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shegatsby · 9 months ago

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Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Couldn't wait, I had to post it lol. I hope you'll like it. Sorry for any typos. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉) Don't forget to leave a comment.

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.417K

Chapter 3

Chapter Two ‘’Forcibles’’

The boy with pure eyes had grown into a tall muscular man with menace in his orbits. ‘’May I?’’ he asked not leaving his gaze from Pyramus, it wasn’t a request, it was an order and Pyramus who was coming from a small house couldn’t say no. Without a word he let go of Y/N, she felt empty. She was about to object, maybe excuse herself to rest but Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen acted quickly, like a snake he placed his hand on the small of her back and held her hand, she had no choice but to place her hand on his tense shoulder. His eyes so blue, ‘’How long has it been?’’ he asked, his boy voice was gone and classical Harkonnen tone made its home. Manly. ‘’I truly don’t remember.’’ She replied with a flat tone, couldn’t do anything but let him lead the dance. It had been only a minute and Y/N had every information she needed;

Predator

Dominant

Show off

His grip was strong, maybe he was sending a clear message to other houses. Y/N didn’t want to care but her Bene Gesserit training made it impossible not to care. ‘’You wound me.’’ He mocked. He was much taller than Pyramus. She had to look up to meet his icy blue gaze. Y/N noticed the looks they got, a Harkonnen is dancing with an Atreides…. Outrageous.

‘’I see you become a witch like your mother.’’ His tongue was a whip, was he trying to get a reaction out of her?

‘’I’ve heard you become a beast.’’ She was quick to answer, she felt the grip on her back tightened. Did she stroke a nerve? Good.

‘’If we were in Giedi Prime I would have your tongue.’’ He was amused and it made her more angry, ‘’Proves my point.’’

She noticed Irulan and Paul’s questioning look, they seemed shocked and concerned for Y/N. She gave them a small smile.

She felt like a black cobra snake swallowing her whole, Feyd-Rautha made sure to press her close to him, he wasn’t gentle like Pyramus, she looked but couldn’t see him, ‘’Looking for someone?’’ he sounded annoyed, Y/N heard how his mood changes quickly and she didn’t have time for an ugly scene. ‘’My friends. I assume you’re not familiar with the concept.’’ She thought maybe detesting Harkonnens were genetic. Feyd laughed hard which attracted stares around them, they were mostly concerned for Y/N Atreides. Up close, for a split second she saw that innocent boy but he disappeared.

The music ended and she excused herself, before she left Na-Baron grabbed her wrist, she turned in shock, what was he doing? He leaned and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, the kiss felt so soft she couldn’t believe it was coming from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. She bowed in courtesy and got away from his grip, she could feel his icy blue orbits on her back, stabbing her.

Irulan came to chat with her, ‘’What was that about?’’ Irulan didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention but she wasn’t the only one who witnessed that. ‘’What do you mean?’’ Y/N asked drinking her champagne, cold liquid made her more relaxed, ‘’Feyd-Rautha ate you with his eyes.’’ Irulan signed with her hands, didn’t want pointy ears to hear. ‘’He is an intense man. That’s all.’’ She signed back.

The night was too long for Y/N’s liking. Since she was a lady she had to stand by her family and talk to other houses about spice, politics, etc. She needed some air.

Y/N chose a balcony at the back, front ones were occupied, she inhaled deeply, her hands on the stone railings, ‘’Here you are.’’ Pyramus’s soft voice made her calm. They hugged, he immediately tried to kiss her but Y/N had to be careful, she moved her head and Pyramus’s thin lips landed on her cheek. He huffed in annoyance, ‘’How long we have to hide in the shadows?’’ he loved to whine. ‘’Soon I shall tell my family.’’ Y/N kept mustering up her courage and loosing it the last minute. It wasn’t going to be easy. Pyramus held her hands, ‘’Be mine, they can’t say anything then.’’

‘’I’m already yours.’’ She was confused,

‘’Be mine… fully.’’ His dark eyes looking for answers. ‘’Oh,’’ Y/N understood. ‘’I don’t know. We should head back.’’ She changed the topic. Before she could leave Pyramus didn’t let go of her hands, ‘’Think about it, please.’’

Y/N Atreides could hear the whispers; ‘’Did you see?’’

‘’Poor girl.’’

‘’They seemed a perfect match, how odd.’’

‘’Na-Baron seems interested…’’

She only held her head high, pretended like she was deaf. Long night came to an end, she felt so tired running from unwanted company, the Harkonnen boy. Her father had to talk to them, Y/N managed to ignore them.

Tossing and turning in her bed with questions in her busy mind she bolted to her feet. The palace was quiet, guests were fast asleep. Y/N wanted to talk to someone, someone who would understand.. she wore her white satin robe and left her bed chamber. Her family were staying at the guest wing, she knew Paul would be awake. Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls, glowglobes were on the walls, giving a dim light to the corridors, her Bene Gesserit training made her stop, someone was following her, she calmed her mind.

‘’Why so hasty?’’ a rough voice echoed behind her back. She turned to face the owner of the voice. Feyd-Rautha.

‘’I could ask you the same thing, my Na-Baron.’’ Her heart beat got faster as he approached hands in his back. His manner was predatory, observing his prey. His tunic was thin and loose, ‘’Why are you wandering so late at night, little dove?’’ pet name made her blood rise but she had to keep her calm. ‘’I don’t see why it is-‘’ he was circling her now, ‘’your business.’’ Feyd came to stop in front of her which made her look up to meet his eyes. He liked having the height advantage, he could sense her fear, so delicious. ‘’Witches and their secrets…’’ he leaned and whispered to her face, his breath hot. Y/N wanted to run away and hide from him but something in her told her that no matter what he would find her.

‘’I’m good at revealing secrets.’’ His left hand rose, his forefinger tracing her arm covered in satin, both of them felt the electricity. His eyes travelled on her chest and find their place on her eyes again. ‘’How is Pyramus?’’

Y/N had to be extremely careful, or her house’s honor could be at stake. ‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about Na-baron.’’ Her tone flat yet Feyd noticed her posture change. As if she was going into a trial by combat. Deep down he wondered how would it feel to be loved like this, he could feel the rise of jealousy… a member of an insignificant house could achieve her love so easily? No. he would not allow it. A sinister plan ran in his dark mind.

She wanted to wipe that arrogant smile on his face, ‘’I shall bid you good night.’’ With that she headed back to her room. Whenever she wanted to open up about Pyramus something would stop her…

When the morning came with its shiny sun and fresh smell of flowers she was having breakfast with her family. Padishah Emperor Shaddam made majority of the house leave and announced that after breakfast he would announce his decision.

‘’You seem upset my love, is everything all right?’’ Duke Leto asked gently, she hadn’t touched the food on her golden plate, she looked around, no one but her family. ‘’I’m in love with someone.’’ She unraveled, feeling the years of burden leaving her delicate shoulders. Leto and Paul were smiling but her mother’s face didn’t move a muscle. ‘’Who is the lucky gentleman?’’ Leto asked, ‘’Pyramus, from house-‘’

Jessica cut her short, ‘’That house?! Have you lost your mind?’’ Jessica knew that Reverend Mother had something else planned for Y/N. Bene Gesserit has been working for this union for years. ‘’Let’s not lose our temper.’’ Leto warned Jessica with a calm tone. ‘’They are a small house, it is true. If he is good enough for my daughter he is good enough for us.’’ He finished. ‘’Excuse me.’’ Everyone thought Jessica was leaving in anger but she was about to send a message to Reverend Mother an change the whole course of Y/N’s future.

Harkonnens were having breakfast together, Feyd-Rautha was so fed up with his obese uncle’s eating that he lost his appetite. Rabban was in his normal self, quiet and tense. ‘’I wonder who will be the princess’s husband.’’ Rabban said curiously, was he hoping? Feyd-Rautha was seated away from them, watching them like a hawk. He knew well that Shaddam would never take that risk, to send his one and only daughter to the hellhole called Giedi Prime? Not in a million years. ‘’One way or another he has to satisfy us.’’ Their uncle spoke with full mouth, Feyd had to look away, he could feel his bile coming up to his throat. He drank his wine to suppress. ‘’What do you think uncle?’’ Rabban asked, he kept trying to impress their uncle and failed miserably. Baron’s fat fingers were shiny with the bacon’s juice he was eating, ‘’I believe we won’t leave until we get something.’’

Their Mentat Piter de Vrives knocked on the door and walked in, ‘’My Baron, Emperor is expecting you and your nephews to the throne room.’’

Baron laughed, ‘’We shall be there.’’

The throne room was packed with lords and ladies that remained, including Reverend Mother Helen. Y/N didn’t remember seeing her last night’s ball. Strange. Y/N Atreides and her family arrived early, Padishah Emperor Shaddam spoke with her father Duke Leto in private. Behind the golden throne there was a door which opened to a small room where Shaddam’s office took place. When Duke Leto came back his face held grim, he refused to look at anyone but the Emperor, was that resentment? Emperor was seated on his golden throne which had colorful ornaments, on his right much smaller and silver throne was placed and Irulan was sitting on it. Looking like a statue, she was a strong woman. Reverend Mother was at Shaddam’s left, whispering into his ear. She was covered in black, just like Harkonnens.

Y/N noticed how old Shaddam got, every child at one point in their lives come to the realization of their parents’ old age. Emperor was a second father to her, a sudden whip to her heart she focused her eyes on the floor to prevent herself from crying. In order to keep her racing mind busy she looked around to see the remained houses. Pyramus was right there, she waved at her and Y/N waved back. He had a colorful suit, just like his personality. Pyramus and other low class houses were on the left side of the room, other old and powerful houses were on the right. Everyone watched the way Harkonnens entered, they were the last one to arrive. Baron Vladimir was a man of show off, he loved to show his power given any chance. Baron was at the front, Rabban and Feyd following behind, when Y/N saw Feyd-Rautha, her mind immediately went to last night’s events.

‘’Does he know me and Pyramus?’’ to be the first one to reveal the secret she had to tell it to her family this morning but she wasn’t sure anymore. All day Pyramus was after her asking how they reacted, she felt overwhelmed.

She wanted to be brave so Y/N watched them stand close to Atreides, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t shy of eye contact, as usual he was wearing his black suit, with his boots he looked much taller. Y/N watched him eye her up and down, she was wearing a dark blue dress, her arms and neck covered in dark blue laces, her head was tightly rounded like a ball on her head, a thin silver tiara was placed. She kept her posture high, she wasn’t going to shrink because of a Harkonnen, even though Feyd looked as if he could disintegrate her with his shiny blue eyes.

Shaddam rose to his feet, his regal robe sweeping the floor, ‘’Thank you for waiting so patiently,’’ everyone were focused, eager to hear his decision. ‘’I have decided that it was due time to choose a life partner for my one and only daughter. After last night I have consulted my daughter Irulan and the young gentleman that I choose is,’’ Y/N could feel the tension in the room, she slightly observed the room and Shaddam’s subjects were focused on him but one person. Feyd-Rautha, his snake eyes kept finding Y/N. Why did he look like he knew something that Y/N didn’t?

‘’Paul Atreides, from house Atreides.’’ Applauses could be heard, Y/N got positive energy from them last night so she wasn’t wrong. Irulan was her sister and Paul her brother, she knew that they would make each other happy. Paul walked to princes Irulan to kiss her hand. ‘’The wedding shall happen tomorrow.’’ The applauses died down, ‘’If you have no objections or requests you may be dismissed.’’ Shaddam announced, Y/N couldn’t wait to be left alone with Irulan and listen every detail.

‘’Emperor!’’ a man’s strong voice echoed in the throne room, ‘’I have a request.’’ Y/N turned to see Feyd-Rautha leaving his spot and slowly approaching to stand in the middle of the room, ‘’Come forth young Harkonnen.’’

Y/N had a bad feeling, this whole thing look staged, she turned to see her family’s reaction. Duke Leto, again, trying so hard to avoid her, Lady Jessica smiled at her. Y/N was puzzled, ‘’This is for the best.’’ She signed to her daughter.

Feyd-Rautha did what Shaddam said, before he knelt in front of the Emperor he gave a last look to her.

‘’What is it that you request?’’ Shaddam’s calmness irritated Y/N.

‘’Since you raised her as one of your own it is best to ask your permission,’’ Feyd paused to get more reaction from his spectators, his head was down but after that pause he tilted his head and look into Shaddam’s eyes. Shaddam had never seen such power in a young boy before. Baron did a great job.

‘’I demand Lady Y/N Atreides’s hand in marriage.’’

TAG LIST;

@superchatnoir07

@mamawiggers1980

@landlockedmermaid77

@moonsoulk

@crystalskiesandcherrywine

Thank you for reading. :)

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saveyourblood · 1 month ago

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Pretty Boy - Ch 1 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you're an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them. Originally posted to AO3

Chapter Summary: Your new(ish) co-worker has a special talent: getting on your nerves.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Swearing (if that even counts).

You’re ending the first half of your 24-hour shift the same way you always do—dinner with the team. Well, at least that’s how you try to end the first half of your shift. Of course, that’s also assuming that both the fire and medical teams are actually at the station and not on a call.

All things considered, this probably only happens once a week, if that.

When it works out, though, it’s a good time. You already spend a lot of time in the rig with Hen and Chim, being an advanced paramedic and all. When it comes to the firefighters, though, you aren’t as well-versed, so it’s nice to have a weekly ‘getting to know you’ session. It seems like these days, it’s a 50/50 shot if they’ll make it to next week's dinner.

The firefighting crew at the 118 is a revolving door of macho men. When you first started, it was Chim, Tommy, and Sal. Chim became a paramedic, so he didn’t exactly ‘leave.’ Sal got relieved of duty, so he didn’t really have a choice. Tommy left, but for something better. Maybe it isn’t so much the job that makes people leave; maybe being a firefighter at the 118 is a stepping stone for bigger and better things.

There is one firefighter that, if he left, you wouldn’t be heartbroken. In fact, it would probably make your shifts a whole lot better.

Evan Buckley, aka ‘Buck.’ God, even thinking his name makes you want to gag a little.

He’s a decent kid, but he’s just that: a kid. He’s a Probie; he’s only been on the job for about 4 months, and no one would assume otherwise. His heart is in the right place, but his brain hasn’t caught up yet. You’re starting to fear it never will.

“I know exactly what that polite, distant smile means: she’s bored,” Chim says as he leans over the counter, pulling you right out of your thoughts and back into reality. “This woman is so far out of my league, but she’s once-in-a-lifetime… I can’t let her go.”

“Lots of fish in the sea,” Bobby, your captain, chimes in. He leans over to pull something out of the oven.

“Not with the bait he’s using,” Hen remarks as she walks by. Her arms are full of dishes to set the table with.

“Amen, sister,” you agree, hot on her heels. She gives you a small smile and hands you the plates, which you accept with a smile of your own.

“Cruel, but true,” Chim sighs. “I met her on this new dating site, just for cops and firefighters, RomancingTheUniform.com. She’s an adrenaline junkie, so foreplay is me telling her stories about running into burning buildings and jumping into icy lakes and…”

“I’m sorry, wait,” Hen interrupts, “remind me: when was the last time you ran into or jumped over anything?”

“...I embellish a little.”

“Oh, noted.”

“So is she a cop or a firefighter?” You ask.

Chim gives you a look. “Why would she be?”

“Well, you said the website is for cops and firefighters,” you repeat. “Doesn’t that make her a cop or a firefighter?”

“Okay, it’s not just cops and firefighters,” Chim cedes, “it’s also for people that want to date cops and firefighters.”

“Ohhh,” you smile, “so cops, firefighters, and badge bunnies. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m telling you, the uniform is a major aphrodisiac,” Chim continues as he brings a salad to the table.

“Yeah, hence the term ‘badge bunny,’” you remark.

The conversation is interrupted by one of the engines backing into the station. You probably should have noticed it was gone, but frankly, as long as your rig is in the bay safe and sound, you don’t care what the meatheads are up to.

Speaking of meatheads…

“Oh good, PB is back,” you remark sarcastically.

‘PB’, aka ‘pretty boy,’ aka Buck. You started calling him Pretty Boy his first day, and over the months, you shortened it. He jogs his way up the stairs and dips a finger in the communal spaghetti bowl. You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee.

“Wash your hands!” Hen scolds as she pulls the bowl out of his reach.

“What if there’d been a call?” Bobby asks as he brings the last dishes to the table.

“I was in the neighborhood!” Buck defends himself. He takes one of the plates from Bobby’s grasp, but instead of passing it around like a normal person, he starts eating the food off the plate with his dirty hands. Sometimes, you wondered if he was raised by a pack of stray dogs.

Bobby starts lecturing Buck, and you smirk with a little satisfaction. Bobby’s going to write him up, and truthfully? It’s a long time coming.

“First infraction, two more, and you’re out,” Bobby says as he steals back the plate. “Wash your hands.”

“You know, you're not helping him by going easy on him,” Chim says once Buck is out of earshot.

“He just needs a little direction,” Bobby replies.

“I’ll remind you of that when he gets us killed,” you mumble.

The alarm bells start to sound through the station. Everyone groans, including yourself. So much for dinner.

Chim decided to catch a ride with the boys in the truck, so that leaves you and Hen in the rig.

“I’m sorry, dispatch,” you say into the radio, “118 RA responding: did you say the baby is in the wall?”

“10-4, 118,” the dispatcher responds. “Caller reports hearing a baby crying in his walls.”

“Copy that, 118 RA clear,” you say before hanging the radio back up. “Well, this will be fun.”

“You think you can play nice with Buck?” Hen asks, a smirk on her face.

“Hey, I’m always nice,” you reply.

“Not to him!” She laughs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you roll your eyes the second he got back to the station.”

“I can play nice and still think he’s a raging idiot,” you defend. “Besides, since when are you his biggest fan?”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Hen chuckles. “And I love you, but you don’t know how to play nice.”

“Why be the bigger person when you can be the bigger problem?”

That remark gets a full belly laugh out of Hen. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

Hen parks the rig behind the engine in front. The boys come pouring out immediately, grabbing various tools and equipment. You make your way to the back of the ambulance, tossing Hen her med bag before picking up your own.

You follow the rest of the crew upstairs, and before you know it, the five of you are standing in some random guy’s apartment, listening for something that probably isn’t real.

“Look, I'm telling you, I heard a baby crying,” the man says. “Someone flushed a baby down the toilet.”

Hen picks up a bong off the counter and gives the man a look.

“I’m not high.”

You both raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m pretty high, but it’s Sativa,” he says. “It makes you happy. It doesn’t make you hallucinate.”

“It could’ve been a rat,” Chim shrugs. “Sometimes rats get stuck in the walls.”

You frown. At the end of his sentence, you swore you heard a cooing sound.

“Shh,” you say to everyone, walking over to the bathroom. “Did you guys hear that?”

They're hot on your heels, watching as you take your stethoscope from around your neck and put it into your ears. You place the bell on the wall and wait. When you hear nothing, you begin rapping your knuckles on the tile until you do. Once again, it’s a faint cooing sound, not unlike a baby.

You then knock your knuckles on the wall until you hear a hollow sound. You take a marker from your pants pocket and mark an ‘x’ over it, knowing the space behind it is hollow. You take the stethoscope out from your ears.

“We need to open up this wall,” you say, pointing to the ‘x.’

“No, we’re being punked,” Chim disagrees. “It’s a tape recorder or something.”

“Maybe not,” Hen says, stepping forward. “Maybe a mother gives birth on the toilet and flushes it.”

“Okay, first of all, that's awful,” Chim says. “Second, do you know how pipes work?”

“If the baby is premature, its bones can bend and compress like sponges,” Bobby mentions. “We need to get in there.”

“Stand back, I got this!” Buck says, swinging his fire axe over his shoulder.

He runs up towards the wall with full intentions of swinging. Hen and Chim move out of the way and shout while Bobby tries to grab him. Ultimately, you’re the one to stop him, and you do it by placing both hands on the axe.

“Hey! Did you even stop to consider that you might hit a baby?!” You shout, adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream.

Buck just stares at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” you spat, pushing the axe out of the way.

“Buck, go get the saw,” Bobby directs.

“Try to find some common sense while you’re down there,” you call after Buck as he walks out.

“Nice catch,” Bobby says, looking at you.

“How nice of me to save the baby from one of the LAFD’s finest first responders,” you reply bitterly.

You can’t help but look at Hen, who quickly looks away. Her avoidance gives you a small sense of victory because this? This shit right here? This is why you can’t play nice with Buck. His head is screwed on backward, and it can get people killed. Playing nice isn’t going to fix that.

Thankfully, Bobby takes the saw from Buck once he brings it up. He makes a few small cuts in the wall before he and the other boys are pulling at the drywall. They quickly expose a massive pipe running behind the toilet.

“That thing is huge,” you remark to Hen.

“It probably connects a bunch of the toilets in the units above this one,” Hen returned.

“So… even with the water turned off…” you start, a sense of dread filling your stomach.

“If someone above us flushes the toilet, it could drown the baby,” Hen finishes. Almost before she finishes the sentence, she’s running into the hall, yelling for people not to flush their toilets. The boys make a few cuts into the pipe, and in no time, they’re taking it to the floor.

“Guys, I can see the head,” you say, joining them on the floor.

They make a few more cuts until the pipe is one straight segment.

“Get the head out,” Chim instructs.

“Yeah, you gotta push from below,” Buck chimes in.

You try that, but the baby isn’t moving. You look to the corner, then at Buck.

“Bring me the defibrillator,” you instruct clearly.

Buck scrambles over, picking up the case.

“Just the lube, Buck,” you rephrase, but he’s already coming back with the whole thing.

“Take it, take it,” Buck says, passing it off to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing the lube out and tossing the rest of it to the side. You pour some lube on the baby’s head, then down by its feet.

“Work that in,” you tell Chim.

You move your index finger around the circumference of the pipe, brushing the baby’s legs with lubricant as you do so. Then, you gently apply pressure to its feet, and slowly, you can feel it move forward.

“This is gonna be a scoop and run,” you mumble.

“Hen, get the ambulance ready,” Bobby tells her. You’re not sure when she got back, but when you look up again, she’s gone again.

Slowly, the baby’s head emerges from the pipe, and the rest of her body follows.

“She’s not breathing,” you quickly note, “starting CPR.”

You place your index and middle finger in the center of the baby’s chest and press down fast and hard. “Looks like her airway’s obstructed.”

“Buck, get the bulb syringe,” Chim demands. A few seconds pass. “Buck, come on!”

“I’m coming!” Buck barks back, clearly in a panic.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you say quietly as you continue compressions. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Buck returns with the bulb syringe and uses it, but it doesn’t help.

“Dammit,” you curse. “You’ll have to try a blind finger sweep.”

Buck looks at you, then Chimney, then the baby, then back at you. “Me?”

“You gotta learn somehow,” you remark. “It’s easy: just turn her head to the side, curl your pinkie, and see if you can scoop anything out.”

Buck is hesitant initially, but he eventually does as you tell him. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to clear the obstruction, and the baby begins crying. Everyone laughs with relief.

“Let’s get her wrapped up,” you say, reaching for a towel.

The four of you rush down the hall, you with the baby in your arms. The pit in your stomach returns.

“No one held the elevator?!” you yell.

“Dammit,” Chim curses.

“Give her to me,” Buck says, nodding to the stairs.

You stare at him.

“Come on, I’m twice as fast,” Buck pleads.

“Screw this up, and I’ll kill you,” you threaten before carefully handing her over.

Buck takes off down the stairs, but you follow after. There’s only so much that can happen in a few flights of stairs, but you aren’t willing to risk it.

“I got you,” Buck says to the baby, “you’ll be okay.”

A faint smile crosses your face. Maybe Buck isn’t so terrible after all.

“Come on, move it!” Buck shouts as you both make it out of the lobby and out to the rig.

You climb into the ambulance with him, but before either of you can even sit down, you hear someone yelling to wait. It’s not just anyone: it’s LAPD Sergeant Grant, or as you’ve heard Hen calls her, Athena.

“Wait, is that the mother?” Buck says, looking at the young woman with blood-stained pants in someone’s arms. “Yo, screw her! Look what she did!”

Never mind. Buck is still terrible.

“Sit down and shut up!” You yell at Buck. “This is not your call! She is a child, and she’s bleeding out!”

“Look what she did!” Buck repeated.

“Come on, let’s get her up here,” you say to Athena and the man carrying the young girl, disregarding Buck’s protests.

Bobby and Chim made it down, so they help haul the young girl up into the rig. Chim stays at the head while Bobby sits next to Buck, the spot you were about to sit in mere moments ago.

“If this baby dies, it’s on you,” Buck says, staring at Athena.

“Stop talking, Evan,” you snap as someone closes the ambulance doors.

Using his actual name seems to shut him up.

“What’s your name, honey?” You ask the baby’s mother as you cut away her shirt to place EKG leads.

“Marika,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you’re scared, Marika, but you just have to keep breathing for me, okay?” you say. “My friend Howie is going to start an IV so we can give you fluids and medication. You’re bleeding a lot, so I have to do what’s called a fundal exam, okay? I have to press on your stomach to make sure your uterus is contracting back down normally.”

She stares at you, eyes filled with tears, before eventually nodding.

Using one hand to stabilize over the pubis, you begin pressing down the other into Marika’s stomach, a few fingerbreadths below her belly button. She lets out a few whimpers. You don’t feel the fundus, or the top of the uterus, like you should.

“Marika, you’re bleeding a lot because your uterus isn’t contracting. I have to make it contract by doing a fundal massage. It won’t feel that good, but it could save your life.”

Once again, Marika looks at you before nodding. This time, she closes her eyes.

Using firm and consistent pressure, you push one hand down where the fundus should be and make small circles. Marika lets out a few more cries of pain. You notice that, after a few minutes, the bleeding starts to slow, and her uterus firms up beneath your hands.

“Hospital ETA 5 minutes, hang in,” Hen chimes in from the ambulance's cab.

“Something’s wrong,” Buck says, staring at the baby in his arms.

You quickly move over to him. “Put her in your lap so I can see.”

Buck listens, moving away the towel so you can look at the baby. She’s cyanosed around the lips. You flip open a compartment and pull out the neonatal ambu bag. You hand it to Bobby, and you don’t even have to tell him to start bagging.

“I’m so sorry,” Marika says. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Bobby squeezes the bag every other second, delivering a breath to the baby. Her color is starting to look better, but she isn’t very responsive.

“Here, let me try something,” you say.

You gently pick up the baby and set it on Marika’s bare chest. After a few moments, the baby begins to move and cry out.

“Oh my god, why did that work?” Marika asks, wrapping her hands around her baby.

“Skin-to-skin can help babies regulate bodily functions, like temperature and breathing,” you reply as you place a towel over them.

You look over to the men sitting next to you. Bobby gives you a nod, and Buck avoids eye contact, but you can tell that he’s pissed. Fuck him, he doesn’t know his head from his ass anyways.

Once the rig pulls into the ambulance bay, you and Chim help the ER staff get the gurney out of the ambulance. Bobby and Buck follow suit, only Buck tries to follow them into the hospital. Bobby stops him before he does.

Bobby gives Buck some lecture about how we did our jobs, and now it’s their turn; it’s the speech every overly excited first responder gets at least once at the start of their career.

A cop car pulls up, and Athena comes out. She clearly found the person she was looking for, because she starts yelling at Buck.

“You do not get to choose who lives and who dies,” she lectures.

“Really? Because I was under the impression that kind of was my job,” Buck retorts.

You could seriously slap him.

“That mother was no less of a child than her baby,” Athena continues yelling, pointing a finger at the hospital. “You’re gonna get someone killed.”

“Well, maybe, but not today,” Buck says with a cocky head tilt.

You laugh humorlessly. “You know what, Pretty Boy?” you say, turning to Buck.

Fuck it. Bobby won’t put him in his place, and Athena isn’t allowed to, so you take matters into your own hands, literally.

Before you even fully comprehend what you’re doing, you’re wrapping a hand around Buck’s throat and pushing him against the ambulance. You aren’t choking him, but you don’t move your hand because keeping it there is your only leverage.

“I’m getting real tired of this tough guy bullshit,” you growl, your face only an inch from his. He’s quite a bit taller than you, but when you bounced him off the rig, his footing faltered, so he’s crouched at your eye level. “You wanna get real, Evan? You didn’t do a goddamn thing today except get in the way. While we were busy saving lives, you were shitting your pants and dropping the ball, not exactly what a tough guy is supposed to do.”

“Okay, enough,” Bobby says, trying to break it up. You’re far from finished, though.

You move your hand from his neck, but only so you can point it in his face. “You aren’t a god — you don’t decide who lives! You didn’t even save a life today: we did, because you kept fucking up. And if you keep fucking up like you did today, you definitely will kill someone, and your little jokes and midday booty calls and your shitty little grin won’t change that!”

Bobby ends up physically pulling you away while Athena makes some room between the two of you.

“Aren’t you going to arrest her or something?” Buck says, rubbing his neck. “She assaulted me!”

“She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Athena counters. “I promise you, Buckley, the next time you screw up? It’ll be your last.”

Athena casts Bobby a glance before she walks away.

“You,” Bobby says, looking at Buck, “in the truck. Now.”

You start to walk over to the passenger’s side of the cab when Bobby calls after you.

“I want you in my office the second we get back,” He orders.

You clench your jaw. “Yes Captain.”

Ch 2

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #no use of y/n #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to soulmates #i can write

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miakate-writes · 10 months ago

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enemies to lovers who are only enemies because everyone expects them to be… in reality they’re actually sleeping together

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insidekatmind · 1 month ago

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Meet my sister P.2-Jude Bellingham

Part.1, Part.3, Part.4

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

wearnings: +18,handjob

Jude returned home that evening with a strange feeling, a tension he couldn’t shake off. He had faced plenty of people in his life: opponents on the field, critics in the press, even stubborn teammates. But you? You were different. Not only had you dared to challenge him openly, but you had gotten under his skin in a way he couldn’t explain.

He let himself fall onto his couch, phone in hand. He tried to distract himself by scrolling through notifications and messages, but your face kept popping into his mind: the way your eyes sparkled with sarcasm, the provocative smile that seemed to say, "You’ll never have the upper hand with me.”

“Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

With a resigned sigh, he opened Instagram and typed your name into the search bar. It didn’t take long to find you; your profile was verified and had millions of followers. Jude scrolled slowly, studying one photo after another.

There were pictures of you on red carpets, flawless in high-fashion gowns. Shots from ad campaigns, where your intense gaze and bold poses grabbed attention. Then, more personal images: you on a beach, the sun lighting up your skin; you in a recording studio with a satisfied smile; you laughing with a disarming naturalness.

His eyes stopped on one picture in particular: you were seated on a couch, wearing a red dress that hugged your curves perfectly. Your hair fell over your shoulders, and your smile was both sweet and mischievous.

Jude smirked, an arrogant grin reflecting his thoughts. “Sexy, no doubt about it,” he muttered to himself, leaning back into the couch. But then his smirk turned into a grimace. “But insufferable. Thinks she knows everything, always has to have the last word.”

Despite the irritation you caused him, he couldn’t look away. He kept scrolling, discovering more aspects of you that trapped him in a mix of attraction and annoyance.

“How does Federico put up with you?” he wondered, though a part of him knew that your personality was exactly what drew him in. You weren’t like the other women he knew. You didn’t try to please him or impress him. If anything, you did everything you could to challenge him.

“I don’t like you. You’re just a challenge,” he said out loud, almost as if trying to convince himself. But he knew there was something more. Maybe it was the way you never backed down, or maybe it was how your laughter managed to irritate and intrigue him at the same time.

Before he realized it, he had spent over half an hour on your profile. He abruptly shut his phone, almost annoyed at himself. “Ridiculous,” he muttered again, standing up and running a hand through his hair.

But as he headed to his bedroom, your face kept resurfacing in his mind. Jude didn’t want to admit it, but he already knew this wouldn’t be the last time he searched your name on Instagram. And that realization irritated him more than anything else.

He had just laid on the bed, his hands behind his head, trying to shake off the annoyance. But that annoyance had a very specific name: yours. He was convinced that it was enough to ignore you to stop thinking about you, but it did not work. The more he tried to drive you out of his mind, the more your sarcastic smile and intense eyes came to haunt him.

After a few minutes, he snorted frustrated, grabbed his phone and almost without thinking, went back to your Instagram profile. It was an impulsive gesture, one he knew he should not have done, but it was too late.

While scrolling through your photos once more, he found one that struck him more than the others. You were sitting on a balcony, with a breathtaking view behind you, but he didn’t notice anything around you. All his attention was on you. You wore a black dress with a dizzying slit that let your smooth skin glimpse. Your legs were crossed with natural grace, and your gaze, directed into the room, seemed to challenge anyone not to yield to your charm.

Jude stared at the picture for a few seconds, feeling his breath getting heavier. He felt his cock harden. Your body was amazing, she had already noticed that, but there was something more. Your attitude, that combination of sensuality and pride, was an open challenge. It seemed you were saying, "I know you want me, but you won’t have me easily."

«Damn...» he muttered to himself, feeling a wave of heat passing through him. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to regain control, but it was useless. His mind was filled with dirty thoughts about you, and that character which irritated him and fascinated him at the same time.

He dropped backwards on the bed, phone still in hand. With his right hand he threw his cock out of his boxer shorts and began to saw himself while his gaze returned to your picture, while a grimace was drawn on his face. «You think you are untamable, don’t you?» he said in a low voice, almost as if you were there to hear it.

The image of you gave him a shiver down his spine. He felt tense, stiff, as if the thought of you had taken over his body. He was used to having control over everything: in the field, in his personal life, with women. But you were another story.

He started to stroke his cock faster as he thought you were bent like a slut in front of him while you took his dick.

«I would tame you in a second,» he muttered, almost with anger.

But he knew that the real problem was not to tame you physically, but to tame your character. Because even though he thought you were incredibly hot, your strong temper and sarcasm drove him crazy. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to challenge you or win you over.

Jobe kept looking at your picture and continued to cut himself quickly, then came with a moan.

He closed his eyes for a moment trying to catch his breath

When he opened his eyes again, Jude closed the click phone and threw it on the bedside table. But your smile kept tormenting him. He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that irritated him more than anything. Because, deep down, he knew you’d find a way to sneak into his thoughts once again.

«I hate her»

---

The next morning, Jude arrived at the training ground still irritated with himself. He hadn’t slept well, tormented by thoughts of you. Every time he closed his eyes, your face resurfaced, along with the memory of that photo. He tried to shake off the tension, but it wasn’t easy, especially knowing that Vinicius and Kylian would be eager to ask how it went.

As he tied his cleats in the locker room, Vinicius walked in with his usual sly grin. Kylian followed closely behind, just as curious. They exchanged a knowing glance before approaching Jude.

"So, Bellingham," Vinicius started, slapping him on the back. "Federico told us you met his sister yesterday."

Jude let out a sigh, pretending indifference. "Yeah, so what?"

Kylian chuckled, leaning against the locker next to him. "So, tell us. How was it? Federico seemed so excited about the introduction."

Jude stood up, adjusting his training shirt. "Not much to say. She’s... irritating."

Vinicius raised an eyebrow, amused. "Irritating? Really? So, you didn’t like her?"

"It’s not about liking her," Jude replied, annoyed. "It’s that she has an unbearable personality. Always ready with a comeback, always provoking. She thinks she’s funny, but really..."

"But really, she made you lose your mind, huh?" Vinicius interrupted, a sly grin forming on his face.

"Stop it," Jude warned, shooting him a cold look. "She didn’t make me lose anything. She’s just another girl with a huge ego."

Kylian burst into laughter. "Yeah, sure. That’s why you’re talking about her, right? You know, Jude, when someone doesn’t really bother us, we don’t mention them at all."

Jude clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool. "I’m not talking about her. You’re the ones who keep bringing it up."

Vinicius sat down next to him, watching him with an amused expression. "You know, Jude, I’ve seen his sister a couple of times. And I gotta say, Federico’s right: she’s a bombshell. Beautiful, talented... and with a character that doesn’t go unnoticed. Maybe that’s what bothers you."

Jude turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe you’re not used to a girl who doesn’t fall at your feet," Vinicius replied with a smirk. "Admit it, she stood her ground, and that pisses you off."

Kylian nodded, adding, "And let’s be real, someone like her isn’t exactly easy to ignore."

Jude sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re making a mountain out of nothing. I’m not interested."

"Right, sure," Vinicius countered, laughing. "We’ll see how long it takes for you to come up with an excuse to see her again."

Jude stood up, heading towards the field with a neutral expression. "It’s not going to happen."

But as he walked, their laughter and words continued to echo in his mind. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew there was something about you that intrigued him. And that irritated him more than any provocation.

---

The night at the club had just begun, and the atmosphere was electric. Federico, Jude, Kylian, and other teammates had gathered there to unwind after an intense week. The dance floor was crowded, colorful lights flashed in every corner, and the music vibrated in the air, making everyone's heart beat to the rhythm. As always, Jude was the center of attention, surrounded by girls trying to catch his eye, but he seemed distant, as if something was distracting him. Maybe it was the thought of you, or maybe it was the irritation he still felt toward you, but he couldn't focus on anything else.

Vinicius and Kylian were more relaxed, chatting and laughing, while Federico was enjoying himself with some friends. But the atmosphere changed abruptly when the door to the club opened, revealing a figure walking in with confidence, turning everyone’s head. It was you, of course. Your entrance was theatrical, your radiant smile, and the energy you exuded from your presence seemed to be the only thing capturing everyone’s attention.

Vinicius and Kylian's eyes lit up. "Look who's here," Kylian said, impressed by your entrance. "You can't miss her."

Vinicius nodded, watching you with admiration. "It's impossible not to stare. Beautiful, confident... and that personality that makes her even more intriguing."

Meanwhile, Jude, who had been trying to ignore you until that moment, let out a visible sigh, feeling that annoying pang of irritation grow inside him. You were moving on the dance floor with natural sensuality, effortlessly, as if the music was a part of you. Every step, every movement, drew attention, and the girls around Jude seemed to forget about him, all focused on you. Jude, however, couldn't stop watching you, despite his irritation.

"Do you like her?" Vinicius asked with a smile, noticing Jude’s fixed gaze on you.

Jude shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "No," he replied curtly. "It annoys me how she stands out like that."

"Though you can’t take your eyes off her, right?" Kylian teased, with his usual knowing grin. "Are you sure you don’t like her?"

"I don’t like her," Jude repeated, but his voice betrayed a slight uncertainty.

Meanwhile, you continued to dance, unaware of their comments. Your energy was contagious to everyone, but it seemed like it wasn’t sitting well with Jude. Every movement you made made him more tense, and every glance he threw at you made him feel strangely uneasy. He couldn’t understand what it was, but there was something about you that irritated him and at the same time attracted him, a contrast he couldn’t settle.

Vinicius and Kylian kept making appreciative comments, laughing between themselves, while Jude distanced himself from the conversation, trying to deflect the attention. But the truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and the fact that he was so irritated by you made him even more annoyed.

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urfriendlywriter · 2 years ago

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gestures between rivals who are forced to get close:

(feel free to use! @urfriendlywriter ! tag me when yall write, IMPORTANTLY THE 2nd, 4th, 5th and 7th,, they are OJDJANAJA)

living together because the situation requires so

and walking in while they're dressing up. but oh god are they gorgeous? they catch your eyes so you say something mean and make your way out.

"don't tell me you fell in love with my oh-so-awesome personality :)" "I'd rather fall, hit my head and die ~.~"

accidental touching!!!!

awfully messing up when they're close, so they gently take the work from you, a smile lighting up their face, "let me do this for you, honey."

a breathless "if i spend one more minute this close to you, i think I'll go insane"

walking in on you changing, so they help you with your dress, evidently blushing, "this is very professional of me to do so, got it?" and you giggle, "got it."

smallest of compliments goes a long way when they say it.

when they not know how to accept a compliment from you! they're either smiling gently or flustered as fuck °\\°

sharing food, important the first and the last bites.

when they notice small things, like the smudge in the corner of your lips, and wiping it themselves

getting hurt and you see their heart break in their eyes as they drop their head down to your shoulders to hug you

"goddamn, [name], you didn't have to get yourself hurt" "i don't feel okay with letting you get hurt either."

silent nights where you both work on your own things separately

^ and the silence is surprisingly comfortable ?

"HOLY FU- [NAME], YOUR FUCKING UNDERWEAR IS LYING ON MY BED??"

the annoying things they do start to seem a little adorable

"You're smiling." "what? so now i can't smile?" "ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH ME?"

"i don't think you're that bad.. you'd make a good roomie :)" "*judges so hard*"

looking out for the other comes naturally

being vulnerable after a mission, and feeling very exhausted, and they take an effort to help you get comfy

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angelsfat3 · 7 days ago

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ⓘㅤ 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. ⠀⠀( 我在你身上的反映。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. After leaving the city to study high school and college in another country, after several years you decide to return. A breath of fresh air, and with it, a new job, if only you knew what was waiting for you.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Angst, tension, enemies to lovers.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Not reviewed, none. (tell me if I'm wrong!)

You knew it was a bad idea the moment you stepped through those glass doors, but your feet kept moving forward, ignoring the warning in your chest. You weren’t expecting to see him here.

Not so soon. Not like this.

And yet, there he is. Eric. Sitting behind that imposing desk, with the same arrogant posture that both captivated and infuriated you. His hair, slightly shorter than you remembered, catches the sunlight streaming through the massive windows behind him. The fitted shirt, the expensive watch. He’s the same, yet different. More mature. More untouchable.

“[...], What a surprise.”

Your name slips from his lips like a bullet. Short, direct, his voice steady, though there’s something in his eyes… something off. He looks at you as if you’re a ghost he never thought he’d see again. And despite your efforts to remain composed, the sound of his voice hits you hard, an echo of nights when he whispered your name in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, as if you’re a stranger, as if nine years haven’t passed, as if you weren’t everything to him once.

Your throat dries up. You had a speech prepared, rehearsed, but it crumbles into meaningless fragments under his gaze. Still, you manage to force the words out:

“I’m here for the job opening.”

His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. It’s more like a reminder of everything you lost, of everything you took from him when you decided to disappear.

Not even a letter, a last call. You left as fast as a shooting star.

“Work, huh?” he mutters, leaning back in his chair as he looks you up and down. His eyes are cold, calculating, but there’s something else there—something he can’t hide.

And then it hits you. He hates you. But not as much as you hate yourself for realizing that seeing him hurts less than never having seen him at all.

The cubicle they assigned you was small, almost claustrophobic, as if Eric wanted to make sure you remembered your place. A place that wasn’t his, though, when you looked at it from your seat, it was hard not to feel the pressure of his gaze.

His office was up front, like an impenetrable fortress from where he watched you, getting closer and yet more distant at the same time. Each passing day, the space between you two felt thicker, heavier.

Your first day at the company was nothing more than a repetition of the same pattern.

He handed you a never-ending stack of papers, reports you could barely process in one glance.

When you sat down to review them, you noticed he’d left clear instructions: "Nothing less than perfect," and though he didn’t say it with anger, there was a pressure in his words that made you question everything you knew about work and expectations.

Hours flew by, but never fast enough. There was so much to do, you didn’t even realize it was getting dark until the clock hit midnight.

It happened often. You’d review the same reports over and over, searching for the slightest mistake. The workload felt like an impossible mountain to climb, but you knew if you didn’t do it, he’d find any excuse to get rid of you.

His tone wasn’t cruel, but the moment he handed something back with even the smallest correction, you felt like he was rejecting you. He’d look at you mercilessly, expecting you to fix it, to improve, or just leave.

"One more mistake and you’re out," he’d said on the first day, and he repeated it every time he passed your cubicle, his gaze evaluating every move you made, every detail you missed.

Sometimes it felt like the days stretched longer than they should. The hours didn’t turn into nights; the nights stretched until dawn found you staring at a blank screen, wishing you could close it and forget everything. There were times when you stayed late, working non-stop, until it felt like the keys on the keyboard fused with your skin.

It was easier to stay there than face the reality that you were trapped. Eric, with his impatience, his extreme perfectionism, had become a constant in your life.

A couple of nights after staying late at the office, while the rest of the staff had gone home, you heard footsteps. You looked up and saw him. Eric, standing in the doorway of his office, holding a cup of coffee.

He watched you, his cold, calculating eyes scanning you, evaluating something more than just the work in front of you. It was impossible not to notice how he lingered just a second longer than necessary. With a slight tilt of his head, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, he walked away without saying a word, leaving you alone in your cubicle with the untouched coffee cup on the desk.

The next day, the employees arrived as usual, unaware of the chaos you’d immersed yourself in, the sleepless nights, the palpable stress that had consumed you. And yet, Eric remained distant, watching you from his office with the same cold stare that seemed like a sentence.

No one asked why you’d stayed so late, but you knew Eric had noticed. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that made the pressure feel even stronger. Sometimes, his corrections, even the smallest ones, left you with a feeling of emptiness. There was a desire to push yourself beyond your limits to meet something that never seemed good enough for him.

The meetings were even harder. Every time you entered his office, the atmosphere charged with an electricity that made you feel vulnerable, exposed.

The critiques were harsh, public, and always came with almost painful precision. You felt like no matter how hard you tried, nothing was ever done well enough. The glances exchanged by the others in the room, the murmurs, all faded away as he pointed out each mistake.

Time, that constant sense of being trapped, was the only thing that kept you sane.

There was one particularly difficult meeting where you were left speechless. As he spoke, you dropped a pen.

You bent down to pick it up, and when you straightened up, your eyes met his. It was a second. A second that felt like an eternity. In his eyes, there was something you couldn’t identify, something beyond the cold disapproval. There was anger, yes, but also... something more. Perhaps regret. Perhaps pain. But before you could process it, he looked away and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Yet, that look stayed etched in your mind, like an invisible mark that kept burning, day after day.

Sometimes, after those exchanges, you felt like breathing was harder than continuing to work. The days seemed to drain all the energy you had, until you didn’t know if you were working for him or for yourself. The line between the two was becoming increasingly blurry, as if everything outside of that office and outside his orders didn’t matter.

One night, you fell asleep at your desk. The work kept piling up, but the fatigue was unbearable.

You woke up to the sound of footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes slowly, and there he was. Eric, again, standing in front of you, this time with a cup of coffee in his hands. He looked at you steadily, his expression serious, almost thoughtful. For a moment, the room seemed to stop.

“If you keep working like this, you’re going to collapse.” he said, his voice softer than you’d heard in weeks.

You were surprised by the warmth in his words, but you couldn’t say anything. You stayed silent, watching him as he placed the cup on your desk. He lingered there for a moment, without saying another word. Then, he turned and walked back to his office, leaving the coffee untouched.

The air in the room grew even denser. You knew something had changed, though you didn’t understand what. Eric hadn’t said another word, but there was something in his gaze that told you the game between you two wasn’t over. Whatever was happening between you, it was no longer just about work. There was something personal, something much deeper, that neither of you was willing to admit.

Ashes of a bonfire of love, perhaps? Cliche, but true.

The days went by, and with each one, Eric's attitude toward you began to change. At first, it seemed like a coincidence, just a formality.

He included you more in important meetings, his work expectations eased, and he no longer looked at you with the same critical, distant gaze.

He even started offering you more help than you ever expected. He asked for your opinion on matters that previously wouldn’t have concerned him. How kind.

There was a softness in his demeanor, a change you couldn’t ignore, but at the same time, it unsettled you. The relationship between you two was transforming, and while the line remained strictly professional, something else lingered in the air.

Or so you thought, I don't know.

One morning, on one of the hottest days of the season, you found yourself in the elevator with Eric, heading to an important meeting. The confined space between you made the atmosphere feel thick, charged with something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

The only sounds were the elevator ascending and Eric’s faint sigh, breaking the silence. With each floor, the tension grew, as if the world had shrunk to that small metal box.

Suddenly, Eric broke the silence, his voice softer than usual but laced with an intent that sent a chill through you.

“Seriously, you should take a few days off,” he said, his tone firm but carrying a concern you hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t merely a suggestion; it was an order disguised as advice. He glanced at you sideways, noting the pallor on your face, the fatigue etched into your features. “You’re paler than a sheet. I need you looking more… alive for the upcoming conferences.”

The words hung in the air between you, as if he were measuring them, savoring each syllable. It was a kind gesture, yet the way he said it made you feel more vulnerable than ever.

‘Alive.’

The word echoed in your mind, but you couldn’t help but think there was something deeper behind his advice. Something personal, something beyond work. The closeness of his voice, the slight brush of his body against yours in that confined space, made the air feel heavy, almost suffocating.

His words began to make sense, you even thought you were hallucinating when his voice was tender, sometimes he hid smiles while correcting your files or reports. It's as if from the beginning he had enjoyed see you—suffer, or see you near.

Not for nothing was your cubicle strictly placed in front of his office, with a view where only he could see every corner of you, what you were doing there, if you were really working or falling asleep or—.

The elevator stopped at the meeting floor, and both of you stepped out, but the tension remained.

The conference was like any other, boring, with old men coughing and harassing the secretary with their tired and blind eyes, your handsome and well-behaved exb—Eric, your boss Eric.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern: Eric included you more in decisions at the end of the meeting, asked questions he usually reserved for senior executives.

Sometimes, it felt like he didn’t see you as the same person you’d been before—someone forgotten by him—but as something more. And, for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he, too, felt the same attraction, the same desire as you.

But you knew he’d never admit it. Neither would you, damn stubborn.

The afternoon stretched on, and you found yourself back at your cubicle, focused on a report Eric had assigned. So engrossed in the details, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

When you finally looked up, there he was, standing before your desk, observing you intently, as if evaluating something far beyond your work performance.

Without a word, Eric pulled a chair from a nearby cubicle and sat right behind you. His gaze lingered on the screen, and your body tensed as his hand rested near yours on the desk.

“This should have the full name here, and here…” His voice was calm, but there was something in the air that made you feel as if everything was unraveling, as if the world you knew was shifting around you.

The tension grew, and before you realized it, Eric’s hand grazed your arm—a fleeting touch, but it sent an electric current through your skin. His hand continued, sliding gently until it rested over yours, which lay still on the computer mouse.

The proximity was unbearable; the warmth radiating from his body melded with yours, and the air between you became stifling, as though everything was on the brink of exploding.

You could hear your own heartbeat, a roaring in your ears, as you felt the pulse in his fingers, his slightly quickened breath. The intensity of his presence beside you was overwhelming, the weight of his fingers on yours paralyzing.

The room seemed to shrink, as if nothing else existed beyond that moment. The pressure in your chest mounted, and while you knew you should pull away, that you couldn’t let this continue, your fingers stayed frozen, caught in the spell of his touch.

But then, Eric lifted his head, as if realizing how close you were, as if the reality of the moment hit him. His breath hitched for a second, and his expression turned stern, though his eyes softened briefly, just for an instant.

Clearly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat and stood up quickly. He gave you one last look, as if trying to read your thoughts, then turned and walked back to his office, leaving you alone with the sensation that the world had shifted irrevocably.

The silence he left behind was deafening. The warmth of his presence lingered in the air, on your skin, as you tried to process what had just happened. You knew something had changed—something vital.

But you weren’t sure you wanted to face it. Perhaps you both wanted the same thing, but neither of you was ready to take the first step.

And. There is always an and and a but.

From that moment on, things began to change between you two. Literally.

Slowly, but undeniably. The professional distance Eric had always maintained started to crumble, and though his actions were subtle, they were impossible to ignore.

In meetings, his eyes lingered on you a little longer than necessary, on your body too. When you shared the elevator, the tense, cold silence was replaced by Eric leaning against the metal walls, arms crossed over his chest, throwing casual remarks your way.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he told you one afternoon, The ask was suddenly, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that left you feeling exposed.

It was an innocent gesture, but there was something in his tone, in the way his gaze held yours, that made you question if his concern was purely work-related.

Sometimes, as you talked, Eric would adjust his watch, his hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment. It could have been accidental, but you knew it wasn’t.

Even his presence in the office shifted. He spent more time near your cubicle, stealing glances at your work or stopping by to ask questions he surely already knew the answers to.

The air between you grew heavy with something unnameable, something that both suffocated and drew you in.

The days continued like this, with Eric looking for excuses to get closer. There were times when you'd find him too close, leaning over your desk to review a report, his arm brushing against yours, his fingers, your shoulders against his chest, his words against your ear.

And particularly everything was when both were alone or there weren't that many people around. It was definitely not by accident or coincidence.

“Are you sure it was like that?” he asked you in a serious but somewhat playful tone. The proximity was suffocating, and even though you tried to focus on his words, all you could feel was the heat of his body against yours.

One night, when the rest of the office had turned off its lights and silence ruled the building, Eric left a towering stack of papers on your desk, reminding you of your earliest days at the company.

You had learned not to complain, but the exhaustion was plain on your face. You were poring over the last page when you heard footsteps approaching. You looked up to find him standing in front of you, his impeccable black suit sharp against the dim light, his expression unreadable.

“Come to my office,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You glanced at the clock. It was past midnight. What could he want at this hour? Shouldn't he have left hours ago?

You hesitated for a moment but stood and followed him.

The air was thick, suffocating in its weight, and you couldn’t remember the last time breathing felt natural. Your forehead was slick with cold sweat, each drop a reminder of the tension coiling tighter around your chest.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop its relentless pounding as you walked the long stretch to Eric's office. The sound of his measured footsteps behind you did nothing to calm the storm within. His presence loomed—powerful, inescapable.

Am I about to lose this job? Did I mess up? Have they found someone better? The questions spiraled as you neared the door, each one heavier than the last.

When you finally stepped inside, the lighting felt… different. Softer. Warmer, even. It was a strange contrast to the cold, rigid atmosphere you'd grown used to. The sound of the lock clicking into place behind you sent a shiver racing down your spine.

Eric stood there, imposing as ever, his frame commanding the room with an effortless authority. He leaned casually against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. That look—it always had a way of unraveling you.

“Sit down,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that left no room for argument.

You sank into the chair in front of his desk, the plush cushions doing little to ease your nerves. Your eyes darted to the massive windows behind him, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. It was a beautiful view, one you might have appreciated if your chest wasn’t tight with anxiety.

“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice broke the silence, smooth yet laced with an edge you couldn’t quite place.

Your throat felt dry, and all you could do was shake your head. Speaking felt like too monumental a task when his piercing gaze was locked on you, searching, dissecting. The weight of his scrutiny made your pulse race, and you fought to keep your composure.

Eric leaned back slightly, his arms falling to his sides as his fingers tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm against the desk. He studied you in silence for a moment, the tension between you both growing unbearable.

“There was an error in your report this afternoon,” he said, finally breaking the silence. His tone was even, almost detached, as he lifted a page from the desk.

Your stomach sank. Of course, it was about the report. You braced yourself for the sharp critique that would undoubtedly follow, but instead, he surprised you.

Setting the page aside, his expression softened, and his voice dipped lower. “But that’s not the real reason I called you in.”

Your breath hitched. The silence that followed was deafening. His fingers tapped the desk once more before he leaned forward, his hands resting on the polished wood.

“You’ve come a long way since your first day here,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “When I hired you, I wasn’t sure you had what it takes.” He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze unrelenting. “But you’ve proven me wrong. Over and over again.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, the tension shifted into something else. Something warmer, deeper. It made your chest ache in a way you didn’t fully understand.

“I want you to know,” he continued, his voice softening further, “that your hard work hasn’t gone unnoticed. Your dedication… your persistence… it’s invaluable to this team.”

He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips—a rare, almost disarming sight. “Which is why I’ve decided to offer you a promotion.”

Your heart stopped for a beat, then stuttered back to life. The words seemed surreal, too good to be true.

“Starting next week,” he said, his tone shifting into something more businesslike, “you’ll be taking on more responsibilities. High-level projects. You’ll be working directly with me.” His eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long. “I trust that’s not going to be a problem.”

You managed a shaky nod, the corners of your lips twitching into something resembling a smile. But beneath the surface, your thoughts churned. This wasn’t just a promotion. It was an invitation—a shift in whatever fragile balance existed between you both.

And deep down, you knew this was only the beginning.

Your heart stuttered at Eric’s words, a mix of emotions surging through you—confusion, apprehension, and something you didn’t dare name.

His touch on your shoulder felt heavier than it should, sending an unwelcome warmth coursing through you. Was it the power he held, or was it the man himself? You weren’t sure anymore.

Eric’s eyes flicker, catching the brief tension in your face.

He notices everything, doesn’t he?

The way your fingers dig into the armrest, the way your throat tightens as you swallow your nerves. His sharp gaze softens, just for a moment, as if he’s weighing how much more he can push you.

He rises from his chair, the sound of his movements crisp and deliberate. Moving around the desk, he stops just in front of you, so close that his presence fills every inch of your personal space. His hand settles firmly on your shoulder—not harsh, but undeniably possessive. His voice is low, steady, and resolute.

"This promotion comes with certain expectations. I expect nothing less than perfection from you, [...]. You’ll have to work harder than before, push yourself further. I need to know you can handle it.”

What was Eric playing at?

Your pulse quickened, and your chest tightened with something between resentment and longing. This wasn’t just about work—it never was with him. Not really.

His touch lingers as his words seep into your mind. The weight of his hand burns against your skin, as though it’s not just a gesture but a promise—and a warning.

"I know you can do it. You've already proven your resilience, your potential. But I need to know you’re committed." His voice dips, pulling you in despite the rising panic in your chest. "Are you ready to show me that you’re not just... a pretty face?"

The way he says it—so casually, yet so laced with meaning—sends a jolt through your system.

A heat climbs up your neck, betraying you. Was that a compliment? A taunt? Or something entirely more dangerous? You barely manage to nod, your throat dry, your pulse thundering in your ears.

Eric leans in slightly, his intense gaze locking onto yours. "I want to hear you say it."

"I-I’m ready," you stammer, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. "Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best."

"Your best won’t be enough." His words hit like a whip, but before the sting can settle, a faint smirk curves his lips. "But I’m confident you’ll exceed even that."

The tension between you thickened like smoke, choking and impossible to ignore. Every second stretched painfully, and you realized he wasn’t moving. Eric stayed close, his presence overwhelming, his eyes dark and unreadable as they traced your face.

The room feels smaller now, suffocating under the weight of his presence. You muster a question, hoping to break the tension that coils between you like a taut wire. "Will I still be in the same cubicle, or…?"

Eric arches a brow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Cubicle? Seriously?" He lets out a low laugh, more to himself than to you, and takes a step back.

For the first time since this conversation started, you can breathe, though the air is still thick with unspoken tension.

He turns toward the large window, his silhouette framed by the city lights. His hands slip into his pockets as he stares out at the sprawling skyline.

"You’re not just some junior employee anymore, [...]. You’re my right-hand man. My top assistant. You don’t belong in a cubicle."

His voice carries a strange undertone—pride, perhaps? Or something darker. "You’ll be moving into my old office. I’ve already had it cleared out. It’s ready for you."

That pulled you out of your haze. “Your old office?” You couldn’t mask the surprise in your voice. “I… I don’t know what to say.” The words tumble out, but they feel hollow, inadequate for the weight of the moment.

Eric turned to face you again, his hands still tucked in his pockets. The smirk returned, but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Say that you’ll handle it. That you won’t disappoint me. It’s as simple as that.”

Your chest tightened, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying something stupid. The promotion didn’t feel like a reward. It felt like a test. Or worse, a leash. And yet, a part of you—a traitorous part—didn’t hate that idea.

His steps are slow, deliberate, as he moves closer again. The air between you crackles with an energy you don’t dare name. When he stops just inches away, his proximity steals the breath from your lungs.

And then it happens.

His hand lifts, fingers brushing your cheek in a touch so light it feels electric. The warmth of his skin sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, an unspoken challenge simmering within their depths.

"Prove to me," he whispers, his voice like velvet over steel, "that I didn’t make a mistake. Prove that you’re the one—to me and to this company." His hand slides downward, skimming your jaw before retreating entirely.

The absence of his touch feels like a loss, though you’d never dare admit it.

You can't stop thinking about Eric's touch, his words, and the way he looked at you—as if you were the only person in the world in that fleeting moment.

The memory lingers, his presence haunting every corner of your mind. You try to convince yourself it’s nothing more than a figment of your imagination. Maybe you're overthinking it. Maybe you're reading too much into it.

But then again… could you be wrong?

"I'm worth it, Eric."

The words slip out before you can stop them, unbidden and raw. You had to say something in response to keep his attention.

Your heart leaps into your throat, realizing the weight they carry. You meant to limit it to your work—your efforts, your contributions to the company. But the truth is undeniable. You are worth it. In every way.

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and full of implication. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, your confidence faltering. "I-I mean… my work is worth it. I’ve worked hard for this position, and I believe I’ve shown you that."

You lean forward instinctively, as if to close the growing distance, your eyes locking onto his. “I think you’ve noticed that I haven’t broken any promises I made when you hired me. I’ve stayed true to everything you asked of me, down to the smallest detail.”

Your voice trembles but doesn’t break. The intensity in your gaze speaks volumes, a quiet defiance shining through your vulnerability.

Eric watches you carefully, his eyes darkening with something dangerous and unreadable. His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second before relaxing again. “Oh, believe me,” he murmurs, his voice low, each word carrying weight, “I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed everything about you.”

His gaze flickers downward, lingering at your lips for a split second too long before returning to your eyes. “Your dedication. Your persistence. Your...” His voice dips, as if testing the waters of forbidden territory. “stubbornness.”

A brief pause stretches between you, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “But loyalty can be dangerous, [...]. It can lead people to do things they shouldn’t—things they wouldn’t, under different circumstances.”

His steps are slow but deliberate as he approaches, the distance between your bodies shrinking. The air shifts, crackling with unspoken tension.

“I need to know,” Eric continues, his voice softer now, his words deliberate, “that this.. loyalty isn’t divided. That it’s mine. Mine alone.”

What? Divided? It's just for work, it's just to maintain a good status and have a good place to live. Right?

His hand lifts, his fingers brushing against your jawline. The light touch sends a tremor through your body, the sensation impossibly warm against your skin. His thumb grazes the edge of your cheek, his touch firm yet tender, like a warning wrapped in a promise.

Your breath catches. His proximity is suffocating, overwhelming. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, a desperate rhythm that betrays the steady exterior you’re trying so hard to maintain.

You can’t help but lean into him, drawn by some magnetic force that neither of you seem willing to acknowledge. His scent—sharp, clean, and distinctly him—clouds your thoughts. You can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, teasing, taunting.

His voice is a whisper now, the words barely brushing past your ear. “Tell me, [...], please.. can you give me that? Can you promise me that your loyalty—your focus—is entirely mine?”

His other hand rests against the chair beside you, caging you in, his body mere inches from yours. The tension is unbearable, the heat between you palpable. His lips hover, tantalizingly close to your own, and you know neither of you can resist this pull much longer.

The line between professionalism and desire is blurred beyond recognition.

You’re not sure if you’re breathing or if the pounding in your chest is too loud to tell. Your body aches to close the gap, to feel the press of his skin against yours. But a small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that once the line is crossed, there will be no turning back.

His fingers tilt your chin upward slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Well?” he murmurs, his voice dangerously low, “I need to hear you say it, [...]. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your lips part, words caught somewhere between your throat and your courage. He’s waiting, his lips a breath away from yours, the heat between your bodies enough to ignite flames.

But can you give him what he’s asking? Or are you both about to cross a line that could burn everything to the ground?

The air between you sizzles with unspoken passion, the tension almost unbearable. Eric’s words wrap around your senses like chains, dragging you into his orbit, his confession like gasoline poured onto a fire already blazing within you.

His lips hover over yours, a teasing torment that has your breath hitching. His fingers, firm yet reverent, tilt your chin higher as if daring you to defy him, daring you to resist the pull between you two. But you can’t. You’ve already surrendered in every way that matters.

"Say something," he murmurs, his voice rough, a plea hidden beneath the command. His dark eyes bore into yours, flickering with desperation, desire, and something deeper—something raw.

"Tell me you feel it too, that I’m not insane for wanting you like this."

Your throat dries, and your words stick to your tongue. You should push him away, assert the boundary that’s already been obliterated by the sheer weight of your shared history. But instead, your lips part, and a shaky whisper escapes.

"Eric... I-"

You don’t get the chance to finish.

His lips crush against yours in a searing kiss, all-consuming and desperate. The world melts away as his mouth claims yours, his kiss a perfect storm of hunger and longing.

He tastes like heat and danger, a flavor you’d forgotten and yet had craved every single day since the two of you fell apart.

Your hands, trembling with hesitation, find their way to his chest, your fingers fisting the fabric of his tailored suit as if anchoring yourself to reality. But reality blurs as his tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours in a dance that’s both demanding and impossibly tender.

"Tell me to stop," he growls against your lips, his breath ragged as he pulls back just enough for his forehead to rest against yours.

His thumb strokes over the hollow of your cheek, a gentle contrast to the vice grip his other hand has on your hip. "Tell me I’m out of line, and I’ll step away. But if you want this—if you want me—then don’t hold back."

Your chest heaves as you stare at him, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before. The fire in his eyes dares you to give in, to leap into the flames with him and risk everything for just one taste of heaven.

And oh, God, how you want to.

Instead of answering with words, you tug him down into another kiss, your mouth moving against his with a fervor that makes his grip on you tighten. His hands roam now, one sliding up to cup the back of your head, angling your face to deepen the kiss, while the other traces the curve of your waist.

He ended up getting you up from that leather chair, his hands traveling over your body as if he were drawing a map.

He walks you backward until the edge of his desk presses into the small of your back, and he lifts you effortlessly onto the smooth wood. The sound of papers scattering barely registers as he steps between your legs, his body fitting against yours as if molded for this very moment.

"Do you have any idea," he whispers against your lips, his voice trembling with restraint, "how many nights I’ve dreamt of this? Of you?"

You shudder, your hands curling around the back of his neck to pull him closer. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your jawline, trailing kisses down your throat, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever his lips touch.

"Eric," you gasp, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your resolve crumbles entirely as his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, drawing you impossibly closer to the hard, unyielding heat of his body.

You feel every inch of him, every ounce of his needy cock pressing against yours.

"Say it," he demands, his voice rough and low, his lips finding the pulse point on your neck. His teeth scrape against it, leaving a mark that will scream possession. "Say you’re mine."

Your head tilts back, baring your throat to him as if offering yourself up completely. "I’m yours," you whisper, your voice trembling but certain. "I’ve always been yours."

The words break something inside him. His restraint snaps like a thread pulled too tight, and his kisses grow hungrier, more desperate, as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t consume you entirely.

But the heat between you carries a dangerous undercurrent, a silent warning of just how far you’re both willing to go to reclaim what you lost. And deep down, you know—if you don’t stop now, there will be no turning back.

Not for him. Not for you. And not for the fragile line you’ve already crossed.

But just then...When your dream was finally about to come true.

“[...].” A voice in the back of your head echoed, but it was faint, distant. “[...]. Are you even listening to me?”

What the fuck? You blinked rapidly, the world around you beginning to blur. For a moment, it felt like the ground beneath you was shifting, like you were floating in an endless sea of confusion.

But—suddenly, everything snapped back into place.

The office. The air was cold. Eric was sitting at his desk, his elbows resting on it, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"Wha… w-what?" you asked incredulously, your voice cracking with disbelief. You could feel the dryness in your mouth, your fingers gripping your thighs, your other hand squeezing your neck lightly.

Had it all just been a dream? No… it couldn’t have been. He was kissing your neck, making you his, returning to where you should never have left...

Eric’s eyes were locked on you, as steady as ever, his calm gaze piercing through you like it always did.

“As I was saying... Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, his voice still smooth, but there was something underneath it now—an edge that made your heart skip a beat.

You shook your head, blinking again, trying to clear the fog from your mind. The room seemed so real now. The scent of his cologne, the hum of the air conditioner, the way his eyes bore into you like they always did.

Was it real?

The intensity of his gaze pulled at you, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything that had happened before—the dream, the fantasies, the moments between you two—was fading, slipping away as if they had never existed. In your mind.

“What’s.. going on?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, barely able to hold its ground.

Eric didn’t immediately answer. He just kept watching you, leaning back in his chair with that same cool demeanor, as though the entire world had fallen away and there was only the two of you in this moment.

“Do you know why I left you that stack of work today?” he asked, his tone casual, but the question stung like a cold knife.

You stared at him, confusion still clouding your thoughts, but somehow, you felt yourself starting to understand. Slowly, your breathing evened out, the sharp panic fading into a kind of numbness.

“I… I don’t know,” you replied, your voice hoarse, uncertain. The weight of his words was sinking in, but everything felt distant, like it was happening to someone else.

Eric stood, moving toward you with his usual predatory grace. As he walked closer, the reality of the situation began to settle into your bones.

The heat radiating from his body, the way he filled the space with his presence—it was all real, and yet it felt like a dream, a surreal moment where everything shifted and fell back into place.

“I wanted to see how far you could go,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost like he was letting something deeper slip through. “I wanted to see if you still had that… resilience I’ve always admired.”

His words made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you found it hard to breathe. The room felt small now, the distance between you two shrinking, but there was a weight behind his words that forced you to listen closely.

Eric’s next words cut through the tension like a blade. “But I can’t help but wonder… why are you still here? Why did you take this job knowing I was the one in charge?”

The question hit you like a punch, knocking the wind out of you.

You knew there were reasons, but in this moment, you were lost. What could you say to that? That while he was probably telling you what a great worker you were, you were about to imagine him fucking you against his desk and every corner of his office? No. That would be stupid.

You could feel your mind racing, a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts you couldn’t grasp.

Eric closed the distance between you, stepping closer still, until there was barely an inch between you. His gaze was unwavering, and this time, the heat between you two was undeniable.

“Is it because of me?” he asked, the words soft but carrying a weight that made your heart race.

You could barely think.

The world had narrowed to just him, just this moment. His face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, his eyes so intense they seemed to burn into your soul. Everything else faded away, and in that moment, you were completely caught in his gravity.

But then, as quickly as the moment had come, it started to slip away.

Eric raised a hand, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the entire world had stopped. You thought—no, hoped—he would touch you. That he would pull you close and everything would unravel.

But just as suddenly, his hand fell to his side. He stepped back, breaking the spell.

“Go home,” he said, his voice suddenly colder, more distant. His face lowered, looking at your barely shaking hands. “You need to rest well.”

And just like that, the warmth between you vanished. Eric turned his back to you, retreating to his desk like nothing had happened. His back was to you, and the room felt hollow, the air heavy with unspoken things.

But something had changed. Something that neither of you could deny.

“You can go now. You can take the day off tomorrow, you look very... pale.” he said.

You stood there for a long moment, unsure of how to react. How to feel. The world had felt so sharp, so raw for just a moment—and now it was slipping away.

Slowly, reluctantly, you walked out of his office, your heart pounding in your chest.

You knew, without a doubt, that nothing would ever be the same. The dream, the fantasy, had bled into reality.

But was it really over?

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ I still have one more fic to go and then we'll go for something a little softer.︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

#kpop x male reader #x male reader #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨𝘧𝘢𝘵3ㅤ﹟ㅤ𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽.#kpop scenarios #eric x male reader #eric sohn #the boyz x male reader #x male oc #kpop x oc #kpop au #kpop x male oc #x reader #the boyz #the boyz eric #enemies to soulmates

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stop-ur-losing-me · 2 years ago

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my favorite lovers tropes

academic rivals to lovers (IS SO GOOD, plus when theyre forced to work together)

the "why didn't you answer my letters??" followed by "you wrote me letters???" HEARTWRENCHING

fake dating (enough said)

the 'you need to learn how to dance so im gonna teach you and oh gosh why r we this close?' (honestly one of my all time favs)

the two enemies dancing together at a masquerade dance (yes, just yes)

the screamed love confession during an argument "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU" (best thing ever)

one bed trope (enough said)

the 'i hate everyone but you' couple (yesssss)

one losing their mind if the other is hurt or captured (cough percabeth cough)

the bodyguard/princess trope I REPEAT THE BODYGUARD/PRINCESS TROPE

the 'we were flirting and everyone else knows we were flirting but we're in denial bout it' (this trope)

MUTUAL PINING MUTUAL PINING

additionally, the 'everyone thinks we're dating but we r not/ in denial bout it' (BEST TROPE EVER)

the hero falling for the villain (honestly one of the best ones out there)

lovers to enemies (SO ANGSTY)

there's more i'll add when i can :)

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tonsillessscum · 1 year ago

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Needed to post something bc I have a trial tmrw so I can’t be goofing off at work 😛😛😛 my evil biting fic is almost done and I’m gonna draw sm istg

#shin hati #star wars #wolfwren #sabine wren #sabine wren x shin hati #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka #shin hati x sabine wren #wolfwren spoilers #lesbian #queer #text post #shit post #enemies to soulmates #enemies with benefits #ristarwars

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wordsarelife · 1 year ago

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DAY 5: CHRISTMAS LOVE

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: it was no secret that mattheo riddle annoyed the hell out of you, but you did grow concerned when you suddenly didn’t mind it anymore..

warnings: suggestive, mentions of throwing up, but it doesn’t actually happen. apart from that nothing else

notes: i’m so sorry but i lost the original request, so i had to go with the short notes i had made, so i might leave something out! but i think i have the essential part

sorry it took me so long to post but i had to proofread before i could let whatever the fuck this is (🫠) into the world!

you watched the snow fall behind the stained glass window. the library was dimly lit, making it easier for you to see.

you loved this time of year. it was so quiet. especially in hogwarts. most of the student body had gone home for the holidays and you were one of the few people that stayed.

to your luck the biggest nuisance in the world did too. “what are we looking at?” mattheo riddle asked close to your ear.

you shrieked to the side, startled by his sudden appearance.

“what?” he asked “you’re scared of me now?”

you rolled your eyes “scared isn’t the word i would use, more like deeply frustrated” you grabbed the book from the window sill and got up.

“sexually?” he asked, raising his eyebrows

“ugh” you rolled your eyes, walking around him

“hey!” mattheo tried to stand in your way but was unsuccessful “where are you going?”

“somewhere you aren’t”

mattheo followed close behind you. “come on” he said “it’s christmas time! the loveliest time of the year! can’t you knit me a sweater or something?”

you send him a spiteful look.

“a hat?”

“i’m not gonna knit you anything” you halted in your step. taking a quick look at the book in your hand before you held it in his direction. “actually, do you mind bringing this back to where i got it from?”

“do i get mittens?”

“sure” you rolled your eyes and waited until he had walked around the shelf, before you quickly sprinted to the exit.

to your luck, he made it out of the library just a second after.

since he had first noticed how much it annoyed you, mattheo had made it a habit to follow you around the castle. over the time he had become an instant trigger for your headache.

“so what about these mittens huh?”

“riddle, can’t you leave me alone?” at least he was walking not next to you

“you’re the only one in our year i know”

“and?”

“christmas is for friends huh?”

“we’re not friends” you argued, crossing your arms

“we could be” mattheo shrugged. “and then you realize how great i am and give me a blowjob on christmas morning”

“oh because you’re so great i suddenly want to give you a blowjob?” you asked disgusted, while crossing your arms

“there’s no shame in admitting you want to pleasure me”

“eww” you shook your head “do you ever think about anything else but sex?”

“you’re way too hot to not think about sex or you getting on your knees and—“

“alright” you interrupted, raising your arms. but before you could try something else to get him to leave you alone, something helpful entered your field of vision.

you smiled at him, before you walked left.

“no!” mattheo argued “that’s not fair”

you walked into the girls washroom and ignored him. he held the door open.

“you know it violates my principles to go in there”

“i do” you nodded, pretty aware that he wouldn’t be caught dead in there. you weren’t even sure why. mattheo normally wasn’t the guy to follow rules, but he did have a high moral standard considering places like the girls washroom or sleeping quarters.

you smiled mischievously, suddenly thinking about testing him “come in here and i’ll give you the best blowjob of your life”

you weren’t even thinking about ever doing that.

mattheo ignored what you said, even if he did get a little white at your words “you play dirty!” he protested “but okay, you win this time!”

you smiled about the frustration on his face. he had always tried to flirt with you, but it never fazed you, so now you were the impossible challenge for him. and what better time for this than when almost to no students were in hogwarts and school was out.

mattheo found you later in the evening, while you were sitting at the slytherin table, enjoying your meal while reading your book. during the holidays no one could forbid you from doing that.

you had heard him approach from a few feet away. it was like you had developed a special radar for him over the years.

"hello, love" he sat down beside you

"don't call me that" you muttered, without looking up

"what? no flinching?"

"you're not invisible"

"okay then what was that, a few hours ago in the library?" he asked and you could practically feel him raising his eyebrows.

"the library was the last place i expected you to be" you said truthfully

"you were there"

"yes" you nodded and looked up at him "because i thought you'd never be"

mattheo sighed, sliding closer to you. you side eyed him. "come any closer and i'll scream"

“come on, y/n” mattheo said almost sounding friendly. but then there was that smug smile again. “why don’t we call a truce? considering the holiday season?”

“never” you turned the page “can you leave me alone now?”

mattheo began eating peacefully, not even caring what you had said and you just sighed, going back to ignoring him. after you had finished dinner, he followed you again as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“stop following me” you stopped, turning around to look at him

“i do have the same way, you know?” he came closer to you, leaning down and whispering in your ear “not everything i do is about you, sweetheart” you watched with big eyes how he smirked and then undid his tie with a quick gesture. he winked at you before he continued his way, leaving you standing in the hallway.

you looked after him puzzled. you had not considered that proximity — or how it had made you feel. you almost found it attractive. you couldn’t believe what you were thinking but for a short second you really were attracted to mattheo riddle. of all people.

you tried to take calming breaths, so whatever had happened right now would go away, but it was to no appeal.

of course mattheo had always looked good, even you couldn’t ignore that, but you had never once thought about him as more than a nuisance that got on your last nerve. now you were almost wishing him to be here, pushing you against the wall—

you couldn’t determine what had suddenly come over you. mattheo had done a pretty good job bothering you these past few years and you had always resisted his advances. and now, just half a year before graduation you were getting weak?

you tried shaking your head, to get rid of the thoughts in there. you quickly walked in the direction of the common room.

in your room, you went into the bathroom, taking a cold shower and after that going to bed as quick as possible. you didn’t want to grant your head the time to think about the stupid boy even more.

the next few days were torture for you. you hadn’t had a proper sleep in days, your mind always wandering back to him.

of course mattheo had picked up his usual habit again, finding you whenever you had been able to get rid of him. every word of him made you a bit weaker in the knees and almost give in. but there was that little bit of self worth that kept you from leaping over the table and kissing the smug smile off his face.

right now you were sitting at dinner, not really getting anything down while you slowly turned the pages of your magazine, while mattheo was sitting across from you, talking your ear off.

even if you could act normal with your last bit of strength, you weren’t able to fight his presence anymore. when he was able to find you, you would mostly just give in. and to your horror you had to admit that he wasn’t even as bad as you had thought. even if half the things he said were total nonsense.

you caught yourself losing track of the magazine and actually listening to him. and you didn’t even hate it. he was funny, you had to admit and he was interested in what you had to answer to his questions

“what’s your favorite color?” he asked, just after he had finished a rant about not being allowed to smoke in his dorm, but doing it anyway.

“huh?” you asked

“your favorite color” mattheo smiled and probably for the first time you noticed how beautiful it was. and it seemed genuine.

“green” you shrugged and his smile got impossibly bigger.

“i like green too” he gushed. he looked like a five year old. and to your personal horror you did not find it disgusting, but rather cute and charming. you wanted to throw up, right now, right here.

you got up from the seat abruptly. “i have to go to the bathroom” you said quickly and mattheo looked at you in confusion

“are you alright?” he asked, but you were already walking out the hall in a quick step.

you reached the bathroom and almost stumbled into the stall, falling down on the floor.

“y/n?” a voice from outside the washroom called

“not now, mattheo” you said annoyed. you leaned against the wall, while you began to cry. luckily you didn’t have to throw up. but the feeling didn’t go away.

you didn’t know what was happening to you. you were feeling like you had lost your mind.

“y/n?” mattheo called again, sounding concerned “are you alright?”

“i said not now” you screamed. he was standing in the door, looking at you scared. he looked like he didn’t know what to do. and still he did not set a foot into the room.

“are you crying?” he wondered

“no!” you screamed, while tears were running down your cheeks, very openly falsifying your statement. you quickly wiped them away.

“what’s wrong?”

“everything” you bellowed “and all of it is your fault!”

“my fault?” he asked almost offended “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i don’t know what you did to make me feel like this, but as soon as find out you’re gonna hope you were never born” you got up walking into his direction, pointing your finger at him accusingly. he was walking backwards until you were both standing in the hall.

“whoa” he raised his hands “i didn’t do anything to you”

“you’re lying” you shook your head “i can’t eat, i can’t sleep. i think about you all the time, without wanting to and i actually listen to what you tell me and the worst thing is that i suddenly don’t hate you anymore. i hated you for the past six years and now i can’t do it anymore? what the fuck is going on mattheo? i feel like i’m losing my mind”

you almost wanted him to find a solution for your problem.

“i don’t know okay?” mattheo said “maybe you’re just in love with me” he joked then, but it smile faded quickly and he got serious. “maybe you are in love with me” he repeated softly.

you send him a spiteful look “i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you”

“i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you too” he exclaimed. then he paused, until he looked into your eyes, smiling slightly “but i just can’t help it” he whispered

your eyes softened. for the first time in a long time, you believed what he was saying.

“i can’t eat, i can’t sleep” he muttered, gently fixing a strand of your hair “i think about you all the time” he touched your cheek softly “and i actually listen to what you tell me” his fingers grazed your lips. “and i don’t ever want it to stop” his hand touched your neck and your eyes closed on instant.

then he softly kissed you. your hand went to his collar, drawing him closer. you deepened the kiss, while you breathed in his smell. he smelled of nicotine and some sort of perfume that was unfamiliar to you but it could make you recognize him anywhere.

he softly broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. “why does it feel so intense?” you asked “i thought i had to throw up back in there” you pointed behind you.

“i’d say it gets better, but it never does” he shrugged “not even after years”

“years?” you repeated “you felt like this for years?”

“did you think i was following you around because i loved spending my time in the library?”

“i thought you followed me because you just wanted to get in my pants”

“don’t get me wrong, i do want to get into your pants” he smirked “but not only once and i also want to do so much more than just that”

you smiled at him. maybe being in love with someone wasn’t so bad after all. not when it was him.

he smiled back “let’s go back to the common room” he suggested and you nodded. he layed an arm around your shoulder, kissing you on the forehead.

“mattheo?”

“hmm?”

“why didn’t you go in the washroom a few days ago, even though i promised you the best blowjob of your life?” you asked the question in a joking manner, but it really did interest you.

“you didn’t mean it”

“still”

“it’s not respectful” he shrugged “entering a place like that, it’s not okay, even if no one would catch me. even if it would be just the two of us” he said truthfully “but back there? i almost threw all that out of the window, because i thought something was wrong and you needed my help”

you hugged his body closer “thank you” you whispered and he kissed you on the head.

“so.. about those mittens”

you laughed. “merry christmas, matty”

“merry christmas, y/n”

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