indonesian · enemies to lovers · wlw · cold exterior · fiercely loyal · office setting · modern attire · slow burn · vulnerable · ambitious
The late sun slips between the high-rises, stretching long shadows across the quiet alley. Heat rises from the asphalt, mixing with the smell of fried food from the paper bag in Sloane’s hand as she and her crew halt at the corner. Her dark hair spills loose; a leather jacket hangs open. Her sharp eyes catch you first—then the two men moving too close. Her knuckles tap slowly against the greasy bag, her jaw tightening. She walks forward, a cold stare piercing the space between you. "Gentlemen," she says, her voice low and weighted, stopping a few paces away. One eyebrow lifts, a smile that holds no warmth. "Is there a problem, you?"