On Instinct | Reader x Yuta ✅

Chapter 3

You are sitting in the passenger seat of Yuta's sedan, staring at the freckled windshield in silence. It took a lot to get you in here and now there is nothing but a void in the middle of your chest as the rain keeps falling.

"Hey, are you okay? What's the matter?"

As soon as he touched your arm and you felt that rush of safety pour through your stupid, simple, omega body, you felt disgusted with yourself. You tried to pull your arm away but there was just no strength in you to resist his touch. How pathetic could you possibly be?

Yuta ducked his head down a little closer to your ear, lowering his voice even further. "What's wrong?" A waft of the cologne that he uses to cover whatever is left of his alpha scent filled your nose. You grimaced and shot him a frustrated side-eye.

Don't pretend like you care, you thought wryly, tears still settling in your eyes as you worked to swallow them. So embarrassing.

Realizing that you weren't about to talk in the lobby like that, Yuta clicked his tongue softly and said, "Let's go outside. Come on." And just like that he took you out to his car and helped you into the front seat as you sniffled your emotions down with a frown.

Now, Yuta is sitting in a weird position in the driver's seat so that he can mostly face you. You haven't said one word as to why you were crying and your silence must be unnerving for him. You can hear the discomfort in his voice as he says, "Are you feeling okay, now?"

"Yes I'm fine," you grumble at the rain-dotted glass. The streetlight that shines through the windows makes everything look yellow and gray.

"Really? You seemed really upset. I just want to make sure you're okay before you drive home."

You bite back an indignant little growl. You're a grown ass woman. You can drive. You can always drive! "I'm fine." Why did you even get in his car in the first place? You scowl into your lap.

He is quiet for a minute--nothing but soft rain on the roof of his car--and then, "What's that?"

Looking up, you find him peering curiously at the crumpled up paper in your hand.

Shit. You ball your fist up even tighter to try and make it disappear, but it's too late. He's already reaching out for it. With a burst of self-loathing so strong that you want to scream, your body simply gives in--handing the paper over immediately.

"What is this?" he asks again, maybe giving you one more chance to opt for simple communication before he crosses that line and uncrinkles the ball.

You don't. Apparently, your body can't say no to him but your voice can. So he opens it slowly, careful not to rip the paper because he doesn't know what it is. When he sees it, though, he doesn't really react. You watch, totally mortified, as his youthful face remains still. His big, dark eyes remain locked on the disgusting image for several moments, saying nothing.

Is it not shocking to him? Does he not find it crude and cruel? Or at the very least, totally inappropriate? Maybe he doesn't realize that it's supposed to be you, but shouldn't your crying have given it away?

Oh my god...does he think that I drew it?!

He finally takes his eyes off of the paper to glance at you again. "What is this?"

You feel so ridiculous--him seeing it, you crying--so unprofessional, so pathetic! But you can't have him thinking that you made that thing. "I found it in the elevator."

Finally, a little crinkle of disturbance crosses his brow. "Who drew this?"

"I don't know," you spit, getting upset just thinking about it. You have no idea who would have the nerve to draw this on your hand-out, right in front of you, during the meeting that you led. Whoever it is obviously has zero respect for you as their boss or as a human being in general.