#was it casual when you said you wanted to marry me

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Knight To Remember - Seungmin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: knight! Seungmin x princess! reader

summary: Your parents set up a competition for all the knights in the kingdom and said whoever wins it wins your hand. Your childhood enemy has entered just to piss you off but what happens when he unexpectedly wins?

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, tooth-aching fluff

Knights and noblemen from the entire kingdom had made an appearance. They had trained, bartered and bought their way into this competition. All for your hand in marriage. It wasn't that they were after. This long line of eligible men weren't your true loves. When they looked at you, they saw the crown. A shining symbol of money and power. Marrying you was just a technicality. An added responsibility they each of them would ignore the moment the wedding ceremony was finished. You would rot away in that castle just as your mother had. And there wasn't a thing you could do about it.

The first pairing stepped forward. An experienced knight that everyone knew by name. The crowd roared and cheered him on and he soaked up every moment. His opponent matched him in size but not popularity. The match was over in a few moments with Mr. Popular coming out the victor. “Who's next?” He shouted, his confidence growing by the second.

Some of the other knights instinctively stepped backwards, not wanting to risk the almost certain humiliation of going against such a distinguished knight. You sighed heavily as you watched the other men look around at each other, unsure what to do.

“I'll take you on, big guy.” A voice rang from the crowd with a familiar tone. You leaned over your balcony to see him, Seungmin, stepping into the ring. His gloved hand gripped tight around the handle of his sword and he moved his feet into practiced positioning.

Seungmin was exceptionally skilled as he was irrefutably stubborn. He had been asked by many to join their individual cause and help them fight, but Seungmin always brushed them off. Must have enjoyed the company of free drink and free women more than fighting for his kingdom. What a pig. You turned your nose and your back as Seungmin readied himself. But you still peered over your shoulder still, figuring it would give you some sort of entertainment to see him get his ass kicked.

Seungmin raised his sword in proper knightsmen etiquette, signaling that he was ready to begin. Mr. Popular stepped forward as well. He was noticeably taller than Seungmin. “Are you sure? I don't want to embarrass you in front of such a beautiful princess.” The knight boomed, gesturing to you in the balcony above the arena. Seungmin turned his head towards you and smiled. A smile you knew all too well. A smile that promised more mischief was to come. He bowed to you like a gentleman. You rolled your eyes in response. “Ready when you are.” Seungmin said, addressing the knight. Although his eyes never left yours as he spoke.

“It's not like I killed him.” Seungmin laughed as he pulled off his remaining armor. You stood together in your father's study. The entire kingdom was already filling up the castle with cheers of congratulations. The halls were echoing with Seungmin's name. In a panic, you pulled him in here to try to get an explanation out of him. “Do you realize what you've just done?” You were searing with anger. Seungmin moved to a small shelf with a bottle and some glasses and poured himself a drink. “Of course I realize it.”

You groaned in frustration as he moved casually. “You really do hate me, don't you?” You snapped. Seungmin sat across from you in a lounge chair that was almost always reserved for your father. He swirled a glass of wine, his long fingers clinging to the rim. A slow smirk spread across his lips.

“Is that what you think? That I hate you?” He said finally, standing up from the chair and making his way to you. He closed the gap between the two of you almost instantly. Like he was impatient now. Like waiting any longer to touch you was no longer an option.

Your body reacted immediately, stepping away from him and inching closer to the wall behind you. “Yes, that's what I think.” You whispered. Your voice was breathier now, like Seungmin had willed the air out of the room. His armor was gone now. But more than the iron helmet and the steel plates that he carried heavy while he battled. He was stripped away now. His broad shoulders and muscular arms filled the tunic that billowed and swayed as he moved. He looked vulnerable. Like the boy that threw rocks at your window in the middle of the night to tell you to sneak out. The boy who picked on you when you wore your fanciest dress. The boy that pulled your hair and ran away. “I don't hate you,” his eyes were hooded and dark. His pupils dilated from the dim lighting of the candles. “If I hated you, I would've let one of those fucking pricks win.” He took a long sip of his wine. His eyes stayed locked onto yours. “What do you mean?” You tilted your head, genuinely taken back by his response.

“Do you really think I'd let one of those entitled assholes marry you? Do you think they care about you? Do they know your favorite food? Or how you sneak desserts from the kitchen before dinner is served? Or that you are terrified of thunderstorms? No. And they will never care to learn those things. I can't leave your happiness up to someone else. That is my responsibility.”

Your breath was short and shallow like you needed to cry, or scream, or run away. “Your responsibility?” You snapped back, unsure of what you were feeling anymore.

“That's right,” Seungmin brought his hand up to your chin, gripping it firmly so you would really hear him this time. “ You're my responsibility.”

You wanted to push him backwards, scream that you are no one's responsibility. You wanted to tell him that you don't need anyone for anything… but your heart pushed past your head and grabbed the steering wheel, aiming you directly into his arms. Your hands cupped his face and pulled him into a deep, longing kiss. A kiss that started hard and desperate but then slowly turned into something more delicate and soft. His mouth would move into yours and your lips would respond the same. His hands made their way through your hair, down your neck and finally rested on your hips. Every breath you took mingled with him. The kiss never breaking in fear that this was all a dream and the moment you stopped you'd awake in your bed married to someone entitled asshole.

Seungmin grabbed you by the back of your thighs and pulled you up and around him. He held you so close to his chest you could feel his heart beating. His lips moved down from your mouth and lined your jawline and neck. Soft pecks gave way to hungry bites. Smooth caressing of his fingers gave way to impatient scratching and pulling. You reflexively rut your hips into him, the clothes between you seemingly like the worst torture imaginable.

“Where's Seungmin? I have to congratulate my new son-in-law!” Your father demanded from another room. You pulled back and in an instant so did Seungmin. He continued to hold you, your foreheads pressed against each other as you both attempted to slow your breathing back to normal. Your eyes flickered up to his and with a smile he knew what you wanted to say. He knew you and you were his now. His princess. His responsibility.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts @firelordtsuki

[youleftmenochoicebut]

GOLD RUSH — regulus black x reader.

SUMMARY. — your secret relationship with regulus isn’t so secret anymore.

PAIRING. — regulus black x fem!pureblood!reader

WARNINGS. — reader has a 1st year brother; this is shitty;

A/N. — im desperately trying to write something coherent for reggie and it’s not working

“if you stare at that poor girl for a little while longer i’m pretty sure her head’s gonna set on fire.” Barty’s voice is quiet as he leans in closer to your ear, and you tilt up your head at him, quickly hitting his shoulder. you’re standing in front of the potions classroom, and out of your friend group it’s only the two of you - Evan back in his dorm claiming to be sick, Dorcas not every making any excuses as to why she didn’t show up, Pandora being a ravenclaw, and Regulus… well, Regulus.

Regulus is standing in the darkest corner of the hallway, having a conversation with some hufflepuff (a good friend of his who you have known of for a while) who’s batting her eyelashes up at him, and you wonder if he’s truly that oblivious to notice or just chooses to ignore it. either way you shrug, turning to Barty with a grimace on your face that’s supposed to be a smile.

“damn, babe, with that look on your face you might just scare away potential suitors.” he tugs at your braid, swiftly making it fall apart, and your frown deepens.

“not in the mood, Barty.” you roll your eyes with a scoff, leaning back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. your parents have been bugging you about finding a suitable future husband to marry after you graduate ever since this school year started, and as it all nears spring you’re only growing more restless. of course they don’t know about your relationship with Regulus. sure, they would be over the moon at the news, the younger Black brother being… hot shit amongst the mentally challenged elders, as Evan described it once. which is exactly why you want to keep it under the wraps for as long as you can.

it’s been going pretty well you’d say, both of you not having much problem with acting casual, but lately you’ve been struggling with that. you’re not jealous, Merlin forbid, you’re just… well, maybe you are the tiniest bit jealous. in all honesty, who wouldn’t be? it’s Regulus Black.

you enter the classroom hand in hand with Barty once the clock strikes nine, splitting with him when you make your way to your desk. during this class you actually share your space with Regulus, and so you give him a small smile when he sits down beside you.

the whole day passes in a blur for you, as it usually does, and soon enough you’re in your favorite place of all Hogwarts. you’re sitting on a huge plush couch in the room of requirement, your head resting on your boyfriend’s lap as he runs his slender fingers through your hair. both of you dressed in some comfortable clothes instead of the everyday robes, your wands laying down on the wooden table in front of the sofa.

“i haven’t written back to my mother yet.” you murmur after a moment, eyes set on Regulus’ face, trying to catch every detail of it.

his skin is pale, sheer thin, and if you believed in them you could’ve said he’s a ghost. his lips are always so plump looking, now outstretched in a smile, his gray irises staring right back at you with that loving shimmer to them.

“have Alistair?” he asks, your younger brother’s name leaving his mouth so quiet it’s practically a whisper, and he raises his eyebrows. you shrug, and a moment later you shake your head.

“i’m not sure. i think so.” you reply, internally groaning at the mere thought of your sibling, and you push yourself up on your elbows then fully sit up, reaching out for one of the mugs standing on the coffee table. they’re both filled with hot chocolate, and you take the pink one into your hand, sipping on it slowly. “little bugger is snitching on me, i try to avoid him.”

you watch him chuckle and reach over for his mug, then the two of you lean back against the couch. you can feel yourself sinking into the cushions, and a delighted sigh escapes you, before you catch Regulus’ amused expression and purse your lips together quickly.

“i just can’t wait for all of this to end, so we could move away.” you mumble, setting your cup back down, and he nods. he leans in closer, his hands resting on either sides of your middle, and for a beat he only looks at you. then suddenly his smile widens, and he kisses the top of your nose.

“chocolate on your nose.” he whispers playfully, his lips brushing innocently against your cheek next, then your jawline, your chin, slowly trailing down to set on your neck for a longer while. “just three more months, ma chérie. and we’ll leave it all behind.”

his breath is hot against your skin despite the chilliness of his hands that wrap around your waist, helping you into a laying down position. his caress is gentle, soft, just so so loving.

“a cozy cottage somewhere in a quiet village. maybe wales?” you breathe out, your hands coming up to first rest on his shoulders, but you quickly move them up and tangle them into his dark curls.

“mhm, like we planned.” he nods, making you yelp in surprise as he suddenly sucks on your pulse point, and you swear you can feel him smirk against the column of your throat. “a whole lot of protective spells to keep us safe and hidden from everyone. and then maybe we can focus on what’s good. plant a tree and have a dozen of children.”

“well, i don’t know who’s gonna give you a dozen of children, cause it’s for sure not me.” you scoff, a chuckle escaping your lips as you pull him back from you, and he takes the opportunity to give you a kiss. it quick and sweet, and his hands start to wander under your shirt, ghosting over the outline of your bra teasingly.

you leave the room of requirement in the middle of the night, fingers intertwined, and your guard let down. your clothes are wrinkled up, hair messy and tousled, and there’s already a slight limp to your walk. you’re both sure no one’s going to see you, i mean come on, it’s 2am. but the moment you step a foot outside, and the magic door disappears behind you, you hear a victorious laugh.

your brother is standing right there, just a few strides away from you, grinning from ear to ear. you immediately groan, gaze locking with Regulus’ for a moment before you step forward.

“i swear to Merlin, Alistair, if you tell anyone about this…” you start menacingly, hand clasping on the boy’s shirt collar, but it gives you an opposite result of what you’ve hoped for.

“sod off, Y/N! i’m writing about this to mother right when i get back to my dorm!”

[margeoww]

Can you write a Toto fic where him and his wife were married for 20 years and then divorced and they see eachother again after 4 years of no contact?

After All This Time

back to my main masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x exwife!reader

summary: After 20 years of marriage and four years of silence, Toto Wolff and his ex-wife cross paths at a gala. What begins as a polite conversation soon reveals lingering emotions, unspoken regrets, and the possibility that some connections are never truly broken.

warnings: Themes of divorce and unresolved emotions and bittersweet tones with implied angst and longing.

The clinking of glasses, low hum of conversations, and the occasional sound of laughter filled the room. Toto Wolff stood at the edge of the gala, his usual composed demeanor masking the slight unease he felt. He wasn’t one for these events anymore; they always seemed too polished, too formal. But tonight, he had been convinced to attend.

He scanned the room casually, his eyes falling on familiar faces: team principals, drivers, sponsors. And then, he saw her.

It had been four years since their divorce. Twenty years of marriage undone, leaving behind only memories, regrets, and the occasional pang of guilt that crept in during quiet moments. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, let alone feel the weight of her presence so acutely.

She stood by the bar, her smile as effortless as he remembered, though her laughter seemed freer now. She was talking to someone he didn’t recognize, and Toto found himself frozen in place, torn between the urge to approach her and the fear of reopening old wounds.

Before he could decide, her eyes caught his. The smile faltered, just for a moment, replaced by something he couldn’t quite read. Recognition? Curiosity? Pain? She excused herself from her conversation and began walking toward him.

Toto straightened his posture, his years of dealing with high-stress situations kicking in. But nothing could prepare him for this.

—Hello, Toto —she said softly, her voice laced with an undeniable familiarity that made his chest tighten.

He nodded, offering a small smile. —Hello.

There was a pause, not quite awkward but not comfortable either. They were two people who had shared everything once, now strangers navigating a conversation as if treading on glass.

—It’s been a long time —she said, breaking the silence.

—Four years —he replied, the words heavy with unspoken emotions.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile. —You always were good with numbers.

He chuckled, the sound low and brief. —And you were always better with words.

Another pause. He wanted to say so much, ask so many things—how she had been, if she was happy, if she missed him the way he missed her during quiet nights. But none of those words felt right, so he asked the simplest question.

—How have you been?

She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the drink in her hand. —Good. Different, but good. And you?

He nodded slowly. —Busy. The team keeps me occupied.”

—That doesn’t surprise me —she said, her tone lighter. —You always thrived under pressure.

—Not always —he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Her eyes softened, and he knew she understood what he meant.

They fell into silence again, the air between them thick with memories. He wanted to reach out, to say the things he never could when they parted. But would it change anything?

—I didn’t expect to see you here —she said eventually.

—Nor did I —he admitted. —But I’m… glad I did.

Her expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across her face. —I should go. It was nice seeing you, Toto.

Before she could turn away, he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing her arm. —Wait.

She stopped, looking back at him, and for the first time that night, he allowed the vulnerability to show.

—I’ve missed you —he said quietly.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, he saw the same pain mirrored in her eyes. But then she smiled—a bittersweet, knowing smile.

—I’ve missed you too —she whispered.

And with that, she walked away, leaving him standing alone in the crowded room, the echoes of her words lingering in the air.

Heyyy!!!! This is my first request and it’s about my man Toto 😜. Thank you for requesting this anon, I hope to see more of these. And also hope u like it, remember that English is not my first language ‼️

[cryinhell]

No one asked, but here's my updated top ten hellaverse ships (both canon and not)

10) Stella x Striker

What can I say? I love an evil couple. I think these two look pretty hot together, and it's interesting how Striker seems to respect Stella despite hating blue bloods. These two aren't canon, but I wouldn't mind if they were

9) RadioRose

Despite having mixed feelings on Alastor, I think these two are just so cute. Either as a couple or just queer platonic partners, I don't care. Rosie seems to be the only person to make Alastor genuinely smile, and she's the only one who can touch him. There's a special bond there I really like

8) Verosika Mayday x Wally Wackford

So this is the biggest crack ship on this list, but I think in theory, it's so cute. I really want Verosika to be happy, and Wally, despite being a bit of a scammer, is really sweet. I'm totally cool with Verosika ending up with Barbie as well, but I slightly prefer Wally. I wonder if they will have more interactions in future episodes.

7) Fizzmodeus

Is this controversial? Probably. I know Fizzarolli and Asmodeus are so loved in this fandom, so putting them at number 7 is awful...but they aren't my favorite. I do like them, and I think they're really cute! I just have ships I like more, but that doesn't take away how sweet these two can be. Sometimes obnoxiously sweet heh. So yeah, no disrespect to these two

6) M&M

So these two were at first kinda meh for me, but over time, I've grown to love them. They have a pretty healthy relationship, and I always hate when someone bothers Millie for marrying Moxxie or saying Moxxie isn't a good enough husband. These two clearly love and respect each other and clearly grow together with every episode.

5) Staticmoth

Like I said, I love an evil couple. Valentino is a monster, and Vox is deplorable. That doesn't stop me from loving them as a couple and thinking they are cute. I think they both should die, but also would be sad cause come on, they're cute together.

4) Cherrisnake

I love Sir Pentious, I love Cherri Bomb, so obviously, them together is a fun pair. I shipped these two before the show came out and was so excited to see Pen having a crush on Cherri. They kinda remind me of the early versions of M&M, but they need a lot more time. Cherri isn't ready to accept love, and Sir Pentious is well...in a different world. I can't wait to see these two develop and become an actual couple.

3) Adamsapple

So this and Lucilith could be here. Lucifer being happy is the main objective, and its Adamsapple is so fun. They clearly have a history, and there's a lot of feelings. If Adam comes back in season 2, I'd love to see this be fleshed out. I doubt they'd be a couple, but maybe friends? Who knows. I'm fine with this one not being canon, and just something fun in the fandom

2) Stolitz

Stoltiz is pretty important to me because it really got me involved in the fandom. I've been watching Helluva Boss since the beginning, but episode one of season two had me from casual watcher to actual fan. Blitzø is one of the characters I really relate to, and Stolas is just a really well written character. I love the development of these two and they are worth waiting for. I really gotta draw some fanart of them because they are everything

1) Huskerdust

Are you surprised? You must be new. These two are my everything and all time otp in the Hellaverse. I've talked so much about why I love them, and I will continue to do so until I can't any longer. Angel and Husk are not only my favorite characters individually, but their growing friendship and eventual relationship are just so ughhhh. I love these losers, and they will always be number one.

Thanks for reading my nonsense

Have a good one 💜💜

[rileydylanjamesworld]

By Riley Dylan-James

The first artwork is by @ rosiipilli on twitter, I tried to find the second but I couldn't.

(1195 words)

Anderperry is real and this is an essay on why I think that :D

During the locker room scene Todd is seen to be sat near the window hunched over, seemingly looking at the floor in thought. This is until Neil comes over and clicks him out of his trance, Neil then asks if Todd is going to the study group, which Todd stumbles over some words, which sometimes happens if you like someone, but as he finds his words he looks at Neil's d 3 times, pointing out that Neil has a towel covering him. When todd gives his answer Neil turns towards the group ad Todd looks at his bum (it wasn't casual).

The next time anderperry is shown is when Neil and Todd were talking and Neil wanted Todd to join in, Todd stated that Keating said that everyone took turns reading, Neil then stated that he could still be there if he didn't want to read "what if you just came and listened" Todd then said "thats not how it works" which Neil replied with, happily and encouragingly "forget how it works" this shows that he doesn't care to follow the rules if it makes Todd uncomfortable.

Another important thing to note in this scene is that Neil asked "what if they said it was ok", Todd's response was "what, are you gonna go up and ask them" to which Neil made a suggestive face and jumped up to ask the boys to make the exception. We can see this later on when the poets get to the cave and Neil states that Todd will keep the minutes.

Another time this is obvious to me is when Neil tells Todd about Midsummer, Todd asks what it is to which Neil replies "it's a play dummy", here Neil is very happy and excited about doing the play, at first Todd didn't understand Neil happiness but his face lit up when Neil said "I'm gonna act". Shortly after Todd says "hold on a minute" and starts asking questions such as "how can you be in a play if your father won't let you" and "won't he kill you if he finds out you went to an audition and didn't even tell him", Todd keeps saying logical things and then Neil suddenly snaps thinking that Todd is on his father's side, and the regret as soon as he snaps is as clear as day, he fully regretted snapping at Todd. Todd then says "you say things and people listen (refering to Neil) I'm not like you" to which Neil replies "don't you think you could be" (again, suppoting boyfriend). In this scene Todd also says that he can take care of himself to have Neil reply with the word no, Todd asks "what do you mean no" and Neil repeats himself saying no again but with a smirk (ROBERT SEAN LEONARD THE MAN YOU ARE).

Shortly after Niel is being chased by Todd around their room and Niel says "I'm being chased by Walt Whitman" who was a known queer poet.

After Neil getting the part he funds Todd and they look a bit close in the doorway, Todd looks like ge was gonna lean in for a little kiss, Todd being the supportive friend he is sits on the bed and helps Neil with writing the letter that should be from his dad, as Todd says "you're not gonna write it" Neil makes a weird squawk which Todd laughs off looking at Neil, (flirting).

After we see bagpipes being played near the river which I'm assuming is the place of the deleted scene. In this scene Todd and Neil are practicing Neil's lines where Neil is very energetic which shows his love for acting, which he has been doing his whole life to be the best boy for his dad, and Neil says "god I love it!" To which Todd replies with "what? Me?" (YES YOU! GET MARRIED!) Here it shows that Todd has some feelings for Neil. Also when Neil says "put more into it" it shows how supportive, encouraging, Neil is towards Todd, green flag all round. (Just this whole scene shows they're gay, you can't miss it). Todd and the madman poem is another good example of anderperry because Todd didn't write a poem, Keating helps him write one about Walt Whitman (a known queer poet) being a sweaty toothed madman and when the poem ends the scene lands on Neil who is gobsmacked and staring at Todd, you can't tell me he's heterosexual.

In the scene after while the boys are playing American football you can see a boy jump into another boys arms... that's Todd jumping into Neil's arms.

When Knox calls Chris after hanging up the first time Todd turns to Neil smiling, Neil smiles back very happily and Meeks sees them being gay and supports it.

This is mainly from the book but in a few scens after it is Todd's birthday and Neil spots him sat on the roof, Neil says happy birthday enthusiastically and even though Todd got the same desk set he already has Neil tries to make him happier by saying maybe his parents thought he needed a new one, point is that Neil in this scene is trying EVERYTHING in his power to make Todd happy.

While Charlie is coming back from Nolan office Todd and Neil were talking to each other, probably nothing but just a note.

When Neil is in Keatings office talking about how his father wouldn't let him do the play this can also be a metaphor for gay love because when dead poets was set gay love was frowned upon, and when he says he's trapped this could also be because he loves Todd too.

When Neil is going to the car Todd is following along trying to get Neil's attention and as his dad drives him away the camera pans to keating with Todd in the background staring after the car.

Just after when Neil is at home and the boys are in the cave Todd reads the poem that he was writing earlier on in the film, Neil might have given Todd the confidence from the play.

When Todd finds out that Neil is dead he goes outside and Todd was gagging and just after he runs to the pier where him and Neil were rehearsing lines before in the movie for his play, his final yawp was for Neil.

In a few scenes after when Cameron said that that Neil would be cozied up in his room rn dreaming of being called doctor, Todd butted in nearly shouting "that is not true Cameron" and "Neil loved acting"

To also note a lot of the time when death was mentioned the camera would usually pan to Neil which could suggest that he was suicidal from the very start of the movie.

People say midsummer has queer potential- Anderperry.

Midsummer explores the theme of dreams and implies that the play itself is a dream- Neil's dream to be an actor.

Also they're both in Tape 2001 so don't try and tell me they're not soulmates.

Thank you for reading!

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Eight: Responsibility Above All 

Word Count | 5.9k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader OC Chapter Warnings | allusions to smut, switch pov

The General’s tent looked so different in the morning light. Last night, it had felt heavy with mystery and unease, the kind that made it impossible to relax. Perhaps it was the strangeness of the place—unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar surroundings—but now, everything seemed calmer. The soft rays of sunlight poured through the open flaps, making the candles from the night before seem unnecessary. A gentle breeze moved through the tent, replacing the sticky heat with something cooler, almost refreshing. You wondered if this change in the air would make it easier to say the difficult words you had prepared.

As expected, sleep never came to you. When the first light of dawn appeared, you decided to stop tossing in bed and face the day. Hours had passed with nothing but your thoughts: plans forming and silent prayers to the heavens, hoping for some divine guidance from your mother or father. Yet the silence of the gods remained unbroken, and you were left to face this moment alone.

In the corner of the tent, a wooden chest sat quietly. It was a gift from Lena, the General’s pregnant wife, filled with fresh dresses to replace the one torn from your ride through the woods. Her gesture had surprised you. You were so used to hollow kindness from people trying to gain favor with the Emperor’s daughter. But here, in this encampment, you had no title, no throne to sit upon. You were no longer a princess. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lena’s gesture came from a place of genuine goodwill. You made a mental note to thank her later, with sincerity.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts. Valerian, Lena, and Acacius entered the tent together.

For a brief moment, your eyes met Acacius’s. His expression was different from last night’s anger; instead, there was something else—something quieter, as if looking at you caused him pain. You forced yourself to ignore it. Your feelings didn’t matter right now. A leader couldn’t afford such weakness.

“Your Grace,” Valerian said, his tone casual, as though this decision was a simple one. “Have you reached your conclusion?”

“Be kinder, my love,” Lena interjected, her voice gentle but firm. “She is not one of your comrades to be addressed so carelessly.” She moved gracefully across the tent and settled into a chair near a modest table bearing fresh fruit. A quiet exchange passed between her and Valerian—an unspoken connection that only lovers share. His boyish, almost bashful smile hinted at a shared secret. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if the gods would ever grant you something even remotely resembling their bond. “Forgive us for the delay, my dear. This little one decided to make quite the fuss after all the excitement of last night.” Her hands rested protectively on her belly, caressing it with the tenderness of a mother. A gesture so natural, so familiar, that it stirred distant memories of your own mother.

“There is no need for further formality.” You stood, squaring your shoulders to project a confidence you did not entirely feel. “I have reached my decision. To do so, I had to set aside my personal desires and emotions. My duty is to the Roman people, just as my father’s always was. He would not have tolerated a usurper taking the city through unjust means. That is why I must marry General Acacius.”

You kept your eyes fixed on Valerian, unwilling to face Acacius and risk seeing the disdain you were certain must be etched on his features.

But if you had looked, you would have seen his expression shift. Surprise overtook his face, his breath caught in his throat, and for a heartbeat, his chest seemed to freeze mid-rise.

“My father despised war,” you continued, your voice firm and deliberate, “but he understood the cost of peace. He would never have wanted me to wed someone as corrupt as Macrelius, merely to appease the Senate. His memory must not be dishonored, and our people must be free from the tyranny of those men.” You finished your speech with as much resolve as you could muster, praying that your words conveyed the image of a determined and courageous leader. Yet beneath the surface, your heart trembled.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

What, in the name of all the gods, was she doing?

Acacius mind replayed the events of the previous night with merciless clarity. Their encounter had spiraled out of control, unraveling in a way he hadn’t anticipated. To him, it had been obvious—marrying that man was never an option. Yet when you uttered those cursed words, that you would feel safer with Macrelius, something inside him had snapped.

He regretted his reaction, bitterly. His words, his tone—they had been unbecoming of a soldier, let alone a man who loved a woman. And love you he did. The realization had struck him with the force of an enemy’s blade. There was no other explanation for the jealousy that had clawed its way through him, no excuse for the way his chest burned at the mere thought of you choosing another. After storming out of your tent, he’d spent the night tangled in the memory of your voice, your expression, the pain etched into your every word.

For a fleeting moment, he’d considered returning to you, swallowing his pride to apologize. But what good would that have done? Surely, you would choose Macrelius. You deserved happiness, and if it lay with another man, then he would have no choice but to accept it. He would support it, even, if only to keep you safe.

But now—now you stood here, and your words shattered everything he thought he understood.

I must marry General Acacius.

The walls he had so carefully built around his heart crumbled in an instant. His breath caught, his pulse racing as though he were preparing for battle. His body screamed at him—fight or flee. But which was it to be? Should he run from you and the chaos you brought into his soul, or fight for this fragile, impossible thing between you? For the first time, Acacius questioned everything he had promised himself.

"Well, it seems you're very much decided, Princess," Valerian’s voice broke through the haze in his mind. “I can see your father left a great legacy. My wife will handle all the... womanly matters, given that she’s one of the few here not at home raising our son as I begged her to do a thousand times.” His tone was light, teasing, as he glanced at Lena, who responded with a knowing smirk.

"Wait," Acacius interrupted, his voice unsteady, almost desperate. "Do I not have a say in this?"

“To be honest, brother, you don’t,” Valerian replied, his tone soft yet firm. “We’ve already discussed this, and much to your dislike, you can’t escape marriage forever.”

Lena rose carefully, her movements slow under the weight of her pregnancy. “Perhaps they should have a moment alone,” she suggested, slipping her arm through Valerian’s. Her playful tone returned as she whispered, “Your son is crushing my ribs, and I need some air.”

As the couple left the tent, you turned to Acacius, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the rustle of the canvas around you. “I know this decision doesn’t bring you joy,” you began, your voice wavering. “But this is something I must do—for my people, for my father—”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, spilling the words in a rush as your fingers twisted nervously at the hem of your dress. The weight of his presence was unbearable, pressing down on you like a storm cloud.

“Lumina mea,” he interrupted, his hands reaching for yours. His touch was cold, trembling, yet his grip was firm enough to anchor you. He lowered his head, searching for your gaze until you finally lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Can you not see it?” His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. “My heart has been yours since that night in the gardens. I know I’m not easy to read, that my temper gets the better of me, but this—” He pressed your hand to his chest, where his heart pounded beneath your palm. “This belongs to you and always will. That’s why I must ask: are you sure you want this? If there’s even a single moment where you think you’d be happier with him, then please—choose him. I want you to be happy, and I’m not sure I can give you everything you deserve.”

The words hung in the air between you, fragile and uncertain, yet filled with a sincerity that made your chest ache. For the first time, the formidable General seemed vulnerable—a man standing on the precipice of love and fear, willing to sacrifice everything for your happiness.

"Why didn’t you say all of this earlier?" Your voice trembles, soft and almost fragile, as if it might shatter under the weight of the question. “You left me thinking you hated me, that you were toying with my feelings, and that the idea of marrying me was as dreadful as death…”

Your words trail off, but the pain they carry lingers in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. His silence feels louder than anything, and for a moment, you fear he won’t answer at all.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice rough, each word deliberate. “I… I’m not very good at this. Expressing my feelings, I mean.” He pauses, the weight of his inadequacy evident in the way his shoulders slump slightly. “But I’ll do better—I promise you that.”

He lifts your hand, his grip both gentle and firm, and presses a kiss to the back of it. The warmth of his lips lingers on your skin, and for the first time, you see not the General, not the soldier hardened by years of war, but the man beneath.

A faint smile tugs at your lips, and you raise your eyes to meet his. “Well,” you say softly, “I suppose we’ll have to learn together then.”

Your smile grows, tentative but genuine, and in that moment, something unspoken passes between you. It’s a fragile understanding, a promise that neither of you could fully put into words but both feel with undeniable certainty.

Acacius watches you, his chest tightening with emotions he can barely comprehend. The vulnerability in your smile, the strength in your voice despite the hurt you’ve endured—it moves something deep within him. He makes a vow, silent and sacred, far greater than just learning to express his feelings.

He will become what you need, what you deserve. He will protect you with his very life if necessary, shield you from every storm, and make you the happiest woman alive. You deserve no less, and he will stop at nothing to ensure it.

The world outside the tent seems to fade, its demands and dangers momentarily forgotten. For now, there is only you and him, two souls caught in the uncertain but undeniable pull of something greater than either of you can name. And as he holds your hand, Acacius silently promises that, whatever trials await, you will face them together.

“Then I suppose... I shall see you at the altar.”

His words come softly, yet they carry a weight that lingers in the air between you. His lips curve into a gentle smile, one that feels uncharacteristically tender for the man you thought you knew. But it is not merely the smile that holds your attention; it is the way his eyes glisten, reflecting a light so unlike the fierce general you’ve come to recognize.

In that moment, the stoicism of his demeanor falters. There is something unguarded, vulnerable even, in his expression—a quiet joy that seems almost foreign to him, like a man stumbling upon a treasure he had long forgotten he desired.

And though the words are simple, their resonance stirs something deep within you. For the first time, the path ahead feels less like a sentence and more like a promise.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Lena seemed to embody the excitement of a child at a festival, her energy contagious as she flitted about the tent with determined purpose. She meticulously examined each piece of fabric brought by the other women in the camp, lifting them against the faint light filtering through the canvas walls. Her movements were quick, but precise, her brow furrowed in concentration as she matched the vibrant hues and textures to the dress you were already wearing.

“I’ll make this as beautiful as it can be, darling,” she declared, her tone both reassuring and commanding. “We don’t have much, but what we do have will suffice. A princess cannot be wed in anything less than perfection, can she?” Her eyes lingered on a silken strip of fabric before dismissing it with a wave of her hand, the discarded piece falling to the floor without ceremony.

You stood silent, offering only a timid smile in response. Words felt unnecessary, or perhaps they simply escaped you in this moment. The nervousness coursing through your veins dulled your wit, leaving you unable to summon even the most mundane pleasantries.

Lena paused in her whirlwind, her gaze softening as she seemed to sense your unease. She stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on her hips as she regarded you with a kind, sisterly expression.

“You know,” she began, her voice quieter now, almost conspiratorial. “I grew up surrounded by men. Soldiers, generals, and war councils... it was a world of steel and strategy. But now that you are to marry my brother...” Her voice trailed off as her face brightened with a smile that could rival the sun. “It feels as though I’m finally gaining a sister, you know?”

Her confession took you by surprise, but it brought a warmth to your chest that you hadn’t expected. Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a gentle squeeze. “Of course. And as sisters, you must stop with all this ‘princess’ and ‘your majesty’ nonsense. We are family now.”

Lena’s smile grew impossibly larger, and with a playful tilt of her head, she returned to rifling through the collection of garments, humming softly to herself.

The silence that followed weighed heavily, and at last, you found yourself speaking, your voice hesitant and quiet. “It’s just... I feel so nervous. I’ve been preparing for this my whole life, but even though I don’t mind having a modest wedding, everything feels so strange, so foreign. And then, of course, there’s your brother...”

Lena froze mid-motion, her face clouding with concern as she turned to you sharply. “Did he mistreat you?”

“Oh, no!” you answered quickly, your cheeks coloring at the implication. “Quite the opposite. He’s... well, he’s quite a man.” Your voice faltered, your gaze falling as a shy smile played on your lips. Memories of your fleeting moments with Acacius flooded your mind, and you felt the heat rising to your face.

Lena’s sharp expression softened, her lips curving into a knowing grin. She took your hand and led you to the edge of the cot, sitting beside you with the air of someone eager for a tale. “Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell,” you admitted, though the warmth in your voice betrayed the fluttering in your chest. “At first, I thought he liked me. We even... kissed, the very night we met. But then he began avoiding me, and I convinced myself that he merely tolerated my presence.”

Lena shook her head, her laughter light and musical. “My brother is as thick-headed as a stubborn mule. I’ve long given up trying to understand what goes on in that mind of his.”

“Well, I was certain he would despise the idea of marrying me. But now that I know... that our feelings are mutual...” You trailed off, your laughter nervous. “I don’t know what to do!”

Lena’s expression turned mischievous as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not... worried about the wedding night, are you?”

Your face burned at the mere suggestion, and the look of mortification you shot her made her giggle softly. Sensing your discomfort, she quickly reassured you.

“There’s nothing to fear,” she said warmly. “My brother may be brash and unpolished, but he cares for you. He will be gentle, and I dare say you’ll find the experience far more enjoyable than you might expect.” She stood abruptly, her hands on her lower back as she stretched, her pregnant belly shifting slightly with the motion. “Now come, they’ll be arriving shortly with a priest from the nearest village. You must look splendid.”

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You hadn’t expected his touch to feel this way, warm and steady, grounding you amidst the whirlwind of the evening. His hand enveloped yours, fingers lightly brushing against your skin as if unsure whether to hold tightly or let you slip away. For a fleeting moment, you dared to glance down, marveling at the contrast—the roughness of his calloused palm against the softness of your own.

The two of you sat together on the raised wooden dais, a place of honor reserved for newlyweds. The crude yet sturdy chairs bore wreaths of laurel and wildflowers, their fragrance mingling with the smoky aroma of the fire that roared in the heart of the encampment. Beyond the flickering flames, figures danced in jubilant abandon, their laughter and voices lifting to the heavens as a hymn to Jupiter.

The great fire commanded the center of the celebration, its crackling embers leaping skyward as if eager to carry the prayers of those gathered. Around it, offerings were laid with care—baskets brimming with fresh grains, clusters of vibrant blossoms, and small carved idols placed as tokens of devotion. Each gift was a plea for blessings, a promise of prosperity, and a hope that this union, like the fire itself, would burn bright and enduring.

The golden light of the late afternoon bathed the assembled crowd, casting long shadows over the neatly arranged rows of soldiers. The air buzzed softly with murmured prayers and the rustle of ceremonial garb. The priest, adorned in pristine white robes, stood beneath a canopy of crimson, his hands steady as he prepared for the ancient rite.

Before the him stood Aemilia and Acacius, their hands freshly cleansed and now clasped together in the sacred Dextrarum Iunctio, the joining of right hands—a gesture both symbolic and binding. Their gazes met briefly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them, but Acacius quickly looked forward, his expression a stoic mask.

The priest began the invocation, calling upon Jupiter Optimus Maximus to witness the vows and bless this union forged for the stability of Rome. When it was Aemilia’s turn to speak, she inhaled deeply, her voice carrying across the crowd, steady but heavy with meaning.

"Before the gods and in the sight of this great assembly, I, Aemilia, pledge my hand and my heart to this union. For the good of Rome, I offer my loyalty, my strength, and my honor. In joining our destinies, we create something greater than ourselves, for together, we are stronger than apart."

Her words were measured, deliberate, and though the sentiment was laced with duty, the softness in her tone hinted at her resolve to see this bond through—not out of passion, but out of a deep-rooted sense of responsibility.

Acacius followed, his voice firm but slower, as if weighing every word. "Before Jupiter and all who bear witness, I, Acacius, accept this union with Aemilia. I vow to protect, to honor, and to uphold the promises made here today. For the strength of Rome and the legacy of our people, I take this bond as sacred, unyielding."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, his hand tightening slightly around hers as if grounding himself. "Though our paths have converged not by chance, I will strive to be a partner worthy of this alliance and the trust it commands."

The priest raised his hands in blessing, intoning the ancient words that finalized the pact. A soldier stepped forward, carrying a thin strip of woven cloth, red and gold, which he carefully wrapped around their joined hands—a symbol of their intertwined fates.

As the vows ended, the murmurs of the crowd fell silent, the weight of the ceremony settling like a gentle shroud. Aemilia glanced at Acacius, whose face betrayed no emotion, yet his grip remained firm. For all the political undertones of this marriage, the act of clasping hands, the solemnity of the vows, and the blessings of the gods bound them together in a way no strategy could sever.

“You feel tired? Do you wish to retire?” His voice was a low whisper, a soft murmur that brushed against your ear. His face, illuminated only by the flickering moonlight and the warm glow of the fire, looked somehow different now. There was a hint of redness in his cheeks, a glow that spoke not of exhaustion but of the wine that had loosened the air around you both. It was just enough to make him seem more at ease, more human, yet not enough to dull his sharp gaze.

“I do wish for a little quiet, I’ll admit,” you replied, offering him a shy smile, the words escaping more from nervousness than desire. “But you can stay, enjoy the festivities."

“Oh, I will not,” he said, shaking his head, his voice light yet firm. “These festivities are for both of us. And if you are not here, then there is no reason for me to stay.” He pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand, and as he did, you noticed the gesture had become almost habitual. And strangely, you realized how much you had come to cherish it. “And a husband,” he added with quiet certainty, “I shall follow you wherever you are.”

“Well, if you say so...” you smiled, a little bashful beneath his teasing tone, yet it stirred something warm inside you.

He called to Valerian, murmuring something to him, and moments later, the crowd’s attention was drawn to the space before the fire, signaling the beginning of a special dance.

“This is our cue,” Acacius said, his tone playful, almost boyish, as he gave you a mischievous look, his eyes gleaming with a shared secret. “Let us flee before anyone notices.”

“Oh, so now I see how strategic the great General of Rome is!” you teased him, your voice carrying lighthearted mockery. “What a meticulous plan, indeed.”

He guided you, his hand firm in yours, leading the way as he walked ahead. “So you laugh at me?” he quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I rescue you with a successful plan, and what I get in return is mockery?” His tone was far from angry. In fact, it was the opposite—his humor was infectious. Your teasing had managed to draw out a genuine laugh from him, a sound that, for some reason, filled you with ease.

“Does the soldier wish something different for rescuing a princess in distress, like me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance.

“Well, I do have some things in mind...” His voice dropped an octave, deepening with an unfamiliar edge. You had never heard him speak like this before. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the tent flap, gesturing for you to enter.

Inside, the space was breathtaking. The soft glow of candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, their light warm and inviting. The bed in the center was draped with white cushions, a serene haven in the midst of the night’s revelry. You looked at Acacius with a nervous glance, the anxiety stirring within you like a whirlwind.

“I asked Lena to make our chamber as comfortable as possible,” he said, his voice light, though you could hear the faint hesitation beneath. “I hope... I hope it suits you.” He stepped ahead, close to the bed, as though unsure of what to do next.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Your mother had spoken of certain things, and Vera, in her own way, had offered her limited knowledge during those quiet late nights you shared. But now, in this moment, all that seemed distant, irrelevant. The air was thick with uncertainty.

Noticing your unease, Acacius reached out, his hand extended with gentleness. “Come,” he said softly, his tone laced with warmth. You hesitated but moved toward him, your fingers finding the comfort of his hand. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want tonight,” he continued, his voice steady but kind. “I will never, ever force myself upon you, I promise.”

You lowered your gaze, the nerves flooding your chest, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. “I truly don’t know what to do... I don’t want to disappoint you, but I am, one hundred percent, nervous.”

He gently lifted your chin with his thumb, his touch both firm and tender. “What about we continue from that night in the palace garden?” His words, though simple, brought an unexpected calmness to your fluttering heart. His reassuring smile made the world seem just a little less daunting, and for a brief moment, you felt as though it was okay to be vulnerable, to be unsure.

With a shy nod, you closed the distance between you, your lips finding his in a soft kiss—a quiet promise, a tentative step toward something new, yet familiar.

His lips met yours with a tenderness that belied the strength of his embrace. His hands moved with deliberate care, one encircling your waist to draw you nearer, the other cradling the nape of your neck as though safeguarding a fragile treasure. A fire kindled within you, growing with every heartbeat, and the desire to be closer—to dissolve entirely into him—overwhelmed you.

When he pulled away, it was only just enough to speak, his lips brushing yours as his breath mingled with your own. “I say we do this…” His voice was slightly uneven, breathless in a way that made your pulse quicken. “I’ll lead, but if at any moment you wish me to stop, if anything feels wrong—just say so. Do you understand?”

Your throat felt dry, and the words caught there for a moment before you nodded.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he tipped your chin to meet his gaze, his tone soft but firm. “I need to hear it, mea formosa.”

You swallowed the nerves tightening your chest and managed to whisper, “I will say it… husband.”

The word seemed to ripple through him, his entire frame shivering with a desire so palpable it left you breathless. His forehead pressed lightly to yours as his voice dropped, almost a growl. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Before you could respond, his lips found the curve of your neck, tracing a slow, reverent path that left you gasping. A hum escaped you—whether in agreement, question, or sheer surrender, you could not tell. Words had deserted you, scattered like leaves in a tempest.

He chuckled softly against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. “Nothing to say now, hmm?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, playful yet intoxicatingly deep.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile, though your breath came in shallow gasps. He always had this effect on you—the ability to coax laughter, longing, and love all at once, as if his very existence were a melody only you could hear.

The tension in the air shifted, transforming from anxious uncertainty into something tender and filled with trust. He leaned forward, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that was unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world. His hands moved with deliberate care, one cradling the back of her neck, the other tracing the curve of her waist. Each touch ignited a spark within her, building a warmth that spread through her entire being.

Aemilia let out a soft, involuntary sigh as his lips trailed from hers to her jaw, then to the sensitive skin of her neck. She tilted her head, granting him better access, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. “Acacius,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands trembling as they began to explore his broad shoulders and down his arms.

He guided her to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were afraid to shatter the fragile intimacy that enveloped them. When they sat together, she felt the tremor in his hands as he gently brushed her hair away from her face. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “Do you know that?”

Aemilia’s blush deepened, but a newfound confidence stirred within her. “You...” she said softly, her tone carrying a playful edge, “you are not so bad yourself.”

His laughter was quiet but genuine, and the sound eased the lingering tension in her chest. “Not so bad? Coming from you, I shall consider it as gesture of your kindness” he teased, leaning closer, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

As the layers of clothing fell away, the barriers between them dissolved as well. She could feel his hesitation mingling with her own, yet his touch never wavered. He moved as though she were something precious, his fingertips tracing patterns along her skin that sent shivers down her spine. And when his hands trembled, she placed hers over his, steadying him.

“Acacius,” she whispered, her voice more assured now, “I want this. I want you.”

Her boldness surprised them both, but it was the spark he needed to fully let go of his own reservations. “You have all of me, Aemilia,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “Now and always.”

As the night unfolded, the initial hesitance melted away, replaced by a growing confidence in each other’s embrace. She surprised herself with the way she responded to his touch, her hands exploring the contours of his body with an eagerness she hadn’t known she possessed. He, in turn, was captivated by her courage, her willingness to meet him halfway and then some.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced along the tent, casting an air of quiet intimacy. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound that accompanied the slow, tender movements between them. She, poised yet determined, gently guided him back, her touch sending a shiver through him. Her eyes, darkened with a depth of feeling, met his, and in that fleeting moment, she pushed him back gently, taking the lead in a way that left him breathless.

"Want you so badly, it almost aches," he whispered, his voice low and thick, laden with both admiration and an undeniable hunger. The words hung between them, as if the very air was charged with unspoken desire.

She allowed herself a small, knowing smile, her lips curling ever so slightly as a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. "That bad?" she teased, her voice soft but laden with a certain playfulness. "Well, coming from you, I shall take that as a gesture of your kindness."

He laughed, a warm sound that filled the space, and his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering on her skin. "It's not kindness," he said with a sincerity that made his words feel almost like a vow. "It's the truth. I can't fathom a life where you're not in my arms every moment. How could I bear such a thing?"

She gazed at him, her expression softening, the playfulness in her eyes replaced by something deeper, something quieter. Her hand, still resting against his chest, gave a gentle press, as if urging him to quiet his thoughts.

“Let’s not think of that,” she murmured, her voice low, the words like a delicate sigh, almost a plea.

He looked at her, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze holding his with an intensity that made him forget everything but the two of them, standing there in a world of their own making.

A breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, it seemed as though time itself had paused, leaving them suspended in that quiet space between what was said and what remained unspoken. His fingers grazed her cheek, the touch almost reverent, as if every part of him ached to hold onto this moment, to keep her here, with him, as the rest of the world faded away

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

When their breaths finally slowed and they lay entwined beneath the soft glow of the candles, a comfortable silence settled over them. His fingers traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder, and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

She bit her lip, already feeling the warmth of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I apologize if I’m going beyond some limit by asking," she began, her voice soft and hesitant, as though she were testing the waters of a delicate subject. "But… I feel like I should know, perhaps… Or I’m just curious, and I wish to know. I’m your wife, and I believe we should know some details of each other’s lives."

Her voice trailed off, and she realized she might have spoken more than she intended, her words almost mumbling now, as though retreating into herself. Her heart fluttered, uncertainty swelling in her chest.

"Out with it," he said, his tone light, yet there was a warmth there that softened the words. His hand found its way to her side, pinching her gently, the touch playful, even affectionate, easing some of the tension.

She hesitated, feeling her breath catch in her throat before she spoke again, lifting her gaze from his chest to meet his eyes. "Have you ever… done this before?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her heart raced as she sought the truth in his expression, wondering how he would answer, what that truth might be.

He froze for just a heartbeat, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words, the right way to explain. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever, leaving her to wonder if perhaps he wouldn't answer at all. But then, his voice broke the silence, serious and steady. "I was raised differently, so yes," he replied, his gaze steady, his words deliberate. "I have done it before."

She could feel a ripple of discomfort pass through her, but before she could let the silence grow too thick, he reached for her hands, his fingers gentle against hers. He held them there for a moment, still, the weight of his touch grounding her. "But this..." he continued, his voice softer now, as if he were confessing a truth that had only just occurred to him. "This is new to me as much as it is new to you. It never felt like this."

The words lingered in the space between them, charged with something deeper than she had expected. She could feel the sincerity in his tone, the truth in his touch. For a moment, time seemed to pause, and in that pause, she realized that this, what they were sharing, was something entirely their own, something neither of them could quite put into words, yet both understood fully.

[harukaluvr]

was it casual

[just-rogi]

FUCK man- it’s just hitting me, I’ve never been this happy for this long. Like yeah I’ve had things that make me sad and shitty days and I’ve cried and yelled and been sad and angry but I’ve never been this happy and felt this loved- everything feels so fucking easy now, and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I KEEP waiting for it to go wrong and to go bad and for it all to go to shit bc historically things have just not gone super well for me. That isn’t me being a pessimist it’s just kinda how things have panned out. And I keep waiting for it to happen again and not feel too good or too happy because I’m going to lose it any day and like… it keeps ?? Not?? Happening??? Everything is ok? And STABLE?? And consistent??? And like this week it fucking has been hitting me like a truck that it’s not going to go bad any day. It’s ok. It’s all ok and I’m allowed to be happy and I’m not responsible for holding anything together and I don’t have to try so fucking hard constantly to stay afloat- I feel like I can BREATHE for the first fucking time!!! I keep waiting for the bad thing to happen because I never get to be this happy for this long and like I am. And it’s all ok. And it’s not going away and it WONT go away. I Can stop fucking bracing for the crash of everything because it’s genuinely actually different and I’m living in a different city on my own and I have a job and I’m GOOD at it and I LOVE it and people like me at work and I am genuinely and truly wanted by my friends. I have friends, and they don’t tolerate me- they WANT me there as ME and they love me and they tell me so much and I’m so stupid because of fucking course they do I’m the last person to fucking know that EVERYONE loves me.

It shouldn’t have taken being a bridesmaid to realize that I’m WANTED not just as an afterthought or out of convenience, I’m genuinely loved and I feel so silly for only realizing it now- of COURSE, of course it’s this way and it won’t be any other way. Your friends talk about you behind your back about how they love you and how their lives are better because you are in it and you didn’t even realize it. It’s easy. It’s so fucking easy. To borrow books and sleep on couches and brush arms in the cab and touch my hair and share a space without every breath feeling calculated. Pressing up against my friends in the backseat of a car and thinking nothing of it because of how casual it is now IS my norm. Borrowing books and shoes and having a place to exist and feel no stress at all is the norm. I’m not an introvert- I just only felt safe and at peace in my fucking room for so long I didn’t realize I desperately and deeply and painful and messily love my friends.

It’s always been just an understood fact of my existence that I would love other people much more than they would love me. And it’s not bad it’s just true. But it isn’t anymore. I’m so wanted and so loved I don’t know where to put it all because it’s not staying in my chest. Everything is ok and I’m realizing it’s going to stay that way and I’m not scared by that but it’s still so so strange. Because I never learned how to live, I don’t know how to be a person or a friend, but it doesn’t matter because- while I’m NOT perfect or without flaws- the people in my life now genuinely and truly love me not in spite of parts of myself but because of them. I’m allowed to be messy and awkward and stiff and too quiet and then too loud and talk too long and I’ve realized when you say ‘you make a lot more eye contact than most people’ ITS GENUINELY AN OBSERVATION AND NOT A FLAW!! When you laugh in the book store because I pronounced ’diaspora’ painfully wrong because I’ve only ever read it it was with GENUINE AFFECTION FOR QUIRKS ABOUT ME THAT YOU LIKE NOT TO MAKE ME FEEL STUPID!!! When I mention wanting a tattoo of my favorite archeological site and everyone starts laughing because I’m the only person in the world who has a favorite archeological site like it’s a favorite color ITS BECAUSE YOU LOVE THAT AND DONT EVER WANT THAT TO CHANGE !!

And I should’ve known when all my friends said all of that explicitly. I should have known when I slept at one of their apartments for WEEKS last summer while getting my degree because THEY said it was stupid for me to drive home every day to drive back to college in the morning. I should’ve known when I asked them to be at my semi crazy mothers fully crazy wedding the day of and they said hell yeah brother. I should’ve known when they tossed a blanket at my head at the party because they recognized I was cold even though I didn’t say anything. I should have known when they borrowed my shoes without asking because they knew what id say. I should’ve known when I let one of them borrow a book and a different friend read it instead because it’s all that close and that easy. I should’ve known when they ASKED ME TO BE A BRIDESMAID IN THEIR WEDDING!! But I’m so slow I’m only fuckjng realizing now that when my friends say they love me and want me there they actually mean it

[mononijikayu]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus — fushiguro toji

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.” You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face. “Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?” You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—" “Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, christmas day, santa, parenthood, pet names (babe, love, etc), love, humor, light-hearted, domestic life, slice of life, being in love, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, toddler, family, late night sex, kissing, p-i-v sex, profanity, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: toji seems to me like the type who would have been so good at teasing mamaguro??? like he would definitely be the person that would also wear a santa claus costume just to put megumi's gifts on the tree and then know that megumi would be watching??? anyway i love their tiny family i am so floored every time i write about them. anyway merry fushiguro christmas!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU ALWAYS ADORED CHRISTMAS. Even as a child, the magic of the holiday season was something your mother and father made sure to bring alive for you.

They worked tirelessly to fill each moment with joy, whether it was the way the house glowed with lights or how the scent of fresh-baked cookies lingered in the air. 

Your favorite memories were wrapped in those small, meaningful traditions—sipping hot chocolate while the snow fell softly outside, unwrapping presents by the fire, and gathering together to share stories and laughter. It wasn’t about the gifts or the grandeur, but the warmth of family and the sense of belonging.

Now that you had a family of your own, you were determined to recreate that magic, to pass down those same feelings of joy and love to the people you held closest to your heart. Fushiguro Toji wasn’t raised with those kinds of traditions. 

For him, the holidays were often just another day. Especially when he lived with his family and even after that. There was no desire for a fuss, no fanfare. But when it came to you, he was more than willing to step out of his comfort zone.

Toji might not have admitted it outright, but seeing how much the holidays meant to you made it easy for him to get involved. Whether it was wrestling with tangled strings of lights or holding your hand while you browsed for the perfect tree, he found himself drawn into the excitement. It was a quiet kind of joy for him, watching your face light up with happiness as you brought the season to life.

When your beloved Megumi came along, the holidays became even more special. Toji was quick to embrace his role, even if it meant helping you with putting out the tree or helping to bake cookies that somehow ended up burnt half the time.

He didn’t care if it was messy or chaotic—seeing the laughter, the wide-eyed wonder, and the unfiltered happiness of his family made every effort worth it.

What surprised him most was how much he’s slowly come to love those traditions, too. They weren’t just holidays anymore; they were the foundation of memories he never knew he needed.

He started to look forward to the little things, like staying up late with you to wrap presents or watching Megumi to try to stay awake for Santa, only to fall asleep halfway through their schemes.

Each holiday became another chance to build something new together, a season filled with traditions that were uniquely yours. Toji might have started off doing it for you, but somewhere along the way, he realized he was doing it for himself, too.

After all, your beautiful family meant everything to him, it’s now his safe zone—and these moments were proof that he finally had one worth celebrating.

So on this bright Christmas morning, your comely house was tenderly wrapped in a soft, magical stillness. The gentle hum of the house’s heater and the occasional crackle from the fireplace your husband had set up added to the warmth of the room. 

The Christmas tree glowed with colorful lights, their reflections dancing on the ornaments and the neatly wrapped presents beneath. The faint scent of cinnamon and pine hung in the air, blending with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Young and bright four year old Fushiguro Megumi shuffled into the living room, his favorite blanket dragging behind him like a cape. His small, sleepy frame was bundled in his fuzzy pajamas, the ones with tiny snowflakes printed all over. 

His dark charcoal hair was a tousled mess, sticking out in every direction as if he’d been wrestling with his dreams. He paused near the doorway, rubbing his blue–green eyes, and blinked at the cozy scene before him.

There you were, curled up on the couch with Toji, both of you cradling steaming mugs of coffee. Toji was dressed in his usual casual sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other holding his mug. He looked relaxed, his sharp green eyes softened with a rare, unguarded warmth. 

You were tucked into his side, your legs curled beneath you, wearing an oversized Christmas special cardigan and your fuzzy faux fur slippers.

The two of you shared a quiet moment, sipping the coffee your husband brewed and exchanging conversation and content smiles as the early morning sunlight peeked through the curtains.

Megumi's sleepy gaze lit up as he took in the sight of the tree, its glowing lights illuminating the pile of presents waiting for him. His little mouth opened in a gasp, and he looked at the two of you with wide, sparkling blue–green orbs.

“It’s Christmas!” he announced, his voice still tinged with the rasp of sleep but filled with excitement. “It’s Christmas morning!”

You smiled, setting your mug on the coffee table and opening your arms to him. “Good morning, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He toddled over, crawling onto the couch and nestling between you and Toji. Toji chuckled, ruffling Megumi’s messy hair affectionately. “Morning, kid. Looks like Santa came through for you this time around, huh?”

Megumi nodded eagerly, his blue–green eyes darting back to the presents under the tree. “Can I open them now?” he asked, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

“Not even a good morning first?” Toji teased, arching an eyebrow. But the playful tone in his voice made Megumi giggle. “Too excited, you are.”

“Good morning, Dad.” Megumi said, grinning as he leaned against you. “Good morning, Mom.”

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his excitement so pure and unfiltered. You kissed the top of his little head, wrapping an arm around him as Toji stood and stretched, walking over to grab the digital camera.

“All right.” Toji said with a smirk, motioning to the tree. “Let’s see what Santa left for you, kid.”

With a delighted squeal, Fushiguro Megumi scrambled off the couch and ran toward the presents, his blanket forgotten on the floor in his excitement.

You and Toji shared a tender glance, his usual smirk softening into a genuine, warm smile. You shake your head, looking at him with much contentment.

He walked back to you, settling beside you on the couch and slipping his hand into yours. His touch was steady, grounding, as the two of you watched Megumi dive headfirst into the pile of gifts.

His bright laughter filled the room, bright and melodic, blending perfectly with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

For a moment, everything was perfect—pure joy radiating from your son as he examined each box like it was a priceless treasure. Then, Megumi suddenly paused, his small frame still in the middle of the living room. 

He turned slowly to face you both, his expression shifting into something unusually serious, his little brows furrowing in a way that was far too mature for his age. When he wasn’t smiling, you were sure your son was quite a young old man in that tiny body. 

You blinked, puzzled, as Toji sat up straighter, his grip on your hand loosening. Before either of you could ask what was wrong, Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, his blanket forgotten entirely now, and declared with absolute certainty:

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.”

You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face.

“Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?”

You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—"

“Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

His little pout was so serious it almost made you laugh. You tried to hold your composure, his cute little glare gleaming at you with the most adorable aggression. He looked too much like Toji when he was like this. And that had made you even more adoring of him in this way.

Toji’s chuckle deepened as he leaned back on the couch, completely unbothered. “Cookies and milk are standard, kid.” he said, shrugging casually. “But Santa? He’s a special guest. Sometimes he deserves a little extra appreciation.”

Megumi tilted his head, his little face scrunching in thought. “Like a hug?” he asked, glancing back at the presents under the tree, though his curiosity still lingered.

“Sure, sure.” Toji said, smirking as he threw a glance your way. “Or something like that.”

You nudged him with your elbow, your cheeks heating up again. “Toji, that’s not something you should be jumping into.” you whispered under your breath, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused.

Toji just grinned and leaned in closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “What? I didn’t even mention the mistletoe.” His tone was full of playful mischief, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. 

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice broke through, his tiny hands clutching a brightly wrapped box as he looked up at you both. “Can I open this one first?”

You gave a soft laugh, glad for the distraction. “Of course, sweetheart.” you said, smiling warmly at him.

Toji reached over, ruffling Megumi’s hair again as the boy plopped down in front of the tree. “Go for it, kid. Let’s see what Santa left you.”

“Hmm. Okay.” he finally muttered, turning his attention to the colorful boxes waiting for him.

Megumi’s attention shifted entirely to the gift in his hands, his little fingers working furiously to tear the wrapping paper. You let out a breath, glancing at Toji, who was still watching you with that infuriatingly smug look.  His hands wrapped against your shoulders. 

He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Kissing Santa, huh, babe?” he teased, leaning in close. “Got any more Christmas spirit for me?”

Your face burned as you playfully shoved him, your smile betraying you. “Shut up, Toji.” you whispered, though the giggle that escaped ruined the effect.

“Guess Santa’s the lucky one this year, don’t you think?” he murmured.

You bit your lip, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer as he looked at you. “But you love me anyway.”

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Toji murmured, stealing a quick kiss.

“Merry Christmas, love.” you whispered back, heart full and cheeks still warm.

══════════════════

TOJI SAID HE PLANNED EVERYTHING. And knowing how much you trusted your husband, you do believe him. He hasn’t ever failed you before, after all. Your husband wasn’t going to fail you now either. He said he’s going to make it happen and he will. 

The night before Christmas was serene, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of branches as the tree swayed slightly under the weight of its ornaments. 

The vibrant living room glowed softly, bathed in the colorful twinkle of Christmas lights that reflected off the shiny ribbons and bows of some of the presents you had already wrapped and bought for Megumi and each other. All Toji has to do now is add the other ones you bought for Megumi.

You had just finished cleaning up after dinner, your feet padding lightly across the wooden floor as you straighten a few stray decorations. A hum of curiosity pulled you toward the living room, and when you peeked around the corner, you couldn’t hold back a small smile from appearing on your pinkish lips.

There he was— Fushiguro Toji, crouched by the tree, fully dressed in a Santa Claus suit. The red fabric clung to his massively broad frame, the white trim looking comically out of place against his rugged demeanor. 

The bright red hat was askew on his head, barely covering his wild, dark hair, and the sight of him muttering multiple times under his breath while adjusting a precariously balanced present was nothing short of endearing.

“Damn this tree’s too small.” Toji grumbled, carefully shoving a particularly large box further under the branches. “How the hell does Santa Claus even do this without knocking everything over? Like, this is just an insane operation for a break in. Mission impossible even!”

You stifled a laugh, leaning against the doorway as you crossed your arms. “You’re really committing to this Santa Claus thing, huh?”

Toji glanced up sharply, his green eyes narrowing at you in mock irritation before softening into a lopsided smirk. You sighed, smiling as he enjoys taking in the sight of you like this. He has never thought he would ever have something as enjoyable as this life. And he always has you to thank for it.

“Caught me, babe.” he said, straightening up and dusting his hands off. “Santa Claus really had to work harder for this. And I gotta commit like he does, babe. I mean, this is harder than it looks, you know.”

You stepped into the room, your gaze sweeping over the scene. “You’re supposed to look jolly, not grumpy, love. Kids don’t want an angry Santa Claus.”

Toji snorted, tugging at the crooked hat and tossing it onto the couch. “You’re lucky I even agreed to wear this, babe.” he said, gesturing at the suit with a faint grimace. “This thing’s itchy as hell. How the hell did people wear this without having to scratch everywhere? Even my crotch feels itchy.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to adjust one of the presents he’d just placed. “You’re not exactly selling the magic of Christmas, love.”

He leaned against the arm of the couch, his smirk turning sly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m doing pretty good. The kid’s gonna love it in the morning. He’s going to have fun about Santa bringing in lotsssss of cool presents.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “And what about me? Does Santa Claus have any surprises for me? I mean….I should get gifts too, right?”

Toji’s grin widened as he pushed off the couch and sauntered toward you, his voice dropping to a playful, sensual murmur. “Actually, yeah. Look up, babe.”

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the tiny sprig of mistletoe hanging above your heads. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You looked at him with so much adoration, you couldn’t help it. He just made you feel giddy every single day. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

He took another step closer, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe. But I’m also a hardworking Santa Claus. And Santa likes to get paid for his trouble. I’m sure this pretty lady in front of him will ease his troubles.”

You rolled your eyes playfully once more, your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Naughty Santa, aren’t you?” you muttered, leaning up just enough to close the gap between you. “What about Mrs. Claus?”

“Don’t have one.” He smiles down at you, his thumb pressing against your lips. “Would you wanna volunteer to be one, pretty woman?”

You laughed aloud at his words. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”

“Well, if you’d let me, then I will.” He grins at you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you.”

“Good. Santa’s happy about that.”

“Well, we only want that, don’t we?” You smiled at him.

“Hm, very great for securing your kid a spot on my gift list.”

You giggled at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous, future Mrs. Claus.” 

You laughed at his words again, which made him very happy. Your husband Toji happily pressed hands forward and found your waist as he met you halfway, his sly lips brushing against yours in a passionate kiss that was far too warm for such a chilly night. 

You pushed deeper, kissing him back, pulling him closer to you. When you finally pulled back to take a breath, his grin was smug as it was shameless, his bright  green eyes gleaming with the endless joy that comes with having you as his beloved. 

“Best payment I’ve ever gotten. By far.” he murmured, his voice soft but smug.

You laughed, swatting at his chest as you stepped away. “Go finish your job, Santa Claus. There’s still a tree that needs all the presents to set up for the good kid.”

He chuckled, watching you with a lingering smile as you walked away. “Yes, ma’am. But don’t think this is over.” he called after you, his tone full of promise.

“I look forward to it, Santa!”

══════════════════

OF COURSE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET ABOUT LAST NIGHT. You could still feel your legs sore and your throat full of his pleasurable bites. But that wasn’t important right now, even though, of course it felt really good. Santa was really good with blessings. But that wasn’t the point. 

You could feel your cheeks turn redder and your ears more scarlet. You tried to calm yourself down as you continued to clear out stuff in the kitchen. The cookies were more important. You had guests coming over.

Of course, on the other side of the wall, the living room was alive with Megumi’s excited giggles and the joyful chaos of wrapping paper flying in every direction.  His precious little voice carried as he marveled at each gift, holding up toys and books like treasures. 

You peeked at him from the kitchen, your heart swelling at how happy he was. Your son’s joys were the reason you always worked so hard at the prosecutor’s office. And he was, genuinely, the happiest little boy. And that made everything feel like it paid off.

You were in the middle of arranging cookies on a festive plate when you felt it: a pair of strong arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. The scent of pine and the faintest trace of cologne told you exactly who it was before he even spoke.

“Toji, love.” you started, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm nothing.” he murmured against your ear, his voice rich and teasing. He grins slowly as he catches a peak of the hickeys from your side, hidden in the cardigan. “Just came to say thank you for, you know... last night.”

Your hands froze, the cookie you were holding slipping onto the counter as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were just trying to forget about it now but the images started to flood your head once more as your husband nibbles against your ear.

“Toji, please.” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the doorway to make sure Megumi was too busy with his presents to overhear. The last thing you need is to traumatize your little son.“Not now.”

But Fushiguro Toji, as always, was undeterred. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. He hums against your skin, bright eyes looking at you with wanton affection.

“What? I’m just saying Santa Claus didn’t just get a kiss under the mistletoe. I mean he enjoyed it really well too—”

You spin your head toward him, your bright eyes wide as you whisper with embarrassment. “Will you stop? Love, our son’s on the other side of the wall and—”

Toji only grinned, his hold on you tightening slightly as he leaned in closer. “Come on, sweetheart. Admit it. Santa Claus always deserves a little something extra for working so hard, don’t you think?”

“You sly fox of a husband.” you hissed, swatting at his arm as your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. “You are impossible. I swear, Toji.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed like this, babe.” he teased, nuzzling the side of your neck in a way that made your heart skip. “But I wasn’t lying, you know. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Your heart melted at his words, even as you tried to maintain your composure. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, love.” you muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as a small smile crept onto your face. “Otherwise, it’d be a different story.”

Toji shifted, leaning back just enough to study your beautiful expressions. His bright green eyes were soft, a rare tenderness shining in them that made your breath catch. The air of joy blossoming in his chest ever so fondly when he looks at you more. 

“Lucky, huh?” he said, a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing. “Nah. I’m the luckiest guy every day I wake up to you. Every day, every minute, every second. Every day. For forever. I’m the luckiest guy on earth, babe.”

Your face burned hotter, and you turned back to the cookies to hide your expression from him. You could feel your heart making flips and jumps against the wall of your chest. He’s always so good at making you feel this way. 

You were really going to be overwhelmed for all your life with how much he always makes you feel the universe with his love and tenderness. You were always going to be falling in love with this man over and over again like this. You sighed, admitting defeat to him. 

 “You’re ridiculous, love.” you mumbled, but the warmth blossoming in your chest betrayed your words. “Really….”

He couldn’t help but chuckled again, reaching around you to snag a cookie off the plate. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he lifts it up and you pout at him, knowing you can’t reach it. He snickers at you. You turn back and continue putting away the other cookies.

“That’s why you love me, babe.” Toji said, his voice smooth and teasing as he took another bite of the cookie, his smirk practically glowing with satisfaction. 

Before you could muster a response, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss so gentle it made your heart flutter. “Don’t work too hard. Megumi and I are waiting for you, okay? Still got some presents left for us to open.”

You watched him stroll back into the living room, his broad frame relaxed, his laughter already mingling with Megumi’s excited chatter. His voice carried back to you, warm and playful, as he greeted your son again, seamlessly joining him in exploring his new toys. 

The sound of Megumi’s giggles and Toji’s deep chuckles filled the house, creating a melody that could warm even the coldest snowy, winter morning. It was what you wanted to wake up to every single day. It was all you could ever want for all of time.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, leaning back against the counter as a soft smile tugged at your lips. It was uncontrollable, this joy, this love that bubbled up in your chest. This was a love that had a place to go and blossom here in this place, in this family. In this life you have.

Ridiculous, you thought with a shake of your head. Toji was ridiculous. But he was also your, the most precious of men who made even the simplest moments unforgettable, who filled your life with laughter, warmth, and love.

And your precious Megumi. Your sweet, bright boy, was the perfect little light who completed the picture. Everything about life made sense when you met Toji and had Megumi together. Life began when you had this. And you knew he would agree with that sentiment.

You looked out at the scene before you, the two of them sprawled on the floor amid wrapping paper and toys, Megumi pointing animatedly at something as Toji nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

It was so small, so ordinary—and yet it was everything. It meant the world to you. No, you shook your head. It meant the universe to you. And you would never trade this for anything in the world.

You felt it all in that moment: gratitude, contentment, and a profound sense of love. How lucky you were, to have this life, this family. This was your everything. And no matter how many lifetimes you could dream of, you knew there would never be anything more beautiful than this.

“Babe, Megumi wants his mommy!” Toji’s voice called from the living room, pulling you from your thoughts.

You chuckled, pushing off the counter and heading toward the sound of your favorite voices. “Coming, love!”

As you stepped into the living room, Megumi beamed up at you, his hands full of his latest toy, while Toji looked over with a smirk that was both mischievous and affectionate. You settled in beside them, feeling their warmth wrap around you like a hug. 

Life wasn’t just great to live—it was perfect. 

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

══════════════════

TOJI'S TAKING ALL THE OPPORTUNITIES HE CAN GET. But if you were being honest, so were you. Last night wasn't enough for you to get your fill. When your husband is someone like Toji, how could you?

The house was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the winter wind pressed against the walls.

Megumi had been tucked into bed after a long, laughter-filled Christmas dinner, his tiny snores signaling that he was sound asleep. The evening had been perfect—filled with warmth, love, and memories you’d cherish forever.

Now, it was just the two of you.

Toji leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching as you pulled off the festive sweater you'd worn all day. His gaze was heavy, but not with exhaustion—it was something else, something that made your skin tingle.

"You finally sitting still for once?" he teased, his voice low, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I was waiting for you to catch up."

That was all the invitation he needed. Toji crossed the room in a few long strides, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours almost immediately, hungry, but unhurried. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, and for once, it felt like you did.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and eventually settling at your hips, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you both grew, sparking like the fire you’d left burning in the living room.

"I’ve been waiting all day for this, babe." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with need.

"Me too." you admitted, your breath hitching as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses that made your knees weak.

The world outside didn’t matter anymore. Not the snow piling up on the windowsill, not the mess of dishes waiting in the kitchen, and certainly not the clock ticking down the last hours of Christmas Day. All that mattered was the way Toji made you feel. You always feel so seen, loved, desired when it comes to your beloved husband.

He guided you toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second. The night was yours, a stolen moment of intimacy in the chaos of life.

And as his lips found yours again, you knew this was the best gift you could have asked for—time together, just the two of you, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms.

Toji’s arm slid right back around your neck, firm yet careful, pulling you closer as his lips claimed yours once more. The way he touched you sent shivers cascading down your spine, every sensation heightened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His grip was confident, possessive, and it made your pulse quicken as pleasure rippled through you like a rising tide. Each kiss, each graze of his hands against your skin, ignited something deep within you, leaving no room for anything else but the heat building between you.

He knew exactly how to unravel you, how to make you melt under his touch, and he didn’t hold back. He never holds back. Not when it was you he has to make love to. Making love to you was his church. It was his patronage. It was his repentance, it was his atonement. It was his salvation. His love for you was his salvation.

“Toji…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of breathlessness and yearning.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense, filled with something raw and unspoken. His thumb brushed gently along your jawline as his other arm stayed firmly around your neck, keeping you grounded in the moment.

“You doin' so good, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

The way he looked at you, the way he held you. Everything about it was overwhelming in the best way. Your body responded instinctively, arching into him as the pleasure coursed through every nerve, building higher with each kiss, each touch, each whispered word.

Time seemed to blur as he continued, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment with you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. This was all there was right now, just the two of you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of each other.

Toji’s lips trailed down to your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. He knew exactly where to kiss, where to linger, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand caressed your side, sliding over the curves he loved to touch.

The pressure of his arm around your neck wasn’t rough, but good enough to make you feel the tension of his touch against your flesh. Everything about his touch, it was deliberate, possessive, reminding you that he wanted every inch of you, body and soul.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going. The sensations rolled through you like waves, each one stronger than the last, your body responding to his every move. You could feel the heat of him against you, the tension between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“Toji…” you murmured again, your voice trembling with need.

“Hmm?” He didn’t stop, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that made your breath hitch. “Say it again, babe.” he whispered, his tone dark and teasing, sending a fresh jolt of desire through you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, and the low chuckle that escaped his lips vibrated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. The sound was rich, deep, and filled with promise, igniting a fire inside you that grew with every passing second.

His lips trailed along your jawline, slow and deliberate, before finding the sensitive curve of your neck. He lingered there, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch.

Your body press instinctively closer to him. The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth against your skin, left you trembling, a quiet gasp spilling from your lips.

His hand slid lower, the roughness of his palm contrasting deliciously against your soft skin. His touch was teasing at first, featherlight, exploring, testing your limits.

But then it grew bolder, more certain, as he found the places that made you quiver beneath him. Every brush of his fingertips sent sparks shooting through your body, the intensity of it building with each moment.

You arched into him, desperate for more, the ache between you growing unbearable. A soft moan escaped you, unbidden but unstoppable, and the sound seemed to ignite something in him.

He let out another low, satisfied laugh, his breath hot against your neck as he murmured, “You sound so good, baby. Don’t stop.”

The pleasure rolled through you like a tidal wave, crashing over every part of you until all you could feel was him. It was all his touch, his heat, his weight against you.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you locked in this intimate dance, your bodies moving together in perfect, unspoken harmony.

Your skin grew slick with sweat, the heat between you almost unbearable but so, so good. Every movement, every touch, every kiss only pulled you deeper into him, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

“Toji…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes smoldering with desire as he leaned in close.

“I’ve got you, babe. I got you.” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion.

And with those words, he claimed your lips again, pouring every ounce of his passion into the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair, his other still exploring, holding you firmly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Toji’s breath hitched as he stilled, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. The heat of your body wrapped tightly around him, the soft, rhythmic flutter of your walls making him groan low in his throat.

It was almost too much for you, how big he was, how whole you feel when he fit you to the hilt. Everything about it the way you felt, the way your body seemed to pulse and cling to him, drawing him deeper into the moment. It all just felt too good.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring himself, trying to hold onto the frayed edges of his control. A thought flickered in his mind, unbidden and primal: Can I even last long with this?

The idea sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t need to move—didn’t need to thrust or grind or do anything but stay right where he was, utterly consumed by the way you felt around him.

The subtle contractions of your body, the way you tightened around him and the way he fluttered tightly against your walls, that was all enough to drive him mad. You were still as you were before, you were paradise in every sense of the word.

“Toji…love....oh—” you whispered, your voice a mix of need and wonder, your nails dragging lightly down his back. The sound of his name on your lips only made it harder for him to hold back.

“Shit, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”

He pressed his forehead harder against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to wrestle with the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans can only grow as he pushed in and out in a more passionate speed.

“I swear… I could come just like this, babe.” he admitted, his voice low and ragged. “The way you’re squeezing me so good, babe… you feel so damn good.”

The confession sent a shiver through you, your body responding instinctively, and he groaned again, his fingers digging into your hips as if to ground himself. He wanted to move, to chase that inevitable high.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose the sheer intensity of the moment—didn’t want to lose the way it felt to just be inside you, connected in every way. He still needed to last a little bit more, he wanted this moment to last.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “You’re perfect. You know that?” His voice was raw, filled with both reverence and desperation.

And as he stayed there, lost in the heat and intimacy, he wondered if he could ever get enough of this—of you. Every sensation was heightened, every second stretching into eternity, until nothing else existed but him.

The overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. In his arms, you felt completely unraveled, utterly cherished, and entirely his. The world outside faded completely—just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of your shared space.

Toji’s movements grew more deliberate, his bruised lips finding your own again as he deepened the kiss, his arm around your neck keeping you anchored to him. His tongue wrestling against yours as he tried to thrust deeper inside your mouth, earning a groan from your throat.

The way he held you, the way he touched you—it wasn’t just desire; it was love, raw and unfiltered, pouring into every moment.

Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure he brought you, and you clung to him, lost in the heat of the moment. Toji pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke.

“You’re mine, babe.” he whispered, the words heavy with emotion and promise.

His calloused hand brushing your cheek as his eyes met yours. And in that moment, you knew there was no place you’d rather be than here, with him, wrapped up in the intensity of his love.

"Always." You whispered back to him.

He felt satisfied with that as he pushed deeper into you.

You couldn't speak words anymore by the end of that.

The world was cold from the snowing echoes, but you were warm.

Warm in the pleasure of the husband you loved the most.

══════════════════

epilogue

The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your breathing finally steady after what had been a Christmas evening full of all sorts of intimacy and bright warm laughter.

Fushiguro Toji, ever the opportunist, propped himself up on one elbow, the smirk on his face practically devilish as his fingers began tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.

“You know, babe.” he started, his voice low and teasing, “I’m thinking Santa deserves a little overtime bonus for all his hard work tonight.”

You turned your head, arching a brow as you caught the glint in his eye. “Overtime? Didn’t we just finish the main shift? Both last night and tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of energy left, babe.” he murmured, leaning in to nip playfully at your ear. “The question is… do you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, maybe to tease him back, but the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. Your eyes darted toward the door, which creaked open just enough to reveal a mop of messy black hair and the outline of a sleepy little boy clutching his favorite stuffed animal.

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice was tiny, wobbling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I had a nightmare…”

Toji let out a low groan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he muttered, “Of course you did, kid. Of course you did.”

“Shush!” you hissed, elbowing him lightly before sitting up and pulling the blanket around yourself. “Come here, sweetheart.” you said softly, patting the edge of the bed.

Megumi shuffled in, his little feet barely making a sound as he climbed up onto the bed and wriggled his way into the space between you and Toji. He immediately buried his face against your side, his stuffed animal squished between the two of you.

“What happened, bud?” you asked, stroking his charcoal hair gently.

“There was a big, scary monster…” Megumi mumbled, his voice muffled against your side. “It chased me, and it almost got me.”

You looked at your husband who sighed back at you. Toji pushed himself up onto one elbow, running a hand through his disheveled hair, looking towards his little son.

“A monster, huh?” he asked, his tone light but laced with mock seriousness. “Did it look like a giant turkey? ‘Cause I told you eating all that stuffing was a risky move.”

Megumi pulled his face away just long enough to glare at his dad, his little brow furrowed in unimpressed indignation. “No, Dad.” he said with a hint of exasperation. “It wasn’t a turkey. It was scary!”

“Scarier than me?” Toji teased, flexing his arm dramatically as if that would somehow settle the matter.

You shot him a look, biting back a laugh. “Toji, love. Please.” you warned softly, shaking your head.

“Okay, okay.” Toji relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s hair. “Listen, kid, no monsters are getting past me. You know that, right? They take one look at your old man and run for the hills.”

Megumi’s little body relaxed against you, his small hand clutching tightly at your shirt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Toji ruffled his hair. “Promise. Now get some sleep. You’ve got another day of playing with all those presents tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about being too tired.”

Megumi let out a sleepy little hum of agreement, his breathing evening out as he drifted off within minutes. Toji flopped back onto his pillow with a long sigh, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“So, what do you think? Nightmare slayer and round-two initiator all in one night? I’m a man of many talents.”

You smirked, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re also a man with a very tired wife and a son snoring between us. Maybe tomorrow, Toji.”

Toji groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “Tomorrow? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you settled back down, pulling the blanket up over the three of you. “Goodnight, Santa.” you teased, nudging him lightly.

Toji huffed but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned to wrap an arm protectively over both you and Megumi. He looked at you both warmly.

“Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas to me." he muttered, his voice soft and warm. And despite his earlier grumbling, you could feel the contentment radiating from him.

For Fushiguro Toji, there was no better gift than this—his family, safe and sound, wrapped in the warmth of a love he’d never stop cherishing. Life was great.

[savi0rr]

Darling Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, Viktor has a sweet wife that, weirdly enough, no one really knew about.

a/n: hi divas! Erm this is my first time writing for Viktor so I'm sorry if he sounds out of character.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

"Viktor? What is that on your finger?" Jayce inquired, suddenly appearing behind Viktor and peering curiously over his shoulder. Viktor felt a knot form in his stomach as he glanced down at his hand, where a gleaming wedding band rested snugly on his finger. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had meant to remove it but had completely forgotten in the whirlwind of his work.

"Just a ring," Viktor replied evasively, casting a quick look back at Jayce while clicking his tongue in annoyance. Jayce, however, was undeterred. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Isn’t that the same finger where wedding rings typically go?" he challenged, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Don’t tell me you actually have a wife?"

Viktor maintained his silence, his heart racing in response to Jayce’s playful interrogation. "Even if I did, I wouldn't share that information with you," he said tersely, redirecting his attention back to the Hextech gemstone in front of him, his mind racing as he tried to refocus on his work.

Jayce, still leaning casually against the desk, raised his eyebrow further, the smirk on his face beginning to fade away. He studied Viktor’s expression closely, a frown of confusion.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Viktor has a wife? That’s just absurd,” Mel declared, waving her hand dismissively as if to brush away the very notion. 

“No, I swear! He’s actually wearing a wedding ring. When I asked him about it, he responded with, ‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,’” Jayce insisted, leaning closer to Mel's desk, his hands planted firmly on the surface.

Mel rolled her eyes in disbelief, leaning back in her chair and letting her hands fall into her lap. “Who on Earth would marry Viktor?” she whispered, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward slightly, her expression a mix of intrigue and skepticism. “No offense, but…” she trailed off, momentarily glancing away, her thoughts clearly racing.

Jayce sighed, exasperated. “I mean, it’s not the best image, is it?” he muttered, shrugging as he contemplated the idea. His mind seemed to wander as he contemplated the strange pairing. “Plus, why do you even care?” Mel asked, raising an eyebrow at him, a hint of playful challenge in her voice. “Because I want to know what she looks like!” he responded with a hint of frustration, glancing off to the side, and groaning.

Mel pondered for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Even if he did have a wife, wouldn’t she be here at the Academia with him?” she pointed out, her curiosity beginning to overshadow her previous skepticism. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Jayce exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. “It doesn’t add up!”

With a sigh, Mel straightened up, her expression turning serious. “Look, I have much bigger problems to deal with than figuring out who Viktor is married to,” she stated firmly.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

"When do you think he sees his wife?" Mel asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she peeked around the corner of the dimly lit hallway. The soft glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows on the walls of the Academia. Jayce followed her gaze, cautiously poking his head out to get a better look.

"Hmm... maybe when he isn’t buried under a mountain of work," Jayce mused, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in thought. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and he swept it back with a casual motion. Mel, with an exasperated huff, rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"You should know this! You’re his partner, for crying out loud," she murmured, her tone tinged with disbelief as she crossed her arms. Jayce's expression shifted to one of sheepishness, his cheeks flushing slightly as he glanced away, avoiding her accusatory gaze.

"But I leave before him. I'm already gone by the time he usually starts his day. And when I come back to the lab, it’s always just him—working away, lost in his experiments," Jayce replied, his shoulders lifting in a shrug that conveyed both confusion and resignation. He could sense Mel's frustration, but the truth was, Viktor’s work schedule was a puzzle he had yet to solve.

Mel sighed heavily, her brow knitting together in thought. "How do you not know… never mind," she grumbled, her voice trailing off as she turned her attention back to Viktor, who was at that moment preparing to leave. 

"Shhh!" Jayce hissed urgently, his eyes widening as he quickly placed a hand over Mel's mouth, the sound echoing loudly in the stillness. They both watched in silence as Viktor slowly began to rise, gripping his crutch tightly under his arm while gathering his belongings with meticulous care. He seemed unaware of the two pairs of eyes on him, lost in his own world.

Viktor gripped his documents as he walked down the hallway, his eyes narrowed. He made his way down to the back of the Academia, opening a door. Jayce and Mel looking out the window from the other story. "The hell is he doing?" Jayce muttered under his breath. "Look," Mel said, spotting you not too far in the distance. "Is that his wife?" Jayce whispered.

"Viktor." You spoke up, smiling when you saw him. You stood up from the bench you were sitting at. Viktor eagerly wobbled over to you. "I've been waiting." You teased lightly, taking the documents from his hand and placing them down on the bench. Viktor could only stare at you. He hadn't seen you in a while. But he'd never say that he missed you. "How are you doing?" You asked gently, guiding him to sit down, placing his crutch aside. "I've been...well," Viktor said plainly. "I could be better." He muttered, glancing off to the side. You nodded, sitting beside him. You glanced down at his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You wore your wedding ring?" You asked, a small smile forming on your face. Viktor's cheeks warmed a bit, sighing. "I meant to take it off." He grumbled as his fingers ran over the wedding band. "I'm glad you wore it. It suits you." You giggled lightly, placing your hand over his.

Meanwhile, with Jayce and Mel, they could only stare in shock. "Of course, he has a pretty wife too!" Jayce groaned as he shook his head. "Of course," Mel muttered as she sweat drops. "Who knew she was so darling?"

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

[0mg-bird]

Hangman’s Mystery - J Seresin x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Shy! Fem! Reader

Summary: Jake takes you to meet the crew after claims of him hiding you from them. You’re extremely shy and aren’t a fan of lots of people, making Jake be more protective of you. For once, Rooster knows more about Jake’s life than the others do.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety - protective Jake- Fluff!- language.

“All I’m saying is it’s a little suspicious.” Payback says, opening his locker up. Jake just rolls his eyes, preparing himself to go through this debate one more time.

“I hate to say this, but I agree with him.” Fanboy pipes in, pulling his flight suit off.

Somehow, the conversations lately always turn back to you. Ever since the flight crew found out Jake’s been seeing someone and it wasn’t a casual hook up, they’ve bugged him about it ever since. It had come up one night at the Hard Deck, when Coyote suggested to a perky blonde, who had been hitting on him, to focus her attention on the southern boy who was playing pool. She eyed Jake up, pleased with what was in her gaze and moved in on him.

Some of the boys gathered around to watch the cocky pilot work his magic. Coyote figured he was doing the pilot a favor since he hadn’t been seen with a girl on his arm in a while. Imagine their surprise when Jake took a step away from the grasp on his bicep.

“What’s he doing?” Payback questions, looking appalled.

“Is he sick?” Phoenix asked as she finished her beer.

Jake had smiled politely and rejected all advances the girl made, sending her away and going straight to his pool game again.

By the time Rooster came around with a fresh drink, the group scrambled to fill him in on the alien sight they just witnessed.

“He sent her away.” Phoenix said with a slack jaw.

“Like a poor puppy.” Coyote joked.

Rooster took a swig of his beer, then shrugged like they were idiots. “Yeah, he already has a girl.”

“What?!” They all exclaimed.

Ever since that night a week ago, Jake was being grilled on it.

As he takes out a fresh shirt to slip on, Jake shakes his head. “Coyote is getting married, and y’all are icing me for having commitment?”

Payback nods. “Well that’s because we knew of his fiancée, you have been hiding this girl like a dirty little secret.”

“I think him and Bradshaw are pulling our leg.” Coyote pipes in. “I think he made her up just to fuck with us.”

Jake laughs out loud. “You are just being ridiculous now.”

Bob, who has been quiet the entire time, ‘lurking’ as the crew likes to say, finally uses his smug voice. “Look, Seresin, I get it. I had a fake girlfriend too one time in high school, it’s embarrassing to admit, buddy.” His words make the guys laugh, and Jake shuts his locker with a loud clank. “She’s not fake! She just doesn’t really like hanging out with dick heads like you guys. She’s real shy.” He glares.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Fanboy states. “Yeah, we want to meet her. You bring her to the Hard Deck on Friday night if she’s real, or else we will never stop bugging you about it.” He says, giving Jake a harsh choice.

His hand runs down his face. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“He’ll talk to her about it, he says.” Coyote scoffs. “Okay Seresin, go talk to your fake girlfriend about it.”

“She’s not fake!”

~~~~~~~

“Baby?” He calls, walking through your front door. Moving to set his small duffle bag on the counter, he toes off his boots, trying to place where you were in the sea side house. It was oddly quiet, maybe you had your head phones in, oblivious to the world outside.

Down the hall he goes, pushing open your cracked bedroom door. Your scrubs were tossed in the corner, almost making it into the laundry hamper. You lay sprawled in bed, hair out of your braid, asleep in one of Jake’s t shirts he left at your house and some boxer shorts.

Slowly, he creeps to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as he strokes your hair. You slowly start to stir, opening your bright eyes to him. A smile creeps up your pink lips, you take a deep breath in and twist to sit up.

“Hi.” You grin, happy he’s here.

“You alright? It’s only five, you look tired.” His voice was calm, sweet to you as he stroked the under side of your chin with his finger.

You rubbed your eyes. “Long day.” You breathe. “Mr. Johnson passed this morning.”

Jake’s eyes grow heavy with sorrow for you. He knew that this was normal for you because you were an at home nurse and a lot of the time the elderly patients pass. “I’m sorry, honey.” He says, leaning to kiss your forehead.

You lean into his touch. “It’s alright, I should be used to it by now but…I don’t know, Mr. Johnson was a sweet man, I actually adored his company.” You softly laugh. “But, that’s life, I’ll be fine.”

Pushing the covers further off of you, you lean forward and sweetly kiss the man that’s been in your life for five months. Despite the somewhat short time period, you couldn’t imagine life being any different than what it is. Your mother and sister called you crazy for being with an aviator, reminding you that he won’t stay in town forever, that he is quite literally owned by the government and will be wherever he is assigned to. The thought was scary, getting so attached to someone just for him leave when his ship comes in. It made your anxiety tick higher when you thought about it for too long. But, you don’t think you’ve ever been this in love. You’ll be the first to admit that you’ve never been a social butterfly, you were stuck in a shell, hardly bothering to get close to new people. Your handful of friends knew this about you, so it was a surprise when they met Jake and all of his infectious attitude. Somehow, Jake had a way of prying that shell open, his strong hands took you off the shelf and he learned that there’s a light hearted, good time, girl under all the shy innocence. He loved you for both versions, and it made you love him even more.

You declared that if you could, you’d follow him anywhere.

As he takes a shower, probably using your shampoo, you move to figure out what it is that you wanted to make for dinner.

You turn on some music, cracking a beer open and taking a drink. Soon, the kitchen is full of a delicious scent that Jake smells all the way from the bedroom. He follows the waft, sweatpants low on his hips and a casual tank top over her upper half. Finding you stirring some vegetables, he kisses the side of your head, then snatches the half drank bottle from your hand. This is usually the routine, you can never finish the drink you intend to, so he’s there to finish it for you.

“I want to…ask you something.” He says, leaning back against the counter.

You hum in question, and he loves the little look you toss him from over your shoulder.

“You wanna go out on Friday night?” He asks, making you smile. “Sure, where do you want to go?” You ask, unsure why he seems off.

“Well, I think since I’ve met your friends, you should meet mine. Let’s go to the Hard Deck with them, honey.”

You immediately stop your movements, anxiety sweeping over you. “Jake…I don’t know���a bar…”

“I met you in a bar.” He reminds with a smug look.

“That was different.” You turn to face him. “I was dragged there for my sister’s twenty first birthday and you know I hated it the whole time.”

He smiles at your pointed look. “Yes, I know but this will be different. Look, we’ll go, say hi, prove you actually exist, then come home and have sex on the couch.”

Your eyes widen. “Jake!” You gasp at his bluntness.

“Fine, we’ll do it in the shower.”

“Just stop talking.” You shake your head, hiding your smile. “The crew really doesn’t think I exist?”

He comes to grips with your waist. “They think I’ve made you up, like some sad Freshman geek…like i’m Bob or something.”

“Who’s Bob?” You ask with confusion.

His head dips to your neck. “Come to the bar and you’ll figure it out.” He mumbles, inhaling your scent before nipping at your skin. It makes you laugh, desperate to push him away but his strong arms have you locked in.

Something about him could make you forget anything. Sadness, anxiety, tiredness…the veggies that are burning in the skillet.

As his mouth moves up your throat, he’s engulfing you like a starved man. You try to speak before he’s inhaling you deeply, pulling you impossibly closer with his mouth on yours, searing you with a kiss that makes your knees weak.

“Jake- baby- mm.” You battle. “Okay, I’ll go with you. Jake- vegetables are charring.”

He finally lets go of you, grinning at your laugh and the way you stumble slightly as he lets you go.

~~

Clammy hands run down your jeans, once, twice, three times before Jake pulls you towards the entrance.

“They’re not gonna like me.” You stress.

“They’ll love you.” He states, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“They’ll be bored of me in two seconds.” You continue.

“No they won’t, just breathe, honey.”

You’re submerged into a room full of talk and music, some rowdy college kids are being thrown out and you’re sure you stepped in a puddle of spilled margarita. Your eyes are wide, and you shift closer into the larger body beside you. Jake leans down to whisper in your ear that it’s calmer in the back.

By the pool table, a group is gathered there and you immediately assume this is the infamous crew.

Phoenix is the first to notice, she smacks Payback and Fanboy, motioning for them to look alive.

“Well well, here he is, the man himself.” Coyote says smugly, setting his pool stick down.

A shorter pilot approaches you. “How much did he pay you to be here?” He asks, confusing you.

“What?”

“Just joking, I’m Reuben, but everyone calls me Payback, and you’re gorgeous.” He takes your hand in greeting, making your face heat with surprise and embarrassment.

Payback is pushed aside, and replaced by another. “I’m Fanboy, his back seater which means he’d be shit outa luck if he didn’t have me saving his ass.”

You shake his hand too, unsure of what to say.

“So, what’s your name? Wait, what was the last one, Jake? Abbi? Alison? Sorry, he has a thing for A names. Your name start with an A?” His tone is teasing, but he’s so straightforward, it makes things awkward.

Jake’s grip tightens on you. “Cut it out, Garcia.” He slowly said with a warning look.

Fanboy puts his hands up in defense. “Just trying to get to know this mystery girl you hid from us, Hangman.” He claims, then goes back to your gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You say softly, brushing him off.

You’re introduced to more guys, all who make some sort of snide comment about your relationship with Jake, well, except for Bob who was utterly polite. To your surprise, you’re introduced to Natasha greets you with a hug.

“Well, you’re real and not crazy so that’s a plus.” She jokes, making you chuckle. “You want something to drink?” She asks.

“You’re sweet, thank you. I’ll just take a beer, I’m not picky.” You say in a grateful tone, she nods, saying she’ll be right back.

Moving in from outside, Rooster makes his appearance.

“I missed the meet and greet? Damn.” He says, making you turn with a grin.

“Bradley, hi!” You greet, stepping away from Jake’s embrace momentarily. Rooster hugs you politely. “Hey girly, how are you?”

The crew grows a sour look.

“You two already know each other?” Coyote asks.

Rooster nods. “I was there when her and Hangman met.” He says so casually.

“Bradley and Ashley come over for lunch sometimes.” You add, making the group look at each other.

“Does no one tell us anything anymore or…” Bob trails off.

The night continues with chatter and worthless bets on pool shots. At no point does your hand leave Jake, whether it’s intertwined with his or on his arm, his back, your finger hooked on his belt loop, anything. It might make you look needy, but it’s something that eases your nerves.

When you do pull away from him with intention of finding the bathroom, he immediately turns when your warmth is gone.

“Where you goin’?” He questions.

“The ladies room, a place you can’t follow me in to.” You tease, starting to walk away.

He’s eyes scan the room, then watch you closely. He doesn’t miss the amount of guys that turn to watch you, scanning you up and down, definitely making comments about how good you fit in your jeans.

His paranoia gets the better of him, he marches across the bar to the hallway where the restrooms are. Back leaned against the wall, he waits, standing guard, in his mind, but the pilots call him a puppy.

“Mystery girl went and made him a golden retriever.” Payback laughs.

Fanboy nods. “We’ve lost him for good. What’s he gonna do when he leaves next month for Po-dunk, Texas- or wherever he’s from?”

They all watch as you and Jake slowly start to walk back to the group. Rooster, who finishes his beer, simply shrugs and leans to line his pool stick up. “He says he’s gonna take her with him and marry her.”

“What?!”

[thedensworld]

Marry A Rich Man | J. Ww

Genre: suggestive, angst, fwb au!, smut

Summary: every parent wanted their daughter to marry a rich man, Jeon Wonwoo. However, you are a rich man.

gif from @meowonhao (he's so fine i just physically and mentally can't (/□＼*))

No warn, just read and find it by yourself:)

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Jeon Wonwoo from Jeon Enterprise. His reputation as a notorious womanizer and all-around arrogant businessman was well known, and the thought of meeting him didn’t exactly excite you. So when your mother brought up the idea, you could hardly hide your disinterest.

“But it’s time for you to start thinking about marriage, Y/N. Don’t you know your younger sister has already been proposed to by her boyfriend?” she pressed, her tone a mix of encouragement and frustration.

“Good for her,” you mumbled with a shrug, not even bothering to meet her eyes.

“At least pretend you're interested. Wonwoo is quite the catch these days among the socialites,” your mother added with a resigned sigh, as if she was pleading more for her own sake than yours.

You stood up from the dinner table, glancing at your watch with a practiced smile. "I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. There’s a business gathering I need to attend," you said, eager to make your exit.

Your father, who had been mostlydj silent, raised an eyebrow. “A business gathering? Will your friend Wonwoo be there? Say hello to him for me.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Father, you too?" you asked, feeling cornered.

He shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just say hi. That’s all I’m asking. For me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, shaking your head. “Fine. I’ll say hi.” The words came out reluctantly, but a small part of you wondered just what kind of person this infamous Jeon Wonwoo really was.

And here you were, sitting on a plush couch at a party teeming with young businessmen, most of whom had inherited their wealth rather than earned it. You sat alone at a table near where Jeon Wonwoo and his circle of friends lounged, their laughter loud and effortless. You had been invited by Kim Mingyu, the heir to Kim’s Group and the host of tonight’s extravagant affair. Mingyu and Wonwoo had been best friends since high school, along with familiar names like Seokmin and Junhui, who were part of their elite clique.

Jihoon, the doctor and heir to Seoul University Hospital, sat on a couch nearby with a can of Coke in hand, looking out of place among the champagne glasses and whiskey tumblers. “Too many people. My head hurts,” he muttered to you, rubbing his temple.

You chuckled softly. “That’s Mingyu for you. His social connections are endless. I wasn’t even surprised when I saw popular idols mingling here tonight.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement. “He’s a social butterfly. Sometimes I regret being friends with him,” he said with a wry smile, earning a genuine laugh from you. Jihoon had been your classmate in senior high school, and his deadpan humor was something you’d always appreciated.

Just then, Jihoon raised his hand, waving at someone behind you. You turned, and there he was—Jeon Wonwoo, making his way over, leaving Mingyu and the others behind at their table. He looked just as you had expected—sharp and composed, with an air of casual confidence.

“Can’t handle Mingyu?” Jihoon asked with a teasing grin as Wonwoo grabbed a glass of whiskey before settling into the couch across from you.

“Too much energy,” Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head, but his eyes quickly found yours.

“Nice to see you at a casual event for a change,” he said, his tone smooth, as if he were commenting on something extraordinary. You cursed internally, wishing Mingyu wasn’t your cousin and the reason you had to be here.

Jihoon chuckled. “Right? Y/N must be the hardest-working woman in this room. Always too busy building empires.” He leaned back, glancing at you with a teasing glint. “I saw your new building in Singapore last week, by the way. It looked incredible.”

You raised an eyebrow at both of them. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked, feigning offense, though their words had hit a nerve. Sure, you loved your work, but being painted as some workaholic who never had fun wasn’t exactly flattering.

Wonwoo smirked, swirling his whiskey. “It is. Not many people can pull off what you do. I’d say that’s impressive.”

Jihoon nodded, “Agreed. But don’t work too hard, Y/N. Some of us still need you to show up to these parties once in a while.”

You let out a soft laugh, but deep down, their remarks lingered. You were here, weren’t you? Yet somehow, you still felt worlds apart from them.

Jihoon glanced at his phone before letting out a soft sigh. "I should go. My shift starts in half an hour. It was nice seeing both of you here," he said, standing up and stretching slightly. Before leaving, he made a beeline for Mingyu to bid him goodbye.

As Jihoon walked away, Wonwoo turned to you, noticing your subtle discomfort. "Not a fan of parties?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp, clearly aware of your unease.

You cocked your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Are you?"

Wonwoo shrugged with a mischievous grin. "I wouldn’t say I am, but Mingyu taught me a lot about how to survive them." He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but amused by his charm. "I see. The student surpasses the master, perhaps?"

He smirked, eyes glinting with playful interest. "Only in certain things," he said, the subtle flirtation unmistakable in his tone. He let the moment linger, his gaze never leaving yours.

You held his stare, calm and unfazed. "Lucky you, then."

Wonwoo chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Why don’t we step outside for a bit?" he suggested, leaning in just enough to make it feel intimate. "I know a nice spot nearby. Somewhere quieter."

Intrigued, you glanced at the bustling party around you and nodded. "Lead the way."

He stood up and offered you his arm, which you took with a composed smile. Wonwoo led you out of the party and into the crisp night air. After walking a few blocks through the city’s lively streets, he guided you to an old, tucked-away bookstore. The warm glow from inside spilled onto the sidewalk, and an elderly man at the counter looked up as you entered, his face lighting up in recognition.

"Wonwoo!" the old man greeted with a smile. "Back again?"

Wonwoo nodded, grinning. "Couldn’t stay away for too long, Mr. Han."

The old man gave you a kind look, then returned to his book, leaving you and Wonwoo to browse. "Didn’t think you'd be the type to bring someone here," Mr. Han commented lightly.

Wonwoo chuckled, glancing at you. "Sometimes you just meet the right person."

You let out a soft laugh, strolling through the rows of worn books. "A bookstore at this hour? Unexpected," you remarked, impressed but keeping your composure.

Wonwoo shrugged, his voice low and smooth. "I thought you'd appreciate something different."

He wasn’t wrong. As you wandered through the cozy aisles, the noise of the outside world faded away, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional shared glance.

As the clock struck midnight, Mr. Han locked up the bookstore and waved his goodbyes, leaving you and Wonwoo sitting on the bench just outside. The city had quieted down, and the soft glow of streetlights cast a warm, intimate ambiance around you. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing effortlessly as Wonwoo, intrigued by the way you thought, kept throwing different topics your way. Each one seemed to reveal a different layer of you, and he couldn't help but be fascinated.

At one point, the topic turned to wealth and power. You leaned back on the bench, crossing your arms. "When you give a rich man a little power, he thinks he rules the world," you stated, your tone casual but sharp. You had just finished explaining how much you despised the typical behavior of wealthy men—playboys who worked hard only to shower their side chicks with luxury.

Wonwoo paused for a moment, considering your words. Then, with a slight smirk, he responded, "I do feel like I rule the world." His voice was smooth, confident. "But I don’t act the way you think."

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Liar. You’re quite famous for your playboy reputation, Mr. Jeon. You’ve got a habit of having everything—including any woman you want."

Wonwoo was momentarily caught off guard by the nickname, but he quickly composed himself, flashing a teasing smile. "Playboy agenda? That’s news to me."

"But you can’t deny you have everything," you pointed out, tilting your head slightly as you studied him.

He didn’t even hesitate. "You’re right. I do have everything." His tone was laced with confidence, almost as if he was testing you, waiting to see how you would respond.

You narrowed your eyes, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Rich men like you think they own the world, when in reality, they don’t."

Wonwoo let out a genuine laugh, leaning in slightly as if to further draw you into the moment. "Alright then, tell me. What don’t I own?" His voice had dropped lower, almost daring you to challenge him.

You shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Me. You don’t own me."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter charged with a subtle tension. Wonwoo's eyes lingered on yours, his smirk softening as he took in your words. "Yet," he said, his voice teasing but with an edge of something deeper, something bolder.

*

"You didn’t say my hello to Wonwoo," your father remarked casually as you entered his office the next morning.

You paused mid-step, organizing the files in your hands before glancing over at him. "How do you know?"

Your father sat on the main sofa, picking up one of the files you brought for him to review. "I ran into him yesterday. I asked about you, and he mentioned you didn't pass along my greeting." He looked at you with a knowing smile.

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the file toward him, trying to keep your expression neutral. "And what else did he say?"

Your father raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden curiosity. "Why? Did something happen between you two?"

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it, waving your hand dismissively. "No, I was just worried he might’ve said something bad. You know me—I’m not exactly known for being polite."

Your father chuckled, seemingly buying your excuse. "True. You’ve always been a bit like a debt collector in business—firm and straightforward. But it works for you. That said, Wonwoo did mention he’d like to see you again."

You nodded slowly, muttering under your breath, "I bet."

"What was that?" your father asked, but you waved it off, diverting the conversation back to the files. You weren’t going to entertain this topic any further, not now.

Later that day, as you continued working, your phone buzzed with a message from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wonwoo asked for your personal contact. What did I miss?

You stared at the message for a moment, shaking your head in disbelief. The last thing you wanted was to discuss Wonwoo, especially after everything that had happened the night before.

Still, you went about your day as if nothing had changed. You ignored your father’s comments, brushed off Mingyu’s text, and mentally dodged every thought of Jeon Wonwoo. But then, as you drove home, your mother called. Of course, the conversation somehow found its way back to him. Jeon Wonwoo—this man you’d only met at Mingyu’s birthday, yet who seemed to be lingering in everyone’s thoughts.

You sighed as you politely listened to your mother, her voice bubbling with excitement as if Wonwoo were the best thing that had ever happened. Little did she know you had spent the night with him, and now you were trying to figure out what it all meant.

The next morning, you arrived at your office, only to be greeted by an overwhelming sight—buckets of flowers surrounding your desk. You stood there, arms crossed, brows furrowed. The overwhelming scent filled the room, making the normally neat and orderly space feel chaotic.

"Someone’s been sending these non-stop since early this morning," your assistant said, standing beside you. "I don’t think they’ll stop unless you tell them to."

You picked up one of the cards attached to a bouquet, reading the note: I don’t appreciate the way we parted. Let’s meet again and clear up any misunderstandings.

Your eyes narrowed, already knowing who the sender was. You walked briskly to your computer and began typing an email to the flower sender—Jeon Wonwoo himself. You kept the tone professional, telling him to stop flooding your office with flowers and that, perhaps, you could meet again to "clear things up."

You hit send, sitting back in your chair with a sigh. Part of you wondered if you’d regret agreeing to meet him again, but another part—the curious part—was already anticipating it.

*

Wonwoo waited in the hotel room, his thoughts racing as he paced around. The same room. The same place where everything had begun on Mingyu's birthday night, when you had opened up to him—at least he thought you had. But the next morning, you were gone, leaving behind only a note and a sting to his pride.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't recognize himself lately. Since meeting you, he'd felt... off. Needy, even. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to wanting someone so much that it clouded his mind.

He remembered the note you left: It was nice. You’re experienced in this area. Along with it, you’d left some cash, as if he were some service you had paid for. That stung his ego more than he cared to admit. He should’ve been furious, but instead, all he could think about was craving you again—your skin against his, your presence.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned, watching as you casually entered the room. You kicked off your heels without care, tossed your expensive bag onto the couch, and sat down across from him with an air of confidence that was unmistakable.

"You’re late. Thirty minutes," Wonwoo said, his eyes following your every move.

You didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Instead, you massaged your leg, looking at him with a tired yet unfazed expression. "As if you had anything better to do after this," you replied, hitting on the fact that he had canceled all his plans for the evening the moment he received your email this morning.

He didn’t deny it. He had dropped everything, cleared his schedule, just to see you. Maybe to talk, maybe more. He wasn’t hoping for anything to happen tonight, but if it did... well, he wouldn't be complaining.

"So," you said, leaning back into the couch, confidence radiating from you. "What exactly do you want to clear up between us?"

Wonwoo mirrored your posture, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward. "I don't appreciate you framing me as some playboy," he said, his voice calm but firm. He wasn’t used to being talked about like that, especially not by someone who clearly affected him more than he’d like to admit.

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his accusation. "You’re not?" you asked, your tone teasing, as if daring him to deny it.

"I’m a very noble person," he replied, almost defensively. "I don’t mess around with lots of women, if that’s what you were implying."

You chuckled, the sound light and dismissive. "And that bothers you?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, it silenced Wonwoo. Did it bother him? It shouldn’t. But coming from you, it did. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because, deep down, he didn’t want you to see him that way.

"It shouldn’t," he admitted after a beat, his gaze locking onto yours. "But with you, it does."

Your expression softened, just for a second, before you smirked. "Interesting." You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. "So, what are you going to do about it, Mr. Jeon?"

Wonwoo felt his pulse quicken, but he kept his composure. He didn’t know how this conversation would end, but he knew one thing: you had him wrapped around your finger, and you probably knew it too.

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. It did bother him, more than it should. And he wasn’t sure why. Normally, he wouldn’t care what someone thought of him—especially not someone who seemed so determined to keep their distance. But with you, it was different. He didn’t like the way you saw him, the way you assumed he was just another rich man playing games.

But it wasn’t just that. You challenged him in a way that no one else had. You made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling, and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t ignore it.

Wonwoo leaned forward, his gaze intense as he closed the distance between you. "I think you like pretending you’re the one in control," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "But I don’t think you mind letting me show you otherwise."

He watched you closely, waiting for a reaction. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, maybe even desire—but you masked it quickly, crossing your legs slowly, as if to test his patience.

"Bold assumption, Mr. Jeon," you said, your tone light but your eyes never leaving his. "But I don’t hand over control easily."

Wonwoo’s lips curved into a smile, dark and full of intent. "Who said anything about easy?" He let his hand drift to your knee, his touch deliberate and slow, testing the waters. "I’m just suggesting we explore this... dynamic a little further. See where it takes us."

He moved closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as his breath brushed your ear. "Unless, of course, you’re afraid you might like what you find."

The tension between you thickened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wonwoo could feel his pulse quicken, the anticipation coiling inside him like a spring ready to snap. You were playing it cool, but he could tell you were thinking it over. There was something between you that neither of you could deny.

Finally, you leaned back into the couch, crossing your arms with that same infuriating confidence. "You seem so sure of yourself," you mused, your voice teasing. "But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into."

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding a little higher up your thigh, the touch now more intimate, more daring. "Then show me," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

The tension between you was electric now, the pull irresistible. He had no intention of walking away from this without exploring whatever it was that had ignited between you since that first night.

And from the way your gaze darkened as you leaned in slightly, he knew you felt the same.

*

Wonwoo’s arms tightened gently around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck as he whispered, "Stay..." You hesitated for a moment, your mind already on the exit, but the pull of his touch made you pause. There was something about his embrace that felt too inviting, too comfortable to resist.

The familiar warmth of his body pressed against yours, and without thinking, you leaned back into him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, a slow and deliberate motion that sent a subtle shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what it was that kept bringing you back here—to this very same room, to him—but the connection between the two of you was undeniable. It was never about love, but the chemistry was hard to ignore.

As his lips brushed your shoulder, you could feel the tension in the air, an unspoken invitation in the way his hand lingered on your waist. "I like this," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of you.

As you lay there, the memories of Seungcheol creeped back into your thoughts, despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. Your relationship with him had been all-consuming, something that once filled every corner of your heart and mind. It was hard to think about him without remembering how much he had demanded of you—emotionally, mentally, and even physically.

With Seungcheol, things had started out like a whirlwind. He was intense, driven, and passionate, and for a while, you were swept up in it. You thought that kind of intensity meant love, that his need for you, his constant presence, was a sign of something real and lasting. But slowly, the weight of it all became too much to bear. His passion turned into control, his love into expectations you couldn’t meet, and his presence became suffocating.

There were good times too, of course—moments where he made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him. But those moments were always fleeting, overshadowed by his demands. He wanted more than you could give, and in the end, you had nothing left to offer him.

The break-up had been brutal. Seungcheol didn’t understand why you were pulling away, and you couldn’t find the words to explain how drained you felt. He had taken so much from you, and by the time you walked away, you weren’t sure if you even knew how to love anymore.

Now, with Wonwoo, he didn’t demand anything from you. He didn’t ask for your heart, your promises, or your future. There was no pressure to be more than you were capable of being. It was a relief, but at the same time, it left you feeling hollow in a way you hadn’t expected.

You glanced over at Wonwoo as he lay beside you, his breathing slow and steady. He was so different from Seungcheol—calm, relaxed, and never overbearing. Yet, there was something about the way you kept coming back to him, something that felt just a little too easy, as though you were using him to fill a space that Seungcheol had left behind.

Maybe you were both just trying to avoid the emptiness, finding comfort in each other because it was simple. But deep down, you wondered if you were really healing or just hiding from the scars Seungcheol had left on you. The thought lingered as you closed your eyes, choosing once again to stay in the moment, avoiding the pain that lay beneath the surface.

"Are you leaving already?" Wonwoo’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his hand resting gently on your arm.

You looked over at him, meeting his eyes. There was a question there, but it wasn’t the kind that demanded an answer. He understood that whatever you had together wasn’t complicated.

You shook your head slightly. "No, I’ll stay a bit longer."

*

You met Seungcheol again for the first time in five years. He now owned his own advertising label, just like the dream he'd talked about so many years ago. Today, he had come to your father’s company, probably without expecting that he'd be working with you. After all, Seungcheol had never fully believed in your competence back then, so he certainly wouldn’t have expected to see you sitting across from him as one of the company’s directors.

You steeled yourself with every ounce of professionalism you could muster, trying to suppress the erratic pulse that betrayed how unsettled you truly were. During the meeting, when your eyes met briefly across the table, memories flooded back. You were reminded of why you loved him so deeply when you were together. He was charismatic, driven, and had a presence that was still undeniably captivating.

But the love that once shone in his eyes was gone. He had moved on, you'd heard. And it was best for him—best for both of you, perhaps. You forced yourself to focus, nodding to your secretary, silently willing the meeting to end as quickly as possible.

The moment it was over, you gathered your things and hurried out of the meeting room, heading toward your office. Your footsteps quickened with each step, eager to put distance between you and the past. But just as you turned the corner, a familiar hand reached out and caught your arm. It was Seungcheol.

"Hi... How are you? I didn’t expect to see you here," he said, his voice softer than you remembered.

You bit your lip, fighting to keep your composure. "Great..." you replied, pulling your arm away from his gentle grip, the contact sending a wave of emotions you'd tried to bury long ago.

Seungcheol seemed to realize what he'd done and quickly took a step back, giving you space. "I’m sorry," he said, his expression unreadable. "You must be busy. It was... nice to see you again, Y/n."

His words were polite, but there was a weight to them, a shared history that couldn’t be erased. You nodded, offering a brief smile before turning away, your heart racing from the brief encounter. The man who had once held all your love was now just another face from your past—a past that felt closer than it should.

*

Once the climax hit both you and Wonwoo, you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for air as your body trembled above him. His hands remained firmly on your hips, steadying you while the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. For a moment, neither of you moved, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air. Wonwoo’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he caught his breath, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin.

"It was the best yet," he finally murmured, a small smirk tugging at his lips, his voice low and satisfied. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your cheek as you lay against him, both of you basking in the aftermath of your shared experience.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words and the undeniable chemistry that always seemed to pull you back to him.

"You should ride me more next time," Wonwoo jested with a playful smirk, but his breath hitched slightly as you pulled away from him, the lingering sensation still sparking through him. He watched as you climbed out of bed without a word, fetching the bathrobe and slipping it over your bare skin.

As you walked to the couch and sat down, your eyes seemed distant, wandering as if lost in thought. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. Wonwoo propped himself up on his elbows, watching you intently. This wasn’t like you—the usual confident, carefree attitude that had defined your time together seemed to falter for the first time.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, a hint of curiosity mixed with concern in his tone. He couldn’t help but notice the shift, the way you suddenly seemed disconnected. It was the first time he'd seen you like this—guarded, almost as if you were somewhere else entirely.

Wonwoo stood up, slipping into his pants before making his way toward you. He sat beside you, gently cupping your cheeks as his thumb brushed against your skin. He could sense something was weighing on you, something that perhaps had fueled the raw emotion in the way you'd been with him earlier.

"You look so beautiful like this," he whispered, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. His eyes searched yours after the kiss, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what was really going on.

After a pause, you finally mumbled, "I realize... I'm changing so much." Your voice was soft, almost unsure.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch as he waited for you to continue. He knew there was more you needed to say.

"I'm so different from who I used to be," you confessed, your words almost a whisper. "I used to be so... pure. So used to being taken care of. I was needy, clingy. I didn’t understand things. And now... I don't like how I’ve become, like I’ve had to figure everything out on my own."

Wonwoo let out a sigh, his eyes never leaving yours. "Is it about us? Is that what's bothering you?"

You hesitated before answering, "One of them."

His grip on your face softened, his touch reassuring as he waited for you to unravel more of what was inside you. The rawness in your voice, the vulnerability, was something new between the two of you, and he wanted to understand.

"I've never done this with anyone..." you confessed quietly, your eyes dropping for a moment. "It’s amazing to be with you, Wonwoo. But I feel so hollow afterward. I feel... really bad. That’s why I always leave."

Wonwoo took your hand gently, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. "Because you don’t want to show me this side of you?" he asked softly, his voice calm but full of understanding. You took a deep breath, nodding in response.

"Are you going to let me go, Wonwoo? Like everyone else?" you asked, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Wonwoo shook his head firmly, his gaze steady on yours. "I’m not going anywhere, even if you ask me to. I’m stubborn like that, Y/n."

Relief washed over you as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thanks," you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Wonwoo tossed his keys onto the counter, his thoughts still swirling. He leaned against the kitchen island, trying to shake the feeling that had settled in his chest since you’d opened up to him. The more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him.

He had always been good at keeping things casual, knowing the boundaries of a no-strings relationship. But something about the way you looked at him tonight—the way you confessed how hollow you felt—stirred something deeper inside him. He didn't like seeing you in pain. He didn't like that you were dealing with it alone.

But what could he do? He wasn’t supposed to care this much. You two were just... enjoying each other, right? No commitments, no expectations.

Yet, for the first time, he felt something beyond that, a pull he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to be more than just your distraction, more than just someone to pass the time with. But at the same time, he knew crossing that line could complicate everything.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t deny the truth anymore: he wanted to be there for you, to be the person you leaned on. But would you let him? And more importantly, was he even ready to be that person?

Just as his mind raced, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His mother's name flashed across the screen, and he answered on the second ring, grateful for the distraction.

Their conversation flowed easily, as it always did, catching up on life, work, and updates on the family. But when she shifted to more personal matters, his stomach tightened.

"Every mother wants their daughter to meet you, Wonwoo. I had no idea my son was that popular." Her voice was filled with pride and a hint of amusement.

Wonwoo chuckled, deflecting with a light jest. “You raised an amazing man, mother.”

Her laugh came through the phone, warm and familiar. “Maybe it's time you meet one of them. A dinner wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

He paused, the suggestion hanging in the air. It was simple enough, really—meet someone new, go through the motions. And yet, it felt like a heavier decision than it should have been.

Maybe she was right. Maybe meeting someone else, taking a step back from you, would give him the clarity he needed. Maybe that was what he should do—slowly distance himself from this complicated entanglement.

But as he sat there, phone still pressed to his ear, something inside him hesitated.

*

Your presence was impossible for Wonwoo to ignore. You sat just a few tables away, speaking comfortably with a man whose face he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. In front of him sat Sung Yubin, a girl his mother had been eager for him to meet.

“Is the food to your liking?” Yubin asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts. Wonwoo quickly shifted his gaze from your table back to her, realizing only then that he had stopped chewing his steak, distracted by your presence.

“It’s great. Please, help yourself,” he responded politely, though his attention wandered back to you again. He tensed when he caught you looking back at him, though you quickly resumed your conversation with the man sitting across from you.

“I’m glad we could have dinner,” Yubin continued, unaware of his distraction. “The school lunch today was weird, so I ended up skipping it.” She was a senior nursing student, and while her conversation topics should have interested him, Wonwoo found himself nodding absently to her remarks. She wasn’t exactly his type—always rolling her eyes at the waitstaff and focusing more on trivial complaints.

After the meal, Wonwoo excused himself, claiming he had another engagement when Yubin hinted at wanting him to drive her home. Though a flicker of disappointment crossed her face, she seemed satisfied when he hailed a cab for her. As she left, Wonwoo felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Then, just as he was about to leave, he spotted you stepping out of the restaurant with the man from earlier. A third person, a woman, approached, and after a brief handshake, the man walked away with her, leaving you standing alone.

A small smile tugged at Wonwoo’s lips as your eyes met his again.

“I thought you were on a date,” Wonwoo teased, stepping closer to you.

“Because yours was?” you shot back with a smirk, fully aware that you were right.

He chuckled, “Wanna grab a beer?”

You hesitated only for a second before nodding, a quiet acknowledgment that whatever was between you two wasn’t over just yet.

“Who was that girl?” you asked as soon as you were seated at the bar, curiosity lacing your voice.

“Someone my mother wanted me to meet,” Wonwoo replied casually, his eyes scanning the menu. He raised his hand to order an expensive bottle of liquor for the both of you.

“I thought we were just going to grab a beer?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his choice.

Wonwoo shook his head with a small grin. “Gotta treat you to something good.”

“Oh, trying to show off that you’re rich?” you joked, and he nodded proudly.

“That’s my favorite thing to do around you,” he bantered back, making you chuckle.

When the drinks arrived, you both clinked glasses in an unspoken toast. Wonwoo took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on your reaction. He watched as you took a sip, your face lighting up with satisfaction, and a sense of relief washed over him. He’d made the right choice.

“So, that guy you were with earlier... do I know him?” Wonwoo asked, steering the conversation back.

“He’s Choi Seungcheol,” you said, a name that clicked in Wonwoo’s mind.

“From Ads Coups, right?” Wonwoo asked, recalling the name from some big industry moves. You nodded.

“Business dinner? Or a friend?” he pressed further.

You hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like you were debating whether to tell him the truth. But then you took a breath and said it.

“Both.”

Wonwoo’s expression didn’t change. He sat quietly for a moment, absorbing what you said, before you finally added the last piece.

“An ex.”

“I see…” Wonwoo nodded, acknowledging your words with a calmness that surprised even him. He didn’t press further, but the air between you suddenly felt a little heavier, a little more complicated than it had just moments before.

“Almost married him,” you confessed, a hint of irony in your voice. “But here I am… still being pampered by my mom to find someone.”

Wonwoo chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone in that.”

“At least you’re a good son,” you pointed out. “You actually meet the people your mom suggests. Meanwhile, I reject every single offer mine throws at me.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Tell me one name. Just one, that your mom wanted you to meet.”

Without missing a beat, you looked at him and said, “You.”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips. “My mom, my dad. They’re big fans of yours.”

He grinned, clearly amused. “Well, I feel honored,” he said with mock pride.

“So, why’d you reject me?” he teased, leaning in slightly. “I mean, why reject the offer?”

You shrugged casually. “Same reason I reject all of them. I don’t see the point in meeting people just because my mom wants me to. Even if they’re rich. I’m rich too.”

Wonwoo smiled and raised his glass toward you. “Here’s to rich men,” he said, with a playful glint in his eyes, including both of you in the toast.

You laughed, clinking your glass against his. “To rich men,” you echoed with a grin, the shared joke lightening the mood as you both enjoyed the comfortable banter.

*

Wonwoo looked at you in surprise. You want him to stay?

Just like the other day, the two of you had returned to the same hotel room, indulging in each other’s company. Wonwoo was about to fetch his pants, thinking you’d want to leave as usual. But this time, you surprised him.

“Hm... stay,” you mumbled, eyes closed. Wonwoo didn’t hesitate; he slipped back into bed, pulling your bare body close to him.

As you relaxed into his warmth, you murmured, “Wanna go on a trip with me?”

Wonwoo glanced down at you, curious. “When?”

“Earliest flight today. I want to go to Tokyo.” Your voice was soft, almost sleepy, but the spontaneity in your words caught him off guard. You sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but smile. Without a second thought, he grabbed his phone and texted his secretary to book the earliest flight to Tokyo for two.

“Let’s sleep. We still have a few hours,” he whispered, gently lulling you into rest.

The next morning, after landing in Tokyo, Wonwoo asked as you both walked out of the airport, “You’re okay with taking a sudden day off like this?”

“Using my my-dad-owns-the-company card for the first time won’t hurt anybody,” you replied with a casual shrug.

Wonwoo chuckled, amused by your carefree attitude. “So, where do you want to go after this?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist as the cab drove you to the hotel.

“Let’s see,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo smiled to himself, feeling your comfortable presence against him. He liked this—being with you like this, without overthinking or complicating things. Just living in the moment.

"Yeah," he thought to himself, "I really like this."

*

Wonwoo watched you, eyebrows furrowed, as you spoke to your mother on the phone. He found the interaction between the two of you amusing, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

"At my office?" you said, trying to keep your tone calm as your mother inquired about your whereabouts.

"Don't lie to me. I'm at your office," your mother shot back, and Wonwoo stifled a laugh as you closed your eyes in frustration.

"I'm in Tokyo for business," you finally admitted with a sigh.

"And you didn’t bring Chan with you?" your mother asked, referring to your secretary still at the office.

"I like being by myself," you replied, your tone measured. "Besides, Chan has things to handle for me back home."

"That’s why you need to start meeting men. How about Jeon Wonwoo? I mentioned him before," your mother insisted.

Wonwoo’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, and he raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ll think about it," you said, trying to end the conversation without drawing it out.

As soon as you hung up, Wonwoo, still intrigued, asked, "What was that all about?"

You casually took a sip of your coffee. "Just my mom trying to set me up with you."

A smirk spread across Wonwoo’s face. "I wish she knew what we’ve already done in bed—"

"Shut up!" You quickly covered his mouth before he could finish, your eyes wide with embarrassment.

Wonwoo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Why? Embarrassed to let anyone know how wild you were in the bedroom?"

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a spoonful of cheesecake and shoved it into his mouth to silence him, and he chuckled as he chewed, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You had spent the entire day together, enjoying the sights and sounds of Tokyo before deciding to fly back to Seoul the next morning. Wonwoo had taken you to all the places you’d been wanting to visit—arcades, restaurants, cafes, and even a clothing shop you had your eye on. By the time you both returned to the hotel, you collapsed on the bed, exhausted but satisfied.

When Wonwoo stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, he chuckled at the sight of you still sprawled out in the same position he left you.

"Go take a shower, you stink," he teased, playfully slapping your leg, making you groan as you slowly got up.

"I'm so happy but so tired. Tired but happy," you said, smiling through the exhaustion as you made your way into the bathroom.

After you’d showered and freshened up, you stepped out to find Wonwoo waiting for you at the table, a spread of food laid out.

"I ordered something," he said, motioning toward the dishes with a proud smile. "Figured you’d need some fuel after today."

Your stomach growled in response, and you sat down with a grateful sigh. "You always know exactly what I need."

Wonwoo chuckled, "Of course. Gotta keep you happy, even when you're tired."

You shared a quiet meal together, the comfortable silence between you speaking volumes as you savored both the food and the company.

"Jeon Wonwoo," you called his name softly, pulling his attention away from his phone.

He shifted his gaze to you, curious. "What’s on your mind?"

"Don’t you feel like I’m using you?" you asked, your tone surprisingly serious.

Wonwoo furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, trying to downplay the growing unease in your chest. "Because I only call you when I need you."

Wonwoo's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not using me. We’re both busy, me with my work, you with yours. That’s just how life is."

You looked down at your plate, not entirely convinced. "But don’t you feel like... like I'm taking advantage of you? Your ego—doesn’t it bother you?"

He paused, setting his utensil down carefully as he studied you. "Where's this coming from?" he asked gently.

You sighed. "I’ve just been thinking. Men are always talking about pride and ego. Doesn't it hurt yours?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he considered your words. "Is that why you've built up your own walls? To feel equal to men?" he asked thoughtfully.

"In business? Absolutely," you admitted. "It’s a constant power struggle, and I have to keep up."

He nodded, understanding. Then he smiled softly. "You know, my ego did take a hit when you left me cash that day. But today? Nah, I don’t feel anything but happy being with you. I’m not keeping score, Y/N."

You looked up at him, surprised. "Happy?"

"Yeah," he continued, leaning forward a little. "Being with you—it doesn’t feel like a game of who has more power. I’m just enjoying your company. So, no, I don’t feel used."

You smiled, finally letting yourself relax. "Thanks, Wonwoo."

He chuckled and raised his glass. "You overthink too much, you know that?"

As you clinked glasses with him, a thought crossed your mind. "What if... I told you I wasn’t looking for anything serious right now?"

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow but remained calm. "I’d say that’s fine. We don’t have to define anything right now. We can just be, you know?"

You nodded, comforted by his nonchalance. "That sounds... nice."

After a brief silence, Wonwoo leaned in again with a playful smirk. "But if you ever decide to make it serious, just know—I’ll still beat you in Mario Kart."

You laughed, the heaviness of the conversation finally lifting. "You wish."

For the rest of the night, the conversation stayed light, the tension between you fading away as easily as it had come.

*

Seungcheol had been everything to you when you first started. As an intern, you admired his dedication, his leadership, and the way he always seemed to know exactly what to do. He wasn’t just your manager; he became your mentor, teaching you the ropes in a way no one else had. You were eager to learn, even though you weren’t perfect—stumbling over presentations, sometimes missing the mark—but Seungcheol never made you feel small. Not at first.

He didn’t know who you really were. To him, you were just another intern, eager to climb the corporate ladder. It felt refreshing, in a way, to be seen for your efforts and not your last name. You soaked up everything he taught you, from strategic planning to how to carry yourself in high-stakes meetings. You admired him not just for his professional skills, but for the way he treated you—gently, yet firm when it came to work.

When he asked you out, it felt like everything was falling into place. You were growing in your career, and you had someone who believed in you by your side. Seungcheol was passionate about his own dreams too, talking endlessly about wanting to start his own advertisement company one day. You supported him, proud to see the ambition that had first drawn you to him. But then, things shifted.

After he resigned to pursue his dreams, something changed. He wanted you to leave the company and join him, to take a risk and build something together. But your responsibilities weighed on you, the expectations from your family were unavoidable. When you declined, Seungcheol didn’t take it well. He started subtly belittling your choice, acting as though staying in the company made you less bold, less ambitious.

The truth about your identity eventually came out, and that’s when the real cracks appeared. When Seungcheol found out you were the company heir, his pride took a hit. Your paychecks started outpacing his, your name held weight he could never match, and that, more than anything, stung him. He stopped seeing you as his equal, and instead, he saw you as a threat. He began making snide comments about your success, about how it wasn’t "earned" the way his was, how you had everything handed to you.

Your relationship with Seungcheol had changed you in ways you didn’t fully understand until much later. As the dynamic shifted, as his resentment grew, it left scars that ran deeper than you’d realized. You had loved him, truly, and for a while, you believed he loved you too. But the more success you found, the more he became a different person, someone who couldn't bear to see you surpass him.

It was like watching a man fall apart, piece by piece, under the weight of his own pride. He’d lash out, not always with words, but with the smallest gestures—a disapproving look, a dismissive comment. He stopped celebrating your wins, and instead, they seemed to remind him of his own perceived failures. The man you admired for his passion became someone who resented you for the very things that once made him proud. He had wanted you to be successful, but only as long as it didn’t eclipse him.

And you learned a painful truth from that relationship: that love, or at least the kind you’d experienced, was fragile. Men, as strong as they appeared when they were on top, could crumble when they felt they were losing control. It wasn’t just Seungcheol—it was the way he embodied this belief that men were only themselves when they were successful. When they stumbled, when they struggled, their pride and ego became brittle, breaking at the slightest challenge.

That relationship didn’t just end—it left you with a sense of distrust, of wariness. You’d given your heart to someone who couldn’t handle it when you started to grow beyond the version of yourself he was comfortable with. And that made you build walls, whether you intended to or not. You found yourself questioning every man’s intentions, wondering if they would also resent you when things didn’t go their way.

Seungcheol had stolen your capability to love freely. He’d left you with the belief that love was conditional, that it came with terms and conditions tied to power and success. Men, in your experience, wanted to be the center, to be the ones in control. And when they weren’t, they withered. They became smaller versions of themselves, unable to accept that you could be strong, capable, and successful without it taking anything away from them.

You stopped letting people in the way you once had. Sure, you dated, but it was different. Detached. You kept your guard up, unwilling to allow anyone the power to diminish you again. Every time you met someone, there was that lingering thought—what happens when they see the full extent of who I am? Will they shrink? Will they pull away like Seungcheol did?

Seungcheol hadn’t just hurt you—he’d left you with an image of men that was hard to shake. The ones who thrived when things were easy, but couldn’t handle the weight of your success. Men who were all pride and ego, fragile when the world stopped revolving around them. You didn’t want to think like that, but it was all you knew now.

*

"Your meeting with Jeon Wonwoo will be on Saturday. Make sure you actually come. And also, get dressed properly this time!" Your mother’s voice rang out as she adjusted her pearl necklace, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at her, incredulous. "I haven't even said yes yet," you shot back, folding your arms defensively.

But your mother merely smiled, clearly pleased with herself. "I met his mother at a gathering yesterday. We talked for quite a while, and she mentioned the last girl he met wasn't his type. I showed her your picture, and she said you might be exactly what he’s looking for."

"But Wonwoo and Y/n are friends," your father interjected, his voice calm but firm from the other end of the dining room.

"I know," your mother replied smoothly, waving her hand as if the detail was inconsequential. "But that doesn’t matter. The impression we make on his mother is what's important."

Your brow furrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "What’s wrong with me exactly? I’m fine. I’m a great woman," you retorted, trying to keep your cool.

Your mother sighed dramatically, setting down her tea cup with a delicate clink. "I just wish I had raised you to be a more polite and less...brash woman." She shrugged, as though the issue was that simple.

"Polite?" You raised an eyebrow, sarcasm creeping into your voice. "I say please and thank you. What more do you want?"

Your father chuckled softly from behind his newspaper, causing your mother to give him a quick, disapproving glance. He always found humor in your back-and-forths.

Your mother’s words hung in the air, sharp yet laced with a familiar disappointment. You could sense her frustration, but it only made you roll your eyes in response.

“Y/N, dear, you are a great woman. But sometimes I wonder if you care about your future at all.” She sighed again, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not asking for much—just meet him. Wonwoo’s a good man, and you two already know each other. It wouldn’t hurt to see if there’s something more there.”

You crossed your arms, still feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Wonwoo and I are friends. I don’t need you playing matchmaker with someone I already know.”

Your mother gave you a pointed look, as if she had already rehearsed her response to every argument you could throw her way. “Wonwoo’s mother agrees that it’s worth a shot. Besides, friendships can turn into something more. You’ll never know unless you try.”

Your father cleared his throat. “Maybe we should let Y/N make her own decisions about this. She’s capable of knowing what’s best for her.”

Your mother didn’t relent. “I just want the best for you. Wonwoo is successful, respectful, and comes from a good family. That’s a strong foundation, isn’t it?”

“Fine, I’ll go,” you finally said, more out of a desire to end the conversation than genuine interest. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Your mother beamed, already envisioning some grand future for you and Wonwoo. “That’s all I ask.”

As you excused yourself from the table, you couldn’t help but think about Wonwoo and how bizarre it would be to approach him under these new terms. Would he know about the setup? Or would this just be another awkward encounter orchestrated by your families? Either way, it was bound to be interesting.

*

Your walls clenched tightly around Wonwoo as he thrust into you with raw passion, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his back, leaving streaks of red as he found just the right spot over and over again. Moans spilled from your lips, growing louder with each movement as his pace quickened.

"What do you think our moms would say if they knew what we're doing right now instead of having that proper dinner?" Wonwoo's voice was a breathless whisper against your ear, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as his rhythm deepened.

You could hardly think, let alone speak, but somehow you managed to find the breath to reply, "They'd be thrilled... their kids are trying to give them grandkids." You shot back, your voice hitching with every thrust.

Your words clearly hit him harder than you anticipated. Wonwoo's cock twitched inside you, the mere thought of you carrying his child driving him wild in ways he hadn’t expected. His eyes darkened with lust, and his pace became even more relentless, the idea of you pregnant with his baby stirring something primal within him.

"Do you want that?" Wonwoo growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hips snapped against yours, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Tell me. Do you want it?"

The feeling of his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again had your mind spinning, your body trembling as the orgasm started to build in your core. You could barely hold yourself together, your breath coming in shallow gasps. "Fuck, Wonwoo... Don’t you dare... I'm so close... I'm cumming!" you managed to cry out, your body tightening around him.

Wonwoo’s grip on your hips tightened as he groaned against your neck. "I got you, baby," he whispered, and with a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you both tumbled over the edge together, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, riding out the high, his forehead pressed against yours as you both panted heavily. The air between you was thick with the afterglow, the heat of your bodies mingling together in the quiet aftermath.

"My mother said she wants to see me with a woman like you," Wonwoo said softly during aftercare, his gentle hands carefully wiping your body clean with a warm towel.

You leaned against his shoulder, too tired to sit up straight, and replied, "Everyone wants their son to be with a woman like me." Your voice was teasing, lightening the mood in the quiet aftermath.

Wonwoo chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Sure, you're an amazing woman—with amazing tits," he added with a playful grin.

You laughed at his words, playfully slapping his arm in mock indignation. He scooped you up effortlessly and carried you from the bathroom to the bed, tucking you under the soft duvet with a tender smile. After quickly cleaning himself, he joined you, sinking into the warmth beside you.

"Have you ever imagined the two of us together? Like officially together?" You asked, your eyes fluttering open to meet his, curiosity shining in your gaze. Your hand instinctively found its way to his arm, linking with him as if seeking reassurance.

"Every time happiness comes to me while I'm with you," Wonwoo replied, his voice low and sincere, "I always think about how wonderful it would be to share that happiness with you forever."

You turned to face him, your surprise evident in your wide eyes. "Okay, that was deeper than I expected."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing softly against your forehead in a sweet gesture. "I told you I'm a romantic man."

"You are," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as warmth blossomed in your chest.

As you nestled against him, a thought crossed your mind, and you mumbled, “What if we made this official? You know, like really official?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in surprise, and a grin broke across his face, lighting up his features. “Are you serious?” he asked, his excitement palpable. “You’re not just saying that?”

You felt a rush of warmth at his reaction and nodded, your heart racing. “Yeah, I mean… why not? We get along so well, and I like being with you. I think we could make a real go of it.”

His smile grew even wider, and he pulled you closer, almost lifting you off the bed with enthusiasm. “This is amazing! I’ve been hoping you’d say something like that. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

You chuckled softly, caught up in his excitement. “Really? I thought you had a whole parade of girls wanting to date you.”

“Maybe, but none of them are you,” he said, his voice serious now, making your heart flutter. “You’re special, Y/N. You make me happier than I ever expected.”

You smiled, feeling a mix of shyness and elation. “So, are we officially together then?”

“Absolutely!” Wonwoo exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I can’t believe this is happening. You have no idea how happy this makes me.” He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss, sealing the promise of your new relationship.

As he pulled back, he looked deep into your eyes. “I’m going to make you so happy, I swear. No more casual—it’s all in from here on out.” His excitement was contagious, and you felt a thrill of anticipation for what the future might hold for the two of you.

*

You walked with confidence in a beautiful dress that hugged your figure perfectly. Wonwoo’s hand rested comfortably around your waist as he strolled beside you, flashing charming smiles to everyone you both passed. You couldn’t help but feel proud of each other, relishing the chance to show off your blossoming relationship.

“Look at this power couple!” your mother exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight. You rolled your eyes playfully at her statement, knowing how thrilled she was about your relationship with Wonwoo after the so-called first meeting she had arranged a year ago. Now, you were here with him as his girlfriend at the company’s anniversary party.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ji. You look beautiful as always,” Wonwoo greeted your mother, bowing politely to both of your parents.

“Wonwoo, how are you? I hope Y/N isn’t being a pain in the ass, is she?” your father asked with a teasing tone, treating him differently now that he was your boyfriend.

“In no way could an amazing woman like me be a pain in the ass,” you mumbled loud enough for them to hear, a smirk on your face. Wonwoo chuckled at the light banter you shared with your parents before excusing himself to meet his friend, Kim Mingyu, who also happened to be your cousin.

“So, how’s the plan for tonight?” Mingyu asked Wonwoo, raising an eyebrow knowingly as he referred to his friend’s intentions to propose.

“I’m so nervous I could die,” Wonwoo confessed, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Mingyu laughed, clearly amused by the new layer of vulnerability that Wonwoo was showing. “Don’t worry, she’ll appreciate everything you do,” he reassured, clapping Wonwoo on the back.

“I hope so,” Wonwoo replied, glancing over at you with a soft smile. The anticipation was palpable, and you could feel the excitement in the air. With each passing moment, you were both drawing closer to an unforgettable evening that could change everything.

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men.

➜ featuring: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru.

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: wasn't able to pick a name for nanami's child. also sorry to the anon who sent this, i had a hard time understanding the request at first. anyway, part 2?

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. NANAMI KENTO

“You need to start learning how to fold your clothes,” you mention casually to your daughter as you carry a basket of warm laundry to the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Nanami’s eyes look up from his book, but he doesn’t budge.

“When you move out, you will only have yourself to rely on,” you continue with the advice and your daughter rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Ugh moving out this, moving out that. Just say you want to get rid of me.”

“What–I would never, I’m just reminding you that one day you will become an adult and–”

“Oh just shut up, mom!” 

You truly gave birth to a mini you, a prankster. When you first saw the tiktok trend, you and your daughter had giggled to yourselves at the thought of getting a reaction out of her father. Though, you did warn her of the repercussions. Your husband did not play when it came to showing respect to you.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami sits up from the couch so fast, it almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t have time to react, or hold him back before he is storming towards the kitchen where your teenage daughter was hiding. “What did you just say to your mother?”

“I said shut up, because she was bothering me.”

“And you think that’s one way to speak to my wife?” You see his eyebrows furrow, he even slams the book he was reading down on the kitchen counter so hard that his arm veins are about to pop out.

“Kento,” you walk up behind him, calling out his name softly.

“No, let me take this.”

“No baby listen–”

“I said I will take this.” It’s only when he repeats himself in a stern manner, that your daughter starts to giggle nervously.

“Daddy, it was a prank.”

“Yeah, baby it’s a prank.” You rub his shoulders and biceps reassuringly. Your daughter quickly wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest.

“I’d never be disrespectful like that.”

“Yeah well, it almost gave me a heart attack,” his voice is now much softer and warmer as he exhales, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. He pulls you towards him and kisses your forehead before patting his daughter’s head.

“Now, whose idea was it?”

“Mommy’s.”

“Hey!” 

༉‧₊˚. GOJO SATORU

“Hey Ryuu, could you take out the trash please?” 

“No, I’m busy.” Satoru’s ears perk up at the sound of his son’s tone. But he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

“Baby, it’s been sitting there all day and it’s full. Could you please–”

“Shut up, mom. I said I’m busy.”

Normally, Satoru wasn’t easy to rile up. His relationship with his son was hilarious, one where he doted on his child whilst the latter pretended as though he couldn’t stand all the love and affection he received from his dad. But despite all the love that Satoru had for his son, you were number one. You come first, you are his wife and the mother of his child. When his son will leave, you will be the one he gets to spend the rest of his time with–and when he decided to marry you, a child wasn’t even in the picture.

So he will be damned if he was just going to stand there and let his son talk to you like that.

You freeze when you feel a sudden surge of cursed energy–you knew your husband when he got angry, it clouded over the rational part of his brain. So when you see him start to walk upstairs where his son is, you have to physically grab his arm to stop him. Thank god the infinity was off.

“Satoru– toru! Baby!”

“Who the fuck does he think he is, huh?” His eyes are glowing. You really shouldn’t have played this prank on him.

“It’s a prank baby.” 

“A prank?” It’s fascinating how this man can go from 0 to 100 back to 0 so quickly. He calms down so fast, glancing at the top of the stairs where he sees his son standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I told her it would be a bad idea.”

“I–hey! I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,”

“I did,” Ryuu starts to walk down the stairs and past you two. “He’s said it before. He doesn’t play when it comes to people showing you respect, even if it’s his own son.” 

Satoru can only sigh at his son’s words before staring at you. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t…But I won’t lie, seeing you riled up like that–”

“I’m too old to have a sibling!”

༉‧₊˚. GETO SUGURU

Your girls were a giggly mess. You shush them before saying very loudly.

“In what world is this acceptable?” 

“Mom,” your daughter, Tsukimi, feigns an annoyed tone, refusing to look up from her phone. “I really don’t care.”

“But I do.” You stand over her bed, motioning for her twin sister to get into the role as well.

“Does it matter?” Asahi uses the same annoyed, bored tone. One that quickly catches Suguru’s attention. He walks into the main area from the garage before hearing the argument upstairs. 

Quickly wiping his hands with the dirty rag attached to his pants, he starts to make his way up to your twin daughters’ room to see what it was about. 

“Of course it does, I’m your mother.”

“You’re really just pushing it.”

“You sneaked out last night! Do you know how disappointed your father will be?” Suguru freezes up at the revelation. But he doesn’t let his disappointment or anger get the best of him, maybe the four of you can work this out–your girls were at a rebellious age, this was bound to happen and all he needs to do is figure out a way for all of you to get along without–

“Aren’t you supposed to be our best friend or something?” Tsukimi sits up on the bed, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that reminds you how similar her and her father’s features are. 

“Right now I’m your mother.” 

“Oh would you just shut up?”

A loud slam makes the three of you flinch, and you turn to find Suguru standing by the door looking as angry as a raging bull.

“Who said it.”

“Wha–”

“Who said it. Who was it?” He is so furious you could see steam coming out from the top of his head. “Have you lost your fucking minds to be talking to your mother like that? Did I fail at educating you or what?”

“Suguru–”

“No,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room. “I need to talk to them.”

“No wait, listen–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” When you see that he had a stern look on his face, you realize that you need to save your daughters from the prank.

“It was a prank. I promise you.” 

“It really was a prank,” your twin daughters are sitting on the same bed, looking as sheepish and as guilty as ever. 

“And it was my idea,” Tsukimi adds. 

“And I didn’t stop her.” Your thumbs trace his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,” 

Suguru sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Fucking prankters. That almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But admit it, we’re good actresses, right?” Asahi asks with a grin and Suguru chuckles before ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, you sure are.”

➜ ┊: COMMISSIONS | KOFI

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[incognit0slut]

Hypothetically

Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x bau fem reader

Category: fluff/comfort

Warnings: marriage and baby talk, reader is insecure because she feels left out

A/n: This is my entry for the kid fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins! This was like a breath of fresh air from all the smut I’ve been writing

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as your question lingered in the air. Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly and patted his chest, his eyes drifting towards you. "Uh... what?"

"Hypothetically," you replied, the tap of your pen echoing against the round table between you. "It's like a pact. If we're both still single in the future, we get married to one another and, well, start a family together."

Spencer felt the clamminess of his palms as he set his mug down, trying to steady himself. He considered you as one of the closest people in his life, if not his best friend, and he was accustomed to your random questions, but this sudden topic of conversation seemed to strike a nerve.

"Where..." he began, wiping his palm along his pants. "...where is this coming from?"

You shrugged casually, the tapping of your pen momentarily ceasing. "Just a thought. I mean, we're both at that age where these things start to cross our minds, right?"

Spencer swallowed, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he muttered, but as he studied you, he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Your gaze flickered away for a moment before you sighed, slumping against your chair.

"I have a wedding coming up this weekend." Spencer frowned, not understanding what you were trying to say. You continued, "And another one next week, and guess what? Two of my cousins are getting married next month."

"What does that have to do with...?" His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

But you weren't finished. Somehow, the thoughts that had lingered in your mind for the past few days spilled out right then and there, in the middle of broad daylight when you were supposed to be focusing on the case you were working on.

"And a close friend I went to high school with just gave birth while another friend from college announced she's two months pregnant. And look at me," you exclaimed, your arms flying around. "No wedding. No pregnancy. Spencer, I don't even have a boyfriend, heck, I forgot what it's like to go out on a date!"

He watched as your brow furrowed into a frown, and although your demeanor was all over the place, he couldn't help but notice how you still managed to look pretty.

"Spence?" You asked, nudging his leg with your foot under the table. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by your voice. "Sorry," he replied. "I'm listening."

You gave him a skeptical look, but the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you leaned back in your chair.

"I just... I don't know, I feel like I'm left behind." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I'm happy for my friends and all, but sometimes it feels like everyone's moving forward but me. Like I'm stuck in this... this rut."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he knew how it felt to want something that seemed out of reach, but on the other hand, he felt like it wasn't his place to offer advice when he wasn't even sure what the future held for him.

"I get it," he finally said, trying to gather his thoughts. The least he could do was try to offer some comfort. "But just because you haven't reached those milestones yet doesn't mean you won't get there eventually."

"But what if it doesn't happen? What if I'm still all alone and nobody loves me when I'm gray and old?"

He frowned at you. "I'd still love you when you're gray and old."

"Platonically. You love me as much as you love JJ. Or Emily. Or Penny, or even Morgan." You leaned over the table. "I want to be loved passionately by someone who is head over heels for me, who can't imagine a life without me. I want to feel that kind of happiness."

His frown deepened. "I don't think you should find happiness in another person."

"You're missing the point," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying I want to depend on someone else for my happiness. But is it too much to ask for someone to share it with? To feel like I'm someone's everything and not just another friend in the group?"

His expression softened as he listened, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He remembered feeling the same thing once, or maybe more than once; he wasn't sure. He had lost count of the times he felt his life was falling short.

But he realized the more he thought about the why—why was he so different? why couldn't he find love?—the more he felt worthless, and he hated that. So what was the best thing he did to ignore those thoughts?

Bury himself in work, because to him, pushing those feelings aside was easier than confronting them. But now, as he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing his own reflection and your words hit him harder than he expected.

"No," he quietly agreed. "It's not too much to ask for."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm tired of waiting for life to happen to me." Your gaze slowly met his. "So I came up with a plan."

His throat felt dry as he recalled how this conversation started in the first place. "The... baby plan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Think about it. If we're both still single when we're..." You paused, furrowing your brow as you did a quick calculation. "Forty? Yeah, let's say we're both still single when we're forty, with no partners, or like, no friends with benefits?"

You shook your head.

“Just... with no one in our lives—we get married. You and me."

He blinked, trying to process your proposal. It was unexpected, to say the least, but there was a strange logic to it that he couldn't quite shake. The idea of marrying his best friend as a backup plan was both absurd and oddly comforting.

"But what about... love?" he asked cautiously. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

You paused, considering his question before responding. "I mean, I don't think it's impossible," you said, leaning back in your seat. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Marry your best friend'?"

His gaze lingered on you, his heart beating hard against his chest. "You're saying that we can fall in love?"

Your eyes met his, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Who knows?" you replied softly. "Stranger things have happened."

Spencer shouldn't entertain the possibility. After all, who knew what could happen in the future? It seemed like an absurd thought, but as he stared at you, it was hard not to imagine a life with you as his wife.

He imagined you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him with a radiant smile on your face. He pictured you both in the house you had just bought, dancing joyfully around the empty rooms as you unpacked boxes together.

Then thoughts of you being pregnant with his child—or maybe even children—filled his mind, and he envisioned a future where your kids would run around in the backyard with a pet dog trailing behind.

And then he considered the prospect of growing old with you, watching as your children eventually started families of their own while you found comfort in each other's company. All of these possibilities didn't seem so bad, because if anyone could understand him on a deep level, it was definitely you.

Maybe this crazy plan of yours wasn't so crazy after all.

"I... I guess it's not impossible," he finally admitted. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he added, "Hypothetically speaking."

"Of course," you replied with a smile. "Hypothetically speaking."

Suddenly feeling flustered by your gaze, Spencer looked away and focused on his coffee, bringing the mug to his lips. Then you heard laughter and footsteps drawing closer, and soon Derek and Emily entered the room. Their eyes immediately landed on the two of you, sitting closely together at the table.

"What are you children whispering about?" Derek's voice interrupted, his eyebrows raised curiously as he glanced between you.

You didn't miss a beat. “Spencer and I are having a baby together."

Spencer choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in shock as he coughed and sputtered. You quickly moved to pat his back.

"Well, we're gonna get married first, right, Spence?" you added with a grin, glancing at him expectantly.

Spencer finally managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shot you a sideways glance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Hypothetically."

Derek and Emily exchanged bemused glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Emily's curiosity seemed to win out as she lifted a hand, turning her attention back to you. "Care to explain?"

"We were discussing our backup plan."

"Backup plan?" Derek echoed. 

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In case neither of us finds the right person by the time we're, oh, I don't know, forty or so, we figured we'd marry each other and start a family."

Derek placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "And you chose Pretty Boy over me?"

"I'm not going to compete with all your lady friends," you shot back, rising from your seat. "Come on, Spence, let's grab some lunch and brainstorm baby names."

He stood up, giving you a pointed look.

"Or do you want to discuss how we'd make those babies in the future?"

"Well, I was thinking of Amelia if it's a girl..."

You grinned, linking your arm through his before guiding him towards the door. Derek and Emily observed the natural closeness between you two, how you were practically clinging to him and how he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Derek turned to Emily as you disappeared down the hallway. "Do you think they'd actually get married when they hit forty?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied confidently. "I give it a year until he's already down on one knee."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. With the way Spencer's gaze lingered on you with unmistakable affection, it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

[pandapetals]

Mrs. Howlett

You get jealous of a student's mom trying to flirt with Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, jealously

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

You hated to admit it, but you could get a little jealous. Not that you ever had a real reason to be—Logan didn’t give other women a second glance, and he made it clear you were the only one he wanted. Most of the time, when someone flirted with him, you’d brush it off, secure in the knowledge that he was yours. Logan was usually too gruff, too uninterested, for anyone to make much headway with him anyway.

But today was different.

You were heading to his classroom to drop off some papers when you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face as he talked to a woman you didn’t recognize. She looked young—probably a little too young than some of the other student’s parents, with sleek hair and an outfit that was more stylish than practical. Beside her stood a teenage boy, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed.

But she? She was smiling up at Logan like he’d just hung the moon. Her hand even touched his arm briefly, a little too familiar, and you felt a flash of something hot and prickly ignite in your chest.

You tried to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Logan didn’t even seem particularly invested in the conversation—just nodding along, probably humoring her because he had to be polite. And yet, the way she looked at him, hanging on his every word, had your jaw clenching before you realized it.

You took a breath, schooling your expression, but when you caught Logan’s eye over her shoulder, his smirk deepened, his gaze flicking to you with that glint of amusement he always got when he knew he had your attention. Oh, he’d noticed. Of course, he had.

Clearing your throat, you approached with an air of casual calm, though the jealousy simmering beneath the surface was anything but subtle.

“Oh, there you are, Logan,” you said, slipping your hand onto his arm with a bit more possessiveness than you’d planned. Your fingers tightened slightly, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of his bicep. “I was looking for you.”

The woman’s bright smile faltered for just a second, her gaze flicking down to your hand on his arm. She took a tiny step back, trying to recover her polite expression but with a hint of something else lurking in her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t realize… are you Miss… I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

You felt Logan tense slightly, but you just smiled, leaning a little closer to him. “I’m Mrs. Howlett, actually.” Your voice was warm, but you let the words sink in, feeling a small thrill of satisfaction as you watched her face register the correction. Your fingers brushed up and down Logan’s arm in a slow, familiar rhythm, letting her know exactly where you stood. “And you are?”

She cleared her throat, glancing down at the teenage boy beside her. “I’m Liam’s mom,” she said, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder as if to keep herself anchored. “Logan—Mr. Howlett—was just telling me about the upcoming history project. I thought it would be good to get a sense of what Liam would be working on.”

Logan’s smirk widened as he looked down at you, clearly enjoying the subtle show of jealousy you rarely let slip. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that made his claim on you unmistakable.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice a low, amused rumble that you felt through his chest. “She was just askin’ about the assignment.”

You looked up at him, arching an eyebrow as you played along. “Of course. Well, Liam’s a very brilliant student,” you said sweetly, turning to the woman with a smile that held just a hint of a challenge. “Logan says he’s a natural at history. Must be quite a proud mom moment for you.”

The woman’s smile became a bit too tight, her expression polite but strained. She straightened, giving a brisk nod. “Of course. Well, I think I have all the information I need for now. Come along, Liam.”

As she ushered her son down the hallway, Logan’s quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, his arm still snugly wrapped around your waist. He waited until she was out of earshot before he leaned down, his lips brushing close to your ear.

“Didn’t know you could be the jealous type,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Should I be flattered?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t quite keep the blush from creeping up your cheeks. “I’m not jealous,” you replied, feigning nonchalance. “I just didn’t appreciate her… forgetting my name. I mean, it’s Mrs. Howlett, after all.”

Logan chuckled, his warm breath grazing your skin as his fingers traced lazy circles along your hip. “I gotta say, darlin’… I kinda liked seein’ you all protective and possessive. Not somethin’ I get to see often.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t quite keep the grin off your face. “Oh, don’t let it go to your head,” you shot back, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I guess I might get a little territorial when some random woman decides to ignore the fact that you’re taken.”

His smile softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough for his warmth to seep into you. “Relax, gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice low and fond. “You know you’re the only one I’d ever put up with.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow with a playful spark in your eyes. “Maybe I’ll keep you on your toes more often, then. Just to see that little possessive streak of yours come out.”

Logan’s laugh rumbled through his chest, his hand drifting lower to give your hip a slow, teasing squeeze. “Be my guest,” he drawled, his lips curving into a smirk. “I don’t mind remindin’ everyone who I belong to.”

You tilted your head, your fingers tracing along his arm savoring the solid warmth beneath your touch. “Good,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “because I don’t plan on sharing.”

Logan leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss. His mouth was warm and unhurried, lingering as if he wanted to make sure you felt every word he hadn’t spoken. When he finally pulled back, you were left breathless, a soft heat blooming in your cheeks.

He looked down at you, the playful gleam in his eyes softening. His forehead rested against yours, and whispered, his voice rough but gentle, “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

[queerstudiesnatural]

kind of obsessed with the idea of dean and cas getting a house and sleeping in the same bed and building a normalcore life together, without ever officially getting together. cas comes back from the empty and dean hugs him, and after a few days he says they should get a house, so they do. they get a two bedroom and cas assumes it's so they each have their own room, but then dean picks one room as theirs, and says he thinks the other room will make a nice guest room for when sam and eileen/jack/claire come to visit. cas just goes with it. they always sleep in their pyjamas, and dean occasionally in his underwear when it's hot, so cas just figures they're friends who sleep in the same bed. dean has been so lonely his whole life, after all. dean sometimes puts on slow music and asks cas to dance, and cas is hesitant because he can't dance, but he figures dean needs casual touch and softness in his life, so he obliges. and then one day dean says "we should get married", and cas blue screens because he doesn't understand which need of dean's this is covering. his need for stability and family, perhaps, but he thought the house had been enough. so he just says "what?" and dean seems disappointed by that, and asks with a pout, "don't you want to?". cas is confused, but he answers honestly. "i do. i just don't understand why." dean seems confused too, but he presses on. "well, we've been together for almost a year now, and let's be honest we were basically together for twelve years before that, so i think it's time. plus i heard there are benefits, for like taxes and stuff. not that we pay that, but it could come in handy, i don't know." he searches cas' eyes, and cas' brain is going hold on a minute man. hold on a minute. dean asks again, "don't you want to?", and cas has to ask. "dean. when you say we've been together, what do you mean?" and dean is like, "i mean, like, dating? like a couple? right?" and when cas keeps looking at him with goldfish eyes he panics and goes, "oh god. haven't we? cas. we're together, right? i love you, you love me, all that? you haven't changed your mind on that, have you??" and cas about loses it like "what do you mean you love me??? when have you ever mentioned that?? dean, i thought we were just friends who lived together, i thought-" and now it's dean's turn to go "now hold on a minute man... you- what?? cas, we sleep in the same bed! we have breakfast together every morning! we've got a fucking garden!!" and cas just looks at dean stupidly and says, "but. we've never kissed? you sleep in your underwear! you've never said-" and he cuts himself off before he loses his damn mind because what??? so dean goes "oh. but you've been sleeping in pyjamas. and you've never tried to kiss me, or touch me. i tried it, with the dancing, but it was clear you were only doing it because i asked, so i didn't press it..." and cas does the goldfish bit a few more times before metaphorically shaking his head straight and saying "so, to clarify. we're a couple. and you think we should get married. and you want to kiss me?". dean laughs incredulously and says "yeah, pretty much. you okay with that?" and cas says yes. so dean kisses him. and wowza. cas would love to keep doing that forever. and well, apparently he can, because they're getting married.