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saetiate · 2 months ago

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okay i ran out of space in the tags when i was almost finished sorry for the additional short comments here :') please read the tags first and then this comment ahaha i have been commenting as i go through!!! tldr this is a beautiful fic i have been so excited to read it and your writing is brilliant!!!

OHMYGOD THE WAY THAT MYDEI WAS CAPTURED??? omg this plot twist... waugasf;jds i cannot believe this i am jaw dropped fr

WAHH IM SO EXCITED TO READ THE NEXT PART!!! i love that at the end he allows reader to feed him :') I WANNA KNOWW what the conditions are and how he gets out and i wanna see him and reader's relationship progress!!! im so excited ahaha this has been so fun!!! thank you for sharing your writing w the world!!!

Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.2k

Content Warnings: pls check the masterlist there is. a lot. and i’m not retyping all of that LOL

A/N: I AM SOO SCARED TO POST THIS NGL LMAOAO like i said in the warnings i literally. have not played amphoreus yet. idek anything about mydei SDKJH i am so worried i will disappoint everyone who's expressed interest in reading this HAHA i was also. not expecting anyone to do that tbh. BUT thank you all for your kind words on the masterlist and i hope this lives up to expectations at least a bit!!

You spent the day of your wedding with a man made of marble — a stand-in for your new husband, who was off fighting in a war of the kind which had neither cause nor, seemingly, end. The statue was carved in his image and sneered down at you as you whispered to it, swearing vows of duty and obedience and docility, but, in spite or maybe because of its detached lifelessness, you found its presence to be a kindness. What did it say of your husband, that you preferred the company of that dead stone to him? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

He is a generous man, the servants assured you, giggling amongst themselves, exchanging knowing looks as they dragged you into the foreign palace where you would spend the rest of your days. You will want for nothing.

It was draftier than your home, the wind bouncing off of the white walls and nipping at you skin. You spent your time buried under seven-and-twenty layers of furs and fabrics, lying in an unfamiliar bed and flinching away from the shadows upon the ceiling. This was an idle and dull way to waste away your existence, and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything else, trapped in the mire of waiting and waiting for your husband’s return.

He came back in the third month, which was as auspicious as anything. They loved that number here, you had come to find: three, the symbol of fortune and fate, of magic and mischief, of power and punishment. Three vows sworn; three blessings granted; three months passed before you finally met the man you had married.

There was much fanfare about his arrival. When you peered out of the window, you saw that the streets were stuffed to the bursting with throngs of people shoving one another around, hissing and biting as they craned their necks. At first it surprised you — was he truly so loved here, even when he was elsewhere despised? — but then you realized that it was not your husband upon his charger that they were all lined up to meet. Rather, it was the procession following him which captured their interests, the spoils of war which he displayed with a juvenile, worthless pride.

A triad of elephants covered in finely wrought armor, their heads hung low and resigned, their plodding walks spiritless and lame. A herd of sheep with silver wool, dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars, stumbling along at the prodding of a soldier-turned-shepherd. A wagon filled with spears and swords, ostensibly once neatly stacked, now a matted mess of steel and bronze. Vases carried in the arms of the younger men, overflowing with coins that trailed after them like breadcrumbs, snatched up by the most daring of the onlookers, who did not fear rebuke. And, finally, in a place so honorable it could only have been mocking—

“Lady,” a soft voice said. You drew your coat tighter around you, although today was, by all accounts, warm for the season, and pretended like you did not hear the girl. She sighed and then tugged on your arm insistently; perhaps it was improper, but there wasn’t anyone who would chide her for it. “You have been summoned by his majesty.”

Hadn’t you known this would happen eventually? Hadn’t you expected it? You had had your time to come to terms with it, which was more than most got, and so there was no excuse for the reluctance which choked your throat and stilled your footsteps. This was your duty, this was what you had sworn, and so — and so you could not hesitate.

“Lady…” the girl said with another sigh. You pretended to be all-consumed with the action of closing the curtains, your back to her as you struggled to force a smile onto your face. When you deemed your expression acceptable, you spun around and nodded at her.

“It will not do to keep him waiting,” you said, motioning for her to lead the way. She did so without complaint, perhaps relieved that you were not giving her further trouble; even now, the servants did not know what to think of you, could not quite fathom what category of being you were. Some were fond of you, but most treated you with a careful distrust that you could not blame them for, even though you sometimes wanted to.

The grand entrance hall of the palace opened to the mouth of the road, which swelled out into a sprawling courtyard. Its centerpiece was an enormous fountain which sprayed a fine, cool mist into the air no matter the time of year, and it was by this fountain that you waited, wringing your hands as your husband drew nearer and nearer. Belatedly, you thought that you should try to conceal your distress, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The best you could do was say, if you were asked, that it was simply the joy of a bride faced with the prospect of a reunion with her beloved. Nobody would question that, although then again, nobody questioned you very much in general, so it was doubtful that you’d even have to use the quick excuse.

Your husband’s warhorse was a sprightly, slender beast, its coat the dappled grey of royalty, its face pretty and dished in the way of the Eastern breeds. When it paused in front of you, it shoved its black muzzle into your shoulder, nearly knocking you down, and then it stomped its hoof when your husband tightened the reins, pulling it back before dismounting and handing it off to a waiting stableboy.

“My apologies, dear lady,” he said, bowing before you with as much gallantry as you had been told he possessed. His voice was gentle and amused, his face even more handsome in flesh than it had been in stone; you should’ve, by all rights, felt pleased. You were married to this man. You belonged to him. How many women wished to be in your place? Yet all you could muster was fear, throttling and all-consuming. He was beautiful in the way of a snake, and you knew without knowing that he was poised, in some way, to strike.

“It is alright,” you said, disguising the tremble of your voice with a broad, false grin. “I am glad to finally make your acquaintance…my lord.”

The address was unfamiliar on your tongue. What would your younger self, that girl who had never known subservience nor strife, say if she saw you ducking your head in defeated compliance? How she would laugh! How she would pity you! My lord. But he was exactly that.

“The sentiment is returned in full,” he said, and then he extended his arms in a grand, sweeping motion. “Indeed, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I have arranged for you a gift!”

“A gift?” you repeated. Certainly, you had asked for no such thing, and you did not have the time to school your face into neutrality, naked surprise flashing across it. Your husband chuckled at the sight, nodding at you.

“I have brought the finest of plunders for you, dear lady,” he said, and your stomach twisted into knots at the familiarity with which he spoke to you, as if you were affable lovers instead of strangers. “Even your father’s treasures, vast and bountiful as they may be, cannot compare to this!”

The mention of your father stabbed at your heart, and hidden in the folds of your coat, you clenched your fists. Your father, the richest man in the world…and yet your husband dared compare his meager gift to that? You wanted to spit in his face that for your third birthday, your father had gifted you a villa made of gold, the walls inlaid with gemstones and painted with flowers. Indeed, you might’ve goaded him in such a way if you had the capabilities, but then you noticed what the army-men were bringing forth and your mouth suddenly refused to move.

It was the prisoner, the one kept in a place of honor by your husband and his soldiers, the one who the entire empire had ridiculed as he had been paraded through it like a champion hound. He was tall, towering over the army-men flanking him, and although his eyes drooped nearly shut, there was a heat to his demeanor, a severe, ferocious anger which shone through his exhaustion. He seemed like more of a half-tamed jungle cat than a man, and indeed when he halted before you, you half-expected him to snarl, to bare bloody fangs and lunge at your throat with fingers like claws, like swords, tearing through your neck as if it were paper.

“When he’s like this, you almost forget what a monster he can be,” your husband mused, reaching out and flicking the man on the forehead with a snicker. “Isn’t he all but lovely? Oh, don’t worry, dear lady, he can’t do anything to you. He’s under the influence of a sleeping draught at the moment, and anyways, those chains are thrice-blessed. It’s perfectly safe.”

The chains he spoke of were as gold as the man’s hair, looping around his wrists and forearms, curling over the red marks emblazoned on his shimmering skin, weaving in between his legs and around his torso. They were sturdy and gleamed with the power of their three blessings, and although you still understood little about this strange place with its strange power, you could tell that it would take a great force, greater than was possessed by any mere man or deity, to break them.

“He’s the prince of Kremnos,” your husband said when your shock stretched on. “A right beast, I’ll say. We almost fell to his efforts, but in the end, we bested him — as you can see. What do you think? Do you like him?”

“He’s — it’s — horrible,” you said, your skin crawling the longer and longer you stared at the prince, your words a jumble, your head spinning. You wanted to be anywhere but in this courtyard, in front of this fallen man, who was kept alive for — for what? For amusement? For play? As a gift?

“Isn’t he?” your husband said, patting you on the shoulder with a grim smile. “And now he is yours.”

The thrice-blessed chains flashed in the sun, and you shook your head, both in refusal and to clear your vision of the blinding, searing spots they left in it.

“I have no need of a prisoner,” you said, and although your tone remained ever-muted, you spoke as cuttingly as you could manage to. “What will I do with him? Why do you torture him so? You bested him; if he was as fierce an opponent as you claim, then the least you owe him is a death with dignity. Kill him and be done with the matter. Why have you brought him all this way? I don’t want him.”

“He will die, eventually,” my husband said. “I shall execute him myself when it comes to it, but the time is not yet right. I don’t expect you to understand such matters, and neither should you trouble yourself with doing so…but know this, dear lady: you cannot give back a gift once it has been freely given. You can do what you’d like with him now that he is yours, but you cannot refuse him. Perhaps that is how affairs were conducted in your backwards land, but here it is not so.”

You wanted my land, you longed to say. You took me from my father and wed me to a statue in search of it. And still you call it backward? But you could not, so instead, you turned away — away from the prince, who was close to crumpling and only remained standing out of sheer will, and away from your husband, who beamed as if he had done something great or wonderful.

“I will retire now,” you said. Do not follow me. This remained implied, unsaid, but a fool your husband was not, and so he only hummed in agreement.

“Be well, dear lady,” he said. “My messengers have told me that you are having difficulties adjusting to the climate here. I shall be sure to pray for your feeble constitution.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you said, stiffly, primly. It scratched like bile and you hated every minute of it, but you had no recourse for the matter, so you swallowed it down, as you always did and always would.

“And what of the prisoner?” he said. “Shall I send him to a jail? Do you think he is better suited for deprivation or pain?”

They meant to make him shatter, to methodically yank him apart until he faced death with the dull eyes and swayed back of an over-aged broodmare. You supposed to them it was meaningless — why should they show consideration or kindness to a man who would never show them the same? — but you were no warmonger, and that apathy did not cling to you yet. The prince was a beast born of sun, a wild, vicious creature, and if he really was slated to die, then you wanted him to meet his end as just that, nothing less.

“Leave him be,” you said. “Treat him as well as you are able.”

“He would’ve killed me,” your husband said, a low note of warning in his voice. You shrank into the safety of your clothes, as if they were a shield against his vexation.

“But instead you will kill him,” you said. “So how does it matter? You said I could do as I like; well, this is what pleases me. Don’t prolong this anymore than necessary.”

You darted back into the palace without waiting to hear his answer, your jaw burning and your footsteps heavy against the mosaic floor as you ran all of the way to your chambers and slammed the door shut behind you.

For three days and three nights you did not leave your room, taking all your meals in seclusion, refusing any visitors that might attempt entry. You could not help it; the thought of seeing your husband or any of the soldiers made you want to weep — you! Who never wept, even as a baby! So you claimed that you were terribly unwell, that you could not stand for fear of collapse, and that managed to ward away your husband without incurring his wrath, even though it was only a temporary solution.

As the sun set on the fourth day, there was a knock on your door, and you were about to call out that you had no interest in conversation when someone hissed through the crack in the entrance: “Lady, I come not on your husband’s behalf but another’s. There is trouble, and you must attend to it.”

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, crouching by the entrance, pressing your ear to the wooden door without opening it. “Who is this? Who are you? Speak plainly, so that we may understand one another!”

There was a shuffling sound, and then an exhale. You worried with the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to continue, your arms pulled tightly around yourself, your brows furrowing together as you chewed on your lower lip.

“The prince of Kremnos,” they whispered. “He calls for you.”

“Are they mistreating him?” you said, straightening and flinging the door open. “The prince, are they — hello?”

The hallway was devoid of life. You peered down it, craning your neck this way and that, but it was placid, showing no signs of having been disturbed. Shutting the door slowly, you leaned against it, holding your head in your hands. Was this place driving you to insanity, then? And if it was, then why could you not have thought of something more pleasant than summons from a prisoner — prisoner!

Wasn’t it your duty to make sure your husband had held good on his word? The prisoner was yours, though the notion of ownership sent unpleasant shivers down your spine and didn’t feel quite right — perhaps a better way to think of it, then, was responsibility. He was your responsibility, and maybe the strange vision had been nothing more than a reminder of what you owed the man.

You waited until it was midnight, when you could be certain that your husband would not rise from his slumber at the sound of your activity, and then you donned a pair of slippers and a cloak, throwing the hood on and retreating into the billowing depths of the fabric, so that your face was obscured from prying eyes. Of course, there would not be very many of those, not at such a late hour, but you did not want to risk even one person recognizing you and reporting back to your husband, whose reaction to this escapade you could not foretell.

Although you were not so familiar with the palace’s layout, as you had never spent much time exploring it, most constructions of this nature followed a similar plan, and you had grown up in exactly such a grand, sweeping home, so you found the doorway to the cellar in record time. As the palace had no towers, the cellar was the only logical option for the keeping of such a dangerous prisoner, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was where you would find the prince, if he was still somewhere that you could find him.

The half-moon was your only witness as you fumbled with the lock, trying every key in your possession until one finally slotted into place and turned. Wincing as the door heaved open with a profound creak, you yanked it shut behind you quickly, without ceremony, lighting a small candle and using it to guide your way down the dark stairs, rushing so that you were out of sight in case someone came to investigate.

You did not know how long you walked for, but eventually the stairway ended, giving way to cool, damp earth. The must of uncut stone permeated the thick, heavy air, and the adjustment of your eyes to the surrounding blackness was slow, the pain of it only alleviated somewhat by the little candle’s valiant flame.

“Come to toss scraps at me?” The voice was rumbling and low; in spite of its weakness, you could hear a sneer in it, a disdain in the rough baritone. “You needn’t try again. Like I told you, I won’t eat your trash.”

“No,” you said. “I’ve brought nothing with me.”

There was a brief pause, and then: “You sound different than the others.”

“This tongue is foreign to me, as it is to you,” you said. “I cannot speak it in the same way as those who were born here. Verily I have been instructed in the art since I was but a child, for my father must have known in that manner of his what would eventually become of me, but I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would.”

“You’re his wife.” Chains clanked, the harsh drag of metal against stone reverberating in the cellar, and then you felt more than saw his looming countenance, filling what you had mistakenly believed upon arrival to be an empty room. Swinging your candle before you so that it was close to your heart, you gasped when it reflected in a pair of eyes glaring at you from mere paces away, the irises possessing a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers might.

The chains now only encircled his left leg, binding him to the wall but leaving him otherwise free to move as he liked within the length of his confines. He had been stripped of armament and adornment alike, his mane of hair tangled and falling lank about his broad shoulders, yet for all of these injustices, you had no doubt in your mind that he was anything but a prince. He had a dignity to him, a hard-won pride to the straightness of his back and the firmness of his gaze; before you could chase it away, the thought came to you that there was far more intrinsic nobility to this man than there was even your husband.

“I suppose that I am,” you said.

“Have you come to gloat about your craven lord’s cowardly victory, then?” he said. The chains were pulled taut, so he could come no closer to you than he already was — you were sure of this, but you were still a slave to your instincts, which urged you farther and farther from him with every second. He watched you go with some measure of delight, like he was relishing in this power which you had inadvertently gifted him, and when you skittered to a stop, he huffed. “There is nothing to be proud of, and you look a fool for suggesting there might be.”

“I was just…” you trailed off, because it suddenly felt entirely absurd to suggest that you were inquiring after his wellbeing. What did it mean, the wellbeing of a doomed man? What reason would he have to believe your intentions? “What is your name?”

“My name?” he said with a brittle, incredulous laugh that rapidly descended into a cough. “Why? Do you wish to curse your husband with it? Does your language not have gods you can swear on?”

“You’re sickly,” you said, frowning and ignoring his jabs.

“You have torn me from the sun and chained me in this dingy room, and yet you have the gall to be surprised by that?” he said, scoffing. “You’re more of an idiot than that husband of yours.”

“I did no such thing!” you said. The defiance took you by surprise. You had forgotten what it felt like to defy someone, to disagree and resist their words, to feel alive with resentment and bad-temper. “I didn’t wish for this. I didn’t wish to keep you here anymore than you wished to be kept!”

“Is that so?” he said, and then he grinned at you, but it was less of a smile and more of a threat. “Then free me.”

“What?” you said.

“If you don’t want me, then free me,” he said.

“You’ll kill me if I do,” you said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot.

“I give you my word that I will spare you,” he said, placing a solemn hand over his heart.

“Not the others?” you said.

He did not respond, which in and of itself was a response. It was one you shouldn’t have liked as much as you did, but in truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him. Only for a moment, and immediately, you shoved your hands behind your back, but it was too late — he had seen, and he raised his eyebrows at you in return.

“Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter,” you said hastily, hoping to distract him before he could comment on the treason. “I couldn’t free you even if I wanted to. Your chains are thrice-blessed. I didn’t know what that meant until recently, but now that I do, I understand why you have been kept without even a permanent guard.”

“Blessings,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you put genuine stock into that drivel.”

“Perhaps the gods of other lands have forsaken their subjects, but this empire is known as the birthplace of every divine act, and so deities still sometimes glance upon its people and offer up their favor. Thrice-blessed chains are one such offering, for they are in fact more like contracts than they truly are chains,” you said. When he did not interrupt you with any snide remarks, you were emboldened to continue. “They can restrain anything, even a god, but this strength comes at a cost: they are conditional. If their captive can understand this condition and meet it, they will crumble into dust, but until then, the chains remain unbreakable.”

“What is it?” he said insistently, reaching out his hands like he was going to grab you and shake the answer out. He fell short, grasping at empty air, his muscles straining against the chains which, true to legend, did not falter. “This condition. Whatever it is, I will do it. You only need to tell me and I will do it!”

“I don’t know,” you said. His lip curled, and you shook your head frantically. “No, no, I’m telling you the truth, I really don’t know! Only the wielder and the gods he prayed to can know for certain. The conditions are decided arbitrarily, without trend or reason. It could be anything from singing a song to moving a mountain! At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the little I’ve read on the topic.”

“The wielder — your husband, then? That’s easy enough. Bid him to tell you, and then relay to me his answer,” he said.

“Easy enough? Not in the slightest. He would just as soon do your bidding as he would mine,” you said. The prince squinted at you, and evidently he must’ve determined that you were serious, for he broke into that awful laugh again, the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air.

“You are pitiful,” he said. “I thought that you must be some great, fearsome empress, as wicked as your husband, but you are just a frightened mouse of a girl. You would not survive a day in Kremnos, you know. It would crush you.”

Duty. Obedience. Docility. They were branded onto you, swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke, and you could not escape them any more than the prince could escape his chains. If only you could argue with him, tell him that once upon a time, you had been someone unrecognizable from who you were now…but already, you had tested their limits. Your tongue was frozen in your mouth, refusing to move in anything but accordance with your oaths, and so you only clasped your hands together.

“If you say it is so, then it really must be the case,” you said. “Farewell, prince of Kremnos.”

“Farewell,” he said, but it was clear he did not mean it. “Dear lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, recognizing the provocation for what it was. “You are not my husband, nor do I wish for you to be.”

“Then what should I refer to you as?” he said. “Your excellency? Your grace? Your most exalted highness? Your holiness, the saint of the realm?”

“Here, I am only known as lady,” you said quietly. “But I bore a different name before. I cannot…I cannot say it anymore, but if you ever come to know of it by other means, then please call me as such.”

Morning brought with it a freezing palm pressed to your brow. It startled you to consciousness both because of its temperature and its temerity, for you could not fathom who had dared to enter your room without your permission, and while you were asleep, at that! In the haze of your sleep-addled mind, a rebuke rose to your lips, but then someone clicked their tongue and you fell silent even as you clambered to a more alert state.

“Your fever has finally broken, dear lady! You do not know how overjoyed I am to hear it,” your husband said, helping you into a sitting position, one hand cradling the back of your neck and the other holding up a glass. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your vision, swallowing down the water he poured down your throat without objection.

“Fever?” you said.

“The ailment you have been suffering from,” he said. “I was told it was a fever of some sorts. I bore it quietly, the prospect of your malaise, but today I could not stop myself from checking on you. I had some dreams of playing the nurse, but here you are, entirely well! Such a miraculous recovery.”

His grandiose words masked suspicion with affection, but he did not make any further accusations, for just as you had sworn to heed him, so too had he promised to trust you. His vows had been made to a portrait of yours, as well as written in pig’s-blood and sent to you in a sealed envelope. You could recall them with perfect clarity, the way the stench of iron clung to the parchment as you unfolded it and rang your fingers over the lines, which were grouped in stanzas of three.

Trust. Favor. Companionship.

You spent the entire day with your husband, although you had neither the desire nor the will for it. You hardly ever had the desire or the will to do anything, of course, not nowadays, but this was the worst of all, because your husband was not just a reminder but the very reason for everything which had happened to you. Still, you could not refuse, so you trotted along at his side, motionless as he showed you off to his officers, his advisors, and even, at one point, his cousin, who could not be less interested in you if he tried.

“Brother,” he said boredly, for indeed he and your husband were the only children of their respective fathers, and so were more like siblings than anything, “you have better things to be doing than showing off a woman who doesn’t bear showing off in the first place.”

“Are you saying that she is somehow deficient?” your husband said, swelling up with righteous indignation. Anyone else might’ve lost their head for the statement, especially given how blandly he had said it, but his cousin was above reproach, being the only person he really loved.

“I’m saying that she looks ill with misery,” his cousin said, and then he sighed, returning to his book. “I’m not so sure the lady has recovered from her illness. You ought to be more cautious with her, that’s all.”

His cousin was younger and handsomer than he, and as the two of you walked away, you thought that you would not have minded marrying him as much. Though perhaps this was a paradox — after all, if he had taken you in the manner that your husband had, then you would have hated him, too. It was your lot in life, then; always you would detest whoever you wed, whoever stole your freedom in that way and bound you to them with the cruel ropes of matrimony.

The hall where you took your dinner was like an enormous cavern, so large that you felt like your voice might echo if you spoke. You and your husband were the only ones in it, which heightened the effect, and every clank of his silverware against his porcelain dishes resounded in your ears like discordant bells.

“My prisoner,” you said after a long time had passed wherein the two of you discussed nothing. Your voice was dry with disuse, and you pushed the food on your plate around without attempting to eat, although it was all appetizing and you were certainly hungry.

“What?” your husband said, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

“My prisoner,” you said, clearing your throat but keeping your gaze trained firmly on your food. “The prince of Kremnos. Is he well?”

“You’re asking after his health?” your husband said with a chuckle. When you did not laugh or otherwise indicate that you were joking, he frowned at you. “You needn’t fret. As you requested, I am treating him as well as I am able. Far better than he deserves.”

The image of the prince, chained and kept in darkness, the only sound his persistent cough and unsteady breathing, given scraps for sustenance and mice for company, flashed across your mind.

“I wish to see him,” you said. There was a warning in the back of your head — duty, obedience, docility — but you ignored it as best as you could, stabbing oversharp fingernails into your thighs, hard enough to draw blood and distract you from the dangerous line you tread. “My lord, I wish to see the prince and ensure that he is alright with my own eyes.”

At this your husband did not even pretend to humor you. He burst into a raucous fit of cackles, his fork and knife clattering to the table, his eyes watering at the corners. You waited for him to stop, picking your own cutlery up in vain before setting it down and folding your hands in your lap.

“No,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot allow that, dear lady.”

“You cannot—” you began, but it was too much, you had stepped over that precarious boundary, and now you were frozen. Gulping, you counted to five before continuing. “He is mine. He is mine, you said it yourself, so why — can’t — I — see — him?”

Each word dug into you like gravel, and you knew that you had lost this argument before you could even attempt to have it. How could you ever win? When you had sworn thrice over that you would be tractable, how could you ever try to be anything else? Your intentions did not matter as much as the execution, not to the number three and the power it lent this empire.

“How obstinate,” your husband said, appraising you with a new eye. “I am sorry, dear lady, but as my cousin said, you are still weak. It will do you no good to be faced with such a base creature. You can see him again on the day of his execution.”

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, which was not as much as you wanted to do but was as much as you could, at present, manage. “Might I be excused?”

“Excused? You haven’t eaten anything,” he said, pointing at your plate. True to his word, it was untouched, and you picked it up, holding it close to your chest as you stood.

“My stomach is protesting,” you said. “I will take it to my room and eat it later. If it pleases you.”

“Very well,” he said, waving at you. “I shall pray for your health, dear lady. Sleep as late as you’d like tomorrow, but once you are awake, I implore you to join me in my preparations. There is a grand celebration in the afternoon, as a marker of our victory against Kremnos, and I have been summoned to speak; if you could muster some words as well, it might hearten the people and warm them to you.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said. “I shall think of something.”

“See to it that you do,” he said, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face as you left, your footsteps growing faster and faster until you were all but racing to your room, your head spinning and palms clammy like you had gotten away with some great crime.

Tonight, there were no strange voices beckoning you, but that did not stop you from staying awake far past the moon’s rise, waiting until it hung over the clocktower before picking your way back to the cellar, your heart pounding as you crept back down those dark, endless stairs, an actual lantern in one hand and your plate in the other.

The prince was still there. You had half-expected him to have disappeared, to have turned out to be some figment of your imagination, but he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his lips pursed as he watched the light of your lantern approach. When he realized it was you, his eyes narrowed, and he tucked his chin to his chest in what you could only assume was a stubborn display of the meager strength he had left.

“I brought food for you,” you said, setting the lantern on the last stair and presenting the plate before you. “Please eat it.”

“What do you think I am?” he said. “Some kind of a dog, such that I am eager for you to foist your refuse on me? Hardly. Take it and leave me at once.”

“You’ll waste away,” you said. “You are only doing yourself a disservice! This is my own dinner, which I have gone without so that I could bring it to you. Does that make it easier to stomach?”

“Shall I sit on the floor, then, and eat it with my hands?” he said with a disparaging smile. “Will that amuse you? Is that why you’ve come? I heard your husband, you know. ‘Do what you’d like with him now that he is yours.’ How joyless your life must be, to think that this is what you entertain yourself with!”

“It is joyless,” you bit back, and your eyes widened at the freedom of the declaration. “It is! But you are not my — you are not some kind of amusement, I resent that you — I even spoke against my husband for you, and you say that! Fine, then. Starve, you thoughtless simpleton! Starve and die for all the good it’ll do me!”

You turned on your heel and stomped towards the stairs with the graceless irascibility of a child, not even sparing a glance over your shoulder at the prince. He was quiet, but you knew from the heavy weight of his stare on your back that there was something like turmoil brewing in his mind, a turmoil which weakened your resolve with every step you took away from him.

It was to your credit that you made it all of the way to where the lantern was sitting before you wavered, your stride shortening until you halted in place. Scrunching up your face, wondering when you had developed this love for punishment, for strife and conflict, you allowed your shoulders to sag in acceptance.

“Dispose of this before anyone comes to see you,” you said, shoving the plate into his hands before he could protest. “I suppose it matters little how you do it, but you must, or else I will be convicted of treason, and where will that leave us? Imprisoned side by side and left to rot together.”

He did not respond until you were almost out of earshot entirely, and then he coughed. You could not tell whether it was to capture your attention or to clear his voice of any residual hesitance; regardless, he accomplished both objectives, as you lingered for a moment longer than you would’ve.

“Ten,” he said. “That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here. But I—”

You continued walking before you could hear the rest of it.

You woke up the next day in better spirits than you had in some time, and in fact when a servant announced that you had a visitor, you opened the door with a new vigor. Upon realizing that the man in front of you was not your husband but rather his cousin, you thought that you might die from the glee of it all. Taking his arm, you allowed him to escort you to where the imperial contingent was setting up for the festival, at a grand stage which took up most of the square and was already laden with visitors at its base.

“It is a relief to see you recovering so well,” your husband’s cousin said. “The rumors in the palace are that you’ve contracted some illness of the chronic variety; in truth I believed them, especially after our meeting yesterday, but today I see that you have been revitalized. Did you rest well last night, then? I heard that you did not eat your dinner, but you must’ve taken it in your room, yes?”

You had done neither of those things, and his questioning did make you pause. What was the cause of your good mood? You had gone to sleep for only a short time, without much of anything in your stomach, and your situation had not improved any, so why did you feel, even if only marginally, as if you were something like yourself again?

“I suppose it must be something like love,” he mused, without waiting for your answer.

“Ah, pardon?” you said, startled from the winding turns and byways of your thoughts at the strange declaration.

“To think that even a day in your husband’s presence has cured you to such an extent,” he explained. “Surely it is love? I cannot think of any other name for it…but I apologize! It is not my place to inquire, nor to speculate. I trust you will not tell my cousin about this?”

He had, in the taken-aback blink of your eyes and the pinch of your brow, found what he was seeking: a demure shyness which he could only comprehend as a lack of affection. You knew, then, that you had passed the test of the man, who had not believed any more than your husband that you were truly ill.

“I will take your leave,” he said, and then his palm clamped down on your shoulder. “But I trust you know this: however much you may love your husband, he is a difficult man to be loved by in return. If ever you are in search of solace…there are places you may turn to, dear lady.”

“What did he say to you?” your husband said, appearing at your side with his expression arranged into something like a frown. “I could not hear. Was he bothering you? I am sorry if he was. He has always been headstrong.”

“He was not bothering me,” you said, incapable of lying to your husband with any great skill but remaining certain that it was absolutely imperative you did not divulge his cousin’s secrets to him. “We spoke as family members might.”

If he recognized your evasive language, he did not comment on it. Instead, he stroked his chin in thought, and then he directed his attention towards the stage, where one of his generals was beckoning him — and, by extension, you.

The sun hung high in the sky as you ascended to the podium, though its rays did not dare touch you, disguised in your husband’s shadow as you were. Your vows tied more than your tongue, after all; your entire being, everything but your heart and your mind, were trained and twisted into the picture of submission, and soon those, too, would fall, leaving you a husk which could do nothing but nod and follow along.

Your husband did not need to start with any address. His mere presence was enough to silence the gathered empire, every single onlooker leaning towards the stage in eager anticipation of his words. From your vantage point, it was like the swell of a tide, crushing and suffocating, inescapable in its overwhelming intensity, but where you withdrew, your husband brightened at the weight, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders.

“Mydeimos,” he said, over-enunciating every syllable. The word, unfamiliar and foreign to your ears, had a rhythmic, marching cadence, more suited to a battle-cry than a formal declaration, and it seemed you were not alone in your thinking, for it had all the effect of one on the crowd.

A heckling clamor burst from them, the individual words indecipherable but for brief snippets. Demon. Monster. Warmonger. Kill. Curse. Blood. Kill. Kill. Kill! Your husband waited for them to quiet of their own volition, and only then did he venture to continue, this time with a wide, beaming grin.

“Mydeimos has fallen. The prince of terrors is no more!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air to thunderous applause. “Without him to lead the army, Kremnos will surely follow suit. Their lands will be ours within the year, of this much I assure you! Our empire will soon be the most prosperous in all the world. Even the great lands of the Southern Sea will pale in comparison!”

Your heart twinged at the mention of the Southern Sea. You could envision it even now, the streaks of salt left on the cliffs where the water lapped at them, the ripples in the placid blue where the balmy winds skimmed along the surface, the moon-white sand as it clung to the crevices of your feet and hands.

When you were younger, your father would take you on his boat and dip his fingers into it, urging you to do the same. You would ask him why and he would answer, always with a laugh or a smile: of all the jewels in my treasury, my darling, the Southern Sea is the second-loveliest. Then you would ask him which could be the first, if even the sea was not its equal, and he’d press his damp hands to your cheeks and kiss your hair and say you, my darling, you and only you.

“What a horrible thing he was,” your husband said. “Mydeimos. That wretched excuse of a man…the world is all the better now that he is locked away. I watched him — watched him, good citizens, with my own eyes — tear out a man’s heart with naught but his nails and teeth! Even now I can imagine it…the tips of his canines dark with pierced flesh…bits of entrails coating his fingers…the heart still beating in his palms…he looked the proper part of a devil, and I was certain that I had died and found damnation!

“But as I said, he is no more. Our army prevailed, as we always have, and as we always will; I made Mydeimos beg for mercy with my sword at his throat and my foot upon his inhuman heart, and then I dragged him back so that all of you could see what he has been relegated to — a chained puppy, given to my dear lady as a pet and kept as a servant until the day of his execution.

“For the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!”

Your husband concluded his speech and pulled you forward simultaneously, with a great flourish which invited praise and drew attention to you both. You swallowed, your mind racing at breakneck speed, far too quickly for you to make any sense of the things you were saying until you were saying them.

“I have not seen the prince of Kremnos — Mydeimos — since the day that he was brought to me,” you said. The applause that had begun faded as soon as the soft words sparkled into existence, and the many eyes of the audience blurred together until you could pretend like you were alone, like you were speaking to nothing but small, bright stones reflecting your own sentiments. “But as my lord husband said, he was proud. I feel as though I have never seen a man prouder. Even after his loss, he remained proud. Even with nothing else left, he clung to that pride, that assurance…I remember thinking to myself that it was, in its own way, admirable. That he was admirable.”

Your husband’s arm around your waist grew tighter with unspoken warning, though it needn’t have. You had said all that you wanted, all that you could, and now there was nothing left but the judgement of the collective.

“Lady!” someone shouted, the singular soul brave enough to speak. She was a woman — you wondered if this was what bolstered her confidence, a perceived kinship between the two of you for that fact alone. “Do you fear the prince?”

“No,” you said, and although you had meant it only as a vague and empty placation, you were surprised to find that it rang true. You were not afraid of him, and it wasn’t his chains or his infirmity which caused this emotion to surge in you; rather, it was what he had told you last night, that declaration he had made with the utmost of seriousness, which you had not even allowed him to complete. “I am not. He cannot harm me.”

You knew your words would be interpreted as faith in your husband and the empire, and furthermore that this misinterpretation would curry favor with your subjects and your lord alike, so you did nothing to correct it. Yet you would know, and would hold close to your heart the knowing, that it was not your husband who you held faith in: it was Mydeimos, the prince of Kremnos, who might’ve killed you ten times over but had instead let you live.

“You have much to improve in terms of your orating,” your husband said coldly as the three of you — him, his cousin, and yourself — returned to the palace.

“I thought her speech was excellent,” his cousin said, shooting you a sly smile behind his back. “Very concise, and of a good style. It’s a gift to be able to convey meaning so succinctly. You ought to nurture it.”

“She certainly conveyed a meaning,” your husband said. “It remains to be said what value that meaning truly holds.”

“Is that for you to decide? Ah, brother, don’t be a curmudgeon, I am only teasing you! You spent so much of our childhood poking fun at me, so how can you fault me for paying you back in kind?” his cousin said.

“You need some lessons in respect,” your husband said, but without any real bite behind it. His cousin snickered before sobering, shifting his weight toward you.

“Will you take your dinner in your chambers again, lady?” he said. You nodded.

“If it does not offend,” you said.

“Do as you please,” your husband said. “Though I expect you’ll do that anyways, sworn to me or not. Isn’t that right, dear lady?”

You couldn’t think of any response which would be satisfactory, so you said nothing, allowing the two of them to escort you to your room, where you waited with bated breath until the night fell and you could return to the cellar.

The entire way down the stairs, you turned the name over in your mind, polishing it in the way waves polished driftwood, battering it with incessant worry until it shone, uncanny and unrecognizable. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. The prince of terrors. The man who had torn a heart out with his teeth. What did it say of you, that you were making your way to exactly such a knave? With trepidation, of course, but what did it say that you were still doing it anyways? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

“There is an odd pattern to your footsteps,” he said before you could even greet him. He stood as he always did, prepared for a battle that he would never again see. “Or perhaps it is your breathing, or something else entirely.”

“What do you mean?” you said, putting your lantern and the dinner down in the space between you both. “I walk and breathe as I always have, as others do.”

“I know you,” he said, disgust mingling with the barest traces of awe in his tone. “The door to this cellar opens frequently. All manner of men come to visit me, to mock me from their places at the bottom of the stairs, lambasting me from the safety of their distance. I recognize few, and I remember fewer — nor do I have any great desire to — but when it is you, I know. From your very step, from the very creak of the door, I know. I cannot understand how or why, but I know.”

“My husband told me your name,” you said after a pause, when it became clear he was not expecting a reaction from you. Motioning towards the food in a gesture you hoped he took to kindly, you continued: “I did not ask him, but he mentioned it in passing, so naturally now I know it.”

“I see,” he said, and although his gaze flicked towards the ground, he did not move. You remembered, then, what else your husband had said in that speech of his, the vainglorious words echoing in your ears: for the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!

“Mydeimos,” you said, and then you sat on the floor, which was made of a cold stone that shot chills down the backs of your legs. Resting your elbows atop your thighs and your chin in your hands, you blinked up at him. “That is what he called you. ‘The prince of terrors.’”

“How unimaginative,” he said, and you suppressed a shudder at his glare, which was baleful and acute as it settled upon you. “My-deimos. Many-terrors. Yes, that is my name, though that ridiculous nickname is of his own invention. The Kremnoans would laugh if they heard it.”

“He said that he watched you tear out a man’s heart with your nails,” you said, and then you glanced at his lips, simultaneously and unconsciously wetting your own with the tip of your tongue. “And your teeth.”

He bared those very teeth, white and glinting, in a barking laugh — as much an expression of warning as it was humor. “My teeth! Your husband is one for fiction.”

“And — and he spoke of how he defeated you,” you said. At this, anything resembling mirth vanished from Mydeimos, and he grew curiously immobile — you almost thought that you had frightened him into the grips of memory, but then you realized that he was not frozen as much as he was waiting.

“Did he?” he said. “And what did your husband say of my defeat, dear lady?”

“He made you beg for mercy with his sword at your throat and his foot upon your inhuman — upon your heart,” you said, correcting yourself for the slip of the tongue, finding no merit in telling him about that particular detail. “And then he dragged you back here.”

The longer Mydeimos remained silent, the shallower your breaths became, a cold fist forming around your heart and squeezing, the muscles in your arms and legs contracting, protesting their inactivity. You needed to run. If you were wiser, if you had anything resembling self-preservation, you would run, would flee and hope that you were fast enough to make it to the stairs before he pounced.

You supposed you lacked both wisdom and self-preservation in spades, for you remained on the floor, peering up at him and praying that he could not read your mind, could not comprehend the depths of your thoughts.

“So that is his story,” he said. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t tell his people the truth.”

“He made it up,” you said rhetorically.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he noted.

“It is not — it is not —” You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with some way to circumvent your wedding vows, some way you could impress upon him what you were trying to say. “When we were wed, it was said that I loved him madly and completely, that I bawled to my father until he allowed me to come here.”

“Then it is not his first time dabbling in such falsehoods,” Mydeimos completed. When you nodded, he snorted. “You cannot speak ill of him, can you? Is it magic?”

“In the way of this land,” you said with a shrug.

“What an emperor,” he said. “So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation? Where I come from, they have a word for those like that, but as it is foul, I will not trouble you with hearing it.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Ah, not by the foul word…that is, what tricks do you refer to? If the story he told is inaccurate, then how did he really defeat you? For surely he must have, or else you would not be here.”

“He did not defeat me,” he said. “Believe it or not, but that is the truth.”

“How?” you pressed, for you had already eschewed wisdom once and did not mind doing so again.

For a moment, it was as if the sun shone down upon him again. You saw him as he was on the day he met you, or perhaps even before — the prince of Kremnos, sleek and powerful and indomitable, red marks blooming in place of the scars he would never receive, eyes ablaze in his hollow face, hair as wild and untamed as his spirit.

“He surrendered,” Mydeimos said, scowling. “Our numbers were smaller, but Kremnoans have never cared for things like odds. We were winning, indubitably we were winning, and your husband knew it as well as we did. They attacked us in our own territory, fought us with our own weapons…how could we have lost? We would’ve wiped them out, but your husband and his men raised their white flags, and so we ceased to attack them.

“I went to parley with them, to negotiate the terms of their surrender. In a show of goodwill, I agreed to your husband’s request to come unaccompanied. His men were exhausted, and I found it honorable that he was putting their wellbeing first, so I ignored my instincts and the warnings of my advisors, going forth alone, leaving my armor and weapons as I was instructed to.

“That was my mistake. I should never have expected honor from a serpent, whose nature it is to bite. The surrender was a ploy; I was met by hordes of guards, each with a spear pointed at my heart. Even then, I fought. Do not think I met my end willingly, dear lady — I fought and killed as many men as he threw at me. I could’ve killed them all, I would’ve killed them all, but right as I was about to, he threw these chains at me from the corner where he hid. It should not have worked, his aim and the strength behind it were both lacking, but it was as if the metal had a mind of its own, and before I knew it I was bound.”

“As I told you, they are thrice-blessed,” you said. “Divine. They long to fulfill their purpose, and will do anything to that end. If it defies the laws of nature, well, what are those laws compared to the ones who wrote them? Those men were only a distraction. Once my husband received these chains, there was nothing which could’ve changed your fate.”

“What sort of a god favors a man who feigns surrender?” Mydeimos said. “What kind of deity loves perfidy?”

“I have often asked myself the same questions,” you admitted, half-expecting yourself to be unable and closing your eyes in relief when you weren't. “Why is it that he is the one they champion? What justice is there in that? He must have been a saint in his past life, to be treated as he is. A saint, or a martyr, or something like that. Something wonderful to the point of deserving so many miracles in this next iteration of his.”

You chose your speech carefully, injecting as much resentment into it as was needed to convey to the prince what you really meant, but not enough that you seized up into inaction. Not enough that you strained against the hold that your vows held over you.

You heard him exhale, and at this, you allowed your eyes to flutter open once more, peeking up at him and immediately wishing you hadn’t.

Whatever had briefly rallied in him, whatever fervor and fire he had briefly regained…it was gone. It was gone, leaving him fractured and bereft, forlorn instead of fearsome, prisoner instead of prince. Your husband had done that to him. Your husband had destroyed him, as he had destroyed you, and it was this reflection of your own fate which tore at you the most.

Breaking off a piece of bread, you dipped it in the long-cooled sauce pooled in the corner of the plate, and, without a word, held it out to him. He eyed it suspiciously, and for a moment you thought he might refuse it. The beginnings of an argument bubbled to the surface, but it never had the chance to take shape — before your lips could so much as part, he knelt across from you and took your proffered hand by the wrist.

Holding it in place, his thumb digging into your pulse like a reminder that he didn’t want this, didn’t want to accept your help, he used his free hand to swipe the bread from your palm. Then, his brows heavy, low over his eyes with mistrust and reluctance, he shoved it into his mouth and ate it.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mikashisus @ivana013-blog @mizukiqr @shehrazadekey @simp-simp-no-mi @reapersan @casualgalaxystrawberry @secretive3amramenmaker [if your tag does not show up in grey, that means tumblr had an issue with it, sorry! sometimes it does that sadly]

#been waiting to have a moment just to read this :> excited hehe #cora rb: hsr #you 🤝 me ; not knowing much about amphoreus ahaha i have not played it yet either outside of seeing phainon’s entrance #i am immediately intrigued omg the statue and reader lowkey not even liking her husband???#calling his pride worthless and juvenile omg i love seeing through reader’s perspective #‘dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars’ absolutely beautiful line your writing is incredible #i love the way you write it truly feels like a novel or a fairytale written long ago ; like i’m reading the old folklore of another land #the comparison to a snake is absolutely stunning too ; actually lowk reminds me of oliver HAHAHA sorry that’s my wandering mind #yo what kinda gift is this (playful) (i’m aware it’s a development of the story dw HAHA i love how this is going and how you introduce plot #points)#thinking about mydei tied up did smth to me SORRY sorry irrelevant and inappropriate LAHDK he is so hot tho #YOUR BACKWARDS LAND HELLO I WILL MURDER HIM (playful and lighthearted but also a testament to the emotions in me your writing evokes)#‘scratched like bile’ same reader ohmygod u and i can start a murder this man alliance #‘a beast born of sun’ wow this is so beautiful. love the way you weave words together #reader having the foresight to put a hood on ; i love her intelligence and forethought. idk i just really love reader in this ahaha she #feels like a real character which i love a lot personally!!! i love her depth ; OKAY HELLO I got called away i hath come back to finish #reading!! sorry for the delay!! ; 'I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would' again so beautifully written #also mood as someone who has like never lived in the country they're from :')) waugh #'a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers' this is absolutely stunning too ; the dignity and hard-won pride #u describe i really really love this about him too and i love your characterization of him in this sense #'Does your language not have gods you can swear on?' WHEWWW WHAT A LINE (compliment)#'n truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him' YEAHHH GIRL LET HIM KILL YOUR HUSBAND WOOO (playful) HAHA #I'M ON TEAM MYDEI BABEY ; i love the lore building with the thrice blessed chains very very cool #'the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air' another absolutely beautiful #line ; 'swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke' I LOVEEE this #'Ten. That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here' AND THEN SHE WALKED AWAY HAHA I WAS LAUGHING #PLEASE the cousin thinking it's HIS LOVE ohmygod. ; awee reader's father loved her :'))) i love that for her ; OHMYGODDD MYDEI KNOWING #READER?? i LOVE a i have known you trope ohmygodd i love this #'So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation?' HAHA YEAHH GET HIMM

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

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Took you Like a Shot Masterlist

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five ( final)

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Playlist -preview below!- headcanons - here & here - Fratboy! Sukuna here

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter over three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, you were moving on to a whole different career.

'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'so greedy, huh?'

'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?'

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

#satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x female reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #divider by cafekitsune #satoru smut #satoru gojo #current wips #story preview #Fratboy gojo

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shinhyunjin · 3 months ago

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── .✦ fan service.

⟢ pairing: bang chan x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, idolverse, friends to lovers (kind of)

⟢ word count: 2.3k

⟢ summary: when you and chan were expected to do tons of fan service because of how much your fans loved your interactions, it was only fair to take a little advantage of it at times.

⟢ author’s note: helloo, this is a request from @cant-see-sam, who asked for “something where she gets protective over one of her younger members and chan is just like one the corner giggling and kicking his feet” hehe. i don’t know if this is close to what you had in mind, but i enjoyed writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it<3

“Loverboy’s staring again” your second to oldest member, Kyungmi, let you know with a smirk.

She didn’t need to mention who was staring at you for you to know it was Chan, and you loved the thought of it so much that you found yourself fighting the smile that threatened with curving up the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t call him that” you murmured.

“He is, though” she pushed it, looking over your shoulder to the idol she was shamelessly throwing under the bus. “All he can see from over there is your back, yet he’s been stealing glances every two minutes”.

“Kyungie…” you warned her, carefully looking around and making sure there were no cameras pointing at your table—thankfully, there weren’t any. “There are cameras everywhere,” you reminded her regardless. “Be careful with what you say”.

She shrugged, lying back on her chair as her eyes went to the Award’s stage in front, which was now filled with staff members rushing from one side to the other as they prepared it for the next group to perform.

“There’s nothing interesting happening over here right now, they won’t bother filming us just yet”.

“Still…” you leaned back on your chair as well. “There are fans in the venue”.

“And they love your interactions with him!”

Rolling your eyes at her cynical excitement, you remained quiet—her words being far too truthful for you to even try and deny them.

Openly being friends with an idol of the opposite sex was always a hit or miss—people either loved it and asked for more interactions, or they hated it and wanted you to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Luckily for you and Chan, his fans, as well as yours, had loved your friendship ever since he first mentioned you in one of his weekly lives back in the day.

He didn’t think much of it when he did, as he had mentioned a handful of other idols before. He simply read a comment asking if he got along with the girl group that had recently debuted under JYPE—that being your group—and his genuine answer ended up with him bringing you up; mentioning how out of all the members he was the closest to you, since you were the leader and, as a very inexperienced one who wanted to do her best, you used to turn to him for advice.

That simple mention of your name was all it took for the fans to go wild, asking for more and more interactions between the two of you as the time went on, to the point the company itself would make sure to put the two of you together for dance challenges, variety shows, special stages, and whatnot.

It was fan service at its finest—until it was not.

You were both human, at the end of the day. It didn’t take long for the two of you to discover how much you had in common, and the chemistry you shared was so strong that it was impossible to ignore. And so, what started with your company forcing you together for clout, ended up with the two of you becoming closer than they expected.

What started with casual corridor conversations soon turned into daily chats over texts and casual video calls, where you would talk about anything but work, and you would find yourself blushing over his dorky—yet smooth as hell—way with words.

Just like that, although most of your interactions in front of the cameras were planned by the company in order to make your fandoms happy and increase your groups’ popularity, sometimes even taking it one step further by telling you what to do or say, since both you and Chan were quite private and definitely needed a push or two to act in front of everyone the same way you did when the cameras were off, it came a point when you simply let loose.

Fan service or not, whether it seemed too much to the viewers or not, you started to act just as close as you were regardless of there being cameras pointing at you or not.

A dream for many, as not all idols got to publicly interact with each other without having either rumours or hate spreading all over.

Unfortunately for you, however, sometime along the way of your forced proximity, bickering turned into flirting and friendly smiles turned into heart eyes—each day making it harder for both of you to hide your growing feelings from the media.

That seemed to be the case for Chan that night, as he found his eyes being drawn to you every couple of minutes. But what else was he supposed to do when your table was right next to theirs, and his seat gave him the perfect view of you? Well, the perfect view of your back, but still of you nevertheless.

And, well, you weren’t doing any better either, for you found yourself turning around to look at him after Kyungmi stole another glance his way and smirked over how amusing the situation was to her. Your eyes locked with him immediately, feeling your heart flutter and laughing under your breath when he tried to play it cool by looking at the stage instead.

You had already caught him red handed, though, and you could only feel relief and shyness altogether when it was confirmed to you that Kyungmi wasn’t just making it up for the sake of teasing you.

“Maybe we should invite him to sit with us,” Kyungmi proposed. “The fans would love that”.

“Stop” you laughed this time, hiding your face in your hands for a moment before you watched everyone get off the stage, as the next performance was apparently about to start. “Should I call the girls to rush back here? I think Aespa is coming up and Yumi really wanted to watch them”.

Kyungmi shook her head no, gesturing towards their empty seats. “The dorks left their phones here. I’m sure Yumi’s already dragging Soomin over here, though”.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Yumi announced a little out of breath, reaching your side as if on cue.

“The line to the restroom was so long,” Soomin whined, not wasting another second to slump down on her seat next to you. “I thought we wouldn’t make it back in time”.

“But we did, right?” The youngest asked, going around the table to her seat. “Aespa hasn’t performed yet?”

“No, th—”

Your words were caught in your throat when, just as Yumi was about to sit down, a staff member pulled her chair and took it with him.

She managed to catch her balance in time not to fall to the ground—with some help from Soomin, who had instinctively held onto her upper arm rather forcefully—, but watching her lost eyes as they followed the man and the idea of her having fallen down because of his careless action, were enough for you to call him out before he could leave.

“Excuse me, she was using that” you tried to sound as polite as you could, considering how you had to raise your voice in order for him to hear you from across the table.

He turned to you with an annoyed semblance, and you could already tell this wouldn’t be a pleasant exchange. “She wasn’t sitting on it”.

“But she was about to,” you argued. “That seat was assigned to us, can you please give it back to her?”

“Another group is missing a chair and I have instructions to take one to them”.

“Well, can’t you look f—”

“Y/N…” Yumi tried to ease the situation, carefully speaking up. “I’m okay, I’ll just go look for another one”.

Her words were like fuel to the guy in front, who took that as his chance to get out of there and trotted away from you before you could utter another word.

With a defeated sigh as you watched him leave, and with a visibly upset Yumi who was just left standing there as she had nothing to sit down on now, you stood up.

“Yumi, come here” you motioned towards your seat, pulling the chair back for her to sit down on instead.

“I’m okay, really” she shyly tried to reassure you the moment she realised what you were doing—still, she went up to you like you told her. “I’ll go look for a spare one”.

“Come on now, you’re way too shy for that” you smiled softly, receiving a genuine smile from her in return—both your heads turning to the stage when the lights went down and the performance she was looking up to the most began. “Let’s just enjoy the show for now and I’ll go look for a chair afterwards”.

Yumi’s smile now parted her lips, brightly showing her teeth as she agreed with you, and quietly thanking you before she took the seat you were offering her.

Placing your hands on her shoulders and quickly getting too immersed in the show taking place before you, you were completely unaware of the guy that was looking at you from afar, and how he needed to bring a hand up to his mouth and fake out a cough, in order to play it cool and—poorly—hide the big smile that was beginning to part his lips.

“What happened?” Felix asked him with furrowed eyebrows, leaning closer to his leader since the music currently playing made it hard to hear.

“She’s so cute” Chan answered, allowing his smile to take over yet still hiding his mouth under his hand.

Felix smiled, shaking his head and looking over to you, as he did not need his leader to mention your name for him to know he was talking about you.

“Did we just watch the same scene play out before us a minute ago?” He teased him. “Yumi literally got her seat taken from her and you’re laughing”.

“I’m not laughing about that,” Chan corrected him. He was mad about the whole situation, of course. “I just think Y/N’s cute when she gets all protective”.

“More like you think she’s cute all the time”.

“Whatever,” Chan rolled his eyes, knowing there was no winning this fight, for he could not cover the sun with a finger. “Can you go give my chair to her? I’ll go look for a spare one for myself”.

“Look who’s being all protective now,” Felix chuckled. “I mean, I could go up to her and give her your chair, but I’m sure everyone would take it the wrong way”.

“People might take it the wrong way if I do, too…”

“Everyone thinks you’re just friends, they’ll love the fan service”.

“We are just friends, though…”

Felix laughed—the sound of it overpowering the one coming from the stage. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll look for a spare seat, you go give your friend your chair” he proposed with a taunting smirk. “I don’t think she’ll take it as a platonic gesture, though”.

Chan shook his head in defeat, resting against the back of his chair and focusing on the performance taking place on the stage instead.

God, he wished you wouldn’t take it as a platonic gesture. It was hard to draw the line when your interactions were expected to be merely friendly.

As soon as the performance ended and the lights were back on, he channeled the courage he had been earning up for the last minute and stood up, grabbing his chair and bringing it with him all the way to your table.

He could feel your members’ eyes focus on him the moment he reached it, yet you were too focused gushing about the show with Yumi to even notice him standing right behind you.

So, with a small tap on your shoulder, he brought your attention to him.

“Um…” he hesitated when you turned around and your eyes met his, feeling his confidence abandon him as it hit him just how much more beautiful you looked up-close. “Here”.

Feeling your piercing stare on him as he placed the chair on the space Kyungmi had just made for it by sliding her chair to the side, he couldn’t ignore the goosebumps on his skin. And when you were still far from saying anything after he rested his hands on the back of your new seat, he couldn’t help the breathy, nervous laugh that escaped his lips.

“Don’t tell me you actually wanted to stand for the rest of the Awards and I brought a chair over here for nothing”.

“N-No, um… thank you” you breathed out, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. “I didn’t think there were any seats left”.

“There weren’t” he laughed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t make me say it and just take the chair” he felt his cheeks burn.

Feeling your face heat up like only he could make it, you decided to take it easy on him and not push for an answer. Instead, you smiled at him and nodded before you took the seat he was offering—feeling your heart race all over again when you did and he gently pushed you closer to the table.

You looked up to him with a smile, covering your mouth just in case before you said, “You just went a little too overboard with the fan service there, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at you with a smile. “It stopped being fan service a long time ago now, didn’t it?”

Hearing your members giggle, and turning around to see his members shaking their heads as they looked at him with amused grins, Chan realised that maybe this particular interaction would be hard to defend as a platonic one.

The image of the heart eyes you were looking at him with right before he went back to his table, though, was enough for him not to worry about a thing and to be over the moon for the rest of the night.

Fan service came in many ways, after all. He just got lucky enough to be able to court the person he had feelings for while at it.

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hanniebaeee · 5 months ago

Text

Tease me

Hyunlix x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin is on a work trip, leaving you and Felix alone at home. And when he video calls, Felix is an absolute menace, and it leads to some fun over the call.

Hyunjin had been gone for two days. Two. Long. Days. And you and Felix were starting to feel it - life was just not the same without his constant dramatics and flopping around.

And now Felix was stretched out on the couch with you, scrolling through his phone while you absently ran your fingers through his soft dark hair.

“I miss him,” you sighed, letting your other hand flop to the side dramatically.

“Same,” Felix mumbled, but he quickly looked up at you, grinning. “But his whines are still echoing in my ears.”

“You love his whining. Admit it.” You laughed, poking him in the cheek.

“I do, but I love making him whine even more.” Felix said, and just then, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Oh finally, there it was - Hyunjin’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hehe I was waiting for this,” Felix murmured, sitting up and pulling you closer to him.

“Behave,” you warned, picking up the phone, knowing the kind of drama that was about to unfold.

But Felix was already wrapping an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling his face into your neck like the needy little devil he was. The video call connected, and Hyunjin’s beautiful face filled the screen.

“Baby!” he whined, his voice immediately breaking into that soft, needy tone that made your heart clench. “I miss you both so much - what are you doing?”

“Hi, Jinnie,” you said warmly, smiling as he ran his hand over his short hair. “We miss you too.”

“Do you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly as he noticed Felix’s smug face next to yours. Felix, who was now draped over you like a human blanket, had the audacity to smirk at the camera.

“Hi, Hyunie,” Felix purred, his voice deep and playful. “We miss you sooo much. But, I’m taking good care of our baby while you’re gone.”

“Felix, I don't remember asking you to do that! Get off of her!” Hyunjin bit out, his cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, I don’t think she minds, do you, love?” Felix grinned wider, pressing a kiss to your temple just to rile him up more.

You snorted, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered to Felix, who winked at you.

“Yah! Don’t encourage him!” Hyunjin barked, his pout turning into a full-blown glare. “Felix, I swear to god, I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’m not leaving either of you alone for a second. You hear me?”

Felix leaned closer to the camera, filling the screen with his playful expression.

“Aww, you sound jealous, Hyunjinnie. Don’t worry, I’ll save some cuddles for you. Maybe.”

“You’re so annoying!” Hyunjin groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Then, his tone softened as he looked at you, his eyes literally begging. “Babyyy, tell him to stop hogging you.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, leaning back against Felix just a little more. “He’s being pretty sweet to me right now.”

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against the headboard.

“This is torture. Absolute torture. I’m calling the airline to book an earlier flight.” he whined and Felix burst into laughter and he kissed your cheek obnoxiously loud for Hyunjin to hear.

“Fine. Enjoy your little Felix cuddle-fest while you can. Because when I get back, it’s my turn, and I’m not sharing.” Hyunjin glared at the two of you through the screen, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Felix quipped, smirking devilishly before his head dipped, and his lips landed on your neck.

“Felix, I’m going to murder you when I get home,” Hyunjin growled. “Baby, don’t let him do that to you. Tell him you’re mine!”

“Oh please,” Felix scoffed, pressing a slow, teasing kiss on the crook of your neck. “But right now, she’s all mine.”

“Don't do this to me!” Hyunjin said, his pitiful look going straight to your core.

“Jinnie, you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” you laughed, leaning into Felix’s chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’m not cute!” Hyunjin shot back, his cheeks bright red. “I’m serious! When I get home, I’m keeping you both in bed for a week. No, two weeks!”

Felix chuckled, his hands slipping down to your thighs as he pressed his face into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses just to push Hyunjin a little more. “Sounds like someone’s desperate, huh, baby girl? Should we keep teasing him?”

“Felix, stop it!” Hyunjin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I can't take it anymore!!”

“Good,” Felix said smugly, nipping at your earlobe. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice about leaving us alone for so long.”

Hyunjin peeked through his fingers, his dark eyes burning with frustration and longing.

“You’re both evil. When I get home, you’re not going to know what hit you.” he said, and you smiled at him, your heart aching and racing all at once.

“So, how was your day?” You asked, hoping to change the topic of discussion, while Felix was all over you like a lazy cat.

“Was fine. The meeting went really well - Felix, I’m serious!” Hyunjin’s voice cracked as he pointed at the camera, his tone caught between desperation and a growl. “If you don’t stop, I swear -”

“Oh?” Felix cut him off, smirking, his finger slipping down your chest.

His voice dropped into a sultry, teasing purr as his lips grazed your skin and said, “Like this?”

“Felix!” Hyunjin barked, slapping the table next to him. “I'm catching the next flight home!”

“Good.” Felix smiled, his freckles crinkling as he kissed your shoulder, his lips deliberately lingering. “Come home and stop me, Hyunie. I dare you.”

Your cheeks were hot, your head resting on Felix’s chest as you tried to contain your laughter. Hyunjin, however, had completely lost it. He leaned in closer to the camera, his pupils blown wide with possessiveness and lust.

“Baby,” he said, his tone pleading as he locked eyes with you. “Why are you letting him do this?”

Felix tsked, shaking his head. “Because she likes it, obviously.”

“Lix! I’m going to -” Hyunjin’s voice caught as Felix’s hand slid up your thigh, and disappeared under the little nightdress you were wearing.

“Oh, keep going,” Felix drawled, his eyes flicking to the screen. “What are you going to do, Hyun? Talk me to death?”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, his eyes fixed on Felix’s hand, which was definitely slipping into your panties now.

“I'm gonna kill you.” Hyunjin growled, feeling his own desire going straight down there.

Your gasped, heat rushing to your face as Felix only laughed, dark and deep. He was absolutely thriving on Hyunjin’s unhinged energy. And you gasped as his fingers slipped into your folds, dripping with arousal (no surprise there).

“Promises, promises,” Felix murmured, leaning down to kiss your jawline. “But for now, baby girl’s mine to play with. Isn’t that right, love?”

You let out a nervous laugh, caught between the intense tension between the boys.

“Hyunjin…” you started, but he cut you off, his voice low and commanding.

“Watch and learn.” Felix’s voice couldn't be any more smug, as his fingers rubbed small circles on your clit. “She's so wet, Hyunie.”

Hyunjin felt himself go harder by the second. He couldn't deny that this was one of the most delicious things he's ever witnessed - the two people he loved the most putting on a show for him.

“Are you just gonna keep touching her?” He whispered, and Felix's brows shot up before his eyes met you as if asking for permission. “You know what she likes-”

And you glanced between him and Hyunjin, who was now palming himself through his pants. You swallowed and gave Felix a little nod.

That's all it took for him to quickly pull your panties down and toss it aside. And with a grin thrown at Hyunjin, Felix was off the sofa, and on his knees on the floor in front of you.

He angled the camera perfectly for Hyunjin to be able to see what was happening. Seeing the look on Hyunjin’s face, Felix wasted no time. No build up.

He went straight to lick a long strip from your slit to your clit, and it had you shaking and shivering.

“Felix…” you whispered, your heart racing.

Hyunjin let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slipped into his pants and gripped at his length. He stroked himself as he watched Felix’s tongue glide through your folds lazily.

You could barely breathe as Felix closed his lips around your clit and sucked almost harshly. Your fingers slipped through his soft hair, pulling slightly as he continued to lick through your soft lips noisily. Your body quivered with the wave of pleasure coursing through you.

Hyunjin’s breathe came out raggedly as he watched Felix's tongue slipping into you, and the soft whimpers spilling out of your lips driving him insane.

“Felix,” you hissed, biting your lip to stifle a moan. “Baby I'm so close.”

“Good,” Felix whispered, his lips returning to your clit as he slipped two fingers into you. “You good Hyunie?”

“So close-” Hyunjin whispered, his eyes darkening.

“Let go for me, love,” Felix prompted, feeling your body tense. “Let go, Hyunnie.”

Hyunjin was unraveling before your eyes. Through the screen, you saw his pouty lips were parted, his breathing heavier now, his hand moving faster.

“Oh fuck,” He moaned, and your own orgasm came crashing down as Hyunjin came hard, spilling all over his stomach and hand. “Oh my God.”

You whined as Felix continued to lap up all your release, before sitting back and smiling at you like he's won the lottery.

“Oh my God, Lixie-” You mumbled, your head falling back. “I swear you two-”

Felix started to laugh and you couldn't help but join him. You both giggled so hard, Hyunjin had to join in. And it was absolutely a mess.

“Hyunjinnie,” you murmured softly, trying to breathe as your giggles subsided. “I miss you baby, come home already!”

“Taking the first flight back. I'm done here.” He said, grabbing some tissues to wipe his hands.

Felix chuckled, joining you on the couch again.

“You better sleep with one eye open, Lix. Gonna make you regret every single second of this. And baby girl?” Hyunjin said, before turning his gaze to you, his tone softening but no less intense. “I’m going to remind you what you really like.”

You giggled again and Felix grinned, clearly thrilled by Hyunjin’s reaction.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll be waiting for you, Hyun. But until then…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, letting his actions speak louder than his words as his lips captured yours in a kiss so deep and searing. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it just made everything more hot.

“You’re the worst, Felix,” Hyunjin groaned, though he was smiling. “I hate how much I love you right now.”

Felix laughed, winking at Hyunjin.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Felix, baby,” Hyunjin said, lifting his head to glare at the two of you through the screen. “You’re both dead when I get home.”

And from the heat in his voice, you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn't wait.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix smut #lee felix fluff #hyunlix fluff #hyunlix smut #hyunlix x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut

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andvys · 4 months ago

Text

The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter three

⭐︎ You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comofort (I guess?), mentions of death, grief, grumpy/mean!Steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve allows you to see a glimpse of who he really is, and not only do you get that, you also find out some sad truths.

Word count: 12.1k

Author's note: One of the chapters I was excited for the most was this one, you'll know why when you read it hehe. @hellfire--cult worked on this one with me, and she added a lot (don't listen to her when she will say she didn't, cause she did !) give her some love (or all of it cause she deserves it ♡)

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter ⭐︎ next chapter

☀︎

Steam fogs the mirror in the bathroom, drops of water fall from your hair and down your shoulders, the smell of vanilla and lavender lingers in the room, you are rubbing moisturizer into your skin, enjoying the luxury of it all, a luxury you won’t have much longer the moment you are back on the road again. It’s impossible to find functioning showers nowadays, let alone hot running water. Something that used to be so normal, is something special now and you enjoy every second here in Hawkins, every hot shower, every good night’s sleep, every warm meal, the feeling of safety.

You put a pair of sweatpants on and a sweater to keep you warm, a pair of wool socks that Nancy knitted herself. You brush your wet hair and clip it back.

When you step out into the hallway, silence greets you. Eddie is in his room, he was complaining about a headache after you finished patrolling together after he worked on the RV all morning, you both got caught in the rain and after taking a shower to warm up, he excused himself to lie down. The door to Nancy’s bedroom is closed as well, she must be reading, she always closes the door when she does. The rainy weather allows you all to take everything a bit slower, to rest a little more than usual.

The wind howls outside, thunder striking somewhere far, red bolts of lightning curse through the sky, an image you still haven’t gotten used to.

You make your way down the stairs, it isn’t dark out yet but the grey clouds make it seem like it’s evening already, the golden light from the fireplace in the living room is very inviting in contrast to the darkness outside. You step inside and notice Steve moving around in the kitchen, taking out bowls from the cardboard. A towel is slung over his shoulder, his features are relaxed, no sign of a frown appearing on his face… yet.

You watch him for a moment, not moving away or towards him. You don’t want to disturb him or his peace. He seems to be content by himself and you know that facial expression will change the moment he notices you.

Things have been tense between you after your one and only time patrolling together. He didn’t ask you to join him in anything and you didn’t make the mistake of trailing after him again. You also didn’t make much more conversation with him and he seemed happy about it for he didn’t try either. The only interactions you both have are ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’, maybe a ‘can you pass me the salt’ or an ‘excuse me’ here and there but that’s all.

It’s been eleven days since your arrival here, and you both are still where you started. It saddens you. You tried to get to know him, and you still want to but he makes it hard to.

Maybe if things had been different, you would have gotten the chance to get to know the Steve you have seen in the pictures Nancy had shown you. The guy he once was seemed sweet and welcoming, the one before you is the opposite of it.

You know something must’ve happened to him. Maybe it’s got to do with the scars on his skin, maybe he lost someone you don’t know about, maybe it’s because of Robin but whatever it was that took away the light in his eyes has turned him into this – mistrusting and mean.

A silent sigh falls from your lips, you force your eyes away from his form and turn away, ready to make your way back up the stairs but his voice makes you halt in your tracks.

“Hey…”

A lump grows in your throat, a nervous feeling settles in your chest, you swallow and take a deep breath before you turn around, facing him again.

He is looking right at you, an awkward attempt at a smile pulling at his lips.

“Hi… I uh, Nancy and Eddie are in their rooms and I didn’t want to disrupt their peace but uh I also don’t want to disrupt yours so–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you, not even letting you finish your sentence. “Would you like to help me?”

You blink.

Did you hear him correctly?

He presses his palms against the counter, raising his eyebrows at you, like he waits for you to say yes.

Steve notices your uncertainty, the knit between your brows, the pursed lips, the confused look in your eyes. You are pulling at your sleeves, looking a little lost, looking a little intimidated. You are not like this with Nancy and Eddie, you are comfortable with them – but not with him, and he can’t blame you for that.

“I could use a hand.”

You nod slowly, licking your lips, “yeah, I uh, sure!”

You can’t help but feel a giddiness inside of you. He never asked you to join him before, he never asked for your help.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask as you make your way over to him, standing across from him now, on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Butter for now.”

“Butter?” You tilt your head.

He hates it when you do that, every time you ask a question, every time you are confused about something, you tilt your head to the side.

“We received a ton of milk, but we have to make our own butters and cream,” he explains as he gestures to the cans of milk on the table.

“Oh…”

“Wanna give me a hand? It’s a lot of stirring.”

You nod, following him to the small, round kitchen table.

“Here,” he murmurs, gesturing to the wooden jar, “this is a butter churn.”

“This is what they look like?”

Steve nods, “yeah, what’d you think they looked like?”

You shrug, picking up the stick, “I dunno, this thing looks like something straight out of the 1500s.”

Steve snorts, “maybe it is, we found it in Miss Keller’s house, she’s basically from the 1500s with the dresses she always wore.”

You fake a gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth, “you stole Miss Keller’s butter churn? Bad Steve.”

He rolls his eyes at you and turns away, but you see the way his lips curl upwards, even if only a little. – A small victory on your part.

“So… how do I use this thing?”

He pours some milk into the jar and takes the stick from your hands, putting inside the jar before he covers the sides with a towel so the milk doesn’t splatter over you both.

“Here, you just… do these motions,” he explains, twisting the stick from side to side as he raises it up and down slowly, “you churn it slowly, you don’t want the milk to get all over you, it may take some time until you see some progress, you just gotta be patient.”

You hum, moving a little closer to him, invading his space, you smell his shampoo, his body wash, a hint of oranges and apricot, the sweet and soft scents surprise you, most men opt for masculine scents, strong and overpowering ones. You prefer this. You like this, you like this a little more than you should. You watch the way his hands move as he shows you the motions, you focus on his voice when he gives you the instructions and then you take over when he hands you the stick before he steps away from you rather quickly.

Unbeknownst to you, he too liked the scent that lingers on your skin a little too much. The sweetness of it, the softness of your hand when it touched his own, the closeness and the heat of your body – he doesn’t like you, how could he? His body reacts to your scent, feminine and soft. It’s been a long time since he felt the touch of a woman, and you are the first to graze his skin, that’s all. He wouldn’t think anything of it, he wouldn’t react to it had there been other women around.

To his surprise you stay quiet, focused on the task before you, you don’t speak or ask any questions for a while, it’s almost odd to him, you are talkative, never missing the opportunity to open your mouth and ramble about something completely random and unimportant. Then again, things have been tense between you both. He knows it’s his fault, he also knows that it’s for the better, yet he can’t help but dislike this silence right now, he doesn’t know why.

He tries to focus on his own task, pouring milk into a pot to make cream.

The crackle of the fire, and the sound from the butter churn fill the silence between you both. A few minutes pass before you finally speak up.

“What are we using the butter for?” You ask, feeling the soreness in your wrist already.

“For the meat. I use it to make it tender. The meats are not as good now that the cows are not properly cared for. They’re just cows from the wild and the few from the barn here.”

“Oh, so they don’t get all the needed supplements and stuff?”

“Exactly,” Steve nods, reaching for a spatula, he starts stirring the milk, “I mean, we do our best but you know…”

You look over at him, surprised to find him looking back at you already, you didn’t realize his eyes were on you. You nod your head slowly, not moving your eyes away from his, you don’t break the contact just yet, looking into his hazel eyes that are always blazing with anger or annoyance, right now it’s neither of those emotions, it’s something else, something you can’t read, something you can’t make out, something you haven’t seen in his eyes yet, a look yet to be unlocked.

He blinks, shaking his head, he furrows his eyebrows and looks down at your hand, “how does it look?”

You breathe out and force your eyes away from his as well, you stop your movements and lift the towel off the jar, “uh, I think it’s solid now.”

“Great, now pour it into the bowl,” he gestures to the bowl with the cheesecloth inside.

You fall quiet again and follow his instructions, his voice fills the space between you as he gives you a step by step on what to do but when you’re as good as done, the silence between you is almost deafening, almost awkward, especially to him, the need to fill it is so strong.

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t talk to you if not necessary, that he wouldn’t ask questions. He doesn’t want to know anything about you, he doesn’t need that in his life, but this moment right now is killing him. He is done cooking the cream, and he is now working on making dinner, cutting vegetables. He tries to distract himself with that but to no avail.

He glances at you. It’s dark out now, the only source of light coming from the fireplace and all the candles set up because he likes to save up on electricity by keeping the lights off. The golden light touches your skin so softly, your hair shining from it, the smell of your body wash lingers in the room. You look relaxed, you look content despite being here with him. The sweater you are wearing is too big and it slipped down your shoulder from all the movements, exposing the scar that has formed on your shoulder. It was fresh when you came here, and he never found out how you got it.

He clears his throat, swallowing the lump that grew from nervousness, he speaks your name, which it’s almost foreign on his tongue.

You look up at him, “yeah..?”

“What uh,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before he points to your shoulder, “what happened?”

You need a moment to follow what he is pointing at. You are surprised, almost taken aback to hear a question coming from him, a question directed at you. Slowly, you look down, only now noticing that your sweater slipped. You put down the paddle that you used to form the butter and pull your sweater back up.

“Uh… I fell onto broken glass when a sick person snuck up on me.” You explain, scrunching your nose, “I was distracted, I never am usually but I was hungry and looking for food and I found something I’ve been looking for, for months!”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles and looks down. “What was it?”

“...Kit Kat’s.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, lip curling up a bit, “you almost got yourself killed because of Kit Kat’s?”

You shrug at him, “they’ve always been my favorite! And I haven’t had any since the day the world went to shit!”

He chuckles a bit but he doesn’t comment on it further, just looking back down, giving you the opportunity to look at him closer, at the scar around his neck, you never asked how he got it, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

He looks up to find you staring at his neck. He knows you are curious, you have been from the start, he always caught you staring at it.

“I was dragged by a demo– a bat.”

He sees the way your eyes widen, how surprised you are by his explanation, “huh?”

He points to his neck, “it choked me, leaving a mark, while two others bit my flesh off.”

Steve used to cringe every moment he spent thinking of that night, of when they dragged him across the floor, leaving marks on his skin. He used to have nightmares of it, until those nightmares were replaced by new pictures, worse ones.

You nod slowly, looking him up and down, there are no other visible marks for you to see, except for the one on his neck.

“Where?”

He sighs, not wanting to look into your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness flashing in them. He looks back down at the carrot he was cutting, picking the knife back up again, he continues.

“My abdomen, my sides… but Eddie had it worse.”

You quickly realize what he is doing, steering the topic away from him again, thinking he doesn’t deserve sympathy for what he went through.

You have seen the scars on Eddie’s skin, the deep and gnarly marks, he briefly told you what had happened but you never pushed the subject, you never tried to find out more.

“You mean the scar on his lip…?”

Steve nods, “his chest, abdomen, arms, legs… They’re all scarred. They bit off chunks of flesh.” He says, his voice sad, almost haunted.

Your shoulders drop, the look on your face too, sadness flushes through you and you look down at the table, at nothing in particular.

You can’t imagine how it happened, the pain he was in, the fear that took home in all of them when Eddie was bleeding out and fighting for his life.

Steve turns around when he registers your silence. He sees the worried, sad look on your face, how your lips curl downwards and your shoulders are dropped.

“But we’re okay now, he is healthy as you can see… and annoying.”

At that, you smile a little, lifting your head back up to look at him, “yeah, but he’s adorable.”

Steve draws back a little, raising an eyebrow at you, “you crushing on Munson or something?”

Your eyes widen and you flush all over, shaking your head quickly that your hair falls out of your clip.

“What, no! Ew! He reminds me of my brother! People that are just like my brother ain’t my type!” You scoff, shuddering a little. You pick up the paddle again and continue forming the butter into the shape you want to have it.

Steve can’t help but smile, amused by the look on your face. He gets a little curious though.

“... And what is your type?”

You hum, taking a moment to answer his question.

He doesn’t look away from you just yet, he watches you.

“Mmm… As long as he makes me smile when I need it the most… that’s all I need.”

Steve nods at your words, humming.

You look up at him, surprised to see him still watching you.

“What about you? What’s your type, cowboy?”

He flushes a little, cheeks warming under your eyes. He hasn’t talked about women in years, and hasn't thought about this either.

He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders up and down, “I uh… I honestly have no idea.”

He is not the guy he used to be, the one who was flirting freely and taking out one girl after the other – even that guy didn’t know his type. He was searching for something in every girl, and he never found it.

“Oh come on!” You scoff, looking at him in disbelief, “what type of women did you go out with?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, they were always… stereotypical girls that always talked about the latest trends and stuff.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you look down.

“Ah right… Prom King. I can guess which type of women you’re into–”

He quickly shakes his head at you, “no… no… I went out with them to have fun, it was just physical. Those girls weren’t my type.”

You frown at his words and sigh.

For some reason your reaction makes him think that you’re done with this conversation, but then you look back up and turn towards him completely.

“Okay… then, when you’re with a woman, what is attractive to you?”

“... Real answer?”

“Sure…” You murmur.

A smirk tugs at his lip when he notices how flustered you are getting when his eyes move up and down.

You notice how he stops at your chest in particular and you can’t help but groan and shake your head in disappointment.

“Booo…”

“No!” Steve raises his hands up in surrender, chuckling.

“I was gonna say eyes.”

You roll your eyes, snorting, “right… I didn’t mean physically, Steve. I meant what is attractive to you when you’re on a date with them? What do they do that is attractive to you?”

Your words wipe the small smile off his face again, and he stands there in silence, getting lost in his thoughts, getting lost in the past, reliving every date, every moment that should have excited him but didn’t. He realizes that there was not a single date that is worth remembering, not a single girl who made him smile genuinely. Sure, he had fun the moment he was in pleasure but that’s all, the girls were attractive physically but emotionally? They all sucked, none of them cared about him, all they wanted was a piece of King Steve.

And even when he thought he found something genuine, someone to love him, someone to care for him, it turned out to be a show, it was just as genuine as the interest all those girls had in him. It was all a lie.

There is no love in him for her anymore, no feelings, no desires, nothing. But those words still hurt and sometimes they still haunt him because he believes it. Those words echo in his head, just like all the other hateful things others have thrown at him. But one in particular remains,

‘Bullshit’

“I… I don’t know…” He whispers, letting his facade fall for only a moment. “I guess someone who doesn’t see me as a failure.”

You are taken aback by his words, a weird feeling settling in your chest at the confession.

When Steve realizes what he said, when he notices the look in your face, when he notices his mistake, he immediately draws back.

“W-What… Failure, why?”

He shakes his head, turning his back to you again, “doesn’t matter, um… the butter should be done, wanna give me a hand cutting the potatoes?”

You hesitate, staring at the back of his head. You want to know more, you want to know why he said that, you want to know why he feels like this, who made him feel like this.

A sigh falls from your lips, loud enough for him to hear.

“Sure…”

You leave it alone, not wanting to risk getting on his bad side again, you bite your tongue and do as he asked. You clean up the kitchen table before you walk over to him, getting your own cutting board, and you start peeling the potatoes.

You work in silence for a while, just like before, but this one isn’t as uncomfortable, even though his words still echo in your head and you wonder about his past. You don’t want him to close up on you again, not when he just started to open up, so you don’t press the subject further.

It’s too silent though and you can barely handle it. You let go of the peeler before you started peeling the potatoes, taking Steve aback, his eyes already glaring at you as you turned and walked away.

“Really? You don’t want to peel potatoes?”

“It’s too quiet!” You leave the kitchen, leaving Steve stunned as he looks back at the door. It was quiet but he didn’t think you were going to have a breakdown because of it. He doesn’t know you and that is being a little obvious by now. Maybe you don’t do good with silence and he just doesn't know that side of you. If he knew, maybe he could have talked about something else, or try.

But not two seconds later, he starts hearing the radio turning and then static. He doesn’t remember when was the last time they turned on that radio. He can hear you changing the channels of it, the static growing and lowering, and he wonders if you're crazy. There is no music being played. Who would operate a radio station in the middle of the apocalypse–

His eyes widen when he starts hearing ‘Hound dog’ by Elvis Presley. It is static, yet it is still there. There is music. Somewhere in Indiana, someone is operating a radio station. Someone is trying to keep people in a good mood despite it all. He never knew. Nancy never knew. Eddie never tried. The three of them thought that the only music they could have was Eddie’s guitar.

He hears you humming to it, walking back into the kitchen and placing the small radio on the far corner so you two can have the music to yourselves. He is still staring at the radio, completely stunned, his eyes wide. You turn to look at him when you grab the peeler, noticing the look of surprise.

“Why do you look so stunned?”

“I– I didn’t know they played music…” Your eyes went to look at it and you smiled, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I had one back at camp too… Did you know radio signals can travel from 50 to 60 miles away? Some AM stations up to 100 miles!” He is still surprised there is music, yet you are talking away facts to him about radio signals. But that actually caught his attention. There are others, not an hour away from him. It has to be the WSQK watts station. It has to be.

“There’s… a radio station near… like thirty or forty minutes away from here…” You turn to him, surprised as well now.

“Really? Well… there’s people operating there… Probably also sending out news and messages to people.” Your attention turns back to the potatoes, starting to peel away, leaving the peeled skin scraps in a mountain on the counter.

“That’s… good to know.” It actually is good to know. They thought that the only radio signal they could ever get for news was Mr. Clarke’s transmitter that is in the library. That’s how they got contacted by Hopper when the others arrived in California, and now he is finding out that maybe some radio stations are still transmitting. They are probably using some kind of solar panel to make energy because–

“This potato has a worm.” He snaps out of his thoughts immediately at your words, frowning as he looks down at it.

“There’s no worm there.” You slowly look up at him with a cheeky smile, only to look back down, leaving that peeled potato aside to grab another.

“You were thinking too much. Just enjoy the music, you can think later.” You reply and he blinks for a few seconds as the song keeps playing. He looks back down to his carrots, grabbing the knife he left on the side to keep cutting. The minutes pass, the songs changing, songs he knows. Songs that remind him of when the world didn’t simply go to shit.

And there’s some kind of comfort in that.

“Did you know Marvin Gaye was shot by his own father?” You have been spitting facts and news to him that he either knew or never knew, and he didn’t notice he found himself talking back at you, even giving a fact or two of his own.

“I did, that was crazy as shit.” The song ‘Sexual Feeling’ was playing, that’s why you started talking about that with him. Each song that passed, you said something about it. You were stirring the vegetables in the boiling water while he sauted the meat in the pan, with the butter you made. He threw some rosemary in it too, for extra flavour.

One other thing he didn’t notice was that he had been humming along all this time.

He had two pans where he was cooking four pieces of meat, while you worked on making sure the vegetables were properly boiled. You had added some garlic in the pot because you claimed it’s good for the overall health. He almost chuckled at that because it was just because garlic is delicious. There was no need to put garlic on boiled vegetables.

You two didn’t even notice that even in the silence of conversation, where just the music played, there was no more awkwardness. There was no tension. There was nothing that could make you think he didn’t like you anymore.

“Is that Marvin Gaye?” The sound of Nancy’s voice makes the two of you turn around, and she is surprised to see you working together. It’s been days since you two last had a proper conversation, and– “Wait… music?”

“Yeah. She kind of discovered it. Nance, we didn’t know the radio station was still functioning, for a whole year.” Steve’s voice makes you feel proud, knowing you helped and that he was actually surprised by your discovery. Nancy blinks a few times, not believing her ears.

“Wait, so it means we can use that to receive news…” Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle for a second, only to then nod slightly.

“I bet they’re not different from the news we get from the transmitter in the library, Nance.” His head turns back to the meat, while you grab four plates, stacking them next to him. “Thanks.”

You try to tone down your giddiness, not wanting to show him you are really happy he is being civil and friendly with you, “No problem.”

Nancy’s eyes travel back and forth with the two of you, wondering what had changed, but it is better not to ask. Seeing Steve putting steak on each plate while you grab a colander from the cupboards below the sink. You are about to grab the pot yourself, grabbing kitchen clothes to not burn yourself on the handles, but Steve grabs them from you.

“Let me.” You see how he grabs the pot, not letting you do it, not letting you carry the heavy weight yourself.

“Um–” You don’t know how to react or say, kind of confused at his action, but you don’t dislike how much of a gentleman that move was. Nancy hums a bit to herself, clearing her throat before yelling out.

“Eddie! Food’s ready!” Your head turns to look at her, and you snap from your thoughts, not noticing you had been looking at his arms as they strained a bit when pouring the water into the colander. You quickly move to the cupboards to start setting up the table with Nancy as Eddie walks down the stairs.

“Oh, shit, we eating Steve’s delicious steaks?” Steve rolls his eyes but he’s proud of his cooking. It’s one of those things he knew he was good at, and he never received any complaints.

“Just set the table up, Munson.” He replies and Eddie immediately moves to grab the water out of the fridge and set it on the table. You go back to the counter, next to Steve, and grab a big scooping spoon. Steve hands you one plate, with a steak on it, and you just add some boiled vegetables on it before placing it in front of Nancy as she sits down.

Once you are all seated, Eddie doesn’t even wait a second before he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth, moaning as if he’s in a porn movie, making the other three of you cringe.

“Do you have to do that everytime you eat his steak?” Nancy asks as she cuts herself a little piece, Eddie turning to look at her, with his mouth full.

“Its’ ‘fee biss’ stek’ i’ve evur’ haf.” You snort into your water at the nonsense he just mumbled because of his mouth full of food. Steve holds in a chuckle as he grimaces in disgust.

“Can you chew and swallow before you talk?” And Eddie glares at him only for his eyes to widen up as he looks around, a frown in his eyebrows. He chews quickly, swallowing where he almost choked.

“Is that– ‘Take on me’? Is that fucking music!?” Nancy snorts as you all realize that Eddie hadn’t even noticed the music playing because he was more focused on Steve’s steaks.

You explain that you have found a few channels over the months every time you come across a radio somewhere, though none of them have played metal music.

“Maybe you gotta do the heavy metal channel,” you shrug.

“Huh, you know what? Maybe I will, once I figure out how to, I fucking will,” he nods happily before he takes another bite of his steak.

Steve chuckles a little to himself, though he keeps his eyes trained on the plate before him. Nancy and Eddie share a look of surprise, it’s been a while since they saw him so… relaxed.

For the first time in a while, he joins in on the small talk during dinner, commenting and nodding along to the things you talk about. A sparkle of hope is inside of both Nancy and Eddie, hope that maybe there is still something left in him wanting to try, wanting to live, wanting to fight for something better.

Maybe he is ready to leave now, maybe he is learning how to let go.

Eddie wastes no time in wanting to find out, because the moment you are all done eating and he pushes the empty plate away from him, leaning back, he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his jeans, fishing something out.

You all watch curiously.

Eddie flashes you a smile when you lean closer, trying to peek over the table. He lifts his arm up and throws something over to Steve, the unmistakable sound of jingling keys passing by you, a flash over silver before your eyes before it lands in Steve’s hand.

Steve looks down, feeling the metal in his palm, his fingers are closed around it. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is, the happiness in Eddie’s eyes and the dreadful feeling in his stomach tells him exactly what it is.

With furrowed eyebrows, he stares at nothing in particular.

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, impatiently.

Eddie looks at the both of you, unable to contain the smile on his face as he starts jumping up and down on his chair.

“I finished it,” he explains proudly, though neither of you understand what he means by that as you both give him questioning looks, to which he sighs. “The RV! It’s up and running! We can finally get out of here!”

“Seriously?” Nancy nearly squeals, her eyes lighting up at his words, she nearly jumps from her chair, almost knocking it over.

You know that she’s been waiting for this, waiting to be reunited with her family again.

“Yeah! We’re going to California, baby!” Eddie exclaims, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “So you better start packing your bags.”

You smile, sharing their relief as well. You've been waiting for it too, waiting to finally see your family again, though in this moment, you fear looking over at Steve, knowing how he feels about leaving Hawkins. You still turn your head, daring to take a glance and you find exactly what you thought you would.

His features are no longer relaxed, his lips are no longer curled into a smile, his eyes aren’t soft like they were before. A mixture of sadness and anger lingers in them, and when he looks at you, meeting your eyes, you feel a shudder running down your spine, he no longer is the one from before, the one that laughed with you, the one that talked with you like you were his… friend.

He clenches his jaw and he turns away again, throwing the keys back to Eddie who catches them with one hand, the smile falling from his lips when he finally notices the frown on Steve’s face.

You all flinch a little when the chair scrapes against the hardwood floor and the brunette picks his plate up angrily before walking over to the kitchen.

Nancy’s smile falls and her shoulders slump, helplessly she looks at Eddie.

“Dude, you know we can’t stay here,” Eddie states carefully, with a soft and gentle voice. “We’re gonna run out of everything someday, you can’t prevent–”

“We won’t run out if we go hunting,” Steve grumbles.

“There’s nothing left here for us, man. We got people waiting for us–”

Suddenly, Steve turns around, with his eyes angrier than before and his cheeks burning red, “you got people waiting for you! Leave me out of this!”

Nancy frowns in disbelief, as well as Eddie who gets up from his chair as well, throwing the keys on the dining table.

“Seriously? You’re telling me that the kids aren’t waiting for you? That they haven’t been asking for you every time Dustin radio’d us and you’ve been acting like a complete asshole, refusing to speak to him – to them?”

Steve scoffs loudly, turning back around, he makes his way over to the sink.

“We’re not leaving without you, Steve,” Nancy speaks. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Nance.”

She falls silent after that, opening her mouth and closing it again, she looks a little taken aback, guilt flashes in her eyes.

Eddie only sighs, looking down with a defeated look on his face.

You don’t know what his words mean, you don’t know why she gives up after that. Many questions run through your head but you mostly wonder what he meant by that.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again and you can hear the desperation in his voice, you can see the sadness in his face, he doesn’t want to leave his friend behind but he doesn’t want to stay here either, he never wanted to, least of all now. “There is nothing left for us here, there is nothing left for you here, you know that, man. Robin is–”

You flinch again when he throws the plate into the sink, so hard it must’ve splattered in half. He turns around, throwing a finger at Eddie, “I told you I’m not leaving! If you wanna go, feel free to get the fuck out of here, all of you! But leave me alone!” He yells, glaring at the both of them before he storms out of the room, passing by you and out into the hallway, not bothering to grab a jacket or an umbrella before he rips open the door and leaves the house, slamming the door so harshly that you wonder if it’s still in tact or not.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline kicking in when you notice that Eddie and Nancy aren’t moving, not planning to follow him out.

They know him better than you do, they know not to touch him now, he won’t listen, he won’t compromise, he will do more damage than anything else at this moment but you don’t know that.

Worry settles deep in your gut, the urge to go after him growing stronger each passing second. You get up and push the chair back, leaving them no time to react before you rush out of the room, quickly throwing on your old pair of sneakers, not wasting any more time to follow him out.

You hear your name being called before you slam the door shut, but you don’t bother to turn back around, you run straight into the storm, not caring about the rain you ran from earlier.

You rip open the gate and close it behind you, looking around you as you try to spot him in the darkness, you squint your eyes when lightning strikes through the sky. You see his silhouette, three houses down the road.

The rain runs down your face, soaking through your clothes already, the coldness of it clinging to your skin and making you shiver already, even as you start running after him, following him wherever he is going. You pick up the pace when he gets further and further away from you.

Worry still gnawing at you, not knowing how he will react to you following him but you can’t just let him go like this, you know that he is angry but you also know that the anger is a mask for something else. He is sad, he is broken because of things that happened to him. You may not be the person he wants him to follow, but you just can’t let him go like this.

You slow down when he rounds the corner of a house, disappearing behind the wall. The rain paddles harshly against the floor, thunder crashing through the sky. You almost slip on the muddy ground when you step into the grass, you halt in your tracks when you notice the surrounding bushes, somehow still full and alive, unlike most other things in Hawkins.

You lost him after he disappeared into the garden of whoever lives or lived in this house. The white picket fence has no gate, and you can just walk through it. You follow the footprints in the mud, feeling grateful for the lightning for once. You push your wet hair out of your face, as you inch closer and closer to where he ran off to.

You take deep breaths, trying not to shiver from the cold. Thunder makes you flinch again, though the loud crash is not what makes you halt in your tracks, nor is it the red lightning bolts in the sky that illuminate your surroundings, allowing you to see better, allowing you to take in the view before you.

For a moment, you stop breathing, you stop moving completely, you are sure that even your heart stopped beating. You can only raise your hand to your lips as your eyes widen in horror.

He is here, he is standing in this garden, only a few steps away from you. He is standing there with his head hung low, looking down at the grave before him, wilted flowers on it, a necklace dangling from the cross, a necklace that once dangled from her neck.

Robin Buckley.

The name engraved into the wooden cross, is the name you have heard so many times, the name of his best friend.

So many feelings run through your veins but mostly shock and confusion. He talked about her like she was alive, they talked about her like she was alive, there was no sign of this. You could have never guessed. Every time he left the house saying that he was gonna visit Robin, you thought he was actually seeing her, you could have never imagined that he meant visiting her grave.

Your heart breaks when the realization of it all begins to sink in, why he is the way that he is, why he doesn’t want to leave, why he is so filled with anger and rage.

You swallow the sickening lump in your throat. You don’t know what to say or do, a part of you wants to walk away and leave him be, the other wants to comfort him, and the stronger part wins.

“Steve…” You call out softly to him, your voice reaching him despite the raging storm.

He tenses up, you can see it, it takes him a moment but when he finally turns around, you realize what a mistake it was to follow him. Even through the darkness and the rain, you can see the glistening tears in his eyes, the angry ones, the scowl on his face directed at no one but you.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t!” He snaps loudly. “Don’t say anything right now!”

You press your lips together, taking deep breaths as you look at the intense emotions in his eyes, and his anger makes you cower away. Shivers run down your spine, not from the rain, but from how he looks at you.

You shake your head slowly, digging your nails into your palms. You don’t know what to do, so you just stand there and watch him. Behind the hatred in his eyes, you see pain and sadness, you see how hard he is holding onto this, you see how it is driving him crazy, how it’s ripping him apart.

“I-I didn’t know…” You say softly.

Steve can hear the sadness in your voice, the gentle tone in it, the warmth in your eyes – he can’t stand it, he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t deserve it.

“That she’s dead? You didn’t know that my best friend is dead?” Steve scoffs as he slowly starts to make his way over to you, inching closer carefully, staring at you like you are his prey that he is ready to rip apart, right here, right now. “Well, now you fucking do, she’s dead, Robin is dead just like most people are, just like you will be the moment you step out there!” He throws his hand up, pointing at nothing in particular. His voice is trembling, the rain streams down his face.

You wince at his words.

You know what’s waiting out there, you know the dangers of this world but that doesn’t stop you from finding your family, from keeping hope alive.

You understand him now, more than anything. You don’t know how you would be if you lost someone you loved so dearly but he still has people he loves, people that love him.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am, I’m sorry that you lost her,” you start, your own voice trembling, out of nerves and out of fear. “But she is gone, a-and you staying here won’t change it! It won’t bring her back, it won’t fix anything! I understand your pain, I really do… but– you have people who care for you, Eddie and Nancy. You have other people who are waiting for you… Dustin?” You say despite the shock that still curses through you.

You don’t know whether it’s tears running down his cheeks or if it’s just the rain, but his eyes are glassy.

“Don’t bring Henderson into this! He is alive and well and that suffices!”

“Does it really?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Because you look miserable most of the time, and you will end up all alone once Eddie and Nancy are gone!”

Steve takes another step closer to you, looking down at you with nothing but hatred in his eyes.

“I know you feel like your life is over but it’s not, I–”

“You’ve known me for two weeks. Two fucking weeks. I don’t care about your optimistic hopeful bullshit. When you find your parents and your brother dead, you will wish you never had it to begin with.”

You draw back, straightening your back, you stare at him, speechless and stunned. The words are caught in your throat, your chest aching more than ever.

You know he is hurt and angry, and now he is trying to hurt you back. You know that they’re alive, you know that your parents are fine, you know that your brother is well.

“They’re… they’re not–”

“You saw the world out there, open your eyes for just a second!” He snaps at you, getting closer and closer, allowing you to see him and his anger better. “You are leading my friends to their death! You are helping them leave! I-I thought you would want to stay once you realized you were safe here, that you’re all fucking safe!”

You shake your head at him, growing angry too for the things he said about your family.

“Why wouldn’t I want to leave!?”

“Cause you are literally driving into hell! There are things you haven’t encountered there!”

“I want to see my family! Nancy and Eddie too! You have family waiting for you!”

A humorless laugh falls from his lips, he brings his hand up to his face, pressing his knuckle under his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them again, looking at you again, “family? My family is here, six feet under!” He yells, pointing at the grave. He is blinded by rage and sadness. “The one person I had in my life that cared for me like no one else had is gone! And I’m not leaving her here!”

You know there is no getting through to him, not when he is like this.

Steve would rather chase after a ghost for the rest of his life.

“Leave her here?” You whisper. “She’s not here anymore, Steve! Do you really think she would want this for you? She wouldn’t! You were family, you were her best friend, she would want you to leave, to find a better place, to live!”

If the look in his eyes could kill, you’d be buried under this ground right now. You can see that it’s getting worse, that his eyes are burning, that his chest is heaving.

“I know what danger is out there, but I need my family–”

“Smell the fucking non-existent sunflowers, they’re dead by now!”

Steve tries it again, to hurt you, to harm you where he knows it hurts the most but you shake your head, trying not to let his words get to you, trying not to let his words touch your heart. You take a step away from him, shaking your head.

“No–, no they’re not,” you whisper, feeling the familiar lump in your throat, the painful throbbing in your heart, the hotness in your eyes.

He scoffs at you, looking you up and down in disbelief, “you think you’re going to find your house surrounded by a gate of protection? You’re fucking delusional if you think so.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, taking a step back further. You hesitate, feeling intimidated by his presence all the sudden but he only follows, looking right into your glassy eyes.

He is guided by hatred. He can no longer see clearly, the pain has turned him into this, the pain has made him cold. He doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, about the trembling in your bottom lip, about the fear and the sadness in your eyes.

“My family is alive, I-I know they are–”

“Smell the decay of the corpses around you, and tone down that hope of yours before you end up even more hurt than you thought you could ever be. Open your eyes for once and stop acting like an immature little girl.”

His words feel like a blow to your chest, stealing the breath from you and replacing it with pain. The colors vanish before your eyes, a darkness you never allowed to enter, blurring your vision and crawling into your veins, threatening to take over.

The tears no longer stay in your eyes, they start falling freely as your bottom lip trembles, a sob threatening to escape you though you push it back down, not wanting him to see just how much his words have hurt you.

You see nothing in his eyes, no remorse, no guilt, nothing but this – grief has turned him cold.

Your sniffle breaks his anger a little though, the blaring redness that flashed in his eyes just seconds ago, dimming just a bit when he begins to see the damage he has done. He sees the way your chest is rising up and down heavily, the way you're blinking quickly like it would stop your tears from falling, he sees the pain in your eyes that he had caused.

You are crying, he made you cry when he once swore to himself to never do this to anyone ever again.

“You’re…” Your voice breaks and you wipe your tears, as though it would change anything. “You’re a douchebag.”

The tension in his shoulders leaves him, and regret starts sinking in.

Robin thought that of him before she got to know him, before she became his friend. He changed, even more so when he found her.

Has her death made him turn back around?

Has it changed him this much?

She would be disappointed, she would kick his ass for what he did just now, for what he said, for how he made you feel, for making you cry when all you wanted was to help. He knew where it would hurt the most and he chose to hit you there exactly, not caring about what it would do to you.

You tear your eyes away from him, sniffling quietly as you walk away from him, leaving him in the rain.

His fingers itch, his hand moves forward as though to stop you but he quickly clenches his fist and breaks his eyes away from you, looking down at the muddy ground. He closes his eyes, shutting them tightly as he holds back tears. His heart is aching more than ever.

He knows you’re right, deep down he knows.

He knows it’s only fair for Eddie and Nancy to leave, he knows it all, he understands it all.

He knows that she would want him to go with them, that she would force him to if she could. He knows she’s gone, he hasn’t felt her presence since the day a bird had sat down on her cross, she is gone and there is no bringing her back, not even if he stays.

But how can he leave when all that is left of her is this?

Everywhere he turns there’s a reminder that she was here, every good memory he has of her would be abandoned and he can’t do it, he just can’t.

With trembling lips and tears now streaming down his cold cheeks, he turns back around, looking at her name on the cross, at the reminder… that she is gone, forever. His knees almost buckle, a sob threatens to rip from his lips but he doesn’t let it, he doesn’t allow himself to break down, even as the sadness and the guilt begins to consume him.

“Robin,” he whispers, shakily. He knows he won’t get an answer, he knows he won’t get the sign that he’s been begging for, he knows he won’t hear her voice calling back to him, the only thing he hears is the rain, the rustling trees and his own heartbeat. He tastes the saltiness of his tears, he tastes the bitterness. “Birdie…”

She is gone and she’s not coming back.

He lost her, and soon he will lose more.

Soon his biggest fear will catch up to him.

Being left behind, being all alone.

It was bound to happen.

Right?

Steve didn’t come out of his room all day.

You haven’t seen him, haven’t heard from him, haven’t heard his voice in the hallway or anywhere else.

He came home shortly after you the night before, you heard him talking to Nancy, heard her asking questions that he didn’t answer. You know she told him that you’re leaving today, told him to pack his bags and be ready by night. It’s getting dark out now, your bags are in the RV, as well as Nancy’s and Eddie’s, along with a box of pictures and other things that they refuse to leave behind.

You are all ready to go, all except for him.

Eddie is giddy, excited to finally hit the road, though you can also see his jumpiness, how he can’t seem to sit still, the anxiety of having to leave Steve behind is eating at him.

Nancy is distracting herself, sitting at the dining table, her guns and knives sprawled across the table, a cloth in her hand as she cleans her weapons.

You’re sitting by the window, looking into blank space. Sadness lingered in you all day, and it didn’t change throughout it. He planted thoughts into your head that you refused to think about or even consider, though now a part of you can’t help but feel anxious because what if… what if there is some truth to it? What if you are being a little too hopeful? What if you are being ignorant and foolish?

You know he was hurt, and that hurt has triggered the anger, anger that he directed at you – he wanted to hurt someone and you were there, the perfect target, you are the reason why his friends are leaving now.

You didn’t mention what you found out last night, not to Eddie nor Nancy. It only really sunk in this morning, when you woke up with a headache after crying yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how he lost her but something tells you that she didn’t go peacefully. He blames himself, you saw it in his eyes.

“We should go soon.” It’s Nancy who breaks the silence in the room, a determined look on her face. You can sense her hesitation, her nervousness. She doesn’t want to go without him, you saw the way her eyes kept flicking to the staircase waiting for him to come walking down the stairs with bags in his hands, he never did. She told him to be ready by 7pm, it’s 8 now.

Eddie told you that Steve said goodbye, that he hugged him and Nancy, and prepared food and snacks for the road. No matter how much they begged and tried to convince him to come with them, it was to no avail. He never planned on leaving, not then, not now.

A part of you wants to try, to go up to his room and talk to him again but you doubt he wants to see you, especially after last night. He hates you, you saw it in his eyes. He won’t change his mind, not for you. He hurt you, but you still don’t want him to stay here, to be alone, to be left behind.

Eddie stops pacing around, he watches Nancy as she gets up from her seat, putting the guns and knives away into her backpack.

“Nance,” Eddie hesitates, looking at her in uncertainty.

She throws her backpack over her shoulder and shrugs at him, trying to look tough, trying to mask the worry on her face.

“He made his choice, he wants to stay. I won’t force him to come with us.” That is all she says before she leaves the room, taking you by surprise with her sudden coldness. She walks out of the house without another word.

Eddie glances at you, taking in the frown on your face, the sadness behind your puffy eyes. He knows that something happened between you and Steve when you followed him out into the rain, last night. He suspects that he threw unkind words at you – you didn’t tell him anything, neither did Steve but Eddie knows it crashed between you.

Now all he sees is hesitation in your eyes, despite the hurt written across your face. He can tell you don’t want to leave him behind. Eddie noticed that you had developed some kind of attachment to Steve, despite his constant cold shoulder.

You keep your eyes trained on the ground, blinking rapidly as you get up, not moving away from the window just yet though.

Eddie sighs, he walks over to the desk by the window, opening one of the drawers, he picks out a map he kept hidden, a copy of the one already in the RV. It’s marked up just like the other one, the town in California circled in a red color. He carries it over to the dining table, “in case he changes his mind,” he tells you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you look between him and the map, “I thought you didn’t have a copy?”

He makes his way over to you, a small smile grazing his lips, he places his palm on your shoulder, “guess I lied a little.” His brown eyes are sad, not matching the smile at all. He squeezes you, nodding softly before he steps away, looking around one more time, even though he’s done it a few times already today. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah…”

He closes the door behind him, leaving you by yourself.

You can’t say that you’re surprised by their sudden decision to leave today, but then again, they have been waiting for this moment for a long time. They’ve been waiting for it for a year, waiting for him to be ready. He never will be.

You take a deep breath as you look around the house you found shelter in, found new friends in. You wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t follow him that day. You tug your jacket closer to your body, gripping it tightly.

You don’t want to leave without him.

But you are the last person to change his mind.

You have known him for a few days only and yet he managed to crawl under your skin. You got used to him, despite his rough demeanor, despite yesterday.

You make your way upstairs, you can’t leave without saying goodbye.

But when you knock on his door, he doesn’t respond or open the door – not that you expected him to. You lean against the door frame, keeping your knuckle against the wooden door.

“Steve?” You whisper shakily, hoping to hear his voice. “I uh… I just wanted to thank you, for letting me stay, I know you didn’t want to but still… thank you.”

You hear nothing on the other side, no shuffling, no footsteps, no sighs, nothing.

A sigh falls from your lips, the sadness in you spreading further.

“Despite everything, it was nice meeting you… Goodbye Steve.”

You finally pull away from the wood, looking at the door one last moment before you head back downstairs and grab the backpack you left on the floor. You look around the house one last time and you can’t help but imagine him walking downstairs, where his friends once were, and see them all gone. Just himself and the ghost of what once was and never will be again.

It hurts to leave him behind, and you can’t even imagine how Nancy and Eddie feel. You have your answer once you head out and towards the back where you see Eddie wiping his cheek away while making sure the tires are all set, and how Nancy has her back towards the two of you, and her legs are slightly shaking as she looks at stuff into her weapon bag.

They are hurt from leaving him behind, way more than you are. You had to reassure them that even in loneliness, Steve will be safe. He is inside a community, guarded even if little, but he is still with people and in safety.

“Okay ladies, I think we are good to go.” Eddie says finally and you head over to Nancy, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, Nance.” You see her looking at the distance, towards the same way you followed Steve the night before. You see her gulp tightly, nodding at you before turning around and heading inside the RV first. You turn to see Eddie giving you a small comforting smile as he looks at the house one last time.

He sighs as he turns towards you, bowing down as he points with his arm towards the open door of the RV. You can only smile so little at the theatrics, and you take a deep breath before you step inside, surprised to see just how well equipped it is. Two big seats at the front, driver and passenger, then followed by counters on the side, and then a couch on the other. A pull out couch. Then at the end of the kitchen counter sat a small booth, with a small table in the middle.

You see there is a small little hallway, which has the door to the toilet, and then at the very back end you can see the big double bed. It has a sliding door to close it from everyone else if needed. You are amazed by it, a small and nice motorhome for the three of you. Eddie enters the RV as Nancy starts the vehicle. He closes the door behind him and he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You like it? I installed the pull out couch myself. We have enough gas till the next possible gas station, and hopefully there’s still some left, so we need to make sure to not run out before that.” Nance only nods as you look up and open the bag cupboard at the top of the couch, putting your bag inside as well as Eddie’s and hers. You close it and you three hear the RV coming to life finally.

“Good job Eddie.” Nancy finally smiles his way, and Eddie puffs out his chest as he sits in the passenger’s seat, pulling the map out of the glove compartment in front of him. He had marked down all possible places they could stop at to look for more food and gas. Even toiletries. He also marked all possible gas stations, and you realize they had been planning this for a very long time.

“Okay… goodbye Hawkins you piece of shit.” Eddie says, making you hum as you take a seat on the couch. Your body suddenly sways as the RV starts to move slowly, and the excitement starts to come back to you as well as the fear of what you might encounter. You are going to your family. You are going to find your family and you will be safer this time. You have people around you, armed and willing to protect you as much as you would protect them. You won’t sleep in the mud, looking for cover under the cup of the trees. You will be sleeping either on a nice couch, or the bed whenever available.

You see how Nancy turns the lights on and off quickly, just enough to mark her way through the trees, not following the main road so no one would stop you all. Your hands were gripping the couch tightly, not wanting to look out the window, not wanting to look back, but you were itching to do so.

It takes time because Nancy is going as slow as possible so the motorhome would not do that much of a sound thanks to the engine. You know that people are already sleeping by now, except for the guards at the front gate, and you are taking the closed off one. The one in all chains.

Once you reach it, Nancy stops the RV right in front of it, Eddie getting up from the passenger’s seat to walk towards the cupboard underneath the sink of the kitchen, taking out some bolt cutters. Your eyes widen as he pulls those out and you turn to look at Nancy.

“Hang on, you are cutting those open– you are going to leave the gate open for all the community inside here!” Nancy sighs at your outburst and you hear the clanking of chains, you turn your head to see Eddie holding a new pair in his hands and a lock.

“We are not that reckless and selfish. It took me some time to find a spare pair of chains this size, and a lock, but– It’ll endure.” With those last words, he jumps off the RV, and you rush to the passenger seat to see him get into action, grabbing the cutters and start snapping the chains away.

You’re biting your lip as you see the metals falling piece by piece. Eddie hesitates for just one second before he snaps open the last chain. He pushes one of the doors open slightly and Nancy turns on the bright lights instantly. You see how he pulls it open even more and you see how there is nothing out there, giving you guys the green light to go. He gives a nod towards the two of you and pushes the first gate open and then the next one.

His eyes widen when one bright light shines your way, the guard light tower pointing your way. The sound of a loud siren blasting suddenly and you realize you’ve been caught. Nancy and you motion Eddie to leave the chain behind, that people will put it back together instead of him.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nancy curses loudly.

Eddie snaps out of it as he rushes to the doors of the RV, the motorhome starting to move forward as you hear the screams of people, telling you to stop, to turn back, that it’s dangerous out there. The front of the vehicle is out and you’re almost passed the gate when Eddie’s head turns to his left, his panicked face falling as his eyes widen.

“Eddie, get in!” You yell, trying to snap him out, and Nancy groans loudly.

“Munson, I’m stepping the gas whether you get fully inside or not–”

“It’s Steve!” Her eyes widen as well as yours. She doesn’t stop moving, instead slowing down.

You rush towards the window, popping your head out and sure enough, you see him.

He is running fast even with a bag hanging on his back, two duffel bags on each side of his hips, his bat in one hand, the other gripping a flashlight tightly. You hear Eddie egging him on, to keep running because Nancy is not stopping, she can’t. You see the flashlights of people running towards you, right behind Steve, ready to stop you all from stepping into the danger zone.

He can’t feel his limbs anymore from how much he ran, from how dumb it was to not tell the three of you that he had actually packed, leaving the bags in his room. Dumb to tell you that he left to give his last goodbye to Robin’s parents and Robin herself. He spent all day with her. Had breakfast, had lunch, and finally dinner.

He lost track of time, and when he returned to the house, none of you were in it. His heart had crumbled to the floor, but it was just a few minutes late, so if he had any luck, you three were still near. He grabbed everything as fast as he could, rushing into the kitchen to shove one last thing into his duffel bag, and then run out. He ran through the woods with his flashlight, following the broken bushes and the tire trails the vehicle left.

As soon as the RV came into view, the lights from behind him turned on, his panic rising as he didn’t have a chance to even catch a breath. He saw how the officers and the guards started running towards him with their flashlights, and he took off. He ran as fast as his feet could take him, trying not to think of all the weight he was also carrying. He could hear Eddie calling for him, his hand reaching out already for Steve to grab.

He knew that the moment he grabbed Eddie’s hand, Hawkins would be a thing of the past. She would be the past. Everything would be the past. But Robin would have wanted him to move forward. She would have wanted him to keep on going. She would have kicked his ass if she found out he was willing to throw everything away just for her. She would have wanted him to actually live.

So he grabs onto Eddie’s hand.

Eddie pulls tightly with a grunt, using all his strength. Nancy picks up the speed and throws her foot onto the gas when Steve manages to put one foot on the first step of the RV. Eddie drags them both inside, falling onto the floor with Steve.

You are stunned as you stare down at them both. You snap out of it when you feel the cold wind, you run towards the door and shut it, locking it.

Steve is panting, no, heaving as he tries to recover his breath on all fours, staring at the floor. Eddie is sitting up, his hand coming to rest on Steve’s back. The three of you are silent, not having expected Steve to appear out of nowhere at the last minute.

“What… What happened?” Eddie asks, his own breathing heavy from the whole ordeal, and you can just stand over them both, looking as Steve starts to shake, your eyes coming to meet in the middle in worry.

“I– I was saying goodbye– I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry–” And you can hear the choked up voice, your heart turning with sadness as Eddie’s eyes glistened, looking at his friend. Nancy couldn't stop driving, but she turned her head for just one second to look and you saw how a tear was running down her cheek, her gaze turning back to the road.

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice is low, a whisper and it was the key that opened the gate to Steve’s emotions. Through his heavy breaths, you start hearing his sobs. Choked up sobs that he wanted to swallow down, but it was impossible. Soon, his tears were hitting the floor as he stared down at it, his fingers digging into the carpet as memories flashed in his mind.

He could almost picture Robin waving at him from the gate that people were already closing. He could almost picture how she would be smiling and jumping happily the more the RV drove away. How she would be cheering him on. His cries were loud, knowing there is a part of him that was being left behind, a part that he will never in his life get back.

You could hear the sniffles coming from the driver’s seat as well, quieter than Steve’s cries of pain, and you saw how Eddie was keeping a strong face for both his friends, especially Steve who was still trying to breathe through his sobs.

You just stood there as you waited, wanting to comfort the man that was on the floor, but you knew better. It was a moment that he needed to have with his friends, with his family. You felt your own tears flowing down your cheeks. You didn’t know Robin, but from the cries of your new found friends, you realized she was loved. She was very much loved.

The road ahead was uncertain, but in Steve’s mind, only one little thing resonated, one little voice that he could hear despite the dark clouds inside it, and the screams coming out of his mouth. If he was imagining it, he hoped it would never leave him. He might have gone crazy, but he was so happy to hear her voice, at least one last time.

‘Goodbye, Dingus.’

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk

#the edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet)#chapter three #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #stranger things angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #grumpy x sunshine

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kyeomofhearts · 3 months ago

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Bad Boy!Wonwoo x Reader Headcannons

[☻] found this little gem while going through my (various) drafts! this was honestly what pushed me to create back for more sooo… why not post it while you guys wait for part 3? just think of it as a little prologue hehe <3

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who would almost always come to class late. Not caring about the attention he would get for disrupting the class.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who would come into campus with a sleek black motorcycle, helmet in hand, and a face that rarely displayed emotion.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who never actually caused any trouble, well, at least not anymore. But there was something that made people wary of him—including you.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who you've known for almost your whole life—having gone to the same elementary, middle, and high school…and now university. You both even shared the same group of friends but you two were never particularly close by any means.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who was always just there. He was the quiet kid who never stood out too much, always hanging around your shared friend group but never making an effort to be the center of attention.

If you had to describe him back then, you would say he was reserved. You knew how he could get when he was with his close group of friends so it wasn’t like he was shy, he just wasn’t open with everyone.

You don’t remember ever having a full-blown conversation with him either. Just small interactions here and there, nothing too serious.

Which is why his new behavior is odd to you.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who had eyes all over him for the first few months of school—but he didn’t mind them.

Not when he had his sights set on you.

It started off small. A glance that lingered for too long, a smirk that felt too intentional, or a passing comment that seemed designed to get under your skin.

Then, suddenly, he was everywhere.

Showing up at the same campus cafe you normally went to. Catching your arm just as were about to walk past him. Even walking you to your classes—you felt like it was nearly impossible to escape Wonwoo these days.

Even when you talked with him, you noticed just how close he was. It was just enough to make you move back, just enough to make you aware of him.

It wasn’t flirting, not really, but the way he watched your reactions made it feel like some kind of game.

You don’t understand why he’s suddenly interested in you (if you can even consider it like that).

But… after all these years, why now?

What you didn’t know was that Wonwoo had liked you for many years by now. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a small hallway crush if anything.

He never planned on acting upon his interest in you, if he was being honest. Preferring to admire from a distance.

But then, he saw you again. Attending the same university as him. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So now he’s making sure you see him.

Read [Back For More] here.

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humaling · 1 month ago

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You're Still The One I Run To.

pt 2 of Hope Is A Dangerous Thing To Have

pairings: hijacked!finnick x reader

summary: in district 13, survival is routine—but when finnick’s quiet apology breaks through the silence, you begin to wonder if something lost can still be found.

contents: mentions of capitol's torture on finnick, slow burn

word count: 7.4k

author's notes: i'm sorry it took a while! i had a writer's block on this one hehe. next chapter will be the last and might take a while again.

Finnick shifts uncomfortably in bed, the thin mattress doing little to cushion the hard metal frame beneath him. Every time he moves, it creaks and groans, pressing into his back like a cruel reminder of how far he is from comfort. Honestly, the floor might be better than this.

The dim glow from the lampshade beside him casts long, soft shadows across the room, the only source of light in the bunker’s stale gloom. It’s quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that feels dull, empty, lifeless—much like how his body feels during these godforsaken hours of the night. He lies there, restless, like his bones are aching for something he can’t name. Something missing. Something lost. He tells himself it’s just District 13—cold, gray, and not at all like District 4. Not home.

Beside him, Gale Hawthorne sleeps soundly. A low snore rattles from his chest, breaking the silence in an oddly grounding way. Finnick figures it’s better than nothing. Better than lying awake in silence and letting the darkness creeping in the back of his mind swallow him whole.

It’s been a few weeks since he was cleared. He’d been assigned to share this room with Gale, who hadn’t exactly seemed thrilled about it. Not that Finnick was either, but at least he didn’t throw a fit. Katniss told him not to take it personally—that Gale’s just been sensitive lately, with everything that’s happened. Finnick tried to take her word for it. But after Gale locked him out of the room one night, Finnick stopped caring altogether.

Stopped caring. Grew indifferent.

His mind weaves back to you when he first got here; the heartbroken look plastered on your face when he pushed you away, the way your eyes glossed as you plead with him. And then:

A soft laugh flits through his memory like a breeze—gentle, teasing, familiar. He sees you again: running down the shoreline, your laughter carried by the wind. Just for a moment.

He squeezes his eyes shut. A dull ache presses into his skull, pulsing behind his temple. The memory slips back into the darkness, but not before leaving behind its echo. That’s been happening more and more. The flashbacks, the headaches, the wave of nausea that always follows. Ever since the emergency drill in the safety vault, it’s like his mind’s been splitting open, one blurred memory at a time. A voice. A touch. An object that looks a little too familiar—they all bring something back.

The doctor said it’s the Capitol’s hijacking wearing off. Told him it was expected. Gave him pills to ease the side effects. Finnick tried taking them at first, but he’s always been terrible with medication. He gave up after a couple days. He remembers how his mother used to chase him around the house just to get him to take flu drops. Now, the pills are tucked away in the drawer beneath his bed, buried under bits and pieces he’s collected since he got here—things that don’t mean anything to anyone but him.

The doctors, and the few friends he has here, keep telling him the same thing—that the memories resurfacing now are real, and the ones the Capitol etched into his mind are nothing but lies. And he wants to believe them, he truly does. But it’s hard. Damn near impossible. Because how can something real feel so distant and fragmented, while the false ones remain vivid, sharp, and devastating?

He tries to reason with himself. Maybe this is exactly how the Capitol intended to break him. Twist his thoughts. Turn him against someone he once loved. Because what better way to destroy a man than to erase the love he once knew? To make him forget how it felt to be held by someone who saw his darkest parts and didn’t flinch—who cradled his brokenness like it was fragile glass and still chose to stay.

But on most nights, he isn’t reasonable. Most nights, he wonders if this is how Snow wanted him to unravel. Not with violence. Not with blood. But with quiet betrayal. With the slow realization that the person he held closest—who he thought cherished him most—might have been nothing more than a well-crafted lie. A backstabber wrapped in warmth. A performance masked as affection. And for what? What was he even used for?

There are cracks in those memories, though. Little gaps. Inconsistencies. And sometimes, that alone is enough to soothe the sharp ache behind his ribs. Annie tells him those might be planted memories, stitched together by the Capitol to manipulate him. He holds onto that thought like a lifeline.

That it wasn’t real. That it was all fake. That it was designed to hurt him. Designed to turn him inside out.

God, get out of his head.

Finnick sits up in bed, the frame groaning under the shift of his weight. He leans back until his spine hits the cold wall, and a shiver races down his back. His thoughts drift again. To you.

He hasn’t seen you much lately. He never asked why, didn’t think he should. But a part of him aches to know. And he hates himself for that. He’s supposed to hate you, isn’t he?

But instead, he finds himself lying awake night after night, staring at the ceiling and thinking of you.

Finnick threads through the sterile halls of District 13, his pace steady, his mind fixated on one thing: berries. One of the soldiers had let it slip that there’d be berries served with the oatmeal today, and honestly, that was enough to light a spark in his otherwise dreary morning. He never thought he’d get this excited over something so small. Mango had always been his favorite. But after spending weeks underground without a single glimpse of sunlight, even the faint promise of berries felt like a damn miracle.

Because those godawful oatmeals? They tasted like regret. Like wet sand. Like someone thought flavor was a war crime.

He weaves through the crowd with ease, tossing a few practiced smiles here and there—charming, effortless, Capitol-polished. Just enough to slip past the line of tired faces and into the cafeteria before the berry stash is gone.

Even though he’s so caught up in his berry-fueled daydream, he catches a glimpse of a familiar face sitting at the corner of the cafeteria. You.

There you are, sitting in the far corner, a few unfamiliar soldiers scattered around you. Finnick figures they’re from your unit—he’s heard you joined the front lines. Johanna said it’s how you cope. Annie thinks it’s something darker, something rooted in self-destruction. She’d nudged him the other night, whispering that you’re not doing well, like she expected him to fix it. But Finnick isn’t sure what to believe anymore. About you. About himself. About anything.

You look… different. And not in a way that sits right with him.

You’re thinner—sharper around the edges. Your shoulders slumped, expression blank, eyes staring somewhere far away. Hollow. Faded. Like something vital in you had been drained and never quite filled back in. Those weren’t the eyes he remembered. The last time he really saw you—back in the bunker—they were bright, even through the pain. You’d looked at him like you still believed there was something worth salvaging.

Now? You look like someone who stopped waiting.

It’s hard, seeing you like this. Because he’s supposed to hate you. That’s what he told himself. That’s what the Capitol etched into his mind—memories painted in betrayal, twisted in ways that still make his stomach turn. And yet, his heart doesn’t play by the same rules. Because despite everything, despite the mess, it still beats a little faster when you’re near. Still aches when you’re not. And that hate he clings to so tightly? It doesn't live in his chest. It’s in his head. Planted. Manufactured.

His heart never forgot you.

That might be the cruelest part.

The tray in his hands trembles slightly. He doesn’t notice until someone bumps into him, muttering an apology as they pass. He realizes, too late, that he’s stopped walking. Just standing there in the middle of the cafeteria, staring at you like some haunted fool. A few people glance his way. He doesn’t care.

All he can see is you.

And right now, you look like you’re about to fall apart.

He tears his eyes away with effort, forcing his feet to move, to carry him toward the other end of the cafeteria where Katniss, Johanna, Annie, Gale, and Prim are already gathered at one of the long metal tables. Their conversation is quiet, tired. The kind of talk that hums under the surface of war—just enough to feel normal, even if no one really believes in normal anymore.

Finnick slides into the seat beside Annie, dropping his tray onto the table with less grace than usual. No one comments. Katniss glances at him briefly, then turns back to whatever Gale is muttering under his breath. Johanna’s poking at her food like it insulted her, while Prim gently nudges a bowl toward him with a small smile. Strawberries. A few, nestled beside the oatmeal like some precious, rare gem.

He nods in silent thanks, though he’s lost his appetite. That dull twist in his stomach has nothing to do with hunger.

Annie leans close. “You saw her, didn’t you?”

Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t answer, just stares at the berries, mind still wrapped around the ghost of your expression. That faraway look. That hollow shell. He presses his tongue to the back of his teeth and forces a swallow.

“She looks worse,” Johanna mutters, eyes still on her food. “Should’ve known she’d run herself straight into the ground.”

Katniss gives her a sharp look, but Johanna shrugs. “What? I’m not wrong.”

Prim stays quiet, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin.

Finnick doesn’t say anything. He can’t. The words are there, burning behind his teeth, but none of them make it out. Because part of him wants to cross that room and reach out. Ask if you’ve eaten. If you’re sleeping. If the shadows under your eyes are from nightmares or from living wide awake in one.

But he doesn’t.

He picks up a strawberry instead, stares at it like it might give him answers. It doesn’t.

He stays quiet, even as the conversation picks back up around him. Laughter in the background. War in the foreground. And in between it all, the echo of something he once held close slipping further out of reach.

The corridors of District 13 hum with the low thrum of machinery and distant footfalls, sterile and cold as always. Finnick walks beside Katniss, steps matching hers as Boggs leads them down a narrow hallway lined with reinforced glass. It’s part of the upper training sector—recently refurbished, apparently. Or so Boggs says, though everything still looks the same shade of lifeless gray.

“From here on out,” Boggs says, tapping something on a clipboard as he walks, “you’ll be expected to report to training units daily—combat drills, endurance conditioning, field strategy. Nothing too advanced yet, just enough to prep your bodies for real fieldwork.”

Katniss gives a quiet nod, her expression unreadable. Finnick doesn’t respond. He’s listening, mostly, but his mind drifts in and out, clinging to details and letting others slide. The talk of drills, the bark of instructors echoing from far-off rooms, the repetitive slap of boots against the ground—it all blends together.

They round a corner and come upon a wide observation dome. The floor here curves into a glass overlook, where rows of seats face down into a sunken arena—a simulation room for live training. Finnick almost keeps walking—the place reminds him a little too much of the hunger games. But something pulls at the corner of his vision. A flicker of movement. A flash of a face he knows too well.

You.

You're down below, dressed in training blacks, moving through a timed obstacle drill with calculated speed. Dodging, pivoting, sweeping your arm in clean arcs as you strike the dummy in front of you, reset, strike again. Your body moves with trained precision—quick, sharp, disciplined.

But he sees it. In the way your left leg slightly drags after each leap. The moment your fingers twitch around the training staff like they’ve gone numb. How your jaw clenches after every third hit. Movements smooth, but not flawless. Not anymore.

Finnick slows, falling a step behind Boggs and Katniss, gaze fixed on the glass.

“She’s been here every morning,” Boggs says without looking, as if he’s already guessed what—or who—Finnick’s watching. “Won’t take breaks. Won’t talk to the medics. She’s burning herself out.”

Katniss glances back at him, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “They said she passed out during drills last week.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything. He watches as you stumble for the briefest moment, catching yourself before anyone can notice—anyone but him. You reset again. Keep going. Determined. Desperate.

Something inside him pulls tight.

“She doesn’t want help,” Katniss says gently. “Not even from Haymitch.”

That doesn’t surprise him. You always preferred to fight your demons head-on, even if it meant losing the battle with yourself.

Boggs keeps walking, motioning for them to follow toward another corridor lined with equipment and holo-maps. Katniss gives him a small nudge, and Finnick finally turns away, the image of you lingering behind his eyes like an afterimage burned into his vision.

But as they leave the dome, all he can think about is the way your hands trembled when you thought no one was watching.

It becomes a routine before he even realizes it.

After drills with Katniss and Gale, after the tactical briefings with Boggs, after the debriefs and silent lunches where conversation feels like another mission in itself—Finnick finds himself back in the upper levels of the training dome, tucked into the shadowed corners above the observation glass.

You’re always there.

Sometimes early, sometimes late, but always training like your life depends on it. Maybe it does. Maybe you think it does.

He sits with his elbows propped on his knees, shoulders hunched forward, eyes fixed on the figure moving below. You run the same combat sequences he’s seen a dozen times—standard disarm techniques, pressure point strikes, simulated close-quarters combat. He could close his eyes and still know how your feet land, how you pivot, how your hand flexes just a second too long after each blow.

At first, he told himself he was only watching out of concern. That’s what Annie would say. That he’s just worried. That he’s just looking after someone who’s clearly slipping.

But deep down, he knows that’s not the whole truth.

It’s the ache. The invisible thread that still pulls when he sees your shoulders sag a little lower than they used to. The way your breathing hitches when you think no one can hear. The way you fight like you’re punishing yourself for something no one else seems to understand.

He wants to say something. Every time, he tells himself he will. He’ll wait for the end of the session, trail down the stairs, walk across the floor and say—

What?

I’m sorry?

I miss you?

I don’t know what’s real but I think it’s you?

But the moment never comes. Not really. He watches as you finish the last round of drills, your body trembling slightly as you lean against the mat wall, sweat clinging to your skin, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. You rest there for a beat. Then straighten. Then leave.

Just like always.

You never look up.

And maybe he tells himself it’s because you don’t know he’s watching. Maybe he tells himself that’s what makes it easier.

But it’s not. Not really.

Because the truth is, part of him hopes you do know.

Finnick sits there, his thoughts swirling, his mind still caught in the mess of lies and truths. His fingers twitch slightly, the familiar itch of wanting to move closer to you, to speak to you, but he doesn’t. Not yet. Not while he’s still unsure of what he feels. Not while the Capitol’s poison still lingers in his mind, clouding everything.

The sound of footsteps makes him glance up, and before he can look away, you’re sitting beside him. He blinks, caught off guard by how easily you slipped into the space beside him, how you don’t even seem to mind that he’s been watching you for weeks now.

At first, you don’t say anything. You just sit there, cross-legged, twisting the cap off a bottle of water in your hands. He can feel the tension between you, thick like a fog. He wonders if it’s because of the distance he’s put between you two or because he’s been too damn silent, too afraid to approach.

Finally, you break the silence, your voice low, steady. "You’ve been watching me."

Finnick’s chest tightens at the way your voice holds no judgment, just a quiet knowing. He shifts uncomfortably, fingers flexing against his knees.

“I—yeah," he admits, his voice hoarse. "I couldn’t help it."

You nod, like you’ve been waiting for that. You take a deep breath, eyes fixed on the bottle in your hands, not looking at him.

"I thought maybe, just maybe, the Finnick I loved was still there," you say softly. "At first, I thought if I just gave you space, you'd come back to me. But you didn’t. You never did."

Finnick's heart tightens, the words cutting deeper than he expected. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"But you know," you continue, "I can only put up with so much distance. I can only wait for you to find your way back for so long. It’s not that I stopped caring... I just—" You break off, your gaze dropping to the ground. "I miss you."

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix what’s been broken for so long. All he knows is that hearing those words from you feels like a weight lifting off his chest. He’s afraid to look at you, afraid to see the hope in your eyes that he might be able to fix this, but he does anyway.

And when he does, when his eyes meet yours, the rawness in your expression takes him by surprise. There’s hurt there, but also something more—a spark of the love you once shared. It’s not gone. It’s still there, flickering in the dark.

"I didn’t mean to hurt you," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

You glance at him, your lips curling slightly into a small, sad smile. "I know you didn’t. But you did anyway."

He bites back a sigh. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You shake your head, eyes softening. "You don’t have to. Just stop pushing me away."

The words hang between you for a long moment. Neither of you moves, neither of you speaks. But the silence feels different now, heavier. It’s not an absence of words—it’s the space where the two of you are finally, maybe, finding your way back to each other.

Finally, you stand up, dusting off your pants. Finnick watches you, heart aching with every step you take away from him. But before you leave, you stop and glance over your shoulder, a quiet challenge in your eyes.

"I’ll be here. When you’re ready."

And with that, you walk away, leaving Finnick alone with his thoughts, with the lingering weight of your words.

The day starts on schedule, like it always does here. In District 13, time is a currency you’re expected to spend wisely. There’s no room for distraction. No softness. Just wake, work, train, repeat.

You lace up your boots with steady fingers, standing in your shared quarters under the flickering light. The air feels sterile, too clean. Too sharp. As if even the walls are trying to scrub the humanity out of you. You can still feel the rough edge of the bench beneath you from this morning—can still hear Finnick’s voice, broken and raw, circling like smoke in the back of your mind.

You don’t speak during training. You can’t. Your body moves on command, lunging and dodging through combat drills, sparring with people who don’t know you well enough to ask questions. That helps. You can lose yourself in the burn of your muscles, in the precision of every strike. But even then, there’s a hollowness that follows you. You duck a punch and see the look in his eyes again—tired, aching, like he was already halfway gone and trying to crawl his way back to you.

You scrub in for your assigned unit shift in the war room—tasked with logistics today—and sit at your assigned desk, eyes fixed on the columns of data cycling across the screen. Numbers. Supplies. Deployment routes. It’s important. It should matter. But none of it can drown out the echo of what he said.

I didn’t mean to hurt you.

He meant it. That’s what shakes you most. It wasn’t performative. Not like the Capitol, where every word is curated, every gesture designed to be consumed. No, Finnick looked at you like he couldn’t stand what he’d done. Like he’d been watching the fracture grow and hadn’t known how to stop it.

The silence between assignments in 13 is usually a relief. A breath. But today, it just gives your thoughts too much space. You spend your ten-minute break sitting on the lower level of the dormitory hall, hunched over with your elbows on your knees, staring at the scuffed floor. You know someone’s watching—they always are—but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when all you can think about is the way he looked like he was trying not to shatter.

After curfew, you shower under low-pressure water that smells faintly of metal. You let it run down your back until your skin pricks with cold. You don’t cry. You won’t. You already gave him your honesty—you won’t let him have your grief.

But later, lying in the dark of your bunk with the lights dimmed and the rigid mattress pressed against your spine, you can’t stop the memory from playing again. The way his voice cracked when he said he didn’t know how to fix this. The way he looked at you like maybe he didn’t deserve to.

You don’t know if you want him to try or if it would only hurt more if he did.

But gods, you miss him. You miss you—the version of yourself that felt whole with him.

You turn your face into the pillow, as if the act of hiding could quiet everything inside you.

It doesn’t.

The night went out just as fast as it came. There’s no softness to mornings here—just the buzz of the overhead lights flickering on like a switch has been flipped inside your head. You sit up before the alarm sounds, already awake. Already tired. The sheets are stiff against your skin, the air dry in your throat. Everything feels muted, like the color’s been drained from the world.

You move through the motions. Dress. Report to duty. There’s a rhythm to it, cold and clean, and you follow it because it’s easier than stopping to think. You sit through morning briefing with your spine straight, eyes forward, nodding at schedules and supply counts. You’re praised for efficiency. You always are.

But even as the room echoes with clipped orders and footsteps on polished floors, your mind isn’t really here. It’s still in that quiet space between you and Finnick. Still circling around the way he looked at you, like he wasn’t sure if he deserved to.

You try not to let it show. You focus on the data in front of you, let your pen move across the page with practiced precision. You memorize updates that don’t mean anything to your heart, only to your role. Your identity here has no room for vulnerability.

By the time lunch rolls around, your stomach isn’t exactly hungry, but your legs still carry you out of habit, moving you through the labyrinth of white-walled corridors toward the cafeteria. The halls are half-filled with people walking in clusters, speaking in low voices or nodding silently to each other. You keep your head down. You don’t expect anything. Not here.

But then—his voice.

“Hey.”

You stop.

The word cuts clean through the haze, too familiar, too fragile. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. That voice has lived in your chest long enough.

You turn anyway. Finnick stands there a few steps behind you, hands at his sides, his expression unreadable but open in a way that makes it harder to breathe. He looks steadier than he did yesterday. But not by much. Just enough to show up. Just enough to speak.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re not even sure if you want to. But something in his eyes keeps you there, rooted in place, heart suspended in your chest like it’s waiting to see what he’ll do next.

He doesn't speak right away, just shifts on his feet like he's working up the nerve. His hands are twitchy, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides, like they’re searching for something to hold onto.

You tilt your head, watching him with quiet curiosity. Finnick Odair has always been fluid and confident, a creature of effortless charm. But now? He looks like he’s standing at the edge of something vast and terrifying.

His lips part, close, then part again.

“I—uh…” He glances over his shoulder, like maybe he's reconsidering. Like maybe he thinks this was a mistake. But then he looks back at you, eyes soft and uncertain. “We're... we’re all sitting together for lunch. Katniss, Johanna, Gale, the others. Annie too.” He swallows, trying to play it casual, but you see right through it.

The pause stretches. He runs a hand through his hair. “You can sit with us. If you want.”

You blink, caught off guard by how tentative he sounds. He’s not asking you like a man who's used to being told yes. He’s asking you like he doesn’t believe he deserves it. Like the offer is fragile, like he’s fragile.

And suddenly, you remember—twelve years old, in the glow of summer light back home in 4. Salt on your skin, sand in your shoes, and Finnick looking at you like you held every star in the sky. He was nervous then, too. Fingers fidgeting with a fraying bracelet, voice cracking as he asked if maybe you wanted to go to the harbor with him sometime. He’d smiled too fast, too big, trying to mask the tremble in his voice.

He looks like that now. That same unsure, wide-eyed boy, just with more scars. Just with a world that’s tried to break him in every way.

And even if you’re still hurting, even if the ache in your chest hasn’t faded, some small part of you—that soft, quiet part that never stopped loving him—leans forward.

You nod.

“Okay.”

It’s all you say. But his shoulders loosen, just slightly. A breath he didn’t realize he was holding escapes his chest.

He doesn’t smile. Not really. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Relief. Maybe even hope.

The cafeteria hums with the same low buzz it always does, voices blending into the clatter of trays and cutlery. Fluorescent lights cast everything in a pale, sterile glow, but the table Finnick leads you to feels strangely warm despite it. Familiar.

Annie’s the first to smile. It's soft and genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she makes space beside her, nudging a tray out of the way with a quiet sort of grace.

“You haven’t changed,” she says, tilting her head toward you as you sit. “Still like to lurk in corridors until someone drags you to lunch.”

You let out a breath, the sound almost a laugh. “And you still think you’re so charming for pointing it out.”

She grins wider, and for a moment, it’s like the war hasn’t touched either of you. Like the years haven’t passed. You talk, low and easy, about nothing and everything—how awful the rations are, how the uniforms never quite fit right, how District 13 seems allergic to any form of joy. You feel something shift in your chest. Something loosen.

Across the table, Katniss meets your gaze, her expression unreadable as always. But there’s a flicker there. A silent nod. An understanding passed like a note between soldiers—you’ve been through it too. You return the nod, and that’s enough.

Prim beams at you like you’ve made her whole week. “Thank you,” she says, too earnestly. “Now I don’t have to sit with them for one day, then you and your friends the next—it was starting to feel like I had divorced parents.”

That earns a quiet laugh around the table. Even Finnick huffs out something like amusement, eyes trained on his tray.

You glance down the table at Gale. He hasn’t said a word. He just gives you a look—cool, curious, unreadable. Like he’s trying to decide what kind of Capitol creature you are.

You meet it evenly. You don’t know him either. Don’t trust him. He carries himself like he’s always one breath away from starting a revolution, and maybe that’s true. But there’s something about his conviction that rubs you wrong. You grew up around people who wore masks; Gale doesn’t. Maybe that’s why you don’t know what to make of him.

Still, for Katniss’s sake, you nod politely. He doesn’t return it. Just goes back to eating.

Johanna flops down across from you halfway through a story about Annie smuggling sugar packets. Her eyes narrow like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“Look who finally crawled out of her Capitol shell,” she mutters, reaching for a roll she probably didn’t wait in line for. “Did Finnick threaten to cry or something?”

You raise a brow. “I just missed the privilege of being insulted mid-meal. Thought I’d treat myself.”

She smirks. “There she is.”

And maybe most people wouldn’t catch it, but you do—beneath the sarcasm, there's a glint of approval. Maybe even affection. It’s all Johanna knows how to offer.

The conversation ebbs and flows, warm and awkward and strangely easy. It’s not perfect. But it’s something. And as you sit there, tray untouched, laughter slowly folding itself around you, you realize how long it’s been since you felt like you belonged anywhere at all.

Lunch ends slowly, the table thinning one by one. Johanna slinks off first, muttering something about needing to spar before she “goes soft from all the sap.” Gale disappears not long after, barely sparing you a glance. Prim and Katniss leave together, Prim bubbling with chatter, Katniss trailing beside her in her usual brooding silence. Annie lingers, brushing a hand over Finnick’s arm as she stands—something gentle, something old and familiar—and then she’s gone too.

It leaves just you and Finnick.

Neither of you speaks right away. He’s fidgeting again, thumb brushing the rim of his tray, shoulders too tense for someone who used to command every room he walked into without even trying. It’s strange to see him like this—uncertain, too careful with you. The last time you saw him look this nervous, you were thirteen, and he had a daisy in one hand and sweaty palms in the other, stammering through his first try at asking you to the District 4’s spring banquet.

You were both still whole then.

He glances at you now, that same look flickering behind his eyes—like he’s on the edge of a sentence he can’t quite say.

“You didn’t have to sit with me,” he murmurs, almost a question.

“I know,” you say softly. “I wanted to.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, green and wide and uncertain. There’s a pause, then he exhales, like that admission untied something in him. He stands first, grabbing both trays without asking. You follow quietly.

The walk to the drop-off station is short, but he doesn’t leave you after. He hesitates, lingers just beside you in the corridor outside the cafeteria, shoulders brushing once—by accident or on purpose, you’re not sure. The hallway is quiet, colder now without the warmth of others.

“I…” He stops, starts again. “I didn’t think you would. Sit with me, I mean.”

You shrug, though it feels heavy. “You asked.”

He lets out a breath, a quiet huff of almost-laughter. “Yeah. I did.”

There’s a pause that stretches too long. You know he’s searching for words. You know because you are too.

“I meant it,” he says finally, quieter than before. “What I said. About not wanting to hurt you.”

You nod, because you know. But knowing doesn’t erase the ache. Still, something about hearing it again, here in the hush of this empty hallway, feels like balm to a wound you stopped looking at weeks ago.

“Hey,” he says suddenly. “Do you remember that night—back in Four—when we snuck out during the storm?”

You blink, surprised by the shift in tone. He’s looking at you now, not nervous anymore, just gentle. “The hurricane?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah. We were what… fourteen? Maybe fifteen. We got caught in it trying to race to the docks. I’ve been thinking about it lately. I remember the rain hitting so hard it stung. And we ended up hiding under that overturned canoe.”

You let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh. “You told me you’d protect me from the wind if I gave you half my chocolate bar.”

His mouth twitches. “You still gave it to me even after I told you I forgot mine on purpose.”

“I remember,” you say softly, looking down. “You looked so proud of that plan.”

He chuckles, a low sound, soft and fond. Then his voice quiets again. “I don’t know why that memory’s been stuck in my head lately. I just… I needed to know if it was real. If I didn’t just make it up.”

You meet his gaze, and in it, you see something achingly vulnerable. Not a man trying to make amends with grand gestures. Just someone trying to hold on to something true in a world that keeps taking.

“It was real,” you say. “That was real.”

Finnick nods slowly, and it looks like relief. Like something inside him finally exhales.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Good.”

And it’s not a confession. It’s not a plea. It’s something simpler, more fragile—a thread being carefully, hopefully tied back between you.

He doesn’t ask anything else. And you don’t press.

You walk in different directions at the end of the hall, but the air feels lighter now. Less like absence. More like beginning.

It’s been three days since that hallway conversation. Three days since Finnick brought up the storm in District 4, since he looked at you like he was remembering how to breathe.

You haven’t talked since. Not properly. There were nods, the occasional flicker of eye contact, and once—just once—he passed by you in the training center and murmured your name like a quiet promise before disappearing into the next room.

You’ve been patient. Careful. Letting him come to you in his own time, if he ever does.

And then, that evening, just after the last strategy meeting lets out, you step out into the corridor—and he’s already there.

He’s leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting. Not with the sharp confidence the Capitol taught him, but with something softer. Familiar. Like he’s trying to be brave again.

“Hey,” he says, straightening a little. “You free?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Right now?”

Finnick hesitates, then nods. “There’s something I want to show you.”

The corridors of District 13 are quiet this late in the evening, lit only by the sterile, humming lights overhead. You follow Finnick through a series of winding turns, deeper into the underground. He doesn’t say much, only glances back now and then to make sure you’re still there. His pace is steady, but there’s a nervousness in the way his hands twitch at his sides—like he’s unsure if this is too much, too soon.

Eventually, he leads you to a small maintenance room at the end of a lesser-used hallway. He punches in a code and the door hisses open. Inside, it’s dim and cold, just metal walls and a few crates pushed into corners. But when he gestures you forward, you realize what he’s really brought you to see.

There’s a narrow crawlspace tucked into the wall—a vent path maybe, or a space cleared for storage. Finnick slips inside first and helps you follow. At the other end is a grate that opens into a hidden view of one of the District’s water filtration reservoirs. It’s quiet. Still. And the pale reflection of the underground lights in the water gives it a silvery, moonlit sheen.

Finnick sits with his back against the wall, knees drawn up. It’s cramped, but not uncomfortable. You take your place beside him, careful not to let your shoulder brush his, even though part of you aches to.

“It’s not much,” he says, voice low, “but sometimes I come here when I can’t take all the walls.”

You nod slowly, letting your eyes trace the ripple of light on the water. “It kind of reminds me of home.”

He glances at you then. “Yeah. I was hoping you’d think that too.”

The silence between you isn’t heavy this time. It stretches out gently, like waves lapping at the shore. And then Finnick’s voice breaks through, hesitant.

“Do you remember that cove just past the harbor in Four? The one we had to swim out to?”

You turn to look at him, and there’s something soft in his expression—uncertain, almost boyish.

“I remember,” you say.

“You got stung by a jellyfish and told me I’d better marry you one day or you’d haunt me for eternity.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “Did that really happen, or did I just make it up to survive Snow’s parties?”

You smile, warmth blooming behind your ribs. “No, it happened. You cried more than I did.”

His face shifts, the tension in his jaw loosening just enough. “I was scared,” he says. “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You look at him. Really look. The tired set of his shoulders, the faint tremble in his fingers, the way his eyes hold on to you like he’s still trying to memorize this moment before it slips away.

“I never left,” you say quietly. “Even when you tried to make me.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just nods. And when he does speak, it’s barely a whisper.

“I know.”

The silence settles again, comfortable in its stillness but laced with things too fragile to name. Finnick shifts slightly beside you, drawing his knees closer to his chest like he’s trying to hold himself together. His thumb rubs over the edge of a seam in his pants—slow, rhythmic, grounding. You can almost see the thoughts moving behind his eyes, but he’s too careful, too practiced now, to let them slip freely.

“You know,” he murmurs after a beat, “sometimes I remember things that didn’t happen. Or maybe they did. It’s like… pieces of a puzzle that don’t belong to the same picture.”

You nod, quietly. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be sure right now.”

He looks at you, grateful but pained. “But I want to be. Especially with you.”

There’s something in his voice that cracks. Not loudly, not dramatically—but in the quiet way that feels like the soft crumble of stone, worn down by years of pressure. He leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes.

“I think I remember your laugh,” he says after a long moment. “Not the one they made you wear in front of cameras. The real one. From when you’d chase me down the beach because I stole your towel. You always caught me. Always.”

A laugh does escape you now—quiet, surprised. “You were terrible at hiding. You’d always leave a trail of seashells behind you.”

His eyes open. They meet yours with something like wonder, as though he wasn’t sure if that memory was his or just another echo the Capitol forced into his head. But hearing it from you makes it real.

“I needed that,” he says. “I needed to know I didn’t make it all up.”

You don’t reach for him—he still flinches sometimes, and you won’t take that from him—but your voice is steady when you speak again.

“You didn’t. We were real. You and me. Before all of this.”

He nods. Slowly. Like it takes effort to believe it, but he’s trying.

“I’m still trying to find my way back to that,” he admits. “Back to the boy who thought a handful of seashells was enough to win you over.”

“You didn’t need seashells,” you whisper. “You already had me.”

The words hang between you, fragile but steady. And for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t look away.

You can hear the faint hum of pipes in the walls, the steady trickle of the reservoir below. Finnick hasn’t moved, still sitting close, still watching you like your presence is the only thing keeping him tethered to the present moment.

Then, he shifts. Just barely. His voice is tentative, searching.

“Can I ask you something else?”

You glance over at him, nodding once.

“That game,” he says. “Real or not?”

At first, you don’t answer. Your breath catches, your mind reeling back—not to this cold, hollow bunker, but to another time entirely. The way you’d sat with your back pressed to a door in the Capitol, shivering and broken, unable to sleep, to eat, to speak. And Finnick, kneeling in front of you with a look in his eyes that said he understood too much. More than he should have.

He was the one who made you look at him. Who asked the first question. “Your favorite food is salt-crusted crab, real or not?” And you blinked at him, confused and exhausted, before whispering, real.

“It’s real,” you say softly, voice thick. “You made it up on the second night. When I couldn’t stop crying.”

Finnick exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. His shoulders relax, just slightly.

“I thought maybe I imagined that,” he murmurs. “I wanted it to be real so badly I started thinking it was.”

You reach out, just enough to let your hand rest lightly on the edge of the wall between you. Not touching him—but close. “It was real. That game saved me, Finnick. You saved me.”

He goes quiet again, but there’s something different about it now. A flicker of hope trying to find shape.

Then, barely above a whisper, he says, “Do you think… you’d want to play it again? With me. Now.”

Your heart tightens, not with fear, but with that bittersweet kind of warmth that comes with remembering who someone used to be—and seeing traces of them still alive in front of you. Still trying.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’d like that.”

He doesn’t smile, not quite. But his lips twitch, and his eyes flicker with something close to light. He nods slowly, almost like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And then he asks—quiet, careful, like the boy from District 4 who once handed you a seashell and promised the ocean would always bring him back to you:

“Real or not: you used to hum sea shanties under your breath when you thought no one was listening.”

Your eyes meet his, and for a second it’s like nothing ever changed.

“Real,” you say. “Only when I missed home.”

Finnick’s gaze softens. He leans his head back against the wall again, letting that answer settle inside him like a wave returning to shore.

“Your turn,” he murmurs.

The game continues on in the silence between you, questions lingering like whispers in the space you’ve carved out together. You take turns, each answer grounding you a little more in the reality of the present. The past is never far, but for once, it feels like something you can touch without fear.

As the minutes stretch into an hour, the world outside fades away. There are no more games, no more masks, no more Capitol pressures—just two people, sitting in the quiet glow of shared memories, leaning on the simple comfort of each other's company.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe in something real again.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #the hunger games x reader #finnick x reader

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gnawsy · 4 months ago

Note

somno with amab sevika??? like she fucks you while you sleep and feels no remorse about it during or after (fic not bot hehe)

content warnings › amab sevika. somno. unrealistic concept of cum. got a little lazy towards the end.

Fuck work. Fuck the council. Fuck her life. Fuck everything.

Tossing her cloak onto the dirty, cluttered floor; she treks deeper into the flat she shares with you. the heavy thump of her boots on the hardwood doing nothing to wake you. always having slept like the dead.

her expression softens considerably as her gaze lands upon you, the organ in her chest thumping rapidly against her ribcage with pent up emotion. you look so peaceful there. limbs sprawled out on the couch, face pressed into one of the many pillows you took from the bed into the living room. you were probably trying to stay up and wait for her, how sweet.

"you gotta be kidding me." she sneers, though it's said with fondness. prosthetic hand glides down your back, sharpened claws teasing at the satin nightgown you wore. the fabric riding up your ass, pink panties clinging to your skin. the shade a wonderful compliment to your complexion.

feeling you up, she tries to ignore the oh so sudden tightness in her pants. no. you're sleeping. quite cutely, might she add.

but..her body says otherwise.

her cock twitches impatiently in her pants, precum leaking out to stain the front if her girlshorts. the strain of the fabric does little to alleviate the raging fire in her loins. she has to do something about this, soon. like, now, soon.

you did say she was always welcome to use you whenever.....that must apply when you're sleeping, right?

"nah, she won't.." sevi huffs, climbing on top of you, knees settling on either side of your waist. pulling your panties to the side with her thumb, more than a little disappointed to not find you wet. but, again, you're sleeping. "..she won't mind."

pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, her other hand aids in shimmying herself out of her pants and underwear. head swollen and drooling with need. thick globs of pre dripping onto the apex of your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart with the utmost precision as to not wake you. she needs this, right now.

first, she starts off with just grinding herself between your cheeks. veiny cock pulsating against your supple flesh, manipulating it to her will with cold hands. her forehead dips down to rest against your shoulder, hot breaths warming the nape of your neck. the room beginning to fill with the musky scent of her arousal.

a little “mm," escapes you. but, that's all. then, you're right back asleep. the claws of slumber dragging you back into the dark depths that is your mind.

after thanking the heavens, she grabs the base of her shaft; sliding her swollen head down to tease against your entrance. slick slowly gathering to coat her tip.

her breathing stutters, forcing the lump in her throat to go down before slowly easing her way inside of you. no preparation was probably a bad idea, yes, but she can’t wait that long. and it’d probably would’ve woken you up, anyways.

“So..” huff, “..tight.”

her mouth drops open once she pushes herself all the way in— and god, does it feel amazing.

tying the back of your gown up with wobbling fingertips to ensure the pesky satin stays in place, she finally begins to move. not bothering to silence her moans as her powerful hips drag back and forth, forcing little puffs of air from your lungs and out your mouth.

it’s then when your body begins to respond, cunt clamping down around her intruding member; making it almost impossible for her to continue thrusting. she has to comfort and slowly coax your body to loosen back up for her, and boy does it piss her off! but, that’s what she gets for no prep.

once you’ve finally relaxed again, she continues. big hand forcing your face into the pillow as she fucks you into them. you don’t seem like you’re going to wake up anytime soon, so what’s really stopping her from going harder?

little moans and mewls make their way out of your mouth, brows furrowed, lips wet with spittle. your hips twitch occasionally, like you’re trying to fuck yourself on her cock. even in an unconscious state, you’re still needy as fuck.

“greedy little..” the words die on her tongue as her voice breaks down into sharp gasps, fingers curling into your scalp. if she only knew what you were dreaming about right now. she’d never let you live it down.

"suckin' me in so well. sure you're not awake down there?" her words are mean to taunt, to tease. pelvis smacking against the fat of your ass with a brutality that's sure to leave bruises, heavy balls smacking against your poor clit with each feral thrust of her hips. it's almost forcing you to cum, right then and there. and who would she be to complain? she'd love it if you made a mess on her.

it's not before long before the heat in her belly is boiling like a volcano waiting to erupt; she's about to cum. her cock pulsates inside of your constricting heat, stomach pressed flat against your back. and, suddenly, you're being filled.

thick spurts of hot semen flood your womb, her cockhead nearly breaking past the barrier of your cervix. she's almost overstimulating herself, right now. she'd been pent up, yeah; but not to the point where she'd be pumping literal bucket loads of cum into you. thank the heavens above that you're on the pill.

"t- take it all, take.. it.. all."

sevika can feel herself going lightheaded, her body absolutely drained from any energy as she slowly withdraws her softening cock from your gaping hole. scooping up her own cum and fingering it back into you carefully, bending down to kiss your cunt farewell for now before pulling you panties back up. patting them in place and curling up behind you, glad there was minimal mess on the cushions. she really didn't feel like cleaning; even if there something to clean up.

chuckling to herself, she kisses behind your ear. eyes slowly falling shut as she whispers her last words of the night to you.

"thanks for your service."

its way early in the morning when you wake up, sore in all the wrong places. you hadn't even done anything. just fell asleep on the couch trying to wait for your girlfriend to return.

"sevika." you whine, smacking her arm with the back of your hand. a frown on your lips when she doesn't wake up. "vika, baby. why is there cum in my panties, huh? care to explain to me what happened when you got back?."

said girlfriend just snickers, fingers pulling on your waist to drag you back against her chest, leaving lazy open-mouthed kisses on the bitten flesh. evidence of the night prior.

she's not going to give you a direct answer because she knows you know what happened last night. so, what's she going to do? oh she's going to play innocent until you make her break.

"i think you can figure that out by yourself."

this was my very first fic rq, sorry it came out so late 💔

#sevika #sevika smut #arcane smut #arcane league of legends #wlw #wlw smut #𐂯 fics.#𐂯 asks.

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heegyukeluv · 8 months ago

Text

If love was a battlefield…

pairing: heeseung x afab reader x jake

synopsis: If love was a battlefield, could there be more than one winner? In which Heeseung and Jake work in the same company as you, both of them sharing the same position and the same feelings: their huge crush on you.

my's note: i had so much fun working on this plot honestlyyyy and it was a bit of a challenge (in a good way!!!) since i had to learn a bunch of terms in english to write it and also my first love triangle 🤭🤭 THANK YOU SO MUCH ANONIE FOR THE REQUEST!!! also wanna thank mika for helping me brainstorming! a few scenes from here came from our talks 💘🤭

warnings: office workers heejake, y/n is in a higher position than them (manager), miscommunication to some extent, love triangle (but she does chooses! [spoiler alert] maybe both? hehe), hee and jake doesn’t get along too much at first (ps: they DON’T hate each other) but they come around!, quick mention of hee having a tattoo, there’s fluff, reader blushing/turning red! and SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex 💪🏻, unprotected sex (please, don't!!!), oral sex (f. receiving), quick handjob, sex in the office, the smut is jake x reader and heeseung x reader, there's no threesome!, jake has praise kink, hee is lowkey into degradation (receiving). LMK if missed anything!!!

request: an office or work space love triangle of heeseung x reader/oc x jake (you can pick which one the reader leans more towards or not✨or both✨) either way!!! (request here!)

wc: 24k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers

Of course the printer would select that very specific day to malfunction, jamming the paper with its irritating noise that signaled another reset was needed, despite all your attempts to fix the problem.

A wave of frustration washed through your body as you stepped back, taking a deep breath and fluttering your eyes shut in order to find any inner peace that might help you go through a simple routine task.

It wasn't just the clients pushing your buttons with their impossible deadlines, the entire work environment seemed to be against you, targeting you with its devilish plans. Everything that could go wrong, did.

You had little to no hope of getting better until your head rested on your pillow later that day. Unfortunately, there was still a whole six hours waiting for your irreplaceable presence. Being a manager had its perks, nonetheless, the down sides haunted you even in your dreams.

“Tough day?”

You startled at the sudden voice beside you, opening your eyes just to catch Jake sending you a curious glance, layered with a hint of comprehension. A ghost of a smile adorned his plump lips, his demeanor showed helpfulness, ready to assist. As usual.

“Some clients make the worst decisions and I’m the one cleaning their mess.” You began, exhaustion lacing your voice. “And some printers just hate me.” And then you shoot Jake an unamused smile.

Jake chuckled, his eyes turning into small crescents as he did so.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing towards the printer. You nodded, stepping aside to give him space to work. He began with the basics, checking for any simple errors. “It’s not running out of paper,” he pointed out quietly.

“Yeah…” You sighed and rested your body on the wall nearby. You had gone through everything Jake was doing.

“It doesn’t seem to be here. The problem.” He remarked, slightly confused.

You took a moment to observe how Jake’s concentrated frown deepened while he typed something on the computer, searching for the cause of the error. He nonchalantly played with his lips, wetting and biting them as he focused, his sharp eyes glued to the screen, slender fingers dancing across the keyboard.

You never paid close attention to how attractive Jake looked, especially while working – his light blue dress shirt and mandatory tie enhanced his pronounced features, complemented by his everyday black specs.

Of course you thought Jake was handsome, any person in their right sense would. And his beauty was accompanied with his remarkable personality. He had a genuine, warm, prestative soul, ready to lend a hand whenever people needed him, and it was clear there was no expectation to receive anything in return as he did so.

Jake had unmatched intelligence and quick senses to discover easily what went wrong, and even his clumsiness, constantly dropping his pile of papers or having his glasses misplaced on the top of his nose’s bridge had its charm.

You never considered the possibility of Jake’s charming side. Nonetheless, there you were, unprofessionally checking out your colleague while hoping for a miracle.

“There you go!” Jake’s cheerful voice brought you back to reality, your heart racing in surprise.

“Did you fix it?” You questioned with a hopeful tone.

“Let’s see.” Jake replied and then pressed a few buttons.

To your surprise, the printer emitted its usual sound instead of the annoying one, smoothly pulling the paper and delivering it back, fully printed with your work’s documents.

“Jake! What the hell!” You exclaimed, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment, a bright and genuine smile started to creep on the corner of your mouth as you looked back and forth between Jake and the printer. “What did you do?” You asked under your breath, still astonished with Jake’s quick and excellent skills. It felt like you could finally breathe again.

And it was just a malfunctioning printer.

“I just–”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You waved it off, too relieved to finally continue with your very busy day – the few minutes the printer had stolen from you would certainly be missed. “Thank you so much.” You flashed him a sincere smile.

“It was nothing, really.” He chuckled at your overreaction, in no position to admit out loud he was loving to be the cause of your sudden euphoria. Deep down he was fighting the urge to blush, fluster before you.

“How can I properly thank you for saving my day?” You joked with a grin, thrilled with the small victory as you took your papers in hand.

Your demeanor had lightened, and you couldn't quite tell if it was due to the relief of the printer working again or Jake's presence beside you. Either way, you felt a pleasant warmth spreading in your chest.

However, to receive Jake’s silence, widened eyes and cheeks with a faint blush as a response caught you off guard, along with his sudden nervousness as he fidgeted with his fingers, as though he prepared himself during his whole life for that exact moment.

“So, uh…” He began, voice shaky, fingers trailing its way towards his nape to scratch it while his eyes avoided yours.

“Yeah?” You prompted, curiously waiting for his words.

“I've been waiting to tell you something. I–I know we have a policy about it, and you're the last person I’d expect to break it, but–”

“Oh, hey Y/N!”

You turned to see another colleague of yours approaching with his characteristic bright, enchanting smile, carrying a cup of coffee in his hand, a sharp gaze never leaving yours as he confidently brought his strong aura closer to you both.

“Hi, Heeseung.” You greeted with a smile, oblivious to the subtle change in the atmosphere between them.

“Jake.”

“Heeseung.” Jake’s voice was dry when he replied and a thick silence lingered for a moment before Heeseung flashed you an adorable smile and walked away without any other words.

You barely noticed Jake's clenched jaw and fists, or how he seemed ready to throw punches right in front of you if Heeseung didn’t return to his desk quickly.

“So you were saying..?” You asked, innocently drawing your attention back to Jake’s and consequently bringing his own towards you; his puppy eyes softened when they landed on your pretty features.

Jake’s heart immediately faltered a ton of beats as if he was about to collapse; having you looking at him so attentively was making his circuits crash, sending his brain into overdrive.

All the courage he reunited to confess to you vanished in a snap.

“It was nothing, don't worry about it!” He forced his best cheerful smile. “You seem to have a lot to do! Fighting, Y/N!”

You giggled at his choice of terms, tapping on his shoulder slightly before you started to head your way back to your office room.

“Thank you again, Jake.”

You offered him another smile, filled with genuine gratitude since he truly helped your day not to fall in shambles. And apparently, not only by helping your beef with the printer.

On the other hand, Jake’s day just started to collapse.

He headed back to his desk in the space he shared with a few co-workers and Lee Heeseung, one of the best employees the company had ever had since they started. The problem solving efficiency increased enormously during his time working there, and Jake had a not-so-soft spot for him in his heart. Jake viewed Heeseung as one of his greatest rivals. Not exactly in a mean way, but as a manner to motivate his improvement and outsmart himself each day, ensuring that his presence was felt just as strongly as Heeseung’s.

In Jake’s eyes, Heeseung had an annoying vibe, overconfident with his work and himself, although he knew Heeseung wasn’t an asshole at all. Deep down, Jake harbored a certain envy of how easily Heeseung seemed to connect with people; his charisma shone within every word, his confidence made others feel secure – and, depending on the context, a bit shy.

On that day, nevertheless, a nagging doubt about his co-worker motives during their earlier interaction was swelling in his chest. If he stayed quiet, not confronting Heeseung about it, he wouldn’t be able to focus on doing his job adequately.

“Ok, so what was that about?” Jake finally asked with a mild peeved voice.

“What was what ab–”

“Don't.” Jake's fierce eyes shot Heeseung a warning while tilting his head. “Don't mess around. Just spill it out.”

Heeseung quirked an eyebrow in amusement after seeing the so said calm guy acting a bit off.

“I was saving your ass.” Heeseung replied, a casual grin on his face as if he had just shared the most mundane, obvious fact.

Jake rolled his eyes, sighing and definitely not buying the nonchalance while turning his rolling chair towards Heeseung.

“And how exactly my ass needs to be saved, Heeseung?” he pressed, his voice low and serious with an elbow propped on the edge of his table.

“You seemed to be in trouble.” Heeseung shot back immediately, shrugging, avoiding Jake’s intense gaze.

Heeseung wasn't too open about his reasons because, honestly, he was still unsure of what had compelled him to interfere in the conversation, since you seemed to be beaming with happiness and Jake was just his normal, awkward self talking to you.

Something itched at the back of his confused thoughts, so he had to take action.

“I wasn’t.” Jake murmured, his jaw clenched as he turned back to his computer, fingers furiously typing on his keyboard. “Next time, ask beforehand if I really need your savior's help.” He said mockingly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was just about to confess and you totally screwed up my chances.”

Heeseung blinked a few times, immediately freezing in his seat, utterly flabbergasted. He had a faint, minor suspicion hinting that Jake was onto something he couldn't quite grasp. But this? This was the last thing he expected at all.

Heeseung had to bite back his own sharp and far from nice words in order to maintain a good relationship with Jake – and, consequently, with you.

“I mean, we have policies and rules...” Heeseung managed to say in return, ignoring the bittersweet taste on his tongue going all the way down his throat to sit uncomfortably in his chest, swallowing it whole in a suffocating way.

“I know about them.” Jake smirked, leaning on his chair with a cocky, relaxed demeanor as he side eyed Heeseung. “And I found a loophole in it.”

Now Heeseung's curiosity was piqued, heart racing fast as he leaned closer. “Oh, really? And how's that?”

Jake chuckled, shooting Heeseung a skeptical look. "No way I'm telling you, man."

Panic filled Heeseung’s vein, a cold feeling spreading within his chest as the realization hit. He could lose the chance of his lifetime; it felt like you were already fading away from his touch without even giving him the chance to make a move. The new information that Jake and he shared a common interest in you and Jake seeming to have an advantage on his game triggered his worst side.

For the purpose of keeping on the war’s lead – the war that just got instaurated by his fantasy –, he decided to play dirty.

“If you don't, I'm gonna snitch on you.”

Now it was time for Jake to paralyze in his tracks, just to let out a soft laugh before saying. “You would not…” Jake squinted his eyes in disbelief.

After reading Heeseung’s expression, Jake realized he wasn’t bluffing. The slight raise of Heeseung's eyebrows, coupled with a hint of challenge and his annoying grin demonstrated it clearly.

“Try me,” Heeseung struggled a bit to maintain his confident facade, the slight tremor in his voice betrayed the underlying tension.

But Heeseung had an advantage that outshone Jake's, one that could potentially lead Jake to be in a very unfortunate position, and if that meant Heeseung getting his chances with you, he would do anything to keep the fight.

Jake leaned back further, the playful smirk fading as he studied Heeseung with a calculating gaze.

“Seriously, you’d snitch over this?” Jake muttered in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t entirely convinced Heeseung would go that far, but his colleague's persistence was throwing him off. And for what? To steal his chances with you just for fun? Unless…

“If it gives me a fair shot, yeah.” Heeseung’s grin widened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He was pretty chill about it, after all, you always seemed unattainable to anyone around you. With an unmatched beauty, an assertive mindset, and a captivating yet humorous personality – when necessary –, not to mention how understanding you were.

Everyone's dream.

And until that day that’s how Heeseung had you, only in dreams. But now reality had knocked on his door, and it knocked close. He knew there was competition, a strong one. And much to Jake's misfortune, Heeseung was highly competitive.

There was a brief pause for quite long, painful seconds. Jake’s frown deepened as he finally understood Heeseung’s motives, clarification hitting instantly. They were on the same page.

Although it sent his brain into malfunction, especially because he feared Heeseung’s would be winning – just like he always did, the fucking annoying ace of the company –, Jake kept on the confident behavior, not showing his hesitation right in front of his, now unspokenbly declared, enemy.

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “You really think you stand a chance?”

Heeseung’s expression faltered for just a second, but he quickly masked it.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “But I won’t let you get ahead without a fight. A proper one.”

A heavy silence settled between them again, Jake processing Heeseung’s words, the tension palpable as both of them knew they were walking on dangerous ground. It was the company field with you being the final prize.

And right at that point, neither of them cared that much about their reputation within the workers if it led to having you at the end of the day.

“Alright then, let’s see who wins this.” Jake’s voice filled the dead air.

Heeseung blinked, momentarily taken aback by Jake’s sudden shift in tone, overconfident with his decision. However, he nodded and shook Jake’s hand in a wordless deal.

“Let's see who wins this.”

A gentle knock on the door interrupted your focus as you organized your table for the day, still standing up.

It was common sense within your employees that if you didn't answer right away, they were not supposed to open it until you reached out yourself. However, the chaotic pile of papers that had overtaken your workspace had momentarily distracted you, and you were taking your sweet time organizing it all.

Just as you were about to call out, the door creaked open cautiously, and a familiar pair of eyes peeked inside.

“Hey.” Heeseung greeted you with a tender smile. “Mind if I come in?”

Without fully drifting your gaze away from the documents on your table, frowning as you found yet another mistakenly placed in between your sheets, you gave a brief nod.

“Sure.”

As Heeseung approached, a bit hesitant, you didn’t give him time to say a word as you shove the paper on his face. “That’s definitely not mine.”

Your deadpan expression was enough to make anyone sweat, and you knew it well – sometimes using it to your benefit purely for fun, especially with someone like Heeseung, who was susceptible to falling for it easily.

Heeseung momentarily blinked, stunned, before tilting his head to the side, uncertain. “I’m… Sorry..?”

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped, enjoying his reaction far too much; his confused, scared bambi eyes widening with the fear of a reprimand. You shook your head, biting back your smile while lifting one eyebrow.

“Relax. It’s not your fault.”

You saw Heeseung’s shoulders loosening visibly, and he released a long breath he didn’t notice he was holding, relief washing over his body.

Behind his easygoing, self-reliant and confident persona, there was a huge layer of self-doubt blended with the concern of letting the company down – letting you down. He carried the weight of wanting to be perfect at his job, especially for you. He was proud to admit he barely made any mistakes during his years working there, let alone to incorrectly put important papers in wrong places.

“So, what brings you here?” You finally gave Heeseung your full attention, leaning one hip against the desk, watching him with curious eyes.

Heeseung cleared his throat before setting down a steaming cup on the wooden surface. “Thought you could use this.” He offered with an awkward grin. “A coffee for my favorite manager.”

You quirked an eyebrow, suspicious over his sudden decision. Of course you were aware of Heeseung’s kindness towards you, always trying to ease your overall work under his possibilities with his teasing blended with his gentlemanliness. However, something felt strangely off, different, weird even, and you struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was.

Maybe it was the way his two orbs seemed to drown you in a pool of affection and attention, almost expecting something in return.

“Oh, yeah?” You picked the coffee nonetheless, taking a sip and almost closing your eyes as the sweetness of it melted in your palatar. “And what’s the catch?” You smirked as you propped your free hand on the table, supporting your weight in it, eyes never leaving Heeseung’s sudden flustered self.

“No catch!” He urged to say, raising both hands in defense, bambi eyes widened more as if he just got caught in a compromising situation. You tilted your head, not buying it. “I swear,” he chuckled awkwardly, feeling small under your intense staring. “I just thought it could be a good idea. You’re fighting against demons with this desk today.” He pointed out to the said space and you actually laughed out loud at his words, painfully agreeing with them because it was your reality that day.

You studied Heeseung for a moment longer, trying to read his underlying true intentions. In doing so, you couldn’t help but observe his charming features.

His impeccably styled hair revealing a small portion of his forehead, enough to showcase his adorable mole, became a signature aspect of his daily appearance. His clothes were always neat, seamlessly placed and yet stylish. His lips seemed to be constantly nibbled or maybe he had some chapstick on, because it had the color of cherries, giving it an inviting glimmering aspect.

He exuded a natural flirty aura that effortlessly drew people in, especially those he had a genuine interest in – you heard some of his stories before, when you weren’t in your current position. For some inexplicable reason, you found yourself wondering briefly what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his playful and certainly captivating advances.

“Thanks, Heeseung. I appreciate it." Your voice softened, and you gestured to the chaotic desk. "But next time, maybe help me with this instead of just getting me coffee."

Heeseung laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Noted.” Then he shifted on his feet, clearly trying to maintain his cool, but the slight fidget in his hand suggested something else. “Just wanted to make sure you’re taken care of. You know? You’re the head of our department.” He nodded to himself, letting his genuine, but appealing words come out of his mouth spontaneously.

“Thank you again.” You smiled, feeling his gratitude, still not really accepting it as a normal behavior.

You kept on watching him nervously acting out in front of you, so obviously apprehensive, however, fighting the pressure of dropping down his mask. You almost laughed at it, endeared by how entertained it was to be on the viewer’s side.

“But really. You’re doing fine. And we all need you to keep on being fi– Doing! Doing fine.” Heeseung fumbled in between his speech, stuttering because he wasn’t expecting you to go full silent-mode out of nowhere, leaving him with his messy, and in love, brain, enough to make him act awkward.

You let out a small chuckle, the way Heeseung was being so out of his normal was so funny to your eyes, never in your life you thought of seeing him in such a manner.

Then you stood up only to gently guide Heeseung towards the door, grabbing the handle to signal it was time for him to leave your office. Somehow you had a feeling that if you let him, Heeseung would keep on talking and complimenting you for hours.

“Ok, now you're just flattering me for no reason. Go back to your work.” You softly pushed his back, still smiling.

“You know me too well,” he smirked and then threw you a cute wink before walking away, now apparently back to his regular demeanor, leaving you alone in the midst of your chaos – both in the room and in your mind.

Before you closed the door, the phantom of your smile lingering on your lips still, you heard someone calling your name.

“Oh, Y/N! I was looking for you.”

Jake met Heeseung in the middle of the hallway. His subtle, yet triumphant smile radiated a confidence that triggered Jake’s desperation, so he had to come up with a quick plan to gain some extra points with you and, maybe, with luck, surpass Heeseung.

Your eyes tracked Jake’s motions as he approached you, looking flustered with papers messily stacked in his grasp, his glasses unevenly on his face as though he had been in a race against time. He had a small pout decorating his plump lips, and his hair was a mess as well, strands poking out everywhere. Even so, he looked cute.

Cute?

“What's all that?” You nodded to his papers, sipping on your hot coffee.

Then you locked your gaze with his. Jake gave you a soft smile, as though he saw a cute puppy and you tilted your head with curiosity, waiting for his response.

“Uh.. I went over our latest reports,” he started as he clumsily handed you one of the documents, your fingers subtly brushing against the other’s in the process – while you barely noticed it, Jake winced, a jolt of ecstasy rushing over his body by your simple touch. “And there were a bunch of errors. I corrected them…”

You slowly blinked, eyebrows furrowing, utterly surprised by Jake's decision of reviewing the reports, and not enough, giving it the proper adjustment as you meticulously re-read the paragraph he pointed out.

“I'm sorry.” He said quietly after your silence. “You seem to have a lot to do and I know you'll have to revise it all again.”

“Jake.” You called out, a serious, focused expression still settled on your face. Jake straightened his posture, ready for the reprimand he was sure you would give him, already thinking about the hours he would spend overthinking it. However, you were far from being mad, so you softened your eyes after finishing reading, smiling and looking back at him. “Come in.”

Jake had dumbfounded eyes shooting your back when you turned on your heels after inviting him to your office, his foot glued on the ground unabling his movements. Nonetheless, the feeling of a small victory tasted addicting, and now he yearned for more.

Just before fully stepping into your workspace after calming down his racing excited heart, he glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Heeseung giving him a death stare.

Jake simply smiled coyly, as if he had won the round of a game he never intended to lose, although his adversary offered a strong amount of threatening.

Heeseung darkened eyes watched Jake’s fading away after closing the door, poking his inner cheek with his tongue with his breath hitching. Right when he found the perfect opportunity to prove he would be a great boyfriend by looking out for you, Jake stepped in, robbing him of the chance to be the only one in your thoughts.

Inside the room, you now sat on your chair while Jake kept on standing after putting the pile of papers on your desk. He was trying to suppress the adrenaline bubbling inside his heart, the thump-thump almost dizzying echoing inside his head, and the fact that your office was permeated with your scent did nothing to help to decrease the intoxicating, entrancing feeling.

“Sit down, don’t be awkward.” You said nonchalantly, yet comforting, pointing to the chair in front of your desk without necessarily looking away from the words you were reading rigorously.

“Sorry.” He chuckled nervously, quickly sitting down as his fingers twitched on his lap, fidgeting out of tension.

The lack of acknowledgment about what your reaction would be was aching in his every pore; biting the sensitive flesh of his lips wasn’t enough anymore, so he glanced up at you, stealing a rapid moment to admire the way you were scanning the reports. Your mild concentrated frown and how your hair cascaded down your face almost made him melt on spot.

The silence wasn’t comfortable at all, not hostile either – even so he was afraid of getting scolded.

“So, what made you decide to do this?” You finally spoke, your words aiming for one simple answer, nevertheless, your tender and still steady tone made Jake shift on his seat, breath getting caught on his throat.

“I just thought I could help you,” he answered, a bit quieter than his regular self. “I–I know you have a lot to do lately, and I always revise our main reports.” He explained, not watching you anymore because you lifted your eyes to give him your full attention; your gaze weightening on him. “And I noticed those errors. Didn’t think it would hurt to re-make those parts based on your pattern of writing.”

You nodded softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Jake was adorable with his cheeks painted in slight blush, fixing his glasses on his nose’s bridge, running away from your staring, unable to sustain eye contact. He was being his normal self, however, just like with Heeseung, something felt off.

“That’s really considerate.” You said, tilting your head slightly to the side as you added. “I really appreciate your effort, Jake. But I’d like to be aware of the changes before you make them. Okay?”

Jake eagerly agreed, nodding at your soothing words. He was relieved to hear them instead of harsher ones, even though there was no bigger reason to fear, after all, your reputation for handling things with grace and kindness mingled with your astute assertiveness was well-known.

You had a way of giving feedback that felt constructive, always leading with gratitude before addressing something more incisive, and your scoldings were far from being sharp like a retaliation and more striving for lightening the load for everyone involved, without leaving room for big mistakes.

But at that moment Jake held a very intimate, personal secret, and your sharp eyes seemed to read his every thought, so he expected the worst.

“So, what exactly did you change in the report?” you asked, leaning slightly forward in your chair, genuine curiosity lighting up your eyes.

Jake swallowed, feeling a familiar nervousness creep up, though it was softened by the warmth of your kind eyes. He smiled and tried to quietly shake off the warmth spreading on his cheeks before explaining every line he had modified and the reasoning behind it, his typical clever outstanding trait showing off within every word that flew from his mouth, walking confidently on the ground he built himself in.

As you nodded along, due to the small proximity, you also silently struggled to maintain your focus on what Jake was verbalizing instead of his refreshing perfume and his gorgeous, slender fingers, to which traced the paper as he kept on talking. Not to mention the motion of his lips, how his tongue would wet the flesh of it every once and awhile.

“You did a good job, Jake.” You said at the end of his analysis, lifting your eyes to meet his. A subtle smile adorned your mouth, and Jake felt a surge of pride bloom in his chest.

He could shamelessly admit – not to you, though – he was devoted to hearing your every praise. There was no aim to his work other than receive your compliments about him doing good. Being good for you was enough to pay his bills, he would even dare to say.

And of course that had nothing to do with his praise kink, buried in the depths of his mind.

“Thank you.” Jake mumbled shyly, feeling the heat lingering on his cheeks, a light ton of red tinting them. “I really like being noted by you.” As soon as his words blurted out of his mouth, he rushed to backtrack himself with widened eyes. “I mean– I appreciate being recognized for my hard work. By any superior, of course.”

You leaned back on your chair, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow, studying Jake’s demeanor shamelessly – his nervous stuttering, his choice of words, his sudden overwork. Going through documents already approved for submission was nothing but a hellish task, nevertheless Jake seemed to be willing to give you that break without you asking for it.

Something odd was happening. It was way out of your regular routine, flooded with awkward situations and words that you weren’t sure you were supposed to overhear. And coming from two different people.

Another knock on your door interrupted your session of trying to read Jake’s hidden intentions, just like you did before with Heeseung. And as if your thought had summoned the said man, he appeared at the entrance after you allowed him to enter.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Heeseung asked innocently, his eyes darting briefly from you to Jake, acknowledging his presence – the thought of you and Jake being alone in a room weighed in his chest since the moment he saw his colleague entering your office, and increased with every heartbeat.

Heeseung couldn’t bear the idea of Jake claiming a larger area of their shared battlefield, and his only remaining option was to figure out methods to interfere in Jake’s progress.

Jake didn’t buy Heeseung’s feigned naivety, narrowing his eyes in disbelief without making it noticeable to you. It was a subtle exchange, a fleeting glance that only Heeseung was able to catch as he swallowed hard to suppress the pressing need to spill the truth beneath their actions.

“Seems like my office is the party room today,” you joked lightly, shaking your head. “You didn’t. I just finished with Jake.”

Unaware of the silent tension unfolding between the two men, you draw your attention back to your laptop, quickly logging into your work apps as if the world wasn’t burning with unspoken feelings right before you. Yet, the awkward silence persisted, prompting you to glance up at Heeseung again, who seemed to be deep in thought.

He faltered for a second before realizing he was the one in the spotlight, snapping out of torturing thoughts, rapidly regaining his composure.

“I, uh… I just wanted to remind you that your meeting is in less than an hour,” Heeseung’s voice was steady, but the quickening beat of his heart betrayed his nerves, especially with his brand new makeshift excuse. “I was wondering if you want me to set the room for it. I’m quite chilling with my work today.”

“I can help!” Jake was quick to interject, almost lifting his hand as if he was a middle schooler, looking at you with gleaming orbs filled with expectation.

Your inquisitive eyes flickered between Jake and Heeseung, your serious facade sharpening as you sensed the shift in the air. It made them both shiver in place, sharing a secret wordless connection.

It was almost undeniable that the whole situation was affecting you in an unknown way.

You were aware of your position and fought hard for it – being assertive and resolving conflicts was your greatest work quality. Separating work from personal matters was also a point you vigorously defended and explained to many of your colleagues, especially since being the target of their flirtations was on your list as well.

Despite your efforts to maintain those things rewinding on your mind as a reminder, the way both Heeseung and Jake were acting sounded more than just strange to you – it was intriguing.

You felt an almost unbearable desire to investigate further what was the motive behind their sudden offers for help and the respective compliments that came with it.

At the same time, you wondered if there were layers of the situation you weren’t quite seeing correctly, having just one piece of the ongoing puzzle so far. So you decided to let it be for now.

“What about you both help each other?” You offered a solution while smiling, indirectly using it as a method to gather more explicit information. “I’m sure you can work well together, right?” You tilted your head with a challenging voice, to which didn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Sure.” Heeseung smiled in agreement, and you straightaway noticed he was masking his real reaction.

“Sounds amazing,” Jake, on the other hand, was obvious with his discontent, sounding explicitly unhappy and sarcastic.

Either way, you opted to ignore it and move on with your work as soon as they left your office. It was just the morning and you had a lot to catch up with.

And besides your efforts, you failed to catch the palpable tension between Heeseung and Jake.

Your following days seemed ordinary enough, until Jake or Heeseung – eventually, both – crossed your path.

They shared a constant odd behavior around you, whether proposing countless solutions to existent and mostly nonexistent problems, demonstrating an exaggerated level of proactivity, or complimenting your appearance, emphasizing details that surely hadn’t changed overnight – like the time when Heeseung asked if you had trimmed the ends of your hair, as if he was trying to impress you with his incredible observation skills.

At times, you were astonished by their creative ability to come up with lame excuses just to approach you, many of which were completely inconvenient and more of a distraction than a help.

You couldn’t help but wonder what triggered this new shift in their attitudes. What has switched inside their brains to overwork themselves just to make their presence noticeable?

Even your superior questioned about the employees' demeanors under your management, overdoing tasks and spending more time in the company than normal. You struggled to wash it off, because you also had no proper answer to that question.

Besides the chaos they implemented within their constant battle for something you quite couldn’t pinpoint precisely, it was somewhat adorable their attempts to get your attention. Also, you wouldn’t deny that the small perks they provided – like free coffee and lunch nearly every day – were more than welcome, allowing you to buy new decorations to your house, for instance.

Your first theory was that both Heeseung and Jake were working together to get a raise. But you quickly discharged it when you realized they were fighting against each other, not for each other. So for now, your main theory was they were still trying to win a raise, flattering you personally as a way to get it as if you held the key for their promotion as their manager.

Although excessive, they always respected your personal boundaries, giving your space when you demanded it. They quickly understood your disapproving looks whenever they crossed the professional line as well, avoiding furthermore conflicting situations in the workspace.

However, even with their sweet personalities and kind, heartfelt gestures, the constant tension, battelish vibe they carried alongside each other was getting on your nerves to some extent. Especially because you were growing attached to some of their behaviors and constant presence.

While Jake would quietly offer assistance with your workload, subtly proving his reliability and cleverness to found solutions with ease, following you around like a lost puppy, Heeseung would choose a different approach, very likely to his personality, showering you with compliments and attempting to charm you with smaller favors, focusing more on your overall health and in making you a bit flustered.

You got caught in a dilemma.

Jake and Heeseung began to build a soft spot in your heart, making it hard to ignore your pulse quickening in certain moments, like when Heeseung bought you some snacks because you skipped your lunch hour, showing his concern within a flatter – “A beautiful woman like you can’t go too longer without some proper food”. Or how Jake’s eyes brightened while you explained a new easy method to do spreadsheets, giving you his full attention, hyping you and adding to your idea – “You’re brilliant! And if we add this other option as well… Wow. How do you manage to be amazing like this?”

How Heeseung would rush over the entire floor just because you requested, jokingly, a coffee, even with him being loaded with work – “Can’t never let my favorite manager down, yeah?”. Or when Jake's fierce senses quickly noticed your struggle with a presentation and leaned over to offer you support and an alternative suggestion – “You’re doing great, Y/N. If you don’t feel like it, you can try explaining the third part, the one we talked about before.”

And the bolder, touchy ones; when Heeseung wiped the corner of your mouth because it was stained with sauce, when Jake fixed a strand of your hair that was misplaced, when Heeseung’s arms involved your shoulders in a subtle, comforting hug after a meeting with an inconvenient client, when Jake scooched closer while sitting next to you during a workshop-lecture, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispered something about the topic.

Other than all of that, you came to notice how Heeseung’s eyes radiated with a brighter glow and how his lips curved into a gentle, gorgeous smile every time you were speaking, as if he was daydreaming. And also how often Jake would turn into a fumbling mess, blushing and biting back a grin every time you complimented him, and eventually just the fleet meeting of your eyes became enough to send him into that flustered and adorable demeanor, your heart faltering some beats with the sight.

You were feeling over appreciated, and it was concerning, mainly because you were enjoying it.

Your eyes started to drift briefly, but frequently to their lips when they were the ones talking instead of listening to their words. A knot on your stomach would form as you anticipated their presence in your office every day, sometimes even placing internal bets on who would be the first to knock on your door. And there were times where you found yourself nervously adjusting your hair or smoothing out your clothes before they walked in, hoping they would notice.

You expected your workflow to feel enjoyable not because you liked your job, but because at the end of the day, Heeseung and Jake’s frequent proximity would ignite a brand new nuance of sentiments inside your chest towards them – an excitement, the usual anticipation, some eagerness.

Nonetheless, despite their courteous behavior and the subtle change in the air whenever they were near, there was something tingling, lingering in the back of your mind.

It became increasingly obvious with every interaction that Jake and Heeseung shared an unspoken rivalry, and if you had to guess, you were the prize they were competing for – the idea itself was enough to send shivers down your spine, especially since it left you facing an impossible choice, one you couldn't imagine yourself ever having to make.

Whenever Jake came into your office to discuss work, Heeseung would conveniently show up moments later, knocking on your door with an offer of assistance.

If Heeseung sat with you during lunch, Jake would immediately find a seat at the same table, causing the air to grow thick with tension.

They were constantly interrupting any moment that had the potential to evolve into something deeper, leaving you frustrated, as if you were only getting fleeting glimpses of who they truly were when the other wasn’t around.

To think like that – hoping that your interactions with them would develop into something more – wasn’t professional. It didn’t fit right to fantasize about the possibilities beyond a simple work dynamic, no matter how much the tension made you feel otherwise.

You were a manager, their manager. With a lot of responsibilities; Heeseung and Jake being one of them. Still you were already far intrigued and involved with your feelings in this triangle, and to just forget it and act like nothing was happening slowly became an impossible mission.

“This isn’t right.” You murmured, frowning at the vending machine that decided not to give you your snacks. Your phrase, however, wasn't only about it. “Come on…” You rolled your eyes, impatience swelling in you.

“Sometimes you just have to punch it.”

You almost jumped in shock with the sudden presence of your fellow manager and friend, Sunghoon, carrying his usual cup of steaming coffee, wearing his typical full suit and showing you an adorable smile.

You chuckled at his solution, “I don’t feel like punching a vending machine today.”

“You look angry, though.” He quirked an eyebrow at you, casually sipping on his coffee. “It could help.”

You wetted your lips before answering. “Yeah, kinda,” you shrugged. “But I don’t think punching a vending machine would help my angryness at all.” You shot back with a cynical smile.

Sunghoon laughed with you before approaching the machine and analyzing it. “Let me help you then.”

He did two or three taps on the side of it and within seconds it threw out the snacks you had selected before. You glanced in disbelief at him, mouth agape as you tilted your head and grabbed your food.

“What are you? A charmer of vending machines?” You asked with amused eyes, smiling bright before ripping open the cookie package, eating one and offering it to your friend.

“Definitely not,” Sunghoon also curved his lips into a grin, taking one of the cookies and then leaning closer while fauxing a flirty gaze. “But I would love to charm you into a project of mine.” His eyes were glazed on yours, taking in how bright they shone as the excitement bubbled inside your chest when you heard his proposition. “Not all of you, because I know you already have a lot to do.” He added, offering comfort and understandment. “But I think your method could help my supervisors and their respectives team leaders to do a better job.”

“And by my method you say my incredible way of dealing with people or just the new thing I developed with my incredible, amazing, wonderful supervisors?” You wiggled your eyebrows, teasingly, with a mischievous smile and nudging his shoulder playfully.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and put on a smirk on his lips as he straightened his posture. “Whatever.” He chuckled. “Send me a text if you’re down for our date,” he said, his tone teasing as he lifted his cup of coffee and an eyebrow, starting to slowly walk backwards toward the elevator.

You widened your eyes, glancing around to see if anyone overheard your conversation, embarrassment washing over you and going straight to your cheeks, especially after the last remark.

You slapped Sunghoon’s chest as you contained a laugh, giving a last feigned disapproving look while shaking your head in disbelief. A quiet snort came out of your throat before you made your way back to your office.

Your relationship with Sunghoon was anything but new. You both entered the company at the same month, and you practically leveled up together – on your last promotion, you became a manager just days before him.

So far, you had shared a solid friendship that extended beyond the office, even if your growing responsibilities had limited the hangouts you used to enjoy between spreadsheets and meetings. Those carefree moments had become rare as the workload piled up, so the opportunity to work together with Sunghoon thrilled you.

Just the thought of the brainstorming sessions filled with laughter and playful jokes, a perfect blend of professionalism and friendship, sparked your excitement at most.

Many assumed that your relationship was more than a simple friendship, and Sunghoon's shameless flirting while using working terms didn't help at all. In fact, he had a boyfriend, and the reason you two constantly flirted was purely for fun and to stir up others' curiosity and laugh about it afterwards.

On the other side of the floor, meticulously dodging from your sharpened gaze, Heeseung watched the bold interaction between you and Sunghoon unfolding. He had narrowed eyes and head slightly tilted as he tried to eavesdrop on your conversation. He got himself wondering why were you laughing and smiling so much, with an excessive amount of unnecessary touches and flirty eyes.

“We should unite forces.”

Heeseung nearly jumped or had a heart attack – or both – as Jake appeared out of nowhere beside him, whispering closely in his ear. He looked like a deer that had just been caught doing something wrong, with widened eyes and lips parted.

“Fuck off, Jake.” Heeseung dramatically placed a hand on his chest, as though to calm down his racing pulse, eliciting a genuine chuckle from Jake in response. “And what do you mean by that, huh?” Heeseung frowned, eyes flicking between Jake and you as you walked away.

“I don’t know.” Jake sighed deeply, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks while watching you disappear behind your office door, his head angling to the side to keep track of your movements until you were out of sight.

“So you have an idea, but not a plan?” Heeseung asked while side eyeing Jake, who was now biting his lip, clearly trying to swallow down the bittersweet taste on his tongue.

And Heeseung wasn’t too different; when he heard people saying jealousy is a disease, he didn't think it would make his heart shrink and ache that much.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Jake nodded with a pout, starting to walk towards his desk, with Heeseung trailing behind him. “I just don’t think Sunghoon is a good match, y’know?” He remarked, trying to sound casual about it, but his words felt like a bullet going straight to Heeseung’s gut, curving its way back to hit Jake’s chest.

“Yeah,” Heeseung agreed, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “He lacks a lot of things.” He added with a dry, nearly mean tone.

“Not in looks though.” Jake pinpointed, earning another judgmental side eye from Heeseung. “What? He’s good looking.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug. “I have eyes. I can notice when a guy looks good.”

“Whatever you say, nerd,” Heeseung voiced with an unfazed chuckle.

Jake rolled his eyes in annoyance, and even with them glued on the screen in front of him, numbers and words on display for him to analyze, his mind was long gone far away from the office.

“But listen,” he continued after seconds in silence seeking for the right way to verbalize his thoughts. “Don’t you feel that sometimes we’re kinda… Pushing her away instead of the other way around?”

Jake’s question hung in the air for brief seconds as Heeseung tilted his head, carefully contemplating it. Jake watched his colleague's face falter in realization.

You seemed mad and somehow frustrated whenever they interrupted you, massaging your temples while closing your eyes, taking deep and long breaths, playing with your lips using your tongue and teeth… As if you were trying to contain yourself.

Not to mention that he started to draw disapproving stares from you during meetings or at times when he interfered with your workflow attempting to help. And Jake's side wasn’t different either.

“Yeah.” Heeseung finally nodded after concluding his chain of thoughts. “None of this would be an issue if you stepped aside, you know? I could take care of it.” He teased, gazing at Jake with a cocky expression.

“No way in hell, man.” Jake scoffed with a laugh, but then his facade softened, his feelings for you overwhelming his chest. “I only want what's best for her.”

Heeseung flashed Jake with an understanding glance, blended with seriousness and a hint of affection, as if the new reminder of his real main objective littered his whole world.

You littered his whole world.

And after all, to make you happy was the final goal.

“Agreed.”

While in a brief pause, Jake and Heeseung reflected how deeply involved with their feelings for you they were, an unexpected, yet genuine connection maturing as they did so.

Work had become fun and enjoyable simply because you were there, being an important part of their routine. Your nuance of smiles – the bright ones, the skeptical ones, the awkward ones –, your subtle jokes and lowkey acid humor that eased the atmosphere, your serious and confident decisions, your confused grimaces whenever someone said something absurd, your habit of biting your lip and furrowing your eyebrows while absorbed in concentration.

They drank in every single detail of you, falling more and more in love, as if you were the sun, and they were mere planets gravitating in your orbit, waiting, fighting for your attention, for your decision.

Jake sighed, lowering his eyes while remembering all the moments he made you laugh with his silly and awkward jokes due to his nervousness, stumbling into his own words before your beautiful presence.

Heeseung pursed his lips together, nearly feeling the phantom of the slight bumps of your shoulders when you both sat next to each other, your body leaning just enough to whisper something important in his ear.

“We both want what’s the best for her…” Jake muttered under his breath. Heeseung glanced quickly at him, who immediately reciprocated – a silent dialogue being transmitted in their gaze.

Then they both said simultaneously, a shared realization hanging in the air.

“That’s why you should leave her to me.”

“And I am the best for her."

Apparently their alliance would take longer than anticipated.

After everyone settled into their chairs, you took a deep breath and stood at the head of the table, commanding attention. Your gaze swept across the room before you spoke, your voice firm and steady.

“So, our meeting today is crucial. These clients are incredibly high maintenance, and they chose our company to lead their main projects. I need everyone to be extra focused and serious, no slip-ups,” you emphasized, keeping on drifting your eyes through your colleagues, pausing for effect. “I expect nothing but professionalism.”

Your words hung in the air, and while the room nodded in agreement, both Heeseung and Jake had their minds far from there.

They were seated across from each other, however, both sets of eyes softly and attentively tracked your every move, as if the project was about you and you only.

Jake’s focus wasn’t on the blueprint details, let alone on the company's reputation; it was on the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder as you turned your head slightly, or the confidence you radiated as you spoke, so naturally drawing people in. Your voice was as soft as a cloud, and still precise with your every word.

It was hard to remember the last time he had paid that much attention to a meeting, and there he was, mesmerized not by the content, but solely and exclusively by you. His heartbeat raced with every second, almost echoing louder than anything in the room.

Across the table, Heeseung was no different.

His usual composed demeanor during meetings faltered just enough to make his hands sweat nervously. He was sure your makeup looked extra perfectly placed that day. Every time you said something, his gaze flickered to the slight upward curl of your plump, soft colored lips, or how your jaw clenched with seriousness, together with your sharp, incisive eyes and slight frown, adding to your charm. You were shining on your element, controlling the whole room with your assertiveness and, for him personally, attractive demeanor.

Both of them were caught in similar states – wondering what it would be like if your eyes were solely on them. Would they light up? Would your lips curve into an adorable smile? Would your head cock to the side as you paid deep attention to them?

The silly battle between Heeseung and Jake only grew stronger as the minutes passed; the previous talk had no purpose at all, besides light one’s own weight of being misinterpreted, proving their worthiness to you.

As Heeseung leaned slightly forward, crossing his hands on the table’s surface, the shifting in his seat made his presence briefly more evident. Your eyes instantly darted towards his direction, catching his bambi-eyes fixed on you, wide and attentive. An almost instinctive smile crossed your lips after reading his expression that showed a perfect blend of genuine pride and a layer of lovestruck admiration.

For some reason, Heeseung quietly showing you support made your heartbeat steady, filling you with a warm sense of reassurance.

Jake clenched his fists under the table, his competitive side sparkling up after noticing your wordless interaction with his rival, flickering his gaze between the two of you. He pondered how he could stand out, and his whole body was stiff before he leaned back on his chair, relaxing, as he cleverly remembered the times you complained about the lack of sincere reactions or motions during meetings like those.

Again, just the movement was enough to catch your attention, since the rest of the room was completely still, deeply concentrated on your presentation.

As you approached your computer to pass the slide, you flashed Jake a quick recognition glance about his unspokenly intentions as well, smirking smally in gratitude before continuing with your script, feeling your breathing getting a little better, lighter.

One thing you absolutely hated about those kinds of meetings was the participants’ rigid presence, the high level of responsibility tensed your nerves – unnecessarily, in your opinion.

You utterly understood the scenario’s nature, requiring a certain posture from you that you very much knew how to offer. But nothing stopped you from protesting every once and a while about the tension on your shoulders whenever you had to wear that facade.

So you appreciated Heeseung and Jake’s effort in making your body loosen momentarily, carrying through with your words, and unfortunately oblivious to their real reasons.

Of course Heeseung’s eyes registered the subtle exchange between you and Jake, automatically igniting his desire to reclaim your attention, as if your work was just an excuse, a battlefield to their competition.

His jaw clenched and his gaze sharpened when Jake shot a small scornful smirk at him, almost like he was showing off his brand new victory, taunting.

That simple gesture fueled Heeseung’s instinct to jump into action without much thinking, so he blurted out, intending exclusively to demonstrate to you how involved in the topic he was.

"And what about the user experience data? That’s going to be key for the next steps, right?"

You paused on your tracks, momentarily thrown off by Heeseung’s sudden, unexpected voice interrupting your thought process. Your eyes faltered in confusion for a brief moment before you opened your mouth to say something that didn’t come out right away, because in your mental script, that was the latest part of your presentation.

Jake threw a shocked glance at Heeseung after noticing your slightly baffled and hesitant face, then he added, trying to settle down the ambiance to something less chaotic – his attempt failing as much as Heeseung’s, since it sounded like he was over-explaining your tactics into that project.

“Right, but let’s not forget how crucial the user feedback is for improving our mechanics.”

Your eyes darted between the two men fighting against each other and then to your client, who had a disapproving grimace.

As you took a deep breath to collect your thoughts, you could feel the tension in the air between them and the rest of your colleagues, including your client. The underlying competition became far from obvious at that point, you could practically hear them both thinking ‘Who would win your attention this time?’, and it was so annoying.

You hollowed your cheeks in order to calm down your frustration and angriness, sipping on your water before concentrating back on your presentation, determined to deliver your ideas without letting their stupidity get in your way.

And a single serious glance was enough to shut Heeseung and Jake up for the rest of the meeting.

“Close the door when you leave.” You instructed, gesturing to a colleague that was heading out the meeting room. You focused back on organizing the papers sprawled across the table. “Heeseung and Jake, you two stay.”

Your words filled the space as sharp as a dagger, leaving no room for argumentation – and neither of them would dare to challenge you in this moment, so they sat in silence, a palpable tension hanging in the air.

Half expecting your own anger to diminish and half aiming to toy with their overwhelming emotions, you didn't lift your gaze until you had quietly finished your notes, feeling the atmosphere shift as the door clicked shut. The silence was loud, you could almost hear the rapid beat of their hearts as they anxiously waited for your next move.

Finally, you looked up, intercalating eye contact with both men. You wetted your lips before standing, placing your hands firmly on the table and leaning slightly forward, radiating an air of superiority. Your gaze deepened in reprimand, your jaw clenched and your breath was feeling heavier each second.

Jake avoided keeping looking at you for too long, distracting himself with a cup placed on the table instead. The room seemed to shrank around him, his air ways seemed to close little by little and breathing became a hard task. The weight of your piercing stare and your painful silence made him feel small, ashamed, inadequate. His chest tightened with a growing sense of nervousness and self-doubt.

Jake hated being scolded, it triggered a wave of reflections about his abilities and intelligence, intensifying some of his insecurities, and mostly, it amplified his longing for validation that only praises could fulfill.

What Jake cherished most about you was that you never reprimanded without eventually offering a compliment, skillfully highlighting a person’s strengths while still putting them in their place; your words healed wounds instead of opening them.

But right now, that reassurance felt impossibly distant, leaving him to accept the weight of his fate resting in your hands.

Heeseung, on the other hand, harbored a hidden secret that was significantly distracting him at that moment. He was lowkey into receiving degradation to some extent, so he shifted uncomfortably on his chair as he watched you look down at him, because there was no way he could allow himself to get hard right at the moment.

He swallowed hard, casually placing his trembling hands on his lap in order to try covering up any possible bulge surging on his crotch area, attempting to seem indifferent or just the normal amount of being affected by you.

“I think you both are intelligent enough to realize that your behavior today is inadmissible.” You started to say, voice laced with disappointment, firm. “This is not a playground. This is a workplace. A serious one.” You paused, straightening your posture before starting to walk slowly towards them. They choose to sit at the end of the table as if they were avoiding your close presence. “And I won’t, under any circumstance, accept this happening again in my leadership. Not again.”

As you passed by them, your perfume traveling along within each step, you analyzed how Jake and Heeseung were reacting extremely differently from each other.

Jake looked like a child being scolded by their parents, sinking into the chair with a small pout, his puppy eyes lowered in pure guilt. Whereas Heeseung was agitated, legs bouncing anxiously beneath the table, his fingers fidgeting his rings while his eyes seemed to be in an internal battle between whether to glaze on you or not.

“Am I making myself clear?” you asked, your voice cutting through the silence with authority, your hands now grabbing the back of Heeseung’s chair. He shivered.

Jake nodded quickly, still avoiding your sharp eyes.

Heeseung, however, didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breath visibly heavy as he tried to maintain composure. He wanted to act indifferent, to pretend that your words weren’t having such an intense effect on him, struggling to halter his mind from drifting far away from that context, but the tension in his body was far too obvious to ignore, especially when you positioned yourself behind him, noticing his shoulders stiffening.

His whole body has heated up.

You arched an eyebrow, leaning your body enough to scan his side profile with your head slightly tilted, your curiosity piquing stronger with the lack of response.

“Heeseung?” you prompted, voice dropping an octave.

For a split second, he hesitated before nodding as well, afraid of his voice coming out as a moan.

“Yes, I understand,” he finally said, voice soft, nearly wavering as he did so.

You straightened up again, now walking back to your initial position.

Jake and Heeseung shared a common and painful thought; you held the weight of their fate in your hands, having the power to release them from your management at any moment if that sounded right to you. Given their trail of missteps they had, it felt almost inevitable that your final word would be anything similar to that.

The idea alone made their hearts ache in despair.

“I expected better from both of you. And I know you are capable of doing better.”

You casted a last warning stare and Jake fluttered his eyes shut instantly, waiting for the harshful words, the one that would tighten the knot in his stomach. Heeseung clenched his fists, gulping. You noticed both right away.

“Besides, I don’t have time to babysit your egos,” you paused again, this time just for an extra drama, because you would never dismiss their incredible skills due to simple and solvable mistakes like that.

Knowing your workers' behaviors, you had faith they would find a way out of their messy situation – and you expected yourself to do as well. Also, you couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in your chest of giving up on them, the flashing red lights screaming in your head about how deeply invested you grew into their beings, surrounding you like magnets.

No matter how tangled it appeared, your fondness for them remained. For both of them.

Yet, occupying a higher rank in the workplace meant you had to keep up the appearance of superiority and remind them of their positions, of their responsibilities.

“Let alone time for your silly little games.”

Jake's face flushed an even deeper shade as the realization hit him. You were, now, fully aware of their competition.

However, a hint of relief began to wash over him as you wrapped up your speech, signaling that you weren't dismissing them away from your management.

“That’s all.”

Heeseung, on the other hand, couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Although his heart raced now comfortably with your unspokenly reassurance about their destinations in the company, it was so fucking hard to concentrate in anything other than how hot you were right at that moment with your dominant stance.

Your sharp words and bossy demeanor talked down on him and all he could think was how desperately he needed you.

He shifted in his seat again, the discomfort in his pants growing with each agonizing second.

“You’re not kicking us out?” Jake was the one bold enough to voice out a nuance of their river of anxious thoughts, his slightly trembling voice filling the room.

Heeseung glanced briefly at his colleague and then to you, waiting for your answer.

“No, I’m not.”

“Thank you.” Jake urged, almost desperate as his shoulders loosened visibly.

Even with your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of their main concern being only that, you maintained your firm demeanor.

“Don’t see it as a favor, ” you said.

Your gaze was unwavering, challenging them to meet your seriousness. Heeseung swallowed hard, because he felt his dick literally pulsing as you glanced at him; his blushed cheeks intriguing your curiosity once again, since that kind of reaction was unusual from him.

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

“Sorry,” he finally managed, his eyes darting between you and Heeseung, who seemed to be struggling with his own internal conflict; his forehead was pure sweat at that point, and he questioned himself when the room turned into hell.

“You’re good to go,” you concluded, watching as both men relaxed just a bit, the tension easing, but the air remained thick with unspoken feelings.

Your eyes tracked their steps until they reached the door, both sharing a glance before darting their eyes back to you. You offered a little nod of reassurance and they flashed back a small smile before closing the door behind them.

"Oh my god, you're nasty.” Jake whispered a little too loud as soon as they left the room, shooting Heeseung a look of mock mixed with repulse. “Did you really get turned on just because she got mad at us?"

Heeseung smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Why? You didn't?"

“No!” Jake shook his head, acting like Heeseung said the wrongest thing in the world. “That’s gross. You’re disgusting.”

“Please, don’t act like you don’t run to the bathroom every time she gives you a compliment.” Heeseung rolled his eyes, a cocky grin creeping onto his lips. Jake widened his eyes, stopping in his tracks.

“You’re seriously saying that?!” Jake exclaimed, incredulous, fixing his glasses on his nose’s bridge.

“You’re always wagging your tail around Y/N, waiting for some praise like a little puppy, Jake,” Heeseung said, still smiling teasingly.

“Shut up, Heeseung.” Jake quickly glanced around to check if anyone was eavesdropping, shoving his colleague's shoulder. “You’re still disgusting, kiss-ass.”

Heeseung chuckled, unfazed. “Whatever.”

And then he headed to the bathroom, because this time, he was the one with some other problems to deal with.

The next day felt a bit odd. In every nuance possible.

Jake couldn't shake the weird sensation that you were actively avoiding him, as if his proximity was a reminder of his disappointment. He never wanted you to feel frustrated with his work, let alone with him personally. Yet, there was little he could do to change the situation except offer his support.

So, he made his way to your office, hesitantly pushing the slightly opened door. You were seated at your desk, frowning in concentration as you poured over stacks of paper, your lips pursed in a little pout – a cute habit he cherished heartfully.

A soft knock at the wooden surface was enough to bring your attention to Jake. You barely smiled, your expression was neutral, facing Jake as if he was a regular co-worker. He couldn’t help the shiver running all the way down his spine remembering about the times you greeted with a bright grin as your face lit up.

He cleared his throat before saying, voice low, close to a whisper; there were layers of hesitation and fear.

“Do you need any help, Y/N?”

You blinked a few times and looked down at your papers before you shook your head, denying. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Maybe it was the manner Jake was reading the world throughout that very specific day, after the whole scolding situation, after how mad you seemed to genuinely be with him and Heeseung… But you sounded way more dry than he expected. Not even his name being voiced out, not even a smile. Just a simple, mere discard.

“Oh…” He faltered, his puppy eyes casting downward, trailing to the floor as he fidgeted with his fingers. “So… I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

After Jake closed the door, granting the privacy you needed and valued, he walked back to his desk, unaware of how affected with his visit you were behind the closed door.

“What happened?” Heeseung was quick to notice his colleague’s mood after he sat beside him – his pout was ridiculously big.

“I think Y/N hates me,” Jake mumbled, his voice laced with defeat.

“Oh, that’s great. More chances for me,” Heeseung replied, a scornful smirk on his lips as he leaned back, relaxing on his chair.

However, Jake didn’t respond to his teasing the way he expected; he let out a deep breath and gave a small shrug, a reaction to which piqued Heeseung’s curiosity further.

Heeseung approached closer, narrowed eyes searching for a hint of humor or anything similar. When he only found a melancholic scowl, he sighed.

Was Jake really believing in that? If so, he was damned as well. Not to mention that Jake’s sad frown was heartbreaking.

“Listen,” he began, wetting his lips as he reluctantly placed a comforting hand on Jake's shoulder. “She’s probably just busy. Remember how important this client is for the company and for her?” Jake nodded, still avoiding Heeseung's gaze. “So don’t worry, she doesn’t hate you. She’s just focused.” He reassured. “Yesterday we kinda… crossed the line. But we did it together, right? If she hates you, then she hates me.”

Jake finally lifted his head, meeting an unexpected comfort in Heeseung’s eyes, something rare, considering he was used to Heeseung’s overconfident mannerism – his constant arrogant charm effortlessly got under his skin.

Yet, on that day, and despite Heeseung’s choice of words not being ideal, he had a gentle presence that softened the weight of Jake's feelings.

“You don’t want me winning so easily, do you?” Heeseung nudged Jake's side with playful familiarity, proving that his teasing nature hadn’t entirely vanished. Jake squirmed, a small smile breaking through his previous sorrowness.

“Fuck off.”

And how odd it was finding friendship with someone who had once been your rival?

Jake and Heeseung's camaraderie has bloomed in unexpected ways ever since. They began to explore new parts of their – now – friendship, discovering some sharing interests and even trading work tips, constantly being seen lunching together or just laughing with each other.

Jake now would chuckle at Heeseung's silly jokes, and Heeseung came to appreciate Jake's instincts for insights, something that often surprised him.

You were still the center of their conversations, but instead of competing to prove themselves worthy of you, they chose a different route, one where admiring you from a distance became their shared priority.

“Did you see how she looked today?” Jake asked once, his voice soft and almost awestruck. “My god, my heart actually hurts,” he dramatically placed one hand on his chest, closing his eyes, feigning the aching feeling.

Heeseung nodded with a small smile, leaning back in his chair. “I know, right? And that smile?” He sighed theatrically, also clutching his chest. “I swear, it’s dangerous.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s gonna be the death of us.”

Heeseung glanced at him, smirking. “Worth it.”

“Definitely worth it,” Jake agreed with a dreamy sigh.

Sadly, you missed out this big chapter of their lives, stuck with loads of paperwork that no one else could do, besides you.

But, ultimately, it was your own fault, as you chose to ignore them, believing it was the most sensible way to handle your feelings.

After the day of the reprimand, instead of carrying on with your usual routine, you felt a heavy weight in your chest. You were upset about the scold and how they seemed downcast, almost disappointed in themselves after hearing your words.

Unlike other times when you had to call out others to get them back on track, this time you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had done something wrong, even if your intentions were justified.

You struggled to find the right place to be, overworking yourself as an excuse to spend some time alone, going over and over your thoughts in order to find somewhere to be, and with every second you just found yourself missing them more and more.

Heeseung’s playful teasing, always with an undertone of flirtation. Jake’s natural ease in helping you solve problems. The brief touches during Heeseung’s coffee runs, when your skin would brush against his just so. Jake’s clumsiness, which often led to scattered papers and the soft, accidental graze of fingers as you both reached down to pick them up.

Not to add the brand new fact that everything resembled them. The mug on your desk, your coffees, the knocks on your door – you eagerly expected to be them –, even when going home and seeing their parking spot empty.

Neither Heeseung nor Jake had openly discussed their feelings with you, but their recent behavior and your last encounter only served to reinforce your theory.

They both liked you.

Ironically, you felt the same way about both of them and so far, had no intention of choosing one over the other – that being your primary reason for your reclusion, as it became clear that they wouldn’t easily get along, so distancing yourself seemed like the best way to suppress your feelings for them.

Your internal conflict wasn’t about picking Heeseung or Jake, but between choosing Heeseung and Jake or none.

Still, this choice also depended on their openness to share, and their constant friction wasn’t exactly helpful.

When you started to catch small glimpses of Heeseung and Jake wandering around your office floor, talking with each other with an odd enthusiasm and bright smiles, it piqued your curiosity as much as your mind relaxed, because those single actions seemed as a possible way out, as though it built a softened spot to your offer.

At the end of two intense weeks, you finally felt like breathing again. And apparently your mind seemed to be in the right place. So after finishing the last part from your project, you called Jake and Heeseung into your office, feeling a mix of apprehension and relief as you waited.

Your legs bounced impatiently, counting the agonizing seconds. In the back of your mind, you had carefully architected the words you wanted to say, such as how much you missed them, how happy you were to work with them again, and maybe even a question or two about their random, unexpected friendship.

You hoped they had sorted things out to some extent, because during your time alone, you yourself had been reflecting on your own feelings and was sure about your decision.

The knock on the door startled you, snapping you back into reality. Your heartbeats raced as you allowed their entrance and the door clicked.

You took a moment to study the way they exchanged curious glances before focusing on you. They seemed to be the same, handsome as ever, Jake with his usual flustered cheeks and uneven positioned glasses and Heeseung with his gentle, flirty smile.

“Hi,” you greeted, pointing to the chairs in front of your desk. They sat.

“Hi,” Jake answered, mimicking your soft tone.

“Hello,” Heeseung, on the other hand, said confidently, relaxed. “Long time no see, huh?”

You smiled shyly, after all it was your decision not to be with them for those busy days.

“Yeah… And I think I owe you an apology,” you began without hesitation, your voice steady, yet, layered with comfort and genuine happiness for seeing them after what felt like ages. “I might have gone too harsh on you two the other day.”

You were referring to the day you scolded them, the same day Heeseung left your room with a strange behavior, to say the least, if not interesting, and Jake with his tail between his legs. But internally, you also felt sorry for avidly avoiding them.

“No, it’s fine,” Heeseung brushed it off with a casual wave of his hand, his characteristic smirk on the corner of his lips brightening the whole room. “We deserved it.” He admitted with a tender tone, then he looked at Jake. “Besides, we’re good now, right, Jakey?”

“Oh, are we?” You asked, crossing your arms, a hint of playful skepticism and shock in your tone as you leaned on your chair, eyes flickering in between the two men.

“Yeah, we definitely are,” Jake replied, his sincere smile making it clear that he meant it.

You couldn’t help but also smile at their interaction, the familiar warmth returning to the atmosphere, replacing the tense, weightened previous one.

“Thank you for figuring it out.” Your voice was sweet as honey as you leaned forward over the desk, causing Heeseung and Jake to almost melt at how endearing you sounded. “I’ve been drowning with work lately. Couldn’t reach out to you sooner.” You gave your excuse and they both gave you an understanding nod, to which ached your heart a little. They seemed so genuine. “But I missed you, if I’m being honest. I really lov– like having you in my team. Having you by my side.”

If your sudden call wasn’t strange enough, that was strange.

Not only did you stumble over your words, but you also showed embarrassment, with your cheeks turning a subtle shade of red and your eyes faltering, almost like you were confessing to a crush.

And honestly? To Heeseung and Jake, it felt like a confession.

At least, their reaction was as if they had just heard a confession, because not even in their wildest dreams could they have imagined you admitting that you missed them, let alone hearing you saying the words “having you by my side” all together.

Heeseung’s heart was racing, his brain doing a 360 enough to leave him dizzy, his eyes slightly widened and he shifted on his seat, straightening his posture.

Jake’s hands were sweating since you called, but now they also trembled. An electrifying wave filled his chest, making the simple act of breathing feel difficult.

“And again, I’m sorry if I was too hard on you both. And I really am glad you’re getting along, as well,” you rushed to add before either of them could respond, though the way they were looking at you made your heart race. It was clear they had noticed your nervous self. “Though... this does make things a bit more complicated. Or maybe not.” You mumbled to yourself when your eyes parted ways from them, furrowing your brow as you tilted your head slightly.

In the past few days, you had developed the habit of talking to yourself to sort something out through the chaotic thoughts and tangled feelings spinning in your mind – Jake and Heeseung being in each of them, without a doubt. But this time you weren’t alone.

When you saw Heeseung narrowing his eyes with mouth slightly agape and Jake glancing at you with curiosity as the corner of his lips turned upwards, you froze.

Then they exchanged a brief, quiet glance before looking back at you.

“What do you mean by that?” Heeseung was the first one to ask, leaning forward just enough to express how interested he was in your slip-up. His pulse raced with the thoughts that flowed through his head.

“Yeah, what makes what complicated?” Jake added to the question, arching an eyebrow, stepping in the same field as Heeseung.

You blinked, their expectant stares making you want to shrink into your chair.

Your office window was open and let in a cold, long breeze that indicated the weather was about to change. You shivered, however, you couldn’t pinpoint if it was due to the air brushing your exposed skin or because of your current situation.

“Oh, um,” you stammered, running a hand through your hair nervously – a habit Jake and Heeseung were pretty aware of. “I didn’t mean to say that! I– I was gonna say it’s good to know you’re… closer now.” You squinted, struggling a lot to find a way out for yourself. “It makes things easier and more interesting, actually, I guess,” you let out an awkward chuckle, biting your lower lip as you quickly grabbed your bottle of water and took a long sip, avidly avoiding their eyes.

Jake’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with a newfound spark of emotions. “Easier and interesting, huh?”

“Yeah!” You nodded immediately. “Easier for our dynamic. And interesting… Because it’s us three, working together, everybody getting along and stuff…” You explained, with an exaggerated amount of gestures. “If I’m being honest, I had some things to figure out as well.” You confessed for some random reason you weren’t able to identify right away.

After your hard work of days going through the same page, you were losing your composure, you were losing your inner battle, and mainly, you were losing yourself amidst your feelings.

“Like what?” Jake questioned again, his voice soft, sweet as his smile.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was too flabbergasted with the scenario developing in front of him to think straight, so he just watched and prayed for the best outcome, engraving in his mind your every reaction.

You analyzed the two pairs of eyes shooting you the tendernest look, dripping in affection, filled with what you dared to call love. They showed comfort blended with care and a layer of curiosity, afterall, it has to do directly with them and they had a mild good feeling about it.

So you sighed, accepting not your defeat, but your vulnerable state.

“I felt like I was in the middle of a storm whenever we were in the same room,” you muttered, still maintaining discretion over the topic. “It was frustrating, and I had to figure out why I felt like this.”

“Oh, you still are right in the middle, Y/N.” Heeseung this time rushed to confess and you couldn’t hold back your slightly shocked expression.

“But I think the storm isn’t happening anymore.” Jake added with a gentle smile, fixing his glasses on his face and placing his hand on the table, your eyes briefly flickering to catch a look of his slender fingers. You swallowed hard.

“Why were you frustrated, though?” Heeseung asked, cocking his head to the side.

To say he was agitated was an euphemism; he found himself having trouble breathing because not only did you wear the prettiest and hottest clothing that day – a mildly tight dress shirt that emphasized the curves of your boobs –, but the whole situation was out of this word.

Jake wasn’t different, expecting your reply with his heart aching in despair. He needed to know about what was happening, otherwise he was going to collapse overthinking.

A strong part of either Heeseung and Jake was struggling to maintain the focus in any other possibility, especially because you didn’t demonstrate you liked them back so far, since your natural demeanor to your colleagues was the same – bossy but playful, always reiterating through actions and decisions your superior position over them during work.

However, you seemed to be extra nervous, your face had a faint fluster and you didn’t sound like a manager at all, it was near to a friend type of conversation. It ignited the spark of hope inside their chest.

Once again, without wording it out, they shared a connection.

As you were about to speak, you felt the fabric of your blouse loosen across your chest, and before you could react, Heeseung and Jake’s eyes instinctively snapped to the same spot, widening.

In sync, you glanced down and realized what had happened. One of your shirt's buttons had popped, revealing a glimpse of your lace bra.

Your cheeks warmed immediately, a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you damned yourself for choosing such a tight outfit that day, clumsily looking around to find anything that could help cover it.

“Let me just–” Heeseung muttered awkwardly, taking off his jacket and draping it over you in one smooth motion, his fingers lightly brushing your covered shoulders.

Jake's eyes followed his friend’s movements and decided to help as well, as he said “You look good still, don’t worry,” with a small smile, trying to ease the situation and ignoring how he, himself, got affected with just a glimpse of your body.

This is wrong, Jake chanted to himself, trying to shake the thoughts away.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, gripping Heeseung’s jacket tightly around you, your face still flushed. “And thanks.” You nodded toward him in gratitude.

Heeseung caught Jake's flustered expression out of the corner of his eye and couldn't resist shooting him a playful glance. Then, leaning closer to you, he whispered near your ear, “Maybe the button couldn’t handle how stunning you look today.”

His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a moment before he walked back to his previous spot, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

You fought back the urge of literally clenching around nothing due to his touch, his low voice and his warmth surrounding you.

“Right,” you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes to lighten the mood, though your heart raced rapidly. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about that day, and... I’m really happy that we’re figuring it out.”

The word “we” hung in the air like a delicate sound, and you felt the tension dissipate as a silence enveloped the room, being replaced for another type of weight. Something more affectual, more right.

Heeseung and Jake exchanged a quick, knowing glance before standing up simultaneously, their movements almost in sync.

“I’m glad too,” Heeseung said, his voice a bit softer, offering a small, genuine smile as he adjusted his dress shirt, now without his jacket.

Jake stepped closer to you, meeting your gaze for a second longer than usual before adding, “And just so you know... we missed you too.” His voice was sincere, his eyes filled with something deeper than just friendship.

The confirmation you needed.

And with that, they both left your office, leaving you alone with your thoughts, the lingering warmth of Heeseung's jacket around your shoulders and Jake’s sweet, meaningful words.

The same storm happening inside your mind seemed to mirror the one unfolding outside, rain cascading down in heavy sheets in front of you as you watched from afar. The sound of water splashing against the pavement might have been poetic in another circumstance.

“Hey.”

The soft voice startled you from your thoughts, and you spun around on your heels to see Heeseung approaching, a curious yet gentle smile on his face. His presence felt warm amidst the cold drizzle sprinkling through the wind on you.

“Oh, Heeseung!” You greeted, trying to match his energy with a bright smile, though your mind quickly jumped to why he was there. “Your jacket– Right.” You began slipping it off your shoulders, ready to return it to him.

But Heeseung quickly reached out, stopping your movement and pulling the jacket back over you. “No, no– Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted smoothly, his hand lingering for a second longer on the fabric as he gave you a reassuring look. Then his expression shifted, brows furrowing slightly in confusion. “But, uh, what are you doing out here?”

“Oh,” you glanced back out at the rain, pulling the jacket a little tighter around yourself, “I’m just waiting for the rain to ease up a bit so I can call an Uber.”

Heeseung frowned deeply, his gaze flicking toward the street and back to you. “Wait, don’t you have a car?”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “I do, or I did until this morning when it decided to break down.”

“Ah,” he nodded, processing your words before falling quiet for a moment. He shifted on his feet, as if trying to decide his next move, as if a strong battle was happening between his brain and heart. The rain wasn’t easing at all, and something sparkled in him – a protective instinct, perhaps. Or maybe a justification to keep you closer.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “I could take you home,” he suggested casually, though he felt a small rush of nerves rise. He wasn’t sure if he was overstepping. “How does that sound?”

You smiled at him, grateful for the offer but quick to shake your head.

“I wouldn’t want to put you through that. You live way too far from my place,” you chuckled softly, nearly teasing. “Besides, I’m already stealing your jacket. I can’t steal your time, too.”

Heeseung’s lips curved into a small grin, but there was something deeper behind his eyes as he shrugged.

“It’s really nothing,” he said softly, his voice calm and sincere. “The jacket and the time – it doesn’t matter. I’ve got all the time in the world for you, Y/N.” He stepped just a little closer, the warmth of his presence cutting through the coldness of the rain. “And, you know… the rain doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.”

You looked back at him, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. The idea of being in a closed space with him for too long seemed wrong. The feeling of being his superior, being in a higher position in a company you both worked, stirred your conflict.

However, you had already clocked out. It was not about working anymore.

It was about your fear of losing your control when being in a space where there were no rules preventing you from kissing his oh, so tempting lips.

Heeseung seemed to be in the middle of a fight as well, and it somehow helped you in your decision, as you smiled kindly, mimicking his same expression – soft, lovingly.

“Okay.”

The drive was smooth, calm and with some words being exchanged on the way; you instructed the directions every once and a while, and Heeseung glanced at you within the excuse to listen to them correctly, but the real reason was to capture the image of you being so close.

As Heeseung pulled into the underground parking lot of your apartment building, the rain still pounded on the outside ground, seeming no close from ending.

You both sat for a moment, the quiet hum of the car serving as a background for the intriguing silence, as well as the sound of the relentless storm.

Heeseung looked over at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you waited for your courage to build up completely with the thought that crossed your mind in a flicker of seconds.

“Safe and sound.” His voice was sweet and low, a perfect blend to fuel your core into responding immediately, your throat feeling dry, your body temperature increasing.

You chuckled lightly. “Yeah.”

Your eyes searched for his and invisible strings connected them for what felt like hours, your skin tingling, aching to touch him in any possible way, just a taste, just a crumb of him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, noticing that Heeseung’s gleaming orbs followed the motion of your lips before coming back to your eyes, then it seemed to trace your features, taking in sweetly, tenderly.

Heeseung was so fucking in love.

You had your hair messy due to the humidity frizz, your makeup was a little smeared and your face showed a mix of tiredness and something he read as hesitation. Still, you were absolutely stunning.

He gulped down nothing, his eyelids slowly blinking as he engraved your perfect features.

Unexpectedly or not, you were no different. You really appreciated every bit of Heeseung’s traits, how he would be smiling with the right amount of affection and flirtiness, his touches always tender and respectful, his words aiming and hitting right into your heart.

Heeseung was gentle as a lullaby, soothing and embracing. He was warm, comforting.

“Do you want to come up and wait it out? No point in driving back through this rain.” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

A faint shocking expression washed over Heeseung’s face before he relaxed.

“You sure? I don’t wanna bother you.”

You were quick to deny it with a head shake. “You’d never. Besides, I owe you a proper thank you for the jacket and the ride.”

There was some tension in the air as you both took the elevator quietly and walked towards your apartment. A different kind, almost tempting of tension. The same one that appeared when Heeseung and Jake stood in the same room as you after all of you sorted out things a bit.

It triggered your eagerness, fueled your desire, taunted your urge to kiss Heeseung and remove his clothes if he let you do it.

You mastered the art of detaching work from home and vice versa, and for that reason you hesitated before inviting Heeseung over, because you were aware your apartment was your safe space to feel everything you suppressed during the day.

With Heeseung’s scent enveloping you, the phantom of his touch lingering on your skin and the memories of his eyes lighting up when he saw you after so long, you feared to surrender to your deep, intense desires and screw up what just got resolved.

You fought to keep that flame contained, reminding yourself not to seem desperate or to scare Heeseung out. The two weeks being apart didn’t help at all, each day had stretched on, filled with an aching longing for some closeness, not only with Heeseung but with Jake too.

Both men stirred something deep within you, igniting feelings of passion and affection that were dangerously intoxicating. And right at that moment, you shared an intimate setting with one of them.

You felt your heart race as you caught glimpses of Heeseung's shy smirk and those captivating eyes that always made you melt, never leaving yours, reading you like his favorite book.

As you opened the door, Heeseung excused himself while entering your living room, following your trail.

“Do you accept anything? Water? A drink, maybe?” You asked politely.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alright,” you smiled. “You can sit on the sofa, don’t be shy.” You said playfully before heading to the kitchen to get yourself something and to avoid being too close, your last view being Heeseung with flustered cheeks sitting on your couch.

Heeseung was a mess, and thanked you internally when you left him alone so he could breathe properly. He fluttered his eyes close, a movie of his day happening on the big screen of his mind, reminding him that you showed awareness of his situation with Jake, and somehow, it felt like you were open to trying something with both of them.

God, he genuinely hoped that was the case. Otherwise, he would be in deep trouble, his expectations shattered into fragments, and he would have to pick up the pieces alone – without Jake, with whom he had constructed such a personal and intense friendship during the recent days.

The possibility of you choosing Jake over him overtook a big place in his mind.

He had enough confidence in a confrontation, but the moment he recognized Jake's unique personality, he began to question whether the best choice for you was, in fact, Jake.

He still wanted you – desperately –, but nothing stopped him from believing that you deserved the very best. You had always deserved the best.

And how disgusted would you be to know that he got aroused just thinking about being in your apartment, close to your intimacy? Or that your fierce, assertive side made him go hard? Disgusting.

Ironically, the thought of you feeling repulsed by him only fueled his desire to have you in ways that went beyond a mere working friendship. He was acting like a pervert.

He worked hard to get into your heart, and when you finally let him in, he was lost, he didn’t know what to do. It was pure chaos.

And now, he found himself getting turned on, caught in the mix of emotions and desires he couldn’t contain anymore.

“I should get going,” he whispered to himself, unaware that you had returned from the kitchen and were watching him from behind.

“Should you?”

He nearly jumped in his seat at your bold, sudden question, turning his head just enough to catch a look of you now without his jacket, yet, with the same shirt. The exact same shirt that had the fucking button popped open and gave him a sneak peek of your cleavage and part of your boobs.

There was a smile dancing on the corner of your lips, an feigned air of innocence accompanying your features, yet you still seemed devilish.

“It’s still raining, Heeseung,” you pointed out the obvious, using it as an excuse to keep him there. “Stay for a while. I’m sure we can entertain each other, yeah?”

Heeseung was speechless.

He had a knot on his throat preventing words from coming out of his mouth, and he panicked when noticed your expression faltering before his silence.

You blinked out of your sudden courageous trance, your whole body shifting into something more restrained as you broke eye contact.

“I mean, we can order something to eat and–”

“No,” he urged to interrupt you, leaving his briefcase on your couch as he stood up. His steps were light, but confident as he reached closer. “I’m sure we can enjoy each other’s presence for a little longer.”

The moment those words hung in the air, something snapped within you as if it was everything you needed to get your control back. Not the workplace, manager type of control, but control over him.

You closed the distance in an instant, capturing his lips with yours eagerly. Heeseung reacted instinctively, returning the kiss with equal desperation and desire, his hands roaming across your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your waist, anything that put him closer to you.

The kiss deepened in seconds, a wild mix of urgency and need lingering on your tongues as they danced together, desperate for more.

What you had longed for just a few weeks, Heeseung had yearned for months.

He tasted as lustful as he seemed to be, touching the right places, pulling you near as he pressed you against him intensely. Your hands gripped on his shoulders trying to balance yourself as he guided you both towards a wall, your back hitting it softly although the shared touch was intense.

As your bodies moved in sync, you could feel the hardness of his dick pressing against you, especially when he started to involuntarily grind on you. A mischievous smirk tugged on the corner of your lips as you parted the heated kiss, searching for his beautiful eyes – now filled with craving.

“Oh, look at you,” you cooed, trailing down your hands just enough to graze his crotch area. “Already like this?” You gave it a small squeeze, eliciting a moan from him. “And I haven’t even done anything yet, huh?”

There was a clear amusement in your whole expression as you glazed your eyes with Heeseung’s deepened ones. His breath hitched at your words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement flooding his cheeks, sending a pulse straight to his cock. Your acknowledgment of his premature and humiliating state of arousal and how your eyes sparkled with mischief sent a thrill wave through him.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he admitted, his voice low and broken, desire dripping off it as he held you tightly and tried to kiss you again.

You swerve to the side, teasingly. “Maybe I do,” you replied, your voice sultry as you leaned in closer, brushing your lips on his, tempting a kiss that you didn’t let happen.

Your hands maintained a mild friction against his hardness, giving just enough stimulation to drive him wild. You watched with delight as his hooded eyes struggled to stay open, his mouth slightly agape, letting out the prettiest sounds just for you.

Heeseung was already falling apart, and the mere thought of it excited you even more.

You chuckled softly before pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. “What should I do with you, hmm?” you murmured, kissing the other cheek. “So needy, aren’t you?”

His breathing quickened, and the flush on his cheeks deepened. “Please…” he begged, desperation lacing his tone as he once again tried to capture your lips. He wanted you so badly he was becoming impatient.

You arched an eyebrow and smirked, your eyes catching every single reaction of him.

“Please what? You’ll have to be more specific than that, Hee.” You feigned innocent eyes, batting your eyelashes as if you weren't touching his clothed cock, his hips continuing to press forward searching for more.

You placed another kiss, this time, on the corner of his lips, taunting.

“Kiss me, please.” Heeseung whispered, and as his mouth tracked yours, you let him in with his attempt, his tongue immediately finding its pleasure in yours.

Heeseung moaned with how good you tasted, growing addicted within every second; he could spend hours kissing you, he came to realize. Nonetheless, his painful and neglected length was screaming for some more attention, especially because the fabric of his boxers and pants prevented a bolder, bare touch, and making out with you would do nothing except make it hurt more.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He questioned not really giving you space to answer, his mouth busy sucking your lower lip and tongue.

You let go of his erection to start to remove his dress shirt as you mumbled the direction to him before he grabbed you by your thighs, lifting your body with an unexpected ease as he led you two towards the said room. The opened door made it easier for Heeseung to enter, placing you on the soft mattress of your bed, hovering over your heated body, craving for more.

“You’re so hot,” he whispered against the flesh of your neck and then started to nibble the area, sucking and kissing as if his life depended on it. His hands found their way everywhere, all of his movements expressed how desperate he was for you.

“So are you,” you were able to respond, catching a glimpse of his tanned torso.

Heeseung had a tattoo that covered part of his left rib and you took a mental note to give it the due attention later.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, grabbing it with a mild strength, enough to guide him, so he could put his lips where you wanted. Heeseung let you control, going down to your exposed cleavage and distracting you as he started to unbutton your shirt so he had your laced bra holding your breasts in full display.

“So fucking beautiful,” he marveled in a whisper as he straightened his posture enough to drink from the view – you seemed so dreamy under him with your heavy breathing, swollen kiss parted with a hint of a smile and eyes filled with lust.

It took seconds for Heeseung to return to his mission to dive into you after removing your bra with your assistance. His mouth toyed with each of your nipples, warm tongue making wonders as you squirmed a little, making no effort to hold back your sounds as you moaned, your panties long gone ruined with your wetness.

There was a feeling haunting the corners of Heeseung’s mind that defocused him a fraction from his actions, though. A fear of losing this proximity, losing the possibility of kissing you, losing his chances, losing you.

The more his tongue danced on your smooth skin, the more it felt bittersweet.

He figured his chances hovered around 50%, from what he had interpreted your intentions – maybe you would test what he had to give, comparing to Jake afterwards, then deciding on one of them?

The idea of sharing you never crossed his mind, not from jealousy; a little, sure, but it wasn’t just that. Sharing felt unrealistic, because he couldn’t see you making such a bold choice.

You sensed his sudden hesitation, how his fingers paused momentarily before resuming their exploration of your body, how his breath was irregular and not from arousal, but from something deeper, as if an inner conflict held him back.

“I don’t know what’s going through your mind right now, but I’m pretty sure you don’t need to worry about it,” you murmured softly, your voice cutting through the haze in his head and bringing him back to you.

He blinked, his eyes searched for yours and found tranquility on it, even behind the intensity of the momentum. You offered a delicate and unique space that allowed him to be free with himself, that being one of the reasons he started to have his feelings for you.

You had an approachable aura, an adorable soothing voice and a way to play with words that anyone felt easy to open up with you.

“What if I’m thinking about–" He started, his voice small, but the fear of ruining the mood, of disappointing you, stopped him quickly. He shook his head, leaning in closer. “Forget it.”

“You’re safe here, Heeseung,” you said, your hand caressing his face with a tenderness that calmed him instantly. A reassuring smile appeared on your lips and the atmosphere shifted into something serene amidst its intensity. “No judgments. I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips pressed against the palm of your hand, and he placed his own over it, slowly moving it away from his cheek as he began trailing kisses up your arm, deliberate, heated kisses from your wrist to your shoulder, from your neck to your jaw, until it finally met your mouth.

It was slow, purposeful, filled with a restrained intensity that sent a shiver through your body and left you breathless. Heeseung wanted to show just a quarter of how much he needed you, afraid of overwhelming you with how his love for you felt, but equally terrified of losing you mid-battlefield.

In the midst of chaos, you became the only compass that guided him back home. You were the soul that gave meaning to everything, the calm after a relentless storm, the strength that kept him sane. Each passing day, he yearned for your presence, as if the mere thought of having you near made the world brighter – and it did.

Your smile healed wounds he didn’t even know he had. You were always there for him, helping, listening, playing along with his jokes.

It was absurd, painful, and intense, and he was ridiculously in love with that feeling, and most of all, he was deeply in love with you.

“I want you so badly,” he whispered in a confessing tone when the kiss finally broke. “I want you every day, every second.” He kissed you again, his hands sneaking into your hair to grip your nape, pulling you closer. It felt like walking in quicksand. “It hurts to think I might lose you.”

In different circumstances, you would interpret that statement as a common fear of a lover regarding their passion. However, the context was more intricate, more delicate; there was a third person – Jake – who would also receive a similar treatment, and it struck you deep in your chest to recognize that Heeseung’s fear of being replaced felt constant and was becoming more vivid in that moment, as he realized he was having a piece of you.

Taking a deep breath, you met his hesitant gaze, your heart racing as you tried to articulate your thoughts.

“Heeseung,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. His bambi eyes sparkled with a mix of fear and affection. “You don’t have to worry about this now, ok?” You reassured once again, his chest loosening the tight feeling, because you would always have that effect on him. “I have things figured out. Kind of.” You giggled timidly and Heeseung just realized he had a new favorite sound.

Your fingers gently tangled in his hair, your body warmth reminding you just how eager you were, the phantom of his mouth working on your body serving as a lascivious reminiscence.

“But let me have you tonight first, please?”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, reading your deep, lustful eyes.

How could he refuse such a sweet plea?

“Yes,” he breathed, urgency coloring his voice, caring little for how desperate he sounded – because he was. “Yes, please.”

Almost like a snap of fingers, the atmosphere around you ignited once more, your room seeming to close in around the two of you as his eyes darkened with desire. Heeseung sounded so deliciously desperate that your only response was to gently turn him until his back hit the bed, positioning yourself above him.

Your hands caressed the bare flesh of his chest, fingertips grazing softly on his nipples and ribs, where they stopped for a while. Heeseung winced with the amazing feeling of you admiring him, your light-feather touch enough to send a wave of arousal straight to his dick.

“You are one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen, Heeseung,” it was your time to marvel him, smiling lovingly as you used the tip of your nail to draw along his dragon tattoo. “And I’m so fucking lucky to have you like this right now.”

Your voice was filled with sultriness, velvety as ever as you lowered yourself to press your lips on his low stomach, eyes never breaking contact. Heeseung shivered once more under your intense gaze, watching you sneak one your hands on his pants’ waistband, unbuttoning it just to remove it completely and toss it somewhere else on your room’s floor.

You stood up just to remove your pants as well, keeping on your laced panties, savoring the view of Heeseung’s chest rising and falling deeply, eyes dripping honey and desire as he also devoured your body.

“You know, I have a feeling that you like something…” You started to say with a thoughtful voice as you leaned closer, placing yourself back on top of him.

“You?”

You let out a genuine chuckle, shaking your head. Heeseung had a small smile on his lips and looked at you with curiosity.

“No,” you answered, voice smooth as your hand trailed slowly up and down on his chest. “I think you like being… put in your place,” you smirked, watching his expression shifting into a mild shocking, then darkening at your words as his breath caught in his throat. “I noticed how you reacted when I was scolding you and Jake…” You kept on talking, now playing with the waistband of his boxers, teasingly; his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped nervously. “Getting hard just because I was mad, huh?”

Heeseung had blushed cheeks while failing to keep on looking at you, running away from your sly gaze, before he muttered, embarrassed, “I don’t know what you are talking abo–”

“Oh, you do know,” you purred, your voice lowering an octave. “Don’t act all shy now, Lee Heeseung,” you forced your tone to sound close to a reprimand, flashing a sharp look at him as you freed his throbbing dick from his last clothing piece.

Heeseung groaned quietly in between his heavy breath as you admired his length’s flushed appearance, how hard and wet with precum it was, dripping for you. Your mouth watered and your hands itched, aching to give that man some more relief.

“Just give me the green signal and I’ll make you feel so good, Hee,” you voiced out as you glazed your eyes on his, your own body reacting to his state of desperation sending pulsing waves straight to your cunt.

His legs squirmed under you as you lowered your face, closing the distance between his cock and your mouth. Your breath brushed against its skin and Heeseung winced. “Please…” He whispered, nodding. “It’s hurting.”

You smirked. “There you go…” And tilted your head slightly, slowly grabbing his hardness with one hand.

Just the touch of your soft and warm hand enveloping his shaft had him closing his eyes and biting his lip, holding back an embarrassing moan that threatened to escape.

“You’re so needy,” you cooed teasingly with a quirked eyebrow, eyeing Heeseung with a faux disdain as he opened his eyelids just to catch a glimpse of it, his dick twitching under your fingers.

“Yes, please,” his hips buckled forward as he whimpered, searching for more. “I am needy, please, keep touching me, Y/N–”

“Yeah?” A devilish smile tugged on the corner of your lips as you started stroking faster. “A little pathetic, Heeseung. Don’t you think so? All of this just for some handjob…” You clicked your tongue without halting your movements, neither letting your grin disappear. “Lucky to you, you’re just how I like it.”

Heeseung's breath hitched at your words, his chest heaving as he tried to keep himself grounded, but the teasing was overwhelmingly delicious. The way you handled him, every squeeze of your hand making him feel both humiliated and completely at your mercy. His mind fogged with pleasure, and it became harder to think, to hold back, to stay composed, his own body and voice betraying his attempts of holding back.

When you started to give his tip more attention by cupping your hand on it and your tongue flattering against it, as if you taunted a full blowjob, he found himself near to the edge already.

Not only was he living his wettest dream, but your expertise on knowing exactly what and how to get him going eased his release to get closer and closer.

You noticed Heeseung's moans intensifying and his body squirming more than before. Although it was your first time with him, you easily deduced that he was close to reaching his climax.

But you had other plans.

Without any warning, you stopped everything – your hands, your mouth – retreating from his body, and eliciting a sound from Heeseung that landed somewhere between a cry and a whimper. His wide, desperate bambi eyes gleamed in confusion and frustration.

“N–No– Why–”

“I don’t want you to cum on my hands,” you said feigning innocence, blinking sweetly as if you weren’t ruining his release.

Reaching over to your nightstand, you grabbed a condom, smoothly rolling it onto Heeseung’s painfully hard cock before positioning yourself over him. As you hovered above his length, you glanced at him, searching for confirmation.

Heeseung had propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes wide, flickering between your sultry expression and the sight of his cock pressing against your slick entrance. He understood your unspoken question and gave a quick, eager nod. His gaze was immediately drawn back to his dick disappearing inside of you as your walls enveloped him completely.

“F–Fuck,” Heeseung breathed, his voice trembling, almost strained, his abs flexing as he instinctively thrusted slightly forward before collapsing back onto the bed.

The sensation of your wet heat gripping him tightly was overwhelming. He rolled his eyes back and let his head fall against the pillow, biting his lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

“I’m not gonna last long–” he muttered through heavy breaths, his strong hands gripping your hips, holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, forgetting that, in fact, you were the one leading his lustful ruin.

“Oh, you will,” you murmured, rolling your hips back and forth in a painful slow pace while you adjusted. “You’re not that pathetic, are you?” You teased, voice thick with challenge.

However, to your surprise and delight, Heeseung’s response was unexpectedly better than your imagination.

“I am–” He interrupted himself with a deep moan as you purposefully clenched around his dick. “I am that pathetic,” he whispered, hands tightening on your hips. “I am pathetic for you, for you only.”

You instinctively reacted to his vulnerable, desperate words. You could feel the raw intensity behind it, his complete surrender to you, and it fueled your own desire.

“Yeah?” You cocked your head to the side with a smug smile, supporting yourself with your palms planted on his chest as he started to thrust up into you, seeking for more of your addicting squeeze around his dick. “Show me, then.”

Heeseung’s entire body shuddered beneath you while he forced your hips down to meet his own buckling up; you, yourself barely helping, letting him do all the work just for a little teasing.

However, Heeseung hit a certain spot in you that had your dominant facade faltering, a choking moan slipping from your throat while you frowned with pure pleasure as your arms wavered briefly to hold you still.

“You feel that?” His voice cracked, eyes fluttering open to catch a glimpse of your lascivious expression. “I’m yours–”

You bit your lip, a rush of adrenaline waving through your body, tingling at his words, your mind spinning with the intoxicating pleasure of having Heeseung so completely at your mercy.

You leaned forward, your mouth grazing his ear as you whispered, “Such a good boy...”

The simple praise sent a visible shiver through his spine, his grip on you faltering momentarily as a desperate groan escaped his lips, eyes rolling as he threw his head back, letting his perfect neck in all display for you.

It became clear – he was close, teetering right on the edge, just waiting for your command, nonetheless you weren't quite ready to let him have it, especially because the knot in your stomach just started to tighten.

"Not yet," you said breathlessly against his jawline, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you lightly bit and kissed the area. "You'll have to wait just a little longer, Heeseung."

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

In no universe could Heesung have imagined that this would be how his day ended, with you dominating him so effortlessly, and most importantly, him letting it happen and savoring every single delightful second.

“P–Please…” Heeseung whimpered, his voice cracking into a soft cry, his fingers trembling against your skin, kneading it as a way to regain his control. One of his fingers slipped to your clit, rubbing it the way he could due to the position.

You kept on riding Heeseung with all you had, your thighs burning in the process but you couldn’t care less. The way he was whining in your ear, panting and pleading, together with his touch on your sensitive spot and his fingers doing circles on your clit brought you close to the edge as well. With each clench around his dick, you could feel his restrain slipping away.

“I’m– Please–”

“Let go, Hee. Cum for me, yeah?” You purred against his lips, sloppily kissing it as you drank his guttural moan, feeling the condom filling up inside you.

Your core bubbled and the knot tightened, and you coated the condom with your juices while a whimper came out from your lips. Heeseung’s grip tightened as you rode you both through your highs.

Your mouths slowly found a comfortable pace as you also fully decreased your movements, savoring the aftershocks of your release and feeling Heeseung’s beneath you.

Heeseung’s breaths came in heavy pants as you parted the kiss by sucking his lower lip. You lifted yourself enough to search for his eyes, filled with happiness and satisfaction.

“Did that feel good?” you asked softly, brushing a stray hair from his sweaty forehead, your fingers lingering on his warm skin.

“More than I could ever imagine,” he admitted, a shy smile breaking through his panting breaths. “You’re incredible.”

“So are you,” you whispered, kissing him again.

This time, deliberate and loaded with emotion. All the feelings that once carried an air of doubt while hovering in your mind now felt certain, and the warmth in your heart only confirmed that as your body relaxed and you emerged from the lustful bliss, leaving you and Heeseung in a sweet, loving bubble.

Heeseung helped clean you and himself, even taking a shower since you offered some of your brother’s never used clothes, you caught yourself mingling on his warm embrace, now resting your cheek on his bare chest that rose and fell softly.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Heeseung's voice was dripping in honey, kind and sweet as his fingers trailed a gentle path on your arm. “Like, really like you.”

“I know,” you whispered with a smile, struggling to contain the sting in your heart. “But you’re not the only one, right?” You asked and lifted your head just enough to capture his tender eyes focusing on you.

He shook his head, biting his lips nervously.

“No,” he finally confessed with a sigh, holding you closer as if you would slip away from his grip at any moment, without a warning. “I’m not.”

You both shared a silence filled with unspokenly delicate words.

“Give Jake a chance as well.”

Heeseung’s phrase lingered on your brain for longer than you expected, filled with sincerity. He was willing to offer you the option, the possibility to choose between him and Jake. And somehow that made the scenario even easier.

“Got your message. You called me in?”

You were slightly startled by Jake’s sudden entrance into your office, even though you had already allowed it through text. You took a moment to admire him – he seemed a bit out of breath, his disheveled hair and wide, puppy eyes making his adorable charm stand out even more.

“Close the door,” you said firmly. “And lock it.” Jake's trembling hands did as you instructed.

“What’s going on?” he asked, wincing under your intense gaze.

You had clenched your jaw, your fingers fidgeting casually as you leaned your hips against your desk, exuding an air of something he read as severity.

Despite the tension palpable in the air, he couldn’t help but take notice of how stunning you looked, with your clothing choice for the day accentuating your curves and your hair in a high ponytail. He shamelessly checked you out, mesmerized with your figure and oblivious of the fact you were playing with him with all bossy that posture.

The topic was sensitive, but nothing stopped you from playing a little.

“Did Heeseung tell you he visited me yesterday?” You broke the silence

Jake blinked, gaze flickering immediately from your thighs to your eyes, completely thrown off by your words, confusion clear on his face.

“W–what?”

“Yeah.” You smirked, placing your palms against the desk behind you and leaning back, relaxed. “Did he?” You blinked innocently, as though you genuinely cared about his answer. “Because if he didn’t, he’s playing a much dirtier game than I expected,” you feigned disappointment, clicking your tongue and pouting after.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

For a brief moment, you hesitated. Jake seemed genuinely clueless, but you knew better. You had all the evidence – the little game between them, the silent competition that had gone unspoken for too long.

Heeseung had told you his side of the story and indirectly a quarter of Jake’s.

Even though Heeseung and Jake had grown closer and eased some of the tension between them, there was an underlying feeling that occasionally surfaced, standing out from the rest: beneath it all, there was the undeniable desire to have you. Despite the mutual understanding of the connection they both shared, the notion of a single winner still lingered in the background, subtly driving their everyday actions.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” you answered, voice still steady, but now with a layer of seduction laced in between your words. Your eyes never left Jake’s face, even when he drifted them away due to his shyness before you. “You are falling behind, Jakey.”

Jake stood there with a small frown, processing your words; he would be lying if he didn’t think at some point that, behind all his friendship with Heeseung, there was you, occupying almost every corner of his head with your beautiful smile and charming personality.

You were his main objective, his goal, after all.

“Come on, Jake,” you pressed, your tone dripping with challenge. “Are you really just going to sit back and let Heeseung win this?”

Internally you prayed for any green light from Jake. Otherwise, your decision and respective demeanor could ruin everything – your job, your friendship. It was unethical, unprofessional, against every guideline you fought to uphold at the company.

But watching Jake with his jaw tightening, fist clenched and eyes widening in confusion and anger, was far too tempting to stop.

Your words sparked something deep inside Jake, awakening his competitive side that had been lying dormant despite the constant swirl of emotions in his mind. The need to win, to prove himself, came back to life. More than anything, he wanted to be the best, especially for you.

So a war happened inside him: on one side, the resentful acceptance that if he lost to Heeseung, at least you would be with someone who would treat you right; but on the other, a fierce, burning desire.

Jake couldn’t shake the intoxicating rush that came from your approval, the way your praise felt after his every effort, after every achievement; your cute smile and shining eyes showed him a galaxy of happiness.

And now, the thought of losing that, of watching someone else receive what he craved from you, wasn’t something he could tolerate. He wanted to be the one to make you proud, to make you feel the way you made him feel – and that competitive fire was about to consume him entirely.

Since apparently Heeseung had his chance to prove his side, now it was his time.

The room was thick with anticipation as he slowly stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, the office boundaries blurring.

“Come closer…” you purred, eyes gleaming with amusement as you watched him move towards you, desire growing clear in his eyes.

The second he was in front of you, his hands traveled instantly to your waist, the heated touch making you nearly gasp. His fingers pressed into the soft fabric of your clothing, pulling you closer as his breathing grew heavier.

For a brief moment, you felt drunk in Jake’s scent and firm grip, his eyes behind the glasses lingering longer on your lips before he bit his own, as if he was restraining himself. However, he easily lost his own battle, leaning in intending to kiss you, but you gently pushed against his chest, smirking.

“No, mm-mm,” you tutted, shaking your head as he hesitated, your teasing smile driving him mad; the proximity, the chances, everything taunting his desire to give up on his principles and pleasure you. “We cannot do anything while working, Jake. You know that.” You playfully reminded him, nodding along like it was an innocent rule, all while your eyes glinted with mischief. “I’m your manager.”

Jake groaned softly, clearly torn between desire and duty, but then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping into a soft whisper. “However…” You cupped his jaw, thumb grazing his lip with agonizing slowness, and you could feel him melt under your touch.

His lips parted slightly, his warm tongue just brushing your thumb, causing a wave of arousal to surge through your body. You swallowed hard, suppressing a moan.

You continued, your voice barely audible but dripping with sensuality, being the only one filling the room as Jake just stood there, in need of you, “We can’t just ignore that Heeseung made his move, can we? Supposedly, you're next, right?” Your eyes sparkled as you cocked your head, taking in Jake’s hooded, desperate gaze. You licked your lips and grabbed his tie, pulling him even closer, lips now brushing against each other while you savored the delicious tension.

“So… what’s it gonna be?” you whispered the words, your breath mingling with him as you pulled even closer by his tie. “Hm?”

His eyes darkened before fluttering shut, and you knew he was near to the edge of letting go from whatever internal struggle holding him back. Yet, you didn't expect Jake to eagerly kiss you, throwing aside any thoughts about being at work.

It would be a euphemism to say you weren’t as desperate as he was, your arousal guiding your decisions the moment that attractive man showed up in your office with his usual clumsy state, all messy and unnecessarily hot as he demonstrated confusion from your sudden call.

Jake’s taste melting on your tongue made the task of remembering your responsibilities harder, and you pathetically tossed your ethics aside as you devoured Jake’s plush, soft lips.

Fingers threading through his silky hair, you pulled him closer, as if the mere contact of your mouths and the warmth of his body pressing against yours wasn't enough. A fire ignited within you, threatening to consume you both, fueled by the ragged breaths escaping his lips mingled with groans of delight.

Jake felt like dying, and he was loving every second.

There was an annoying itch at the back of his mind, reminding him that you were both in a workplace and that the risk of being caught was large. But instead of pushing him away, it drew him even closer.

In no universe he would let the opportunity of his life slip away easily like that.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed behind you, breaking the intoxicating moment for some seconds. Jake’s lips trailed down to your neck to give you the chance to reach for it. Your breath was heavy as you read the notification: meeting in an hour.

You quickly typed a message to Heeseung, asking him to come up with an excuse for anyone who might approach your door. You kept it vague, knowing he would totally understand the situation, especially since he had seen Jake enter your office.

With your heart racing you threw your phone at some random place before turning your attention to Jake, to dive back into the moment before the outside world interrupted your brand new little secret.

Jake gave you no chance to react when he suddenly lifted your hips and sat you on the wooden surface of your desk, forcing your legs open so he could place himself between them. His sneaky fingers found the hem of your shirt, invading the area shamelessly, the warm touch together with his lips sucking the flesh of your neck made you shiver, the bubbling desire in your core intensifying each painful second.

“D–Don’t leave any marks,” you warned breathlessly, loving how fast Jake found your sensitive spot and started to give it some proper attention, but afraid of being too obvious with the after.

You could feel his hardness brushing against your legs from time to time, and you noticed at some point he began to slightly thrust forward, seeking for friction. You weren’t much different, though – your hands tugged his hair gently to give you some support as you waved your hips towards Jake, searching for a similar relief, moaning softly.

Impatience was growing as much as your desire, so you clumsily slipped down from your desk and pushed Jake’s torso back without saying a word. His instant reaction was to retract himself in a confused state, hands faltering on keeping squeezing you; his glasses were uneven as ever and a bit foggy, hair was sticking up all over and chest visibly raising and falling with each deep breath.

“We don’t have much time,” you purred, your voice dripping with sultry seduction as your eyes roamed over Jake’s disheveled state. “And I’m pretty sure a dedicated employee like you doesn’t want to get caught, right?”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you began to unbutton your pants in a slow, deliberate, teasing show. Jake’s breath hitched with the view and your words, the aching reminder he unfortunately couldn’t do everything he dreamed of with you.

His gaze fixated on every inch of your skin, shamelessly moaning when you lowered your pants just enough to reveal your white panties, completely soaked with arousal. You toyed with the waistband, your smile widening as he dropped to his knees before you, desperation written all over his face.

“Let me eat you out. We don’t need to do anything more. Just let me taste you,” Jake pleaded, his eyes filled with longing and urgency, his composure long gone completely out of reach.

Goosebumps sprawled over your skin before you commanded, “Eat me out, and then fuck me, Jake.”

Your tone was thick with confidence and lust as you turned on your back, bending over the polished wooden surface in a way of presenting yourself to him.

Jake groaned as he carefully removed your panties, revealing your ass and your cunt to him; Jake groaned, barely able to contain himself as he slid your panties down, exposing your ass and glistening cunt. His mouth watered instinctively as he leaned forward, positioning himself to take a long, delicious lick of your wet folds. His plump lips enveloped you, sucking gently as though he were savoring a delicate dessert, each flick of his tongue igniting a fire deep within you.

Jake envisioned purpose as being to please you, in every possible way. He would come up with alternative solutions to your problems, make you proud by delivering incredible results at work, and relieve the pressure and burden of your job by dealing with the part he could.

But what he craved the most was to explore the depths of your satisfaction, discover and learn every inch of you that sparkled your thrilling emotions and give you what you deserved.

Jake was devoted to you, sweet as honey and affectionate as a teddy bear in an agonizingly delightful way. Because in the end, you would always praise him, leaving him flustered as you highlighted his positive attributes and unmatched skills.

He pleasured you for his own pleasure.

And he knew that he might not be the only one in your life now, but nothing would stop him from trying to be the best.

As Jake’s tongue danced across your folds, each flicker ignited a wave of ecstasy that coursed through you, your body trembling as you struggled to keep it as quiet as possible, your knuckles turning white as you held on tight on the desk’s edge.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, littening you up with raw desire as you lost your ability to think straight. You found yourself surrendering completely to the bliss Jake offered, unable to control your sounds, let alone your own body from seeking for more as you pushed your hips back.

“God, Jake…” you gasped, your breath hitching as he licked and sucked with a fervor that made your knees weak. “Just like that. Don’t stop. You’re so fucking good–”

Encouraged by your moans and your praise, Jake increased the pressure of his mouth, groaning against your cunt as his hands gripped your hips to hold you steady, letting himself get lost in the taste of you.

The voice inside his read evoked the thought you weren’t fully his yet, so with every flick of his tongue Jake memorized your responses and reactions, the little sounds that escaped your lips and your skin prickled under his precise touch fueling his desire to give you more and more.

He wished for your taste to linger longer on his tongue, keeping vivid the feeling of having you in such intimacy, but it was undeniable that reality would eventually knock.

On the other hand, your mind was blank and could feel the tension building within you, your core tightening as you realized you were teetering near to the edge already. It was a delicious struggle between desire and restraint, your body begging for release, but your mind reminding you Jake was right behind you, probably eager for his own climax as well.

“Jake,” you breathed, your voice a mix of desperation and longing. For seconds you wondered where the innocent, clumsy and nerd-look-alike Jake you knew was at that moment, as the lewd slurping sounds filled your ears. “I need you. Now.”

Jake didn’t stop, though, diving deeper, keeping on forcing you to step near the verge of your climax. He wanted you to cum all over his mouth. He needed to taste you.

“Jake,” you called again within a loud moan that got you covering your lips right away. “Please–” You pleaded, rolling your eyes, finding it difficult to keep steady, your knees faltering, your pussy clenching around his tongue.

Your hands made a mess with the papers sprawled on your desk, knocking down some random things in the process.

“I want your dick, Jake,” you whimpered, trying to sound as firm as you could, “I wanna you to fuck me, please–” You whispered, almost sounding like a whine and a cry.

Just then Jake finally snapped out of his bliss and gave a last kiss on your glistening cunt before standing up. He paused for a brief moment, eyes dark with lust as he pulled back slightly to take in the sight of you; your body trembling from his efforts, part of your juices dripping on your exposed legs, your whole back in full display for him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Jake murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire. “I want to make you feel this good, all the time,” he said, determination and passion blended perfectly together as his hands caressed your sides with a softness that contradicted the abuse he was doing on your pussy.

“Make me feel better now, Jake,” you waved your hips a little, provoking. “Just fuck me, yeah?”

During agonizing seconds, all you heard was the noises of Jake unbuckling his belt and his zipper going down, mingled with the sound of his ragged breath. You controlled the urge of looking back, too weak to do anything other than support yourself on the table and wait.

“Can I?” He asked softly, pulling you by the waist with one hand while the other held his own dick, until it pressed against your wet entrance.

“No need to ask,” you answered, mirroring his tone, although the anticipation grew within your chest.

Jake’s hand grabbed your hip to maintain your steadiness as he forced himself inside, your head dropped forward and your mouth fell open with the raw feeling of Jake entering you.

“Damn, you feel incredible,” he whispered in amusement. It felt way better than any dream he ever had.

With your warm walls tightened around him, Jake’s composure slipped away and he began to move, each thrust deliberate and deep, designed to send you into a haze of ecstasy. He had one palm still holding you in order to pull you by the waist while pushing deep, and the other slightly pressed on your back, either to support himself and also to keep you in position.

You rolled your eyes, your hands crumpling the papers on your desk trying to ground yourself, giving no care about its importance.

The world outside faded away, you nearly forgot you were fucking during working time and, mainly, under the company’s rules and ceiling as Jake’s thrusts grew faster, more frantic; he chased his own pleasure while desperately trying to push you over the edge, the slap noises filled the room together with your heavy breaths and moans.

“F–fuck– You’re hitting– deep– So deep–” Your voice was being cut by each hard slam of Jake’s hip against yours. “So fucking good,” you whimpered and arched your back when he hit your spot straight.

“You like that?” Jake asked, proud of being the one who received such praises from you. “Please, tell me you want me,” he pleaded, feeling his abdomen flexing with his orgasm getting near.

“I want you–” You urged to say, your climax building up on your core and your pussy clenching involuntary. Jake groaned. “I want you, Jake, please–”

Jake kept on hitting you with a constancy that felt unbearably good. In that moment, everything else fell away – the meetings, the deadlines, the moral dilemmas. All you felt was the strong wave of pleasure rushing over every inch of your body, as you trembled and nearly cried in a last moan, coming all over Jake’s length.

“Fuck–” You hissed when Jake kept on going, driving your through your high before pulling out and jerking himself off. You were panting when you turned to shameless watch his hand speeding on his dick covered with your cum, the lascivious, wet sounds making you quiver, his arm’s popped veins making the view way too devilish.

You bit your lip, knees failing to keep you correctly straightened up but you sustained yourself in the desk behind you.

“You’re so good, Jake. Always so good, always making me proud,” you said between heavy breaths, eliciting a guttural groan from Jake that you feared someone heard, his head throwing back, exposing his perfect neck to you.

Jake was unable to describe properly the jolt of electricity that ran through his body after hearing your words, spilling his cum forward, hitting your arm and part of your table.

“Shit…” He whispered, eyes fluttering open while he struggled to breath. His gaze drifted to your desk. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he got closer, using his clean hand to hold your waist as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

You didn’t understand at first what he meant, too lost in your bliss, but after you both cleaned up, you realized how messy in many, too many nuances – your desk was and understood why Jake was sorry for.

You had made your decision even before your night with Heeseung and your wild time with Jake.

With Heeseung, it felt like it just naturally happened – and you didn’t regret any second. For Jake, it was something similar to an equality, giving them both the same treatment and chance. And again, you didn’t regret it.

Your feelings for them were as clear as crystal water, each reflecting a different and unique facet of your heart. Each moment you shared together was filled with affection, desire, passion, and it drew you stronger into connecting yourself with Heeseung and Jake.

You spent days in deep contemplation, analyzing how your body reacted during every interaction – the way your pulse quickened with each lingering glance, how your cheeks warmed from the softest, lightest brush of hands, and how your inner core felt electrified after every encounter.

You tried to measure, but it was so obvious – and at no moment you tried to fight against it.

Consequently, it was relatively easy to invite them into your office for a personal conversation, where you felt no fear regarding your feelings, but were uncertain about how Jake and Heeseung would react to your decision.

“This is not the appropriate setting, but I feel like it’s our setting,” you began, your voice steady to express your certainty. This time, you held a sweet, softened gaze that darted between Heeseung and Jake, lingering not long enough in each of their tensed faces.

They were completely aware about the reason behind your gathering, their breaths coming heavy, throat dry, fingers fidgeting… You noticed each anxious demeanor. Your heart tightened, because you would never intend to make them feel bad.

“I called you both here because…”

You took a moment to find the right words, the same you sculpted during days in the back of your mind, now running away from your mouth.

But there was no doubt, because at some point, you questioned yourself.

If love was a battlefield…

“I’m not choosing.”

Could there be more than one winner?

“Not between you two.”

[BONUS SCENE]

“Heeseung, please, stop chasing after Layla,” Jake rolled his eyes, a hint of exasperation in his voice while you chuckled, taking a bite of your ice cream. “You’re scaring her.”

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and you had decided to take a peaceful walk with your, now, two boyfriends and Layla, Jake’s adorable dog. At some point you started to feel a bit tired, and opted to sit down on a bench with Jake while Heeseung continued to expend Layla’s energy, playing with her nearby.

“She’s literally smiling, Jake,” Heeseung shot back with a glance, though his smile betrayed his faux annoyed facade. He knelt next to Layla, gently stroking her fluffy fur and murmuring sweet nothings with a baby voice while nodding. “Isn’t that right, girl?”

“You’re just jealous because she likes Heeseung more than she likes you,” you teased Jake, trying to contain your laughter at his instant reaction. Jake blinked flabbergasted at your words before he pouted.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he muttered in a whine, feigning an anger that never really matched his energy. His facade quickly fell as he pulled you closer to kiss your cheek.

You giggled, melting into a shy mess when Jake began planting kisses along your neck too, the sound drawing Heeseung’s attention.

He stood up, holding Layla’s leash with a playful tilt of his head. The ghost of a smile lingered on his lips before he pouted dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m witnessing my girlfriend and my friend enjoying themselves without considering my presence,” Heeseung said as he slid into the empty seat on your left, planting a sweet kiss on your other cheek.

Just like that, it started a playful competition between the two of them, each trying to elicit a laugh or a shout of “stop” from you first. All you could do was giggle and squirm, drowning in the warm sensation blooming in your chest and the delightful tingling on each side of your neck as Heeseung and Jake silently agreed to tease you mercilessly.

You couldn’t help but be amused at how effortlessly Heeseung and Jake had adapted to this unconventional relationship. Everything had fallen into place, and you finally had an answer to the question that had lingered in your mind when you decided to take a step further.

Yes, two people can definitely win a love battle.

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #lee heeseung x reader #sim jake x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #love triangle #enhypen love triangle #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #jake fluff #heeseung fanfic #jake fanfic #heegyukeluv works #heegyukeluv reqs

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spatialwave · 7 months ago

Note

Jayce x Reader for the kiss prompts with the ‘kisses to keep your lover quiet during sex’ 👀 please please please

your wish is my command, hehe.

be quiet.

pairing: jayce talis x fem!reader word count: 957 tags: mdni! smut, shameless slut, pwp, vaginal sex, rough sex, choking, forceful kissing, reader is being way too loud lol. notes: an ask from this prompt list!!

You couldn’t help it, his cock was stretching you with every thrust and leaving your cunt aching for more. You rolled your hips against him, arms lifted above your head and pressed to the headboard as his name rolled off of your tongue.

“Be quiet,” he grunted, a large hand pinning your hip to the bed as he fucked you, huffing as he kept up a quick rhythm.

“Can’t,” you whined, “your cocks so big, I really can’t help it.”

You may have been overacting your coy behaviour, but it was true. Every thrust had you mewling in pleasure and it was near impossible to stifle the sounds.

It was a great compliment which stroked Jayce’s ego, but he still knew that fucking in the guest room that shared a wall with Caitlyn’s bedroom needed to be treaded carefully. Especially when the headboard was already thumping against it.

Your hands clawed at his chest, legs wrapped around his hips, “fuck me harder,” you whimpered.

“I said quiet,” Jayce groaned, leaning down and burying his face against your neck, lips and teeth dragging along the skin as his hips thrusted forward with a ruthless pace. The walls of your cunt felt so fucking good squeazing around his length, and he was doing his best to keep his own moans suppressed, but it wasn’t looking so good for either of you.

All he wanted was to sit upright on his knees and dirty talk you as he fucked you—watching the way you squirmed and would try to hide your face. Legs spread wide apart for him, his thumb circling your clit in a terrifyingly quick rhythm and watching your pussy take his big cock with no struggle like the good girl you were.

The best part? You could be as loud as you wanted, he could hear you scream his name until your throat was raw and fuck you until you were begging him to slow down.

But neither of you had that luxury as you were so graciously housed in the Kirramman house for a few nights.

You let out a sharp, loud moan when the head of his cock bruised your cervix—so deep you wanted to writhe away from his touch and treat the night like a game of cat and mouse.

Jayce was quick, lifting his head up from where he’d begun to litter your chest with love bites and capturing your lips into a heady kiss.

Immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck. Lips parting to give him access to your mouth, tongue gliding against yours and swallowing your moans.

“You like that?” He mumbled against your lips, tongue brushing against your teeth as he snaked a hand between your bodies and rubbed slowly at your swollen clit, his pace slowing.

You couldn’t answer back, lips and voice muffled by the way he assaulted your mouth with his tongue.

It was so fucking hot, almost hotter than the way his cock pushed in so deep you felt like you were being split open. Your thighs tightened around his hips, arms gliding up until you could grab his hair in a fistful, the other resting on the front of his throat.

“Yeah” you whined into his mouth pathetically.

Jayce snapped his hips harder once again, fucking you relentlessly as the bed shook. He had to take shallow thrusts, anything too forceful slammed loudly against the wall and risked someone hearing.

“I’ll be quiet,” you urged against his lips, attacking them and licking into his mouth to taste the remnants of a black spiced tea.

“You sure?” he whispered, eyes fluttering as his stomach twisted. Sweat had begun to build up on his forehead and the back of his neck, meanwhile the pillow princess herself laid back and began to play with her tits while he did all the work.

Jayce loved it.

“Mhm,” you hummed, cheeks burning hot as the thumb circling your clit did wonders to push you closer to the edge. You could feel the bundle of nerves getting sensitive with each passing second, little jolts of electricity making your pussy tighten so hard around his cock he had to whine into your mouth.

“Fine,” he muttered, lips trailing down your jaw and neck, “you make any more sounds and I’ll stop.”

You were obedient, chewing on your bottom lip fiercely to keep yourself from moaning. You even had to lift a hand, the back of it covering your lips as you met your boyfriend’s gaze.

His free hand had gripped the top of the headboard, tight enough the wood creaked as he looked down at you, admiring your beautiful fucked out face.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, “I’m gonna’ cum,” he whimpered against your skin, jaw clenching as his orgasm neared with each harsh snap of his hips, “gonna’ fill that pretty pussy.”

Your hand fell from your lips and you closed your eyes, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape as your own release crept up on you. Before you could stop it, his name was rolling off your tongue loudly and he was forced once more to press his lips to yours and place a hand at your throat, fingers pressing on each side of your windpipe.

”Sorry,” you breathed into his mouth, nails digging into his chest as his choking left you pleasantly dominated.

“No you aren’t,” he mumbled, tongue licking against yours as you both met your release together in near-silence. Blissfully ignoring the idea that Caitlyn could hear everything.

…She could.

#arcane x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x you #jayce talis #jayce talis fic #arcane x you #not me waking up in the middle of the night to finish this #ya’ll im so down bad for a fandom for the first time in months this is too good #ok back to sleep only to wake up in an hour lol #and on that note i apologize for any grammatical mistakes ahah #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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katiascraft · 7 months ago

Text

"Him" | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x bestie!reader.

Summary: Oblivious idiots to lovers. That's what Max said.

Word count: +2,7k.

Warnings: nooone just pure fluff and some language hehe. Not a native english speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author's note: AAAAAAA i loved writting this one 🥹 Dont forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

“You only say that because you fancy him, y/n. You can't play with me”Max said out of nowhere while talking about the whole Lando drama and his fourth championship at Danny Ric’s house. Your three have been best friends for quite some time now. Actually, you have been friends with most of the grid for a couple of years now. They were like family to you and recently, you moved countries to live and study in Monaco and be able to spend more time with your friends.

“What have you just said motherfucker?” you acted offended. Nethertheless it took you by surprise that he said such a thing when you have never talked about Lando and your feelings for him with him nor danny. But Max knew you too well to already know the whole story. Of course Danny laughen and you could feel the heat going up your face. You feel exposed so you try to cover up by drinking another sip from your glass of white wine. You thank god it was in the privacy of Danny's house and not some random bar for everyone to hear.

“Oh c’mon y/n, i think it’s pretty too obvious by now” max continued noticing the panic and surprise on your face.

“Yeah, it is obvious and cute to see how you drool, staring at him everytime he talks. And not to mention you eat him alive at races when he is all sweaty -” danny continued the torture but you stopped them both making them laugh.

“Just stop!” you said “you guys are impossible!” your face was red and anxiety took over you for a moment.you sighed defeated. “To be honest with you, yeah, I do like him. But lets be real, im nt even his type at all” you said remembering how he was kissing magui, that model he fucks now and the, kind of a situationship, in front of your fucking face the whole night a few weeks ago. “And even as impossible as it sounds, if there was an actual chance for me with him, we wouldn't work either. I'm complicated. And he doesn't see me like that. He never did. And i'm sure that won't change like ever” you added just convince yourself of everything you said. It was impossible, right? There was no chance in this universe for him to see you like that. You are so far from what he used to date. It's just an innocent crush. You’ll meet someone,right? You saw Max denying with his head.

“y/n, i know you are not the most confident human being i know but be fucking for real, you are not complicated. And everything you said it's nonsense. You are fun to be around, you make him laugh until he pisses himself, you give him his favorite things, you bake him cookies and pies, you listen to him when he is sad, you are like the bestest person next to him. And let me tell you, I have no doubts he is into you as much as you are. It's in your eyes guys. You love each other more fondly than you want to admit” he said leaving you speechless for a moment and with a mess of confusion around your head. You wanted to believe him but at the same time you can’t.

“Mic drop, sir” Danny said and they both laughed. You smiled but rolled your eyes in disbelief.

“I wish” you finally said, making Max roll his eyes.

“Two oblivious idiots, can you believe it danny?” Max said ironically and Danny followed him.

“I see it mate. It's sad. I wanna cry” he said.

“You guys are impossible." You declared to go back to your trivial talk about cats and australia barbecue.

(...)

It was a beautiful saturday. You were thankful Ria said yes to accompany you to buy a new outfit for tonight's party. Martin Garrix was in town and lando invited you all to his friend's show. Coffees in hand, you were chatting about everything and anything.

“So the plan is a sexy outfit just to impress your boy?” she teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with the idea that I like lando? As if he would care what I wear or not” you said, a little irritated. You just wanted to conquer someone else tonight to forget about all of this and move one. You knew it was impossible that Lando liked you back so why be stuck in it? You were gonna dress up and doll up and conquer whoever you may please. That was your masterplan.

“Girl, you need to relax. I say it first hand: he cares a lot fucking much. He likes you. I just know.but you two are too dumb to accept it” she said raising her shoulders.

You felt so confused once again. These were Lnados friends who knew him just like you did. First it was Max and Danny and now it is ria. You didn't want to fool yourself. And at the same time you wanted him to know for the longest time. You wanted him to notice you. And you also knew him and you knew how he is with girls and if he liked you then he would've told you by now.

“Ria, dont play with me” you begged. Concern showed in your voice. She gave you a gentle hug by your side.

“I won't ever do that to you y/n. I would never in a million years forgive myself if I did. You're my friend and I just want you to be happy. Believe me” her voice was soft and sweet. You just smile and change the subject. You didn't want to discuss this anymore. Nor did you think you could handle it.

(...)

Saturday night finally came and so did the margaritas you so dearly adore when you needed to forget reality. You were pretty tipsy by now. You met Franco Colapinto and you didn't even know he was invited but oh god he was so fun to be around. You've Been talking to him the whole night about whatever to be honest.and yeah, he looked really hot tonight by the way. You felt lucky he even looked at you and so you followed around.

You bumped into Max at the bar table after ordering yet another margarita. He looked at you a little tipsy as well.

“So you replaced lando for an argentine prince, huh?” He teased you.

“Oh shut the fuck up verstappen. Were in public” you said going back to the barman who was handing you your precious margarita drink. He rolled his eyes.

“Be careful. Lando's not happy” he said and disappeared into the people holding his vodka with red bull. Weird mix but he was loyal to his employers i guess.

You came back to where Franco was waiting for you to be back. He looked so cute under the lights in that white shirt he was wearing. And speaking of white shirt you saw Lando talking to him. You cursed yourself right there. You may or may not have ignored him the whole night. But you just couldn't face him after what all your friends said. You just didn't want to be tempted by his pretty shiny green eyes and his mouth. Oh what you'd give up just to taste his lips.

“Oh there is the missing girl,” Lando said, looking at you when you arrived and smiling nervously. The tension established between you two even Franco noticed it.

“Guess it is my turn to go to the bar. Be right back, guys” he said and left the two of you alone. You took a sip from your glass avoiding his sight.

“What's wrong with you?” he said kind of offended? Anger could be clearly heard in his voice. You sighed not knowing what to answer.

“What do you mean lando?” you decided to play the fool. You wanted to run away. His eyes were intimidating you.

“One day we watch movies together and bake cookies and the other you ignore me for several days and even flirt with another dude straight to my face?” what he just told you took you by surprise. You frowned, confused at his statement. The tension was burning your throat. He got closer and so you finally faced him. You looked at him. His face straight and his eyes dark with a little sparkle. You couldn't read what was going on inside him. Maybe he was just as confused as you were. “You look too pretty in that dress to be talking to him and not me” you could breathe his warm breath tasting tequila mixed with lemon. You swallowed hard. Your insides exploded. what was happening? He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. His touch burns your skin sending shivers down your spine. This was actually happening? Your hands were shaking. You really thought about what to tell him. A devilish smile appeared in his face when he thought he left you speechless. But you weren't ready to let him win.

“Well, for your information, I'm single and I can talk to wherever my vagina pleases so that shouldn't be none of your business. Also, why would I talk to you if you have been talking with more than one girl tonight? I'm a selective lady. What can I say” you smiled innocently.

He bit his lip. He tightened his grip around you. More possessive. More irresistible. Your innocent smile turns into a triumph smile. ”so if you dont mind i’ll keep talking to Franco and luckly fuck him. Have a good night Landito” you said provocatively leaving lando hanging into his words as you pulled away and walked away from him. His brain is malfunctioning.

And as you promised you kissed and fucked Franco Colpinto that night.

(...)

It was already the next sunday and Lando had disappeared. There was nowhere to be found. He didn't reply to your texts nor your calls. He became just dead silent. That made you feel even more confused than you already were. What did it mean what happened at the party? What were his intentions? Why didn't you kiss him? You were torn into feeling guilty and stupid at the same time. Like you had an actual chance with him but you didn't take it. And you didn't even know why. You hated yourself so much for that. How stupid.

Max, Lando's best friend, invited you over along with Pietra and Lando. You were cooking some vanilla flavored cookies with chocolate chips. The famous crumble cookies. Lando has been pretty much ignoring you. And you have been really quiet. Very unusual both ways. The tension was irritating. Max and Pietra tried to play it cool but it was very uncomfortable. When Lando came back from the bathroom, Max took him into the terrace and you stayed with pietra inside in the kitchen doing your stuff.

“Babe, what happened between you two?” she sounded genuinely worried. You sighed stressed.

“To be honest with you, I don't know. After a weird moment at the party last Saturday, he has been ust ignoring me. I didn't know if he was even alive if Max didn't invite us here. Very childish in my opinion but what can I say? I Didn't face him either.” you explained and pietra frowned her eyebrows.

“You need to talk honey. You need to tell him” she said, sobbing in your arms. You pressed your lips together looking outside through the glass door straight to lando seriously talking to max.

(...)

After the worst and most traumatic hang around with Max and Pietra - the cookies were great by the way - Lando offered to give you a ride and you said yes. Probably the worst decision of your life because the tensi could be cut by a knife and it was hard to breathe of how dense the air was inside the car. His radio was playing Jmaes Blunt ‘you’re beautiful". It was one of your favorite songs. How pretty was to you to enamour someone just by existing in the subway going to work or going back from university. You just romanticized that idea. You started mumbling the lyrics in a whisper just to not disrupt his comfort. But after a few seconds he turned off the radio and you looked at him weirded out.

“I can't do this anymore,” he said, parking his car on the side of the road. Anxiety kicked you. You licked your lips looking at your hands and he was just starting to nowhere outside his car window.

“I really like you y/n. I am in love with you in fact. And dim so stupid i realized about it when i saw you with Franco kissing. His hands touching you grossed me out. It felt wrong because that should've been me - not him” he finally looked at you. What he just said took you by surprise and you wanted to cry but holded inside. You looked back at him. The knot in your throat was unbearable.

“We are idiots,” you said, remembering what Max said to you a couple of months ago.”Because I'm in love with you. I was too afraid to tell you and ruin what he had. Losing you terrifies me. And to be honest I just thought you wouldn't even look at me that way. I never felt pretty enough for you, I don't know why” when he heard you say that last sentence his heart sank.

“I always felt you were out of my league to be honest. Please, y/n, you're gorgeous, and funny as fuck, and intelligent, and sweet and such a great person. You're almost perfect. Don't ever talk about you like that. I'm just an idiot. A normal stupid ass dude. Don't compare yourself like that ever again” he said feeling a little guilty for you to feel that way even though it was not his fault.

You gave him a soft smile nodding.”you know? I can't believe every single friend of yours told me for months that you liked me and I just couldn't believe it. How dumb I gotta be. So I'll fight the intelligent compliment of yours” you said, making him laugh.

“But let's be honest, who thinks straight when they are in love?” he said with the most precious smile and sparkly eyes looking at you so fondly. You knew you had heart eyes in your eyes.

“Fair point” you said, smiling widely. And you giggled out of nervousness. He did too.

Two kids in love. You dreamed about this day for so many years. You just hoped that it wasn't another dream because it felt like one. And without asking, Lando took you out of your self doubt and inner conversion pressing his lips into yours in the most felt kiss you have ever given. The man that you are Lando norris. You cupped his face on your hands making the kiss more intimate and passionate. A kiss you two wanted to give for so long. You said everything in that kiss. You just knew this was it. This was the start of the most exciting and magical love story. And it was yours.

It was him. It has always been him. Lando. Your best friend. Him and no one else by your side.

(...)

Your eyes filled with tears of joy. You were at the wedding of one of your best friends: max verstappen. Lando was holding your hand gently and so dearly. They were speaking their vows and everything was so emotional. You were such a sensitive soul. Lando loved that about you. So pure in emotions. So vulnerable yet so strong and brave. That was you and watching the isle,he knew it was you who was gonna be there with him when the moment came around. The bride kissed the man and you two cheered the new wife and husband of the group. You looked at Lando for a moment knowing he was the love of your life and it was gonna be you two there one day.

What you did not expect was to take in your own hands the wife’s bouquet announcing you were next in line to get married. Youcelebrated in happiness and laughter around your friends and Lando. You kissed him so fondly.

“I love you bestie” you said between his lips grabbing him by the neck, the bouquet in one of your hands.

“I love you bestie, forever” he said with heart eyes hugging you looking at you with love in every fiber of his body.

“Forever and always” you assured him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any idea my inbox is open so send your requests!

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #ln4 x reader #f1 x reader #works by cate :)#my work!🧉

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

Text

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) - fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc- 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap- flashbacks of explicit sex with dirty talk, weed smoking (Satoru and his boys aha) mentions of sex, lots of humor, enemies to loversss- WC- this chap- 8k- art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3

Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Two>>> (extras here)

Chapter One

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter almost three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly in your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'So greedy, huh?'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?'

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

You take the results in a shaky hand, mind swirling as the doctor goes on and on, some crazy distant humming in your head, there’s no way, it can’t be. You’re literally starting your journalism career, thinking you’d maybe gained a few pounds from stress and ramen, the interning was absolutely brutal, you’re never regular on your periods, hence the birth control in the first place.

Running coffees here and there, grabbing this and that for everyone above you, but you were now officially hired, and you were making good money for once, finally able to pay down some of your pesky student loans and get a nice car. You worked hard for it, for everything, despite many thinking leading a sorority meant you came from money, you were a scholarship girl.

That’s a huge reason you and Satoru always clashed, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, easily acing every test that you busted your ass for, things came easy to him, you worked for it. Achieving the highest you could in your graduating class, the little shit that came to school hungover grinned right next to you, like a goddamn plague, and you hoped that finally he was gone for good.

What bonded two people like you now?

Well…

“Do you need to go over your options, hunny?” One of the nurses says, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile, you shake your head then, clearing your throat.

“I just need to… think.”

You’re pacing back and forth in your apartment, feet padding gently along the hardwood floor, cell phone in your hand, staring at the phone number that just got sent to you by Shoko. She was Satoru’s friend and yours, which was rare given the ongoing student warfare zone you all created. You’d texted her a simple- hey do you have Gojo’s number- not going into details.

How do you even tell him?

What do you say!?

You psych yourself up, finally dialing it, when he picks up the phone after the second ring, murmuring - “Hello.” God, even him answering what he assumes is a stranger is snarky.

“Um, hey.” Gojo pauses at the sound of your voice, faltering just for a moment, as his friends bounce a basketball around a court outside, he sits down on the bench, vivid images filling his head. “It’s-”

“Think I don’t know your annoying voice by heart, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, sighing and plopping down on your couch.

“Yeah, well… I got your number from Shoko.”

“Need a second round? Should have guessed.” He’s gesturing to Suguru and Sukuna, who roll their eyes at him, and he puts his voice down an octave. “I could be convinced.”

“Jesus christ, Gojo.” You almost hang up, feeling your tummy tighten then, almost nauseous, realizing you had to talk to him. “Are you, I don’t know, um… free for lunch or anything?” You despise the words falling from your lips.

“Asking me on a date, huh? So bold, I like it.” Satoru winks now at his friend’s shocked expressions, muting for a moment, telling them it was you.

“No fucking way.” Sukuna says, Suguru snorts in laughter and Satoru just grins, unmuting you again.

“I guess I could be convinced.” He purrs out those words, chuckling. “Hmm, we could go to that nice place on Hollywood ave hmm? Perfect Sushi.”

Your tummy growls, but then you frown, remembering that Sushi is on your damn list not to eat, you curse internally, peering at this list of everything you should never do or consume, and it specifically says raw fish right there. “Do they have cooked Sushi there?”

“Pshh, you’re such a prissy ass, can’t eat raw huh? Didn’t mind it raw from what I remember.” You hate this man.

“You know what never-”

“Shit, I was just kidding.” He panics, thinking you hung up, hearing your irritated sigh then. “Yeah I think they do. Why do you even wanna hang out, ya wanna nag me in person?” He spins his basketball effortlessly on his finger, acting all calm, as if he wasn’t dying to be buried in your perfect pussy again. “Miss being bitchy to me so bad?”

God he wanted to have you on his face, have you sucking him, he wanted for so much more than you all got to do, drunken fingers and your muted cries as he’d had a big hand tight over your mouth. His cock twitches under his basketball shorts just remembering how slick and hot you were, god how you fucking felt gripping him so damn tight.

Satoru had felt you pulsing around him as he reached his arm around you, pressing his fingertips to your clit in circles, as you’re crying out against his palm, practically drooling against him. ‘There you go, cumming so easy f’me huh?’ he taunts, as his own eyes roll back, feeling your pussy drool against his hand.

‘Mnh!’ was all you managed to murmur against his hand, as he feels your gummy walls spasm around his cock, his blue eyes roll back at how perfect you feel, how long he’s dreamed of this.

‘F-finally got you to shut up, hmm?’ He taunts you, normally you’d have something smart to say, but not as he’s overstimulating your little clit, pulling it away as you damn near collapse on the mattress, your thighs shaking, he wants to kiss you so bad, but you’re burying your face, arching your ass.

‘F-fuck you, Gojo- ah!’

The memories are so vivid Satoru can barely calm his thoughts, hearing you say his name in that irritated little voice, the one that drove him insane from day fucking one, the moment he’d met you. Prissy little thing with so much to prove, he thinks you still feel that way, which the biggest secret Satoru had for you had almost spilled on that last drunken night, the night he was inside you was…

He's always wanted you, not that he'd ever admit that however.

Ever.

“Is like three okay?” You're interrupting his thoughts now, as he clears his throat.

“Three rounds?”

You’re scowling at the phone as you question your life’s choices at this very moment. “Three o'clock, my god, for lunch.”

“Sounds good, it gives us time later, to… you know.” You glare at the phone, unbelievable, he’s ridiculous!

“Time for what?” Satoru chuckles at your high pitched question.

“Don't be shy, sweets, no need to pretend. I remember it all in vivid detail, every little bit.” Your cheeks heat up, hand clutching the phone tightly, trying to calm yourself and focus.

“Just lunch, that’s all I’m asking you for. Sounds good?”

“Want me to pick you up in my-”

“No, I'll meet you. Okay um…. Bye.” You hang up, breath coming quickly, you couldn't just tell him on the damn phone, this needed to be in person.

The thought of his pretty yet annoying ass presence damn near makes your head spin… would he think it's all a joke? Some scam to get with him or get money?

You're fucking terrified, standing and staring in the mirror, rubbing your tummy and frowning as you do. A damn baby… Likely raising it alone, knowing Satoru all these years, partying, insane and so immature. Even on the phone, he’s so damn cocky and self sure, that this must absolutely be what you want, to have him, as if you are over here pining away.

The sex was amazing to put it lightly, and sure if he was a decent guy, and not a fucking ass of a man, you’d have done it again, but the walk of shame that morning had been the most embarrassing day of your life. His little smirk after you woke up, plump lips too damn glossy for his own good, yawning and stretching half naked, cock already hard as he’d tapped his lap.

‘Another round, sweets? Come to daddy.’

You scoff even at the memory, at the audacity of fuckboi Satoru Gojo, you had run out so quickly he hadn’t had a moment to speak, and you swore to yourself never, ever again. Who cared if his cock was so big it hit places you didn’t know existed, and who cared if you’ve never felt that way, fuck you wish he actually wasn’t as good at it as he was.

Perfect at everything, infuriatingly, even fucking.

You get a text from the guy you were currently at least flirting with a bit here and there, the one you suggested going on a date, and then it all starts to hit, you’re pregnant and quite likely going to be some single mom. You couldn’t just go on dates, everything is completely different, maybe forever truly.

“Twenty Two year old single mom.” You grumble, sighing a bit as you text him you’re busy.

Busy.

*****

Satoru waits nervously at the restaurant, he doesn’t really do dates, he usually spends his time in the bedroom with a girl then runs right off. Shit, he’s never even gone without a condom before you, but when you’d said hurry up and put it in, who the fuck was he to tell you no? Not only had it felt superb, he never wanted to leave that perfect pussy.

Of course you would have the most perfect pussy.

You had to be the best at everything, all the time, didn’t you? Always competing for that top spot, but Satoru always just barely got past you, that .01% of that GPA, winning every contest over you always by just a tiny bit. From the moment you glared up at him and crossed your arms, he knew it, he had to do everything he could to win against your cute little ass.

Here’s the thing… Satoru never hated you, but he loves to say he does, you both say you do, or… well, said. Considering you slept with him and didn’t say a single word after, it’s not like he’s hard to find, but each of you actively refused to add each other on socials, though Satoru will admit he stalks your IG, you’re too fucking pretty not to do so, not that he’d ever like a post.

Once he accidentally did, god he wanted to be like those pathetic simps in your comments, but he’s not that, he’s Satoru Gojo. Women come to him, women come easy too, you of course were never one to come near him in that way, no you’d look at him getting smacked in the face on campus with a grin, vowing to your friends that you’d never be one of his conquests.

That night, though, it was like he lost himself, the most stupid, corny shit Satoru could think of, that last night of his freedom before being forced to take over his family’s business. You and everyone probably thought he wanted to, but of course he fucking didn’t, he didn’t want a part of the Gojo corporation in any way, shape or form.

Satoru felt lost, honestly.

Self sure, confident, conceited clearly, talking far too much shit and laughing, picking on you every chance he got, showing up to all your sorority parties in various stages of undress to lure your friends to him. He’ll never forget him, Sukuna and Suguru crashing your ABC party, wearing nothing but cut open beer boxes, and you so happened to have some white claw box made bikini.

God you’d been sexy, but when he stole all the attention? Oh he’s never seen you more mad.

Well no, he has.

Gojo loved to make you mad, because you’re so damn cute when your nose scrunches up, when your pretty eyes narrow, there was nothing like your huffs as you would cross your arms and shift your hips just so. And if there was anything Gojo was absolutely perfect at, amongst well damn near everything, it was making you absolutely furious.

Finally Satoru sees you, dressed in this pretty blue summer dress that juts out just a bit at the waist, making his heart race for just a moment at how pretty you are. It’s not like he forgot… but god. Are your tits bigger he wonders, or is he just obsessed with them, as always, looking too hard. Your cheeks are this beautiful color, your eyes so bright, like… some damn glow about you.

How corny is he lately.

He puts on a smirk as he leans back, waving with his fingers to gesture you over, and you look at him so damn seriously, sitting across from him, hands entwined together in front of you on the table for a moment, as you eye him carefully. “Gojo, um… how are you?’

Who the fuck is this girl in your body!?

You don’t nervously ask shit, you tell Gojo to fuck off, you glare or scowl while he smirks, what’s this… shy ass shit? He frowns a bit now, you exhale and slide off your purse, letting it sit on the seat next to you, he can’t stop staring at your lips, clearly bitten to fucking hell.

He tries to feign that he’s fine, that he hasn’t missed you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He missed your daily arguments on campus, he missed you being a total brat. He misses your scent, god that vanilla sugar body spray was haunting his very dream.

He acts as if he hadn’t died to hit you up, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t go that far, not with you, not with what you did to him, how you’ve damn near destroyed any game for himself any longer. That one night with you had sunk into him so deeply, he wishes it was just good pussy, and not whatever this was.

He’s jerked it off to you every fucking night since, to the point is damn dick doesn’t even work, he sure also wouldn’t admit that he can’t even fuck a girl because you were so good. Some evil witch that did something, it must be, he has at this point just given up trying, until whatever curse you gave him falls the fuck off.

But god you look good in front of him.

He should tell you, but instead he swipes a hand through his silky white locks and smirks right at you. “Missed me so badly, sweets?”

You roll your pretty eyes as the menu comes, smiling and thanking the hostess, a smile reserved for anyone in the world but him, even when he’d had you cumming all over him, you weren’t smiling. No, but you were drooling then.

‘Ah, look at you, so fuckin pathetic f’me, huh? Thought you hated me, sorority brat’ Satoru had huffed, as he’d fingered your cunt, curling inside of your slick walls, watching your pretty fucked out face. ‘Just from fingers?’

‘I do h-hate you- mnh!’ Your sparkly manicured nails dug into his broad shoulders as your tight walls convulsed around him, as he hit that spot that no man had ever found in a moment.

Perfect at everything, stupid Satoru.

‘Feel her, god she’s so desperate, huh?’

“Fuck you I- there, shit!’ you’d rolled your hips, grinding right on his hand, pussy drooling as you came from his fingers before he’d even put his cock inside you, and Satoru’s cock was leaking against his boxers, twitching as he pictures how perfect you’d felt around him. ‘Fuck you for being so g-good at that!’

‘Oh, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.’ He’d turned you then, whispering a ‘bend over, just like that, gonna be a big stretch, hmm?’

Satoru struggles to calm his memory, focusing on that sexy mouth of yours moving, realizing words are coming out of them, blinking to focus.

“How are you doing, Gojo?” You ask softly, always Gojo, you never called him Satoru, and he always called you sweets, short stuff, your last name, also never your first.

But he wanted to call you a lot of things, one of them being-

Stop that Satoru.

“I’m doing great, of course, miss me so much?” He teases, winking at you and sipping on the sickeningly sweet Shirley temple he’d had them buy, you just grab a water, hand flitting to your tummy for a moment. “You’re not sick are you?”

“No, not sick just… yeah we needed to talk. Is that okay?”

Satoru leans forward, raising a thin white brow. “You seem weird, everything okay?”

“Well… shit. I guess I’ll just say this. Um…” You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking out the window at the bustling city for a moment, before looking back at him. “Remember that night?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this to have a repeat.” His hand comes to your thigh, and that’s when you curse this pregnancy, because your nipples tighten, your cunt gets hot and wet from that.

Fuck hormones.

You take a breath, glaring as you always do at Satoru, the only time you never had was when he’s had your face with a slutty O for your mouth, your eyes rolled back, nails gripping those sheets. You shove his hand off, hoping he couldn’t feel your heat that quickly, as your body responds stupidly in a damn sushi restaurant.

“It’s not that, it’s important. Can you ever be serious in your life!?” You say quietly, and it’s his turn to glare, taking his hand back, sipping his drink again.

“Well just spit it out. What is all this, then?”

“It’s… I… You…” Shit, if ever you needed a drink it was now, and you damn sure wouldn’t have one for a good six months or more.

“It’s… I…. You…” He mocks, and you stand then, so furious your heart is racing, snatching up your purse.

“Never mind, I should have known you’re-”

“Shit, just sit. Sorry. Okay?” He grips your delicate wrist in his big hand, and even that is wrecking you, against your better judgement and everything you feel. “I’m sorry, it seems… serious. Just sit down and spit it out.”

You sit back down now, shifting as you both make your orders, a thankful distraction. As the waitress leaves, you sigh. “I don’t want anything from you, first off, so don’t think that.”

“What?” He blinks in confusion.

“I don’t need help, I can do it myself.”

“Do what!?”

“But you have to know… it’s the right thing to do, to tell you.” You look up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.

“Is this… are you in love with me, because of how good it was? Shit, that’s okay baby, everyone-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What!?” You just sit there, seriously staring, as he blinks, looking at fuller breasts, your damn glow, thinking of every dumb thing he’s heard. “You’re… by who?” He whispers, and you flush then, shifting in your seat, sipping more of your water, condensation cool on your hot palm, your skin is burning, heart is racing.

“I was on the pill, religiously, I swear, I never missed one. Shit, until I found out I never missed… I… never would have done it like we did if I knew.” You feel sick as he gapes at you, his pretty blue eyes bulging out damn near, his mouth dropped open. “I expect no help, no involvement, we’re young. I just-”

“This a joke, right?” You take another breath, hand gripping the glass, eyeing those around you all, engulfed in conversations.

“It’s not a joke.” He’s laughing now, smacking his thigh, and your jaw tenses as he does.

“It’s you and your damn friends, someone recording!? Hah-”

“It’s not a joke.” You clear your throat now, leaning in your purse and pulling out the papers, with your name, the results, watching his expression shift, brows drawing low, his jaw tense. “It’s only been you, no one else for an entire year.”

“A whole year?” He eyes you again, and you flush under his gaze, as his hands shake, hands you’ve never seen shake, hands that dribble basketballs, that tossed footballs, all with ease.

Hands that…

Fuck, don’t think of it.

“I’m not… I was too busy.” Besting Gojo, competing with Gojo, you had no time for shit with him, your anger at him shone so brightly it was hard to think about men. “As I said, you don’t need to pay for anything, this isn’t that conversation, this is just me letting you know. I’m keeping it.”

Satoru continues to blink at you, staring open mouthed, at your face, then your body, then back to your face, over and over, while the waitress brings out the food, smiling curiously at the two of you. Satoru doesn’t make a move to touch his food, running his hand through his now messy white locks again, as his mind spins.

“I know you’re wealthy, I don’t want you thinking I want some piece of it. I’ll take care of them alone, please don’t worry.” You touch your tummy, the motion making Satoru fucking feral in some way he can’t put together, just continuing to stare at you in utter shock as the sushi sits in front of the two of you. “I can leave, now, we don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He murmurs finally, voice hoarse.

“Act like we are civil, act like we’re anything but college enemies, fucking rivals, not even friends. God I know you hate me, I know this was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He whispers.

“Yes, for both of us. You don’t deserve your life uprooted, sure I can’t stand you, but this is my fuck up. I said those words…”

‘Cum in me, f-fucking cum in me, mnh…’ you’d arched your back, as his long fingers wrapped your throat, god he’d never felt anything like you.

‘Want me to fill your pussy s’good, huh lil brat?’ you just whine, muscles clenching on his cock, and he’d groaned in your ear then, shoving deep inside your drooly cunt. ‘Beg for it, then’

Oh, you had.

You hated him for it.

“It’s my fault, so don’t worry. But I wanted to be transparent, but I am… indeed, pregnant.”

“Pregnant, like, with a baby?” Satoru whispers, and You giggle then, for the first time since you found out, covering your mouth just a bit as he just stares.

“Yeah, a baby.”

“Mine…” His words send something through the both of you.

“Yours, but only if you want to be involved. I know it was a hate fuck, we’re young, we have lives-”

“You got a… like that scan shit set up?”

“Ultrasound?” He nods, nervously, hands clenching the table so hard you see the veins popping up through his thin skin. “I do, next week. I mean it is a couple months already, so I will see something, not like… the sex but…”

“Can I go?”

You blink in shock now. “You want to?”

“Yeah. I mean… why wouldn’t I?” He rubs the back of his neck, as the life he thought, the mundane one of following his damn family, of being a pawn in a bigger scheme, everything flashes.

It changes.

He’s scared shitless, but…

“I want to be involved. If you want me to be.” You blink back tears, but you fail, and if it’s one thing, Satoru Gojo has never seen his preppy ass Sorority rival cry, not fucking once.

He falters as those tears run down your cheeks, he leans over, hesitantly, the only physical contact aside from that fateful night was him shoving at you teasingly, or you smacking at him. Shit you all hadn’t hugged, you never even kissed aside from that night, sloppy and messy. But he doesn’t stop, until his thumb brushes your cheek, and you gasp.

“Shit I’m crying. Stupid hormones.” You huff now, swiping at your own eyes with shaky little hands. “You really wanna go?”

“Yeah if it’s cool?”

Satoru’s shocking you, the world tilts on its axis, like you’re having some insane dream. This can’t be real, can it? It’s fuckboi, frat boy Gojo, the man who goes through girls like they’re candy, the man who takes nothing serious, who has the world handed to him.

“Gojo, if you want to go of course you can, to any and all appointments, but you’re under no obligation, and please know I can cover the costs.”

“I know you’d never take my money, shit even if I offered, stubborn ass little brat that you are.” You manage a breathless giggle, the second one, realizing he is still brushing that thumb against your cheek, before he clears his throat. “So, tell me what day, I'll be there.”

“Yeah, are you sure? It will make it so… real, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now eat your cooked sushi, aren’t you like eating for two or some shit?”

You take your chopsticks with a shaky hand, exhaling. “I was reading, I think they are like the size of a pea maybe. But, this is yummy looking.”

“Gonna be a huge ass baby, shit.”

“Oh god!” You eye his lanky body, and he’s grinning, Satoru is grinning!? Shocking you further.

Maybe you don’t know him like you think?

“Tits are gonna get so big.”

Never mind.

*****

“An ultrasound!? A baby? Fuck…” Suguru Geto inhales the blunt, sucking the smoke into his lungs as Satoru nervously paces Sukuna and Suguru’s apartment, Satoru chose to live in his own place, closer to work. But he frequently gets shitfaced and crashes out at their place.

“Sounds fucking insane, shit.” Sukuna chuckles, as he’s hitting a bong, inhaling and exhaling, broad shoulders shaking as he coughs. “You look like you could use a hit or something.

“Before the ultrasound? Shit I need more than weed. I’m freaking the fuck out right now.”

“Imagine you as a dad though hah!” Sukuna smacks his thigh, as Satoru glares now, stopping his pacing while the music plays, the same music Satoru remembers doing keg stands and playing beer pong in togas to, only to now have the possibility of being responsible for a whole human being.

“Can’t even keep a plant alive, shit.” Suguru says in between laughs, and Satoru raises a white brow at the two of them on the couch.

“You two are so supportive.”

“Well shit, she said you don’t have to be involved, you can always just like… send money and shit? Do you really want a whole kid?” Sukuna asks, and Satoru takes a breath, pacing once more as he runs hands through disheveled hair over and over.

“Do I want a whole kid, no, I never even… I mean I figured eventually, as the Gojo heir, blah blah blah.” Satoru slumps in a nearby recliner, as Suguru hands him the blunt, frowning a bit now.

“You do need a hit. You’re young, it’s not time to give your family fuckin’ heirs yet, is it?”

“They’d probably be delighted.” Satoru rolls those cerulean eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, as the black fans above them swirl, moving the puffy clouds of smoke all around. His nostrils fill with the scent of the Sativa, wishing he could make sense of his thoughts. “Not delighted that it’s out of wedlock and unplanned.”

“Imagine her marrying you.” Sukuna and Suguru laugh loudly again, as Satoru hits the blunt again, not passing it.

“The fucks that mean?”

“She hates you. God I think more than anyone.” Suguru says, and Satoru smirks just a bit.

“She sure didn’t hate this dick.”

“Oh!” He’s slapping hands with his friends as Sukuna and Suguru start to make the most obscene gestures, while you call, and he shushes them quickly, trying to compose himself.

“Hello?”

“Gojo, hey. Um, ultrasound is in an hour, I’m heading out soon if you want to meet up?”

“Why don’t I have my driver pick you up?” He asks, and Suguru and Sukuna continue the gestures, making Satoru snort in laughter, the weed starting to enter his bloodstream.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just thought it would be more convenient in this traffic.” He shoots a wink at his friends.

“I mean… sure?” Satoru mouths yes, pumping his fist, clearing his throat now.

“It’ll be easier this way, alright send me your addy I’ll head out.”

“All right.” You just hang up, such a rude little thing. Satoru has changed your name to Sorority Brat in his phone for a good reason.

“What are you gonna do though, man?” Suguru murmurs thoughtfully, his dark violet eyes narrowed, clearly blitzed. “Gonna like… be with her?”

“Could cum in her whenever now.” Sukuna bursts out in laughter as Satoru glares at the two of them.

“Grow up…” They blink at him, then Satoru grins wide. “Nah, that would be a perk, because her pussy my god.”

They both scooch up, elbows on their thighs, avidly staring at Satoru now. “Details, man, it’s like the one girl you never told us about?” Sukuna asks.

“Because you’re in love.”

“Pshh, in love!?”

“Haven’t seen you with anyone since.” Suguru earns Satoru’s middle finger, as he puts out the blunt, stretching and earning their pouts.

“Bet she’s so good, though, all angry and shit, bet she’s a freak.” Satoru doesn’t even know if you’re a freak necessarily, but as Suguru agrees, he glares at them both, crossing his arms.

“This has been the worst pep talk in fucking history.”

“Shit, what’s your decision?” Suguru asks, and Satoru’s mind races, peeking at his watch now.

“I think I’ll make it when I like… see it?”

“Alright big Daddy, then if you decide to be involved we’ll be like… their uncles and shit.” Suguru says, and Satoru grimaces.

“God no, you’ll ruin my kid.”

“Fuck off now.” Sukuna starts hitting his blunt again, Satoru walks out away from them and spritzes cologne all along himself, he knows your prissy self never smoked weed, no you were a little goodie goodie. He thinks the only time he saw you drink was a little at parties, but never like that last night.

He remembers just looking at you asleep when he’d woken up, and the tenderness he felt when he had brushed your hair off your pretty face, and you’d stirred a bit. For a moment he felt his heart hammer in his chest, stone cold sober, seeing the bite marks he’d left on your delicate skin, feeling affection like he couldn’t describe, Satoru never felt that way.

He didn’t cuddle, he didn’t linger.

He ran out before they could wake up, he ran out like you did to him, perhaps he was a little nicer about it, though, you’d given no fucks when you darted out the damn door in a hurry. He had acted cocky though, full on hard just by the damn thought of your slick sticking to his cock, but instead of perhaps kissing you, he’d patted his lap and been a little shit.

He hated the recognition on your face, like he’d been a mistake, so he decided to shove you out of his brain, though he clearly failed.

Jogging down the stairs, he has his driver sent in your direction, and you get the text he’s there, stepping out in front of your little house, cute Satoru thinks, it’s small but it’s immaculate from the exterior. You have pink flowers and succulents all over the front of it when he steps out, eyeing your pretty dress, nerves starting to eat at him, but he puts on an easy smile.

“Ready to go see this little parasyte?’

“A what!?”

“Technically, it sort of is. Right, you’re like its host.” Your mouth is wide open, as you touch your tummy, and he curses. “Shit…”

“A parasyte, you’re calling our… I mean I guess my… the baby a-”

“I’m sure it’s a cute parasyte? It has a pretty host.” Satoru tries to put on the charm, the smolder, as you stare at him in shock.

Was it shocking, this was Gojo.

“Dear God.”

How’d you end up pregnant with this idiot’s baby?!

You slide into the car as you shake your head, and he covers his face, grimacing as he realizes he just told his… god what even were you, a baby mama!? That his baby was a… parasyte. Well, it is, and Satoru would typically just argue with you and let you know he’s correct and you’re wrong, but he keeps quiet, feeling you seething.

“Fire signs.” He mumbles, you look at him again.

“What?”

“You’re a fire sign, it’s why you’re so feisty. I am too, you know.” You relax just a bit, curiously.

“You believe in astrology?” You ask in shock, for as long as you’ve known Satoru Gojo, the two of you don’t really know each other.

“Baby I’m the most Saggitarius man there is.” You giggle again, fuck that’s three giggles Satgoru has counted, and how it lights up your already glowing makes him ache for you, suddenly realizing one of his long legs is brushing against you. Your warmth alone makes him throb, the vanilla sugar filling the space in the car.

“You certainly are the epitome of a Saggitarius. Don’t call me feisty, yuck.” You shove at him playfully almost, pausing a bit when you realize his body feels far too good against yours.

You may or may not have masturbated last night, and he may or may not have popped in your head, over and over. But, don’t worry, because Satoru has spent months jerking his thick length to the thought of you, not that either of you would admit that it may or may not have happened.

“This baby would be a fire sign.” You murmur then, letting your hand fall, and nervously fidgeting, Gojo’s long limbs take over so much of the car, as big as it is, Gojo’s always taken over everything, even apparently your senses.

“Would it?” He asks quietly, for once just a little serious it seems.

“Yeah, an Aries if it comes when it should.”

“So it’ll be a brat like you.”

“Psh, like you.” You roll your eyes, and the two of you fall into a bit of a silence, so much unspoken between you. “Do you know if…”

“That’s why I want to see. Make it real?”

You actually nod in understanding, surprising him then. “I get it.”

The ultrasound tech is rolling the wand over cold gel soon, as you’re embarrassingly propped up with your feet in stirrups, and Satoru stands to the side, glaring at the man who’s inserting this wand in you. He gets angry that he’s getting such a view, he doesn’t even think he saw you that much.

What he remembers…

Your pussy is very pretty.

You wince a bit as the doctor smiles up at you. “Tight muscles, huh?”

Satoru snorts in laughter, and you glare. “What!?”

“You are so tight.”

“Gojo!” You glare, and even the doctor laughs, also earning your scowl, which makes them both sober up.

“Sorry, Miss. Alright… relax, would you?” How do you relax as a doctor is shoving a wand in your coochie and your enemy, who got you pregnant somehow, is turning red holding in his lewd thoughts!? “Look at the screen.”

You and Satoru both look over now, your breath catches then, as does his, when the doctor begins to tap keys on the keyboard, and you hear it for the first time, this little… heartbeat. It’s a heartbeat.

“There it is, congratulations you two. About… ten weeks?” You’re enamored as you stare at the screen, and he moves the wand inside you. “Look there, that’s the little baby.”

Baby.

A baby.

It’s all real.

Satoru’s completely silent as tears fill your eyes, a myriad of emotions, some that you’re so connected already to a little peanut inside you, some that you don’t know how you’ll do this, some of your life. How will it alter, how will it go, what will people think… and what does the man next to you think? What will he do!?

But overwhelmingly as you feel yourself begin to cry, and the screen turns off, you feel warmth spread, touching your tummy in wonder, there’s a damn baby in your body. Your baby. Something you never considered or thought of, you figured much, much later in life, not now.

And you’d likely be…

Alone in this.

“I’ll go get a picture printed for you two.” The doctor smiles kindly, as you’re left alone, with a for once silent Satoru Gojo.

You hesitate to look at him, a stunned expression on his face as you sit up, closing your legs and biting your lower lip, he finally looks at you and exhales, seeing your tear streaked cheeks. A girl he never knew to cry or giggle has done both, and a man you never thought to be serious or quiet… was.

“Satoru um…”

“Satoru?” He asks quietly, and you flush.

“Sorry…”

“No, I don’t mind, just… crazy. This is crazy. There’s a whole life inside you!? And we made it?” You sigh, nodding then, and he shocks you as he leans down, as you’re sitting in the bed, coming so close to you, eyes swirling storms of emotions.

“You can back out now, it’s okay. I won’t put this on you, keeping it is an insane idea but… it feels right to me?” He tilts your chin up, leaning closer, to where you can taste the sweetness of his breath, as your heart pounds right in your chest. “But if you’re backing out, do it now, it will hurt… fuck it will hurt more if you get too involved, okay? Do it now.”

“I’m not backing out of shit.” You gasp, and he exhales, wiping your tears away. “We both did this. I’ll not live in some world knowing my baby is raised with no help of mine in any way, fuck that.”

“But you-”

“I get it, we… aren’t… together. But in this I will be.”

“Satoru, I think I may have a cardiac arrest before I get this baby out.” You sniffle and he smirks a bit.

“So unbelievable that I’d want to?”

“Yes. The Gojo I know…”

“You may not know me as well as you think. And maybe I don’t know you that much… aside from I agree about that tight-”

“I swear!” You shove at him, as he snorts in laughter, still a little shit, as they bring in two pictures, and Satoru takes one thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” He tilts his head curiously. “Looks like me.”

“It looks like nothing yet, what?” You’re taking tissue and cleaning up a bit, as they give you privacy to pull back on your panties, but Satoru gives you no privacy, just looking. “You could turn?”

“Why, that’s one benefit you know.”

“What?”

“Could fuck any time, cum inside whenever.”

“Oh you wish.” You shove at his chest, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brows, grabbing your waist, pulling you against him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Shut it.” Yes.

“Sex is good for pregnancy.”

“You’re so full of shit! I can’t with you. Rizzing me up at a gyno?”

“Perfect place, see that doctor, he wants a piece.”

“You’re so dumb, I swear.” You look at the picture then, thumb brushing against the baby’s… maybe it’s a face?

“Are we gonna live together?”

“I mean… what?” You eye him in shock.

“When the baby’s here.”

“No, we don’t have to do all that, we live close. Can you imagine us living together, we’d kill each other.” He envisions it, the fights surely but… the sex, and seeing you in the morning?

“Or fuck. Alot.”

“That’s how this happened.” You mumble, and soon you’re back home, and trying to ignore your body’s insane responses while he stands on your porch, looking far too fucking sexy. “Thank you for being there.”

“You thanking me? the world is ending.”

“Hush. I appreciate this, you standing by me. You don’t have to.”

“I… want to. Um, what will we say?”

You bite your lip more, until he gently takes it out from under your top row of teeth, brushing against the indentations. “We could say we’re together, if you don’t mind, dating I guess? My parents would trip if they knew it’s like…”

“Same. My parents would be happy for a Gojo heir though.” You hear it, the surprising resentment in his voice.

There’s a lot you don’t know.

“Well, I can act like I like you for them if you want.” You tease, and he leans against your doorway, so fucking tall, just looming over you, and you have to clench your hands not to give in to the temptation of touching him.

“Act like you like me- you?”

“I could! If you could act like you like me, in front of my family.”

“How will we explain the whole not living together thing?”

“It’s new, it’s 2025 Gojo, not 1810. We’ll be okay. You're so old school huh, gonna marry me?”

“You’d leave me at the altar.” You both laugh again, as he straightens up now. “Alright, so when should we tell them?”

“When you want to. So work on those acting skills. I’ll set up brunch with mine, you set up dinner with yours?”

“Sounds good. Alright don’t miss Daddy too much.” You snort and roll your eyes, turning away now.

“Daddy? Whatever.”

Satoru presses you against the door, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, splaying the expanse of it with long fingers, as your breath comes quicker and quicker. “Could swear you called me daddy when I beat up that pretty pussy hmm?”

You falter, whining softly, hating your body’s reaction, scowling right up at him, your hand on your doorknob, while this tall ass of a man makes your body light up. “Never called you daddy, no way.” Your voice is a pathetic whisper, why does he do this to you, you want to arch into his damn touch, press against his length, to the point you make yourself stiffen.

“Oh? Must have been the liquor.” He caresses your face, leaning so close you wildly think he’ll kiss you, and you know damn well you can’t handle that, not with your pussy soaking your damn panties just from this.

You hate Satoru Gojo, and he hates you.

This is… because you both are having a baby.

Right?

“It must have been.”

“Ah, I see. Good night, then sweetheart.” He leans his lips up, kissing the top of your head, a gesture so oddly sweet it doesn’t even fit him. “Text me the details, Sorority brat.”

“Sure will, Frat boy.” He sticks his tongue out as you do, walking in and leaning against the door, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, the memories that surfaced. You slide down it slowly, burying your face in your hands, as your body trembles with this insane need.

Shit. A baby with your enemy?

A baby with Frat Boy Gojo?

Faking that you like him, would it really be that fake?

Satoru’s leaning against it too, for just a moment, trying to compose himself… finally he’s in the back of the car again, as his driver looks in the rearview mirror curiously, tired eyes focusing as Satoru looks at the picture again. The little peanut that’s apparently a…

A baby.

With his enemy.

An enemy he really wants to be inside again.

“Everything alright, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, Satoru runs a hand through his hair now, leaning back in his seat as he peers out the dark tinted windows.

“I’m having… a baby with a girl who hates me.”

“Why does she hate you?” Kiyotaka asks, driving off, as Satoru chuckles just a bit, remembering bits and pieces of college, out of order, out of sync.

“Because honestly, I was kind of a complete dick to her?”

“That’s… oddly self observant.”

“You saying I’m a dick to you?”

“No Mr. Gojo!”

“I’m kidding, relax.” Kiyotaka’s tense shoulders relax when Satoru leans forward, hand on his shoulder through the little divider that’s opened. “Do you know shit about kids at all?”

“I have nephews, they’re pretty good kids. But babies, not really.”

“I could ask my parents but they basically had nannies raise me.”

“Many nannies, I heard.”

“Well, I was a menace to be honest. Where do I learn about these… things?”

“Babies?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I think there are books?”

“Hmm.” Satoru pulls out his phone then.

Fratboy Gojo🙄(yes that’s his name in your phone now, no you’re not sorry): Should I order us baby books?

Sorority Brat💦😻(of course that’s your name in his phone): Yes, if you want to? That would be good. Thank you… for today.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Two thank yous!? That baby is making you a mush.

Sorority Brat💦😻: Whatever!

Satoru snorts then, but when you’re in your bed later that night, nibbling on a bag of hot cheetos that have been screaming at you all day, how is that your first craving!? He writes to you again, and you pick your phone up with your clean hand, sans hot cheeto dust, rolling your eyes.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Need some nudes for your spank bank?

You’re gonna kill him.

Sorority Brat 💦😻: Good night, Gojo.

Satoru frowns, because his dick is already in his hand, but for a moment you think about it, and would it be so bad to-

No, no no.

You aggressively eat those hot cheetos, wondering just what you were in for with that damn boy in your life now, shit forever.

“Fuck.” You’ll never drink again.

I say four parts but I feel like this is gonna be long aha, bc god Gojo is a lil shithead hehe (as I like him) this just a teensy bit similar to the Knocked Up movie premise so expect a LOT of humor here! <3

Taglist one- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97

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