😍😍

심재윤 ARCADE

⸝⸝ ❛ all i know, all i know is …

loving you is a losing game ❜

📄⸝⸝ but you still loved him anyway ❪ ꕤ ❫ pairing. sjy x f!reader ʬʬʬ───includes. hurt/slight comfort, fake dating, technically cheating, past toxic relationships, unrequited love, bittersweet ending, not proofread ( 2k words ) . . . BACK TO LIBRARY ?!

WHEN YOU FIRST MET HIM, he was anything but broken. The life of the party, he wore smiles as casually as the designer clothing that lined his walk-in wardrobe—racks of beige and blacks that brought out the glow of his sunkissed skin that left you staring at him whenever he passed. You were never ‘friends,’ but he knew how to make you feel like one: always stopping in the middle of the halls to ask you about your day, waving to you in the carpark as he stood surrounded by his closest mates, and introducing you to his girlfriend one day when she tagged along to the study date the two of you had planned for your group project.

As for his girlfriend, you knew to nip the bud of your blooming attraction to the man as soon as you met her. Clinging to his arm to entire time, whispering inaudible things into his ear to draw out the chuckles you loved hearing so much, it was clear that she was making a statement—a claim. The boy is mine, she said, whenever she called him by the nicknames that only a girlfriend would ever have—nicknames you could only dream of calling him. Stay away, she said, when she placed a long, firm kiss on his lips before she stood up to get a coffee, swaying her hips in a way she knew would have him hypnotised, because his eyes were always on her. Always. Even when they weren’t together any longer… and even when he was supposed to be with you.

You should have minded your own business, should have never involved yourself in their games. But it was impossible to ignore the crestfallen look on his face when his on and off girlfriend of two years walked up to another man only a day after their breakup, and kissed the guy the same way she used to kiss him. And you—ever the sweet, naive, lovesick fool—didn’t think twice when you offered to help him get even. When you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend, just to make her jealous, and definitely not because you wanted to show him that you would love him better than she ever could. (Or so you tried to convince the both of you.)

But the heart was not so easy to change, you soon discovered.

“Jakey,” you whispered, shaking the man’s shoulder as he lay unconscious on the couch, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.

It was a new habit that he developed, where he would disappear—not answering any of your calls or texts—until the early hours of the morning, where you would find him collapsed on the couch of your apartment, which you gave him access to in case he ever needed you. And like the caring (fake) girlfriend you were, you tried not to give him too much heat for the fact that the only time he ever needed you was when he was too drunk to even know the difference between you and his ex girlfriend.

His ex girlfriend whose name he whispered when he opened his eyes to see you peering down at him.

“No, it’s me,” you replied, your heart aching at the furrow in his brows before he immediately fell back asleep, as if wanting to dream a reality where she was the one who was here instead of you. You sighed. Shaking away the needless thoughts that rattled their way in your mind, you grabbed the spare blankets from the guest room to cover him with. And it was then when you spotted the familiar name that appeared across the screen of his phone as it fell from his hand, onto the floor beneath your feet.

It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have hurt. Because none of this was real, anyway, and you knew from the moment you put your heart into this that it would end up breaking. Yet the feeling was all too real when it finally happened; the moment you had been dreading, but also knew would always end up coming….

I miss you, the text read. Let’s get back together.

And you didn’t know what made it worse: the fact that you knew he would always choose her over you, or the fact that just before she had sent the text saying she missed him, he had sent one with the words you always wanted to hear but never got to: I love you.

That was when you knew loving Sim Jaeyun was a losing game.

“You can’t do this anymore.”

You ignored the pleas of your best friend as you curled up against the headboard of your bed, your face buried into your knees as you let out all the tears you had been holding back. You sent Jake away as soon as he woke up. And if he noticed the lack of breakfast on the table or kisses on the cheek, you didn’t give him the opportunity to ask about it. As soon as his shoelaces were tied, you were ushering him out the door, before slamming it into his face, so you could retreat to your room and call upon the comfort of your bed and your best friend.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you sobbed quietly, your voice as weak as your body felt. “I really did love him… I wanted him to see that I could love him like he deserved.”

Your best friend frowned as they placed a hand on your knee, before slowly wrapping his arms around you. “I know,” they said comfortingly. “But I think it’s time you realise that you deserve to be loved the same way you loved him.”

You deserve to be loved the same way you loved him.

You didn’t know why that broke you the way it did, why the tears ran like waterfalls at the seemingly obvious but easily forgotten statement. You wanted to give everything for someone who didn’t know how to accept it, and you ended up leaving nothing for yourself. But why? When did this happen? How did this happen? You really were a fool, you thought, running after someone who didn’t turn to look back at you—someone who was running after someone else…

Your friend sighed. “Listen… I was going to leave this off until another time, but I feel like this is the perfect chance to tell you about it.” Your friend pulled out their phone, showing you a screen with… a flight booking? “I was planning this for your birthday, but I think you could use it now more than ever. It will do you some good, to get away and have some time to yourself. What do you think?”

You looked down at the screen of your friend’s phone, your heart racing wildly against your chest. You hadn’t even thought about that before. About leaving behind your problems—about leaving behind Jake… But maybe that was the problem the whole time. You let him become the centre of your world, let him dictate the course that you took. When he needed company, you dropped everything to be there for him. When he needed a place to sleep, you left your apartment door wide open. But when, you wondered, when did he ever do anything like that for you?

When did he ever think of you before he thought about her?

It was fake, you reminded yourself. And it was time you reminded yourself that, before the pain you felt became too real for you to forget.

“I…” you swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring your heart as it tried to hold you back, tried to make you stay for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you. “I want to go.”

It wasn’t easy, deciding to leave. It was only a trip for the holidays, but then after standing before your couch, your heart wringing at the memory of Jake sleeping on it, you realised that perhaps you needed a bit longer to yourself. And so, you called the movers, had them empty out the apartment and scrub it clean, so that not even a speck of dust remained.

You ran a finger across the now bare benchtop, unconsciously touching the vein of a distant memory.

“Do you want tea?” you asked as you stood behind the bench, boiling the teapot while Jake looked around the apartment space like a lost puppy. It was on the first day that he ever visited your place, and your hands shook as you scooped sugar into the mugs you grabbed from the cupboard. You didn’t even notice as Jake snuck up behind you, resting his forehead against your shoulder in a way that made your heart leap out of your chest.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice low. And you didn’t know whether it was for the tea, or for something else, but you found yourself smiling to yourself, because this wasn’t even the least that you would do for him—much less the most. And maybe that was what made it hurt even more in the future, when you realised that he didn’t feel the same.

“Well, I’m ready to head off when you are,” your best friend said, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt– despite the fact that you were travelling to Europe. You laughed at her attire, and was almost shocked at the sound. When was the last time you laughed? That would have been… “Do you have anything else to do?”

You looked down at the keychain that hung from your apartment keys. “Just one,” you said.

“Ooh, look over here!” You smiled and dragged Jake by the wrist, pulling him towards a claw machine just outside an old, worn down convenience store down the street. You got ready to pass him your things, only to be surprised when he grabbed your wrist, stopping you in the middle of slipping your handbag from your shoulder.

“Let me try,” he said, before pulling out his wallet, slipping a coin into the slot. “Okay… Which one should we get?” Your eyes scanned the prizes in the machine, trying to choose one that appealed to you. But it wa difficult to do, considering it was a mystery game—all of the potential prizes were hidden in boxes with question marks around them. So, you simply pointed at whichever one was easiest to get, causing Jake to smile. “Let’s do it.”

It was easy, the way he got the prize. And when he handed it to you, all you could think was that it was the first gift that you would be receiving from him since you got to gether—that it was special, no matter what it was. When you opened the box and shook it, you were surprised to see a small black cat keychain, causing Jake to pout.

“That’s it?” he said. “Sorry, babe, I should have gotten something else…”

But you didn’t mind it at all. It was small, but it meant something to you, because it was from him. But perhaps the gift itself was a foreshadowing of your relationship—a black cat of bad luck, to represent your doomed relationship.

You took the keychain off the keys, before placing it on the bench, leaving it alongside the letter you left for him to read, if he ever came back. At that moment you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it out, your eyes widened slightly at the name across the screen, your fingers automatically hovering above the answer button. But a last minute sense of control kept you from answering it, instead opting to stare at your phone screen as it continued to ring.

It was Jake.

You bit your lip, before looking back at the letter on the bench. Everything you had to say, you already wrote on the paper. You didn’t want to give yourself any other reason to doubt the decision you made. And so, you turned your phone off, letting the call end on its own after ringing for too long. That was for the best. This was for the best. Maybe not for him, but for you. And it made you promise one thing to yourself: that every bit of love you spent on him, you would now save for yourself, until the day came when you met someone who could return it in full.

note. this was originally going to have a completely different ending, with jake realising he loved reader and running after her, while she accepted him back... but i felt like this ending fit better: reader was going through a stage where she would give up absolutely everything for jake. so happy ending for her is to remove herself from the situation that was hurting her and take the time to heal and find happiness of her own, happiness that doesn't rely one someone else's feelings about her. <3

► TEMPESTUOUS DESIRES [Jake.]

Abstract: For a messenger of love who effortlessly intertwines hearts, Jake himself remains untouched by the desires he kindles. This wasn’t a problem until he met you. Being disinterested in love and somehow always able to evade his shots, you soon became the object of his fixation but those very pure intentions to find you a good match soon gave way to obsession and temptations. As his golden arrows can’t be used to bewitch you to him, he ended up delving further into darkness where the lines between love and obsessions becomes blurred, corrupted by the insatiable need to own and possess you for himself. As he spirals down this treacherous path, he becomes entangled in a web of deception and manipulation, forsaking his once noble purpose.

Genre: fantasy | forbidden romance | supernatural | mythology | wc: 13k

a/n: inspired by New Jeans “Cool With You”. This has been marinating in the drafts for who-knows-how-long now. My brain can't shut up so here it is finally. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. Do leave me some feedbacks or comments, it keeps me from sliding back to hiatus and descend down the writer's block hellhole lol.

— i.

Figuratively and literally, Jake leaves trail of attraction and desire in his wake. As a messenger of love with unparalleled mental acuity and formidable archery skills, every arrow he draws from his quiver meet its target with unerring accuracy, ensnaring the unsuspecting victim with someone who is best matched, trapping them in a web of attraction and desires that would last the test of time. But it is not just his archery that captivates; Jake's ethereal presence, striking good looks, and flirtatious nature are a force of nature in their own right — captivating both humans and non-humans, leaving trails of attractions, desires and temptations in his wake.

He would have made the perfect Messenger of Love — one who is poised to go down in history. After all, the prevailing modern mindset which glorifies individualism and instant gratification has put lasting love in the backseat, making the job harder for the other Messengers of Love who could only strike attraction and lusts that lasts for one night. Hence, with every union that Jake successfully brought, he had become somewhat of a legend — someone with an innate, perhaps unlearnable, understanding of what makes love lasts.

Except, the truth is not as rosy.

While beings like him are capable of feeling the emotions and desires that humans feel, Jake himself remains untouched by the all-consuming desires he sparks in others. His mental acuity helped him understood the mechanics of love — an intricate dance of personalities and the delicate balance of emotions — but the feeling itself eludes him. While he used to see it as a flaw when he was young, he now understood that it was this very detachment that grants him an edge in the field. Unburdened by personal biases or the clouding of intense emotions, Jake is able to navigate around with a clear and calculated mindset that allows him to dissect the intricacies of human nature, identifying the traits and compatibilities that foster enduring connections.

Such mental acumen however, while providing him with a detached understanding, fails to bridge the gap between intellectual knowledge and the visceral experience of love’s consuming fire. In fact, despite all the flirtatious banter, sweet nothings and passionate touches he is capable of engaging and eliciting — his feelings remain only surface deep, that of attraction and lust which dissipates as soon as his conquests are bedded.

Perhaps it is exactly this lack of attachment that fuels his libertine tendencies — one that has been increasingly trangressed boundaries as he sought to not just bed his own kind but also humans, despite such liaisons being frowned upon. Perhaps the excitement and thrill of forbidden liasons is what he revelled in or perhaps, without him realising, he was seeking to fill in the void within himself which grows with each connection he forged.

Regardless. Tonight, was one of those days.

Assuming his human form — which is similar to his usual form except for the lip ring, gigantic wings and laurel wreath — he crashed into an after-party of a prestigious award ceremony, eyes immediately set on the apple of everyone’s eyes: the current IT girl of the industry whose looks could rival those from his realm. She was like a vision of ethereal beauty. Her doe-like eyes were large and expressive, capable of softening the hardest of hearts; her lips was full and luscious — both innocent and tantalizing — inviting unspoken desires; her slender frame, with its graceful lines and subtle curves, captured the essence of feminity, evoking not just attraction but a sense of protectiveness.

Jake smirked as his mind parsed her life history and pieced out the kind of person she was, finding his competitiveness instantly triggered the moment he learned of her iron-clad discipline and control when it comes to romance. As a young woman in a competitive industry that is still plagued with double standards against women, she knew her success stands at a precipice so despite all the love interests showered towards her over the years – she managed to stave them off, no matter how tempting. She had it all under control and she was poised for greater things given her diligence and discipline.

But then she met Jake’s eyes and for the first time in her life, she felt her guards threatening to crack especially at the weight of Jake’s unflinching and seductive gaze throughout the night. Jake didn’t even need his poisoned arrows for he, himself, was almost like the poison that is laced over his arrow tips — the very object of desire for almost anyone he decides to charm.

The next thing you knew, they were already locking lips in the hallway, the act of which quickly escalated as they moved to the van, hands absolutely glued to one another, roaming freely and wildly, before it all culminated in throes of passion that lasted for hours on her bed — a place she vowed never to bring a man over. Like the torn designers over the floor, all traces of controlled perfection she had masterfully maintained over the years crumbled under the weight of Jake’s intoxicating touch and seductive sweet-nothings. She was absolutely moonstruck and Jake did not even need his arrows for it.

“You’re going to have to call in sick tomorrow if this goes on-” Jake mumbled in between the soft kisses that he trails down her neck as she whimpered his name again and again, delirious in pleasure while begging him not to ever let go, promising him absolutely everything — from her money to her career.

“Look at the industry sweetheart,” Jake cooed, eyes adoring what he had made out of her: a whimpering and clingy mess that is completely seized in desires and lust, “what would they say if they see you like this?”

She shook her head, breathing ragged from the umpteenth high she had raked with Jake, before pulling him into a hungry and messy kiss. “Love,” Jake mumbled in between kisses, saliva stretching between their lips, “you’re tired. It’s time to go to sleep.”

“You’re not going to leave me right?” she stared at him all bleary-eyed. Jake simply smiled, rubbing her cheeks softly as she tried hard to keep her lids open against the enchantments that Jake had justwhispered into her system, “this is all just a dream.”

And just like that, he would become a mere figment of a dream for her — just like all the other human he had bedded before. Sure, it was hypocritical of him to play around with them like that but he always reassured himself sickeningly that he wasn’t doing any harm by doing so. If anything he just gave yet another human a good time — a time they would never find in the touch of any other human. He also induced partial amnesia in them so that they would not go insane from longing for him. It’s a win-win, Jake thought to himself, smirking, as he pulled his suit over, fixing the placement of his lip ring with a flick of his tongue.

As he climbed out of the window ledge however, he heard the familiar sound of wings fluttering.

“Sooner or later, they’re going to catch on Jake.” Jake knew who it was immediately.

“Stalking me isn’t going to rake you scores Sunoo,” Jake scoffed as he turned around, meeting the eyes of the pale messenger who used to be his deskmate during his training days, “you’d be better off striking hearts instead. Your scores last quarter is dangerously low – you know you’d get demoted if you keep at it right?”

Sunoo swallowed thickly, “I can’t help it, love doesn’t last that long anymore these days. I can’t strike their hearts to one another knowing that it will only end in heartbreak.”

“That is exactly your flaw. You care far too much,” Jake sighed, “Come on, our threshold for successful matches is only in love that lasts for 5 years. Just keep that as a goal — ignore what happens within and beyond and you’re on your way to glory.”

“Not all relationship that lasts 5 years is love,” Sunoo’s voice hardened, eyes quivering as if trying to not believe the words that came out of Jake.

“Does it matter?” Jake shrugged, “love takes various forms. Innocent, tempestuous, scandalous, obsessive, toxic. Whatever happens, heartbreaks are part and parcel of life isn’t it? If it’s too much, we can always mend their heart by latching them onto another which then counts into our tallies and-“

“They’re not mere scores Jake. Hearts can break irreparably,” Sunoo interjected, brows twitching in what looked like a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, “you’ve changed.”

“As if you haven’t,” Jake winked as he slipped off the windowsill, his large wings fluttering open, keeping him afloat, “I know you’ve ventured down the Abyss to procure certain spells to alter your scores every quarter Sunoo,” Jake smirked, feeling triumphant at the hint of guilt evident on Sunoo’s gaze, “you’re not anymore moral nor ethical as I am. It's okay, we all got our vices. Just keep out of my affairs Sunoo and we’re cool.”

And just like that he disappeared, feeling re-energised from his night-long endeavour. In fact, he raked more scores than normal that day — the success of which was also aided by the fact that it was the first sunny day after weeks of torrential rain, bringing more people out and about, all in their Sunday best and in the brightest of moods, making it easier for his poisoned arrows to work its magic.

That was probably why you stuck out like a sore thumb to him when he was lingering at the traffic intersection for in the midst of people in bright and colourful get-up, with a delightful expression to match, you were decked in monochrome, with expressions so somber and eyes on your phone screen. When you finally looked up, your face contorted into a grimace, absolutely disgusted by the couple who was kissing in front of you.

The so-called Love cynics, Jake remembered a lesson back then, someone who is aversed to love. Could be Asexual, could be a product of trauma, could be just hardened by age and cynical outlook. They will be the hardest to bend but the biggest of catches. Jake’s hand was already reaching for another arrow in his quiver, his mind working hard in analysing your personality and trying to match it with dozen of other men within the vicinity — the perfect match of which he found in no time at the PhD student just across with whom you could share your intellectual interests with and with whom your more rational and logical tendencies could live in harmony with.

“Perfect,” Jake thought to himself as he directed his arrow in your direction, the strings taut in his fingers. Just 2 seconds after the light had turned green, Jake let his arrow go. That was an easy kill, Jake smirked triumphantly, confident that his calculations on timing, distance and strength, would have struck you precisely when the other guy would have come into your direct line of sight.

But then you suddenly ducked and all hell breaks loose for not only had Jake missed but his arrow struck the worst of targets: an expecting mother and, just across, a man who was on his way to his own wedding. It was a potential multiple breach of ethics that would have summoned him right to the Court Office.

“Fuck,” Jake cussed, blazing past the throng of crowd, scrambling for a lead-tipped arrow that is meant to reverse his magic, and stabbing it onto the woman just seconds away before she lurched towards the man.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, puzzled, as the lady who had stopped right in front of him with arms outstretched paused, looking dazed, before apologising. Jake exhaled sharply at the close call. Brushing his hair back in annoyance, he looked around, eyes frantically scanning for the you - the troublemaker - though by then you were long gone, swallowed by the bustling crowd.

“That’s a bit annoying,” Jake grumbled, shooting another arrow at someone else whom he quickly found a match for on the other side of the road. That union, he projected, would last at least 9 years but even that couldn’t quell the distaste he felt in his mouth after his near-miss – the distaste of which lasted almost all day despite the successes he raked.

And so that night, he stayed back in the human world during forbidden hours, finding you very easily through his network of friends. While you weren’t his first miss, you somehow continued to linger at the back of his mind, haunting him all day.

Sitting by your windowsill, he observed your every move as if you were a specimen to behold. He watched you get so engrossed in your report; watched you get annoyed by how your regressions didn’t come out the way you expected; watched in amusement at the way you’d accidentally dozed off, only to spring back to typing when you jolted awake.

“What are you so engrossed in?” Jake wondered out load as he floated inside, peeking over your shoulders, “Aww,” he cooed, “look at you, burning the midnight oil to finish up a policy paper to save the poor,” he sat onto the empty space on your table, next to your screen, “but who’s going to save you, you miserable poor loveless thing.”

“I could I guess,” he brought his knees up, hugging it close to his chest, “I do love a challenge,” he mumbled, chin resting on his knee as he watched you with a specific glint in his eyes, “I’ll make your first your last, how’s that?”

It shouldn’t be hard, he thought, after all, there are 8 billion of people in this world. There are already about a hundred in your apartment building and a couple of hundreds more in your office block, and a couple hundred thousands more between your journeys. The probability is enormous, the possibility is endless, he smirked to himself as he lowered his face towards you, leaning in so as to whisper something in your ear, “you’ll thank me.”

Such optimism and excitement however quickly dissipated in the span of a few days as you somehow magically always evaded his golden arrows in time, causing him to have to use his expensive and hard-acquired lead-tipped arrows to reverse most of the effects.

“You can’t see me right?” Jake floated in front of you, waving his hand maniacally before inching his face so close towards you as if trying to confirm whether or not you had a built-in radar for him.

As he parsed your history more, it became clearer just how difficult it would be to match you with anyone. Not only was your interest in a getting a partner or dating almost nil but you minimise any opportunities to find one as well: not engaging in social niceties beyond necessary; being oblivious to any interests towards your way; distancing yourself when you detect any hint of interest; and the list goes on. Indeed a ‘Love Cynic’ to the T.

The thing about hardened love cynics is that, while they are the biggest catch, they could also be your biggest downfall if you fail. This is because love cynics, once heartbroken, would feel despair and anguish like none other which just serves to fuel their skepticism and opposition to love afterwards – the result of which would burn holes in the records of any messengers who was in charge of them. Hence, they are always avoided especially by the average messengers.

But then again, Jake was not just your average messenger. He was amongst the best, rivalling some of his predecessors even with some scores made in turning love cynics around. So it was not all surprising just how obsessed he was with getting you a match.

One day, an opportunity came in a silver platter for him as the elevator you guys were in opened to a lad from IT, whose attraction for you was very evident from the way his face lit up, “y/n, it’s a been a while!”

“Well would you look at that,” Jake sung as he pulled an arrow from his quiver, grinning triumphantly. Jake did not even need to parse his mind to see the interest he had for you as it drips from his gaze to his voice. But as he looked back at you, who had shot the other guy the briefest of smile before whipping your phone up to mindlessly scroll your email, Jake’s grin immediately faltered. “You are seriously helpless y/n,” Jake sighed, looking almost as if he was in a trance as he inched closer, pressing the golden-tipped arrow against your back – the puncture of which would have struck your right through your heart, “your attitude needs fixing y/n or else you’ll never find someone—”

Jake was really just 3 seconds away from puncturing you when you recoiled. He initially thought you might have somehow felt the sharpness of his arrow but turned out the guy’s hand was just trailing languidly down your arm.

“Are you still angry about last time?” the man scoffed, the seemingly-warm smile fading almost immediately, “I told you last time, that night was a mistake. I was drunk and I tried to kiss you. That was it. I didnt even managed to do it since-“

“I don’t care about your reasons, you crossed the line,” you replied curtly, “and right now you are one step away from crossing another line. Remember what HR said last time? The next time it happens, they’re just one visit away and you’d immediately be out of the Ministry.”

His lips contorted into a wry grin, the annoyance becoming evident in his voice and face, “you must feel all high and mighty just because you’re in a more superior position than me,” he inched closer, looming ominously, “do you really want to know what true assaults are like-“

Almost too calmly, you hit one of the elevator buttons, its door opening just 3 floors before your destination as you turned your phone towards him, the screen showing a recording in progress, “show your face to me once again and this recording will get sent straight to a public forum. You won’t just be laid off here but this would burn holes in your record making it hard for you to find a new job.”

The man backed away finally, looking every bit flustered, “no wonder you’re still single, you’re a fucking witch-“

“And you’re just one fucking phone call away from being hauled off,” you interjected as you stepped out of the elevator despite it being 3 floor away from your destination. You hear him mutter curses loudly as you walked away.

Jake was still open-mouthed as he trailed behind you, “that was,” he caught up, hands clapping, “pretty badass. I really thought I needed to step in for a second there but you,” he slipped through the closing door of the emergency staircase which you had just opened, “you were fearless. You were-“ he stopped short as he watched you stood immobile as soon as you entered the emergency stairwell. As if losing the strength in your knees, you leaned weakly against the door, head bowed down.

Jake watched in confusion as you slid down, your breathing growing rapid, chest heaving, hands trembling as you muttered through gritted teeth, “get it together, y/n. It’s nothing.”

Jake knelt next to you, his mind delving into a specific parcel of memory from the night when you first met the guy earlier — the night when, under the pretense of drunkenness, had tried to corner you into an empty meeting room and tried to kiss you. “Shit,” Jake finally said, brows furrowing in a mixture of concern and guilt. Just moments ago, his competitiveness could have gotten you ensnared with the guy who almost assaulted you — the guy who had caused so much terror in you.

“I’m sorry,” he scooted closer now, feeling guilty. Now Jake may not be a saint nor would he call himself virtuous by any means but he was no devil either. As much as you grinds his gears with your aromantic and callous ways he would never match you with someone like that.

He sunk beside you, forlorn, his hands ghosting your shoulders. He wanted to apologise but it's not like you could hear him anyway. He wanted to comfort you but his hands would just go through you. He felt oddly powerless. So instead, he stayed next to you in silence, straining his muscles so that his arms just ghost around your shoulders. When you finally calmed down, you leaned back against the door, exhaling sharply.

Jake watched you intently, his gaze softening. “You know what,” he muttered quietly, “I’ll find you a really good guy — someone who will give you the world. Give you everything.”

For the first time in a while he didn’t see a mere tally to be crossed off the list. Instead he saw a person — a person who deserved the best and most purest form of love he was capable of finding. He rose up, his body curling over your back, leaning down to whisper a promise in your ear, “I give you my word.”

— ii.

Days turned to months and still Jake Sim could not find a match for you. Except this time, the fault lay mostly in him for he could not find anyone good enough for you. They are always lacking or excessive in something and he didn’t want to risk it falling apart.

Not for you at least.

And so in between entwining others’ hearts, he would linger around you, following you closely wherever you go, whatever you do. Like a specimen to behold, he watches your every movement and ponder over it up to the point that he remembers your habits and quirks like the back of his hand: how you like your coffee; how salty you like your food to be; the detours you take; your music tastes; the changes in your jogging routes; when you will get cold; when you’d start getting bored of something; and so on.

Eventually, it all fell into a routine. As you settle into your home, he settles with you – as if he belonged there. As you try things out and push boundaries, Jake was also always around, cheering you on – as if his morale support counts. As you considered your choices such as during shopping or working, Jake would share his thoughts and opinions about it to you as well – as if you could even hear him.

Soon he begun to fill in the silences with you, telling you of his day; the matches he made; the realm he is from; his past and so on – venting on and on, as if you could hear him.

And whenever you retire to bed at night, he no longer takes it as his cue to return to his realm. Instead he settled right next to you — watching you over like a Guardian Angel.

At least that’s what he deluded himself of until his eyes begun to wander farther each nights, pulling his mind deeper into the recesses of which he never ventured to before with you. It started slow, from eyes wandering, tracing the outlines of your face and body; to gaze lingering at your lips and your exposed skin, heartbeat racing as he wondered how they would feel under his. Soon he would find his hands balling into fists, fighting an invisible battle between desire and duty. Still he could never tear his gaze away from you.

The true test however came one night when you suddenly rolled over to his side, your face perfectly aligned with the crook of his neck and your hand perfectly landing to where his hand was. While this was nothing major compared to whatever he had gotten up to in the sheets, it sent his heart racing like none other. Almost automatically, he brought his hand up to your face, ghosting the outlines of your jaw, pausing by your chin as his gaze become fixated on your lips which was plush and parted slightly — so innocent yet so tantalizing and inviting.

Desires begin to muddle his mind, self-control cascading as he transformed himself to his human form. The space he occupied sinking instantly with his weight, causing you to stir in your sleep. Alarmed, Jake immediately hovered over you, his hand gently covering your eyes as he whispered words laced with enchantments in your ears, “it’s all just a dream love.”

He slowly slid his hand down your face, thumbs caressing your cheek softly as he watched how your brows furrow as your instinct and will to wake up warred with his enchantments. Jake leaned down, planting soft kisses on your neck, “go back to sleep.”

Finally you eased up, gradually laying limp in his embrace. Jake smiled softly at the sight, that was close. He should have pulled away then but as if there was a magnetic pull, Jake could not tear himself from you nor did he want to. As if his senses were on overdrive, he could feel everything amplified. The way your body was perfectly dwarfed under his larger frame was evoking something primal and protective within him. The warmth emanating from your body was warming his own, enveloping him, making his skin tingle in anticipation. The scent of your hair and the lingering fragrance of your soap — a mélange of florals and greens — enticing him, intoxicating him to draw closer.

His fingers begin to trail down, tracing patterns along your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbones. Your skin was soft and smooth and he marvelled at the sensation of it all against his fingertips. Every touch sent jolts of electricity through his body, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Eventually his eyes returned back to your lips — these damned lips, he thought as the pad of his thumb brush softly over your lower lip, watching the soft flesh softening and bending under the subtle pressure of his fingertips before springing back to its plush and supple form, plunging his mind to treacherous depths where he envisions that it was his lips doing the undoing, mouth devouring yours, tasting the sweetness that he knew could be savoured on his tongue.

That was when something snapped and the next thing he knew, he had lowered his mouth to yours, gently pressing his lips against yours, intoxicated by the softness of your lips and the warmth which was enveloping him whole.

That should have been it. He should have pulled away then. After all, he just wanted a taste. But the more tasted, the more he craved and soon he found himself claiming your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. As your lips parted under his insistence, his tongue plunged deep inside your mouth, as if seeking to devour you whole. You tasted like honey and sin and Jake just couldn’t get enough, yearning for more.

Desperate for more contact, his hand was already gripping your clothes, tugging it down, resulting in a slight tear – the sound of which knocked him back to his senses. He pulled away, breathing ragged, startled by the state he had reduced you to. Your hair was slightly disheveled, lips swollen, and shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, exposing a bruise that was blooming on your collarbone – physical manifestations of the intensity of his desires. Guilt seized him as he realised the extent of his actions and almost immediately, he backed away from you, recognising the depths of depravity he was capable of reaching. With self-control hanging by a thread, he knew he would lose all forms of control if he stayed any longer so with a heavy heart and mind still reeling from conflicting emotions, Jake teleported himself back to his realm.

You jolted awake not long after, your heart pounding in your chest as you sat up in alarm. It must have been another nightmare, you thought, trying to shake off the lingering sensations of paralysis that still clung to your body. With a dismissive shake of your head, you laid back down, your lips feeling strangely sore and dry. As you licked your lips, your eyes flickered open, tasting something metallic on your tongue. Curious, you brought your fingers to your lips, probing the spot that throbbed. To your surprise, your fingers came away smeared with blood.

— iii.

Back in his realm, Jake wasted no time in seducing a couple of others, spending the rest of the night in a blur of ecstasy in a bid to distract and numb himself with pleasures. Perhaps, the temporary pause in his libertine pursuits had led such desires to fester dangerously, he thought.

Except when he woke up the next day, you still bore at the back of his mind. Almost as if scalded, he could still feel the warmth of your skin in his hand, the softness of your lips on his lips. Worse, he yearns for it – yearns to feel more.

Something was going wrong, he thought to himself as he lingered around the market just outside of the apartment where he had spent the night at. Eager and desperate for a distraction he wandered further, letting himself be lost in the hustle and bustle of the morning crowd, looking aimlessly at the selection of fruits and flowers being sold.

As he passed by one of the exits however, he caught a glimpse of an archway materializing at a desolated corner, dark and thorny vines crawling out from within as if calling him. He had passed by this corner of the street a billion times before but he swore he had never seen the archway.

He called upon one of the boys playing nearby, “Hey, is that like the entrance to a new market or something?”

The boy squinted to where he was pointing but only looked back at Jake weirdly, “what do you mean? What archway? It’s just the unsightly brick wall-“

“There,” Jake pointed again, adamant, “the alley-“

“Sir, you’re either trying to scare me or you need your eyes checked because I’m seeing nothing but a dead-end,” the boy grimaced, shaking his head as he rejoined his friends in the crowd.

“What an insolent bast-“ he stopped short, looking back at the alley, the vines getting longer and longer. He suddenly realised what it was and why no one was seeing it. The Abyss, he muttered to himself, recalling all the tales he was told during his schooling years about a portal to another dimension – a dimension that is akin to a black market, having absolutely anything one could ever desire especially the most forbidden and illicit of desires. Hence why entering the realm has been forbidden, especially to those like Jake who hold official positions and is considered amongst the most noble and elite of beings.

But curiosity got the best of him. After all, the Abyss cannot be sought for it seeks on its own instead. In fact, rumours has it that only those with dark desires could open up the portal and Jake was confident that he had none of that. After all, he has absolutely everything anyone covets: good looks; wealth; reputation and glory. If he wanted he could get promoted; get the hottest girl in town; get the most lavish manor in the realm; and so on. Feeling haughty, Jake pulled his cloak over his head, slipping past the crowd towards the archway, "let's see what you think you can offer me then."

To Jake's disappointment, nothing had materialised so far no matter how deep he ventured. It was just an misty alley with faint cacophony of noises like murmurs, bells, and chatters. Jake scoffed, see, he thought to himself, no dark desires.

When he turned around to go back however, his grin faltered as the alley now disappeared, replaced by a literal abyss.

“Everyone has dark desires young man.”

Jake jumped, startled. Behind him was an decrepit old man, face hardened with wrinkles, “you’re not the only Elite who has walked these paths,” he grinned lopsidedly, “I can assure you they all thought the same way you did. Head held high, face grimacing in contempt as if they had just walked into muck. But in the end, they were always the ones who went so far as to trade their powers and long life – always the one ended up becoming the most wicked. Exactly the ones tragedies are made about.”

Jake swallowed thickly. He can see shadows forming behind the man, making the outlines of a mass of people congregating as if he was an exhibit. The muffled sounds now growing louder – almost like a bedlam. “Nothing is materializing though,” Jake managed, trying to cover the fear that was brewing within.

“Young man,” the elderly scoffed, “you being able to open up the Abyss alone is a feat no ordinary goodie can do.”

Suddenly a gust of wind hit him, causing Jake to cover his face with his cloak. By the time he pulled his hand away, he was back in the market – right where the arch was – except this time, there was no arch. Like the boy from earlier said, it was a dead end. There was a sudden ringing in his ear, causing him to double down, before everything quietened almost too deafeningly.

Come again once you know what is it that your heart truly desires boy.

Jake spun around, alert. But the old man was nowhere to be found.

— iv.

Troubled and unsettled, Jake went back to the human realm to find you. You had, after all, became his own little solace – like a home to return to. Even if you couldn’t see, hear nor feel him — all he needed was you close by.

Except just when he needed you the most, he couldn’t find you. You weren’t anywhere you were supposed to be nor anywhere you could be. This would not have alarmed him so had he not also been able to sense you.

Fuck, he panicked, wings almost set ablaze as he rushed from one place to another at impossible speed. There could only be one reason as to why he could not sense someone he had 'targeted': the target had been struck by others.

“No no no no no,” he muttered in disbelief, chest heaving in panic. Jake never lose control nor composure but right now, he was spiralling. Gone was his pride by the time he appeared by Sunoo’s doorstep, dishevelled and manic, spitting out his version of events.

“You weren’t supposed to go down the Abyss!” Sunoo chastised him the moment Jake told him about it, “you know just venturing there robs you of your power – albeit momentarily.”

“Is that what this is?” Jake paced back and forth, “must be right? that I can't sense her simply because of whatever curse the Abyss had put on me?” He grasped Sunoo by the shoulders, eyes wild with fear, “–not because she has been struck?”

“Jake–“ Sunoo croaked, caught off guard by Jake’s sudden outburst and outpour of emotions, “–just, please calm down first. Since everything seems fine to you, it’s possible your loss of detection is the momentary punishment for going down the Abyss but... we can’t also be sure that she has not been struck yet.”

Jake knows that very well. Except, he didn’t expect that the loss would have impacted him this greatly. It was true what they say then. That the Abyss is so wretched and cursed, just venturing down will rob you of something that is very valuable to you. He never considered it before, thinking that losing his ability momentarily would probably do him good – giving him the respite he so badly needed after working so hard. Little did he know, it struck him exactly where it hurts.

“When will it come back?”

“If it’s your first time down there, probably a night. But the more you go, the longer the effects last,” Sunoo sighed, “Just wait until tomor-“

“I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow,” Jake bellowed, infuriated, before sinking onto a nearby couch, head buried in his hands as he tried to calm himself down. Sunoo sighed. It was the first time he saw Jake so wrecked, it almost pained him. "The Royal Scotts Rooftop," Sunoo muttered quietly, guilt evident in his voice, "I followed the girl earlier, hoping to find you. When you weren't around, I thought maybe you've lost interest- that'd be good-" he paused, "but I guess, you've never lost it."

Jake rose up immediately, he wanted to berate Sunoo for not telling him sooner but at that time nothing could top his desire and urgency to find you so before Sunoo could even finish, Jake had taken off.

— v.

Despite the sea of people on the rooftop of the 5-Star hotel, he could immediately spot you.

His face immediately lit up, materializing behind you within seconds. “I’ve searched everywhere for you,” he sighed, gaze softening, before suddenly feeling a hand go through him towards you. He turned around, seeing that the hand belonged to a well-dressed man with ‘Jay’ on his name tag – a consultant from another company who had worked with you on a project a year ago, “the confettis,” Jay mumbled, inching unnecessarily close – at least by Jake’s standards – towards you to try and ruffle some from your hair.

“Oh thanks,” you reached over to your hair, trying to take them out yourself, before breaking into laughter over the fact that Jay had a lot of glitter in his, “dude – you’re worse-“

Within seconds Jake had already parsed Jay’s character and his history – finding that, despite the clash of characters, Jay would be good for you. He was very giving, affectionate, and selfless – something you, Jake thought, definitely deserve. Jay definitely is the best match out of all the potential matches so far, Jake thought to himself.

This should have been enough for him to rejoice at, for him to start reaching for the arrow in his quiver. After all, it’s rare to see you interact socially with men and have a good time with them — even rarer to find that particular man to be one of the best match he had come across for you. Sure, you two had really strong characters that would square the other at times but Jay would ultimately always be willing to break himself for you and give you the world.

Had you been any other person, Jake would have already struck you both in seconds, latching you both together. But peculiarly, his mind was working on overdrive finding 1001 reasons not to instead. “Come to think about it,” Jake reasoned, feeling irked by the second, “this man is too affectionate and too selfless. You wouldn’t want someone like that right?” he materialised behind you, whispering in your ear as if you could hear him.

When you excused yourself to get some refreshments, Jake continued trailing behind you, ranting on and on as if trying to justify his actions. Or lack thereof, “I mean, eventually people like those will just bog you down,” he overtook you, stopping right in front of you, gesticulating wildly, “the kind that will make you stay out of guilt – make you second guess your own personality and character. I can see it happen y/n.”

He could see then that a tall guy near the podium was staring right at you — the interest and attraction evident in his eyes. “Heeseung-“ Jake read the name on his tag, his mind already parsing through him, seeing that Heeseung was one of the senior officers in the department just across of yours to whom you had always held high regard of. Him to you too. Again, this would have been a perfect match. Unlike Jay earlier, his personality and character would hardly ever square yours. He’d always relent to your choices and your ways, letting you call the shots.

You caught a glimpse of Heeseung, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement and almost immediately Jake blocked your view, as if it even does anything, “not him either y/n,” he argued defensively, “he’s a hopeless romantic. You’d get sick of him in the long run.”

Just next to Heeseung is another guy who also by then kept throwing glances at you. Ni-Ki, an intern who was under your tutelage just a year ago but has since then moved on to other department. Jake grimaced as he parsed through the young lad’s memory, “definitely not him. Too young, still childish.”

Eventually, you turned away from the crowd, and looked out at the street below, your mind reeling from all the socialising you’ve had to do earlier. As your mind wandered, you find yourself becoming increasingly lost in your own thoughts, unaware of the intense gaze fixed upon you. “No one here is deserving of you y/n,” Jake murmured softly as he leaned sideways against the baluster, his eyes transfixed on your profile.

As if spellbound, Jake studied your features as if you were a work of art. His eyes traced the delicate lines of your face, the curve of your cheek, the gentle slope of your nose, and the soft fullness of your lips. He inched closer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, until he was so near that you could have felt his breath on your skin, had he been tangible.

And then, in a sudden twist, you turned your head abruptly in his direction, your eyes locking with his in direct precision almost as if you could sense his presence and see beyond the veil of invisibility that cloaked him. He watched, completely paralysed, as your brow twitched ever so subtly, hand raised close towards where his cheek were as if you could really perceive him. Jake’s breath hitched — enchanted — as he gently angled his face towards your palm, slowly resting his cheek against your hand, imagining the warmth of your touch, the softness of your skin.

Lulled by the possibility, Jake's throat tightened, bringing his invisible hand up to yours, ghosting over it as if cupping it — yearning for the connection to be tangible, for you to see him, to feel the touch that he so desperately wanted to give.

He still have not fully understood the swirl of emotions and feelings he harboured for you but in that moment — when it felt like there was only you two in this world — he knew he wanted this. You for him, and him for you.

He wanted to freeze time, to prolong this moment of connection that felt so right, but a voice broke through the intimate silence, shattering the fragile bubble he had created.

“You haven’t changed a bit-“

Jake felt a large hand pass through his, taking hold of yours, and his heart constricted with a pang of longing. The hand he had wanted to grasp, to hold, was now in the possession of another man — a tall and pale senior coworker who was supposed to still be on an overseas posting. Jake's breath hitched as he looked up and witnessed the smile on your face, a smile that he had never seen directed at anyone else.

"Sunghoon?" your voice lit up with surprise and delight, and Jake felt a stab of jealousy at the warmth in your tone, "I thought you won’t be back for another two years!”

Jake stepped back, his invisible form fading into the shadows as he witnessed the reunion between you and Sunghoon. The hand he had longed to hold was now entwined with someone else's, and the smile he had wanted to claim for himself was shining for another. The warmth, familiarity and endearment between you and the man was so evident that it begun to stir something unfamiliar within Jake — a mix of protectiveness and longing that he couldn't quite name.

“Thought life here was much better so I sped the contract up,” Sunghoon shrugged haughtily.

“I bet it's because I wasn’t there,” you joked, trying to match his playful haughtiness. Usually Sunghoon would have replied with something equally as smug but somehow, something has changed and you could feel it in the way his eyes bore into yours and the way his hand had tightened over yours, lingering purposefully far too long for it to be casual. “Exactly,” he answered almost too genuinely you find yourself at a loss for words so you do what you do best — feign nonchalance, “oh bugger off,” you playfully yank your hand away, “What have America done to you!”

He grinned mischievously, “well, you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

You shook your head dismissively though the smile that has never left your lips and the way your eyes never broke his conveyed more than words could ever.

“Can I get a hug now? You never visited like you promised you would,” he extended his hands, brows wriggling playfully.

“I never made such promises but fine-“ you shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance, as you let him draw you nearer, let him engulf you in his large frame. You have hugged him before but this time, this too, felt different. “I’ve missed you y/n,” you feel him bend lower so he could bury his head in the crook of your neck and you feel his hand slide over your waist almost too intimately for it to just be a friendly hug.

This time however you didn’t feign nonchalance, deflect nor playfully reject him. Instead you let yourself sink fully into the warmth of his embrace, your hands reaching up to hug him back as your head leaned against his chest, eyes shut as you murmured softly, “me too.”

Jake had never seen a more perfect pair. Sure you two had your differences but together, you guys complement each other seamlessly like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Your strengths balanced each other''s weaknesses, and your personalities would harmonize in a beautiful and enviable symphony of love and understanding.

Now would have been perfect, Jake found his rational self thinking, his hand automatically reaching for a golden arrow from his quiver. But instead of nocking the arrow and releasing it toward its intended target, he found himself hesitating, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

In a surprising twist, Jake turned the arrow on himself, driving it into his own chest, directly over his heart. Immediately, the arrow exploded into a shower of glittering dust, as was its nature. Although the arrow had no physical effect on beings like him, with the way his interest and attention on you has dangerously warped with a mix of attraction, desire, and lust — he might as well have been shot with one.

How peculiar, he thought. He had always wondered how does such intense love which human shared with one another feel and yet now that he felt it rising from within, all he felt was bitterness rather than joy.

The glittering dust that lingered in the air seemed to mock Jake, serving as a tangible reminder of the complex emotions swirling within him — emotions of which was increasingly blurring the lines between duty and desire. While usually symbolising some sort of celebration, the glittering particles which was still dancing around him now felt like a warning, a sign that his path was veering into uncharted and potentially dangerous territory.

He knew then, perhaps a little too late, that he wanted you. Wanted you for himself.

— vi.

Since then gone was the desire within him to match you with anyone. In fact, gone was his desire to match anyone at all as he becomes increasingly preoccupied with you — more specifically, his desires for you.

He had begun to take on human forms longer than usual, trying to get your attention, trying to slip himself into the fabric of your life. But the task, which usually had been easy for him, was difficult this time because apparently his face and charms weren’t enough.

Having observed you for a long time he knew that blatant attention and attraction would put you off so he made sure to lay and play each parts carefully and strategically, making it seem as if everything was coincidental.

“Hi, I believe this is yours?” You asked innocently when Jake opened his door. In your hand was a parcel which had his name and address but somehow wrongly delivered at your doorstep.

Finally, Jake thought to himself, his heart almost leaping out of his ribcage. He had been waiting impatiently the whole day for you after having paid someone to deliver the package wrongly at your doorstep.

Almost effortlessly he feigned surprise and confusion, “right, sorry about that, I’m new in this apartment block so maybe there's a mix-up," he shrugged, careful to not look overeager, "been waiting for this limited copy of 1984 to arrive, thank goodness it got wrongly delivered in the right hands otherwise it would probably get resold in ebay or something—"

“1984?” Your face lit up. Of course my dear, it’s one of your favourite books isn’t it, Jake answered in his mind. Oblivious to the glint in his eyes and the subtle twitch of his lips, you continued excitedly, “I rarely see anyone around me read 1984!”

“Now you do,” he said charmingly as he offered his hand, satisfied at the way you have eased up, “my name is Jake. Jake Sim. I’ve just moved.”

“Oh I’m y/n,” you introduced, “I live in the apartment right under yours.”

I know, he muttered to himself in his mind, “thank you for this y/n. I’ll see you around.”

You nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to the way his words seemingly had double meaning.

The next few weeks Jake busied him by encroaching your life ever so subtly and strategically. You bumped into him in the same aisle at the bookstore and ended up chatting in a nearby coffee about your favourite books which somehow is similar to his. You bumped into him at dawn just outside your apartment complex before you go on your run, he himself was warming up for his, and that ended up with you two going on a run together.

Eventually you two became closer than mere neighbours that he could somehow orchestrate to get himself inside your place, “sorry about that-“ he apologised, coming out of your shower with the robe draping loosely and casually over his shoulders, making a poor effort of covering his chiseled chest and abs.

While Jake was indeed very good-looking, you’ve always thought something about his looks seems so ethereal. But now, shed of all the sleek suits and tidy hair, he looks humanely good-looking and you found yourself almost stuttering in surprise when he got out.

“You should report it to the Head Office tomorrow," you averted your eyes towards the kettle in your kitchen, "I mean it's an expensive penthouse, how can the hot water be broken so soon? must be shoddy construction job or lack of maintenance."

“Burning the midnight oil?” He asked, leisurely leaning against the counter as he dried his hair.

“Yeah,” you sighed, pouring it into the flask where you had already added some coffee grounds and sugar. You felt the weight of his stare and out of pure courtesy, offered him as well, “oh, would you like–" you hesitated, "maybe not right? It’s almost 12.”

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he smiled, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that felt almost spellbinding. While Jake wanted nothing more than to bridge the physical gap in between you and him, and take your lips right there and then, he knew better than to submit to his desires this early. With others, it might have worked but with you he definitely had to take it slow. It pained him but like a prized conquest — he was willing to go through it.

Except regardless of how well-crafted his plans were, nothing could outpace what is really written. While he struggled to escalate the friendship he had built with you, Sunghoon had gotten closer and closer to you.

When you did not come home one night, Jake re-assumed his non-human form, immediately locating you back in your office where you were burning the midnight oil with Sunghoon.

Jake feels his anger simmering as he watched how Sunghoon latched onto you, following you wherever you go. He watched in frustration as Sunghoon hands hover close to you, as if being territorial; how his hands would even sometimes linger over yours more than necessary.

But it was the sight of you seemingly reciprocating him that was the most painful to bear: the way you let his hand lingered; the way you held his gaze instead of staring away; the way you never shifted as he drew nearer.

The next thing he knew, Sunghoon had closed the distance between you and him, his lips gently pressing against yours, his hand snaking up your back to hold you ever closer. Jake was mortified. When you pulled away not long after, seeking a moment to catch your breath, Jake was sure then that you would have shoved Sunghoon off, perhaps even slap him for his boldness. But nothing of that sort happened for when Sunghoon re-attached his lips to yours, you didn’t resist, surrendering to the sensations he elicited, letting him devour you as you melt slowly into his embrace and touch.

Jake could feel the fury consuming him as he trudged up behind you, stabbing you with a lead-tipped arrow which would have sowed seeds of dislike for the other person but to his surprise, the arrow dissolved into dust the moment he stabbed it onto your back – telltale signs that the arrow will not work on you and nor Sunghoon.

That was when Jake knew that you were already written for Sunghoon and when that happens, nothing can usually be done because messengers are just really lower spiritual beings. That should have been Jake’s cue to give up but instead, it became a tipping point of when it all started going awry.

As his feelings festered in the worse of ways, he became more relentless and persistent in his pursuit of you. Except any small space he could have slithered himself ‘coincidentally’ into was becoming narrower as it becomes increasingly filled by Sunghoon. Soon it was Sunghoon who accompanied you running; Sunghoon who ate lunch with you; Sunghoon who accompanied you at bookstores; Sunghoon who sent you home; Sunghoon who stayed in your place until late.

There was absolutely no space for Jake anymore.

“Yes?” Sunghoon answered your apartment door one evening, not even bothering to conceal the distaste he felt within to see Jake at the door.

“Is y/n in?” Jake asked shamelessly.

Sunghoon shook his head, “she’s in the shower.”

There was an almost casual and domestic vibe to which Sunghoon was answering that question and Jake did not like it one bit. "There was a party at my workplace earlier," Jake passed on the box of cake and bouquet of flowers to him, "thought I'd share."

"Roses?" Sunghoon raised his brows, "She actually doesn't like roses. While she does like flowers, she actually doesn't like receiving them". Jake had to muster an insurmountable amount of energy not to let Sunghoon's words affect him even when he can clearly feel the venom laced in every words, "Oh and cake?" Sunghoon went on, "don't bother, she just like a spoonful or two, not the whole box."

You bastard, Jake muttered in his mind, wanting nothing more but to punch Sunghoon squarely in the face. More than that, he hated how Sunghoon knew the nuances of your likes and dislikes, making anything that Jake knew felt surface-level. If Jake knew your favourite colour, Sunghoon would probably know the exact shade of it; if Jake knew your favourite book, Sunghoon could probably cite your favourite quotes from it; if Jake knew you couldn't handle the cold, Sunghoon would probably know the precise timing of when to turn the heater on and off like an automatic thermostat. It was a sickening testament to the history and nature of your relationship with Sunghoon – of how far and deep it goes, the gap of which Jake could probably never bridge.

But Jake knows the subject of love well. With a mastery over the mechanics of love, he therefore knows exactly where the weakest links could be; where doubts and concerns can be sowed over time to topple the whole structure. In between you and Sunghoon, Jake knew your aloofness and romantically-inept nature can be a problem in the long-run with Sunghoon's possessive tendencies and predisposition towards jealousy. So Jake wanted to capitalize that.

"I mean, I just wanted to also thank her for the other night," Jake emphasized, noticing the way Sunghoon's jaw was already tensing, "when she let me shower at her place. It was so late but she was such an angel."

Jake could see the way in which the poison in his words worked it way through Sunghoon's system from the subtle ways in which Sunghoon's brows twitched and the way his jaw ticked though he tried to mask it with a diplomatic grin, "she has always been such an angel to the point of not sensing the ulterior motives in others," Sunghoon remarked with a hint of diplomatic sarcasm, "I'll make sure to pass the message. Next time it happens, let me know instead, I'll send a plumber right to your doorstep."

With that, the door closed and Jake's grin widened in triumph as he walked away, certain to have sowed instrumental doubts between you two. Except, as he lingered around the common area of your apartment floor, Sunghoon showed no signs of leaving. When 2 hours passed, he got even more agitated, impatience taking hold. It almost felt as if he was the one that has been toppled out of control. Jake had to do something though knocking at your door again is probably not the best idea.

So Jake transformed back to his non-human form – the ability of which was diminishing as days passed, the result of slacking in his duties and staying too long in his human form.

When Jake slipped inside your apartment, he could feel the dread rising, seeing the hallway too dimly-lit. “y/n,” he sighed in relief as he entered the living room and see you seated at the couch but soon the smile faltered as Sunghoon, who was beside you, leaned in and pressed his lips against yours – kissing you softly and tenderly. It was all cute and lighthearted – something Jake would have rejoiced seeing had it been any other person. But this was not just any other person. It was you. His you.

His hand gradually balled into a fist as he watched Sunghoon curled his hand over your nape, seizing you in place as he leaned in further to deepen the kiss. As the moment lingered, there was a palpable shift in the air – the sizzling tension of which was only mirrored in the way the kiss was escalating beyond it ever has with Sunghoon’s passion and desire growing more intense by the second as if he had been struck by countless of golden arrows.

Jake’s gaze hardened and as if possessed, he took out countless of lead-tipped arrows, stabbing it onto Sunghoon’s back in a desperate effort to stop him – only for each arrow to dissolve into black dusts – leaving Jake with no choice but to watch the horror unfold before him.

“Stop,” Jake croaked, hoping that you would pull away, that you would resist. But you didn’t. Instead Sunghoon’s body surged forward with urgency, forcing you to lean back onto the couch, his lips still glued onto yours. His movements were almost territorial now as he caged you in, his figure dwarfing yours completely while his hands rove possessively down your waist and up your back, tracing every curve and contour of your form, causing shiver to run down your spine.

Breathless, you pulled away, eyes locked into each other, breathing ragged, hearts racing wildly — the air almost catching fire from the sizzling tension. Sunghoon’s gaze, usually soft and doe-like, had darkened with raw passion and desire. Without anymore pretense nor hesitation, he plunged back in, crushing his lips down upon yours with fierce hunger, leaving you reeling from the force of his kiss.

In a clear display of dominance and possession, Sunghoon pressed himself firmly against you, his lips parting yours, tongue slithering in to delve deeper, devouring you whole. It was clear then that this wasn’t just a simple kiss anymore. Jake knew exactly where it was all heading.

And yet Jake was powerless to stop it.

— vii.

Jake re-entered the Abyss easily now for this was his 4th time. The 2nd was when he converted almost all of his riches for human money just so he can buy his disguises and play pretend in the human world. After all, the designers he wear and the penthouse above yours cost a fortune. The 3rd was when he bought more energy so he can stay longer in his human form.

By now, the Abyss was no longer just a hazy dark alley of market with only one or two sellers visible. As Jake begin to understand and embrace all the dark desires he harboured for you, the place was now teeming with sellers.

It was true what the old man had said then, that the Abyss only reveals itself and the fullness of its world when you acknowledge your dark desires. In fact, the sellers that he can see are those who sell anything related to love and hate – as if the Abyss perfectly curates what you can see according to what your heart desires.

Jake marched to the corner where potions are being sold, the lady materialising out of nowhere, slithering in and out of the colourful fumes like a serpent. He reached for a ‘love potion’ — a bubbling concoction in deep red, “I want this but the strongest one. Get me the strongest hate potion too.”

“Gladly,” the seller cackled when suddenly the old man from the other day appeared behind Jake, “a messenger of love buying a love potion – do you, yourself, not see the irony in that young boy?”

Jake glowered at the man.

The man continued, “if someone like you can’t change her feelings, what makes you think potions can?”

Jake balled his fist, “tell me what to do then,” he lurched at the man, crumpling his collar, “you said this place has everything I could want, tell me where I could go then- who I should find- what I should buy-"

“What you want,” the man smirked, his eyes a pool of darkness, “carries a hefty price beyond all the wealth you’ve amassed.”

“Anything-“ Jake pleaded, memories of earlier replaying in his mind like a broken record, “I want her.”

Suddenly with a snap of a finger, Jake found himself transported into what looked like an underground cistern. Everywhere he looked were stretches of gigantic columns, dimly illuminated by an eerie red glow.

Jake almost jumped, startled, when he turned around to see the old man sneering, his face contorting oddly. "The Netherworld?" Jake asked almost spitefully, "you've brought me to the Netherworld?"

“Get off your high horse young man,” he brushed past Jake, “entering the Abyss was one thing but being able to follow me into the Netherworld is another. You remember all the cautionary tales don’t you? It takes a very corrupted heart for a being like you to break through the veil and enter here-“

Jake watched the man descend down the stairs, alarmed when he saw his shadows bearing horns. When his eyes snapped back up the old man had turned into someone younger and taller — more than 2 ft — with horns curving out of his head and robes that seemed to be made entirely of black smoke, “what? you didn’t think I was an Angel did you?”

Jake took a step back, “you must be out of your mind to think that I would want to work with you, a wretched Evil Spirit of some sort?”

“You say that as if you’re spitting venom and yet the desires you have are just as wretched,” the man cackled, the shadows behind him growing imposingly large, “face it, their fates are written to be intertwined, how else do you expect to win her then? Parade as human? For how long exactly? You know you cannot overstay in the human world.”

“I saw a spell for partial mortality earlier,” Jake reasoned, startled when the man suddenly reappeared behind him, his long bony fingers gripping Jake’s shoulders, immobilising him from any attempts to run away, “right, at the cost of what Jake? Half of your wings? Entertain me then, how does mortality make you any more attractive to her.”

Jake opened his mouth, ready to answer but found no argument left. He heard the demon scoffing, his slender fingers brushing over Jake’s large wings which had by then turned a weird shade of grey from its original pristine white — symbolising the gradual corruption that had took hold, “in fact all of your converted riches would soon be used up before you can even get an ounce of additional interest from her. She is after all written for him.”

The demon snapped his fingers, reflecting you and Sunghoon at your most intimate moments on a dark pool nearby. It was a picture he had often been fantasising as of late except, the man that was taking you right now wasn't him. Consumed in fury — the emotion of which seemed to have amplified now that he was in the Netherworld — Jake shot his arrow against the reflection, the ripples causing the images to disappear.

“Ooo, calm down lover boy,” the demon cooed, feigning fear by backing away, “I didn’t just plunge you down the murkiest of depths just to taunt you”.

“Then what?” Jake’s chest heaved in anger.

The demon smirked, suddenly looming larger than life, “there is possibly another way for you-“

“Spit it.”

“Take her away,” the demon suggested almost too lightheartedly, “bring her to this other plane. It's the only way you can fortify against the string that connects them. Wipe her memory clean, keep her preoccupied and just like that, she is all yours."

“But humans shouldn’t live in our realm.”

“Shouldn’t not can’t,” the demon corrected, “though no sooner than you can make love to her will you have the guards on your doorstep, sentencing you to death for breaking laws and ethics.”

Jake’s brows furrowed, "you call that a solution?"

The demon floated towards him, stooping to Jake's height as if wanting to appear as an ally now, "of course not, I'm just laying out all the options for you because I want to make sure that the choices you make are informed."

Jake's brows furrowed, patience wearing thin, "stop with the dramatics. You're a fucking demon, you will never make a deal that would be of the best interest for the other party."

"Well, I can shelter you both in this domain," he gesticulated wildly, "it's the only place that the guards don't venture into." The demon's grin widened as he watched the muscles in Jake's face easing, "told you I am on your side."

Visions of you in Jake's arms swirled in his mind. If he brings you here then indeed nothing else could come in between. Not Sunghoon, not anyone. There would just be him for you and you for him. Jake exhaled sharply, “what’s the catch?”

“Good boy,” the demon cackled, a throne materialising behind him and he sunk on it, “just work for me.”

Jake watched him in confusion as he looked around, wondering what would he need an extra hand for. The demon continued, “your arrows,” he motioned and suddenly his golden arrows turned black, trail of black smoke emanating from it, “use it to sow hatred and chaos. One strike on someone and his darkest desires would amplify to the point of action.”

“You-“ Jake swallowed thickly, the fables of when he was young ringing deafeningly in his head. He had heard of so many tragedies during his lifetime but he didn’t know he’d end up as the very man people cautioned him against: the elites who held the most potential but eventually turning to the dark side. Jake always thought of himself as incorruptible and yet here he was in the Netherworld, about to give up everything just to strike deal with a demon.

As if sensing his hesitancy, the pool nearest to him begin to reflect an image of you and Sunghoon in yet another intimate moment and just like that, something within him snapped. "I'll do it," Jake muttered in a low, yet steady voice, eyes glinting, "but you have to make her mine. Completely mine.”

The shadows that emanated from the demon's robe grew thicker, consuming him, leaving only loud his loud cackes echoing deafeningly throughout the cistern, "deal."

— viii.

You felt Sunghoon's hand seized your wrist, his touch firm as he pulled you onto bed. His lips found yours, tangling it in a passionate kiss, as his body clambered over yours, his touch possessive as he held you captive in his embrace. It took a considerable effort to pull away and break free from his grip which was almost like talons, "Sunghoon, come on now, I'll be back after my run-" you wedged an arm in between, stopping him as he attempted to reclaim your lips again. He sighed, burying his head lazily in the crook of your neck, "do you have to?" he murmured. There was a hint of plead in his voice, "it's not even sunrise yet."

"Exactly," you chirped, "best time to run."

Sunghoon sighed again, his grip reluctantly loosening as he rose from the bed, his hand gently snaking over your back to help you up. He hated letting you go alone for all he wanted was to keep you safe and close, by his side. But if there was anyone who understood you best in the world, it would be him. He knew how much you cherished your independence and freedom and he respected that, willing to give you the space and the alone time that you need, "promise to stick to well-lit and well-trodden paths?" he murmured softly with a gaze that is so soft and tender while his thumbs drew circles on your back, his touch both soothing and protective.

"Always," you reassured him, voice steady and calm.

You got off the bed, Sunghoon trailing closely behind, his hand never leaving yours. Once you had put on your shoes, you tiptoed towards him, planting a kiss on his lips as a reassurance. You could feel him smile into the kiss, his hand gently cradling your nape to stop you from drawing back, wanting to make the moment last longer. "Seriously," you hit him playfully and he captured your hand in his, holding onto it until you slipped out the door, lingering up until the very last moments.

Little did you know that your little kiss — an act you'd rarely initiate — would be your goodbye and little did he know that his reluctance, which was oddly so strong and defied all logics that dawn, was almost like a premonition of the tragedy that would befell you both.

— ix.

When you arrived at the park where you usually run at, you remembered feeling the dread rising. The trail was too foggy, the lights flickering doing nothing but making the whole place looked like a copy of Silent Hill. But you were always so fearless for your good, so you quell your doubts and anxieties — putting them aside as baseless.

Except when you began running, the fog only grew heavier and as you approached a bend, a massive black dog appeared out of nowhere, barking wildly at you. Startled, you veered off the main trail, hoping to outpace the menacing creature. As you hurried, your foot caught on an exposed root, and you stumbled. Before you knew it, you were tumbling down a steep embankment, the world spinning around you in a dizzying blur. You tried to grab onto something, anything, but your descent was swift and uncontrollable. Finally your tumbling ceased, leaving you in a crumpled heap, your body throbbing in pain.

As you lay there, numb and in pain, blinking against the dizziness, you noticed something peculiar about your surroundings. The familiar pine forest had transformed into a grove of ancient trees, their massive trunks reaching high into the sky. The sky, starless and moonless, was bathed in an eerie shade of dark blue as if suspended at dawn.

A sense of unease washed over you as you realized something was amiss. The air was heavy and thick with an aura of mysticism with an eerie silence enveloping the forest. You knew instinctively that something was wrong, and the urge to flee began to stir within you. But as you tried to gather your bearings and rise to your feet, your head began to reel, and your eyelids grew heavier. It was as if an unseen force was lulling you into a deep slumber.

You fought against the encroaching darkness, but your efforts were in vain and the last thing you remembered before your world turned black was a huge mass of shadow drawing nearer, its presence filling you with dread.

— x.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest as the familiar nightmare plagued your sleep once again. The dream was always the same—a black mist enveloping you as you ran, the sense of something sinister chasing you through the darkness. You sat up, burying your face in your hands, when you feel the space on the bed beside you dip. You feel a strong hand wrapped around your waist, its body curled protectively around yours. You feel him bury his face at the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses against it to calm you down. You turned your head, "Jake..." you whispered softly, meeting his warm gaze.

"Nightmares again?" he asked, voice soft and concerned, "you know dreams are just the Devil's plaything."

"Yes but-" you struggled to find the words, your mind still clouded with the remnants of the nightmare. Before you could say more, Jake hauled you onto his lap, his lips claiming yours in a passionate kiss, stealing your breath and your thoughts away. It was a kiss that made you forget the nightmare, a kiss that always felt like the first, no matter how many times he had kissed you before.

His hands roved hungrily over your back, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume all rational thoughts. You kissed him back, surrendering to his passion, feeling him press forward, his lips parting yours with a gentle urgency as his head tilted to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking yours. The kiss consumed you, sweeping away the remnants of the nightmare and replacing it with a different kind of darkness—one that was intoxicating and exhilarating. You finally managed to catch your breath when he began trailing kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at certain spots, marking you as his own, claiming your skin with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you. You could feel his desire, his need, and it only fueled your own.

Jake could himself hardly believe the moment would ever come: of him being able to call you his, of him being able to hold you close, of you actually reciprocating his love and touch. But indeed, this had become his every day now. Yet still, he could never get enough of you, wanting to imprint every touch, every kiss, onto your skin. You could feel yourself about to fully lose yourself to the overwhelming intensity of his touch when your eyes drifted to the window behind the bed, where the grove of ancient trees stretched as far as the horizon.

"Those ancient trees outside—" you stammered, trying to fight the overwhelming sensations, "it kept on haunting me in my dreams. Like a memory—" your voice trailed off as you felt yourself thrown back against the mattress, Jake hovering over you, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You know you can't go out there," his voice was calm but there was an unmistakable warning in his voice, an edge to his tone that you hadn't heard before, "it's too dangerous."

You opened your mouth to protest, to ask why he always cautioned you against venturing into the forest, but any form of protest was muffled by another searing kiss. This kiss was different, hungrier, more primal, making you breathless and weak in the knees. "You're only safe with me y/n," he muttered in between kisses, "you're mine after all," his hips pressed against yours, his hands slipping under your shirt, making you shudder.

Jake had always been gentle towards you so the aggressive and almost primal way in which he was taking you right now was making you feel uncomfortable. The warning bells in your head rang faintly, but the sensations he elicited drowned them out. His kiss was like a drug, clouding your judgment and leaving you helpless to resist. As you felt him press you further into the mattress, your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him close, your body responding to his touch with a will of his own. Just like the clothing that were shed one by one, any remnants of doubt and hesitation begin to disappear. The morning after, you would wake up as if this castle had always been your home, as if this bed had always been the one you slept on, as if Jake had always been the love of your life.

But sometimes, when the nightmare comes, striking the deepest fear in your heart, a flash of images would surge through your mind, offering a glimpse of another life. Through it all, one constant remained — a man. His face was unclear, his features blurred by the haze of dreams, but his presence loomed large, leaving you with a sense of longing and an ache in your heart that you couldn't quite explain. It was as if your soul recognized him, even if your conscious mind could not recall his name or his face. The man may not possess Jake's gentle and warm nature but he oddly felt so safe. Like home. In fact it weirdly occurred to you that even if you didn't know him, you felt like you'd run towards him on instinct if you were made to choose between him and Jake — as if he's a sanctuary.

But then you wake up, and your heart would pound from the terror of being chased while your heart ached from what felt like loss and longing. While the terror would eventually dissipate throughout the day, the ache lingered, as if a void had opened up within you. That's why you always surrendered to Jake eventually for only it was under his soothing words and tantalizing touch could you fill the void and the quiet of yearning.

Until the next nightmare strikes.

a/n: damn writing the goodbye with Sunghoon made me ache lol. Hope you like this one. I actually enjoyed writing this one even though it did took quite some time to finalise. No, there won't be a Part 2 because I suck at writing continuations lol. And yes, there will be a Part 4 for Dancing with the Devil but patience friends.

>>> | Masterlist |

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silcry

1 month ago

♪ — 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦? lando norris x best friend! reader ( angst ) fic summary . . . like others before you, like it's a curse, if you start out as friends, you don't finish off as friends (5k words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

2013

The three of you sat perched on a wooden platform overlooking the track, swinging your legs as the older kids raced below. The sky was a deep orange, the sun slowly dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows across the asphalt.

It smelled like fuel, burnt rubber, and the sweet vanilla ice cream sandwiches melting in your hands.

Lando, as usual, was the one talking the most. “One day, we’re gonna be better than all of them.” He gestured to the racers speeding past. “Like, properly better. F1 better.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him as you took another bite of your ice cream sandwich. “Bold of you to assume you’ll even fit in an F1 car,” you teased. “They already have you Velcroed to your kart seat because you used to fly out. What’s the plan? Glue?”

Lando scoffed, turning to you with an exaggerated look of offense. “Excuse you, I was small and aerodynamic.”

“You were a human paperclip.”

“At least I didn’t spin every time the wind hit me wrong.”

Before you could fire back, Max, who had been sitting in between you both, sighed dramatically and shoved his half-eaten ice cream sandwich straight into both your faces.

Cold, sticky vanilla smeared across your cheek. You gasped, jerking back as Lando let out a high-pitched noise of protest.

Max, completely unfazed, continued eating what was left of his ice cream. “Shut up, both of you,” he said, as if he hadn’t just committed an act of war.

You and Lando turned to each other, ice cream dripping from your faces, then back to Max.

“Oh, you’re dead,” Lando declared.

Max barely had time to react before the two of you launched at him, sticky hands smearing the rest of your desserts across his hair, his cheeks, anywhere you could reach.

The three of you tumbled onto the platform in a mess of laughter, shoving, and half-hearted kicks.

It was one of those moments you never thought you’d lose.

2018

Lando’s house felt warm, filled with the kind of easy comfort that only years of friendship could build. You were sprawled on his couch, Max sitting cross-legged on the floor, a half-finished bag of crisps between you. It felt just like old times—no pressures, no media, no cutthroat competition. Just the three of you.

And then Lando dropped the bombshell.

“I got the seat.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

Lando grinned, bouncing slightly where he sat. “McLaren. Next year. I’m gonna be a Formula 1 driver.”

For a second, there was silence. Then—chaos.

“NO. WAY!” Max shot up, grabbing Lando in a chokehold-hug, shaking him back and forth. “YOU’RE LYING.”

“Mate, I literally just said it, why would I—”

You barely let Lando finish before launching yourself at him too, arms wrapping tightly around both of them. “HOLY SHIT! LANDO, YOU’RE IN FORMULA 1!”

Lando laughed, his voice almost breathless from the force of your excitement. “I KNOW!”

The three of you clung to each other, giddy and weightless, like kids in a candy store.

When you finally let go, you turned to Max, determination flashing in your eyes. “We have to catch up, Max. We can’t let Lando enjoy the dream alone.”

Max smirked, nudging you. “Yeah, he’ll get a big head otherwise.”

Lando groaned, already regretting letting you two in his house. “Oh, great. Here we go.”

And just like that, the celebration turned into a roast session.

“Do you think they’re giving you a booster seat for the car?” you mused, tapping your chin.

Max snapped his fingers. “What about pedal extenders? Are those FIA-approved?”

“Oh, shut up,” Lando whined, throwing a pillow at both of you.

The night ended with all three of you curled up in sleeping bags on Lando’s living room floor, talking about what the future would look like. You laughed until your stomachs hurt, teasing and reminiscing, the weight of reality kept at bay for just a little longer.

By the time you got home the next morning, the high of the night before had faded into something colder, heavier—anxiety creeping up your back like the Other Mother from Coraline, whispering in your ear that time was ticking.

The metals of your dream clawed at your spine, a warning, a reminder—it’s now or never.

Lando had his McLaren seat. George had Williams. Alex had Red Bull.

And you?

You refused to let it end here. You refused to be left behind.

So you wasted no time. You spent the next few months fighting tooth and nail—getting on every call, talking to every team, pushing harder in every F2 race until your body ached from the effort. You couldn’t let up, couldn’t breathe, not until you had something.

And in the end, it paid off.

Sauber.

A vacant seat after Charles moved up to Ferrari. A chance. A shot.

The first thing you did? You invited Lando and Max to your diner—the same childhood spot where the three of you had spent countless nights in sticky vinyl booths, inhaling burgers and fries, talking about the future like it was already written for you.

They were messy eaters, as always. Lando had ketchup smeared at the corner of his mouth, and Max had a fry halfway to his lips when you slid a piece of paper across the table.

Your contract.

For a second, there was silence. The paper sat between them, your name printed at the bottom in ink that had barely dried.

Then—

“NO. FUCKING. WAY.”

Lando let out a yell so loud the entire diner turned to stare. Max, mouth still full of fries, made a sound between a choke and a cheer.

Then they both launched at you, pulling you into a hug across the table, fries and drinks nearly toppling over as they shouted over each other.

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT—”

“OH MY GOD, YOU LEGEND—”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS—”

“We’re actually doing it,” you gasped between laughter, arms still tangled around them. “We’re actually going to be in F1 together.”

And that’s how you got kicked out of the diner.

Well, technically, Lando stood on top of a chair and yelled something about "generational talent," which got you all thrown out, but still. Worth it.

As the three of you walked out into the night air, still giggling and breathless, you and Lando turned to Max.

“Your turn,” you said in unison.

Max hesitated. He looked at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, guys… I’m still in Formula Renault. It’s gonna take much longer for me.”

You and Lando deflated.

“But…” you started, searching for the words.

Lando took over. “That doesn’t mean you won’t get there.” He clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You can’t give up. You belong with us.”

Max forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

And maybe, at the time, you really thought it was true.

2019

The three of you stood at the edge of the paddock, the sun hanging low in the morning sky, painting the track in golden light. You and Lando were already in your race suits, helmets tucked under your arms, while Max—still very much retired—rocked a team-neutral hoodie and his signature smirk.

“I have an idea,” Lando said, rubbing his hands together. “Rock, paper, scissors. Best of one. Winner gets Max in their garage for Sunday. Loser has him for quali.”

You snorted. “Like he’s some prize?”

“I am a prize, actually,” Max deadpanned, crossing his arms.

You ignored him and held out your fist. “Alright, Norris. Let’s do this.”

Lando did the same, and Max counted you down. “Three… two… one…”

You threw out scissors.

Lando threw paper.

A slow grin spread across your face. “Oh, this is so satisfying.”

Lando groaned dramatically, shoving his helmet onto his head. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” you sang, already stepping backward toward your garage, wiggling your fingers in a smug wave. “See you on Sunday, boys.”

Max clapped Lando on the back. “Can’t believe you choked that, mate.”

Lando grumbled something under his breath, dragging his feet toward McLaren.

On race day, Max stood in your garage, arms crossed as he watched the screens, tracking your every move on the circuit. Every lap, every turn, every scrap for position. You weren’t in the points yet, but you were fighting.

And then—P11. Just one spot away.

Lando finished P12, right behind you.

It wasn’t a podium. It wasn’t even points.

But it didn’t matter.

When you parked your car in parc fermé, your hands were still shaking from adrenaline. Lando’s McLaren pulled in right beside yours, and the moment he climbed out, he made a beeline for you, shoving your shoulder.

“You beat me.”

You smirked, shoving him back. “I did beat you.”

Lando gasped, feigning betrayal. “You’re not supposed to rub it in!”

“You’d rub it in!”

“Well, yeah, but—”

You both dissolved into laughter, playfully pushing at each other until your arms were tangled together, until it turned into a hug—one filled with giddy relief and the sheer overwhelming feeling of we did it.

Max watched from the sidelines, shaking his head with a small smile. “Bunch of idiots,” he muttered under his breath. But there was pride in his eyes.

The three of you had dreamed about this since you were kids.

And now?

Now it was real.

By the time Abu Dhabi rolled around, you and Lando had both finished your rookie seasons with points under your belts.

Sure, Lando ended up 11th in the standings while you finished just behind in 12th, but neither of you cared. If anything, it made things more fun—an unspoken rivalry that never turned bitter, just fueled your banter.

“You only finished ahead of me ‘cause McLaren’s faster,” you teased as you kicked your feet up on the restaurant booth, stealing a fry from Lando’s plate.

He scoffed, snatching it back before you could pop it in your mouth. “And you only finished one place behind me because I let you.”

Max let out a laugh from across the table, nearly choking on his drink. “Yeah, right,” he said, nudging Lando. “You were sweating every time she was in your mirrors.”

“I was not sweating—”

“Mate, I was in your garage for half the season. You were definitely sweating.”

Lando rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, knowing he was outnumbered. Instead, he grabbed a handful of his fries and chucked them at Max.

That was enough to start an all-out war.

Max launched a piece of his burger at Lando’s face. You flicked a spoonful of ketchup at Max’s hoodie. Lando retaliated by shoving a napkin full of salt in your lap, making you yelp and nearly knock over your drink. The three of you were loud and messy and probably two seconds away from getting kicked out.

It felt exactly like karting days—where there were no points, no contracts, no expectations. Just the three of you, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

Sure, Lando had bonded with Carlos that year, and you had somehow managed to crack Kimi Räikkönen’s icy exterior enough to make him chuckle a few times—a massive badge of honor, in your opinion. But no matter how many new friends you made in the paddock, at the end of the day, the three of you always ended up here.

Together.

2020

You sat at the dinner table, arms crossed on the surface, head resting against them. You hadn’t moved in a while. The glow from the kitchen light made the tear tracks on your face glisten, but you weren’t crying anymore.

Lando sat a few meters away on the couch, silent. He was never silent. But now, he was staring blankly at the floor, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked, like if he loosened his grip, he might break too.

Max had quit racing. Dropped out of F3.

He had said it so easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he hadn’t spent over a decade chasing this dream with you and Lando, pushing through the grind of karting, junior formulas, training, race weekends, victories, and heartbreaks—all of it.

And now he was walking away. Just like that.

“I think I just need a break,” Max had said, voice steady, unreadable. “For my own sake.”

You understood. Of course, you did. You and Lando both did. Racing wasn’t just about driving fast. It was politics and pressure and expectations. It was eating, breathing, living the sport and leaving no room for anything else. And sometimes, it broke you before you even got to where you wanted to be.

Max had burned out before he could even get the chance.

And the worst part was, you felt like it was your fault.

You had been the one pushing him. Encouraging him to move up, hurry up, because you and Lando had made it, and he had to, too. It was supposed to be the three of you, like always. And in trying to keep him from being left behind, you had unknowingly pushed him over the edge.

But you didn’t say that.

Instead, you had hugged him. Tight. Like you could somehow hold everything together just by keeping him close.

“I respect your decision,” you had whispered against his shoulder, voice thick, tears in your eyes.

The crash was hard. Not in the physical sense—sure, the impact rattled you, and climbing out of the car with gravel stuck in every crevice of your suit was a pain, but it wasn’t that bad. You had worse in junior formulas.

What was bad was watching your best-ever result slip through your fingers.

P5. It was right there.

But Carlos had oversteered, lost control, and taken you with him into the gravel trap. The second you felt the hit, you knew it was over.

You had swallowed down the frustration when the engineer came on the radio. Your voice had been clipped, measured. “Yeah. I’m okay.” And then you climbed out, gave a wave to the crowd, and started the long walk back.

But the sting didn’t really settle in until you got back to your driver room. Until you sat on the little couch, helmet off, hands on your knees, staring at the ground as the DNF fully registered.

And it burned even worse when you heard that Lando had gone straight to Carlos.

Comforting him.

Lando—your Lando—was in the McLaren garage, talking to his teammate, making sure he was alright. And you?

You were here. Alone.

Waiting.

For a second, you thought, Maybe he just hasn’t gotten the chance yet. Maybe he’d text. Maybe he’d pop into your garage later, like he always did. Maybe—

Your phone vibrated. You snatched it up, pulse kicking up in anticipation.

It wasn’t Lando.

It was Max. "Shitty luck today. You okay?"

And then your mom. "I saw the crash, sweetheart. Call me when you can."

And then—Lando’s mom.

Your throat tightened.

You responded to Max first. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just pissed."

Three dots. He was typing. "Understandable. Want me to insult Carlos for you?"

A wet laugh bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t quite make it out. You swallowed hard. "Please."

Max sent back a voice note that was mostly just an annoyed rant about Carlos, and karma coming back to bite him in the ass. It helped a little.

You sat there for a long time, staring at your phone, waiting for a message from Lando. But it never came.

2021

The leaves are starting to rust at the edges. The paddock smells like oil, fresh tire rubber, and something a little sweet—like nostalgia fermenting in the heat.

The announcement had dropped that morning. Yn Ln to Ferrari, 2022. Your face, glowing in red, on every screen. Headlines scream legacy, potential, fire-in-her-veins. You’re still driving for Sauber, for now. But the future is coming in scarlet.

You walk the paddock with practiced calm. Smile. Wave. Say thank you. Cameras flash. People nod. But you’re searching. Just one face.

You find Max first.

He’s leaning on the fence by the media pens, sunglasses too big for his face, grin even bigger. “Ferrari, huh?” he says, pulling you into a hug. “About time, you fast little shit.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Never. I’m retiring, not dead.” He pulls back, his eyes soft behind the joke. “Seriously. I’m proud of you.”

You don’t realize how much you needed that until it lands.

You talk for a bit—he asks about the simulator work, if your uncle cried yet, what kind of pasta Ferrari serves in hospitality. You ask how he is, really. He shrugs like it’s nothing, but you see the tightness in his jaw. Max has always been good at hiding the cracks. You’ve always been better at spotting them.

Eventually, he nods over his shoulder. “Have you seen him?”

Your smile falters.

“No,” you say. “Not yet.”

He just hums. Doesn’t push. That’s Max. He always knows when not to.

It’s later, past sunset, when you find Lando. He’s sitting on the steps behind the McLaren garage, fiddling with a wristband, head low. The air smells like spilled rubber and something burnt. Maybe it’s just your nerves.

You stop a few paces away, sipping slowly from a mug. Steam curls upward—thick with chocolate and memory.

“Hey,” you say softly.

He doesn’t look up. “Hey.”

“I thought you’d come find me.”

“I’m busy,” he mutters. “Media. Strategy meetings. Debrief.”

You nod, even though you walked past McLaren hospitality earlier. It was quiet as a tomb—untouched catering trays, muted highlights looping endlessly on big screens.

“You saw the news?”

“Whole world saw the news.”

You take another sip. Your fingers curl tighter around the ceramic. Red light from the garages catches on the rim, lighting up the faded black scrawl like a bruise.

Eventually, Lando glances up.

His eyes find the mug. Something shifts in him.

“You still have that?” he asks, voice low, barely above the hum of the lights.

You blink. Look down at it like it hasn’t been cradled between your palms for the last three years.

“Of course I do,” you say. Soft. Like it should’ve been obvious.

He looks away again, jaw tightening. “Congrats,” he says, flat. Like a press release. Like a stranger.

“Thanks.”

Silence blooms between you—slow, heavy, awful. The kind that sinks teeth into soft places.

You shift on your feet, suddenly too aware of all the hairline fractures running through this moment. “Are we okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just lets the question hang in the air, trembling between you like a fraying rope. Too many missed calls. Too many left-on-reads. Too many almosts.

A gust of wind tugs at your jacket. The paddock hums behind you, oblivious.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say eventually. Your voice doesn’t shake. Not out loud.

You turn before he can say anything else. You don’t finish your drink.

The mug in your hand feels heavier than ever.

And he doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t even say goodbye.

Round five. Miami. Tight corners. Bad timing. Worse luck. And then the world tilts sideways.

You don’t even know who clipped who first. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. Maybe the track just didn’t want to play nice that day. But the second it happens—carbon shards, dust clouds, radio static—you know.

You know it’s Lando.

And he’s livid.

He’s out of the car before you even fully process the impact. Helmet half-off, fury full-throttle. You see him stomping across the run-off, shouting over the marshals like you murdered his race on purpose.

“You can’t even follow a damn line!” “Fucking rookie move!” “What were you even looking at?!”

You’re still strapped in. Still staring ahead. Still trying to breathe past the adrenaline choking your throat. Your hands are trembling on the steering wheel. Your visor’s fogged from the heat and the sudden shock and the way his words hit like gravel through glass.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t check if you're okay. Not even a glance. Just pure, unfiltered anger, flung like shrapnel in your direction as they start pulling him back, tugging at his fireproofs like maybe he's the one in danger here.

You're not crying. Not yet. Not really. But something inside you feels loose. Wobbly. Like a tooth that's been knocked but not pulled. You're still in the damn car.

Still hearing the crunch on loop.

Still feeling the snap of the impact reverberating through your bones.

Still wondering if maybe it was your fault. If you ruined everything. If Ferrari’s going to rethink the whole thing now. If this is what everyone means when they whisper “too young, too fast, not ready.”

Eventually someone helps you out. Gentle hands. Calm voice. A blur. You don’t catch their name.

You don’t even realize your leg’s scraped until you see the blood on your suit.

Lando’s already gone.

2024

It starts in papaya.

Bright, blinding. The colour of summer and stupid hope. Of grins cracked too wide and champagne caught in lashes. Of him. Lando’s first win. Confetti cannons, arms raised, the world roaring his name like they always knew he could do it. Maybe they did.

You watch from the shadows of your garage. Your race suit still half-zipped, sweat cooling sticky on your back, hands curled in your lap like you forgot how to unclench. You watch the replays loop, over and over—Lando crossing the line, Lando screaming on the radio, Lando collapsing into his engineer’s arms like a boy who finally got his dream back after all the nightmares.

Your heart does that stupid thing again. That lurch. That slow roll in your chest like it’s reacting late to something it shouldn't care about.

You tell yourself it’s hunger. Low blood sugar. The kind of headache you get when you haven’t drunk enough water and your teammate’s spraying champagne three podium steps above your finish.

But it’s not that.

It’s the echo. This track. The one where you both crashed two years ago, where everything spilled out in smoke and sharp words and silence that never healed right. You remember the screech, the impact, the things he said—still crusted into the back of your mind like dried blood. Now he’s got a trophy, and you’ve got a lonely P5 and the ghost of something that used to be important.

Charles got P3. Your garage is down in parc fermé, hands in the air, hugging Charles like they’ve waited their whole lives for a glimpse of this kind of red victory. But you’re not there.

You stay back. Sit alone on a garage stool that’s slightly too cold, unzipping your suit just enough to breathe. Your gloves are still on. You haven’t even taken your helmet off yet.

It’s your day.

Ferrari in full blaze. Glory in red, engines singing. You did it.

First win. First star. First everything.

The moment swells, huge and holy. You don’t even feel the weight of it until you're in the cooldown room, back pressed to the wall, legs out, laughing into the still-hot air, Max's voice in your ear, full blast.

“I TOLD YOU! I BLOODY TOLD YOU!” You laugh so hard you drop the cap they gave you, joy curling up your spine like steam from the pavement. You're sticky with triumph, breathless with it.

Then the door swings open.

Lando. P2 hat in his hand, face unreadable.

He sees you, the phone still in your hand. “Is that Max?”

You nod. Smile. Hold it out without thinking, thinking maybe he wants to say join in, maybe the past can stay in the past today. You think he’ll grin and shout something stupid like he used to. That he'll be proud. That he’ll be proud of you.

He takes the phone.

And his voice stays flat.

He talks about his own race. The setup. The tyre deg. The strategy error on lap thirty-nine. Max says something back, cheerful and half-mocking, and Lando hands the phone back without another word. Doesn’t even look you in the eye.

The fizz in your blood dulls. Something inside flickers out. You sit there holding the phone to your chest like it’s a shield. Like it can still protect you from the fact that he didn’t care—not really. That your victory didn’t matter if it wasn’t his.

You stand on the podium together, the three of you. The air is heavy with bubbles and praise and burnt rubber.

He doesn’t spray you with champagne.

Doesn’t even turn your way.

You look up. Try to find the taste of triumph on your tongue. Try to taste what you’ve been chasing your whole damn life.

But all you get is the sharp sting of carbonated bitterness.

And the ache of something that used to be a friendship, now fizzed flat in your throat.

It’s the final race

Lando’s on pole. You’re right beside him. Red to his orange. Ferrari to his McLaren. Fire to his flame. The cameras catch it like it’s poetry—the two of you lined up, side by side, history written in every glare off your visors. You don’t look at him, not before lights out. Not even during the anthem. But your heart is beating like it knows something your brain won’t admit: that this is the one. The big one. The decider. Title fight. Winner takes it all.

The race is war. Brutal. A symphony of tire squeals and tight corners and elbows that don’t ask permission. You fight like hell, like the whole year’s been leading to this exact lap, this exact second, wheel to wheel with the boy who once swore he'd never fight you like this. The same boy who told you you deserved the world, now slicing across your front wing like he’d rather take you out than let you through. Every overtake is a punch to the ribs. Every radio call is static. It’s rage and glory and god, you think you might be crying under the helmet but there's no time to tell.

And in the end, it's him.

McLaren wins. He wins.

You lose.

The moment he crosses the line, the world explodes. Orange smoke, fists in the air, the kind of euphoria you used to dream about when you were kids racing on sims. Zach hoists him like a trophy himself, arms wrapped around Lando like he’s just watched his son conquer the gods. There’s champagne, there’s screaming, there’s the way the cameras chase him as if he is the sun.

You stand behind the barrier. Alone. Helmet still on. Your radio crackles in your ear but you don’t hear it. Your hands are still gripping the wheel in your mind, still tight, still aching. Your whole body is shaking and you don’t know if it’s adrenaline or heartbreak, but your eyes are burning. Everything inside you is burning.

You want to be happy for him. You do. You know what this means to him. You know how long he’s waited for this moment. You know every sacrifice he's made, every time he came second, every time he bit his tongue while others were crowned. You want to scream with him. You want to run and jump into that pile of mechanics, be lifted like you’re weightless. You want to feel like this mattered, even if it wasn’t your win.

But all you feel is the silence that comes after the music stops. All you feel is how no one is looking for you. All you feel is the absence of his eyes finding yours. The way he doesn’t search for you through the chaos. The way he doesn’t even check if you’re okay.

All you feel is alone.

You’re holding a half-finished bottle of water, and the ache in your throat is so real it makes you want to choke on it. It's not the kind of thirst you can quench, no matter how much you drink. It’s heavier than that. You’re still trying to swallow it all down when you hear someone shout from the hallway, “Hold the door!” So you do.

It’s him.

Lando.

He slows when he sees you standing there, frozen, the soft hiss of the elevator’s hum cutting through the silence. He stops short, eyes narrowing, like he wasn’t expecting you, like he thought he could just breeze past without noticing how broken the air is between you two.

“If I’d known it was you…” he murmurs to himself, almost too quiet, stepping in anyway, “…I’d have waited.”

But the words hang like smoke. You don’t breathe them in. You don’t move. There’s a moment of nothingness. No one speaks. The numbers above blink slowly, too slow, their yellow light slicing the quiet.

You can’t take it anymore. Your fingers clutch the water bottle like it might disappear if you don’t hold it tight enough. You don’t look at him. Not right away. But you feel the weight of his gaze pulling on you. Tugging at the jagged edges inside your chest.

"Are we still friends?" you ask, your voice so soft it almost doesn’t sound like it belongs to you. It’s like you’re praying, begging for something you know you can’t have.

Lando doesn’t answer right away. The hum of the elevator becomes too loud. Too big. It rattles your nerves.

Then, quiet as the night. "No."

The word lands between you two, heavy and final. You don’t move. You can’t. You don’t know what hurts more—the way his voice cracked the truth or the way it stung like acid.

You stare at the numbers above. They flicker. The 9th floor. Your floor’s the 13th. You press the button anyway, stopping the elevator dead in its tracks.

The doors slide open. It’s not your floor. But you don’t care. You step out without hesitation, without another word, like the weight of the world was too much for the small, cramped space of the elevator. You’d rather walk twenty flights, climb each one, than let him see you break. Than let him watch as your heart splinters into pieces you can’t put back together.

You don’t look back. Not once. Even though you know he’s standing there, frozen in the open doors.

It’s better this way.

OH MY, LOVE IS A LIE!

summary: it's all over now, but he's still thinking of you. featuring alhaitham, diluc, kamisato ayato, and zhongli. part 2 to you're losing me.

w/c: 2.1k in total a/n: i am really churning out angst for yall. inspired by hits different by taylor swift

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat. Curse the space that I needed.

“There’s no way you still have that.” Kaveh comments as he walks past Alhaitham in their little library of the home. Kaveh looks at the small crystal in the scholar's hands, cringing.

Alhaitham glares at the blonde. “Shut it.” He grumbles, twirling the gem in between his fingers. He intended to give it to you over dinner, as an apology for the stunt he pulled two weeks ago. The guilt took over his body like a fever. He was sleepless for a few nights, and you slept in the guest bedroom. Eventually, he drew to a conclusion. The two of you had been dating for quite a while; maybe it’s time to take it to the next step.

He invited you to a proper dinner that night, and you accepted despite the growing tension between the two of you. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t realize the two of you had very different plans for that night. He was there to take it further. You were there to end it.

Kaveh’s scoff takes Alhaitham out of the depths of his memory. “Don’t you have better things to do than nag me?” Alhaitham spit out. “Pay your rent, perhaps?”

Kaveh rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “It’s crazy how you’re talking to me how you talked to them.” A glare made its way into his amber eyes. “Thought you would’ve learned to watch your choice of words after what happened.”

Alhaitham had no rebuttal. He knew Kaveh was right. He didn’t think his words or actions carried much weight until you were crushed under them. His words and actions chipped away at what he loved until eventually, nothing was there at all. How did he not notice? How did he not see the storms in your eyes? How did he not hear the tiredness in your voice? How could he let you fight for the relationship alone, while he stood on the sidelines as it withered to nothingness? His eyes redirect from Kaveh to the gem in his hands. It’s like he can still see your face in the reflection. Like the love was still there, shimmering and sparkling the same way the gem did in the afternoon sun.

“And yes, I do have better things to do.” Kaveh says, walking towards the entrance of the house. “I’m heading to lunch with a friend of mine.” A knock pierces their conversation, effectively saving Alhaitham from having to face the harsh truth from Kaveh of all people. “Ah, they’re here!” Kaveh leaves the library entirely, leaving Alhaitham in the room alone. He hears the front door open. “Y/N!” Kaveh greets. Alhaitham freezes.

What the fuck?

“Just one second, I forgot something in the study.” He hears Kaveh say, and footsteps are fast approaching. Kaveh retrieves his left behind item, but not before Alhaitham stops him. The grip he has on Kaveh’s forearm is almost painful.

“What the hell?” Alhaitham’s voice is bitter. Jealous, even.

Kaveh yanks his arm away. “Just because you lost the love of your life Y/N doesn’t mean I have to lose my friend Y/N.” Kaveh’s voice is firm. Soon enough, he’s walking away and out the door.

Alhaitham feels the sorrow truly kick in. All the times he asked for space from you. All the time he could’ve spent with you. Now, the space between the two of you was farther than ever before. And he can’t do anything but look at the gem in his hand, wishing he could run to you more than ever.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense, why the wound is still bleeding?

He won’t admit it, but Diluc’s hands were beginning to ache from the endless action of polishing the glasses. He insisted on working the bar tonight, letting the usual bar staff have some well deserved rest. Peering down, Diluc takes the time to examine the many scars on his hands. They were dotted on his skin, and they all held a story. A burn. A scab he kept picking at. An accidental cut. Either way, they all had an experience leading up to each wound.

He realizes how much of a hypocrite he is. Scolding you for wanting the adventure, for getting a minor injury as if he doesn’t do ten times more fighting than you did. Worried endlessly for your safety, as if he doesn’t risk his life on the daily. Diluc has faced many wounds over his life, but the worst one he’s experienced was losing you.

The breakup wasn’t dramatic. The two of you sat across from each other next to the fire, and you told him of how you lost the love. Of how the flame burned so slowly than it burned out. The two of you agreed to end things together; at least, that’s what you think. He didn’t lose anything. His flame still burns as brightly as it did in the beginning. Perhaps his flame burned so bright that it overtook yours. You packed your things and left Dawn Winery. He saw you off with a polite wave, but the moment the door shut, the dam burst and the tears flowed.

Now here he was, without you, repeating a stupid polishing action until the door opened. There you were, with the Traveler and Venti of all people. It’s awkward for a moment, both of your eyes darting around to avoid the other’s. Eventually, the three of you get a table to sit at. As your group passes by, he hears the Traveler quietly say something to you. “Sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think he’d be working today.” He hears you laugh. Oh, how he wishes he was the source.

“Don’t worry about it,” You say. “I’m basically over him.”

Diluc feels a sting in his chest, and he has to stop himself from dropping the glass in his hand. That hurt. He certainly wasn’t over you. The night passes, and you are engaged in conversation. Diluc takes the chance to steal fleeting glances in your direction.

The weapon on your back has more wear and tear. Your bag looks heavier, more used. He sees minor scars on your skin. A few on your arm, one on your cheek, some on your calves. It takes everything in him to not fret over you, but he knows he can’t. You’re not his to lose anymore. But most of all, Diluc sees the way you exude light. Cheer radiates from you, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you more beautiful than you were right now.

You may bear more scars than when you were with him, but he’s never seen you happier.

You were the one that I loved! Don’t need another metaphor, it’s simple enough.

Ayato runs a hand through his hair while walking the streets of Inazuma City. He was on the way to a wedding attire fitting, for his wedding to another Inazuman noblewoman. The wedding isn’t for another month, so it’s crucial to ensure that all clothing is prepared and ready to allow ample time for unforeseen circumstances. On the way to his appointment, Ayato passes by a familiar restaurant. He softly smiles, remembering how he used to visit often. Then, his smile is replaced with a frown when he realizes he hasn’t been in two months. There was no reason for him to eat there anymore- he used to eat there with you.

He’ll never forget how puffy your eyes were when you broke things off with him. It was obvious you were crying, and with how the conversation was going, Ayato was about to cry too. “I can’t do this anymore, Ayato.” Your voice sounded exhausted. Ayato hated knowing he was the reason for your sleepless nights. He didn’t understand why he snapped at your skepticism over the arranged marriage. He couldn't, and wouldn’t ever imagine you marrying someone else. He understood. The problem is, he understood too late. Now, it’s been two months and he still doesn’t go a single day without thinking of you.

Finally, Ayato arrived at his destination. The tailors was a quaint little shop in a less busy corner of Inazuma, but many of the locals purchased ceremonial clothing from the owners. They’re said to have a very keen eye, even when it comes to choosing employees. Ayato slides the door open, and he is greeted by a worker.

“Welcome! Are you here for a fitting or-”

He could recognize that voice. There’s no way. His eyes widened at the realization, and you did too, seeing how your words trailed off.

“Y/N.” He breathed out your name as if he had been suffocating prior. You take a second to compose yourself before putting your professional facade back on. He is a customer. He is no more than that.

“Are you here for an appointment?” You ask.

Your formal tone throws him off. He remembers your cheery usual tone from back then, and he wishes nothing more than to go back to those times.

“Yeah.” He nods. “It’s…wedding attire.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. Of course, he’s still going forward with the marriage. After all, he made it clear that you have nothing to offer for the Kamisatos.You nod curtly before gesturing him to a fitting station. “Please allow me to grab my tools.” You give a small bow, ignoring eye contact. You turn away to head towards the shop’s tool drawer with measuring tapes and such. When you’re certain he cannot see your face, you allow your bottom lip to tremble slightly.

Meanwhile, Ayato’s eyes stay trained on your figure. For the two of you to break up, then have you be the person attending to him during the wedding fitting? The Seven must be laughing at him as he experiences this cruel twist of fate. Suddenly, it hits him. The two of you are part of each other’s past. It’s over. You aren’t in each other’s present lives, and you most likely won’t be part of each other’s futures.

You might be a stranger now, but he will forever recognize your voice in a sea of people.

A wrinkle in time, like the crease by your eyes. This is why they shouldn’t kill off the main guy.

“Who do you think the lucky one is?” The women of Liyue gossip. Their eyes are fixed on Zhongli, following him like a hawk. The man in question is shopping for flowers. However, he seems to be interested in the large bouquets of flowers, the ones far too large to be classified as “just felt like it” flowers. He takes his time to examine each flower thoroughly. He checks the stems, petals, if they’re fully bloomed. Uncommon than most men nowadays, Zhongli was truly looking at every factor while shopping for these flowers, which is why the women were so interested to know who they were for.

On Zhongli’s end, his senses were being absolutely bombarded with the signature floral scent. Zhongli’s taste in flowers only gets incredibly picky around this time of year. After all, the anniversary of your death is upcoming. He only wants the best flowers for you, since he couldn’t give you the best when you were still alive. If there’s one memory he’ll never forget, it’ll be how you still told him that you loved him, even in your final moments.

“Excuse me, are you looking for anything in particular?” A worker asks him.

Normally, he’d politely decline and continue about his day. But he can’t. Not when said worker looks identical to you. His eyes are wide, scanning the person up and down. Same hair, eyes, facial structure. If he didn’t know better, he’d think you were right in front of him. Unfortunately, Zhongli does know better. He knows that you are no longer alive. And he knows that he is the reason for your death.

He regains his composure. “I’m alright, thank you.” His smile is polite, but not sincere.

"Ah, alright. I’m sorry if this sounds weird but…” The worker started. “Are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I just felt like I had to ask you. Gut feeling, I guess.”

For a second time, Zhongli was taken aback, but he answered nonetheless. “Yes, just trying to find some nice flowers.” The worker smiled. It amazes Zhongli how much they look like you.

“Are you buying flowers for someone?” They ask.

“Yes,” Zhongli pauses. “They’re for someone who is very dear to me.”

The worker points to a bouquet. “How about this one, then? It’s one of my favorites.”

Zhongli smiles. They were your favorite too. He lets out a chuckle at the situation. He had always hoped to see you again, but he didn’t think you’d visit him like this. “That one looks great.” He responds.

He looks up at the sky, and he hopes you know that in every other universe, he would’ve chosen you.

5K notes View Post

silcry

1 year ago

wrong person right time-L.HS

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!!,angst(idk how much),sex,unprotected sex,name calling,mentions of cum

wc; 4.5k words

For; @heesquared

If you could count,it has been exactly 4 years,2 months,and a solid 3 days,ever since you last saw,or heard from him, got a last proper kiss from him, got to hold him in your arms,and its been way too long since you both ignored the random show going on the background and just focus on each other’s pleasure. You, for sure missed all of it. Every small details of when you were together came rushing down your mind. It was still fresh on your mind how it all ended. You downheartedly sat in the car,with Heeseung,who was appreciating the outside view,with his hands on his lap. You weren’t sure where to look at all. Your mind was screaming for you to go and just say hi,the first words you ever would’ve spoken to him that day,but you stayed quiet,the courage inside you slowly breaking down into uncountable pieces. But it all came to a halt when heeseung spoke up,”did you eat anything yet?”. You were hesitant to answer. What could you say?that you had been on an infinite diet,scratch the times where your friends forced some nutrients down your throat because you were in a spiral of depression?that you were a total wreck?that you didn’t have the heart to eat without him? Your silence was killing him from the inside. He couldn’t help but still worry about you. Your well being. If you ate or not. If you slept soundly or not. If you still…love him or not. You being quiet at his question,made him feel like he was overstepping the boundaries which were never there when it was all lively. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable around him, this one last and first time being with you,he would rather get humiliated in a full setting rather than making you feel uneasy, He was that serious about you. So he just muttered a small ‘whatever’ and went back to sightseeing. The tears were really stinging your eye,threatening to fall.But you acted quick and grabbed a napkin from your purse,wiping the unnecessary droplets of water. The motion caught Heeseung's eyes. Oh how badly he wanted to make you sit on his lap and hold you close to his heart,knowing his heartbeat calms your cries down,and strokes your hair. However,it took all his willpower to not do that. He couldn’t do that anymore. But,it was just only going to last for an hour or two,so why not just….calm you down? Your hands were clutching onto the cloth’s material like it was the only thing you had at that moment,until,you felt a sudden warmth engulf your fisted hands.heeseung

Opting to move your hands,you couldn’t…like at all. It seems to have frozen both you,and the time around you and heeseung,who was now rubbing his thumb above your knuckles in a soothing manner. “Is this ok?” he asks,not patching his eyes up with your softened gaze yet. Of Course it is. It always has been. You can even tell me to sit on your lap and cry my heart out,I would do that. You know I would.

You just nod,and he acknowledges. You both fall into a pit of silence after that,not knowing what else to do anymore after.

When you got out of the car,Heeseung wished he could at least kiss your forehead before the last hearings were announced. And that you both would officially part your ways as what once you both believed to be called eternal love. His breathing seemed ragged and unstable as he signed the papers. He couldn’t believe this day would be left to be ever imagined,let alone be witnessed. It was all like a hallucination when he saw you signing it too…with a tad bit more tears escaping your eyes. All this happened while haera was outside,playing with your mom in the car,who was just as equally as sad as you were about this decision. But she had to stay strong for both you and her granddaughter. She waited till you got back,and drove you both home. “Do you want to go to my place y/n?I cooked your favorite” your mother offers when she sees you sucked too much into your phone. And she could tell you were looking back on the memories your phone held. Knowing you won’t reply much,she just sighed and took the matter in her own hands. Haera had been asleep the whole ride,for which she’s very energetic when you all reached home. “Here you go” your mother’s voice chimes in as she sets a plate of your favorite dish and places a fork beside it. “So….” “Hmm?” you reply taking a bite of your dinner,in which you had zero interest in as of now,mind filling in the thoughts of certain someone. “What’s your plan on going back to your place? Have you and hee talked about it yet?” At the mention of his name,you stopped eating and kept the fork down and looked at her. “We both agreed on getting our own places earlier when the lawyer was contacted and yori said she would let me binge in for a bit before i could work again and get a room for myself” “Will that be good for you?i want to keep haera with me for a while as well..” she says as she looks over your shoulder,to the child who was know focused on her crayons and drawing stick figures. A part of you wanted to say yes. Because it would definitely be not ok,in a situation like this,for heeseung to come and visit his daughter while you’re around. It was already awkward between him and you,it was more than enough to not create such an environment for your daughter. You didn;t want to face heeseung for now,and not for a month or two..you needed to get back on your feet again,you had to put yourself and your daughter first this time. “It’s okay mama,i can manage it,yori even said she hadn’t met my daughter for a while,it will be fine” you assured her the best you could. At least,it would be less awkward when yori would be with you if heeseung strikes a visit…

“And..what if he visits?” “Just tell him where i am beforehand of his arrival,it would be better” “Oh okay love”

After moving in with yori,you couldn’t stop thinking about him. If he were here,he would pick you up out of the blue,just to tell you he loved you alot. If he were here,he would not waste a single chance of stealing kisses from your lips…If he were here..he would never…hesitate to bury his cock all the way to your womb,filling you up till he was satisfied…

You still remember how faint his voice was on your years,moaning and whining,just by bottoming out in a hurry,his hips in a halt because of how tight your walls would squeeze him. He would chant your name over and over again as he would notice the bulge of his twitching length inside you. How fun it was for him to apply pressure down the place under your navel,seeing you squirm under him and scream his name repeatedly. He would never stop his assaulting thrusts till you cream his cock good,only you could milk his cock the best.and he would- Mere thoughts like this were interrupted when you heard the doorbell ring. So you went to the door,opening it,only to reveal..your ex husband..yours and his child in his grip.

Your mind went blank at the sight of his appearance. You were not expecting a surprise at this hour of the day. But to your dismay,it was never meant for you as his eyes went directly went to his daughter who was hugging her dad,almost asleep because of the journey she had to get here,to you. You and Heeseung shared the duty of taking care of your child in turns.He would pick haera up for a week or two,given that the distance between you and him got a lot wider,and would drop her off to you at the end of his shifts when he could. You did the same. Your daughter couldn’t help but giggle when he started kissing all over her face playfully. The scene alone made the butterflies wilder in your stomach. He was always gentle and kind with kids. No wonder kids like him. No wonder kids want a dad like him. Your daughter was just as lucky as you were.. heeseung asks her“be good to mommy okay?i’ll take you to a playdate next time,only you and me okay cotton ball?” Your eyes were focused on his way,and your mind kept recalling the words that just came out of his mouth. He was just being nice. He was just being nice. He was just being nice.

She nods earnestly,and earns a head pat from the man,who just smiles at her answer. “Can you wait for me a bit?i have to talk to your mommy,you’re my angel girl,we’ll go to the slides right after okay?and we can get any ice cream you’d like” he says as he pinches her nose softly,not too hard at all.Her eyes instantly lit up at the offer,she looked so happy and agreed,going back to her plushies,playing with them. The breath you had been holding out for who knows how long,eventually escapes as you see him walking towards the door…Should you ask him to stay back for a bit long?Would that be too indecent?would it look selfish for you to hold him back..?what would he think about it? “Heeseung-”

don’t say it… He turns on his heels after stopping midway,his eyes finally falling on your figure ever since he got here. It’s not like he was apparently disgusted by your presence,it was just that he didn’t have to break down right then and there,infront of you,believing that you wouldn’t be there to rub his cheeks and wipe his tears for him anymore… “Yes?” Don’t you dare….know where you are now “Would you mind if-umm..” Anything else but that…please “What is it?” Dammit he’s being all soft again..his voice…

“A k-kiss-” ………. “It’s okay if you don’t want it-i understand i was just spewing random shits-” “We can’t….it’s not like it used to be anymore…i’m sorry” Oh….if him ignoring you earlier didn’t break you,this kind of did…like..a major damage to your hopes. Your eyes started to sting alot and before you knew it,tears gushed out..And what happened to be the softest touch you could remember,it was just a tissue paper,with none other than heeseung holding it under your eyes for you…He was not the person who loved you anymore..He was trying to be different. “Please stop crying,haera might worry later and i would lose my dignity as a dad” he tried to joke it out,tried to be sure that you didn’t hear his voice breaking,and he might have succeeded but it didn’t help your tears at all. He wished he still could just at least hug you.His heart was begging for him to just go forth and engulf you into the world's tightest hug,whisper how much he missed your presence,the scent of you,your everything… You do the work for him when you finally shatter and clutch onto him,finally crying in his arms… his breathing just got shakier than ever as he just hesitantly moved his arms up,but not fully hugging you.His chin,now placed atop your head as he inhales a deep breathe,having to have gotten over a big pressure off his chest…all just for a hug he didn’t know he needed..ever since you both got divorced. When your cries seem to have calmed down,he carefully navigates his eyes down to look at you,not caring anymore if it affects him or not…he just needed to see any bits of you. He had to. Or else his heart would go crazy. The moment your red and puffy eyes went up to his face,you caught him staring right back at you. The air suddenly feels too thick to even move a muscle among the two of you. You’ve never felt this much warmth ever since he walked out of your life,leaving him to feel the exact same. But this all was wrong. “Even if you look at me like that,I cannot” he says while holding you firmly. “Just once,i promise i won’t ever bother you about it……please” Bother….it never had been any ounce of what you just claimed to be as a bother. He would kiss you in a heartbeat,you knew that too. But the weight on his heart felt a lot heavier. It was just a kiss…but was it like old times?not at all…he couldn’t see it like that at all. You’re existence and the recalling of the divorce was distracting him from everything he had. “Fine..but only once.okay?after that,i leave” “H-hmm,okay,thank you for consid-” He captures your lips in the most delicate and the softest way possible,still worried if he crossed any non-existent boundaries. But the way you can feel the heat of his body radiate to yours completely,you don’t know what to focus on anymore. His lips had always felt this moist and soft whenever you both shared a kiss. It would always end up with you being on his lap. Your hands,as if it was a reflex,worked their way up to the back of his neck,pulling him closer. Heeseung didn’t seem to care anymore,finally having your lips on his after a whole year,and he felt like he could kiss you forever,hold you close like this,rip the paper into pieces.

His hands started lifting up your cardigan,feeding his fingertips in to feel the bare skin underneath the layer of clothing,making you sigh as you felt his cold touch on your waist.

Somehow, he can’t help but ponder silently about all the times he had been craving nothing but your touch,only for you to not be there,crave how you would sit on his lap and paint his face all red with your newly bought lipsticks,telling him how much you loved him,adored him,and cherished him,only for you to leave all that and walk on a path of your own. And now,he has a stable life now,he knows how to balance his work life and spending time with his daughter,he was contended with how his pace was,he was recovering from everything……

Unfortunately for you, his mind quickly took charge of him as he abruptly pushed you away. He couldn’t be in here..with you anymore without getting carried away. He needed to be out of here as he started to feel the urge to completely turn into a putty for you.

“I should go now,i’m sorry for getting carried away” he says as he turns to leave Please stay hee…I need you so much…

As if he had telepathic powers,his instincts told him to run back to you,and he did. “Fuck it” he hastily ushers as he basically runs to you and lightly picks you up while connecting your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He couldn’t take it anymore.His lips work wonders as he swiftly licks your lower lip making you gasp,easily earning access to slide his tongue in. He makes sure to devour every corner of your mouth,not caring about the way your teeth clash. He doesn’t give you enough time and backs you up to the nearest wall.

Gently, he places you on your feet,your small frame now caged in by his broad one. His eyes looked down to where your thighs were rubbing together in anticipation. “Fuck look at you”

“We need to go somewhere more private” he says, not even bothering to guide you to the nearest bathroom he could find. He leans in and kisses you again,a bit harder this time,hands instantly moving down to grope your rear cheeks,caressing them. You moaned at the contact of his perverted touch against your skin but you craved this so much….

“Needed you so much too angel,been such a mess ever since…do you feel that way too?” “Yes hee,been wanting this for so long…couldn’t think of anything else but you” you confessed,your words earning a chuckle from the latter.

“What was I doing to you in your mind,hmm?”he asks as hands are now under your cardigan again,snaking up to your chest. His hands molded perfectly with your breasts as he gave them a light squeeze. Moaning at how good it felt,heeseung looked pleased by your reaction. He wanted to do more,and he is going to do more before he starts regretting where he is right now. “Gonna fuck you so good” he says as he unbuckles his belt and ties your wrist with it,behind your back. The action sends your mind in a frenzy as you felt his tongue licking a fat strip on your neckline. He dragged it down to your collarbone,sucking onto the bone and showering the area with his love bites. “Tastes just like it used to– fuck can never get enough of this” the taste of your skin melts in his tongue as he completely lets himself go. His hands quickly drop down to grab your hips and turn you to face the mirror in front of you. The sight was oh so pleasant,your pussy gaping and clenching on nothing but air,waiting and begging to be filled,stuffed,abused,reddened. You would take anything from him. His fingers,his tongue. But nothing would satisfy you the way his cock does.

“Pretty girl tell me where should i put it?guide me” his voice got more raspy as he looks at the mirror,eyes totally enchanted by the way your face looks so wreckable. He could just stuff your mouth with his cock but that's not what you wanted now,he knew very well how to please you…how to have you begging for him to do more than just using your face to get off.he knew you better than yourself.. “A-ass,want it in my ass–” you whined out as you felt the tip of his length rubbing up and down from your butt hole and your leaking hole,teasing each one at a time,watching you hiss whenever he playfully pushed in the tip on either. “As my girl wishes”

Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion in your very small and tight hole,his raging cock penetrating past the tightness and the heat hugging his meat deliciously. It was so much that he had to halt his hips,feeling like he would be pushed out before he could even bottom out properly. “Never been so tight,fuck– you’re gonna be the death of me i swear–loosen up a little” his lips purse as the pleasure of your walls smear over his senses. And when he finally pushes in more of his girth,he can’t help but moan when you suddenly open up for him,taking him to the brim. “That's it,open up for me–let me give you what you want”Your mind was all over the place as he started moving,grabbing a hold of your hips. He pulled you back into his length,your hole getting wider each time he thrusted up. It was something in you,you didn’t know,needed to be fucked like this,with the chances of being caught by anyone,yori or even your daughter. His hips jerked up to yours,on loop as he led his hands up,bending down on you to capture your nipples in his torturing hold. He flicks it over and over. You can’t help but moan louder each time he rams right into your spot,so fucking perfectly he could die for this to happen over and over again. You looked so beautiful like this. All blown out,so pretty just for him. His palms move to your thighs,feeling the soft skin as he uses them as a leverage to plough into you even more. In between your thighs,your slick coats his dick to the right amount as it slides back in and out with the urgency to feel you even more. Heeseung thought he was living in a dream. You were chanting his name like he was doing yours. He moves your bended figure to the closed door of the bathroom. Your palms now flat against the wood as he fucks up to you. His eyes watch you lovingly as you try to blur out the obscene sounds coming out of your mouth but he smiles when he realizes the sounds down there are never doing you justice. “Be fair baby,let those tiny gasps out,come on”he demands, issuing a harsh thrust which aims enough to form a small bulge in your stomach. He almost succeeds in making you moan out loud. Your eyes roll back as he does so,telling him to go faster. He turns you around and rakes your thighs up with a bruising grip around them,lifting your ass up a bit for him to shove it in more easily. That for sure would leave a great noticeable mark. And you’d love that. Wrapping your legs around his torso,all while his dick still inside you,he wastes no time in repeating his motions again. But only this time,his lips are desperate to find yours. Biting any piece of flesh his lips find,he keeps licking and sucking your lips. Giving you the messiest and dirtiest makeout you could ever have. Strings of saliva connect you both as he takes a moment to breathe,mouth open,eyes bewildered by your appearance. He couldn’t stop sliding it in,he got meaner about his thrusts as each second passed by,making you moan uncontrollably as you just stay there,being held and fucked dumb by your ex-husband. He’s so good with his hips that you don’t even notice his fingers teasing your other hole. “Think you can take it?bet you can’t and i don’t care if you can or not”he whines as he forcefully pushes in two of his digits in your cum hole,the thumb being left out to rub the nub. He does it so effortlessly,fuck your ass and penetrate your pussy at the same time– it all was too good for you Your starts clenching on his fingers and his dick,was as equal with it’s pace,not slow at all. He was so close,he could feel it. Eyes in a trance as it only saw fuck her fuck her fuck her soo good she can’t stand for days. You cried out at how good he was being to you. Giving you his cock,abusing your cervix like he owns it,slapping your ass countless times…

“Baby i’m gonna cum–it’s too warm and tight f’me–shit y/n!” his whines got louder as he felt his high approaching. “Could fuck you like this every goddamn day if you’d let me–feels like heaven in here–fuck”

You could only moan at how precise he was with what he wanted,and he wanted you to shower his dick with your juices. He wanted you to lose your mind over how good he made you feel. He wanted you to cum so much that it would push his cock out of your hole itself. It was getting too addictive in there,he wanted you to make sure you were left all used,broken and only for him to fuck anytime and anywhere. After all you were his fucking woman. “Should i cum in your ass?your back?your mouth?your pussy?” “cum in my mouth please–” “C’mere” he quickly pulls out and brings your face down to his cock,forcing it in your mouth. Your jaw hung only loose at his demanding hands. He fists his cock,stroking it fast,the tip flush pink and ready to shoot his seeds right down your throat. “Take it take it-take all of it-fuuckkkk!” Hot spurts of cum get in your mouth,your face and your chest as he keeps jerking off to his hands,chest heaving up and down slowly as the post orgasm breath gets taken in by the both of you. His eyes look warily,of any signs of negativity in your face,noting that there’s none,he collects his pants and retrieves his belt from your wrists,eyes not surprised when he catches a slight bruise over there. He felt sorry for hurting you like that…or even when he mindlessly took you by your ass… But it all was a one time thing-you just wanted any type of solace,and he only gave you what he could. He prayed you won’t take the words he said prior to him finishing in your mouth,to heart. He would feel guilty if he was the reason your feelings resurfaced again,he couldn’t risk that to happen. His eyes watch you now,but there only a hint of sadness in them now,as he knew if he walked out,it would be only him again…But that’s what is the best for the both of you. Things like this happen hee,just walk out….it’s ok

Millions of words could have been said to each other if only he just cupped your cheeks and told you he loved you always and forever,if you replied with a kiss on his cheeks,letting him know you both would work it all out again. It would have even worked out if you both had cried it out to you heart’s content,being in each other’s arms..But he was scared..scared that it would end up happening again. One time was more than enough to shake him up completely as a man.

Haera reminds me of you so much….it hurts,love The only words which made up to your ears before you watched him leaving you alone….again,was

“I-i will be back next week,y/n”

315 notes View Post

silcry

3 weeks ago

defiance | king!sukuna x servant!reader

master list

chapter three: the king of curses

summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine. TL;DR: sukuna's a sorcerer in this one, still ooc but not too much. mc pretty much ran away from home for being a hoe, and went to work at sukuna's shrine lol.

genre: female reader, heian era au but incredibly historically inaccurate, 18+, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, smut, so much crack, angst, mutual pining, might be seen as dubcon but she wants him lol, no he wont have two sets of arms, and no he wont have two dicks, srry srry srry

fic warnings: profanity, explicit smut, ooc, mentions of grooming, more will be added

word count: 3.6k

playlist

You were woken up by the sounds of rumbling, low buzzing, and Sukuna’s faint snoring. At first you thought all three were coming from him, but the more you came to, you realized the first two sounds were from across the room.

Specifically from the very dark corner of his already dark room.

You slowly lifted yourself up, rubbing your eyes and trying to focus in that direction. Two orbs— bright glowing green orbs— seemingly directed at you, shifting and occasional blinking.

You looked back at Sukuna, who was sleeping way too peacefully for someone who had a literal intruder in their chambers. When you looked back up to the corner, the thing had moved a couple feet closer in your direction.

“Kuna..” You wearily tried to shake the king awake, constantly looking back at the apparition that was shaped like a giant bee corpse from hell.

It had legs, it wasn’t using them. In fact, it morphed towards you instead of walking– or running. But that didn’t matter, it would’ve been equally terrifying either way.

The rumbling noise it made was now turning into muffled shrieks as warped closer and closer and closer to you the more you acknowledged it.

“..Kuna!” You yelped as it morphed to his side of the bed, now glaring and smiling at you.

Sukuna shot up the moment you fully hid under the covers, completely bemused by what you could possibly be whining about before dawn even broke.

At first he’s pissed, being ripped away from his sleep and all. Of course this had to happen the one fucking time he allowed a concubine to sleep with him.

His annoyance quickly fades away the moment he felt the familiar feeling of all the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. It was pretty obvious to him what it was that woke you up and scared you half to death.

He turned his head to see the grade 1 curse was able to weasel itself into his territory.

Weak, but gross nonetheless. He stuck out his pointer finger and gently flicked his wrist, slicing the things head off and splattering its purple blood all over the walls and floors.

He made a mental note to have Uraume clean it up later, since they were the only ones who could see them in the shrine.

Well— aside from you, apparently.

But he was way too tired to get into that, and made another mental note to ask you about it in the morning once the sun was actually up.

For now, he was going back to bed. He was tired from the festival, all the people that have tried to talk to him during the festival, and from his night with you— but that’s more of a fact than a complaint.

He looked back to find you still under the covers. He slightly pulled them back to find you face down on to the pillows, covering your ears— which also made him realize you probably also heard the grueling noise of it getting beheaded.

“It’s gone now,” his voice was low and raspy, clearly still half asleep. “Go back to bed,” he ordered, before he threw his arm and leg over you.

—

“So you can see them?” He asked after he gave you a moment to wake up.

Sukuna had woken up as interested as ever in you and stayed in bed until you finally opened your eyes.

Uraume had already come by and cleaned the walls and floor, along with taking the corpse and tossing it to wherever they tossed them to.

“Yeah, usually they’re easy to ignore.” You admit. “But once it noticed that I could see it, I felt like it started to taunt me in a way. It wouldn’t stop getting closer and it even smiled at me.”

“Yeah, the stronger they are the more they tend to do stuff like that.” He explained.

He knew he shouldn’t stay in bed too long with you in the morning, but allowed himself to laze around a little longer. He could tell you were enjoying it too from the way you were caressing and tracing his chest and arms.

A little too much actually, as you traced lower. And lower. And lower.

“NO! That fucking tickles.” He snapped after you impulsively poked his side, making him hunch over to protect himself from you.

How you had the energy to try to fuck with him was an absolute mystery. It was way too early in the morning to laugh, yet there you were giggling away at his suffering.

“Sorry for waking you up.” You finally said after getting a hold of yourself.

“It’s fine.” He yawned. “And you’ve always been able to see them?” The questions continued.

It piqued his curiosity, making him wonder if you came from a line of sorcerer’s or were unknowingly one yourself. He went with the former for now, most sorcerers realize they had abilities around 4-6 years old. It was least likely the latter since you were way past that age.

“Yeah. I don’t see them often though. It’s actually my first time seeing one since coming to work here.”

“That’s because Uraume usually takes care of them— here drink this.” Sukuna was quick to hand you the elixir that his assistant dropped off this morning.

An elixir you were more than happy to take. Having children was normal at your age, but it was something you’d rather not do and you were glad he wasn’t pushing you to give him an heir. At least not right away.

You were still visibly disturbed as you recalled the early morning's events. He watched the wheels start to turn in your head as you tried to wrap your brain around what he could’ve possibly meant by that and what exactly he and Uraume were.

“So are you two.. curses as well?” You tried to tie the loose ends of his slight vagueness.

“Sorcerer’s.” He corrected you. “Top of the food chain, sweetheart.” You could tell he was proud of that.

Curse users if you wanted to get technical about it, since they used their abilities on more than just curses. But he wasn’t going to explain the whole thing to you. At least not right now, you two still had to get ready for the second day of the festival.

He briefly gave you a rundown on what a sorcerer was, and how they were able to kill curses— trying to get as much out before the servants and your ladies in waiting came to get you both ready for the day. You were still left with so many questions but ultimately decided it was enough for now and let it go.

—

You quickly forgot about the curse as the second day of the festival went on.. along with the constant questioning from most of the concubines. Borderline annoying ones at this point since it’s clear they were trying to scope you out, but harmless nonetheless.

“Did King Sukuna really allow you to sleep in his chambers last night?”

How did they even know that?

“What position does he take you in?”

Every single one.

“Which dish did you like most today?”

You don’t care about what my favorite dish is.

“Did you know the king's favorite color is red?”

Did you know there’s seaweed stuck in your teeth?

Each question strayed further away from getting to know you and slowly moved to what Sukuna does with you and how close you were with him.

Which was not close at all— given last night was the first time you actually spent time with him. And that was being generous with your verbiage.

He fucked your brains out and had you sleep in bed with him. Oh, and he killed a giant bug-like apparition that was trying to kill you.

But that was more so for him and the sleep he clearly wanted to get back to— reminding yourself that if anyone or thing were to kill you, it’d be Sukuna him-fucking-self.

But Saiga and Yumi were clearly threatened by your place there, so you did the honors of making your answers more palatable for them in order to validate their places in the king's life.

“Yes, but it was late.”

“From the back of course!”

“I think I enjoyed the pickled daikon and zaru soba the most.”

“No I didn’t, I don’t think the king would tell me that much about himself… haha..”

Sukuna watched as you downplayed your new role— somewhat proud (of you), somewhat frustrated (at them). He knew them well enough to know they’d harass you if you tried to act like you knew him more than they did.

Which he was glad you didnt try to do. Yumi tried that at first in order to fit in and it failed miserably. The twins fucked with her for months and Yuna even joined along because:

She’s kind of psychotic, like her shogun father who enjoys committing war crimes.

She’s a child.

Were there consequences? No. It was quite entertaining for the king to watch them fight for his conditional love.

Would he still find it entertaining if they all the sudden ganged up on you? Who knows. And he doubts he’d ever find out since you played your cards right and didn’t fall for the trap.

By the end of day two, they came to the conclusion that you were nothing more than a little toy to that man.

A replaceable toy.

And that you may take all his nights for the rest of the week— the rest of the month even— but you’d always be the 3rd to last in place, Mariko and Yuna falling right behind you for obvious reasons. No threats here!

In fact, you did such a good job that the king decided to be extra nice to you that night— making you cum on his fingers, then his tongue, and then his fingers again with the help of his second tongue.

Was it because deep down he wanted to prove them wrong? That you weren’t a replaceable fuck toy? He honestly didn’t even know at that point. Your moans were like music to his ears and he’d gladly listen to you all night long.

A king should never have to explain himself anyway.

It was so fucking much and you didn’t know what to do with yourself while he overstimulated and consoled you. Reminding you that your only job was to keep being a good girl and to keep cumming for him.

And you did. So much so that you were nearly delirious towards the end— breath shaking, legs shaking, tears, so many tears.

You didn’t think you’d be so addicted to how he made you feel so soon, and he’d never think he’d become that addicted to making someone feel this way at all.

Or maybe that was just the lust talking, he tried to justify as you fell asleep in his arms for the second night in a row.

Yeah. Maybe that was it.

Maybe extra excitement was all that he needed these past couple of months. It’s not like he’s been getting much of that nowadays. He’s already killed off who he’s needed to kill off.. for now.

Now everything’s calm— boring. Something that’s never settled with his soul. Never has, probably never will.

Maybe he should take your ladies in waiting once the festival is over, release them into the forest, and hunt them down one by one. That would sure help keep him at bay.

What if he were to completely abandon that thought all together and just kick start another war instead? Nothing was more exhilarating than war.

Or should he just wait it out?

The regions and districts were always fighting anyway. They’ll find another reason eventually.

A reason he’ll never care about. He was never one to dabble into politics. Just tell him where to go and he’ll demolish both sides at the flick of a wrist, casualties were inevitable anyways.

And what were they going to do about it? Punish him? Hah.

By all means, come at him.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad if one girl replaced these violent urges. Excitement was excitement. You were technically saving lives without even being aware of it, good girl.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he itched for it. He didn’t even know where the need came from. Just one day at 5 years old, he had the sudden idea to dismantle someone’s brain without even knowing what dismantle was. His innocent self did exactly just that.

And he liked it. At 5 years old he was fortunate enough to stumble upon his true purpose in this life.

Bringing people to their knees as he reigned absolute hell on earth.

—

The third day was the day things finally got interesting for the young king. You got ready in his chambers, as you did the day before. You asked him a couple more questions about himself, which he gladly answered.

You two didn’t talk more about what sorcery or curses were in front of the servants. He doesn’t like them knowing anything about it. It doesn’t stem from him trying to protect their feelings or anything, he just doesn’t think they should be allowed to listen in on those types of conversations or have access to that information.

The conversation never ran short though while they got you two ready side by side. But you did notice he was more stern with them being around. It was one of the many ways he kept the discipline and order around the estate.

The last thing he needed was someone getting too comfortable and stepping out of line. It was something you needed to remind yourself too, and to not let the way he treats you behind closed doors get to your head.

He was a powerful figure in general, and didn’t mind using it to get what he wanted. To find out that he had literal powers was daunting, he was truly a monster and seemed proud of it.

—

Today you got a break from Yumi and the twins. You didn’t have any issues with them, even after yesterday's interrogation. You understood where they were coming from and couldn’t be too mad. But fuck— they were draining.

You instead sat next to Mariko, who was extremely intimidating. The oldest out of all of the concubines, the wisest and most refined. She was the type of woman who could look into your eyes in the most sincere manner, and you’d still stutter. Elegant and despite the king not having sexual relations with her anymore, it made sense that he’s kept her around.

She wasn’t quick to introduce herself, but it felt genuine when she did. It’s as if she waited for you to get acclimated to the environment before going in and asking how you’ve been liking being a concubine so far.

“It’s only been about a week since being moved to my new chambers, but it’s been nice so far.” You politely said.

“I’m glad to hear that. That’s where the king's mother used to live.” She admitted.

“Is that so?” She smiled and nodded at your surprise.

“She was also a very kind woman, which surprised a lot of us given who she gave birth to.” She chuckled.

You cleared your throat in order to try to hold in a laugh. Who knew the most intimidating concubine had a sense of humor. It made you wonder what kind of conversations she had with Sukuna.

Sukuna watched as the two of you slowly got comfortable with each other, something he knew would happen since Mariko was the most mature out of all of them. He wanted your last day being forced to be with the other concubines to be somewhat peaceful. Hence why he had you sat at the edge with only Mariko sitting next to you.

He actually enjoyed the last day, up until he didn’t.

From the corner of one of his eyes he saw General Toji Zenin— who was in fact staring at you despite being accompanied by not one, but two of his wives.

Greedy bastard.

He was used to other men ogling at his concubines and usually took it as a compliment.

But this was you, which made it a completely different situation in his mind. You had a whole backstory he didn’t know much about aside from the fact that you ran away to the shrine in order to seek asylum.

Toji’s eyes weren’t filled with lust, desire, or attraction. He looked like he saw a ghost and was currently as white one. He looked like he had questions that would probably never be answered.

Scratch that— he’d never get answers if he did have questions, because he won’t ever get the chance to talk to you.

Sukuna could promise that.

He knew of Toji very well actually, and at one point had more respect for him than most people despite never formally meeting him. At least before.

His strength alone was comparable to an entire unit, maybe even surpassing that when you took his battle strategies into account. The man was the closest a normal human could ever get to being a monster. He was strong.

And what made this sight even more endearing was the fact that you were avoiding the generals gaze— he could fucking tell.

Eyes shifting, playing with the hem of your clothing, obviously distracted while Mariko tells you all about her clan.

Now, Sukuna may not know much about you. But, what he does know is that you’re a fucking wildcard. Errant. Disorderly. Mischievous.

And god help you— god help the entire fucking shrine— if you try to flirt your way out of this one.

The whole time, Toji is having a whole internal collapse after realizing that you were indeed who he thought you were. He spent months admiring you— he could point you out in a crowd full of people anytime, anywhere.

Not only that, he was ready to marry you in a heartbeat. It would’ve saved your life of course, but he genuinely wanted you as a wife. Even if you asked him now, he would’ve much rather taken you to today's festival instead of his two wives that were accompanying him.

At first he was relieved to see that you were alive. This whole time he’d been secretly mourning over the possibility that you may have been dead— whether it was one of your brothers catching up to you or getting stranded, then starving to death in the woods.

But that relief was quickly washed over with an overwhelming worry and fear over your life, after realizing you were now property of the morally depraved Ryomen Sukuna.

Not only has he heard stories of him, but he’s seen the man in action years ago. A 17 year old Sukuna, way too eager to run into a battlefield– slicing, laughing, fucking levitating. Rumors about the death of his son were in the air, yet you’d never know with the smile plastered on his face while he effortlessly slaughtered thousands.

He’d only heard tales of sorcerers at the time, and the teenager transcended whatever idea Toji had of them. An urban legend turned rational fear. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the level of power and depravity that he held.

Not before and definitely not now.

Sukuna continued to watch the tension that unfolded between you two as unfamiliar feelings arose in his chest— homicidal ones.

Feelings that could only be soothed by the brilliance that was his meticulously refined domain, malevolent shrine.

All while an annoying merchant, that was the physical embodiment of an overly ripe plum, tried to strike a conversation with him over possibly backing his green tea business.

Sukuna despises green tea.

And the unnatural pitch in the merchant's voice was the final straw— striking the fire that slowly formed in his chest, setting it ablaze throughout his entire being.

Not only was Toji looking at you, but now so was the king.

And unlike Toji who was looking at you like a wounded puppy, Sukuna was looking at you like he wanted to skin you alive.

And not only did you notice it, but so did Mariko and Uraume. They knew all too well what that look meant.

It struck fear in the first concubine's heart because she actually grew to like you in the hour she’s gotten to speak with you. It struck dread in Uraume’s, knowing they’d most likely have to clean up what the man would eventually start.

This was the first time you’ve ever truly felt seen by him and it wasn’t in a sweet, romantic way at all. It lacked love, it lacked empathy, it lacked anything that had to do with goodness.

It was fucking sinister and made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

You no longer thought he was possessed by a demon, you concluded that Sukuna would simply never allow that.

You tried to relax your breathing, you slowly stopped fiddling with your clothes, you tried to fix your demeanor and sit it up as straight as you could—

Your pathetic little attempts to get it together and act normal have all but failed. Fear had officially struck deep into your bones the longer he stared at you.

Your eyes begged for his mercy and his told you to shut the fuck up.

And in that moment, you realized the curse that appeared in his chambers could’ve multiplied by the thousands, and they still would have never compared to Sukuna’s overwhelming intensity.

Making you truly understand his earned title, The King of Curses.

next chapter

notes: even the king himself gets jealous, jumps to conclusions, and threatens to lay out his domain <3

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