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[i2sunric]

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 (p.sh)

PAIRING: sunghoon x pregnant!reader (f)

SUMMARY: when the two pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test, the life you had so meticulously built crumbled. but sunghoon gathered the pieces back together, shaping a new life with your two babies.

WARNINGS: pregnancy, suggestive and mentions of sex (no smut), angst (if you squint?), fluff, crack by the end, sunghoon is so caring, their love makes me puke, description of labour and a c-section (i gathered my knowledge from grace anatomy), reader worries a lot, sunghoon works hard, twins (yohan and haneul), bed rest, a little complication with one of the babies, happy ending, pet names (babe, baby), lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 3rd March 2025

WC: 6.5k

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon (oneshot) @starry-eyed-bimbo @saphiranishimurashan @jkslvsnella @vrusha01 @notcamii @deluluscenarios @m1kkso @youngheejay @lovingvoidgoatee @motherscrustytoenailclippings @sukisvr @yoonzns @kayjiguki @12e45 @irahina @geniejunn BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

NOW PLAYING: Unconditionally by Katy Perry.

a/n: i hope y’all like this, please REBLOG to share and stay tuned for the other members’ fics. <3 sorry for any grammar error, i’m sleep deprived. anw, do you think i should make a small drabble when the twins are older too? lmk.

You hadn’t planned for this. No one really does, do they? 

One month ago, you were just a college student, studying hard, dreaming of the future, with your boyfriend, Sunghoon, by your side.

The two of you were inseparable, sharing classes, meals, and the occasional late-night walk around campus when life felt too overwhelming. 

You thought you had time. time to grow, to figure things out, to live freely before settling into something serious.

But life had other plans.

When you found out you were pregnant, it hit you like a train. 

You remembered sitting on the cold bathroom floor of your dorm, clutching the positive test in your trembling hands, staring at it until the lines blurred from your tears. 

The first thing you thought about wasn’t yourself but Sunghoon. 

What would he say? What would he do? Would he be scared, angry… relieved?

He wasn’t any of those things. 

When you told him, he just pulled you into his arms, held you so tightly you thought you’d break, and whispered over and over that he loved you. That he’d take care of you. That you’d figure this out together.

But love wasn’t enough to stop reality from crashing down.

The college didn’t offer much sympathy. 

As soon as you dropped out—because there was no way you could keep up with tuition and prepare for a baby—they kicked you out of the dorm. No exceptions.

You weren’t a student anymore, so you didn’t belong. It didn’t matter that you’d lived there for years.

You packed up what little you had, stuffing clothes and textbooks into worn-out suitcases while Sunghoon silently paced the small room, phone pressed to his ear as he tried to find somewhere — anywhere — for the two of you to go.

By some miracle, he did.

It wasn’t much. A tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city, far from campus, far from everything you knew. 

The rent was low because the building was old and falling apart, but it had four walls, a roof, and running water. It was home.

Sunghoon tried to stay strong. He was a student, just like you had been, with assignments and exams and his own dreams. 

But those dreams had been put on hold— at least, the version of them he once had. Now, instead of studying in the library with his friends, he was filling out job applications. 

Instead of thinking about internships or grad school, he was wondering how to pay for diapers and formula.

He landed a part-time job at a convenience store after a week of searching, and though he came home every night exhausted and smelling like instant noodles and cold air, he always kissed you softly and asked how you were feeling, if the babies were okay.

Babies. Plural.

That had been another shock, one you’d gotten at your first ultrasound: Two little heartbeats. Two little lives. 

You’d cried then, too. Half out of fear, half out of something that felt a little like awe. Sunghoon had cried with you, holding your hand so tightly his knuckles went white, whispering that it would be okay.

And you believed him. For a little while.

But things were hard. 

The convenience store paycheck wasn’t enough, not when rent, groceries, and prenatal visits drained it so quickly. And even if your parents managed to send you their savings, it still was too little for prenatal vitamins and all the things you had to buy for when the twins would be born.

Sunghoon started losing sleep, staying up late to study after work, waking up early to make it to class, and somehow still managing to hold you when you couldn’t stop crying because your body was changing faster than you could handle, because you felt like a burden, because you were terrified.

You wanted to find a job too. You tried.

But no one wanted to hire a pregnant woman, not even when you were only two months along. 

You didn’t even look pregnant, not really but employers seemed to know, somehow. They’d glance at your belly, at your tired eyes, and find a reason to turn you away.

“We’ll call you,” they’d say. They never did.

It was unfair. You were competent, you had your high school diploma. You could work, you could help. but no one would let you.

Sunghoon told you it was okay. That you should rest. That you were doing enough by taking care of yourself and the babies.

But you saw the way he clenched his jaw when he checked his bank account. You saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the frustration he tried to hide.

One night, after a particularly long shift, he came home, threw his keys on the kitchen counter, and just… broke.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, leaning against the wall, head in his hands. “I’m trying, but it’s not enough… it’s never enough.”

You’d never seen him like that before. Sunghoon was always calm, always steady, the one who grounded you when you felt like you were falling apart. 

But now he was the one unraveling, and you didn’t know how to help.

You went to him, kneeling beside him on the cold tile floor, and took his hands in yours “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, echoing the words he’d once said to you. “We’ll find a way.”

He just shook his head. “I don’t want you to worry about this, you shouldn’t have to.”

“I already do,” you admitted, your voice soft but firm. “I worry every day, about you, about the babies, about what’s going to happen to us. But we’re in this together, Hoon, you’re not alone.”

And maybe that was what he needed to hear.

Because he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, you both let yourselves be scared.

And somehow, in the middle of all the fear and exhaustion, there were moments of happiness. 

Late-night talks in bed, Sunghoon’s hand resting on your belly, feeling the faintest flutter of movement. The way he looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in the world, even when you felt anything but.

It wasn’t the life you’d imagined. But it was a fresh start, and you were going to make it work.

⪩⪨.

The chemistry between you and Sunghoon didn’t die, not even with the exhaustion, the stress, or the growing weight of reality pressing down on you both.

If anything, it seemed to shift into something deeper, more intimate. 

Perhaps it was the hormones, or maybe it was the way Sunghoon looked at you— like you were made of glass and fire all at once. 

There were nights when you’d reach for him, despite everything, when your body burned with a desperate, aching need that you couldn’t ignore. 

It was embarrassing at first — how could you think about sex when there was so much to worry about? But Sunghoon never made you feel ashamed.

Even when he was exhausted, after long shifts at the convenience store and nights spent studying, if you whispered his name softly enough, he’d turn to you, his tired eyes softening, and touch you so gently it made you want to cry.

“You sure?” he’d ask, voice husky with sleep, his thumb tracing circles on your hip.

And when you nodded, needy and aching, he’d love you slowly, sweetly, like you were something precious. 

His hands, rough from work and cold from the night air, would warm against your skin, spreading goosebumps as they moved over your growing belly, your curves softening into something maternal and foreign to you both.

“I love you,” he’d whisper, over and over, like a promise.

And when it was over, he’d hold you, tracing patterns on your back until you fell asleep, his hand never leaving your stomach, like he needed to feel all three of you were still there.

Still his.

⪩⪨.

You hated feeling useless. No matter how many times Sunghoon told you to rest, to take care of yourself and the babies, the guilt sat heavy on your chest; a constant reminder that while he was out there working himself to the bone, you were at home, waiting.

So, you kept looking for a job.

And eventually, you found one.

It wasn’t much: a small corner café, tucked away in the older part of town. 

The owner, a kind older woman named Mrs. Park, had taken one look at you and seemed to understand without you having to say a word.

She didn’t ask about the pregnancy, didn’t ask why you were looking for work so urgently. She just handed you an apron and asked if you could start the next morning.

You said yes before she could change her mind.

The hours were short, just enough to bring home a small paycheck without overworking yourself. Between morning sickness, aching feet, and the constant hum of anxiety, you managed. 

The work kept your mind busy, and the extra money, small as it was, helped. anything to lighten the weight on Sunghoon’s shoulders.

The best part was the way his face lit up when you handled him your first paycheck, small and wrinkled from being folded into your pocket all day.

“You didn’t have to…” he whispered, holding the check like it was made of gold.

“I know,” you said, leaning up to kiss him softly. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t say anything after that, just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly enough that you felt the tremor in his hands.

Money was still tight.

You became an expert at stretching every dollar, buying second-hand things for the babies: clothes, a crib, even a stroller someone had listed online for half the price. 

You cleaned everything, scrubbed it down until it looked new, and though it wasn’t the Pinterest-perfect nursery you’d once dreamed of, but it was enough.

⪩⪨.

The fifth month of pregnancy crept up on you quietly, like the tide rolling in, soft and inevitable, until one day you looked in the mirror and saw someone entirely new. 

Your belly had grown, round and firm, stretched with the weight of the two tiny humans inside you. It was impossible to hide anymore.

You were blooming.

Despite the morning sickness that still lingered some days, and the exhaustion that settled into your bones like a permanent guest, there was something undeniably radiant about you now. 

Your skin glowed, cheeks flushed with a soft pink hue, and your hair became somehow shinier and thicker.

Even your eyes seemed brighter, though you chalk that up to getting more sleep now that you weren’t balancing school and work.

“Wow, pregnancy looks good on you,” Mrs. Park had said one morning at the café, handing you a fresh cup of chamomile tea instead of the coffee you so desperately wanted.

You had laughed, shaking your head, brushing flour off your apron. “I feel like a beached whale.”

“You look like a goddess,” she insisted, patting your arm gently before returning to the kitchen.

It wasn’t just her, either. Customers complimented you more often now, commenting on your “glow,” asking when you were due, if you knew the genders yet. 

Some people even touched your belly without asking, which drove you insane, but you bit your tongue and smiled through it, knowing they meant well.

Still, no amount of glowing or compliments could change the fact that you were tired. 

All the time.

Your body ached in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Your back throbbed almost constantly, the strain of carrying twins becoming more obvious with each passing week. 

Walking more than a few blocks left you breathless, and your feet… Lord, your feet.

They swelled like balloons by the end of every day, tight and aching, even when you sat down as much as possible at work.

You’d become clumsy, too. You knocked things over more than once at the café, sending cups crashing to the floor, apologizing profusely as you bent down (with great effort) to clean up the mess.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Park always said, shooing you away. “Go sit down for a minute. You’re carrying two humans, for heaven’s sake.”

When you got home from work, you always tried to clean the apartment before Sunghoon came back. 

It was small, but you wanted it to feel like a home, not just a temporary place you were stuck in. You’d make the bed, wipe down the tiny kitchen counters, and vacuum the living room—all while trying not to collapse from exhaustion.

Sometimes, you’d manage to cook dinner too, though more often than not, you just ordered something cheap and easy, feeling guilty but knowing you couldn’t push yourself too hard.

Sunghoon never complained.

When he came home, usually around sunset, the door would creak open, and you heard the familiar sound of his keys hitting the small bowl by the entrance.

“Babe?” he called, voice soft but tired.

“In here,” you answered from the couch, where you’d usually ended up, legs propped up on a pillow to help with the swelling.

He appeared in the doorway, still in his uniform from the convenience store, black slacks and a button-up shirt, a little wrinkled, smelling faintly of coffee and instant ramen. His hair tousled from the wind, dark eyes warm but weary.

Without fail, he smiled the moment he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, crossing the room to kneel beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your belly. “How are my girls?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile came anyway. “Or boys.”

“Or one of each,” he teased, hands gentle as they splayed over your bump, feeling for any kicks.

“How was work?”

He sighed, leaning his head against your shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. “Long… some guy tried to shoplift again, i’m starting to think I should charge admission fees for all the chaos.”

You laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair, knowing how much he hated that job but how hard he was trying to keep it for you, for the babies.

“I made dinner,” you said, though ‘made’ meant heating the leftovers you had in th fridge.

“Mhh,” he murmured, already half-asleep against you. “I’d rather eat you. Cheaper and more delicious.”

You smacked his head lightly “You’re almost collapsing, go eat, Hoon.”

“Alright,” he kissed your cheek and got up, moving towards the kitchen “But I’ll have you as a dessert!”

⪩⪨.

Nights were the hardest.

Your body ached more at night, your back screaming every time you tried to find a comfortable position in bed. 

You’d toss and turn, sometimes getting up to walk around the apartment because lying down just hurt too much.

Sunghoon always noticed, even when you tried to be quiet.

One night, around three in the morning, you were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking water and rubbing your lower back, when you heard him shuffle out of bed.

“Babe?” His voice was thick with sleep, hair sticking up in every direction.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Without a word, he walked over, stood behind you, and began to massage your shoulders, his thumbs pressing gently into the knots that seemed permanent these days.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

His hands were warm and firm, working down your back slowly, easing the tension until you melted against him, sighing softly.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes closing as you leaned into his warmth. “Just… tired.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands never stopping their slow, comforting motion. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I feel like a whale.”

“You’re beautiful,” he insisted, his voice so sincere it made your throat tighten. “You’re carrying our babies, that’s… incredible.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to brush your lips against his. 

It was soft, warm, and lingering, a kiss that spoke of gratitude, of love, of something deeper than either of you had words for.

“Come back to bed,” he whispered.

And when you did, he wrapped himself around you, one arm under your belly, supporting its weight, the other tangled in your hair. His body was warm, steady, grounding.

You fell asleep like that, safe and held, and for a little while, all the worry, all the exhaustion, all the fear melted away.

⪩⪨.

By the seventh month, everything changed.

Your doctor had been gentle, but firm, when she sat you down after your check-up, her eyes soft with concern.

“I’m putting you on immediate bed rest,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Your body is straining too hard, and with twins, that’s dangerous, iknow you’ve been trying to push through, but if you keep this up, there’s a high risk of preterm labor —or worse.”

“Worse?” you had repeated, barely above a whisper.

The idea of something happening to your babies was too much to comprehend.

You felt your chest tighten, your hands instinctively cradling your belly as though you could protect them from the world with just that small gesture.

“I’ll give you a list of things you need like vitamins and supplements, carrying two is an enormous strain, and I want you and the babies safe.”

You hadn’t argued. You were too scared to argue.

You’d complied immediately, even though it meant using some of the money you and Sunghoon had saved for the babies. money that was supposed to go toward diapers, formula, a proper crib. 

Instead, you’d bought the prenatal vitamins your doctor insisted on, the ones you’d been avoiding because they were expensive and you thought you could get by without them.

When you told Sunghoon, he didn’t complain.

“We’ll figure it out,” he’d said that night, after helping you into bed, his hand warm and steady against your swollen belly. “You’re not going to worry about money right now, i’ll pick up more shifts.”

“But—”

“No.” his voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for protest. “I mean it. I’ll handle it… for them.”

He always said ‘for them,’ and that was all it took to silence your guilt.

Even Mrs. Park, kind as ever, had understood. When you called to tell her you couldn’t come to work anymore, your voice shaking with apology, she stopped you before you could even finish.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare apologize. You’re having twins! Focus on your health, and don’t be afraid to ask if you need anything.”

You’d cried after that call,not out of sadness, but out of gratitude.

A week into bed rest, you found out the genders.

The ultrasound revealed it clearly— one boy and one girl. You hadn’t realized how emotional you’d be until you saw their tiny forms on the screen, moving, kicking, their hearts beating strong and fast.

“They’re healthy,” the technician had said with a smile, pointing out their little hands, their spines, the curve of their heads.

In the cab ride home, you and Sunghoon sat in stunned, happy silence, hands clasped tightly together over your belly.

Later that night, lying in bed, you’d brought up names.

“I want their names to match,” you murmured, your head on Sunghoon’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, your own hands tracing the curve of your belly.

“Like… rhyme?” he asked, sounding a little amused, his fingers lazily playing with your hair, “Not rhyme, just… sound good together, you know?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, uhm, Do you like Yohan?”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Yohan?”

“Yeah. For the boy.” You let the name roll around in your mind, “I like it,” you whispered.

“And for the girl?” he asked, looking down at you, waiting.

You thought for a long moment. “Haneul.”

His lips curved into a soft smile. “Yohan and Haneul.”

“Yohan and Haneul,” you repeated, the names fitting together like puzzle pieces, like they were always meant to be spoken side by side.

“Perfect,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “They’re going to be perfect.”

Bed rest, however, was not perfect.

You knew it was necessary, you wanted to do everything in your power to keep your babies safe, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Sitting on the couch all day, only to move back to the bed or the kitchen chair, made you restless and bored out of your mind. 

You felt horrible, especially knowing Sunghoon was working harder than ever to keep everything together.

He had picked up more shifts at the convenience store, working late into the night, coming home exhausted but still smiling, still touching your belly and asking how “his little ones” were doing.

You tried to keep the apartment clean as best you could from your limited range like folding laundry from the couch, wiping down surfaces slowly, feeling winded even from that.

One evening, Sunghoon came home to find you trying to sweep the floor, your back screaming in protest, your belly making it hard to even bend slightly.

“What are you doing?” he asked, immediately taking the broom from your hands.

“…cleaning.”

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can’t just sit around all day, Sunghoon.” You snapped, harsher than intended.

He sighed, setting the broom aside, and took your hands gently in his, guiding you to sit back on the couch.

“You’re growing two humans inside you,” he reminded you softly, kneeling in front of you, his hands warm against your knees. “That’s not useless, that’s… everything.”

You blinked, your throat tight, feeling tears threaten to spill over. 

Damn pregnancy hormones.

“I just… I hate seeing you do everything,” you whispered.

“I don’t mind,” he said, and you could tell he meant it. “I love you, I love them.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing through his hair, and he leaned into your touch like he always did, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment of peace.

“I’m so tired,” you admitted softly.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss t your belly. “I know, baby.”

⪩⪨.

The pain came fast and without warning.

One moment, you were shifting uncomfortably on the couch, rubbing circles over your swollen belly, trying to ease the dull ache in your back.

The next, a sharp, unbearable pressure shot through you, like your entire body was twisting in on itself.

You gasped, hands flying to your stomach. 

The next contraction came even harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your vision blurred as panic set in.

Your phone. Where was your phone?

With trembling hands, you fumbled around the couch cushions until you found it, barely able to press the call button before another wave of pain wracked through you. 

The dial tone rang endlessly in your ears before Sunghoon’s voice finally cut through.

“Hey, baby, what’s—”

“Sunghoon,” you choked out, voice shaking. “It’s happening.”

Silence.  “What?”

“The babies—” You couldn’t even get the words out properly. 

You were panting, your whole body trembling, the pain stretching and pulling in ways that made you want to scream. “You need to come home, please.”

“I’m on my way,” he said immediately, his voice tight. 

You could hear the sound of his chair scraping back, the muffled voices of his classmates as he grabbed his things in a rush. “Stay on the phone with me, are you in pain?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction hit.

“Baby, you need to breathe,” he said, his voice urgent but gentle. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, you remember what the doctor said, right? Just focus on that until I get there.”

You tried. You really did. But the pain was overwhelming, and all you could do was grip the armrest of the couch, gasping through each agonizing wave. 

Minutes stretched into eternity before you finally heard the sound of the front door slamming open.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon’s voice was frantic as he rushed to your side, immediately crouching down in front of you. 

His hands found your face, your belly, anywhere he could touch to ground you.

“I can’t—” You broke off, biting back a sob. “It hurts, Sunghoon.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his own breath shaky. “But we need to go, okay? Can you stand?”

You nodded weakly, though your legs felt like jelly. Sunghoon slipped an arm around your waist, practically lifting you off the couch as he guided you toward the door. 

Each step sent another sharp wave of pain through you, and by the time you reached the car, you were sobbing into his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he kept whispering. “I’ve got you,.”

The drive to the hospital was a blur of pain and panic. 

Sunghoon gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, running every red light, ignoring every honk and shout from passing cars. Every few seconds, he’d glance over at you, his face lined with worry.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he kept saying, even when you were barely holding yourself together. “We’re almost there. Just hold on for me, okay?”

When you finally arrived, nurses swarmed around you, wheeling you through the halls while Sunghoon ran beside the gurney, his hand never leaving yours.

“She’s having twins,” he told them, his voice strained. “She’s in labour, please, you have to help her.”

They nodded, moving quickly, and before you knew it, you were in a hospital bed, strapped to monitors, IVs in your arm, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling your nose. 

The contractions were coming faster now, sharper, stronger, making your whole body arch off the bed in pain.

“It hurts,” you sobbed, gripping Sunghoon’s hand so tight you were sure you’d break his fingers.

“I’m sorry, baby” he whispered, pressing frantic kisses to your damp forehead. “You”re doing great.”

The doctor came in moments later, her face grave. “You’re not dilating fast enough,” she said. “And with twins, we can’t risk waiting, ae need to perform a C-section.”

Your heart stopped.

“No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “I— I don’t want—”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to be cut open,” you sobbed. “Sunghoon, please—”

His hands cradled your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I know, I know,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “But we have to do what’s best for them, okay? I promise I’ll be right there the whole time.”

You searched his eyes desperately, finding nothing but love, worry, and unwavering determination.

You nodded, swallowing down your fear.

They prepped you quickly, the spinal anesthesia numbing you from the waist down, but the fear still clawed at your chest.

Sunghoon was right beside you, wearing scrubs over his clothes, his hand gripping yours tightly.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You barely felt it when they made the incision, but you felt the pressure, the pulling, the strange sensation of something being moved inside you.

And then—

A cry. Loud and strong.

Your heart clenched as they lifted Yohan into the air, his tiny fists flailing, his lungs filled with life.

“A boy,” the doctor said, smiling. “A very strong little boy.”

Tears blurred your vision as you watched the nurse wrap him in a blanket. He was perfect. Tiny, but perfect.

But then—something was wrong.

Haneul wasn’t crying.

Your breath hitched. You turned to Sunghoon, his face pale with fear.

“Why isn’t she crying?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice.

The doctor was already working, her expression serious as she cleared her airway, checked her vitals.

Seconds stretched into eternity before… A weak, but definite, wail.

Your entire body sagged with relief.

“She’s small,” the doctor said. “She needs monitoring, but she’s here.”

“She’s here,” Sunghoon echoed, his voice breaking.

By the time they stitched you up and wheeled you to recovery, it was just the four of you.

You were exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you watched as Sunghoon cradled Yohan in his arms, his eyes filled with pure love.

“She looks like you,” he whispered, glancing at Haneul, who was wrapped up in a tiny incubator beside your bed.

You let out a weak laugh. “She looks like you, too.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmured. “Thank you for giving me them.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you reached for his hand, squeezing weakly.

“I would have never made it without you,” you whispered.

⪩⪨.

The first few days were harder than anything you could have imagined.

Your body was broken, stitched together but still aching, bruised, raw. 

Every movement sent sharp, burning pain through your abdomen, making even the simplest tasks feel impossible. And yet, you had no choice, there were two tiny humans depending on you.

Two.

The weight of it was crushing. You were a mother now, not just to one baby, but two. Yohan and Haneul. 

They were small, fragile, barely able to hold up their own heads, and they needed you every second of the day.

But you were exhausted. 

Completely, utterly drained.

The moment you stepped foot into the small apartment, holding Haneul while Sunghoon carried Yohan in his arms, you felt the overwhelming urge to collapse onto the bed and sleep for days.

Except you couldn’t.

Because the twins were already stirring, their tiny mouths opening and closing, their bodies wriggling in search of warmth and nourishment.

You barely had time to lower yourself onto the couch before the wailing started. 

First Haneul, her tiny lungs stronger than you would’ve expected for how fragile she looked. Then Yohan, following his sister’s lead as if he had to compete for who could cry the loudest.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, pressing a hand over your face. “How are they so loud?”

Sunghoon, looking just as exhausted, stared down at Yohan with wide eyes. “Do we… do we rock them?”

“No, let’s just leave them to cry themselves to sleep,” you deadpanned.

Sunghoon shot you a look. “Alright, alright, picking them up now.”

He rocked Yohan awkwardly, bouncing him slightly, but the baby only cried harder.

You tried to do the same with Haneul, wincing as you shifted to hold her properly against your chest. Your stitches screamed in protest, and you had to bite back a whimper of pain.

“Shh, baby,” you whispered, rubbing her tiny back. “Please, just a few minutes of peace.”

Breastfeeding had been one of the most painful surprises of motherhood.

 You had read about it, heard stories, but nothing prepared you for the sheer agony of tiny mouths latching onto already sore and swollen breasts.

Haneul latched on first, her tiny hands pressing against your skin. Yohan squirmed in Sunghoon’s arms, waiting for his turn impatiently.

“God, they eat like they haven’t been fed in years,” Sunghoon muttered, sitting beside you.

You snorted, adjusting Haneul in your arms as she sucked greedily. The pain was unbearable at first, but after a while, you barely noticed it, you were too tired to care.

Once she was done, you carefully passed her to Sunghoon, who traded her for Yohan.

Yohan latched on immediately, his tiny fingers curling into your skin.

Sunghoon stared at the two of you, his eyes soft. “You’re amazing, you know?”

You huffed. “Tell me that when I don’t feel like a cow being milked.”

He chuckled, gently rocking Haneul in his arms. “I mean it, you just gave birth a few days ago, and you’re already handling both of them.”

You wanted to tell him you weren’t handling anything. That you were barely holding yourself together, that you felt like crying every second of the day. But you just leaned against him, exhaling slowly.

“We’re trying,” you murmured.

“We’re a family.” he retorted.

The days blurred into an exhausting, sleepless cycle: Feed. Change diapers. Cry. Repeat.

Bathing them was a whole new challenge.

“We don’t even have a tub,” you groaned, staring at the two tiny and stinky babies.

Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck. “We could… fill the sink?”

You stared at him. “You want to bathe our newborn babies in the kitchen sink?”

He lifted his hands defensively. “It’s clean! And small enough for them.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fine, Just don’t drop them.”

Sunghoon grinned. “I would never.”

Ten minutes later, he almost dropped Yohan.

“Sunghoon!” you yelped, catching the baby before he could slip further into the water.“I had him!” Sunghoon insisted, looking guilty.

“You did not have him.”

He cleared his throat, adjusting his hold on Yohan. “Maybe this is a two-person job.”

“No shit.”

Together, you managed to get both babies cleaned, even if it was a messy, wet, and chaotic experience.

By the time they were wrapped in towels and back in your arms, you felt ready to pass out.

Sunghoon flopped onto the couch beside you, letting out a heavy sigh. “I think we deserve a medal for that.”

“You deserve a lecture,” you muttered. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should trust you with our children.”

He pouted. “That hurts, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned against him anyway, watching as Yohan and Haneul drifted off to sleep in your arms.

Sunghoon kissed your temple, his voice softer this time. “We’ll get better at this.”

“We have to,” you said. “They depend on us.”

“And we depend on each other.” He squeezed your hand. “We’re in this together, baby. Always.”

Always.

⪩⪨.

The twins were finally asleep.

You exhaled a deep, shaky breath as you slumped onto the couch, every muscle in your body aching from exhaustion. It had taken forever to get them down, rocking, shushing, feeding, changing diapers, starting over again when one cried and the other followed. But now, for a few precious hours, there was silence.

Sunghoon collapsed beside you, his head tilting back against the cushions. He let out a low groan, rubbing a hand down his face. “Holy shit, that was brutal.”

You huffed out a weak laugh. “I thought we were gonna die.”

He turned his head to look at you, smiling softly. “We can’t possibly be defeated by two itty bitty humans.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes closing for a moment.

Your body reminded you of the pain you were still inn with a dull, persistent ache in your abdomen.

Sunghoon felt your wince before you even said anything. He shifted, glancing down at you with concern. “You okay?”

You swallowed, opening your eyes. “Scar still hurts.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and without a word, he helped you sit up.

“Let’s take care of it,” he said. “Come on.”

The apartment was small, barely enough for the two of you before the twins arrived. Now, it felt even smaller, cluttered with diapers, bottles, and tiny clothes drying on a rack in the corner.

But somehow, Sunghoon still made it feel like home.

He guided you to the bathroom, his hands careful and steady as he helped you undress.

You hesitated when your shirt lifted, revealing the healing incision across your lower abdomen. The skin was still angry and red, the stitches tight. It wasn’t pretty.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. He just crouched down, his fingertips ghosting over the area as if touching too hard might hurt you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not,” he said, his voice firm. He kissed just above the scar, lingering for a moment before looking up at you. “This is proof of how strong you are, I love it, I love you.”

You felt something in your chest tighten, an unexpected warmth spreading through you.

“Stop making me emotional,” you muttered, blinking back tears.

He grinned, standing up again. “Can’t help it. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sunghoon washed your hair, fingers massaging your scalp with a tenderness that nearly made you melt. He was careful around your scar, using light touches to clean the area before wrapping you in a warm towel.

You felt better when you stepped out. Not great, not healed, but better.

He sat you down on the closed toilet seat, kneeling in front of you to apply the ointment the doctor had given you. His hands were warm, his touch featherlight.

“Still hurts?” he asked softly.

“A little,” you admitted. “But it’s better when you do it.”

His lips quirked up. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch.”

Once he finished, he helped you into a fresh set of pajamas, sighing when he noticed the stains on your old shirt.

“Your boobs are leaking again.”

You groaned, rubbing at your eyes. “I know… I feel like a damn cow.”

Sunghoon chuckled, helping you put on a fresh nursing bra before tugging a clean shirt over your head. “You’re not a cow, you’re an amazing mom.”

You gave him a look. “An amazing cow mom.”

He pinched your side gently, making you squeak. “Shut up and get in bed.”

You let him guide you back to the bedroom, sighing as you sank into the sheets. He pulled the blankets up to your chin, tucking you in like you were the fragile one, not the twins sleeping soundly in their shared bassinet.

Sunghoon sat beside you for a moment, brushing your hair back from your face.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured.

You blinked at him,realizing why he hadn’t changed into his pyjamas snd wasn’t under the covers with you “You need to get ready for work.”

“I’ll leave in a bit,” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay first.”

You reached up, curling your fingers around his wrist. “I don’t want you to go.”

His expression softened. “I know, baby. But we need the money.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “I hate this.”

“I do too.” He ran his thumb over your cheek. “But we’ll get through it.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did.

But when exhaustion pulled you under, all you could think about was how hard everything was. How much you missed just being you and him.

How much you missed having him next to you, instead of leaving every night to work while you lay awake, waiting for the next time the twins would cry.

Sunghoon stayed until your breathing evened out, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before slipping away to get ready for work.

Even if he hated leaving, he had to. For you. For Yohan and Haneul.

For the life you had built together, not perfect, but beautiful.

[sebsbarnes]

unspoken || minho moon

minho x reader

summary: there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable.

part two!

warnings: angst! insecurity. probably a few grammar errors

word count: 950+

masterlist

a/n: i fear i couldn't resist writing for him. first work for him so there isn't others in the masterlist. i wrote this pretty quick so i apologize in case.

you always fought, but that night you didn't.

it was inevitable that when you and minho were around, some sort of bickering would ensue. it was as if the friendship you had relied on those sharp-tongued comments and eye rolls. there was some enjoyment in the banter; you could always rely on minho to be as quick-witted as you. most of the time, it was truly nonsense and comical to those around you, but sometimes he took it too far.

he would cross a boundary, known or unknown, and the aftermath was either venomous words spilling off your tongue or complete silence and avoidance.

it hurt, to ignore him. act like minho wasn't there. sure you would come around to him after a few days and pick right back up where you left off. and yes maybe it was unfair to ignore him after an argument, but that was you, that's what you did.

what you've really come to recognize is these silly little arguments hurt because you had feelings for minho. you hated the giddy feeling you had when he was around. the slight heat to your cheeks when he gave a real, genuine, compliment. the sizzling sensation that coursed through your skin when his hand brushed against you. or the way it felt like your chest was caving in on you and your lungs were screaming for help when minho confessed to q that he had a crush on someone, someone that isn't you.

so here you were avoiding him after he made an innocent remark about his crush. it shouldn't have, but it rubbed you the wrong way and perhaps it was because of the newfound knowledge of your feelings towards minho.

the evening was approaching and soon the sun would exchange places with the moon. the friday night would come alive and the sounds of eager students heading off campus would echo into the night, almost taunting you in your sadness. there was a nice footpath you've called home for the last week. after classes were finished you found yourself walking on the winding path away from school, taking in the fresh air and allowing yourself some peace. nestled a few feet away from the path was a small gazebo with a picnic table in the center. you sat down and allowed your eyes to close, soaking in the tranquility of nature away from the dizziness of life.

"hey..." a voice called out ripping you back to reality.

the voice. his voice. in this moment it made you feel sick. you swear you could feel the bile rising up and threatening to escape. your vision went white. heart beating so hard you could've sworn you saw its outline rising from your chest.

"hey minho," you exhaled as he sat across from you.

his throat bobbed, "how are you?"

you hummed in response, unsure what to say.

the silence between you stretches longer than it ever has. there was no space for quick-witted responses or light-hearted banter. minho didn't know what was the reason for your absence, but he missed you. when he looked at you your eyes didn't hold that mischief it normally possessed. he knew this was not a moment for a sarcastic quip.

"talk to me," minho nearly pleaded, eyes dancing across your face.

you paused trying to find a way to convey your thoughts to minho without confessing your feelings, "have you ever realized something too late?"

his eyebrow pulled up on his face, "well...of course, yeah. i think we all have."

"like, the thing is right there," you nearly laughed, "right in front of you the whole time. but by the time you realize, it's gone, it's moved on like everything else. i realized the importance of it too late."

you looked to minho who sat silently as you rambled. his eyes were clear of any judgment or jokes. the typical smirk etched on his lips was erased. his brows pulled softly together, a delicate ridge separating them. you watched as his hand snaked up from his lap and cradled your hand. his fingers lazily intertwining with your own.

"you know you can tell me anything," he said softly, his accent lighter.

you offered him a small smile. not a fake one, a real one. you could tell minho everything, everything but this. not when he is interested in someone else, you can't ruin that for him. can't ruin your friendship.

he sensed the hesitation, "...c'mon," he urged gently, eyes hopeful.

there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable. all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs for every person in KISS and for every star in the galaxy to hear that you were falling for minho. but before you could open your mouth and string together all the consonants and vowels for 'minho i'm falling for you' his phone rang.

minho's hand slid out from yours leaving you feeling icy but not as icy as the blood coursing through your body as you watched a shy smile adorn his face. one of his hands ran through his hair, a movement he did when he was feeling nervous, in a good way. you sat in agonizing silence waiting for him to hang up.

a pink hue dusted across his cheeks, "that was uh-"

"go," you replied softly, barely above a whisper, "have fun."

the moonlight that illuminated your face was now blocked my minho's standing figure. if you could, you wanted to be swallowed by his shadow into the darkness.

"oh. what were you going to say before the call?" minho asked.

you shook your head, "it was nothing."

[seosracha]

HEART DEFENDER──────

౨ৎ⸻niki x fem!reader

⸻ synopsis, Nishimura Riki was truly and honestly, your sworn enemy, and everyone knew. You two shared lots of things, a friend group, academic rivalry, and most importantly school popularity. Receiving tons of confessions and notes on the daily from your fanboys and fangirls was nothing new. So you can't help but be shocked when he asks you to be his fake girlfriend for that same reason.

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, highschool au

pairing: popular-footballplayer!niki x popular-fem!reader

wordcount: 11.5k !

tags: underage drinking, foul language/swearing, niki is an asshole, own characters included, y/n and niki are unrealistically popular but bare with me pls, jay is called a pervert😭, kissing

authors note! this was written for my beautiful babygirl , and it was also her idea so props to my pookie yall!!!😛 also no proof read so sorry for any errors!!

A GENTLE HEAT falls onto the silk bed sheets, as a flickering blue light washes over the room, a sound waking you up from the dreamy state. You still had a hard time settling into the new reality that eloped you just a few days back. The summer was over, and so we’re all the exciting things you hadn’t been able to do. 

Although you didn’t mind, it brought you comfort to keep your body and mind active. You don’t like to mull over the fact that something is over, because that never brought it back, choosing to focus on every minute that was yet to come. 

Maybe that was exactly the reason you’ve become so popular amongst the male population of Alpine High-school, students swooning over your exquisite beauty, tall, well proportioned figure and beautiful mind. Some looks were only hungry for popularity and full of lust, but amongst all, you also found people who truly wanted to know you, and find out what was underneath the pretty shell. 

Some would call it cliche, to only stick around people who held the same status as you, or shared a similar popularity rank, but you truly never intended for that. Having two of the most popular students in one team, automatically makes the entirety of the group more desirable and unattainable. You never had control over any of these things, but you’d also be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel even more special. 

Your phone vibrates, Song Eunseok’s name displayed on the screen, messages filling up your home screen every second. You smile lightly and press one of them to shoot him a quick reply, preventing him from spamming you with keyboard smashes. 

Song Eunseok was one of your best-friends. He was there when others weren’t, and he was always the one to help you endure any pain in life. He was like a bandaid, keeping you safe from any infectious disease but also helping ease the pain, even if it didn’t feel like it at first. The affection in his tone, his words glowing with secrecy and honesty every time he spoke to you, that’s exactly what made him so notable to your heart. 

Kim Hana was also one of those people to you. Eunseok was good to you, but he’d never be able to substitute for a girl best-friend. You never treated Hana as a second option though. She wasn’t even a month older than you, but wiser than most. Hana always knew what to say or do, she was like a compass to you. You knew you could never lose her, or else you wouldn’t know which direction to walk towards. Still, behind the smart and intellectual facade, was a joyful and bright girl, who had the most infectious laugh you knew. Her smile was adorable and words of affection- comforting. 

Park Sunghoon was also a member of your clique, recruited by Jake who swam alongside him on the school’s swimming team. You’ve never been really close to him, he was more of a friend to you when others were around. That didn’t mean you didn’t care for him though. Sunghoon was different, he was very secretive and smart. He didn’t ever try, but always succeeded. He wasn’t flashy about it either, keeping most of his success to himself. 

Jake, who recruited Sunghoon, used to be your best-friend. You grew up with him, just like in every childhood best-friends movie, the two of you did everything together. Just like you, he moved out of his home country in his early years, which was one of the many things you had in common and could empathize about. You decided to go to the same highschool, following the promise you made in 4th grade; that you’ll always stick together. The reciprocation brought you a feeling of comfort and safety, at first you didn’t mind when he started getting closer with Nishimura Riki because you trusted him. You trusted him enough, and turned a blind eye enough until your once best friend wasn’t yours anymore. 

You tried to ignore the low pain it gave you, small weebs formed in your mind as you tried to justify Jake’s behavior, arguing that he still speaks to you so kindly. You were still in the same group together, spending most of your days together and laughing sweetly at the smallest things. But instead of calling you, he’d call Niki, instead of hanging out with you on the weekends, he’d hang out with Niki and instead of inviting you as his plus one to events, he’d invite Niki. 

That’s exactly why you hated Nishimura Riki, the last member of the seemingly ‘popular kid’ clique you formed. 

Niki was equally attractive and popular as you. He embodied a typical, bookish bad-boy character, the smitten look on his face winning girls hearts over every time. He was also a member of the football team, already earning a full ride scholarship for his sports successes. He was already an intelligent boy, but a free entry to college was nothing he’d deny. He was vastly athletic, but always dreamed of going to university. Niki may not have looked the part, but he truly was much more ambitious than many would guess. 

He didn’t have many reasons to hate you, but the sole fact that you were unbeatable, the first rank in school always alongside your name. He always stood proudly next to you on class president election day, but always ended up getting hurt when once again, you were chosen. Everyone loved you and even though he had his fair share of fans, he could never compare. 

So the satisfaction that taking away your best-friend from you brought him, was enough to console his damaged pride. It was enough to compensate for his stolen spotlight. 

You both had reasons to hate each other, and never even considered talking it out, even if you shared a friend group. Passive aggressive comments, and sarcastic remarks were enough to satisfy yours and Niki’s mind. 

___________

Niki, with his fair share of popularity, couldn’t get away from constant love letters clogging up his locker, or girls' heartfelt love confessions. With the face of an angel and skills of a child prodigy, it was inevitable in some way. Those same girls were the reason for his incredibly and annoyingly large ego. 

“Niki!” the brunette caught his attention with her squeaky and high pitched voice. 

He turned around to catch a glimpse at her, only to find her with a pink glittery box in hand. Niki could sense another thought out, insanely touching confession coming his way. 

“Do I know you?” he asked, trying his best to not make a rude face at the girl. At the end of the day he was the it-boy at his high-school, and had an image to upkeep. 

“You could get to know me. We have chemistry together!” she replied happily, completely neglecting the fact that his reply itself was a bit rude to begin with. 

“Is that supposed to be some sort of pickup line?” Niki chuckled, running a hand through his hair as his shoulder fell to his right. He leaned on the lockers trying to remember the girl he was speaking to. 

She pulls at the fabric of his blazer, a frisky look on her face “It could be if you want it to be” 

He felt his body tensing up, a wave of uncomfort speeding through his veins. He was used to girls shoving themselves onto him, but why couldn’t he be viewed as an equal to them? Just because he has stolen many women's hearts, didn’t mean he didn’t want to be treated with dignity and respect. 

He could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as the unknown girl pushed her body closer and closer. His white shirt started to suffocate him, feeling the box she had in her hands press against his stomach. 

He could barely read the name Oh Jia off the girl's name tag, before backing away, making her stumble a little bit. 

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too comfortable, Jia?” he asked. 

She took a deep breath. She thinks of the many nights she’d seen the boy infront of her standing proudly with a confident smile as he pulls her closer to his body. She is taken aback by the difference, wondering how she could've gotten so easily deceived by her own head to fall for such a fabricated version of Nishimura Riki, She had swooned over the cover, just like many girls before and after her. 

This was one of the many daily confessions the boy would receive. Some happened to be much more friendly and cute, even making Niki’s heart a little warmer. Some students just liked to test his limits, see how easy he can actually be. He hated that. He hated not being treated like a human being but rather a school attraction they all got to take turns trying out. 

Although you were sworn enemies, the similarity between yours and Niki’s experience love wise, was undeniable. 

“What is my pretty girl doing all alone? Where did all your friends go?” Hyunsik, a member of the student council, asked with a flirtatious tone stopping you from getting to your history class. 

“Yours?” you questioned with a calm voice, having an idea of who Hyunsik was. 

He smiled, wondering why you always played so hard to get. He was gorgeous, so what was your problem to just give into his warm embrace? 

“Don’t be like that” he answered, using his hand to push a strand of  loose hair behind your ear. 

You felt so incredibly uncomfortable. You had known Hyunsik for some time now, as the class president you did have to consult on important issues with him. 

“What do you mean, Hyunsik?” you asked, a wonky smile on your face as you tried to give the boy a sign that you weren't interested in him. 

“You know what I mean. C'mon Y/n, you don’t have to play so hard to get. We could have fun, I’d make you feel so good and happy” he confessed, his stance radiating confidence which was unbreakable. 

He was attractive, but his personality and ego completely erased any chances of scoring a date with you or many other girls. 

“I’m interested in someone else” you answered, backing away from him. 

“You always say that, yet you're still single” he said, offended by your relectuance. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business though, Hyunsik. I have to go now” you said, not letting him say anything else. 

This wasn't the first time boy’s just assumed you’d be easy like that. Just like Niki, you hated it. You didn't mind the confessions, as long as they were kept cute and respectful. You hated being mean, and these situations just forced it out of you. 

__________ 

“Why don’t we call Minjun over here, you’ve been hanging out with him a lot, right?” Hana asked, turning to you. She shuffles to grab her phone, but you stop her. 

Niki rolled his eyes at her words, not in the mood to stubbornly try to keep a civil conversation with Minjun. Kim Minjun was a member of the football team, and the number two placeholder in school. He really was handsome- slim face and a defined jawline, dark thick hair, eyebrows not touched once but seemingly shaped by Aphrodite herself, captivating siren eyes that made you fear eye contact, and lastly plump cherry lips. You could go on about Minjun’s beauty for days and not get bored of the topic. 

He notoriously fought with Niki for the team captain position, and although never achieved it, still managed to be disliked by Niki. They had a visible rivalry. While Niki tried to beat Minjun for second place, Minjun tried to beat Niki for the team captain spot. The passive aggressive remarks only made it worse, but for the sake of the team they kept, or at least tried to keep it civil. 

It reminded you of your friend group. You always tried your best to hide your deep rooted hatred for Niki around everyone, for the sake of their peace. The difference was that Niki never tried. He couldn’t bear a minute without making a sneaky and rude comment towards you. In some way it made you feel better about yourself, knowing that you're mature enough to not bother your friends with your private issues. 

“He’s probably with the team” you answered, and she pouted at your response.

“He wouldn’t want to sit with Miss Perfect here, anyways” Niki snickered, poking at his lunch uninterested in what he saw on the metal tray. The pork cutlet seemed awfully indigestible today. 

“I think you’re more so the problem” Hana defended, knowing you wouldn’t probably respond to him. 

“It’s not like Minjun is perfect, c'mon. He’s an annoying, selfious fuckboy” Jake said, in an attempt to clear Niki’s name. 

But why couldn’t he defend you? Did he really dislike you that much? 

“He really isn’t though” you responded, and Jake seemed taken aback by your change in demeanor. 

It almost looked like he felt entitled to say anything, but you had no right to respond to him unless you weren’t agreeing with him. Maybe that was what was left after your friendship of 10 years, the entitlement. 

“Of course you’d say that, because you probably want him like all his other fangirls” Niki smirked, and pushed away his tray. 

“Dude, leave it. Can we just have a peaceful lunch period for once?” Sunghoon spoke up, looking up from his English notes. 

He usually never said anything whenever these tense situations happened. Sunghoon kept quiet, listening in on the meaningless words leaving your mouths. 

“I’m gonna go” you rose from your chair, and picked up all your things. Hana tried to stop you, but her attempts were useless, as you gave her a small smile and left the table. 

“Well, I will too then” Niki announced trailing right after you. 

He walked towards you, a stupid look displayed on his face. You hated that you didn’t have any power over him, letting him treat you like this for no good reason. 

“If you want to continue telling me how awful Minjun is, I really suggest you leave it, cause I’m not going to change my mind” you turned to him, as he stopped next to you by the lockers. 

“I just want to get some books from my locker, can’t I?” he tilted his head, and smirked evilly when he saw your annoyed look. 

Another thing you hated was having a locker right next to his. Whoever assigned them, must truly despise you.  Or potentially pray for your downfall.

He just scoffed at your lack of interest, and started to rummage through his pocket for the small key to his locker. 

As soon as both of your locker doors opened, a swarm of notes and pink, red or purple little envelopes fell out. Some were cutely decorated, with adorable glittery stickers, some just a simple paper ripped out of the author's notebook. 

You two looked at each other confused. You knew Niki was popular, and Niki knew you were popular, but not to this extent. 

It wasn’t an issue, for a long time, but as comical as it sounded this was starting to get annoying pretty quickly. Sometimes the both of you wondered what made you so special, what made you stand out so much. Was it the academic success that no other student seemed to achieve yet? Maybe it was the physical tasks that you conquered without breaking a sweat? Or was it just your appearance that was unique among all? 

His mind was rushing, but one idea came out on top of the bubble of thoughts. 

______ 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Niki” you laughed at his absurd idea, wondering if Jake is somewhere recording this secretly. 

Niki can’t yet tell if you’ll buy it or not. The silence sinks into his skin, as the imprisoning walls surrounding you seem to close on him. Did he really just say that out loud? 

“Listen, we can just pretend to un-hate each other or something, and then date. It’s all fake, obviously. Do you think I’d want someone like you to be my girlfriend?” he responds. “We can’t tell anyone though” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” you mumble, and he chuckles. 

“Oh please don’t tell me this is about Minjun?” 

You look at him annoyed. Why does he suddenly care so much about your relationship with Kim Minjun? 

 “And what if it is?” you roll your eyes, turning away from his tall figure. 

“He doesn’t care about you, Y/n. Can’t you just agree, we both get something out of it” he says, exasperated. 

He reaches for your small shoulder, turning your body in his direction. He holds you while silence embraces the both of you. The sun subtly shines through the small window of the equipment room, illuminating his face, a sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

“What is in it for me?” you ask quietly, the moment between the two of you, making your heart beat faster. 

Niki softens at the concern in your tone. 

He knew you liked Minjun, everyone did, but this much? Did you really care for that douchebag? Did you lay on your bed at night, your thoughts always coming back to Kim Minjun? What did he do to steal your cold heart so easily? 

“An empty locker, that’s for sure” he lets go of you “And assholes like Hyunsik won’t annoy you anymore, isn’t that enough?” he adds, his tone laced with confidence. 

“You know about Hyunsik?” you ask curiously. 

He stifles a sharp inhale, realization hitting him. 

Did you think he cares? He doesn’t. He couldn’t care less. 

He tries to calm his unsteady nerves, preventing himself from saying anything that could damage his uninterested approach to your person even more. 

“Eunseok told me,” he answered quickly, his gaze turning to the small window. 

You never told Eunseok. 

You never told anyone cause this wasn’t something abnormal. Yes, maybe Hyunsik was a bit forward about it, pushing himself onto you, but you just forgot about it after some time. 

“Alright’ you clear your throat “Let’s do it” 

Niki feels an unfamiliar warmth in his heart, trying to stifle the excitement that took over his body when he heard your words. 

“But what about our friends, Niki? Do you seriously think Sunghoon or Jake are that stupid?” you ask 

It floods him again; the comfort of his name passing your lips, and he doesn’t know why. He’s never felt this way. 

“Hana is a hopeless romantic, she’ll believe anything if you slap a ‘boyfriend’ label on it. Eunseok and Sunghoon don't care anyway, and Jake? I’ll figure it out” he answers, his voice so calm “Everyone else will just believe it as long as we make it believable” he proceeds cautiously, putting emphasis on the ‘we’.  

“I don’t get not telling our friends, honestly” you murmured, looking around the room. 

He sighed “No offense to Hana, but she’s the biggest blabbermouth I know” he confesses. 

You agree internally, not wanting to admit it, too proud of your friendship with the girl. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow” he says after a moment of tranquility, leaving the room after he finishes his sentence. 

You watch him step out and leave you alone with all the thoughts and worries. 

______

And so he did pick you up. 

You wondered if Niki had cleaned up his car for you, remembering the mess last time you were in it. Probably not though. 

“Let’s go,” he said, keeping the door open for you. 

He grabbed your hand tightly, pulling through the crowd of students gathered in front of the building. Some had a stupid look on their face, wondering how the two of you could ever be dating, some didn’t even budge. 

Your chest swells with a torment of emotions, as you feel his warm, wrought hand grip yours. Pride, confusion, determination swarm through your veins, making a mess of your head. You press your knuckles to the warmth of your cheek, flustered by the looks you were receiving. 

Your eyes scan the whole building, trying to find Minjun, worried what he’d say when he finds out. You never wanted him to think you were just playing with him, and by the looks of it, that’s exactly what he was thinking when his eyes spotted yours. 

A sad look of disappointment decorated his face, as you passed by, holding Nishimura Riki’s hand so tightly. 

You screw your eyes shut, chest rising and falling rapidly. You want to tell him everything, you know you could. But there was a boundary you promised to not cross, for yours and Niki’s peace. 

“This is bullshit” Sunghoon raises his eyebrows, as the two of you appear in front of all your friends. 

“The assignment you wrote for my physics class was bullshit, and I didn’t say anything. This-” he says pointing to your intertwined hands “This is for real, the real deal” he adds proudly. 

How long has he been acting? 

“When did all of this happen?” Hana asks excitedly. 

You didn’t like agreeing with Niki, and even though it was sad to a degree, Hana really was gullible. 

You smile “We just started talking, I guess. It really happened naturally” 

How long have you been acting? 

“But weren’t you just fighting last week? And I thought you had a thing for Minjun?” Eunseok asked. He wasn’t supposed to care. 

“No, no, Minjun is just a friend” you answer after a moment. 

Niki was surprised at your lack of hesitation, no signs of nervousness. 

“Well congrats then. I’m happy for you guys” Jake smiled, and his acknowledgment meant the world to you. 

You couldn’t not care for him after all this time spent together. You wished you didn’t care about what he thought, what he was up to, because it was no longer your place to ask or wonder. 

“I hope Minjun doesn’t feel sad” Hana ponders, her soft heart melting for the boy. 

You laugh at her kindness, but deep down you know she’s right “I doubt. I think I made it clear to him that I’m not interested” you reply in an attempt to calm her nerves. 

“I hope so, he’s really a good guy” she mumbles, a look of frustration on her face. 

You wonder why. 

“He isn’t but whatever” Niki professes, a disgusted tone lacing his voice. 

Eunseok laughs “One day anniversary and he’s already jealous” 

You never expected them to be so gullible, to fall for such a fabricated lie, but here they were laughing and making jokes about the two of you. It was hard to lie to your friends, especially Eunseok and Hana, but something in your head kept convincing you that this was indeed a good idea. 

“You should’ve made a big reveal at the game” Hana acknowledges, a sweet smile on her face as she imagines herself in your position. “Our school would win, everyone cheering you on and then boom- you run up to Y/nnie and kiss her” she tells, a twinkle to her eyes. 

Niki laughs, and this time it seems genuine. He likes the thought of that, but can’t quite figure out why. Air is taken out of his lungs as he imagines carefully taking your jaw in one hand, and pressing a sweet kiss to your soft lips, as everyone cheers him on for leading the team to yet another victory. 

He can’t be thinking straight. 

“That’s a little bizarre don’t you think?” Sunghoon asks Hana, remembering watching something similar with the girl. 

Hana shakes her head, and he just chuckles at her persistence “I’m just giving him ideas, subtly” 

“Very subtle” Niki answers, and she winks at him. 

“Are we still on for the after party at yours?” Eunseok asks, turning his head towards Jake who seems to be totally out of it, as he hurriedly copies Sunghoon's chemistry homework. 

“Yeah, yeah. No matter if we win” he mumbles, devoted to a completely different world at the moment. 

A small smile forms on your face. You would definitely hold Niki tight, making sure no girl pulls him out of your grasp for a quick seven minutes in heaven. It’s all fake, though. Nothing more than just a pact between two sworn enemies who want a little more peace in their life. 

“Even if we lose, we still need to celebrate a good game” Niki smiles, and Eunseok smiles at his attitude. 

“With a captain like you my guy, we ain’t never losing” Eunseok winks at Niki, receiving a small laugh and bow from the boy. 

You felt guilty. This was the first time in a while when everything felt so gratifying and free amongst your friend group. With the constant fighting and teasing you never seemed to notice the charming dynamic between everyone. It felt like all along the both of you were the problem, and maybe your friends accepted this suspicious relationship so quickly, because it meant they got to experience moments like this once again. 

“What do these fucking hieroglifs say, I can’t decipher this shit” Jake grunts with frustration, as he pulls the notebook closer. 

Sunghoon laughs and tries to carefully explain every line of text to Jake. 

Maybe you were too focused on your own problems with Niki to notice that this is what could’ve been of your friend group. 

____

You and Niki seemed to get closer as time passed. 

The both of you didn’t even notice it, the barrier between you passing by like a breeze. It came all so naturally, and you never knew you’d have so much in common with the boy you swore you hated. 

You would accustom him to his practice sometimes, and he’d proudly show you off to all his teammates. The lines between faking it and being truthful have faded by now, confusing your heart a little. But just a little. Because at the end of the day it was fake. 

“I think it’s time you pay me back,” Niki said, a mischievous smile decorating his face. 

You looked at him with a confused expression “For what exactly?” 

He smiles, and brings his backpack to his chest, rummaging through it to find the key item. 

Niki was smart, very smart. He didn’t earn the number three rank for no reason, proudly representing the school on the pitch and in numerous academic competitions. Yet his mind couldn’t quite understand anything written in his physics textbook. He passed by fine, but it never satisfied him to cheat on his tests, and pay Sunghoon to do his homework for him. 

“Tutoring? Seriously? And what did you do to deserve it?” you asked, raising your eyebrow. 

He smiles widely “Well I haven’t seen any sappy men bothering you, so I think you owe me this one” 

“I haven’t seen any sappy girls bothering you either, so I thought we were even” you answer, not giving into his request just yet. 

You knew you’d do it. You did everything he asked you to do. 

“C’mon Y/n! I need your help, just this one time, please?” he pleaded, a pout on his face “I won’t be able to play in the game this week if I don’t get a good grade on this test” he adds in an attempt to convince you. 

You laugh at his desperation, and nod your head “Fine, but you owe me one” 

He nods hurriedly, and pulls out all the things you’ll need to give him the greatest tutoring session ever. 

“Imagine you’re driving a car” you said sketching a simple diagram “When you hit the brakes, what happens?” 

Niki furrowed his eyebrows, and you wondered how he couldn’t comprehend such a simple concept as Newton's laws. It was cute in a way. 

“Well I slow down, but that’s too obvious. This is probably a much more complex answer, isn’t it?” he pondered the question. 

“No Niki, it’s that simple” you laugh “That’s Newton's first law in action. An object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an external force. When you hit the brakes, you apply force to the car, causing it to decelerate” 

His eyes lit up in understatement, as he tried to solve another question you threw at him. 

“Was it really that hard?” you asked him with a small smile, and he hesitated at first. 

His eyes glazed through the notebook, but soon enough he answered “Not really. It was much better when you explained it rather than Ms. Lee” 

“I’m glad” you answered “If it’s really that bad, you can ask me for help” 

“It really isn’t that bad though” Niki answered, with a chuckle. 

“Oh c’mon you don’t even understand Newton's laws, it is bad” you reply. 

“Okay you geek, I get it. But I thought I have to deserve your tutoring?” he questioned, a small smirk on his face. 

“You gotta help out a dumb bitch once in a while” he pretends to be offended at your words. 

Not so long ago, he’d probably blow up at you for those words. He’d probably make a scene, resulting in everyone being uncomfortable for a good two days. This time was different. You were different. 

“The way you talk to me- it’s unlike you” you inquire suddenly, after a moment of calming silence. 

“How come?” Niki asks, not raising his gaze from the workbook. 

“Your voice is softer” you smile, and he can’t help but reciprocate. 

It brings him a weird comfort. The words passing by your lips, make his heart warmer, a trickling yet pleasing feeling in his spine. He can’t quite pinpoint the moment you touched his mind so intimately, erasing any barrier between you and him. Being with you felt so easy. It feels so easy, that he even forgets why he hated you in the first place. 

“Are you coming to my game?” he asked, a new found passion for physics coursing through his veins as he solves yet another problem with ease. 

You looked at him adoringly “Obviously” 

He chuckled “I’m glad” he looked up at you “But I thought you hated football” 

Well you did. You hated it because Niki played it. But even if he didn't ask you, you’d come. 

“I just don't understand it, that’s all” you gave him a half smile, looking through his textbook for any more challenging questions for Niki to solve. 

“You don't have to be there if you don't want to, Y/n” 

You seem to enjoy the way your name slips his lips so delicately. 

“No no, I want to be there for you, and I think It’d be sus if I didn't show up. Plus, Hana has some new crush and wants to see him play” you chuckle, and so does Niki, noting that the girl falls in love with anyone and everybody. 

“Is it Jay? I’ve seen them mingling before” he questions and you shake your head. 

“Jay was last month, old news. I think his name is Sungchan? Or Seunghan, I don't know” you ponder the question, going back to that one conversation you had with the girl about her new love interest. 

The possibility that he’s also not the guy she likes now is very high-her heart swooning for any man that gives her the time of day. 

Hana was gorgeous and incredibly sweet. No wonder she had a new talking stage every week, no boy being able to handle her. 

“Sungchan. He’s a good guy. I can approve of him, definitely better than Jay” he recalls many situations including Jay, where the boy proved himself to be absolutely useless and weird. 

Maybe it was his team captain complex, but Niki seemed to notice many things that others didn't. His duty was to take care of his teammates, so catching onto the tiniest things was inevitable. 

“What’s wrong with Jay?” you question, and he laughs wondering if the words will even peer out of his mouth. 

“He’s like, fucking perverted” he laughs “Well maybe not that badly, but still, he’s just proper dodgy” 

You're shocked at his admission, and internally  glad your best-friend  got over him so quickly. 

Your conversation with Niki seemed to flow so easily. You never had to try hard, something always slipping off your tongue, his personality making it so easy. You never thought you’d have so much in common with Niki, so much to talk to him about. You were so fixated on something that was beyond his control, instead of pissing Jake off for being a horrible friend. 

____ 

“I need to go to the bathroom quickly before the game starts” Hana said hurriedly, her small figure rushing towards the bathroom, making you smile to yourself. 

You blush. You remember the brief mention Hana made, expressing the want for a more romantic expose of the relationship between you and Niki. You wonder if Niki remembers too. 

Usually you never cared for the highschool football games, skipping in order to study more or spend time with your best-friend. This time was different, you felt like a trophy to your oh-so-fake boyfriend, excited to see what comes after he scores a winning touchdown. 

“Can we talk?” Minjun’s voice takes you by surprise, making you stop in a halt. 

“Uh, sure” you reply, taken aback by the sudden serious tone and demeanor, knowing him from the bubbly personality and sweet voice. 

“I know you’re faking it” your heart sinks “Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to yourself? Seriously, Niki?” he asks, and you go completely silent, trying to figure out a reasonable answer to his accusations. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Minjun,” you say after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

A frown tugs at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t expect that reply. He doesn’t know what he really expected in the first place. 

“For whatever reason you are doing this, you could’ve just asked me. Why didn’t you ask me? I would’ve helped you, no matter how stupid it is” he kept going, and it felt like you were digging yourself deeper into this lie. 

He remembers standing in this same place, your hand hitting his arm playfully, your eyes lighting up at anything he said. In some way, he feels just as barren and vulnerable in your silence as he had that day. 

“Minjun, I think you should go join the rest of the team. They’re probably looking for you” you answered, wondering why Hana hasn’t come to save you by now. 

“I really liked you Y/n. Like really fucking liked you. I don’t know why you're doing this, especially why you’re helping out that asshole Niki” he added quietly, as Hana came up to the two of you. 

“Minjun!” she smiled at him, and he forced one himself “Fighting Minjunnie! I’m rooting for you! We both are!” she cheered. 

“Surely” he said, leaving the two of you. 

Hana turned to you confused with Minjun's sudden ignorance “Did you two fight or something?” she asked. 

“It’s nothing. I think he’s just stressed out” you replied calmly, leading the girl out to the bleachers. 

You tried to focus. You tried to be the perfect (fake) girlfriend for Niki, as he played one of his most important games, but Minjun’s words sunk so deep. They were all you could think about. 

You couldn't quite figure out why you didn't just admit it. Why didn't just tell him everything and end the bet with Niki? You wanted to so badly before. 

“Sungchan is playing like a bitch right now” Eunseok commented, disappointed with his friends performance. 

“Don't say that, Eunseok!” Hana slaps his forearm and he laughs at her anger. 

At least you knew she was still crushing on him, instead of Jay. 

“No seriously, what is going on with that man” Sunghoon said, squinting slightly, his eyes trailing behind Sungchans figure. 

Hana kept hushing them, begging for her friends to not speak so badly about her soon-to-be husband. You found it adorable, noting to ask Niki to set her up with him. 

“Our boy is doing so well though. Maybe he actually needed a girl in his life” Eunseok smiled at you. 

You felt a heat rush to your cheeks at his words, wondering if he actually performed any better this time. 

Maybe he was trying to show off in front of you? Or make you proud? 

“He’s been training like crazy” you say, and they keep hyping him up. 

“Jakey, are you okay?” Hana asked the boy sitting next to you, concerned when she noticed his tired face. 

He smiled “I’m fine, Hana. Don’t worry” he said fondly “Look Sungchan is waving at you” he pointed, the girl immediately turning her figure towards him to wave back. 

“Did you just see that? He waved at me! Sungchan waved at me!” Hana gleamed excitedly, Eunseok looking at her with disgust. 

“I can’t believe you like his bitchass” he half-smiled, shaking his head in a playful act of disbelief. 

“Aren't you two friends? Oh I’m so telling him about this” she replied, and he put his hands up. 

“Maybe your fantasy will come true” you inquire, and Hana’s mind races back to the moment she imagined a dreamy kiss on the field. 

“With the way he’s playing, I doubt there will be anything to celebrate” Jake said, and Hana hummed tiredly. 

“Can you guys leave him alone? He’s tired, okay?” she mused, and everyone nodded, done with teasing the girl. 

You can’t help but stare at Niki. Even with the heavy gear, he still manages to look good. When did he get so attractive? How come you’ve never noticed the pretty little mole on his chin, his gorgeous lips that begged for your touch, and eyes that grew whenever he talked about something he loves. He was right in front of you this whole time. 

You practically begged for Minjun’s attention just a couple weeks back, yet now you felt yourself fading away from the feelings for him. You can’t bring yourself to come up with any conclusion, or to bother with distractions, but why? Why was it so hard to just accept the truth as it was: you wanted Niki to want you. 

The game was nearing the end, and Niki could already smell the victory coming his way. He wanted to make you proud, he wanted to see your smile while you ran up to him, praises spewing from your mouth as he hugs you tightly. He hated that it was all fake, the realization dawning upon him; he wants you to want him. 

But he knows deep down that it’ll never be the two of you. 

A loud horn breaks your trail of thoughts, the audience screaming happily as Niki scores the winning touchdown. It was just like how you imagined, wondering if he’ll actually kiss you now. You know you wanted him to. 

He took off his helmet, his hair ruffled, beads of sweat falling down his face, but a wide smile when he spots you with a wide grin striding towards him. It’s just like he imagined. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Everyone is looking, and this is the moment he could victoriously hold you. It would make his ego grow, the perfect highschool popular kid image never dwindling, but what would you think of it? God what if you pushed him off of you in front of everyone. 

As much as he could prevent things from happening or predict anything, he couldn’t have known that you would be the one to initiate his deep rooted fantasy. He couldn’t have prepared himself for your pretty lips that pressed against him in a chaste, sweet kiss. You felt so good against him, and he couldn’t find himself pulling away. He never expected himself to enjoy such a fucking cliche moment- but here he was, wanting more and more. 

He wants to tell you everything in that moment- how he wanted this too, how he’d imagined your lips against his, and how he wants to kiss you everywhere. He knows he could. He’d even blame it on the slip of his unruly tongue. Yet there was a boundary he’d have to walk upon, a fear of losing you prevailing his selfishness. He knows he won’t. 

“Wh-” he tries, and fails to still his breathing. Niki hopes you can’t hear the tremble in his voice “How was it?” he asks, his voice unsteady. He doesn’t care though. 

“Your game or the kiss” you smile, and he wonders how you can be so calm about this. 

He smiles shyly “Both” 

“Stop” you laugh and he feels himself float above his body “You did great” 

“All for you” his response is amorous. 

Niki can’t help but laugh at your silence, watching you replay those words in your head. He pats your head, and throws his arm over your shoulder. 

How could any of this possibly be fake? 

“Good fucking game dude” Eunseok exclaimed, with a bright smile on his face, as everyone else decided to join you by Niki’s side. 

You looked around, a giddy and gleeful Hana, hugging a tired and sweaty Sungchan, as he smiled at her affection. Everyone had happily come down to congratulate the team, but Minjun was nowhere to be seen. Maybe you never intended to hurt him, but you so obviously did. 

“Jake you better fucking continue this energy at your disgustingly rich mansion” Sunghoon warned, and Jake smiled at his words. 

“You don’t have to worry about that” he replied contentedly, and you were glad to see him like this. 

Jake was rich. Like really fucking rich. To the point that he was offended when ‘eat the rich’ was trending, defending that he didn’t choose this life. His mansion in the hills was the go to spot for summer and any other party.

 But then again, it’s not like he didn’t have people to clean up after everything goes silent. 

_____ 

“Y/n!” you turned, your eyes meeting Wonbin’s, as you entered the kitchen you knew better than anyone present. 

You smiled, as the boy moved in your direction holding a red solo cup. 

Wonbin was your designated drink mixer and party buddy for whatever event hosted by whoever. You wouldn't call him a close friend, rather a person you’d talk to only on a special occasion. 

“Where your boyfriend at?” he asked with a grin, making you chuckle. 

The word didn't make your heart feel weird anymore. It felt so natural, normal, and sometimes you’d even forget it was all fake. For the past couple of weeks you’ve learned to forget easily, not wanting to pick apart Niki’s actions to maybe notice a pattern. You didn’t want to accidentally misinterpret. 

“Probably playing some stupid game in the living room” you sighed, hoping to get a little more out of him this time. 

You knew that the fake relationship was coming to an end, it already had gone on for way too long. 

“Mhm” Wonbin hummed, resting his body on the kitchen counter “It’s fake isn’t it?” he asked, taking you by surprise. 

You had absolutely no idea what to say. Wonbin really wasn't a part of any friend group you knew or were in, so what was the shame in telling him the truth? But it’d hurt your pride too much to say the truth out loud. 

You avoided eye contact, not knowing what reply would secure your safety and not damage your pride. Your silence made Wonbin laugh “C’mon, you can tell me” 

“It’s so embarrassing” you admit, and he shakes his head. 

“Not really. There’s plenty of girls who dream of this whole fake dating type of shit” he defended, and it made you smile lightly. 

He was right. There were girls out there who fantasized about a fake relationship, and there definitely were also girls who dream about a relationship with Nishimura Riki. 

Even though you initially hated his guts, maybe you were lucky after all? 

“I just can't comprehend the fact you chose Niki out of all people to be your fake boyfriend” he chuckled, and took a sip of his own drink. 

“It was his idea, I promise” you replied, and Wonbin mouthed a ‘no fucking way’, unable to imagine Niki, the person who swore he hated everything about you, ask you to be his fake girlfriend. 

“People can be really annoying, and I guess we just had some things in common after all” you added, and he nodded, still trying to visualize the situation you described. 

In a way it felt good to tell someone. You had been hiding it for so long, the lies eating you alive. 

It had been so long that you didn't even know what had become of this initially fake relationship. The line had already been blurred a long time ago, and it was hard to move along it at this point. He had done so many things, in private, that you didn't know where you stood anymore. 

“I can tell you actually like him” Wonbin admitted, once again taking you by surprise “The way you talk about him, it’s different” 

“You act so smart and psychological, it’s so annoying” you huffed, and turned away from him, chugging the drink he had previously made for you. 

He laughed “The truth hurts, doesn't it?” 

“I don’t like Niki” you said, trying to sound as confident as you could, but Wonbin saw right through you anyway. 

He didn't want to continue the topic, knowing he had already exhausted your limits. You also knew that no matter what, admitting something like that out loud wouldn't be easy either. 

The built up hatred and anger you had for Niki, couldn't have just disappeared so easily after a couple conversations and hangouts. But it did. And it frustrated you so much. 

“You guys playing spin the bottle in the living room with us?” a red faced Hana asked, peeking her head into the kitchen slightly. 

“With us, meaning?” Wonbin asked, making Hana slightly stumble into the kitchen. 

She started putting down her fingers “Well me, obviously” she smiled “Sungchannie, thank god” she let out a steady, thankful breath “Some girls, Oh Jia, Lee Chae, I don’t really recognize the rest. Oh, and Eunseok, Yang Jungwon, Minjunnie and some others” she went on, her drunken state making the explanation much longer than it should've been. 

“No, no, no! Niki too! Y/n you need to come!” she exclaimed, eyes wide. She took your hand and pulled you with her. 

You looked at Wonbin pleadingly, and with a small smile he trailed right behind the two of you. He always claimed to be ‘too old’ for those type of games, but always ended up staying till the end of any. 

Park Wonbin was truly full of shit. 

Your eyes met Niki’s as he sat in the circle, his back pressed against the couch. You looked at him, mouthing ‘what are you doing’ and he pointed to Oh Jia sitting across from him. 

You knew she liked him, and it definitely didn't make you happy. 

“I can see some couples here, yall into shit like this?” Jungwon asked, eyeing not only you and Niki, but Hana and Sungchan who seemed to have already made the news that went around school. 

You chuckled quietly and shook your head “It’s nothing that serious, just a stupid game” 

“It will be serious for you soon” Jia mumbled, her friend turning to her with a shit eating grin. 

Oh if they only knew how absolutely out of it they looked. What the fuck were they even talking about anyway. 

“I don’t think we should be playing this” you whispered to Niki, who previously patted down a seat for you next to himself. 

“Look how many people are playing, doubt me or you will get chosen” he smiled, and you nodded.

Still, isn't the sole fact you are even agreeing to participate weird? Shouldn’t you be mingling in a closet somewhere deep inside the house? God what was he thinking. This was so unbelievable, and you weren't surprised  that Wonbin had caught on. 

“Me first!” Hana cheered excitedly, as Eunseok had finally brought a bottle to play with. 

You looked over at Sungchan, who had a sad expression on his face. You could see his eyes praying on the bottle to land on him, his hands trembling with each spin. It was cute. 

The Gods above must have heard his prayers, the bottle landing on him with no doubt. 

He smiled and leaned into your bestfriend to plant a quick kiss on her lips. She pouted and grabbing his head, pushed for more. Maybe she was drunk, but you knew she’d remember this well. Although a witness, you’d hear about it for a long long time. 

“I’m guessing you don’t want to spin, Sungchan?” Eunseok chuckled, and the boy holding onto Hana, shook his head no. 

“Two players down so quickly” a boy with black hair, who you didn't recognize, commented. 

While Jungwon went in to spin, your eyes caught Minjun’s. You couldn't read him, his expression stone cold. He was either mad at you or didn't care. That’s the thing, you didn't know. 

“Stop looking at him” Niki whispered, cutting your moment with Minjun short. 

“I think he’s mad at me” you said, and Niki furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Why?” he asked, eyeing Minjun down. 

“He figured it out, you know, figured us out” you replied, putting emphasis on the word ‘us’ “I didn't admit, obviously, and that’s why I think he’s mad. He’s convinced I played him on purpose” you added, and Niki’s gaze softened. 

“I’m sorry” he said quietly, his eyes falling onto his lap. 

You looked at him confused, “What are you talking about?” 

He finally looked over at you, his face displaying a half smile, that felt cold to you “I ruined your chances with Minjun. I guess I was only thinking about myself back then, so I’m saying sorry. I can talk to him when this is over” he answered, and you felt your heart break. 

He didn't like Minjun, you knew it very well. Minjun knew it too. But somehow he felt bad for the both of you. If only he knew how much you didn't care about Kim Minjun at this moment. How much you actually cared about the boy next to you. Maybe if he knew he wouldn't feel so sorry, you thought. 

“You don't have to be sorry, Niki. We both wanted this” you smiled, and squeezed his hand. 

“I can tell Niki really wants to go now” Sunghoon exclaimed, and hurried Niki to spin the bottle. 

The boy hesitated, looking over at you. You nodded for him to go ahead with a smile. God was this weird? You agreeing to your (fake) boyfriend playing fucking spin the bottle. Not only that , but playing with him. This was so stupid. 

He took the small soju bottle, and spinned it lightly. He prayed it would fall on you. 

Or one of his bros, no homo of course. 

The music was blaring, and you hoped that bottle could feel your intense stare, successfully landing on you. 

As much as luck was on Sungchan’s side today, he seemingly took all of it with him earlier. The bottle pointed straight at Oh Jia, the girl who was known for her little obsession with Niki. 

She looked at you with a disgusting smile, and moved her body towards Niki. He looked at you, and you didn't even know what to say. You couldn't tell him no, he wasn't yours after all. 

“Sorry, Y/n” she muttered, and you felt your blood boil at her annoying, high pitched voice. 

She moved even closer, but her actions were stopped with Niki moving the bottle's nozzle to point at you. 

He didn't even let you or Jia speak, eagerly going in to kiss your lips he missed so much. It hasn't even been 3 hours since you initiated the first one, but his lips starved for your touch. You could feel it. You could feel the desperation in his movements. The taste of his chapstick mixing in with the saliva, it was much more passionate than last time. 

“Payback for last time” he mumbled, pulling away, his voice unsteady. 

You looked at him dumbfounded. What the fuck did he just do? Was this another stunt to show off his cool, popular boy persona, cause it seemed just like that. But you couldn't blame him either, you started it. 

No matter what, it felt good, and you wondered how to get yourself to stop. 

“That’s cheating!” Jia’s friend exclaimed, crossing her arms. 

“The bottle is clearly on her, I don't know what you're talking about” Wonbin defended, and you smiled at him. 

Jia huffed, leaving the game along with her friend. 

“We’ll leave too” you said, watching them go upstairs. 

Jungwon sighed “I’m forced to kiss the boys now” 

You looked around, not a single woman in the circle that was initially full. 

You pulled Niki’s hand, taking him to an empty room. He felt confident at that moment, rehearsing his confession in his head. He was going to tell you. He was going to tell you, and it was going to be amazing. You’d listen to him in awe, and then agree to be his actual girlfriend. 

“I have something to tell you” he said, as you closed the door behind yourself. 

He sat down on the bed, and you stood in front of him “Me too” 

“You go first” he smiled, and you looked out the window, the words lingering at the tip of your tongue. 

You wanted to tell him how you actually felt. But you knew you couldn't. You were enemies, nothing more. 

“We should end this,” you said after a moment of silence. 

_____ 

Things had gone back to normal. 

You didn’t expect much from Niki, guessing he’d either be overly nice to you, expressing his thankfulness for helping him get rid of annoying fangirls, or go back to being annoying himself. 

But he was neither. He didn’t say anything. Just like he didn’t say anything that day, he had gone completely quiet ever since. Instead of teasing you, he ignored you. 

He ate lunch with the football team, and it hurt you to see him laugh purely with them. It even seemed like he had gotten along with Minjun, which confused you even further. They hated each other, but now? It seemed like they were just laughing at your misery, getting high off of seeing you like this. Was this just a huge plan to get you looking like a complete loser?

Maybe he should’ve been sorry that day, not only did you lose Minjun, but everyone of your fanboys at this school. That sounded awful, but it was partially true.

You two had only revealed the 'breakup' to your closest friends, not exactly reaching any agreement regarding the rest of the students. 

You could pretend to be mad at him in front of your friends, but it hurt you so much. It hurt to see him behave like this towards you, knowing you did nothing wrong. You two were never real, so why was he so different so suddenly. You just hoped that it was a performance for your friends to make it more believable, but as days went by, you started to doubt it. 

“This is a sign that I shouldn’t regret not dating Hana,” Sunghoon chuckled, looking over at the table Niki was seemingly having more fun at. He never laughed like this with all of you. 

Was it all for show?

“Fuck off” you mumbled, looking down at your lunch, which was vastly unappetising today. 

“It’s not your fault, Y/n, don’t worry. For all I know, it was probably his fault anyways” Jake said, which made you suddenly look up from your food for the first time in a while. 

“You defending me?” you chuckled, and he shrugged. 

You looked over at Niki once again, attempting to catch him looking at you too. 

But he can’t. He can’t bear to look at you. He can only think about the dark heat of that room, your words ringing in his ears. Resisting the searing force that wanted, more than anything, to try and tell you again. 

“God, this is so annoying!” Hana exclaimed “Y/nnie didn’t do anything, and he’s acting like a pussy all of a sudden” 

She pouted, a weird vibe circulating all of you today. It felt like you were mourning him in some way. 

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, a text message from Minjun lighting up your homescreen. It was ironic, a picture of you and Niki on your lock screen, a message from Minjun decorating it. 

Minjun: Can we talk? 

You thought about replying, the scenarios of him playing a stupid prank on you along with Niki replaying in your mind. Nevertheless, you texted back a short confirmation, and locked your phone. 

You could feel his eyes on you, as you set your phone down on the table. 

…

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked, your voice unsure of the situation. 

It felt familiar, meeting in the equipment room, but this time instead of Niki who had the prettiest face out there, it was Kim Minjun.

“I knew it was fake” he said, and you felt a heat rise to your cheeks. 

You looked away from him, your eyes landing on the window. The sky was gray, the sun no longer shining in through it. 

“I don’t want to talk about this again, Minjun,” you sighed, tired of the topic already. Especially tired of talking about it with him. 

“No that’s not the point” he stopped you from leaving, you turned towards him once again. 

“Then what is it Minjun? Did Niki tell you all about it? Did he tell you how stupid I was to fall for him, even though it was all fake? Did you get me to come here only so you could make fun of me for being so naive? Is that what it is?” you blurted out. You had suddenly lost control over your words, your response coming out much harsher than you intended. 

“What are you talking about? Do you seriously think I’m plotting behind your back with Niki?” he asked hurriedly. 

Now that he said it, out loud, it sounded so stupid. You knew Niki long enough to know he hates Minjun more than he has ever hated you, and would never ever make any deal with him.

“Maybe” you huffed, turning from him “I don’t know Minjun. Can you just say it already?” 

He sat down on the chair in the far right corner, his hand signaling for you to come closer, patting down the chair next to him. 

“I guess I did sort of figure it out, the fact that what you and Niki had was fake. But he told me about it himself recently. He also said you didn’t intend to hurt me, and that he forced you to do this whole fake dating thing” Minjun relayed the message, and you didn’t know Niki would remember your conversation during that stupid game. 

Niki was evidently mad at you for ending things with him, but encouraging Minjun to try with you once again? That was what pissed you off the most, you couldn’t figure him out in any possible way. One day you can’t figure out the actual intention behind his words, exchanging sweet words and kisses, and the other, going back to complete strangers. Not even enemies, strangers. 

“He really said that?” you asked, and Minjun nodded “I really didn’t want to hurt you Minjun. I’m sorry for leading you on, in some way. I should’ve never agreed to it in the first place” you add, avoiding eye contact with the boy. 

You hear him chuckle, and with a furrow to your eyebrows you look up at him. 

He smiles “It’s not your fault I already know that much. I shouldn’t have blown up on you before the match like that anyways. It truly is none of my business who you hang out with” he assured, and it made you feel a little better. 

“I know, but I just hope you can still speak to me comfortably after this” you gave him a small smile, still unsure of your situation with him. 

“I’m not going to try and get with you again though, don't worry” he said calmly, and although you knew it, it still felt weird to hear. 

You chuckled “Not to sound selfish, but why? Am I not cute anymore?” you pouted sarcastically, and he laughed. 

“I can see you like him, like a lot. I even felt stupid for saying those things to you, cause you made it so believable at the party. The way you look at him, the way you speak to him, that’s not fake. All of it is real, and I wouldn’t want to stand in the middle of that” he answered, and you felt your heart skip a beat. 

And you thought you were good at hiding it. 

“Niki doesn’t feel the same though” you gave him a sad smile, fiddling with the material of your sweater. 

“You think so?” he asks, but it doesn't necessarily sound like a question. 

You hum in agreement, and he chuckles lightly “The same goes for him. Trust me it’s real. I can see it, hear it and feel it. The way his voice was so sad yet hopeful when he spoke to me about you, I know he likes you. Niki is just really stubborn, and he’d rather live in misery and not tell anyone instead of just admitting his feelings to you, or honestly anyone else” he explains, and you feel your heart start to beat faster. 

Was he right? Did Niki like you? Or did Minjun have a terrible judge of character and all this way a complete bullshit.

“What should I do then? Gosh this is so annoying” you sighed, combing your fingers through your hair. 

“Tell him? What else is there to do? If I’m wrong, which I’m not” he smiled proudly “-and he doesn’t like you, I owe you big time” he offered. 

“I don’t know if I should take that risk, though” you said, and he rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Do you really want it to be like this for the rest of highschool? God, if he doesn’t like you, you’ll just find someone better” 

Easier said than done. 

But maybe he was right. At the end of the day you had nothing to lose, so why not just tell him?

“Fine” you grumble, and he laughs, taking your hand to pull you out of the room, before any teacher finds you. 

_____

You had left a note in his locker the next day, too scared to face him yourself. 

You waited, hiding your body behind the huge column, peeking to see if he had come to grab something from his locker already.

You felt like one of his fangirls. Giggling to yourself, as you awaited the arrival of your mighty savior, Nishimura Riki, hoping you are the one he picks. Hoping that he reads your note, and whispers an ‘I like you too’ rosy cheeked, hot breath and all. 

How did you get like this? You curse yourself for letting something so seemingly small, so innocent, writhe under your skin and possess your mind. 

You didn’t catch it, lost in your mind, envisioning the numerous scenarios that could occur after he receives your note. 

He sighs with annoyance, a note filling his locker, it had been so long since he received one, it felt unfamiliar. Niki was frustrated, hoping that the notes weren’t making a sudden comeback. 

He opens it, curious as to what it may be. He couldn’t help it, wanting to remind himself of the feeling reading confessions like this brought him. But what he didn’t expect was to see your name written on it. 

He thought it may have been a prank, a stupid way to get you back together made up by your dear friends, but it wasn’t. This was your handwriting, the same one that wrote all his physics notes and study guides. 

‘Niki, it’s Y/n. This is weird isn’t it? Like me writing notes to you. I hope you don’t see the pink envelope, and throw it out like you always do. But I’ll know if you do, anyways. Well first of all I wanted to apologize. I don’t even know what for, so this may be stupid, but I feel like I should. You looked so sad, and I know it’s because of me. So I’m sorry, Niki. If I did something wrong, something to hurt you, please tell me! Anyways, I wanted to tell you something. I like you Nishimura Riki. I’ve liked you for a long, long time now, but I myself didn’t know it just yet. But I’m saying it now, and I'm very much sure of it. I guess it took some stupid physics tutoring, geeky Wonbin and finally Minjun whom you hate so much for me to realize. God, maybe I shouldn’t talk about him in a note where I confess to you? Forget it. I didn’t kiss you that day to show off, I kissed you because I really freaking wanted to. And it felt so good when I did. So please don’t think I ended things with you that day because you kissed me, no, not at all. I guess I just couldn’t stand this relationship being fake, because to me, all the things I did were real. You don’t have to reciprocate, or even say anything, I just wanted you to know. And I would hope you feel the same, but it’s okay if you don’t’ 

His mouth runs dry. 

It explodes in his chest all at once; how bad he wants to grab a fistfull of your blazer, stroke his fingers against your ivory jaw, and kiss you senseless. He would rub his thumb against your swollen lips, and tell you how much he likes you. 

He looks around, spotting your shoe slightly peeking out from behind the column a little ahead of the lockers. 

“Baek Y/n!” he shouts, and you're suddenly brought back to reality. 

Your mind had been rushing for so long, you didn’t even notice Niki walking up to his locker, and managing to even read the whole note. 

You slightly peek your head out, and catch his eyes already looking at you. He strides towards you quickly, and you can’t tell if he’s mad or happy. He holds the note in his hand tightly as he stands in front of you. 

“What is this?” he smirks, and you still can’t tell if he’s about to make fun of you or return your feelings. 

You shrug, looking away from him. 

“It’s cute. You even put those stickers we bought at the stationery store on it” he points out, chuckling, and grabs your hand so you can face him again. “What do you think I’ll say now?” he tilts his head, and you find it incredibly attractive. 

“I don’t know” you murmured, unsure of the situation you have gotten yourself into. 

“Let’s see” he scans the note again “I think I like you too” he smiles, and you don’t know if he’s fucking with you or not. 

“You think?” you ask, copying his action by tilting your head slightly. 

He laughs “Are you really going to make me say it?” 

You nod with a smile “Mmm” 

“Yes Y/n, I like you. I don’t think I like you, I definitely like you. I’ve also liked you for a long time, but I didn’t want to admit it because I knew you probably didn’t. And that day, when you ended things, I wanted to tell you. But I’m glad you did it, even if I had to wait a little longer. That fake relationship was fucking with my head big time” he answers, and you feel stupid for not letting him speak first that day. You could’ve avoided this whole misunderstanding. 

But things happen for a reason. 

“Are you being for real?” you ask, and he chuckles. 

He grabs your shoulders “Very real” 

You pull him closer, tightly embracing his body. He smiles, the familiar scent hitting his nose. Niki’s cheeks are glowing red, and he can’t hide his toothy smile. 

“So would you want to be my girlfriend, like my real girlfriend” he asks, his voice muffled by the material of your sweater. 

You laugh lightly at his tone “I don’t know…. You tell me” you tease, and he pulls away to look at you with a small pout. 

“Cmon, just tell me” he pleads. 

“Yes Niki, I want to be your real girlfriend” you answer, emphasizing the word ‘real’. 

Now you could finally enjoy him, and by the way your heart beat, this time you were certain it was real. 

[pedroscurls]

teach me a thing or two (one-shot)

summary: you meet clint at a low point in your life. ironically enough, he meets you at his lowest too. what happens when you both realize you could teach each other a thing or two?

pairing: clint flood x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), mentions of grief (losing a partner), clint is a widower (just like in the movie), alcohol consumption, reader is inexperienced (but not a virgin), implied age gap (not specified though), unprotected p in v, size kink, creampie (oops!), dirty talk, oral (f! receiving), fingering (in public), no use of y/n. word count: 13k (wow this is a long one lol) a/n: this is part of @clubsoft's HAVE YOU EVER TRIED THIS ONE? writing challenge! thanks so much for hosting this challenge dulsè - i had so much fun writing clint (and it's my first time writing for this character so please bear with me lol). this was the prompt i received <3. honestly this is just complete filth (what's new lmao), so please heed the warnings and most of all, enjoy ;)

Oakland—it was supposed to be a place for you to settle down, lay your roots, and build a life with the man you thought you’d spend the rest of your days with. You had been naive—clueless—over the reality of what he really wanted. 

And what he really wanted was someone to pass the time with until someone better came along, someone who knew what she was doing because you—well, you didn’t. He had to guide you, had to show you how to please him and you could feel him becoming more impatient—annoyed. 

So when you came home after work one night, you could feel his absence. You could feel the emptiness, the haunting silence that filled your small apartment. You tried to call him, thinking that this was a mistake. Instead, you were met with an error message—he had disconnected his line. 

All that he left was a small piece of paper on your coffee table—Can’t do this anymore. No other explanation. You crumpled the piece of paper in your hand, balling it into a tight fist as tears began to stroll down your cheeks. 

He had made promises—promises that you believed to be true. You couldn’t move back home and you certainly couldn’t afford a plane ticket to even leave, so now here you are, stuck in a city that you still hadn’t gotten used to. 

Clint had managed to complete his last job over a year ago, but not without a price. He should be relieved that he’s finally retired—having been forced into a world that he didn’t choose, coerced into paying off his own father’s debt. Clint never had a chance, he knew that early in his life, but when he met Grace, it finally felt like he was finally given the opportunity to have his own life. 

And when he found out she was pregnant and that they were going to have a little girl, Clint made a vow to himself that he didn’t want to raise her in this kind of environment. He wanted to give her the choice to live the way she wanted—something he was robbed of himself. 

He shouldn’t have been so hopeful. He shouldn’t have celebrated so early because now Grace is gone and he’s all by himself, raising a little girl. His hands—once called the fists of fury—are now so gentle with his daughter. 

The first few months had been rough—how could he take care of this little person while trying to grieve the woman he thought he would spend the rest of his life with? 

He knew he had help—Sleepy Floyd had reached out to him and he had bumped into Tina and Lucid since losing Grace. His life and theirs were tangled with one another after that one fateful night. Sleepy Floyd had lost his mom and his girlfriend—something that he and Clint had bonded over the last few months. 

He thought of leaving Oakland, of starting fresh. But he couldn’t. Oakland was home. 

“Let me take care of her tonight,” Sleepy Floyd says, rocking the little girl in his arms. “You need a break.” 

“I’m fine,” Clint mumbles, running a hand over his face. 

“I can call Tina and Lucid—they can help out.” 

Clint shakes his head. “What am I gonna do?” 

“Just go out and grab a drink. Socialize,” he shrugs. The little girl in his arms squirms sleepily. “Or just go for a drive. I don’t know, Clint.”

“I just—I don’t want to leave her. What if she needs me while I’m gone?” He whispers, looking down at his hands. 

“We’ll be okay, Clint. You’ve made sure that I was taken care of. It’s time I return the favor.” 

Clint rolls his eyes. “You know you don’t owe me anything.” 

He scoffs. “Just—clear your head, yeah?”

Clint tightens his jaw. He loves his little girl—he’d do anything for her—but there’s a part of him that wonders if she would be better off without him. Sometimes, she’d cry and cry and nothing he’d do would work. Not until he’d play Grace’s mixtape that they both had created specifically for their daughter. It brought tears to his eyes, but it calmed her down. 

“Okay,” he sighs in defeat. “I’ll be gone for one hour.” 

Sleepy Floyd chuckles. “Wow. That’s a real long time. You sure about that?” 

Clint lets the corner of his lips lift upwards before he stands from his couch. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up and take care of my girl, will you?” 

“With my entire life, Clint,” he says seriously. Both men stare into each other’s eyes for a moment—an unspoken thought that passes across their features. They’re both remembering that night. 

“One hour,” Clint repeats. “That’s all I’m taking.” 

He didn’t know why he pulled up to this bar. It was calling out to him the moment he passed it, but when he stepped inside—clad in his normal leather jacket, dark denim jeans, boots and slicked back hair—that he realized misery loves company. It’s a hole in the wall kind of bar—small, quiet, and a few solo patrons scattered around the area. He felt like the people who were there might also have felt a pull to this bar for the same reason he did—he didn’t want to be noticed, didn’t want to be bothered, and this was the perfect place. 

No one even spares a glance in his direction once he steps inside. The music is quiet and he moves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. As he approaches the bar, he nods at the bartender and the older man walks towards him. 

“What can I get for you?” 

“Beer is fine, thanks.” 

“Keep the tab open?” 

“No, you can close it out. Thanks,” he answers. Clint passes him enough money to cover the drink, plus tip, before he takes a seat on the barstool. 

He looks over his shoulder when he hears the door open. Clearing his throat, Clint can’t help but allow his eyes to take in your frame. You look so casual—light washed denim jeans that seem to cling to every curve from your waist down to your hips, a low cut black tank top with an oversized flannel. He watches you raise your chin in the air, signaling to the bartender—there’s a familiarity that he senses between you and the people in this bar. You’re a regular, he deduces. He sees the way you greet the people, how your smile meets your eyes, but he can’t help but notice how miserable you really look. 

It takes one to know one, he assumes. 

Then, your eyes meet his and Clint straightens in his seat. He turns around and faces ahead of him. He doesn’t spare you another glance until he feels you sit next to him. 

“You’re new,” you say first. 

“Hm?” He mutters. 

“You’re new,” you repeat. “Haven’t seen you around here before and I’m here almost every night.” 

“You work here?” 

You shake your head. “No.” 

“And you’re here every night?” 

You tighten your jaw. “It’s comfortable. Quiet.” 

Clint nods, but he still hasn’t glanced over at you. The bartender approaches the both of you and he sets down a glass of beer in front of him and a glass in front of you—yellow, fruity. It catches his attention—the color of the drink and how it looks so out of place in a bar like this, just like how you look like you don’t belong here. 

“That orange juice or something?” 

You let out a quiet laugh and that finally causes him to turn. Clint looks up at you as you’re laughing and he can’t help the smile that begins to line his lips. You’re cute, he thinks, and there’s something about you that feels lighter—like you’re adding color to the very dark atmosphere of the bar (and his life). 

“You think I’d come to a bar for orange juice?” 

Clint shrugs. “Well, it doesn’t look like a drink to me.” 

You lean over the counter of the bar and grab an extra straw. “Try it.” 

“What?” 

“Try it,” you repeat. 

Clint chuckles dryly. “You’re asking for trouble.” 

“Am I?” You set the straw next to his hand on a small napkin—a gesture, an invitation, an offering. You’re being friendly. 

“What is it then?” He asks. 

“It’s called a Fuzzy Navel,” you answer with ease 

Clint almost chokes on his beer and he looks over at you, eyes narrowed in confusion. “What kind of drink is named that?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, but it’s good.” You take the straw that’s already in your glass and wrap your lips around it, slowly sucking the contents into your mouth. Clint drops his gaze momentarily—eyes mesmerized by the way your soft lips look.

“It’s peach schnapps and orange juice,” you continue. “So I guess you’re partially right. Guess I do come here for the orange juice.” 

He chuckles to himself. You’re funny and you’re beautiful. He feels a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach as his left thumb absentmindedly brushes against his ring finger—now naked and bare without his wedding ring. 

“So…” you begin. “You wanna try it?” 

Clint looks at you—there’s a hopeful glint in your eye and something he can’t quite place. He shrugs a shoulder and grabs the straw before he turns in his seat. His entire body faces you now and he leans forward, placing his straw in your drink. He watches your eyes move from his own to his lips—oh, it’s that kind of look. 

He takes a small sip of your drink, makes a face at the sweetness and then leans back in his seat. Clint watches your eyes move across his face, taking note of the scar across his cheek and he can see you lean closer. 

“Too sweet,” he mumbles. 

You smile, taking the straw that remains in your glass—the same straw that he just used—and you wrap your lips around it. You’re looking up at him through your eyelashes, batting them innocently in his direction. This isn’t what you’re used to, but after seeing the new girl that your ex-boyfriend was with, you were determined to just spend one night with a complete stranger. 

You needed someone to look at you the way your ex-boyfriend had looked at the woman he was with. 

You weren’t sure what would happen if this man—this stranger—would take you up on your unspoken offer. The entire relationship with your ex-boyfriend consisted of him telling you what to do and after a while, he grew impatient and bored. 

But this man—he was older and you knew that he could teach you a thing or two. 

If he was willing. 

“You don’t like sweet things?” you tease. The straw is still in your mouth, but you’re playing with it—teasing him and you can see the way his eyes move to where your teeth grazes the straw. 

“Oh, I do,” he answers instantly. “Believe me, baby, I do.”

Baby. You clear your throat and for a moment, your faux-confidence falters and he smirks. This time, he leans in closer as his knees bump against yours. “And something tells me that you,” he whispers lowly. “Taste sweet too.”

The gasp leaves your lips before you could even stop yourself. The heat in your cheeks rise and you can feel the wetness begin to pool between your legs. You had never felt like this with your ex-boyfriend. 

Slowly, you dare to lean forward as you set aside your glass. Hesitantly, your hands rest on his thighs and you hear him inhale sharply. He doesn’t move, though—a clear indication that what you were doing was completely fine and he was more than willing to allow you to touch him. 

“You want to find out?” You ask quietly. 

Clint can feel the warmth of your palms on his thighs and he looks down to watch you slowly inch your way upwards. Something in him breaks and he takes your hands and slowly pushes you away. He sees the look of disappointment flicker across your features before you put up that same wall that he’s put up around himself. You’re hurting and he can see it. 

“Too old for you,” he finally answers. “Pretty sure someone like you has someone waiting for her at home.” 

You shake your head and turn back in your seat, now facing ahead of you as you reach up to let your arms rest against the counter of the bar. “Nope,” you reply. “Just me.”

Clint’s brow furrows—your demeanor changes drastically and he’s sure that it wasn’t because he turned you down. He sees you remove the straw he used and place it on a napkin. He figures you didn’t want to talk about it any further, so he turns in his seat and faces forward too. 

“That scar,” you begin. “What happened?” 

Clint doesn’t look at you. He takes his glass of beer and takes a long swig of the contents. One drink. One hour. That’s all he promised himself, but the way the question comes out of your mouth—so soft, hesitant, and curiously gentle has him answering without a second thought. 

“Got into a fight. The other guy had a knife. All I had were these,” he answers, lifting his hands and balling them into fists. 

You glance over at him, taking note of his large hands. You don’t say anything for a while—too engrossed in the mystery of this man sitting next to you. For a while, you had gotten used to the people that would usually come to this bar. They were regulars, like you. This bar—there was a sense of comfort, a sense of belonging that you felt because you weren’t the only one who felt like shit. 

Then, Clint turns his gaze to you. His deep brown eyes bore into your own and you can see the scar so clearly again. The tips of your fingers itch to reach out for him, but you don’t move an inch. He had already rejected you anyway. 

“Did you win?” 

Clint chuckles. “Yeah. I did.” 

You smile at that, but your eyes drift towards the dimple in his cheek. Just as it appears, the smile drops from his lips. His brows furrow slightly and he tilts his head. 

“Your eyes…” you whisper. “There’s sadness in them.” 

Clint looks away and his jaw tightens. “I’m just tired.” 

You sigh quietly. “My ex-boyfriend left me a few months ago. I’m new here, having moved because he had convinced me and then he just… left. Disconnected his phone. Left me a fucking note and no explanation. Then tonight, I see him with his new girlfriend.” Your own hands ball into fists and Clint looks down at them—they’re much smaller than his own. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, unsure of what to say to make you feel better. After all, he isn’t sure if he had the ability to make anything better. “That’s shitty.” 

“Took everything from me. I was so naive thinking that my first real boyfriend would be the one I settle down with,” you mumble. You down the rest of your drink and raise your hand in the air to signal to the bartender for another refill. 

Clint clears his throat. He can see the pain so clearly etched on your features—the unshed tears glistening over your eyes, your lips pulled into a small frown, brows furrowed like you’re still trying to understand yourself how this could happen. There’s something about the way you trust him that eases his nerves. 

He takes a deep breath and says, “I lost my wife about a year ago… almost lost my little girl too.” 

Your eyes look up at him and there’s a sense of comfort he feels at the way you’re gazing at him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You feel embarrassed—here you were, talking about your asshole of an ex-boyfriend and this man had lost the woman he was married to. It explains the sadness in his eyes, you figure. 

“Me too,” he says quietly. Clint doesn’t get into detail about how she died—it isn’t something he wants to relive or tell you about. 

There’s a comfortable silence that fills the air and he feels your hand gently rest over his own. He sees the way you brush your thumb across the back of his hand and he can’t help the way your touch seemingly manages to calm him down, and he lets out a relieved, yet shaky exhale. 

“I bet you’re a really great dad,” you whisper quietly. 

Clint lets the corner of his lips lift as his mind drifts to his daughter. “I try to be,” he answers. There’s a deeper meaning behind his words—he wants to say that he’s trying to be better than his own father, trying to give his little girl a chance at life… which was something he never had. 

When you pull your hand away from his, Clint turns his gaze to you. The bartender sets another drink in front of you and he can’t help the sudden desire to feel your touch again. You—a stranger—managed to get him to talk about things he normally wouldn’t talk about. 

He wonders if you could teach him a thing or two about that, about how important it is to talk about the difficult shit that he’s been pushing down—hoping they’d just go away. 

“So, you’re here every night?” Clint asks quietly. 

You nod. “Yeah, I live close by actually. So, after work, I come here.” 

“So, if I’m here again this week, I’ll see you?” 

You turn to him and there’s a small smile on your lips. “Yes, you’ll see me.” 

“And maybe we can just… talk?” Clint asks, almost hesitantly. 

“As long as you don’t make fun of my drink, then yeah, we can talk,” you laugh quietly. 

Clint chuckles and nods in agreement. “Okay, that’s fair. You and your orange juice with a splash of alcohol,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes playfully, but you’re still giggling. “What’s your name, by the way?” 

“Oh, right. I’m Clint.” He extends a hand out for you and he sees you look down at his hand. 

You reach for his hand and gently shake it in your own. Your eyes move to his and you smile, telling him your name in return. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, smiling as his dimple makes another appearance. He slowly lets go of your hand and then finishes his beer. One drink. One hour. He glances at his watch and then stands from the stool he had been sitting on. 

“Have a nice night, Clint,” you tell him. 

“You too, baby,” he winks, seeing the way you bite your lower lip. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Clint steps inside his home to see Sleepy Floyd shut his daughter’s bedroom door. He removes his leather jacket and sits on the couch, leaning his head back against it as he shuts his eyes. 

“Thanks for watching her,” Clint says, feeling the other man sit next to him. 

“Of course. You know I’m happy to watch her anytime. How’d it go?” 

“Fine,” he shrugs, his mind drifting to you. 

“Where’d you go?” 

“To a bar.” 

Sleepy Floyd grins. “You talk to anyone?” 

Clint glances over at him. “Yeah, she was nice.” 

“She?” 

“Don’t make a big deal.” 

Sleepy Floyd chuckles and reaches over to grip Clint’s shoulder. “I’m not. I’m just—I’m happy for you.”

“It’s nothing,” Clint shrugs. “It was a hole-in-the-wall kind of bar. Quiet. I think I’m gonna go back there again this week.”

“Yeah?” His grin broadens. “Are you going back for the vibe of the bar or because of this woman you met?” 

Clint rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be going home now?” 

Sleepy Floyd chuckles and stands up from the couch, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I’m going. I’m glad to hear you had a nice time, Clint.” 

Clint looks up at him and nods, biting the inside of his cheek. “Can you watch her again this week?” 

“You bet,” he nods. 

Once he leaves, Clint stands up from the couch and quietly walks into his daughter’s room. She’s sleeping peacefully and he reaches down to gently run his finger across her cheek. She squirms in her sleep but leans closer to his touch and a small smile lines his lips. 

“Good night, sweet angel,” he whispers and leans over the crib to kiss the top of her head. 

When you finally get home, your mind drifts to Clint. Tonight had started off as a nightmare, but seeing him—meeting him—made you hopeful. You were no longer thinking about your ex-boyfriend or the woman that he was now with, but instead, thinking of the next time you’d get to see Clint. 

You still couldn’t believe that you had tried to get him to sleep with you tonight—it would have been your first ever one night stand. Though, his initial rejection didn’t hurt you like you thought it would. You were inexperienced and you certainly didn’t want only one night with him. 

For the next few days, you didn’t change your routine. You still went to the bar like you normally would, but you would be lying if you said that you weren’t disappointed every time you didn’t see him. 

Tonight, though, a part of you didn’t want to go to the bar. You didn’t know if you could be disappointed again and your mind has started to drift back to your ex-boyfriend. It didn’t help that when your phone rang that night, it was your ex-boyfriend asking if you could check to see if he had forgotten a few of his things at your apartment. He didn’t bother to ask how you were doing or provide some kind of explanation for why he left. You should’ve hung up on him, shouldn’t have entertained the idea of looking for the things he was asking for, but you set the phone down to search for what he was looking for.  

When you did find it, you walk to pick up the phone again. Then, you hear another woman’s laughter on the other end of the line and you lie to him. You tell him you couldn’t find it and that it’s likely not here. Without allowing him to even respond, you hang up the phone and feel tears trickle down your cheeks. 

Clint is a distant thought and you grab your bag, pull on a hoodie and leave your apartment. You’re not watching where you’re going as you’re walking to the bar—it’s just about a five minute walk anyway. Suddenly, you bump into someone and you mumble an apology, not bothering to look up. 

It isn’t until you hear your name and his voice. You turn and look up at Clint. He’s dressed in that same leather jacket, but he’s wearing a plaid shirt underneath paired with his dark blue pants and boots. You can see the streaks of grey along his slicked back hair and in his beard, but his eyes—while still sad—holds some kind of surprised excitement at the sight of you. 

The tears fall from your eyes without warning and his entire expression softens instantly. “Whoa, hey…” he whispers. “Are you okay?” 

You nod, despite you bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from your eyes. “I’m fine. Are you heading to the bar?” 

Clint nods slowly. “Said I’d see you again this week.” 

“Yeah, well guys say things they don’t mean all the time,” you shrug. 

Clint scoffs quietly. “You’ve been with some boys, baby. Men keep their word.” 

You glance up at him, eyes still watery. “Well, only ever been with one person—”

“Surely you’ve had some flings before or after that?” 

You shake your head. “Nope. I’m an inexperienced woman. Who’d want that?” You don’t bother to wait for him to respond, having begun walking towards the bar.  

Clint clears his throat as he watches you walk away, eyes drifting to your backside as the denim pants cling to every curve yet again. Inexperienced, he thinks. He couldn’t believe it—you had so much confidence the last time you two saw each other that it’s hard to believe that you hadn’t been with anyone else other than that ex-boyfriend of yours. 

He sighs and jogs to catch up with you, hand resting lightly on your lower back. “So, we gonna drink anything different tonight or are we drinking your spiked orange juice?”

You look up at him, a smile now lining your lips as you let out a quiet laugh. “Hey, that’s my go-to drink. Don’t make fun.” 

Clint chuckles and steps inside with you. You’re walking towards the bar, but instead he leads you to a booth instead. “Is this okay?” 

You nod up at him, sliding into the booth across from him. Before you can say anything though, he points towards the bar and flashes you a small smile. “First round will be on me. Spiked orange juice for you and just a beer for me,” he winks and then turns on his heel. 

You roll your eyes playfully and watch him from your table. You look at him from top to bottom, seeing him lean forward against the counter of the bar. The leather jacket he’s wearing pulls tight across his broad back and you clear your throat quietly—the same attraction you felt the first time you met him making an appearance yet again. 

The phone call with your ex-boyfriend lingers as Clint makes his way back to the table. He slides in across from you and sets down your glass in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking a small sip of your drink. “This spiked orange juice is good,” you grin. 

Clint chuckles to himself and takes a sip of his own beer before he sets it back on the table. He had been looking forward to seeing you all week and he can’t help but feel a sense of comfort around you—it had been something he was craving since the first night he met you. 

“So,” he mumbles. 

“Sorry,” you interrupt. “About earlier,” you continue, playing with your straw. 

“Don’t be,” he answers. “Everything okay?” 

“My ex-boyfriend called,” you respond, biting the inside of your cheek. You don’t look up at him, slightly embarrassed about your reaction to the fact that your ex-boyfriend still has such an effect on you. “It’s stupid. I’m okay.” 

Clint furrows a brow and then stands from his side of the booth to move to your side, taking a seat next to you. One of his arms drapes over the back of the booth, allowing you to scoot closer to his side if you wanted. 

You glance up at him and inch closer, but still decide to keep a reasonable amount of distance between your bodies. You can’t help but feel safe with him nearby and when you look into his deep brown eyes, there’s a sense of calmness that washes over you. It’s oddly comforting. 

“You’re not stupid,” Clint finally responds. “You must have really loved him.” 

“Not sure if it was ever really love to begin with,” you answer. “He was my first real boyfriend who made a lot of promises that he probably never intended to keep.” 

Clint sighs quietly and reaches over the table to grab his beer with his free hand. He moves his eyes away from you for a moment—he’s had plenty of moments where he’s made promises that he didn’t keep. Couldn’t keep. 

“Then I suppose he did you a favor,” he says. “You don’t want someone like that anyway.” 

“I just—do men really care if a woman is inexperienced?” You ask honestly. 

Clint shrugs. “Can’t speak on behalf of the entire male population,” he answers. “But personally, I don’t care.” He takes a sip of his beer and sets it back down on the table. He can see the way your eyes slightly widen in his direction. “Makes it more fun.” 

“Fun?” 

Clint nods. “Yeah. Being able to teach her, show her the ropes…” 

“I’m sure you’d be a great teacher,” you blurt out. Heat rises in your cheeks and you turn your attention to your drink, taking a long sip of it to ease some nerves. The conversation with your ex-boyfriend lingers, but you can’t help but feel the tension that builds between you and Clint. 

“Maybe,” he smiles. He doesn’t want to push, despite the pull that he feels towards you. There’s an obvious attraction he feels for you, but there’s something else that he can’t put his finger on. You make him want to talk about the serious and difficult conversations that he’s tried so hard to just ignore. 

“I’m assuming that’s one of the reasons why my ex-boyfriend broke up with me. I guess he got tired of—of having to constantly show me what to do.” 

“Another reason why you wouldn’t want someone like that,” Clint repeats. “Did you at least enjoy yourself?” 

“Myself?” You furrow a brow, looking up at him with a genuine confused look on your face. “I mean, it felt nice…”

Clint’s eyes narrow slightly as he leans in closer to you. “Nice?” He asks. “Did you ever finish?” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. I was just—I was following his lead.” 

Clint sighs quietly as he leans in further, moving his lips to hover near your ear. He can hear you inhale sharply at the close proximity and he smiles to himself. “Oh, baby… He had no idea what he was doing.” 

With a quiet gasp, you pull away and look up at him. Still confused, but definitely aroused. “W—What?” 

“The goal isn’t for him to finish… I mean, not necessarily.” He answers. “Men will make sure that the woman finishes first before he does. Sounds to me like you were with a boy who had no idea how to please a woman.” 

You bite your lower lip and can feel the throbbing between your legs—you’ve never been this excited before. You gently reach out to rest a hand on his thigh, his legs moving in your direction from beneath the booth. You stare up at him, seeing the way his brown eyes darken in your direction. “And you?” You ask quietly—innocently—as your hand slowly inches up his thigh. “Do you know how to please a woman?” 

His hand gently brushes along your back, keeping his arm loosely draped over the back of the booth. You’re warm under his fingertips and he can feel his jeans tighten around the center—manhood throbbing, becoming hard from beneath the fabric. “In a way you never experienced before,” he answers quietly. 

“If I ask you to come home with me, will you reject me again?” You ask honestly. You stare into his eyes, fingertips rubbing circles on his thigh. “If I ask you to teach me, Clint, will you say yes?” 

Clint exhales shakily as he stares into your eyes. The guilt that he feels in the pit of his stomach comes back and lingers—reminding him that he had lost Grace over a year ago. He shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of saying yes, of going back to your apartment, of teaching you what it means to feel good, but fuck—you’re looking at him in a way that makes him want to say yes. 

“I don’t think I’m the right person for that,” he finally answers, but he makes no move to pull away. Clint’s eyes deviate to your lips, seeing it form into a small pout. Without hesitation, he reaches up and brushes the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. A flicker of shock flashes across his features, but when he sees your lips part and you lean in closer to him, he relaxes. You want this just as badly as he does. 

“No?” you ask, moving one of your hands from his thigh up to his chest, beginning to play with the button on his flannel. “How about you tell me what you’d teach me?” 

Clint’s eyes narrow slightly. “How about you tell me what that ex-boyfriend of yours taught you?” 

You falter for a moment as your mind flashes back to the plenty of times where your ex-boyfriend had guided you during sex. “Oh… Um…” you whisper, feeling just slightly embarrassed now. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now, baby. You’re the one that started this,” he says, thumb moving down your lower lip to your jawline. 

“How about I show you instead?” You ask, feeling his muscles underneath your touch. 

“I have every reason to say no,” he answers quietly, leaning in closer. Clint can feel your breath fan against his lips—inches separating the two of you now. “But for some reason, I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” you reply simply. 

“You barely know me.” 

“And you barely know me,” you quip back. 

“Is this really what you want?” 

You nod slowly—eagerly. “Yes,” you breathe out. 

“I’m broken,” Clint admits. “I lost my wife because of my own mistakes. I’m not a good man.” 

You see the sadness in his eyes again and you gently reach up to cup his cheek, feeling the stubble of his beard against your touch. “Something tells me you’re very hard on yourself,” you whisper. “Even for the small things.” 

“I still love my wife,” he replies. 

“I’m not expecting anything out of this,” you sigh quietly. “And I wouldn’t ever force you to forget your wife.” He leans into your touch and his eyes fall shut momentarily. “And I also don’t want to force you into something you’re not ready for.” 

Clint opens his eyes and stares into your own. He leans closer as the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I do want this. Want you.” 

You let out a relieved sigh. “I was beginning to think that it was just me,” you tease. “Besides, we can just talk. I’ve got a feeling that you rarely talk about what’s bothering you or what’s on your mind.” 

Clint nods slowly in agreement and he turns his head to press his lips on your cheek. He pulls away and looks down at you, watching your own hands move back to your lap. “Talking never got me places,” he admits. 

“Ah,” you say, grabbing your glass. “Your fists do all the talking, huh?” 

Clint shrugs—Grace had been such a safe haven for him. She understood his upbringing and never pushed him to talk about things that he wasn’t comfortable with. Over time, though, Clint felt more at ease with the difficult topics. He had felt safe with her—a feeling he had never felt before. 

But now she’s gone and while Sleepy Floyd, Tina, and Lucid have tried to get him to talk, Clint never goes into too much detail about what he’s feeling. About how lost he feels… or the failure and guilt that eats at him.  

“Yeah,” he finally answers. 

“Well,” you continue after taking a sip of your drink. “If you ever do want to just talk, I’m always happy to listen.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. “It’s hard… talking about the difficult shit, but I think talking is better than keeping it bottled in.” 

“You speaking from experience?” 

“Yeah, actually, I am.” You sigh and look up at him. “Why else do you think I’ve been here almost every night? I’m drowning my sorrows like everyone else here. I haven’t even talked about my ex-boyfriend since the break up… but you make it easy.” 

“You make it easy too,” Clint admits. “Talking about my wife—it’s fucking hard, but you’re making it easy. Or as easy as it can be.” 

“Tell me about her?” You ask, biting your lower lip after you finish your drink. 

Clint lets out a sigh and brings his drink to his lips, taking a quiet sip of his beer. “She was too good for me,” he begins. “I don’t know what I did to ever deserve her.” 

“What was her name?” 

“Grace,” he answers. His eyes fill with sadness as he remembers all of the memories that he’s shared with her, but it doesn’t last long. Her death overshadows every memory he has of her and all he can think—can remember—is the pain of losing her without even saying goodbye. “And she loved movies.” 

“And she was the woman of your dreams?” 

Clint nods. “The love of my life,” he answers honestly. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and reach over to rest your hand over his. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “You know, it’s been so hard to talk about her that I just… don’t. Seems easier that way,” he admits. “Does that make me seem shitty?”

You shake your head. “It makes you human,” you answer. “And you’ll eventually find your own way to deal with losing her.”

Clint looks up at you—still a stranger in his eyes—and for once since losing Grace, he feels like the heaviness he forced himself to carry feels just a little bit lighter. It’s still there; it isn’t going to just disappear after one brief conversation, but it makes him hopeful. 

Hopeful that one day he’ll be able to think and talk about Grace without the feeling of guilt.

“You just have a way with words, don’t you?” Clint asks, his eyes glistening with tears that threaten to spill over. He blinks them away and tears his gaze from you to look down at your hand still resting atop of his. 

You shrug and give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Grief isn’t linear, Clint. And not only did you lose your wife, but you also have a child that you have to think about. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” you sigh. “But I hope you continue to talk about Grace. I’m sure one day your little girl will ask about her mama and I hope when that day comes, you’ll be more than ready to talk about her.”

“Will you help me?” Clint blurts out. 

“With your grief?” 

He nods, almost shyly. “Yeah… and in return, maybe I can help you too.” 

“With…” you whisper, voice trailing. 

“Yeah, with that,” he answers for you. 

“I’m sure you’d be able to help more than I can help you,” you reply quietly. “And I don’t think that’d be fair—”

“You’ve helped me more than you know already,” Clint interrupts. “But only if you want this too.” 

“Yes,” you answer immediately. “I want this, want you to teach me.” 

Clint smiles and then pulls his hand from your own, now reaching up to rest gently on your cheek. “Good.” His eyes deviate to your lips, watching you bite your lower lip and he lets out a shaky breath. Slowly, Clint runs his thumb across your bottom lip, your lips parting for him. “I’m gonna get another drink. You want your spiked orange juice?” He teases.  

Your eyes narrow up at him. “Fuzzy Navel! It’s called a fuzzy navel, Clint.” 

He laughs quietly. “Hmm, I think my name for the drink is better.” 

You roll your eyes playfully and gently push him away. Once he stands from the booth, you do so as well. “You know what, you’re mean so I’m just gonna buy my own drink.” As you begin walking away, Clint takes your hand and gently tugs you back into him. Once your body collides with his, his hands immediately move to your hips as your hands move to rest on his chest. 

“Nah,” he says. “You’re gonna go back and sit down like a good girl and wait for your drink.” 

You clear your throat as you stare up at him. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as the front of his body presses firmly against your own. “I—Uh, I—,” you stammer. Dirty talk was something your ex-boyfriend used to do and you had never found it arousing, but the way Clint’s speaking to you now, you begin to realize that maybe your ex-boyfriend truly had no idea what he was doing. 

Clint leans forward, lips brushing against your ear. “You gonna be a good girl for me, baby?” He squeezes your hips and he hears you let out a quiet whimper. 

“Y—Yes,” you answer, eyes falling shut as you feel the same throbbing sensation between your legs once again. 

“Attagirl,” he smiles, pulling away and beginning to walk towards the counter of the bar. 

You slide back into the booth, hands wringing in your lap as Clint’s words echo in your mind. You look over at him and he’s gazing at you from over his shoulder, a small smirk lining his lips as he waits for the bartender to make your drink. 

After a few minutes, Clint’s walking back to the booth with your drink in tow. He sets it down in front of you and slides back into the booth next to you. He opts to keep his arm at his side instead of draping it over the back of it. He’s slowly losing his resolve, especially with the way your lips wrap around the straw once again. 

“So,” you begin, setting your glass down once you’ve taken a sip. “You’re distracting.”

Clint laughs quietly. “Can say the same thing about you.”

You roll your eyes playfully but find yourself inching closer to him. He glances over at you and takes a long swig of his beer before he, too, sets it down on the table. The tension lingers in the air and you both catch each other’s gaze—pupils dark and filled with lust. 

Desire. 

Need.

“Y—You always talk like that?” You finally ask. 

“Like what?” 

“You know what.” 

Clint smirks and turns to face you as his arm once again drapes over the back of the booth. He leans in close—close enough to hear a quiet gasp leave your lips. “Tell me.” 

“D—Dirty talk,” you mumble. “You always talk dirty like that?” 

“Why?” He asks. “Did you like it?” 

You nod slowly, feeling his large hand move to rest on your knee. “Yes,” you answer. “My ex—he used to talk dirty but never like that.” 

“Maybe we should talk about what he taught you, or what he thought he taught you and we can go from there. That okay?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I think that’s a good plan.” 

“Great,” Clint smiles, rubbing small circles on your knee. He feels you lean forward and press your soft lips onto his cheek—his eyes fall shut at the sensation, leaning into you. “But we aren’t doing anything tonight,” he says quietly. 

“W—Why not?” 

“We’ve been drinking. Don’t want you to regret this in the morning.” 

You smile to yourself and wrap your arms slowly around his neck. You move your legs to drape over his lap, feeling his hand move from your knee to your hip. “I wouldn’t regret it, wouldn’t regret you, Clint. I’ve thought about you the entire week.” 

Clint clears his throat. “Yeah?” 

You nod, leaning in to bury your face against the crook of his neck. Your lips move lightly along his neck, teeth grazing his pulse point. His grip tightens around your hip as a result. “Yeah… Would you at least teach me one thing tonight?” 

Slowly beginning to lose his resolve, Clint pulls back enough to look into your eyes. You’re staring up at him with feigned innocence and your lower lip pulled between your teeth. “And what’s that?” 

“How it feels like to come? Would you be able to teach me that?” 

Clint’s eyes darken instantly. “W—What?” 

“I mean, I know how to make myself come, but at the hands of someone else?” You shake your head. “I don’t really know what that feels like. Surely it won’t feel any different than if I were to do it myself, but—”

Clint grunts lowly and leans forward, nose brushing against your own. “Your ex never took care of you, did he?” He clicks his tongue and moves a hand from your hip to gently tug at the waistband of your pants. “And how long were you with him?” 

“Couple of years,” you answer, breath hitching in your throat as you feel his hand slowly tug down the zipper and undo the button on your pants. 

“Shame,” he whispers, hand now sliding into your pants as he brushes his fingers along your clothed sex. You’re warm between your legs and he can feel the wetness on the fabric of your panties. “Something tells me,” Clint mumbles, eyes staring deeply into your own. “You’ll come right here, right now with my hand in your pants.” 

“Clint,” you whimper, legs slightly parting for him. You’re both still seated in the booth in the corner of the bar—it’s dark and no one else here is paying attention to either of you. “I—I don’t think I can stay quiet,” you tell him honestly. 

“Guess you’ll have to try real hard then, huh?” He smirks, running the pad of his thumb across your clothed clit. Clint applies pressure and slowly begins to rub you in circles. A strained moan escapes your lips as your hands link together at the nape of his neck—foreheads still pressed firmly against one another. “You’re real wet, baby,” Clint whispers. 

Your eyes flutter at his movements—you had experienced this before, but never this slow, never this careful, never this strategic. Usually, your ex-boyfriend would rush this, never fully giving you a chance to enjoy yourself. “Clint, I—I need more,” you whimper. “Please…” 

“Patience, baby,” Clint smiles. He pulls his hand away from you only to slide it back in—this time inside your panties so you can feel his touch without the fabric getting in the way. When the pads of his fingers touch your lips, he lets out a low groan at the feel of your wetness. “Yeah, real wet…”

You gasp quietly and feel one of his thick fingers slide into you. You can already feel yourself trembling—a sensation that you hadn’t felt. When Clint slowly begins to pump his finger in and out of you, a strained moan leaves your lips. You’re trying so hard not to make any noise, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult with how quick his finger moves in and out of you. “Fuck,” you whimper, eyes falling shut when you feel him slide another finger inside of you. 

“Can feel you getting close,” Clint whispers, feeling you bury your face against the crook of his neck. You bite down on his shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds that you’re making. He’s focused solely on you and your pleasure that the chatter from the patrons in the bar and the music that filters the room fades into the background. All he can hear is the sound of your moans and the quiet squelching from between your legs. 

“I—I don’t think I can,” you mutter, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as you hold onto him. You lift your hips off the seat to thrust up into his hand. “It feels—” your walls begin to tremble and the tightness builds in the pit of your stomach and unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You try to push it down, to push that sensation away, but Clint speeds his movements and reaches down with his free hand to rub circles on your clit. “Oh… Oh, Clint, I—” 

“Come for me,” he mutters into your ear. “Let it go, baby. I’ve got you.” 

Without warning, the pressure finally tips over and your body shakes against him. Clint smirks against you, feeling your walls tighten around his fingers with a gush of wetness. He slows the pump of his fingers and pulls his hand from your clit to cup your cheek. You lift your head from his shoulder and look up at him, a quiet gasp escaping you when he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Lifting it to your view, you both see his digits glistening with your arousal. 

Then, Clint does something that you don’t expect. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks your wetness clean from his fingers—eyes staring into your own. “Mmm,” he grins. “I was right. You do taste sweet.” 

You move a hand down to the center of his pants and immediately feel the hardness of him from beneath the fabric. He grunts unexpectedly and gently takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles once he sucks his fingers off clean. “Next time,” he says softly. 

“Will you teach me how to please you?” you ask innocently. 

“That’s not the goal,” Clint answers. “I’m going to teach you what it means to feel good.”

“B—But what about you?” 

“Believe me… I’ll feel good too. Just seeing you come undone like that, just from my fingers alone, makes me excited for when I can finally feel you around me.” Clint gently kisses your cheek and then pulls away, helping you zip your pants and button you back up. 

“Will you come over to my apartment when you have the time next week?” you ask quietly. “If you want…”

Clint nods, smiling softly in your direction as you notice the dimple on his right cheek. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

It’s a little over a week the next time you see Clint. He knocks on your door and when you open it, you see him with a bouquet of flowers and dressed in his usual leather jacket and dark pants with boots. His hair is slicked back and he gives you a small smile when your eyes finally meet his. 

“Hey,” Clint says. 

“Hi,” you smile, opening the door even further for him to step through the threshold. 

Clint carefully steps inside and leans down to place a light kiss on your cheek. “Didn’t know what kind of flowers were your favorite so just got you a bit of everything.” 

“That’s sweet,” you tell him, shutting the door behind him and taking the flowers from his hands. “Let me put these in a vase.” 

You disappear into the kitchen and Clint leans down to remove his boots, setting them neatly aside. He steps further into your apartment—it’s small and cozy, very fitting for just one person. He’s about to follow you when you re-enter the living room to set the flowers onto your small coffee table. It makes him smile—how delicate and careful you’re treating the flowers he’s gotten you. 

“Did you have a nice week?” Clint asks, sitting on the couch when you motion for him to sit. 

“Kept thinking about you,” you admit. “But other than that, it’s been alright. What about you?” 

Clint shrugs, keeping his hands on his lap. “Yeah, it was—it was a nice week. Was looking forward to this though. Looking forward to seeing you.”

The heat rises in your cheeks as you look up at him. You’re now fully aware of just how casual you’re dressed—you’re wearing a very large oversized shirt with short sleep shorts, hair pulled into a loose braid. 

“You want anything to drink?” you ask, standing up from the couch. You can feel the wetness begin to pool between your legs and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Water’s fine,” Clint answers. 

You nod in response and walk back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to see him shrugging off his leather jacket and neatly place it on the small loveseat nearby. You let out a shaky breath and grab two glasses, filling it with ice and water. As you’re about to turn around, Clint’s large hand rests on your lower back and you can feel the thick tension now fill the air. 

“Are you nervous?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “No,” you respond. “Maybe?” 

“We don’t have to do anything, you know.” Clint reassures, hand dropping from your lower back as he rests back against the counter of your kitchen. “I’m fine with just being here with you.”

“To talk?” 

Clint nods. “Yeah, baby. We can just talk.” 

“Maybe… Maybe I can tell you what my ex-boyfriend has taught me?” you offer, biting the inside of your cheek as you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, baby.” Clint takes one of the glasses of water from your hand and lifts it to his lips, taking a long swig. He allows you to lead him back to the couch and when he sits first, he notices you take a seat closer to him. Your body’s facing him now, legs tucked underneath you as your knees touch the side of his leg. 

“Okay, so he taught me how to give head,” you begin, causing Clint to clear his throat. “I’ve only done a couple of positions—missionary, cowgirl… Lots of cowgirl, so I think know how to do that well, and—”

“Wait,” Clint mutters. He reaches for one of your throw pillows and places it over his lap. He’s surprised that his body is reacting almost instantly at your words and he can feel the center of his jeans slowly begin to tighten. “You’ve been with the guy for two years and that’s all he taught you? That’s all the positions you’ve done?” 

You shrug, resting your arm on the back of the couch as you prop your head against it. “Is that bad? I mean, he seemed to enjoy himself.” 

“What did he do for you?” Clint asks. 

“I—I’m not sure how to answer that…” 

“Okay,” he sighs. “How about… what did you like to do?”

“I did enjoy giving him…” you trail off, glancing down at the pillow on Clint’s lap. “Giving him head… and I did like cowgirl too, but there are things I wish I had tried.” 

“Y—Yeah? What’s that?” 

“Doggystyle… and I’ve always wondered what it would like feel like having someone go down on me too—”

Clint groans lowly and then looks at you, eyes dark and filled with lust. “And what do you want to do tonight?”

“Anything. Everything.” You bite your lower lip and gently reach for the pillow, setting it aside as you climb onto his lap. Straddling his hips, you slowly lower yourself onto him and feel the bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans. “What about you? What do you want to do tonight?” 

Clint’s hands move to your hips, staring up at you. “Anything you wanna do. I just want you comfortable and—”

“I’m comfortable,” you interject. “With you, I’m comfortable.” 

Clint nods and lets out a gasp when he feels your hips roll against him. You’re hesitant—he can see it in the way you’re looking at him, making sure that what you were doing was okay with him. His grip tightens around your hips, eyes glued onto your own. “How about we try something new tonight? Things you’ve never done before? Would that be okay?” He asks. 

“Like doggystyle?” You ask, hopeful. 

Clint smiles, stilling your hips as he nods. “That’d be one of them, yeah.” 

“That’d be great,” you answer with a smile. Your eyes move to his lips and you lean forward slowly. “Clint,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?” 

He brings a hand up to your cheek, leaning up as he nods slowly. “Yeah, baby.” Without waiting for you, Clint leans forward and presses his lips firmly against your own. He feels you melt into him as your arms wrap around his neck loosely. 

There was a part of him that had been second guessing this entire thing until Sleepy Floyd had talked to him. Clint would always love Grace, but he wonders if this is the first step in moving on—in healing so that he could fully be present. You’re still very much a stranger to him, but he can’t help but feel an odd sense of calm whenever he’s around you. 

You move your lips slowly—the kiss is slow, intimate, careful. He wants you to set the pace, wants you to lead, wants you to use him for your own pleasure. You roll your hips against him in unison with your lips parting as a quiet whimper escapes. Clint takes this opportunity to flick his tongue against your upper lip, sliding it past your lips as he deepens the kiss. 

The hand on your cheek moves back to your hip—both hands now gripping you tightly as you continue to roll against him. His jeans become increasingly uncomfortable and increasingly tighter as his manhood strains against it. He had felt himself getting hard when he first stepped inside your apartment, seeing you dressed so casually with your legs on full display for him. 

Slowly, you pull away from the kiss and Clint uses this opportunity to lean forward and begin lining kisses along the side of your neck. You moan quietly, the feel of his facial hair scratching against your skin with the softness of his lips causing the throbbing between your legs to become more prominent.

His hands move to your upper thighs, running them along your bare legs as you ground into him. “C—Clint,” you whimper, eyes falling shut when you feel his teeth graze your pulse point. You can feel the warmth of his large hands on your legs and you have to pull back to look into his eyes, chest heaving as you stare at him with slightly parted lips. 

“Gonna teach you that it’s okay to feel this good,” he whispers, hands moving upwards to the waistband of your shorts. “That you deserve to feel this good.” Clint watches you stand up from his lap, his hands falling from your legs. He stares up at you, watching you carefully as you begin to lower your shorts and panties down your legs. When he sees it fall from your legs, he clears his throat quietly and then sees you grab the ends of your shirt. You slowly begin to lift it over your head and Clint leans forward, hands wrapping around the back of your legs to bring you closer to him. You stand between the space of his legs and let your shirt fall onto the floor, making a small pile of your clothes nearby. 

You had always been self-conscious about your body and it didn’t help that your ex-boyfriend never looked at you the way Clint was looking at you now. He peppers light kisses along your lower abdomen as his hands run along the backs of your thighs. He’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. You try to cover yourself, but Clint clicks his tongue and shakes his head, standing up from the couch as he reaches up to push your hair away from your face. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Clint’s so broad, so big as he towers over you, but god—he’s making you feel so confident and so sexy. “Your ex-boyfriend is a fucking idiot because now I get this—I get you—all to myself.” 

You’re not sure why that causes a shiver to run through you, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for another kiss. This time, it’s no longer careful or slow. Clint feels like you’ve gained a surge of confidence because you immediately dart your tongue out that easily slides past his lips. His hands move from your waist down to your ass, large hands gripping each cheek as he brings you flush against him. 

Clint brings one of his hands lower, fingertips brushing against your wet slit. Something overtakes him and he lifts you into his arms with ease, turning so that he can set you onto your back on the couch. You land with a soft thud, propping yourself up on your forearms as he kneels in front of you. Subconsciously, you bring your legs together but Clint just shakes his head and keeps your legs parted for him. He looks up at you for a moment, seeing a flicker of hesitation in your features. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, using one of his hands to undo the button on his jeans and push down his zipper to alleviate some pressure. “You said you wanted to know what this would feel like, right?” 

“Yes,” you answer. “But what do I do? Do I just—”

Clint smiles and leans up to peck your lips. “You just lie there and look pretty… And enjoy yourself. Let me do all the work, okay?” 

You nod and then lie back on the couch, seeing him begin to press kisses lightly along your chest. You let out a moan when you feel his lips brush against your peaked nipples, tongue darting out to taste as he continues to move down your body. You can’t see him, but Clint pushes down his jeans and boxers just enough to release his manhood, his free hand wrapping around himself. 

Now at eye level with your wet heat, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh—moving closer and closer towards where you’re throbbing. Clint stares up at you and pulls his hand away from himself momentarily. He brings both hands between your legs, spreading your lips as he sees your heat slick and glistening with your arousal. As he stares up at you, Clint licks a stripe up your sex. He smirks to himself when he sees you toss your head back, hand now coming down to curl into his hair. He keeps your lips spread apart as he flicks his tongue against your clit—eyes still focused solely on you and your reactions. The sound of your moans immediately fill your small apartment and Clint’s trying to take this slow, to savor the taste of you. 

He moves one hand to wrap around himself again, pumping his length as his lips remain on your heat. You’re so wet and Clint laps at your arousal eagerly—like a man who hadn’t had anything to drink in days. Your slickness drips down his chin, dampening his facial hair as he uses his free hand to slowly slide a finger within your depths. He sucks your clit, beginning to pump his single digit in and out of you as his other hand strokes himself. 

“Clint!” you moan, the grip in his hair tightening as you arch your back off the couch. “O—Oh fuck…” 

Clint pulls away for a moment and slides another finger inside of you. He smirks up in your direction and releases himself to slide his hand up your body to massage one of your breasts into the pit of his palm. “Feel good?” he asks, slowly lowering himself to flick his tongue against your clit. “Tell me, baby… Tell me how it feels.” 

“I—I’ve never felt anything like this,” you admit, opening your eyes briefly to look down at him. Your mouth remains parted as you try to keep yourself from practically screaming from the pleasure that overtakes you. “I think—oh god—I think I’m close…”

Clint nods, thrusting his fingers all the way to the knuckle. He curls both fingers inside of you repeatedly as he wraps his lips around your clit once more, his tongue flicking against your bud repeatedly. He can feel your walls begin to tremble and tighten around his fingers. Feeling greedy, Clint slides another finger inside of you as you welcome three of his digits without issue—you’re so wet that it slides in without any resistance. Once his third finger slides into you, you sit up abruptly and place both hands to the back of his head, holding him flush between your legs. 

“Clint—fuck!” you moan loudly, toes curling inwards at the feeling of reaching your high. Clint pulls his fingers out of you suddenly and laps at your arousal, growling against you. Once he pulls away, his lips and chin are glistening with your slickness and he stares at you—your hair now a mess with strands coming undone from your braid. Your chest rises up and down rapidly—you’re breathless and your entire body feels like jell-o. 

“So fucking sweet,” Clint grins, wiping his mouth and chin with his hand as he uses your wetness to lubricate himself. He reaches down and lazily strokes himself. When you finally catch your breath, your eyes widen at the sight of him. He’s still kneeling down in front of you, but he’s sitting up, giving you a clear view of his big and girthy length. 

“That—You’re—Fuck,” you whimper. 

Clint smirks and pulls the end of his shirt over his head, tossing it over his shoulder. He stands up and pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs, kicking it off to the side to join your smaller pile of clothes. He looks down at you, hand still stroking himself. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it fit,” he winks. 

You sit up and lean forward, lips parting as you dart your tongue out to lick the precome off his tip. He shudders against you and bites the inside of his cheek. “Show me your room?” he asks. 

You nod, standing up and gently placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Yeah, come on. Legs are a little wobbly, so—” 

Clint doesn’t let you finish because he releases his hold on himself and gently picks you up, one arm underneath your legs and the other to brace your back. You wrap an arm around his shoulders as you lean forward to kiss his cheek. “Room’s down the hall. Second door to your right.” 

Clint nods and walks down the hallway, passing one door. He feels your lips run along his neck and he’s suddenly reminded of his throbbing erection—yearning to bury it between your legs. Once he stops at the second door to the right, he kicks it open and looks around the dark for the lightswitch. 

“You want the lights on?” you ask. 

Clint nods. “Yeah, is that fine?” 

“I’m just—I’m not used to it.”

He reaches over and turns the light on, illuminating your entire room as he walks you back towards your bed and sets you down. “Baby, I want to see you when you come because you look so fucking gorgeous when you do.” 

“Really?” 

Clint nods, climbing on the mattress as he hovers above you. “Yes, really.” He settles himself between your legs, tip brushing against your opening. “And I want to see you when I finally push into you.” 

You bite your lower lip as he takes hold of his base and runs the head of length along you the length of your sex. Clint lets out a quiet groan when he feels the tip catch against your opening. He watches you let out a quiet moan as your eyes flutter. He knows you’re already so sensitive, but Clint’s determined to make you come at least two more times tonight. 

“Gonna make you feel good,” Clint says, pressing the head of his manhood firmly against your clit. “You won’t even be thinking of your ex-boyfriend anymore.” 

You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to watch him, to admire him. He’s so beautiful—broad and tanned skin, more scars than the one across his cheek that you’re sure has a story to each one. “You promise?” You ask, hands moving to run along his chest as you gently pull him down firmly on top of you. 

Clint smiles and presses his lips lightly on the tip of your nose and then up to your forehead. Staring into your eyes, he finally pushes into you. Your warmth and wetness surrounds his tip tightly and he can see you fight to keep your eyes open and staring at him. “Yeah, baby, I promise.” He moves his hand from the base of his length to rest on your hip. “You doing okay?” 

You nod as another moan leaves your lips. “Big—Really fucking big,” you note, feeling him push further into you. 

Clint smirks and rests his forehead against your own. His hands tighten its grip on your hips as he fills you to the hilt—tight, wet, and warm encompassing his throbbing girth. “Told you we’d make it fit,” he whisper through a quiet groan. “Y—You really only ever been with your ex, huh?”

You nod, tilting your head back as you allow your eyes to fall shut. There’s slight pressure as he pulls out of you only to slide back in slowly—stretching you from the inside. You hadn’t ever felt this full before. “Yes,” you gasp as he thrusts into you fully. “T—That obvious?” 

“Yeah,” he grunts. “You feel so fucking tight,” Clint growls, burying his face against your neck. It has been so long for him and he has to remind himself to take it slow; he doesn’t want this to end so soon. 

You moan loudly when he delivers a sharp thrust into you, your arms moving around his shoulders tightly. You lock your ankles at his lower back, holding onto him as he slowly begins to pick up the pace. “Clint,” you say breathlessly, the tension in your lower half building and building once again. Your entire body tingles as you feel yourself near yet another orgasm. 

Clint presses his lips firmly against the side of your neck, grunting against you as the sound of his skin slapping against yours echo throughout your bedroom and filters out the hallway. Your moans mix in with his and he can feel you getting close again. “You feel so good,” he mutters, the feel of your tight walls dragging along every inch and vein on his throbbing length. “Fuck me, baby…” 

Your nails dig into his back as you drag it down, hearing him let out a loud and muffled groan. You feel a pulsating tingle shoot through your body, trembling and shaking against him. Your walls tighten further around him and he slams into you, rolling his hips slowly to help you ride out your climax. You’re breathing heavily once he slows his thrusts and he props himself onto his palms at either side of your head. 

Slowly, your eyes flutter open as Clint remains still and deep inside of you. “H—How did I just come again?” You whisper, asking honestly. “I never—That has never happened before.” 

Clint smirks and slowly pulls out of you, his length bobbing against you as he looks down at himself. Your arousal glistens along his entire girth and he grabs your hips, flipping you over onto your abdomen. He hovers over you and settles himself between your legs as you prop yourself onto your forearms. With his lips near your ear from behind, he presses a soft kiss and grins. “We’re not done yet, baby.” 

“Clint, I don’t think—” 

He kneels behind you and grabs one of your legs to throw it over one of his, opening you up even further. Clint keeps a hold on your ankle with your leg draped over him as he slowly slides into you. You feel tighter this way and he slides in so easily, your sex still leaking with your arousal. “Yeah, you can,” he finally says, interrupting you quietly. 

“Oh god,” you moan loudly, hands gripping your sheets tightly. When Clint pushes into you all the way, filling you once more, you gasp. He feels bigger and deeper like this. His thrusts start out slow, making you feel every inch of him as he pulls out of you to his tip only to slide fully back into you. “Clint, baby—”

He growls at that, slamming into forcefully as he keeps a tight hold on your ankle. Clint’s legs keep you fully spread open for him and your wetness allows him to slide into you repeatedly without any issue or resistance. A couple of thrusts cause him to slip out and he shifts his hips to find your opening again, slamming into you—chasing and yearning for your tight warmth. “You’re so wet,” he groans. “So wet that I’m slipping out of you.” 

Your knuckles turn white from the tight grip you have around your sheets, toes curling as he continues his thrusts into you. “Clint, oh god—please…” 

“I’m right here,” Clint whispers, lowering your leg back onto the mattress. He watches you fall forward, no longer able to keep yourself propped up as he grips your hips and thrust into you from behind. He pulls out of you abruptly, holding onto his base as he thrusts into you. Clint pulls out of you again and grunts at the sight of how wet you are—so wet that your arousal trickles down the inside of your legs and his length glistening. “Gonna come for me again, baby? Hm?” 

“Y—Yes!” You moan into the mattress as he rams into you from behind. You feel one of Clint’s hands rest on your hip as the other comes down to smack your ass roughly. The sting of his slap reverberates through your entire body as you push back into him, yearning for more. 

“Oh, you like that,” Clint grins, bringing his hand back down onto your ass. He remains still for a moment, watching you push back into him—bouncing back against his girthy length. He leans back on his knees, watching you use him to chase your own release. You prop yourself onto your knees as your hands move to rest on the headboard in front of you, using that as leverage to push back into him. “God, your ass looks fucking—”

You interrupt him with a loud moan, firmly pushing back into him as you reach your peak yet again. Your entire body is trembling—shaking—in a way that you had never felt before. Clint growls to himself and grips your hips tightly as he begins to thrust into you again. Your walls remain tight and trembling around his manhood as he continues to thrust into you—now chasing his own release. He can feel the pressure build in the pit of his stomach beginning to unravel as he slams into you repeatedly. 

“Oh fuck,” he moans, eyes falling shut. “Baby, I’m gonna—Fuck, where do you want it?” 

“I—Inside,” you answer, body still shaky. “Please, Clint…” 

That was all it took for Clint to come undone. He thrusts into you a few more times before delivering one final thrust. His entire body tenses and spasms as he paints your walls with his come. His mouth parts as the grip around your hips tightens even further. Clint slowly rolls his hips, your tight heat milling every last drop. When he pulls out of you, Clint moves to lie on his back next to you, chest heaving rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. 

You slowly lower yourself onto your tummy, gently reaching over to rest a hand on his chest. His eyes flutter open, the corner of his lips lifting upwards at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” you whisper. 

“Hi, baby,” Clint smiles, slowly reaching out to pull you into his arms. “You okay?”

“Better than okay,” you answer, gently leaning up to kiss his cheek. “That was—I have no words.”

He chuckles and reaches up to push your hair away from your face. “I did good then.” 

“Good? You were the best,” you smile. 

“We can…” Clint bites his lower lip. “We can do this again… if you want.” 

Your eyes light up. “Really? I mean, I think you taught me so much already tonight, but…” 

Clint smiles and leans in, pecking your lips lightly. “Oh, baby,” he says softly, hand moving to cup your cheek. “I have more to teach you.” 

“Yeah, I think you do,” you agree with a grin. 

“And you still have more to teach me,” Clint finishes. 

“We can teach each other a thing or two,” you nod. Slowly, you move away from his arms to lie on your back. You glance down between your legs to see his come begin to trickle out of you. You’re about to stand up to clean yourself, but Clint stands up for you. 

“Stay there,” he says softly. “Let me clean you up.” Clint turns on his heel and leaves your room, giving you a good view of his bare ass as he walks away. 

Within moments, Clint comes back into your room with a warm and damp towel. He climbs back onto your bed and parts your legs, letting out a very quiet groan at the sight of his come leaking out of you. Gently, he uses the towel to clean you up, watching your eyes flutter at the feel of the towel brushing against you. 

“Sensitive?” He asks, continuing to clean up the mess he’s created between your legs. 

“Very,” you answer, biting your lower lip. 

Clint smiles to himself and then leans over to kiss your forehead lightly. “Sorry about that.” 

“Don’t be,” you smile, watching him set the towel aside as he collects you back into his arms. 

Clint bites the inside of his cheek as he looks into your eyes, bringing a hand up to brush his thumb across your cheek. You look at him like you can see through the walls that he had put up to protect himself, to protect others. 

“Who knew a Fuzzy Navel would make this happen,” he teases with a grin, his dimple appearing on his right cheek. 

You smile broadly, the light in your eyes making him feel good about himself. “You remembered the name of my drink!” 

“I still like my name of the drink,” he chuckles. “Spiked orange juice.” 

You roll your eyes playfully and slowly straddle his hips, hands resting on either side of him. You lean down, nose brushing against his as your lips remain inches from his own. “Not my fault I like my drinks sweet.” 

Clint smiles and moves up his hands up your thighs and up your chest, slowly beginning to massage your breasts into his palm. He smirks to himself when you let out a quiet moan, eyes beginning to flutter at his touch. “Mm, you’re right. Can’t blame you. I like sweet things too,” Clint winks, brushing his thumbs across your nipples. 

“Clint,” you whimper. 

Clint slowly rolls you onto your back and moves his hands to your hips. He leans down and pecks your lips lightly, pulling away only slightly—lips still touching. “I just can’t get enough of you,” he whispers. 

“Clint,” you repeat, breath catching in your throat. 

He nods slowly, moving his lips to brush against your cheek down to your jawline as he reaches down with his free hand to brush his fingertips against your clit. A gasp escapes your lips and he looks up at you—your eyes now shut tight. “Okay, baby,” he whispers softly. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

[lost-in-thoughts03]

Falling for you // Hwang brothers

Previous part || Next part

Summary: Reality constantly confuses you. Who will you choose?

" And maybe you, change your mind."

Warning: Thick tension, heated kiss, confession, beating, arguing, more teasing, In-ho is being In-ho, Jun-ho realized something, broken hearted, pain, rejection, realization, grammatical errors

Love moves in ways we can’t always understand. Sometimes, it sneaks up on you, soft and quiet, like the warmth of the sun on a cold morning. Other times, it crashes into your life like a storm, wrecking everything you thought you knew about yourself.

It doesn’t care about timing. It doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It finds you in the most unexpected places—maybe in the eyes of someone you never thought you'd love or in the touch of a hand you can’t seem to forget.

It can make you feel invincible, like you’ve finally found the missing piece of your soul. But it can also break you, leave you aching for something—or someone—you can’t have.

Love lingers in the spaces between words, in the glances that last too long, in the silences filled with everything left unsaid. It stays even when you try to walk away. It makes a home in your heart, even when it has no right to be there.

And sometimes, love is cruel. It asks you to wait, to sacrifice, to fight battles you never wanted. It can betray you, leave scars so deep you wonder if you'll ever heal. But even then, love never really disappears. It changes, reshapes itself, finds new ways to exist in you.

Maybe that’s the mystery of love—it never truly leaves. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much it hurts, it stays. And sometimes, if you're lucky, it finds its way back to you.

Those three words. Three unexpected words that slipped out of his mouth.

It is what you have been waiting for. You continue to wait for someone to declare their love for you, but it doesn't bring you joy.

“ I love you.”

Instead…

Your body goes stiff. The air is sucked from your lungs.

“ I’ve loved you for a long time.” He continues, his voice steady, controlled—but underneath, you can hear the cracks forming. “ Long before you ever looked at my brother the way you did. Long before you ever ran after him like he was the only one who mattered.”

Your knees go weak.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You’re too stunned, too blindsided by the weight of his words.

“ I was always there.” He presses on, stepping closer, his gaze burning into you. “ I watched you fall for him. I watched you break for him. And I—” His voice falters just slightly, but he keeps going. “ And I hated him for not seeing what he had.”

A shiver runs through you. This is too much. Too intense.

“ This…” Your voice was shaky as you pushed against his chest, creating some distance. “ This is all wrong.”

In-ho frowned, his grip on you loosening slightly. “ Wrong?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “ I—I don’t see you that way.” You blurted out, your thoughts still scrambled from the kiss. “ I only see you as an older brother.”

Silence.

For a second, he just stared at you. And then—he laughed.

A low, sarcastic chuckle escaped him as he ran a hand through his hair. “ Older brother?” He repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “ You’re really going with that?”

You frowned. “ What’s so funny?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “ Oh, nothing. It’s just… that’s exactly what you said to Jun-ho, isn’t it?” He met your eyes, his gaze sharp, unreadable. “ And look how that turned out.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of Jun-ho, but you refused to let it show. “ That’s different.”

“ Is it?” His voice was calm, but there was something bitter underneath. “ Tell me, Y/n, did you kiss him like that too?”

Your face burned. “ That’s not the point!”

“ Then what is the point?” He stepped forward, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “ Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like I’m your brother.”

You clenched your jaw, hating how he was turning this on you. “ You’re just being stubborn.”

“ Oh, I’m the stubborn one?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “ You’re the one running from this. From us.”

“ There is no us, In-ho!” You snapped, frustration boiling over. “ I can’t—we can’t—”

But before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist again, pulling you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

Your lips still burned from the kiss you had just shared, a kiss that had shattered every line you swore you wouldn’t cross. Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. But instead of pulling away, In-ho stayed close, his forehead nearly touching yours, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

" Is it still wrong?" His voice was low, hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words tangled in your throat, trapped between the battle in your heart and the fire in your veins.

" Tell me." His voice was more urgent this time, his fingers tightening around your wrist.

Still, silence.

Frustration flickered across his face, but then, something else—something deeper. Without warning, he pulled you to him, crushing you against his chest as if afraid you’d slip away. And then his lips were on yours again, desperate, raw, consuming. This wasn’t just a kiss; it was a storm—raging, relentless, and devastating.

His hands found your waist, fingers tracing your curves before gripping you with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. He held you like he was afraid to lose you, like you belonged to him, like he had every right to claim you. And maybe, in this moment, he did.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, then to his hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss until there was no space left between you. Every touch, every movement, was a plea—one neither of you dared to speak aloud.

You knew this was dangerous. You knew the world outside this moment was still waiting, still ready to tear you apart. But right now, wrapped in his arms, tasting the urgency on his lips, feeling the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing—you didn’t care.

Maybe it was wrong.

Maybe it always would be.

But right now, in this stolen moment, nothing else mattered.

Your breath hitched, your entire body frozen as his words sank in.

" I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it crashed into you like a tidal wave, drowning out every rational thought. His fingertips brushed through your hair, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feeling of you—like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your heart pounded so violently that it hurt. Your mind screamed at you to run, to push him away before this became something neither of you could undo. But your body—your traitorous, aching body—leaned into him instead, craving the warmth of his touch, the quiet promise in his gaze.

His eyes burned into yours, filled with something so intense, so raw, it shattered every wall you had left. It wasn’t just passion. It was devotion, desperation, a plea without words.

He had already made his choice. And deep down, you knew you had made yours too.

Slowly, cautiously, his hands traced down to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as if he were touching something fragile, something precious.

" Say something." He pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

But you couldn’t. Because if you spoke, if you admitted to yourself that you felt it too—that you had always felt it—you would never be able to walk away.

And maybe…maybe you didn’t want to.

“ And I don’t care if you think it’s wrong. I don’t care if I’m older. I don’t care if you only saw me as someone who protected you.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “ Because the truth is, I wanted to protect you. I wanted to be the one you came to. And I still do.”

Your chest tightens. “ In-ho…”

“ Just give me a chance.” He pleads, his voice raw with emotion. “ Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m serious. That this isn’t some mistake. That I’ve always loved you—long before you ever saw me this way.”

Your heart is aching.

You’ve never seen In-ho like this—vulnerable. He’s always been strong, always the one who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without breaking.

But right now?

Right now, he’s breaking for you.

And you don’t know if you can handle it.

…

Jun-ho stood at the entrance, frozen, his breath caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He hadn’t meant to see this. But now, the sight was burned into his mind—the way In-ho held you so possessively, the way your body molded into his, the way your lips clung to each other like you were both starving. And then, In-ho’s whispered confession—words so raw, so painfully sincere, that Jun-ho felt them like a knife to the gut.

“ I love you.”

" I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you."

Jun-ho’s hands clenched at his sides, his jaw locking so tightly it ached. He should be happy for you, for both of you. That’s what he told himself. That’s what should make sense.

But then why did it feel like something inside him was cracking apart?

Why was there a burning in his chest, a bitterness on his tongue, a rage curling in his fists?

Why did it feel like he was the one losing something—no, someone—he never even had?

His heart pounded as he forced himself to take a step back, then another, as if putting distance between himself and the scene would somehow lessen the weight pressing down on him. But it didn’t. It only made the emptiness inside him more apparent.

He had always known there was something between you and In-ho, something neither of you spoke about but was always there, simmering beneath the surface. He had ignored it, pushed it aside, convinced himself it wasn’t what it seemed.

But now, there was no more pretending. No more denying.

You and In-ho weren’t just a fleeting moment, a reckless mistake.

You wanted each other.

And Jun-ho… Jun-ho was just standing there, watching it happen, realizing too late that he had lost something he never even got the chance to claim.

Until the sound of the punch landing was deafening.

One second, you were locked in that heated, breathless moment with In-ho—the next, he was stumbling backward, blood trickling from his nose.

You barely had time to react before Jun-ho was on him, fists clenched, voice shaking with fury. “ What the fuck do you think you’re doing to her?!”

Your eyes widened. “ Jun-ho—”

“ Get your damn hands off of her!” He shouted, grabbing In-ho by the neck, ready to swing again.

In-ho, to your horror, only smirked, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “ Took you long enough.” He muttered before swinging his fist in return, landing a solid punch on Jun-ho’s jaw.

Jun-ho stumbled but recovered quickly, shoving his brother back with even more force. “ You bastard—”

Before you knew it, they were on each other, fists flying, bodies colliding as they fought like they’d been waiting years for an excuse to do this.

“ Stop it!” You rushed between them, grabbing onto Jun-ho’s arm just as he was about to land another hit, but he barely budged. “ Jun-ho, stop! It’s not what you think!”

“ He was forcing himself on you, wasn’t he?!” He snapped, eyes wild with rage.

“ No! It wasn’t like that!” You insisted, pulling at his sleeve. “ Just listen—”

But before you could say another word, In-ho—still smirking despite the cut on his lip—let out a low chuckle. “ What’s wrong, little brother? Are you jealous?”

Jun-ho lunged at him again, and you barely had time to react before they were crashing into the table, sending plates and cups shattering onto the floor.

You grabbed In-ho’s arm next, trying to shove yourself between them, but he barely glanced at you, too focused on his brother. “ You always act like you’re better than me.” He growled, wiping more blood from his nose.

“ Like you have any right to tell me what to do.”

“ And you always act like you don’t give a damn about anything!” Jun-ho spat, chest heaving. “ But when it comes to her—suddenly, you do?”

You froze.

For a split second, In-ho didn’t respond.

And that silence? It spoke louder than anything.

Jun-ho let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “ You’re unbelievable.”

In-ho’s jaw clenched, his smirk faltering just slightly. “ You’re a pain in my ass.”

Jun-ho scoffed, wiping at his bleeding lip. “ Right back at you.”

The tension in the room was suffocating. The anger, the resentment, the years of unspoken things between them—it all boiled over in that moment.

And you?

You were stuck between them, trying—and failing—to stop a war that had already started.

The tension was unbearable. You stood between them, your heart pounding as they glared at each other, both still seething, both still ready to lunge again.

“ In-ho, Jun-ho—enough!” You shouted, your voice cutting through the thick silence.

Neither of them moved. Their breathing was ragged, their fists still clenched. The only sound in the room was the dripping of water from the sink and the faint ringing in your ears from the chaos that had just unfolded.

Jun-ho turned to you first, his expression still stormy. “ Y/n, why the hell are you defending him?” His voice was sharp, filled with disbelief.

You exhaled, frustration boiling inside you. “ Because you’re not listening to me!” You gestured between the two of them. “ You just assumed things and started throwing punches before even asking what was happening!”

Jun-ho’s brows furrowed, but before he could argue, In-ho let out a scoff. “ She’s right, you know.” He muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “ Typical of you to act first, think later.”

Jun-ho tensed, his jaw clenching. “ Shut up."

You shot In-ho a glare. “ You aren’t helping either!”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but that damn smirk was still on his face, despite the blood trickling from his lip. “ Hey, he started it.”

“ Oh my god.” You groaned, rubbing your temples. “ You two are impossible.”

Jun-ho was still glaring at his brother, his breathing unsteady, his hands shaking slightly. But then he turned back to you, his expression shifting to something more vulnerable—something almost hurt.

“ Why, then?” He asked quietly, his voice lacking the previous anger. “ Why were you letting him kiss you?”

Your stomach twisted.

In-ho’s smirk faded slightly at the question, but he stayed quiet, watching you carefully.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed under both their gazes. “ I—I don’t know.” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t a lie.

Because even you weren’t sure what had led to that kiss. Maybe it was the frustration, maybe it was the heat of the moment, maybe it was something buried deeper inside you that you had been refusing to acknowledge.

But Jun-ho didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. He scoffed, shaking his head. “ Unbelievable.” He muttered, stepping back. “ I thought you were smarter than this.”

His words stung.

Before you could say anything, he turned toward the door. “ I need to clear my head.” He muttered, storming out without another word.

The door slammed behind him, leaving an aching silence in his wake.

You stood there, frozen, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

Then, after a long pause, In-ho exhaled and ran a hand down his face. “ Well.” He said, voice light despite the tension still lingering. “ That went great.”

You turned to him with a glare, shoving him in the chest. “ You’re such an ass.”

He barely moved, only raising an eyebrow at you. “ Me? What did I do?”

“ You taunted him!” You snapped. “ You know how he is! You knew that would make it worse!”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “ And what about you?” He asked, voice lower now.

“ Are you mad because of the fight? Or because you’re starting to realize that you liked kissing me?”

Your breath hitched.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Because you didn’t have an answer to that.

And from the knowing look on In-ho’s face, he already knew that.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, the weight of In-ho’s words pressing down on you like a boulder.

Your heart was still racing, your skin still tingling from the kiss—the fight—everything. And now, with Jun-ho gone and only In-ho standing in front of you, watching you with that unreadable expression, you felt more exposed than ever.

You swallowed hard. “ You’re full of yourself.”

He huffed a small, amused breath, his lip still slightly swollen from the punch. “ Am I?”

You crossed your arms, trying to regain some control over this situation. “ That was a mistake.”

In-ho took a step closer. Not enough to touch you, but enough that you could feel his presence. His warmth. His intensity.

“ Funny,” He murmured, his gaze locked onto yours. “ Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

Your stomach twisted. “ That’s because you don’t take anything seriously.”

His smirk faded slightly. “ And you take everything too seriously.”

You turned away, frustration bubbling in your chest. “ This isn’t about me, In-ho.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “ It never is, is it?”

You froze.

His voice wasn’t teasing anymore. It wasn’t smug or taunting—it was tired.

When you looked back at him, there was something in his eyes that sent a strange pang through your chest. Something vulnerable.

Something real.

For the first time since this whole mess started, he looked…wounded.

“ You always run.” He muttered, more to himself than to you. “ Always pretending like none of this means anything.” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “ But when it’s Jun-ho, you don’t hesitate, do you?”

You flinched, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

“ In-ho, it’s not—”

He shook his head, stepping back before you could even try to explain. “ Forget it.” His voice was quiet now. Resigned.

You hated the way that made your chest ache.

He licked his split lip, his usual smirk forced and empty. “ You should go after him.” He muttered. “ That’s what you always do, right?”

Your throat tightened. “ In-ho—”

But he didn’t wait for you to finish.

He just turned and walked away, leaving you standing there in the wreckage of what just happened, your heart pounding with an answer you still weren’t ready to face.

You found Jun-ho outside In-ho’s house, his back turned to you as he kicked at the gravel on the pavement. His posture was tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “ Jun-ho.”

He didn’t turn around right away. Instead, he let out a frustrated sigh, kicking another rock before finally glancing at you. His jaw was clenched, his expression unreadable.

“ What are you doing here?” You asked cautiously.

Jun-ho scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “ I came to say sorry to my asshole brother.” He muttered, voice laced with irritation.

“ But then I walked in on that and—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “ Guess I changed my mind.”

You bit your lip, shifting uncomfortably. “ Jun-ho, it wasn’t—”

“ You kissed him.” He cut in, his voice quieter now, but still firm.

Your stomach twisted. “ I—”

He turned fully toward you now, searching your face for something—anything—that would make this make sense. “ Tell me, Y/n.” He said, voice low, almost pleading.

“ Was it just him? Or did you kiss him back?”

You swallowed, the memory of In-ho’s lips on yours flashing through your mind—the way you had melted into him, the way you hadn’t pulled away.

You looked down. “ I…didn’t mean to.”

Jun-ho let out a bitter laugh. “ Didn’t mean to?”

“ It was just—it was just the moment, okay?” You said quickly, feeling your own frustration rising. “ I got carried away. It didn’t mean anything.”

“ Didn’t mean anything.” He repeated, his tone unreadable.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “ Jun-ho, it was a mistake.”

He was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke again. “ You don’t know him like I do.”

You looked up, confused. “ What?”

“ My brother.” Jun-ho muttered, crossing his arms.

“ He’s not some good guy, Y/n. He’s reckless. He doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process of getting what he wants.” His voice hardened. “ And he will hurt you.”

Your brows furrowed. “ Jun-ho, that’s not fair.”

He scoffed. “ Not fair? You think I don’t see what’s happening? I don’t know what his deal is with you, but I do know one thing—he’s dangerous.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “ You’re acting like he’s some kind of criminal.”

He shook his head. “ Maybe not. But trust me, Y/n, you don’t want to get involved with him.”

A strange unease settled in your chest.

Jun-ho’s anger wasn’t just about the kiss.

It was something more.

And you weren’t sure you wanted to know what.

You stared at Jun-ho, frustration bubbling up inside you as his words sank in. “ Why are you being like this?” you demanded, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

“ You keep acting like you’re trying to protect me, but it's just—” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “ It just makes everything worse.”

Jun-ho’s expression shifted, softening for a split second before he forced it back into that same hardened mask. “ I’m trying to look out for you.” He said evenly. “ That’s all.”

“ Why?” You shot back, feeling your throat tighten. “ Why do you even care so much? It’s not like I—I mean, you don’t even…”

You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat.

You don’t even like me.

Jun-ho looked away, kicking at the ground again, and for a moment you swore you saw a flicker of something—regret, sadness, guilt—but he buried it just as quickly. “ You’re important to me.” He muttered. “ But not like that.”

Your heart twisted painfully. “ Then why do you keep acting like—like you—”

“ Because you’re family.” He cut in, his voice firm. “ You were always part of my life, Y/n. You’re the closest thing I have to—” He swallowed, frustration and something else bleeding into his voice.

“ I don’t want to see you get hurt. Not by him.”

Your lips parted, a bitter laugh slipping out. “ You think you haven’t already hurt me?”

He stiffened.

“ All those times.” You went on, bitterness rising with every word, “ That you pushed me away, that you treated me like I was just some responsibility—you think that didn’t mess me up? That I didn’t—”

“ Y/n.” He warned, his tone flat, but you weren’t done.

“ You don’t get to act like this.” You snapped, your voice trembling as you fought back the sting of tears. “ Like you’re just some protective older brother who doesn’t know what’s going on—who doesn’t see what this is doing to me!”

Jun-ho’s fists clenched at his sides. “ You’re twisting this.”

“ No.” You said, stepping closer, refusing to back down. “ You are. You keep treating me like some little sister, and it’s bullshit.”

“ It’s not—” He broke off, looking away, and you saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. “ You’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

“ Am I?” You shot back, your heart pounding. “ Or are you just too much of a coward to admit that you feel something too?”

The silence was deafening.

Jun-ho stared at you, his expression blank, but you could see the storm raging behind his eyes—the way he flinched, like you’d just hit him where it hurt most.

“ I don’t.” He said finally, and the emptiness in his voice cut deeper than anything else. “ Not the way you want me to.”

Your chest heaved, but you refused to let yourself fall apart in front of him. “ Fine.” You said, barely recognizing your own voice.

“ If that’s how you feel, then stop trying to control my life. I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to save me from In-ho or anyone else.”

“Y/n—”

“ No.” You snapped, backing away. “ I’m done. If I get hurt, that’s on me. Not you.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but the words never came.

And you didn’t wait.

You turned on your heel, walking back toward the house, your chest aching, but you refused to stop, refused to give Jun-ho the satisfaction of seeing just how deeply he’d broken you.

You’d given him enough of yourself.

It was time to stop letting him rip you apart.

You barely made it a few steps before Jun-ho’s voice rang out behind you, sharp and filled with something raw.

“ I like someone else, Y/n!”

Your entire body froze.

His words echoed in your head, repeating over and over again, until they didn’t even sound real anymore.

Slowly, you turned around, your heart hammering in your chest. “ What?”

Jun-ho ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “ I’m courting someone. I love her.”

The world tilted under your feet.

He didn’t stop there.

“ She’s kind, she’s patient—she actually listens instead of picking fights with me all the damn time,” he went on, his voice laced with irritation, like he had been holding this in for far too long.

“ She doesn’t make things complicated. She just understands me.”

Every single word was a dagger to your heart.

You felt your breath hitch, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “ Why—why are you telling me this?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jun-ho scoffed. “ Because you keep acting like there’s something here when there isn’t.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, trying to keep yourself together, trying not to show just how much his words were destroying you.

“ You didn’t have to say it like that.” You mumbled, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

Jun-ho sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ I don’t want to keep hurting you, Y/n. But you’re not her. And you never will be.”

Your entire world shattered.

It was one thing to suspect it. One thing to wonder if Jun-ho had ever seen you as more than just a sister figure.

But to hear it out loud?

To hear him describe someone else—someone he loved—so effortlessly, so casually, as if it didn’t crush every last bit of hope you had clung to?

It was unbearable.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head as you blinked rapidly, forcing back the sting in your eyes. “ Wow.” You muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself. “ Okay.”

Jun-ho’s expression faltered slightly, like he realized just how deeply he had cut you. “ Y/n—”

“ No.” You said quickly, holding up a hand. “ I get it. I really do.”

You turned away before he could see the tears forming. “ Good luck with her.” You said, your voice barely steady.

And then you walked back inside, slamming the door behind you before your walls could crumble completely.

The moment you stepped inside, you pressed your back against the door, shutting your eyes tightly as you let out a shaky breath.

Your chest felt hollow. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs.

You’re not her. And you never will be.

Jun-ho’s words kept replaying in your head, over and over again, like a cruel mantra you couldn’t escape.

You wanted to scream. To cry. To erase whatever part of you still cared about him after everything.

But before you could completely break down, a voice pulled you from your spiral.

“ Tough conversation?”

Your eyes snapped open to see In-ho standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the counter with his arms crossed. His lip was still swollen from the punch, but there was no anger in his expression—just something unreadable, something almost knowing.

You swallowed hard, straightening. “ I don’t want to talk about it.”

In-ho hummed, tilting his head as he studied you. “ You sure? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“ I said I don’t want to talk about it.” You snapped, harsher than you intended.

Instead of looking offended, In-ho just let out a quiet chuckle. “ So that's bad, huh?”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him. “ Why are you even still here?”

He raised a brow. “ My house.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. “ Right. Of course.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the conversation with Jun-ho still hung heavy in the air, suffocating.

Then, In-ho took a step closer, his voice softer than before. “ So…what did my dear little brother say to break your heart this time?”

Your breath hitched, your eyes flickering up to meet him.

You wanted to lie. To pretend that Jun-ho’s words hadn’t just shattered you into a thousand pieces.

But something in In-ho’s gaze made it impossible.

So instead, you whispered, “ He loves someone else.”

In-ho’s smirk faded. His eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening just the smallest bit.

“ Of course he does.” He muttered under his breath.

You frowned. “ What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another step closer, so close that you could feel his warmth.

Then, with a slow exhale, he said, “ It means Jun-ho is an idiot.”

You blinked. “ Excuse me?”

In-ho’s gaze locked onto yours, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no smugness—just quiet certainty.

“ He doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.” He said simply. “ He never has.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know if you wanted to say anything at all.

Because for the first time since you walked through that door, your mind wasn’t stuck on Jun-ho.

It was stuck on In-ho.

You stared at In-ho, his words settling deep into your chest, stirring something you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

He doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.

There was something about the way In-ho said it—so certain, so matter-of-fact—that made your breath hitch.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “ It doesn’t matter.”

In-ho raised a brow. “ Doesn’t it?”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “ I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I’m done talking about Jun-ho.”

“ Good.” In-ho said smoothly. “ I’m sick of talking about him too.”

You glanced at him warily. “ Then why do I feel like you’re about to say something annoying?”

He smirked. “ Because I usually do.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could shoot back a response, he took another step closer.

Your breath caught.

There was something different about the way he was looking at you now. No teasing glint in his eye. No smug amusement.

Just…intent.

“ You deserve better.” He said suddenly.

Your heart skipped a beat. “ What?”

“ You heard me.” He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to memorize it.

“ You deserve someone who actually sees you, Y/n.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Because the way he said it—so effortlessly, like it was just an undeniable truth—made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You swallowed. “ And what, you think that’s you?”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips, but his eyes remained serious. “ Maybe.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. “ I just had my heart broken minutes ago, In-ho.”

“ I know.” He murmured. “ That’s why I’m not doing anything about it.”

You frowned. “ Then what are you doing?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something almost too soft.

“ Waiting.”

Your stomach flipped.

He didn’t move closer. Didn’t push any further. He just held your gaze, waiting for you to process his words, letting them sink in.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure if it was Jun-ho or In-ho who was making your head spin.

A/N: Y/n and Jun-ho met when they were 16. In-ho, on the other hand, began to like her when she reached her legal age—around the time Y/n was in her twenties. (I need to clarify this to avoid misunderstandings between the characters)

Y/n and Jun-ho's age right now: 23 (College students)

In-ho's age right now: 30 (I need to lower down his age to make it more accurate)

Gosh...that was intense.

Question: If you are in the situation of Y/n, who will you going to choose?

Team In-ho or Team Jun-ho?

Tags: @maah-sama @storytellers-randomshortstorys @colorwastaken @frontwomann @roach457855688568876 @coruja12345

See u in part 8. 😝

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[drippingghoneyy]

Quiet Vibrations - Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary:  Vander and the children saved you. Now something from the past makes Vander remind you that this is your home now.

Genre/ Pairing: smut, Vander x Fem!Reader 

WARNINGS: MDNI!, tension, teasing, vibrator, dom!Vander, Fem!Reader, dom/sub dynamics, biting, pet names, whore, slut, nipple play, clit biting (?), squirting, fingering, praise kink, belt, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex ( f receiving) ... (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 6.6k.

Notes: Vander has me so down badd.. So expect more content/gimme ideas, please!!

Reblog and like!! I read every comment, they make my whole day! 

If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. Grammarly don’t fail me now 🙂 If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

The neon lights of the Last Drop flickered in the grimy windows, casting a sad glow onto the damp cobblestones of the Undercity alley. Inside, the clink of glasses and muffled laughter painted a stark contrast to the harsh reality outside. It was a haven for those who'd lost their way, and she was no exception.

Once a bright-eyed girl from the gleaming spires of Piltover, she had stumbled upon this place, seeking refuge from the cold, judgmental eyes of the city above. Vander's kindness had drawn her in, his mission to care for the lost children of the streets had captivated her, and soon she found herself trading in her silver tray for a rag and a warm smile.

Years had passed, seasons of despair and joy, as she watched the children grow, their eyes reflecting the warmth she had brought into their lives. The Last Drop became her home, the children her family, and Vander, the stoic guardian she never knew she needed.

He had taught her to mix drinks that could soothe the roughest of souls and to serve with a grace that could make the most hardened criminal feel a touch of humanity. They had become an unlikely pair, she with her tender heart and he with his roughened exterior, yet together, they had created a sanctuary amidst the chaos.

As the children grew and the needs of the Last Drop evolved, she found herself moving from the bustling main floor to a quieter room upstairs. The extra space was a gift, a token of Vander's appreciation for her unwavering dedication.

She had packed her meager belongings into a small, battered suitcase, the kind that whispered of countless journeys and untold stories. The room was small but cozy, filled with the faint scent of dust and the distant echoes of laughter that had yet to find their way out of the walls.

The air was thick with anticipation as Vander lent his strong arms to help with the heavy lifting. They navigated the narrow staircase, each step creaking under their weight. His eyes never left hers, filled with a warmth that she had come to cherish. In the stillness of the moment, she felt a flutter in her stomach, a sensation she hadn't felt in years.

The children watched from the shadows, their faces a mix of excitement and curiosity. They had grown accustomed to her presence, looking up to her with a fondness she hadn't known since leaving the gleaming towers of Piltover.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the door to her new room stood open, a beacon of possibility in the dimly lit hallway. The mattress was old and lumpy, a relic from another era that had seen more nights than she had. She had hoped for a fresh start, a clean slate, but fate had other plans.

The suitcase toppled over as she tried to maneuver it into the cramped space, and out spilled the contents of a life she had kept hidden, even from herself. There, amidst her clothes and keepsakes, was the vibrator, a silent witness to her most private moments. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she couldn't hide it fast enough.

Vander's eyes widened, his hand frozen in midair as he reached for the last corner of the mattress. The air grew still, the laughter from the children downstairs fading into the background. She wanted to shrink away, to vanish into the shadows like the children had, but her legs refused to cooperate. Instead, she stared at the object of her mortification, her heart hammering in her chest like it was trapped in a cage.

Their eyes met again, and she saw something flicker in his gaze, something she had never noticed before. It was a look of surprise, yes, but also something deeper, something that made her breath catch in her throat. It was curiosity, a hint of desire that made her tremble with a need she had long buried. She had dedicated her life to the children, to Vander's cause, but in that moment, she realized she had forgotten about herself, about the woman she used to be, the woman who craved passion and intimacy.

Vander cleared his throat, his face a mask of embarrassment. "I, uh, I didn't know you had… one of those." He reached down to pick it up, his hands rough against the smooth plastic. She could see the veins in his forearms, the muscles tensing as he held the vibrator, and she couldn't help but wonder what those hands would feel like on her body.

Her thoughts were racing, a jumbled mess of panic and arousal. She had moved to the Undercity to escape the rigid expectations of Piltover, to find a place where she could be herself. And now, in this tiny, cramped room, she was face to face with a side of herself she had kept hidden, even from Vander, the man who knew her better than anyone.

The children's voices grew fainter as she stepped closer to him, the room seeming to shrink around them. "It's… it's just a thing," she stuttered, her eyes darting around the room, trying to find something, anything, to change the subject.

Vander's gaze softened, and he placed the vibrator on the bedside table, his thumb lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Look, I understand," he said gruffly, his eyes never leaving hers. "We've been through a lot together, you and I. You're like a mother to these kids, and I… well, I've done my best to be a father to them." His hand hovered in the air for a moment before gently coming to rest on her head, the warmth of his palm searing through her hair. "This doesn't change anything, okay?"

Vander's hand on her head was a familiar weight, a reminder of the comfort he had offered her countless times before. His thumb traced slow circles, soothing her like a child's lullaby, and she couldn't help but lean into it, her eyes fluttering shut. She had forgotten she had it, the vibrator, but the truth was, she hadn't forgotten the need it filled. She had just buried it deep, beneath layers of selflessness and duty.

Her entire body was on fire, and she couldn't bring herself to look away from his hand, the simple touch speaking volumes of his care and understanding. They had shared so much, so many late nights and stolen moments of comfort that had grown into something more profound. It wasn't the first time they had crossed the line between friendship and desire, but it was always shrouded in the darkness of the night, whispered secrets shared in the quiet after the Last Drop had closed its doors.

With a nod that was almost imperceptible, she whispered the truth, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. "I… I had forgotten I had it," she confessed, her cheeks aflame with a heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of their unspoken history.

Vander's hand paused on her head for a moment longer, his thumb still tracing gentle circles, and she couldn't help but lean into the comfort he offered. It was a silent acknowledgment of their shared past, a secret woven into the very fabric of the Last Drop.

He loved her, she knew that, loved her in a way that transcended the boundaries of their roles as caretakers to the children of the Undercity. His love was as steadfast as the crumbling walls that surrounded them, a foundation that had held them together through the darkest of times.

He took a step back, the mattress now in its rightful place, the room feeling even smaller with the weight of their unspoken history. "We'll talk about this later, when it's just us," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to vibrate through her core. "But for now, let's get the rest of this done."

Her nod was light, barely perceptible, and she whispered her agreement, the words sticking in her throat like a confession she hadn't meant to make. As he turned to leave, she couldn't help but watch his retreating form, the way his shoulders filled the doorway, the muscles in his back flexing with the effort of carrying the last of her possessions. The air in the room felt charged, as if it had been waiting for this moment, holding its breath in anticipation.

The reader's heart was racing as she heard his footsteps fade away, the echo of his words lingering in the air. She took a deep, trembling breath and let it out slowly, willing her body to calm down. The vibrator on the bedside table was a silent sentinel of a side of her she had long buried under the weight of her new life in the Undercity. But she knew it wasn't entirely forgotten, not for her, and not for Vander.

Their encounters had been few and far between, stolen moments of passion that had crept up on them like shadows in the night. Each time, it had been a mix of comfort and desperation, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had grown between them over the years.

They had never talked about it, never given it a name, but it was as real and tangible as the whiskey that burned in the patrons' throats downstairs. It was a bond forged in the crucible of shared hardships, a secret shared in the quiet when the last light of the day had been swallowed by the ever-present gloom of the Undercity.

The reader couldn't help but let her gaze linger on the vibrator, feeling the heat spread from her cheeks to the rest of her body. It was a reminder of her needs, of the woman she had been before the weight of her new life had settled on her shoulders.

She had never been shy about her desires, not even in the stuffy drawing rooms of Piltover. But here, in the grit and grime of the Last Drop, she had found a purpose that had pushed those needs into the background.

As the last of the boxes were brought upstairs, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation growing within her. The children bustled around them, eager to help and claim their new "big sister's" attention, but she was lost in her own thoughts. Vander's touch had been a spark that ignited the embers of a fire she had long ago thought extinguished. The way he had looked at her, the understanding in his eyes, it was as if he knew the secrets she kept hidden in her heart.

The reader took a moment to compose herself, her trembling hands smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, a dress she had once worn to a gala in Piltover, now stained with the sweat and grime of a life lived in the Undercity. She looked around the room, the walls closing in on her, the memories of those stolen moments with Vander playing out like a silent film reel in her mind. The times when the world had faded away, and all that had existed was the two of them, tangled in the sheets of his room, their breaths mingling in the darkness.

It wasn't a new occurrence, their secret trysts. They had been happening for years, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had grown between them. They had always approached it with a gentle caution, never pushing each other further than the other was willing to go. It was a dance of passion and restraint, a balancing act performed in the shadows of the Last Drop's stolen moments.

Vander had always been careful, his rough hands tender as they had explored your body, his touch speaking louder than any words could. you had loved him for it, loved him for the way he understood you without ever asking for anything in return. The children were their priority, always and forever, but in the quiet hours of the night, when the city was asleep, they had found refuge in each other's arms.

He had been your rock, your confidant, the one person who had never judged you for your past or your desires. His love was a gentle embrace that had given you the strength to face the harsh realities of the Undercity, and in return, you had given him a piece of yourself that you had thought was lost.

The vibrator was a symbol of that part of you that had been left behind in Piltover, a part that craved the kind of pleasure that had nothing to do with the endless cycle of caretaking and sacrifice. It was a reminder of the woman you had been before the Last Drop had claimed you, and you knew that Vander knew that.

The room grew warmer as the children's laughter and chatter grew louder downstairs. you couldn't help but wonder if they sensed the change in the air, the subtle shift in the dynamics between their makeshift parents. Vander had always been there, a pillar of strength and support, but now there was something else, something that made your pulse race, skin tingling with anticipation.

Your eyes fell on the vibrator again, and she couldn't help but pick it up, her hands trembling with the memories of past moments of solace. It was a simple device, a small, sleek cylinder that promised release and escape, but in her hands, it felt like a declaration of war against the rigidity of her self-imposed celibacy.

Vander had said they would talk later, when it was just the two of them, and you knew what that meant. They would navigate the murky waters of their desires with the same care they had taken in raising the children. It wouldn't be rushed, it wouldn't be forced. It would be slow, deliberate, a dance they had perfected over the years.

But now, with the vibrator in your hand, you felt a restlessness she hadn't felt in a long time. The need was there, a hunger that gnawed at your insides, demanding to be fed. you knew that later, when the Last Drop was quiet and the children were tucked away in their makeshift beds, you would lay beside Vander and let him soothe away the ache you hadn't even realized was there.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing, and placed the vibrator back in the bedside table, tucked under layers of clothes. you knew that you werent ready to let go of the woman you had been, the woman who had the right to want, to need. But you also knew that the time for secrets was over, that the bond you shared with Vander was stronger than the whispers of the Undercity.

With a newfound resolve, you descended the creaky stairs, the laughter and shouts of the children a comforting backdrop to your tumultuous thoughts. The Last Drop was in full swing, a symphony of chaos and warmth that you had come to know so well. Vander was behind the bar, his broad shoulders tense as he poured drinks with a precision that spoke of his unwavering dedication to his patrons.

You slid into your role, the familiar rhythm of the night wrapping around you like a well-worn cloak. The children watched you, their eyes filled with trust and affection, and you felt a pang of guilt for the secret you had kept from them, the secret that was now out in the open.

As the clock's hands inched closer to midnight, you began the ritual of herding the children upstairs. You whispered goodnights to the boys, ensuring they had their essentials, and even though you knew it was unnecessary, you checked that they had used the bathroom. The smiles they gave you were worth the extra effort, the mischief in their eyes hinting at the pranks they would play on you if you weren't vigilant. You tucked them in, their cheeks flushed with the warmth of the day's mischief, and hoped that tomorrow would bring them joy.

Finally, you reached the girls' room, the soft light from the street lamps casting a warm glow on the worn wooden floorboards. They were already in bed, their eyes heavy with the promise of sleep. You kissed powder on the forehead, her sweetness a balm to your soul, and whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

Vi looked up at you, her eyes reflecting the quiet strength you had come to admire in her. She was a fighter, a survivor, and you were so proud to be a part of her life. With a gentle pat, you tucked her in. You brushed a stray lock from her forehead, her skin as soft as silk, and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, my little warrior," you murmured, earning a sleepy smile in return.

The night grew later, the sounds of the Undercity lulling the Last Drop into a gentle rhythm of whispers and clinking glasses. You moved behind the bar with Vander, your movements a silent symphony of efficiency and grace. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirrored shelves, a silent understanding passing between them. The whiskey flowed, the laughter grew softer, and the children began to drift upstairs, lured by the promise of bedtime stories and the warm embrace of sleep.

As the last of the stragglers stumbled out into the night, leaving the bar to the comforting hum of the neon sign outside, Vander turned to you, his gaze intense. His eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips, and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her body. His hand reached out, brushing against her waist, and she knew the moment had come. The dance of passion they had so carefully choreographed was about to begin.

He led her upstairs, the creaks of the ancient floorboards echoing their silent promise. The room that had once been a sanctuary of solitude now felt like a cocoon of anticipation, the air thick with unspoken desire. He closed the door behind them, the final barrier between them and the outside world, and she watched as he moved towards the bed, his steps slow and deliberate.

Vander took the vibrator from the bedside table, his eyes never leaving hers. He turned it on, the low buzz a declaration of intent. She swallowed hard, her eyes transfixed on the way his hand held the device, his fingers curling around it with a familiarity that made her knees weak. He approached her, his movements a blend of tenderness and authority. He knew her body like a map, every contour and curve, every sensitive spot that made her gasp.

But tonight was different.

Vander's touch was gentle yet firm as he took the vibrator from the bedside table. He approached you, the buzzing toy a silent promise of the pleasure to come. His eyes searched yours, questioning, seeking consent. You nodded, breath hitching as you felt a thrill of excitement. He knew you so well, knew that you craved the balance of his softness and dominance.

He leaned in, his whiskey-laced breath fanning your cheek. "Is this okay?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through your bones. you could only nod, your voice lost in the storm of emotions that surged within you. He took the vibrator and set it aside, his gaze never leaving yours as he reached for the buttons of your dress. Each one released with a soft click, a staccato symphony of desire that echoed in the stillness of the room.

As he peeled back the fabric, his touch was featherlight, a gentle caress that made your skin come alive. His eyes traced the path of his fingertips, drinking in the sight of you with a hunger that made your knees buckle. He kissed you then, his lips a sweet pressure that grew more insistent with each passing second. His hands roamed over your body, his touch both tender and possessive. You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by his kiss.

Vander broke away, his eyes dark with need. He placed a finger to your lips, his voice a harsh whisper. "Quiet," he said, the command laced with a hint of a smile. "We don't want to wake the little ones." His words sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill at the illicitness of their actions in this sanctuary they had built together. He picked up the vibrator once more, his thumb flicking over the controls until it grew louder, the promise of pleasure a constant hum in the air.

He traced the vibrator down your body, the sensation making you arch into his touch. His other hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as he explored you with a newfound dominance. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moans that threatened to spill from your throat. The vibrations grew stronger, more intense, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. His eyes never left yours, his gaze a silent challenge as he pushed you further, the thrill of their clandestine encounter heightening the sensations.

Vander whispered against your skin, his breath hot and urgent. "Do you like this?" His voice was a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in every part of your being. You nodded, unable to form words, your body speaking for you as it trembled with need. He smirked, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and the power of that knowledge was intoxicating.

He moved the vibrator away, the sudden absence of the sensation making you whimper. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. He bent down, his lips brushing against the pulse point in your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that felt like branding irons. His teeth grazed your skin, the slight sting sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. His mouth moved upwards, kissing your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, and finally reaching your breasts.

You gasped as his mouth closed over a nipple, the sensation a stark contrast to the gentle touch of his kisses. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, and your back arched off the bed. The vibrator was forgotten, replaced by the intense pleasure of his mouth on your body. He moved to the other side, giving it the same treatment, his hand squeezing gently, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You felt a bead of moisture form between your legs, the fabric of your underwear growing damp.

He pulled away, his eyes searching yours for permission. "If you can't keep quiet," he whispered, his voice a dark promise, "I'll have to find other ways to keep you silent." He paused, watching your reaction, and when you nodded eagerly, he reached for the vibrator again, the anticipation making your heart pound. He turned it up to a higher setting, the buzzing a sweet torture in the quiet room.

With a smirk, he placed it at your entrance, the vibrations making your entire body quiver. He watched as your eyes rolled back, a soft whine escaping your lips. He chuckled, a sound that was more a rumble than a laugh, and whispered, "You're going to have to be quieter than that, love." His hand reached up, covering your mouth with his calloused palm. The feel of his skin against yours was almost as overwhelming as the sensations building within you.

His other hand remained on the vibrator, his thumb pressing down to increase the intensity. You tried to muffle your moans into his hand, the effort only making them more pronounced. He kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving faint marks that would be hidden by your clothes but that you'd feel for days. His touch was like fire, burning a path up your body, setting your nerve endings alight with every caress.

As your hips began to buck against his hand, he removed it, replacing the vibrator with something softer, warmer. His mouth closed around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh as his hand trailed down your body. His teeth tugged gently, the sensation sending a jolt straight to your core. You tried to stifle the moan that bubbled up, biting down on your bottom lip until you tasted blood, but it was no use. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming.

Vander's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I told you, love," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. He reached up, placing a finger over your mouth, silencing you. "If you can't be quiet," he began, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine, "I'll have to find other ways to keep you quiet."

With deliberate slowness, he unbuckled his belt, the leather whispering against the fabric of his pants. You watched, breath bated, as he folded it in half, the edges lined with the promise of a bite. He leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours as he slid the belt between your teeth. The leather was cold, tasting faintly of metal, and you felt a thrill of fear and excitement as he tightened it, securing it around your head.

"Bite down," he instructed, his voice a gentle command. You did as he asked, feeling the leather press against your teeth. He tested it, his thumb brushing against your cheek, watching to ensure you could handle it. He nodded, a pleased look in his eyes, before turning his attention back to your trembling body.

With renewed vigor, he returned to your breasts, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, his hands moving down to grip your hips. He held you firmly in place, his touch a silent demand for obedience. He knew you craved this, the sweet mix of pain and pleasure that came from his dominance.

Vander's gaze dropped to the damp fabric of your underwear, his eyes darkening with desire. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband, pulling them down in a slow, deliberate motion. The cool air of the room kissed your skin as he exposed you to his view. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, his eyes lingering on the glistening wetness that had gathered between your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with need. He knelt between your legs, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. He leaned in, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, the sensation making you jolt with pleasure. He licked you with a slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the taste of you. His beard tickled your inner thighs, sending goosebumps across your skin.

He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, the pressure building until you thought you would scream. You bit down hard on the belt, the leather cutting into your skin, muffling the cries that threatened to escape. His mouth was a masterpiece of sensation, a symphony of pleasure that played across your body. You felt yourself rising, your muscles tensing, every nerve ending alive with the promise of release.

He sensed your impending climax and increased his pace, his tongue flicking against your clit in a relentless rhythm. The vibrator was forgotten, lost in the haze of sensation as his mouth claimed you completely. The world narrowed to the point of his tongue, the feel of his beard against your skin, the smell of him, of the bar, of the whiskey that lingered on his breath. You bucked your hips, trying to get closer, trying to get away, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

Vander's grip on your hips tightened, his teeth sinking gently into your inner thigh. The bite of pain was a sweet counterpoint to the pleasure, grounding you in the moment. You felt the marks forming, a brand of his possession, and the thought only made you wetter. He laved a trail of kisses up your thigh, each one tender and soothing, as if apologizing for the bruises he knew he was leaving behind. He reached the juncture of your thigh and hip, his mouth lingering, his tongue tracing the curve of your bone before moving on.

You could feel the tension building, the coil winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue. He knew your body so well, knew exactly how to push you to the brink and keep you there, teetering on the edge of release. His eyes never left yours, watching the play of emotions across your face, the way your pupils dilated with need. He took his time, savoring the moment, his mouth a masterful instrument that played you like a finely tuned instrument.

And then, without warning, he stopped. He sat back on his heels, his chin glistening with your arousal. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his stare making your breath catch in your throat. He held your eyes as he reached for the vibrator, his fingers wrapping around it firmly.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned it on again, the buzzing filling the room. He placed it at your entrance, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. He waited, watching your reaction, his thumb hovering over the button to increase the speed. "Do you want more?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr that made you squirm. You nodded frantically, the need for release consuming you.

He chuckled, a dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Good girl." His thumb pressed down, the vibrations growing stronger, the pleasure more intense. He slid it in, filling you, the sensation overwhelming. You bit down hard on the belt, the leather cutting into your teeth as you struggled to keep silent. His eyes never left yours as he began to move the vibrator in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hand steady and sure.

He leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was as fierce as the passion that had built between you. His tongue claimed you, mimicking the movements of the vibrator, the dual sensations making your head spin. His hand moved to your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as the vibrator filled you, stretching and teasing.

You could feel yourself tightening around the device, your body begging for release. His mouth moved to your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "Do you want to come for me?" he whispered, his teeth grazing the lobe. You nodded, unable to form words, your body trembling with anticipation. His hand moved the vibrator in a slow, rhythmic motion, the pressure building, the vibrations echoing through your core.

Vander leaned back, watching your face as he worked his magic. His eyes searched yours, a silent conversation that asked for more, that demanded you submit completely to the pleasure he offered. You felt your body respond, hips bucking upwards, desperate for the release that hovered just out of reach. His hand moved the vibrator in a steady rhythm, each pass bringing you closer to the edge.

As the pleasure grew too intense to bear, he leaned down, his mouth claiming your clit in a gentle bite. The sudden burst of pain mixed with pleasure was too much, and you felt yourself come apart, your body writhing in ecstasy. He didn't stop, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as your muscles clenched around the vibrator. The world swam, a kaleidoscope of sensations that overwhelmed you completely.

The room was silent except for the harsh sounds of your muffled cries and the low buzz of the vibrator. He watched you, his gaze dark and hungry, as you writhed beneath him. He could feel the tension building in your body, the way your muscles tightened around the vibrator. His hand moved faster, pressing the toy harder against you, and you felt yourself start to squirt, the warm wetness soaking the bed beneath you.

Vander's eyes grew wide with surprise and excitement, a feral grin spreading across his face. He leaned back, taking in the sight of your body convulsing with pleasure. The vibrator slipped from his hand, forgotten as he watched you come apart. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low growl of satisfaction. He reached out, his thumb brushing through the wetness, smearing it across your skin.

Before you could recover, he was on you, his body covering yours. He kissed you hard, his tongue demanding entry, the taste of you on his lips. He reached for his own pants, the fabric straining against his erection. With a quick movement, he freed himself, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He paused, his eyes searching yours, making sure you were ready. You nodded, your body begging for him to fill you.

He pushed in, the thickness of him stretching you wide. You gasped against his mouth, the sensation overwhelming. He was gentle at first, his movements tentative, but as your body began to accept him, he grew more confident, more demanding. His hips picked up speed, his cock sliding in and out of you in a rhythm that mirrored the vibrator's earlier movements.

"You're so wet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "So tight. Like you were made for me." His words were a sweet agony, a symphony of dirty talk that danced in the air between you. You bit down harder on the belt, the leather cutting into your skin as you fought to keep your moans contained. He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Do you like that, love? Do you like feeling me so deep inside you?"

You nodded, unable to find your voice. His hands moved to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks as he thrust into you. "I knew you would," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "You're a whore for it, aren't you?" He didn't wait for a response, his hips snapping against yours as he claimed you fully. The room was filled with the slap of skin on skin, the low buzz of the vibrator, and the quiet sounds of your muffled pleasure.

"Look at me," he growled, his eyes burning with a fierce desire. You met his gaze, the intensity of it making your stomach flip. "I'm going to fuck you like you're in heat, love. Like you're a bitch in the streets, begging for it." His whispered words were a brand, a declaration of his dominance that sent a jolt of arousal straight to your clit. He watched you, his eyes never leaving yours as he fucked you with a passion that bordered on violence.

With each thrust, he whispered filthy words into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "So good, so tight," he murmured. "You're going to come again, aren't you?" His hand moved down, his fingers finding your clit, pressing down as he continued to pound into you. The pleasure was building higher and higher until you were sure you couldn't take anymore.

But Vander wasn't done with you. He increased his speed, his grip on your hips tightening. "Come for me," he ordered, his voice a low rumble. "Come like the dirty slut you are." His words were a trigger, the final push that sent you spiraling over the edge. Your body clenched around him, muscles contracting as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He watched you come, his eyes dark with satisfaction. His own climax was close, you could feel his cock pulsing within you, the head of it swelling with his impending release. With a final, brutal thrust, he emptied himself inside you, his warmth filling you as he collapsed on top of you, panting. The belt fell from your mouth, the leather leaving a red imprint on your skin.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing, the buzz of the vibrator now silent. He kissed you then, a gentle press of his lips against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth as if to claim the last of your pleasure. "Mine," he murmured, the word a quiet declaration of ownership that made your heart race. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through your body.

For a moment, you simply lay there, your hearts pounding in sync. His weight was a comfort, a reminder of the connection you shared, the bond that had grown between you amidst the chaos of the Undercity. You knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship, one that would be filled with passion and intensity.

With a gentle sigh, Vander pulled away, his eyes filled with a soft tenderness that made your heart swell. He helped you sit up, the mattress dipping slightly as he moved off the bed. You watched him as he bent down, the muscles in his back rippling as he picked up the discarded vibrator and the belt. The sight of him, so focused on caring for you even in the aftermath of passion, brought a warmth to your chest.

Together, you moved around the room, tidying up the evidence of your encounter. The smell of sex hung in the air, a heady scent that only served to remind you of the intimacy you'd shared. The vibrator was placed back in its hiding spot, the belt folded neatly and set aside. The room was returned to order, the only clue to your tryst the rumpled bed you'd soon share with him.

Once everything was in its place, you turned to each other, the silence speaking volumes. He took your hand, leading you back to the bed. He pulled the covers over you both, his arm wrapping around your waist as you snuggled into his embrace. His chest was a warm pillow, the steady beat of his heart a comforting lullaby.

You lay there, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, his breath a gentle tickle against your neck. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the single candle that had illuminated your passion, casting shadows that danced on the walls. Your mind raced with thoughts of what tomorrow would bring, but for now, you were content in the present, wrapped in the arms of the man who had become so much more than just a friend.

As sleep began to claim you, you felt his hand rest gently on your hip, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. His lips brushed against your forehead, leaving a tender kiss that spoke volumes in the quiet of the night.

The candle's flame flickered, casting shifting shadows across the walls, a silent witness to the profound shift in your relationship. The room was clean, the evidence of your passion tucked away, but the intimate scent lingered, a testament to the fiery dance you had shared.

You nestled closer to Vander, your body fitting against his like a puzzle piece finding its place. His warmth seeped into you, chasing away the last remnants of the cold, lonely nights you had known before him. Your heart slowed to match his steady rhythm, the beat a comforting lullaby whispering of a future filled with shared secrets and stolen moments. The mattress beneath you felt like a haven, the sheets a cocoon of safety and desire.

***Extra:

The next day dawned with a gentle light that streamed through the small window of the Last Drop. You stirred from your slumber, the scent of whiskey and sweat clinging to the air like a lover's embrace. The bar was quiet, the children still asleep in the makeshift bunk beds that lined the walls. You stretched, muscles protesting the exertion of the night before, and felt a twinge of satisfaction at the memory of the bruises Vander had left on your body.

You slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and padded over to the sink to wash the night from your skin. The cold water was a shock, but it served to clear your foggy thoughts. As you dressed, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of belonging, a secret shared with the man who had become your confidant, your protector, and now, your lover.

Moving into the main area of the bar, you began your morning routine, wiping down the sticky counters and sweeping the floor. The familiarity of the tasks was soothing, a balm to the tumultuous emotions churning within you. Vander emerged from his office, looking as ruggedly handsome as ever. He caught your gaze, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Morning, love," he called out, his voice carrying a hint of the possessiveness that had colored it the night before.

You blushed, ducking your head to hide your smile. The tension of the night was a living thing between you, a coil of anticipation and fear that tightened with every step. You knew the children couldn't suspect, not yet. It was a secret that burned in your chest, a secret that made every interaction feel charged with potential discovery.

As you cleaned, you overheard a few of the regulars teasing Vander about the teeth marks in his belt. They laughed, thinking it was some sort of barroom brawl souvenir. Vander's eyes flicked to you, a glint of mischief in his gaze. "Some people just don't know how to keep quiet," he said with a shrug, his tone a perfect blend of sarcasm and nonchalance. Your heart skipped a beat, the memory of your bitten lip and muffled cries coming back in a rush.

The men chuckled, unaware of the intimate meaning behind his words. You felt a thrill of excitement, the rush of adrenaline mixing with the sweetness of the secret you shared. It was a heady concoction, one that made your cheeks flush and your hands shake. Vander winked at you, the gesture so subtle that no one else noticed. It was a silent promise, a shared joke that only served to deepen the bond that had formed between you.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur, the normalcy of your routines a stark contrast to the tumult of your emotions. Vander took his place at the bar, serving drinks and spinning tall tales with the ease of a seasoned storyteller. You watched him, unable to shake the image of him above you, his face contorted with passion, his body claiming yours.

As the day wore on, the children began to stir, their laughter and chatter filling the bar with the sound of life. You moved among them, serving breakfast with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. They were oblivious to the shift in the air, the electric current that now flowed between you and Vander. But you felt it, a constant hum that vibrated through every interaction.

You knew that the night had changed everything, that there was no going back. The line you had so carefully drawn had been crossed, and now you had to navigate the murky waters of a relationship that was anything but typical. But as you watched Vander with the children, his face softening into a smile that was just for them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for what lay ahead. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: you had found something rare and precious in the chaos of the Undercity, and you weren't about to let it go without a fight.

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[leascorner]

j.b.b | The Grinch

Summary: Y/N can’t travel to see her family on Christmas so she invite her grumpy loner neighbour, Bucky.

Pairing:  Post blip!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food and alcohol, angst, some vulgar language, everything is in the summary really, this is set like the falcon and the winter soldier never happened or it's happening before that.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is the 4th Xmas OS of the series. So sorry it is a couple of days late. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot! Merry Christmas!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

18th of December

$125

Y/N blinked at the number being displayed on her phone’s screen. She had stopped right in the middle of what she was doing, in utter disbelief of her discovery. Her whole process of thoughts seemed to have frozen; just like her computer would display “error 404” when she would perform contradictory actions.

She didn’t understand how this was possible; something was wrong obviously wrong because she didn’t expect this number to be displayed. Refusing what she was seeing, she logged out of the app and then back in a couple of times.

Yet, every time, the sentence was the same.

$125

Despite everything, this was currently the amount of money Y/N had on her bank account. These past couple of months, she had been saving for this moment; a moment she had been imagining all year long and for which she expected to be shredding happy tears. Instead, the tears currently running down her cheeks were made of pure anger.

She found the culprit quite easily. A monthly interest payment of a loan that was playfully mocking her on top of her bank statement. Now that she was thinking of it, she should have probably read all those letters; the ones with the red-inked stamp “urgent” printed on them. She had found all the excuses in the world: especially how exhaustive was she after having worked double shifts almost every day lately or that it had just been easier to have them sitting on her coffee table.

Y/N had no idea what she would do. If $125 was probably quite enough to eat until the end of the month if she made a few compromises, there was no way she would be able to buy flight tickets to get home for Christmas. She would have brought them earlier if she had been able to – at a time she still had the money on her bank account, for example – but her colleague had only confirmed that same day they could take over her shifts during the Christmas week. Now, she didn’t have any money and would be alone for the year-end celebration.

Her cell phone ringing made her snap back to reality. She was still in front of her building, keys in one hand, frozen in her action to enter. Her heart sunk has she discovered the picture displayed on the screen; her sister and her, one of the last pictures they had taken together, at Y/N’s university graduation ceremony, a couple of weeks before the blip. Her sister was most likely calling her about this “very good news” Y/N had texted her about that afternoon. Now, she only had to let her know that it had been a false alarm and that she wouldn’t be able to make it home this year.

Again.

It wouldn’t be the first time indeed. In fact, ever since the blip had been reversed, Y/N had not been home for the Christmas. At first, she had chosen not to. She was the only person in her family to have been gone. Without her, they all had continued with their lives, and the post-blip had been brutal for her. One second, she was full of life: she had just gotten an amazing job in New York, and she was going to live her dream. The other, the blip had happened, five years had passed, and she had lost everything. Her family, her job, herself. Her little sister was now older than her, graduating college and ready to start a family. Her parents had retired and started a new life in California. She didn’t have a dream job anymore; she had no job at all in fact. In this world that had changed so much, she felt out of places. So, she did what she thought was could do. She left everyone behind and moved to New York.

The months after moving there had been full of hope. Hope that she could still make it to her dream job and life after all. She had gotten in touch with associations working on helping people post-blip. They said: if she took a few classes, she could be retrained on the most up to date information and she would be able to get the job she had always dreamt of after all. Yet, it was even worse than college. She had to work part-time to be able to take the night classes. She either worked or studied; leaving only a few minutes a day to eat, sleep and bath. This was until some court bailiffs came banging to her door. The banks had been quick to be back to find the people that had disappeared and were now asking them to provide the past five years’ debt payment. All of her dreams had been shattered yet again.

Determined not to ask for help, Y/N stayed in New York and totally forgot about her dreams. Instead, she found another job at a bar-restaurant – one that paid better than the cashier part-time job she had until that – and worked there ever since, trying to pay off her initial student loan and the other loan she had had to take to be able to repay the requested five-years’ worth of debt in one go. She was now planning every spendings up to the last penny. She was living off diluted body and hair shower gel and all sorts of techniques to have the impression of having eaten a lot more than she had. Yet, it hadn’t been enough.

It was never enough…

Drying off her tears, she answered her phone and stuck it against her ear with her shoulder while she entered the building. She was quick to break the news to her sister. She kept her voice steady, not showing any emotions to shorten the conversation as much as possible. She did so as she collected her mail and then turned to take the stairs up to her apartment.

On the phone, Y/N didn’t see her neighbour coming down the stairs and eventually run straight into him. She would have fallen down the two steps she had just climbed if he hadn’t caught up by the arms at the very last moment.

"For fuck’s sake!" he sighed angrily. "Can’t you watch where you’re going?"

Y/N only answered by rolling her eyes. She picked up her phone from the floor; her sister was still on the line, calling after her. While she turned it to her, she discovered her screen totally shattered. She would have cried if she could have…

Without further ado, she put her phone back to her ear and continued to go up the stairs. Her neighbour – a guy that moved in a couple of months ago and that was hardly saying ��hello’ the few times they had seen each other in the hall – huffed and without thinking nor turning back, Y/N flipped him off. She would probably be ashamed of this later, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less of what he would think of her.

She couldn’t care less about anything anyway.

20th of December

Two days later, as Y/N was slowly accepting the fact that she would not be with her family for Christmas, she encountered her favourite neighbour in the hall again.

She had just gotten home from work and was collecting a parcel in her letterbox. This was a present for her sister that she wouldn’t be able to give her in the end and for which she couldn’t even pay stamp to ship it to her home. She would be lucky if she could return it and get a few dollars back.

As she was closing her letterbox, her neighbour entered the hall. Feeling a little guilty about the other night, Y/N’s first thought was to apologies for her behaviour. A quick look at the guy and the constant frown on his face made her swallow her saliva; hard.

He was good-looking though, with his blue-piercing eyes and full lips. The stubble on his chin –always of the same length whenever she would see him – let her think that he was taking care of himself; though the way he dressed was clearly demonstrating he wasn’t really on point on the fashion side. If he wasn’t always so… whatever he always was… she probably would have liked him. With his grumpy looks, he reminded her of this movie character she liked so much when she was a kid: the Grinch.

In silence, Y/N watched from the corner of her eyes as he also checked his mailbox, a couple of meters away from hers. After gathering the few letters in the box, he sighed and abruptly closed the door.

“What now?” he asked as he turned to her.

Y/N jumped to the tone of his voice. He was clearly annoyed at her while she hadn’t done anything. At least that day.

“No need to be a dick,” she quickly bit back, annoyance building up in her voice as much as his, and he huffed again – this seemed to be something he would do a lot. She had to take a quick deep breath before continuing: "I wanted to… apology for the other night.”

The words nearly burnt her mouth as she was saying them. It cost her a lot to admit her wrongs, yet his cold eyes only started at her, and he spoke no words back. She didn’t know how she wanted him to react, but his absence of reaction startled her, and only made her want to justify herself further.

“I wasn’t in a good mood,” she added.

“You are not the only one to have bad days,” was all he said before leaving.

Taken aback, Y/N watched as he climbed the stairs and disappeared out of his sight. She couldn’t believe how much of a jerk he had been. She swore this was the last time she would ever speak to him.

22nd of December

Y/N rarely overslept.

The only reason for that was that she didn’t sleep a lot. Ever since the blip, she had trouble finding sleep and then, staying asleep. It was like her body had a big fear of missing out on everything and anything, so it just let her sleep the number of hours she needed to keep going. She would have thought that with the double shifts she was doing, she would have slept better, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed wide awake in her bed, fixing the ceiling, eyes heavy with tiredness. She had all this time to think about the misery of her own life.

However, it seemed that night that the tiredness had gotten the most out of her, and as she never set an alarm clock – because she rarely needed, she was now going to be late for work. She took only a couple of minutes to get ready, drink a coffee and brush her teeth all at the same times. Ten minutes later, she was already grabbing her stuff and putting her coat on.

As she opened the door of her apartment, she came face-to-face with her neighbour going up the stairs. They both immediately stopped in their tracks.

He looked at her. Her eyes still puffy from the fact she had still been sleeping less than fifteen minutes ago. Hair all other the place even if she had put hair clips in them to keep them into place. She had dressed up in such a hurry, the shirt of her uniform was halfway in and halfway out of her pants.

She looked at him looking at her. With the same frown on his face and the same cold glance. Just this time, the circles around his eyes were darker than ever and he looked much more tired than her. For the first time, she saw something vulnerable in him, a flash of sadness in the blankness of his face.

They looked at one another. So different yet somehow similar. With their inability to sleep properly, the memories that kept them up at night and their resentment about this life that had been taken away from them. Both of them with all their trauma and weaknesses. With their constant melancholy and sometimes, their good days.

They looked at each other some more and then they both continued on with their day.

24th of December

Y/N was just settling on her couch – which was also her bed – in front of the TV, wrapped in her fluffy blanket and two pairs of fleece socks on her feet when she heard a knock on her door. She froze instantly; bad memories coming back to her in an instant. She had been visited a few times by different people always banging on her door at sunrise; each time, it never had ended well. Per pure reflex, she held her breath as if whoever was on her front door would be able to hear her - the walls were probably thin, but not this thin.

After counting to ten and not hearing anything else, she relaxed into her sofa. It was probably just her imagination at this point, this was how tired she was. She reached for the remote on the coffee table and started an episode of her favourite TV show. This was when she heard a knock for the second time. One time too many for her.

This time she paused her show and got on her feet to have a look. Sulking for the five steps it took her to go to the front door, she opened it bluntly and was surprised to find her neighbour ‘The Grinch’.

He looked at her, surprised and she looked at him, probably even more surprised. Her gaze turned instinctively to her feet and the fluffy pyjamas she was wearing. She couldn’t help the heat crawling up her neck, so she looked back to him and her eyes got stuck on his hands. One of flesh and one of metal. Holding a metal box between them. That he was now holding up to her.

She frowned.

“For you.”

Her eyes moved up to his face again, to check if he was serious or not. She could have fallen asleep the minutes her show started and be dreaming; though from how cold her feet were, she was pretty sure she wasn’t. Nothing on his face indicated he was joking – he didn’t seem to be the type to joke anyway. He wasn’t actually frowning, but he still had a small wrinkle in between his two eyebrows from all the frowning he was doing that somehow it still looked like he was. She wouldn’t say the expression on his face was friendly, but it had something that for once made her not want to close the door on his face.

Perhaps, it was because of the straight line his lips were in. They which were was usually so pink and so… luscious. From that, she couldn’t tell what he was feeling right now – was he nervous? Or simply contemplating all his life choices now that he was in front of her. She knew it was costing him to be here in front of her.

She looked back at the metal box in his hands; was he really expecting her to take it?

“My ma’ used to cook cookies for our neighbours,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His glance adverted to the ceiling as if he was looking for the right words to continue: “I thought maybe… this was a good way to apologize. For the other day…and all the times before that.”

This time, it was Y/N’s time to stop frowning – she would have to check later if she had also a wrinkle. She took the box he was handing her and nodded, in some sort of way to mean ‘thank you’. The box was heavier than she had expected it to be. She wondered if he had made them himself, like his ‘ma’ was probably doing.

“My name is Bucky by the way.” Was all he said before leaving her like that, a box of cookies in her hands.

25th of December

Working at a restaurant had its own perks. One of them being that Y/N could have at least one meal a day in the form of the staff meal. And on special occasions – like today – she could even get home with leftovers, most of them she would normally stock up in her freezer to make sure she had something to eat in the next couple of days.

That day though, when she climbed up the stairs, she didn’t stop on the second floor where her apartment was. Instead, her feet got her to the fourth floor, on the second door on the right. One she had never been to and yet, she knew exactly where to find it.

She didn’t hesitate one second before knocking, though the few seconds she had to wait she did get cold feet and wonder if it was really a good idea. Bucky did have gifted her handmade cookies – she had eaten a couple after he left while watching her favourite show, and it was the best she probably ever had. However, it did not mean they were now friends. They were just two adults, seeing each other in the hall of their building sometimes. That was all… Then, why was she so damned pulled towards him?

Bucky opened the door when she was about to turn around. He had a blank tank top and black pants on. Thankfully, he did not seem to be in the middle of a Christmas dinner and his apartment was pretty quiet behind him. His usual frown had been replaced by raised eyebrows. He was surprised to see her, on Christmas day, in her work clothes, at his door. He would have probably expected her to be in her family, with her friends or boyfriend, even. Instead, she had nowhere better to be than in front of him, right now.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time, before his cat – Alpine as he called after, while trying to stop it to get outside his apartment – came to rub itself against her legs. She immediately lowered herself to scratch it behind the ear and Bucky observed them without a word. His cat, who was usually more than a little fearful of people it didn't know, was on the verge of lying down on the floor and beg for belly rubs.

“Are you on your own too?” was the only thing he spoke, and she got back on her feet, suddenly remembering why she was actually here.

“Wanna share?” she asked while showing him the paper bag in which she had the leftovers from the restaurant.

His eyes scanned her face a little too long for Y/N’s liking that she grew nervous. She felt like an idiot, believing… whatever – she wasn’t even sure she was believing. She was just lonely, having been alone for too long. The only people she hung out with would be her colleagues, on her work time – and they had taken a drink together after work a time or two. Most of them were students or only planning to be in the job for a couple of months before bouncing back. None of them was like her, as if she had been the only one to disappear off of the surface of the earth.

Over the last few years, she had repeated to herself – over and over again – that she didn’t need anyone. It was true somehow; she was fine alone. It was just that today she wanted a break from all of this, and she had thought of him. Because she had seen the veil before his eyes. She had seen it on hers before. She knew why… He was just like her. And perhaps, she had thought, they could be alone together. That was what they called the Christmas spirit, no?

“I mean, I’ve got more than enough, and you can have some. We don’t need to eat together. Totally fine if you wish to be alone.” She overexplained, speaking so fast he couldn’t say a word, even if he wanted to. She was just going to go home anyway. It was probably already late in the day; she would eat some food because she could – it was a victory on its own. “And you’ve probably already eaten, it’s fine. Don’t mind me.”

She was going to turn around, but he stepped on the side, making room for her to get in. Alpine instantly trotted in, its tail straight as a pick.

“I’ve got Gin,” was all he said again. A man of a few words he was.

And that was how they would both of them spent their first Christmases with someone in years. They would drink gin, try a bit of every leftover Y/N had gotten and finish by some kind of French pastry neither of them knew how it was named. They would speak for hours – or sort of, it was a few words here and there, making sentences altogether. They would have a good time and when it was time for Y/N to go home, she would suggest doing it again and Bucky would smile in response. A soft smile that would warm her heart forever. A smile that illuminated his whole face and probably his life.

And perhaps that was what exactly what she had come to find that night.

Some warmth.

[shonen-brainrot]

Divorced!Bakugo, who clung to the belief that your talk of divorce was a jest until the final moments. However, when the papers arrived in the mail, disbelief gripped him. The reality struck hard — you had indeed taken the steps, filling out the divorce papers. The truth unfolded before him: you no longer wished to be Dynamight's wife.

Divorced!Bakugo, who, aware of his anger issues that you found disturbing, chose not to address or change his harsh demeanor. His gruff and ugly behavior persisted, marked by frequent outbursts and yelling directed at both you and his child. His dedication to hero work took precedence over family time, leading to his frequent absence. In addition, he exhibited controlling tendencies, exerting influence over every aspect of your life.

Divorced!Bakugo, who refused a cordial divorce, and instead chose to air your private grievances publicly. With a sadistic amusement, he watched as you struggled to maintain composure in the court.

Divorced!Bakugo, who's now haunted by the echoes of a love that once burned brightly. He now navigates the desolate landscape of solitude. In the quiet of his empty home, the walls seem to absorb the unspoken words that were never uttered during those final, bitter moments. The scent of loneliness lingers, a constant reminder of the void left in the wake of a shattered relationship.

Divorced!Bakugo, who wears a mask of indifference, concealing the cracks in his heart. The world sees the explosive hero, but beneath the surface, there's a vulnerability that only the shadows witness.

Divorced!Bakugo, who sinks into an unhealthy state of mind. The solitude that envelopes him becomes a breeding ground for toxic thoughts. Haunted by relentless thoughts of you and the child you took away, he struggles to maintain focus. Katsuki finds his concentration shattered, the clarity needed for his hero duties slipping through his fingers like sand. Mistakes become an unwelcome companion, a repetitive dance of errors that threatens the efficiency he once prided himself on.

Divorced!Bakugo, who only feels rage when news of you moving on, finding someone new, lands like a crushing blow. His heart, already battered, is now subjected to the relentless storm of jealousy and insecurity. Unable to resist the urge, Kasuki succumbs to the dark temptation of cyber-stalking, googling and scouring every available digital space for information about the new man in your and your child's life.

Divorced!Bakugo, who, in a fit of uncontrollable rage triggered by news of your new relationship, unleashes destructive fury. He obliterates every photo, every remnant of your shared life, screaming and incinerating possessions with his quirk. The once-sacred spaces of your bedroom and ground-floor office in the shared penthouse are consumed by the havoc.

Divorced!Bakugo, confronted with the aftermath of his destructive outburst, collapses in the center of what was once your shared bedroom. Tears stream down his face as he desperately attempts to salvage at least one picture from the ashes and shattered glass that now cover the floor. His heart aches with regret, and the weight of anxiety presses down on him, threatening to crush his resolve. Amid the wreckage, a glimmer of hope emerges. Surprisingly, one particular picture defies the destruction he wrought upon the room – a captured moment of you in your wedding dress and him in his sleek black suit, exchanging vows on the day of your marriage.

Divorced!Bakugo, who clutches a photo to his chest, tears streaming down his face like a torrent. In that poignant moment, he vows to transform, promising himself that he'll demonstrate his genuine wish for happiness for both you and your child, even if you've moved on. Despite shattered dreams he destroyed himself, he yearns to be a presence in your life, aspiring to salvage a friendship, a flicker of hope burning within him, praying you'll consider it.

[whinelo]

OP! Reader x X, reader got isekaied into TBHX and is not affected by the trust system, and is being a cryptid and doing their own thing there, confusing and piquing X’s interest, not understanding why she’s so powerful and not causing so much chaos. Just an idea that was in my mind :3

A/N : OP reader is just a silly goober why is she getting hunted down by the commission free her asap she’s just whimsy. X poking at a bear ( reader ) is so funny hehe, just imagine meeting someone far more powerful than you and your first reaction is to tease them- smh. Reader’s height is below 190 cm so.. sorry to my tall readers out there :,) I got carried away with the word count too..

CHARACTERS | X ( Bai Xizhuang ), Reader ( You )

SYNOPSIS | 'The Second Coming of Zero' They dubbed your existence, you don't actually do anything bad- the public is just making ooc headcanons of you lol.

INCLUDES | Slight religious reference, X is a cryptid, the Hero Commission is a warning too, Cryptid X likes to tease friendly eldritch Cryptid Reader, ( have you ever thought of punting this man to another galaxy? ), cryptid to cryptid communication.

[ Name ]

X

Queen

[ RELOADING ]

X

Queen

Dragonboy

It was an ‘error’ the commission said, just a fault within the rankings— ‘[ Name ] does not exist, this person does not exist’ The commission said. But the public cried- why would that suddenly happen? They asked, no answer. Who is this [ Name ]? A person who managed to stay at pinnacle until their name was forcefully removed. Why would the rankings suddenly display such a specific name? Why not ‘error’, or maybe even a line of broken jumbled code?

The leader board has remained so reliable over the years, why break now?

So many questions, so little answers— a mystery shrouded upon more mysteries, a ‘person’ of unknown origins, a being with immense power.

Reliable journalism companies such as ‘Focus’ tried to keep to under wraps, better yet- Tried to bury the outcry in some cold ditch, but when news like this is fresh and piping hot- y’know how society gets. Panicky, fidgety, curious— yet fearful of the unknown. It was like a domino effect, the moment a social media post gets seen by enough people- the faster the news spread, the harder it is to contain.

The harder it is to ignore.

The commission had a meeting, ‘The Second coming of Zero’— They feared- and while common sense was lacking in that very meeting room, a thought was expressed- “ If they really are such a threat- why haven’t they done anything yet? “ Congratulations, someone managed to figure out that you weren’t some malicious entity hoping to destroy the globe. You watched beyond the normal eyes, you knew what most didn’t.

Back at home, this universe was just fiction- a story you found comfort in.

Now it’s reality, you live here now—- For who knows how long, and watching as how people scurried to find hints and tidbits of your identity- scouring the globe, trying to grasp at invisible threads.. It was fascinating, diving into the depths of the nigh-infinite internet, investigating people that had a name similar to your own- Searching within every hospital, every medical center— Just to find out who [ Name ] is.

Bare their hands were.

.. They were looking for a drop of clean water within the dirty ocean, it was impossible.

You didn’t belong here, you were brought here.

Hence you had no legal identity, no recorded biology, nothing.

You were as unknown as could be, known by name- and nothing else, everyone knew you- no one knew you.

And while you said you weren’t malicious, you weren’t wholly good either— The story that partakes in this world is not yours to direct, not yours to alter— Never yours to change in the first place. Because you were a viewer, you know this world from the eyes of a viewer- a watcher, an observer.

Which made sense, if this world truly wanted you as its own, you would’ve re-spawned as a child.

Every day— You spent days theorizing, analyzing- following bread crumbs just to understand this world; How much did this world rely on the Belief System? Is the Hero Commission the ruling power of this world? Just how different was the body composition of the people here? Does religion exist?

If you were born here maybe you would’ve known. But you were transported, body- soul, and mind.

You were basically an entirely different species of human with no blood relation to anyone here, hell— you weren’t even sure if your biological similarities with these people were as similar as your physical makeup- or was it? People here had hair colors that were impossible to obtain in your home world without the means of hair dye, eye colors so uniquely bizarre— And with the Belief System? People had abilities that weren’t even possible at home.

And yet this world rewarded you just for existing here,

Vague memories from back home- you remember that you grinded for Belief Points within the Bxlibxli Website— And while you normally got it from.. Usual means- What moved you to do something.. treacherous, was a split second decision to hack into the code of the website, to alter the points you got— have ( and soon, will have ), and you did.

Zeroes upon zeroes added unto the right side of your original digit— Surpassing millions, billions— Even going beyond with the addition of exponents; sure, rigging the vote for your favorite character’s favor and ensured they held the ‘X’ title for the third season of To Be Hero X— was wrong — but you didn’t care, the definition of favoritism had your name on it and you didn’t care.

It was a fuck it all decision, and the very second to the last decision you’d ever make in your life.

So when you reloaded the site once more and noticed that— it worked, you had the points you definitely didn’t work hard for- You coded another program, one that would automatically give the votes to your favorite— Without you being there physically, maybe the team behind the voting system would remove the absurd amount of votes and possibly your account too, but it didn’t matter- you weren’t going to see it anyway.

Unfortunately fate had it out for you and now you were here— Inside the universe of your comfort show, most people would’ve been ecstatic— You originally were, until you remembered — The commission, the heroes, the cults, the everything — Oh you were cooked.

Until you looked at the hologram that flashed on your wrist—

It was the same.. The same number of points you had given yourself.

And when the world caught wind of it,

… How could you guarantee your own safety without getting caught by the commission— What if you get changed by the system— What if?

Finding about your own abilities was.. Unique to say the least…

—

There was a few hours that the Belief System stopped working.

No hologram on your wrist, no powers— As if it never existed in the first place,

But then it came back.

At first everyone shrugged it off as a ‘them’ situation, but the realization soon dawned upon them that it was a collective experience— No one knew what exactly happened, but they knew exactly what was lost.

The Commission knew exactly who it was, it was Mystery- The name they gave [ Name ], was it a ploy to make her sound more inhuman? Maybe it was. The Commission finally figured out Mystery’s ability— Power over the Belief System as a whole, they realized that this ‘being’ wasn’t the second Zero— They were worse, more powerful— far beyond the system’s means, far beyond comprehensible power.

But their fear for the apocalypse was irrational.

X was well aware that this event was caused by a person, so as the media dubbed ‘Mystery’— ( Now, the bigger question is why they dubbed this person ‘Mystery’ and not ‘random nobody’ like they did with him— ) Someone that was able to take the world by a storm just by existing— And he was curious, how were you able to obtain such an absurd power just to be able to do such?

While it was hilarious to think that you possibly got the trust of every extraterrestrial being in the universe ( if there were any ), or the trust of every single microorganism to exist— It was just a theory, nothing solid to create an actual reason.

In this game of chess he wondered- Who would you be? What purpose, what role will you serve in this twisted manipulation of fate?

Being able to end the system.. He doubted that would be your only trick in the book, he was curious— painfully so, sadly he had a job to work— and as a corporate wage-slave, he knew that gathering information on you would come at a later time ( preferably one where he’s free from the shackles of his cover-up corporate job. ) So making use of his time, he’d strategize in the meanwhile.

Was he potentially playing with fire just by coming into contact with you? Potentially, but the very nature of your existence confused him— Were you the exception to the madness of ultimate power?

And if so, then is the commissions fear irrational?

“ Guys! “ Looking up from his laptop screen, in the middle of his office his boss stood out- No. No not again. Please don’t say it.

His boss clasped his hands together, stern as ever- as his wrinkled face looked at them all. “ Considering we’re behind on schedule and we have a deadline to meet, we’ll be working overtime until eleven p.m alright? “ Screw you. Bai Xizhuang thought bitterly, and judging by the same dejected look his co-workers shared— This was going to be another long day of hard work.

‘Maybe I should quit to do Hero work full-time.’ Though he’d never act upon such an enticing thought, Bai Xizhuang had to restrain himself from actually doing it so that he’d pass off as a normal citizen once more.

—

..Now what does he have here?

Considering the nature of the Belief System, and the sheer amount of mass hysteria you’ve garnered— X thought that you’re appearance would be more.. ‘Eldritch’, to be completely honest with himself he expected to be faced with a being who’s form is an incomprehensible amalgamation of tethered limbs, and congregations of stars and cosmos..

Instead, X saw a completely ‘normal’ human being ( uncanny albeit, ) wandering across the empty city streets- gasping and wide-eyed at the environment, sometimes stopping by to look through the windows of a closed shop. This wasn’t what he expected at all, then again what did X expect in the first place?

A being capable of bringing the world to it’s knees.. Acting so abnormally innocent and docile.

Suddenly your gaze quickly turned to the left- His left. “ I know you’re there.. X. “ You spoke- apprehensive, uneasy by his secondary presence— X cocked his head to side before deciding that indeed, there really was no use to hiding anymore when you’ve been caught, red-handed.

With a calm tone, he asked “ Did you now? “ Stepping out of the shadows he stepped closer to you— Wow, you’re much shorter than he expected. You looked up at him, brows furrowed as you tried to discern his own reason for coming to you— Say could he ask if you could be his arm rest—?

Raising your arms, “ .. I’m not here to cause havoc- I swear, “ You explained, averting your gaze- The swift air blew against the both of you in that dimly lit street- the sound of distant ads acting as background music- Feeling the need for a drink, X snapped his fingers a can of Iced Cola appeared from thin air- a muffled sound resounded as he caught it within the palm of his hand.

Giving a sly grin, he then teased “ Now, aren’t you excited? Don’t go answering questions- I, haven’t asked yet. “ He shrugged, opening the can as he brought it towards his lips- Sipping the fruity carbonated liquid, now which can is this- the 22nd can.. or the 23rd? Inserting his hand into his pocket.

Your brow then raised,“ So.. you were going to ask that? “ you ask in utter monotony, giving him a deadpan look as you watched him take a sip from his soda.

“ Maybe, “ Deciding to remain vague, ( on purpose ) he then removed the can from his lips- Gulping down the liquid.

“ What are you doing alone in this cold night, anyway? “ X followed up, gaze towards the can in his hands- feeling the coldness of the droplets contrasted greatly to the warmth within his palms.

“ Kinda' obvious that I’m just wandering around.. “

X hummed, “ Mhm.. “

“I have a question, “ You piped up, “ Shoot it, “ X responded, curious.

Taking a breath, you looked at him determined— “ Why do you wear shades at night? “

“ ..How about we don’t talk about that? “ X shot down.

[pinkslaystation]

OMG I JUST HAD A THOIGHT. What if like on this fic that you wrote “tulips or roses”, what if Rose and reader met?!?!

PLSPLSPLSPLS MAKE IT ANGSTY TO FLUFF TOO 🙏🙏🙏🙏

AMAZING THOUGHT POOKIE I WAS THINKING THE SAME >_< also i'm on holiday rn visiting family so ofc the wifi decides to the shittiest rn so apologies for slow uploads and errors :( and tags aren't working??? Word Count: 2k

Tulips meets Roses.

It was a Friday evening at the pub, where you sat beside John Price, your arms interlinked with his clenched bicep listening to another one of Johnny's story.

"'n' th' mornin' efter we shagged, she juist vanished! Efter a' th' love we made?"

Ghost grunts in mock sympathy, and Gaz stifles a scoff next to him, "She probably got scared of your haunted puppet collection mate-"

"Oh ye leave Bonnybelle oot o' this-"

These outings weren't as frequent as one would hope, considering how busy the Task Force usually was, but when there was a break with the missions, most of the soldiers found themselves at the hustle and bustle of the local pub, and it made it better when you could bring a plus one.

It's been a few months since the 'argument' about Rose, and even though John likes to name it a 'dispute', he's drilled it into your head how it was his fault completely not yours.

"Yeah well, me and my girl visited Bali for our anniversary-" Kyle boasts to the group.

"Yeah 'n' Simon gaed tae Croydon wi' his grandma, sae whit." [to all my non-londoners, Croydon is THE GHETTO. always in support of croydon slander]

John snickers, and you smile as the feelings of his arms encapsulating you. "You'll find someone one day, Johnny, I know it." You smile sloppily, partially tipsy from all the alcohol consumed and partially from all the sweet talk.

"Aye ah better, a'm wantin' th' Tulip tae mah Price."

Ah, turns out John's been calling you Tulip to everyone.

"She's limited edition, find your own fuckin' flower." John comically dismisses, taking a hefty sip of his beer, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your smile at the compliment is cut short when a blonde bob catches your peripheral, and just as you're about to turn your head to catch the face you're looking at-

"Is your garden in bloom?" Simon casually questions.

The table immediately erupts in coughs and laughter, with Gaz side-eyeing Simon's question, and Johnny laughing at the clever Bridgerton reference. John corrects his posture at the comment and covers his cough with his fist, a light tinge of pink painting his pale bearded cheeks. He'll make sure Simon runs double the amount of laps during practice.

"And that's my cue..." You press a warm kiss against John's temples, before heading off to the women's bathroom, not blind to the 'awwws' and coos from Soap, and the "What does it mean? I only watched the sex scenes..." from Simon.

Walking to the women's bathroom, you yawn and stretch your tense back after sitting on the wooden chair at the bar for so long.

"Tired?"

You snort, "An understatement, I'm sleepy as fuck- Oh."

Locking eyes with the voice in the mirror, grounds you back to reality. The once fictitious woman you were most worried about stands next to you in the bathroom, returning your glance through a mirror.

You break the silence, feeling awkward at the tense scene, although you're unsure if she's feeling the same. Does she know who you are? Does she think of you as her replacement?

"Weather's nice." A terrible comment considering it mid November in England; the weather's far from nice, yet Rose chuckles. For a moment, you can see why John longed for this woman, from the way her skin creased around her mouth as she flashed you a grin through the reflection.

"It's nicer in Greece, moved a few years back." She smiles amicably.

You hum, nodding as if in agreement, even though you hadn't even set foot in a Mediterranean country, "When did you come back? To the UK?"

She looks up, recollecting the days, "Hmm, must been a week now, Greece is lovely, but the UK's home, you know?"

Once again you just nod, watching as she pulls out a red Dior lipstick and reapplies to her supple lips. Watching her intensely focus on her lips makes you question John once again, a wave of insecurity rushing through you like that previous time.

She's so much better than me... You think to yourself.

"How's he been then?"

There's a pause in your breath, your eyebrows raising slightly. Rose makes eye contact with you again through the mirror, and you're grateful that she doesn't turn to look at you physically, you're scared that you might pass out in nervousness.

"I- uh, who?" You manage to blurt out, mentally cursing yourself for what you think sounded like a helium-produced high pitched squeak.

Rose chuckles at your response, "John Price. I see the way he looks at you, you been dating him for long?"

You purse your lips into a thin smile, even after years of dating and marriage, any compliment given to the both of you would send your heart to a warm frenzy.

"Been together for 4 years, married for 1..." Your smile in inevitably giddy as you admire the glittering rock plastered on your ring finger. Rose looks at your ring, her smile faltering a little, but you don't notice it in time.

"And you?"

"Me?" She straightens her posture, and even her mannerisms reflect that of your husbands a bit, "A few years of marriage...it's...nice." But it sounds like she's trying to convince herself more so than answering your question.

Your response is again, a shy nod.

Silence evades the conversation as she closes her lipstick delicately, placing it back into her expensive purse. You want to press the conversation further, beg her for more answers about the history that she might have had with John, you wanted to hear it from her perspective.

"I loved him you know."

Oh.

The world stops for a moment, and you feel the slow emergence of bile erupting from within. You're silent for moment, your thoughts halting. What kinda woman just announces that she had feeling for another's man...no, not just feelings...love.

Her reflection in the mirror breaks into small minuscule frames, as your eyes tear up. Not even a breath escapes from your mouth.

A droplet of sweat cascades down your back and you tremble at the thought of John kissing Rose.

"I...of course, realised too late. When we were celebrating my retirement, me and the team, I, uh...I was about to tell him...and I saw his phone screen...didn't know about you then, but it was a picture of you," She giggles at the memory, "Thought you must have been important 'cos that man's had that brick phone for years, and this is the first time I'd seen a different lockscreen."

You don't respond, unsure of whether to scream at her, calling her a homewrecker, or just to let her complete her speech. You realise she had used the past tense, loved. Did she still feel the same?

"And then I followed him back to his office...he was on the phone...to you. And oh my God. I swear I looked through the crack of his door, that guy was literally melting. Caught him twirling the invisible phone line and everything."

You can't suppress the tiny smirk on your face.

"And it was just a mundane conversation, nothing special...and it looked like he would kill the task force, just to have a spec of your attention on him. I've...never seen him this way, not even with me..." She whispers the last part, looking down at the droplets of water on the porcelain sink.

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding, I guess I just came here to get closure-"

"Did you get it?"

The first you've said in minutes, and the tone was so gruff, one would think you were berating her.

She nods, still smiling, and for a second you wonder how strong this woman would have been, flying all the way back, just to see someone she'd harboured feelings with another.

"And even if I hadn't, I wouldn't do anything to either of you...forgive me, I'm not like that."

You nod, intaking some air after what felt like hours. You force yourself to turn your body towards her, a question still stuck in your head, urging to be answered.

"Rose." You whisper. She looks at you with a sweet smile, and for a second you feel bad for even thinking such inhumane thoughts about her.

"Do you still love him?" It was short and curt, no hesitation in your question, which did sound somewhat more like a command.

She looks at her reflection in the mirror, as if assessing her flaws and imperfections. There's another uncomfortable pause in the atmosphere, and it feels like the two of you have sucked a breath in anticipation.

The truth is...she doesn't know. What even is love? Is it measurable? Is it subjective, objective, definite, is it yes or no? Are there layers to love? Can you love two people at the same time? Has she ever felt love?

Does she still love John?

Did she ever love John?

Did John ever love...her?

She thinks back to when she walked into the bar, her eyes searching for the bearded captain, only to see them locked on...you.

Oh the way he looked at you. It reminded her of a loyal dog watching upon his master, like a peasant being granted a sip of golden delicious nectar for the first time. Like the way the moon orbits the Earth indefinitely, following Mother Earth on her orbital path.

Like the way a wounded man would rest in his knees painfully, praying for his Goddess to notice at least one his pleas, as he weeps for her.

It was a look she never gave to him, and one he never gave to her. That look, he had only reserved for ... you.

"No, I suppose not, not the way he loves you." It comes out in a pained whisper, and Rose can't tell if she wanted to go back in time to have John all to herself or if she believes that she would ever experience that kind of connection with him.

You hum, it felt like your voice box was strained every time you responded, but you felt at peace, finally.

How long have been in the bathroom for?

Run along now, John's probably looking for you.

You hug Rose, and you can tell she's not used to physical touch, the way her tall frame freezes at the contact. She smiles to you, silently apologising for her burdensome self.

You leave the bathroom, with a smile bigger than you had ever worn.

Soap's points towards you, at the table, and the others smile, John immediately whisking his head so quickly, you fear he might have pulled a muscle.

"Hey baby," you whisper into his hair, sitting down next to him, with his arm around you, where you belong.

"Jesus, sweetheart, 'was about to go to the bathroom m'self to look for you..." He mumbles, pressing his soft lips against your temple, purposely brushing his beard against your cheek.

You hum, as he presses fluttering kisses against your neck, whispering all kinds of affectionate names, oblivious to the fact that Ghost was already submitting a letter of compliant for excess PDA.

Rose shortly leaves, exiting the pub, her eyes falling on John's blushed cheeks burying into your hair, as she opens the door.

He turns to her, feeling someone looking at her, but instead of freaking out, he just smiles, acknowledging her presence, and quickly shoving his cheek against yours.

Tulips truly were his favourite flowers.

"SHE GAED TAE TH' BATHROOM 'N' DINNAE WASH HER HAUNDS"

tag yourself, i'm gaz's wife 😹 tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby , @nigthmar3moon , @thychuvaluswife , @itsnourm , @bubusi11, @chessecakelover , @owkittie, @cheomain , @corvusmorte , @k4es , @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese , @yyiikes , @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk , @spankmydepression , @yourfavbabigirl

[skendoss]

Seishiro Nagi x Corporate Worker!Reader

A short drabble on coming home to Nagi after a long shift in the office🩵

wc: 639

cw: none, just domestic, fluffy Nagi!

Nagi doesn’t quite understand your way of life. He’s told you time and time again that you don’t need to work. He earns enough to comfortably support your lifestyle. And as much as you appreciate this, your pride and eagerness to make your way up the corporate ladder means that you still (reluctantly) drag yourself to your dull office job Monday to Friday. Nagi just doesn’t get it.

Much like he doesn’t understand how much you do on a day to day basis. ‘Sats? Average handling time? Aftercall? Direct Debit payments?’ Nah. Never heard of her.

When you drag yourself into your shared apartment after a particularly ball-busting 9-5, Nagi will always be found in one of two places; the sofa, or your bed. Always horizontal, always with his face in a mobile game.

Today was Thursday. A working day which resulted in nothing but non-stop meetings with rude clients. Your head is battered, you’re tired physically and mentally, and to put it bluntly, you look like how you feel.

On days like this, you lug yourself up the stairs to your apartment, one by one. You enter the living room, drop your bag to the floor and slump yourself down on the sofa by Nagi’s feet (because OF COURSE he’s having some horizontal time, what else?🤭)

You sit in silence for a moment. You huff once, twice, three times….. Nothing. You huff again, extra loud and dramatically. He finally lowers his phone from his face. “Oh, hey.”

This is the point that your rant begins. Nagi may not be the most attentive boyfriend, but he is wonderful to spill the tea to. He always seems like he isn’t listening, but in reality he clings on to every word you say. He’s all caught up on the workplace scandals, who is your colleague sleeping with now?? He knows each name. Is your manager still being a bitch??? A question that he asks regularly.

He lets you let it out. All that pent up anger and frustration that built up during that 7 hour shift. Once your rant is over, you sigh and revel in the moment of silence that follows.

You look back at Nagi, who is still looking at you intently, his slate grey eyes examining every inch of your face. He doesn’t say anything, but just opens his arms, inviting you into his soft embrace. You fold immediately, climbing over his legs and slumping on top of him. You breathe in his scent and you’re overcome with instant relief.

Have you ever smelled the Men’s Green Fragrance by Ralph Lauren? That’s what Nagi smells like. At. All. Times. It’s such a comfort to you.

He wraps one arm lazily around your waist, and his other hand strokes through your hair for a moment whilst he places a series of tender pecks to your forehead.

“You can quit anytime, you know. You don’t have to ask me.” He mumbles into your hair.

“I know.” You reply. “But not now. I’ll get there one day.”

“Sure you will. Because you’re awesome. And beautiful. And I love you.” Nagi tells you nonchalantly whilst picking his phone up with his free hand. “Anytime you’re ready babe.” Your heart swells. How can someone so detached be so precious?

You don’t say anything in return, but you nuzzle your head into his chest further and just take some time to breathe. To be y/n, and not just a number in a corporate company.

Nagi may not be the perfect boyfriend. He’s messy, he’s lazy, he sometimes seems distant and acts a bit silly. But he’ll be damned if the one he loves feels worthless, or stressed because of work. One thing he will always do, is be there with open arms ready to embrace you at the end of a shitty, shitty shift.

My first ever bllk piece🤭 Honestly - this is just me being sick of work and projecting with a hint of Nagi. I actually wrote this during work whilst multitasking looool, please mind any errors 🩵

[inkedbydesire]

Extortion Part 2 (18+)

Jimmy Uso x Black Fem Reader

(Part 1)

Warning: 18+ Content, detailed storyline with just a little SMUT, MINORS DO NOT ENTER

Summary: Some extremely intimate photos of you and your boyfriend Jonathan Fatu (Jimmy Uso) have fallen into the wrong hands. Now you two must deal with the aftermath of finding out you’re being extorted.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: It took way too long to write this. But I’m thankful you guys seemed to like the first part of this story so I decided to continue it. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or typos.

Tagging: @msbigredmachine @trentybenty

*************************************************

"Bitch, why would you be butt-ass naked fucking on a balcony anyway?"

You watched your best friend through the screen of your iPhone as her caramel features contorted in pure confusion. As always, Chanel didn't hold back. You could always count on her to ask the most outwardly obnoxious questions. And normally her bluntness would make you laugh, cutting through any tension in your life. But not today. Not with everything you were currently dealing with. Today all Chanel's lack of a filter did was pile onto the rapidly growing weight on your chest.

It had been two days since you'd been back home from Costa Rica, and you were still trying to wrap your head around the mess you and Jonathan had found yourselves in. You could barely eat or sleep. And for the last 48 hours, you had been doing everything in your power to distract yourself from the magnitude of the situation. Stupidly, you were hoping to somehow wake up to it all being an extremely vivid dream. But no, each day you still awoke to that email taunting you.

You had no choice but to face reality.

Someone had pictures of you and Jonathan having sex out on that balcony in Costa Rica. That person threatened to spread those pictures if Jonathan didn't cough up 50,000 dollars in the next few days. The email said that he had a week starting after the day that the email was delivered. That was two days ago. Which meant you only had five days left before everything came crashing down.

You couldn't stop obsessing over the only two options you had. And neither one of them offered much comfort.

Option one: Pay the money.

Get it over with by doing what the creep was demanding. It sounded like the quickest way to get whoever it was to leave you and Jonathan alone. But still... who's to say that the person wouldn't come back for more, figuring that if Jonathan did it once, he would be liable to do it again? After all, the person would still have those pictures. And even worse, they could easily get Jonathan's money and still sell the photos to someone else.

Option two: Go to the cops.

Extortion was illegal. Maybe the authorities could track down the person before anything got leaked. But there was zero security in that. Even if the cops could find the person before the deadline, who's to say they hadn't already sent the photos to a few of their friends just in case?

No matter how you looked at it, you still felt like this was something that would haunt you for the rest of your life. And it left you feeling completely helpless.

Calling Chanel wasn't about seeking advice. This situation was unique to you and Jonathan, so you knew she could offer none. This call was more about needing a lifeline. You had to get ahead of this somehow. And you knew that there would be no pressure in telling Chanel. She was already privy to tons of your deepest secrets since you two became best friends in middle school. She knew you better than anyone on earth.

There was one person you were dreading having to relay the information to though, your mother. Just the thought of that conversation made you physically sick. And you were pretty sure that Jonathan was in the same boat with his parents.

How do you tell the people who raised you something like you were having sex in public and now someone had pictures of it?

It seemed damn near impossible.

However, yesterday Jonathan did tell his twin brother about the predicament. To your astonishment, all Joshua did was laugh at the situation at first, but then Jonathan hit him with a dose of reality. This situation didn't just affect you and him. Joshua could very well be confused for the person in those photos. Sure, he and Jonathan were fraternal twins with different hairstyles and tattoos, but everyone knows that the general public is going to believe what they want.

Who knew how far all of this could spiral?

The blackmailer could take those pictures and twist the story however they wanted. Hell, they could take an extreme step and make it look like you were cheating on Jimmy with Jey if they wanted to. People wouldn't give a damn about the truth. They would only care about the mess.

You had no idea that one reckless moment with the man you loved would spiral into such a living nightmare.

"That's not the point, Chanel," you stated to her as you returned from your stress-filled thoughts.

Her face softened as she studied you. "I know. I was trying to cheer you up, Y/N. You look terrified, girl."

"Thanks for trying," you murmured, then sighed before saying "I am terrified."

"Do you and Jonathan know what y'all are going to do?" A look of genuine concern washed over her facial features.

"Not yet," you admitted with a weak shrug. "But we don't have a choice but to figure something out."

Truthfully though, you and Jonathan hadn't even had a real discussion about the ordeal yet. You fainted when he told you about it in Costa Rica, so you felt like he was giving you the time and space to fully process what was happening. The expression on his face when you came to would forever be burned into your memory. You don't know how long you were out but when you opened your eyes, he was hovering over you, holding a cold towel to your forehead with the most petrified expression on his face. You had never seen him like that before and never wanted to see it again.

"This is a crazy-ass situation, Y/N," Chanel muttered more so to herself as your eyes averted up to the top of your phone screen after you felt a buzzing sensation. You quickly skimmed over the message you just received from Jonathan.

As you typed your okay to his message, you exhaled a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding. Even amidst the chaos, the mere thought of being near him made the burden feel just a little lighter.

Costa Rica was only a memory now as you and Jonathan had to step back into your day-to-day lives. He went back to work, and you, a first-grade teacher, had lesson plans and grading to get through. Your sub had covered for you while you took your little impromptu vacation, but on Monday you had to return to the classroom.

The world didn't stop for this disaster. You and Jonathan still had to find a way through it. No matter how this played out, the earth would keep spinning.

You conversed with Chanel for a few more minutes over FaceTime before you tore yourself away from the welcomed distraction and halfheartedly focused on your lesson plan. About 15 minutes into that, you heard Jonathan entering your apartment with the key you gave him a month ago.

"What's up, baby?" You heard his cheerful voice as he turned the corner and entered the living room. He dropped his training bag on the floor before walking over to where you were sitting on the couch. You pushed your MacBook aside and stood up to greet him with a hug.

"Get anything done today?" He asked you as he lifted you without effort while you wrapped your legs securely around his waist and placed your arms around his neck.

"Not much." You admitted to him. Anytime you tried to solely focus on your lesson plan, your mind wandered to that email and the mass destruction that was soon awaiting you. And that seemed to be the only thing to occupy your mind.

"I understand. It's a lot going on," he stated knowingly before pecking you on the lips.

"I'm about to hop in the shower right quick, though. Come get in with me." He added.

"I already got in," you told him.

"I didn't ask you that. I said come get in with me." He responded with a smile as he kept you in his arms and started walking towards the stairs that led up to your bedroom. He didn't place you back onto your feet until he reached the bathroom connected to your room. Something you already knew he would do because this was nearly a weekly occurrence for you two. You would always shower before Jonathan came over, and he would always want you to get right back in with him. Some nights you stood your ground, and others you gave in.

Tonight felt like one of those caving-in nights.

"Okay, but I don't want to hear no complaining about the temperature." You warned him as you moved over and pulled your shower door open. You turned on the water, adjusting it to your liking. A liking that Jonathan always seemed to have a problem with. You could already hear his nagging, "It's too hot." But on second thought, you found yourself adjusting the temperature so that you wouldn't have to hear his whining. Something you always did in the end anyway.

"I don't even be complaining," Jonathan muttered under his breath in a childish tone, making you smile and shake your head as you turned your attention to your mirror.

You watched his reflection as he took his hair down from the low ponytail he had it in and tossed the hair wrapper on the counter. You took the same wrapper and used it to put your braids up into a bun before walking back over to where he was removing his clothes. You followed in line, removing yours before stepping into the shower with him.

Your body instantly relaxed underneath the soothing water as you and Jonathan eased into familiar positions with his hands resting on your hips as you adjusted yourself in front of him. Lucky for you both, your shower was wide enough for you to stand beside each other rather than someone being forced to be in the back. You never had to deal with the predicament of someone hogging the water, and you were very thankful for that. One less thing you had to hear Jonathan jokingly whine about.

The sound of the water softly cascading off your bodies and hitting the shower floor could be the only thing heard for a few minutes as you and Jonathan appreciated each other's physical presence. He ran his hands from your hips to your thighs, then back up again while you traced his tattoos with your fingertips. He then planted a light kiss on your forehead, and for that moment while you were lost in each other, it almost felt like everything was okay.

Almost.

"Alright... how do you feel about everything?" Jonathan asked, abruptly shifting you back to reality. You looked up, connecting your eyes with his, knowing that "everything" meant that he finally wanted you to express how you felt about that email and what could potentially come of it.

You didn't know how the hell you two would manage to pull it off but no matter what you had to figure it out. Step one: have an actual conversation about it.

"I've... I've been," you begin to say, searching your brain for the right words.

"I've been managing it," you finalized as you reached behind Jonathan and grabbed your French vanilla-scented soap bar and loofah, before proceeding into your showering routine for the second time tonight.

Every few seconds you were internally uncontrollably freaking out about the situation but still, you wanted to appear brave in front of Jonathan. You already did something as extreme as fainting over it so you didn't want to do anything further to add to the stress he was most likely already under.

"Well, you know you don't have to manage the shit on your own......that's what I'm here for," he told you as he turned around and grabbed his showering items that were neatly kept beside yours. It was sort of unspoken but Jonathan had low-key moved into your apartment over the months. 75 percent of his clothing and personal items were sorted among your things. It happened so seamlessly that somehow it seemed like it had been that way all along.

"Be real with me Y/N." he urged you as he returned his gaze to yours watching you intently. It was clear that he wasn't buying your "I've been managing it" bullshit. He had learned your body language so well that he always knew when you were holding something back from him. You didn't know why you still tried to put up a front for him. He saw right through it every single time.

"Okay ........" you began to backtrack on your previous statement.

"Truthfully, I'm scared Jon," you revealed to him as you dropped your eyes from his and focused more on washing your body to distract yourself from how intense the conversation was about to get. 

"I'm scared that if those pictures are exposed, I won't be able to face my family and friends or your family and friends anymore." You continued, and the more you talked the more you realized that wanting to put on a brave face for him was pointless. He had to be your rock through this as you had to be his. This was something you were going through together.

"And I know you're not supposed to care, but I'm scared about how the internet will perceive me and most importantly..." You paused as your next train of thought caused your heart to sink.

"I'm scared of losing my job," you concluded.

Since you were a little girl, you've always known that you wanted to be a teacher. So after you graduated high school you worked hard to make your dream come true. There were zero bumps in the road during your 4-year teaching career up until this point.

This whole ordeal was nerve-wracking because your being in a relationship with Jimmy Uso was public knowledge that even most of your students knew now. A lot of them tuned in to wrestling with their parents or on their own so the fact that Ms. (Your/Lastname) was dating a wrestler was exciting news to them. The amount of Jimmy and Jey Uso action figures you found yourself having to confiscate because your students thought it was funny to bring them out during the middle of your lessons was comical. But despite that, you still found their admiration for Jonathan and his craft heartwarming and even planned to surprise them with him on Career Day in the future.

But right now that same future was looking dreadful.

Your stomach turned at the thought of what your students and their parents would see if those photos were to get leaked. You had no idea how the school board would react. Would they understand that this was something that was completely out of your control? Or would they blame you for being reckless?

Could this be the end of your teaching career? You couldn't see any other school hiring you if those photos were exposed. 

"What about you? How do you feel, Jon?" You suddenly asked him needing to deflect from your own feelings for a moment. You already knew how real this whole thing was but talking about your fears out loud was suddenly making it hard to breathe and the steam from the shower wasn't making it any better.

"I thought about it and I feel like I'ma be able to handle whatever happens," he told you with a surprising shrug as he moved his soapy washcloth from his neck to his chest.

This was your first time paying close attention to it but Jonathan didn't seem to have the same worry on his face that you had been sporting for the last 2 days. Besides looking terrified when you fainted afterward he quickly transformed back into his carefree goofy self. All this time you were assuming that you two had to be experiencing the same emotions because who wouldn't be freaking out behind this?

But you should've known that not even this could rattle Jonathan Fatu.

Since being with him you learned that no matter what life threw at him he always seemed to maintain a Hakuna Matata ass mindset. He always saw the glass as half full instead of half empty in any situation. He eased through life reminding himself to take things one day at a time. And that shit worked for him. But you on the other hand were a raging worrier. You worked yourself up and stressed over the smallest things. You two being so different in that aspect was probably why your relationship worked so well.

Jonathan grounded you.

"I'm just worried about you baby. I don't care how I'm going to be viewed or how people are going to react if those pictures get out. But I know this will affect you in a different way than it will affect me so how you're handling everything is my main priority."

As you thought about it you realized that he was right.

The backlash of the photos would hit you two differently. For one, Jonathan was a part of one of the most important storylines that the WWE had to often and he put so many years into the company. They wouldn't fire him over this especially with it not being his fault. Yeah, it would look bad for a little while but people would move on.

But even though you had given 4 years of your life to teaching, you could still see the school board turning their backs on you.

And as sad as it sounds at the end of the day Jonathan was a man. No one would judge him as harshly as you would be judged for what those photos consisted of. In fact, Jonathan would probably get a few brownie points while you would be slut shamed for simply engaging in a natural act with your boyfriend.

That was the world you lived in.

So you could see why Jonathan didn't carry the same stress as you.

"We were just having a conversation about you not being able to handle my lifestyle a couple of days ago and then some shit like this happens. I bet you really thinking about not wanting to be with me now. That's the only thing I'm worried about." he admitted.

You looked up at him confusedly for a few seconds.

"Wait ...... that's what you're worried about?" you asked him. "Me not wanting to be with you over this?"

As he nodded yes at you solemnly your heart fluttered at the notion that you walking out of his life was his main concern. Not the pornographic images of you and him that could potentially be plastered all over the internet in a few days.

He was worried about you breaking up with him. It sounded crazy but you loved him more because of it.

"Jon....listen," you told him as you ran your wet hands up his chest before placing them on either side of his neck.

"That's the last thing on my mind," you told him attempting to put his mind to rest.

"Yes, I'm scared as fuck about what will happen but I'd be even more terrified if I didn't have you to lean on. I love you."

"I love you too." He responded before leaning down to place another kiss on your forehead.

"We just have to figure it out," you said to him.

"I'm already on it." he told you "We got a meeting with my lawyer tomorrow morning. I'm not giving up no money just to have those pictures used against us anyway so we gone take it to the law and deal with whatever comes next."

You had no idea that Jonathan was already on top of things. His taking the initiative to do so did give you just a little more hope in the outcome.

"But no matter what we gone be alright ......... alright?" He asked you.

"Alright," you responded.

"Just stop stressing yourself out about it. I don't like how you been walking around here looking. And I don't want you to scare the fuck out of me again like you did when you fainted."

You could see in his eyes how much that still bothered him. You realized then that you needed to find a way to somehow take on his mindset. You had to stop worrying so much about it because, at the end of the day, it wouldn't help anything. 

"I'm trying. I literally just can't stop thinking about it ..... like not even for a second. But I'll try Jon. I swear." you told him truthfully with a weak smile telling yourself that you would fight hard to have a better spirit about the situation. 

"If you need some help not thinking about it I promise that I could take your mind off of it for a while." He stated to you.

"How?" you asked him and instantly regretted it when you saw the goofy ass grin he gave you in response as he placed his hands on your hips again.

"Jon no ..... no," you told him as you pushed his chest a little.

"That's the whole reason we're dealing with this right now." you shook your head at him and genuinely laughed for the first time in 2 days baffled that sex would even be on his mind right now. But you really weren't that surprised. Not much could throw a wrench in Jonathan's sex drive. There was no difference between him and the energizer bunny.

"Come on.... we can't let some weirdo with a camera stop us from doing what we do." He spoke to you softly before leaning down and planting a few kisses on your neck knowing that was a sure way to get you stirred up.

 And it did.

"You looked good as fuck in them pictures though." He said when he returned his eyes to yours.

"I don't care. Something like that is supposed to be for your eyes only," you responded to him with a hit of playfulness causing him to smile. 

Engaging in the very act that had a whole world of trouble waiting for you seemed ironic. But you had been worrying yourself crazy for 48-plus hours about the possible outcomes of that email. Maybe you deserved to let go for a moment.

You were still hesitant but all of that went out the window when Jonathan's lips touched yours. As you gladly welcomed his tongue into your mouth you felt him pulling you with him as he moved back and sat down on your shower seat. He then broke the kiss by reaching down grabbing hold of your right leg and pulling it up to place it over his shoulder.

"You're going to drop me" you squealed as you gripped onto him for support as he softly kissed your other set of lips.

"Have I ever dropped you before?" He asked as he paused to look up at you.

"No." You responded.

"Okay then. I'm not going to start today," he told you then moved his focus back to between your legs. He held onto you tightly as you tried your best to balance on one leg underneath the water as you felt his tongue on your clit. He moved it slowly up and down over your button causing you to moan out into the air.

"Oooh s-shit Jon" you breathe out as he started to gently suck on your clit. As you focused squarely on that feeling that email traveled to the far back of your mind.

You would just have to deal with that shit tomorrow.

*************************************************

[lovelyinhell]

duplicitous - part one

primary tags: heeseung x f!reader, jake x f!reader, heeseung x jake x f!reader secondary tags: darker themes, a lot of anger from the two male leads (its kinda hot tho :3), smut, vouyerism, masturbation, mxm themes, degrading (kinda? depends on what you consider that is), mean jake, heeseung is a loser (who get bitches tho), family tension, stepcest, multiple sexual encounters ( i think maybe 2 in this part), and more to be added in later parts!

synopsis: jake and heeseung have grown to hate each other, but can their relationship be mended by a lil fucking around with the help of a friend?

word count: 2218 words

side notes: there's more than likely grammatically errors since this is tumblr yall.... not a research paper!!! don't come at me for the excess and inappropriate usage of commas, quotations, and other writing devices... im just a girl :(

heeseung and jake. two brothers bonded together by the marriage of their respective parents. their relationship started in kiddie soccer games where jake’s father had coached the youth of the wealthy socialite circle that heeseung’s mother was all but disgusted with. that small connection between their parents is what led to the two becoming brothers. but the two had very distorted emotions for the other.

heeseung was the oldest of the pair and with that, he was treated as capable of withstanding difficulties. jake was “inexperienced” in such abilities as his father liked to put. jake had lost his mother before he even got to know her. she had died while carrying him and jake had felt the burn of his father’s resentment ever since.

jake’s once appreciative and admiring view on heeseung was now one of jealousy and a twisted yearning. it was weird in jake’s mind, how a friend he once loved to watch run with a ball turned into a dislike that he masked with envy. 

he was not alone in his dislike for his brother; heeseung had felt similar emotions. from losing his father at a young age, he was made the man of a household that only consisted of his mother and himself. the restriction of child labor laws didn’t limit heeseung’s ability to provide for himself. he maintained a rigid schedule throughout his high school years, maintaining his near perfect scores and working late hours for construction gigs. he had grown to become self-reliant from early on. 

which was why jake had been a person of unadulterated hate to heeseung. jake had it easy. jake had someone who was capable of shielding the harsh realities of the world which allowed him the delight of simplicity and youth. he was not given that, instead heeseung was given a mother who’s whole life was depended upon a dead soldier who found serving his country more important than serving a family. heeseung’s mother had then turned to indulgently spending her time on filling the gaping void in herself, whether through paying for services or seducing men who had grown interested in a woman who had always looked in a state of anguish. 

the moment that jake and his father had step foot into his family home, he knew that his life would forever be a suffocating one… that was until he met you. 

his first year of college was incredible, so freeing and flexible. he no longer had any serious responsibilities and was allowed to truly indulge himself in the world of drugs, partying, sex, and other taboos. heeseung was no stranger to these vices but chose to keep far away from them as the temptation of falling into them while also maintaining a high gpa in highschool were impossible to manage. with the very limited free time he did have however, he slept with any girl eager to strip themselves of clothing in his presence. heeseung’s charm was one that he managed to perfect, thanks in part to the morning afters where his mother’s “friends” enjoyed in providing a sort of faux-fatherly advice on women to a young heeseung. 

heeseung wouldn’t label himself a player as most women were aware of his notorious reputation however this didn’t stop many of them from believing they were “special”, but you truly were in his eyes.

your stone cold demeanor and soft features were what drew in both heeseung and his roommate. you never really drew attention to yourself, but heeseung couldn’t help seeking your presence in any class he had. you were distant from others, but never shy. first to be in class and first out. heeseung nevers sees you with anyone, heck he doubts you have friends. but your so…. you. you sit directly in the center of the lecture hall and heeseung knows this because he intentionally sits 2 rows above your seat. watching you attentively watch professor sunghoon teach. 

maybe too attentively… 

both heeseung and his roomate made a bet on who would be first to seduce and unfortunately heeseung’s roommate had won. his roommate made sure to thoroughly detail how “soft” and “innocent” you had been. noting how you were more than likely a virgin and completely unaware of how “rough sex” would be like. heeseung had to restrain himself from physically recoiling at the remarks his roommate was spewing. what did the guy know about having experience? he had only just lost his virginity at orientation week and now considered himself the expert at sex? 

heeseung was not completely over you, he had wanted to properly please you. to show you the ways of sex and how much more fulfilling and all consuming good sex would be like. lucky for him the following week was halloweekend and the slutty costumes that both genders had wore gave the perfect chance for heeseung to show to you his acclaimed abilities.

the party was at jay’s parents mansion which by comparison to heeseung’s house was on an entirely different level of wealth. heeseung and jay were good friends in highschool, not that close but close enough to talk to about their shitty rich parents. heeseung had dressed up as ghostface minus any sort of clothing that would provide him warmth during October’s chilly weather. he sent a text earlier in the week, inviting you to jay’s party. it had been 3 days and all heeseung got back was the words seen and no written reply on whether you would appear.

heeseung had spent most of the party in a pissy mood, completely neglecting the many other women who were drawn to his shirtless ghostface attire. he had simply just grown infatuated with you. he couldn’t accept the fact that you had chosen his roommate over him, losing a chance at losing your virginity to a man who could provide you with the most toe-curling orgas-

in the corner of his eye, he saw the back of a familiar head with a shorter woman trailing behind him. 

what the fuck is jake doing here? and why the fuck does his company’s ass look so delectable? 

heeseung was always aware of the girls that jake was screwing, he made it his mission to know. there was this level of power he felt in controlling his brother’s life, the type of control that made him ecstatic. he would intentionally plead with the girls he screwed to go and seduce his brother, he convinced them that jake was having a “hard time right now”, but truthfully? he secretly enjoyed listening to what jake was like in bed.

their rooms were right next to each other so heeseung only assumed it was right to listen in because what if his brother needed assistance? 

“jakey you’re so big… i don’t think that’s gonna fit in me.. f-fuckkk” the girl yelped as jake shoved his raging boner into her. “i spent… f-fucking… who knows how long…. playing with your pussy, the least you could do…. is let me f-fuck that pretty hole of yours” heeseung’s hands now traveled down his own body, feeling warmth from listening to an angry horny jake. 

the now muffled moans of the girl, the slapping sounds of sex, and held back whines of jake had given heeseung the hardest boner he has ever had. jake’s a whiner? heeseung couldn’t control himself. he got down to floor, getting close to the open space by the wall. sliding down his navy blue plaid pants and getting on his knees, he presses his ears against the cold white wall. the sounds were now more easily heard, fuck my tip is already leaking. heeseung began slowly stroking his now hardened and sensitive cock.

“s-shut the fuck u-up…. heeseung ‘s gonna hear you sweetheart. how do you think he’s gonna react to you…. taking his younger brother’s cock?” he says breathlessly, still maintaining his speed. heeseung is at first spooked by his brother’s random mention of him, but his hands never leave his cock. the once slow strokes become tighter and faster as heeseung could no longer edge himself to jake’s activities. 

“jake! j-jake! fuck jakey please let me cum” the girl whines and heeseung also feels the buildup of release coming over him. “hold it”, heeseung stills. fuck just let me cum man, the girl is a mess as heeseung hears her voice breaking, consumed with desperate pleas. “j-jakey please.. i need you to let me cum… i-i can’t take anymore of this” the girls pleas cause jake to twitch inside of her, finding it cute to see such a helpless girl underneath him. jake slows slightly, “since you’re asking so s-sweetly, i’ll let you cum dear… but it’s gonna cost ya..”, jake then with all the strength left in him, pounds the girl’s pussy. heeseung hears this so clearly and fuck his hand is already beating his sensitive cock and milking the cum he’s been holding on. it spills out, pouring all over his cock and even drips onto his pants. heeseung is panting, having not felt that pure rush in what seemed like forever. the sound of pounding continues, the girl's once vocal pornographic moans now turned into unintelligible grunts as if her ability to moan was costing her too much energy. “t-take it all. fuck you’re such a good cum bucket for me…. oh fuck yes yes yes let my seed impregnate your womb with good sperm… bet heeseung never got you like this huh?”

heeseung  furrows his eyebrows as he recalled the memory, unable to determine whether that was the great orgasm he has ever had or if he’s a fucking weirdo for listening to his younger brother pour out his cum in a girl he previously fucked. either way… it was-  

heeseung had decided to follow jake and his mystery woman, making sure not get to close and alert jake of his presence. 

jake’s costume was of the joker variety, particularly inspired by jared leto’s portrayal of the character. the girl he had with him had a dark latex nurse outfit, which perfectly accentuated the round and firmness of the woman’s ass. fuck… i need that, heeseung is entirely entranced by the mystery woman jake is with. his desire to learn more about her increases as jake and her both walk into one of the many bedrooms in jay’s mansion. 

the darkness of the house for the party’s ambiance allowed heeseung to stand directly in front of the door without alerting jake and the hot nurse of his presence. heeseung watches as the two figures begin making out.

“fuck… i can’t get enough of you…”, jake moans as he dives back into the hot nurse’s mouth. the hot nurse presses her index finger to jake’s plush lips before flickering the plumpness of them. “open that mouth for me… jakey… you said you’d do anything i ask…. right baby?” fuck her voice…. sounds so…. jake rubs his hard on that couldn’t help but ache in his pants and begins to follow the hot nurse’s command. he opens his mouth so pornographically… it’ll fit my… “good boy… wow.. to think all i had to do to get your attention was wear this slutty outfit… tsk tsk tsk… should i show up to our tutoring lessons like this?” 

fuck this girl is hot….. but why does she sound so much like- 

jake sucks on the nurse’s finger thoroughly, making sure to slobber them with his drool and lust. heeseung can’t see the woman’s face but her moans of approval give heeseung a clear indication of her delight. she retracts her fingers and jake whines, his head unknowingly following her finger. what a fucking los- heeseung reminded himself of the position he was in and how he truly was the loser in this case, watching his brother get his dick wet while the one girl he was interested in had completely ghosted him. true and real loser activities. 

while heeseung was in deep reflection, he completely missed jake grabbing the hot nurse and pinning her onto the bed. “fuck y/n… please let me fuck you now, ive been waiting for so…” he peppers kisses on her foot and ankle “sooo…” he continues kissing her up, getting to her thighs. heeseung is truly amazed, who did jake learn this from? wait.. “so long to get you here..” jake eventually gets himself right in front of her already clothed core. “you got me here? jakey… don’t mess this up with your ego. you know you’re only here cause i called you… right? your desperate ass just can’t get enough of me and so you hurried out of that boring highschool party and drove yourself across town to my house to pick me up. im the reason you’re here, baby… act like it ” 

heeseung freezes. his young brother who not only crashed into his already dysfunctional life, lives up to no unrealistic expectations, and has no real responsibilities; has y/n with him in bed. his y/n. heeseung is fuming, not only does jake have everything else handed to him, thanks to the privilege of becoming heeseung’s mom’s favorite son, he gets the one girl heeseung wants. for fucks sake! 

heeseung controls his anger, not wanting to explode out and get caught by jake and the hot nurse, y/n.

liked the story? please like and reblog! and please comment if you enjoyed (or didn't)!!!! tysm <3

[zyoumeval]

Mutualism of Survival

Caleb X MC!Reader drabble.

tags. teeny bity of angst, fluff, comfort… idk what’s more to tag & i’m sorry for grammar errors!

“what is the best way to describe the relationship between the Colonel & the Hunter?”

“the intertwined paths of the catalyst and the protector”

The day Caleb met you in that abandoned playground, he could sense from the get-go they were meant to be there. You were hunted for your life, as long as you took steps forward on this ground, the never ending battles would take place. The fiery trails you left were Caleb’s navigation to shield you from the upcoming storm that brewing behind.

The Phoenix always rose from the ashes, a line which he engrained into his mind. With every sense he has, he devoted his whole being to keep you safe in every journey you travailed. He didn’t care if it would risk his life in order to protect you, you’re his whole universe — his very reason to stand tall despite the raging storm.

“the home & the anchor”

Amidst the turbulent winds, he found himself clutching the necklace given by you every time. No matter how dangerous the path awaited him, he knew that he would still find his way back to you. For every moment he breathed, you would always be there wishing him safe and sound in his mind and heart.

And he wished you the same. As you were slaying the demons on the ground, there was only one thing in your mind. The idea that you would chant in every steps you take, the sole reason why you were fighting for your life. It’s a simple statement of returning home… to your beloved home.

“the heaven & the earth”

Caleb soared to the stars where dreams were born and you stood the ground where gravity rooted the reality.

Logically, the sky and the ground were never fated to be together. The sky was always far out of ground’s reach, it would always be like that. They were the opposite. But dreams and hopes could defying the doomed fate of the two elements. Heaven yearned for the Earth, to be one in every moment passed — the Earth longed for the Heaven, to embrace its warmth.

They could never be one, but horizon gave them a place to rest. The space between Heaven and Earth, who understood their strong bonds. They could never be one, but they were incomplete without each other.

“sovereigns of their haven”

No matter how far apart the companions were, to the galaxy or to the depths of the ground, they would always choose one. They built protection to their land with trust, loyalty, and compassion. Not just to protect their shared moments over time or their lives, but also to protect the bridge connecting their hearts and souls.

No shadows or storms could break the promises they made to build the sanctuary. The place where they could be stronger together as long as they are side by side.

“survivors of the destroyed utopia”

As the land full of hopes and harmony crumbled down in just a blink of an eye, it felt like a punishment from the Greater one. They defied the fate, going against all odds to be in each other’s embrace. The fall was punishing and merciless, it destroyed them to their core and left them with nothing.

But nothing, was just a fleeting thought as they were surrounded by despair and darkness around them. Yet they found a way to escape the menacing night, they carried themselves to find their way back to each other. It was not easy for them to finally rise from the destruction of their hopes as the horrors were still haunting them to their sleep.

The way they found was to remember the dream. The dream they shared through the day and the night, the dream they once held on tight. They fought the darkness with that remnants of their dreams and, once again, stepped forward to the light and rebuilding what had once been destroyed.

[moanz111]

✩°⋆｡ system error ⋆｡°✩ - 34

chapter 34 ✧ - i'm sorry - written +texts

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synopsis ✧ you've always dreamt of having your fantasy-like love story. naturally, hearing the sweet melodic ring of your love alarm was what you wanted the most, right? until it actually happened. four times.

wc ✧ 1.4 k

pairing ✧ uni student! choi san x fem! uni student! reader

warnings/tags ✧ instant attraction (just soulmates stuff), party mentioned, getting drunk (but not to the point of not being able to make decisions), angst, miscommunication (more like not enough communication)(sorry), san's kind of insecure, heartbreak, unhealthy coping mechanism (self-distancing), this is very long so get ready, everyone's confused, use of a pet name (yunjin calls reader baby but she always does so...)(i always forget to tag it sawryy), lmk if i've missed something

Being a senior in university wasn’t as fun as many would think. Too many classes, too many assignments, too many dance routines to memorise and quite literally nothing of much interest happening around you.

At least, that was San’s reality. Wake up, work out, go to classes, practice with Yeonjun and Wooyoung, go home, sleep, repeat.  It wasn’t like it was that bad, but a little fun wouldn’t kill anyone, right?

San kept wondering what was missing, what was that thing that his soul kept yearning for? He had considered taking a gap year or even completely changing his major, but nothing seemed to really hit home the more he thought about it. Start a job? With that schedule it was out of the question. Dating? Well, there were potential prospects around him, but it was too much work and emotional investment.

That was until the day he met you. 

At first, it wasn’t anything evoking excitement in him. As usual, his friends were going to drag him to the freshman welcoming party to “scare” the newcomers, but San didn’t really want to do that or talk to any people or get drunk or dance, but duty called, as Wooyoung had said back then, and had dragged him to Changbin’s front door mercilessly along with their roommates. All San had to do was put on his most charming smile, hang around for an hour or two and then he would make his escape with Yunho so they could play video games in peace. 

Plans change, though, and very drastically even. 

San knew your friends very well - Yunjin and Jongho had the same majors so he saw her often at their plays (whenever Jongho let him come, of course), Beomgyu and Jeongin were his gaming buddies and Kai was their friend so of course, he had hung out with him too, but the only mysterious person in there was you. He thought you looked beautiful with your messy hair and your casual clothes on, with your shy smile and blushing cheeks as you shook his hand while saying your name quietly. 

He couldn’t say he had fallen in love before and he didn’t really believe in love at first sight, but that weird feeling growing inside his heart was definitely something he had to keep an eye on. He had liked people and had dated a few times which all ended in disappointment, but secretly all he wished for was for his love alarm to ring. All these romance movies that kept him up at night, the fated meetings they portrayed - he kept wondering if that was something you could actually experience or was it just a play, orchestrated for poor hopeless romantics like him? Not that he had ever found someone he could share his thoughts with.

The night he met you he was no different - it wasn’t as if he suddenly gained the courage to strike a conversation or even flirt like Wooyoung liked saying he was supposed to when he saw someone he was interested in. So he did what he did best - he admired you from a distance. Occasionally, you would sit together or would exchange a word or two in the middle of all the chaos that was happening around you, with hundreds of students surrounding you, but nothing more until Mingi gathered all of your friends together to play truth or dare in Changbin’s bedroom while the party downstairs was at its peak.

San thought it was the most childish thing in the world but he still sat down opposite of you and joined the game reluctantly. Only because you were there.

He didn’t know why he took so much interest in you or why his heart fluttered when your laugh echoed in the room or when you smiled sweetly at him. There was some sort of a pull as if you two were two opposites of a magnet about to collide and he couldn’t wrap his mind around what all of that meant, especially not after he had taken 5 shots as a penalty for refusing to answer Wooyoung’s invasive questions.

After a while, all of you had got bored and had just splattered around the room, engaging in quiet conversations with each other, enjoying the peacefulness of the night. Gathering his courage, San had approached you after your friends had left your side and he, once again, was surprised with himself. He truly thought you wouldn’t want to stay next to him on the floor in front of Changbin’s bed, but you did. You talked and talked and talked about anything and everything, you joked, you laughed and when you leaned on his shoulder, San thought his heart was going to explode.

It must be the alcohol. But it wasn't. San felt more sober than ever. He felt alive and the night was still young so after taking one more shot each, both of you went downstairs to join the party. 

And just like that, you were standing in front of him, the purple and blue neon lights illuminating your features and all San could do was try not to stare too much. The loud music, engulfing any other sound in the room, was drumming loudly and you swayed your body to the rhythm, laughing and holding San’s hands in an effort to make him let loose and have fun. It was working because he didn’t remember when he had had fun like that with anyone else. At a party. In Changbin’s house.

The more you danced, the more San was letting the butterflies in his stomach erupt. He believed dancing could reveal a lot about the person and he thought you were stunning. But he had already thought that at least a million times before. His drunken brain, however, couldn’t come up with many creative and showstopping compliments at that moment but mentally he made a note to tell you much more the next time he saw you which he hoped was going to be very soon.

Suddenly, a slower song started playing. San couldn’t really remember its name but the next thing he knew was that your hands were around his neck, his on your hips and you were both mere centimeters away from each other. Your soft shining eyes were looking at him with such intensity that he thought he was going to melt there and then. Slowly moving together, San felt as if you two were the only people in the room. 

The world had stopped spinning for a few moments, he could’ve sworn. Only you, your warmth and your shimmering eyes were all that mattered. His grip on you tightened and now you were closer than ever. San could feel your breath on his neck as you buried your head in its crook and your heartbeat (or was it his?) was pulsating between you two, making his cheeks burn. 

As the song came to an end and a new one started, you pulled away from him slightly, making him pout at the loss of contact. “San, I…”

San could swear he was going to pass out right there, in your arms, as your fingers dug into the back of his neck, brushing against his hair. His eyes were on your lips, still shining from the lipgloss you were wearing, and then he moved his gaze to your pleading eyes. You were so close, yet so far as San started leaning down slowly and then

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

San hadn’t heard a sound like that before. It seemed like a normal notification but it also sounded different. Maybe a bit higher? A bit more melodic?

And then you pulled away, leaving him breathing in and out slowly. What if that was the love alarm? Was it yours? Or his? Was he just hearing things?

“I’m sorry, I think Yunjin is calling me. I’ll go over to the kitchen to call her,” you said, raising your voice in an attempt to fight the noise and San nodded. It wasn’t as if he was going to just leave you. Especially not after what was about to happen before your phone had rung. 

He watched you make your way through the crowd and just now San noticed how many people were around you two. Maybe even your friends were somewhere here but he couldn’t recognise anyone, not while his brain was in this dazed state.

Taking out his phone with trembling hands to check for any texts, San furrowed his brows as he saw the top notification.

from 1111

Congratulations! You have found your match!

note ✧ here it is finally - san's pov! i wasn't really sure how to handle this situation and if i did it well; this was probably the hardest chapter to ever write just because i wanted to convey san's feelings and pov the best way possible and actually make it make sense and be valid 😭 he just needs a hug and so does reader :( dealing with feelings of any kind is never easy.

i really hope you liked this chapter (i rewrote it around 5-6 times) and feedback will be greatly appreciated because it's my first time writing something angsty like this 😭 i promise not to make it too painful from now on but a growth in both of them is needed so bear with me :<

taglist ✧ @flamingi @huachengsbestie01 @minihong99 @staytinyluv @luvpeachkes @gh9sty @dawn-iscozy @zaraxnid @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

taglist is open! <3