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heegyukeluv · 7 months ago

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If love was a battlefield…

pairing: heeseung x afab reader x jake

synopsis: If love was a battlefield, could there be more than one winner? In which Heeseung and Jake work in the same company as you, both of them sharing the same position and the same feelings: their huge crush on you.

my's note: i had so much fun working on this plot honestlyyyy and it was a bit of a challenge (in a good way!!!) since i had to learn a bunch of terms in english to write it and also my first love triangle 🤭🤭 THANK YOU SO MUCH ANONIE FOR THE REQUEST!!! also wanna thank mika for helping me brainstorming! a few scenes from here came from our talks 💘🤭

warnings: office workers heejake, y/n is in a higher position than them (manager), miscommunication to some extent, love triangle (but she does chooses! [spoiler alert] maybe both? hehe), hee and jake doesn’t get along too much at first (ps: they DON’T hate each other) but they come around!, quick mention of hee having a tattoo, there’s fluff, reader blushing/turning red! and SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex 💪🏻, unprotected sex (please, don't!!!), oral sex (f. receiving), quick handjob, sex in the office, the smut is jake x reader and heeseung x reader, there's no threesome!, jake has praise kink, hee is lowkey into degradation (receiving). LMK if missed anything!!!

request: an office or work space love triangle of heeseung x reader/oc x jake (you can pick which one the reader leans more towards or not✨or both��) either way!!! (request here!)

wc: 24k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers

Of course the printer would select that very specific day to malfunction, jamming the paper with its irritating noise that signaled another reset was needed, despite all your attempts to fix the problem.

A wave of frustration washed through your body as you stepped back, taking a deep breath and fluttering your eyes shut in order to find any inner peace that might help you go through a simple routine task.

It wasn't just the clients pushing your buttons with their impossible deadlines, the entire work environment seemed to be against you, targeting you with its devilish plans. Everything that could go wrong, did.

You had little to no hope of getting better until your head rested on your pillow later that day. Unfortunately, there was still a whole six hours waiting for your irreplaceable presence. Being a manager had its perks, nonetheless, the down sides haunted you even in your dreams.

“Tough day?”

You startled at the sudden voice beside you, opening your eyes just to catch Jake sending you a curious glance, layered with a hint of comprehension. A ghost of a smile adorned his plump lips, his demeanor showed helpfulness, ready to assist. As usual.

“Some clients make the worst decisions and I’m the one cleaning their mess.” You began, exhaustion lacing your voice. “And some printers just hate me.” And then you shoot Jake an unamused smile.

Jake chuckled, his eyes turning into small crescents as he did so.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing towards the printer. You nodded, stepping aside to give him space to work. He began with the basics, checking for any simple errors. “It’s not running out of paper,” he pointed out quietly.

“Yeah…” You sighed and rested your body on the wall nearby. You had gone through everything Jake was doing.

“It doesn’t seem to be here. The problem.” He remarked, slightly confused.

You took a moment to observe how Jake’s concentrated frown deepened while he typed something on the computer, searching for the cause of the error. He nonchalantly played with his lips, wetting and biting them as he focused, his sharp eyes glued to the screen, slender fingers dancing across the keyboard.

You never paid close attention to how attractive Jake looked, especially while working – his light blue dress shirt and mandatory tie enhanced his pronounced features, complemented by his everyday black specs.

Of course you thought Jake was handsome, any person in their right sense would. And his beauty was accompanied with his remarkable personality. He had a genuine, warm, prestative soul, ready to lend a hand whenever people needed him, and it was clear there was no expectation to receive anything in return as he did so.

Jake had unmatched intelligence and quick senses to discover easily what went wrong, and even his clumsiness, constantly dropping his pile of papers or having his glasses misplaced on the top of his nose’s bridge had its charm.

You never considered the possibility of Jake’s charming side. Nonetheless, there you were, unprofessionally checking out your colleague while hoping for a miracle.

“There you go!” Jake’s cheerful voice brought you back to reality, your heart racing in surprise.

“Did you fix it?” You questioned with a hopeful tone.

“Let’s see.” Jake replied and then pressed a few buttons.

To your surprise, the printer emitted its usual sound instead of the annoying one, smoothly pulling the paper and delivering it back, fully printed with your work’s documents.

“Jake! What the hell!” You exclaimed, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment, a bright and genuine smile started to creep on the corner of your mouth as you looked back and forth between Jake and the printer. “What did you do?” You asked under your breath, still astonished with Jake’s quick and excellent skills. It felt like you could finally breathe again.

And it was just a malfunctioning printer.

“I just–”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You waved it off, too relieved to finally continue with your very busy day – the few minutes the printer had stolen from you would certainly be missed. “Thank you so much.” You flashed him a sincere smile.

“It was nothing, really.” He chuckled at your overreaction, in no position to admit out loud he was loving to be the cause of your sudden euphoria. Deep down he was fighting the urge to blush, fluster before you.

“How can I properly thank you for saving my day?” You joked with a grin, thrilled with the small victory as you took your papers in hand.

Your demeanor had lightened, and you couldn't quite tell if it was due to the relief of the printer working again or Jake's presence beside you. Either way, you felt a pleasant warmth spreading in your chest.

However, to receive Jake’s silence, widened eyes and cheeks with a faint blush as a response caught you off guard, along with his sudden nervousness as he fidgeted with his fingers, as though he prepared himself during his whole life for that exact moment.

“So, uh…” He began, voice shaky, fingers trailing its way towards his nape to scratch it while his eyes avoided yours.

“Yeah?” You prompted, curiously waiting for his words.

“I've been waiting to tell you something. I–I know we have a policy about it, and you're the last person I’d expect to break it, but–”

“Oh, hey Y/N!”

You turned to see another colleague of yours approaching with his characteristic bright, enchanting smile, carrying a cup of coffee in his hand, a sharp gaze never leaving yours as he confidently brought his strong aura closer to you both.

“Hi, Heeseung.” You greeted with a smile, oblivious to the subtle change in the atmosphere between them.

“Jake.”

“Heeseung.” Jake’s voice was dry when he replied and a thick silence lingered for a moment before Heeseung flashed you an adorable smile and walked away without any other words.

You barely noticed Jake's clenched jaw and fists, or how he seemed ready to throw punches right in front of you if Heeseung didn’t return to his desk quickly.

“So you were saying..?” You asked, innocently drawing your attention back to Jake’s and consequently bringing his own towards you; his puppy eyes softened when they landed on your pretty features.

Jake’s heart immediately faltered a ton of beats as if he was about to collapse; having you looking at him so attentively was making his circuits crash, sending his brain into overdrive.

All the courage he reunited to confess to you vanished in a snap.

“It was nothing, don't worry about it!” He forced his best cheerful smile. “You seem to have a lot to do! Fighting, Y/N!”

You giggled at his choice of terms, tapping on his shoulder slightly before you started to head your way back to your office room.

“Thank you again, Jake.”

You offered him another smile, filled with genuine gratitude since he truly helped your day not to fall in shambles. And apparently, not only by helping your beef with the printer.

On the other hand, Jake’s day just started to collapse.

He headed back to his desk in the space he shared with a few co-workers and Lee Heeseung, one of the best employees the company had ever had since they started. The problem solving efficiency increased enormously during his time working there, and Jake had a not-so-soft spot for him in his heart. Jake viewed Heeseung as one of his greatest rivals. Not exactly in a mean way, but as a manner to motivate his improvement and outsmart himself each day, ensuring that his presence was felt just as strongly as Heeseung’s.

In Jake’s eyes, Heeseung had an annoying vibe, overconfident with his work and himself, although he knew Heeseung wasn’t an asshole at all. Deep down, Jake harbored a certain envy of how easily Heeseung seemed to connect with people; his charisma shone within every word, his confidence made others feel secure – and, depending on the context, a bit shy.

On that day, nevertheless, a nagging doubt about his co-worker motives during their earlier interaction was swelling in his chest. If he stayed quiet, not confronting Heeseung about it, he wouldn’t be able to focus on doing his job adequately.

“Ok, so what was that about?” Jake finally asked with a mild peeved voice.

“What was what ab–”

“Don't.” Jake's fierce eyes shot Heeseung a warning while tilting his head. “Don't mess around. Just spill it out.”

Heeseung quirked an eyebrow in amusement after seeing the so said calm guy acting a bit off.

“I was saving your ass.” Heeseung replied, a casual grin on his face as if he had just shared the most mundane, obvious fact.

Jake rolled his eyes, sighing and definitely not buying the nonchalance while turning his rolling chair towards Heeseung.

“And how exactly my ass needs to be saved, Heeseung?” he pressed, his voice low and serious with an elbow propped on the edge of his table.

“You seemed to be in trouble.” Heeseung shot back immediately, shrugging, avoiding Jake’s intense gaze.

Heeseung wasn't too open about his reasons because, honestly, he was still unsure of what had compelled him to interfere in the conversation, since you seemed to be beaming with happiness and Jake was just his normal, awkward self talking to you.

Something itched at the back of his confused thoughts, so he had to take action.

“I wasn’t.” Jake murmured, his jaw clenched as he turned back to his computer, fingers furiously typing on his keyboard. “Next time, ask beforehand if I really need your savior's help.” He said mockingly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was just about to confess and you totally screwed up my chances.”

Heeseung blinked a few times, immediately freezing in his seat, utterly flabbergasted. He had a faint, minor suspicion hinting that Jake was onto something he couldn't quite grasp. But this? This was the last thing he expected at all.

Heeseung had to bite back his own sharp and far from nice words in order to maintain a good relationship with Jake – and, consequently, with you.

“I mean, we have policies and rules...” Heeseung managed to say in return, ignoring the bittersweet taste on his tongue going all the way down his throat to sit uncomfortably in his chest, swallowing it whole in a suffocating way.

“I know about them.” Jake smirked, leaning on his chair with a cocky, relaxed demeanor as he side eyed Heeseung. “And I found a loophole in it.”

Now Heeseung's curiosity was piqued, heart racing fast as he leaned closer. “Oh, really? And how's that?”

Jake chuckled, shooting Heeseung a skeptical look. "No way I'm telling you, man."

Panic filled Heeseung’s vein, a cold feeling spreading within his chest as the realization hit. He could lose the chance of his lifetime; it felt like you were already fading away from his touch without even giving him the chance to make a move. The new information that Jake and he shared a common interest in you and Jake seeming to have an advantage on his game triggered his worst side.

For the purpose of keeping on the war’s lead – the war that just got instaurated by his fantasy –, he decided to play dirty.

“If you don't, I'm gonna snitch on you.”

Now it was time for Jake to paralyze in his tracks, just to let out a soft laugh before saying. “You would not…” Jake squinted his eyes in disbelief.

After reading Heeseung’s expression, Jake realized he wasn’t bluffing. The slight raise of Heeseung's eyebrows, coupled with a hint of challenge and his annoying grin demonstrated it clearly.

“Try me,” Heeseung struggled a bit to maintain his confident facade, the slight tremor in his voice betrayed the underlying tension.

But Heeseung had an advantage that outshone Jake's, one that could potentially lead Jake to be in a very unfortunate position, and if that meant Heeseung getting his chances with you, he would do anything to keep the fight.

Jake leaned back further, the playful smirk fading as he studied Heeseung with a calculating gaze.

“Seriously, you’d snitch over this?” Jake muttered in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t entirely convinced Heeseung would go that far, but his colleague's persistence was throwing him off. And for what? To steal his chances with you just for fun? Unless…

“If it gives me a fair shot, yeah.” Heeseung’s grin widened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He was pretty chill about it, after all, you always seemed unattainable to anyone around you. With an unmatched beauty, an assertive mindset, and a captivating yet humorous personality – when necessary –, not to mention how understanding you were.

Everyone's dream.

And until that day that’s how Heeseung had you, only in dreams. But now reality had knocked on his door, and it knocked close. He knew there was competition, a strong one. And much to Jake's misfortune, Heeseung was highly competitive.

There was a brief pause for quite long, painful seconds. Jake’s frown deepened as he finally understood Heeseung’s motives, clarification hitting instantly. They were on the same page.

Although it sent his brain into malfunction, especially because he feared Heeseung’s would be winning – just like he always did, the fucking annoying ace of the company –, Jake kept on the confident behavior, not showing his hesitation right in front of his, now unspokenbly declared, enemy.

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “You really think you stand a chance?”

Heeseung’s expression faltered for just a second, but he quickly masked it.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “But I won’t let you get ahead without a fight. A proper one.”

A heavy silence settled between them again, Jake processing Heeseung’s words, the tension palpable as both of them knew they were walking on dangerous ground. It was the company field with you being the final prize.

And right at that point, neither of them cared that much about their reputation within the workers if it led to having you at the end of the day.

“Alright then, let’s see who wins this.” Jake’s voice filled the dead air.

Heeseung blinked, momentarily taken aback by Jake’s sudden shift in tone, overconfident with his decision. However, he nodded and shook Jake’s hand in a wordless deal.

“Let's see who wins this.”

A gentle knock on the door interrupted your focus as you organized your table for the day, still standing up.

It was common sense within your employees that if you didn't answer right away, they were not supposed to open it until you reached out yourself. However, the chaotic pile of papers that had overtaken your workspace had momentarily distracted you, and you were taking your sweet time organizing it all.

Just as you were about to call out, the door creaked open cautiously, and a familiar pair of eyes peeked inside.

“Hey.” Heeseung greeted you with a tender smile. “Mind if I come in?”

Without fully drifting your gaze away from the documents on your table, frowning as you found yet another mistakenly placed in between your sheets, you gave a brief nod.

“Sure.”

As Heeseung approached, a bit hesitant, you didn’t give him time to say a word as you shove the paper on his face. “That’s definitely not mine.”

Your deadpan expression was enough to make anyone sweat, and you knew it well – sometimes using it to your benefit purely for fun, especially with someone like Heeseung, who was susceptible to falling for it easily.

Heeseung momentarily blinked, stunned, before tilting his head to the side, uncertain. “I’m… Sorry..?”

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped, enjoying his reaction far too much; his confused, scared bambi eyes widening with the fear of a reprimand. You shook your head, biting back your smile while lifting one eyebrow.

“Relax. It’s not your fault.”

You saw Heeseung’s shoulders loosening visibly, and he released a long breath he didn’t notice he was holding, relief washing over his body.

Behind his easygoing, self-reliant and confident persona, there was a huge layer of self-doubt blended with the concern of letting the company down – letting you down. He carried the weight of wanting to be perfect at his job, especially for you. He was proud to admit he barely made any mistakes during his years working there, let alone to incorrectly put important papers in wrong places.

“So, what brings you here?” You finally gave Heeseung your full attention, leaning one hip against the desk, watching him with curious eyes.

Heeseung cleared his throat before setting down a steaming cup on the wooden surface. “Thought you could use this.” He offered with an awkward grin. “A coffee for my favorite manager.”

You quirked an eyebrow, suspicious over his sudden decision. Of course you were aware of Heeseung’s kindness towards you, always trying to ease your overall work under his possibilities with his teasing blended with his gentlemanliness. However, something felt strangely off, different, weird even, and you struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was.

Maybe it was the way his two orbs seemed to drown you in a pool of affection and attention, almost expecting something in return.

“Oh, yeah?” You picked the coffee nonetheless, taking a sip and almost closing your eyes as the sweetness of it melted in your palatar. “And what’s the catch?” You smirked as you propped your free hand on the table, supporting your weight in it, eyes never leaving Heeseung’s sudden flustered self.

“No catch!” He urged to say, raising both hands in defense, bambi eyes widened more as if he just got caught in a compromising situation. You tilted your head, not buying it. “I swear,” he chuckled awkwardly, feeling small under your intense staring. “I just thought it could be a good idea. You’re fighting against demons with this desk today.” He pointed out to the said space and you actually laughed out loud at his words, painfully agreeing with them because it was your reality that day.

You studied Heeseung for a moment longer, trying to read his underlying true intentions. In doing so, you couldn’t help but observe his charming features.

His impeccably styled hair revealing a small portion of his forehead, enough to showcase his adorable mole, became a signature aspect of his daily appearance. His clothes were always neat, seamlessly placed and yet stylish. His lips seemed to be constantly nibbled or maybe he had some chapstick on, because it had the color of cherries, giving it an inviting glimmering aspect.

He exuded a natural flirty aura that effortlessly drew people in, especially those he had a genuine interest in – you heard some of his stories before, when you weren’t in your current position. For some inexplicable reason, you found yourself wondering briefly what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his playful and certainly captivating advances.

“Thanks, Heeseung. I appreciate it." Your voice softened, and you gestured to the chaotic desk. "But next time, maybe help me with this instead of just getting me coffee."

Heeseung laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Noted.” Then he shifted on his feet, clearly trying to maintain his cool, but the slight fidget in his hand suggested something else. “Just wanted to make sure you’re taken care of. You know? You’re the head of our department.” He nodded to himself, letting his genuine, but appealing words come out of his mouth spontaneously.

“Thank you again.” You smiled, feeling his gratitude, still not really accepting it as a normal behavior.

You kept on watching him nervously acting out in front of you, so obviously apprehensive, however, fighting the pressure of dropping down his mask. You almost laughed at it, endeared by how entertained it was to be on the viewer’s side.

“But really. You’re doing fine. And we all need you to keep on being fi– Doing! Doing fine.” Heeseung fumbled in between his speech, stuttering because he wasn’t expecting you to go full silent-mode out of nowhere, leaving him with his messy, and in love, brain, enough to make him act awkward.

You let out a small chuckle, the way Heeseung was being so out of his normal was so funny to your eyes, never in your life you thought of seeing him in such a manner.

Then you stood up only to gently guide Heeseung towards the door, grabbing the handle to signal it was time for him to leave your office. Somehow you had a feeling that if you let him, Heeseung would keep on talking and complimenting you for hours.

“Ok, now you're just flattering me for no reason. Go back to your work.” You softly pushed his back, still smiling.

“You know me too well,” he smirked and then threw you a cute wink before walking away, now apparently back to his regular demeanor, leaving you alone in the midst of your chaos – both in the room and in your mind.

Before you closed the door, the phantom of your smile lingering on your lips still, you heard someone calling your name.

“Oh, Y/N! I was looking for you.”

Jake met Heeseung in the middle of the hallway. His subtle, yet triumphant smile radiated a confidence that triggered Jake’s desperation, so he had to come up with a quick plan to gain some extra points with you and, maybe, with luck, surpass Heeseung.

Your eyes tracked Jake’s motions as he approached you, looking flustered with papers messily stacked in his grasp, his glasses unevenly on his face as though he had been in a race against time. He had a small pout decorating his plump lips, and his hair was a mess as well, strands poking out everywhere. Even so, he looked cute.

Cute?

“What's all that?” You nodded to his papers, sipping on your hot coffee.

Then you locked your gaze with his. Jake gave you a soft smile, as though he saw a cute puppy and you tilted your head with curiosity, waiting for his response.

“Uh.. I went over our latest reports,” he started as he clumsily handed you one of the documents, your fingers subtly brushing against the other’s in the process – while you barely noticed it, Jake winced, a jolt of ecstasy rushing over his body by your simple touch. “And there were a bunch of errors. I corrected them…”

You slowly blinked, eyebrows furrowing, utterly surprised by Jake's decision of reviewing the reports, and not enough, giving it the proper adjustment as you meticulously re-read the paragraph he pointed out.

“I'm sorry.” He said quietly after your silence. “You seem to have a lot to do and I know you'll have to revise it all again.”

“Jake.” You called out, a serious, focused expression still settled on your face. Jake straightened his posture, ready for the reprimand he was sure you would give him, already thinking about the hours he would spend overthinking it. However, you were far from being mad, so you softened your eyes after finishing reading, smiling and looking back at him. “Come in.”

Jake had dumbfounded eyes shooting your back when you turned on your heels after inviting him to your office, his foot glued on the ground unabling his movements. Nonetheless, the feeling of a small victory tasted addicting, and now he yearned for more.

Just before fully stepping into your workspace after calming down his racing excited heart, he glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Heeseung giving him a death stare.

Jake simply smiled coyly, as if he had won the round of a game he never intended to lose, although his adversary offered a strong amount of threatening.

Heeseung darkened eyes watched Jake’s fading away after closing the door, poking his inner cheek with his tongue with his breath hitching. Right when he found the perfect opportunity to prove he would be a great boyfriend by looking out for you, Jake stepped in, robbing him of the chance to be the only one in your thoughts.

Inside the room, you now sat on your chair while Jake kept on standing after putting the pile of papers on your desk. He was trying to suppress the adrenaline bubbling inside his heart, the thump-thump almost dizzying echoing inside his head, and the fact that your office was permeated with your scent did nothing to help to decrease the intoxicating, entrancing feeling.

“Sit down, don’t be awkward.” You said nonchalantly, yet comforting, pointing to the chair in front of your desk without necessarily looking away from the words you were reading rigorously.

“Sorry.” He chuckled nervously, quickly sitting down as his fingers twitched on his lap, fidgeting out of tension.

The lack of acknowledgment about what your reaction would be was aching in his every pore; biting the sensitive flesh of his lips wasn’t enough anymore, so he glanced up at you, stealing a rapid moment to admire the way you were scanning the reports. Your mild concentrated frown and how your hair cascaded down your face almost made him melt on spot.

The silence wasn’t comfortable at all, not hostile either – even so he was afraid of getting scolded.

“So, what made you decide to do this?” You finally spoke, your words aiming for one simple answer, nevertheless, your tender and still steady tone made Jake shift on his seat, breath getting caught on his throat.

“I just thought I could help you,” he answered, a bit quieter than his regular self. “I–I know you have a lot to do lately, and I always revise our main reports.” He explained, not watching you anymore because you lifted your eyes to give him your full attention; your gaze weightening on him. “And I noticed those errors. Didn’t think it would hurt to re-make those parts based on your pattern of writing.”

You nodded softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Jake was adorable with his cheeks painted in slight blush, fixing his glasses on his nose’s bridge, running away from your staring, unable to sustain eye contact. He was being his normal self, however, just like with Heeseung, something felt off.

“That’s really considerate.” You said, tilting your head slightly to the side as you added. “I really appreciate your effort, Jake. But I’d like to be aware of the changes before you make them. Okay?”

Jake eagerly agreed, nodding at your soothing words. He was relieved to hear them instead of harsher ones, even though there was no bigger reason to fear, after all, your reputation for handling things with grace and kindness mingled with your astute assertiveness was well-known.

You had a way of giving feedback that felt constructive, always leading with gratitude before addressing something more incisive, and your scoldings were far from being sharp like a retaliation and more striving for lightening the load for everyone involved, without leaving room for big mistakes.

But at that moment Jake held a very intimate, personal secret, and your sharp eyes seemed to read his every thought, so he expected the worst.

“So, what exactly did you change in the report?” you asked, leaning slightly forward in your chair, genuine curiosity lighting up your eyes.

Jake swallowed, feeling a familiar nervousness creep up, though it was softened by the warmth of your kind eyes. He smiled and tried to quietly shake off the warmth spreading on his cheeks before explaining every line he had modified and the reasoning behind it, his typical clever outstanding trait showing off within every word that flew from his mouth, walking confidently on the ground he built himself in.

As you nodded along, due to the small proximity, you also silently struggled to maintain your focus on what Jake was verbalizing instead of his refreshing perfume and his gorgeous, slender fingers, to which traced the paper as he kept on talking. Not to mention the motion of his lips, how his tongue would wet the flesh of it every once and awhile.

“You did a good job, Jake.” You said at the end of his analysis, lifting your eyes to meet his. A subtle smile adorned your mouth, and Jake felt a surge of pride bloom in his chest.

He could shamelessly admit – not to you, though – he was devoted to hearing your every praise. There was no aim to his work other than receive your compliments about him doing good. Being good for you was enough to pay his bills, he would even dare to say.

And of course that had nothing to do with his praise kink, buried in the depths of his mind.

“Thank you.” Jake mumbled shyly, feeling the heat lingering on his cheeks, a light ton of red tinting them. “I really like being noted by you.” As soon as his words blurted out of his mouth, he rushed to backtrack himself with widened eyes. “I mean– I appreciate being recognized for my hard work. By any superior, of course.”

You leaned back on your chair, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow, studying Jake’s demeanor shamelessly – his nervous stuttering, his choice of words, his sudden overwork. Going through documents already approved for submission was nothing but a hellish task, nevertheless Jake seemed to be willing to give you that break without you asking for it.

Something odd was happening. It was way out of your regular routine, flooded with awkward situations and words that you weren’t sure you were supposed to overhear. And coming from two different people.

Another knock on your door interrupted your session of trying to read Jake’s hidden intentions, just like you did before with Heeseung. And as if your thought had summoned the said man, he appeared at the entrance after you allowed him to enter.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Heeseung asked innocently, his eyes darting briefly from you to Jake, acknowledging his presence – the thought of you and Jake being alone in a room weighed in his chest since the moment he saw his colleague entering your office, and increased with every heartbeat.

Heeseung couldn’t bear the idea of Jake claiming a larger area of their shared battlefield, and his only remaining option was to figure out methods to interfere in Jake’s progress.

Jake didn’t buy Heeseung’s feigned naivety, narrowing his eyes in disbelief without making it noticeable to you. It was a subtle exchange, a fleeting glance that only Heeseung was able to catch as he swallowed hard to suppress the pressing need to spill the truth beneath their actions.

“Seems like my office is the party room today,” you joked lightly, shaking your head. “You didn’t. I just finished with Jake.”

Unaware of the silent tension unfolding between the two men, you draw your attention back to your laptop, quickly logging into your work apps as if the world wasn’t burning with unspoken feelings right before you. Yet, the awkward silence persisted, prompting you to glance up at Heeseung again, who seemed to be deep in thought.

He faltered for a second before realizing he was the one in the spotlight, snapping out of torturing thoughts, rapidly regaining his composure.

“I, uh… I just wanted to remind you that your meeting is in less than an hour,” Heeseung’s voice was steady, but the quickening beat of his heart betrayed his nerves, especially with his brand new makeshift excuse. “I was wondering if you want me to set the room for it. I’m quite chilling with my work today.”

“I can help!” Jake was quick to interject, almost lifting his hand as if he was a middle schooler, looking at you with gleaming orbs filled with expectation.

Your inquisitive eyes flickered between Jake and Heeseung, your serious facade sharpening as you sensed the shift in the air. It made them both shiver in place, sharing a secret wordless connection.

It was almost undeniable that the whole situation was affecting you in an unknown way.

You were aware of your position and fought hard for it – being assertive and resolving conflicts was your greatest work quality. Separating work from personal matters was also a point you vigorously defended and explained to many of your colleagues, especially since being the target of their flirtations was on your list as well.

Despite your efforts to maintain those things rewinding on your mind as a reminder, the way both Heeseung and Jake were acting sounded more than just strange to you – it was intriguing.

You felt an almost unbearable desire to investigate further what was the motive behind their sudden offers for help and the respective compliments that came with it.

At the same time, you wondered if there were layers of the situation you weren’t quite seeing correctly, having just one piece of the ongoing puzzle so far. So you decided to let it be for now.

“What about you both help each other?” You offered a solution while smiling, indirectly using it as a method to gather more explicit information. “I’m sure you can work well together, right?” You tilted your head with a challenging voice, to which didn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Sure.” Heeseung smiled in agreement, and you straightaway noticed he was masking his real reaction.

“Sounds amazing,” Jake, on the other hand, was obvious with his discontent, sounding explicitly unhappy and sarcastic.

Either way, you opted to ignore it and move on with your work as soon as they left your office. It was just the morning and you had a lot to catch up with.

And besides your efforts, you failed to catch the palpable tension between Heeseung and Jake.

Your following days seemed ordinary enough, until Jake or Heeseung – eventually, both – crossed your path.

They shared a constant odd behavior around you, whether proposing countless solutions to existent and mostly nonexistent problems, demonstrating an exaggerated level of proactivity, or complimenting your appearance, emphasizing details that surely hadn’t changed overnight – like the time when Heeseung asked if you had trimmed the ends of your hair, as if he was trying to impress you with his incredible observation skills.

At times, you were astonished by their creative ability to come up with lame excuses just to approach you, many of which were completely inconvenient and more of a distraction than a help.

You couldn’t help but wonder what triggered this new shift in their attitudes. What has switched inside their brains to overwork themselves just to make their presence noticeable?

Even your superior questioned about the employees' demeanors under your management, overdoing tasks and spending more time in the company than normal. You struggled to wash it off, because you also had no proper answer to that question.

Besides the chaos they implemented within their constant battle for something you quite couldn’t pinpoint precisely, it was somewhat adorable their attempts to get your attention. Also, you wouldn’t deny that the small perks they provided – like free coffee and lunch nearly every day – were more than welcome, allowing you to buy new decorations to your house, for instance.

Your first theory was that both Heeseung and Jake were working together to get a raise. But you quickly discharged it when you realized they were fighting against each other, not for each other. So for now, your main theory was they were still trying to win a raise, flattering you personally as a way to get it as if you held the key for their promotion as their manager.

Although excessive, they always respected your personal boundaries, giving your space when you demanded it. They quickly understood your disapproving looks whenever they crossed the professional line as well, avoiding furthermore conflicting situations in the workspace.

However, even with their sweet personalities and kind, heartfelt gestures, the constant tension, battelish vibe they carried alongside each other was getting on your nerves to some extent. Especially because you were growing attached to some of their behaviors and constant presence.

While Jake would quietly offer assistance with your workload, subtly proving his reliability and cleverness to found solutions with ease, following you around like a lost puppy, Heeseung would choose a different approach, very likely to his personality, showering you with compliments and attempting to charm you with smaller favors, focusing more on your overall health and in making you a bit flustered.

You got caught in a dilemma.

Jake and Heeseung began to build a soft spot in your heart, making it hard to ignore your pulse quickening in certain moments, like when Heeseung bought you some snacks because you skipped your lunch hour, showing his concern within a flatter – “A beautiful woman like you can’t go too longer without some proper food”. Or how Jake’s eyes brightened while you explained a new easy method to do spreadsheets, giving you his full attention, hyping you and adding to your idea – “You’re brilliant! And if we add this other option as well… Wow. How do you manage to be amazing like this?”

How Heeseung would rush over the entire floor just because you requested, jokingly, a coffee, even with him being loaded with work – “Can’t never let my favorite manager down, yeah?”. Or when Jake's fierce senses quickly noticed your struggle with a presentation and leaned over to offer you support and an alternative suggestion – “You’re doing great, Y/N. If you don’t feel like it, you can try explaining the third part, the one we talked about before.”

And the bolder, touchy ones; when Heeseung wiped the corner of your mouth because it was stained with sauce, when Jake fixed a strand of your hair that was misplaced, when Heeseung’s arms involved your shoulders in a subtle, comforting hug after a meeting with an inconvenient client, when Jake scooched closer while sitting next to you during a workshop-lecture, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispered something about the topic.

Other than all of that, you came to notice how Heeseung’s eyes radiated with a brighter glow and how his lips curved into a gentle, gorgeous smile every time you were speaking, as if he was daydreaming. And also how often Jake would turn into a fumbling mess, blushing and biting back a grin every time you complimented him, and eventually just the fleet meeting of your eyes became enough to send him into that flustered and adorable demeanor, your heart faltering some beats with the sight.

You were feeling over appreciated, and it was concerning, mainly because you were enjoying it.

Your eyes started to drift briefly, but frequently to their lips when they were the ones talking instead of listening to their words. A knot on your stomach would form as you anticipated their presence in your office every day, sometimes even placing internal bets on who would be the first to knock on your door. And there were times where you found yourself nervously adjusting your hair or smoothing out your clothes before they walked in, hoping they would notice.

You expected your workflow to feel enjoyable not because you liked your job, but because at the end of the day, Heeseung and Jake’s frequent proximity would ignite a brand new nuance of sentiments inside your chest towards them – an excitement, the usual anticipation, some eagerness.

Nonetheless, despite their courteous behavior and the subtle change in the air whenever they were near, there was something tingling, lingering in the back of your mind.

It became increasingly obvious with every interaction that Jake and Heeseung shared an unspoken rivalry, and if you had to guess, you were the prize they were competing for – the idea itself was enough to send shivers down your spine, especially since it left you facing an impossible choice, one you couldn't imagine yourself ever having to make.

Whenever Jake came into your office to discuss work, Heeseung would conveniently show up moments later, knocking on your door with an offer of assistance.

If Heeseung sat with you during lunch, Jake would immediately find a seat at the same table, causing the air to grow thick with tension.

They were constantly interrupting any moment that had the potential to evolve into something deeper, leaving you frustrated, as if you were only getting fleeting glimpses of who they truly were when the other wasn’t around.

To think like that – hoping that your interactions with them would develop into something more – wasn’t professional. It didn’t fit right to fantasize about the possibilities beyond a simple work dynamic, no matter how much the tension made you feel otherwise.

You were a manager, their manager. With a lot of responsibilities; Heeseung and Jake being one of them. Still you were already far intrigued and involved with your feelings in this triangle, and to just forget it and act like nothing was happening slowly became an impossible mission.

“This isn’t right.” You murmured, frowning at the vending machine that decided not to give you your snacks. Your phrase, however, wasn't only about it. “Come on…” You rolled your eyes, impatience swelling in you.

“Sometimes you just have to punch it.”

You almost jumped in shock with the sudden presence of your fellow manager and friend, Sunghoon, carrying his usual cup of steaming coffee, wearing his typical full suit and showing you an adorable smile.

You chuckled at his solution, “I don’t feel like punching a vending machine today.”

“You look angry, though.” He quirked an eyebrow at you, casually sipping on his coffee. “It could help.”

You wetted your lips before answering. “Yeah, kinda,” you shrugged. “But I don’t think punching a vending machine would help my angryness at all.” You shot back with a cynical smile.

Sunghoon laughed with you before approaching the machine and analyzing it. “Let me help you then.”

He did two or three taps on the side of it and within seconds it threw out the snacks you had selected before. You glanced in disbelief at him, mouth agape as you tilted your head and grabbed your food.

“What are you? A charmer of vending machines?” You asked with amused eyes, smiling bright before ripping open the cookie package, eating one and offering it to your friend.

“Definitely not,” Sunghoon also curved his lips into a grin, taking one of the cookies and then leaning closer while fauxing a flirty gaze. “But I would love to charm you into a project of mine.” His eyes were glazed on yours, taking in how bright they shone as the excitement bubbled inside your chest when you heard his proposition. “Not all of you, because I know you already have a lot to do.” He added, offering comfort and understandment. “But I think your method could help my supervisors and their respectives team leaders to do a better job.”

“And by my method you say my incredible way of dealing with people or just the new thing I developed with my incredible, amazing, wonderful supervisors?” You wiggled your eyebrows, teasingly, with a mischievous smile and nudging his shoulder playfully.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and put on a smirk on his lips as he straightened his posture. “Whatever.” He chuckled. “Send me a text if you’re down for our date,” he said, his tone teasing as he lifted his cup of coffee and an eyebrow, starting to slowly walk backwards toward the elevator.

You widened your eyes, glancing around to see if anyone overheard your conversation, embarrassment washing over you and going straight to your cheeks, especially after the last remark.

You slapped Sunghoon’s chest as you contained a laugh, giving a last feigned disapproving look while shaking your head in disbelief. A quiet snort came out of your throat before you made your way back to your office.

Your relationship with Sunghoon was anything but new. You both entered the company at the same month, and you practically leveled up together – on your last promotion, you became a manager just days before him.

So far, you had shared a solid friendship that extended beyond the office, even if your growing responsibilities had limited the hangouts you used to enjoy between spreadsheets and meetings. Those carefree moments had become rare as the workload piled up, so the opportunity to work together with Sunghoon thrilled you.

Just the thought of the brainstorming sessions filled with laughter and playful jokes, a perfect blend of professionalism and friendship, sparked your excitement at most.

Many assumed that your relationship was more than a simple friendship, and Sunghoon's shameless flirting while using working terms didn't help at all. In fact, he had a boyfriend, and the reason you two constantly flirted was purely for fun and to stir up others' curiosity and laugh about it afterwards.

On the other side of the floor, meticulously dodging from your sharpened gaze, Heeseung watched the bold interaction between you and Sunghoon unfolding. He had narrowed eyes and head slightly tilted as he tried to eavesdrop on your conversation. He got himself wondering why were you laughing and smiling so much, with an excessive amount of unnecessary touches and flirty eyes.

“We should unite forces.”

Heeseung nearly jumped or had a heart attack – or both – as Jake appeared out of nowhere beside him, whispering closely in his ear. He looked like a deer that had just been caught doing something wrong, with widened eyes and lips parted.

“Fuck off, Jake.” Heeseung dramatically placed a hand on his chest, as though to calm down his racing pulse, eliciting a genuine chuckle from Jake in response. “And what do you mean by that, huh?” Heeseung frowned, eyes flicking between Jake and you as you walked away.

“I don’t know.” Jake sighed deeply, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks while watching you disappear behind your office door, his head angling to the side to keep track of your movements until you were out of sight.

“So you have an idea, but not a plan?” Heeseung asked while side eyeing Jake, who was now biting his lip, clearly trying to swallow down the bittersweet taste on his tongue.

And Heeseung wasn’t too different; when he heard people saying jealousy is a disease, he didn't think it would make his heart shrink and ache that much.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Jake nodded with a pout, starting to walk towards his desk, with Heeseung trailing behind him. “I just don’t think Sunghoon is a good match, y’know?” He remarked, trying to sound casual about it, but his words felt like a bullet going straight to Heeseung’s gut, curving its way back to hit Jake’s chest.

“Yeah,” Heeseung agreed, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “He lacks a lot of things.” He added with a dry, nearly mean tone.

“Not in looks though.” Jake pinpointed, earning another judgmental side eye from Heeseung. “What? He’s good looking.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug. “I have eyes. I can notice when a guy looks good.”

“Whatever you say, nerd,” Heeseung voiced with an unfazed chuckle.

Jake rolled his eyes in annoyance, and even with them glued on the screen in front of him, numbers and words on display for him to analyze, his mind was long gone far away from the office.

“But listen,” he continued after seconds in silence seeking for the right way to verbalize his thoughts. “Don’t you feel that sometimes we’re kinda… Pushing her away instead of the other way around?”

Jake’s question hung in the air for brief seconds as Heeseung tilted his head, carefully contemplating it. Jake watched his colleague's face falter in realization.

You seemed mad and somehow frustrated whenever they interrupted you, massaging your temples while closing your eyes, taking deep and long breaths, playing with your lips using your tongue and teeth… As if you were trying to contain yourself.

Not to mention that he started to draw disapproving stares from you during meetings or at times when he interfered with your workflow attempting to help. And Jake's side wasn’t different either.

“Yeah.” Heeseung finally nodded after concluding his chain of thoughts. “None of this would be an issue if you stepped aside, you know? I could take care of it.” He teased, gazing at Jake with a cocky expression.

“No way in hell, man.” Jake scoffed with a laugh, but then his facade softened, his feelings for you overwhelming his chest. “I only want what's best for her.”

Heeseung flashed Jake with an understanding glance, blended with seriousness and a hint of affection, as if the new reminder of his real main objective littered his whole world.

You littered his whole world.

And after all, to make you happy was the final goal.

“Agreed.”

While in a brief pause, Jake and Heeseung reflected how deeply involved with their feelings for you they were, an unexpected, yet genuine connection maturing as they did so.

Work had become fun and enjoyable simply because you were there, being an important part of their routine. Your nuance of smiles – the bright ones, the skeptical ones, the awkward ones –, your subtle jokes and lowkey acid humor that eased the atmosphere, your serious and confident decisions, your confused grimaces whenever someone said something absurd, your habit of biting your lip and furrowing your eyebrows while absorbed in concentration.

They drank in every single detail of you, falling more and more in love, as if you were the sun, and they were mere planets gravitating in your orbit, waiting, fighting for your attention, for your decision.

Jake sighed, lowering his eyes while remembering all the moments he made you laugh with his silly and awkward jokes due to his nervousness, stumbling into his own words before your beautiful presence.

Heeseung pursed his lips together, nearly feeling the phantom of the slight bumps of your shoulders when you both sat next to each other, your body leaning just enough to whisper something important in his ear.

“We both want what’s the best for her…” Jake muttered under his breath. Heeseung glanced quickly at him, who immediately reciprocated – a silent dialogue being transmitted in their gaze.

Then they both said simultaneously, a shared realization hanging in the air.

“That’s why you should leave her to me.”

“And I am the best for her."

Apparently their alliance would take longer than anticipated.

After everyone settled into their chairs, you took a deep breath and stood at the head of the table, commanding attention. Your gaze swept across the room before you spoke, your voice firm and steady.

“So, our meeting today is crucial. These clients are incredibly high maintenance, and they chose our company to lead their main projects. I need everyone to be extra focused and serious, no slip-ups,” you emphasized, keeping on drifting your eyes through your colleagues, pausing for effect. “I expect nothing but professionalism.”

Your words hung in the air, and while the room nodded in agreement, both Heeseung and Jake had their minds far from there.

They were seated across from each other, however, both sets of eyes softly and attentively tracked your every move, as if the project was about you and you only.

Jake’s focus wasn’t on the blueprint details, let alone on the company's reputation; it was on the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder as you turned your head slightly, or the confidence you radiated as you spoke, so naturally drawing people in. Your voice was as soft as a cloud, and still precise with your every word.

It was hard to remember the last time he had paid that much attention to a meeting, and there he was, mesmerized not by the content, but solely and exclusively by you. His heartbeat raced with every second, almost echoing louder than anything in the room.

Across the table, Heeseung was no different.

His usual composed demeanor during meetings faltered just enough to make his hands sweat nervously. He was sure your makeup looked extra perfectly placed that day. Every time you said something, his gaze flickered to the slight upward curl of your plump, soft colored lips, or how your jaw clenched with seriousness, together with your sharp, incisive eyes and slight frown, adding to your charm. You were shining on your element, controlling the whole room with your assertiveness and, for him personally, attractive demeanor.

Both of them were caught in similar states – wondering what it would be like if your eyes were solely on them. Would they light up? Would your lips curve into an adorable smile? Would your head cock to the side as you paid deep attention to them?

The silly battle between Heeseung and Jake only grew stronger as the minutes passed; the previous talk had no purpose at all, besides light one’s own weight of being misinterpreted, proving their worthiness to you.

As Heeseung leaned slightly forward, crossing his hands on the table’s surface, the shifting in his seat made his presence briefly more evident. Your eyes instantly darted towards his direction, catching his bambi-eyes fixed on you, wide and attentive. An almost instinctive smile crossed your lips after reading his expression that showed a perfect blend of genuine pride and a layer of lovestruck admiration.

For some reason, Heeseung quietly showing you support made your heartbeat steady, filling you with a warm sense of reassurance.

Jake clenched his fists under the table, his competitive side sparkling up after noticing your wordless interaction with his rival, flickering his gaze between the two of you. He pondered how he could stand out, and his whole body was stiff before he leaned back on his chair, relaxing, as he cleverly remembered the times you complained about the lack of sincere reactions or motions during meetings like those.

Again, just the movement was enough to catch your attention, since the rest of the room was completely still, deeply concentrated on your presentation.

As you approached your computer to pass the slide, you flashed Jake a quick recognition glance about his unspokenly intentions as well, smirking smally in gratitude before continuing with your script, feeling your breathing getting a little better, lighter.

One thing you absolutely hated about those kinds of meetings was the participants’ rigid presence, the high level of responsibility tensed your nerves – unnecessarily, in your opinion.

You utterly understood the scenario’s nature, requiring a certain posture from you that you very much knew how to offer. But nothing stopped you from protesting every once and a while about the tension on your shoulders whenever you had to wear that facade.

So you appreciated Heeseung and Jake’s effort in making your body loosen momentarily, carrying through with your words, and unfortunately oblivious to their real reasons.

Of course Heeseung’s eyes registered the subtle exchange between you and Jake, automatically igniting his desire to reclaim your attention, as if your work was just an excuse, a battlefield to their competition.

His jaw clenched and his gaze sharpened when Jake shot a small scornful smirk at him, almost like he was showing off his brand new victory, taunting.

That simple gesture fueled Heeseung’s instinct to jump into action without much thinking, so he blurted out, intending exclusively to demonstrate to you how involved in the topic he was.

"And what about the user experience data? That’s going to be key for the next steps, right?"

You paused on your tracks, momentarily thrown off by Heeseung’s sudden, unexpected voice interrupting your thought process. Your eyes faltered in confusion for a brief moment before you opened your mouth to say something that didn’t come out right away, because in your mental script, that was the latest part of your presentation.

Jake threw a shocked glance at Heeseung after noticing your slightly baffled and hesitant face, then he added, trying to settle down the ambiance to something less chaotic – his attempt failing as much as Heeseung’s, since it sounded like he was over-explaining your tactics into that project.

“Right, but let’s not forget how crucial the user feedback is for improving our mechanics.”

Your eyes darted between the two men fighting against each other and then to your client, who had a disapproving grimace.

As you took a deep breath to collect your thoughts, you could feel the tension in the air between them and the rest of your colleagues, including your client. The underlying competition became far from obvious at that point, you could practically hear them both thinking ‘Who would win your attention this time?’, and it was so annoying.

You hollowed your cheeks in order to calm down your frustration and angriness, sipping on your water before concentrating back on your presentation, determined to deliver your ideas without letting their stupidity get in your way.

And a single serious glance was enough to shut Heeseung and Jake up for the rest of the meeting.

“Close the door when you leave.” You instructed, gesturing to a colleague that was heading out the meeting room. You focused back on organizing the papers sprawled across the table. “Heeseung and Jake, you two stay.”

Your words filled the space as sharp as a dagger, leaving no room for argumentation – and neither of them would dare to challenge you in this moment, so they sat in silence, a palpable tension hanging in the air.

Half expecting your own anger to diminish and half aiming to toy with their overwhelming emotions, you didn't lift your gaze until you had quietly finished your notes, feeling the atmosphere shift as the door clicked shut. The silence was loud, you could almost hear the rapid beat of their hearts as they anxiously waited for your next move.

Finally, you looked up, intercalating eye contact with both men. You wetted your lips before standing, placing your hands firmly on the table and leaning slightly forward, radiating an air of superiority. Your gaze deepened in reprimand, your jaw clenched and your breath was feeling heavier each second.

Jake avoided keeping looking at you for too long, distracting himself with a cup placed on the table instead. The room seemed to shrank around him, his air ways seemed to close little by little and breathing became a hard task. The weight of your piercing stare and your painful silence made him feel small, ashamed, inadequate. His chest tightened with a growing sense of nervousness and self-doubt.

Jake hated being scolded, it triggered a wave of reflections about his abilities and intelligence, intensifying some of his insecurities, and mostly, it amplified his longing for validation that only praises could fulfill.

What Jake cherished most about you was that you never reprimanded without eventually offering a compliment, skillfully highlighting a person’s strengths while still putting them in their place; your words healed wounds instead of opening them.

But right now, that reassurance felt impossibly distant, leaving him to accept the weight of his fate resting in your hands.

Heeseung, on the other hand, harbored a hidden secret that was significantly distracting him at that moment. He was lowkey into receiving degradation to some extent, so he shifted uncomfortably on his chair as he watched you look down at him, because there was no way he could allow himself to get hard right at the moment.

He swallowed hard, casually placing his trembling hands on his lap in order to try covering up any possible bulge surging on his crotch area, attempting to seem indifferent or just the normal amount of being affected by you.

“I think you both are intelligent enough to realize that your behavior today is inadmissible.” You started to say, voice laced with disappointment, firm. “This is not a playground. This is a workplace. A serious one.” You paused, straightening your posture before starting to walk slowly towards them. They choose to sit at the end of the table as if they were avoiding your close presence. “And I won’t, under any circumstance, accept this happening again in my leadership. Not again.”

As you passed by them, your perfume traveling along within each step, you analyzed how Jake and Heeseung were reacting extremely differently from each other.

Jake looked like a child being scolded by their parents, sinking into the chair with a small pout, his puppy eyes lowered in pure guilt. Whereas Heeseung was agitated, legs bouncing anxiously beneath the table, his fingers fidgeting his rings while his eyes seemed to be in an internal battle between whether to glaze on you or not.

“Am I making myself clear?” you asked, your voice cutting through the silence with authority, your hands now grabbing the back of Heeseung’s chair. He shivered.

Jake nodded quickly, still avoiding your sharp eyes.

Heeseung, however, didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breath visibly heavy as he tried to maintain composure. He wanted to act indifferent, to pretend that your words weren’t having such an intense effect on him, struggling to halter his mind from drifting far away from that context, but the tension in his body was far too obvious to ignore, especially when you positioned yourself behind him, noticing his shoulders stiffening.

His whole body has heated up.

You arched an eyebrow, leaning your body enough to scan his side profile with your head slightly tilted, your curiosity piquing stronger with the lack of response.

“Heeseung?” you prompted, voice dropping an octave.

For a split second, he hesitated before nodding as well, afraid of his voice coming out as a moan.

“Yes, I understand,” he finally said, voice soft, nearly wavering as he did so.

You straightened up again, now walking back to your initial position.

Jake and Heeseung shared a common and painful thought; you held the weight of their fate in your hands, having the power to release them from your management at any moment if that sounded right to you. Given their trail of missteps they had, it felt almost inevitable that your final word would be anything similar to that.

The idea alone made their hearts ache in despair.

“I expected better from both of you. And I know you are capable of doing better.”

You casted a last warning stare and Jake fluttered his eyes shut instantly, waiting for the harshful words, the one that would tighten the knot in his stomach. Heeseung clenched his fists, gulping. You noticed both right away.

“Besides, I don’t have time to babysit your egos,” you paused again, this time just for an extra drama, because you would never dismiss their incredible skills due to simple and solvable mistakes like that.

Knowing your workers' behaviors, you had faith they would find a way out of their messy situation – and you expected yourself to do as well. Also, you couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in your chest of giving up on them, the flashing red lights screaming in your head about how deeply invested you grew into their beings, surrounding you like magnets.

No matter how tangled it appeared, your fondness for them remained. For both of them.

Yet, occupying a higher rank in the workplace meant you had to keep up the appearance of superiority and remind them of their positions, of their responsibilities.

“Let alone time for your silly little games.”

Jake's face flushed an even deeper shade as the realization hit him. You were, now, fully aware of their competition.

However, a hint of relief began to wash over him as you wrapped up your speech, signaling that you weren't dismissing them away from your management.

“That’s all.”

Heeseung, on the other hand, couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Although his heart raced now comfortably with your unspokenly reassurance about their destinations in the company, it was so fucking hard to concentrate in anything other than how hot you were right at that moment with your dominant stance.

Your sharp words and bossy demeanor talked down on him and all he could think was how desperately he needed you.

He shifted in his seat again, the discomfort in his pants growing with each agonizing second.

“You’re not kicking us out?” Jake was the one bold enough to voice out a nuance of their river of anxious thoughts, his slightly trembling voice filling the room.

Heeseung glanced briefly at his colleague and then to you, waiting for your answer.

“No, I’m not.”

“Thank you.” Jake urged, almost desperate as his shoulders loosened visibly.

Even with your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of their main concern being only that, you maintained your firm demeanor.

“Don’t see it as a favor, ” you said.

Your gaze was unwavering, challenging them to meet your seriousness. Heeseung swallowed hard, because he felt his dick literally pulsing as you glanced at him; his blushed cheeks intriguing your curiosity once again, since that kind of reaction was unusual from him.

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

“Sorry,” he finally managed, his eyes darting between you and Heeseung, who seemed to be struggling with his own internal conflict; his forehead was pure sweat at that point, and he questioned himself when the room turned into hell.

“You’re good to go,” you concluded, watching as both men relaxed just a bit, the tension easing, but the air remained thick with unspoken feelings.

Your eyes tracked their steps until they reached the door, both sharing a glance before darting their eyes back to you. You offered a little nod of reassurance and they flashed back a small smile before closing the door behind them.

"Oh my god, you're nasty.” Jake whispered a little too loud as soon as they left the room, shooting Heeseung a look of mock mixed with repulse. “Did you really get turned on just because she got mad at us?"

Heeseung smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Why? You didn't?"

“No!” Jake shook his head, acting like Heeseung said the wrongest thing in the world. “That’s gross. You’re disgusting.”

“Please, don’t act like you don’t run to the bathroom every time she gives you a compliment.” Heeseung rolled his eyes, a cocky grin creeping onto his lips. Jake widened his eyes, stopping in his tracks.

“You’re seriously saying that?!” Jake exclaimed, incredulous, fixing his glasses on his nose’s bridge.

“You’re always wagging your tail around Y/N, waiting for some praise like a little puppy, Jake,” Heeseung said, still smiling teasingly.

“Shut up, Heeseung.” Jake quickly glanced around to check if anyone was eavesdropping, shoving his colleague's shoulder. “You’re still disgusting, kiss-ass.”

Heeseung chuckled, unfazed. “Whatever.”

And then he headed to the bathroom, because this time, he was the one with some other problems to deal with.

The next day felt a bit odd. In every nuance possible.

Jake couldn't shake the weird sensation that you were actively avoiding him, as if his proximity was a reminder of his disappointment. He never wanted you to feel frustrated with his work, let alone with him personally. Yet, there was little he could do to change the situation except offer his support.

So, he made his way to your office, hesitantly pushing the slightly opened door. You were seated at your desk, frowning in concentration as you poured over stacks of paper, your lips pursed in a little pout – a cute habit he cherished heartfully.

A soft knock at the wooden surface was enough to bring your attention to Jake. You barely smiled, your expression was neutral, facing Jake as if he was a regular co-worker. He couldn’t help the shiver running all the way down his spine remembering about the times you greeted with a bright grin as your face lit up.

He cleared his throat before saying, voice low, close to a whisper; there were layers of hesitation and fear.

“Do you need any help, Y/N?”

You blinked a few times and looked down at your papers before you shook your head, denying. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Maybe it was the manner Jake was reading the world throughout that very specific day, after the whole scolding situation, after how mad you seemed to genuinely be with him and Heeseung… But you sounded way more dry than he expected. Not even his name being voiced out, not even a smile. Just a simple, mere discard.

“Oh…” He faltered, his puppy eyes casting downward, trailing to the floor as he fidgeted with his fingers. “So… I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

After Jake closed the door, granting the privacy you needed and valued, he walked back to his desk, unaware of how affected with his visit you were behind the closed door.

“What happened?” Heeseung was quick to notice his colleague’s mood after he sat beside him – his pout was ridiculously big.

“I think Y/N hates me,” Jake mumbled, his voice laced with defeat.

“Oh, that’s great. More chances for me,” Heeseung replied, a scornful smirk on his lips as he leaned back, relaxing on his chair.

However, Jake didn’t respond to his teasing the way he expected; he let out a deep breath and gave a small shrug, a reaction to which piqued Heeseung’s curiosity further.

Heeseung approached closer, narrowed eyes searching for a hint of humor or anything similar. When he only found a melancholic scowl, he sighed.

Was Jake really believing in that? If so, he was damned as well. Not to mention that Jake’s sad frown was heartbreaking.

“Listen,” he began, wetting his lips as he reluctantly placed a comforting hand on Jake's shoulder. “She’s probably just busy. Remember how important this client is for the company and for her?” Jake nodded, still avoiding Heeseung's gaze. “So don’t worry, she doesn’t hate you. She’s just focused.” He reassured. “Yesterday we kinda… crossed the line. But we did it together, right? If she hates you, then she hates me.”

Jake finally lifted his head, meeting an unexpected comfort in Heeseung’s eyes, something rare, considering he was used to Heeseung’s overconfident mannerism – his constant arrogant charm effortlessly got under his skin.

Yet, on that day, and despite Heeseung’s choice of words not being ideal, he had a gentle presence that softened the weight of Jake's feelings.

“You don’t want me winning so easily, do you?” Heeseung nudged Jake's side with playful familiarity, proving that his teasing nature hadn’t entirely vanished. Jake squirmed, a small smile breaking through his previous sorrowness.

“Fuck off.”

And how odd it was finding friendship with someone who had once been your rival?

Jake and Heeseung's camaraderie has bloomed in unexpected ways ever since. They began to explore new parts of their – now – friendship, discovering some sharing interests and even trading work tips, constantly being seen lunching together or just laughing with each other.

Jake now would chuckle at Heeseung's silly jokes, and Heeseung came to appreciate Jake's instincts for insights, something that often surprised him.

You were still the center of their conversations, but instead of competing to prove themselves worthy of you, they chose a different route, one where admiring you from a distance became their shared priority.

“Did you see how she looked today?” Jake asked once, his voice soft and almost awestruck. “My god, my heart actually hurts,” he dramatically placed one hand on his chest, closing his eyes, feigning the aching feeling.

Heeseung nodded with a small smile, leaning back in his chair. “I know, right? And that smile?” He sighed theatrically, also clutching his chest. “I swear, it’s dangerous.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s gonna be the death of us.”

Heeseung glanced at him, smirking. “Worth it.”

“Definitely worth it,” Jake agreed with a dreamy sigh.

Sadly, you missed out this big chapter of their lives, stuck with loads of paperwork that no one else could do, besides you.

But, ultimately, it was your own fault, as you chose to ignore them, believing it was the most sensible way to handle your feelings.

After the day of the reprimand, instead of carrying on with your usual routine, you felt a heavy weight in your chest. You were upset about the scold and how they seemed downcast, almost disappointed in themselves after hearing your words.

Unlike other times when you had to call out others to get them back on track, this time you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had done something wrong, even if your intentions were justified.

You struggled to find the right place to be, overworking yourself as an excuse to spend some time alone, going over and over your thoughts in order to find somewhere to be, and with every second you just found yourself missing them more and more.

Heeseung’s playful teasing, always with an undertone of flirtation. Jake’s natural ease in helping you solve problems. The brief touches during Heeseung’s coffee runs, when your skin would brush against his just so. Jake’s clumsiness, which often led to scattered papers and the soft, accidental graze of fingers as you both reached down to pick them up.

Not to add the brand new fact that everything resembled them. The mug on your desk, your coffees, the knocks on your door – you eagerly expected to be them –, even when going home and seeing their parking spot empty.

Neither Heeseung nor Jake had openly discussed their feelings with you, but their recent behavior and your last encounter only served to reinforce your theory.

They both liked you.

Ironically, you felt the same way about both of them and so far, had no intention of choosing one over the other – that being your primary reason for your reclusion, as it became clear that they wouldn’t easily get along, so distancing yourself seemed like the best way to suppress your feelings for them.

Your internal conflict wasn’t about picking Heeseung or Jake, but between choosing Heeseung and Jake or none.

Still, this choice also depended on their openness to share, and their constant friction wasn’t exactly helpful.

When you started to catch small glimpses of Heeseung and Jake wandering around your office floor, talking with each other with an odd enthusiasm and bright smiles, it piqued your curiosity as much as your mind relaxed, because those single actions seemed as a possible way out, as though it built a softened spot to your offer.

At the end of two intense weeks, you finally felt like breathing again. And apparently your mind seemed to be in the right place. So after finishing the last part from your project, you called Jake and Heeseung into your office, feeling a mix of apprehension and relief as you waited.

Your legs bounced impatiently, counting the agonizing seconds. In the back of your mind, you had carefully architected the words you wanted to say, such as how much you missed them, how happy you were to work with them again, and maybe even a question or two about their random, unexpected friendship.

You hoped they had sorted things out to some extent, because during your time alone, you yourself had been reflecting on your own feelings and was sure about your decision.

The knock on the door startled you, snapping you back into reality. Your heartbeats raced as you allowed their entrance and the door clicked.

You took a moment to study the way they exchanged curious glances before focusing on you. They seemed to be the same, handsome as ever, Jake with his usual flustered cheeks and uneven positioned glasses and Heeseung with his gentle, flirty smile.

“Hi,” you greeted, pointing to the chairs in front of your desk. They sat.

“Hi,” Jake answered, mimicking your soft tone.

“Hello,” Heeseung, on the other hand, said confidently, relaxed. “Long time no see, huh?”

You smiled shyly, after all it was your decision not to be with them for those busy days.

“Yeah… And I think I owe you an apology,” you began without hesitation, your voice steady, yet, layered with comfort and genuine happiness for seeing them after what felt like ages. “I might have gone too harsh on you two the other day.”

You were referring to the day you scolded them, the same day Heeseung left your room with a strange behavior, to say the least, if not interesting, and Jake with his tail between his legs. But internally, you also felt sorry for avidly avoiding them.

“No, it’s fine,” Heeseung brushed it off with a casual wave of his hand, his characteristic smirk on the corner of his lips brightening the whole room. “We deserved it.” He admitted with a tender tone, then he looked at Jake. “Besides, we’re good now, right, Jakey?”

“Oh, are we?” You asked, crossing your arms, a hint of playful skepticism and shock in your tone as you leaned on your chair, eyes flickering in between the two men.

“Yeah, we definitely are,” Jake replied, his sincere smile making it clear that he meant it.

You couldn’t help but also smile at their interaction, the familiar warmth returning to the atmosphere, replacing the tense, weightened previous one.

“Thank you for figuring it out.” Your voice was sweet as honey as you leaned forward over the desk, causing Heeseung and Jake to almost melt at how endearing you sounded. “I’ve been drowning with work lately. Couldn’t reach out to you sooner.” You gave your excuse and they both gave you an understanding nod, to which ached your heart a little. They seemed so genuine. “But I missed you, if I’m being honest. I really lov– like having you in my team. Having you by my side.”

If your sudden call wasn’t strange enough, that was strange.

Not only did you stumble over your words, but you also showed embarrassment, with your cheeks turning a subtle shade of red and your eyes faltering, almost like you were confessing to a crush.

And honestly? To Heeseung and Jake, it felt like a confession.

At least, their reaction was as if they had just heard a confession, because not even in their wildest dreams could they have imagined you admitting that you missed them, let alone hearing you saying the words “having you by my side” all together.

Heeseung’s heart was racing, his brain doing a 360 enough to leave him dizzy, his eyes slightly widened and he shifted on his seat, straightening his posture.

Jake’s hands were sweating since you called, but now they also trembled. An electrifying wave filled his chest, making the simple act of breathing feel difficult.

“And again, I’m sorry if I was too hard on you both. And I really am glad you’re getting along, as well,” you rushed to add before either of them could respond, though the way they were looking at you made your heart race. It was clear they had noticed your nervous self. “Though... this does make things a bit more complicated. Or maybe not.” You mumbled to yourself when your eyes parted ways from them, furrowing your brow as you tilted your head slightly.

In the past few days, you had developed the habit of talking to yourself to sort something out through the chaotic thoughts and tangled feelings spinning in your mind – Jake and Heeseung being in each of them, without a doubt. But this time you weren’t alone.

When you saw Heeseung narrowing his eyes with mouth slightly agape and Jake glancing at you with curiosity as the corner of his lips turned upwards, you froze.

Then they exchanged a brief, quiet glance before looking back at you.

“What do you mean by that?” Heeseung was the first one to ask, leaning forward just enough to express how interested he was in your slip-up. His pulse raced with the thoughts that flowed through his head.

“Yeah, what makes what complicated?” Jake added to the question, arching an eyebrow, stepping in the same field as Heeseung.

You blinked, their expectant stares making you want to shrink into your chair.

Your office window was open and let in a cold, long breeze that indicated the weather was about to change. You shivered, however, you couldn’t pinpoint if it was due to the air brushing your exposed skin or because of your current situation.

“Oh, um,” you stammered, running a hand through your hair nervously – a habit Jake and Heeseung were pretty aware of. “I didn’t mean to say that! I– I was gonna say it’s good to know you’re… closer now.” You squinted, struggling a lot to find a way out for yourself. “It makes things easier and more interesting, actually, I guess,” you let out an awkward chuckle, biting your lower lip as you quickly grabbed your bottle of water and took a long sip, avidly avoiding their eyes.

Jake’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with a newfound spark of emotions. “Easier and interesting, huh?”

“Yeah!” You nodded immediately. “Easier for our dynamic. And interesting… Because it’s us three, working together, everybody getting along and stuff…” You explained, with an exaggerated amount of gestures. “If I’m being honest, I had some things to figure out as well.” You confessed for some random reason you weren’t able to identify right away.

After your hard work of days going through the same page, you were losing your composure, you were losing your inner battle, and mainly, you were losing yourself amidst your feelings.

“Like what?” Jake questioned again, his voice soft, sweet as his smile.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was too flabbergasted with the scenario developing in front of him to think straight, so he just watched and prayed for the best outcome, engraving in his mind your every reaction.

You analyzed the two pairs of eyes shooting you the tendernest look, dripping in affection, filled with what you dared to call love. They showed comfort blended with care and a layer of curiosity, afterall, it has to do directly with them and they had a mild good feeling about it.

So you sighed, accepting not your defeat, but your vulnerable state.

“I felt like I was in the middle of a storm whenever we were in the same room,” you muttered, still maintaining discretion over the topic. “It was frustrating, and I had to figure out why I felt like this.”

“Oh, you still are right in the middle, Y/N.” Heeseung this time rushed to confess and you couldn’t hold back your slightly shocked expression.

“But I think the storm isn’t happening anymore.” Jake added with a gentle smile, fixing his glasses on his face and placing his hand on the table, your eyes briefly flickering to catch a look of his slender fingers. You swallowed hard.

“Why were you frustrated, though?” Heeseung asked, cocking his head to the side.

To say he was agitated was an euphemism; he found himself having trouble breathing because not only did you wear the prettiest and hottest clothing that day – a mildly tight dress shirt that emphasized the curves of your boobs –, but the whole situation was out of this word.

Jake wasn’t different, expecting your reply with his heart aching in despair. He needed to know about what was happening, otherwise he was going to collapse overthinking.

A strong part of either Heeseung and Jake was struggling to maintain the focus in any other possibility, especially because you didn’t demonstrate you liked them back so far, since your natural demeanor to your colleagues was the same – bossy but playful, always reiterating through actions and decisions your superior position over them during work.

However, you seemed to be extra nervous, your face had a faint fluster and you didn’t sound like a manager at all, it was near to a friend type of conversation. It ignited the spark of hope inside their chest.

Once again, without wording it out, they shared a connection.

As you were about to speak, you felt the fabric of your blouse loosen across your chest, and before you could react, Heeseung and Jake’s eyes instinctively snapped to the same spot, widening.

In sync, you glanced down and realized what had happened. One of your shirt's buttons had popped, revealing a glimpse of your lace bra.

Your cheeks warmed immediately, a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you damned yourself for choosing such a tight outfit that day, clumsily looking around to find anything that could help cover it.

“Let me just–” Heeseung muttered awkwardly, taking off his jacket and draping it over you in one smooth motion, his fingers lightly brushing your covered shoulders.

Jake's eyes followed his friend’s movements and decided to help as well, as he said “You look good still, don’t worry,” with a small smile, trying to ease the situation and ignoring how he, himself, got affected with just a glimpse of your body.

This is wrong, Jake chanted to himself, trying to shake the thoughts away.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, gripping Heeseung’s jacket tightly around you, your face still flushed. “And thanks.” You nodded toward him in gratitude.

Heeseung caught Jake's flustered expression out of the corner of his eye and couldn't resist shooting him a playful glance. Then, leaning closer to you, he whispered near your ear, “Maybe the button couldn’t handle how stunning you look today.”

His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a moment before he walked back to his previous spot, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

You fought back the urge of literally clenching around nothing due to his touch, his low voice and his warmth surrounding you.

“Right,” you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes to lighten the mood, though your heart raced rapidly. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about that day, and... I’m really happy that we’re figuring it out.”

The word “we” hung in the air like a delicate sound, and you felt the tension dissipate as a silence enveloped the room, being replaced for another type of weight. Something more affectual, more right.

Heeseung and Jake exchanged a quick, knowing glance before standing up simultaneously, their movements almost in sync.

“I’m glad too,” Heeseung said, his voice a bit softer, offering a small, genuine smile as he adjusted his dress shirt, now without his jacket.

Jake stepped closer to you, meeting your gaze for a second longer than usual before adding, “And just so you know... we missed you too.” His voice was sincere, his eyes filled with something deeper than just friendship.

The confirmation you needed.

And with that, they both left your office, leaving you alone with your thoughts, the lingering warmth of Heeseung's jacket around your shoulders and Jake’s sweet, meaningful words.

The same storm happening inside your mind seemed to mirror the one unfolding outside, rain cascading down in heavy sheets in front of you as you watched from afar. The sound of water splashing against the pavement might have been poetic in another circumstance.

“Hey.”

The soft voice startled you from your thoughts, and you spun around on your heels to see Heeseung approaching, a curious yet gentle smile on his face. His presence felt warm amidst the cold drizzle sprinkling through the wind on you.

“Oh, Heeseung!” You greeted, trying to match his energy with a bright smile, though your mind quickly jumped to why he was there. “Your jacket– Right.” You began slipping it off your shoulders, ready to return it to him.

But Heeseung quickly reached out, stopping your movement and pulling the jacket back over you. “No, no– Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted smoothly, his hand lingering for a second longer on the fabric as he gave you a reassuring look. Then his expression shifted, brows furrowing slightly in confusion. “But, uh, what are you doing out here?”

“Oh,” you glanced back out at the rain, pulling the jacket a little tighter around yourself, “I’m just waiting for the rain to ease up a bit so I can call an Uber.”

Heeseung frowned deeply, his gaze flicking toward the street and back to you. “Wait, don’t you have a car?”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “I do, or I did until this morning when it decided to break down.”

“Ah,” he nodded, processing your words before falling quiet for a moment. He shifted on his feet, as if trying to decide his next move, as if a strong battle was happening between his brain and heart. The rain wasn’t easing at all, and something sparkled in him – a protective instinct, perhaps. Or maybe a justification to keep you closer.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “I could take you home,” he suggested casually, though he felt a small rush of nerves rise. He wasn’t sure if he was overstepping. “How does that sound?”

You smiled at him, grateful for the offer but quick to shake your head.

“I wouldn’t want to put you through that. You live way too far from my place,” you chuckled softly, nearly teasing. “Besides, I’m already stealing your jacket. I can’t steal your time, too.”

Heeseung’s lips curved into a small grin, but there was something deeper behind his eyes as he shrugged.

“It’s really nothing,” he said softly, his voice calm and sincere. “The jacket and the time – it doesn’t matter. I’ve got all the time in the world for you, Y/N.” He stepped just a little closer, the warmth of his presence cutting through the coldness of the rain. “And, you know… the rain doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.”

You looked back at him, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. The idea of being in a closed space with him for too long seemed wrong. The feeling of being his superior, being in a higher position in a company you both worked, stirred your conflict.

However, you had already clocked out. It was not about working anymore.

It was about your fear of losing your control when being in a space where there were no rules preventing you from kissing his oh, so tempting lips.

Heeseung seemed to be in the middle of a fight as well, and it somehow helped you in your decision, as you smiled kindly, mimicking his same expression – soft, lovingly.

“Okay.”

The drive was smooth, calm and with some words being exchanged on the way; you instructed the directions every once and a while, and Heeseung glanced at you within the excuse to listen to them correctly, but the real reason was to capture the image of you being so close.

As Heeseung pulled into the underground parking lot of your apartment building, the rain still pounded on the outside ground, seeming no close from ending.

You both sat for a moment, the quiet hum of the car serving as a background for the intriguing silence, as well as the sound of the relentless storm.

Heeseung looked over at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you waited for your courage to build up completely with the thought that crossed your mind in a flicker of seconds.

“Safe and sound.” His voice was sweet and low, a perfect blend to fuel your core into responding immediately, your throat feeling dry, your body temperature increasing.

You chuckled lightly. “Yeah.”

Your eyes searched for his and invisible strings connected them for what felt like hours, your skin tingling, aching to touch him in any possible way, just a taste, just a crumb of him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, noticing that Heeseung’s gleaming orbs followed the motion of your lips before coming back to your eyes, then it seemed to trace your features, taking in sweetly, tenderly.

Heeseung was so fucking in love.

You had your hair messy due to the humidity frizz, your makeup was a little smeared and your face showed a mix of tiredness and something he read as hesitation. Still, you were absolutely stunning.

He gulped down nothing, his eyelids slowly blinking as he engraved your perfect features.

Unexpectedly or not, you were no different. You really appreciated every bit of Heeseung’s traits, how he would be smiling with the right amount of affection and flirtiness, his touches always tender and respectful, his words aiming and hitting right into your heart.

Heeseung was gentle as a lullaby, soothing and embracing. He was warm, comforting.

“Do you want to come up and wait it out? No point in driving back through this rain.” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

A faint shocking expression washed over Heeseung’s face before he relaxed.

“You sure? I don’t wanna bother you.”

You were quick to deny it with a head shake. “You’d never. Besides, I owe you a proper thank you for the jacket and the ride.”

There was some tension in the air as you both took the elevator quietly and walked towards your apartment. A different kind, almost tempting of tension. The same one that appeared when Heeseung and Jake stood in the same room as you after all of you sorted out things a bit.

It triggered your eagerness, fueled your desire, taunted your urge to kiss Heeseung and remove his clothes if he let you do it.

You mastered the art of detaching work from home and vice versa, and for that reason you hesitated before inviting Heeseung over, because you were aware your apartment was your safe space to feel everything you suppressed during the day.

With Heeseung’s scent enveloping you, the phantom of his touch lingering on your skin and the memories of his eyes lighting up when he saw you after so long, you feared to surrender to your deep, intense desires and screw up what just got resolved.

You fought to keep that flame contained, reminding yourself not to seem desperate or to scare Heeseung out. The two weeks being apart didn’t help at all, each day had stretched on, filled with an aching longing for some closeness, not only with Heeseung but with Jake too.

Both men stirred something deep within you, igniting feelings of passion and affection that were dangerously intoxicating. And right at that moment, you shared an intimate setting with one of them.

You felt your heart race as you caught glimpses of Heeseung's shy smirk and those captivating eyes that always made you melt, never leaving yours, reading you like his favorite book.

As you opened the door, Heeseung excused himself while entering your living room, following your trail.

“Do you accept anything? Water? A drink, maybe?” You asked politely.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alright,” you smiled. “You can sit on the sofa, don’t be shy.” You said playfully before heading to the kitchen to get yourself something and to avoid being too close, your last view being Heeseung with flustered cheeks sitting on your couch.

Heeseung was a mess, and thanked you internally when you left him alone so he could breathe properly. He fluttered his eyes close, a movie of his day happening on the big screen of his mind, reminding him that you showed awareness of his situation with Jake, and somehow, it felt like you were open to trying something with both of them.

God, he genuinely hoped that was the case. Otherwise, he would be in deep trouble, his expectations shattered into fragments, and he would have to pick up the pieces alone – without Jake, with whom he had constructed such a personal and intense friendship during the recent days.

The possibility of you choosing Jake over him overtook a big place in his mind.

He had enough confidence in a confrontation, but the moment he recognized Jake's unique personality, he began to question whether the best choice for you was, in fact, Jake.

He still wanted you – desperately –, but nothing stopped him from believing that you deserved the very best. You had always deserved the best.

And how disgusted would you be to know that he got aroused just thinking about being in your apartment, close to your intimacy? Or that your fierce, assertive side made him go hard? Disgusting.

Ironically, the thought of you feeling repulsed by him only fueled his desire to have you in ways that went beyond a mere working friendship. He was acting like a pervert.

He worked hard to get into your heart, and when you finally let him in, he was lost, he didn’t know what to do. It was pure chaos.

And now, he found himself getting turned on, caught in the mix of emotions and desires he couldn’t contain anymore.

“I should get going,” he whispered to himself, unaware that you had returned from the kitchen and were watching him from behind.

“Should you?”

He nearly jumped in his seat at your bold, sudden question, turning his head just enough to catch a look of you now without his jacket, yet, with the same shirt. The exact same shirt that had the fucking button popped open and gave him a sneak peek of your cleavage and part of your boobs.

There was a smile dancing on the corner of your lips, an feigned air of innocence accompanying your features, yet you still seemed devilish.

“It’s still raining, Heeseung,” you pointed out the obvious, using it as an excuse to keep him there. “Stay for a while. I’m sure we can entertain each other, yeah?”

Heeseung was speechless.

He had a knot on his throat preventing words from coming out of his mouth, and he panicked when noticed your expression faltering before his silence.

You blinked out of your sudden courageous trance, your whole body shifting into something more restrained as you broke eye contact.

“I mean, we can order something to eat and–”

“No,” he urged to interrupt you, leaving his briefcase on your couch as he stood up. His steps were light, but confident as he reached closer. “I’m sure we can enjoy each other’s presence for a little longer.”

The moment those words hung in the air, something snapped within you as if it was everything you needed to get your control back. Not the workplace, manager type of control, but control over him.

You closed the distance in an instant, capturing his lips with yours eagerly. Heeseung reacted instinctively, returning the kiss with equal desperation and desire, his hands roaming across your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your waist, anything that put him closer to you.

The kiss deepened in seconds, a wild mix of urgency and need lingering on your tongues as they danced together, desperate for more.

What you had longed for just a few weeks, Heeseung had yearned for months.

He tasted as lustful as he seemed to be, touching the right places, pulling you near as he pressed you against him intensely. Your hands gripped on his shoulders trying to balance yourself as he guided you both towards a wall, your back hitting it softly although the shared touch was intense.

As your bodies moved in sync, you could feel the hardness of his dick pressing against you, especially when he started to involuntarily grind on you. A mischievous smirk tugged on the corner of your lips as you parted the heated kiss, searching for his beautiful eyes – now filled with craving.

“Oh, look at you,” you cooed, trailing down your hands just enough to graze his crotch area. “Already like this?” You gave it a small squeeze, eliciting a moan from him. “And I haven’t even done anything yet, huh?”

There was a clear amusement in your whole expression as you glazed your eyes with Heeseung’s deepened ones. His breath hitched at your words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement flooding his cheeks, sending a pulse straight to his cock. Your acknowledgment of his premature and humiliating state of arousal and how your eyes sparkled with mischief sent a thrill wave through him.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he admitted, his voice low and broken, desire dripping off it as he held you tightly and tried to kiss you again.

You swerve to the side, teasingly. “Maybe I do,” you replied, your voice sultry as you leaned in closer, brushing your lips on his, tempting a kiss that you didn’t let happen.

Your hands maintained a mild friction against his hardness, giving just enough stimulation to drive him wild. You watched with delight as his hooded eyes struggled to stay open, his mouth slightly agape, letting out the prettiest sounds just for you.

Heeseung was already falling apart, and the mere thought of it excited you even more.

You chuckled softly before pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. “What should I do with you, hmm?” you murmured, kissing the other cheek. “So needy, aren’t you?”

His breathing quickened, and the flush on his cheeks deepened. “Please…” he begged, desperation lacing his tone as he once again tried to capture your lips. He wanted you so badly he was becoming impatient.

You arched an eyebrow and smirked, your eyes catching every single reaction of him.

“Please what? You’ll have to be more specific than that, Hee.” You feigned innocent eyes, batting your eyelashes as if you weren't touching his clothed cock, his hips continuing to press forward searching for more.

You placed another kiss, this time, on the corner of his lips, taunting.

“Kiss me, please.” Heeseung whispered, and as his mouth tracked yours, you let him in with his attempt, his tongue immediately finding its pleasure in yours.

Heeseung moaned with how good you tasted, growing addicted within every second; he could spend hours kissing you, he came to realize. Nonetheless, his painful and neglected length was screaming for some more attention, especially because the fabric of his boxers and pants prevented a bolder, bare touch, and making out with you would do nothing except make it hurt more.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He questioned not really giving you space to answer, his mouth busy sucking your lower lip and tongue.

You let go of his erection to start to remove his dress shirt as you mumbled the direction to him before he grabbed you by your thighs, lifting your body with an unexpected ease as he led you two towards the said room. The opened door made it easier for Heeseung to enter, placing you on the soft mattress of your bed, hovering over your heated body, craving for more.

“You’re so hot,” he whispered against the flesh of your neck and then started to nibble the area, sucking and kissing as if his life depended on it. His hands found their way everywhere, all of his movements expressed how desperate he was for you.

“So are you,” you were able to respond, catching a glimpse of his tanned torso.

Heeseung had a tattoo that covered part of his left rib and you took a mental note to give it the due attention later.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, grabbing it with a mild strength, enough to guide him, so he could put his lips where you wanted. Heeseung let you control, going down to your exposed cleavage and distracting you as he started to unbutton your shirt so he had your laced bra holding your breasts in full display.

“So fucking beautiful,” he marveled in a whisper as he straightened his posture enough to drink from the view – you seemed so dreamy under him with your heavy breathing, swollen kiss parted with a hint of a smile and eyes filled with lust.

It took seconds for Heeseung to return to his mission to dive into you after removing your bra with your assistance. His mouth toyed with each of your nipples, warm tongue making wonders as you squirmed a little, making no effort to hold back your sounds as you moaned, your panties long gone ruined with your wetness.

There was a feeling haunting the corners of Heeseung’s mind that defocused him a fraction from his actions, though. A fear of losing this proximity, losing the possibility of kissing you, losing his chances, losing you.

The more his tongue danced on your smooth skin, the more it felt bittersweet.

He figured his chances hovered around 50%, from what he had interpreted your intentions – maybe you would test what he had to give, comparing to Jake afterwards, then deciding on one of them?

The idea of sharing you never crossed his mind, not from jealousy; a little, sure, but it wasn’t just that. Sharing felt unrealistic, because he couldn’t see you making such a bold choice.

You sensed his sudden hesitation, how his fingers paused momentarily before resuming their exploration of your body, how his breath was irregular and not from arousal, but from something deeper, as if an inner conflict held him back.

“I don’t know what’s going through your mind right now, but I’m pretty sure you don’t need to worry about it,” you murmured softly, your voice cutting through the haze in his head and bringing him back to you.

He blinked, his eyes searched for yours and found tranquility on it, even behind the intensity of the momentum. You offered a delicate and unique space that allowed him to be free with himself, that being one of the reasons he started to have his feelings for you.

You had an approachable aura, an adorable soothing voice and a way to play with words that anyone felt easy to open up with you.

“What if I’m thinking about–" He started, his voice small, but the fear of ruining the mood, of disappointing you, stopped him quickly. He shook his head, leaning in closer. “Forget it.”

“You’re safe here, Heeseung,” you said, your hand caressing his face with a tenderness that calmed him instantly. A reassuring smile appeared on your lips and the atmosphere shifted into something serene amidst its intensity. “No judgments. I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips pressed against the palm of your hand, and he placed his own over it, slowly moving it away from his cheek as he began trailing kisses up your arm, deliberate, heated kisses from your wrist to your shoulder, from your neck to your jaw, until it finally met your mouth.

It was slow, purposeful, filled with a restrained intensity that sent a shiver through your body and left you breathless. Heeseung wanted to show just a quarter of how much he needed you, afraid of overwhelming you with how his love for you felt, but equally terrified of losing you mid-battlefield.

In the midst of chaos, you became the only compass that guided him back home. You were the soul that gave meaning to everything, the calm after a relentless storm, the strength that kept him sane. Each passing day, he yearned for your presence, as if the mere thought of having you near made the world brighter – and it did.

Your smile healed wounds he didn’t even know he had. You were always there for him, helping, listening, playing along with his jokes.

It was absurd, painful, and intense, and he was ridiculously in love with that feeling, and most of all, he was deeply in love with you.

“I want you so badly,” he whispered in a confessing tone when the kiss finally broke. “I want you every day, every second.” He kissed you again, his hands sneaking into your hair to grip your nape, pulling you closer. It felt like walking in quicksand. “It hurts to think I might lose you.”

In different circumstances, you would interpret that statement as a common fear of a lover regarding their passion. However, the context was more intricate, more delicate; there was a third person – Jake – who would also receive a similar treatment, and it struck you deep in your chest to recognize that Heeseung’s fear of being replaced felt constant and was becoming more vivid in that moment, as he realized he was having a piece of you.

Taking a deep breath, you met his hesitant gaze, your heart racing as you tried to articulate your thoughts.

“Heeseung,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. His bambi eyes sparkled with a mix of fear and affection. “You don’t have to worry about this now, ok?” You reassured once again, his chest loosening the tight feeling, because you would always have that effect on him. “I have things figured out. Kind of.” You giggled timidly and Heeseung just realized he had a new favorite sound.

Your fingers gently tangled in his hair, your body warmth reminding you just how eager you were, the phantom of his mouth working on your body serving as a lascivious reminiscence.

“But let me have you tonight first, please?”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, reading your deep, lustful eyes.

How could he refuse such a sweet plea?

“Yes,” he breathed, urgency coloring his voice, caring little for how desperate he sounded – because he was. “Yes, please.”

Almost like a snap of fingers, the atmosphere around you ignited once more, your room seeming to close in around the two of you as his eyes darkened with desire. Heeseung sounded so deliciously desperate that your only response was to gently turn him until his back hit the bed, positioning yourself above him.

Your hands caressed the bare flesh of his chest, fingertips grazing softly on his nipples and ribs, where they stopped for a while. Heeseung winced with the amazing feeling of you admiring him, your light-feather touch enough to send a wave of arousal straight to his dick.

“You are one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen, Heeseung,” it was your time to marvel him, smiling lovingly as you used the tip of your nail to draw along his dragon tattoo. “And I’m so fucking lucky to have you like this right now.”

Your voice was filled with sultriness, velvety as ever as you lowered yourself to press your lips on his low stomach, eyes never breaking contact. Heeseung shivered once more under your intense gaze, watching you sneak one your hands on his pants’ waistband, unbuttoning it just to remove it completely and toss it somewhere else on your room’s floor.

You stood up just to remove your pants as well, keeping on your laced panties, savoring the view of Heeseung’s chest rising and falling deeply, eyes dripping honey and desire as he also devoured your body.

“You know, I have a feeling that you like something…” You started to say with a thoughtful voice as you leaned closer, placing yourself back on top of him.

“You?”

You let out a genuine chuckle, shaking your head. Heeseung had a small smile on his lips and looked at you with curiosity.

“No,” you answered, voice smooth as your hand trailed slowly up and down on his chest. “I think you like being… put in your place,” you smirked, watching his expression shifting into a mild shocking, then darkening at your words as his breath caught in his throat. “I noticed how you reacted when I was scolding you and Jake…” You kept on talking, now playing with the waistband of his boxers, teasingly; his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped nervously. “Getting hard just because I was mad, huh?”

Heeseung had blushed cheeks while failing to keep on looking at you, running away from your sly gaze, before he muttered, embarrassed, “I don’t know what you are talking abo–”

“Oh, you do know,” you purred, your voice lowering an octave. “Don’t act all shy now, Lee Heeseung,” you forced your tone to sound close to a reprimand, flashing a sharp look at him as you freed his throbbing dick from his last clothing piece.

Heeseung groaned quietly in between his heavy breath as you admired his length’s flushed appearance, how hard and wet with precum it was, dripping for you. Your mouth watered and your hands itched, aching to give that man some more relief.

“Just give me the green signal and I’ll make you feel so good, Hee,” you voiced out as you glazed your eyes on his, your own body reacting to his state of desperation sending pulsing waves straight to your cunt.

His legs squirmed under you as you lowered your face, closing the distance between his cock and your mouth. Your breath brushed against its skin and Heeseung winced. “Please…” He whispered, nodding. “It’s hurting.”

You smirked. “There you go…” And tilted your head slightly, slowly grabbing his hardness with one hand.

Just the touch of your soft and warm hand enveloping his shaft had him closing his eyes and biting his lip, holding back an embarrassing moan that threatened to escape.

“You’re so needy,” you cooed teasingly with a quirked eyebrow, eyeing Heeseung with a faux disdain as he opened his eyelids just to catch a glimpse of it, his dick twitching under your fingers.

“Yes, please,” his hips buckled forward as he whimpered, searching for more. “I am needy, please, keep touching me, Y/N–”

“Yeah?” A devilish smile tugged on the corner of your lips as you started stroking faster. “A little pathetic, Heeseung. Don’t you think so? All of this just for some handjob…” You clicked your tongue without halting your movements, neither letting your grin disappear. “Lucky to you, you’re just how I like it.”

Heeseung's breath hitched at your words, his chest heaving as he tried to keep himself grounded, but the teasing was overwhelmingly delicious. The way you handled him, every squeeze of your hand making him feel both humiliated and completely at your mercy. His mind fogged with pleasure, and it became harder to think, to hold back, to stay composed, his own body and voice betraying his attempts of holding back.

When you started to give his tip more attention by cupping your hand on it and your tongue flattering against it, as if you taunted a full blowjob, he found himself near to the edge already.

Not only was he living his wettest dream, but your expertise on knowing exactly what and how to get him going eased his release to get closer and closer.

You noticed Heeseung's moans intensifying and his body squirming more than before. Although it was your first time with him, you easily deduced that he was close to reaching his climax.

But you had other plans.

Without any warning, you stopped everything – your hands, your mouth – retreating from his body, and eliciting a sound from Heeseung that landed somewhere between a cry and a whimper. His wide, desperate bambi eyes gleamed in confusion and frustration.

“N–No– Why–”

“I don’t want you to cum on my hands,” you said feigning innocence, blinking sweetly as if you weren’t ruining his release.

Reaching over to your nightstand, you grabbed a condom, smoothly rolling it onto Heeseung’s painfully hard cock before positioning yourself over him. As you hovered above his length, you glanced at him, searching for confirmation.

Heeseung had propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes wide, flickering between your sultry expression and the sight of his cock pressing against your slick entrance. He understood your unspoken question and gave a quick, eager nod. His gaze was immediately drawn back to his dick disappearing inside of you as your walls enveloped him completely.

“F–Fuck,” Heeseung breathed, his voice trembling, almost strained, his abs flexing as he instinctively thrusted slightly forward before collapsing back onto the bed.

The sensation of your wet heat gripping him tightly was overwhelming. He rolled his eyes back and let his head fall against the pillow, biting his lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

“I’m not gonna last long–” he muttered through heavy breaths, his strong hands gripping your hips, holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, forgetting that, in fact, you were the one leading his lustful ruin.

“Oh, you will,” you murmured, rolling your hips back and forth in a painful slow pace while you adjusted. “You’re not that pathetic, are you?” You teased, voice thick with challenge.

However, to your surprise and delight, Heeseung’s response was unexpectedly better than your imagination.

“I am–” He interrupted himself with a deep moan as you purposefully clenched around his dick. “I am that pathetic,” he whispered, hands tightening on your hips. “I am pathetic for you, for you only.”

You instinctively reacted to his vulnerable, desperate words. You could feel the raw intensity behind it, his complete surrender to you, and it fueled your own desire.

“Yeah?” You cocked your head to the side with a smug smile, supporting yourself with your palms planted on his chest as he started to thrust up into you, seeking for more of your addicting squeeze around his dick. “Show me, then.”

Heeseung’s entire body shuddered beneath you while he forced your hips down to meet his own buckling up; you, yourself barely helping, letting him do all the work just for a little teasing.

However, Heeseung hit a certain spot in you that had your dominant facade faltering, a choking moan slipping from your throat while you frowned with pure pleasure as your arms wavered briefly to hold you still.

“You feel that?” His voice cracked, eyes fluttering open to catch a glimpse of your lascivious expression. “I’m yours–”

You bit your lip, a rush of adrenaline waving through your body, tingling at his words, your mind spinning with the intoxicating pleasure of having Heeseung so completely at your mercy.

You leaned forward, your mouth grazing his ear as you whispered, “Such a good boy...”

The simple praise sent a visible shiver through his spine, his grip on you faltering momentarily as a desperate groan escaped his lips, eyes rolling as he threw his head back, letting his perfect neck in all display for you.

It became clear – he was close, teetering right on the edge, just waiting for your command, nonetheless you weren't quite ready to let him have it, especially because the knot in your stomach just started to tighten.

"Not yet," you said breathlessly against his jawline, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you lightly bit and kissed the area. "You'll have to wait just a little longer, Heeseung."

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

In no universe could Heesung have imagined that this would be how his day ended, with you dominating him so effortlessly, and most importantly, him letting it happen and savoring every single delightful second.

“P–Please…” Heeseung whimpered, his voice cracking into a soft cry, his fingers trembling against your skin, kneading it as a way to regain his control. One of his fingers slipped to your clit, rubbing it the way he could due to the position.

You kept on riding Heeseung with all you had, your thighs burning in the process but you couldn’t care less. The way he was whining in your ear, panting and pleading, together with his touch on your sensitive spot and his fingers doing circles on your clit brought you close to the edge as well. With each clench around his dick, you could feel his restrain slipping away.

“I’m– Please–”

“Let go, Hee. Cum for me, yeah?” You purred against his lips, sloppily kissing it as you drank his guttural moan, feeling the condom filling up inside you.

Your core bubbled and the knot tightened, and you coated the condom with your juices while a whimper came out from your lips. Heeseung’s grip tightened as you rode you both through your highs.

Your mouths slowly found a comfortable pace as you also fully decreased your movements, savoring the aftershocks of your release and feeling Heeseung’s beneath you.

Heeseung’s breaths came in heavy pants as you parted the kiss by sucking his lower lip. You lifted yourself enough to search for his eyes, filled with happiness and satisfaction.

“Did that feel good?” you asked softly, brushing a stray hair from his sweaty forehead, your fingers lingering on his warm skin.

“More than I could ever imagine,” he admitted, a shy smile breaking through his panting breaths. “You’re incredible.”

“So are you,” you whispered, kissing him again.

This time, deliberate and loaded with emotion. All the feelings that once carried an air of doubt while hovering in your mind now felt certain, and the warmth in your heart only confirmed that as your body relaxed and you emerged from the lustful bliss, leaving you and Heeseung in a sweet, loving bubble.

Heeseung helped clean you and himself, even taking a shower since you offered some of your brother’s never used clothes, you caught yourself mingling on his warm embrace, now resting your cheek on his bare chest that rose and fell softly.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Heeseung's voice was dripping in honey, kind and sweet as his fingers trailed a gentle path on your arm. “Like, really like you.”

“I know,” you whispered with a smile, struggling to contain the sting in your heart. “But you’re not the only one, right?” You asked and lifted your head just enough to capture his tender eyes focusing on you.

He shook his head, biting his lips nervously.

“No,” he finally confessed with a sigh, holding you closer as if you would slip away from his grip at any moment, without a warning. “I’m not.”

You both shared a silence filled with unspokenly delicate words.

“Give Jake a chance as well.”

Heeseung’s phrase lingered on your brain for longer than you expected, filled with sincerity. He was willing to offer you the option, the possibility to choose between him and Jake. And somehow that made the scenario even easier.

“Got your message. You called me in?”

You were slightly startled by Jake’s sudden entrance into your office, even though you had already allowed it through text. You took a moment to admire him – he seemed a bit out of breath, his disheveled hair and wide, puppy eyes making his adorable charm stand out even more.

“Close the door,” you said firmly. “And lock it.” Jake's trembling hands did as you instructed.

“What’s going on?” he asked, wincing under your intense gaze.

You had clenched your jaw, your fingers fidgeting casually as you leaned your hips against your desk, exuding an air of something he read as severity.

Despite the tension palpable in the air, he couldn’t help but take notice of how stunning you looked, with your clothing choice for the day accentuating your curves and your hair in a high ponytail. He shamelessly checked you out, mesmerized with your figure and oblivious of the fact you were playing with him with all bossy that posture.

The topic was sensitive, but nothing stopped you from playing a little.

“Did Heeseung tell you he visited me yesterday?” You broke the silence

Jake blinked, gaze flickering immediately from your thighs to your eyes, completely thrown off by your words, confusion clear on his face.

“W–what?”

“Yeah.” You smirked, placing your palms against the desk behind you and leaning back, relaxed. “Did he?” You blinked innocently, as though you genuinely cared about his answer. “Because if he didn’t, he’s playing a much dirtier game than I expected,” you feigned disappointment, clicking your tongue and pouting after.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

For a brief moment, you hesitated. Jake seemed genuinely clueless, but you knew better. You had all the evidence – the little game between them, the silent competition that had gone unspoken for too long.

Heeseung had told you his side of the story and indirectly a quarter of Jake’s.

Even though Heeseung and Jake had grown closer and eased some of the tension between them, there was an underlying feeling that occasionally surfaced, standing out from the rest: beneath it all, there was the undeniable desire to have you. Despite the mutual understanding of the connection they both shared, the notion of a single winner still lingered in the background, subtly driving their everyday actions.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” you answered, voice still steady, but now with a layer of seduction laced in between your words. Your eyes never left Jake’s face, even when he drifted them away due to his shyness before you. “You are falling behind, Jakey.”

Jake stood there with a small frown, processing your words; he would be lying if he didn’t think at some point that, behind all his friendship with Heeseung, there was you, occupying almost every corner of his head with your beautiful smile and charming personality.

You were his main objective, his goal, after all.

“Come on, Jake,” you pressed, your tone dripping with challenge. “Are you really just going to sit back and let Heeseung win this?”

Internally you prayed for any green light from Jake. Otherwise, your decision and respective demeanor could ruin everything – your job, your friendship. It was unethical, unprofessional, against every guideline you fought to uphold at the company.

But watching Jake with his jaw tightening, fist clenched and eyes widening in confusion and anger, was far too tempting to stop.

Your words sparked something deep inside Jake, awakening his competitive side that had been lying dormant despite the constant swirl of emotions in his mind. The need to win, to prove himself, came back to life. More than anything, he wanted to be the best, especially for you.

So a war happened inside him: on one side, the resentful acceptance that if he lost to Heeseung, at least you would be with someone who would treat you right; but on the other, a fierce, burning desire.

Jake couldn’t shake the intoxicating rush that came from your approval, the way your praise felt after his every effort, after every achievement; your cute smile and shining eyes showed him a galaxy of happiness.

And now, the thought of losing that, of watching someone else receive what he craved from you, wasn’t something he could tolerate. He wanted to be the one to make you proud, to make you feel the way you made him feel – and that competitive fire was about to consume him entirely.

Since apparently Heeseung had his chance to prove his side, now it was his time.

The room was thick with anticipation as he slowly stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, the office boundaries blurring.

“Come closer…” you purred, eyes gleaming with amusement as you watched him move towards you, desire growing clear in his eyes.

The second he was in front of you, his hands traveled instantly to your waist, the heated touch making you nearly gasp. His fingers pressed into the soft fabric of your clothing, pulling you closer as his breathing grew heavier.

For a brief moment, you felt drunk in Jake’s scent and firm grip, his eyes behind the glasses lingering longer on your lips before he bit his own, as if he was restraining himself. However, he easily lost his own battle, leaning in intending to kiss you, but you gently pushed against his chest, smirking.

“No, mm-mm,” you tutted, shaking your head as he hesitated, your teasing smile driving him mad; the proximity, the chances, everything taunting his desire to give up on his principles and pleasure you. “We cannot do anything while working, Jake. You know that.” You playfully reminded him, nodding along like it was an innocent rule, all while your eyes glinted with mischief. “I’m your manager.”

Jake groaned softly, clearly torn between desire and duty, but then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping into a soft whisper. “However…” You cupped his jaw, thumb grazing his lip with agonizing slowness, and you could feel him melt under your touch.

His lips parted slightly, his warm tongue just brushing your thumb, causing a wave of arousal to surge through your body. You swallowed hard, suppressing a moan.

You continued, your voice barely audible but dripping with sensuality, being the only one filling the room as Jake just stood there, in need of you, “We can’t just ignore that Heeseung made his move, can we? Supposedly, you're next, right?” Your eyes sparkled as you cocked your head, taking in Jake’s hooded, desperate gaze. You licked your lips and grabbed his tie, pulling him even closer, lips now brushing against each other while you savored the delicious tension.

“So… what’s it gonna be?” you whispered the words, your breath mingling with him as you pulled even closer by his tie. “Hm?”

His eyes darkened before fluttering shut, and you knew he was near to the edge of letting go from whatever internal struggle holding him back. Yet, you didn't expect Jake to eagerly kiss you, throwing aside any thoughts about being at work.

It would be a euphemism to say you weren’t as desperate as he was, your arousal guiding your decisions the moment that attractive man showed up in your office with his usual clumsy state, all messy and unnecessarily hot as he demonstrated confusion from your sudden call.

Jake’s taste melting on your tongue made the task of remembering your responsibilities harder, and you pathetically tossed your ethics aside as you devoured Jake’s plush, soft lips.

Fingers threading through his silky hair, you pulled him closer, as if the mere contact of your mouths and the warmth of his body pressing against yours wasn't enough. A fire ignited within you, threatening to consume you both, fueled by the ragged breaths escaping his lips mingled with groans of delight.

Jake felt like dying, and he was loving every second.

There was an annoying itch at the back of his mind, reminding him that you were both in a workplace and that the risk of being caught was large. But instead of pushing him away, it drew him even closer.

In no universe he would let the opportunity of his life slip away easily like that.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed behind you, breaking the intoxicating moment for some seconds. Jake’s lips trailed down to your neck to give you the chance to reach for it. Your breath was heavy as you read the notification: meeting in an hour.

You quickly typed a message to Heeseung, asking him to come up with an excuse for anyone who might approach your door. You kept it vague, knowing he would totally understand the situation, especially since he had seen Jake enter your office.

With your heart racing you threw your phone at some random place before turning your attention to Jake, to dive back into the moment before the outside world interrupted your brand new little secret.

Jake gave you no chance to react when he suddenly lifted your hips and sat you on the wooden surface of your desk, forcing your legs open so he could place himself between them. His sneaky fingers found the hem of your shirt, invading the area shamelessly, the warm touch together with his lips sucking the flesh of your neck made you shiver, the bubbling desire in your core intensifying each painful second.

“D–Don’t leave any marks,” you warned breathlessly, loving how fast Jake found your sensitive spot and started to give it some proper attention, but afraid of being too obvious with the after.

You could feel his hardness brushing against your legs from time to time, and you noticed at some point he began to slightly thrust forward, seeking for friction. You weren’t much different, though – your hands tugged his hair gently to give you some support as you waved your hips towards Jake, searching for a similar relief, moaning softly.

Impatience was growing as much as your desire, so you clumsily slipped down from your desk and pushed Jake’s torso back without saying a word. His instant reaction was to retract himself in a confused state, hands faltering on keeping squeezing you; his glasses were uneven as ever and a bit foggy, hair was sticking up all over and chest visibly raising and falling with each deep breath.

“We don’t have much time,” you purred, your voice dripping with sultry seduction as your eyes roamed over Jake’s disheveled state. “And I’m pretty sure a dedicated employee like you doesn’t want to get caught, right?”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you began to unbutton your pants in a slow, deliberate, teasing show. Jake’s breath hitched with the view and your words, the aching reminder he unfortunately couldn’t do everything he dreamed of with you.

His gaze fixated on every inch of your skin, shamelessly moaning when you lowered your pants just enough to reveal your white panties, completely soaked with arousal. You toyed with the waistband, your smile widening as he dropped to his knees before you, desperation written all over his face.

“Let me eat you out. We don’t need to do anything more. Just let me taste you,” Jake pleaded, his eyes filled with longing and urgency, his composure long gone completely out of reach.

Goosebumps sprawled over your skin before you commanded, “Eat me out, and then fuck me, Jake.”

Your tone was thick with confidence and lust as you turned on your back, bending over the polished wooden surface in a way of presenting yourself to him.

Jake groaned as he carefully removed your panties, revealing your ass and your cunt to him; Jake groaned, barely able to contain himself as he slid your panties down, exposing your ass and glistening cunt. His mouth watered instinctively as he leaned forward, positioning himself to take a long, delicious lick of your wet folds. His plump lips enveloped you, sucking gently as though he were savoring a delicate dessert, each flick of his tongue igniting a fire deep within you.

Jake envisioned purpose as being to please you, in every possible way. He would come up with alternative solutions to your problems, make you proud by delivering incredible results at work, and relieve the pressure and burden of your job by dealing with the part he could.

But what he craved the most was to explore the depths of your satisfaction, discover and learn every inch of you that sparkled your thrilling emotions and give you what you deserved.

Jake was devoted to you, sweet as honey and affectionate as a teddy bear in an agonizingly delightful way. Because in the end, you would always praise him, leaving him flustered as you highlighted his positive attributes and unmatched skills.

He pleasured you for his own pleasure.

And he knew that he might not be the only one in your life now, but nothing would stop him from trying to be the best.

As Jake’s tongue danced across your folds, each flicker ignited a wave of ecstasy that coursed through you, your body trembling as you struggled to keep it as quiet as possible, your knuckles turning white as you held on tight on the desk’s edge.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, littening you up with raw desire as you lost your ability to think straight. You found yourself surrendering completely to the bliss Jake offered, unable to control your sounds, let alone your own body from seeking for more as you pushed your hips back.

“God, Jake…” you gasped, your breath hitching as he licked and sucked with a fervor that made your knees weak. “Just like that. Don’t stop. You’re so fucking good–”

Encouraged by your moans and your praise, Jake increased the pressure of his mouth, groaning against your cunt as his hands gripped your hips to hold you steady, letting himself get lost in the taste of you.

The voice inside his read evoked the thought you weren’t fully his yet, so with every flick of his tongue Jake memorized your responses and reactions, the little sounds that escaped your lips and your skin prickled under his precise touch fueling his desire to give you more and more.

He wished for your taste to linger longer on his tongue, keeping vivid the feeling of having you in such intimacy, but it was undeniable that reality would eventually knock.

On the other hand, your mind was blank and could feel the tension building within you, your core tightening as you realized you were teetering near to the edge already. It was a delicious struggle between desire and restraint, your body begging for release, but your mind reminding you Jake was right behind you, probably eager for his own climax as well.

“Jake,” you breathed, your voice a mix of desperation and longing. For seconds you wondered where the innocent, clumsy and nerd-look-alike Jake you knew was at that moment, as the lewd slurping sounds filled your ears. “I need you. Now.”

Jake didn’t stop, though, diving deeper, keeping on forcing you to step near the verge of your climax. He wanted you to cum all over his mouth. He needed to taste you.

“Jake,” you called again within a loud moan that got you covering your lips right away. “Please–” You pleaded, rolling your eyes, finding it difficult to keep steady, your knees faltering, your pussy clenching around his tongue.

Your hands made a mess with the papers sprawled on your desk, knocking down some random things in the process.

“I want your dick, Jake,” you whimpered, trying to sound as firm as you could, “I wanna you to fuck me, please–” You whispered, almost sounding like a whine and a cry.

Just then Jake finally snapped out of his bliss and gave a last kiss on your glistening cunt before standing up. He paused for a brief moment, eyes dark with lust as he pulled back slightly to take in the sight of you; your body trembling from his efforts, part of your juices dripping on your exposed legs, your whole back in full display for him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Jake murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire. “I want to make you feel this good, all the time,” he said, determination and passion blended perfectly together as his hands caressed your sides with a softness that contradicted the abuse he was doing on your pussy.

“Make me feel better now, Jake,” you waved your hips a little, provoking. “Just fuck me, yeah?”

During agonizing seconds, all you heard was the noises of Jake unbuckling his belt and his zipper going down, mingled with the sound of his ragged breath. You controlled the urge of looking back, too weak to do anything other than support yourself on the table and wait.

“Can I?” He asked softly, pulling you by the waist with one hand while the other held his own dick, until it pressed against your wet entrance.

“No need to ask,” you answered, mirroring his tone, although the anticipation grew within your chest.

Jake’s hand grabbed your hip to maintain your steadiness as he forced himself inside, your head dropped forward and your mouth fell open with the raw feeling of Jake entering you.

“Damn, you feel incredible,” he whispered in amusement. It felt way better than any dream he ever had.

With your warm walls tightened around him, Jake’s composure slipped away and he began to move, each thrust deliberate and deep, designed to send you into a haze of ecstasy. He had one palm still holding you in order to pull you by the waist while pushing deep, and the other slightly pressed on your back, either to support himself and also to keep you in position.

You rolled your eyes, your hands crumpling the papers on your desk trying to ground yourself, giving no care about its importance.

The world outside faded away, you nearly forgot you were fucking during working time and, mainly, under the company’s rules and ceiling as Jake’s thrusts grew faster, more frantic; he chased his own pleasure while desperately trying to push you over the edge, the slap noises filled the room together with your heavy breaths and moans.

“F–fuck– You’re hitting– deep– So deep–” Your voice was being cut by each hard slam of Jake’s hip against yours. “So fucking good,” you whimpered and arched your back when he hit your spot straight.

“You like that?” Jake asked, proud of being the one who received such praises from you. “Please, tell me you want me,” he pleaded, feeling his abdomen flexing with his orgasm getting near.

“I want you–” You urged to say, your climax building up on your core and your pussy clenching involuntary. Jake groaned. “I want you, Jake, please–”

Jake kept on hitting you with a constancy that felt unbearably good. In that moment, everything else fell away – the meetings, the deadlines, the moral dilemmas. All you felt was the strong wave of pleasure rushing over every inch of your body, as you trembled and nearly cried in a last moan, coming all over Jake’s length.

“Fuck–” You hissed when Jake kept on going, driving your through your high before pulling out and jerking himself off. You were panting when you turned to shameless watch his hand speeding on his dick covered with your cum, the lascivious, wet sounds making you quiver, his arm’s popped veins making the view way too devilish.

You bit your lip, knees failing to keep you correctly straightened up but you sustained yourself in the desk behind you.

“You’re so good, Jake. Always so good, always making me proud,” you said between heavy breaths, eliciting a guttural groan from Jake that you feared someone heard, his head throwing back, exposing his perfect neck to you.

Jake was unable to describe properly the jolt of electricity that ran through his body after hearing your words, spilling his cum forward, hitting your arm and part of your table.

“Shit…” He whispered, eyes fluttering open while he struggled to breath. His gaze drifted to your desk. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he got closer, using his clean hand to hold your waist as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

You didn’t understand at first what he meant, too lost in your bliss, but after you both cleaned up, you realized how messy in many, too many nuances – your desk was and understood why Jake was sorry for.

You had made your decision even before your night with Heeseung and your wild time with Jake.

With Heeseung, it felt like it just naturally happened – and you didn’t regret any second. For Jake, it was something similar to an equality, giving them both the same treatment and chance. And again, you didn’t regret it.

Your feelings for them were as clear as crystal water, each reflecting a different and unique facet of your heart. Each moment you shared together was filled with affection, desire, passion, and it drew you stronger into connecting yourself with Heeseung and Jake.

You spent days in deep contemplation, analyzing how your body reacted during every interaction – the way your pulse quickened with each lingering glance, how your cheeks warmed from the softest, lightest brush of hands, and how your inner core felt electrified after every encounter.

You tried to measure, but it was so obvious – and at no moment you tried to fight against it.

Consequently, it was relatively easy to invite them into your office for a personal conversation, where you felt no fear regarding your feelings, but were uncertain about how Jake and Heeseung would react to your decision.

“This is not the appropriate setting, but I feel like it’s our setting,” you began, your voice steady to express your certainty. This time, you held a sweet, softened gaze that darted between Heeseung and Jake, lingering not long enough in each of their tensed faces.

They were completely aware about the reason behind your gathering, their breaths coming heavy, throat dry, fingers fidgeting… You noticed each anxious demeanor. Your heart tightened, because you would never intend to make them feel bad.

“I called you both here because…”

You took a moment to find the right words, the same you sculpted during days in the back of your mind, now running away from your mouth.

But there was no doubt, because at some point, you questioned yourself.

If love was a battlefield…

“I’m not choosing.”

Could there be more than one winner?

“Not between you two.”

[BONUS SCENE]

“Heeseung, please, stop chasing after Layla,” Jake rolled his eyes, a hint of exasperation in his voice while you chuckled, taking a bite of your ice cream. “You’re scaring her.”

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and you had decided to take a peaceful walk with your, now, two boyfriends and Layla, Jake’s adorable dog. At some point you started to feel a bit tired, and opted to sit down on a bench with Jake while Heeseung continued to expend Layla’s energy, playing with her nearby.

“She’s literally smiling, Jake,” Heeseung shot back with a glance, though his smile betrayed his faux annoyed facade. He knelt next to Layla, gently stroking her fluffy fur and murmuring sweet nothings with a baby voice while nodding. “Isn’t that right, girl?”

“You’re just jealous because she likes Heeseung more than she likes you,” you teased Jake, trying to contain your laughter at his instant reaction. Jake blinked flabbergasted at your words before he pouted.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he muttered in a whine, feigning an anger that never really matched his energy. His facade quickly fell as he pulled you closer to kiss your cheek.

You giggled, melting into a shy mess when Jake began planting kisses along your neck too, the sound drawing Heeseung’s attention.

He stood up, holding Layla’s leash with a playful tilt of his head. The ghost of a smile lingered on his lips before he pouted dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m witnessing my girlfriend and my friend enjoying themselves without considering my presence,” Heeseung said as he slid into the empty seat on your left, planting a sweet kiss on your other cheek.

Just like that, it started a playful competition between the two of them, each trying to elicit a laugh or a shout of “stop” from you first. All you could do was giggle and squirm, drowning in the warm sensation blooming in your chest and the delightful tingling on each side of your neck as Heeseung and Jake silently agreed to tease you mercilessly.

You couldn’t help but be amused at how effortlessly Heeseung and Jake had adapted to this unconventional relationship. Everything had fallen into place, and you finally had an answer to the question that had lingered in your mind when you decided to take a step further.

Yes, two people can definitely win a love battle.

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #lee heeseung x reader #sim jake x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #love triangle #enhypen love triangle #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #jake fluff #heeseung fanfic #jake fanfic #heegyukeluv works #heegyukeluv reqs

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inklore · 10 months ago

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— luca (the bear) x f!reader. luca has a thing about fucking you in the kitchen. contents: p in v, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering | wc: 783+

It is almost a problem how much Luca enjoys fucking you against the counter in your shared kitchen.

A problem when you have a knife in your hand trying to cut the veggies for your dinner, his chest pressing against your back as he comes and stands behind you. His palm running down your arm, to your wrist, slotting over your hand—a fake show of him teaching you a lesson you already know.

How to cut right so you don’t slip and get your finger. The perfect positioning, glide, and control of the knife that only a seasoned chef would know how to do.

“You’re a faster learner.” He’ll say teasingly in your ear. His smile against your neck as his face leans into your space, the tip of his nose running along the quickening pulse in your neck.

You want to roll your eyes and tell him that you’re not learning much of anything right now that you don’t already know—that he isn’t distracting from as you feel his cock hardening against your ass.

His other hand travels up the side of your thigh, making you shiver, a slow destination to the bottom of your worn sleep shorts. His fingers pushing past the fabric, pressing against your clothed clit.

“Luca,” it’s a warning, a moan. Your head turning to look at him, stopping by his cheek when he pushes it forward with his nose.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing, baby.” His fingers run along your slit. Wetness quickly gathers between your legs and slicks the fabric of your underwear, giving his fingers a better slide and push against your clothed pussy. “Don’t want you to cut yourself.” His teeth nip at your jaw.

And you try to focus. Try to glide the knife through the vegetables, try not to push back against him, and run your ass against his dick, but fail. His low groan against your ear makes your eyes flutter.

A string of moans pulled from your heaving chest when his fingers pull at your underwear enough to allow his fingers to move inside and press flush against your throbbing clit.

“Careful.” His accent is deeper when he’s amped up like this. When he’s teasing you. When he’s making you feel so good and craving to feel just as good for himself. “I don’t think you’re paying attention.”

“I-ahh, Luca.”

“Baby.” He says mockingly.

You know it’s him that’s stopping you from cutting yourself. His hand doing all the guiding, both with the knife and your body, as his fingers press into you and fuck you until your legs are shaking and you can’t keep your eyes open.

The knife in your hands limp and forgotten, the vegetables pushed to the floor as Luca presses a palm to the middle of your back to bend you over. Pulling your shorts down and wasting no time to push inside of you. Both of you moaning in relief. You can feel his cock throbbing against your fluttering walls.

The pace of his hips snapping hard against your ass makes your body jolt against the counter. Making anything around you not already on the floor find its way there.

Safety forgotten. The only thing that matters is how good his cock feels inside of you, how pretty you sound in the one place of the house he’s an expert in. The one person he’s an expert at pulling incoherent moans and pleads from.

His hand wraps around the base of your throat to pull you back against his chest, his fingers gripping your jaw when he turns your head towards his mouth so he can press a needy wet kiss on it.

“Whose is it, baby? Who’s pretty lil’pussy is it?” He asks breathless against your mouth, panting as he stares into your eyes. His own blown out. The heat in them makes your belly burn.

“Yours, only yours.” You whine into his mouth. Taste the sauce you made him try earlier; that is surely burning on the stove by now.

When you’re about to come, he pulls out and turns you around, drops to his knees, his hand gripping the back of your calf as he puts your leg over his shoulder. Spreading your legs and putting his mouth on your pussy. Lips wrapping around your clit until your fingers are gripped in his hair and your hips are canting up against his face. Fucking yourself against his tongue and mouth until you’re coming, screaming his name.

“Best fuckin’ meal I’ve ever had,” he says against your thigh. Placing a wet kiss against your thigh before he’s standing up, pulling your leg over his hip, and slipping back inside of you.

#luca the bear #the bear smut #the bear x reader #luca x reader #will poulter x reader #luca smut #the bear x you #the bear luca #will poulter x you #will poulter smut #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #luca x you #laur writes the bear

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erwinsvow · 27 days ago

Note

imagine being in kie’s place when shy!reader and rafe got kidnapped by mr signh (ive given up his name keeps autocorrecting) and seeing him in his tux and buzz for the first time and instead of the two being scared they js fuck LOLZ😝

oh my god yes yes yes. this is my fave concept i can't believe i haven't expanded on it yet. sorry it took me a year to reply.

you have to keep reminding yourself to take deep breaths. deep in a foreign land, separated from all of your friends and trapped in a mansion with only locked doors and guards at every corner, this is probably the most anxious you've ever been.

and that is truly saying something.

you wanted to try and plead with the guards again, to explain yourself and your innocence, but you couldn't find the words. why should they believe you? what would you even say? you were never the one coming up with the crazy escape routes or talking your way out of problems. and it seemed that teary doe eyes didn't work quite as well on paid guards as it did on your best friends back home.

so you resigned yourself to start believing a singular truth—the only way out, is through. you stopped pounding fists and yelling for help, rather complying wordlessly, like when the pretty dress made its way onto your bed. you even ate the fruit in the room, deciding that you couldn't think of an escape if you starved to death first.

you don't know why the man who took you wants you clean and dressed up, but you do that too, and it's not until the door opens and you poke your head out from behind the wall, expecting the worst, do you realize just how out of the loop you really are.

you could cry.

"rafe?" you stare up at the familiar boy with watery eyes, confusion and hurt painted all over your pretty face. for a moment you believe that he might be responsible for all of this, even you couldn't have dreamed that he'd be this cruel, when-

"what the hell are you doin' here, kid?" he looks around the room quickly, like he's worried someone is going to come out from behind the walls. in one motion, he guides you to the furthest corner from the door, gripping your wrist tight while he has you sit on the edge of the bed.

"a-are you with them? t-the people outside?"

"what? no, no-they took me too. how do they have you? don't tell me those fuckin' idiots let them take you-"

"it's not their fault-"

"don't make excuses." it comes out so sternly, you shut up immediately. "i'll get us out of here. i just need to figure out-"

"b-but it's not so bad, right? at least we have each other." your words come out softly, partially because you're afraid someone will hear you and partially because you can't believe what you're saying.

your relationship with rafe is tumultuous at best. he's never had a real issue with you, and he's seen you at tannyhill with sarah several times before, but it's always been clear that he hates your friends, even if he was ambivalent—or less than—to you. you could never really tell and you didn't spend much time trying to figure it out, until now.

rafe looks back you, his eyes still showing the panic that was in yours, but mixed with something else, something you couldn't make out.

"yeah, kid. we have each other." rafe takes another deep breath, running his hands over his head, barely brushing through his buzzcut. "i'll get us out of here."

time in the room with rafe passes by slowly. you didn't know what time it was before, but rafe's watch shows that it's only noon. you can't even hear the guards footsteps anymore, the silence making your eyes droopy while you wait for something, anything to happen.

you stay perched on the bed while rafe paces, curled up into yourself and resting against the bed frame. your dress reveals most of your legs, all the way to the tops of your thighs when you sit like this, but you can't bring yourself to care right now.

you stare at rafe while he treads the tiny space, wondering when he cut his hair and if he'll ever grow it back. you liked his longer hair, you think briefly, before dismissing the thought entirely. you have no business liking anything of rafe cameron's.

but then again, he's the one here with you, trying to figure out how to get you back to safety, and your friends are the ones who got you here in the first place. you try not to think of it like that, but rafe's words from earlier seep back into your mind. he's here, you're here, and everyone else is fine. so who was going to watch after you?

"rafe?" you ask quietly, and once he stops pacing and turns to lock eyes with you, your whole face feels hot. his eyes run up the course of your exposed skin before finally making eye contact, and even in this state you can tell what thoughts just ran through his mind.

"yeah, kid?"

"do you wanna sit down? you've been walking for a while."

"i need to think, baby, otherwise i'd sit down." he resumes his pace and your entire face is on fire. the nickname is enough to make your brain short-circuit for a minute. suddenly you think that you like the buzzcut, and you like the nicknames he gives you, and you like that he keeps saying he'll get you out of there. you believe that he will, no, you know that he will.

but you're not so sure you want to leave anymore. with a surge of confidence appearing from thin air, you move towards the end of the bed, sitting with your legs hanging over the frame and facing rafe, looking up at him.

"can i help you think, rafe?"

he stops walking, staring down at you while you stare up.

"do you know what you're saying right now, kid?"

"wouldn't you think better if we calmed down first?" the words come out in one shaky breath. maybe you don't know what you're asking for, but you're certain it's what you want right now. you don't break eye contact—a first for you.

"lay back for me."

you comply immediately. it's not until a knock several hours later, with a strange man walking in on you and rafe wrapped up in his sheets, that you remember the severity of the situation you're in.

oh well.

#hahah the ending is trash sorry. insert ten pages of crazy smut there #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

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luvyeni · 2 years ago

Note

WHAT IS UP‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

okay instead of going straight to my request, I’ll ask you some simple talk questions. how was your day today? was it good or bad? why was it bad? what did you do today? did you eat good food today cause i know i did.

ANYWAYS MOVING ON

what about…ghostface!hyunjin from skz and he just stalks poor reader and basically tells her that he can SMELL her arousal through the phone since reader as a mask kink and she thinks having ghostface as her boyfriend is hot, and then he comes out of nowhere and starts teasing her and poor reader is just so shy now that he’s in front of her and he’s like “aw poor baby is shy now that im right here. what happened to all that big talk on the phone?” idk just add whatever you want!

if u don’t wanna do this plot that’s fine!! i just need ghostface jinnie. im really desperate

❛IT’S A SCREAM, BABY!❜ ( h. hyunjin )

💬nias notes: i guess this sorta part of freaktober since its hallowen themed

p. x fem!reader w. 1.7k+

warnings? unprotected sex, knife play, degradation kink, a little blood and fingering

— 𖦹 ( you can’t help but tease the man in the mask, that’s until he catches you ) !

“Did we even learn this?” You read through the notes on your laptop. “This is next week's problem, I can’t.” You closed the laptop, getting up, going downstairs to the kitchen for a snack.

“I need to but more” You took ice cream from the fridge, your phone ringing making you jump. You smiled, knowing it could only be one person calling you. You threw the wrapping away, running back upstairs to your phone.

You reached your room, quickly picking up the. “Hello,” You smiled, even though he couldn’t hear you. “Hello princess.” His voice was distorted, it made your panties soak immediately. “Did you miss me?” You laughed, “Of course I did.”

“Where are you?” He chuckled, “You know it’s not that easy.” He says, “Let’s play a game, you hide, and I try to find you, and you win I don’t slit your throat.” The man in the mask spoke through the phone. “What happens if you win?” You questioned. “Princess, you don’t want to know.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You teased, knowing you shouldn’t provoke him. “Princess, you know how this works.” His voice seemed to get deeper even with the voice modifier. “You don’t have a fucking choice.”

You got up, slipping on your slippers, leaving out the comforts of your own room to go and hide from the masked man. “I’ll give you to the count of 60 find a spot in the house.” You took off as he began to count down.

Finding a spot in a cabinet, you tucked yourself away. “Princess, you’re so predictable, it’s almost adorable how dumb you are.” You whined, he laughed. “Here I come princess.”

“You know it’s not really safe for a pretty girl like you to live in such a big house alone, too many bad men out there.” He spoke. “Like you?” He chuckled. “Yeah, baby like me, but you like me, don’t you?” You hummed. “I do.” You spoke.

“Yeah, I know you do, otherwise you would’ve called the cops by now.” He spoke. “Instead, here you are answering my calls for the 3rd time, you get a kick out of this, nasty girl I can almost smell how aroused you are.”

You felt your breathing pick up, you tried to hold your breath. “You scared princess?” He said. “No baby, I know you, you’re turned on right now.” You shuffled around, it wasn’t much space to move around so your leg was slapping against the cabinet. “No.”

He chuckled, you could hear him scraping his knife against the wall through the phone, turning you on even more — it was sick you knew that this shouldn’t be arousing you the way it is, your panties shouldn’t be sticking to your folds like they were. “Such a shit liar baby, I know what gets those little gears going.”

“I’m not scared.” You kept a brave face, “Because I know you’ll never find me.” You chuckled. “Really princess, you wanna take a chance like that?” You hummed, “Yes, I do.” You spoke. “Oh, princess you really are dumb.” Your thighs clenched together.

You heard a few steps outside of the room you were hiding in, your breath hitched. “Ah baby, I think I found you.” He said, just as you heard the click of the door. “You’re in here aren’t you?” You didn’t say anything. “Where are you princess, let’s make this easy.”

You stayed silent, even when you heard his voice right out of the door, His knife tapping against the door that was keeping your safe. “Hmm, I guess I was wrong baby, guess you really are good at this game.” You heard his feet retreating, then the door closing.

You let out a sigh, this room was no longer safe — you waited another few minutes before quietly climbing out the cabinet, making your way to the door, quietly opening it so you wouldn’t alert the masked man.

Before you walked about the door was slammed in front of you — you gasped at the thud. “Stupid Stupid baby.” You heard a slight glee in his voice. “Now you should’ve known better.” He flipped you around, pressing his cold blade to your neck, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Pl-please don’t hurt me.” He smiled, even though you couldn’t see it through the mask. “Awe poor baby is scared now? Hmm? No that’s not it.” He lightly dragged the knife across your throat, you bit your lip, trying to hide your face. “Awe that’s it, you’re shy.” He chuckled. “Awe poor baby is shy now that I’m right here. what happened to all that big talk on the phone?” He teased.

He dragged the knife to thin strap of your tank top, slicing right through it, repeating on the other side, the flimsy material falling down — your hands flew to cover your boobs. “Move.” He said. “Move your hands pretty, before I cut them.” You slowly moved your hands, letting your boobs freely bounce. “Nice princess, such pretty tits.”

He moved his knife across your boobs, grazing your nipples with the blade. You whimpered, biting your lip. “Keep hiding those pretty nosies baby, i’ll get you to scream for me one way or another.”

He dragged you back to your room, knife pressed against your neck — as well as his hardening cock pressed against your ass, throwing you on the bed, your boobs bouncing upon impact. “You look so scared princess; it’s turning me on.”

He climbed on to the bed, hovering above you — his knife dragged along your stomach until it reached your panties. “No pants, I knew you wanted this my slutty baby.” He chuckled. “Dumb baby likes to be fucked by slashers in masks like a whore.” He cut right through your panties. “You’re sick baby.”

“Pl-please.” You moaned out, he threw the cut panties somewhere — pressing the tip of the blade on your clit, you gasped. “look who wet you are, you shouldn’t be this excited about this, I could easily cut your pretty body.” That just cause slick to stream out on to the blade even more.

“You’re fucking dripping.” He removed the knife from your clit, replacing it with his glove clad finger, rubbing harsh circles. “Th-that feels good.” He pressed the knife against your hip bone. “D-do it.” You said.

He pressed down, you let out a loud moan as the blade pierced your delicate skin. “Fu-fuck.” He watched the blood from the small cut, your cunt clenched around his fingers. “You’re gonna cum?” He laughed. “Me cutting you made your little pussy clench, go ahead and cum.” He curled his fingers, making your eyes roll to back of your head, cumming.

“Nasty baby.” He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, your essence stuck to his finger, tapping on your lips. “Open slut.” He pushed his finger into your, ordering you to suck. “Good whore.” He pulled his fingers out, slapping your face.

He climbed of the bed, getting rid of all his clothes, except the mask. “Th-the mask.” You said, he cocked his head to the side. “Don’t be dumb baby.” He climbed back on the bed, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pinning them down with one hand. “You like this mask anyway, that’s why your dripping like a whore, trying to hump my thigh.” You moved your hips. “Be still.” He warned.

He pulled his under down enough to pull out his hard cock, his mushroom tip red and dripping with cum, veins adorning the sides. “Is this what you want?” He slapped his length against your folds. “Want my cock.” You nodded, whining. “Pl-please.” You begged, “W-wan’ it so bad.”

He slid right in, wasting no time. “Shit.” He cursed. “Tight fucking cunt.” He pulled out, slamming back in. “Fu-fuck!” He began to move, his cock dragging along your walls. “Feels so fucking good, your pussy is soaking my cock.” He grunted.

He began to pick up his pace, slamming into your hole over and over. “Fu-fuck t-too much.” You screamed, trying to wiggle away, but he held your hips, holding you in place. “Don’t run from my cock slut, this is what you wanted.” He pressed the knife against your throat. “You wanted this, too be fucked like a whore.” He growled. “So *thrust* fucking *thrust* take *thrust* it.”

You were a mess, moaning as he fucked you. “Look at you all fucked out, dumb baby.” He said, his cock hitting your cervix. “Soaking up the sheets over a mask, so sick baby.” You moaned. “I-i’m cumming!” You squealed out, the blade cold against your warm skin. “Hold it, i’m not there yet.”

He sped up his movements, fucking into at a almost inhumane pace. Panting as he chased his high. “C-can’t hold it.” You whined. “I said hold it, if you cum I cut your throat.” Shit, that didn’t help at all, in fact it only made you clench around his cock. “Fuck! You’re squeezing my cock.” He grunted. “Fuck i’m gonna cum, gonna let me breed your pretty pussy?” You nodded. “Pl-please.”

He thrusted into your cunt a few more times, spilling his cum into your cunt. “Fuck that’s it, take my cum.” He sighed, he pulled out just to his tip, covering your outside folds in his cum, pushing himself back in. “Keep it inside.”

“Yah, take the mask off now.” You said, reaching for it, he grabbed your wrist. “Please I want to see your face.” You pouted, he let your hands go, reaching for the mask, revealing the raven-haired man, his face was dripping with sweat.

“You okay, pretty girl?” You nodded, he smiled, throwing the mask somewhere, you gasped. “Hey, don’t break it, I paid a lot of money for it.” He scoffed. “Of course, you did, you’re sick baby.” He kissed your lips. “Only I could fall in love with a crazy girl who’s obsessed with ghostface.” He pulled out his now soft cock.

“It’s not like you weren’t turned on either.” You fought back. “You came 3 times as much as you normally do.” He nodded. “Touché baby, it was hot.” He said, “But I can’t promise i’ll use that knife again, don’t wanna hurt your pretty skin like that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.” You said, he helped you get cleaned up, nursing your wound from the blade. “It should clear up in a few days, it wasn’t a deep cut.” He kissed your waist.

He joined you in bed, pulling the the covers over your naked bodies. “Did you like it baby?” You nodded, “You make a good ghostface.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Only you would say that.” You laughed.

“You know you love me.”

©LUVYENI

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writingsbychlo · 2 years ago

Text

LAST NIGHT | mattheo riddle

summary; on again, off again, you and mattheo have always gone round and round in circles, but this is the last time.

word count; 3962

notes; based on this song! my first ever mattheo fic, or even slytherin boy fic, so hope you enjoy, sorry if it sucks lmao <3

“I’m done, Mattheo!” Your voice bounced off the walls, giving the half-arsed silencing spell you’d cast two hours ago a run for its money. “I’m fed up of this. I’m fed up of your attitude, and your bullshit, and the way you just don’t seem to care about anything!”

“Oh, you’re done?” He mocks, bringing the cigarette back to his lips as he sits on the windowsill, rolling his eyes and blowing smoke out into the night air.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Bullshit. You say that every other week. What is this, our fourth breakup this year? Fifth?” Stubbing out what was left on the stone wall, he flicked the butt out into the darkness, finally swinging his legs back to the floor and turning to face you. “You had no problem with my carefree attitude and my bullshit and my laidback nature when we started dating. Why are you throwing a hissy fit now, what’s this really about, huh?”

Your jaw clenched, clenched so hard it hurt. He smirked at that, wider when your fists balled by your sides, and he took an arrogant swig of the firewhiskey the two of you had been splitting. The very drink that had given you the courage to do this in the first place.

“Nothing to say, then? That’s what I thought.”

“Mattheo—”

“Storm your pretty arse out the door, love. Slam it, like you always do. You’ll come back in the middle of the night, like you always do, and I’ll be here waiting for you.” A lump caught in your throat, and the fiery anger in your body settled into a cool rage.

“It’s different this time, Mattheo. When we started dating in the fifth year, nothing but having a date to Yule Ball mattered, but we’re two months from graduation, and you— you’re hopeless. We’re hopeless.” His brows pinched, a snarl taking over his features at your harsh words and the small seed of victory was squashed by the tension building in the air. “You won’t tell me anything about our future, about your own and if I even have a place in it. You won’t make plans, you’re barely even passing your classes and you don’t care. It’s been years, Matt, and you still treat me like I’m just some fun.”

“Exclusive fun. At least I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” He smirked again around the words, throat bobbing as he swigged at the whiskey, a golden drop leaking down his chin and your hands itched to wipe it away. “You knew who I was when we met.”

“Yes, I did.” Your voice cracked, and just like that, a gaping cavern seemed to split through all those emotions, leaving a feeling of hollow, cold numbness to fill your chest in its place. So wide it was dark, echoes of feelings bouncing on stone walls, and you rubbed over your chest. “But I wish you were someone I never met.”

Silence filled the space between you both, airtight like the oxygen was starting to thin. “You wish I was someone you never met?”

“Yes.” Your voice shook even as you said it, the glass bottle clinked on the stone ledge as he set the bottle down. His shoes scuffed on the floor, as he made his way over to you, long strides that you matched backwards, until your back was pressed to the door. “Mattheo.”

His hands slammed onto the wood on either side of you, crowding you until your noses were brushing, the warmth of his body seeping into you. His voice was like a growl, skittering along your body like a reverberation as he spoke, “You wish you never met me?”

“I didn’t—”

“No. You didn’t.” He cut you off, your shoulders slumping in defeat as that red in his gaze took over. There was no sentience now, nothing to be said, not as your hand slipped across the wood towards the doorknob behind you. The time for talking was over, there was nothing left to be said now.

He was right.

He knew you far too well. Just like every other time, you wanted to storm out, slamming the door and cursing his name, promising you’d never go back. Just like every other time, you’d end up coming back to him, over and over again, a vicious circle where you crawl back into his bed, and he whispers sweet things in your ear that never come true, and you go on like it never happened.

Over and over and over.

You released the doorknob, his eyes searching your own, and instead, you gripped his jaw. He startled, even more when you yanked his mouth down to yours, hands sliding around until you were pulling yourself up to his height. He groaned, a deep sound as his mouth opened against your own, wet and needy with desperate kisses.

His body collapsed against yours, pinning you to the door, only interrupted by his own arms sliding around your waist, bodies flush and racing hearts pounding together through your chests.

“See, isn’t this so much better?” He muttered, nipping at your lower lip as your head tipped back to rest on the wood, his mouth beginning to make tracks along your jaw instead. “When you just shut up and stop overthinking, and let things go how they work, huh?”

That same hot mouth continued its path, your breath shallowing as he kissed down and down, wet tongue licking across your collarbones and the swell of your tits. Rough hands pushed up at your shirt, bunching the fabric up as your shaky hands attempted to undo the buttons, falling into every touch and lie that came from his mouth.

Just like always, you fell into his trap, like a bee to honey, he knew every weakness. Dropping to his knees before you, pretty brown eyes all but sparkled as he smirked up, glittering with victory. His tongue laved over the soft skin below your belly button, tracing the edge of your skirt, fingers toying with the hem line when your own laced into the soft brown curls, pushing them back.

“Matty…”

“That’s right, baby.” Another wet kiss to your stomach, one sensual enough to leave your back arching against the wood, pushing closer to him as his hands dipped under the skirt to find the sides of your panties. Peeling them slowly down your legs, he propped his chin on the soft pudge of your stomach, peering up. “The only thing that mouth should be screaming at me is prayers to God and begs of my name.”

Your scoff was lost to a moan as he slapped the tender back of one thigh, skin stinging, the welts that would be left by the cold rings decorating his fingers only made you tremble with further excitement, further need. Need for him, desperation for the man who knew you so well, like the back of his hand. Every touch, every tell, every weakness exploited was by design and knowledge.

“You want my mouth, baby? Say it. Tell me what you want.” A nip to the inside of one thigh, delicate skin abused by teeth and lips, a bruise there he would leave so proudly.

“I want your mouth.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Tell me, who would make you come like I can if you left me, huh?”

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, stinging words with a bitter bite, ready to chew his head off once more for his arrogance, but it all died away as your head thumped back on the door. His tongue swept through your folds, head hidden under the pleats of your skirt as he lapped from your entrance to your clit, hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin as he moaned.

He wasn’t gentle, nor was he patient, not as he set to work on something he enjoyed just as much as you did. His tongue worked you over, your thighs trembling on either side of his head as he licked and swirled, fingers sliding up the sides of your legs. You didn’t want to speak, to give him the satisfaction of rewarding him for his effort, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

He took it as the challenge it was, growling against your core, the vibrations shaking along your spine and lighting you up like fireworks in the crisp night air, sparking you to life like a fuse. He doubled down on his efforts, wet and messy, pulling on every trick he knew you loved, tongue sinking into your hole just to pull back as you clenched, teasing and taunting until you were dizzy.

Sucking on your clit until your knees shook, almost threatening to give way, he sank one finger into your dripping cunt, and your pledge for silence gave way, a loud cry slipping from you and bouncing around the room. He nipped at your sensitive clit to celebrate his own victory, a squeaky sound escaping at the sensation, and your nails scratched into the wood of the door, doubtless leaving claw-marks he’d never let you live down.

That one finger became two, scissoring and curling until you could no longer take it, exploding around his digits with frantic rolls of your hips into his hand. He let you ride it out, never letting up, never stopping his assault, your body spasming under his hold until he was pulling back, other hand pinning your hips to the door.

Your legs finally gave way, only held up by the support of his body as he kept you locked where you were, slamming those fingers in and out of you until you were begging. Begging for another release, begging for reprieve, begging for anything at all, as he barrelled you towards another orgasm.

When this one struck it was with a scream, with a burning heat so intense you thought your clothes might turn to ash on your very skin, melt away into nothing the same way every thought in your head had managed to do.

He finally pulled back, slick and shining fingers going straight to his mouth as his body supported your own, one hand slipping to your hip and holding you tight, steadying you against the door until your shaking breaths evened out.

The taste of yourself was still on his tongue as his mouth crashed into your own, your shaking hands nothing like his steady ones as the two of you tore at one another’s clothing, stumbling together in a tangle of limbs and kisses towards the bed. Stripping on another of clothes in rough movements and angry tugs and rips, until you were bare, his hot cock pressing to your stomach, smearing precum over your skin and letting you know just how much he wanted you.

He may have you fucked stupid, wrapped around his little finger, but at least you knew you had him in that same helpless grip.

Reaching between your bodies and taking his hard cock in hand, he let out a stuttered moan at the first pump, the drag of his flesh in your hand, precum spilling out over your fingers in a sticky trail. His need tasted like sin on your lips, your name a mumbled praise that sounded like a curse as you pumped him slowly, his hands flexing so tightly on your hips they’d no doubt leave tainted marks.

“Fucking hell, baby. Gonna’ fuck you so good, gonna’ fuck you ‘til you remember some sense, ‘til you’re screaming the way only I can make you.” With one rough shove, you were spilling out across his mattress, gripping the sheets with your fingertips as he crawled up and over you.

A quick movement and you were flipped, finding yourself face down into the bedsheets, his weight pressing into you at every angle from above, and then—

Then the stretch, the slow drag as he sank into you, joint moans as he gave you no time to adjust. The burning rage in his veins drove him into you until your hips sat snugly together, his throbbing cock stretching out every wall within you to that delicious brink between pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, Mattheo…”

“Don’t say my name again tonight unless you’re fucking screaming it.” He pulled back, snapping his hips into your own with such brutality that the sound echoed around the room, your fingers screwed into the sheets practically turning white-knuckled with how your body tensed and shuddered. He did it again and again, slamming into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs every time. “I’m still so goddamn mad at you, but you’re just too hot when you yell at me.”

“Fuck you.” Your words didn’t have nearly as much vitriol as you wanted, not when they were muttered out into the sheets as your face pressed into them, drool on your lips from every slam of his cock into you. He caught them though, fingers lacing into your hair and yanking your head up, the pace never slowing, even as his body covered your own, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I already am, sweetheart. You just can’t help yourself, giving yourself over to me even when you’re mad. My pretty little slut.”

A particularly sharp thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as every other feeling seemed to melt away until only the pound of his hips into your own was left. You could feel him everywhere, outside and inside, as he filled your every thought and every cell. It had always been like this, utterly intoxicating with him since that very first kiss, the moment those captivating eyes had locked on your own and you’d been tangled in the web that was Mattheo Riddle.

The first scream slipped free from your lips as his hand came down across your arse with a slap, a condescending chuckle followed it and he rewarded you with an extra hard squeeze. Driving into you with renewed force, he left a matching handprint on the other side, and you cried out his name with cracked voice. “That’s right, fucking take what I give you.”

“Mattheo!”

His name was like a chant now, unstoppable as pleasure swelled and built inside of you, brain going foggy and his name the only thing that was clear, His touch was grounding but his kisses were like a drug, trailed along your shoulder and spine as he smothered you into the mattress, tears building in your eyes with the delicious overwhelm of it all.

Trembling, shaking, your body was hardly your own as you squirmed beneath him, pushed down into the bed as tears wet the sheets from your eyes, used like a whore and loving every second of it.

Another peak was building, the tangling in your stomach a telltale sign as your body tensed under his touch, like an instrument he knew just how to play as his fingers skated along your body, tweaking nipples and travelling down to your clit, harsh circles rubbed into the swollen bud.

With only a couple of unsteady circles, you exploded, screaming his name just as he promised you would heat flaring through you, sweat slick between your bodies.

His lips left sloppy kisses along your neck as he never let up, only stopping enough to pull back, and leave you for just a second as a trembling mess on the sheets. Long enough to flip you over, to push your knees up until they were almost to your chest, hooked over his shoulders as he sank back into your wetness.

Your hands were shaking, coming up to grip at his biceps, half-lidded gaze locked on that fiery stare of his own, even when his forehead came down to press to your own. Your nails tore welts into his arm, a pleasured hiss on his lips and his hips stuttered, lips tugging up at the edges in a pain-fuelled smirk of sheer bliss.

“God, look at you. My perfect girl, and this perfect pussy grippin’ me so good. I fucking love you, and you love me.” You could only muster a whine in reply, arching your back until your nipples brushed his chest, the added stimulation making your eyes roll back in your head, shuddering right down to every last nerve you had.

“Mattheo…” Your voice was raw, unable to scream anymore, and a sick gratification flashed over his features, open mouth brushing yours, letting you swallow every moan he let out.

His hips rolled, the fluttering and spasming of your inner walls sending him toppling over the edge, and with one last rough stutter of his hips into you he stilled. Bracketed between your thighs his weight collapsed atop you, heat flooding your core as he spilled into you, pump after pump, the aftershocks of your orgasm reigniting a little at the feeling, drawing out until you tingled right down to your fingertips.

If you’d had any strength at all, any ability to even move, you’d shove him off of you, roll away from him out of his grip. Instead, he lay against you, panting, tracing his fingertips softly up and down your ribs in that way he knew you loved, until he’d gained enough of his own strength to push himself up.

A whimper slipped free from your lips as he pulled out, wetness leaking from you immediately in his absence, goosebumps covering your skin as his body peeled away from your own. Kneeling back between your aching thighs, Mattheo’s lips twisted in a cruel smirk as he eyed the mess he’d left between your thighs, only growling at the embarrassed flush that covered your body as you attempted to snap your legs shut.

That burning look of anger and passion still flared somewhat in his eyes, no longer a blazing inferno but lingering enough like smouldering ashes, and he barely bothered to reach over the side of the bed and snatch up his abandoned shirt, tossing it onto your chest for you to clean yourself up. He collapsed down onto the bed beside you, a satisfied sigh escaping him as he propped one bent arm behind his head, rolling onto his side and watching you mop between your thighs with amusement, snickering at the sensitive gasps that occasionally slipped free.

When you were done, his arm snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to face him as you tossed the ruined shirt down onto the floor somewhere to be cared for later. Sometimes he’d light up a cigarette at this moment, in others, he’d pull the hidden bottle of firewhiskey from under his mattress and take a mouthful. Today was one of the rare occasions when he did neither, settling into your side with a smile on his face, eyes slipping closed and he nuzzled half of his face into the pillow on your side.

Your eyes remained open, though. Studying him. It was no wonder you had caved so many times, no wonder it had been so easy every other time to fall into his arms, to believe all his embellished promises and pretty words. So easy to stay, when he looked like an angel, innocent and sweet and kind, with half a smile on his face and an adorably possessive arm over your waist as you cuddled into him. It was just like every other time you’d caved to him.

But not this time.

No, for once, you’d be strong. You’d endure the pain of leaving him, endure the suffering of being without him if it meant being happy, being healthy, being the kind of woman a daughter could look up to one day. You would never let your own child, your friends or family endure this kind of toxicity, so why did you continue to allow it for yourself?

No more handsome smiles and golden eyes drawing you back in.

It was as you were making this decision, taking a bracing, deep breath, that his eyes cracked back open, focusing on where you lay mere centimetres from him. Staring at you from a shared spot on the same pillow, he gave a hint of a smile in the dim lighting of the room, eyes sparkling, like things might really be different this time.

You’d fallen for it one too many times.

His lips puckered slightly, expectant for a kiss, and your own lips pressed together, resisting the urge to find his. Instead, you rolled over, throat stinging and eyes burning as you faced away from him, sliding out of the bed. The stone was cold under your feet as they hit the floor, every step from the comforting warmth of the sheets was like stepping into the Arctic.

“Why are you not in bed right now?” Mattheo groaned, and you heard the sheets rustle as you gathered your clothes. He rolled in the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest instead, an amused look on his face. “You don’t need clothes, I’ll keep you plenty warm.”

Tugging on your shirt, you only bothered with two buttons, his brows rising and smile beginning to dim, as you tugged on your skirt and yanked up the zip. Socks didn’t matter, nor did your tie, shoving them into the pockets of your robe, and he propped himself up among the pillows.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“This again?” He said, still not taking you seriously. His messy hair, swollen lips, those pretty brown eyes, it was all so hard to resist. The frown on his face, the disbelief in your conviction, less so. “Stop being ridiculous and come back here. You’ve made your point, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Whatever.”

“No, Mattheo. That’s just it.” Finding your shoes and scooping them up, your toes flexed on the cold floor, a protest at the cold, but you’d make it back to your room before they got frostbite. “You won’t change. You never change. I’m not doing this again.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Yes, and you were right.” His eyes narrowed, confusion flashing over his face at your concession. “I always leave, and right about this time, I always come back, and crawl into your bed, and I’m not doing this again. This time it’s different. This time it’s over, Mattheo.”

“It can’t be over.”

“But it is. This is the best decision for us both, really.”

“I think I should have been part of a decision that's in my interests, then!” He burst, scrambling across the sheets and standing himself, beginning to tug on his own clothes. “We’re not over. We can’t be, you don’t mean that.”

“Mattheo, stop.” He did, pants sitting low on his hips, unbuttoned as his hands fell slack to his sides instead. “Just, give it some thought. You’ll see, I’m right.”

“You’re not right.”

“Sleep on it.” You couldn't do it anymore, any longer and you’d give in like always, fall into his arms and let him temporarily kiss it better.

“I’m still gonna’ wake up wanting you and me.”

You sighed, hand closing around the door handle again. This time, you had the strength to open it. For once, you truly felt like he was listening to you, like the threat of leaving was at last finding its home within him. He was hearing it.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered as you stepped into the hall, the silencing spell crumbling around you as you left the bubble, and the sounds of the world came crashing back in. The howl of the wind outside, the shuffle of midnight wanderers in the common room, and owls hooting to the moon, all fill the empty space. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

“Become something worth staying for, and I’ll keep loving you too.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle/reader smut #slytherin boys #harry potter #benjamin wadsworth x reader #benjamin wadsworth/reader

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antinousletmehit · 3 months ago

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Okay! So...... This is something that I've got to ask honestly lol.... I remember you wrote the drabble of when Antinous died and the reader is like lost and such and Telemachus finds her..... But in the future let's say the reader is living with Telemachus's family in his palace and she maybe starts to like go through like depressive episodes and mental breakdowns because she lost her brother and maybe neglects themselves? How would Telemachus react? Would he take care of her? And is so how?

She was a shadow of the girl Telemachus remembered. Days had passed since the battle, but she seemed frozen in time, her grief pulling her deeper into a void that Telemachus wasn’t sure how to reach. She barely spoke, barely moved, and when she did, it was as if her body carried the weight of the world. Her once bright eyes were dull now, rimmed red from crying, though the tears had long since dried. She spent most of her time curled up in the darkest corner of the hall, as far away from everyone as she could get, her knees pulled to her chest, her face buried in her arms.

Telemachus watched her from a distance, his chest tight with a mixture of frustration and pity. She wasn’t eating. She wasn’t sleeping—not really, anyway. She refused to bathe, her clothes still stained with blood and dirt from the night Antinous had died. She was wasting away right before his eyes, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

At first, he tried to give her space. He told himself it wasn’t his problem, that her grief wasn’t his responsibility. But no matter how much he tried to push it aside, he couldn’t ignore the sight of her, hollow and broken, sitting alone in the cold, empty palace. He hated her brother, hated everything Antinous had done to his family. But seeing her like this—seeing someone so completely lost—made it impossible for him to walk away. So he started trying, in the awkward, clumsy way of someone who wasn’t sure how to help.

“Y/N,” he said one morning, crouching down in front of her where she sat slumped against the wall. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She didn’t even blink at the sound of his voice.

Telemachus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You need to eat something,” he said, his tone firmer this time. He held out a piece of bread he’d brought from the kitchen, its edges still warm from the oven. “You haven’t eaten in days.” She didn’t respond, her eyes unfocused and distant. It was as if she didn’t even hear him.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice sharper now. He pushed the bread closer to her, his patience wearing thin. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up.” Her head tilted slightly, and for a moment, Telemachus thought she might actually respond. But then she turned her face away, curling in on herself even more.

“I don’t care,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “Let me waste away. What does it matter?”

Telemachus’s chest tightened at her words, anger and helplessness bubbling up inside him. He wanted to shake her, to snap her out of this spiral, but he knew that wouldn’t help. Instead, he set the bread down beside her and stood, his fists clenching at his sides.

“You might not care,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “But I do. And I’m not going to just stand here and watch you destroy yourself.”

L She didn’t react, her silence cutting deeper than any retort. Telemachus exhaled sharply, shaking his head before walking away. But he didn’t go far—he never went far. He kept checking on her, day after day, his determination growing stronger each time she refused him.

The next day, he brought her a bowl of soup, placing it in front of her with a quiet command: “Eat.”

When she ignored it, he sat down beside her, refusing to leave until she took at least one bite. It took hours, but eventually, she relented, if only to get him to stop pestering her. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

When she refused to bathe, he brought her fresh clothes and a basin of water, leaving them in her corner without a word. She didn’t use them at first, but one night, when she thought no one was looking, he saw her quietly washing her hands, the bloodstains finally disappearing from her skin.

Each small step felt like a battle, but Telemachus refused to give up. He didn’t know why he cared so much—it wasn’t as if she had ever been kind to him. But there was something about the way she looked at the world now, so hollow and defeated, that struck a chord in him. He couldn’t explain it, but he couldn’t let her fade away.

One evening, he found her sitting by a window, staring blankly out at the horizon. The setting sun cast a golden light over her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and the gauntness of her cheeks. She looked like a ghost of herself, and it broke something in him.

“Y/N,” he said softly, sitting down beside her. She didn’t turn to look at him, but he continued anyway. “You’re not alone in this.” Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, her shoulders slumping.

“I know it feels like everything’s gone,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I know you miss him. But you’re still here, Y/N. And that matters.”

She finally turned her head to look at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. For the first time, he saw a flicker of something in her gaze—something that wasn’t entirely hopeless.

“Why do you care?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

Telemachus hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I know what it’s like to lose someone,” he said finally. “And because… because I don’t want to see you lose yourself too.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “I don’t know how to move on,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” Telemachus said. “But you have to try. One step at a time. And I’ll be here, if you need me.”

For a long moment, she didn’t respond. But then, slowly, she nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

@selena-of-ithaca since you asked for a similar thing

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic telemachus #telemachus #telemachus x reader #aphrodites gamble

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r-memberme · 3 months ago

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i could have you | k.m

⎯⎯“I could have you,” he murmured, his voice like silk, smooth and slow and dangerous. “If I wanted.”

warnings: sexy klaus

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire. Shadows danced across the walls, stretching long and golden, wrapping the space in a warmth that did nothing to ease the tension thick in the air.

She was standing near the fireplace, her back to him, though she knew he was watching. She could feel it, the weight of his gaze pressing into her spine, searing its way into her skin.

Klaus was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips—lazy, knowing. Dangerous.

“You should stop looking at me like that,” she murmured, not turning.

He hummed, low and amused. “Like what, love?”

She exhaled, slow and measured. “Like you own me.”

There was a pause. A deliberate silence. And then, he stepped forward, slow, measured, boots tapping lightly against the wooden floor.

“Perhaps,” he said, voice a smooth drawl, “that’s because I do.”

She turned then, finally, and met his gaze. His eyes were sharp, filled with something molten, something that set every nerve in her body alight.

“You don’t.” The words came out stronger than she expected, but he only grinned.

“Oh, but I could,” Klaus murmured, taking another step closer. “You know it as well as I do.”

Her breath caught. Not in fear. Never in fear. But in something else entirely.

Possession. Hunger. The way his presence filled the room, as though he had claimed the very air itself.

Klaus tilted his head, studying her, gaze flickering over her face, down to her parted lips. “Tell me,” he murmured, stepping even closer, until the space between them was nothing more than a whisper. “Do you ever think about it?”

Her throat went dry. “About what?”

His smirk widened. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“About what it would be like,” he said softly, “if you gave in.”

She swallowed hard. “Klaus—”

“I could have you,” he murmured, his voice like silk, smooth and slow and dangerous. “If I wanted.”

She let out a shaky breath, pulse thrumming against her ribs. “You sound so sure of yourself.”

He reached up then, fingers brushing along her jaw, featherlight. Not enough. Never enough.

“I am,” he said, voice nothing more than a whisper. “Aren’t you?”

Her heart stuttered.

And that was the problem. Because she was.

But she wouldn’t let him know that.

She forced a smirk, tilting her chin up, the sharp glint of defiance flashing in her eyes. “That’s assuming I’d let you.”

Klaus exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head as if she were saying something ridiculous. Maybe she was.

“Let me?” He echoed, his fingers ghosting down her arm, slow, agonizing. “Sweetheart, the real question is, how long are you going to keep pretending you don’t want to?”

She clenched her jaw. “You think I want you?”

He smiled then, all sharp teeth and amusement, as if the answer was so obvious it was amusing. “I think you crave me,” he corrected, leaning in, his breath warm against her skin. “I think it drives you mad.”

Her pulse betrayed her, a violent rhythm against her ribs. “And what if it does?”

For a moment, Klaus only watched her. Studied her like he was memorizing the way she looked under the firelight, the way her lips parted, the way her chest rose and fell.

Then, in a voice so quiet she almost missed it, he said, “Then you should stop running.”

She inhaled sharply, but he was already stepping back, already leaving her with the weight of those words pressing against her skin.

A challenge. A truth. A promise.

Because the thing about Klaus Mikaelson was, when he wanted something—he always got it.

I listened to "Like I Would" by Zayn while writing this. I definitely recommend listening to it while you read it. 😮‍💨

#klaus mikaelson #tvd fanfiction #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson fanfiction #the vampire diaries

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0angel-tears0 · 2 months ago

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Fight me

Inspired by @ellswritings part 1: Fight me , if you haven’t read that already go have a look!!!

Warnings - suggestive content and swearing. Minors DNI!!!

Its not very long i cba to count. Other than that enjoy lads :)

————————

Y/N doesn’t even have time to argue before he’s kissing her. It’s rough, heated, and everything it shouldn’t be. She doesn’t think—just reacts, grabbing his hoodie and yanking him closer. Cody groans against her lips, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him. It’s desperate, like he’s trying to prove a point, like he’s trying to shut her up in the only way he knows how.

She pushes against him, shoving him backward until his back hits the nearest wall. The trailer is small, barely enough space for them to stand without knocking into something, but she doesn’t care.

“You son of a bitch,” she breathes between kisses, nails digging into his arms. “You started it,” Cody mutters, voice gravelly as he trails his lips down her jaw, nipping at her pulse. Y/N shudders, hating the way her body reacts, hating the way his hands feel so damn good on her skin. She should stop this. She should push him away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she fists her hands in his hoodie and yanks it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind them. Cody grins against her mouth, clearly pleased with himself. Cocky bastard. She kisses him harder just to wipe that smug look off his face, biting down on his bottom lip until he groans. His fingers tighten at her hips, thumbs slipping just beneath the waistband of her sweats, teasing, testing.

And then, just as quickly as it started—

A knock at the door.

Y/N freezes. Cody’s breathing is heavy, his forehead pressed to hers. Another knock.

“Yo, Y/N, you alive in there? We’re heading out soon!” Kevin’s voice carries through the door, casual and unsuspecting.

Y/N shoves Cody away so fast he nearly stumbles. He glares at her, wiping his thumb across his swollen bottom lip.

She smooths down her hair turning away from Cody, ignoring the way her skin still burns. “Yeah, Kev! Be out in a sec!”

Silence. Then Kevin mutters something to someone outside before his footsteps retreat.

Y/N exhales sharply, running a hand over her face. When she looks at Cody, his eyes are still locked on her, unreadable.

Y/N glares back, feeling like she's under scrutiny. “Cody—”

Cody’s chest rises and falls, as he remains silent his lips curling in that infuriating smirk that makes her want to slap him—or maybe kiss him again. She hasn’t decided yet.

Her nails dig into her palms, he’s mocking her. “You can’t just storm in here, pick a fight, and then—” she waves a hand between them, “—do that.

Cody chuckles at her naivety “Funny, because you kissed me back.”

“Momentary lapse in judgment.”

Cody huffs a laugh, stepping closer again. “Yeah? Then why haven’t you kicked me out yet?

Y/N opens her mouth, then closes it. Because she should kick him out. She should tell him to take his smug ass somewhere else and never step foot in her trailer again.

But she doesn’t.

And judging by the way Cody’s eyes flicker down to her lips again, he knows it too.

“Say the word, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice lower now, like he’s testing her.

“Tell me to leave, and I’ll go.”

The problem is, she doesn’t want him to. It’s infuriating, really. For months, she’s told herself she couldn’t stand Cody Rhodes. That he was nothing more than an egotistical pain in her ass so why is she still standing here, staring at him like she’s seconds away from making another bad decision?

Cody watches her carefully, like he’s waiting for her to figure it out herself. When she doesn’t answer, he exhales sharply, raking a hand through his already-messy hair.

“This is a bad idea,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” she agrees, all to quick, heartbeat thudding against her ribs.

Neither of them move.

Seconds stretch between them, thick with something unspoken, something dangerously close to admission And then Cody does the stupidest thing he could possibly do, his eyes flicking to the door like he’s forcing himself to come to his senses. Y/N hates the way her stomach drops. “I should go,” he says, voice gruff.

She swallows hard. “Yeah.”

But she doesn’t step aside. Cody clenches his jaw, fingers flexing at his sides. He looks at her like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her, like he’s debating something in his head that he doesn’t want to say out loud and then, just when she thinks he’s going to turn and leave— He reaches out.

It’s not a kiss this time. Not quite. His fingers graze her jaw, thumb brushing over her cheek in a way that makes her breath hitch. It’s softer than anything they’ve ever exchanged before, gentler than any of their biting words or sharp jabs.

For once, there’s no audience. No cameras. No need to perform.

It’s just them.

Y/N leans into his touch for half a second too long before she catches herself. This is dangerous. Cody seems to realize it too. He lets out a breath, dropping his hand like it physically pains him to pull away. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmurs, voice softer now. She doesn’t respond. She just watches as he turns and walks out.

Y/N barely sleeps that night, next to Cody's Hoodie. Every time she closes her eyes, she feels Cody’s hands on her waist, his scent infatuating her, his lips against hers, the way he looked at her before he left—like he wanted to stay. Like he wanted her to stop him she should’ve stopped this before it started. But now? Now it’s all she can think about, she needs to do something, she can’t live like this.

She needs to talk to Cody

——————————

A/N cheers for the read! I have more parts but it is pure filth let me know if that’s something you naughties wanna see ;)

#wwe raw #wwe #wwe smackdown #cody rhodes #kevin owens #i want him #iwanthimrealbad #lovers #enemies to lovers #x reader #cody rhodes x reader

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goblinontour · 1 month ago

Text

Twilight

to climb back up from my oblivion

warnings: 1st person pov, talks of pregnancy, miscarriage, feelings, and sex.

word count: 7k

It is the last day of winter.

The sun should have shown itself by now, should have crept back into the creases of the earth and returned his freckles stolen by the cold, made us blush under its rays. But the sky remains bolted shut and there’s nothing on his face other than the purple that now seems embedded under his eyes. Shadows where warmth used to be. I bet mine looks just the same — though I still refuse to look in the mirror. I don’t need the confirmation. I know what I’d see: a face that doesn’t belong to me anymore, a stranger carved from sleepless nights and something nameless.

For two months now, I’ve been paralysed with fear. I think I am living a nightmare, a dystopia. A world where things are just a little off-kilter, where reason slides just out of reach. I read, I listen, I try to understand the impossible. I try to untangle the logic of things that seemed reasonable before, but which oneself can no longer reach with feasible arguments. It’s like running my hands along a wall looking for a door that isn’t there. And all around me, people keep pretending. Pretending to be going about their lives, pretending all is business as usual, pretending they don’t hear the static growing louder.

I keep looking out to winter trees, bare and brittle, skeletal in their stillness. And he…he is seeking achievements one after the other, as though that will fill the space. As though stacking accomplishments brick by brick will build something strong enough to hold him up. But I see what he’s doing. He’s turning off the soul — too much transparency bothers, you see. Too much honesty, too much feeling, and it would all come apart. So he moves forward, while I remain here, watching the trees, feeling the wind hollow me out.

There’s a lot of negative emotion I am feeling.

But that word — negative — doesn’t quite capture it. It’s not just sadness or simple dread. It’s something continually sprawling and seeping into everything. I keep wondering how this collective psychosis is possible? How the world can split in two, between those who see it and those who refuse to? And him. How can he believe that ignorance is the one thing that embodies the solution to all worries, problems, anxieties, and fears that your absence caused? He wants to un-know what has already carved itself into the marrow of things. He wants to believe he can choose not to feel it. And maybe he can. Maybe he’s learned something I haven’t.

I feel like a cat looking at a calendar, staring at the little squares marked with days and not understanding the meaning of them. Time is streaming, spilling, slipping, and I don’t know how to be or what to do in the remaining time I have to urge for myself. To claw something back before it’s too late.

I wish I could say it directly.

But ultimately, I believe that in these circumstances, it is the only choice — to keep it buried, to play along. So that we can continue in the paradigm of the perfect reality and not in the nightmare of despair we’ve been given. Because to accept it, to speak it out loud, would be to let it consume us whole.

I didn’t realise until now that souls could have a patina.

Perhaps it’s that thing where you get wiser with age and experience, and so maybe your soul develops a patina over time. A thin film of time and sorrow, a dulling of the once-bright edges. It’s kind of a beautiful idea, in theory, to think of the soul as having a patina. It sounds very poetic. But I just wish it would have come to me in a different way, a more pleasant way. Not like this. Not when I had to come to terms with the fact that I’m dealing with sleepless nights not over someone else’s crying, which should have been yours, but my own.

There’s a kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix.

You have no way to know, but it’s the kind that settles in your bones when your days are filled with things that don’t move you, but they settle, deep and slow, like water sinking into wood until it ultimately starts to rot. It’s the kind that lingers in the hollow of your throat and makes you choke on nothing. It’s not the tiredness that comes from doing too much, but from doing too little of what makes you feel alive. And the worst part is that I don’t even know what that is anymore. I try to go through the motions like before. Ticking off everything on my to-do list, fulfilling obligations, pretending the structure is enough. But something essential is missing. And maybe it’s not that I need more rest, but that I need more of myself in my own life — more of the things that once made time disappear, made my heart race in my chest so hard I thought it might burst out, those that remind me why any of this matters in the first place. But I can’t find the thread to pull myself back. I said a time “before”, before you that was, but now I realise there’s no before, for there’s no after.

There is only this.

It is not a metaphor I’m trying to make out of this ache. It is not something that can be translated into prettier language, not something that can be softened. It is simply what it is. It hurts in a way I’ve never known before. No animal could be as cruel as a man. No man could be as cruel as God. No God should have ever taken you away from me.

It’s as though the world wants to calcify me.

To make me hard, to make me unfeeling, to coat me in layers until nothing raw is left. But I don’t want to be unfeeling. I don’t want to be numb. I just don’t know how else to survive…

What have I done?

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold.

When it is summer in the light and winter in the shade, and you don’t know which season you belong to, caught between the thaw and the lingering frost. The first days of spring in the non-astronomical season, in that strange liminal space where the earth is undecided, as if hesitating to commit fully to warmth.

It felt childish, but early in the morning, I asked Alex for a willow tree in our garden, which I know is too small for one — the roots would surely outgrow the space, the branches would brush against the house, probably the neighbours’ too. Much too wild, too untamed for something so contained as the space we live in. But I wanted it anyway. I wanted something that would sway with the wind, that would bend but not break. Something that I could watch bloom despite it all…He said he would do it when he wasn’t so afraid of letting something he planted grow again.

It broke my heart, the little of it that was left still holding itself together.

We cried together in bed for a while after that, though I think we had stopped crying for you. It was starting to feel like we were crying only for ourselves, for the versions of us that had existed before this grief you hollowed out of us. For who we had been before loss turned us into something else. And maybe that was the most unbearable part of it all — not just losing you, but losing ourselves in the process.

Since then, I only cry alone in my own selfishness. I do not let him see it. I keep my grief contained with my fists tightly held, which I refuse to unclench.

But I know he cries too. I hear it sometimes, even through the shut door of the bathroom, even through the thick silence we pretend is nothing. The muffled gasps, the sharp intakes of breath. The way he presses a towel to his mouth to keep it all inside. As if sound alone is what makes it real. It seems acknowledging you would break him entirely.

I feel sick looking at him.

Not because I do not love him, but because I do, I love him. I love him so much that it is unbearable to witness his suffering and be powerless against it. Because I know what it feels like to sit with grief alone, to let it consume you piece by piece in the dark, and I can’t stand the thought of him feeling that same emptiness.

I just want to touch all his loneliness and suck it out of his body, just for one night, at least. I want to hold it inside me, let it settle in my lungs, let him breathe freely for a little while. I want to fill myself with all of his sorrow, let it flood through me, and then press my mouth to his and give it all back. Let him drink it from me and know who he is by seeing it reflected in my eyes.

I love him.

And I think I love him enough to try and hold both of us together through the pain.

I’ve never loved anyone like this, and I never thought there would be anything that could eclipse it. We weren’t ready to love someone more than we loved each other. But we did. We loved you more. That love, when it is that enormous, does not simply disappear. It does not simply dissolve into nothingness like you seemingly did. It lingers with nowhere to go. He made me love myself once. And maybe all of it together — the way he loved me, the way I loved him — caused this much love for you to spark in such a short time. We only just got to know you.

I don’t love myself anymore.

To be loved is to be known, I know that. But I also know now that love is not always gentle. Love, even in its purest form, can wound.

At night, I often dream of such a time where I got to love you, where I held you properly and you knew me in return. And then I wake, disgusted by the immensity of my own yearning, by the vast, hollow ache that stretches inside me. It makes me sick, this hunger. So I deny it. I tell myself I do not want it. Because to want would mean to recognise the impossibility of it.

I think I’m afraid that if I admit I wanted you, I will have to admit that I won’t, and can never, have you.

And I know — God, I know — that this hunger of mine is not love in its purest form. Not like the love you have shown me. This is something else. It’s possessive, I know. A need to take and take, to grasp at what is left until I am sure my fingertips have memorised every remaining trace of you. Until I have devoured what still lingered and made it part of me, hoarded it like a secret I refuse to let time erode. An act that, in the end, would mean forsaking your existence.

To keep you only as something I consume, something I ache for, something that I refuse to let go of…

Would that mean I never really let you be real at all?

It was summer when we planned you.

The whole city was empty, as if it had been invented just for us. The kind of stillness that only happens when the heat chases everyone indoors, leaving behind only the sound of bugs and the distant hum of traffic and us brave ones. Our footsteps echoed on the warm asphalt, his hand trembled slightly when I touched him — it was subtle, but I knew him too well — I felt it in the way his fingers tightened around mine for a second before loosening again.

The sun was slowly going down, stretching out the day in that lazy, golden way it does in the thick of summer. It put on a real show that afternoon, casting him in gold all over. It made everything feel like it was plucked out of an old film where the colors are richer, the emotions sharper. I could feel Alex’s warmth from a mile’s distance, though the sweat prickling on the inside of his palm and onto mine gave him away regardless. He always ran warm, but that evening, it felt different. Like he was burning from the inside out.

I stopped near an old swing I always saw in the path we walked but never dared to touch before. One of those rusted ones that creaked under the weight of me and of time. I laughed and let my dress slide a little, not for him, not for anyone, but because it felt good to let the air hit my skin, to pretend the world didn’t matter. As if time could stand still. And maybe it did, but only for a moment. It was just me and him, us, and that included you — the thought of you, the unspoken idea of you that had been forming between us long before we had the courage to say it out loud.

When you finally came around, the time to tell your still out-of-the-loop soon-to-be daddy also did. I wasn’t the most inspired, but you were too much to keep hidden any longer.

I told him on a drive back home — I don’t even remember where from. Maybe we had just been aimlessly driving, filling the silence with half-finished conversations and songs hummed under our breaths.

He threw his half-smoked cigarette out the window and didn’t say a word until he saw us safely parked in the mostly vacant parking lot of a nearby restaurant, the closest spot where he could pull over.

“Did I hear you right?”

I nodded, staring at the dashboard, my heart hammering so loudly I swore he could hear it.

He exhaled sharply, dragged a hand through his hair, then turned to look at me like he was memorising my face in real-time.

“Say it again.” he murmured, like he needed to be sure he hadn’t imagined it.

So I did. And the second time, it felt more real.

His face changed. I wish I had a better way to describe it, but that’s the only way I know how to say it — it changed. His whole body, too. Something inside him had just shifted, reorganised itself to make space for something bigger than either of us. It was like his organs rearranged themselves to make room for you spiritually, whereas I was deemed the one to take care of the physicality.

His hands, always so steady, shook as they reached for me. He held my face so delicately it made me feel like I was the sole thing worthy of such a touch. He looked at me like had just given him the entire universe.

“Are you scared?” I asked.

“Terrified.” he admitted, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. And then he did laugh, it just broke him open at the edges and spilled over with something too big to contain. “But God, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

You made him the happiest I’ve ever seen him.

Nowadays, when I drive to nowhere, or when I smoke by the window alone on silent evenings, I still see you, and I still see him, smiling as he was, like a movie running endlessly. A loop of something untouchable, something I’ve since lost.

Sometimes, when the radio plays a song we used to hum absentmindedly in the kitchen, I catch myself looking at the passenger seat, half-expecting to find him there, fingers tapping against his knee, lost in thought, or nervously checking on you in the backseat. I can almost see it, the way he would have glanced back every few seconds, pretending he wasn’t checking as often as he was, pretending he wasn’t entirely consumed by the sight of you. I can even hear him…Alright back there, love? That soft, careful voice of his he would have reserved just for you.

The phantom weight of your presence is so vivid in my imagination that, for a second, I forget the truth. I’m alone. He’s never here. Just the ghost of him, of you, of a life that almost was. And then the song ends, and the silence that follows is deafening.

It’s summer again now.

And I miss you…but I miss him too.

I feel him in the warm light that covers the city, in the empty streets where there’s no one left, in the sunsets that always look like I might see you again if I hold onto that hope. I miss when the world was brighter, when mine and Alex’s affairs were less convoluted, when love was something simple and reckless and ours.

I see the sudden speeding up of cars below, the slowing down of people as the world gives way to heightened sensations, to feeling everything I have not been letting inside. And then, inevitably, the process of becoming desensitised to it all over again. I miss him, but I do not need any part of him in sharing this sacred moment. I do not deserve to, not when I am with you.

Even sitting with just who I have become feels unbearable.

So, I smoke, and I numb myself to my surroundings, looking for a recluse from being myself. The person I am sickens me. I flick the ash onto the windowsill, watch the embers fade, and tell myself I’ll quit tomorrow. But I won’t. Because there are too many things I should have quit by now. This longing, this version of myself that I don’t even recognise anymore…

This grief is part of it too, isn’t it?

It is Friday, late at night in autumn.

Outside it is raining as if someone is trying to wash the city of its sins. It beats down on our windows so harshly that I can’t drown it out no matter how hard I try. The sound is relentless. The wind howls between the buildings, rattling street signs and bending trees, and for a brief second, I think the whole world is grieving with me. The lamplight outside flickers against the puddles, casting reflections that shimmer and distort — nothing stays still, nothing holds its shape. I stare at them for too long, hoping that they will.

It wasn’t too late in the pregnancy when it happened. We barely got to enjoy you before you got taken away from us. That, I’ll never forgive myself for. I keep thinking if I had done something differently — if I had been more careful, if I had paid more attention, if I had just…known — maybe things wouldn’t have turned out like this. Maybe you would still be here, a weight in my arms instead of a distant feeling.

He didn’t take it well, and that made me take it worse than if he did, I think. He shut down, locked himself away in the quiet, unreachable space inside him, and I was left outside, pounding on his door. There was no nursery to go and mourn in. We hadn’t even got around to that yet. There was no crib waiting for a future occupant, no tiny clothes tucked into drawers, no soft lullabies humming through the walls. There was not a body to go and cry over except each other’s…nothing left but him and I and the memory of you, and you were both slipping from me.

I am left with empty hands — that’s the story of my life. The feeling of absence clings to me. I feel envious of everyone around me. I feel envious of the ones who got to have a headstone, a place to go, a physical marker that proves their loss was real. I wish you would have at least given me that. You gave me nothing, and yet, somehow, you took everything.

I think about love and not-love. About how love is supposed to hold, to comfort, to shelter. Alex won’t look at me anymore. I lost my dignity so miserably, and I don’t know how he can pretend that we are always ‘fine’. When everything else isn’t, I just want him to be kind to me again — Please be kind to me. Nobody is to blame, least of all me — I wish he would understand that.

He’s sitting in a corner now, among stacks of books and cigarette smoke, a bottle of whiskey on the floor beside him. The room smells of old paper and burnt tobacco, of rain-soaked fabric and something faintly metallic — that’s probably from the storm. The lamp beside him flickers, the glow catching in the glass of the framed photo we never took down. I don’t look at it. I can’t.

I’ve been staring at the ceiling for a while, going through nearly everything I’ve ever said to him in hopes of finding where I wronged him so badly. I replay every conversation, every glance, every touch that might have led us here. Maybe if I can pinpoint the exact moment it all started slipping, I can drag us back to the surface.

“Want some?”

His voice cuts through the silence. He offers his hand to me, holding the cigarette in such a manner that it almost urges me to put my lips on it. I would do it only to feel his fingertips on my bottom lip. His fingers are stained with nicotine, his nails uneven. He’s been biting them again. His eyes fixate on me, ever so slightly curved at the corners, telling me that this offer is all but a test, and that he doesn’t actually want me to take it. His face betrays his intent — he wants no part in me ruining myself.

For that, I am grateful.

“Everything okay?” I ask from my spot, refusing to play along.

“Yeah, why?”

I look at him, and he understands the anger I’m feeling. I don’t know if he’s being thick on purpose to get a rise out of me or if he truly is so out of touch with reality — more than I ever thought he was.

“Everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He says it like a fact. It’s his script he’s rehearsed so well he almost believes it. The hand holding the cigarette now hangs by his side rather than near his mouth. It’s still burning, consuming its own life with each passing moment. The ash at the tip grows longer, dangerously close to falling onto the carpet. A part of me wants it to catch on fire and burn everything down, starting with me and him, just so we don’t have to figure out the solution to this game we’re forced to take part in, given no instructions and no way to cheat our way through it.

“Okay.”

I don’t think I can hold my breath anymore. I’d have to do it until everything around me fell apart, which the majority already has, but I can’t let this happen. I won’t become immune to his sweet sound of ignorance.

“I’m standing around like an idiot waiting for you.”

I almost yell it at him, but I think it ends up coming out softer than I would have liked. He doesn’t flinch.

“Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Waiting for…what? What do you want me to do?”

“I’m waiting for you to get rid of me, Al-” I shake my head before he can interrupt. “No, no, don’t you look at me like that. I don’t want your pity. God knows what I’ll do, so please, do not…do not look at me like that.”

I hold my head high, face up, storing tears in the back of my eyes.

He looks at me with his own eyes that once made me believe I would matter. The ones that used to look at me like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing. They’ve dulled. Still beautiful — still him — but something has shifted beneath the surface and I am terrified it is irretrievable.

The rain keeps falling. The cigarette smolders in his hand. The physical distance between us that has become too long for comfort is now shorter, but I am still waiting for him, far from an answer.

We kiss, the taste of whiskey and fatigue lingering between us, while his cold hands ghost over my warm skin. I’ve been setting myself on fire for this heat in his absence, hoping the flames will keep me warm, hoping fire will heal my soul. When we break apart, the flame has burnt out.

“If you want to light your cigarette, use the fire in my heart.” I tell him.

He smiles, and it makes me proud. It makes me feel like I still have something left to give. But there’s a thought at the back of my mind — a quiet, creeping fear I can’t shake…

What if it burns out before he gets here, deep inside me?

It’s November 2nd.

You don’t have to know this, but today he made me feel alive.

The room was cold. An inescapable kind of cold that settles in these buildings that are too old to hold warmth properly. The radiator rattled in protest, working though barely giving off any heat. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the kind of cold wool could fight off, or that could be solved by adding another layer. This kind came from the inside out.

I held a stuffed animal to my chest. It wasn’t meant for you, it was my own — mine only. Small and soft, something to press into the empty spaces where nothing else fit. It was old, one ear slightly torn, stuffing uneven from years of being clutched too tightly. I had it when I was a child, had it through every heartbreak, every sleepless night, and now it was here with me, in a bed that had never felt bigger.

At some point, I let it slip from my grasp. Let my fingers move lower, sliding beneath the waistband of my pyjama pants. I could pretend I felt ashamed, that I felt dirty doing it. But I didn’t.

The focus was not to evoke layers of hidden emotion. It wasn’t about longing or sadness or grief. It wasn’t about loss, either. It wasn’t even about wanting him. I’m not going to act like it was anything other than what it was — movement and sensation. A way to fill the time and carve out a moment where I wasn’t haunted by everything I had lost. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel. I just wanted to slip away for a little while, to exist in a space that was mine and mine alone, away from the eternal tragedy that we play in without ever understanding it and away from those nocturnal and demented thoughts that torment me.

I wished to taste the sweet glory of release again.

What you think is more important than what is real. It might not be the healthiest thought, or the fairest, but in moments like this, it brings me peace.

“People always think we look for love at our lowest to distract us. I am convinced we do it because we want someone to look us in the eye, to look our ugly in the eye and still choose us.”

That was what I wanted.

Not to forget. Not to cover up the truths we lived in. I didn’t want to ignore that I was still here, still surviving, even without you. I wanted him to see me as I was — this mess, this wreckage, this person who didn’t know how to hold onto anything anymore. I wanted him to see himself. I wanted him to see me and still believe I was something worth loving.

I wanted him to tell me that he loved me, even after how I had failed you both.

I didn’t stop touching myself when I noticed him standing in the doorway. I didn’t pull away or adjust my clothing or pretend like I wasn’t doing exactly what I was doing. I didn’t even flinch.

He was watching, not in judgment or disgust.

And so I continued as he stepped closer. So close now that there was no more debating what was happening, that I was fingering myself and crying. I didn’t even stop when he was near enough that I could feel his breath, see the way his hands flexed at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should. Not when he knelt beside the bed, either, when he kissed my thigh, lifting the blanket slowly with just the lightest touch of his fingers. I had my knees up in the air, bent at the caps, arching my back a bit as Alex climbed next to me.

The mattress shifted under his weight taking its occupancy as he moved up the bed. He kissed me on the lips, softly, his taste warm and familiar. He covered my mouth with his palm, quieting my sighs, and replaced my fingers with his own between my thighs. I hadn’t felt his touch in so long, I had almost forgotten what it was like. He spread me apart, and though I was still empty — he kept his fingers only on the outskirts of me — I came close to feeling whole again.

He unbuttoned his jeans, hastily, fumbling. Then he stopped. Rolled over onto his back beside me, one arm draped across his face as if shielding himself from something too bright and painful in the darkness. I turned toward him, reaching down before he could take himself out in his own eagerness, guiding his hand away so that I could be the one to touch him instead, to play with him just as he played with my softest parts. I put my hand down his jeans and talked to him in the way only I could.

There was a streetlamp just outside the window, its light cutting through the slats of the blinds, casting striped shadows across his form. His eyes were darker in this lighting, his lashes flickering as he watched me, his mouth parting slightly every time I moved my hand. I could hear the distant hum of the occasional car speeding down the street, tires splashing through puddles.

The world outside was still moving. Indifferent and unchanged.

But inside this room, time had slowed.

He took his rightful place above me, pushing me so hard in the process that I nearly rolled off the bed. He was there to catch me.

He almost said something to me. He looked straight at me, his lips parted, his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, I thought he might speak. His top lip quivered. He changed his mind and started undressing me. Whatever words he had, he swallowed them down, chose instead to press his mouth to my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. Maybe he knew that words wouldn’t rewrite the past, wouldn’t undo what had already been done and they would change nothing when he had his body there, speaking to me so tenderly.

The stress that kept us awake all day and all night was dissipating. Maybe it helped to know that we’re all, both of us, we’re all feeling it. That it’s okay to be afraid and we don’t have to be strong.

We don’t have to serve as role models.

We didn’t lay down expectations or reshape our mindsets to redefine what was acceptable, didn’t brace for impact in this big approach. We just let it happen, let ourselves fall into each other like we always had.

I slid across the sheets, curling up into myself, and Alex followed. He took me from behind, his forehead resting against my spine, his hand smoothing over the small of my back and lower onto my bare body, tracing over the dimples his fingers had pressed and carved into my skin so many times before.

We had sex with one another for the very first time — not as the people we used to be, but as the people we had become in the aftermath of everything, these new versions of ourselves we had yet to discover.

It was so overwhelming.

Not just for me, but for him, too.

I felt the moment it hit him, the exact second everything he had built inside of himself collapsed. He grabbed onto the blanket and pulled it over us like a shield, muffling the sounds that broke free from his throat. He started crying. And when he did, I felt something shatter in my chest. I knew then that he might leave again. That he would get up in the morning, sit on the edge of the bed, run a hand through his hair, and tell me that maybe, in another life, in another city, in another room, things could have been different and we would have had a different fate.

But we didn’t have another life, we would never have another chance, just this one, and we got it wrong, but that didn’t mean we had to quit trying to make it right. Or, at the very least, make it bearable in its current state.

He’s the only one who matches my sweetness, who feels emotions so deeply they tear him apart from the inside out. I sank my teeth into his skin, and he listened when I whispered in his ear.

“Please bite me in return.”

I spoke to him in code, but not only. I wanted him to bruise me. I wanted him to say: Let’s sabotage each other, let’s pretend we don’t know each other, and then let’s kiss.

“I missed your pretty mouth so much.” he told me.

He moved himself inside of me, and through that shifted the very foundation of who I was. It felt as though our hearts had fucked our brains, untangling every thought, until we were nothing but raw feeling, instinct, and need. There was no logic left between us, no fear, no past or future — only this. The warmth of his breath against my neck, the weight of him pressing into me, the unspoken language of skin on skin, heart to heart.

It was the most genuine and honest act that had ever taken place between us. The last barricades we’d built to keep ourselves from feeling too much had dissolved in the heat of our bodies. We surrendered — not just to each other but to everything we had been running from. And I think that’s when you know it’s real. When reason drowns in the flood of unfiltered emotion, when desire stops being something you perform and becomes something that simply overtakes you, consumes you, makes you its own.

We kissed sloppily and fucked lazily, moving slowly. We had all the time in the world. We weren’t just trying to claw our way back to something that had once been whole anymore. His hands, rough and familiar, mapped me out, relearning the territory he’d been forced to forget. Our moans tore through the air, shamelessly, mingling with the occasional quiet sobs we were too far gone to suppress.

At one point, he pulled back just enough to look at me. His lips were swollen, his eyes dark with something that was more than just lust. “You still feel like home.” he murmured, almost like he didn’t want me to hear it.

I swallowed hard, threading my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “Then don’t leave.”

His breath hitched slightly. “I never wanted to.”

He kissed me again, harder this time, to swallow the space between us and make up for every second we had spent apart, every moment wasted on silence and avoidance.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, until we were no longer just touching but fully entwined. Tears clung to our cheeks, and I wasn’t sure anymore if we were crying from everything else or just from the overwhelming relief of this moment, of still having this, of still knowing each other in this way. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, and I ran my fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

“You’re shaking.” I whispered.

He let out a short, breathy laugh against my skin. “So are you.”

I wanted to hold him there, to keep him stuck to me forever in this way, to stop time from moving forward, because for the first time in so long, we weren’t ghosts in our own lives.

For the first time in so long, we were real.

I didn’t understand him for a while. But now I know that to love in silence does not become reprimanding. The way I feel about him is beyond words and I understand his need for silence. In a manner of speaking, semantics will just never be enough. Not for this. Not for us. Not for the things we have lost. There comes a point when words just won’t do for human beings, for our inherent yearning and need, what only a crescendo can. A pinnacle. A peak. A release so raw that you have to beg the ones above.

The ones that tell me nothing, the ones that tell me everything…

Oh, why won’t you give me the words?

It’s been a year.

I didn’t want to be here for another winter. It was too much you and none at all.

I suggested to Alex that we run off to the countryside. It seemed like a good idea to get out of this place, to slip away before the first snowfall could remind me of what we lost. There were no bags packed, no plans made — we set off with just one extra set of clothes stuffed into the backseat and no set destination in mind, only the silent, mutual agreement that we would let the road decide where we belonged.

Alex drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting between us, fingers occasionally grazing my thigh, making sure I was still there and letting me know that he was too. He put on the soundtrack of some Wes Anderson film and let it play, its whimsical, melancholic strings filling the car in place of words we weren’t ready to say. I let myself sink into the passenger seat in the quiet, lulled by the soft hum of Ennio Morricone drifting from the speakers, by the low vibration of the wheels rattling beneath me, carrying us somewhere — anywhere.

I must have fallen asleep.

When I wake, the sky outside is thick with gold, clouds gathered around the sun like whites cradling a yolk. Eggy. It strikes me as unusual. It’s an odd thing to see in winter, when the evenings are usually a wash of pale pinks and deep blues, cold and distant. There hasn’t been snow this year either, and I wonder if the world feels as upside down as I do.

The music is gone, I realise. In place of it I hear Alex humming softly, a sound so familiar and low that it feels like a memory playing on repeat. When I turn to look at him, I notice it instantly — the skin beneath his eyes is raw and there are dried tracks of old tears have settled into his cheeks. He’s cried in his time spent alone behind the wheel.

He notices me staring and wipes at his face, exhaling like he’s annoyed at himself. “I’m not sad.” he says. He really needs me to believe it.

I don’t say anything. I just watch him.

“I cried because…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, measuring their weight before handing them to me. “Because I have the privilege of watching someone I love very much, even in sleep, and knowing I’ll get to talk to them again.”

There are a million things I could say, but none of them would be enough, none of them would fit into the space that his words have carved between us. And before I can try, before I can even begin to think of how to hold all of this, the immensity of what he’s just said, his hand is on my cheek, warm and steady. The tactile sensation of it all overtakes me.

“I was here first.” he declares.

And you…you are the ubiquitous pest.

Love can’t be created or destroyed — we’ve established that already. It lingers, even when it’s unwanted, even when it curdles into something unbearable. It stays until it evokes fear and it tears you apart, until you’re left with nothing but the pieces of what it used to be.

You want me to love you still, but I can’t. I’ll soon catch the rot of you deep inside me that I’ve been too scared to face. Someone has to leave, and I won’t let that be us. I will love you forever, but I can’t. I can’t. I can’t — I won’t — I’m afraid I’ll catch your disease.

A few months. That’s all it was.

And yet — sometimes, just sometimes — I wish it would hurt for you too. At least a little. Just enough to make it fair. Just enough so I wouldn’t have to carry all of this alone. But now, it’s all I can do to push you away, to shove you off so I can live knowing that, for once, I saved someone. Even if it couldn’t be you.

I saved me.

I saved him.

I saved us.

I look out to the sun waving at us as it veils itself behind the clouds, casting long shadows over the quiet stretch of road ahead. I watch it disappear, a slow, deliberate exit, and I think—

How lucky we are to have known someone that makes saying goodbye so hard.

a/n: Inspired by this request. This is definitely influenced by a lot of what I’ve been reading and seeing recently. I reference ‘God’ and concepts related to that quite a bit, I’ve noticed, it’s something that’s present here as well, and though I’m not at all religious I find it to be an interesting subject when it comes up in fictional situations. I mentioned the other day that I wrote a sentence I really liked, it’s the one at the end of the paragraph about the willow tree. I don’t have much else to add here :)

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x oc #alex turner fluff #alex turner angst #alex turner smut #goblinontour

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ellieinink · 2 months ago

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Code Blue, Heart Stolen

Baek Kang-hyuk x Reader

Genre: Slow Burn, Humor, Medical Drama, Fluff, Light Angst, Social Media AU

Warnings: Medical emergencies, hospital setting, occasional strong language

Synopsis: You’re a trauma center resident trying to survive under the infamous Baek Kang-hyuk. Between chaotic ER shifts, teasing coworkers, and life-or-death situations, you never expected your biggest challenge would be dealing with Kang-hyuk himself. As rumors spread and tension builds, one question remains—are you just another one of his underlings, or is there something more?

Chapter 25: The Walls Are Closing In

Location: The Rooftop, Again

Your entire world was on fire.

Not literally, but at this point, you would prefer actual flames over the burning embarrassment crawling up your neck.

Kang-hyuk was still standing too close, like he was daring you to bolt again. His stupidly warm hands were still in his coat pockets, his head tilted ever so slightly, smirking like he knew every thought running through your head.

Because, to be fair… he probably did.

“You’re staring again,” he said.

Your soul left your body.

“No, I’m not.”

His smirk deepened. “You are.”

“I’M NOT.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

You swore the earth tilted on its axis.

Location: Rooftop (For the Nth Time)

Your fingers slammed your phone screen shut, heart pounding like you had just run a marathon.

Kang-hyuk chuckled. “What’s wrong? You don’t like the truth?”

You whirled on him. “What truth? There is no truth.”

He stepped closer.

You stepped back.

“I think there is,” he mused. “And I think you hate that I know it.”

Your back hit the rooftop railing.

Oh.

Oh no.

His hand came up, resting lightly on the railing beside you, effortlessly caging you in. Not forceful, not aggressive—just enough to make you realize there was nowhere to go.

You swallowed. “You’re… getting in my space.”

Kang-hyuk smiled, all slow and lazy. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t move away.

“Then why aren’t you stopping me?”

The world stopped turning.

Your throat closed. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palm like it would somehow keep you grounded.

Kang-hyuk tilted his head, watching you with far too much amusement. “Nothing to say?”

Oh, you had plenty to say.

But you were too busy short-circuiting.

Location: Rooftop (When Are They Gonna Leave?)

Your fingers froze over your phone.

Kang-hyuk’s words settled in the air between you, weighted but not suffocating. Not yet, anyway.

You could still feel the warmth of his body, the press of his arm against the railing beside you. His gaze was steady, sharp yet unreadable, like he was waiting for you to finally figure something out.

The problem? You already had.

You just didn’t want to say it.

Kang-hyuk hummed, tilting his head. “Are you going to run again?”

You huffed, feigning exasperation. “I don’t run.”

“You do,” he countered, lips twitching. “You just do it with words instead of your feet.”

Your eye twitched.

His smirk deepened. “See? I know you, Y/N.”

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

He did know you.

Maybe better than you knew yourself.

Location: The Rooftop (Still????)

You inhaled sharply, searching for some kind of escape, some kind of deflection, but—

There was none.

Kang-hyuk wasn’t letting you go.

Not physically—his stance was still relaxed, unrushed. But in every other way, he had you trapped.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t mind that.

You swallowed. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I am.” His smirk was infuriatingly smug. “But I’m also serious.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Just say it,” he continued, voice dropping an octave. “Say what we both already know.”

Your mouth went dry.

The world around you blurred—the rooftop, the city skyline, the distant sounds of sirens below.

It was just him.

Just you and him.

And you knew—if you didn’t say it now, if you let this moment slip—he wouldn’t bring it up again.

Not because he’d given up, but because he’d wait.

Because Kang-hyuk was patient.

Because he’d wait until you were ready.

… But weren’t you already?

Your fingers curled around the fabric of your coat, breath shuddering.

Then, finally—

“I like you.”

His smirk vanished.

For the first time, Kang-hyuk actually looked caught off guard. His eyes widened just slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to actually say it.

The thought made you bolder.

“I like you,” you repeated, firmer this time, watching the way his jaw tensed. “I have for a while.”

Silence.

Heavy, charged silence.

Then—

He moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before you could react, Kang-hyuk’s hand cupped your jaw, his fingers sliding into your hair as he tilted your face up—

And then he was kissing you.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

HII I’M SO SORRY TO HAVE KEPT YOU GUYS WAITING FOR SO LONG😭😭 ANYWAY, I AM TOTALLY BACK!! So, here’s a long awaited update!!

taglist: @missroro @study-with-reine234 @redhoodedtoad @ryujinxzyy @ipadkidsworld ,, @luckycecille

#baek kang hyuk #baek kang hyuk x reader #baek kang hyuk x you #ju ji hoon #ju ji-hoon #ju jihoon #ju jihoon x reader #kdrama #trauma code: heroes on call #baek kang-hyuk x reader #baek kang hyuk smau #baek kang-hyuk #baek kang-hyuk smau

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luna0713hunter · 1 year ago

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Kiss me where it hurts the most

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : sometimes,things happen and hearts break. Sometimes,everyone need a good cry. But maybe hiding away and crying alone,away from your boyfriend wasnt a good idea.

Warnings : none,just hurt/comfort,reader is having a hard time,break downs and panic attacks,soft zoro,fluff

For anyone who's having a rough time :) hope u get well soon

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Leaning against the wooden wall of the storage room,you calmly sit down and try to make yourself as comfortable as you possibly can in the small space behind the stored boxes. You try to be as quiet as possible;not wanting to make any noise and wake someone up.

You didnt want to be found just yet.

You knew what you were doing wasnt actually wrong;after all,its only human nature wanting to hide away and have a little alone time. But for some reason,you felt guilty. Guilty for running away from your friends' help,and your boyfriend's concerned gaze.

It was too much.

Your life wasnt all sunshine and flowers,thats why you chose to join the StrawHats and sail away; hoping that maybe becoming a pirate,may solve your problems. But boy,you were wrong.

Problems seem to sail with you as well. And no matter how hard you tried to bottle everything up,at some point,it was bound to break,and break you as well. So when everything became too much,you skipped dinner,told your boyfriend that you're tired and instead of resting,you found a secret spot in the storage room to calm down.

And when the first tear rolled down your cheek,you knew you were screwed;once your tears start, there's no stopping them.

You hands tightly press against your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to muffle your cries. Everything feels so heavy. Too fucking much. You have no idea what finally triggered your breaking,but whatever it was,it fucked you up good.

You lower your head and rest your forehead against your knees;since when life became so complicated? sure,ever since you remembered,you understood way too much,more than your age. You were always the kid trying to make everyone feel better,helping them and be a shoulder they could lean or cry on. But ironically,no one ever did the same for you.

So when your own boyfriend,Zoro,tried to make you talk,of course you shut him out;not understanding why he would waste his time listening to your nonsense. You were fine,maybe feeling a bit down and suffocating,but you were fine.

You wouldn't want Zoro to leave you after all with your problems-

Zoro would only hate you-

Who we would want someone with so many baggage after all?

Trying desperately to shut up the voices in your head,you wrap your arms around your head to cover your ears;so when a pair of rushes footsteps hurry toward you,of course you dont hear.

You jerk shakily,your eyes snapping open when a pair of hands settle on your shoulder and squeeze with a small amount of pressure;trying to ground you and make you look at him.

Him

Your lips wobble as your eyes lock with Zoro's;and with a sudden rush of panic,you try to push him away.

He doesn't move.

"Y/n," his voice is thick, heavier than always, " whats wrong?"

When you dont answer and choose to bite your lips until they almost bleed,with a sudden move, he's pulling you to his chest

"babe,tell me what the fuck is wrong. I swear I'll fix it."

And thank god your face is buried in Zoro's chest;because as soon as those words leave his mouth, you're breaking down again.

Your sobs are loud and heartbreaking to anyone listening,and you feel Zoro's arms squeezing you tighter. You wrap your own arms around his back,and burry your face more in his shirt;taking in his soothing scent.

Zoro always smelled liked rain,apples and freshly cutted grass.

"baby girl," his voice is soft as he rubs up and down your back;one hand combing through your hair, "dont cry. Tell me whats wrong. Who hurt you? I'll kill them myself."

"just," your throat feels hoarse after crying so much,but you manage to get out few words, "stay. Dont go."

And Zoro never denies you anything.

So you just sit there. Half in Zoro's lap,with your arms wrapped around his neck,and your face buried in his neck. His hands never once stop rubbing your back,and for someone not a fan of talking,he never stops his sweet words and gentle praises.

For you,Zoro is always a different man.

After a long time,when you're finally calmed down and tired from all the crying,Zoro leans his back against the wooden wall and pulls you completely in his lap to cradle you against his chest. Your eyes are heavy when you look up at him

"sleepy?"

And after a nod from you, your eyes fall shut when his presses his lips to your forehead.

"then sleep. We can talk when you're awake."

With another nod,you close your eyes and fall asleep. And strangely,you dont dream of anything.

#one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader

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youaremy-parkfilter · 2 months ago

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Y'all always make fun of trashkookers and say their ship has sunk... until Taehyung posts some shit deliberately to revive them🤣 (call me an anti if you'd like, but deep down we ALL know it's true). I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you lot.

Hi anon

"until taehyung posts some shit deliberately to revive them" yes, that's the point which I decided to respond to this anon.i get a lot of asks but mainly are from 🗑️🧑‍🍳 so I ignore.

Everyone knows what you said is ABSOLUTELY right. Yes everyone, their mom and servants know what you said is right. He posts dumb namedrop jungkook. And WE all have seen it absolutely when. When paris *cough* *cough* oh the weather is so cold here, i can't say anything 🫣. Yes used many more times! Lets rewind ⏪ and say he dumbed the "so pretty i could die" thing during AYS promotion era out of nowhere lol. Like anon said, he feed that cult a lot! They watch, they monitor and they knows what their audience need. And sadly majority of the fandom being 🗑️🧑‍🍳 s, its easy too ! :(

If you are asking me to believe the "proof" these trashes got, sorry I can't. I'm a human I won't be able to survive in a titanic under sea.

This is how I feel it being in titanic!!

Like !? You stan , you claim them to be your fan, you claim that you'd die for BUT ! BUT you can't even recognise his voice 🙄 you can't even recognise their face in 4k

I'm just a human who use eyes to see things and brain to think not the opposite or other ways like 🗑️🧑‍🍳 do ! I'm sorry i have no ability to see the christmas trees as jungkook , wall paints as jungkook 😔🥺 i wish i was this shameless and useless one!

"Deep down we ALL know its true"

Who is this ALL anon? 😅 Feeding and deliberately posting shits are different my dear anon. I have never seen such a move from the side of Mr.Jeon. someone please tell him that he is also a part of this >.< Come on bro, debunk the shits that we are saying!!

Ha!!

So anon you tell me how we cannot be cocky when theories get debunk before its made up

Oops !

I have no problem with taehyung and jungkook, which are my babies. But I do have problem with 🗑️🧑‍🍳 for being the most ridiculous trashes in this world.

👆 the moment jungkook joined conversation, 🗑️🧑‍🍳 lost it ! You can't imagine my happiness when this happened right infront of my eyes ! They still believe that jikook don't see each other and were together only for '5 weeks' lol, idk from where they're coming up with these !

Desperate much !? Here is another 🗑️ praying to almighty, to seperate the 2 who already spend 436days together ( when i say together it doesn't means they're hip attached 24x7. They're in military not on a honeymoon. Thats the problem of YOUR mind set!! )

Lol, anon if I'm surrounded by these people tell me how can I not be cocky !? Its so funny to see them going womp womp under every post with their narratives

Wanna see?

Like said , what has AYS to do with music? Does it have an6to do with the category "favourite on screen" ? Yes ! Thats a travel variety show

Tell me how can I not be cocky 😭🙏 tell meee😭😭😭

You check their account and see a pinned taekook post , i was not surprised, you shouldn't be too ! Because DON'T EXPECT ANYTHING WITH A SENSE from 🗑️🧑‍🍳

If I post all the nonsense said by them , i might run out of space

This is a place where i share about jikook.

Throughout these many words i never tried to put my theory of jikook right ? Like "they are married from usa and have one kid from africa and other from japan and own a 10-story building and a pet called ..." No right ? Let me tell you a secret, i trust you don't tell anyone 🤫 i have no theories in oven about jikook 😔 i just believe what I see. Their bond, how it evolved, how comfortable THEY ARE with eachother. Their giggles, goofiness, their 'my shrimp my mura ham and gandhi ' moments. Just them. Let them be please . Traveling around the world even in their tight schedule just to create memories in thoughts of what if ... Traveling to their favorite spots just to eat ,relax and do whatever they want in thought of what if we didn't enli- . Checking timeline its obvious one can understand they planned AYS in the middle of enlistment processes. I'm not explaining that part here as everyone knows it! They wanted it to be together, the lottery they won ! Love is true ! Win is true !

No theories No manipulation , just a story of 27 year old took his 29 year old hyung as a companion to ms as a support system

We all are waiting for their return on june 11th , again nothing just the prayers for their health and happiness

-🍁

#jimin and jungkook #bts jungkook #minkook #jikook #mingukkie #kookmin #bts jimin #bts

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area50thdream · 4 months ago

Text

Info: I am not sure what to think of this start but i guess it is alright

Ps: To Whoever reads this, early happy holidays ✨

Chapter 1: Can't a god just leave once in a while?

Y/n pov:

Silence...nothing but pure silence. The only thing you could hear were the trickles of sand grains moving with the wind. The darkness of the wide void of chaos was calming and blocking out every type of prayer directed to me. No please for help, no request for wealth, love or revenge and no curses to my name. Fate was a strange thing. Once woven, it can’t be changed. At least, it should not be able to be changed.

Everything was just as the last few eons I spent sleeping in this dimension of peace, until it suddenly wasn't.

It started as a tingle...a slight tingle easily ignored, not wanting to care i did exactly that. Then it became more and more noticeable until it became a thrumming headache I simply could not ignore. With a groan of frustration, my eyes flutter open. I slowly push my body up to sit straight. I run a hand through my hair and look around me. There was no one in sight, no one that could have possibly awoken me. The walls of the chamber were covered in cracks. and dust had settled on the ground. I winced as my headache became stronger. I had not felt such a strong disturbance of fate in all my time asleep or awake. With a frown written all over my face, I make my way to the giant sun boat of Ra. Everything seemed normal on my way. There was neither a distraction nor a giant war worth the effort of getting up. After a while of looking around, I had arrived at the sun boat. "Ra! What might you have done?” Before I could keep looking, I appeared right in front of the golden, gleaming throne. On top, the charismatic woman I was borne to call my sister. She still had the provocative smirk on her face like all those years ago. She rested her head on her hand and soon spoke. "Y/n my dear weaver of fate. You have taken your time to awake. haven't vou?". I bite my tongue and walk up the stairs to sit down on the throne-like chair next to her. "Don't mock me. Tell me. What have vou done to cause such a disturbance to the strings of fate?” She just chuckled and shook her head. "haven't done anything." She said. sitting up straight and starring at me. "But you are right. A lot of stuft happened while vou were gone. Do you want me to tell you, dear brother?” “Just tell me so I can get rid of this headache.” She rose to her feet and started to explain what had happened over the years and how Seth had killed Osiris and taken his place as pharaoh after Osiris had taken it from Ra herself. She explained how Seth had ruled with blood and terror until isis managed to conceive a child with Osiris by resurrecting him for a short moment so the child could regain the Throne. The boy named Horus managed to do so, and Seth was sentenced to go on a mission to redeem his sins as a half god, and just then he would get his divinity back.

I look at her in complete shock as I take in the things she just said. This was not meant to happen in any turn of events. Seth was married to Nephthys, and the both of them should have children. They should be happy together, just as Isis and Osiris were meant to be happily married. I hold my face in my hands as I get up. "And vou did not intervene!?” Ra huffed. "It is not my Job to look after everything you know. I did my duty while a certain someone went to nap for a while. How should I have known that the way things were going weren't planned out by you?” I sigh and nod. She was right. If I had been awake, I could have fixed the problem by its source but considering what Ra told me. this would not be easily fixed. Nothing could be fixed

The only way to solve this would be to either mess with the spectrum of time and space or to cut the thread of destiny and forge it new again. The first option was not possible since it was too risky, and yet the second one didnt seem particularly better. But it had to be done. "Ra, where is Seth right now? I know that you know so don't pretend that you don't.” She just glanced at me and then closed her eyes for a moment. She then opened her eyes again. "He is currently roaming the streets of a few villages not far from here. Causing a turmoil as always" I just nod and walk towards the exit.

“What are you going to do, brother?” I turn to look at her. "I'm going to do what needs to be done. I will try to bring everything back to its best outcome possible without messing even more stuff up”.

~ <3

#ennead ff #ennead manga #ennead x reader #seth ennead #horus ennead #ennead

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jon-snows-man-bun · 3 months ago

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By Turns

Chapter Fifteen

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Masterlist

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: Much misogynistic language. Mentions of religious trauma, off-screen violence, off-screen sexual assault, off-screen drug use, off-screen cannibalism. Heavy-handed symbolism. Aisling has a small racism flare up.

Moodboard by amazing beautiful spectacular @olenvasynyt, the light of my dashboard

As I’ve learned how to write these chapters have tripled in length. 2.5k words and calling it good? Who was I, one year ago??

Eris started awake, so certain that the slap Aisling delivered to him had been real that he felt his jaw for tenderness.

The skin was unbroken – of course, it had been only a dream – but… It had obviously been her dream. In his dreams, she lay underneath him dark eyed and desperate, whispering filthy things into his ear. She didn’t slap and claw and cry, or ride his cock so ferociously that – yes, he’d cum in his sleep like he was a lovestruck teen with his first crush.

The fire in the hearth was so hot it was almost blue. Eris groaned, letting the linen bedding fall back, running one hand down his face. He stared up at the green drapes over the four-postered bed and contemplated just how pathetic that was.

In the Court of Nightmares, Aisling had been clever and flirtatious but very self-contained. Whatever Rhysand and his ilk were doing to her, wherever they had her, it was turning her wild and angry.

And vicious. Eris touched his chest where she had clawed him, heart still racing beneath. His cock was still achingly hard – he’d never let a female fuck him like that, but that slap… her blue eyes had been burning with the force of it and she’d been hot and raw with the feeling in his arms. He wished she’d done that when they quarrelled in the Hewn City, rather than slipping straight through his hands.

He huffed out a laugh. He’d been worried about them breaking her.

Eris rolled over, and was met with the solemn eyes of Ticru, the grey hound drooling quietly onto the other pillow.

“You are not allowed to be on the bed,” Eris informed him, which the hound damn well knew. Ticru only sneezed in his face, then grunted and shuffled until Eris relented and scratched his ear the way he liked.

“What will you do when Aisling is here? That’s to be her space. You’ll be ousted to the floor,” Eris mused, as Ticru’s eyes closed in delight. No, the hound’s expression seemed to say, you will be ousted to the floor.

He’d scheduled his entire day for the most unpleasant of the problems that plagued him, thinking to consolidate the suffering to get it over with: meeting with a few of the estate owners in the morning, his brother in the afternoon – a special kind of headache.

Damien had been in the Forest House more of late, rather than governing his own territory on the border with Winter. Eris used the term ‘governing’ rather loosely, given that Damien was often bored by it and absconded whenever possible. After putting him off for a few weeks Eris could do so no longer, finally agreeing to hunt with him as a cover for a delicate conversation. Damien never had anything good to say during these meetings – it was always, always something Eris didn’t want to deal with. He’d been that way ever since he was a youngling, running to Eris for help with every problem, so certain his eldest brother would fix it.

Eris was still mulling on how to manage all the moving pieces while whipping in all the loyalties he needed when he stepped out of the door that lead to the stable yard. The empty stone courtyard greeted him, oddly deserted for the time of day; no horses were tied up on the metal rings mounted to the walls, no grooms or hunt servants on exercise, no hounds baying from the nearby kennels. The only sound was an irate, unhappy horse kicking its stable door rhythmically, somewhere in the stone stables.

Stepping into the mouth of the stable proper, the breezeway with its rows of wooden boxes stretched out before him. No horses hanging their heads over their doors – only his own grey, Bayard, and Damien’s mount already tacked and tied, waiting.

Bayard, who didn’t like to be stood in tack, eyed him impatiently and looked like he was deciding just the angle he was planning on tossing Eris. Neither were kicking, and still the clanging -

“Damien.”

The kicking stopped, and he heard the scuffle of boots on straw.

“Yes,” came his brother’s drawl, a bit muffled. Eris crouched for a moment, glancing down between the row of partitions, and – there, two pairs of boots in one of the stables. Eris hissed through his teeth.

“Are we hunting today or not? You called me here, brother.” Eris threw enough heat on the last word to scald. He could faintly hear some whispering.

“Five minutes,” Damien called, and it took a great deal of maturity for Eris not to set the straw aflame as he untied Bayard.

It was fifteen minutes by Eris’ count by the time Damien cantered up to him on his bay mare, pushing his brown hair off his face carelessly, jacket missing, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He didn’t apologise or excuse himself, merely shrugging as if to say What could I do? Damien breezed past him through the gates, stinking of sex, and Eris followed.

The forest stretched out before him, and as always, Eris felt some tightness leave his chest. The Forest House was oppressive and unrelenting, but the forest itself was the only place he felt himself anymore. The trees bowed and sighed and bent themselves towards him, already whispering, already soft with dappled sunlight.

His forest. His trees. His land. By blood, law, and magic.

“Telling Mother I had a consort was foul play,” Eris said, loosing a deep breath as they rode beyond the wards. Bayard danced underneath him, snatching at the bit.

“And yet you admitted to it so readily,” Damien’s teeth flashed, and his tone was flippant. “You should have come up with a lie of your own, then, instead of using mine. How is the darling boy?”

His name for Lucien, heaped mockingly on Lucien’s head after their mother kept calling him that well into puberty.

“How should I know?” Eris didn’t want any of his brothers knowing Lucien’s business – or that Eris had been in semi-regular contact with him. His brothers were sly, though, and cut from the same cloth he was; Damien was particularly good at knowing what he shouldn’t.

Eris hadn’t seen Lucien since that night in the human lands a few weeks ago. He’d let Lucien and Jurian dig for more details about Aisling and all that transpired, giving a choice few. Mostly to rub Lucien’s nose in the fact that he had a mate whom he had fucked, while Lucien’s ignored his existence and preferred to dig for worms in the mud.

Lucien had agreed to see what he could when he went to Velaris, because Lucien was largely a better male than the six other Vanserras combined. In exchange, Eris would continue to rebuff Rhysand from Spring. It was an easy agreement to make; he was invested in Spring’s stability regardless. The largest landowners that were his staunchest supporters in Autumn were largely all along the southern border with Spring, and had been his allies until Tamlin’s latest failure. They wavered now, their wealth and power hinged on the soil fertility and the potent, latent magic that suffused the seasonal courts. Tamlin’s performance supplied a great deal of that magic, and without it, the magic of the land would begin to falter. He had perhaps a year before the bad harvests well and truly bit them, and his allies would leave him to support Beron who still wanted to expand into Spring.

Eris had wanted to create a proper alliance between the seasonal courts for a while, even before Amarantha; he knew it was a necessary step to balance the dominance the solar courts enjoyed. Damien knew this very well, though; and he knew how much Beron and his circle of ancient, traditionalist advisors opposed it, believing in the old ways of isolation and no inter-court alliances.

“Has he kissed and made up with the beast? Someone needs to put him on a leash. The southern lot are growing frantic.”

“Been in Spring, have you?”

“You know me,” Damien shrugged insolently. “I get around. So does the gossip. I hear an awful lot about you, brother.”

Eris felt his face harden when Damien leaned over and grabbed his wrist, winnowing them – horses and all – to a small glade, bordered with bone-bright birch trees. Eris felt the pressure of strong wards, and then the truth of the glade was revealed to him.

A small wooden hunting cottage, nestled between the birch trees and complete with a small well outside and a lazy curlicue of smoke from the chimney. It was a lesser fae’s cottage, built to a slightly smaller scale than would be comfortable for a High Fae; it was pokey and quaint. Somewhere up north, nearer Damien’s estates, judging by the sudden cut of mountains against the horizon.

Eris had spent more than a few nights hiding in variations of these cottages, left abandoned when the brownies and korrigans that occupied them fled Beron and Amarantha. They made good refuges, particularly for High Fae younglings that didn’t want to be found by furious fathers.

“I need to show you something,” Damien muttered, hopping lightly off his horse. “I don’t….”

His jaw firmed as he decided against whatever he was about to say, then abruptly turned on his heel for the cottage.

Eris studied it critically as he waited, Damien stooping to get through the front door. These cottages and shacks had a natural sort of protection, some of the lesser fae’s distinct magic, which Damien had enhanced and built on. For a long moment, the only sound was the wind sighing around the tree trunks and Bayard chewing his bit quietly.

Abruptly, the wooden door shot back open. And of all the things he expected Damien to emerge from the cottage with, a baby wasn’t one of them.

“You cannot be fucking serious,” Eris barked.

“Don’t swear in front of my daughter,” Damien admonished, but he couldn’t quite smother the frightened look in his eye. Eris was suddenly reminded of the way he’d run to Eris when he was little, a broken vase or torn tunic in his hands. Eris, fix it, please, he’d beg, brown eyes making the same pathetic little expression they were right now.

Damien shifted the baby nervously. Not a baby, Eris realised now as he swung off Bayard, a little older than that. A female. All auburn curls and pale little fat limbs. Damien thrust her at him nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

“How did this happen?” Eris demanded as Damien all but threw her into his arms. The toddler blinked her eyes open muzzily, and Mother help him, her eyes were the exact shade of Beron’s brown. She yawned, then nestled her head back against Eris’ chest, rubbing her face against the green wool.

“Well, I don’t know which hole you like to stick it in–“ Damien hissed as his shirt sleeve caught fire, flicking it out quickly.

Eris waited him out, still staring at the toddler, wishing he could clatter Damien across the face if it wouldn’t rouse her. She carried so much of Beron in her features that it was actually a little frightening – had Beron ever truly been a child like this, or had he sprung out fully formed and already vicious? It was unpleasant to think on.

“Her mother is of Winter,” Damien supplied, inspecting the charred hem of his shirt with a frown. “Despite her looks.”

Eris saw the problem at once – this was an Autumn child, through and through – but still asked, “She couldn’t keep her?”

Damien hemmed and hawed for a moment, drawing closer to stare at the toddler as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

“Well,” he finally said. “She’s already married. So that was a bit of an obstacle, really.”

Eris did punch him then, one quick closed fist to his left eye.

“It is so like you to fuck up my politics for the sake of some cunt,” he seethed, as Damien reared back with a welt over his cheek, teeth bared. “Fuck’s sake, Damien, Winter? Kallias is already tricky enough since Beron –” was a massive prick to everyone and everything and currently engaged in a minor trade war over the price of timber, not that he could voice that aloud anywhere in Prythian – “insulted Viviane, now you’re getting bastards on his nobles too?”

“It’s not my fault,” Damien groused, the toddler starting to kick her legs and squall at the raised voices. “When she told me she was pregnant, she said she was still fucking her husband so we both sort of just hoped –“

“What a brilliant strategy, you absolute prat.”

“- that the youngling would be the father’s, but…” Damien gestured lamely at her, her face starting to scrunch up, sensitive to the anger of the males around her. “And then her husband nearly threw her out. But he agreed to stay married so long as the child wasn’t in his household, so I put her here with Brunna.” Brunna, his brownie servant, who’d looked after Damien since he could crawl – and now, apparently, Damien’s ill-advised by blows. It was as if Damien had forgotten all about the fact that he’d helped hold Lucien down while Lyam tortured his lover. If there had been a bastard baby involved as well…. Eris shuddered.

“Why can’t she remain here? In secrecy?” Why tell me and drag me into this mess at all? Eris nearly shouted, and it was then that the toddler let loose her first wail and the dead leaves beneath his feet caught fire in a little burst of sparks.

“Because of that,” Damien said brightly, looking pleased at the display of magic.

Eris’ body remembered what to do with a child, the same he’d done with each of his brothers. He fell into the slight rocking and patting that soothed them, stroking her hair as she snuffled, deciding whether he’d like to strangle his brother with his bare hands or run him through with a sword.

To father a child while Beron still lived was an act of carelessness so monumental it bordered on criminal. To have no contingency plans was even more criminal, and very unlike his brother; Damien had obviously panicked, if the way he kept studying the youngling like he could turn her icy blonde and blue-eyed was any indication.

“Her mother called her Niniane.”

Brunna wouldn’t be able to look after her safely if she was already summoning fire. That was Vanserra magic and needed to be trained by those who shared the same. She looked up at him, Beron’s brown eyes wide and trusting despite the lingering tears and miserable sniffles. She stared, and very carefully reached out to touch his face – a child who’d never known not to touch the males around her, who trusted whoever held her to comfort her.

Damn him, they were all so fucking stupid. Every one of his idiot brothers, and him too.

“Not anymore,” Eris decided, as her pudgy little hand touched his cheek. “She can’t have a Winter Court name. Call her something else.”

Damien’s face grew less taut at this. “Nynyve?”

The Autumn Court variation. Eris considered it then nodded shortly, making Damien’s shoulders drop slightly. She touched Eris’ face, then her eyes and hands wandered to his earrings.

“He needs to die,” Damien said, still staring at his daughter. “Whatever you need. I’m behind you. Whatever I….”

He trailed off, and such was the grip that Beron held on them that they still couldn’t give voice to it. But Eris understood. He nodded once more, watching as Nynyve grabbed a handful of his hair – a close match to her own, more crimson than her auburn but still undeniable – and shoved it into her mouth.

He’d forgotten this propensity to gum everything. He winced, Damien chuckling as he carefully extracted the soggy lock. She was a year, if he had to guess. No words yet but she was big and curious, nearly ready to walk. Fire at a year old was precocious; her mother must have been a strong magic wielder.

“Your magic came in early, too,” Eris mused, thrusting his niece into his bewildered brother’s arms. Damien took her willingly, letting her grab on to the gold chain around his neck.

“I’ve always been exceptionally talented.”

Eris ignored that. “Before she’s two,” he said lowly, unwilling to part with too much. Damien had exposed himself to Eris, and still, he couldn’t bring himself to fully trust his own brother with the plan he was shaping. It was quick – almost too quick, he doubted it would be enough time to foster more support from the loyalists and the isolationists, but he had his own vulnerabilities to protect. Aisling couldn’t cope much longer, and his nerves were stretched to a wire tautness from every pressure heaped upon him. “Brunna will need to cope until then.”

The hour had come upon her to go to Velaris. Azriel had insisted on waiting until nightfall, despite the politest request she could muster, so Aisling had huffed around the moonstone palace for hours after the High Lord left, only growing more nervous.

She didn’t have a suitable cloak, really – it was one constant temperature in the City, so clothes were more for decoration than functionality. Nuala had tried to press one of Azriel’s on her and Aisling launched it through the window, refusing to wear Illyrian clothing on principle.

Nuala eyed her cropped, gauzy shirt and skirt with clear criticism in her eyes, skimming over her bared waist.

“As you wish, lady,” she finally said, grey arms crossed over her chest in clear opposition. “If you wish to freeze, it’s your choice.”

Azriel looked like he’d like to be anywhere put participating in that conversation, staring resolutely out the window until Nuala huffed and sighed. Finally, he cautiously extended a hand to Aisling as if she’d bite it off, such were her nerves.

Aisling didn’t hesitate to take it.

They stepped through the shadows together, and Aisling could feel more distance than she ever thought possible slip by. It was frightening, especially now that she was aware of what was happening – she could feel the pull of shadows elsewhere, wanting to spit them out, like running down a corridor with many doors. The shadows were all connected in one great web, pulsing and alive and very unhappy that she was caught in it.

She gasped for breath when they emerged, releasing her white-knuckle grip on Azriel’s arm. It took her a moment to gather her bearings. The first thing she noticed was that Nuala had been right, annoyingly, she was freezing cold.

The second thing she noticed was the rain. It was a fine, gentle mist; she could faintly see it falling but she felt it landing, settling in her hair, on her bare skin. Aisling shivered in exquisite pleasure, feeling like a raw nerve. The drops clung to her eyelashes and she was delighted, having to wipe them again and again – her hair was wet, her clothes were wet, what a gorgeous feeling –

Azriel was watching her with what she thought was amusement, or maybe derision. Aisling glanced up at him, and then beyond –

They were on a hill, and there were trees (trees!) behind them that she was desperate to touch but ahead of them, visible behind the Illyrian, was a city. Her city climbed up, all spires and towers with bridges that arched between them, but this city spread out over its foothills (hills!) like a rumpled blanket. A river (not as impressive, they had one of those in the City) wound through it, a lazy dark strand of yarn, curving a meandering path through little stone streets. Mountains (smaller than hers, Aisling estimated) ringed the opposite side, a protective shield, clustering the little city against…

The sea. Aisling gaped, delighted all over again, and she must have made a noise because Azriel shook his head. Well, fuck Azriel; she wanted to look at the sea and be happy. He got to look at it every day. He could be jaded if he wanted to, but he couldn’t tarnish the amazement she felt. It was astounding, stretching out to the horizon, further than she could see in every direction. So much water! And the smell of it all was rich and fresh and new. Aisling wanted to swallow it whole so she could keep it with her forever and always.

Two cities. A precious, delightful thing to have seen. She committed the scene to memory, so she could show Niamh in her dreams.

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, his cold, smooth voice betraying no impatience. “I’ll fly you to the library where you’ll be staying, if you’re amenable. So you might see.”

That pacified her. Aisling nodded, though she wasn’t keen to go indoors again for as long as she lived. She delicately held Azriel’s shoulders as he lifted her. It felt a bit like she was betraying Eris, to be held by another male, but then again – Eris was over 500 years old and had probably had a long line of females in his arms before her.

The train of thought fell away as Azriel took flight. Aisling swallowed a scream as they left the ground, feeling the muscles in his shoulders flex as the wings clapped like a drum and they were off. It was dizzying, and she made a strangled noise as he banked and the world tilted sideways.

“You don’t need to dig your nails into my neck quite so hard.”

Aisling didn’t believe that for a second, and gouged harder as the world tilted sideways the other way, but the city unfolded before them like a painting she could touch and she forgot to be frightened. The houses were pale stone, not grey like her city but white and sandstone, all marching up and down their hills. She could see different fae as Azriel flew, and see the smoke the spiralled from chimneys, and see all the lights that spilled out over the streets like buttery puddles, and that there were cafes and bridges that cut across the river. Her head swivelled like a top, trying to see it all at once, somehow.

It was pretty.

Azriel angled for the steep hill that edged its way into the city, some building crawling up its side and perching on its peak like a sandstone hat. As they came closer Aisling saw the great marble doors cut into the side of it.

Of course. Underneath another mountain. She gouged her nails in once more for good measure as they landed – how did he not break his ankles? The ground approached very quickly – and he discretely held her arm as she caught her balance, somehow out of breath even though she was carried the whole way. The massive doors, at least trice her height, cracked open as they approached.

“This is the library,” Azriel explained lowly, as they came into a cavernous space. Open, tiered balconies crawled all along the side, layers of an enormous carved cake; shelves of books disappeared up and down. He said the word ‘library’ like it was something holy, when the only thing that separated it from the library in the Hewn City seemed to be its size. He let her look, twisting her head around to take it all in.

A great pit beneath, a carved stone ceiling up above; it was not so different from the City.

“Rhys established it for priestesses to come and learn, but it’s also a sanctuary. Any female who has suffered is allowed to come here, to recover, to heal in safety. You’ll stay here as well.”

He said this with more reverence, and that was when Aisling noticed the blue-clad priestesses flittering like moths, trailing between the shelves and on their way to somewhere. Probably to dinner or to an evening service, it was getting late. A few glanced at them, their faces concealed beneath their blue hoods.

“They’re allowed to read?” Aisling asked, and Azriel looked at her sideways.

“Of course,” he said, voice cold. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because they’re female,” Aisling said. It was rather astounding to her – females weren’t really allowed in the library in the City. They could go if they were escorted by males, but all the males Aisling knew extorted her for the privilege. She didn’t mind paying bribes, but the favours she had to perform were far more costly.

She didn’t really like remembering the things she had had to do, anyways. She could only go forward.

They approached a desk that sat facing the entrance door, the obvious guardian of the library behind it: a female, her face veiled in pale robes, her hands smashed in all directions like crushed bugs.

Not an average priestess, a High Priestess – the blue stones that crowned her hood and marked her as such caught in the golden lights. Aisling curtseyed on instinct. She remembered her own lessons at the hands of the High Priestess in the City temple well enough, even after more than forty years. She averted her eyes to the floor, away from the Priestess’ face, away from her hands, away from Azriel. Was everyone in this place so damaged?

“This is Clotho, who oversees the library,” Azriel was introducing them. “Clotho, this is Aisling, whom Rhys spoke with you about. Aisling, I leave you with her. We’ll speak more tomorrow.”

And with that he was gone, leaving her alone in the hollow mountain where they kept all their broken females. Aisling waited for the priestess to say something, staring resolutely down. The hushed quiet was broken by scratching, making Aisling glance up quickly.

A quill scratched its way quickly along a piece of parchment, which then floated to her – sent by the priestess’ magic.

Aisling took it warily. Do you wish to rest? was all that was written on it.

She toyed with the end of a damp lock of hair anxiously, twirling it around her finger in lieu of a ring. What was the right answer? She felt suddenly overwhelmed, chest tightening and breath shallowing. She was a prisoner here, her situation had not changed. Perhaps they only wished to bind her closer in, until they extorted Eris sufficiently. They could not kill her without starting a war, or at least repercussions. Even if Eris were unable to act, the High Lord of Autumn was prickly and would never allow the profane insult to pass –

Aisling was broken from her spiralling thoughts by another piece of paper.

We do not perform the same rites here as our sisters in the Hewn City. You will be safe here. The lights will guide you to your room, if you take the passage behind me.

The dismissal was abrupt, but she’d rather that than have the priestess look too long at her. Aisling was unsettled by her presence; not by her crippled hands, but by the fact that priestesses pierced the veil between this world and the Mother and that was something to be feared. Few enough mothers were kind or held love for their children, and the City priestesses rarely let you forget it.

Surely enough, the golden faelights lit warm stone passages to indicate for her where to go. She felt as if she were a ghost once more, being led up and around this new mountain, trailing forgotten down an empty hallway. These hallways lacked the ornate, gilded carvings that decorated near every surface of the City; Aisling found it almost austere. A door opened, and she stepped into a room that was all but a prison cell.

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. It was so small – this was surely an insult to her. Did they all live like this? She could walk across the room in four strides one way and three the other. A chest of drawers on one wall next to a door, a single bed pushed against the wall opposite, and a curtain drawn over a window beside it. No rug, no art; this was a room meant for a servant of the Mother and the High Lord.

Aisling crossed the room and flung open the curtain furiously, only to see Velaris clinging to the hillsides below her. Warm, well-lit buildings and cosy streets hugged the hills, criss-crossing back and forth across them, a crowded city square at the bottom. She could see the edge of the river as it wound its way through the city, and she could smell the distant sea, strong even despite the sounds and scents of the city below her.

To buy a window with a view like this in the City – even if it were possible to cut their way through their mountain’s strong magic – would have cost her most of her wealth. The elite of the City would have killed for it, and perhaps only the ten foremost of the forty most noble families would have been able to afford it.

And they were just given one, in these shitty little rooms. At no cost or charge, just to create a safe haven for them. This was a place of refuge for females, Azriel had said; obviously females that had experienced great violence, judging by the High Priestess’ hands and muteness.

Aisling had seen beheadings. She’d seen limbs cut off and tongues cut out before. She’d seen eyes removed with hot tongs, she’d seen males disembowelled in duels, she’d seen a banshee hung by her ankles over the throne room to see how long until she died (six weeks, but the last week the banshee had stopped screaming, so some insisted it had only been five). She’d seen goblins and trolls fight to the death for the amusement of the gentry. She’d seen someone been made to eat a plate of ground glass. She’d seen females be forcibly bedded, heard the jokes about the blood that came from between their legs. She’d seen lesser fae split open and their organs eaten so their magic might be absorbed. She’d been fed and smoked and drank every sort of drug, sometimes by force and sometimes so she forgot the things she did. She’d had a cock jammed so far down her throat she coughed up blood. She’d seen Azriel’s shadows swallow someone whole. She’d been sold like a piece of furniture to Eris. All that, and Aisling had never even heard of this library.

What had these females experienced that was worse? Or was it that the suffering endured by females in the City weighed only half that of those born outside? Aisling knew the answer already, could see it in the High Lord’s eyes when he had come to ask for the Darkbringers in the last war against the King of Hybern. If all the females of the City fled to this sanctuary, then who would breed the army the High Lord needed?

He didn’t want them tainting his city, besides. He and the High Lady sat on their thrones and sneered down at them, made all the gentry watch while they growled and petted at each other. The High Lord looked as if he wanted to grind them all beneath his heel every moment he forced them to endure his presence.

Aisling felt a terrible cold sort of clarity, crisp as broken glass; she knew she could safely wager the entirety of her estate that there would not be one single Illyrian female in this sanctuary either. Azriel had said that – he said they clipped their females so they couldn’t leave their mountains, so they had no choice but to submit to the males around them and breed more little warriors.

Aisling felt dizzy. She pressed her forehead into the stone windowsill, so like her own home and yet a different lifetime away, and closed her eyes until she could breathe once more. Her blood was sour, roaring in her ears until all else was black.

She felt it then. A little tug on her ribs – not her ribs, a tug on the magic, a quick burn like a candle lit up in her heart. Eris, somewhere out there; perhaps looking at the same moon and wondering why she was so angry that she went lightheaded.

Aisling cried then, until she fell into the black pit of a dreamless sleep.

Her first day in the library passed in something of a daze. She had been roused by the chiming of a great bell, and numbly followed the blue-hooded priestesses to a dining hall. She was given a wide berth, marked as much apart by her clothing and bared head as by the way they all kept glancing at her – well, she assumed they were glancing at her. She couldn’t see their faces, but she’d been watched all her life and knew when she was a spectacle.

She attended a service because that seemed to be what everyone did, sitting in the pretty temple-cave at the back. It was all very lovely and charming with its smooth red stone walls, the songs about the goodness of the Mother and the light of the world. A priestess spoke at length about the Cauldron, and how beauty and love and forgiveness were Her gifts and should be treasured in their hearts. It was a far cry from the priestesses in the City, who preached obedience and submission and the divine fulfilment of creation.

Aisling’s eyes prickled with heat despite herself, and she blinked quickly until the feeling passed. She had nothing in common with any of these females, she reminded herself as they all bowed their heads. She couldn’t bring herself to pray for love and forgiveness – she didn’t need either of those, for herself nor to give others – but she did pray for trust and patience. Allow me to survive this, she prayed. You gave me this bond. I trust it is the right path.

A priestess caught her elbow as the service ended, beckoning her to follow by saying, “Clotho would like to see you.”

The high priestess wasn’t behind her desk this time, rather in a cosy office stacked with books and scrolls. Piled high, on every available surface; the stone shelves carved into the walls were all but groaning under the weight. Aisling wanted badly to peruse but fixed her gaze respectfully on the surface of her wooden desk instead. As before, she didn’t reveal her face; instead, the enchanted quill wrote a note instead.

I trust the accommodation was acceptable.

“Of course, High Priestess,” Aisling lied, not mentioning that she cried herself to sleep like a child and suspected the stone floor would be more comfortable than that horrendous mattress. “I like the window very much. You’re very lucky to have such a view. My friends will be sick with envy when I tell them.”

The priestess faced her for a long moment, her face obscured. Aisling shifted under the scrutiny, twisting her signet ring around her little finger; she felt suddenly nervous that the priestess was a daemati herself and was poring through her thoughts.

You may call me Clotho. Aisling would rather cut out her own tongue, actually. The priestess must have seen it in her face, because the quill started moving once more.

We are welcoming here, and do not enforce rank. Some may be curious and friendly to you as we do not often receive new faces. Others have had poor encounters with the Darkbringers and may not be so open.

Fuck’s sake. Had she been summoned here for this, to be dressed down for the behaviour of the legion? The clue was in the name – they brought darkness where they went, as they tended to do; it was the High Lord who had requested they fight. Aisling supposed it wouldn’t be enough that they’d bled for this city; now their sins – and she could guess what they were – were being assigned to her as well. The anger that hadn’t really left her simmered up, hot as Eris’ fire.

“You can tell them I’m being suitably punished for the crimes of soldiers,” Aisling said, ripping the note neatly in half. “I’m sure they’ll be much heartened to hear that.” And she hoped all their windows were shuttered, regardless of whatever they’d endured.

You misunderstand me. I ask that you give them the benefit of the doubt, not to chastise you for things you had no part in. The High Lord told me of your circumstances. I wish for you to feel comfortable and safe here.

Aisling read that note twice, careful to keep her face blank, mindful of the priestess watching her. This was a lie that she didn’t believe for a moment. She crumpled it in her hand.

“May I read the books?”

Of course. You may read whatever you like. I only ask that you do not remove them from the library.

“Remove? As in, outside?”

Yes.

“I may go outside?”

The priestess tapped the word with one swollen knuckle. That was an exhilarating thought, and Aisling was sorely tempted. But first –

She smiled in her best simper, looking up from under her lashes. “Do you keep records of this city here?”

Elain dreamed…. Elain dreamed…. Elain dreamed of a mountain (again, the same? A different one?) that split in two with a mighty crack. Then the mountain was in her hands, and she was trying to fit it together but it wouldn’t mend - the sharp edges grated and splintered and refused to fit, shattering into fragments and shards - then the pieces were of a glass mirror and her hands were bleeding from the sharp edges and she could see her own face fractured into a dozen tiny pieces impossible to put back together. Her hands were slick and clumsy with blood and she couldn’t hold all the pieces, they were getting numb and thick and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do, and it was getting so dark -

She woke with a start, Mor’s hand lightly on her shoulder.

Elain opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was, “Neither see nor feel nor know.”

Mor blinked, her brow furrowing. Her blonde hair was tossing in the wind, silvery-gold against the clouded sky.

“I thought to wake you, the sun is going in,” Mor said slowly. “It will be cold soon.”

Yes. That’s right. She was in the garden, and seemed to have fallen asleep on the bench. Elain sat up quickly and smiled carefully, coming back to her own body now: the sun was going in, grey clouds scudding across the sky in great folds. The trees were budding and the early spring flowers had come up; she’d planted this little bench with that exact intention, nestled amongst tulips and daffodils.

There was a chill, actually. She shivered, suddenly registering how the cold wood of the bench seeped through her dress.

“Thank you, Mor,” she chirped, cringing internally. “The sun was so lovely while it lasted. I’m so pleased spring is on the way.”

Mor was still looking askance at her but seemed much reassured by this.

“Of course,” she smiled. “It will rain later tonight, though. Will that be good for your garden?”

They babbled inanely back and forth for a moment longer like two stupid songbirds, Elain crossing her fingers the whole time that Mor wrote off her momentary madness as just being startled awake.

Elain followed her in through the back door - the one that led into the private family lounge - and stopped shortly, nearly walking into Mor’s back. The blue rug and pale wood floor were covered in glass shards, all sparkling in the daylight;

She was holding the pieces of a broken mirror in her hands Elain forced the vision crowding at the edge of her mind away, smiling so widely her face felt numb. This was just simple, no magic involved - the great silvered mirror that hung opposite the door had fallen off the wall and shattered. That was all. Her magic didn’t need to press in quite so close or insist with such a loud voice.

Rhys was gathering the shards with some magic, sweeping them all into a pile, as Feyre carefully restrained a gleeful Nyx from trying to grab one of the shimmering pieces. Mor picked her way over them, light-footed as a doe, and was gone down the hall with a wave.

Elain, trying to hide the way her vision kept going spotty, crouched down to distract Nyx who squealed loudly in her face at all the excitement.

“Hello, Nyxie,” she said as he stamped his feet. “Did that give you a fright?”

“We didn’t even hear it,” her sister said with a frown as Nyx twisted away from her and flung himself at Elain. “We just came in from the office and it had shattered.”

“I never liked that mirror anyways,” Rhys said, kissing Feyre’s temple fondly. “It was only a priceless antique. We don’t have a painting of just the three of us yet, darling. What do you think? Far better in my view.”

Elain wanted to gag at the thought of yet another painting – was one in every room of the house not enough? - but focused very intently on the view of the garden out the back door to keep that thought from getting fully formed and floating to the top of her mind. Rhys hadn’t noticed, too busy giving Feyre a rather enthusiastic kiss, so Elain quickly scooped up Nyx and stepped out of the room.

Still trying hard not to think of her vision, she narrated to Nyx as she bounced him along in a little gallop, focusing on the words lest either of them eavesdrop on her mind.

“While your Mama and Papa clean that up, we’re going to go make some tea because I’m rather chilly. I think I’m going to have chamomile and honey, perhaps with a slice of lemon-”

“And she’s going to pour Auntie Mor a cup,” Mor chimed in as Elain rounded the corner into the kitchen, laughing at her blush. “I’ll entertain the little bat if you make the tea?”

Elain, still a bit embarrassed, nodded and handed Nyx over.

“I’m back off to Vallahan in a little while,” Mor said, bouncing Nyx as he chattered to them in babytalk. “I can’t stand to be here while we host our delightful guest.” Her sarcasm was so heavy the word practically fell on the floor.

Elain made her best sympathetic face. “Is she so bad?”

“She will be,” Mor said darkly. “I don’t trust them. They’re so….” She trailed off with an angry sigh, brown eyes gone dim and distant. “Well, it’s a new moon at least, so she won’t be showing her face tonight before I leave.”

At Elain’s puzzled look, Mor laughed.

“They do things according to the phases of the moon,” Mor waved her hand dismissively as she drank from her tea. “They’re so backwards. They believe certain phases of the moon are more auspicious for certain things. Weddings always under a full moon, betrayals under a waxing crescent moon. That sort of thing.”

“A first quarter moon always means more murders,” Rhys commented as he swept in, hair mussed. He gave Mor a shit-eating grin as she playfully rolled her eyes at him. Elain’s smile grew taut at the thought.

Mor noted her reaction. “I’m telling you, they’re evil there. And even worse, they’re creative about it. Where your imagination for torment ends, theirs is only just getting started.”

“It will be a shame to lose her line, though,” Rhys mused, more to Mor now. His eyes grew dark as he thought about it, accepting the cup of tea Elain poured him with a nod.

“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Mor said coldly, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “She should stay in that mountain. This is going to go badly for us unless we do something.”

“Her line?” Elain asked pointedly, realising they were already forgetting she was in the room.

Mor blinked, brought out of wherever she had gone. “It’s a big deal for marriages to cross between courts. High Lords are very protective of the magic of their courts and don’t like to let it leave, usually. That’s why we were all so worried about the others finding out about Feyre. This female doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. So once she leaves, all of her magic – just like that, it’s lost to us and now in Eris’ pocket.”

Elain hadn’t heard any of this before. She was starting to realise just how little she knew, and how much she’d blinkered herself by never even daring to ask questions, assuming everyone would just ignore her anyways. Her palms got hot and itchy around her teacup, which she sipped carefully, considering what Mor had said. Rhys hefted Nyx with a groan, sauntering out of the kitchen again, giving Mor a casual goodbye. Elain had to ask now if she wanted to know, before the conversation turned and she lost the moment and looked suspicious if she raised it again.

“What does she do that’s so special?” Elain made pains to ask it as breezily as she could, soaking up what little scraps of knowledge they were casually tossing out as if they didn’t matter - as if she wasn’t hanging on every word.

“Oh, she can put people in an enchanted sleep,” Mor said, inspecting her manicure. “She creates dreams, too.”

Every single hair on Elain’s body suddenly stood on end, and she was careful to slowly, casually, gently put her teacup in the sink and wash it out. Like she would any other day, she washed her hands, dried them thoroughly, checked her nails.

“I, uhm…. I need to go shopping at the markets today. Rather urgently.”

A/N: Nynyve is a variation of the name Viviane, both of which are names for the Lady of the Lake. Bayard is a mythical French horse, who could carry multiple brothers at once. I wanted to give Aisling a bit of a different relationship with religion than we've seen. All three Archeron sisters aren't believers, and none of the POV characters really mention it - but it plays a role in the books, so I wanted to experiment with a character who really DID believe. Like most patriarchal societies, though, I think the Hewn City would use religion as a way to oppress women rather than uplift them like we see in ACOSF. I'm experimenting with how I write Elain's visions, since I'm not really happy with them. She quotes "England in 1819" by Percy Shelley (I think some fourth wall breaking use of poetry is fun, since the visions are meant to be very meta).

#by turns #my writing #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #not my finest work this chapter but at a certain point you stop having fun with it you know

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