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yeostinys · 6 months ago

Text

Cry For Me

Pairing: DomCEO!Hongjoong x SubSecretary!Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, slight angst, PWP, Office!AU

Notes: Cheating (don’t do it yall. this is just fiction), Unprotected sex (wrap it up!!! do not try this irl, it is pure fantasy!), explicit language, dacryphilia kink, humiliation, degrading, power fixation, Hongjoong lowkey manipulates (but for the better ig lol)

Word Count: 13k (condensed some ideas to bring down the word count LOL)

Authors note: This is pure horny imagination and in NO WAY, reflects on the characters in real life! If you do not like this type of content pls ignore or block me.

Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

———————————————————————

As you stepped into your apartment, the night sky cast a deep blue glow through the windows, shimmering like a vast ocean. The warm glow of the sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the entryway and casting soft shadows on the walls. You paused for a moment, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips, echoing in the stillness of the room.

It was the fifth time this month that your boyfriend had canceled on you, and each time felt like another nail in the coffin of what once seemed like a blossoming romance. The disappointment settled heavily in your chest, making each step toward the kitchen feel more burdensome than the last.

With a determined resolve, you made your way to the fridge, the familiar chill greeting you as you opened the door. Your fingers closed around a half-filled bottle of wine, the label slightly crumpled from the many times it had been hastily put back. You pulled it out, and reached for a glass. You stare blankly as you poured the wine, watching as the dark liquid rose to the rim, glistening in the soft light. Without hesitation, you brought it to your lips, taking a few deep gulps, each swallow both comforting and numbing. As the warmth spread through you, tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, a familiar sensation that you had tried so hard to push away.

The memories of the past 2 years flooded back—Siwoo’s laughter, the shared moments that now felt like distant echoes. But lately, he had become a stranger, his warmth replaced by an impenetrable distance. You had tried to reach out, to bridge the growing gap, but each time ended in disappointment. Now, standing in your quiet apartment, you felt a profound sense of loss that had settled deep within you, leaving you feeling numb, as if you were merely going through the motions of life without truly living it.

You quickly wiped your tears away, the salty tracks on your cheeks feeling foreign yet familiar. With each brush of your fingers, the sadness that had threatened to overwhelm you twisted into something sharper—anger.

*Ding.*

The sudden sound pulled your attention away from your thoughts. You turned your head toward your phone, its screen lighting up with a notification. The sight of Siwoo's name, accompanied by a little heart, made your heart sink further.

Siwoo <3: I’m sorry I cancelled again. Please don’t hate me. I’ll see you on your lunch tomorrow.

You stared at the message, the words blurring momentarily as your vision wavered. Another empty promise. With a shaky hand, you raised your glass to your lips, the bitter taste of the wine filling your mouth as you took another long gulp. It was a poor substitute for the warmth you once felt from Siwoo's presence.

You couldn't bring yourself to respond—not now. You needed a few moments to gather your swirling emotions, to avoid lashing out with the hurt and anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The silence of the apartment enveloped you, amplifying your racing thoughts and making the weight of his message all the more suffocating.

Once you finished the rest of the wine bottle, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a fraction. You turned away from your phone, not wanting to see another message or another reminder of the chasm that seemed to grow between you. With heavy steps, you made your way to the bedroom.

You plopped down onto the bed, the soft sheets cradling you in their embrace. As your body sank into the mattress, fatigue overtook you, pulling you into a deep slumber. In the quiet darkness, you hoped for dreams that could somehow soothe the ache in your heart, if only for a little while.

———

The next day dawned with a muted light filtering through the curtains, the world outside still waking up. You rolled over, disoriented for a moment, before the reality of the day ahead crashed over you. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, the remnants of last night’s indulgence weighing heavily in your mind.

As you shuffled to the bathroom, the headache from downing that last glass of wine throbbed at your temples, a persistent reminder of your restless night. You cursed under your breath, regretting the decision to finish the bottle in a moment of vulnerability.

You quickly went through the motions of your morning routine. Your job as the secretary for one of the most well-known CEOs in the Creative Arts Institution required precision and poise, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had kept you up late. You dressed in a tailored blouse and a pencil skirt, the fabric smoothing against your skin as you adjusted the collar. The mirror reflected a professional exterior, yet you felt anything but composed inside.

After applying a touch of makeup to mask the fatigue in your eyes, you gathered your things—laptop, planner, and the ever-essential cup of coffee that awaited you in the kitchen.

———

As you step into the tall building, the morning sun filters through the glass façade, casting geometric shadows across the polished marble lobby. The familiar bustle of your colleagues greets you, their voices merging with the gentle hum of fluorescent lights. You nod and smile as you greet in response. You make your way to the elevator, its silver doors glinting in the light. Pressing the button for the top floor, you mentally prepare for the day ahead, trying not to show your exhausted emotions, mentally and physically. When the doors slide open, you step into the expansive hallway lined with art. At the end of the corridor, you enter the grand office door. You walk to the enormous desk adorned with a gold plaque that reads “CEO Kim Hongjoong” and set down the iced Americano you picked up on your way in. You reach into your tote bag and retrieve a neatly organized file folder. Flipping it open, you scan through today’s itinerary, noting the key meetings and tasks that lie ahead. Once satisfied with your briefing, you close the folder and return it to your bag. You head to the front desk positioned just outside the CEO's office, and begin your morning tasks. Every day in the office has settled into a rhythm, a familiar routine that feels almost automatic.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” “Hello, Mr. Kim!” The greetings echo as your colleagues bow slightly, their respect palpable.

You rise from your chair, straightening your blouse, and offer a nonchalant nod, masking the exhaustion lingering just beneath the surface.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you say as you bow, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Hongjoong approaches, his expression warm yet focused.

“Hello, Y/N. Have you prepared everything for today’s schedule?” he asks, moving past you toward his office.

“Yes, you have a meeting in an hour with a client…” you begin to relay the itinerary, following him inside. He settles into his chair, taking a sip of the Americano and nods in response.

“Also, I dealt with the complaints from the last exhibition. Everything’s been taken care of, just like you wanted,” you add, your tone casual, though the weight of your own issues tugs at your thoughts. Hongjoong looks up, a smile breaking across his face.

“That’s why I have you as my secretary, Miss Y/N. Thank you so much.”

You nod, the compliment momentarily brightening your mood, but it’s fleeting. You bow again before slipping out of the office. As the door closes behind you, you take a deep breath, pushing the worries from your relationship to the back of your mind, ready to tackle the day ahead with practiced indifference.

Throughout the morning, you flit in and out of meetings, accompanying Hongjoong as he navigates a flurry of tasks. The office is a hive of activity, and you move seamlessly between conversations, taking notes and organizing files, but the weight of your personal life hangs heavy in the back of your mind.

You glance at the clock on your desk: just thirty minutes until your hour break. A sigh escapes your lips, and you reach for your phone, hesitating. Siwoo’s message sits unread, a lingering question mark in your thoughts. You know you should respond, but the uncertainty of his invitation makes you hesitate. Is it pettiness that keeps you from reaching out, or a defense mechanism to shield your heart from further pain? You shake off the intrusive thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand.

*Ding.* Your phone buzzes, drawing your attention. It’s another message from Siwoo.

Siwoo <3: I won’t be able to make it today. Something came up at work. Sorry.

You scoff under your breath, a bitter taste filling your mouth. His absence stings, but you’ve braced yourself for this—after all, it’s become a pattern.

Just then, Hongjoong’s voice crackles through the telephone intercom on your desk, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. “Miss Y/N, please come to my office.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, rising from your seat with a practiced smile as you make your way into his office.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?” you ask, your tone polite, carefully masking the frustration beneath the surface from Siwoo’s message.

Hongjoong leans back in his chair, his expression serious.

“I know you have your hour break in twenty minutes, but I just got off the phone with a potential client. They want to meet over lunch in a few minutes, and I need you to tag along to take notes. If you can wait on your break for another hour, I’ll cover your meal if you accompany me now.”

His words feel more like an instruction than a request, and you nod in response, pushing your personal frustrations aside.

“Of course, sir. Shall I call the chauffeur now?”

“No need,” he replies, grabbing his briefcase. “We’ll take my vehicle. I’ll drive.”

You nod and follow Hongjoong out of the building.

You settled into the passenger seat next to Hongjoong, the sleek interior of the car enveloping you. The rhythmic clicking of the turn signal punctuated the silence, while the soft murmur of the news on the radio served as a gentle backdrop.

“Miss Y/N, is everything alright?” Hongjoong's voice cut through the quiet, steady and attentive. You turned to him, slightly taken aback by his directness.

“Y-Yes, sir. What makes you concerned?” you replied, a hint of surprise coloring your voice. His eyes remained fixed on the road, focused yet perceptive.

“My top employee—my secretary—has been unusually quiet lately. You seem a bit off,” he remarked, expertly navigating the car into a parking lot. His concern was genuine, and you felt a flutter of warmth at his attention.

“I apologize if I gave that impression today, sir. I assure you, I’m alright,” you replied, straightening in your seat, trying to project confidence. Hongjoong parked the car and turned to face you, his expression serious.

“Y/N, I’m not just talking about today. You’ve been like this for a few days now. I don’t want to pry, but if something is bothering you, please let me know. You never slack off—well, not that I’ve noticed—but you’re a vital part of our team. If you’re not at your best, it affects us all, especially me. Let’s tackle any issues together, professionally.” His words carried a weight of understanding that took you by surprise.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal.

“I… I apologize, sir. It’s just some personal issues in my relationship. I promise I won’t let it interfere with my work,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. You feared that honesty might blur the lines of your professional relationship.

Hongjoong regarded you with a thoughtful expression, his brow slightly furrowing. “Problems in your relationship?” he asked gently. You nodded, keeping your head bowed.

“Yes. I appreciate you asking,” you replied, feeling a rush of gratitude mixed with apprehension.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, his tone shifting back to his usual professional demeanor. “Let’s get to work.”

The next hour unfolded at a high-end restaurant, its luxurious ambiance creating the perfect setting for a business meeting. You sat next to Hongjoong, across from two potential clients, the atmosphere charged with opportunity. As they discussed plans for an upcoming exhibition, you diligently took notes, your mind sharpening as you transitioned into your role.

Hongjoong exuded charisma, ordering champagne and an array of exquisite appetizers while skillfully guiding the conversation. You admired the way he balanced authority with approachability, creating an atmosphere of collaboration.

———

As promised, Hongjoong granted you your hour break once you both returned to the office. The day had been packed with meetings and conversations, but you had already eaten at the restaurant, so instead of lingering in the bustling atmosphere of the office, you decided to find solace on the rooftop.

Ascending to the rooftop, you pushed open the heavy door, the cool air hitting your face like a refreshing wave. You walked over to one of the bistro tables, the metal surface gleaming under the midday sun. You sank into one of the chairs, letting out a deep sigh that released the pent-up stress from the morning. In your left hand, you cradled an iced Americano to keep you alert. In your right, you held your phone, its screen illuminating your face as you contemplated the text messages from Siwoo.

He should be off work by now, you thought, scrolling through the thread of messages. You hesitated, biting your lip, unsure of how to approach him. The uncertainty had lingered in your mind for days, and it felt like a weight on your chest. After a moment’s deliberation, you resolved to take initiative and give him a call.

You tapped his name, and set the phone on speaker. As the phone rang, the sound echoed in the serene space around you. It rang for what felt like an eternity until finally, you heard his voice on the other end, slightly breathless.

“H-hello? Y/N?” Siwoo stuttered, his tone hesitant.

“Siwoo, what are you doing?” you asked, trying to sound calm, though your heart raced with anticipation.

“Mmm, n-nothing much, just working out. I-I went to the gym after work,” he replied, punctuating his words with a grunt that surprised you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Since when did he ever work out?

You decided to push forward, hoping to reconnect. “Do you want to come over tonight? I’ll make dinner,” you offered, softening your voice as if trying to coax him back into your world.

“A-ahh, probably not tonight. I have to finish some work at h-home,” he stuttered again, his voice strained, as though he were struggling for breath.

Disappointment settled in your stomach, but you pressed on. “I can come over then, yeah? I’ll make you your favorite dish?” You mentally kicked yourself for even suggesting it, a flicker of doubt reminding you of all the times he had flaked out before.

“N-no, Y/N. I-It’s okay. A-ahh!” Siwoo grunted loudly, and a chill ran through you at the sound.

“Siwoo, what’s going on?!” You raised your voice slightly, urgency creeping in.

“I told you, Y/N. I’m working out. We can’t see each other tonight; I’m busy. I have to go,” he snapped, the finality in his tone cutting through the air like a knife. The line went dead, leaving you with only the echo of his voice. Your heart sank, a familiar ache running within you.

You stared at the phone in disbelief, the cool metal suddenly feeling heavy in your hand. How could he do this again? A mix of frustration and sadness swirled in your chest, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it did little to quell the rising tide of emotions.

——

You glance at the small digits on your screen, the glowing numbers reading 8:00 PM. Your shift officially ended thirty minutes ago, but here you sat, a blend of dedication and denial keeping you tethered to your desk. Guilt washed over you, a stark reminder of Hongjoong’s earlier words. There was no point in heading home, not when the weight of unfinished tasks bore down on you. The quiet of your apartment would only invite sorrow, while the office, though nearly deserted, offered a comforting distraction.

The atmosphere had shifted; the energy of the day had given way to silence as colleagues trickled out, exchanging soft goodbyes. Each farewell came with a gentle reminder not to work too hard, and you managed a smile, masking the turmoil brewing inside you. Once they departed, you returned your focus to the glowing screen, rifling through files and diligently noting necessary information, your fingers a blur over the keyboard.

A flicker of light caught your eye—a warm streaming light from Hongjoong’s office. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity; you’d assumed he had left an hour ago. Shaking off the thoughts that threatened to wander, you turned back to your work.

“Y/N?” Hongjoong’s voice broke through your concentration. You looked up at him through your rectangular glasses that rested on your face. He cut an impressive figure, dressed in a fitted black dress shirt and a black vest that accentuated his shoulders.(What the fuck Y/N; he’s your boss.) You mentally scolded yourself, attempting to dismiss any inappropriate thoughts.

“O-Oh, yes sir?” you replied, setting your pen down on the desk.

“Your shift ended an hour ago. Why are you still here?” His brow arched in genuine curiosity, his tone both commanding and concerned.

“I’m just catching up on some work, sir. I apologize. I’ll be heading home soon,” you replied, striving for composure even as nerves danced in your stomach.

“Y/N, come to my office,” he said, his calm demeanor masking the authority in his request. You hesitated, uncertainty creeping in. Why did he want to speak in private, especially when the office was nearly empty?

Despite your reservations, you take off your glasses frames, place them on your desk and follow him into his office. The door clicking shut behind you, a sound that felt like a declaration. The dim light cast long shadows, enveloping the room. He sits at the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.

“What’s going on in your relationship?” Hongjoong asked, his tone direct yet oddly informal. The question hung in the air, leaving you momentarily stunned. Your eyes widened, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck.

“Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about personal matters at work…” you managed to reply, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you avoided his gaze.

“It’s after work hours, Y/N. You can speak comfortably,” he said, his voice calm and soothing, yet imbued with a sharpness that conveyed he was not one to be easily dismissed. “I can tell something is wrong.”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to formulate a response. A swirl of emotions crashed over you—fear of crossing professional boundaries mixed with the realization that perhaps he genuinely wanted to connect with you on a deeper level. Colleagues had often joked about how you and Hongjoong were like a married couple at work, a notion you had always brushed aside. The title felt cliché, almost childish, and you had preferred to maintain a strictly professional atmosphere.

But as you looked at him, a flicker of understanding passed between you. Maybe he wasn’t just playing the role of the CEO tonight. Perhaps he truly wanted to understand what you were going through. You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you considered opening up.

“We have… just been distant lately,” you say hesitantly, the words slipping out with reluctance. “Our schedules don’t seem to be aligning, and our communication is off. That is all, sir.” You glance at him, searching for a response.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding in acknowledgment. “Shall I… cut your hours? Maybe find a second secretary to fill in while you get to spend more time with your significant other?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“N-no, sir!” The words escaped your lips almost too hastily, an instinctive reaction that made you feel slightly embarrassed. Hongjoong chuckled, his head lowering momentarily before he lifted it again, locking eyes with you.

“So, is it his schedule that’s not cooperating with yours?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded in silence, the weight of your emotions pressing down as you considered the truth behind your answer.

“Mm… interesting.” Hongjoong tapped his chin thoughtfully, the wheels of his mind clearly turning. Curiosity prickled at you; what was going through his head? You couldn’t help but wonder about the direction this conversation was taking.

“Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what does your partner do for a living?” he asked, his tone calm and inviting.

“He’s a professor at the university located downtown,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

“A professor?” Hongjoong mused, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone. “I doubt their schedules are that busy compared to yours—a full-time secretary for a well-known company.” He dropped his hands into his pockets, his gaze intent and probing.

“Are you sure you should be concerned about his schedule? Maybe… it’s something more?” Hongjoong added nonchalantly, his casual demeanor contrasting sharply with the seriousness of his implication.

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. What was he suggesting? Your mind raced, trying to decipher his words. Was he implying that the distance in your relationship could be rooted in something deeper than just busy schedules? The thought unsettled you, but a part of you was intrigued by his concern. You hesitated, caught in a web of uncertainty as you considered how to respond.

“I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir…” you murmured, your gaze dropping to your black heels, the polished tips reflecting the dim light of the office.

“Come here, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice a blend of softness and authority that sent a shiver down your spine. Almost instinctively, you found your feet moving toward him, the rhythmic click of your pumps echoing softly against the floor as you approached. You stopped just in front of his black loafers, your heart racing in your chest.

“Closer,” he instructed, his voice lowering, deepening with an intensity that made you catch your breath. You stepped forward, positioning yourself between his slightly parted legs, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand reached out, a gentle yet firm grasp settling on your waist. You gasped in shock, the unexpected warmth of his touch flooding through you. This is wrong, you thought, panic stirring within, but something deeper held you in place, a pull that made it difficult to consider pulling away. Instead, you stood there, caught in a moment that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Maybe…” Hongjoong began, his thumb rubbing softly against the fabric of your blouse, the gentle motion both soothing and unsettling.

“your partner is being unfaithful…?” The words hung heavy in the air, a sentence that felt like a blade slicing through your gut.

A part of you recoiled at the thought, refusing to believe it. Yet, as you stood there, something nagged at you, a whisper of doubt that you couldn’t shake. The realization that he might be right crept in like a shadow, darkening your thoughts. Stupidly, your heart leaped to defend Siwoo, the man you cared for, even as uncertainty gnawed at you.

“Mr. Kim, I don’t appreciate you assuming that,” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared between the gap of Hongjoong’s legs that revealed the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You don’t know our relationship, so please do not accuse him of such acts…” you added, your tone a fragile mixture of firmness and vulnerability. As the words left your lips, you felt your eyes begin to well with tears, confusion and anger swirling within you. You trusted Siwoo; you had to. But the doubts Hongjoong had planted took root, and you didn’t understand why he was suddenly acting like this.

You wanted to leave, to escape the charged atmosphere and the unsettling intimacy of the moment, but your feet remained stuck to the floor. Deep down, beneath the rising tide of panic, you recognized that you craved the odd comfort Hongjoong provided, a warmth that felt so different from the turmoil in your heart.

Suddenly, a whimper escaped your lips, a sound that surprised you as tears began to cascade down your cheeks, dropping onto Hongjoong’s lap.

“Oh, baby…” Hongjoong cooed, his voice laced with a tenderness. You gasped at the sudden pet name. With a gentle yet deliberate movement, his unoccupied hand reached toward your face, lifting your chin slightly so that he could wipe away the tears that streamed relentlessly down. Your eyes however, still refusing to look at him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your heart raced at the intimacy of the moment.

“You defend him, yet you’re crying,” he observed, his voice low and soothing, but his words only added to the turmoil within you. It was as if he could see right through the facade you had tried to maintain. As his hand, previously resting on your waist, moved to the other side of your face, you felt the weight of his palms cupping your cheeks, an act of reassurance that both calmed and stirred your emotions.

“Look at me, Y/N” Hongjoong softly demands. Your pretty eyes look at him. Sparkling from the tears that are still streaming down your face slowly. Hongjoong bit his lip, fighting to maintain his composure, though he couldn’t help but think how fucken pretty you look when you cried… how vulnerable.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” he continued, his tone tender yet firm. “It was unprofessional of me. I was just trying to express my concerns.” His fingers brushed against your skin as he gently cupped your face, his thumbs softly stroking away the remnants of your tears. “I don’t want to see you cry anymore, okay?”

Confusion swirled within you, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. What was Hongjoong doing? His touch sent conflicting signals through your mind, making it hard to decipher the intentions behind his kindness. You felt your heart race as he held your gaze, searching for answers that remained elusive.

“Let me take you home. It’s getting late.” He reluctantly withdrew his hands, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. Hongjoong lightly tapped your waist,

“Okay?” he asked again, his voice softening as he sought your approval. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you looked into his eyes, those doe-like orbs filled with an innocence that belied the complexities of your situation. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, each moment stretching out as you found solace in his presence, even amidst the confusion.

———

The car glided smoothly along the quiet streets, the only sounds breaking the stillness were the gentle notes floating from the radio and the rhythmic tapping of Hongjoong’s fingers on the steering wheel. Each beat resonated with the unspoken tension lingering between you, a subtle backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your mind.

As the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, you felt a mix of relief and reluctance. The evening air was cool against your skin as you unbuckled your seatbelt and gathered your bags, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing your head slightly, unable to meet his gaze. It was a gesture of politeness, but it felt more like a shield, protecting you from the warmth of his soft smile that you could sense even without looking.

“No worries, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you Monday,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with an unshakeable confidence. You heard the warmth in his tone, even as you turned away and walked towards the entrance of your apartment building, his farewell echoing in your ears.

The elevator ride felt interminable as you ascended to your floor, each ding of the buttons amplifying the heaviness in your chest. Finally, you stepped into your small apartment, the familiar space offering little comfort. You dragged your feet toward your room, exhaustion pulling you down, both physically and emotionally.

Once inside, you kicked off your heels, the sharp clack against the floor a welcome relief. You stripped off your clothes with a mindless haste, leaving only your undergarments as you collapsed onto your bed. The cool sheets enveloped you, but they couldn’t ease the confusion swirling in your thoughts.

With a deep, resigned sigh, you sank into the mattress, your mind replaying fragments of your conversation with Hongjoong.

In a moment of desperation, you reached for your phone, dialing Siwoo’s number. The ringing felt like an eternity, and when it went to voicemail, a knot tightened in your stomach. You glanced at the clock—10 PM. Another attempt led to the same unyielding voicemail. Frustration filled within you, mixing with a pang of anxiety that settled in your chest.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The coolness of the room contrasted sharply with the heat of your thoughts. Slowly, memories of Hongjoong flooded your mind—his perfect figure leaning casually against the desk, his strong hand lingering on your arm, the gentle caress of his fingers against your face.

Your heart ached, not for Siwoo, but for Hongjoong. You suddenly craved his comforting and reassuring voice. His lingering touch on your skin. Your legs close together as you feel a wave of warmth between your thighs. Your hands moved down your soft skin, reaching towards your heat…

You gasp softly, shaking your head, trying to dismiss these feelings. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. Hongjoong is your Boss. And plus you have Siwoo. Your… loving boyfriend.

The weight of silence wraps around you like a thick fog, pressing down on your chest as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. You can’t shake the feeling that these spiraling thoughts. In frustration you convince yourself that you’re probably just deprived of touch from your significant other.

With sudden resolve, you push yourself up from the tangled sheets, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine, and head towards the bathroom. Turning on the water, you let your thoughts drown in the hot water. Making your way back to your room, you slowly dry off and change into pajamas.

As your head hits the pillow, a sense of calm envelops you, pulling you into a deep slumber. The world outside fades, and for the first time in ages, you allow yourself to drift away, hoping that tomorrow will bring a spark of connection back into your life.

———

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across your home office. You’re working from home today, since Hongjoong isn’t in office on the weekends. You sat your desk with a steaming cup of coffee cradled in your hands, you let the aroma fill your senses, the rich, dark liquid fueling your focus as your fingers typing across the keyboard.

The rhythmic sound of your typing created a serene atmosphere until it was interrupted by a sharp buzz from the apartment door.

Setting your coffee down, you pushed back your chair and stood, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread as you approached the door. Taking a deep breath, you swung it open, and your heart dropped. Standing there, looking both sheepish and regretful, was Siwoo, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry for flaking out on you so many times,” he said with a fake pout.

A year ago, you would have melted at this display. You might have accepted his half-assed apology with a smile, the flowers a token of his remorse. But today, your mind raced with reminders of all the times he had done this before. The constant stand-ups, the empty promises, the fleeting moments of connection overshadowed by disappointment.

Your heart ached, not with the sweet pang of love but with the heavy weight of frustration. You stood there, staring at him, emotions swirling within you like a storm. Hurt and upset battled against the tenderness that still lingered for him. You could feel the walls you had carefully built in the past months tightening around you, whispering that this was a cycle you were tired of repeating.

But your heart, foolishly hopeful, betrayed you. Before you could think it through, you found yourself reaching for the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh blooms. Then, without a second thought, you pulled him into a tight embrace. As his arms wrapped around you, the familiar warmth flooded back, and you felt your resolve waver.

In that moment, you wanted to believe that this time would be different. Yet beneath the surface, a deeper ache throbbed—a desperate question lingered in your mind: why do you keep doing this to me?

As the hours unfolded, Siwoo settled into a chair across from your desk, his laptop open and papers scattered around him. The familiar hum of shared work surrounded you, a scene that once brought you joy. He would glance up occasionally, flashing you a smile that was meant to soothe the tension in the air. Yet, despite the comforting proximity, your heart was locked in a battle against the memories of hurt he had inflicted upon you.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand. Still, they lingered like unwelcome shadows, flitting in and out of your consciousness. Each time Siwoo laughed at something on his screen or leaned back with a satisfied sigh, a part of you wanted to bask in the moment, to let yourself feel the happiness he once brought. But the other part—a weary, wiser part—reminded you of the countless times he had let you down.

Your mind already flooded with so many issues, decided to remind you of last night’s conversation with Hongjoong—the way he spoke to you, his touch… The longing for deeper connections hung heavily on your mind, teasing you with confusion.

You caught Siwoo watching you, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice breaking through your reverie.

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, just thinking about work.”

———

Throughout the day, with Siwoo at your side, a disquieting realization settled in your chest: you felt less like his girlfriend and more like a maid. He moved to lounge in your living room, casually asking for snacks and drinks while you sat at your desk, trying to concentrate on your work. Each request chipped away at your patience, drawing a line between the intimate moments you once cherished and the mundane reality of this interaction.

Glancing over, you caught sight of him: relaxed, almost carefree, tapping away on his phone with a soft laugh escaping his lips. Maybe it was Hongjoong’s words playing tricks on you, but a knot twisted in your stomach as you watched Siwoo, feeling an unfamiliar ick wash over you. It felt as though he was taking advantage of your hospitality, oblivious to the growing frustration bubbling within you.

“Oh, Y/N, can I borrow some money?” Siwoo asked, his voice casual, his eyes glued to the screen as he continued to chuckle at whatever amused him.

“May I ask why?” You replied softly, a frown creasing your brow as confusion settled in.

“I need to buy new materials for work. It’s required for all professors, and I’m just short by a few bucks,” he explained, his gaze still firmly fixed on his phone.

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Doesn’t the university cover materials for professors?”

“Mmm, not this time. Please?” he said, finally looking up at you, his irritating smile brightening his face as if he expected you to fold under the charm.

Taking a deep breath, you felt the tension in your chest tighten, but you nodded anyway, wiring him a sum that was likely more than he needed. Maybe it was an act of guilt or an old habit of wanting to keep the peace.

“Thanks, honey. You’re the best!” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. The grin on his face widened as he returned to his phone, engrossed once more in whatever had captured his attention.

“Y—you’re leaving so soon?” The words spilled out before you could stop them, a mix of desperation and disappointment. “I’m almost done with work. Let’s have dinner…”

He turned to you, his expression unchanged. “Maybe another day, Y/N. I have to head back to the campus.”

With that, he walked out without a backward glance, leaving you standing there, a swirl of emotions crashing against one another. As the door clicked shut, the weight of his absence pressed heavily on your heart, mingling with the irritation that had been building all day.

——

The weekend slipped away in a blur, its fleeting hours vanishing like sand through fingers. As you stepped into the office on Monday morning, you glanced around the workspace, filled with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint rustle of papers, and realized you wanted to be here. The thought of Hongjoong entered your mind unbidden. You couldn’t help but remember the conversations that had left you feeling confused but wanting more.

But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, chastising yourself. This wasn’t the time for daydreams. You were his secretary, bound by professional decorum. It was crucial to maintain composure, to focus on your tasks and responsibilities. After all, any semblance of personal feelings could only complicate matters.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing slightly from your desk as he entered his office, and you follow behind him. The air felt charged with unspoken tension, a remnant of the incident that had unfolded just days prior, a moment you both seemed to ignore.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N,” Hongjoong replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he settled into his chair behind the desk. His eyes flickered momentarily to the iced Americano you had picked up for him earlier, the cool condensation glistening against the glass.

“What is the schedule for today?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but you could sense the sharpness in his gaze as it remained fixed on you.

Clearing your throat, you began to relay the day’s itinerary, focusing intently on your notes. “We have the marketing meeting at ten, followed by the conference call with the investors at noon.” You spoke steadily, but your heart raced, memories of that night creeping back into your mind—a fleeting brush of his hands, the way his gaze had pierced through the façade of professionalism.

Hongjoong listened, nodding occasionally, but there was an air of distraction about him, too. He was acting as if nothing had happened, and you were determined to do the same, though it felt like walking a tightrope. You maintained your composure, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady and professional as you continued.

His expression remained neutral, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between you. You stole a glance at him, noting how the light caught the edges of his features, the way he effortlessly commanded the space around him.

“And finally,” you added, pushing the memories further down, “we have a team meeting at four to discuss the new project timeline.”

As you finished, a heavy silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the soft sound of his drink being set down on the desk. You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the unacknowledged moment hanging in the air. “Thank you, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice smooth as he rose from his chair. The brief moment of gratitude hung in the air between you, creating a small, intimate space in an otherwise professional atmosphere. You bowed slightly in acknowledgment, the familiar gesture a part of your daily routine, before you turned on your heels, ready to leave the room.

“Wait a moment,” he called out just as you reached the door. You paused, your heart skipping a beat, then turned back to face him.

“Yes, sir?” you replied, your voice steady but your mind racing.

“How are you doing?” he asked, the question casual yet layered with an unexpected warmth. The simplicity of it took you aback, a small flicker of surprise igniting within you.

“I—I’m well, sir. Thank you for asking.” You stumbled over your words slightly, an involuntary shyness creeping in. “How about you?” You returned the question out of politeness.

“That’s good to hear, Y/N,” he replied, his soft smile breaking through the formalities and lighting up the room. “I’m doing fine as well.”

You nodded, the warmth of his expression lingering in the air as you took in the moment. “I’ll get back to my work then,” you said, turning once more to leave.

As you stepped out of his office, the door closing softly behind you, you made your way back to your desk, the echo of his words and that fleeting smile still resonating within you.

——

Once you stepped out of Hongjoong’s office, he sank back into his chair, the weight of the world settling on his shoulders as his thoughts turned inward, swirling around you. He couldn’t deny the fondness he felt. From the moment you had started working as his secretary, you had made it clear that you were in a serious relationship. He respected your loyalty, admired it even, but it didn’t erase the growing complexity of his own feelings for you.

As he gazed out the window, memories flooded back, particularly the recent lunch meeting on Friday. You had accompanied him at the last minute, and during the drive, when you admitted to him about your relationship struggles. The admission struck him deeply—he felt a flicker of triumph at your honesty, a selfish part of him celebrating. Yet, mingled with that spark was a simmering anger; the man you were with was clearly causing you distress.

After returning to the office, you took your promised hour break, and Hongjoong found himself drawn to the rooftop. He hadn’t intended to pry; he simply wanted to offer words of encouragement, to lift your spirits. But as he approached, he overheard your phone ring and the familiar cadence of your voice pick up the call. A sinking feeling took root in his stomach when he recognized the voice on the other end—Siwoo, your boyfriend.

He paused at the steel door, unable to resist the urge to listen. Siwoo’s breathless tone was unmistakable, the hurried speech revealing more than mere exertion from a workout. Hongjoong's heart raced as he deduced the truth— Any man would know, this was not the voice of a faithful partner. The realization struck him like a punch; this man had the audacity to take your call while clearly entangled in something inappropriate.

A rush of guilt washed over him as he retreated to his office, grappling with the anger that grew beneath the surface. How could someone hurt you, an innocent, kind, and beautiful person? He felt torn, wanting to protect you while recognizing the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.

In the hours that followed, a storm of thoughts brewed within him. It was reckless, perhaps, but the idea of bringing you into his office after hours began to take root. He wanted to voice his concerns casually. But when you began to softly cry, that’s when he felt the line blur. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your pretty doe-like eyes glistening with unshed tears— (fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking like that).

Hongjoong pulled back from his reminiscent thoughts, deciding it was best to let you navigate this situation on your own. Maybe you would uncover the truth about Siwoo, perhaps the pieces would fall into place. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, and as he sat in his office, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could contain his feelings, how much longer he could remain a silent observer to your heartache.

Fuck it? Hongjoong thought to himself. Siwoo deserves a taste of his own medicine.

Hongjoong scoffed to himself at his idea as he sipped on his coffee.

———

The workday unfolded in its usual rhythm, a blur of emails, calls, and the occasional paperwork that seemed to multiply by the hour. You navigated through the tasks with a practiced efficiency, though your mind occasionally drifted to the flurry of messages buzzing on your phone. Each notification from Siwoo felt like a weight pressing down on you, filled with meaningless apologies, and pleads to wire money for some other things, god knows what he needed it for.

With a deep breath, you made the decision to ignore his messages for now. You turned your focus back to your work, fingers typing over the keyboard, pouring your energy into the tasks at hand.

As you typed, the sound of footsteps drew your attention. You looked up to find Hongjoong standing before your desk, his presence commanding yet familiar. He had a way of drawing you in, and for a moment, the chaos of your personal life faded into the background.

“Miss Y/N, please come to my office after work hours,” he said, his tone smooth yet imbued with a seriousness that piqued your curiosity. He turned and strode into his office, leaving you with a flurry of thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him go.

With a sigh, you returned to your work, the clock ticking steadily toward the end of the day. Each keystroke felt heavier as the minutes dragged on, and the anticipation of your meeting with Hongjoong lingered like a sweet ache in your heart.

———

As the final colleagues trickled out of the building, the quiet hum of the office began to settle into an echo of solitude. You sighed as you recalled Hongjoong’s instructions. Straightening your buttoned blouse and smoothing down your skirt, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in his office.

You knocked softly, the sound barely breaking the silence.

“Come in,” Hongjoong’s voice resonated through the door. You opened it slowly and stepped inside, closing it behind you with a soft click.

Hongjoong was seated at his desk, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms accentuated by a dark tie. The sight of him brought a swirl of emotions; he exuded an effortless charisma that both intimidated and drew you in.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor, an attempt to hide the mix of anxiety and curiosity swelling inside you.

“Yes, please come here, Y/N,” he replied, his voice calm and low. As you approached him, the familiar sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor echoed in your mind, reminding you of the similar situation a few days ago in this very spot.

“Please, sit,” he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, positioning yourself at the edge, an instinctive reaction born from uncertainty.

Hongjoong rose from his chair and began to circle around the desk, a pen spinning effortlessly between his slender fingers. The movement was fluid, almost hypnotic, and it pulled your attention as you tried to read his expression.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, pausing for a moment, “you’re one of my smartest employees, correct?” His gaze remained focused elsewhere, a slight distance in his eyes.

“Th—thank you, sir. I—” you started, but his voice cut through your response.

“A person with an important job like yours requires a lot of skill, attentiveness… and have the ability assess the environment around the office, Correct?”

“Yes… that is correct, sir,” you replied quietly, maintaining eye contact,

“Would you agree that you have been lacking some of these skills, Y/N?” Hongjoong stopped infront of you, sitting at the edge of his desk. His arms crossed over his chest, revealing the strong veins that ran along his forearms, an unconscious display of his physicality that made your heart race.

“I—I haven’t noticed, sir. I apologize if I haven’t been performing well…” The words tumbled out, anxiety creeping in. Were you about to get fired? The thought sent a chill through you, and you mentally recoiled at the prospect of your life spiraling further down.

“I’m not going to fire you, Y/N,” he said, and your eyes widened in surprise; it was as if he had plucked the thought straight from your mind.

“I’m not really following this conversation, sir…” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you began to fidget with your fingers in your lap, seeking any distraction from the mounting tension.

Hongjoong released a frustrated sigh, and suddenly he pushed himself off the edge of the desk, stepping toward you slowly. His strong arms landed on the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you in place. He leaned in closer, the proximity forcing you to lean back into the seat, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden intimacy of the moment.

The air between you thickened. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the sharpness of his gaze holding you captive.

He scoffed, the corner of his lip turning into a smirk as he looked down. His eyes landed on the unbuttoned opening of your shirt. He sees your chest breathing up and down in anticipation. He looks up, gazes at your lips quickly before looking into your eyes.

“For someone so pretty and smart, you’re quite naive” He chuckles. A rush of heat seeps into your cheeks. You’re at a loss for words. You don’t know how to respond, so you opt to stay silent.

“Miss Y/N” Hongjoong says sternly in a soft voice.

“Yes, Sir?” You quietly reply back.

“Can you assess the environment in this office right now?” His voice is a whisper.

“U—Uhm…” you stutter, not knowing what to say. Hongjoong chuckles at your flustered expression.

“Let me give you a hint, Y/N” Hongjoong whispers and leans in closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm wave. Then, in a moment that felt both thrilling and terrifying, his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes widened in shock. This is wrong, a voice in your mind screamed. You shouldn’t be doing this. But as much as you tried to summon the strength to pull away, your body betrayed you.

His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly gentle as they molded against yours, igniting a fire that swept through you. The worries around you faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in this unexpected moment. It felt as if time had stopped, your heartbeat loud in your ears, drowning out the rational thoughts that screamed for you to stop.

As he finally pulled away, the distance felt electric, charged with a lingering intimacy. His gaze searched yours, earnest and intense. “Do you understand now?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You nod slowly.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks softly as he looks at your plush lips. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. All you know is that you want whatever lingering feelings Hongjoong has bestowed on you. As much as you know it’s wrong, you can’t help but crave him.

In response to his question, You shake your head in protest. His thumb caresses your chin tilting your head to look up at him.

“Use your words baby.” Hongjoong’s voice is low as he stares into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Please… don’t stop sir.” You say quietly. Hongjoong smirks and pulls way from you. You look at him confused. His position is sat back onto the edge of his desk.

“Show me you want it too Y/N” He’s teasing you. Wanting to see how far you’re willing to go. Knowing that deep inside, as much as you want this you still feel a tiny ounce of guilt from being unfaithful to your partner. Regardless, You rise from the chair and make your way to Hongjoong. You position yourself between his legs that are slightly spread and place both your arms on his shoulders. You lean forward and kiss him. Hongjoong returns the kiss almost immediately. He can feel himself already growing hard as his lips move against yours. His hands are securely gripped onto your waist bringing you closer to him. He deepens the kiss and swipes his tongue over the bottom of your lip. In response your mouth opens as you release a whimper. Both of your tongues now move together skillfully, resulting in a moan from both of you. As the heated make-out session continues, you notice Hongjoong’s arm pushing away some papers and other items on the desk behind him.

Smoothly, Hongjoong moves your position, his strong arms swiftly carry your body onto the desk. You are now sat on top of the cold wood, arms wrapped around his neck, as he continued to devour your lips. You slightly pull back in attempt to catch your breath. You’re a panting mess, and so is he. Hongjoong however doesn’t want to stop. He pecks your lips, before leaving a trail kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your soft cheek, and finally to your slender neck. Shivers were sent throughout your body as Hongjoong left soft warm kisses on your neck.

“A—ah Sir…” you whimpered quietly. Hongjoong hummed in response as he began to leave opened mouth kisses on your skin.

Hongjoong pushed your legs apart, your skirt already slightly hiked up from him placing you on the desk moments ago. Revealing your exposed thighs, Hongjoong’s hands moved from knees, and traveled up your soft plush thighs, causing you to close them in an instinct, but his strong arms prevent you, keeping them open.

His lips trails up to your ear nibbles on your lobe before whispering softly, “I want you to say my name okay?” You nod in response.

His hands moved dangerously closer to your heat that was radiating from your exposed thighs, but he stops, he was teasing you. His hands caressed your inner thighs, not daring to move closer as he continued to kiss your neck and face. His lips found his way back to yours and takes it in softly.

You whimper against his mouth and he slowly pulls away.

“What’s wrong baby?” His voice is so soft, sending another heat wave down your body.

“Please… touch me, sir” you say sheepishly.

“I told you Y/N, I want you to say my name.” Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs tighten, causing you to whimper in pain and pleasure.

“H—Hongjoong…” your soft, angelic voice echoed in his ears as his name rolled off your tongue.

“Yeah baby?” He tries to hold back a groan, already so turned on by you calling his name.

“Hongjoong, touch me… please?” You plead with your doe eyes staring at him. Hongjoong bites his lip as he looks at your pretty, desperate face.

“Fuck, Y/N… you make me do stupid shit” He curses under his breath before devouring your lips once again.

This time, his hands finally touch your warm clothed pussy. You moan at his touch. His fingers slowly rub against your clit, creating a friction against the fabric of your underwear. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck tighter. Moaning into his lips as he continues to rub you.

Unexpectedly, tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes. Not in pain, not in discomfort, but in a frustrating pleasure.

“Hong—j-joong, stop teasing please” You whimper as he slightly pulls away. He looks at your face, tears slowly falling down. He smirks, “Mm such a dirty brat, crying for me…” He degrades you in a low tone.

His hands find the hem of your underwear, and he skillfully pulls them down. They rest at the ankles of your legs, stopped by your heels that restricted them from falling to the floor. Hongjoong’s left arm cradles your back, as his right hand pushes up your skirt more to reveal your bare wet pussy.

“Fuck… so wet already just from me kissing you, and barely touching you?” He teases you, even though he too is already so rock hard in his slacks, from just kissing and touching you.

His hand makes his way to your clit. The soft bud of his middle and ring finger gently rubs circles, causing you to hold back a moan. Skillfully, his fingers dip down to your entrance, not fully going inside you, just enough to collect your wet fluids, and bring them back up to your clit. He rubs it again, slowly picking up the pace.

Your right hand drops behind you as it land on the desk, supporting your weight. You slightly throw your head back and cover your mouth with your unoccupied arm trying to hide your moans.

“Let me fucken hear you moan baby. No one is here. Just you and me” Hongjoong groans in your ear. His voice turned you on so much, resulting in a soft moan slipping from your lips.

Hongjoong’s fingers make their way to your entrance. Slipping in your tight folds. You gasp and grab onto his shoulder. He pumps his fingers slowly, as he studies your facial expressions. Your eyes are sparkling from the previous tears you shed. Your glossy lips slightly parted as you released soft moans.

“So fucken pretty” Hongjoong moans as he leans down to kiss your forehead. The gentle gesture, mixed with his lewd actions makes your stomach turn in a good way. He begins to pick up the pace. The office room is silent, with only the sounds of your mixed moans, pants, and the wetness of your folds fapping against Hongjoong’s hand.

Your mind begins to get fuzzy as you feel an orgasm near by. Hongjoong feels your pussy tighten around his digits, he chuckles before he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You whine in protest, frustration builds up in you, you were so close. Your arm around his neck tugs him closer, reaching for his lips, wanting to feel some sort of physical contact. But he pulls away from you. Completely. He steps back and looks at your figure.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, an unsettling knot tightening in your stomach. Why did he stop? Just moments ago, the air had felt charged with lust, and now it hung heavy with an unspoken tension. A flood of negative thoughts surged through your mind, drowning out any remnants of clarity. Embarrassment crept in, a heat rising to your cheeks, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Guilt wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, its weight almost suffocating. You could feel the sting of tears pooling in your eyes, the familiar ache of despair threatening to spill over. In a swift, instinctive motion, you cast your gaze downward, as if to shield yourself from the world around you. Your heart raced as quiet whimpers escaped your lips.

Hongjoong watches you as you softly cry. He tries not to loose his composure. The cute look of confusion on your face makes him feral.

“Aww baby… why are you crying hm?” Hongjoong’s voice is raspy. He tilts his head, trying to get a good look at your flushed face. You can’t find yourself to respond, only sniffles and soft whimpers can be heard.

“You know… to be completely honest Y/N…” the sound of Hongjoong’s belt unbuckling fills the air. You glance at him with your doe eyes.

“When I told you… I don’t want to see you cry anymore…” He slings his belt off his pants and drops it to the floor. His hands moving towards the button of his slacks. He shifts towards your body, and leans close to your face.

“I actually meant… I don’t want to see you cry for anyone else but me.” Your eyes widen at his statement. He chuckles at your expression and grabs your hands. He brings them towards his hard mound covered by the soft fabric of his pants.

“You look so fucken pretty when you cry. It turns me on so much. Knowing that you feel so good, you can’t help but shed a few tears” He moans as you begin to instinctively rub your hands on his huge hard on.

“Help me out baby. Be a good girl” Hongjoong whispers to you, and you nod. He smiles at your response. You make your way off the desk, and position yourself on your knees. You slowly unzip Hongjoong’s pants and pull them down along with his trousers. His hard, long cock springs out and softly hits your face. You gasp at the sudden sight. Earning a chuckle from him.

“Open your mouth.” He demands softly. Your lips part, tongue slightly sticking out, as you take Hongjoong’s length in. He releases a loud groan. Cursing under his breath as you begin to slowly bob your head up and down. You twirl your tongue a few times over his tip, causing him to tightly grip onto your soft hair.

“F—Fuck baby…” Hongjoong throws his head back.

“… damn, your boyfriend is this lucky and can’t even fucken appreciate you” You freeze at the sudden statement, and Hongjoong smirks as he scoffs. In response, he begins to thrust into your mouth slowly. You moan on his cock as he begins to shove himself deeper into your mouth. You tap Hongjoong’s leg, and he pulls you off him instantly. You gasp for air, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to his cock, as you begin to cough. Hongjoong chuckles, caressing your hair.

“Stand up” He demands. And in an instant you’re on your feet. Hongjoong swiftly lifts you up and places you back onto the desk. His hands are hastily unbuttoning your blouse as he kisses your lips. You moan, furrowing your brows, still thinking about the humiliating statement Hongjoong said. Something about his touch is so intoxicating, making you want more. Making you not care about anything in your reality.

As Hongjoong releases the last button on your blouse, he quickly pushes your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra filled by your perfect plush breasts. His hands grace over your chest, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses the exposed skin of your breast. His hands moving towards the straps, as he pulls them off. He reaches behind you and skillfully releases the clasps of your bra. The black lace drops swiftly revealing your perfect boobs.

“So fucken perfect for me baby.” Hongjoong whispers as he gropes them with his hands. You moan at his touch. He takes one in his mouth and laps at your nipples, resulting in you throwing your head back in pleasure.

“H—Hongjoong” you moan his name, he hums in response, still working on your breasts.

“Want.. m—more” you stutter under his touch.

He pulls away from you and pants, trying to calm himself down.

“Want more what?” He cocks an eyebrow at you. You pout, too embarrassed to verbally say what you want from him.

“Tell me now, or I’ll leave you here” Hongjoong threatens as he begins to pump himself, already knowing what you want. But he still wants to hear the words from your mouth.

“I want… you inside me… please?” You whimper in embarrassment. You look at him and you see a spark of excitement in his eyes as he smirks at you.

“Atta girl. Wasn’t so hard to say right?” He teases you as he brings himself closer to your pussy. Your breath increases as he places his tip right at the entrance. He only inserts his head before pulling out, repeating the gesture a few times. You whine as a tear falls from your eyes.

“Quit being a fucken brat” Hongjoong hisses at you bringing a gentle hand to your face as he wipes the tear away. Finally, He pushes his whole length inside you, earning a loud yelp from you. His cock instantly hits your sensitive spot and you cling onto his arms. He pauses inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. You’re definitely not used to his large length and thick girth, he’s stretching you out so good.

“Damn baby, you’re so tight? Your boyfriend isn’t big enough huh?” Hongjoong snickers at you. You whine at the sudden mention of your boyfriend again. It’s like he wants to remind you of him on purpose. To humiliate you. Hongjoong begins a slow pace inside you. Grunting as he moves against you.

“Answer me…” he demands, his hand cups your chin to force your gaze on him.

“H—he isn’t big enough. Y—you’re bigger Hongjoong…” You moan as he thrusts deeper.

“You… make me feel s—so good” You close your eyes as you take in the pleasure running through your body. Hongjoong manically smiles. Ecstatic at your response.

“Yeah?” He teases. Picking up his pace. The sound of your sweet moans heighten, the wet sounds of you two slapping against each other fill the room along with Hongjoong’s dirty words.

“Bet you, he doesn’t fuck you this good huh? Look at you. A fucken mess on my cock.”

“N-no! He doesn’t.” You whine, another wave of tears begin to fall from your eyes. The overstimulation of Hongjoong pumping into you along with his degrading words overwhelms you. You don’t want to admit it, but you fucken love this. Your body is enjoying every fucken moment of this dirty, lewd affair.

“F-Fuucckk” Hongjoong moans loudly. “Look at me while you cry, baby. Let me see that pretty face” you listen to him without hesitation. Your eyes locking with his. You feel yourself closer to reaching your high. Until you’re both interrupted with a sudden ringing.

You both turn your heads to the chair you sat on when you first entered Hongjoong’s office. The sight of your bright phone screen illuminates the dim room.

*Siwoo <3 is Calling*

Your heart drops at the name. Anxiety suddenly filling your body, replacing the pleasure you felt before. Hongjoong notices and smirks at you. He reaches over and grabs your phone.

“Answer it.” He demands. You shake your head no.

“I said fucken answer it. Your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don’t be a fucken brat now. Do you want me to stop?” Hongjoong’s words are harsh. You instantly shake your head in protest of him stopping.

“Then fucken answer it” Hongjoong shoves the phone towards you.

You hesitate as you grab the phone from his hands and click the green button. You bring the phone to your ear, but Hongjoong pulls your wrist, and clicks on the speaker button. He cocks his head at you, signaling you to continue,

“H-Hello? Siwoo?” You begin. Hongjoong resumes his pace. Fucking you in and out.

“Hey Honey. What are you doing?” Siwoo’s voice is calm, in contrast to what you’re feeling right now.

“A-Ah.. I’m j-just finishing up some w-work” You stutter as you try to keep your composure. Hongjoong makes it harder for you as he begins to lick your neck.

“You’re still at work?” Siwoo questions.

“M—mm, Yeah. Don’t worry. I—I’ll be home soon” You bite your lip trying to contain a moan.

“You okay Y/N? why do you keep stuttering?” Siwoo’s voices a concern.

“I—i’m okay. I-I just don’t feel too well. I think it’s a stomach tic” You bluff, trying to find an excuse.

“You don’t feel well? Shall I come pick you up from work-?” Siwoo suggests

“No!” You cut him off. You curse to yourself. Hongjoong smiles against a your neck and softly bites it as he continues fucking you senseless.

“Oh- okay then. Just be careful. take some medicine” You roll your eyes. (why the fuck does Siwoo decide to be sweet right now out of all days?) You mentally say to yourself.

“Y-yes I will…” You reply softly.

“Anyways, did you see my text? can you wire me some money?” Siwoo asks nonchalantly. You scoff, earning a vocalized chuckle from Hongjoong. Your eyes widen as you pull him closer to your neck, trying to muffle his laughter. You bite your lip, in hopes Siwoo didn’t hear anything.

“S—sorry, Siwoo. I don’t get paid till this Friday.” you manage to get out.

“Aww please? just a few bucks” Siwoo whines. In annoyance, you roll your eyes once again.

“Siwoo, I—I can’t. I have to go” You quickly hang up the call and throw your phone down. Hongjoong detaches from your neck and chuckles before attacking your lips. His pace begins to pick up. He holds onto your waist for support and you hold him closer. Hongjoong pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours.

“Does he take care of you? or do you take care of him?” He teases as he tries to hold back a laugh.

“S—Shut up” You moan in response. Hongjoong thrusts hard into you, earning a loud yelp from you.

“Someone’s suddenly mouthy?” Hongjoong’s hand grips onto your chin as he lightly taps your cheek.

“F—Fuck” You moan as he shoves himself inside you, with long and deep strokes.

Hongjoong then suddenly pulls out of you. Not wanting to waste any time, he lifts you off the desk and flips you over. Your front is pushed onto the cold wood, and he pulls your hips higher. Your forearms hoist yourself for support as you feel Hongjoong enter you once again. His hands grip under your skirt pushing them up towards your waist, giving him a perfect view of your ass. He mentally curses to himself as he watches your butt bounce on his cock at a constant pace. He brings his hand down to caress it before raising it and bringing it back down in a hard, but pleasurable slap. You yelp in response, eyes widen at the sudden contact.

“Such a fucken naughty girl. Fucking your boss, when you have a boyfriend” Hongjoong degrades you as his hand makes contact with your ass again. You whimper at the stinging sensation. Your tears fall onto the papers infront of you.

“Who fucks you better baby?” Hongjoong pants as his speed increases. “Me or Siwoo? Hm?” He asks again taking you in deeper.

“A—Ahhhh~ You, Hongjoong.” You sniffle your tears , “Hongjoong fucks me better!” You scream as his pace becomes sloppy. Hongjoong hears your crying whimpers and quickly turns you around to face him. Your body now lays flat on his desk as he pumps into you.

“Yeah? bet I can be better lover than him too” Hongjoong confesses as he smashes his lips onto yours. Your heart clenches at his statement. A sudden wave of orgasm hits you. Your pussy tightens around him as you come undone. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you release a loud moan. Your face buried in his chest, as he continues to fuck you and chase his high. Hongjoong’s thrust become sloppy, and quickly pulls out of you.

“Let me cum on your pretty face” He hastily demands. You quickly move towards his lower body and he pumps himself quickly on you. Hongjoong looks at your sparkly doe eyes, and bites his lips. His warm thick load releases into your face, along with a loud grunt from his mouth. You gasp as the feeling of the strings of cum landing on your soft skin. Your mouth instinctively opens,

“F—Fuckkk baby” Hongjoong hisses as he continues to pump more of his load onto your tongue.

The office room is filled with the sounds of you and Hongjoong panting, trying to catch your breath. The room reeks of sex. Your eyes are still locked on his. His white cum painted on your face and mouth. Without any other choice, you close your mouth and swallow his bittersweet cum.

“Fuck” Hongjoong whispers under his breath. He caresses your hair and reaches over his desk to grab a few tissue papers. Hongjoong wipes your face gently and kisses your forehead.

"Let me clean you up down there,"

Hongjoong whispered, his voice a soft, intimate murmur that seemed to linger in

the air between you. The earlier intensity of steamy sex had left a palpable tension, but now, a gentle calm enveloped the room. His eyes, once aflame with desire, were now filled with a warmth that reassured you, reminding you of the caring side he often showed.

After the whirlwind of passion, Hongjoong's demeanor had transformed completely. The fire that had ignited between you both settled into a tender glow as he moved closer, his presence both comforting and protective. With a steady hand, he reached for another tissue, his fingers brushing your skin lightly as he began to clean you up. The touch was careful and deliberate, as if he were trying to convey his affection through each gentle motion.

You felt a mix of vulnerability and warmth wash over you, grateful for the way he approached this moment. It was as though he understood the importance of transitioning from the intensity of physical connection to something more nurturing and intimate. You appreciated how he took his time, ensuring that you felt cared for, both emotionally and physically. As you two began to help each other back into your clothing, you couldn’t ignore the lingering feelings.

“I’ll take you home” Hongjoong smiles gently at you and brushes a strand of your hair out of your face. You nod and follow behind him out of his office. As he approached your desk, Hongjoong gathered your bags. You instinctively reached out to grab them, but he gently shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Let me handle this,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. With that, he took the lead, guiding you toward his car.

As you followed behind, your legs felt wobbly, you could sense him glancing back occasionally, ensuring you were still keeping up.

At the car, he paused, opening the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in. You slid into the seat. He placed your bags in the back with care, then turned to you, his demeanor softening as he reached for his spare coat. With a fluid motion, he draped it over your shoulders, its warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug.

“Hongjoong—” you started, the silence stretching between you, but he raised a hand to quiet you.

“Shh, it’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to say anything. Just rest,” he said gently. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The drive home was silent. The hum of the engine a lullaby in the stillness of the night. You fought to keep your eyes open, fatigue clawing at you, but each passing moment, tried to invite you to surrender to the drowsiness. Suddenly, the car came to a stop, signaling at you from your drowsy haze. You turned to look at Hongjoong, who was already gazing at you.

“Y/N…” Hongjoong’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight. “I meant what I said when I told you I can be a better lover than Siwoo.” The sincerity in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “He doesn’t treat you well. You deserve someone who truly values you.” His eyes held a raw intensity as he continued, “I don’t think I can go on without you knowing that I’ve always wanted you for myself.”

His sudden confession took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily speechless. The air around you felt charged, and you could hardly process the emotions swirling within you.

“Let me prove to you that I will love you better. Please, Y/N,” he urged, his gaze earnest and imploring. The vulnerability he displayed was a stark contrast to what he portrayed in the office just moments ago. This was a side of him that revealed his deep feelings, and it struck a chord within you.

Your heart raced as you absorbed his words, the truth of them resonating deep inside. You had long felt the magnetic pull toward him, the warmth in his presence that made you feel seen in a way Siwoo never had. You realized in that moment that you, too, wanted to love him—fully and unreservedly.

Compelled by a rush of emotion, you leaned in closer, the space between you evaporating. Your lips met his in a tender kiss, a hesitant exploration that quickly deepened as he responded. His hands found their way to your face, cradling it gently as he pulled you in, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Fuck- if you kiss me like that I might take you right here again” Hongjoong chuckles against your lips. And you giggle in response. However, his expression falls down.

“Y/N… I should tell you that Siwoo has been cheating on you.” Hongjoong sighs as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Who’s Siwoo?” You joke trying to mask your disappointment of him mentioning your now ex. “Y/N, I know I initiated an affair while you are dating him too but, you needed to know.” Hongjoong states in a serious tone.

“I know, Hongjoong.” You say softly. “I figured after our conversation we had on Friday, when he came over to my house the next day. I guess my naive self chose to ignore it… I messaged him earlier when we got to the car that I’m over with him. I’m no longer his.” You look at Hongjoong as he studies your face.

“So… does this mean you’re mine?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. You softly smile and shrug your shoulders. Hongjoong smirks at you and in an instant unbuckles his seat belt and exits the car. He makes his way to the passenger door and opens it. Swiftly, he lifts your body and throws you over his shoulder. You yelp in response and he carries you towards his house.

“You drove us to your house?!” You exclaim as you giggle over his shoulder.

“Let me remind you again who you really belong to” Hongjoong chuckles as he playfully slaps your ass and quickly makes his way through the doors of his home.

Pt. 2 (updated 10/21)

Author’s commentary: Should I do a sequel? 👀. I had way more ideas for this story but decided to cut it short LOLLL. Anyways, I hope yall enjoy😝 feel free to fangirl in my comment section/ ask box🤭.

#ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez writing #yeostinywrites #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong hard thoughts #hongjoong #hongjoongcryforme

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estrellami-1 · 1 month ago

Text

Fall For You

Prompt from this post | Ao3 link

“Eddie!” Steve calls, walking into the apartment. He finds Eddie at the table and sets his hands down on the surface, wide eyes staring at Eddie. “You’ve got a membership at that gym, right?”

Eddie blinks up at him from his bowl of cereal. “The climbing gym?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie tilts his head side to side. “I’m mooching off Jeff’s membership right now, but I’m about to run out of free passes, so I’m thinking about getting my own. Why?”

“I asked the workers if my boyfriend counted as family for the discount and they said yes.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Do you have a secret boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“No, it would be you.” He sits across from Eddie and spreads his hands out. “If we pretend to be boyfriends, we can get the discount, and then you could climb and I could use the gym.”

“Robin climbs too,” Eddie points out. “You don’t want to pretend to be her boyfriend?”

“Ew,” Steve says, screwing up his face. “No, she’s basically my sister.”

“Right,” Eddie says slowly, “but it’s fake.”

Steve shakes his head. “You’ve seen her try to act, Eds,” he reminds him. “She’s hopeless. Siblings are an easier act for her because that’s closer to true. Please, Eddie? Just one time, we just need to go to the front desk together once, tell them we’re together, and get our discount. We don’t even have to go to the gym together at all, if you don’t want, if you- I don’t know, if there’s someone there you hang out with? You can keep doing that! We just need to go to the front desk together once. Please?”

Eddie sighs, long and drawn-out, dropping his spoon in his now-empty bowl and leaning back. “Damn you and your puppy eyes,” he says by way of answer.

“Yes!” Steve jumps up, pumps his arm in the air, and rounds the table to hug Eddie. “Thank you! You won’t regret this!”

He’s out of the room and down the hall before Eddie can blink, can even move, so he misses Eddie’s second, quieter sigh.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he murmurs, lips quirked up in a sad sort of smile. “But it’s worth it.”

He leaves the for you unsaid, even to himself, and brings his bowl to the kitchen.

“Hey, Chrissy!” Eddie greets the woman at the front desk. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Eddie!” Chrissy says. “Good, busy today.”

“How’re you and Jason?”

She bites her lip. “We are no longer.”

Eddie drops to his knees and raises his hands. “Finally!” He crows, popping back up and leaning over the counter. “I’m so proud of you, Chris, seriously.” He pauses. “Wait, you initiated it, right?”

She giggles and nods. “He didn’t want to accept it at first, but I stood my ground and he finally agreed. He’s coming to pick up his stuff tomorrow.”

Eddie’s brows furrow. “Are you gonna be okay? I can move my schedule around, be there if you want someone as a buffer.”

She blinks big eyes up at him. “Would you? I don’t want to inconvenience you, but Jason-”

Eddie waves her off, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “It’s no inconvenience, seriously. What time’s he coming over?”

“Eleven.”

“Okay, and… put your address in, please?” He hands his phone over, and she quickly types it in. “I’ll be there a bit before eleven, if that works for you, just to make sure I’m there before he is. Oh, and here, add your number. I’ll shoot you a text, that way you’ll have my number, and can call if he gets there before I do.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Eddie, seriously.”

“Nah,” he grins. “I’m a regular asshole, you just wore me down.”

Behind him, Steve snorts.

Eddie whirls around. “See? He agrees with me!”

“No I don’t,” Steve laughs. “Eds, you’re an asshole in the way teddy bears are scary.”

Eddie frowns. “But they’re not scary.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve. “So you don’t agree with me.”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, I remember you!” Chrissy pipes up. “You came in yesterday asking about your boyfriend! Is he here?”

“Uh,” Steve says, blushing. “Yeah. He’s right in front of you.”

Chrissy blinks. “Eddie?”

“Surprise,” he says, raising little jazz hands and sending Chrissy a sheepish grin.

“Okay, I take it back, you are an asshole,” Chrissy says, but she’s grinning. “How dare you not tell me you have a boyfriend!”

“Oh,” Eddie says, “um.”

“I asked him not to,” Steve smoothly cuts in. “I’m sorry. We’ve had some… not great reactions in the past.”

Chrissy huffs, rolls her eyes. “Well I sure hope you don’t get that reaction here! If you do, just come find me. That person may find their account suspended.” She winks at them, and Eddie grins.

“There’s really no need for that, but we appreciate it. For now, think you could get us both set up with a membership?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “Robin!”

“Oh, right!” Eddie turns to Chrissy. “Can his sister join if we have all her info? Or does she need to be here?”

“She needs to be here, but we can always add her later. You two will be paying more until she joins, though.”

Eddie waves a hand. “That’s fine.”

She gets them set up, then hesitates, biting her lip. “I hate to ask,” she addresses Steve, “but are you busy tomorrow? As much as Eddie is willing, and I’m very glad he is, Jason’s stronger than him, and just in case-”

“You don’t need to explain it,” Steve promises her. “We’ll both be there a little before eleven tomorrow.”

Chrissy sags like a marionette with cut strings. “Oh, thank you. Thank you both. Seriously.”

“Not a problem,” Steve assures her.

They move on into the gym, then wave to Chrissy on their way out.

The next day they head to her apartment and arrive just when they said they would. Chrissy greets them both with a hug. “Thank you so much for being here,” she tells them. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“If I ever say no to coffee, you have my permission to shoot me,” Eddie tells her seriously.

Steve snorts. “Ditto. We’d love coffee.”

She gets them each a mug, pulls out the sugar and creamer. Eddie nudges Steve out of the way, fixes his coffee the way he likes it. Steve smiles in thanks, nudges Eddie teasingly when he winks.

Chrissy sighs. “You two are so cute together,” she tells them.

Steve blushes. Eddie pulls a strand of hair over his face. “Thank you,” Steve says.

“How long have you been together?”

“Not very long at all, but we’ve known each other since high school.”

Eddie snickers. “He hated me.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t hate you, I thought you were weird, and I was right.”

“He hated me,” Eddie assures Chrissy.

“Christ,” Steve mutters, looking up at the ceiling.

Chrissy giggles. “How’d you become friends?”

“That’s my younger brother’s fault,” Steve tells her. “He’s obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons, and Eddie was the resident Dragon Master-”

“Dungeon Master, Stevie.”

“-yeah, that—in high school. I graduated before him, so he was there in his senior year when my brother, Dustin, was a freshman.”

Eddie snickers. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I was held back,” he tells Chrissy. “Had to take senior year three times. He graduated during my second senior year, and then Dustin came my third go ‘round. He brought a whole pack of rugrats with him.”

“They get into a lot of… situations,” Steve picks up. “And as his brother, I end up involved through no fault of my own. In one of these situations, Eddie got involved. We got to talking and realized, outside of the high school hierarchy lens, we’re not that different.” He smirks. “He’s still weird, though.”

“Hell yeah I am, that’s a badge of honor, sweetheart, I wear that with pride!”

Before Steve can retort, there’s a knock on the door.

Chrissy takes a deep breath, brushes by them, and opens the door. “Jason.”

“Chrissy. Didn’t take you long to change the locks.”

She sets her jaw. “This isn’t your apartment anymore, Jason. You have no right to walk in whenever you want to.”

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to Steve, “he’s a piece of work, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees distractedly. “That- that’s Jason?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen the guy before today, but I assume so.” He looks at Steve, frowns a little. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Steve takes a breath. “I’m fine. Trying to decide if I should be a bitch or not.”

“Always yes,” Eddie says immediately. “Unless you mean to Chrissy? In which case no.”

“No, not to Chrissy. I’ve met Jason before, about four months ago. But he called himself Liam.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie whispers. “Terrible hookup Liam?”

Steve nods. “One and the same.”

Just then, Jason glances over at them. His face pales with recognition, but he quickly schools himself. “Who’s this?”

“Jason, is it?” Steve asks disinterestedly. “Thats funny. I could’ve sworn you called yourself Liam when we hooked up four months ago.” He crosses his arms. “You didn’t mention a girlfriend, either.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. Chrissy,” Steve asks, “does Jason have a mole above his right butt cheek?”

“He does,” Chrissy agrees, narrowing her eyes at Jason. “and a birthmark-”

“On the inside of his left thigh?”

“Exactly.” Chrissy crosses her arms.

“Never thought I’d be the other woman,” Steve says. “I don’t appreciate being played. And I especially don’t appreciate you cheating on Chrissy.”

“Nor do I,” Chrissy says, rounding on Jason. “How dare you?”

“I didn’t!”

“Oh, yeah, like I believe that. How long? How many times, Jason? How many times were you home late because work went long, because you had meetings?” She laughs, loud and sardonic. “Oh, and let’s not forget that business trip to Florida. Unless that wasn’t for business at all, was it?” She laughs again, then walks away, shaking her head. “Get your shit and get out of here.”

She walks into the kitchen. Steve and Eddie exchange a glance, then immediately follow her.

“Chris?” Eddie murmurs. “You alright?”

She rolls her eyes at him, reaching for a mug. Her hand is shaking. Steve immediately jumps for the coffee pot, pours her a cup. “Would anybody be alright? After having something like that happen?”

“Probably not,” Eddie admits. “What can we do?”

She sighs, shakes her head. “I don’t think there’s anything to do. I’m just seeing a lot of ice cream in my future.”

Steve snorts. “I’ve been there. Actually, uh.” He shifts uncomfortably. “The last time I was there was about four months ago.”

Chrissy’s smart, so it’s only a second before she connects the dots, and she spins around to stare open-mouthed at him. “Him?”

Steve nods. “I don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna hear it.”

“I absolutely want to hear it,” she tells him. “What happened?”

“Well,” Steve says, “we call him terrible hookup Liam even though I’ve never hooked up with another Liam. Or, I guess, a Liam at all, considering his name is actually Jason.” He frowns. “And why’d he change his name anyways? It’s not like we knew each other four months ago.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes. “Who knows. What happened that made it so terrible?”

Steve snorts. “Well, first I think we need to establish what you’re comfortable with hearing.”

She leans towards him, eyes big and serious. “I’ve seen every inch of that man. There is nothing that you could say that I wouldn’t be comfortable with.”

Steve studies her for a minute, then shrugs. “Okay. So it’s a hookup, right? We’d met at a bar, there weren’t any sparks but there didn’t have to be for a hookup, just mutual attraction, and that was there, at least on the surface. So we go back to his place and he fucks me. And I swear to God I’ve never had a worse fuck. He didn’t hurt me or anything, but he was trying to get himself off and wasn’t really caring about how I was doing, y’know?”

Chrissy snorts. “I know, trust me.”

Steve winces. “Right. He lasted maybe five minutes? Pulled out, got up, and basically went alright, nice meeting you, now leave please. Meanwhile I’m laying there completely unsatisfied. He couldn’t have missed more if he’d tried. And I’m just… dumbfounded, basically. I’ve never met anyone like that before. So I leave and head back home, and Ed’s waiting up for me-”

“I’d nearly forgotten,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s when I realized I loved him.”

“Oh?” Chrissy says, interest piqued.

Eddie nods. “Mhm. He got home and was ranting about how terrible his hookup had been, and all I can think about is how he deserves better, how I would do better, if I could, never let him go, never leave him unsatisfied again-”

Steve’s breath catches. He remembers the night, remembers the fight they’d had, how he wanted to go back out the next night but Eddie-

Eddie had yelled, because he does that; he gets excited and he rants and rambles and throws his arms around and forgets things like personal space.

I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself like this, Eddie had said, too loud for the room, for Steve’s fragile heart.

So don’t, Steve had said, and slammed the door to his room.

They didn’t talk about it again.

But that was just- that was Eddie, just being his friend. Heart on his sleeve, because that’s how it is with the people he trusts.

He shakes the thought away, focuses back on the conversation at hand.

“That’s so sweet,” Chrissy coos, brows drawn up. “You two are so lucky to have each other.”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, smiling at Steve.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Steve smiles back, sad and a little lost. “I think one of us should probably keep an eye on Jason,” he says quietly. “I’d do it, but since he and I know each other-”

Eddie shakes his head. “It could end badly, I know. I’ll go.”

Jason does, in fact, get his shit and get out. Steve and Eddie follow him down, Eddie cites work as a reason they can’t stay even though Steve knows he doesn’t have work for a few more hours.

When they get back to their apartment, Eddie immediately sequesters himself in his room.

At a loss, Steve heads to his room. Shuts the door. Doesn’t mean to fall asleep. Wakes up when the front door shuts, signaling Eddie leaving.

He’s not sure why his chest hurts at that thought.

The next day Eddie’s back to normal, so Steve does his best to act normal too. Chalks it up to thinking about the worst fight they’d had to date.

Life goes back to normal, and soon they’re back to their regular schedule. They go to the gym together as often as not, since their schedules usually align.

There’s one such day Eddie’s climbing, taking a break on a bouldering route and holding on by three points, letting his right arm hang loose, get some blood back into it. He looks around the gym, sees Steve hopping off the treadmill.

He watches as Steve lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, and oh-

Hello, stomach. Hello, happy trail.

Eddie’s left hand flexes. Relaxes. He falls.

“Shit!”

He knows how to fall, lands on his feet and rolls backwards, distributing the force. Lays there for a minute, breathing hard, categorizing.

He’s known he’s liked Steve for a while. That’s an open secret to anyone except Steve, though maybe that’s not so true anymore, based on that day at Chrissy’s.

But Eddie’s never seen him work out before. Never seen his abs as he flexes slightly, the little bit of pouch he gets when he leans over, and that fucking hair-

“Eddie!” Steve calls, dropping to his knees at Eddie’s side. “That was, like, a ten-foot fall, man, are you okay?”

Eddie blinks up at him. A fluorescent angel, backlit by bulbs high in the ceiling. “Fine,” he says, when he can find his words again. “Just a bruised ego.”

Steve tilts concerned brows at him. “Are you sure? Your ankles are fine? You didn’t hit your head?”

Eddie smiles, shakes his head, sits up. “I’m fine, I swear. I’ve fallen from higher. Hell, I’ve jumped from higher.”

“You’re sure?”

Eddie laughs, shakes his head. Stands and offers Steve a hand up. “C’mon, let me show you.” He scans the wall, picks an easy route, white holds. “This is the easiest route we’re gonna find here. I’m gonna teach you how to fall, ready?” He jumps up, grabs a hold. Shows off a little, pulls himself up by his arm to grab another hold higher up, gets his feet on the wall too. Releases his left arm, grins down at Steve, only about three feet below him. “We’re gonna start here to learn, ‘cause it’s pretty hard to fuck up badly enough at three feet to actually injure yourself. You’re gonna let go, land on your feet, and roll back.” He looks at Steve, studies the ground around them. “Move back a foot? Yeah, good. Now watch. Feet, then roll to your back.” He jumps and does as he said, grinning at Steve once he’s on his back again. “See? Just like parkour, you’re distributing the energy you get from jumping. This way you don’t end with a fucked ankle or knee.” He rocks himself up to a sitting position, unclips his chalk bag, and offers it to Steve with another grin. “Chalk up, big boy, your turn.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but chalks up anyways. Climbs up to where Eddie was. It takes him longer, and he’s sure he looks more awkward than Eddie had, but it’s easy enough.

He looks down at Eddie, then further still to the ground. It looks far, even though he knows there’s only about three feet of distance. He takes a deep breath and lets go, letting the momentum carry him over onto his back.

He explodes into a breathless laugh, accepting Eddie’s arm up. “See?” Eddie says, then hands over the chalk bag again. “One more time, then you’re going all the way to the top.”

Steve glances up nervously. Eddie smiles, hands him the bag, and shows him the route. “Feet here, hands here to start, yeah? Your legs are stronger than your arms, so push up with your legs instead of pulling with your arms. Make a mental map of the route before you start and stick to it if you can. This bit can be a bit tricky; right hand reaches over here, and left hand takes the hold your right was just on, see?” He drops his left hand to look down at Steve. “Got it so far?”

Steve’s face is the picture of doubt. “I think so.”

Eddie snorts, scrambles to the top. “It’s easier once you’re doing it anyways. Hands-on is easier than watching. Then once you’re up here, you grab onto this last one with both hands, and that means you’ve completed the route. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Now from here, you’ve got two options. You can climb back down the way you came, which is possible but it means you tire yourself out faster.”

“Or?”

Eddie grins, lets go. “You jump!”

He lands on his feet, lets the momentum take him down onto his back with a giggle. “Your turn.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. “Okay.”

“It’s not gonna be as easy as I made it look,” Eddie tells him. “I’ve been doing this for months.” He points to a sign. “This route, with the white holds, is v-zero, see? Then it goes up, v-one, two, three, all the way up to eleven. I’m regularly climbing v-seven, sometimes v-eight. It takes time to get up to that level, and I’ve learned a lot that you can really only learn through doing. Robin’s been going for a while, too, right? And she’s about at v-four, sometimes five if it’s an easier climb.”

“So you’re saying…”

Eddie chuckles. “Don’t beat yourself up if you can’t do it, or if it’s harder for you than I made it look.”

“Cool,” Steve nods. “Probably gonna beat myself up if I can’t do it.”

“Steve!” Eddie laughs, shoving him a little.

Steve laughs back, reaches for the bag, which Eddie hands him. “Here, clip it on around your waist. That way if your hands get sweaty on the climb, you can re-chalk them so you can get a better grip.”

Steve does, glances at the wall, takes a breath, and grabs on.

He gets about halfway up before he begins to slow, and about three-quarters of the way up before he’s moving at practically a snail’s pace, looking between his hands and feet, looking for the next hold. He gets to the place Eddie had warned him about. He moves his right hand over, almost gets a grip, tries again-

And falls.

“Shit!” He yelps. He does his best to fall the way Eddie had shown him, and finds that not only does it work, it doesn’t hurt and it’s actually kind of fun.

He bursts out laughing as soon as he meets Eddie’s worried eyes. Eddie’s brows smooth out, and he chuckles as he offers Steve a hand up. “Harder than you thought, huh?”

“Much,” Steve nods with a grin. “Fun, though. Can I try again?”

“Hell yeah!” Eddie grins. “Go for it! Might want to shake your hands out before you do, get your blood flowing to them again. You were pretty spread out, your hands were above you a lot of the time, and you got less blood to your hands than you should’ve. Try keeping your arms a little closer next time, really rely on your legs to push you up. And when you get up to that spot again-” he points, then sighs. “Fuck it, give me a second.”

He scrambles up, puts his hands and feet on the holds Steve had. “Here’s where you were, right? And here-” he moves his feet to holds a little higher “-is where I was. See how my arms aren’t quite as high above me anymore? It also means this hold is easier to reach.” He grabs the next hold, then decides to show off some and dangle from that hand, grinning at Steve.

Steve laughs, pretends to throw the chalk bag at him. “Showoff!”

“If I can’t now, when can I?” Eddie retorts, dropping back down to the mat and rolling all the way back, over his shoulder to end up kneeling.

Steve snorts, shakes his arms out, chalks up again, and tries one more time.

This time he makes it to the top, and Eddie whoops as soon as he touches the last hold with both hands. “Nice one, Stevie! You’re a natural!”

Steve laughs, glances down at Eddie, and drops, rolling back the way Eddie had taught him. “Okay, your turn. Show me what you can do.” He hands him the chalk bag, and Eddie grins, looking around as he clips it back on.

“Okay, here, these green holds, see? That tag is the same color as v-seven, and I did that climb last time I was here.” He chalks up, scans the route, nods, and starts.

He’s up in a little under two minutes, grinning down at Steve after he taps the final hold.

“Damn,” Steve grins. “Think I could try?”

Eddie snorts, jumps down. “Sure.” He’s stands up and gestures Steve closer to the wall. “See how there’s two tags here? One here, one there? That means you start by holding both of these. Then you get your feet up here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, so Eddie moves back and Steve tries.

He almost immediately falls. “What the fuck,” he laughs, “how do you hold on?”

Eddie grins. “Hard, isn’t it? You’ve gotta get your fingers around best you can and pull together. Like the, uh.” He holds his arms out to the side, then brings them both forward. “Whatever machine this is.”

Steve snickers. “Chest fly. That makes sense, but are your fingers strong enough to grip like that? How do you build up the strength?”

Eddie shrugs. “How do you go from benching one plate to two?”

Steve snorts. “Okay, I get it.” He tries again and is able to hold on longer this time, but ends up on his ass anyways.

“Here,” Eddie says, “let’s try this. Get back up there, and I’ll help hold your hands there, so you can still start the right way.”

Steve gets back up, and Eddie slots in behind him, slides his fingers between Steve’s, and supports him. “There,” he murmurs. “Now you see that hold above you? You’re going to reach with your right hand and grab it. Pull with your left a little when you let go with your right so you stay on the wall.”

Steve turns his head to the side, and only then does Eddie realize how close they are; his nose brushes Steve’s cheek as he nods. “Got it. You won’t let me fall?”

“Never,” Eddie promises in a whisper. “I’ve got you, Stevie.”

Steve takes a breath. Nods. Rocks to his right, then as he moves to his left, Eddie lets go of his hands and brings his own hands to Steve’s hips, stabilizing him. “You’re going to want to keep pulling your arms together,” Eddie tells him. “Keep that tension. Now see that hold up and to your left?”

“Uh-huh. That’s where my left hand goes?”

“Exactly. Swing up and grab it.”

Steve does so, then moves his feet up to a couple of higher holds as well.

“Now this is what we call dyno,” Eddie tells him. “Short for dynamic. See that hold above you?”

“Oh, you mean the y-shaped one? Or the little button-looking one? Or maybe you mean the one that looks like a mushroom.”

Eddie snickers, carefully moves away from Steve, then scrambles up on some holds next to him. “This one.” He taps it twice, then jumps down and quickly gets back in position. “Try and reach it.”

Steve does, and immediately fails. “What the fuck? How do I reach that?”

“That’s the dyno move I was talking about. You keep your feet here, crouch down best you can, and jump. Let me get out of the way, because you’re probably going to fall and I’d rather it not be on me.” He moves off to the side, then nods at Steve. “Go ahead.”

Steve narrows his eyes, crouches down, and jumps up. His hand grazes the hold, but he isn’t able to grab it and ultimately falls onto the mat.

“I call bull,” he laughs. “No way you can do that.”

Eddie laughs. “You just saw me do it!”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. That’s impossible. I didn’t see you jump.”

Eddie grins, rolls his eyes, chalks up real quick before climbing back up to that spot. “This is probably what you saw,” he says, reaching up with his hands while staying crouched, then exploding up and grabbing the hold. “I made it more all of one movement, instead of stopping and then jumping.” He releases his left hand to grin down at Steve.

Steve looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon. “That’s impressive,” he says.

Eddie frowns, jumps down. “Are you okay?”

Steve takes a breath, smoothes his features out. “I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

Steve smiles. “I know. You didn’t. I’m fine, I swear.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, unsure. “Um. Are you ready to go? Done working out?”

“Sure,” Steve agrees, and digs his keys out, offering them to Eddie. “Would you mind driving?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, half joking, “now I know there’s something wrong.”

Steve sighs, ducks his head. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Steve looks up at Eddie from under his lashes with a half-smile. “No. But thanks.”

“You’ll tell me if that changes and I can help?”

Steve snorts. “I swear on your Uncle Wayne.”

“Good,” Eddie tells him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him out. “Coffee on me?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me rephrase. I’m getting coffee.”

Steve snickers. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Stevie.”

They’re back at the gym a few days later when Steve slots his arm around Eddie.

Eddie, who was studying a route, jerks in surprise. “Please play along,” Steve murmurs. “This girl will not leave me alone.”

Eddie laughs like Steve had said something funny, pulls him in, and presses his lips to Steve’s cheek. “I gotcha,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “What’s going on?”

Steve shakes his head. “What were you looking at?”

Eddie points at the wall, traces a line. “See the blue holds? See the three close together, then the one further, kinda up and to the left?”

“Mhm. That’s a… uh, a dyno move?”

“Exactly. The problem is, see the holds below? There’s not a comfortable place for my feet. They’re either too high or too low.”

Steve frowns. “Could you… maybe put your feet on the higher one, then use your hands and kind of… swing up to the higher one?”

“Probably,” Eddie admits. “I think what I need more than anything else is practice on this route.”

Steve hums, moves away. “Show me?”

Eddie does, groaning when he falls again. He pops back up before Steve can worry and spins around to find Steve talking with a girl.

His body language looks extremely uncomfortable, is the first thing Eddie sees. He’s leaning away from her, one foot back like he’s about to walk away, arms crossed. He’s got his customer service smile on, so Eddie bounds over with a, “Stevie!” He grabs onto Steve’s shoulders with a bright smile.

Steve laughs and grins back at him, then just as suddenly his expression falls. “I missed it! Did you do it?”

“Nope!” Eddie snickers. “Think I just need practice. Who’s your friend, baby?”

“Oh, this is Cynthia. Cynthia, meet Eddie, my boyfriend.”

Eddie releases Steve and grins as he extends his hand to shake, which she does with some reluctance. “Nice to meet you!”

“Yeah, you too. Anyways, Steve, I’ve gotta get going, but it was nice to meet you!”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “you too,” but he’s still got his customer service smile on.

Eddie wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders as she walks away. “She the one who was giving you trouble?”

Steve hums affirmatively. “Apparently I don’t look bi. Do I look bi? I do, right?”

“The bi-est,” Eddie agrees. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Steve chuckles, then nudges Eddie over to the wall. “Okay, no interruptions this time, show me?”

Something in Eddie thrills at the fact that Steve is asking, wants to learn more about something Eddie’s passionate about. He grins wide and bounds over, makes his way to the problem area, swings up as he jumps-

And grabs the hold.

“You did it!” Steve yells, just as Eddie is realizing that very fact.

“Holy shit!” He grins down at Steve, gets his other hand and his feet on the holds. “Okay, from here should be easy enough.”

Steve snorts. “None of that is easy, dude.”

Eddie completes the route and jumps down, rolling on his back and grinning up at Steve. “Would’ve been cooler if I could’ve flashed it, though.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Not sure the wall cares about that, but the employees might.”

Eddie snickers and shakes his head. “No, flashing means completing a route the first time you try it. Mind outta the gutter, Stevie. ‘Sides, I can’t show just anyone the goods.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a grin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not a slut like I am, I know.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

They both laugh, and Steve slaps Eddie on the back before he walks away, back to the wall to attempt a different climb.

They’re back home the next day when Eddie walks into the kitchen to see Steve staring at a tub of peanut butter. “I hate you.”

Eddie blinks. “You talking to me or the peanut butter?”

Steve pouts up at him. “My forearms are sore, and my hands hurt, and I can’t open the peanut butter because you were the last one to close it.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, and opens the jar for him. “Sorry, man, I never get that sore anymore.”

Steve waves him off, dumps some peanut butter in the blender. “I’m used to being sore, and it’s a good hurt, y’know? Building muscle.” He puts the peanut butter away, grabs the milk from the fridge. Pours some of that, too. “Do you know when Chrissy’s working next? I know she broke up with Jason not too long ago, but she hasn’t met Robin yet.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, they’d be great together! I think… Tuesday? Or- no, shit, that was last week.” He sighs, pulls his phone out. “I’ll text her. Are we gonna try and wingman?”

Steve considers it, pulls the protein powder from the pantry. “For any normal person, I’d say yes. But you know how Robin is. She’s a rambler. If they can’t handle it right out of the gate, they don’t have a chance. It’s best to just let Robin be.”

“You know Chrissy’s gonna be sweet about the rambling.”

“I also know Robin rambles even more when confronted with a cute girl. I know Chrissy is pretty exactly her type. And I know Chrissy’s got a dirty mind but blushes at the slightest thing. I think they’re gonna be perfect for each other.”

Eddie grins back at Steve, tosses him a banana. Pulls his phone out of his pocket and grins at the screen. “She works today, tomorrow, and Friday.”

Steve tilts his head, looks at the ceiling. Eddie grabs the chocolate syrup and drizzles some into the blender, capping it before turning it on.

“Thanks. Thursday work?”

“It should. Rob doesn’t have school that day and she doesn’t work until that night. When do you work that day?”

“I don’t, actually, the new guy’s taking all my shifts.”

Steve chuckles. “I work that morning but I should be back by eleven, if you want to head to the gym then?”

“Sure, I’ll get Buck up with the promise of muffins.”

“Ooh,” Steve says, “blueberry?”

“Always,” Eddie agrees. “Although I might do some chocolate chip this time, too, I know you’ve got a sweet tooth.” He looks significantly at the blender, and Steve laughs.

“You don’t have to make them just for me.”

“Oh, right, cause I’m not going to have a chocolate chip muffin. And Robin definitely won’t.” He shrugs. “Besides, even if it was just for you, it’d be worth it.”

He’s hesitant as he says it, not sure how his heart will be received, but it’s worth it for the bright blush that Steve turns away to hide.

Eddie sighs, grabs a bowl and the Honeycomb. Steve pours his shake into a glass, and together they separately get on with their day.

Thursday dawns with Eddie cursing his promise to Steve. He’s not a morning person, and the muffins take a while to make.

He finally gets them in the oven and collapses onto the couch with a sigh, pulling his phone out and opening his messages with Steve.

Eddie: are you heading by the coffee shop on your way home 👀

Steve: I could be 👀

Eddie: 👀

Steve: I’ll be home 11:15

Eddie: 👍

Steve gets home with their coffees just as Robin’s trudging to the table to eat. If Eddie’s not a morning person, he doesn’t know what Robin is; she’s a zombie until she gets coffee, and even then she needs not to be spoken to until she’s finished her mug.

She stops in her tracks and makes desperate grabby hands at Steve, who chuckles, kisses her temple, and hands her a cup.

He hip-checks Eddie as he hands him his coffee then continues into his room to change out of his work clothes and into gym clothes.

He’s back in a few minutes, chugging the rest of his own coffee and throwing it in the trash on his way to the table, sitting down with a happy sigh. “Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie chuckles. “No problem, Stevie.”

“You have a plan for the gym?”

“I don’t have a plan for my life, dude. I just climb whatever I want to climb.”

Robin mutters something under her breath about climbing and Steve and trees. Under the table, Steve kicks her.

Eddie decides he doesn’t want to get in the middle of that.

Soon enough they’re on their way to the gym. Steve’s driving, and Robin has permanent passenger privilege, which means Eddie’s relegated to the backseat. He doesn’t mind, he knows how Steve and Robin are, but he lets his mind wander.

Sure, Steve’s hot. That’s a pretty objective fact. But he’s also kind. He can also be kind of a bitch, but really that just adds to his charm. He’s fiercely protective of his friends but will let people walk all over him.

Eddie wants to protect him. He wants to show Steve that he’s worth just as much as anyone else is; more, to Eddie. He wants to take Steve on drives, hold his hand over the console. He wants to get a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater and spend most of the movie eating popcorn and talking shit about the characters, fingers getting tangled when there’s just unpopped kernels left.

He wants them to know each other so well that they don’t need to ask, just do instead; he wants to surprise Steve with a coffee because he knows he’s tired, or a sweet treat because he knows he’s had a bad day.

They get to the gym before he can follow that specific train of thought too far.

“Chrissy!” He yells, grinning at the redhead, who grins back.

“Eddie! And Steve, hi! And- is this your sister?”

“This is Robin,” Steve agrees, pushing her forward.

“Hi,” she squeaks out, eyes wide.

“I like your name,” she says.

“Oh. Um. Thank you? I didn’t pick it.”

Chrissy giggles. “No, but you didn’t change it, either, that’s gotta count for something. You’re here for a membership, right? Have you been here before?”

“Y-yeah, and uh, I have, a few times.”

Chrissy pouts. “And I’m just now meeting you? That’s not fair!” She blushes a little, focuses on the counter when she says, “Maybe we could get to know each other more? Maybe over dinner?”

Robin blinks until Steve nudges her. “Yes!” She bursts out. “Please. I’d, um, I’d like that?”

Chrissy grins at her. “I’m glad. I can’t get your number while I’m on the clock, but maybe I could give you mine? We could text, find a time to meet up?”

“O-okay,” Robin agrees.

Steve nudges Eddie, and they slip away after scanning their tags.

Steve sighs happily. “I knew they’d get along.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “Casanova, I know. You gonna climb or work out today?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Probably just work out, but I’ll definitely come watch you two when I finish.”

“Cool,” Eddie says. “Um. You can come find me if anyone bothers you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees warmly. “Same to you.”

Eddie snorts. “Right, like this is so attractive.” He gestures to himself, and Steve stops in his tracks, brows furrowed.

“You- you’re joking, right?” Eddie gives him a confused look, and Steve’s brows skyrocket. “Dude, you know you’re insanely hot, right?”

“Tell that to all of the boyfriends I’ve had. Oh, wait, I haven’t had any.”

“Okay, and that’s their loss. You’re a great friend and I know you’d be a great boyfriend. Or fuck, if you’re looking for a one night stand. You’re attentive and conscientious and you put others’ needs above your own. And, again, you’re hot. Hell, if I’d ever had any indication you wanted me back, I’d be all over you.”

“You-” Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve winces. “I didn’t really mean to say that here. Can we, like, ignore it? Until we’re home? Or forever?”

“I mean, it takes two to have a conversation, so I don’t really have a choice unless I wanna talk at you, but…” he shakes his head. “What the fuck, dude?”

Steve winces again. “I know, I’m sorry, I swear Robin rubs off on me and I just start rambling. But I can- I mean, it’s been this long and I haven’t, like, acted on it, and I can just… continue to not act on it, y’know? Nothing- nothing has to change.”

“I think everything’s going to change,” Eddie says, then notices the way Steve’s holding himself, small and unsure, and relents. “We can wait till we’re home,” he says softly.

Just then, Robin runs up and flings herself at Steve. “Dingus!” She exclaims. “I have a date!”

Eddie watches Steve pull back behind a wall, plaster a smile on his face. Only the edges peel a little, let Eddie know it’s not real. Robin would notice, too, if she weren’t so excited. “That’s great, Robs!”

“I know! I mean, we don’t actually have a date yet, but we’re going to, unless I completely misread what she meant by get to know me-”

“You didn’t.”

“Okay cool, cool. Ah! I’m so excited!”

Steve grins at her. “That’s seriously great, Robbie. I’m super excited for you. Where are you going?”

“There’s that new coffee shop down by the mall, y’know? She’s never been, and I’ve never been- should I go first? To, like, figure it out? So I don’t look stupid?”

“I mean,” Steve says, “she hasn’t gone either, right? So whatever happens, you’ll learn together.”

“Oh, that’s true. Okay. I won’t go first, then.”

Steve snorts. “Okay. You want the car or were you planning to take the bus?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I don’t drive unless I don’t have a choice. And the bus goes right to the mall anyways, and it’s not that far a walk to the coffee shop.”

“Okay,” Steve shrugs.

“Okay,” Robin says, clapping her hands with a grin and looking between the two of them. “What are we doing first?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Steve tells her. “I’m just working out today.”

Eddie’s heart tugs pitifully. He pushes it away. “I’ve got no idea what I’m gonna climb,” he says, and looks around. “Maybe that route, with the green holds to start?”

Robin frowns at him. “I can do that one.” Eddie shrugs, so she does, too. “Alright. I guess just… yell? When you’re ready to go?”

“Can do,” Steve nods, and takes off for the gym.

Eddie turns to the wall with a quiet sigh as Robin heads off in search of a route to climb.

Eddie tends to throw himself into things, he’s well aware. He knows putting his earbuds in won’t help that fact, but it’ll help distract him, so he does it.

It’s only when there’s a tap on his shoulder that he wakes up and realizes his hands are shaking. “Hey,” Robin says when he takes his earbud out. “Steve’s waiting up front for us.”

He follows her out, slips into the backseat. Can’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes slide over his face in the rearview mirror.

When they get back, Eddie’s barely extricated himself from the backseat by the time Steve’s in the apartment with his door shut.

With a heavy heart, feeling like he’s walking to the gallows, he knocks on Steve’s door. “Steve?” He asks. “Can… can we talk? Please?”

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t come out that night, even for dinner.

Eddie goes to bed with a heavy heart, but doesn’t actually fall asleep until nearly four in the morning. He wakes up to the sound of Steve’s door closing again. He rolls over, buries his face in his pillow, and quietly cries himself to sleep again.

He doesn’t see Steve at all that day. He finally catches him the next morning. It’s earlier than he’d like to be awake, but it’s not like he’s going to be able to sleep without talking to him.

He walks out to the kitchen and stops short at the sight of Steve.

He looks terrible. His eyes are puffy, his hair is flat and greasy, and his shirt is creased and rumpled.

“Steve,” he murmurs, flinching when Steve jumps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry,” Steve says nonsensically, hurrying around the kitchen. He won’t look at Eddie. “Sorry, I- I’m almost done, I’ll get out of your hair-”

“Steve,” he quietly repeats. “Can we talk?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again. “We- we don’t have to, I can- I’ll get over it, nothing has to change. Or- if you’re not comfortable with it, if you want to move- or if you want me to move-”

“I don’t want to move. And I don’t want you to move. Steve, please. Just talk to me.”

Steve shudders out a sigh. “I think I said it all already. What, you want to hear it again?”

“Clearly this time,” Eddie says. “Yes. Please.”

Steve sighs, runs his finger along a crack in the countertop, where two pieces join up. “I like you,” he whispers. “And I have for a while.” He grips his mug tight, shuts his eyes. His shoulders round, his head dips. “And I- I know you don’t feel the same, and that’s fine, I can get over it-”

“Hang on a second, Stevie,” Eddie requests. He takes a small step forward. “Who said I don’t like you back?”

“Well, why would you?” He asks. “I love too fast and too hard. Even Nancy couldn’t keep up and she’s the most intense person I know.”

“There’s a difference between just plain intensity and devotion,” Eddie murmurs. He takes another step forward, leans sideways on the counter. “I know devotion. I’ve known it, I think, since you walked into my life.” Steve sobs once before cutting himself off, curling into himself even more. “Stevie?”

“Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Please don’t.”

“It’s true.”

“It can’t be. I- I don’t get that. I don’t get you. It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Eddie questions. “It’s the truth, Stevie, I liked you the moment I saw you. Then I saw you interact with Robin, and I saw the bitchy persona you pull out sometimes, and I saw you tired and sad and mad and sick and goofy, and I’ve loved every single facet of you that I’ve seen. What haven’t I seen yet, Stevie? Why can’t I like you? How can I prove that I do?”

Steve shakes his head, releases his mug to wrap his arms around himself. “You can’t.”

“Then how can I help you prove it? Stevie,” he murmurs, taking another careful step forward. “Sweetheart. Can I hug you?”

Another choked noise. A small nod.

Eddie steps forward again, his last two strides taking him all the way to Steve. He gently pulls him in, tucks his head on his shoulder, wraps an arm around his waist and runs a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs again, “how could I not love you?”

“No one ever has. Why would you be different?”

“Robin?”

“‘S different.”

“Then maybe I am, too.”

He pulls back, pushes Steve’s hair out of his face with a sad smile on. “Hey. You got anywhere to be for the next little bit?” Steve shakes his head. “Good, then c’mon. You can bring your coffee.” He pulls back entirely, just holding on to Steve’s left hand so he can grab his mug, then leads him to the living room, where he pulls Steve down onto the couch and into his arms again.

“I don’t know if you caught it,” he murmurs, “but when we were at Chrissy’s and she asked how we met, I told her the story of when I knew I fell in love with you. That was all true.”

“I heard it,” Steve admits. “I just couldn’t let myself believe it.”

“All this time,” Eddie breathes. “We could’ve skipped all of this if I’d just told you. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘S not your fault. ‘S mine.”

“Now I just refuse to believe that,” Eddie tells him. “First of all, I could’ve told you ages ago. That’s on no one but myself. You couldn’t have known how I was feeling.”

After a pause, Steve lifts his head to ask, “and second of all?”

“Okay, I don’t really have one.” Steve hits him with the bitchiest look, and Eddie collapses into giggles.

Suddenly Steve looks unsure. “You even like me when I’m being a bitch?”

“I love you all of the time,” Eddie tells him. “But you being a bitch is definitely one of the reasons I originally fell for you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Are you gonna tease me if I say I think it’s hot?”

Steve hums, lays his head back down. “Only a little.”

Eddie snorts. “It is. You can hold your own, and you’re so smart, and… I dunno. It’s hot.”

Steve snorts. “So eloquent.”

Eddie chuckles. “Believe me yet?”

“I’m starting to,” Steve promises. “I think… I think I just need time.”

“Take all the time you need, as long as I can hold you like this in the meantime.”

Steve hides his smile in Eddie’s chest. “Deal.”

They’re still there two hours later when Robin stumbles out of her room.

“Morning,” Steve tells her happily. “Eddie and I are dating.”

“I thought you already were,” Chrissy says, appearing in Robin’s doorway.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #Chrissy and Jason were dating but she breaks up with him #platonic Stobin #fake dating #fake relationship #these boys are idiots but what else is new #idiot4idiot #miscommunication #just tell me if I forgot a tag #starambles

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bonniebbunz · 1 year ago

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You believe you can beat my boops? Misery awaits you, my friend.

No one is safe from my boops

If you're in a fandom that I'm in (or even fandoms that I'm not in but my friends are), you are not safe from the boops. I'm going to boop everyone I see. Big or small blog, I will find you. I will boop you. Boop boop boop boop boop.

#shitpost #tomorrow brings the surface

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 year ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Bringing in the new year with Simon.

Just a little something to tide us over till tomorrow. 😉

5…4…3…2…1… Happy New Year!

The television blasted out the sounds of the happy, cheering gathering of people while boisterous music played behind them just as the clock struck midnight. Two long-stemmed glasses filled with cheap champagne sat bubbling on the crowded coffee table, untouched. Even right outside the window the sounds of celebrating could be heard as people took to the streets to spread their joy through the cold night. And yet everything was completely forgotten and faded into the background as the two people sitting on the couch became lost in one another.

Simon's large hands were wrapped around your delicate cheeks, pulling your face tight against him as heated, moist lips captured yours over and over without a single thought to what was happening outside the space between you both. All he could comprehend in that moment, all that he cared about, was the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body, the soft touches from your fingertips grazing over bare skin that made his mind fuzzy.

He had gotten a little too eager, started the celebration a little too soon, as it was the first year he wasn't stuck in the barracks alone and isolated as those all around him celebrated with those that meant something to them. Now he was with someone who he cared about more than anything in this world and so things had already gotten ahead of themselves… not that either of your minded.

Eyes staying closed, he grabbed your hands within his, lacing his fingers into the empty space between yours, and gave them a tug in a silent request to move in closer. Carefully, with mouths still connected, he helped to situate you over top of his broad lap so that you were comfortable. Straddling his thick thighs between your legs, knees shoved into the couch cushions on either side, you wrapped your arms around his neck as your fingers sought to play with the short strands of hair at the back of his head.

Your touch was met with a deep-throated moan from him, causing his hands to reach behind you so that his palms could fill themselves with as much of your ass as he could hold between them through the fabric of your dress, massaging that voluptuous curvature in slow, circular motions as he pushed down to guide your hips to gently grind against him. The scant fabric at the crotch of your panties meant that you could feel him press up into you the longer you moved, that bulge growing steadily since he first pulled you into his kiss.

His exploring mouth began to travel down from your lips to your jaw and then on to your neck where he nuzzled into the crook of it as he latched on. Sharp teeth nibbled at the tender flesh at the base of your neck, quick bites that had you tingling from head to toe.

A loud group outside shouted and laughed, which caught your attention and drew you back into the reality outside of Simon’s body. “I think we missed it,” you moaned breathlessly into the room as his lips sent another wave of pleasure rolling straight through you. “It’s already past midnight.”

“Didn’t miss a fuckin’ thing, sweetheart,” he groaned as his hands roamed up a little higher to secure themselves around your waist. “This is the only way I wanna bring in the new year.”

Minutes passed by wholly ignored as if time itself had stopped while large hands pawed at your lap as your hips rolled over top of him. The friction was divine and mixed with the overwhelming feeling of your lips embracing his own and it wasn’t long until it felt like his entire body was on fire.

Suddenly you felt Simon shift beneath you and all at once your body being shoved back down onto the cushions as he loomed over top, crushing your body into the surface as he positioned himself in between your legs.

Your lips were left cold as he broke the kiss to sit back on his calves as calloused digits pushed the bottom hem of your dress up to your waist, leaving your hips exposed with nothing but a small bit of underwear to cover them. His breath got caught in his throat for a moment as he took in all that beautiful, warm skin, the flush of your cheeks, the swollenness of your lips.

His angel heaven sent.

There was a saying Simon had heard that said what you did on the first day of the new year dictated how it would go throughout the rest and though he didn't believe in old wives tales, he wasn't about to jinx a good thing. He wanted the next 12 months to be filled to the brim with moments like this.

“Let’s start this year off right, yeah pretty girl?” he smirked as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties to slide them down your tights and right off your legs.

“With a bang.”

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heliosunny · 2 months ago

Note

ur yandere crown prince!phainon x reader fic was so delicious i hope you write more of it

I wrote a ton of drafts for these rq :)))) so here u r~

also does anyone know any artists that I can contact and ask for their art permission to feature the fics? Will def give full credits ✨✨ i tried to dm some but they r too busy

Yandere!Crown Prince Phainon x Reader - P2

Visit [part 1]

Your days of healing were slow, yet never lonely. Phainon remained at your side, his devotion unwavering. He ensured you were comfortable, personally overseeing your meals, your medicine, and the servants attending you.

“You needn’t stay with me all day.” you murmured weakly one evening, attempting to reassure him.

His eyes softened, but his voice was firm. “Where else would I be?”

Even on the darkest nights, when you stirred from fevered dreams, he was there—his hand brushing away the damp strands of hair from your forehead, his voice a quiet promise that you would never suffer alone.

Your interactions were not without company. Mydei, Anaxa, and Castorice visited frequently, each bringing a different kind of relief.

“I must admit, I never expected to see His Highness so domestic” Anaxa mused one afternoon, lounging in a chair across from your bed as Phainon carefully adjusted your pillows.

“Perhaps he intends to abandon the throne and become a caretaker” Castorice teased.

Phainon, unimpressed, shot them both a glare. “Mock me again, and I’ll have you both reassigned to the coldest region in the kingdom.”

Mydei merely sipped his tea. “A small price to pay to witness this sight.”

You laughed softly, the warmth in your chest easing the discomfort in your body. “You all act as though His Highness is incapable of kindness.”

Anaxa smirked. “Oh, he is plenty kind—to you.”

Phainon sighed and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “If you’re all finished with your nonsense, she needs rest.”

Despite his scolding, the presence of his closest allies eased the burdens of war and betrayal—if only for a moment.

Though bedridden, you refused to be idle. As soon as your strength allowed, you assisted Phainon with his paperwork, offering insights and solutions that even his advisors had overlooked.

“You do not need to exhaust yourself with this.” Phainon had told you, watching as you scribbled notes beside him.

“I may not hold a sword, but my mind is still sharp” you replied, meeting his gaze with quiet determination.

He stared at you for a long moment before a rare, fond smile graced his lips. “That, my love, is undeniable.”

Your counsel became invaluable. Even in his darkest days, when the weight of war and treachery threatened to consume him, you were there to steady him.

“You are not alone in this” you reminded him, reaching for his hand.

Phainon exhaled, his fingers lacing with yours. “Then stay by my side always.”

You did.

But that loyalty made you a target.

Many sought to harm Phainon, seeing you as his greatest weakness. Assassination attempts were frequent, but none succeeded. You remained wary, but one day, you overheard something chilling—a plot to poison your husband.

That night, you clasped his hand tightly. “Do not drink from your goblet at tomorrow’s council meeting.”

Phainon stilled. “What did you hear?”

You explained in hushed tones. He listened, silent and composed, but beneath the surface, a storm raged.

“They should trouble you no more” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

The next morning, the traitors never made it past the palace gates.

Phainon had acted swiftly, eliminating the conspirators before their poison could ever reach him.

But the attack had shifted something in him.

“I have been too lenient,” he told you one evening, standing by the window, eyes dark with thought. “If they continue to see you as my weakness, they will never stop.”

The next day, he left to secure the borders and reinforce the kingdom’s security.

Though he was gone, he ensured you were protected. Mydei, ever reliable, checked on you frequently.

“I don’t know whether to be honored or exhausted” Mydei sighed one evening, setting down a fresh report. “His Highness treats me as your personal shadow.”

“And yet, you do not complain” you noted with a smile.

He smirked. “How could I, when you provide better conversation than half the court?”

Despite Phainon’s instructions for you not to overthink, you couldn’t help yourself. Late into the nights, you drafted plans, strategies to strengthen his efforts and had Mydei deliver them.

“You should rest” Mydei warned. “His Highness would not be pleased if he knew you were losing sleep over his affairs.”

“Then do not tell him” you replied simply.

Though he shook his head, Mydei never failed to deliver your letters.

One day, you received an unexpected visitor. A delegation from a foreign kingdom had arrived, requesting an audience. Among them was their prince, a striking man with sharp eyes and a confident air.

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” he greeted, offering a practiced smile. “I have heard much of your wisdom.”

Something about the way he looked at you—too keen, too interested—put you on edge.

The foreign prince sat across from you in the grand receiving hall, his presence commanding yet unfamiliar. His kingdom had sent an official delegation, but his interest in you felt far more personal.

“I have heard much of your wisdom, Your Highness.” he said smoothly, offering a charming yet calculating smile. “It is no wonder your husband values your counsel so highly.”

You kept your posture composed, your hands delicately folded in your lap. “You flatter me” you replied politely, though your instincts urged caution.

“It is not flattery, merely truth” he countered, his gaze lingering just a moment too long. “I find it fascinating that a woman of your intellect and grace holds such influence over the kingdom’s future.”

You stiffened slightly, recognizing the underlying implication. This was not just a diplomatic visit—he was testing boundaries.

Phainon rode back to the capital sooner than expected, his presence heralded by the sight of his royal banner unfurling against the evening sky.

He had been away for weeks, ensuring the kingdom’s borders were secure, eradicating threats before they could reach you. But the moment Mydei’s latest report reached him—detailing the foreign prince—he abandoned all else.

The throne, the court, the war—none of it mattered in that instant.

Only you.

The moment he stepped foot in the palace, he demanded answers.

“Where is she?” His voice was ice, sharp enough to cut through the air.

Mydei met his gaze steadily. “With the foreign delegation, Your Highness.”

The sound of Phainon’s gloves tightening around his sword hilt cut him off.

Without another word, he strode toward the receiving hall.

You felt the change in the air before you saw him.

A sudden tension rippled through the court as the heavy doors to the hall slammed open.

Phainon stood at the entrance, his blue eyes burning with cold fury. His cloak billowed behind him as he stepped forward, each movement deliberate, controlled—but the grip on his sword said otherwise.

The foreign prince looked up, clearly intrigued rather than intimidated. “Ah, Your Highness. We were just speaking of you.”

Phainon’s gaze never left yours. “Leave.”

The prince raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Phainon turned his head slightly—just enough to fix the man with a chilling glare. “I said, leave. Before I stain this floor with your blood.”

The court fell silent.

You rose gracefully from your seat, placing a calming hand on Phainon’s arm. “My love, we must not—”

“Did he touch you?” Phainon asked lowly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, startled by the lethal edge to his tone. “No, of course not.”

“Then he still breathes only because of that.”

The foreign prince chuckled, clearly entertained. “Your reputation precedes you, Crown Prince. I meant no offense—only admiration.”

Phainon’s expression remained unreadable, but the tension in his body was palpable.

“Admiration is not an excuse to covet what belongs to me.”

His words sent a chill through the room.

You sighed internally. If you didn’t intervene now, there would be bloodshed.

“Your Highness” you addressed the foreign prince with measured calm, “perhaps it is best we conclude this meeting. My husband has just returned, and I would prefer to greet him in peace.”

For a moment, the prince hesitated—then he smiled knowingly, as if he had learned something from this encounter.

“Of course, Crown Princess. Until we meet again.”

Phainon did not move until the foreign prince had fully exited the hall.

The moment the doors shut behind him, Phainon exhaled sharply, turning to you with eyes still dark with restrained fury.

“Why was he here?”

“Diplomatic matters” you answered honestly. “He arrived unexpectedly, and I could not refuse an audience.”

His jaw tightened. “You should have sent him away.”

“And insult his kingdom?” You shook your head. “You know as well as I do that—”

“I do not care for his kingdom.” His voice was low, dangerous. “I care for you.”

He reached forward, grasping your hands—gently, but with an urgency that sent warmth through your fingertips.

“You are my wife. My Queen-to-be. I will not tolerate another man looking at you the way I do.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his eyes.

You had always known Phainon’s love was possessive. But in this moment, you realized—his devotion had deepened into something even more dangerous.

“You do not need to be jealous” you murmured, squeezing his hands.

“It is not jealousy,” he corrected softly. “It is certainty. Certainty that you are mine, and mine alone.”

You sighed, stepping closer. “Then let me ease your worries.”

Phainon searched your expression, as if looking for reassurance, before his hand came up to cradle your face.

“If he or anyone else dares look at you again, I will end them before they even breathe your name.”

The foreign prince’s departure did not bring peace. If anything, it only stirred the waters further.

Days after the tense encounter, rumors swept through the court—whispers that the foreign kingdom had taken offense to Phainon’s hostility. Some nobles feared war, while others murmured about the foreign prince’s persistence.

And then, one night, a letter arrived.

Delivered in secrecy, sealed with foreign wax.

Phainon found it first.

He recognized the handwriting immediately—too refined, too familiar.

“I was most intrigued by our meeting, Your Highness. I regret we did not have more time to speak in private. I will not give up so easily. Expect to see me again soon.”

The parchment crumpled in his grip.

The fool had dared to send you a personal letter.

Phainon’s hand twitched toward his sword, his first instinct to ride out and end this persistent nuisance before he could step foot in the kingdom again.

But then, he breathed.

Killing him now would make the foreign prince a martyr. A justified war.

No—Phainon would play this game his way.

And he would ensure this man never had a chance to see you again.

The foreign prince's entourage vanished at the border, their horses found wandering near the cliffs. The official reports claimed an unfortunate accident—bandits, perhaps, or a treacherous fall during the night.

But those who truly understood the workings of the kingdom knew better.

When you heard the news, you merely glanced at Phainon over dinner.

“Did you do this?”

He took a slow sip of his wine before replying. “Do you truly wish to know?”

You held his gaze for a long moment before shaking your head. “No.”

A small, satisfied smile curled at his lips. “Then let us speak of other matters.”

The foreign prince was not the only one who coveted you.

Among the noble families, admiration turned to resentment. Many had once hoped to claim the position you now held, and among them was Lady Evanthe, the daughter of a powerful Duke.

She had been raised to believe she would one day stand beside Phainon as queen.

But you had stolen that future.

And she would not forgive you for it.

One evening, as you walked through the palace gardens, a voice called out to you.

“Your Highness.”

You turned, meeting the sharp gaze of Lady Evanthe. She was beautiful—icy and composed, draped in a flowing white gown that gave her an almost ghostly presence under the moonlight.

“Lady Evanthe” you acknowledged cautiously.

She curtsied, but there was no warmth in her movements. “Forgive me for the sudden approach, but I wished to speak with you alone. It is a matter of… concern.”

You did not trust her. But you were not a coward.

“Then speak.”

She tilted her head. “Do you truly believe you are suited to be queen?”

You raised a brow. “That is not for me to decide. It is Phainon’s will, and the will of the king.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Yes. But wills can change.”

A threat. Thinly veiled, but a threat nonetheless.

You did not flinch. “What are you suggesting?”

Evanthe stepped closer. “I am suggesting that your presence is unnatural. You have disrupted what should have been, stolen what was meant for another. You were not born for this role. You were not raised for it. You are a mere daughter of a noble house—nothing more.”

“And yet, I stand where you do not.”

Her smile faltered. “Do you think yourself untouchable?”

“No,” you said evenly. “But I am protected.”

And as if summoned by your words, a shadow loomed behind you. Phainon.

His arrival was silent, but his presence was suffocating. His blue eyes flickered to Evanthe, sharp as a blade.

“Lady Evanthe,” he greeted, voice deceptively calm. “You seem lost.”

She took a step back, stiffening. “Your Highness, I was merely—”

“Insulting my wife” he interrupted smoothly.

A beat of silence.

“That was not my intention—”

“Oh?” Phainon’s gaze darkened. “Then I must be mistaken. But I do so hate being mistaken.”

Evanthe paled. She knew what he was. She knew what he could do.

And yet, she had been foolish enough to believe she could challenge you.

“This will be the last time you speak to her” Phainon continued “If I so much as hear your name in her presence again, I will erase your house from history.”

Evanthe swallowed hard, her fingers trembling at her sides.

“Do you understand?”

She curtsied—low, deep, desperate. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Without another word, she turned and fled.

You sighed, glancing at Phainon. “You didn’t have to terrify her.”

He looked down at you, expression unreadable. “Do you want them to challenge you?”

You hesitated. “No, but—”

“Then let them fear.”

His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together.

“You are mine” he murmured. “And I will burn down this kingdom before I let anyone take you from me.”

Disguised in simple clothing, you had slipped past the palace gates under the cover of dusk, accompanied only by a single trusted handmaiden. You had always known that rulers must understand their people, but what you witnessed in the city left a heavy weight in your chest. Cracked roads, hungry children, merchants struggling under unfair taxation—troubles that never reached the palace halls. You knew Phainon was focused on war and politics, but this? This needed to be fixed.

By the time you returned to the palace, you were already drafting solutions in your mind to present to him first thing in the morning.

But Phainon had found out before then. And he was waiting.

The moment you stepped into your chambers, the air shifted.

"Close the door" came a voice from the shadows.

Your heart skipped. The handmaiden behind you flinched, bowing quickly before retreating. The doors shut.

You turned slowly.

Phainon sat in the chair near the window, bathed in moonlight. His eyes glowed in the dim room, sharp and unreadable.

"Did you think I wouldn’t know?" His voice was dangerously soft.

You swallowed, steadying yourself. "I had a reason—"

"You disobeyed me."

You exhaled sharply. "Phainon, I do not exist solely to obey you."

He stood, and in an instant, he was in front of you, close enough for his warmth to press against your skin, close enough for you to see the way his jaw tensed in barely contained fury.

"You left the palace alone," he seethed. "Without guards. Without me."

"I needed to see things for myself" you countered, refusing to step back. "There are people suffering under policies that have gone unnoticed—"

"And what would have happened if someone recognized you? If they had tried to take you from me?"

You hesitated, but only for a breath. "Then I would have dealt with it."

He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Would you? Would you have fought them while injured? While still recovering from the last attempt on your life?"

Silence.

Then, he inhaled, slow and controlled.

"You don’t understand." he murmured, voice quieter now—but no less intense. "Every time you are out of my sight, I can feel the threats closing in. I can feel the daggers aimed at your back. You are my greatest treasure, and yet you walk straight into the lion’s den without hesitation."

Your heart ached.

"I’m not trying to make you worry" you whispered.

He closed his eyes briefly, his forehead pressing against yours.

"And yet you do."

For a moment, the world stilled.

Then, a sudden clank echoed through the chamber, followed by a low thud.

The two of you turned sharply.

The door.

Locked.

Phainon’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped forward, testing the handle. When it didn’t budge, his gaze darkened. "Someone will die for this."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "It’s the wind, Phainon. The lock on this door is old—it must have fallen into place when the door shut."

He didn’t look convinced.

"So we’re stuck?"

"Until morning, most likely."

A long silence.

Then, without warning, Phainon turned, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

"What are you—?"

"If we are to be trapped, we might as well be comfortable." he stated, carrying you toward the bed.

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I can walk, you know."

"And yet you do not stop me."

You scowled, but didn’t protest.

Lying in the dim candlelight, neither of you spoke for a long while.

Then, softly- "I’m sorry" you said.

Phainon stilled beside you.

You turned to face him, eyes sincere. "I won’t apologize for wanting to help the people, but I will apologize for worrying you."

His eyes studied you, unreadable at first, then, slowly, something softened in them.

"I should not cage you" he admitted. "I know that. And yet, the thought of losing you—" He exhaled. "It would unmake me."

Your chest ached. Gently, you reached out, intertwining your fingers with his.

"Then let me promise you this," you whispered. "I will be careful. I will not put myself at risk needlessly. But in return, you must trust me to act when I see injustice."

He was silent.

Then, finally, he squeezed your hand.

"Very well."

You smiled, relieved.

But just as you began to relax, a shiver ran through you.

Cold.

Phainon noticed instantly.

"You’re trembling."

"I’m fine" you lied, though the way you curled into yourself said otherwise.

He tsked, pulling you into his warmth. "Foolish woman" he murmured against your hair. "You’ve caught a cold."

You groaned. "It’s not my fault."

"Oh, but it is" he teased, a smirk curling his lips. "Weak from your last injury, sneaking out into the cold air… truly, you should be grateful that I am strong. At least our future children will have excellent physical condition."

You swatted at him weakly. "Phainon!"

He chuckled, shifting to hold you closer, his arms an unyielding shield around you.

"Sleep" he murmured. "I will be here when you wake."

#yandere x reader #yandere #phainon honkai star rail #phainon hsr #phainon x reader #hsr phainon #phainon #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr

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bonniebbunz · 11 months ago

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maybe YOU do, I’d help them pick mushrooms and look up which ones are poisonous or safe to eat and I’ll tell them “cool shrooms babe” before kissing them

everyone wants a weird gf until they’re getting excited over picking mushrooms they found in their backyard

#tomorrow brings the surface

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cherrysweets-world · 2 months ago

Text

Eyes of the Gods III

series masterlist - part IV

Pairing: Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary: You are forced to leave all previous tasks behind and focus solely on the Emperors. They will have it no other way.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic violence, dead parents, forced proximity, power imbalances, period-typical sexism, eventually dub-con, possessive behavior, toxic relationships

Word Count: 3k

The walk back to your shared room was miserable. Initially you thought it was the events of the past few hours catching up to you but your condition had only worsened by the time you reached your room. Fear and hopelessness had been replaced by the most pounding of headaches and you could hardly stay upright.

The walls seemed to warp and swell beneath your hands as you leaned on them for support. Head swimming, you pushed open the door and staggered to your bed. The straw seemed more uncomfortable than usual but you were grateful for a flat surface to lie upon.

The room smelt clean but even that made you nauseous. Alba, your friend, sat upon her own bed and wore nearly identical clothing to yours. She was handier with a needle and thread than you and so hers were better kept. Alba was, altogether, a more skilled worker than you. Many were! You did not feel as though you stood out. So why had this happened to you rather than someone else?

Her fingers worried the lightly frayed edges, dark eyes gazing at you with increasing concern.

"I heard what happened," she said, coming to stand beside you. "Did they do this?"

"No," you groaned, "this is a sickness, the one that has had half the slaves and workers out."

Alba stepped back. You could hardly blame her. It had taken the lives of several of the elderly slaves and it was a chore to endure. Lady Lucilla had been struck down by it and forced to remain here at the palace to recover rather than endure the journey home.

"I need to pack," you hissed, heaving yourself into an upright position. "I can't handle this right now."

The floor felt cool on the bottom of your feet. You slid from your lumpy bed and pressed as much of your skin against it as you could. It was a small relief.

The main symptoms were nausea, vertigo and headaches. You had at least two of the three. Fine one moment and almost incapacitated the next. That was to be expected when the majority of people lived in such close quarters. Even the masters were not immune.

Tomorrow you would know the full extent of it. Some had speedy recoveries, others suffered for at least a week.

"I do not have the time," you said aloud.

"Time for what?" Alba asked. "Pack for what?"

You let your head fall back onto the bed, stray pieces of straw poking your skull and getting tangled in your hair. A garbled laugh managed to claw it's way up your throat. "I am rising in the world, Alba. I am to serve the emperors directly."

You could not bring yourself to look up to see her face. What would you see? Pity? Sadness? Jealousy, even? Just because you were not happy did not mean that there were not others who would claw your face off to be in your position.

A hand ghosted over your hair. "I'll let the kitchen master know that you are ill. Try to rest."

The door opened and shut with the softest of sounds. Alba probably thought that she would never see you again. She and the other two would have to sleep elsewhere tonight and you would likely be gone come morning.

Truth be told, you did not have much to pack. Three garments identical to the one you were wearing. You picked the two cleanest and left the other. If what Caracalla had said was true then you would no longer need them. Several leather ties littered the floor beside you and you scooped those up, dropping them on top of your folded garments. They were handy for keeping your hair from your face.

Finally, your prized possession. To retrieve it you had to stuff your hand into your straw mattress, fumbling about until your fingers closed around something solid. You pulled it out with effort and clasped it gently to your chest.

It was a carved wooden figure of a wolf, head tilted back as if howling at the moon. The most intricate features were worn away and, truthfully, if you did not already know it was a wolf then you would not have been able to tell. It had been made by your grandfather, a man who you had never known, and passed to your mother. Eventually it had made it’s way to you.

It was perhaps the only thing that had evaded your father's destructive path. Your childhood home had been small and nothing else had avoided his open hands or fists. Including you and your mother.

In your mind they were both dead, though you had only seen your mother's battered body. After that you had left, using the cover of night to conceal yourself. It had served you well up until recently. There was nowhere you could go to avoid the will of man.

There was little point in hiding the wolf, really. It did not seem the sort of thing that would appeal to anyone else. Still, night after night, you found yourself sliding it into the spiky bedding and nodding off on top of it. Your own little secret. Yours and your mothers.

You tucked it between your tunics, out of sight once more. You could not leave it behind.

Sweat formed on your brow and you swiped it away with the back of your hand. The emperors expected you ready and waiting tomorrow morning. That now seemed unlikely but you would not know for certain until then. With a groan, you eased yourself back up onto your bed.

You wondered exactly how angry they would be if you were unable to be there the next morning. You allowed yourself to entertain the thought for exactly one minute and then shoved it away. There was no use in thinking such things now and it certainly wouldn't aid your recovery.

All you could do was sleep. Once again, faced with your complete lack of options, you allowed yourself the illusion of choice and let your eyes fall shut.

The room was still pitch black when you awoke. It did not alarm you at first. Your headache was still present but seemed to have lessened. Your aching limbs were sprawled across your straw mattress, almost as if they were trying to get away from your body.

Blinking slowly, you glanced about and tried to think about what had awoken you. The scuffle of feet, the sound of the door opening and closing? One of your friends likely had come back to fetch something they needed.

You groaned and shifted, attempting to get back to sleep. A warm had closed around your ankle and you shrieked, jerking your head up from the mattress.

"Shhh, poor, sick girl," came a voice from the foot of your bed.

"Emperor Caracalla?" you whispered into the dark. Even as you said it, part of you thought it was impossible. A hallucination caused by your fever. The emperors never came to the lower parts of the palace, they had no need. How could Caracalla be here now, in your room, in the dark?

"I wanted to know why you did not come."

The room was too dark to see properly despite your eyes trying to adjust. It was him. His hand was still firmly on your ankle. You were not sure whether it was you or him radiating that feverish warmth.

"I am sick, Emperor, and it is not yet morning," you tried to slip your ankle from his grasp, "you shouldn't be -"

Caracalla finally let go of you but only to ease himself further onto the bed, curling himself around your legs. You dare not breathe, hands opening and closing beside you. There was nothing you could do. This was not just any man, this was the Emperor. There was probably several Praetorian guards outside your door right now. You had never been safer or in more danger in your life.

"I know what it is to be sick," his voice was raspy, hands wandering over your lower legs, "and now, so do you. We understand each other. We can trust each other."

Your sickness was not the same as the one that plagued Caracalla, that much you knew. Some disease of the mind infected him, leaving him at times vulnerable and then violent. You should have felt scared; instead you felt pity.

Trepidation still had a tight grip on your insides. The Emperor had gone so far as to seek you out in the middle of one of his episodes. Every time you dared to dream that you could go back to being another faceless servant you were struck by reality.

"Emperor Caracalla," you murmured, gently wrapping your hands around his upper arms, "I only do not wish to make you sick. I helped you stay safe before, remember?"

"Yes," he answered, staring up at you in the dark. His skin was cool beneath your touch. It was much cooler in this part of the palace. You did not know what things triggered Caracalla's illness, what made it worsen and then seemingly get better. You did not want to find out.

"I want to make you safe again," you said, urging him up and off the bed. He seemed to be wearing the same clothes as when you had last seen him. "Come with me, Emperor."

Caracalla did not respond but he did as you asked. It was an effort to get yourself to the door. When you opened it you were greeted by six Praetorians, more than you expected. You tried not to feel overly self conscious in your night clothes.

The looked at you with the same curious look everyone had been giving you for the last few days. As if they were wondering what it was about you that had earned the attention of the emperors and why you weren't dead yet.

"Please," you begged, "can you deliver the Emperor safely back to his rooms? See that he gets ready for bed?"

There was a beat of silence and you wondered if you would have to drag yourself up the stairs and see to Caracalla yourself. You had no power over them and they had no obligation to take requests from you.

"Please, I just don't want to get him sick."

The one closest gave you a tight nod. None of them said anything but they helped Caracalla out from behind you. The hallway was well lit and he squinted in the torchlight, looking lost and confused. Guilt swarmed you and you debated forcing yourself up the stairs. It seemed as though he got worse at night. The man standing before you did not look like an Emperor but a boy. It was difficult to remember all the blood and terror he caused and relished in.

"Emperor Caracalla," you tried to smile, "I'll be there tomorrow but we both need rest."

He only nodded, face flickering through a variety of expressions as if not sure which one to settle on. One of the guards cleared his throat and that seemed to bring Caracalla out of whatever stupor he was in. He turned and went with them, glancing over his shoulder as he went until he disappeared from sight.

You let the door fall shut and crawled back into bed. If you were not so exhausted you would have felt angry with yourself. Yes, Caracalla was sick, but slaves and workers fell sick all the time. It was true that you had been oblivious to the full extent of Caracalla's issues. These nightly episodes were not something most people knew about. But you had seen the worse types of injuries and illnesses in your few years at the palace and yet - you felt sorry for him.

Swiping a hand over your face, you squeezed your eyes closed and tried not to think too much about how gently he had touched you or how vulnerable he had looked. You no longer understood yourself.

The next morning arrived quickly. Apart from an aching in your joints, you felt fine. Last night felt like a dream brought on by the fever. All your nights recently felt that way. You gathered your meager possessions and left your room for the last time.

There was a guard waiting outside your door to escort you to the emperors.

"Have they been waiting long?" you said, alarmed.

He only shook his head and angled his body to allow you in front of him. You glanced uncertainly over your shoulder.

"I'll tell you where to go," he barked.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. It made you uncomfortable to have him at your back. It felt as though he did not trust that you would not run away if he took his eyes off of you.

Weary, you followed his directions. Like before, the décor and furnishings got finer and finer the closer you got to the emperors. Apart from the servants quarters every part of the imperial palace was richly decorated but it was something different entirely in the emperor's quarters.

Even the doors were bigger and more ornate. Dusted with gold paint and displaying the finest carvings. Again, you felt small and insignificant. The Praetorians pushed the doors open and you walked in, hands twisted tightly in your tunics.

The room was heavily perfumed but the scent wasn't unbearable. It helped clear your thoughts as you walked in, helped you focus on what was before you now rather than what you had been forced to leave behind. Bitterness and anger would do you no good here.

Geta stood alone behind a desk. It was covered in papers and small trinkets. Trinkets that probably cost more than you had earned in your entire life. He played idly with a rounded crystal, eyes flickering up as you entered the room.

The Praetorians marched out after he acknowledged them, leaving just you and him alone. They obviously felt no concern over leaving you alone with the emperor. It made you feel pathetic.

"I thought you were sick," he said slowly.

"I was."

"I suppose I am fortunate to have you standing before me now," he leered.

You did not respond.

"I heard that my brother visited you last night," he continued. "He is still asleep now. Seems that you wore him out."

You cringed at the implication. "I comforted him. That is all."

"You say that like it is a small task," he said bluntly.

You opened your mouth and closed it again. His words verged on a compliment but not quite.

"I am happy to be of service," you finally said.

"I am sure that you are," he laughed. "There are clothes for you over there. Take off those rags and change."

Geta was suddenly in front of you, ripping your belongings from your arms and tossing them onto the floor. It would have been fine but your carving clattered across the marble, drawing his attention immediately. You almost went scrambling after it, horrified and embarrassed.

"What is this?" he spat, face twisting as he bent down to pick it up.

"A carving," you admitted. "It's mine. I did not steal it, I brought it with me."

Geta held it up to the light as though that would help him make better sense of it. "Your father made this?"

"No," you answered with enough venom that Geta glanced over at you. "No, Emperor. My grandfather made it and my mother gave it to me."

You winced at the careful way he examined you. It felt as though he was able to infer everything about you just from your responses. The wooden carving looked laughable in his pale hands; a stark contrast to the rich colours and jewellery he was adorned with.

He seemed almost amused. That was better than anger, at least. His expression was strangely open as he examined your treasure, twisting it every which way in his hands. It looked ridiculously fragile when he held it.

"You like carvings, then?" he said slowly. You sagged with relief as he held it out to you, cupping your hands so that he could drop it into them.

"I like this one," you said. You bent down and picked up one of your tunics, placing the carving into the centre of it and then wrapping it carefully.

"I am fond of them myself," he offered, watching you carefully.

Your eyes snapped to his, surprised at his omission. Geta seemed surprised himself and he turned back to his desk.

"I ordered you to change!" he snapped, storming back to his desk.

Again, he busied himself with his paper and trinkets but something seemed performative about his actions.

At first you had thought that you could learn and adapt to the emperors. With how unpredictable their moods were it now seemed impossible. Their differences and similarities were also difficult to keep track of. What one found amusing made the other irritable.

Hopes of surviving seemed dim but you would try nonetheless. Your mother tried until she couldn’t and you would do the same.

Clutching your belongings to your chest, you headed in the direction he indicated. There were several togas and stolas laid out. You had never worn anything with such color before. Nothing quite so soft either. You glanced up to see if Geta was looking. His gaze was fixed on his desk. You squirmed out of your toga and into your new clothes, trying not to feel as though you were shedding your previous life.

Geta met your eyes when you yanked the toga over your head. Of course he had looked the entire time. It had been naive to think he wouldn't. He was regularly surrounded by concubines and simpering senators that obeyed his every whim. The emperor felt as though looking upon your body was his right. Maybe it was.

His throat worked as though he about to offer some cruel quip or comment. You braced yourself for what would surely be a crushing blow. It was not that you were especially insecure about your body but privacy was a luxury you had gotten somewhat used to. Now it was just another thing that had been stolen from you.

He tilted his chin up. "Pour me wine."

"Of course, Emperor," you bent your head and did as you were told.

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