “And I shouldn’t be worried?!”

“You are just like her” He looks at me with disgusted eyes. “Always running your mouth, just like your goddamn mother.” He gets closer, his breath hitting my face. “If she was here, she would be embarrassed of having you as a daughter, just like I am.” He pauses. “You are just a mistake. I wish I had used a condom that night. No one can fucking stand you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.” I try to convince myself. Some tears running down my face, I just can’t avoid them. I feel more and more angry.

He simply keeps talking. “And let me tell you,“ He points an accusing finger at me. “That shitty boyfriend of yours? He’s just with you out of pity.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about. You don’t know him, dad.” My breath gets heavier.

“He’s just using you, like everyone around you, piece of shit. You will see, as soon as he finds someone bett-“

Suddenly, before he could finish talking, I push him away from me, making him lose balance, almost getting him on the floor. “Stop! Just shut the fuck up already! Leave me the fuck alone!” I scream, tears blur my vision.

But my father’s rage only seems to intensify. He doesn’t give up. He comes back, his hand connects with my cheek, slapping me across the face, leaving a red mark. For some moments, I froze. “I hate you!” I yell "I hate being here! I hate every moment spent under this roof with you!"

“Ungrateful brat! That’s all you are!” He affirms, louder than me.

“I hate the way you treat me, the way you talk to me, the way you make me feel like I'm worthless! I’m out of here!” I use the same tone as him, but this time sobbing. And with that, I start walking towards the front door, I open it.

“Sure! get the fuck out of my house! And I don’t wanna see your ass back here when you realize the shit you’ve made!” He tells me. I take one last look at him before shutting the door.

I start crying uncontrollably as I walk through the dark streets. I don’t even have where to go, I just wanna get out of this place. The only thing I can think of is Chris. I need him. He’s the only one who will understand me.

The panic just builds up as I walk the fastest I can to his house. Each step that I take doesn’t feel real. How the fuck is this actually happening. After an eternity, I finally reach his house. I ring on the doorbell, nothing. It just makes me cry more and more. I ring again, still nothing. Until I finally see the door opening. His eyes half closed, shirtless only with his pajama pants on. He blinks in confusion.

“Y/n? What’s.. What’s wrong? What are you doing here?” He asks with his husky voice.

“Chris.. Im sorry.. I..” I try to speak but the words catch in my throat, I’m only able to cry. He pulls me into a hug, my head buries on the crook of his neck as I keep breaking down. He holds me tightly, as I cling to him, my tears soaking his bare skin.

He kisses the top of my head a few times “Shh it’s okay..” He whispers. “You don’t gotta say anything right now, I just need you to breathe, love. I’ve got you..” We stay like this for some moments, until I calm down a bit.

He pulls me back from the hug, making me look at him. “Why don’t you come in so we can talk better, huh?” He questions me calmly. Chris leads me to his room, always holding my hand. As we get there, he closes the door behind us.

“Let me get you something more comfortable to wear” He looks on his wardrobe. As soon as he finds it, he hands me an oversized hoodie and some fluffy pajama pants. Once I'm settled into the cozy clothes, my boyfriend guides me to his bed. We lay down, my head on his chest as a pillow. He strokes my hair gently. “I hate seeing you like this.. Do you talk about what happened?”

I sniff. “It’s just.. Everything with my dad..” My voice shakes as I talk. I start tearing up once again. ”We argued again, but this time.. I said I wasn’t coming back there, but I don’t even have anywhere to go..” I go back to crying.

“Listen to me, you do. You have me, you are staying here for how long you need to. I’m sorry I didn’t got you out of that house earlier.” He rubs my back.

I sigh. I look up at him with my watery eyes. “Can I make you a question?” I whisper.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you ever.. Do you ever regret being with me? Do you ever wish you were with someone else?”

Chris's brows furrow with concern as he looks into my tear-filled eyes. “Hey, hey, hey.. Why are you asking me that?”

“I don’t know.. My dad is always telling me how you are going to leave me and.. I.. I don’t know..” I say insecure.

Chris cups my face with his hands. “Y/n listen to me, those are just lies. Im not going to leave you and I don’t regret being with you, I love you.”

“Do you promise me?” He wipes away my tears with his thumb.

He extends his pinky finger towards me. “Wanna make a pinky promise?” His sentence makes me chuckle a bit, like a little kid. Slowly, I reach out and intertwine my pinky finger with his. “I promise that I will always be here for you, Y/n.” He smiles. “Now can you promise me that you will never doubt about it?”

“I promise Chris.” He gives me a soft peck on my lips.

୨୧

omg this end was so shitty

taglist: @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @orangelala @annamcdonalds67 @lilo7sworld @soso-scarlettolivia @junnniiieee07

[chaesparklez]

holiday fling | jiwoong x reader

wc: 2.4k

reader: femme afab: heavily gendered descriptions (reader is described with gendered terms, described to be wearing lingerie, having breasts)

warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+

alcohol consumption, oral f! receiving, heavy petting, vaginal sex, one night stand, teasing, spanking, once again mentions of reader being female!!

synopsis: a hot mysterious stranger approaches you on the roof of your hotel on vacation. after chatting to you through a night filled with sexual tension, he slips a chit of paper into your hand inscribed with only one thing- his room number. by the energy built up between you, you just know exactly what’ll happen once you step foot in that room. :)

a/n: cross posted on wattpad and ao3. full version available on both platforms by yours truly. wattpad+ao3 @/chaesparkle

you've been staring at your reflection so hard it's starting to distort itself.

you had been slowly making yourself up for the past 45 minutes, spraying scent on freshly showered skin and dabbing cream highlight across your cheekbones. you'd come to the decision that you were going to jiwoong's hotel room tonight.

a couple of days had passed since the night on the terrace which you were still surprised wasn't a fever dream. it wasn’t often that a tall handsome stranger approached you out of nowhere and started flirting… and you actually flirted back.

you had decided to say 'fuck it' and take up his lucrative offer. those raven black eyes and wily smile had charmed you.

and after all, what was the harm in having some fun on vacation?

so you find yourself stood outside the mahogany door with '107' marked in gold letters on it. taking a deep breath, you knock.

and there he is. the man himself, standing before you in all his glory in grey sweatpants, hair still damp from the shower and smelling amazing. jiwoong greets you with his lazy smile, leaning against the doorframe in that laidback sexy way that seemed to entice you here in the first place.

"and she finally makes her appearance. come on in," he says, gesturing for you to enter with a nod of his head.

the suite is amazing. cream interior with windows stretching from floor to ceiling through which you can see the view of the whole city. the room is dimly lit with only the warm light of a tall floor lamp.

'it's nice to see you again. how are you?'

"never been better."

jiwoong sidles over to the window and gazes out at the sparkling view.

"it's a beautiful view." you comment.

he turns around and smiles.

"it's a very, very beautiful view." he remarks, walking over to you while taking in your appearance. your heart skips a beat at his piercing gaze which now focuses on your deep red lips.

"would you like some wine?"

"i'd love some."

he pours a glass of plum wine for you both before proffering his glass to cheers.

"what should we cheers to?"

"to this impossibly gorgeous view. to this long summer night. and to us?" you smile.

"to us." he grins, clinking your glasses together. he takes your hand gently and guides you to sit on the plushy king-sized bed where you perch down gingerly.

"i'm sorry i approached you so abruptly." he says.‘ever since i saw you i just felt this overwhelming feeling.'

"a good or a bad feeling?" you ask, smiling and sipping your wine.

"i thought i was going insane. it’s not everyday you come across a beautiful woman like you. whatever i felt when i saw you, it was... primal."

"well then, i guess that doesn't make you the only insane person." you mutter delicately.

your heart rate quickens as a moment of silence passes between you. you gaze up into his eyes before they travel down to his full lips, the sexual tension in the air almost palpable. he brushes your hair away from your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. his thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, his gaze fixed on those ruby lips once again.

a mischievous idea comes into your head. and you proceed to take his thumb into your mouth while maintaining eye contact the whole time.

jiwoong purses his lips and squeezes his eyes closed while shaking his head, overcome with lust. taking a step away from you he runs a hand through his hair and curses under his breath, muttering just loud enough for you to hear:

"you drive me crazy."

"i could say the same to you as well." cocking your head to the side and giving him a mischievous grin.

you stand up and inch towards him with your hands behind your back. coming so close to him you can smell his earthy cologne, you look into his eyes again.

'you know, i dreamt of you that night. after we met on the terrace.'

"oh?"

"mhmm."

he pulls you in by the waist so you're merely inches away.

"and what did we get up to in this dream?" he asks, a dark glint in his eye.

your hand, which rests against his muscled chest, strokes down slowly as you lean in closer.

"you fucked the shit out of me." you whisper into his ear.

a beat.

and his lips are on yours.

he kisses you passionately, his lips soft and warm against your own. the kiss is hot and sultry, the two of you desperately hungry for one another. your heartbeat goes crazy and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he intensifies the kiss. you naturally sink onto the bed so he's on top of you. the heat of your bodies combined only increases your hunger for one another, his hand slowly travelling up your thigh to trace the line of your panties. you shiver at his cool touch and run your hands through his hair.

exploring each other's bodies, you caress his muscled chest. your hand travels down to his perfect abs; you feel his growing erection pressed against your pelvis and he takes a sharp intake of breath as your hand brushes over it. in return his touch travels up to your breasts gently massaging them over your bra.

the white robe you wear begins to slip down your shoulder with the movement, exposing your skin, and jiwoong's mouth strays from your lips down to your neck, sucking and nibbling gently on your soft skin. he leaves gentle kisses on the sensitive part of your neck where it meets the collarbone. it feels so good you can't help but let out a gentle moan, waves of pleasure blooming throughout your body right to the tips of your fingers.

he removes his t shirt before taking off your robe and tossing it aside so you can feel each other's bare skin. god, the view of him on top of you with those muscles on full display has you reeling.

his kisses wander from your neck to your collarbone across to the shoulder, then back to your lips. the tip of his tongue slides across your teeth, and you moan once again. you need more; you need him all over you.

you pull away for a moment, the two of you breathless and flushed with desire. he takes a look at you lying underneath him; the view of you gazing up at him with pink cheeks and your lipstick smudged makes him positively ravenous for you.

removing your bra and throwing it aside in a swift movement, he begins to massage one of your breasts while sloppily licking and sucking the hardened nipple of the other; his cold hand contrasting with the heat of his tongue circling your nipple. you sigh in pleasure, running your fingers along his exposed back.

between kisses you ask in a yearning voice: "please. i need your lips. your tongue. down here." you take his hand and place it between your legs, where without missing a beat he strokes along the line of your dripping wet pussy, his middle finger massaging your clit in circular motions, making you gasp between his lips at his touch.

with swollen lips and tousled hair, he locks eyes with you and slowly sinks down to your legs before taking off your panties.

he runs his tongue up along the length of your pussy and down again allowing himself to enjoy your sweet juices. eating you out fast and sloppily, the room is filled with your moans at the relentless flicks of his tongue against your clit. gripping your thighs, you arch into his touch as he continues to lick your pussy with ravenous desire. he sucks right on your clit, the suction sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body.

his passion, the messiness of it, the rawness of everything is so erotic. your thighs begin to tremble around his face and you weave your fingers through his thick black hair pulling in desperation, feeling your climax coming close already.

"f-fuck me..." you whimper, head spinning.

upon hearing this he emerges from between your legs with messy hair and wetness dripping down his chin. wiping it with the back of his hand before slowly making his way back up to you.

with him on top of you and your legs wrapped around him you can feel his hard length on your center. finally straying away from your body, he pauses to take a condom out of the bedside drawer.

he tears open the condom packet with his teeth in an irresistibly sexy way, looking right at you with those dark bedroom eyes. then removes his shorts. you gape at his fully grown length, unable to help rubbing your thighs together at how the sight before you makes you even wetter. just before he puts it on, you find yourself asking:

“can i do it?”

he hands it over and as you take his length into your hand for a moment he lets out a deep moan under his breath, making you smile in amusement and gaze up at him, stroking it once to tease him.

"don't," he breathes. 'it's hard enough trying not to cum without you looking at me like that.' he brushes your hair away from your eyes.

placing the condom on his tip you lean forward and roll it down with your mouth, prompting another suppressed moan from him. he curses under his breath at the feeling of your lips around his length. unable to stand it, he roughly pushes you back onto the bed.

your breath quickens, your chest rising and falling in close proximity with the heat of his body. you bite your lip in anticipation.

"tell me if it hurts." he says in a deepened voice.

then he thrusts his cock deep inside you. you cry out in pleasure and grip at the sheets, your walls clenching around him. as he begins to move his hips, you grasp at his back leaving faint scratches on it. the sensation of his touch all over your body making every cell in your body light up in response.

he fucks you passionately, robbing you of your breath. you feel every inch of his throbbing cock inside you hitting your g spot with every rough thrust. he burrows his face into your neck and moans deeply, so you can feel the vibrations on your skin.

making out with you sloppily, he picks up the pace, fucking you hard and fast so the room is filled with the sound of your desperate moans and skin slapping against skin. you throw your head back in desire and moan without holding back.

"ah, fuck! just like that. please. keep going."

"how much do you want it? beg for me."

"p-please. please jiwoong. fuck me. go deeper."

"oh yeah? and what if i don't?" he contests, smirking.

he pulls out and strokes along the length of your center with his cock deliberately refusing to enter you. the stimulation against your sensitive clit combined with his husky voice whispering filth in your ear has you in pieces. you cant handle this anymore.

you move out from underneath him and pin him down, straddling him. surprised at first, that dangerous smirk of his creeps onto his face again as he takes in the view before him. he places his hands on your hips and squeezes your ass, letting his touch wander up to caress your waist, your breasts.

"you look so good on top of me like that." he mutters.

"you don't look too bad yourself," you smile and lean down to plant a hot kiss on his lips.

then you take in his length once again and begin to ride him, stimulating your clit with every movement while enjoying the feeling of his cock inside you. he squeezes your hips tighter and moans. he really does look so hot laying underneath you. his abdominals ripple in pleasure and his neck glimmers with sweat. his eyes fixate on your undulating body without wavering. you stroke your hand slowly down from his chest to his abs and whisper, "you like that?" in a breathy voice.

"mhmm" he replies, eyes closed and head thrown back.

you grin, satisfied, and continue to ride him. the sound of your combined moans reverberates around the room and your pussy throbs at how jiwoong looks at you with eyes filled with lust. you take his hand and place it on your breast, which he fondles with his firm grip. he rolls the tip of your nipple between his fingers. you whine loudly and throw your head back while riding him, your body rolls becoming slow and drawn out before coming to a stop.

switching positions, you place yourself on all fours and sink your head to rest on your arms while jiwoong positions himself behind you. slowly, so you can feel every pulsating vein, he slides his length into your pussy. you moan at how you can feel every inch of his cock inside you in this position. and once again he fucks you intensely as if he has something to prove, his hands gripping your ass hard and using the momentum to fuck you deeper. he alternates between deep, rough thrusts and smooth movements grinding his hips. you hide your face in the pillow stifling your moans but you feel him pull your head back with a tug to your hair.

"let it all out, princess. you don't have to be quiet here." he says, kissing the nape of your neck.

you cry out in pleasure just as he expects, to which he continues fucking you intensely and spanks your ass. your pussy clenches around his length at this, the sensation of your throbbing pussy combined with the way your ass tingles from the slap making you so wet you can feel it dripping down your legs. you beg for more and he obliges. you moan desperately at every spank landed on your trembling ass. you feel your climax come close and grasp at the pillow.

"fuck, i'm cumming, i'm cumming.." you whimper before your climax finally hits you, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you. your body trembles, overcome with sweet relief, and your pussy throbs around jiwoong's length. he cums right after, finishing with deep solid thrusts while moaning deeply. he gently massages the throbbing red skin of your ass and pulls out.

and like that, your bodies come to a repose. you sink into one another like withered leaves on the bed, jiwoong resting his head on your breasts.

a holiday fling, indeed.

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.2  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.4

p.3

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

the pancake incident

Rinse and repeat.

You’d woken up early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon.

The soft light filled the quiet apartment as you made your way to the kitchen, setting to work on breakfast for you and Megumi.

The sizzle of the batter hitting the pan was soothing—until you heard it.

That deep, timbered voice cut through the stillness, freezing you in place. Your heart stuttered, leaping to an uneasy rhythm as your grip tightened on the spatula.

“Whatcha makin’, doll?”

Your head whipped around, panic flaring before you processed who it was. Toji stood in the doorway, an amused gleam in his sharp eyes, his posture lazy, yet still fucking predatory. Your hand instinctively pressed to your chest, as if that could calm the racing pulse beneath it.

You weren’t normally so skittish, but something about the unexpected appearance had you on edge.

So, he just came and went as he pleased?

You hadn’t seen the man since the day you first arrived. You forced a steadying breath, slipping your well-practiced mask of indifference into place. He wasn’t like Megumi—far from it. No - Toji carried an energy that was entirely his own, one that set your nerves on edge the moment he stepped into a room.

He didn’t evoke the cautious hesitance of a stray cat, like his son. Toji was a predator on the prowl, deliberate and calculating, always watching, always waiting. This man could send you straight back to your clan house - in seconds, if you so breathed the wrong way. 

“Pancakes.” 

“Pancakes?” 

The word echoed from the doorway behind Toji, this time gruffer and laced with grogginess.

You glanced over to see Megumi standing there, rubbing at his eyes, his hair sticking up in a disheveled mess. He looked half-asleep, his usual scowl firmly in place.

How long had he been there? Your gaze softened instinctively as he shuffled to the table, his mood sour but oddly endearing. This didn't go unnoticed.

Toji’s gaze flicked between you and Megumi before he strode further into the kitchen. Each step carried a deliberate weight, the kind that made your chest tighten ever so slightly. You gripped the spatula in your hand a little tighter, trying to focus on the task at hand. But ready for anything.

His large hand ruffled Megumi’s already messy hair, a gesture that might have seemed affectionate— if not for the immediate tension in the boy’s shoulders and the scowl that darkened his face. He must hate his hair being touched-

“Megs,” Toji drawled, his tone almost teasing. “You been fightin’ again?”

The question made you pause mid-stir, your ears unconsciously tuning in to the exchange. Fighting? Megumi?

You kept your gaze on the bowl of batter, carefully inspecting for clumps, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder to catch Megumi’s reaction.

Megumi shoved Toji’s hand off with more force this time, his scowl deepening. “What’s it matter to you?” he snapped, his glare unwavering.

You stir the pancake batter inspecting for clumps. 

Toji snorted, clearly more entertained than annoyed. “What’d I tell ya about stirring up trouble, huh? I’m not in the mood to keep gettin' calls from your school. Been givin' them hell, haven't ya?”

Your brows arched slightly at that, though you kept your expression neutral, focusing on the stove. Did he say again? The idea of Megumi being a repeat troublemaker was a little...difficult to imagine. But you guessed with the grumpiness territory...

Once happy with the consistency, you poured three even dollops of batter onto the buttered pan, the soft sizzle a backdrop to their argument.

“Again, what’s it matter to you?” Megumi shot back, his tone colder this time. It surprised you, definitely. He hadn't even sounded so cold when he first found you here the other day.

The batter spread evenly across the pan, sizzling softly. You started counting under your breath, a small habit to keep focused.

An exasperated sigh broke the tension. “Megs,” Toji said, his tone heavy with irritation.

The bubbles began to rise along the edges of the batter. It was nearly time to flip.

“It matters, kid,” Toji continued, his voice somewhat firmer now. “You think I like getting phone calls from your school? M’just tryin’ to tell you from experience. You don’t wanna end up going down that way.”

Sliding the spatula under the first pancake, you flipped it cleanly, the golden brown surface glowing under the light. One down.

Megumi’s scoff was sharp, cutting through the room like a knife. It carried more bite than you’d heard from him before, his frustration palpable.

Your grip on the spatula tightened reflexively for a moment, the tension winding through you. But you forced yourself to breathe, counting again under your breath.

Focus: golden brown, no burnt edges.

No need to step in—not your fight.

“Don’t start with me,” Toji warned, his voice dropping into something more dangerous. “I’m still your old man, like it or not. Show some respect.”

The second pancake flipped smoothly, landing perfectly beside the first.

The tension in the room felt like a weight pressing against your back, thick and suffocating. You focused on the task in front of you, but their words were impossible to ignore.

Megumi’s reply came fast, sharp, his disbelief laced with venom. “Respect? That’s rich coming from you.”

The pause that followed was too long, too heavy.

It crept along your spine, the kind of silence that felt like it could break something.

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you saw Toji slump into a chair across from his son, one hand dragging down his face. He looked older than he should, worn down by life—or whatever poor decisions he’s drowning in.

And yet, they continued, ignoring you entirely. Were they always this… explosive?

You turned back to the stove, focusing on the third and final pancake. Perfectly round, golden, and ready to join the others.

“Megs,” Toji said again, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “You’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep goin’ at people like this. I didn’t want that kinda life for you. Your mom didn’t want that kinda life for you.”

The spatula slid under the pancake with ease. You checked the underside—golden brown, just the way it should be—before transferring it to the stack.

“She’s not here,” Megumi muttered, his voice low and bitter.

The weight of his words made you pause, your chest tightening with an ache that wasn’t yours to feel.

“She hasn’t been here for a long time, and neither have you.”

The clink of the spatula against the plate sounded deafening in the suffocating quiet. You caught the creak of the chair as Toji leaned back.

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Toji’s tone was light, almost mocking, but you could hear the edge in it, the defense masked by flippancy.

Megumi’s response was immediate, a scoff sharp enough to cut through the air. “Yeah? For how long this time? A day? Two? Before you disappear again?” His voice irritated. “Just leave already. At least it’s quieter when you’re not here.”

The plate of pancakes in your hands suddenly felt heavier, your grip tightening as you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The air between them was thick with resentment, the kind of anger that only grows with time and neglect.

Still, you carefully placed the plate on the table, a quiet offering in the middle of their storm. You definitely don’t like the direction this conversation is going, feeling all too familiar and all too close to home. 

Toji chuckled dryly, but the sound rang hollow, void of any humor. “You’ve got a real sharp tongue for a kid, you know that? You think I enjoy just running off? Think I enjoy being out there instead of—”

“Instead of what?” Megumi snapped, his voice cutting. “Instead of pretending to be a father for a few hours before you disappear again? Just stop pretending. Nobody asked you to be here.”

Your hand hovered over the table, frozen as you turned your eyes to Toji. His smirk faltered, then vanished entirely, replaced by something unreadable. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze fixed firmly on Megumi.

“Watch your mouth, Megumi,” Toji said, his voice low, edged with warning. But the bite wasn’t there.

Exhaustion, more than anger, laced his words—a kind of weariness that seemed ingrained, as though this wasn’t the first time they’d had this fight.

You cleared your throat gently, pushing the plate of pancakes toward the center of the table, the syrup bottle placed neatly beside it.

“Please, eat,” you said softly, your voice even but careful, hoping to cut through the tension without stepping on either of their toes. It was a quiet reminder, a nudge toward civility. “They’ll get cold.”

Megumi didn’t budge, his glare still locked onto his father, the intensity in his eyes unrelenting. Toji’s gaze flickered toward the pancakes for a brief moment before he let out a long, drawn-out sigh, leaning further back.

“Look, kid,” Toji began, his tone rough, but with an edge of resignation. “I’m not gonna sit here and play house with you. I’ve got work to do. You think it’s easy keeping this place running?”

The pancakes sat untouched in the middle of the table, their warmth fading, much like the hope for a peaceful resolution.

Megumi’s laugh broke the silence, sharp and bitter, sending a chill up your spine.

“Keeping it running? You can’t even keep food in the house. She’s the only one who’s done anything around here,” he snapped, jerking his head toward you. The sudden shift of attention made you freeze, caught off guard. “And she hasn’t even been here more than a day or two. You don’t care about me, or her, or this house. So just go.”

Toji’s eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, it looked like he might argue, like he might actually try to defend himself. Instead, he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Got me all figured out, don’t you?” he muttered, his tone heavy with frustration, tinged with resignation.

The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing down on the room like a tangible weight, and you felt yourself panicking. It'd been a while since you felt this desperate. Your throat constricting.

You hated seeing Megumi deal with this—not like this. It didn’t seem fair, especially with what he was saying. If it was true, Toji was just an absent, shitty father.

But you weren’t one to judge the paint chip of a larger picture. There had to be more to this, with situations like this—there always was.

“You’ve got no idea what it’s like out there, kid,” Toji said finally, his voice quieter but still intense. “No idea what I’m trying to protect you from.”

“Protect me?” Megumi’s voice was low and brimming with disbelief, a growl of raw anger. “You mean leaving me to fend for myself? Yeah, real protective.”

The weight of their words, the hurt and misunderstanding clashing, was unbearable. Your hands are trembling now, unable to keep calm. Your breathing was picking up, a sense of control being lost. Unable to take it any longer, you decided to step in.

“That’s enough,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the tension, easily. The words easing you into a comportment of indifference. One you'd mastered over time.

Both of their heads snapped toward you, surprise flickering across their faces. Your hands were steeled, not a shake in sight. Your eyes are cold, emotionless. You pushed the plate of pancakes closer to Megumi, your tone firm as you spoke. “Eat,” you commanded, your voice brooking no argument. That was the most important thing to you in this moment.

Then you turned your gaze to Toji, meeting his sharp stare squarely. Your voice was even but unwavering, each word laced with quiet authority. If he wasn't going to act like an adult, you would.

“And you—if you’re going to stay, then stay. If you’re going to leave, then leave. But this back-and-forth stops now.”

The room felt all the more heavy, with you finally weighing in on it. The silence all encompassing. Your gaze never wavered, holding Toji’s with the same cold indifference you'd offered him the first time you two met. You were fully aware that this was a gamble.

Toji had the power to send you packing if he wanted, and yet the unease bubbling in your gut- constricting your throat- wouldn’t let you back down.

This didn't feel like some passing spat—it felt too personal, too raw, and it struck something in you. Were they always this way? Would it always be like this?

You turned, grabbing another plate of pancakes from the counter, and placed it on the table in front of Toji.

You didn’t particularly care if he ate, but you wanted your message to stick. This wasn’t about him. It was about the kid sitting across from him, the one glaring daggers but clearly in need of more than just food.

“Now, both of you—eat,” you said, the finality in your voice. No room for debate.

Toji blinks at you, his expression flickering for a brief moment—surprise, perhaps, or something close to it—before the mask of his smirk slips back into place.

The hesitation that lingers in the air feels heavy, almost suffocating, and you’re acutely aware of how still the room has become. Fear prickles at the edges of your mind, but you refuse to let it show. You move to the sink, hoping to distract yourself. At least the fight has stopped. At least that all consuming panic from before was gone.

But this man was too unpredictable to fully relax.

And you felt protective—of Megumi, of this fragile, imperfect family you’d somehow found yourself in. You had placed yourself into this motherly role. Into their family. And, in a way, protective of yourself, because for the first time in so long, you had something that felt almost...stable.

It hadn’t even been that long since you arrived...already, these small, fleeting interactions meant more to you than you wanted to admit. You’d spent too much of your life isolated, and now, the thought of losing the tentative bond you’d started to build made something twist painfully in your chest. No, you had something to protect. Someone. 

“Taking his side, huh?” Toji’s voice cuts through the room, low and edged with something that makes your stomach twist. His dark eyes trail over you, assessing, almost calculating. The tension coils tighter in your gut as he stares you down. There’s something unsaid lingering in the air, but you can see the gears turning behind his sharp gaze.

So you did have a bite.

Megumi, for his part, stabs a pancake with his fork, obediently, his movements stiff and jerky as he tears off a piece and dips it into the syrup dish. He doesn’t look at either of you, but at least he’s eating. That's enough for now.

The quiet clink of his fork against the plate is the only sound in the room as the tension lingers.

You grip the sponge tightly as you begin scrubbing the pan. The sound of running water and clinking dishes fills the silence, a small comfort against the weight of the moment.

“Guess this ain’t the time to say I’ve got another business trip coming up?” Toji mutters, his tone light, but the amusement in his voice feels misplaced, almost mocking.

Is he really joking right now? You don’t respond, keeping your focus on the dishes, but your shoulders tense as his words settle in.

Megumi doesn’t reply either, but the faint scrape of his fork against his plate tells you he’s still eating. Toji sighs, the sound exaggerated and heavy, like he’s carrying some unseen burden. It’s not clear whether he expects sympathy or just enjoys the attention, but either way, it grates on you. Just a little bit. 

Finally, he stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and slinging it over his shoulder. He pauses by the door. 

"I’ll be back," Toji says, his gaze lingering on Megumi for a long moment before flicking to you.

“Make sure he doesn’t burn the place down," Toji adds with another signature smirk, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Megumi keeps his focus on his plate, his jaw tight, and you remain at the sink, scrubbing a dish that’s already clean.

Megumi doesn’t react, keeping his focus on his plate, his jaw tight as he pokes at the pancakes. The door clicks shut behind him, and the tension shifts—not gone, but dulled, like an ache that lingers long after a wound. The silence feels hesitant, unsure where to settle now that Toji has left.

You glance over your shoulder, watching Megumi as he sits there, his head bowed, his fork dragging absent patterns through the remnants of syrup on his plate. His expression is hard to read, but the way his shoulders hunch tells you enough.

The kid had every right to be angry, to feel irritated. Yet seeing him like this—so despondent, so closed off—makes something twist painfully in your chest. As if you hadn't already been stressed.

"Hey," you say softly, drying your hands on a dishtowel as you step closer. "You okay?"

He shrugs, his gaze not lifting. "'M used to it," he mutters, though his voice carries more bitterness than acceptance. "He’ll be gone by tonight. It’s easier when he’s not here. ’M sorry you had to see that."

You hesitate for only a second before pulling out the chair across from him and settling into it. Resting your elbow on the table, you prop your chin in your hand, watching him. You wanted to comfort him, to offer him some sense of stability, even if you weren’t entirely sure how. You felt somewhat out of your element with this one.

When your mother was around, what did she do, again? Mmmm well maybe not that. How the hell do you comfort a kid?

"Maybe," you say carefully, "but that doesn’t make it fair. Or okay."

His eyes flick up to meet yours, sharp and guarded. The faint shadow of exhaustion lingers in them, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to say something but decides against it.

"You don’t have to say that," he says, his tone softening despite himself. "You just got here—you don’t owe him anything." A pause. "You don’t owe me anything either."

Leaning forward slightly, you offer him a small, reassuring smile. "Maybe not," you reply, your voice warm. "But I’m here anyway."

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze searching as if he’s trying to figure out whether you mean it. The guardedness in his expression falters, just a little, before he looks back down at his plate. He cuts off another piece of pancake, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction.

You don’t press him to say more. Instead, you sit there quietly, the silence between you settling into something gentler, more bearable.

Maybe it’s not much. Maybe it won’t fix anything. But for now, it's enough.

p.4?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

[primaviva]

PAIRING: gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: it's a rainy friday night, and you and your girlfriend, gwen aka ghost-spider, had plans to hang out. but when she stops responding to your texts, you can only worry. hours pass and your fears are realized when she finally shows up through your window. bloody, beaten, in need of the care only her favorite nurse can provide. you.

WARNING/NOTES: mentions and descriptions of blood/treating wounds, suggestive! towards the end, not smut (creep she’s 16-17 tf) making out and kissing, little angst but mostly fluff, reader is implied to be shorter than gwen?? fic is mad long n so much so it needs a warning just for that, that’s it !!

the night was dark and stormy, the rain falling in sheets, splattering against the hard ground and filling the air with a palpable sense of gloom. It was a friday night, and the city was quiet, the streets nearly empty save for the occasional streetlamp's soft glow cutting through the darkness. the sound of raindrops tapping on the window brought you back to reality, and you glanced at the clock on your bedside table: 8:15 pm. you had been waiting for nearly three hours, hoping for a text from your girlfriend, gwen. you knew today had been a dreary day, and the weather outside made it feel even more so of that.

you let out a deep sigh, feeling a mix of worry and frustration. the silence in the room was deafening, and the only sound was the slow drip of the rain outside. you laid back in your bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if your ghost-spider was ok. you picked up your phone and checked it for the hundredth time, but there was still no response from gwen. your eyes were fixed on the screen, as if staring at it with enough intensity would make your girlfriend send a text. but despite refreshing the messenger app continuously, there was still no response, and with each passing moment, the tension in your chest only grew. the air around you felt thick and still, as if the universe was holding its breath. after the first hour of this waiting game, you had tried to distract yourself with your favorite album. it’s something you and gwen would do together because of your mutual love for music, but the song felt muted as your mind kept returning back to her. as the hours passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

the job of the ghost-spider being defined as hard would be the biggest understatement of the century. not only did you watch her fight every new menace of the week who thought they was the one while also stopping the average goon who really in their right mind thought they could fight the spiderwoman with a pocket knife, even with her name hinting at the spider power part, you also saw how the heroine lifestyle took a toll on her physically and mentally. she’s forced to lie to her loved ones and devote time from her life to serve new york, missing out on her own personal day to day life. you knew this was the life she chose for herself and you supported her, and with her power came a responsibility to use it for the good of the people, but you wish you could do more for her every time you saw her with dark bags under her eyes and a pained look on her face from all the injuries and physical labor she put her body through the night before. you were one of the few people that knew who she was, beside your friend peter. her dad didn’t know, and you could only imagine what he would do if he had known the “homicidal spider” he was hunting for was under the same roof as him and buying father’s day cards every year. gwens life is a hard one to live, but not an impossible one, and with you around there’s a weight lifted off her shoulders. you would never talk her out of being the ghost-spider, because you knew it was part of her identity, who she is, and also how the city needed her, and it helped keep spiderwoman going knowing she could protect you including.

the knocking at your window jolted you out of your worry-induced daze, and you quickly ran to the window to see who was there, a glimmer of hope in your eye. as you approached, you realized that it was your gwen, sticking to the outside of the window, her costume torn and her body covered in blood. your heart skipped a beat as you hurriedly opened the window and brought her inside, quickly lending your arms on her tense triceps for support as she crawled her way inside your room with a trail of red following her inside. as you looked at your girlfriend, you couldn't believe the state she was in. she was covered in blood, her face contorted in pain, and her eyes had a faraway look in them that you’d never seen before.

"what the hell happened, gwen? a-are you ok?” you asked, your concern for her clouding your mind.

gwen took a deep, shallow breath before answering, her voice raspy from the pain, "got caught in a trap trying to stop our friend the rhino from busting ceiling first into the local bank. i managed to stop him, but that walking meatsack on steroids nearly beat me unconscious.” her voice was laced with sarcasm as she hit you with one of her playful, classic spiderwoman remarks. but the delivery hit different.

even though you couldn't see her face, you could almost feel her gaze staring intensely into your own. it felt like you both were the only two people left in the city, locked in a moment of silence. as her mouth was still obscured by her mask, you could feel her breath on your skin. then there was the blood, a small trickle that had fallen from her nose, leaving a tiny stain on the edge of her mask. it was a reminder of her injury, a fleeting glimpse into her vulnerability with you. these were the moments that made you want to hold her tighter, to try and comfort her, to try and make everything okay.

“how long did it even take you to get here?” you questioned her, your answer being the silence that was your room.

you slid her mask up with worry in your eyes, “gwen…” you mumbled in a shaky voice. her hands slid around your hips to your waist in a weak hold and a very poor attempt to reassure you knowing how busted and bruised she looked. she began leaning against your window, unable to hold herself upright as the change in position shifted your balance and weight into her chest as her strong arms embraced you further.

your face was pressed against her chest in the tight hug as you listened to her fast, pounding heartbeat gradually begin to slow down from all the adrenaline of her trip. with you now in gwens arms, she let out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she leaned her head to rest on top of yours, leaving a faint kiss on your temple in the process. she chuckled softly, letting the familiar scent of your hair and the warmth of your skin fill her senses. you tried to pull yourself away but gwens arms only tightened, her chest straining against the weight of you, but despite the pain, she didn't care. all she wanted is to be as close as possible to you in this moment, to feel you against her.

"i'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice low and sweet yet unsteady. "i didn't mean to scare you. i just need to be near you right now, to feel you. i really don't want you to worry.” she loosened her grip on you, feeling the warm and soft curves of your body as her fingers danced up and down your back, glad that she was able to have you in her hands and finally be with you again.

you soon realized it wasn’t just the rain from the window still being open that was making you shiver as gwens hands lightly roamed the exposed skin under your shirt and around your abdomen. her hands were wet and cold, leaving a frozen imprint on your skin that sent shivers throughout your whole body and butterflies started to bubble in your stomach. you pressed your face more into her chest as your arms moved from her triceps to her back, your hands noticing how cold she is. you feel the frigid, soaked clothes against gwen’s skin, and her short hair, which was slick from the rain slowly trickling down her neck. you can sense how exhausted she is, how much pain her body is in.

it's heartbreaking to see her in such a state, and for a moment, you both just stood there, holding onto each other, not wanting this moment of solace and safety to end. she held you close, enjoying the heat radiating from your body and the comfort of your presence. gwen never wants you to worry too much even if it’s inevitable, so she tries to stay calm and strong, but the emotions of the moment are too strong to hold back. she lets out a strained groan as her finger tips dig into your hips from the sudden pain, bringing you back to the reality of her injuries as you lifted your head from her chest.

your hand on her back made its way to the nape of her neck, the touch being both gentle and reassuring as you caressed the back of her head, she felt herself calming down again. the coldness clung to her like a wet blanket and the only warmth was from your touch. she leaned into you, reveling in the feeling of your hot fingers against her chilled skin, savoring your touch. as you cradled her frigid cheek, she couldn't help but feel a tug at her heartstrings, her watercolor eyes widening as she stared back into your own, searching for what you were going to do next.

“start taking that suit off and...and i’ll be right back,” you said to your girlfriend, who was about to catch a severe case of hypothermia if you didn’t get a grip on the situation at hand. gwen raised a brow at what you said with the corners of her mouth twitching into the best smirk she could put on while being in this state. she knew exactly what you meant, she just wanted to tease you.

“gwen,” you said as you let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms as you narrowed your eyes at her. she slumped her shoulders, letting out a “yes nurse!” before following your orders. “i’m gonna go get the first aid kid, ok? be right back,” you added and watched from the doorway of your bedroom as she gave a silent hum in response, too weary to respond and too caught up in taking her suit off.

as you stepped out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, you tried to keep your composure, not wanting to stress yourself and instead focus on doing your best to help your girlfriend. quickly, you begin rummaging through the cabinet, trying to find the correct medical supplies needed to treat such an extreme wound. it looked like she had gotten hit by a freight train, but only after having her stomach clawed at like smokey the bear had turned evil. you stumble across the first-aid kit, and urgently grab some gauze, bandages, and other necessary supplies. you’re caught off guard by a loud thud coming from your room.

“gwen?” you were already anxious and tried to keep your voice steady while listening further. hearing no reply caused your heart to weigh heavier and heavier as you picked up the pace and returned to her.

trying to ignore the pool of blood on the floor next to the window, you walked back in with the kit and supplies in hand and your eyes landed on her lean body, struggling to pull the rest of her suit down.

“hey wait,” you spoke, setting the supplies down on the nightstand, “before you look even more of a mess, let me help you.” gwen’s eyes widened and her lips were slightly parted, as if she was taken aback by your offer. nonetheless, she didn't hesitate to accept your helping hands. you approached her where she was still standing and noticed that she had only been able to slide her suit down to her abdomen, exposing her black sports bra that hugged her perfectly and her toned upper body. aware of her eyes watching your every move, you reached out to her and took a firm hold of the waistline of her soaked suit, gently lowering it down until the fabric hit the floor, letting her step out with ease. gwen was clearly surprised by the sudden act, and you could see a hint of shyness in her eyes. even as you’re the one who is taking charge of the situation, it felt as though she was still in control. she had a power over you that you couldn't explain.

"feeling better?" you asked gwen as you looked up at her. her chest was heaving up and down and her eyes still stared at you closely. even with her obvious exhaustion, a gentle smile found its way onto her face. "I always feel better with you," she said in a hoarse tone. you felt a warm, fuzzy sensation in your chest as gwen spoke those words. the feeling was indescribable.

you turned to your closet and started rummaging through your clothes in search of something comfortable, knowing that she probably wanted to change into a warmer pair of clothes after traveling who knows how long to your apartment in that freezing ass suit as soon as possible. finally, you found a pair of pajama pants and a long-sleeved top that you thought would fit her. "these are gonna help you feel even better," you told her with a wink.

she nodded in agreement, but when you walked over to help gwen change, she looked at you with wide eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "oh, you know don't have to help me," she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. you knew she was feeling vulnerable, but the subtle look of pure shock on her face made you want to kick your feet and giggle just at the reaction you were getting out of her. “i know,” was all you said back. you didn't listen and instead you gently lifted her foot, motioning her to step into the pants.

gwen seemed to appreciate the fact that you were taking care of her when she was in such a weakened state, but at the same time, appeared to be embarrassed by the whole idea of someone else dressing her, especially when the person in question was her extremely beautiful girlfriend. while gwen would like to believe she’s always the flirt of the relationship and insists that she’s so good that she should teach a master class, there were equal moments where you matched her witty comments or acted innocent enough to catch her lacking and get a glimpse of a flustered gwen. in your hands, she melted into putty for you.

“thanks,” she added in a hushed voice and balanced herself on the floor with a strong grip on your shoulders. you kissed her cheek and whispered, "don’t have to thank me," in her ear. if it weren't for the one light that only illuminated half of your room, you would have been able to see the rose wave of blush that coated your girlfriend's cheeks as you gazed up at her with a reassuring smile.

"go ahead and get comfortable because i know you can't wait to ruin my sheets," you taunted, remembering all the times gwen had shown up unannounced, threw herself on your bed as soon as you made it, and completely wrecked the mattress.

giggles filled the room, "at least i'm not putting my 'dirty converse' on it.” gwen was referring to a moment when she had the absolute audacity to walk around your room with her dirty shoes, let alone place them on your bed, rather than taking the sneakers off in the corner as soon as she came in. “yeah thank god,” you mumbled in relief.

you turned and walked towards the window to close in an attempt to stop the frigid air seeping in, you were struck by the sudden silence that filled the room. the sound of raindrops hitting the fire escape outside had faded into a faint, muffled noise. it wasn't until you picked up her suit from the floor to fold it and noticed the deep, bloody gashes crisscrossing it, that you began to understand the extent of her injuries. turning around, your eyes widened as your jaw hung loosely at the sight upon seeing gwen lying on the bed, but blood staining the sheets all pouring from her stomach and down the side.

you grabbed a small rag and sprayed a good amount of warm water on it and rubbed some soap to further saturate the fabric. you sat at her bedside, pausing for a moment to compose yourself before starting, the nerves building as you were met with the horrific scene at her abdomen.

“babe…it’s just a scratch,” gwen murmured to try and hype you up that this was an easy task. “just a scratch? a scratch isn’t the size of your head doubled and they definitely ain’t as deep as this,” you told her with wide eyes, completely baffled at her attempt to comfort you. did she not notice that sitting on your bed alone made it change colors?

“you ready?” you asked her, prepared to begin cleaning her wounds. gwen nodded, wincing as you began to gently dab at the wound with the soapy rag. you tried to be as gentle as possible, but the sight of the deep gash made your stomach churn. “you need to be more careful gwen,” you scolded, continuing to carefully clean and disinfect the area. she started to frown and you began to feel a little twinge of guilt.

you weren’t mad at her but this always frustrated you. of course you know that your girlfriend is spiderwoman, but she’s still human, and seeing her like this was a terrifying reminder of the dangers she faces every night. you never gave her hell for bailing dates, not answering texts, or just leaving in the middle of you guys spending time together because it’s part of who she is. gwen chose to be the hero new york needs, and you just wanted to make her days a little more easier.

she slowly opened her mouth to speak, trying to find the right words until a sudden surge of pain hit her. “shit!” gwen

spat out as her body instinctively sat up straight while her hand covered her injury.

“what's wrong? does it sting?” you asked hastily, only to get a frantic nod in return. "i'm fine…just peachy," she hitched, though you could hear the strain in her voice. you could feel gwen flinch as you touched the wound, “just a few more minutes i promise,” you said, looking up at her and offering a small smile. you shuffled closer to your girlfriend and gently moved her hand that was guarding her wound as she leaned her head on your shoulder, her breath tickling your neck.

as you tended to your girlfriend's wound, you couldn't help but be captivated by her toned abs and muscular arms. the sight of her fit and athletic physique was enough to make your heart skip a beat. it didn’t help that after cleaning up her stomach gashes, you found yourself losing focus on the task at hand, staring at her abs instead. which definitely didn’t go unnoticed by a blonde inches away from you. you gulped, quickly returning to dabbing the wound as you felt guilty for letting your attraction to her distract from the task in front of you. you then applied antiseptic to prevent infection and carefully bandaged the wound with gauze, making sure to wrap it tightly enough to stem the bleeding but not so tightly as to cause discomfort.

you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling the chill of her skin against your lips. “all done.”

"my hero," gwen groaned, looking up at you from her position with a grin. "think I'm starting to like getting hurt, just so i can be taken care of by you."

you couldn't help but let out a small huff of annoyance at her attempt to joke around. the stress of seeing her hurt was still fresh in your mind, and her comment didn't help ease your mind. "let's hope you don't have to get hurt too often," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. gwen smiled weakly, knowing that her attempt at humor had fallen flat. "i'm sorry," she said, reaching out to take your hand. “i’ll be right back,” you hummed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

you packed up the first aid kit and took with you a change of clothes to the bathroom, carefully, you began to stow away the antiseptic, gauze, and bandages, making sure everything was in its proper place. as you placed the kit in the cabinet, you took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. your clothes were ruined, splattered with blood and damp from hugging gwen. with a sigh, you removed the stained clothes and slipped into a fresh, new set. coincidentally, the shirt was one of your girlfriend's many oversized shirts you stole she let you borrow. the one you had on was her mary janes shirt which looked much bigger on you than it did her and ended a little over thigh.

when you came back to your room, gwen as sitting up in the bed, eyeing you curiously. ‘that shirt looks familiar’ she thought, too dazed and confused to pinpoint fast enough where it's from. “there’s my nurse- what took you so long?" she asked, mouthing an oh as her eyes drifted to the bloody clothes on the floor. you walked up to the opposite side of the bed she was on and took a seat. a faint smile forms on your girlfriend's face as she sees you, but it's quickly replaced by a smirk as she recognizes your outfit.

"a quick change of clothes, huh? you trying to impress someone?" she teased. you felt your cheeks heat up and rolled your eyes. "well, you know i can't resist the opportunity to impress my favorite patient,” you bantered back, matching her energy. “you’re so dramatic because i wasn’t even gone that long. got blood all over me, so i had to change. it doesn’t feel right walking around your home with blood stains on your clothes like a murder suspect so…”

giggles filled the room but it slowly died down and was taken over by the tense ambiance of the room. you were still sat the opposite of gwen and you weren’t even facing her, still trying to calm your nerves and shaky hands from fixing her up.

"thanks for taking care of me," gwen said quietly, trying to move closer to you. you hummed in response. “and i’m sorry about your sheets, and the floor, and-”

"don’t worry about the mess, i can clean it up later. just focus on getting better for me,” you cut her off, pinching the bridge of your nose.

gwen couldn't help but feel troubled by the silence, why one half of you felt so loving while the other frustrated, but another emotion she couldn’t put her finger on just yet. "i keep saying sorry and you never respond, is there something wrong? did…did i upset you?” she asked softly, searching your face for a reaction.

“no! no- it’s just…” you let out as a huff, closing your eyes in an attempt to help you search for the right words.

you looked up, your eyes finally meeting hers but to gwen’s surprise your gaze held a completely different emotion. sadness. "you don't have to say sorry," you replied, your voice gentle. "i know you can't control what happens to you when you're out there patrolling as spiderwoman. and i don't want you to feel like im doing too much for you than you’re worthy of or that you don't deserve to be cared for. i do this because i chose to, because i want to stay by your side and make your life just a little bit easier, because...because i love you.”

as your words sank in, gwen was overcome with a flurry of conflicting emotions. her heart swelled with love and gratitude, but at the same time, she felt a pang of guilt and sadness. she didn't want to be a burden to you, to cause you stress or worry, but she didn't know how to express her feelings without coming across as weak or needy. tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to find the right words. then, as she heard the sound of your quiet sniffles, she was jolted out of her frozen state. “but i’m also afraid of losing you a-and everything we have,” you confessed, your voice choked with emotion as you struggled to compose yourself.

gwen’s heart ached as she listened to your words. she always knew that you were a caring and selfless person, but hearing you express your fears opened her eyes to a whole new level of understanding. she knew that the life of a superhero was filled with danger and uncertainty, and that there were no guarantees for you guys future together. but she also knew that she couldn't imagine her life without you, and that she was willing to do whatever it took to make things work. gwen would do whatever it takes to return back to you. she wanted to hold you, to comfort you, and assure you that she wasn't going anywhere, but the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. instead, she reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tightly, hoping that the gesture would convey the depth of her feelings.

"i'm not going anywhere," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "i’m right here, and i'm always gonna be here. i'm not going to leave you. we'll get through this together."

you pulled her hand closer to you and laid it on your thigh, still not saying a word. as the silence fell between you both once more, gwen knew that she had to find a way to show you just how much you meant to her.

“can i see my girl's beautiful face?” she asked, a light grin on display as she massaged circles into your skin. “please?”

gwen moved her hand from your thigh and to your knee with a firm grip as she used it as leverage to pick herself up, still feeling weak from her injuries. she found herself hovering over you and lightly parting your legs with her hands so she can be directly in front of you.

“look at me,” she asked, her voice both gentle but stern. you put your hand over her hands that cupped your knee and stared up at her, eyes puffy and red from the faded tears. ‘beautiful’ is all she thought to herself.

gwen leaned down, her forehead touching yours. “you’re my world,” she whispered to your lips, loud enough so you could hear. “and i’ll do anything to make sure i come back safe and sound to you. i just want you to be ok, it’s one of the reasons i fight so hard. for you.”

you reached up and cupped her cheek, your thumb tracing her cheekbone. “i know," you spoke softly, “i love you for it."

as the air from your words brushed up against her mouth, gwen lowered her lips onto yours and captured you in a passionate kiss.

it was soft and gentle, a reflection of the love and tenderness you felt for each other. you could feel the warmth of gwen's breath against your skin, and it sent shivers down your spine. your hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as you deepened the kiss. as the intensity of the kiss grew, so did your feelings about each other. the passion between you was undeniable, and you both knew that you would do anything for each other. you felt yourself getting lost in the moment, the world around you fading away as you focused solely on each other.

when she pulled away, gwen’s eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “nothing can pull us apart, or else they’re gonna have to deal with me,” she declared, her voice full of conviction as you giggled at the threat she made.

as you sat across from each other, your eyes locked in a heated gaze, a palpable tension hung thick in the air between you. your thoughts went astray as you longed to feel gwen's presence, to be as close to her as possible. you could feel her desire for you radiating off her, matching the intensity of your own. every fiber in her being wanted nothing more but to collide with you. gwen's eyes were fixed on your lips, and you could see the struggle within her to resist the urge to lean in and kiss you. the anticipation was unbearable, and you both knew that it was only a matter of time before this ignited into something more.

gwen longed to feel you close to her, to wrap you in her embrace and provide comfort to you in the knowledge she was right here with you, and that’s not gonna change any time soon. the atmosphere between the two of you felt heavy, the weight of each passing second causing you to ache for what you both knew was inevitable. your lips brushed gently against each other, making your mind go hazy, and you could feel your body reacting with a force that was beyond your control. the desire to have her to yourself was too strong to ignore.

at that moment, gwen saw your eyes flicker down to her own lips, and before you knew it, she smashed her lips onto yours. what once was a tender kiss, soon turned into a fervent make out.

gwen now fully climbed over you, still using your knees as support to tower over you as she pushed her thigh up to between your legs. she started to teasingly lick your bottom lip, lightly biting and pulling on it while your hands went to the nape of her neck, gripping the small bit of hair you were able to reach firmly. she pushed you further into your mattress with her strong body, pulling her leg up higher until it was met with the clothed fabric of your bottoms. you let out a moan into the kiss as you felt her tongue stroke your bottom lip once again before sliding it in until it was kissing the inside of your mouth. It was as if all the tension, desire, and frustration with the two of you had been building up to this, and now there was no turning back.

as your tongues tangled together, gwen's hands roamed over your body, pulling you even closer and wanting to feel every inch of your warm skin. the way her rough and calloused hands made themself comfortable around, like they were learning every curve and crevice of you all over again made your head go into override. your tongues danced together in a romantic tango, exploring and teasing each other. the kiss spoke volumes without any words. a kiss that conveyed love and safety all at once.

as the moment continued, gwen felt a twinge of pain in her stomach wound. she tried to ignore it, not wanting to break from the spell you had her under, but it was too much to bear.

"ouch," gwen winced, pulling back from the kiss and placing a hand on her lower abdomen. "what's wrong?" you asked, concern etched on your face. you gently moved her hand and pressed your finger tips around the bandages, checking if everything was alright. if you looked up, you would see a small smirk on gwen’s face as she watched how concentrated you looked.

"it's nothing, just my stomach wound acting up," she replied, trying to downplay the pain.

"are you sure you should be kissing me like this? maybe you should be resting instead," you suggested in a slight teasing tone, tucking the short blonde strands of hair on her forehead behind her ear.

“y’know i should,” she agreed, which took you back a bit, “but it's just too hard to resist your face.” there goes your gwen, stubborn as always. you felt your cheeks heat up at her words.

as she started leaning in to kiss you again, you put a finger on her lip. “i”m not trying to hurt you more than you already are,” you told her, worried she was pushing herself a little.

gwen eyes softened as she noticed you were still a little antsy about everything.

"you won't, i promise,” gwen reassured you. she knew she wasn't supposed to be exerting her energy like this, but she wanted to compensate for the fear she brought upon you. she wanted to treat you like how you deserved to be treated. with a sigh, gwen shifted into a more comfortable position, propping herself up with a few pillows. she leaned her back in relief against the headboard of your bed, giving you access to the faint view of her adam’s apple as she stretched out her neck. ‘even at her worse she looks her best’ you thought. she lowered her head, meeting your gaze with half lidded eyes.

“you have no idea how bad i wanted to see you today,” she murmured lazily. “i think i do,” you answered as gwen gave you an ‘i know babe’ look.

suddenly, you felt strong arms scoop you from under your thighs.

“now, where were we?" she asked, settling you on her lap as your legs straddled her sides. gwen leaned in to kiss you as her hands found their way around your waist before tracing circles into your back. you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the moment, forgetting about the pain and the worries. gwen's touch was gentle and tender, and as you both continued to kiss, you felt a sense of comfort in her arms.

her hands move to the back of your neck, holding you in place as she explores your mouth, rolling her hips against yours to add to the friction. her tongue rolls against yours as you both rock back and forth, electrified by each other's touches.

gwen pulled back for air, a proud grin growing from one side of her face to the other as she saw the view in front of her. it was you, breathing heavy trying to catch whatever air you can. but most importantly, you were smiling.

“there’s my girl,” she breathed out as the silent room echoed both of your loud chuckling.

gwen moved your shoulder and gently motioned you down onto the pillows next to her as she propped herself up on her shoulder. she looked down at you lovingly before littering your neck with feathery kisses, leaving a trail down to your collarbone. her hands move to your waist, caressing your sides lovingly as she begins to move your shirt up, slowly revealing your body beneath. without warning gwen began kissing from your lower abdomen and all the way up your torso to your chest.

“i,” kiss, “love,” kiss, “you,” kiss.

gwen began muttering i love you’s into your skin with each soft peck. the tingly sensation of the kisses mixed with her chilly breath against your skin as she spoke made you turn into a giggly mess under her.

there was nothing more gwen loved than to see you happy and giggling, especially if it was because of her. you felt gwen smirk against your stomach. that was until she placed her tongue between her lips and blew air onto your stomach, making you sit up and break into laughter. your snorts melted her heart as she kept going to annoy you.

“gwen, you are so damn childish! stop zurberting me-” you gasped between laughs at the feeling, trying to push her away. “do i look like a baby to you? you know i’m ticklish!”

you felt a fuzzy feeling in you chest as you felt gwen relax her head into your stomach, her amused chuckles hitting your skin. "but it's so much fun to see you like this," gwen replied, a despicable glint in her eyes. she blew another zurbert on your stomach, making you squirm even more.

"you're impossible," you groaned, but you couldn't help but smile at her antics. gwen had a way of making you feel better no matter how down or mundane your day is.

"im also your girlfriend," she grinned, finally relenting and snuggling up to you. "and i love making you laugh."

she wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close to her. "i love you," gwen whispered. "i love you too," you replied. smiling warmly. "but let's make sure you get some rest, okay? i don't want you to push yourself too hard."

gwen's eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned in to give you a playful kiss. "i wouldn't worry about that," she assured you, a small smirk on her face as she was still able to feel the warmth of your lips on hers. "i'm feeling better already."

you couldn't help but laugh at her boldness, but you were also glad to see her in good spirits. as she held you in her strong embrace, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. your presence was like a lifeline, bringing comfort and stability to the chaos in gwen’s life. it was moments like these that made all the hard work, pain, and stress worth it, because gwen knew that she had you by her side through thick and thin.

A/N: this mierda was so long omg- anyways !! i been working on this for a week but wanted to post my gwen x reader headcanons first. my requests are open and ive already received some for gwen and started working on them so ty guys for the attention and requests im new to posting on tumblr so i appreciate it <33

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[ncis-yp]

Texas, State. (Tony DiNozzo x reader) [SMUT]

You laid on the couch reading a book. Tony laying close to you on the couch. He periodically looked at you. As if instinctually making sure you were okay. His baby girl.

He remembered first meeting you. Shy, smart, you loved movies, successful, or on your way to success, you had what he wanted. Not to mention, drop. Dead. Gorgeous. Once he started making a move he realized your sexual tension was through the roof. Intoxicating. But he soon learned you were mainly a talker and would rather be on the bottom, or bent over. Even when it came to him eating you out, you were incredibly shy, and nearly refused to let him eat because you were petrified of tasting bad, or not being cleanly shaven, or maybe he just didn’t like yours.

Tony took your virginity almost a year ago. You were only 20 and he was turning 35. You were very anxious, but Tony made you feel comfortable, he made sure he showed you gentleness, he took his time and made sure he payed attention to you movements or anything that showed too much pain or discomfort. Hes been working on helping you get comfortable with squirting, especially on his face and chest while he finger fucks you.

“(Y/n)” he says. You look up, big doe eyes glossy.

“Yeah babe?” You say. Tony began moving up to you pulling you off your elbow and onto your back. He memorized the book page before he began kissing you. He started with soft, sweet kisses, holding your hip with one hand. “What’s all this, hm?” You giggle quietly.

“Nothing” he peppers your neck with a few kisses. You moan lightly.

“Liar” you say. You feel him smile against your skin. He moves his knee, parting your legs. You moan again.

“Fine. It’s because I want you” he whispers in your ear. He grins as you twist at his words. “Mhm, that’s right, (y/n).” He trails a finger down to your core. He stopped, making your groan in his ear. “What is it hm? Tell me what you want” he whispers in your ear, lightly licking it.

“You” you say almost breathlessly. “Please”

“Tell me, what do you want me to do? Move my hand to where you want it (y/n).” He encourages you. You grab his hand and guide it into your shorts. He groan at the feeling of your wetness on his hand. “Fuck (y/n). You’re so wet.” He teased your folds.

“Mmhmm” you hum as you press his finger into your hole.

“Oh you want me to fuck this tight pussy?” You nodded. He pulled off your shorts. His dick painfully hard in his pants. “This beautiful, tight, pussy” he says kissing your core making you moan lightly. “So, (y/n), you want me to put my hard cock in that tight, little pussy hole? Stretch you out?” He questioned as he kissed your pussy. You nodded.

“Please” you managed as he licks you, looking up at you from between your thighs.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me”

“Where? Fuck you were, (y/n)?” He continued licking you. Flicking his tongue over your clit.

“In this tight pussy” you grind your hips in his face. He pulled his pants and boxers off in one go. His cock sprung out. Thick and veiny. All yours. He pulled you closer to him. He positioned himself at your entrance. He leaned forward and kissed you deeply and sweetly.

“Ready?” He whispered in your ear. Without warning you wrapped your legs around him and pushed his dick inside you. The two of you moaned at the feeling. Tony’s dick filling you up. He began thrusting slowly, allowing the two of you to adjust before speeding up and chasing your climax. He began speeding up, kissing you as he fucked into you.

He trailed kisses down your body, leaving small hickey’s and love bites on your neck and collar bone. You moaned and began squirming underneath Tony. He was concentrated, he was at the brink of coming, but he was on a mission.

“Babygirl, I can feel you tightening. Try not to stop me okay?” You nodded. “Just try to relax and let go for me. Can you do that?” He smiled reassuringly. You nodded. He sped up, angling to hit deeper. His hand flying to your clit. He rubbed it in small and precise circles. You were writhing under him at the point, nails digging into back, mouth agape in pleasure as you moaned into his ear.

“Fuck” you moan. “Fuuuuck Tony” you grin onto him, feeling a wave of ecstasy flow over you as your squirt out on him.

“There we go” he says. He continues to fuck, making your arch your back and lose control of your body as you cried out in pure pleasure as you sprayed him. “God (y/n)” he remarked pulling out and coming on your stomach, jerking himself out all the way, moaning your name as he shot cum all over you. “You are such a good girl” he praises. You smile widely.

“I squirted” you say excited.

“What’s that pretty girl?” He asked wiping you down with some baby wipes.

“I squirted!” You repeated happily.

“Yeah you did baby, I’m so proud of you!!” He kissed you, he stood up and picked up. “Let’s go get cleaned up and cuddle”

“Yeah, we have a case to finish” you say as he sets you on the bathroom counter.

“I know you wanna go home, baby. You miss our bed” he says turning on the water. You nodded.

“Good thing it was a hotel couch” you giggle.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles kissing your puffy lips.

A few moments later the two of you lay in the hotel bed. Cuddled up together, Tony held you and spoke softly.

“I love you, (y/n)” he says.

“I love you too Tony”

“I want you to know that I will do anything for you” Tony speaks aloud.

“I will do anything for you” you reply. “No fire is too hot to walk through if you were on the other side”

“Damn (y/n)” he says quietly. “So you’d marry me then?”

“Yes. In a heartbeat” you respond.

“Marry me”

“I will”

“Promise?”

“On my grave” the held you closely.

“Mrs. DiNozzo”

[specialagentlokitty]

Wednesday x reader - never again

Sitting on the roof of the school, you pulled your knees further into your chest as you stared out into the blackness that surrounded the world.

It was so peaceful, the only sounds being the light breeze through the trees, the way the moonlight bounced of the nearby lake, the stars whinging so brightly above.

Letting out a small breath, you watched as it turned to mist and slowly rose into the sky.

You smiled to yourself.

Standing up, you spread your arms out, closing your eyes as you beamed from ear to ear.

You loved this.

You loved the night.

The darkness.

Everything about it.

But the smile soon fell from your face, because the beauty of the night also hurt.

It brought back memories of a person you wanted nothing more than to just forget, someone who you’d been trying for the past year to get over, to work out of your mind.

And it had nearly worked, up until the point she randomly turned up at Nevermore, burning herself into your brain once again.

And the worst part?

Wednesday Addams didn’t even seem to know who you were.

Jumping down from the roof, you landed on the balcony below and stood there, hands stuffed in your pockets as you buried your face into your hoodie.

“(Y/N)?”

You turned around, smiling at the friendly werewolf who had stepped outside.

“Hey, sorry did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn’t asleep. I was talking to Wednesday, are you okay?” She asked.

You froze a little at the mention of the other girls name, but you slowly nodded your head.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just getting some fresh air is all.” You beamed.

Enid frowned a little, she didn’t believe you, she knew you too well.

Walking over, she leant across the balcony, and you sat down next to her, swinging your legs back and forth a little bit.

“That’s her, isn’t it? The girl you told me who didn’t love you back. It’s Wednesday.”

“How’d you know?”

“The pain on your face when you first met her. Why not talk to her, become friends?” Enid asked.

“She made it clear she didn’t even know I exist.”

“Come on! Surely that’s not true!” Enid huffed, “she’s nice! A bit weird, and shows she cares in weird ways, but she really does care!”

You shrugged a little bit, and titled your head to face the sky once more.

“You don’t know her like I do. I grew up with her Enid, trust me. That girl has no care in the world for other people. She never even noticed me, she doesn’t even remember me.”

“That is because emotions have a habit of ruining things.”

You didn’t bother to turn around, you didn’t have to because Wednesday walked over and stood on the other side of Enid.

“I’ll just…” Enid mumbled.

She could cut the tension with her claws, and she didn’t want to stay around that for any longer.

She simply left the room entirely, wanting to be as far away as she could possibly could get before the tension suffocated her.

Wednesday stood there, and you shuffled to the edge of the balcony.

“I do remember you.”

You glanced at the goth before scoffing.

“Whatever you say Addams.” You spat.

Wednesday watched as you jumped down, landing on the floor below with a gentle thud before you jogged away somewhere.

She wouldn’t admit it, but it felt wrong to just leave the conversation like that.

She felt like she could have said more.

But what more could she have said?

For the next month she would watch you, eyes fixated on you wherever you went, whenever you were close she would watch you intensely.

“Just talk to her.” Enid giggled.

Wednesday tore her gaze away from you, looking at her dorm mate.

“What?”

“Talk to her!”

“Why?”

“Because you clearly want to.” Enid laughed.

“I hardly want to talk to you, why would I want to talk to her?”

Enid began a long spiel about how Wednesday obviously liked you, and how you clearly liked her as well.

Wednesday was sick of the conversation, so she just up and left without another word, deciding to head down to the lake to escape it.

As she was approaching, she realised she wasn’t the only one there.

You were sat there as well, eyes closed, hands resting in your lap as you took slow and deep breaths.

Stopping in her tracks, Wednesday watched you.

She always wondered what you were, you weren’t a werewolf, siren, vampire, or anything like all the other students.

You didn’t fit any of those categories.

Slowly creeping closer, she stopped only a few meters away from you, crouching down.

She could see the soft glow from your eyes, they were fixated on nothing, staring off into the distance.

Clearly you were focused on what was going on around you, and Wednesday couldn’t control what happened next.

“I do remember you. Your name is (Y/N) (L/N), you love nature and animals. You like music and hate spicy foods, you stuck up for my brother whenever he was being weak and I couldn’t be there to get revenge on them.”

Wednesday adjusted, slowly sitting on her knees as she stared at you.

“I know you loved me, and that is a horrible choice really. I’m not good, I’m not someone you should love.”

Wednesday turned her head to make sure no one was around, and when she turned back your (E/C) eyes were fixated on her.

“What…?”

Wednesday quickly stood up, taking a few steps away from you.

“Nothing.”

She went to walk away, but you jumped in front of her.

You stood close, close enough so she could feel the heat radiating from your body against hers.

“Wednesday don’t lie to me. I swear to god if you’re lying to me…”

“I’d rather stick a stake through my own heart.”

“Fine.”

You moved and headed back to the water.

“I’d rather stick a stake through my own heart than admit to anyone that I… perhaps have feelings for you…”

You froze.

“Seeing you ignore me.. it feels weird. I don’t like how it feels, so don’t ignore me.”

You chuckled softly, turning to face her as you raised a hand.

Wednesday felt some water hit her in the side of the face, glaring at you she stormed over and grabbed your wrist.

“Do that again and I’ll bury you alive…”

You smirked a little, leaning forward a little bit.

“You wouldn’t…”

Wednesday leaned forward, her nose brushing against yours.

“Don’t test me…”

She looked down, then she looked back into your eyes before shoving her lips against yours.

It was awkward, and she was tense as you wrapped your arms around her.

When you pulled away she quickly removed herself from your arms.

“Not a word to anyone otherwise I’ll set your room on fire.”

With that, she marched away, but she didn’t get far because she stopped and turned to you, giving you an expecting look.

“Well, hurry up.”

You shuffled your hands into your pockets and walked over to her, the pair of you walking side by side.

You didn’t realise it, but she grabbed the sleeve of your hoodie, only slightly, no one would have even noticed it.

But she did, because you were hers, and she wasn’t letting you get away this time

[chishiyaisasnack]

First time

Hello people! Long time no see. I’ve been suffering from writers block. But now I’m back. Thank you @v3lv3tf0x for the request 💗

I have worked on this fic for about 4 months now I think. It was hard for me to write a serious fic. I usually put in jokes and make everything light hearted, but I wanted this one to be different. That’s why it’s taken so long.

I see y/n (the reader) as 20+. Not as a minor. You can read it however you want though. I also want to mention that loosing your virginity isn’t something that needs to happen in your teens, or even in your 20’s. It’s not uncommon for it to happen later in life. There is no rule to when you should have sex for the first time. Or even have sex at all. Everyone has their reasons to why they haven’t done it, or why they have. Take a deep breath and don’t blame yourself if you feel like you are too old to be a virgin. You are not.

I also chose to make the reader experienced with their own body. Aka masturbation.

Disclaimer! This is a chishiya x fem!reader smut about reader having sex for the first time. Don’t read it if you are to young or uncomfortable with the topic.

”Ugh, I don’t want to die a virgin.”

A simple sentence. A few words that you weren’t planning on saying in the first place. And worst of all, Chishiya heard every single one of them.

”Why is that important to you?” Chishiya didn’t even look at you as he answered, he just kept gazing at the dark night sky in front of you, spanning over the abandoned city of Tokyo that spread out under it. It was just the two of you up on the roof again. It had been a few more people but they had all left already. You weren’t even sure why Chishiya was still here with you. But he was, and you weren’t bothered by it for once.

He had asked why you wanted to survive in this world, why you needed to go back to the real world again. Maybe he just needed some validation, that you didn’t need to be someone special to want to live. Maybe his will to live wasn’t because of some heroic dream, maybe he just wanted someone to not have a big reason. You sure didn’t. You didn’t have any big dreams or plans for your life. You didn’t have someone special to get back to. You just wanted to experience more, live more. And somehow having sex for the first time was the first thing to come out of your mouth.

”I don’t know…” You hesitated a bit before continuing, slight embarrassment creeping up on you. ”It’s just something I want to do, it just hasn’t happend yet.”

”Hmm” Chishiya hummed back, still not responding the way you thought he would. You though that he would at least look at you, maybe question why you were still a virgin, tease you a bit over it. But no, he just sat there, seemingly not caring at all.

It’s not like being a virgin was what embarrassed you, you weren’t ashamed of it. You had your reasons. But talking to Chishiya, out of all people, about your (non existing) sex life was enough to colour your cheeks red.

”The beach is full of horny people” he finally continued, his eyes finally turning towards you.

”People would be lining up.”

There was the signature smirk. He was having fun with this. You were never going to hear the end of this, would you?

”I just… I don’t know, I just want it to be with someone that I trust. That I know won’t hurt me. It doesn’t have to be romantic, it can be casual, but I just want to feel safe I guess.” You took a second to gather your thought before continuing.

”I don’t want it to be with someone I just met.”

You observed Chishiya’s reaction to your words, his eyes sparkled under the night sky, hair flowing lightly in the wind. He looked curious, not teasing but like he wanted to hear more. The way he stared at you almost made you shy, it was like he was trying to read your thoughts through eye contact alone. The silence kept growing, making you squirm a bit to break the weird tension that was hanging in the air. Why would he be interrested in hearing this, it’s not like he would be up for it. It was Chishiya - the annoying, cunning, uninterrested, sarcastic, selfish, smug, arrogant, obnoxious…

”Then how about me?”

———

It had been an hour. Sitting outside of the courthouse, waiting impatiently for Chishiya to return from the game that you begged him not to go to.

”I have to go, my visa is almost out. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Chishiya’s words hadn’t been comforting in the slightest, instead they just made that knot of anxiety and worry in your stomach grow until tears were staining the ground you were staring at. Why were you crying? He’d be back soon. Probably. Hopefully. The blimp with the game card was still flying over the courthouse, displaying the king of diamonds for everyone to see. Why did he have to choose a king card, why would he risk his life again, why didn’t he… Oh.

You instinctively put your hand over your face to cover it from potential debris that fell from the now exploding blimp above you, but it didn’t fall anywhere close to where you were sitting, leaning against a lonely tree that were shaking from the blast impact. Or was it you that was shaking? You couldn’t tell anymore.

For a second you hesitated to remove your hand from your face. What if he wasn’t on the other side of it? You hadn’t seen anyone else walk into the game area, so he could be all alone in there. Alone and injured. Or worse. You clenched your eyes shut at the thought. You couldn’t lose him - he had to be alive, he had to come back.

”Are you trying to hide from me?”

That knot in your stomach unraveled and turned into tears as a gentle hand pried away yours, revealing Chishiya’s calm, and slightly amused, expression when he crouched down to look at you. Your tears had turned into full on sobbing as the tension in you released. The relief that you felt was overwhelming. He was back, he was safe, he didn’t seem to be injured.

When the tears finally stopped you let him take your hand and help you off the ground. You must have been still shaking because in the blink of an eye you felt a warm zip up hoodie fall over your shoulders and a pair of hands zipping it up.

”Shall we go back?”

—————

The walk back to the hotel that you had set up camp in felt like an eternity. Every step was heavy, both with relief that he was back and safe, and with dread that this possibly wouldn’t be the last game you had to play. There were still blimps flying around over Tokyo, face cards that killed more people than ever before.

It felt like hours before you finally reached the room. All you wanted was… actually, you didn’t know what you wanted. It was exhausting. Even just standing there, staring out the window with your hands in the hoodies front pockets.

”Are you okay?” A low voice floated through the thick air around you. When did he get so close? You could swear that he was standing by the door just a second ago. Now, he stood in front of you with questioning eyes staring right back into yours. How were they so captivating? Dark, curious, a hint of worry.

You didn’t have time to comprehend what happend in the following second, all you knew was that two arms wrapped around you and a warm body was pressed against yours. Soft breathing tickled you neck, a soft chin laying on your shoulder. Wait, was he hugging you? It took you a moment to take it all in, but when you did you swore to yourself that you would never let go of him ever again. You let your hands grab a hold of his t-shirt, black fabric bunching up between your fingers, and buried your face in his neck, the smell of him instantly calming your nerves.

You could feel his fingers running soothingly along your shoulders, drawing circles and shapes as he pressed you closer to him. Emotions that you’d never felt before welled up inside you.

”I can’t lose you.” It was just a whisper leaving your lips but every word had so much meaning to them.

Chishiya moved his head back and looked at you with a million different emotions in his eyes but a stone cold look on his face. Had you said too much? Did you get this whole thing wrong? But he hugged you, he comforted you, he-

Then he kissed you.

A million waves of electricity went through your body all at once. It sizzled out from where his lips met yours and flooded every part of you. Forget butterflies, your body felt like it was on fire. All the emotions inside you, all the anger and sadness that you had been holding onto to act strong, erupted with a passion that you had never felt before.

You weren’t the only one to feel that way. Considering how hurried his breath was when his lips came off yours to give you a chance to back off, the quiet gasp he made when you tugged on his hair and pulled him back in, and the strength his hands grabbed your waist with to get you just a little closer - he was just as lost in the moment as you were.

Warm fingers were caressing the back of your neck, raking through some strands of hair, tracing your earlobe and moving down your neck until he hit the zipper of the hoodie and you felt your heart skip a beat in anticipation. For a second you thought that he was going to pull it down, but to your disappointment he didn’t. Chishiya’s hand left it and landed on your waist again, still eagerly kissing you back and pressing his body against yours. Was he trying to be gentle? To not cross any boundaries? Or was it because you told him that you hadn’t had sex before and he didn’t want to rush you? You couldn’t tell. The only thing you knew for certain was that you sure as hell did want more than kissing him and that you weren’t afraid of letting him know.

The kisses grew more intense by the second, it felt like you couldn’t get enough of him no matter how close to him your were or how much you were touching him. You wanted more. You wanted him. If he wasn’t going to take the first step then you would, because the growing need in your stomach was becoming unbearable. Was this what it was like to want someone? It was unlike anything you had felt before, all consuming and powerful, almost drowning out the nervousness that hid somewhere in the back of your mind.

You moved one hand from his neck to pull the zipper down the hoodie. The sound of it made Chishiya react and he let your lips go to stare into your eyes. He was still so close that you could feel the heat radiate off his skin, onto your already burning cheeks.

”We don’t have to do anything” he whispered in a voice so raspy that it made you weak in the knees.

You hummed and shook your head, not having the patience to answer and instead focusing on pulling his hoodie down your arms and letting it fall to the floor, all while looking back into his dark eyes before taking a step back. He watched your every move so intensly that you had to look away before being swallowed.

You didn’t hesitate when you pulled the hem of your shirt up, revealing bit by bit until it was going over your head and falling down, joining the hoodie. He didn’t hesitate to place his lips on yours, kissing you gently before trailing them down you neck.

Slowly, he kissed his way down your shoulder, his fingers gently pushing the bra strap down before his lips followed, leaving a row of goosebumps that were soon covered and soothed under warm lips. Those lips that you had watched so many times, watched and wondered how they would feel like, those lips were pressing against you, so soft, so warm, and so much more than you could’ve ever imagined. Your eyes fluttered closed, instead focusing on how his breath spread over your cheek when he came back up from pushing down both straps. You were hyperfocused on his every move. His hands inching up your waist until they reached the bra clasp, his thumbs running right below it before unclasping it, his hair tickling your cheek… It was all so much - but still not enough. This feeling of wanting someone so intensely was new to you and it was taking some time to wrap you head around it. The logical part of your brain was telling you that the sound of your bra hitting the floor meant that he had full access to your upper body and that you were topless and vulnerable, showing more of yourself than you let anyone see. Yet, the ball of need simmering in your lower stomach made you so calm, so sure that you wanted him to see you. To touch you. And you wanted to touch him too.

He didn’t make a new move, just stood there looking back at you, waiting for your response. You could tell that he was just as impatient as you were, especially considering that hard thing you felt pressing against your hip. It was making you dizzy with excitement that you made his body react like that.

Leaning forward, you put your forehead against his and closed your eyes. His breath was still calm, soothing the nerves that were still in your chest. A hand ran through your hair, long fingers threading through the strands, making you shiver.

”I want you” you whispered against his lips.

Not even a second later his lips were crashing into yours again. There were no slow start, no soft touches, it was hot and desperate and it was taking you by storm. You were so focused on his tounge sliding against yours that you didn’t even notice that he was moving you towards the bed, not until you both spun around and the back of your knees bumped into the matress.

After some struggling to get your limbs to work the way you wanted them to, your head hit the pillows and gave you a clear view of the man that now sat between your legs. He had a clear view of you too, which he clearly enjoyed. His eyes wandered all over you, from your hair that was splayed out under your head, to you neck, breasts (where they lingered a little longer) and down your torso. Before you had the chance of getting too flustered he took his eyes off you, only to pull his t-shirt over his head.

He was beautiful. The closest thing to shirtless he’d been in front of you so far was with his hoodie on, unzipped enough to tease your curiosity with how smooth his chest looked. More than once you’d found yourself observing the small beauty marks scattered over him and more than once you’d wondered how they would feel under the tip of your finger. Now he was here, in front of you with his whole torso on show. Soft lines, more tiny dots, a trail of black hair leading downwards - begging you to follow it. The light shining through the windows made his skin glisten and almost appear golden.

He let you look, let you take in the sight of the captivating man in front of you. You could feel his eyes burning on your face as you reached in, your fingers landing on his collarbone, brushing over it and making their way down his chest until you reached the dark hair trailing to unknown sights. He was just as soft as he looked. Muscles danced under you hands when you stroked them along his waist and ribs. The tent in his pants were evident and you hard to force yourself to not stare. You didn’t know the proper etiquette for how to observe someones dick for the first time, but you knew that Chishiya would definitely tease you forever if he caught you drooling over it already. Caught up in your thoughts about how long staring at someones crotch was still considered normal, you almost jumped when he leaned down and placed his lips on yours again. The weight of his body on yours, and the warmth of his skin made your toes curl. It was such a different feeling, being enveloped by another person. It was comforting and so, so breathtaking. Your fingers tangled through the blonde strands as you pulled him closer to you, only to have the kiss interrupted with a smile, before he placed them on your neck instead. Neck, collarbone, chest - his lips wandered all over you. He lingered when he reached your breasts, one hand carefully cupping one while his tounge ran over the other. You could feel goosebumps spread over you, the sensation so new and so electrifying. You wished he would’ve stayed there longer, but he was in a hurry, desire was probably clouding his mind as much as it did yours. After a few gentle kisses on your stomach, he looked up at you while hooking his fingers under your leggings and underwear, silently asking for permission to remove them. You didn’t think twice before nodding and giving him a quiet ”yes”, cursing that they were still on you and not on the floor already.

The normally calm Chishiya was everything but calm now, dragging the remaining clothes off your legs and throwing them somewhere behind him, his eyes fixated on what he was revealing. You could feel your cheeks heat up again but the desire in you was stronger than the shyness. Without breaking his gaze, he hurrid to remove his own pants. Your eyes followed the trail of hair under his navel, lower and lower and… Oh.

You knew what dicks looked like, you weren’t that innocent, but you had never seen one in real life and certainly not this close in front of you. It was so hard, visible veins running along the shaft, leading up to the tip which seemed to already be wet. Was it supposed to look a bit angry? Then you realised that, oh shit, you were staring at his crotch as if it was some rare animal in a zoo. Just like you told yourself you wouldn’t. And of course Chishiya seemed amused by how intensly you were studying it.

”Do you want to touch it?” he offered with a hint of playfullness, raising an eyebrow at you while the corners of his lips twitched in an attempt not to grin at your eagerness.

Yes. Yes you did. You really did. It didn’t go unnoticed by Chishiya who quickly helped you up so that you were sitting so close to him that your knees were touching. As soon as you felt the heat of him again the lust that had lingered in the air came back down onto you with a vengance. Chishiya’s smile was gone and instead he was eyeing you, reading your every reaction.

”Here,” he whispered and reached out for your hand, taking it in his and guiding it back until they were both wrapped around him. ”Like this.”

It was warm. Smooth. Hard but still soft under your touch. You followed Chishiyas slow movements, up and down, and back up again until he released his grip on you and let you move freely. The world was quiet around you, making the hurried breaths falling out of Chishiya’s mouth loud in your ears. You wanted to know what other sounds he would make. Running your thumb over the tip earned you a small gasp, rubbing it just under the head gave you another one. Would he moan if you ran your tounge over it? When you pried your eyes away from his length to look at his face you were met heavy eyes and open lips looking back at you. He was feeling good, you could tell. What was even more amazing was that it was you that was doing that to him. He was feeling good because of you. You wanted him to feel better, so you started moving your hand a bit faster, feeling how he got wet under the palm of your hand which made your movements smoother. His breath was speeding up even more and you even heard a soft groan in the back of his throat. A groan that went straight into your core, fanning the already burning flames.

All too soon, Chishiya took your hand again and removed it from his length, disrupting your enchantment and almost making you sulk over that it ended that fast.

”Lay back down” he murmured with a strained voice, gently pushing you backwards while following on top of you. As soon as your head hit the pillows his lips met your neck, followed by a whisper just below your ear.

”I want to touch you too. Can I?”

”Yes” you whispered back, excitement mixed with nerves stirring up inside you.

Chishiya didn’t waste any time before lifting himself off you a little and sliding his hand down your body, caressing every part of you on his way down to where you were silently begging him to go. You gasped when you felt his fingers slip in between your legs, to run a line over your folds before dipping down between them, easily sliding through the wetness. His eyes never left yours, he was observing your every reaction to his fingers finding your clit, making soft circles that sent jolts of electricity through your body. It felt heavenly.

You had touched yourself before, plenty of times, so you weren’t inexperienced with that part. However, the feeling of someone elses fingers were a whole new kind of pleasure. How could you ever go back to doing it yourself when he made it feel this good?

Chishiya switched up his movements every now and then, making you squirm underneath him as he circled your clit, drew lines between your folds - and then finally pushing a finger into you. It was just one finger but it already felt better than anything you’d ever had there. With slow thrusts he pushed against your walls, finding your g-spot easily and grinning at you when you begged for another finger. He complied and pushed another one in alongside the first one, spreading them between the in and out motion to prepare you for him. Your eyes were squeezed shut and mouth open, breath hurried and that fire in your stomach growing steadily.

All too soon he removed his fingers entirely. You groaned at him, but when you opened your eyes you weren’t met by the smirk you thought you would see but with a Chishiya impatiently eyeing your chest. It was your turn to smirk now. When he noticed it, you could swear that his cheeks got a bit redder, making the cute flush on his face ever sweeter. But he didn’t let you enjoy it too much. You felt him wiggle around between your legs and realised that he was lining himself up, preparing himself to finally sink into you.

”Are you sure you want to do this?” Chishiya’s voice was filled with desperation. You had never seen him this affected by anything and it filled your heart with warmth.

Running your fingers through his hair and down his shoulder, you gave him the most secure look you could when you answered ”Yes, I’m sure” with full honesty. You watched him swallow hard at the answer.

”Okay” he continued with a low, sultry voice, sounding so good that it made your cheeks heat up even more. ”Tell me if you want me to stop.” Then you felt pressure against your entrance when he finally started to push into you.

For a moment you forgot to breathe. You forgot the whole world around you and the only thing in your mind was the overwhelming feeling of Chishiya, very slowly, sinking into you and filling you up perfectly. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, grounding yourself with the soft skin underneath.

”Are you okay?” Chishiyas voice was strained, but concerned, as he stopped his movements to check in on you.

”Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… a lot.”

”Can I move?”

You could feel his dick twitch when he asked, clearly enjoying being deep inside you. It was such a strange feeling, being filled like that, feeling every part of him. You wanted more.

”Please.”

With a careful pace he pulled back, almost out of you, before pushing back in. His eyes were glued on your face, observing every expression you made - and you couldnt help to stare back at him. He really was beautiful. Silver hair falling down the sides of his flushed cheeks, full lips open and waiting to connect with yours, and those eyes that hid so many things yet gave away so much at the same time. He was hovering right above you, close enought to feel his entire body against yours but without putting his weight on you. He was so warm. So soft.

Chishiya quickly found a good pace, rocking into you with a steady rythm that made small whimpers leave your mouth in time with every push against your sweet spot. You couldn’t help but to put your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you until his lips were back on yours, soft but needy. The delicious drag against your inner walls combined with his lips against yours made your head spin. Was it supposed to feel this good? Shouldn’t it be more awkward? You didn’t know. And you sure didn’t care either. All your senses were filled with Chishiya. His warmth, his smell, his quiet moans forming in the back of his throat once he buried his head in your neck.

”Fuck, sorry, I’m gonna come.” Chishiyas voice was rough as he was apologizing, even though there were nothing to apologize for. A wave of electricity hit you in the pit of your stomach at the thought of him feeling that good. That you made him feel that good. Instead of answering you decided to cross your legs around his waist - a wordless act to ask him to keep going. And he did.

Chishiyas thrusts started to become a bit erratic, abandoning the steady pace he had before and giving in to his body’s wishes. It didn’t take long until you heard a soft moan, followed by his hips stuttering, cock twitching and warmth filling you up inside.

You both stayed still like that for a while. Your hands raking through the back of his neck, puffs of his hurried breath mixed with soft pecks on the side of yours. You two were a panting, sweaty mess as you laid tangled together on the bed, but you didn’t want it any other way. You savoured every last bit of it before he lifted himself up on his hands and slowly pulled out of you. The sudden emptyness made you wince, already missing the fullness and connection he had given you.

You thought you were done, happy to lay back and bask in the afterglow of this experience, but Chishiya seemed to have other ideas. Even though he moved off of you and laid down on his side, he kept his lips on you, placing lazy kisses on your neck and shoulder. You felt his hand travel down your stomach, soft caressing until he reached the apex of your legs - and it wasn’t until then that you realized that he was going to try to make you come too.

”Wait” A soft whisper from you made him his action and look up at you with a confused look on his face.

”But you didn’t get to come” Chishiya answered more as a question than a statement, but removed his hand and placed it back of your stomach.

”I don’t need to. That was amazing”

”Are you sure?” He still wasn’t convinced, which made you quietly laugh.

”Yes I’m sure.”

”Fine then” Chishiya rolled over onto his back, still close enough to your that your skin touched. In the corner of your eye you could see him smirking while staring up at the ceiling. His hair was a mess, some strands standing straight out, but he was still gorgeous laying there. You wondered if he knew how pretty he was. Probably. And he most likely used it as a manipulation technique. Wait, why was he looking back at you, and why was the smirk bigger than ever.

”So, I guess you can die happy now”

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Mist and Alpha late night talk be upon ye. Their relationship is very important to me.

It's quiet on the roof. Getting there isn't easy, but once settled, Mist relishes in the sense of peace that washes over her. Tonight, though, she only gets two lungfulls of smoke before a voice cuts through the relative silence of the night.

"Got one for me ?"

How Alpha always manages to find her hidding spots is beyond Mist's knowledge.

"Die," she grumbles without looking at him, even as she extends the pack of cigarettes toward the fire ghoul.

The fact alone that he lights it without flourish tells Mist Alpha is preoccupied. That and the tension sitting heavy in his broad shoulders.

"You good ?" he rasps after a long inhale, voice always a bit veiled, scratching in his throat.

Mist shrugs vaguely, eyes finding a star and latching onto it. There's a long silence, an unusual display of patience from Alpha, before she sighs in defeat.

"Worried about Omega."

A gush of winds raises goosebumps on her skin. She should have brought a jacket. It becomes a bit more bearable when Alpha reajusts his stance and the heat he naturally radiates washes over her.

"Yeah, me too."

Smoke billows in front of them as it escapes their mouths, curling in hypnotizing shapes.

"...don't get me wrong, I love Terzo, I think he's a great guy, but..."

"He's human," Alpha finishes for her, "mortal. And Omega is not. I mean not really. No one's eternal, but us ghouls come close."

With a heavy sigh, Mist nods, lower lip bitten raw and stinging.

"Omega always had a big, bleeding heart. If- when he loses Terzo to human fragility, he's going to feel it with his entire being."

Alpha grunts in agreement. There is no way Omega won't fall appart at the loss of his lover, no matter the circumstances.

"Can't get too close to humans. Will just bring pain."

Mist huffs.

"Hypocrite."

"Fuck you, Secondo and I are just a thing of convenience, nothing more."

What a poor liar Alpha can be, when it comes to these matters, a tremor in his voice and longing in his eyes. Mist raises an eyebrow, tilting her head toward him.

"I didn't even mention him."

Shoulders sagging in defeat, Alpha runs a tired hand on his face, through his hair. Mist wonders if he still struggles to sleep, or if he stays up late just to catch a break, have a quiet moment to himself. If so, her presence doesn't seem to bother him; after all, he sought her out in the first place.

"You still having nightmares ?"

Mist tenses.

"Fuck d'you think i'd be doing here if I wasn't ?"

Alpha doesn't answer. Mist bites her lip, inhales, exhales, shaking off the guilt churning in her guts. It's instinctive, biting when she feels cornered, when a touchy subject is on the table. And if it was anyone else, she probably would storm off. But this is Alpha. The fire ghoul knows, and understands.

"Sorry. I meant, yes, I still have them."

Somewhere in the night, an animal screeches. A cloud momentarily hides the moon. Nightmares are terrible things, forcing Mist to face her deepest fears without being able to do anything about it. She doesn't remember when it started, but now she can hardly spend a night without having her own mind playing those cruel tricks on her.

Some nights, when Mist wakes up with the taste of bile in her mouth and torn sheets sticking to her clamy skin, she forgets where she is. All that she feels is how small and lonely she is.

"You don't have to sleep alone, y'know."

It's as if Alpha read her mind. A tempting offer. Mist considers, stomping on the butt of her cigarette.

"You'd hold me, sparkling ?"

The light tone she tried to inject in her voice falls flat, as does the nickname Alpha hates so much. As it is, he only hums and finally turns fully toward her.

"You know I will. If you let me."

The cloud drifts away, silver moonlight pouring once again on Alpha's face, highlighting the deep scars on his cheek, the days old stubles, the crease between his eyebrows.

"Alright then."

They stare at each other in silence for a while. There is something off with Alpha's expression, like he's trying very hard to school it into his usual bitch resting face. Mist is not sure how to word the question she's burning to ask.

"Do you- did something happen ? You look...upset."

The way Alpha opens his mouth in an instant, ready to retort, lips starting to pull back in a snear, reminds Mist of herself just a few minutes ago. But then he looks away, shoulders and chest rising with the inhale he takes.

"Got into a fight with Pebble."

"Again ?"

Mist isn't sure what Alpha and Pebble's relationship is. Most Siblings and a few other ghouls are convinced they hate each other's guts - and given the amount of screaming matchs they get into, it's a fair assumptions. But Mist knows damn well it goes further than that.

She knows they both respect each other, despite everything. She knows Pebble tends to seek Alpha's gruff approval, even if the earth ghoul would vehemently deny it and possibly comit murder if anyone mentionned it. Mist has keen eyes, and she can see that Alpha orbits toward Pebble much more than you'd expect. That he looks out of the earth ghoul and genuinely seems to care about him, in his own way. Their fights tend to get to both of them, no matter how much they try to shrug them off.

"...yeah. It's fine, we'll get over it, I just...wasn't even trying to piss him off, you know ?"

Yes, Mist does know. Whatever bound those two share, it's torny and full of knots, a difficult thing that's still strong enough never to let them severe it. She hopes the squeeze she gives to his shoulder is enugh to convey her understanding, all the reassurances she doesn't really know how to put into words.

It seems to be, if the way Alpha leans into it with the faintest hint of a purr is anything to go by.

Her musing is interrupted by a jaw-dislocating yawn.

"C'me on. It's so late it's almost early," Alpha mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

They don't speak of the fire ghoul's offer again, but when Alpha steps into his bedroom, Mist is right behind him.

Maybe, tonight, warm limbs will ward off the horrors of the night.

[lokischocolatefountain]

well if you are taking requests, itd be great to see more touch starved joel, joel who is so afraid of hurting you in bed but bruises you anyways, joel who flinches when you yocuh him after nightmares but then comes closer when you pull away.

I love this request 🥺🥺 You are very right and Joel Miller is a touch starved man and deserves to be fed. So, here you go

Our Normal

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Mature (Mention of violence, sexual situations)

A/N: I loved writing this and I hope the anon who requested it has fun reading it 💜 Also, I have a Javi request that was sent before this but the man was being so uncooperative so I had to ditch him for Joel for a while.

Joel was never a physically affectionate man. His love is shown through acts of service for the people he loves, through protecting them from everything in the universe. That changes when he becomes a father in his early twenties. Sarah is just so little and so fragile and he needs to hold his baby girl because if he doesn’t, he might just explode. He gives her hugs and kisses and cuddles. She always gets kisses on the forehead and cheeks when he tucks her in.

When he loses Sarah, his world is effectively over and touch is no longer about affection. People don’t yet know how the infection spreads, so they keep from touching each other. Someone approaching you might be infected. If they touch you, it might be over. Touch is no longer a hug from his daughter or a pat on the back from his brother. It is deceiving a young man with a fake injury and begging him for supplies before putting his hands around his neck and strangling him to steal his car. It is a punch to his face, a kick to his stomach and an arm putting him in a chokehold.

With Tess, it is different. It is a squeeze to his shoulder when he wakes up from yet another nightmare of his child, still a toddler, asking him why he let her die. It is a quick fuck on the ground in the woods to relieve some tension. It is her slipping into bed with him and holding him because they have both agreed they need this without any words being exchanged. It is more than anything he has ever had with other women in his life. But it is never spoken of, it never means anything more, it just is.

He is in Jackson and life has become normal yet he cannot adjust to it. After two decades of leading a life that is anything but normal, the comfort of three meals a day, a roof over his head and certainty that he’ll wake up the next morning is frightening. He knows he will never adjust. Everyone else seems happy living this normal life, but it is something he will never accept. People hug and kiss and marry. Tommy holds his newborn in his arms and kisses his wife’s hand like it’s normal, like the last twenty years didn’t happen. He wants it too. It shames him to want, but oh how he wants to touch you, to hold your hand and cup your cheek and graze your finger when you hand him something. But he cannot give in. If he allows himself to slip into such comforts, he will not survive when it is taken away from him again. If he accepts it as normal, it will mean that he will have moved on from the loss. The loss of Sarah, of his…Tess.

He touches you once. It is a necessity. It is during patrol and you were about to step on a trap someone left to catch animals. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you back, but he keeps his hands on you for longer than necessary. You thank him a little dramatically for “saving my life” and he smiles. For the first time in a long time, it isn’t because of something Ellie said. He lets you go, grunts and walks along on the patrol route. His hand is twitching nervously by his side because holy shit he just touched you. When he lies awake that night, he recalls the roughness of your skin, thinks about whether it used to be soft before all this. Whether he would’ve liked your skin soft just as much he likes your now rough skin.

Someone in town in teaching pottery to pass on important skills so that nothing dies when one person dies. Ellie forces him to go with her even when he tells her he doesn’t give a shit about making goddamn pots. He stops complaining when he sees you’re also there to learn, even though you are more advanced than he is. Pottery doesn’t come to him naturally and Ellie laughs at him for spinning his wheel too fast and touching the clay too hard, making the thing collapse on itself. You laugh too, but then you help him. You place your hands on his and show him how to mold the clay. You show him how to trim the edges with the fancy tools. You place your creating next to his and Ellie’s in the kiln and shake his hand to congratulate him on his shitty bowl that would’ve been shittier if you hadn’t helped. He wonders what it would be like to slot his fingers in the space between your fingers.

It goes from joint patrols to joint pottery classes to joint drinks at the Tipsy Bison. You touch his arm, you place your hand on his, you brush your shoulder against his and it takes him a longass time while to realize you are flirting. He hadn’t been the subject of it ever since he became a single father wearing T-shirts covered in snot, baby food, mysterious sticky substances from Sarah using his shirt as tissues, Sarah’s blood— He panics, he flinches when you touch him. He apologizes, mumbles something about Ellie needing dinner and storms out of the place. He forgets to pay for his fucking drink and learns you decided to pay for him with more coffee than you’d planned on exchanging with the bartender.

He apologizes the next day, offers his private stash of old whiskey he found somewhere to make up for the coffee you’d lost because of him. But you surprise him, offering not just reassurance that it was alright but offering your understanding, telling him you were sorry for whatever you did to unintentionally trigger him and that if he told you what it was, you would never do it again.

You have your fair share of terrible days. You find him after patrol and ask to exchange your music cassette for some of his liquor. He gives it to you for free and you down half the bottle. You tell him you are afraid of being alone that night and he doesn’t have to ask questions to know that it’s something serious. He lets you stay. He holds you in him arms even though having contact without another person kills him. He realizes it kills him because he likes it and knows he doesn’t deserve things he likes. Not when his baby has become nothing in an unmarked grave he should’ve joined her in.

He never intends to have sex with you. It is no longer as much of a need as it used to be. He is older and his body has been through too much. Sex isn’t the need. You are. Holding your hand in his trembling hand isn’t enough. Touching your cheek when he kisses you isn’t enough. His hand on your lower back. Your hand in his hair, your head on his chest as you hugged— it wasn’t enough. No matter how much you gave, he wanted more. More and more and more.

You invite him to your bed and he goes. He knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve whatever you’ve given him so far and definitely doesn’t deserve what you were going to give him next. He is afraid but he wants it so bad, wants you so bad. You are sweet, gentle, like you know he has a strange relationship with touch. You take your time when you get on your knees and nuzzle into his thighs and wrap your pretty lips around his cock. He tries to keep his hands away. He knows he should because if he got to touch you when you had his cock in your mouth, he would wrap your hair in his fist and fuck into your mouth, use you for gratification.

He digs into your thighs with his nails when he has them spread apart and his head between them, his lips devouring you like you were his favorite taste before the luxury of tasty things ceased to exist, like he was getting to experience his favorite taste after two decades of deprivation. He holds you in a death grip, leaves behind bruises and apologizes for them when he realizes what he has done. He tends to you, apologizes repeatedly, is gentler the next time.

He doesn’t sleep next to you. If he manages to fall asleep, he wakes up wishing he didn’t. Sleep without nightmares is a rarity. He could jolt up from bed or lie looking peaceful while his brain tortured itself with memories, both real and false. He doesn’t want you to see him in his most vulnerable moments. He doesn’t want to burden anyone with his anguish. He doesn’t want to look weak. He is supposed to be strong, be the protector, be the capable man you can rely on.

He wakes up after yet another nightmare and lies in bed, unprepared to face you as the weaker man he believes himself to be. You make him coffee and bring it to bed. You drink it with him. You hold his hand. He flinches, the effects of his nightmare persisting. So you pull away, allowing him his space when he pulls you back in. He doesn’t know what he wants, doesn’t know if it is right to want you like this— being there for him, comforting him, giving him a shoulder to lean on. He shouldn’t, but he leans anyway. You don’t ask him to talk about it and he appreciates it. You don’t need to know the gory details to know he’s hurting. You don’t need to hear the turmoil in his head to hold him to your chest and let him cry.

Maybe not talking wouldn’t be enough in the normal world. But that is a world they will never have again even if the cordyceps ceased to exist at once. So he adapts in love like he adapted to holding a gun in hands that held hammers and nails with nails painted by his little girl.

He grows used to it, but he still flinches sometimes. You flinch sometimes too. You learn each other’s boundaries, apologize when they’re crossed. Sleep still eludes him and he remains starved of touch, but he satiates himself as little as he could without overwhelming himself. His hands sometimes tremble when he touches you. He could never fall asleep in the same bed as you. It isn’t normal, but it is the normal he has with you and you are both content in it.

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My Masterlist