#but then I stare at the idea of backgrounds being needed in a piece…
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“I am the reason for my own doom,” I remind myself as I start yet another HTTYD project
So, take the super rough draft of a dumb lil comic I want to make of a moment in a short deaged Hiccup idea I had :3 I didn’t want to forget this one
And in case anyone can’t read my writing, cause I know one of my brothers struggled for a bit….
Here it is-
Tuffnut: “He’s so tiny! Does he even know 2+2?”
Hiccup: “4!”
Astrid: “He’s right.”
Tuffnut: “I knew that!!”
Tuffnut: “Probably can’t even wipe his own nose anyway…”
Hiccup: sniiiff
#pls I keep giggling to myself whenever I look at this#but I want to put in genuine effort so bad#and I love drawing…#but I’m a lazy artist XD#it’s why I leave things off as so many doodles#but I wanna put in some more genuine effort so bad#but then I stare at the idea of backgrounds being needed in a piece…#tuffnut#tuffnut thorston#hiccup#hiccup horrendous haddock iii#hiccup haddock#astrid hofferson#astrid#snotlout#snotlout Jorgenson#httyd#how to train your dragon#doodle
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[demon] Cillian
demon!Cillian x human!Reader Warnings: oral, not a full smut just a tease
Summary: Your pianist husband needs his muse.
A/N: It's a silly idea but I hope you will enjoy it!
The room is bathed in the amber light of the setting sun, casting long, warm streaks across the polished dark wood floor. Each ray glimmers through the floor-to-ceiling windows, sliding across the sleek, glossy surface of the piano's black lid. The grand instrument stands still against the view of Meriad in the background. Beyond the glass, the city stretches out with its towering buildings and the fiery hues of the evening light.
"What are you doing?" you ask when you finally break the stillness of the room. Your gaze is fixed on your husband standing a few steps away from the leather bench of the piano.
Cillian takes his time to respond, his focus lingering on the instrument for a heartbeat longer before his eyes flicker over to you. His arms remain crossed over his broad chest. The crisp white shirt he wears hangs loose at his neck, revealing a hint of his strawberry-red skin.
"Cancel the concert," he says at last, causing you to frown as his words sink in. His arms flex subtly under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. The motion draws your eyes for a fleeting moment as he adjusts his stance, turning slightly to face you more.
"I can't do that."
Well, you could, but there is no way you will when the concert is just a few days away.
"And why would I, anyway?"
Cillian holds your gaze. A flicker of something passes through his eyes but disappears before you can read it. "I'm not ready," he states. His words hang in the air while your mind races for an answer.
He shakes his head slowly, the movement making the tips of his screw horns catch the golden light streaming in through the windows behind him. "I need more time."
"You’ve had months," you remind him. Your voice is more harsh than you originally intended. "Just sit down and... play."
The demon’s frown deepens, his dark brows drawing together as if the suggestion itself is offensive. "It doesn’t work like that."
You wave at the piano, helpless. "Well, whatever your problem is, you have to get through it," you tell him. "I’m not canceling the concert, Cillian. It would ruin your career."
He exhales sharply. The sound is somewhere between a huff and a growl. He knows you are right. "I can’t."
Your heels click sharply on the hardwood floor as you close the space between you, pointing at the bench. "Sit."
The demon glares at you for a moment. His jaw is set so tightly that you can see the subtle shift of his features. The sharp lines of his cheekbones grow even more pronounced. His skin seems to stretch over the bone structure like a mask, and his eyes sink deeper into their sockets. The darkened hollows glint with something ancient and primal beneath his composed exterior. For just a second, you get a glimpse of his true face; the demon he is beneath the polished surface. Then, with another sharp exhale, he turns away from you as he lowers himself onto the leather bench, and when he looks at you, he is human again. Well, more human.
"Now, play," you say, resting your hand gently on the sleek surface of the piano. "Play something. Anything."
Cillian’s glare shifts from you to the instrument in front of him. His dark eyes run over the keys while his long, elegant fingers hover above them, twitching and fidgeting, but never quite making contact. There is a palpable tension in the air as he stares, lost in his own internal battle.
"Play one of my favorites," you tell him more softly now as you watch your love struggle.
You don’t need to elaborate further. Between being his wife and his manager, you’ve spent countless hours listening to him play, learning what pieces move you and resonate in you deeply.
For a long moment, he remains motionless as if weighing the request against his inner turmoil. Then, slowly, his fingers press against the keys, tentative at first as though testing the waters. The sound is soft and familiar, but as the rhythm begins to take shape and swell, a sharp, jarring tone slices through the melody, causing Cillian’s entire body to stiffen. A low curse escapes him, frustration radiating off him like heat, and with one fluid motion, he slams the keylid down. The sudden sound of wood against wood rings through the room.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, clearly irritable. "Damn it," he mutters under his breath. His eyes flare to that sharp, almost predatory intensity before fading into a simmering frustration.
"Let's try again tomorrow," you break the silence after a long, tense second. Your voice is soft and careful.
"It won't change anything," the demon replies. "Cancel the concert."
You sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of his request presses down on you. "I can’t, Cillian," you tell him. "It would ruin everything you’ve built."
The silence stretches between you, thick and charged.
"You’ll figure it out," you say, reaching out to gently push his hair back from his eyes. "Come. Let’s have dinner and watch something stupid on the TV."
Your offer doesn't solve his problem, but it draws the smallest of smiles across his lips as his fingers link with yours, and without another world, he lets you lead him toward the kitchen.
_
"I have an idea." The soft, low murmur of your husband's voice cuts through the sleepy fog of your mind, delicate and distant. At first, it doesn’t even register. His fingers, light as feathers, trace along the line of your jaw, his thumb grazing gently over your lips. The warmth of his touch seeps through the haze of sleep, but your mind is slow to catch up.
"What?" you croak, squinting into the dark of the bedroom. His silhouette is little more than a shadow against the darkness.
"I have an idea," Cillian repeats. "But I need you for it."
You shift onto your back, the sheets rustling beneath you as you force your eyelids to stay open and yourself to stay awake. "You mean now?"
"Yeah," he says with a hint of eagerness threading through his simple answer.
Any other time, you would have grunted at him in annoyance and sunk back into the softness of your pillows, not ready to give up the warmth of sleep for anything, but you watched him struggle with his music for weeks, and you can’t bring yourself to dismiss the quiet hope in his words tonight.
"What’s your idea?"
You let him pull you from the bed without a word, your body still heavy with sleep. His fingers, warm and soft, guide you out to the living room. The grand piano stands still by the large window, its polished surface reflecting the faint light spilling in from the city beyond. Flashes of neon advertisements cast a colorful glow across the towering buildings and the streets below constantly in motion with the never-ending flow of traffic.
You stand there for a moment, the sound of your breathing mingling with the distant hum of the city while your husband leaves your sides only to close the lid of the piano before turning his attention back to you.
"Take off your clothes," he says, gaze drifting over the delicate fabric of your nightgown.
Your body reacts before your mind does; your skin tingles where his eyes linger. "What?" You can't help but let the word slip, caught off guard by his sudden request.
"I want you naked," he states as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
"Cillian," you murmur his name, suspicion threading through your tone, but there's no resisting the strange curiosity that blooms in your chest. "What's your plan?" But your fingers already move to the hem of your nightgown, tugging it off with a quick motion.
"We’ve been so caught up in my concert, in everything else, that we didn’t even have time for each other. Weeks without this…" He trails off, eyes never leaving your bare body. "I need my muse back." His eyes are darker now as he pats the sleek, black lid with a soft thud. "Come. Sit here."
A pulse of excitement tingles down your spine at his invitation and without a second thought, you step closer. "Are you sure about it?" you ask, casting a wary glance at the piano. You don't want to ruin it.
"Yep," he replies, popping the p between his lips while his hands find your hips, and before you can protest further, he hauls you effortlessly onto the instrument.
The sleek, lacquered surface presses against your skin, heightening your awareness of your exposed self.
"There," he murmurs, rich with approval as his hands linger on your thighs, steadying you. "Perfect."
The air around you feels thick and charged with an intoxicating heat that clings to your skin. The hard, unyielding surface of the piano isn’t exactly comfortable with your legs dangling awkwardly over the edge, brushing against the cool keys, but none of that matters; not the sharp corners digging into you or the faint creak of the instrument beneath your weight. Your mind is far too hazy with the thrill of this moment to care about anything else while you watch your husband lower himself onto the bench.
Seated there, he has a perfect view of the heat pooling between your thighs, laid bare for him and him alone. You can feel your cheeks flush under his scrutiny, but the vulnerability doesn’t make you shy away. Instead, it feeds the fire burning inside you, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
"Now," he hums softly under his breath. "Stay still, my love."
The first sound he coaxes from the piano is soft and delicate like a whisper meant only for you. It is slightly muffled, the closed lid and your body atop it tempering the instrument’s full voice, but the music loses none of its beauty. Each note wraps around you, seeping into your skin, and settling deep in your chest. Your husband plays with the same precision and passion that drew you to him in the first place, his hands gliding over the keys as if the piano is an extension of himself. For a long while, the world beyond the room ceases to exist, and even when only the final note lingers in the otherwise quiet air, you are still unable to remind yourself of your exposed, vulnerable position.
"You will be amazing," you murmur, breaking the silence after a long, long second. Your chest is full of wonder and pride as you watch his eyes lift from the keys to meet yours, locking onto you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.
"And I'm not done yet, my wife." The grin that curls his lips is nothing short of wicked. It’s the kind of smile that warns of trouble and promises pleasure in equal measure.
You gulp, throat dry as his heated gaze pins you in place. "Should I get off?" you manage to whisper.
"No."
Before you can process his answer, he moves. The lid closes over the keys with a sharp click, and his long, skilled fingers find the plush softness of your thighs, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. A startled squeak escapes your lips as he pulls you forward, the motion causing the piano to emit a dull thud beneath your weight.
"Cillian!" you shriek, your heart racing. "What-?"
"Stay still, my love." His lips find your skin, brushing feather-light kisses over the sensitive flesh of your thighs. The heat of his breath fanning over your core makes you shiver.
Your head falls back with a throaty moan as his tongue eagerly swipes over your slit. The sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through your body makes your toes curl while Cillian's fingers dig into your soft flesh as he hauls you closer. The possessiveness and determination in his movement leave no room for escape, not that you'd dream of it.
"I’ve missed this," Cillian murmurs against your pussy. "My muse, my inspiration." His lips curl into a smile before his tongue delves between your folds again, exploring you with a hunger that steals your breath away. "How could I ever create without tasting you first?" His words are a mixture of devotion and wickedness, stoking the fire already burning inside you. His tongue glides through your wetness, collecting every drop with wet, obscene sounds that seem to echo in the quiet room. His mouth slurps and sucks on your arousal before his lips find your clit. The first flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through your body, and you arch into him instinctively, begging, demanding. He tongues you with maddening skill, alternating between gentle laps and intense suction that has your legs trembling.
"For weeks," he breathes against your sensitive flesh, pausing just long enough to tease you with his words, "I’ve been surrounded by noise; praises, and expectations, but none of it compares to this." His tongue traces circles over your clit, coaxing a sharp gasp from your lips. "You, my love, are the only symphony I need. My muse. My salvation." He feasts on you with an intensity that borders on worship. He plunges his tongue deeper, his pace relentless, as though determined to draw every ounce of pleasure from you.
His dark eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. There’s something primal in his gaze, a depth that seems to pull you under as if his very soul is reaching out to claim you. His eyes are sunken in their sockets, and you can see the simmering energy beneath his skin. His demon form presses at his human facade, begging to be unleashed.
His lips curl into a feral grin, sharp and wicked, as his tongue flicks over your clit again, drawing a gasp from your lips. "Breathe, my love," he teases. "I need you to last long enough to inspire me properly."
#monster romance#monster x human#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#teratophillia#monster fucker#terat0philliac#monster smut#demon x reader#demon smut#demon x human#demon x you#x reader#terato#monsterfucker#meriad
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BEACH DAY ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK
SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?
note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!
TODAY
is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.
So, you were heading to the beach.
The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.
It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed.
So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.
Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...
You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.
Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go.
You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.
You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.
You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.
With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.
They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.
Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.
You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.
Too bad this peace would not last for too long.
Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.
You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.
A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.
Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.
"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"
He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."
It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."
Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"
"YOU—!!!"
Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...
"Hello, Isagi."
Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."
He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"
He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"
He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.
Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids.
And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.
Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio.
Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).
"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."
"Get your eyes off my chest."
"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.
"You too, stupid crow."
"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."
You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."
"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."
You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."
"Would you stop calling me that?"
"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"
He pauses. "Point taken."
Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around.
Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.
You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).
"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."
You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."
Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be.
"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."
Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.
A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.
Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.
"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."
Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."
He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"
You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."
He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."
"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."
He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."
"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."
You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."
He says, but you do not catch it.
Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"
The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"
"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"
His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."
Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."
"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"
You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."
He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."
"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."
You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"
You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.
Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.
Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.
Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).
You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children.
You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.
You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]."
You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.
"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."
Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."
He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."
You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."
The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.
You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.
You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment.
It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."
He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."
The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"
Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?
Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"
You laugh. "I know."
The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.
Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.
"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"
You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.
He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek.
You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.
You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.
Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back.
You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."
You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."
Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.
You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.
Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.
Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"
You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."
"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"
You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."
The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"
Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."
You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"
He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."
"You sound like you care about that more than me."
"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."
You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"
He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."
You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.
Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.
You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.
"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.
"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"
Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"
The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"
He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.
You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."
Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.
Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"
Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.
You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"
Huh? Ready for what—!!!
You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness.
You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.
Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.
You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.
You've never felt prouder of yourself.
You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.
His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.
"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."
You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.
Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.
You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"
He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."
Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.
He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"
The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.
His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."
He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.
His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.
His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.
The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two.
It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.
You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.
Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.
The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.
Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.
Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.
"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."
When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.
He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.
Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.
Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.
The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."
He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"
He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.
Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?
© KENYUMMY 2024
#blue lock x reader#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock#blue lock manga#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser#isagi#isagi yoichi#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#nagi#nagi seishiro#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#karasu#karasu tabito#karasu tabito x reader#otoya#otoya eita#otoya eita x reader#karasu x reader#otoya x reader#yukimiya#yukimiya kenyu#yukimiya kenyu x reader#barou shoei#© iliverae 2024 !
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BOOK WORM 🫧🥂
BOOK WORM! ARMIN X BLACK FEM READER
SUMMARY!! yn helps her friend relieve some stress.
WARNINGS!! 18+!! mentions of oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption, pet names, honestly just smut
the door creeps open slowly, revealing a figure illuminated by a laptop screen and a faulty led lamp. the faint clicking from the keyboard and sound of papers ruffling were the only sound that filled the room.
you peer around, the cluttered desk told you everything you needed to know: scattered papers, a coffee cup that looked like it hadn’t moved in hours, and a faint shadow under his eyes that screamed exhaustion.
“armin. what the hell?” walking over to the boy, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. the bag you came in being placed on the only clear spot of the desk. he leans into your touch a little, enjoying the warmth you never failed to bring, but snapping out of it quickly, rearing back up to continue typing.
“finals are in two weeks and if i don’t get my scores perfect i’ll have to hear about it for ages with my lawyer brother, attorney sister, my supreme court justice father, and my doctor mother.” he never once stopped typing. bending down to your knees, he gives you a small glance before reaching for a stack of crumbled pages, shuffling the sheets in confusion.
“i know it’s arou- ah! okay good.” he picks up a half ripped sheet, copying down the data from the sheet onto his laptop. lips in a tight line, you stand back up, digging through the tan tote bag. a small case of flavored beer and a couple of shooters make their way onto the desk. he looks over at the spread, immediately shaking his head.
“hell no, yn! are you crazy? i have class in the morning.” you throw you hands up in defeat.
“can we make a deal ‘minnie?” he ignores you, still typing. fed up, you finally unzip your jacket, tossing it on the extra chair. throwing one of your legs around the boy, he rears his hands up , scared to touch you. you’re straddling him, pushing the blonde locks out of his face, tucking a few of the longer pieces behind his ear. his ice blue eyes stare up at you in confusion.
“what are you doing, yn?”
“drink one beer with me. not! while doing homework. just enjoy a full beer and maybe a shooter and i’ll leave you alone afterwards! swear.” holding your pinky out to the male, he bites the insides of his cheek, thinking really hard about your opposition.
“just one?” waving your pink acrylic back and forth between your bodies, he finally latches on with his.
-
PARTYNEXTDOOR plays in the background, filling the void of quiet. the entire six pack was now just one. the one you and armin were currently sharing. he takes a swig from it, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, he places the bottle to your lips. his blue eyes stare as you gulp down the last of the liquid catches you off guard, causing you to cough up a little, accidentally getting it on his white shirt.
“oh shit. im sorry.” you try to wipe it off with your sleeve. he just laughs, moving your arm a little.
“it’s okay. i’ll change.” he moves from his position on the bed, hand gripping the shirt from behind his head, pulling it over, stripping himself of the shirt. you couldn’t help but notice the way his back was sculpted.
since when does he work out? is that a tattoo?
“i didn’t know you had a tat, minnie.” slurring, he turns around to look at you sprawled out on his bed. your body waved hair sprawled out everywhere, sweater falling off your shoulders and shorts riding up your thighs.
he knows, you’re only his friend and he had no chance with you. hell, your ex is onyankopon. what could armin give up that he wasn’t? but shit, the way he thinks about you. the way his eyes can’t help but to feast on your appearance when you’re near him. he wanted to ruin you. to cherish you. to make you his.
“yeah it was an old friends idea. he passed not too long ago. still miss the kid.” he just hangs his head before going back to look for another shirt.
“come here.” you say assertively. armin turns around, the front looking just as good as his back.
he drunkenly waddles back to the bed, climbing back into his original spot. your finger traces over the abstract tattoo, inspecting it closely.
it was a sigilism tattoo that started below his ribs and extended up his left pec, to his bicep.
your other hand rested on his abdomen, laying up against the man.
“how long did it take?” you quiz.
“it was honestly two full sessions since im a pussy. so about five hours a session.” he laughs, face turning a little red.
“i think it’s so cool.” you say still studying the ink. look over at the man you see his eyes directly on you, then a quick glance down at your lips.
“i think you’re cool.” you say, feeling his body inch closer, gradually changing your position. his hands wrap around your waist, slowly shifting him under you. eyes never breaking contact.
“i think you’re-“ he leans down, eye to eye with you. his lips plant down firmly on yours. moving in sync, you could feel him relax into it, tongue occasionally swiping across your bottom lip. you’d never been this close to him. he smelled like coconut and dior cologne, hair dangling above your face.
“what about onyankopon?” pulling away from the heated kiss, he asks, worry filling his eyes.
“mm- what about him?”
“right. if you want me to stop, let me know pleas-“ throwing your arms around his neck, you pull him back down. his lips were so soft. his breath tasted like fresh peppermint, completely baffling you since you both just drank alcohol. he was intoxicating.
moving your lips in unison, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the gradual deepening of the kiss. the way his lips part slightly against yours, inviting more. his fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward his, eager.
he forces himself to break away, whining at the loss. his lips move to your neck, hands wondering every inch of your body, trying to stimulate you every way he can. sucking and leaving marks all over your collarbone, he finds himself helping you remove your sweater. revealing a pink lace bralette.
“fuck, everything about you is so beautiful.” you whine, tugging at his sweatpants knot.
“well get there princess, lust let me make you feel good please. it’s the only thing i’ve wanted to do. let me eat you.” you could damn near see the fire that burned behind his eyes. his large hands slip under your bra, gently massaging them, using his index and thumb to roll your nipples in between. a gasp escapes your lips.
“armin- fuck.” he gets impatient, lifting your bra up to your chest, mouth immediately attaching to the swollen bud. your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape, gripping at the man’s golden locs.
he leaves them both a few kisses before peppering your stomach with a few kisses.
staring down at the man, you see him kissing at the inside of your thighs, humming after every kiss. he finally gets impatient, gripping the shorts by the waistband, yanking them off your body. you giggle, being tugged a little.
wasting no time, he pins your legs back to the bed and starts eating you like he’s starving. his tongue dragging back and forth over your clit, saliva and spit mixing to create a glisten on the man’s face. his lips attach to your swollen clit, sucking soft while he reaches up to play with your matching swollen nipples, sliding his hands all over your exposed body.
“oh armin please!” you could feel him getting hungrier by the minute, his grip on your legs getting tighter as he rubs his tongue up and down your pussy. he stuffed two long thick fingers into your cunt scissoring them, ultimately touching your g-spot. you tried moving, your body tingling, but armin was so drunk from you, he couldn’t tell. his finger hooked into you, slowly stroking the spot, his tongue still abusing your nub. you were seeing stars at this point.
“fuck- minnie im gonna cum!” without fail, you released all over the man’s hand, fluid shooting out of your throbbing cunt, all over his face.
but he didn’t stop. his tongue continued its dance around on you.
“fuck me, i can’t take anymore, please armin.”
without saying anything, he pulls you closer by the waist. coming out of his sweatpants, his hand pumps a few times while he reaches in his side desk to grab a condom.
you also never knew how big he was. you stare at his length as he hovers over you, a little confused.
“where was that at?” you point, he laughs, pushing your legs apart again. looking down, a string of saliva falls right onto your slick, mixing in with the rest.
“was savin him for you, baby.” the tip slides in with ease, armins head throws back, already in love with the way you were sucking him in.
“give me all of it, please.” hips bucking up, trying to get the entire length into your throbbing core. his hands dig into your hips, pressing your down into the mattress, slowly sliding fully into you.
nails on his back, you let out the most nasty moan.
“shit, you feel so good squeezing around me.” pulling out, his body shakes a little, unable to control his whiny moans.
he keeps his strokes gentle and paced, still holding your body deep into the bed. hands pressed to the back of your thighs, he pushes down more, spreading yourself open to take more of him.
his throbbing cock continues slow and teasing, building a fire in the pit of your stomach. pulling your legs together, feet towards his face, his mouth kisses your pedicured toes.
the paces quickens, causing your body to forcefully move up and down. he snakes his arms around your legs, locking them in place with a bear hug, still pounding against you.
“armin! im cumming againn-” before you could catch yourself, you’re squirting all over his dick. he laughs at you, removing his arm, using one of his hands to play with your clit.
“ feel so fucking good. i don’t wanna stop fucking you. please, give me one more.”
he didn’t care that he hadn’t finished, all he wanted was you and all he could give you.
his pace slows down, the look on his face in pure bliss. your hands come up, caressing his face, tears brimming your eyes. the words wouldn’t even form.
“i want it baby, please cum with me.” your voice broken and low, his body lowers, connecting with yours and he slides his arms under your body, slowing down to a good pace. the unforgettable feeling of that tight coil in your stomach shows again as his cock digs at your spot relentlessly.
“im gonna cum, fuck-“
“me too, give it to me, ‘min!” your bodies clash against each others, sweat collecting on your chests, finally reaching the climax. his hips slow down, trying to catch his breath. pulling out, you both groan.
“i hope you know im not letting you fuck anybody else.” he saying rolling over, fixing your hair. your head falls over in direction.
“you too baby.”
with a few more laughs, he stands from the bed, trashing the condom before walking to you. his large arms scoop you up into a cradle.
“let’s get you in the shower.”
© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.
#armin arlert#armin aot#armin x reader#armin smut#armin arlet smut#armin x black reader#attack on titan armin#aot x black y/n#attack on titan#aot#aot x black reader#aot smut#eren smut#book worm#eren x black fem!reader#black fem reader#black reader#anime x black!reader#anime x reader#anime smut#fanfic#fanfiction#attack on titan x reader#aot x reader#aot fanfiction
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THINGS UNSAID
summary 🏹 others notice what you and daryl feel for eachother but it takes longer for the connection to reach the two of you.
word count 🏹 4.8k
warnings 🏹 large age gap, side character POVs at the start, smut lol
thanks to @irisdixon1023 for the fun idea! hope i did it justice even if i changed somethings
There were plenty of events that you had found yourself in the background of throughout the apocalypse.
You’d had to put things together at the drop of an eye because there were some questions you just didn’t ask. You didn’t need to be told the new man approaching camp was Carl’s father, evident enough by the way his mouth dropped open and Lori’s eyes flashed with hot fear and betrayal.
That unfolded in your mind exactly the same way as when you saw Shane come back from the woods with a busted nose and a manic look so intense it almost took your breath away, something cold and knowing settling in your gut but not quite strong enough for you to accuse him of planning anything.
You never put much thought into how you might come across to somebody just observing new people you’ve met on the road that might be making their own judgements on you. The end of the world had brought one relief and that was from the constant thought about your own presentation and what a stranger might think of you.
These already drawn conclusions were exactly the reason you were so confused with yourself for being so absorbed with why the red headed man kept glancing in your direction.
Truthly Abraham had never been somebody who bothered sugarcoating his words and pretending to be something he was not and that included being the type of person who was extremely curious about a certain dynamic he had seen unfolding in front of him.
He had only spent a few hours with you in the train car but he had managed to make a damn near solid case if he did say so himself and he was juggling with how much it was being challenged as soon as a few more bodies were thrown into the mix.
Both of you had looked worse for wear when his team found you alongside the gravely road, Glenn barely standing upright as they approached and then fully face planting the asphalt while you stared at him with a look that seemed to be a mixture of exhaustion and determination.
You kept your sentences short and sweet while Glenn was unconscious and you climbed into the back of the large truck but Abraham had a hard time being upset about your lack of manners considering you’d clearly been through hell's asshole before they had arrived.
His plans continued to be derailed and you proved to be a serious pain in the behind but he had felt strongly enough about his people reading to assume that you were one of two things, either just a bit slow emotionally or completely in love with the man you were traveling with.
Of course he felt only a bit disgruntled when said man actually woke up and spoke only of a loving wife that he clearly would stop at nothing to find in a very large haystack but then that could explain the heartbroken look you wouldn’t stop carrying around.
It made full sense to him that you were in love with a taken man and so desperately that you were willing to risk your life to help him be happy with somebody else so he was now fully offended when he offered this idea to Glenn one night after you’d fallen asleep, just for him to laugh in his face.
Then you had been thrown into the traincar and you suddenly took on a heavy expression of grief, like you had only just now accepted you were not going to find whatever it was that you were looking for. He had figured beforehand that you had lost someone permanently but apparently you had a mission of your own.
When the doors were opening again, this time he was happy to be an observer.
The two men entering the car looked equally as deadly as you had standing on that road side and ready to go to war for your friend's limp body and he almost pieced together they were a part of your larger group before any of you actually had turned to notice them.
Everybody tensed at the same time and then it felt like the air in the train car suddenly got much lighter.
You’d barely looked at the bearded man that seemed to automatically capture everybody's attention first, almost like they were waiting for him to give them a command before they even processed he was standing in front of them again.
Your eyes were stuck on someone else entirely and he was happy to finally have some entertainment after being sat next to a mumbling Eugene for far too many hours.
He didn’t need a lick of guessing to know what type of man the second was and he almost wanted to have his guard farther up if it wasn’t for the young boy beside him, peering around with big scared eyes. (Plus the fact he had come to respect you and the sight of you staring like the rugged man had hung the stars was good enough reason to relax).
The bearded man seemed to finally notice you standing there and he gave you an overwhelmingly fatherlike look, seeming like he wanted to pull you into a hug but deciding against it for reasons Abraham couldn’t quite figure out just yet.
His counterpart didn’t have the same problem and you let out a sob when he finally looked over to you, his entire tense frame melting like a little kid as he stumbled his way through the dark train car so he could fall against you.
You cradled his head like it was the single most important thing in the world and your friends around you seemed like they were suddenly walking on eggshells to avoid disturbing you and making you pull out of the emotional moment.
First assumption was that you were related in some way but that quickly faded when he noticed the way the man had his hands low on your back, squeezing and pulling you closer and closer like he could feel you slipping through his fingers.
There was nothing overtly romantic about it and certainly not sexual, not with the way you sobbed harder seeing his bruised face and sullen expression, but it definitely was too close for comfort if you were father and daughter adjacent.
Second assumption was gone as fast as it came, absolutely not lovers judging by the way you were quick to stumble out of his grasp as soon as you noticed Maggie and Glenn watching curiously, his hands lingering but eventually having to fall back to his side once you were out of reaching distance.
You made haste to hug the young boy and distract yourself from the blatant showcase of something that most likely was a secret, both to each other and the others but possibly to yourselves.
The man didn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time you all sat there devising a plan and you sobbed like a woman scorned when they were throwing flash bangs inside the car before dragging him away, having to send a swift kick to your ribs to get you to let go of his arm.
Abraham observed a scary switch in you now that he was gone again and the small almost fragile girl from before was once again replaced with the silent and constantly armed one, all emotions stripped down to your bare bones until you were left with instinct alone.
He kept watching your group during the days that followed the fall of Terminus, building up his strongly held opinions on each of them individually and then again in pairs and larger clumps. He couldn’t help the fact that you and Daryl struck his interest, boredom taking over for the most part although Rostia had told him he needed to get a better hobby.
It was impossible not to wonder now that he knew more about the two of you, although he’d yet to speak to your male counterpart. There was a large part of him that figured it wouldn’t end too pleasantly and he was halfway busy with sucking up to you all so you’d accompany him to the end of the line for Eugene and the cure.
So he didn’t pick a fight with the archer although he wasn’t sure you would have allowed it anyways.
You were small in size but he had managed to get a few glimpses of what you could do with rage and a blunt wooden stick alone back at Terminus so he wasn’t particularly interested in seeing how you fared with a knife
You were constantly next to Daryl and it was almost a foreign sight to see one of you without the other, a strange feeling settling over anyone whenever you’d wander in alone or the rare times he went hunting without you.
There was a glint in your eye whenever somebody talked to you, like you were ready to pounce on your own family members if you needed to just to keep the man next to you safe at all cost. He was halfway to asking Maggie if you had been like that before you were separated or if it was a new adjustment but he decided against it when he saw her fondly holding Rick’s baby.
He was finding it a bit ridiculous that there were so many moving parts in your poorly oiled machine yet it was running smoothly and, not only that, but you actually seemed to love and care about each other beyond means of survival.
Abraham decided it wasn’t any of his business anymore as soon as he ruled you and Daryl off the list of potential people who would come along on his mission, pushing you to the back of his mind to will off any distractions.
_____
Maggie had always known there was something lingering deep in you for the older man but she was quickly realizing she didn’t know the half of it apparently because the way you gripped onto him for dear life was extremely telling.
She was already surprised enough that you had practically leapt into his arms but what really struck her was how willing he was to fold over into you and meet your sobs with cries of his own.
She knew Daryl was more than what he looked like, more than what he even said most of the time but that still didn’t mean he was ever this open and vulnerable around any of them before. Even Rick sent her a thrown off look that she fought hard in the few seconds it lasted to try and understand.
Your mood had been sour for the time it took you all to find Terminus after reuniting her and Glenn but there were a thousand things she would’ve guessed as the cause of it before assuming you were mourning Daryl Dixon.
Maybe she had been blinded by her own worries and the blossoming of her love so she didn’t pay attention to the signs or maybe they were just new but they were impossible to ignore now although every one seemed to be trying their very best.
Did he always hand you your portion of food first, followed by sneaking bites of his own onto your plate when you both pretended you weren’t watching him do it?
Had it always been almost instinct that you would fall asleep next to each other, never touching but close enough to touch if you ever just reached out? She was thinking now that she wasn’t sure you slept the entire time you spent on the tracks, always awake on a watch shift when she drifted off and staring into the dying fire by the time she opened her eyes again.
Yet you seemed to have no problem drifting off with your head on Daryl’s shoulder.
When did Daryl stop flinching under your touch and since when were you so touchy anyways? Your hands were almost constantly rubbing up and down his arm or holding onto his wrist like you were stopping him from leaving except he didn’t seem to ever be going anywhere, not from you at least.
She wondered if you always looked so calm and gentle when peering up at him or if that was also a new development. She couldn’t read his gaze back down on you and she wasn’t really sure she wanted to, feeling guilty about her silent spying.
Glenn told her that it wasn’t a big deal and everybody people watched but he also denied seeing anything between the two of you so either he was lying to make her feel better or he simply wasn’t watching hard enough.
There wasn’t anything wrong with the age difference in her mind but she still occasionally caught Rick sending the two of you glances and she almost hoped it was just his fatherly urge to protect you like he always had.
_____
You could tell something had changed between you and Daryl but you weren’t too focused on defining whatever it was.
He had always been the number one person you paid attention to and you couldn’t stop thinking about him your entire stay at the prison but the pain of losing him and thinking it was for forever was clearly the push you needed to never let him forget this again, even though you hadn’t told him directly.
There was no way he didn’t know how you felt when you stared into his eyes and kept your hand on his chest, whispering lowly how happy you were for him to be back with you. He would have to truly be the dimmest person in the world to think your reaction to seeing him again was just a fluke or you not thinking straight.
Daryl must be aware of how you feel because you don’t think he would risk treating you the way he did if he didn’t.
He was sweet to you and doted on you like you were already lovers and his favoritism was apparent to anybody who paid attention for more than a few minutes. He remained as gruff and abrasive as always but he let you brush the hair from his face and his tone sounded far sweeter aimed towards you.
You knew he had feelings for you and you also knew he wouldn’t let you in on that secret unless he suspected you felt similarly.
“Couldn’t even breathe.” You had found yourself outside the stuffy church together again, somewhere just off in the treeline and leaning against a thick tree stump.
His back was pressed into the bark but your own was against his chest, sat on the drying leaves between his spread legs and laying back on him, his hands resting skillfully next to your thighs so he wasn’t touching you too directly.
“Hm?” His hum was low and sweet and you noted that he sounded like he was drifting off to sleep, a light smile on your face at his abandoned defensive walls even though the topic of conversation was rather heavy.
“I pictured them all going one way or another but not you, never ever you.” You picked one of his hands off the ground so you could hold it in your own, resting in the air above your stomach as you smoothed over his rough calloused skin and traced shapes on his palm.
He said nothing when you sighed and relaxed your limbs again, this time with his hand landing on your stomach and being enclosed by yours so he couldn’t remove it so easily. You could feel his heartbeat pick up on your back and your mouth turned up with fondness.
You didn’t need him to remind you for the hundredth time that he hadn’t gone anywhere and he was still right here with you but it was still nice to hear him grumble it in his low voice, almost a shy whisper that you had to preen to hear.
Daryl may have needed to actually feel the effect of your death before he started to slowly showcase his affectionate side but you thought it was well worth the wait, feeling beyond grateful that he hadn’t pulled away from your clinginess yet.
You figured it would just be a few days of needing him close to process that he wasn’t gone after first losing him in the smoke of the prison and then watching him get ripped away in a similar fog as soon as you had him back finally but days turned into weeks and you were still trying to find a way to silence the ache.
His heart was only picking up in speed when you were using your hand to move his slowly, so slow you could barely tell it was going anywhere at all. You pushed it until his pinky finger was under the button of your small jean shorts and you paused when you heard his breath stutter.
Part of you wanted to turn back and check his expression, make sure this was something that he wanted but you couldn’t gather the courage. Instead you sat there with your hands like that and you felt a jolt of electricity when he was moving his hand on his own.
You didn’t let it get far, barely brushing the hem of your underwear before you were swiftly sitting up in a way that clearly startled him.
He didn’t have long to overthink and wonder if he had misread the situation because now you were on your knees in between his spread legs, as close as you could get and swaying forward like you were going to lay on his chest again.
The reality was much different than he expected and lifetimes better, your lips slotting against his and automatically drawing a high pitched sound from you. There had been countless times Daryl wondered what you sounded like and the knowledge was seering itself into his brain now, longing to bring more out of you.
Your hands were on his face and you were scrambling forward so you could be sat in his lap, legs on either side of his waist as you desperately leaned into the kiss. He was easily matching your pace and you felt an overwhelming heat when you heard him groan into your mouth.
“Daryl.” The sound of his name in that tone was enough to make anybody insane and his hands on your body proved it, one hand on your lower back but the other directly touching those godforsaken jean shorts you wore.
They were poor excuses for fabric and there had been a dozen times when you'd bent over in front of him long enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties underneath, long enough for him to run a hand over his face and disappear into the guard tower for a few hours.
Now there was no reason to pretend he wasn’t looking at you, wasn’t running his rough hands over your perfectly smooth and innocent body. That seemed to be the only innocent thing about you considering your hips were starting to rock in his lap, just slow enough to make his head spin dangerously.
His big hands were both cupping your ass now and helping you move against him, loving the way you could barely kiss him as you struggled to hold your whines in.
“Feels so good.” You sounded absolutely pathetic and wrecked and he knew right then and there that he was truly perverted, grunting into your open mouth and thrusting his hips up to make you really feel him against your sensitive core. One of your hands had been running through his hair and you tugged at the feeling, crying out in surprise.
“Cmon sweetheart.” His voice was so low and raspy, vibrations going straight to your core and making you rock harder against him.
Your lips were swollen and wet when you moved them from his mouth down to his jaw, sucking and biting the skin wherever you could and making sure he was grunting straight into your ear so you could commit the sounds to memory.
He barely flinched when you sat up to pull your tank top off, a bit too hasty considering it was getting stuck on your arms for a second and he had to help you, eyes hazy when your head finally emerged and he could really look at you.
You felt touched that he watched your eyes for a few heavy breaths before he even bothered to let his gaze move down to your bare chest, rising and falling with your nipples standing at attention off his stare alone. His hands weren't wasting any time before gently cupping your soft mounds and your mouth parted in another high whine at the feeling.
Hips moving slower but still just as addicting, you were letting him worship your tits and really take his time memorizing the way your body looked on top of his like this.
Daryl had pictured you in a hundred scenarios that brought shame to his core and sometimes the disgust was enough to bury it back down but more often than not, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted this no matter how wrong it may be.
“No idea how much I thought about these hands.” Your voice was the highest pitch he’d ever heard and you were softly stuttering through your words like you’d forgotten where to place them, hand back in his hair and trying to be sly with the way you were moving his head downwards. “This mouth.. f-fuck.”
He may not be the most experienced, certainly not with girls as young and pretty as you but Daryl wasn’t as idiot. It was almost second nature to wrap his mouth around your nipple once he understood that’s what you were silently asking for, his entire arm wrapping around your back to keep you locked in place.
His muscles flexed when you made an extra loud sound and you suddenly remembered just how strong he really was, capable of really doing some damage to you right now if he decided that’s what he wanted. The thought sent heat further through you and you gasped out his name in repeated cries.
You were fully humping against him now and trying to get as much pressure on your core as you could but he was firm in his hold on your middle, practically making out with your tits in a way that was so lewd and filthy you felt lightheaded.
“I need more.” You were desperate now and on the verge of a sob, yanking on his hair impatiently and immediately diving into a nasty kiss the second he lifted his head to glare at you. Your tongue was so deep in his mouth he was able to fully suck on it, low sounds leaving him constantly now.
You hadn’t even realized you were falling until you hit the ground with his heavy frame falling over you, spreading your legs so he could slot himself between them easily.
“F-fuck you’re so hard.” You knew you sounded beyond fucked out already just from some dirty kissing but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. Although you clearly didn’t need to considering you weren’t at all exaggerating and Daryl was fully hard and moving his core against yours like he couldn’t stop himself.
“Pretty little thing.” His lack of vocalization didn’t bother you, not expecting it from him in the first place but you were almost grateful for his silence because it made every word he did say sound so much sweeter.
Daryl had never complimented you so directly before and it sounded ridiculous to flush over him calling you pretty while you were laying in the leaves, bare chest out and his hard on rubbing against you but it still made your body warm in a much purer heat than the rest of your body.
He did everything in his life with an aged roughness you had realized a long time ago, hands weapons even when he didn’t mean for them to be and even when it ate him up inside afterwards so you felt particularly touched that he had a gentle grasp on your ribs and hip like he was terrified of hurting you.
Although the thought of him hurting you did light something deep inside of you on fire but you decided to push that away and deal with it another time, slowing down your kisses once he started to fidget with the button and zipper on your shorts.
It was quick to go from dirty to romantic and you were grateful for the change even though you enjoyed the former just as much, the longing in your heart for a real sign that he felt similarly being slightly fulfilled when he was moving a hand to cup your cheek and really pay attention to the softer kiss.
You could tell he found amusement in his own patience bringing forth the opposite in you, a whiny annoyed noise leaving you as you started to tug at his belt impatiently and try to get him to resume what he was doing before you distracted him.
“Take it easy girl.” He was so close and the whispered words, light and affectionate enough that you almost forgot how lewd you were currently, made your eyes widened as you stared up at him hovering over you.
He made eye contact with you for only a brief second before he was looking away and you could see a heavy shyness in him that was directly opposite to the way he was pulling your shorts down your thighs and touching you before you’d even felt the wet air on your core.
Your breath caught in your throat and you wrapped your hands around his back, resting on his shoulder blades and you knew his vest would have the shape of your fingernails indented in the leather for a long time to come.
The low humming noise he was making against your neck seemed to be approval towards your neverending wetness and you were letting out a breathy laugh of pure hazy disbelief when you felt the head of his hard cock pressing against you.
You could hear him softly shushing you in a soothing manner, trying to get you to relax enough that he could actually push inside without seriously hurting you. You wondered if he could tell you had never done this before, suddenly self conscious that your inexperience was radiating off of you.
Unknown to you, he was thinking the same thing about himself and hoping you couldn’t feel the way his entire body was tensing to stop from pushing in before you were ready out of pure desperation that only you could bring out of him. It was hard not to act like a horny teenager when you were panting like you were getting fucked hard just from him touching your tits.
The combination was deadly and the sound he made when he started to actually fuck you was even worse, damn near ending your life then and there just to be immediately brought back when you felt the hot pain between your legs.
Now your pants were telling a different story and he did his best to slow down and let you get used to the sheer size of him stretching you out, not realizing the way your pupils were dilating and you were purposefully tightening your legs around his waist.
“M-more.” You were begging now as the pain started to go down and he gave you a look that told you he thought you were crazy, eyebrows furrowed as he started to shake his head in disagreement. “Please Daryl love it so much, hurts so good.”
That seemed to silence both the man above you and the entire forest, his body stiffening for a few seconds too long and your heart started to race with something not as nice as the flirty nervousness you normally felt around him.
You almost opened your mouth to apologize to him for making him uncomfortable, try to explain yourself and why you liked something like that without actually knowing the reason yourself. Instead your lips parted with another high whine when he started to move, clearly getting over whatever had made him pause and making it his personal mission to give you exactly what you wanted.
Daryl would never leave your sight again and you would stop at nothing to make sure of that so you had plenty of time for gentle, endless days to fill with romance and soft kisses that made your cheeks red. Today, however, was going to be reserved for something else entirely and you could’ve truly died happy there on the leaves with him on top of you.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon smut#the walking dead#twd#twd fanfiction#norman reedus#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl dixon fluff#rick grimes
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Meet Cute
Summary: You stumble upon a pottery TikTok account and the creator is super hot. When you win his contest for a custom piece, well sparks start to fly.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader
Warning: Sexual innuendos, Smut (Oral, PiV), talks of fighting as kids, talks of alcohol use and being drunk. No protection sex (but it’s okay, they talk about it.) Minors DNI
Idea came from this post
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Another Friday night with nothing better to do than sit on your phone scrolling Instagram while a forgotten movie plays in the background. You really should be writing, you have a deadline coming up soon but you just can’t bring yourself to write about romance and love. You can hear Natasha saying goodbye to her date on the doorstep, and she has been for the last 20 minutes. Finally Natasha comes stumbling in, face flushed and giggling away, which is odd because Natasha never giggles. “So I take it the date went well?” You ask from your perch on the couch, covered in blankets and a bowl of popcorn cooled on the seat next to you.
“If you must know, yes!!” She gushes and runs over to sit beside you. “He is so sweet and such a gentleman-”
“What he as doing to you out there didn’t sound too ‘gentleman like.’ In fact it sounds down right scandalous.” You tease and Natasha rolls her eyes and gives you a playful shove.
“He was an absolute gentleman,” she doubles down before she blushes and admits, “well that was till I said all the right words and had him ready to eat me alive.” Natasha laughs as you pretend to retch. “Oh hush! If you ever got off this couch you’d have a line of men waiting to take you out and begging for you to talk dirty to them.” Natasha winks, you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks and you sink further down into the couch.
“I have Bridgerton, and my own fictional men that I write, I don’t need a man.” You shoot back at her slightly insulting but meant in good fun jab at your non-existent dating life. “Anyway, where did you meet this guy again?” Natasha picks up a handful of popcorn before she realizes it’s cold. She wrinkles her nose but commits anyway to eating it.
“Tiktok!” Natasha answers over a mouthful. A loud laugh escapes for you and she gives you another play shove before taking the popcorn for herself. “We talked a lot online before we met up. He’s great, in fact i have made lots of friends from TikTok! You should give it a try!” Abruptly standing up and shaking your head, you walk to the kitchen to retrieve a drink.
“No way, I know myself and I’d end up sucked Down the rabbit hole and I’d never get anything done. And for the sake of my job, I can’t have that.” Natasha sighs a unmutes the tv.
“What a waste of a good ass and ‘I'll beg for it eyes’.” Natasha teases and you can’t help but laugh again as you enter the room with your water and a drink for Natasha.
“What kind of videos did you think A) I would be watching and B) potentially making?!” Sitting down next to her giving her a hard stare. Natasha stares straight ahead, purposely not meeting your gaze as she shrugs.
“Anything you wanted, Bunny.” She looks over and winks, using the old nickname you got back in college after too many drinks and a spin on a pogo stick.
“Wow you must really be worried about my good ass and ‘beg for it’s eyes’ going to waste if you’re baiting me with that name!” You lean back and prop your feet up on the coffee table. Natasha leans her head over and eats it on yours.
“All I’m saying is the first step in dating is getting yourself out there. Why not start with a stupid video app? Connect with others from the safety of a screen, and see where it goes.” She smiles and gives your hand a squeeze before she yawns and stands again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower,” she blushes, “My man got me pretty worked up.” She winks and dashes off. You shake your head and just laugh as you turn back to your movie. That night you toss and turn, unable to sleep. You can’t stop thinking about what Natasha said. Maybe it would be fun, it’s not the pressure of a dating app and you can give out as much information as you are willing to. What could go wrong? Knowing Natasha is still awake as you quickly send her a text.
‘Fine… make me a page but keep it generic.’ About as soon as you put your phone down it dings. You pick it up to find multiple messages from Natasha. ‘Yay! I already did! Here is the login! Have fun!! 😉’
**********************************************
Bucky is setting up in his garage studio when he hears the bike rev outside and then turn off. Steve walks in and lays his helmet down on one of his work tables.
“So? How did the date go?” Bucky asks as he sets down a bucket of water next to his wheel and sets a sponge out next to the bucket. Steve leans against the table and grabs a chunk of modeling clay. He starts to knead it in his hands, treating it like a stress ball as he smiles.
“Honestly? Amazing! I mean, really Buck. She’s great!” Bucky laughs to himself and nods. “You know you’re never gonna find a women unless you actually get out there and try to date.” Steve teases and Bucky just throws a rag at him.
“Yeah yeah, hand me that clay and let me get paid, okay?!” Bucky jokes and Steve tosses him the clay. He slaps it down on the wheel and Steve laughs.
“See, that right there would have women lining up and down the street for you!” Steve turning Bucky’s harmless actions of slapping his clay into sexual jokes and Bucky returning the favor is something Bucky hopes they never outgrown.
“Yeah, and the boys would be lining up to have you handle their wood, we’d be making bank if we started charging.” Steve laughs and shoves Bucky.
“Woodworking is a noble hobby.” Steve rebuts.
“Noble and as old at time!” Bucky had the last say. “Now, shut up and press live for me.” Bucky smiles and Steve pretends to be annoyed as he does what was asked.
**********************************************
You want to be upset that she did it before you gave her permission, but you know she means well. Your last relationship did not end well and you haven’t dated since, honestly you’ve been sacred to. Natasha just wants to see you happy. You download the app and use the login information Natasha sent you. Apparently she’s been following people for you and set up the whole account. She was nice enough to not include a picture of you, instead she added the generic pictures everyone can choose from when they start a profile. She put that your name is ‘Bunny’, you she’s your head and just laugh, reminding yourself to change that later. You see you username ‘talkdirtytome’. “Oh Nat,” you groan. Becoming a master at TikTok in a matter of minutes you find where to change your username, but seeing as Natasha had changed it 5 times in less than 2 hours, your account is locked to more changes for at least a week. Thankful that the username you ended up with wasn’t so bad considering one of the last names was ‘fckbunny'. “Oh my god, Nat. You are so dead!” You take a deep breath and sit up against your headboard. You remind yourself it’s not the end of the world and it’s just the internet, it’s only forever. Ready to give it a rest for the night you lay your phone down when you get a notification.
*Buchananclaymates is going live*
“Who the hell is that and why does it sound like porn?” Even as you ask yourself that very important question your thumb has already clicked on the notification. You are taken to the live screen on TikTok. On your screen sits the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. His blue eyes pop against the blue henley he is wearing and his hair is short. Theres a boyish charm to him even though he is clearly in his early late 20’s maybe even early 30’s. He is sitting in some kind of garage and on the shelf behind him sits a dozen or so pots, pitchers, mugs, plates, all of them handcrafted. What gets you the most is his little New York accent slipping through his words. Not too much but enough that you can pick out the Brooklyn in him. His voice is so smooth, you could fall asleep listening to him talk about pottery. And his laugh, it makes you smile and you want to hear it again, so light and free, beautiful. As the shock of how beautiful this man is finally resolves, he says something that makes your heart drop straight to your stomach.
**********************************************
Bucky is having fun as all his followers sign on and begin requesting stuff. He starts to work the clay and begins his steps on making a pitcher. He is taking a moment to read some of the chat when a new user pops up. He memorized all his regulars, and yes there is about 100-200 of them but he has a good memory, against all odds and every concussion he had as a child. But his is one he has never seen before. He cleans off his hands and moves the camera closer.
“Hey, I see some new people here tonight,” He gets a better look at the username and he can’t help but blush and laugh as he teases his new viewer. “User ‘talkdirtytome’ I feel like you might be on my wrong account.” He winks. “I’m just messing with you! I do have another account and it is a little more… well-“ **********************************************
A voice from somewhere behind the camera shouts, “thirst trappy!!” The man Blushes but also nods, “yeah, I guess Rogers is right. It’s full of pottery thirst traps. But nothing more than that. This is a pg-13 page so, ‘talkdirtytome’ save it for the DM’s” he winks and laughs again. You look at the comments pouring in as the live continues, some are asking about buying some of his work. Others are asking if he makes custom pieces. Other ask what’s his favorite type of clay to use, you didn’t know there were different types. But overwhelmingly the comments were asking ‘take your shirt off!’ The man didn’t seem bothered by the comments at all, in fact he ate it up. Flirting and teasing the viewers with movements that showed little sections of his stomach or leaning forward and letting his shirt dip enough to see down it. He truly is a showman because you are entranced and before you know it you’ve spent an hour on this live watching him talk about pottery, and getting to know a little about him. You find yourself wanting to know everything, he seems so sweet and his eyes are kind. You don’t even realize you’re drooling over him until he starts rapping up the live. You don’t even know his name and yet you’re sad when he finally says goodnight and cuts the live off.
**********************************************
Bucky is pleasantly surprised with how well this live went. He got 15 orders while on live and he got about 1000 new followers. He knew he was pulling out all the stops tonight and flirting hardcore. Making sure he didn’t wear an undershirt so when he raised his arms the comment section went wild with the tease. Putting his hair in a half up half down bun that he knows drives his followers crazy. He was playing for keeps and thankfully it paid off. Especially with his most interesting new viewer. Why this new user caught his eye he will never know, ‘talkdirtytome’ was probably some 59 year old bald guy who found Bucky hot… but he couldn’t help hoping that maybe the user was really some really beautiful women in her late 20’s… a guy can dream, right?
**********************************************
You quickly click to his profile and do a little stalking. You can’t find this other page he talked about, probably because it’s some onlyfans or something like a cam sight. He was probably keeping it PG so the TikTok police didn’t flag his video. You’ve only been on it for about 2 hours but you’ve heard all about people getting banned or blocked because their videos were “too mature.” You give his page a once over again you finally clock his name. “James, huh. How very.. normal.” You blush and quickly jump back to your page, feeling exhilarated you change the profile picture to one of you. It doesn’t really show much, in fact all it shows is your hair and a hidden side profile… but it’s a step. You then find James page again and quickly, before you can second guess yourself, you follow him and set up notifications. You don’t want to miss seeing this beautiful man. Maybe Natasha was right, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. You lay your phone down and drift off to sleep, happier than ever.
**********************************************
Right before Bucky is about to go to bed he sees a new notification,
*New Follower- Bunny*
“Who the fuck is Bunny??” Bucky asks out loud as he clicks on the profile. He sees the username at the top ‘talkdirtytome’, “Ahh so Baldies name is Bunny, great.” Bucky groans. But then he sees the profile picture. “I wait, that’s a women. Wait- that’s?! FUCK YES!” He about yells from the comfort of his room, and only bring his voice down because he remembers Steve is on the other side of the wall. He messages you and then Bucky goes to sleep one happy man.
**********************************************
The sun streams through your window and you wake up to the soft buzz of your phone. You stretch and start your morning routine before actually checking the said phone, because you know the time suck that will happen if you just sit and scroll instead of getting up and ready. A text from Natasha saying she’s meeting ‘her man’ and will bring you back a coffee. You start to set your phone down when you notice a little red bubble on the TikTok app. Curiosity gets the better of you and you find your way back to your bed before you open it. The butterflies that burst in your stomach and travel throughout your body leave you breathless when you see that you have 5 messages from ‘Buchananclaymates’ aka Bucky.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!” You start screaming as you take deep breaths and try to calm down. “Okay, it’s okay. He’s just a dude. He’s hot! But he’s just a guy, just read the messages.” You click them open and one by one your face heats up more and those butterflies become stronger lower and lower in your body.
*Messages*
Hey!
I see I have a new follower 😉
Glad I didn’t scare you off with all that teasing.
Hope to see you around again!
Maybe even here, 😏 ‘claymatesbuck’
“Oh my god,” you groan at the innuendo of the second username. “So it’s definitely porn!” You exclaim, not sure how you feel about this. “Of course the guy I find attractive is the one with a porn page.” You groan. “You really know how to pick em!” You pout for a moment and then you realize that you’re home alone. Natasha is out and will be for awhile. Your curiosity pushes you to click on the username and you are taken to another tiktok page. Every thumbnail for each video is of Bucky shirtless and working with clay. “He wasn’t kidding about the thirst traps.” You blush as you click on one video. It start to play and there is a semi sexually suggestive song playing as Bucky works the clay in his hands. Molding it and shaping it just how he wants. His biceps are on display and his abs, he ends the video with a little wink and lip bite.
“Oh my god!!” It comes out as more of a moan than it did an actual exclamation. “Oh Natasha, what have you done?!” You groan as you lay on your bed, ready to spend the morning watching every video on his page.
Before long you end up pressing that follow button and closing the app before you can do anything else to embarrass yourself.
**********************************************
Bucky sees your follow on his other page and if he sits down and plans out the next few videos to be exceptionally dirty, well maybe there was a correlation. Or maybe not.
**********************************************
The next two weeks you find yourself watching James new videos he posts and viewing his lives whenever you have a chance. He really does work great with his hands and half the time you forget that he is shirtless until he’s winking at the camera or he’s flirty and teasing everyone saying ‘You guys need some water.’ You wish you had the courage to message him and get to know him a little more but your nerves get in the way each time before you can press send. James will send you flirty messages and you will like them but you can never bring yourself to respond. You interact just enough to let him know to keep doing it.
It’s Friday night again and you see he is going live, like always you join and just watch. “So I have recently reached almost 10,000 followers on here, which is a huge milestone and I wanted to celebrate it!” He sits closer to the phone screen and you get a better glimpse of his eyes. Even. Bluer than you originally thought. He has little creases by his eyes that crinkle when he smiles too big and his nose scrunches up. He’s perfect. “Anyone that wants to be added into the drawing leave a comment on my last video saying so. This drawing is for a custom pottery piece of your choice. So if you win I will make you whatever you ask for,” he smirks, apparently knowing some of his followers a little too well. “Well within reason. No ‘life art’ sculptures.” He winks and you feel the blush start to rise. Would someone really be that bold to request that of him? “Anyway, the drawing will happen tomorrow at noon! So go comment now for the chance to win.” He signs off with a little wave and wink. Without even thinking, because if you think about it you will back out, you comment and ask to be added in. Within minutes he has liked your comment and sent another message to you.
*message*
I was gonna add you in regardless. 😉
The heat is almost burning in your face, he doesn’t even know you. How could he be this good at getting a rise out of you?! Your brain won’t shut off that night, thinking and even dreaming about this man behind your phone screen. “Damn it!�� You grumble and end up having to watch some old Disney movies just to keep your mind off the filthy things you wish James would do to you instead of the clay he usually is holding. You finally drift off to sleep to the sounds of Cinderella.
****************************************************
“Hey!” Natasha pulls you out of your thoughts as you look up from your morning coffee.
“Hey, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she looks you over. “Man you were really out of it. Didn’t even hear me invite you out.”
“Huh?” You hum in acknowledgment and Natasha rolls her eyes.
“I said I am going out later with my TikTok boyfriend and he has a friend that he can invite if you wanted to join.” She explains for the second time.
“Oh umm now? I-“ you try to think of an excuse, not wanting to miss the drawing on James page. “I actually have plans. With someone online.” Natasha shoots up straight and about squeals in excitement. “Okay okay, calm down.” You laugh. “It’s not a date but this guys been super flirty and I- I don’t know, maybe today I will finally make the move and message him back.” You shrug trying to play it off.
“Tell me everything, now!!” Natasha demands as she sips her coffee. “Don’t leave out a single detail.” You debate on lying, or just making it juicier than it is, but you decide against it.
“Okay, just don’t laugh.” You remind her before you tell her everything. She already has his page pulled up and is drooling over him too.
“He is hot!! Wow, and he said all those things to you?!” Meaning the messages he had sent.
“Yeah, so I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to drum up business-” Natasha shakes her head.
“No, absolutely not. He is flirting hardcore.” She keeps looking through videos and one seems to catch her eye as her eyes widen and then a big smirk crosses her face before she exists out of the app and lays her phone down. Super quiet and worrying you even more than she does when shes asking you a million questions. “You said there is a drawing today?” You nod and you can see the wheels turning already. “At noon?” She asks and you nod again, she checks her watch and then opens her phone, obviously sending a message to someone.
“Natasha if you are messaging James, so help me-“ she cuts you off.
“And so what if I am?” She teases. “I’m just doing the hard work for you, the correct response is ‘thank you’.” She blows you a kiss as she leaves the room, leaving your stomach in knots and even more worried about this drawing.
**********************************************
Steve is in the garage with Bucky, getting ready for the drawing for his page and starting to film some more content for his own carpentry and woodworking page when he gets a text. He looks over at Bucky and then just laughs and quickly answers back.
“What’s so funny Punk?” Bucky asks and Steve smiles.
“Nothing, Jerk. You need help with the drawing? Where’s the bowl?” Steve asks as he slides his phone back in his pants. Bucky points to where he sat it and Steve grabs it to help.
**********************************************
“Okay everyone, it is noon and we are ready to get this show on the road!” James says happily. You refused to let Natasha sit and watch with you. She can watch on her own phone, but she won’t have a front row seat to your blushing or your disappointment when you inevitably lose. “I had over 500 of you enter, which is just incredible! Next time I should make each entry like $3 and send all the proceeds to wounded warriors.” You gently smile at the kind idea. It’s sweet, thinking of others instead of finding a way to make a bigger payday for himself. “Okay, let’s draw! The bowl, Rogers!” A hand comes into frame and the bowl is above James head. He lifts an arm up and reaches in pulling one slip of paper out. And as soon as the arm appeared it disappeared. James opens the paper and smiles before it turns to a laugh and then a smirk. “Well, user ‘talkdirtytome’, I am looking forward to making that custom piece for you.” You swear he stares right at you as he bites his lip and smiles again. “To everyone else, there will be more in the future! Oh and ‘talk dirty’?” You sit up and answer him like an idiot.
‘He can’t hear you, moron.’ You shake your head.
“I’ll be in touch. Bye everyone!” And the live ends. You lay your head down on your bed and just smile at the thought that James will be making a custom piece of pottery for you. When Natasha speaks she scares you half to death, not having heard her sneak in.
“WOW, you’ve got it bad!” She teases and you toss a pillow at her.
“Leave me alone!” You laugh and yell as you look down at the message that just came through.
**********************************************
When he read your username he had to remind himself that he can’t be partial, at least not on camera, but he couldn’t help the smile. He is gonna do this right and he refuses to mess it up, he’s got just the plan. He grabs his phone from his stand and quickly messages you.
**********************************************
*Message*
James- Idk how you feel about exchanging numbers, which I’d be fine with but I understand if you’re not. So zoom? Maybe later this afternoon?
You blush and quickly write back. Saying that you can’t wait and you will “see” him then. James likes your message and then sends a picture of binoculars. It’s so random and weird but you can’t help but laugh. Maybe Natasha’s right, you do have it bad.
You check your hair about 10 times, make sure your make up is okay, not too much but just enough to make it look like you’re not wearing any at all. Your sundress that you were already wearing perfectly accents your figure and makes your eyes pop. You check the lighting in your room and play with the blinds. With 10 minutes to spare before the arranged time for the zoom you sit down as your computer notifies you that you are in the “waiting room.” Whenever Jane slogs on the camera will turn on and that will be it. As you wait so many thoughts cross your mind. ‘He’s probably gonna be short and keep it super professional.’ ‘He may flirt for the camera but there’s no way he’d actually like me.’, ‘Calm down, he’s probably gonna be on and off as fast as he can.’ You start to doubt yourself and you suddenly feel self-conscious for looking nice. Right as you’re about to throw your hair up and grab a blanket to wrap around your shoulders, the screen goes black and then lights up, James is right in front of you. He doesn’t look right at you, still messing around with his notebook and taking a drink of water, obviously not realizing that you two are already connected. At first when he sees you his eyes just glance over. But then the realization hits and his eyes widen
**********************************************
“Wow,” Bucky is breathless. You’re not just beautiful, you’re stunning. He’s never been mesmerized by a single thing or person in his life, until this moment. “I- uh I’m-“ he lightly laughs as he smiles, he can’t stop smiling. “Hi I’m James,” he laughs and blushes as he hangs his head for a moment. “Um but people who have seen me stutter and stumble over my words, like an idiot, get to call me Bucky.” Your smile is contagious and your eyes sparkle brightly as Bucky talks more and more. Your laugh is sweet and music to his ears.
“Hi Bucky, I’m Elizabeth but people who can make me laugh this much can call me Lizzy or Bunny.” You lean forward a little and Bucky laughs.
“Bunny? There’s got to be a story behind that.” He presses lightly. You nod and hide your face for a moment as you blush and giggle.
“There is, but all I can say now is, it was college and I was very drunk, and someone dared me to use a pogo stick… and it turns out I was VERY good at it.” You laugh and Bucky is amazed as he laughs.
“Well so am I so maybe we will have to have a competition to see who is better.” He winks and you laugh.
“Tell me when and where! I’ll just need a few shots first then my balance will be perfect!” You lightly joke as you both laugh. It gets quiet for a minute and Bucky is just taking you in. “So,” Bucky’s eyes go wide as he remembers the whole reason for the zoom.
“Yes, right! Well how about we start by you telling me what you would like.” Bucky says as he grabs his notebook, looking down and starting to write, maybe if he focuses on writing he won’t embarrass himself even more. But then you start to speak and Bucky can’t help but look up and meet your gaze, your voice so sweet and soft. Your eyes kind and warm, ‘how could the username ‘talkdirtytome’ belong to the picture of purity and kindness.’ He smiles at the thought and tries his hardest to listen as you talk.
“I’m not picky at all, so maybe a vase?” You suggest. “Yeah, I’d like to have a gift that means something to me.” You finish explaining. Bucky just stares and then realizes you are done, he quickly looks down and starts to scribble some notes. He is so handsome, you think. The way his brow furrows as he’s concentrating and how the subtle but noticeable blush spreads across his cheeks. His shoulders are firm and you can tell he is solid. His voice, deep and warm, catches you off guard and you hope he didn’t catch you looking starry eyed at him.
“A Vase? That I can do!” Bucky says happily. He didn’t miss how your voice turned ever sweeter when you said ‘a gift that means something.’ He tells himself not to bet too excited. “Colors? Designs?” He wonders what all is hiding in your mind and if you will share it with him now for this vase. If he can get a picture of who you are.
“I love wildflowers, if I’m being honest. But not bright and bold. More subtle and muted. Almost watercolor like.” You laugh to yourself and you see Bucky’s eyes light up at the sound. “Sorry I know that probably sounds weird.”
She’s perfect, Bucky thinks. “Watercolored wild flowers? Yeah, I can make that happen.” He doesn’t want this to end but he has all he needs. How to make this go longer?! “So- I’m local to Brooklyn- and you by no means have to tell me where you’re from or anything- unless you want to!” He cringes at his awkwardness and your giggles let him know it’s alright.
“I am too, well close enough.” You explain. “So maybe we could meet up?” You see Bucky’s eyes light up and then you shoot yourself in the foot. “When it’s time for me to pick up the vase.” His eyes look a little sadder but his smile doesn’t fade.
“Yeah, I’ll send you a message on TikTok when it’s ready and we can find a place to meet.” Bucky says as he sits back in his chair. “I’m excited to get started on it, it looks like a fun one.” He continues as he looks down at his notes.
“I know it will be wonderful, all your work is.” You compliment, wanting to make up for your error that cause the light to dull in those incredible blue eyes. “I do have a question,” He leans forward again.
“Shoot.” Plan and simple.
“Well, what’s up with your two different accounts and the one username? Because at first I thought it was a porn page.” You explain, hopping to get a laugh. And you did. Bucky laughs, his hand over his pec and head thrown back with abandon.
“Oh no! Were you disappointed?” He teases and you laugh.
“Well maybe I was!” You tease back, not quite sure where the courage came from.
“Well as you know now, I go by Bucky. So I just used the ‘Clay mates’ and my name which does sound a lot like-“
“Yeah! So why?” You press again, smiling even bigger.
“It was a dare from a friend and it kinda stuck. I get tons of people asking so it also generates conversations around my business and what not. So it works! Is it crass? Kinda. Do I care? No.” He laughs again and messes with his hair a little. “So you know I make pottery but what do you do, Bunny?” He smirks and your face is aflame at the use of your nickname.
“I’m a writer, I write romance novels.” Suddenly feels quite bashful about your job. Bucky nods and rubs his chin as he watches you.
“So? Is this a meet cute worthy of one of your books?” Bucky asks. You look behind the computer at your wall where you storyboards are. A gentle smile washes over you as you look back at an expectant Bucky.
“Yeah, I’d say it is.” You admit. An alarm goes off on Bucky’s side of the screen and he curses under his breath.
“Sorry, Bunny. I’ve got to go. If I’m being honest I really wish I didn’t. I’d love to stay here all night getting to know you, I promised a friend I’d go out tonight and I never break a promise. So with that knowledge handed to you on a silver platter,” you laugh and he smiles brightly again. “I promise I will make you a gift that means something.” Your breath catches and you nod slightly.
“Thank you, Bucky.” You say before you both wave goodbye like dorks.
**********************************************
Your chance, gone. Like a lot of chances in your life. Watching them go by because you don’t have the courage to ask for what you want. Natasha walks into your room and pulls you up from the bed. “Come on, we are late.” You finally agreed to go out with just her when you started to come down from the high of getting to talk to Bucky. “I promise, you will have fun. In fact this will be the best night of your life.” She hugs you and leads you to the door. As it opens you come face to face with Natasha’s ‘tiktok boyfriend’
“Hiya Stevie,” Natasha coos as she leans in and gives him a sweet kiss. Steve meets your gaze when he pulls back and offers his hand.
“Hey! I’m Steve Rogers,” he motions beside him, urging someone to move in closer. “And this is my friend Bucky Barnes.” You meet those blue eyes and melt, Bucky’s painfully awkward smile turns genuine when he sees you. He almost shoves Steve out of the way to get closer to you.
“Oh my god- Bunny?!” Bucky exclaims. “So your friend who made your TikTok account is the same one my friend has been dating for the past two months,” he smiles and laughs. “What a small world! God, I’m glad to see you.” You blush at the nickname, Natasha bumping your arm and Steve giving you both a questioning look when he hears the name.
You are just as shocked as Bucky and honestly can’t find the words.
“I’m stunned,” you laugh and look at Natasha. “Did you know?!” You ask her and she smirks as she pulls Steve into her arms.
“I would know my man’s voice and hands anywhere, so when I saw and heard him on one of Bucky’s videos I quickly texted Stevie and we worked our magic.” She winks. “I mean out of 500 entries for the pottery and you won! How lucky was that.” She winks again and you gasp.
“Did you two rig the drawling?!?” You exclaim and Bucky shoots a glance to Steve who is blushing bright red.
“I may have added a few extra slips with your name.” He admits. Bucky turns and faces him as he crosses his arms.
“How many?” Bucky asks and Steve laughs and sheepishly admits,
“Like 200 extra slips. She had a very good chance at winning.” Steve looks at Natasha and then you and Bucky. You both laugh and Bucky turns back to you.
“Well I’m sure as hell not mad,” he reaches out for your hand. “Are you?” He questions and you shake your head no as you put your hand in his. “Good,” Bucky leans in closer and pulls you in, your lips almost brush when you hear your apartment door close and lock. Looking back you see that Natasha and Steve have slipped inside. “So I guess it’s just us tonight,” he laughs and you agree. “What would you like to do? Cause I have no idea what they had planned.” You think for a minute and then turn back to the door and knock. Bucky lets go of your hand and you quickly grab it back giving him a wink. A slightly irritated Natasha opens the door, lipstick gone and smeared all over Steve’s face.
“What?” She asks and you push past her headed to your room. Bucky stands in the hallway watching and praying you come back.
You emerge with your purse that’s pretty big and Natasha knows that’s your “just in case I spend the night.” Purse. You wave goodbye as you grab your keys and close the door behind you. Turning to Bucky and pulling him in, you kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around one of his.
“Where to?” You ask.
**********************************************
Steve drove them there so you offer to drive wherever.
“Would it be too forward to invite you back to my place? I’d really like to show you my studio.” He asks so sweetly, you can tell he is nervous. You tease him a little
“Is that your line for all the girl?” Bucky laughs and shakes his head.
“Nope, I never bring girls back to my studio. But if love to have you there.” The double meaning is not Lost on you or Bucky. The blush giving you away, Bucky laughs and pulls you closer before kissing your forehead and taking your keys. “You okay if I drive us?”
“Sure, just promise not to murder me.” You joke as you climb in your car. Bucky sits and gets it started before he looks at you and shrugs.
“No promises, my art has been described as deadly good.” He winks and you laugh at his horrible joke. Soon you are pulling up to a little house with a detached garage.
“You know, it really does look like you’re about to kill me.” You tease but also look around and check the area.
“I know, it’s not the best house but it works and it’s clean. A good neighborhood and lots of space so Steve and I really try hard for our personalities to outshine the murder aesthetic our house gives off.” He takes your hand and walks you to the garage as you laugh. The garage lights up and on every wall is a shelf full of pottery projects. Some half done, some completely done.
“Wow! Bucky, these are amazing!” You exclaim as you look at the intricate detail on each piece. You turn to meet his gaze and he is leaning against his work table just watching you. Moving through the room with Grace and admiring his work, it’s really doing something to him. He hopes you feel the same way.
“So? How did you get into pottery?” You ask as you run your finger along one of the freshly finished pieces.
“I was in the army, when I got out I needed a hobby that I could turn my mind off and just work. Pottery gave me a place for that and it also gave me a place to rediscover my creativity.” Bucky explains. You turn and look at him, gentle as in your eyes.
“That’s why you said that comment about wounded warriors. You wanna support your fellow vets.” You hope your assumption is correct. Bucky nods and smiles, staying firmly where he is.
“Yeah, I nearly lost my arm before I got out. Others aren’t so lucky. So any way I can give back, I try to.” He picks up a piece of clay and start to mold it while talking, mindless work that helps settle his nerves and al the feelings he is having about you.
“That’s amazing.” You say simply, not wanting to push more.
“How did you get into Romance writing?” Bucky asks, a teasing smile across his face. You laugh and continue to walk around the room, looking at the pieces.
“Well, I’m a hopeless romantic,” you look up and meet his gaze. “So I guess I just write about the things I hope would happen to me.” You shrug, your explanation seems simple enough. Bucky is mesmerized by you, how such a beautiful and sweet woman would be single blows his mind. And so sincere too, none of that fake humility he sees in the women he meets who are as beautiful as you, with you, it’s all real and sweet. It’s refreshing.
“How long have you and Steve Been friends?” You ask, wanting to change the topic from yourself.
“Since childhood, he was always getting his ass beat behind the school and I was always there to step in and finish the fight he started.” You laugh and so does Bucky.
“So Steve was a bully?” You ask.
“No!” Bucky laughs. “Just a little punk who wanted to ‘stick up for the little guy’ but he was the little guy, so.” Bucky lightly laughs and you nod. “How about you and Natasha?”
“Since high school. Her family moved here and she was all ‘cool and steely’ that none of the other kids wanted to talk to her,” you laugh at the thought. “I made it my mission to become friends with her. By senior year we were going to go to the same college and we’re going to room together.”
“She seems like a pretty great friend.” Bucky comments, “And Steve adores her but I’m sure she already knows that cause Steve wears his heart on his sleeve.” Bucky teases and you laugh. For a moment it’s quiet, Bucky just watches you and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach and a heat settle even lower. This man is so sweet and kind, not to mention incredibly hot. He is absolutely making you regret not wearing your sexy underwear tonight. You see some clay and the wheel sitting in the middle of the floor. You walk over and run a finger over the clay. Looking up and see Bucky’s eyes raking over your body, you feel invigorated. As sexily as you can, you sit on the stool and toss a look over at him.
“Teach me, please?” You demand and then ask. You see the moment Bucky melts and is all in. He smirks and walks over, pulling up a chair behind you and straddling your body. He places his hands on your and shows you where to plant your feet. He leans forward and whispers against your ear.
“This is a little too ‘Ghost’ for me.” He teases and you giggle as you turn and look at him. His eyes drop to your lips and then back to your eyes. Clay forgotten, you spin in his arms and crash your lips to his. His hands roam over your back, pulling you closer. You moan against his lips, desperate for more, but he pulls away. Breathless and blushing he asks. “I hope this isn’t too forward, would you like to stay the night?” You smirk and move back, away from his arms to grab your bag. Reaching your hand out for him to take again.
“Lead the way.” You coo. Bucky has you in his arms and pressed against his chest so quickly. His lips capture yours again and you giggle against them. Bucky lifts you into his arms and expertly makes his way into the house, never leaving your lips longer than a Quick Look at the doors to make sure they are locked.
Stumbling down the hallway, backs pressed against the walls as you both fight for dominance. Giggles and moans filling the air as you grope each others bodies, seeking flesh rather than clothing. When your back finally presses against Bucky’s door, he pulls back and takes your face in his hands. “This isn’t too fast, is it? You feel this too, right? This connection- this pull.” You bite your lip and nod as you place your hands firmly against his chest, the muscles beneath your fingers, firm and hard, drool worthy.
“Yeah, I feel it too.” You admit before kissing him again and moaning against his mouth. Bucky opens the door and kicks it closed with his boot. He walks you backwards to the bed and in utter abandon you allow yourself to fall, fall back, fall in, fall deep. Pulling back slightly, Bucky caresses your cheek and meets your gaze, your heartbeat quickens as he gently smiles and an exciting peace washes over you. You’ve never felt this safe, this fast. Slowing the pace, Bucky takes his time with you. Kissing down your neck and nipping lightly at your collarbone before his fingers dance at the hem of your shirt. Your hands slips under his shirt and your fingers draw line over his back as he moves above you. First to go his his shirt, tossed behind him and across the room. He sees your eyes trailing down his body and he gives you a moment to take it in. His chest is sculpted yet still soft under your touch, the tasteful amount of chest hair along his pec and sternum tickle your fingers as you memorize his body with your finger tips, and the trail of dark brown hair leading down from his bellybutton and disappearing below his waistband sends your mind into over drive. You lean up and kiss along his chest as he moans at the feeling of your tongue grazing along his nipples. He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts it up and over your head, tossing it with his. Leaning down and kissing the tops of your breast, he is in heaven. The straps slip down and before you know it you are uncoupling the back and tossing it off, needing as little clothing between the two of you as possible. Bucky reaches for his pants and has them shoved down and off as you remove yours. Standing above you in only black boxer briefs you see the outline of his cock, hard and aching against his boxers. Your mouth waters and yet you are slightly afraid because you can tell he is big. Bigger than any man you’ve been with. Bucky settles on the bed between your legs and slips his hands in the waistband of your panties, waiting for permission, you nod and he has them down you leg and scattered with the rest of the clothes. You sit up and kneel in front of where he kneels on the bed, pulling you closer by the small of your back, Bucky kisses you. You wrap your hands around his waist and slip one hand down his boxers, squeezing his ass before waiting for permission to pull them down. He nods, not wanting to release your lips. When nothing is left between your bodies you lay back in Bucky’s arms and he settles between your legs. Rolling his hips against yours and giving you both friction where you desperately need it. Your moan echos off the walls and he smiles, knowing he is the cause. Bucky kisses down your body and ends up laying between you legs as he licks and sucks on your clit, gently teasing your pussy with a fingertip before pushing all the way in and devoting himself to making you cum on his face. You hands play with his hair as his other hand palms your breast. It’s so fast and so good, you can’t help but moan his name as you cum, squirting on his tongue. “Bucky!! Oh-fffffuuuuc- yes!!” He smirks up at you which makes you cum again. He moans and hums against you as he brings you down. He kisses up your body and settles between you legs.
“I can grab a condom if you want.” Bucky says as he is already reaching into his bedside table to grab one.
“I’m on the pill and I’m clean, I haven’t been with anyone in about a year.” You explain. Bucky nods and takes a shuddering breath before he kisses you again.
“I’m clean too, and it’s been even longer for me.” He gives a weak little smile and you caress the side of his face before you gently kiss his lips.
“Never would have guessed with what that mouth just did to me.” You tease, trying to lighten the mood while letting him know he’s still got it. Bucky laughs and kisses you again as he lines himself up with you. Slowly pushing in and watching your face for pain as he bottoms out. “Mmhm ffffuc- yyyeeesss!” you moan at the stretch. Bucky kisses you again and slowly starts to move his hips, in and out, making sure to hit that spot inside of you over and over again. At first he is laying on top of you, your bodies moving together and against each other, it was sweet and sensual. Then Bucky sits up a little and you take that moment to flip him over, pinning him to the bed with a giant smile on his face. You ride him as you brace your hands against his pecs. His moans growing louder and louder as you get him close to the edge. You sit up and play with your breast and you snap your hips back and forth, ready to bring him over. But apparently that wasn’t what he wanted, because suddenly you are on your back and your legs are over his shoulders as he drills into you while one hand plays with your clit. You gasp and moan as you writhe beneath him. “Oh! BUCKY?!?! Yesyesyes!!!”
“That’s it, Bunny. Come on, I’m not cumming till you have cum on my cock. Come on, baby girl.” That did it, his dirty talk and care. You melted beneath him as you cum, squirting again and feeling better than you’ve felt tin years. “That’s it Good girl,” Bucky coos as he chases his high. Pleasure washes over his face as he buries himself inside you, cumming hard and deep. “Mmhmm squeezing my cock so well,” he is in utter bliss and he lets your legs go and just lays down next to you, his softening cock still inside. He kisses your forehead and hums. “Good girl.” You beam up at him, the praise doing something new to you that it’s never done before. He kisses you before he pulls the covers up and over you body, still entangled and coming down from heaven.
“Mmhmm that was definitely the makings of a meet cute.” You admit and Bucky laughs as he kisses you again.
“Come on, let’s go ‘meet cute’ in the shower, huh?!” He pulls you up and into his arms you nod and he carry’s you away.
**********************************************
You stand at the door to you car, the sun rising beautifully and creating a glow around you two. “I wish you could stay longer but I understand why you have to go.” Bucky says as he kisses you again.
“My book won’t write itself and if I stay here I will end up participating in smut and not writing it, which is the chapter I am currently working on so.” You explain as Bucky lightly laughs before he smirks and kisses you.
“Well, feel free to use last night in bed as inspiration. Or the shower last night, or the midnight hand play we had, or ever the slow morning sex we just finished.” He beams as he retells the all the adventures you got up to last night. You blush and burry your head in his chest as he hugs you and laughs.
“I will call you tonight and see about dinner, okay?” He nods and you kiss him again. As you are about to get in your car, Steve’s car pulls in. He honks loudly and gets out cheering and clapping. Completely embarrassing Bucky and you, but you know it’s in good fun.
“Were you two safe?” He asks, adding more fuel to the embarrassment fire.
“Nope, not at all!” Bucky shoots back and you decide to tease too.
“Yeah, totally pregnant over here. It worked that fast! Get ready to move into the garage, Stevie, the baby is gonna need your room.” Bucky laughs and pulls you closer. He kisses you again and then sends you on your way. Bucky turns to Steve and you see them “fighting” as you drive away.
**********************************************
When you get home Natasha is dead to the world and you decide to leave her that way. You see a notification on your phone, it’s Bucky’s TikTok. Opening the app to see a new video.
“Hey guys! Sorry about no live last night.” He blushes, “I uh I met a really amazing Women and my night ended up going a little too well. And it may continue that way, so there may be a change in the live schedule as well as the posting schedule. She’s a writer and our ‘meet cute’ inspired quite a lot in her and I need to be available for any further inspiration.” He winks and then laughs. “But seriously, I’m still around, just maybe not every night anymore. Love you all!” And with that the video ends. You smirk and quickly send Bucky a text.
Message
Hey James, your new Women friend needs some inspiration 😏😉
Within seconds your phone is ringing, as you answer his voice is soothing and so low it’s almost like a purr. “Well, what did you have in mind, Bunny?”
Taglist: @georgiapeach30513 @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @cadencejames87 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @jessieasher1616 @janineb86 @cjand10 @welp-heregoessomething
#bucky barnes smut#sebastian stan#bucky barnes#steve rogers#bucky barns x reader#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes au#tiktok pottery Bucky Barnes
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"Sing to Me?"
Alastor x Reader (QP)
Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.
Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.
Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.
The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.
The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.
You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.
A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.
“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.
“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”
“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.
Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”
“I'm glad.”
He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.
“Al? You okay?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.
You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.
“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”
“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”
You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”
Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”
“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”
“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.
Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”
Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.
“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”
“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.
“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”
Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.
“Sing to me?”
Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.
When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.
“Parlez-moi d’amour.”
Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.
“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”
Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.
“Votre beau discours /
“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /
“Pourvu que toujours /
“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /
“Je vous aime.”
((The song))
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#plz don't come after me for the french#I just copy/pasted off google T-T#rhys-writes#alastor x reader queerplatonic
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Because Of You
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader
—-
synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.
a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask
thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!
Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)
warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.
The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.
Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.
It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.
Until Alek came along.
You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.
You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.
And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.
But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.
While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.
So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.
Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.
Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.
—-
After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.
Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.
Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.
She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.
“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.
And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.
And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.
But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.
It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.
And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.
And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.
This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.
And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.
She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.
And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.
“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”
And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.
—-
The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.
It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.
As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.
And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.
But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.
Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.
Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.
But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.
Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.
All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.
And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.
“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.
She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”
You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”
She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.
“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.
And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.
A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.
But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.
And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.
—-
You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.
You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.
You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.
Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.
But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.
You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.
Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.
And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.
It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.
The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.
You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.
“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.
“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.
Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.
Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.
You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.
She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.
Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.
“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.
You suck in a breath. “Alek.”
“Al-huh?”
You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.
“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”
“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”
“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”
“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”
You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”
She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.
“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”
“Clarisse.”
“Beat him up?”
“Clarisse.”
“Physically threaten him?”
“Clar-”
She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”
“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.
“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”
“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.
“Mean.”
—-
Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.
Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.
All it says is:
I miss you, we could be something
She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.
She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.
“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.
She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.
“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”
“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.
She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.
“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”
—-
Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.
A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.
The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.
Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.
There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.
“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.
You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.
She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.
“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.
Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.
“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”
You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.
“Hopefully,” she echoes.
But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.
—-
Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.
At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.
Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.
The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.
It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.
The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.
It feels like nothing can hurt you here.
But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.
The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.
The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.
Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.
“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”
The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.
“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.
She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.
Her tone is genuinely confused.
“Are you, like, okay in the head?”
The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.
“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.
Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.
“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.
“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”
“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”
There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.
You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.
You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.
“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”
“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”
“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.
And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.
Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.
—-
You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.
Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.
“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.
“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”
She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.
“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”
She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.
“You’re crazy,” you mutter.
She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”
“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.
“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.
You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.
“You know I did.”
“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.
“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.
Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.
It feels so good to know she loves you.
When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.
“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.
“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”
You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.
“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”
“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”
—-
y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire
silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health
clarisse just being proud as hell
—-
this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄
—-
possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#pjo tv show#pjo x reader
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Pickpocket
Summary: You often pickpocket people in hopes of finding a silver or two. You land a jackpot, but the person you've recently pickpocketed from happens to be Prince Bakugo.
Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader
Part 2; Part 3
Every now and then, Prince Bakugo liked going undercover in a cloak and a piece of cloth covering the lower half of his face. He enjoyed going to the marketplace without people cheering, bowing, scurrying away and staring at him. He felt more free this way.
He took his time passing by the stalls, Kirishima following not far behind to make sure the prince was safe. Although Bakugo preferred to spend his time in peace and quiet, sometimes he liked the chaos of the weekend market. Vendors shouting slogans of drop in prices, confectioners shoving sweets into his hands in hopes he'd buy some, old ladies fighting each other over who picked up the pumpkin first, kids running around and crashing into his legs. Bakugo loved watching it all unravel from the background instead of being the centre of attention.
His favourite stall was the one selling artefacts and used items. If it was his lucky day, Bakugo would be able to buy a rare stone or an ancient dagger. Once he even found a dragon tooth from that stall. He stood by the stall, eyes skimming through the items the old man had available. Seemed like he didn't have anything eye-catching today.
He was about to step away to leave when someone bumped into his chest. He looked down to see you tear your face away from his chest and step away to glare daggers at him. Bakugo took a moment to let your features in, his eyes darting up and down your figure once. He could tell you weren't exactly from the richest part of the city with your tunic that was losing its colour. It must've been a navy blue colour when it was brand new. He noticed the assortment of knives sitting on your waist. Maybe you were a hunter's daughter?
"Watch where you're going, you old man!" You hissed at him. Bakugo was taken aback. You were the one that bumped into him, and now you were telling him to watch where he was going and had the nerve to call him an old man? Hillarious.
"I ain't the one that bumped into you," he scoffed. "And we're the same age, sweetheart."
"Well, too bad you look like a creepy old man covered up like that." You snorted. Bakugo's eyes lingered on your face, amused. Were you snarky like that all the time? Did you have any idea that you were talking to the prince?
"You don't know who yer talkin' to, brat." Bakugo leaned by the stall, a devilish smile under his mask as he watched you roll your eyes skywards.
"Oh, yeah? Don't go around pretending like you're some prince." You sneered. Bakugo couldn't help but snicker. If only you knew. He let you purposely bump into his shoulder as you walked past him, his head turning in your direction. Now, he was going to make sure to come here again next weekend so he could catch a glimpse of your bratty face.
"Ready to leave?" Kirishima asked, now standing beside him.
"Yeah."
On their way back to the castle, Bakugo found a boy sitting on the dirty roadside with a cup in front of him. Despite how fast the country was recovering from war, there were still people suffering from its aftermath. His hand reached into his pocket, searching for his coin bag. He frowned when he didn't feel it in either of his pockets.
"What's wrong?" Kirishima asked.
"Lost my coin bag," Bakugo tried recalling where he might have lost it. He didn't make any purchases at the market, so he didn't take it out. There weren't any holes in his pockets either. Then he smirked, remembering you bumping into him. It was odd how he standing by the stall, and you still bumped into his chest.
"That damn brat." He didn't need to visit the weekend market again because he'd be seeing you at the castle very soon when his guards brought you to him.
#fantasy bakugou#bakugo#katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katuski#azzo writes
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What if Tommy is desperately (secretly) in love with his step sister, extremely protective, very sweet towards her, but always making sure she’s kept under his thumb just to keep others from taking her from him. Although nothing happened between them until she becomes betrothed to another, he snaps and ruins her so her betrothed wouldn’t want her which would make her stay under his thumb again.
Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!
Sorry it took so long to come out! ❤️
Warnings: stepcest, age gap implied, smut, p in v,
Tommy sat beside the window in the arm chair, cigarette in his hands as his eyes drifted from a contract he’d been working on, glancing outside watching the gloomy weather.
The grandfather clock ticked quietly in the background, your footsteps thumping around upstairs in your bedroom.
It seemed as though it was just yesterday Tommy was taking you to piano lessons and telling you endless stories before bed but those days seemed to have past.
You and Tommy always had a rather close relationship since his mum married his dad. After she passed and his dad disappeared he was always the protector who spoiled you rotten as a child and even still to this day as now a grown woman. His crystal eyes focused on the wilting flowers beside the window, thoughts rummaging through his mind as he reminisced the days of past.
“How do I look?” Your voice echoed through the quiet room, pulling Tommy out of his nostalgic thoughts, throwing on a light hearted smile when he looked your way, hiding the intruding thoughts surfacing in his mind.
There you were in a royal blue sparkling dress, makeup painting your face lightly. Not that you needed it, you were quite beautiful without it.
Tucking his hands in his pockets Tommy stood from his seat, diminishing the cigarette in the glass ashtray before walking toward you.
“You look breathtakingly beautiful, as always. Come here.” You blushed from his compliment, heart palpitating anxiously when you leaned into his touch. With growing up came hormones but the profound, illicit thoughts you had for your brother you often found yourself burying such inappropriate feelings, knowing that it wasn’t ideal.
“Be safe tonight eh? I might be running a bit late but I’ll be there. Don’t let any of those bloaks try to whisk you away from me or I may just have to put a bullet through their brain.” You giggled softly into his toned chest, hands roaming his upper back.
“No one could ever replace you, not even if they tried at the speed of sound.” Tommy hummed in agreement, your words bringing a tremendous amount of reassurance that he’d never admit he needed.
“Ms. Shelby the car’s here!” Francis called after you. Biting down on your bottom lip and smiling awkwardly you bid Tommy goodbye, kissing him on the cheek before running out the door toward your friends and hopping in the car giddily.
He couldn’t help but worry that you were drifting away, the feeling unsettling his stomach just picturing you with another man or no longer living in the same house as him.
Glancing down at his watch, he released an uneasy breath before picking up his briefcase and heading toward his meeting.
Tommy being a man of knowledge and suspicion found himself unable to focus on the baboon sitting across from him, only thinking about what you were doing and if you were safe.The idea of men staring at you, flirting, fucking trying to get in bed with you etched in his brain.
This meeting was getting nowhere as it was, the man trying to change the settled agreement with no good reason. This was a deal he could live without.
Removing his glasses, he sighed bored from the man’s piss poor negotiating.
“Alright, this is going fucking nowhere.” Tommy stood up shredding the piece of paper before tossing it in the fireplace.
“You can see yourself out Johnathan eh? I have more important places to be.” The man waved his hands in irritation.
“It’s Bill!” Tommy waved him off before heading out to your party.
When he walked in the music was blaring, definitely underage drinking going on not that he cared as long as it wasn’t you.
He spotted Arthur at the bar, approaching him first only to get a glimpse of you in the corner of the room sat on a sofa with a boy, immediately seeing red.
“Who the fuck is with our sister?” Arthur turned around in curiosity, lips still attached to the bottle still chugging the rest of his drink.
Releasing a exhale of pleasure, he gestured toward the young lad with his arm wrapped around your hips.
“Don’t even get me started on that worthless bloke. He’s the youngest of the Charleston family, they’re new to Birmingham. Y/N’s been seein him for a few weeks. Thought we taught her to respect herself that went out the window didn’t it brother, hm?” Tommy clenched his jaw in annoyance, dead pan staring at the boy’s hands wrapped far too lowly down your waist. Why didn’t you tell him? It would be rude if he didn’t introduce himself.
“Hold me drink Arthur. I’ll be back in a moment.” When Tommy turned around, Arthur made sure he wasn’t looking before finishing off his brother’s drink, a little blonde gal catching his eye in the process, steering him away from whatever the hell Tommy had planned.
Upon approaching you both, he heard the sound of your infectious giggle, so innocent and pure. Blood pumped through his veins realizing that you were slipping away from him, you were growing up.
“Am I interrupting something?” Tommy was shocked to see a beer in your hand and multiple empty ones sat on the table beside you. You were his baby sister, you didn’t drink, you didn’t partake in adult activities. Yet you didn’t seem intoxicated, perhaps that was your first beer, his good girl, but wait what the hell was this and why the fuck did this guy have his hand on your lap, why was he just kissing on your fucking neck. More importantly why was there now a ring on your fucking finger?
He made an incredulous look of disapproval before his breath nearly being taken out of him, your chest falling onto his as your wrapped your arms tightly around Tommy.
“Oh! Tommy I missed you! I was just talking about you to Matthew, I was hoping to introduce you sooner rather than later.” What the fuck was that supposed to be mean? What happened to the conversation from earlier? Tommy grasped your hips, your cleavage rubbing against the fabric of his shirt.
Tommy noticed the boy making a partially disoriented gesture, a look of confusion from the blatant display of affection that some would consider to be unordinary. His eyes dilated, fixating on the boy, challenging him to say something.
Unsurprisingly he merely took a step back, putting his hands up in surrender that he didn’t want to fight, exactly what Tommy thought.
“Come on, let’s get you some water, eh?” You nodded against his chest, hand sloping down his arm until it clutched his muscular grip.
Walking off with you hand in hand, he guided you up the stairs to a back secluded room, voice booming for the crowd of people to get out.
Sitting you down on the sofa gently, he could feel your eyes watching his every move as he pulled down a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water to help you sober up.
“Drink this.”
“Tommy I only had one beer.” He raised his eyebrows expectedly, motioning with his hand, insisting thar you drink it. For some reason your heart seemed to flutter with how willing he always to take care of you.
Downing the glass, you set it on the table before kicking your shoes off and reclining back against the arm rest, Tommy already feeling the tightening in his pants seeing the bare skin of your leg.
Scoffing, he pushed your legs back down and grabbed the small of your wrist, pulling you closer. His breath was hot against your skin, lips just inches away from the lobe of your ear.
“He doesn’t deserve you love…” Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his hand go below the fabric of your dress, inching upward toward the radiating heat in between your thighs. Your skin forming goosebumps from the not so innocent touch, the way he was caressing your bare skin swiftly, prompting your eyes to flutter shut, still trying to fight this immoral battle in your heart.
“What-um-what are you-“ His other hands brushed your chin, tilting your face to look at him before his lips landed on yours. The world seemed to stop for a moment, the feeling of your older brother’s lips on yours unexpectedly sensual, the anticipation for more causing your heart to beat rapidly.
You couldn’t resist from kissing him back, the mesmerizing sensation so wrong but so right.
“I don’t want to see you with anyone else. That fucking low life and you fucking said yes?! You are finished with him, understand? We’ve always had something and you fucking know it.” You nodded against him nearly breathless, unable to form any thoughts other than what might be in his pants.
Ripping your dress with his hands, you tugged at his suit, tossing the expensive fabric onto the floor when you fumbled with his belt.
The sound of music and people partying only heightening the desire for Tommy to take you right here right now.
In the midst of his tongue delving between your lips, he curled his hands with yours, fingers fumbling around until he found that god forsaken ring. Tugging off, he threw the shiny piece of jewelry on the floor, accessory rolling over to the corner of the room.
When his cock spring free, your eyes widened at the sight of his girthy length.
“Has he touched you here yet?” His skilled fingers carressed the slippery slope between your soaked folds, making you moan and whimper beneath him, shaking your head vigorously no. You dreamt of your brothers touch so long.
“I knew I raised you well my good girl.”
Tommy circled his thumb around your throbbing clit in slow circles, his index finger entering your right canal to ensure you weren’t lying.
“Tommy please!”
He couldn’t find it in his heart to tell his baby sister no. No he’s waited much too long…
Aligning his cock, he readjusted himself so he was on his knees ready to drill into you and claim you as his own.
The head of his cock at your entrance only fueled your eager want to be taken.
Pushing the tip in, your winced below him from the slight uncomfortable feeling. He must have noticed when his hand glided down your thighs, caressing your hips with his calloused hand soothingly.
He couldn’t wait much longer to pick up speed with your warm cunt practically suffocating his cock.
The sight of you completely nude beneath him, legs spread on display while his cock was pushing inside you, he couldn’t hold himself back.
How could something so forbidden feel so right?
He snapped his hips forward, jolting your body upward not giving you anytime to adjust.
“Fuck! Tommy it feels so-“ He quieted your screams by covering you mouth raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“Language sweetheart, we have to be quiet unless you want him to see.” The idea of someone walking in on your brother fucking you sending chills down your spine, pussy squeezing tightly around his cock.
“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last long. Up you go.” Without pulling out Tommy lifted you effortlessly from the sofa, pushing your back against the walls as his lips ravished your neck, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.
“Oh fuck, faster, faster!” Your curls bounced gracefully on your shoulders, tits shaking in an up and down motion vigorously while one hand cusped his muscular shoulders other tangled his hair.
You’d dreamt of this day for so long, you couldn’t help but glance down wanting to see your brother’s shaft completely buried inside you.
Did it hurt a bit? Yes, but the pleasure was so much more, little did you know Tommy knew how to pleasure a woman’s body so expertly.
You could feel your slick pouring out and swimming down his length, you were close so very close.
You craved his seed to paint your walls, for him to mark you as his own.
“Look at my girl, taking me cock so well..” Tommy smirked proudly in a fucked out gaze as beads of sweat formed on his chest.
“Gonna fill your tummy with my cum, make you walk out there with it dripping down your fucking legs for everyone to see.” You moaned sporadically, thighs twitching around his waist, toes curling as a euphoric orgasm claimed your body.
“Mm, Tommy, Tommy! Feels-fe-ohh…” You panted, holding onto him for dear life. If it weren’t for his hands gripping your ass cheeks below, you’d surely make your sweet descent to the hardwood floor.
Tommy’s blue charismatic eyes focused in on the fucked out expression, seeing your lips parted, face contorted into pure bliss. He couldn’t withhold any longer until he was pulsating inside of your cunt, painting the interior of your perfect pussy white with his seed.
“Y’know I’ve wanted you for so long, and now you’re fucking mine.” You nodded still too deliriously exhausted to form words. Pulling your chin to meet his sapphire eyes, he placed a powerful, dominating kiss to your plush lips before setting you down gently and settling you back down on the sofa while he gathered the clothes.
Looking at the dress, he deemed it still suitable as long as you hadn’t bent over it should still be wearable.
“What about my underwear?” Tommy reached for his jacket after tightening his cufflinks.
“What do you need those for? C’mon love.” Your cheeks reddened, he wasn’t kidding about his cum dripping down your legs.
“Still look beautiful as ever. After you my love?” You glanced back at your brother before exiting the door, pressing your lips to his once more.
Tommy smiled softly, before nodding you off and realizing the ring was still on the floor.
Walking down the stairs with you, he encouraged you to go enjoy time with your friends, only to see Matthew in his way out ignoring Arthur practically fucking some inebriated girl against his brother.
Approaching the boy, you watched the scene unfold from afar, seeing what your dear brother would do.
“Eh!” He pulled the ring out of his pocket, clicking his tongue before shoving the object against the boy’s chest, merely towering over him.
“Here’s your fucking ring. Take it and get off my fucking property before I change my mind and kill your right here, right now.” Everyone in the room turned their eyes to the altercation, including Arthur. When the boy hadn’t moved, twiddling the ring in his grip still staring at Tommy with challenging eyes, calling a bluff, Arthur shoved the girl off of him ready to go to fucking war only for Tommy to hold him back with the wave of his hand.
“Look around kid. You have about five seconds to get out me fucking pub before I splatter your brains on this wall.” He still hadn’t moved, only tightening his fist.
“You think I won’t?” Tommy chuckled beneath his breath, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips before pulling out his gun, finger on the trigger pointing it directly at the middle of his forehead.
“5, 4, 3-“ The boy scattered out the door, satisfying Tommy that he’d never be back.
#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#Thomas shelby imagine#Peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#Tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby smut
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Chapter One
Summary: You meet Simon under unique circumstances. When you run into him again you can't help but fall into his orbit. A story of strangers to lovers to friends.
content warnings/tags: None
~~~~
How did you get here? What were you thinking letting your partner talk you into this?
You watched the others in the room. People looking curiously. Not at you but at the twining fabric holding you aloft, the exquisite ropes highlighting your skin, showcasing the curve of your body. No one lingered though. It was the space of moments before they would look away, searching for the next thing, the next piece of artistry.
They moved through the room as if you weren't there. You were simply an object—something of little import that was nothing to bother with. They couldn't see you through the ropes which hid you in plain sight masterfully, allowing no one access. Not that anyone was looking.
It was what you wanted.
Honestly.
You kept your expression serene as you watched them. Watched the way they walked, the way they spoke, how she trailed her hand here, how they leaned in to whisper there, it was hypnotic.
Your partner was standing behind you. You couldn't see him but you could feel the tugs on the ropes as he continued weaving. He was the artist and you were the canvas, simply there to display his work.
You wanted this. You did. It just wasn't how you had envisioned it.
You didn't want to be seen. The idea of people looking and seeing you made you want to vomit. It was easier fading into the background. Being the center of attention never ended in anything good. Bad things tended to happen to those in the spotlight.
Still.
You wanted them to look at what you had become. You wanted them to stop and admire the way you hung in the air, the way your arms and legs bent just so, the way your whole body was supported with plump fat rolls spilling out between where the lines crossed.
You wanted them to appreciate how beautiful you were.
You were beautiful, weren't you?
You felt the sliver of doubt creep up your spine. It showcased itself in a shiver, a wave of goosebumps breaking out. Your breath hitched before picking up a tick, your body preparing for something. Something that could go wrong? Something that was already going wrong?
What did your mind see that your conscious hadn't picked up on yet?
You wanted reassurance but it was sorely lacking. Nothing was heard from behind you except for his breathing; the occasional brush of his fingers didn't herald a soft caress, simply a perfunctory touch as he continued the binding.
You could have spoken up.
You knew that if you said something he would stop. Stop and come around and talk to you, cup your face, give you a kiss. He would be soft. He would be lovely. You just needed to ask.
But everyone would look.
You wouldn't be able to hide behind the ropes at that point. Everyone would see and talk. About you. About what you needed, what you couldn't accomplish, how you couldn't do the one thing you were here tonight to do.
It would be your undoing.
No, you wouldn't do it. You would be fine. Nothing had happened tonight and nothing would happen tonight. You could handle this.
You blinked, surprised at the dryness of your eyes. You realized you had been staring while you spiraled. Nothing new there, but what was new was where you were staring.
It was at a man and he was looking back at you.
You watched him purposefully now, instead of your eyes only resting on him because he was there, curious about this hulking behemoth. He was tall and wide and looked like he could tuck you up under one of his arms. He kept his face covered with a dark mask, even in the privacy of the House.
Curiouser.
You wondered if he was hiding too and what from. Maybe his mask acted like your ropes. Giving the eye something to be drawn to rather than seeing the person behind them. It sent a twinge of twinship through your soul, a quick ping that said 'I am here' without words.
You dropped your gaze as a rope was tugged a hair too sharply, setting you to rocking gently in the frame, the slight motion at odds with the steadiness you should be experiencing. You breathed through the momentum, watching the ground with focus as you slowed then stopped, still once more.
You could hear your boyfriend humming to himself.
You watched as boots stepped into the radius of what you could see with your head dropped as it was. They were thick black monstrosities which looked capable of breaking any toes or fingers they stepped on. You wondered if it was only the careless that got caught under their tread or if they went out of their way to find fragile pieces to crush.
What kind of person would wear those boots?
You didn't look up—content to keep your face lowered, examining the different parts of the shoes that you could see. Your brain was caught on the pattern of the overlapping laces, the smooth curve of the vamp holding the toes, the even thickness of the sole as it followed directly underneath the shoe, never varying or straying outside it's role.
Actually, maybe they were nice boots.
You only had to shift your gaze to see the person who crouched down in front of you, elbows on their knees, hands dangling between their thighs. It was him. The man from before. The one you had been staring at.
Why did he come over here? Everyone else passed by, never bothering to stop longer than a few moments before continuing on. What drew him to you?
You found yourself looking him in the eyes, aware of where your gaze landed this time, as he stared back. Deep, dark brown eyes peered over the mask, taking your measure, watching you.
What did he see through the ropes?
Could he see you?
You felt very visible right now.
He studied you while you studied him, unabashedly staring, no words spoken. Just quiet space shared between two strangers meeting for the first time.
What did he see, what did he see, what did he see?
Without a word he stood and stepped out of sight, off to the side. You gave an aborted twitch in your ropes, head turning to try and keep him in view as he walked around you but it was useless. The ropes held you in place, ensuring you were unable to do more than follow him for a short while before he was too far behind you.
No, wait, come back please. Don't leave yet.
You heard low murmuring behind you. He was speaking with your partner. As hard as you tried you couldn't make out what they were saying, the ambient noise of the room plus the quiet background music playing distorted it just enough that you could only tell that a conversation was happening.
It went silent before he came back around, crouching once more before reaching out and cupping a hand against your cheek, the warmth startling against the chill that was slowly making its way into your bones, dressed only in undergarments as you were.
Your breath shuddered on the exhale when you trembled ever so slightly, watching, waiting for what would happen next.
He didn't smile at you. Didn't offer pretty words or dramatic gestures. He just held your face, keeping your eyes focused on his. His thumb rasping back and forth against the high of your cheekbone was his only movement, seemingly pleased to look at you as long as you were looking back.
As you slowly calmed he moved his hand, cradling the bottom of your jaw and slipping his thumb between your teeth to rest on your tongue. Drool instantly started to pool in your mouth, slipping around the seal of your lips. You weren't sure what he wanted at first but as he continued to hold his thumb pressed against your tongue without moving it, you slowly relaxed to cradle it, giving him a soft pillow to rest on. Your teeth closed around his second knuckle, pressing light indents into the skin once you rested your weight on his palm, allowing him to keep you steady.
You didn't notice the noise in the room fading into the background or your breathing steadying as you watched him watch you. Steady eyes boring into yours, subsuming you, taking everything that you were and holding it.
You were sinking without a word being spoken. His brown eyes filling your vision until they were all you could see, his warm palm all you could feel, his roughened skin all you could taste, his rhythmic breathing all you could hear.
Time passed, both slowly and all at once. You didn't notice your boyfriend finishing and stepping away, didn't hear him talking to the man in front of you, unable to tell anyone what their conversation was about.
When he stood up, centuries later, his knees creaked loudly, with a sharp crack as he fully straightened, expressing their displeasure at him staying crouched in a stressful position for such a long time. You couldn't even wince in sympathy, your mind molasses slow and moving sluggishly.
He slid his thumb from between your teeth—soggy and covered in drool—and slid it into his own mouth, taking a taste of you for himself.
Your first sign of life was when your breath hitched as he stepped away, putting space between you two for the first time in eons.
He didn't stop to talk to you—moving away with a smooth tread, swallowed back up by the people still lingering in the room, gone from sight in the blink of an eye.
You never even got his name.
\\\
Two months later
You enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your arms, spring well underway and the temperature finally rising up into comfortable range. Others around you seemed to feel the same way if the frequent smiles you saw on your walk back from the grocers had anything to say about it. Your bag of food swung heavily from one shoulder, straps digging into the delicate skin painfully.
You readjusted the bag for the nth time as you swung around the corner, not watching where you were going. Within a single step you ran full tilt into a body, bouncing off it to go tumbling onto the sidewalk, bag spilling out beside you.
You sat for a moment where you had landed, brain trying to reconcile your new position relative to the ground before it finally rebooted. Just in time for a hand to enter your peripheral, too.
Jerking your head up you made eye contact with the man standing above you offering a hand. The sun was directly behind him, casting his face in shadow where he was bent over making it impossible to see who it was. Taking the proffered hand you stood up, able to see his face much more clearly once you were on your feet again.
It was the man from that night.
You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again, a stranger—the one who might have been. You never expected to literally run into him.
A smile broke out across your face, lighting up your eyes in excitement.
"It's you."
When he didn't respond beyond a blink you scrambled to explain, "I saw you a couple of months ago. I was being tied up and you came and sat with me."
Oh god. What if he sat with people all the time so that didn't narrow it down? What if you were just one in a long string of people who thought they had a connection but he was only treating the House as it was supposed to be treated, a no-strings window of opportunity to see other's hedonism.
You needed to get out of here.
You rushed to pick up your items that had scattered when you fell, shoving them back into your bag haphazardly, paying no mind to the bread that ended up below the cans.
"I'm sorry for running into you, I wasn't watching where I was going. I'll be more careful going forward!" you said in a hurry, eager to leave before you embarrassed yourself further. Shrugging the bag back onto your shoulder you gave a flash-point quick smile to the handsome man before stepping to the side, preparing to walk around him.
"Simon."
Your head snapped towards his, shocked at the deep rumble of his voice. You hadn't been able to hear him clearly at the House, just a low hum when he had spoken to your partner. It was electric now, running fingers up your spine in a gentle caress, sparks branching off as you gave a slight shiver.
"Sorry?"
"My name. It's Simon."
Oh. Simon. That was a lovely name. Simon. Simon. Si-mon. Ssiiiiiii—
Stop it.
You quickly introduced yourself with a small smile, rocking back on your heels as you studied him in the light of day.
He was handsome, you could tell that even with the mask. Maybe because of it. Time would tell. But he certainly seemed attractive.
You were taken aback by the size of him, this time emphasized with a tight black tshirt under his jacket and a pair of denim blue jeans encasing his thick thighs.
You wanted him in your mouth again and you weren't picky about which body part it was.
Coming back to yourself, you watched his eyes crinkle in a smirk, as if he was aware of exactly where your mind had gone. With a wave of embarrassment flooding your body you cleared your throat and muttered halfhearted, sorry, his way as you tried to shuffle around him.
"Why don't you make it up to me?" He grunted a laugh at the taken aback expression on your face. "Dirty mind, I meant there's a pastry shop down the road."
Your face heated in embarrassment. Of course that was what he meant. Get your mind out of the gutter, seriously. This was only the second time you'd met him, even if the first was under unique circumstances.
He looked at you steadily, impressing upon you the sincerity of his words. With a breathy, Okay, you found yourself seated across from him, a breakfast sandwich and tea sitting in front of you both.
"I haven't seen you or your partner at the House recently," he mentioned as he pulled his mask down to take a bite.
You were right. He was handsome.
"We're not together anymore so you won't be seeing us again."
He didn't say anything as he continued to chew, just hummed a low hmm that invited further explanation.
"I realized we weren't really compatible,"—you picked up your tea to have something to do with your hands—"our needs didn't quite line up so we decided to split amicably."
"Sorry to hear that, love, that must've been difficult."
"No. No, it was for the best. Truly. I'm happier now even if I miss certain parts about being in a relationship." You smiled softly as you thought longingly of movie nights, shared dinners and warm hugs.
You missed the companionship of having a partner. Someone to bounce ideas off of, or to back you up, reassure you that you weren't blowing things out of proportion and that neighbor really was being snotty towards you. Someone to just be there with you.
Simon was looking into your soul again, the same as that first night. He wasn't blinking, wasn't moving, was he even breathing? What was he looking for? Was he going to find it?
You were surprised by how unconcerned you were with his staring. It never came across as malicious, so that might be why. You honestly wouldn't be surprised if there was a bit of social ineptitude mixed in with anything else he had going on. The long silent looks and general disposition painted it's own picture.
Still, it was a relief when he broke the spell and looked away with a grunt, taking the last bite of his sandwich before pulling his mask into place once more.
You glanced down at your half of a sandwich shocked at how fast he'd eaten. You guessed it was a necessity to eat quickly if having his mask off made him uncomfortable.
By the time you were finished with your sandwich and both teas were empty, you and Simon had exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up that weekend for a beer. All in all a pretty successful morning of running errands.
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This is how we fall
Pairing: Mingyu x reader Genre: fluff, light angst, fake dating au WC: 18.5k Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, alcohol A/N: happy belated mingyu day!! this is an updated ver of my fave fic i posted for another fandom, but i think it fits mingyu the most <3
You should know better than to make a deal with a stranger, but the need for a date to Minghao’s party has you desperate. It can’t be too bad though; all you have to do is show Mingyu what you saw in your reading, and he would be your date for one night. Simple enough, right?
The fates were playing with you.
That much you can be sure of—there is absolutely no way you should be seeing yourself in one of your clients' readings, in the same way that you aren't able to see what lies in your own future. And yet, here you are, getting a glimpse at the same hairstyle, the same smooth skin and face shape that you see in the mirror every day. It isn't entirely clear when your client doesn't look at his lover's face directly, but surely those features are enough to conclude that it's you, right?
"I see myself in your future."
"Is that a terrible pickup line or are you serious?"
You vaguely notice that Mingyu is laughing. It makes you realize that neither option was a good one really; a pickup line would imply you're interested in him, while seeing yourself in his future certainly implies a lot more than that. Perhaps you silently pray to the fates that those words didn't make their way to your boss in the other room.
But as the scene progresses, there are some other details that you notice. The kitchen in the background doesn't look familiar at all, nor do you recognize the light fragrance of oranges surrounding you—not a bad scent, though it isn't one you have lying around at home. What his lover is wearing is different from anything you own too, which could only indicate that you were wrong: they have to be someone else.
"Nah," you shrug, quickly trying to brush off your mistake, "I was just kidding."
That earns you a bemused smile as Mingyu raises an eyebrow, entirely unconvinced. "You sure about that?"
With a nod, you quickly pull your hands back to break out of the visions and internally curse yourself for being stupid enough to think that the lover in the visions was you. Just how delusional are you now? Sure, you've always been a head in the clouds type of person, falling in love with the possibility that everywhere you go, the next person you meet might just be the love of your life. Eye contact with the cute dog walker at the park turns into getting lost in their eyes while walking under the stars, and a brush of hands with the hot barista at the local coffee shop turns into holding hands while reciting wedding vows.
And admittedly, Mingyu is good-looking. But this isn't the same—he's a client, and you're working. It was silly to have thought of the possibility of being in his future in the first place, but even more ridiculous to have said it out loud.
You immediately shake off the thoughts when you catch him staring.
"So?" He leans forward, looking at you like he has some big secret to share. "What did you see?"
"Um, your love life will be just fine."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You avoid his gaze, choosing to stare at the small piece of lint on your sleeve instead. "Things will run smoothly with your partner. I could sense your love for them and how committed to them you are. And similarly, how in love with you they are."
This is the part you've always hated the most about the job. Jeonghan may have thought that hiring a "real psychic" was a good idea, but you think otherwise—surely anyone who knows anything about palm reading would immediately be able to tell that you're a fake. A fraud. You're not here to look over the love lines and life lines on your clients' palms when the visions come to you as naturally as breathing: they let you see a few scenes from the client's future, usually scenes involving a lover from what you've gathered over the years. And while it's no surprise that Jeonghan put you on love readings because of this ability, it's not like you can tell clients about the exact scenes you see.
Hence why you resort to vague summaries of the readings that make you feel like an imposter.
"Really?" Mingyu cocks his head, still watching you carefully. "Anything else?"
There were three scenes that you witnessed: holding hands across the table at what looked like a dimly lit restaurant, with tiny scars on his lover's hands. "There might be some dark times in your life or your partner's, but the two of you will be able to support each other." A kiss in what seemed like an open-air market, with the sweet taste of apples on your lips and the warmth of sunshine against your skin. "They'll bring you warmth." Then there was the final scene where you thought you'd seen yourself—slow dancing in the kitchen at midnight with faint music playing in the background and Mingyu's soft whispers reaching his lover's ears. "And your partner will make you believe in love again."
A fairly normal set of scenes compared to some of the things you've seen from other people, although it's a bit strange that they happen to be scenes where he's not looking directly at his lover.
"Hmm, okay." Mingyu nods slowly and then purses his lips, seemingly deep in thought. Maybe it's the dimness in the room, but it's like you can see the gradual change in his demeanour as his smile falters. "That sounds great and all, but I'm single as hell right now."
It takes all your efforts to not let your shock show. "Well, it can be your future partner."
"Sure, I guess." He shrugs, but the gloomy expression never leaves his face.
You open your mouth to give a retort, to defend yourself or to convince him somehow, but nothing comes out. Plenty of skeptical people have sat in that very seat before, but you've never dealt with someone who reacted like this. It almost seems like a prank or a test that Jeonghan is giving you to gauge how well you can react in these types of situations.
"Things didn't really end well with my ex, so I don't know if I'd want to go through all of that again." He grimaces. "But I'm kind of curious as to know how you came up with that."
"Well, what did you expect?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe something more realistic? Like telling me why my past relationship failed and if I'm destined to have bad luck with them."
Destined to have bad luck with them? Now that's a first. Many clients have argued with you before that any bad readings would never come true, but you're surprised to hear that it's the other way around with Mingyu. Just what has he gone through to make him doubt a good reading? You almost want to convince him, to have this reading be what helps him out of this turmoil that he's going through.
"I can show you, if you want." The words are out of your mouth before you can process them, and it isn't until you see the stupefied expression on his face that you realize just what you said.
"What?"
"I can show you what I saw in the reading," you repeat, figuring it's too late now to back out. Show him? Are you out of your mind? At least the worst that can happen is it'd make you look stupid; there is no way he'd accept—
"Oh. Um, yeah." Mingyu's shock gradually disappears and turns into something else that you can't quite pinpoint, but you might say that it almost looks like hope. "Okay, sure. How would that work?"
"I can show you the locations that I saw and, um, the—" You pause because how are you supposed to word this? "The events that happen in them."
This should be when he says you're joking, that he's not going to fall for some scam. But against all odds, he nods, and a smile gradually appears. "Is this a part of what's included in the reading, or do I have to pay extra?"
You're about to open your mouth and tell him that it's included—to essentially own up to your own mistake of offering in the first place—but something else comes to mind.
There is the party coming up. You've been complaining to Jeonghan all day about your lack of a date for Minghao's party, since receiving the invite and figuring out just who would be there. And while normally you wouldn't care about whether you had a date or not, this would be the first time that you're reconnecting with your old college crowd since graduating and leaving certain people behind.
"It's not included, but you don't have to pay; I'd gladly accept a favour instead. There's this party that I'm going to, and I need a date—not even like a real date. You could just be my fake date and—" You force yourself to stop when he doesn't react and simply blinks at you. "Never mind, forget I ever said anything. I'll just ask Jeonghan to be my date—"
"Y/N, you know I can't go to that thing," Jeonghan voice comes floating in from the other room. "I have a business to run."
Mingyu's face brightens, eyes twinkling in amusement, and you have to resist the urge to sink into the ground. "Okay, so a party? Sure, I can go to this party with you if that's what you want."
You want to stop this thing in its tracks. Your joke of an offer coupled with the mention of the party to a complete strange surely would be a recipe for disaster, and besides, why would he would even care to know what you saw in the reading? Why would he believe you if you do show him the scenes? But you can't bring yourself to say any of that. At the prospect of being handed a solution to your dateless party problem, you decide to bite your tongue and go ahead with it. Showing him a few locations that you saw in your reading would be nothing compared to being alone with certain people from your past.
"Okay, deal. Let's do it."
A few minutes later, he's leaving the shop with a little wave, and a new contact has been saved into your phone.
"You good?" Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, stepping out of the back room as he gives you a look that says he heard everything. His glasses are halfway down his face and hair ruffled like he tugged on the strands in frustration way too many times, which isn't surprising when the shop is on the verge of needing to be shut down. "Were you serious about asking me to be your date?"
"No, you must've heard wrong." You quickly shake your head, plastering on a smile. "And I'm great. Wonderful. Amazing." You're definitely not. "Everything is fine." It definitely isn't.
The only reaction you get is a teasing grin. "Well," Jeonghan pats you on the shoulder, "let me know how it goes. Maybe you really did see yourself in his future."
Great.
It was at this moment you knew you fucked up.
"You look like you just lost your job," Soonyoung says right when you step into the apartment that night.
You shoot him a glare. "Unprovoked?"
He's slouched in yet another strange position on the couch, eyeing you with the concern that should probably be going towards fixing his posture, and his phone screen in hand is flashing with probably some show he's been bingeing despite the TV being only a few feet away.
A typical night at your residence, really.
"Should I leave?" he asks, sitting up straighter.
You kick your shoes off, too worn out to think of a smart retort tonight. Then you slump onto the couch beside him. "Is it that obvious?"
"Uh huh. You want to talk about it?"
With a sigh, you start from the beginning. Mingyu had been friendly when he walked in that evening, all charming smiles and lingering stares. There wasn't anything particularly interesting about him, though you may have thought he was good-looking and may have been a tiny bit glad that he made a last-minute decision to switch from the career reading to the love reading.
You tell Soonyoung about the readings, dragging on the details until he's waving you on impatiently. And then comes the end—the deal you made where you'd show Mingyu what you saw in the reading in exchange for having him be your date to Minghao's party.
"Why the hell would you do that?" Soonyoung narrows his eyes, stare seeming to bore into your skull. "He was hot, wasn't he?"
"Um, well..."
"I knew it." Then he put his hands on your shoulders and shakes you a little. "Y/N," he looks you dead in the eye, "you need to stop being so nice to people you find hot. Well, except for me; I'm an exception."
You scoff. "It's not that. I need a date for this party, okay? You know he's going to be there so there's no way I'm showing up alone."
"Forget the party," he gives a dismissing wave, "how are you going to show him everything? The guy seems like someone who doesn't believe in this kind of stuff."
"Yeah," you mutter, "maybe he knows I'm a fraud and is secretly filming all this for his YouTube channel. Can you imagine the title? Delusional psychic makes up romantic scenes."
If Mingyu really did think you were a fraud, he wouldn't be wrong. After all, you only learned about the different palm lines as a cover for the real abilities you used for these readings. Maybe it isn't such a bad idea to switch over to regular readings now though; if only you'd been blessed with Jeonghan's bullshitting skills instead of this ability that's starting to feel more like a curse.
"No, Y/N. Who does he think he is?" Soonyoung abruptly gets up from the couch, hands balled into fists instead of laughing at your joke like you thought he would. "No one forced him to go to you. And we all know that fortune telling is a big sham; surely he should know to take everything with a grain of salt."
You nod, but then you think back to the reading. "Well, I did think that I could be wrong. The reading was... well, it was weird. I couldn't see his lover's face, like, it either went by really fast or he wasn't looking at them at all."
"Those scenes don't necessarily have to be with the ex he mentioned, right? You have no control over what point of someone's life you see."
Soonyoung is right. You can't control the time frame of someone's life you witness, so it's plausible that the love interest is someone else entirely. Perhaps from a future relationship, or maybe Mingyu and his ex if they get back together one day.
Or maybe the visions are wrong. Just because they haven't been wrong before doesn't mean it can't happen.
"Or," Soonyoung flops back onto the couch excitedly, "do you think it's because he has bad eyesight?" He leans in until his face is mere centimeters away from yours, pretending to examine you through squinted eyes. "Maybe he never sees his lover's face that clearly anyway."
"There's a big difference between having bad eyesight and simply not looking at something, you know."
"Then do you want to use me as practice?" He holds out his hand, placing it on your knee with his palm up. "You can check if futures can change or if eyesight really does affect the readings."
You give him one last skeptical glance before going along with it. Then you press two thumbs at the edges of his palm with your eyes closed and wait for the visions to arrive.
It's been years since you've glanced into his future, but still you immediately recognize the images. There's Soonyoung laughing while on a picnic with Wonwoo in the same sunny field, Wonwoo playing the guitar in your current apartment, and a final close up of the ring on Soonyoung's slender finger. You wonder if he still remembers this last one; you're at the age where all of your friends are getting engaged left and right, and you're half expecting a wedding invitation any day now.
But just before you can pull your hands back and ask him if the first two events have already happened, the vision changes. A new scene takes shape this time and it confuses you at first because the view starts off with an unfamiliar ceiling. Then as Soonyoung glances down, Wonwoo's face comes into view and—
"What the hell?" You immediately jerk back, scrambling to break out of the vision. "Please don't get me to do your reading ever again."
Soonyoung gives you a confused glance. "Why, what did you see? Did it change?"
"Let me just say that I really don't need to see the things that you and Wonwoo do."
"You—you saw what?"
"I heard it too." You bury your face in your hands, trying to wipe the memory away. "The visions really just had to give me first person seats to a show I never wanted to see."
Soonyoung chokes on his spit.
If Mingyu forgot about this agreement entirely once he left the shop, it wouldn't surprise you. You'd just take it as one of those situations where friends tell each other to hang out but never end up making plans, so why would this be any different?
What surprises you is that he does text you a few days later.
So through your text conversation, you tell him all about the first scene you saw—the restaurant with the hand holding across the table. A dinner date, essentially. It's a good thing that this is the easiest scene to reenact; maybe after this he'd decide that he's had enough of this fake fortune telling stunt while still upholding his end of the agreement.
But despite how simple the scene is, the thought of doing this makes you all kinds of nervous. Your stomach twists at the thought of spending a whole night on the receiving end of Mingyu's intense stare, especially when this would be so different from your interactions with him while working that day. At least at work you knew what you were doing. This on the other hand, is completely out of your range of knowledge. Like, what do people talk about during these kinds of events? What if whatever you're eating gets really messy? What if—
"Wait, where are you going today? Soonyoung didn't tell me about this." Wonwoo glances over at his boyfriend in confusion before turning back to you. "And what did you agree to do?"
"Um," you say slowly, glancing between the two perched on the couch. "I made a deal to show a client what I saw in his reading."
"But why?" Wonwoo puts his hand on your knee, leaning over with concern written on his face. "You haven't done anything like this before for your other customers, have you?"
"No way. I probably wouldn't be doing this if he hadn't agreed to be my date for Minghao's party."
Maybe it was weird to have agreed to this—the look on Wonwoo's face said as much. After all, Mingyu is a stranger, and you don't know anything about him other than the flashes of his life you witnessed through the reading. But won't it simply feel like an awkward first date? All you have to do is take him to a restaurant that resembles the one you saw and hold hands across the table. It can't be too challenging when there is no need to do much talking nor get to know each other.
"Oh. Because of..." Wonwoo trails off, giving you a feeble smile. "Right."
"Well, don't mention him," Soonyoung elbows him in the ribs.
Wonwoo waves his boyfriend off. "I'm not sure how you're going to make this client believe you, but your time with him today doesn't have to be a bad thing."
"But babe, you didn't see how upset Y/N was that night after agreeing to this." The dramatic pout on Soonyoung's face has you rolling your eyes. Then he turns to you. "He might be hot, but he could still be an asshole. This guy seems like bad news. What if you get kidnapped? What if you go missing? Who's going to help pay the rent then? And—"
"Don't act like you're not waiting for me to move out so that Wonwoo can move in," you reach over to flick him on the forehead. "Thanks for your concern but I think I'll be just fine."
"At least share your location with us, okay? If you need an emergency phone call to get you out of there, I have my scream perfected."
"Unfortunately, I am very aware of that." You definitely don't want to think about the last time Soonyoung called to pull you out of a group meeting back in college and nearly damaged the hearing of your entire group. "Okay, I'm really going to go now."
"Oh and," a hand wraps around your wrist just as you stand, "don't fall for him."
"Shut up, it's literally one meeting."
One meeting won't be a big deal. It'd be a nice dinner date with some innocent hand holding, and then you probably wouldn't have to see Mingyu again until the party. Nothing can't go wrong when you'd be in public the whole time anyway.
Soonyoung shouts something that sounds like, "At least wear something nicer!" but you're already out the door.
"Oh, you actually came." Mingyu comments, face instantly lighting up when he spots you. "I almost thought you decided to back out."
"Me? Never." You try for a smile, but you know he's referring to your tardiness.
It'd be easy to blame your annoying roommate for holding you up today, but embarrassingly enough, it wasn't because of him. Your shortcut through the park's uneven grounds was the culprit, causing your massive tumble which ultimately led to being much too late for this date. It's times like this when you wish your ability would let you see more useful things than random points in other people's futures.
Upon arriving at the restaurant though, you realize that something else you wish you'd seen is how your choice of restaurant is nothing like what you expected. You picked the place after scavenging through the depths of Google Maps, digging up pictures left and right from various reviews, and the single review of this place was the only one that seemed to match the one in your visions. In the photo, the restaurant was just as dim, and looked like a casual place. But now, in front of you, is a restaurant that looks nothing like the one in the photo.
In front of you is something much fancier—small chandeliers hang above every table and elegant decorations line the walls. There is no doubt that it must've gone through a major upgrade since the local reviewer posted those pictures from five years ago. Now not only was your attempt at finding the restaurant in your visions futile, but this place also makes you wish you chose a different occupation entirely. Preferably one that pays more than the meager amount your readings are worth.
"Well, this is an interesting choice," Mingyu comments, eyeing the walls. "Seems like a nice place."
You debate pulling him right out of there. "Um, actually, it's not—"
"Hi, do you have a reservation?" the hostess asks, looking between the two of you. And before you can even answer, there are two menus in her hands and she's leading you to your table. Great. Perhaps you'd just have to take off one of your rings and fake a proposal for the sake of a free meal if it turns out to be too expensive. You heard that it worked for a friend of a friend once upon a time.
Once seated, you nearly do a double take. There is no dim lighting obscuring Mingyu's handsome face this time, and under the glow of the chandelier, you can finally see his smooth skin, plush lips, and large eyes that seem to twinkle when he glances at you for whatever reason. If you thought he was good looking before, you have to admit that he looks even better today.
You turn to the menu instead, studying it intensely despite having immediately picked out the cheapest option. Five minutes go by. The waitress comes by to take your orders. Another five minutes. Are first dates always this awkward? It's been years since you've gone out with anyone, but if this were the reality of the dating scene, maybe third-wheeling your friends for the rest of your life wouldn't be such a bad idea.
Mingyu clears his throat. "Should we start with the basics?"
"What?"
"A story to tell people at the party if they ask about us." He swirls his drink around, eyes flickering to yours occasionally. "We need to be on the same page with our answers to make it convincing."
Right, he's going to be your fake boyfriend for the party. You haven't thought that far yet when you've had the scenes to worry about, but he's not wrong. "Oh. Um, okay. So how did we meet? It wouldn't be through mutual friends because most of them would be there. Maybe a dating app?"
"Hmm," he hums, looking over everything on the table as he thinks. "We met at your shop when I got a reading done. Then you showed me how everything happens."
"We're just going with the truth?" You're slightly doubtful of whether this story would be believable, yet the same time you're relieved you wouldn't have to be lying. Soonyoung has always said you were a terrible liar. "I guess that works. So then how did we fall for each other?"
Mingyu presses his lips together and thinks for a while. "Through reenactments of the things you saw in the reading." As if for emphasis, he moves his drink out of the way before putting his hand on the table between the two of you, and then beckons for you to do the same.
"Oh. This is what you mean by reenact it."
Of course you knew this might be what he wanted, and you came here fully prepared to reenact this with him. But because of your fall at the park earlier, now the fresh scrapes on your palms are telling you to stop in your tracks. You shouldn't be touching anything and sure as hell don't want him to see the state of your battered hands.
You opt for a shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Um, yeah it was just hand holding. You know, we don't have to actually—"
"Come on, Y/N." He puts on a pout and the longer he stares at you, the more his eyes somehow start to have the effect of puppy eyes. "Just humour me?"
So you give in, reluctantly. You reach out a hand and rest it on his with your palm up to show him exactly why you don't want to do this.
Mingyu's eyes widen at you before he's holding your hand up to examine it closely. "Oh shit. What happened? Did you fall on your way here? Is that why you were late?"
You nod a little.
"Hey, you should've said something. I'll go ask for some bandages, okay?"
"No, it's fine—" you start, but he only shoots you a smile before leaving his seat.
Looking down, you can see that your palms already appear to be much better than earlier—the red splotches are mainly dry now, and the dirt has been wiped off. Thankfully, Mingyu didn't see the worst of it, but that does little to stop the embarrassment in its tracks. You only hope that the heat at your cheeks fades when he comes back a few minutes later waving a handful of bandages around.
You think that it would end there, but it doesn't. Mingyu insists on putting these bandages on your wounds. His fingers are light where they graze your skin as he carefully places them on your scrapes, and it's such a nice gesture that you're suddenly taken aback. This is supposed to be a quick dinner, and he's supposed to hate you for the bad reading. But now you question if any of that is true when he continues to act so kind and friendly.
"This is not how it's supposed to go." You frown, trying not to stare at his face as he works on the bandages in total concentration. "Not at all."
Because your hands may be in his across the table as you wait for your food to come, but he's only holding them to bandage your wounds. And while this restaurant does seem romantic, it's nowhere near the look of the one in your visions.
Mingyu's eyes fill with amusement when he looks up. "Holding hands across the table as we wait for our food, right? Isn't this close enough?"
"You're bandaging me. This isn't remotely romantic."
"Love isn't always supposed to be romantic, Y/N," he says dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Haven't your readings shown you the small things that people do for each other?"
You wonder just what kind of readings he thinks you do. "Um. I guess."
He does have a point. Maybe this moment, no matter how embarrassing or ridiculous it seems, is better than having to sit through faking or pretending everything. It may force you to be vulnerable, but each gentle brush of Mingyu's fingers and each press of a bandage against your palms hint at a vulnerable side of him too.
You study him, wanting to figure out just what kind of person he is. Why is he being so kind when the two of you are practically strangers? When this meetup should be a quick meal at a casual food place, involving no more physical contact than two seconds of hand holding? Well, perhaps five seconds. But now, it seems like the two of you have gone beyond your original plans of fake pleasantries.
"All done." He lightly presses the last bandage onto your palm, and you're grateful for the arrival of your food as an excuse to pull your hand back.
"So, um," you rack your brain for literally anything to say, "why did you come in for a reading that day?"
"There was a career decision that I was stuck on," Mingyu picks at his food then looks up with a twinkle in his eyes. "I don't believe in this whole fortune telling thing, but I needed some advice on what to do. Figured that maybe while you were telling me to look deep inside myself and to follow my heart or whatever, I'd suddenly get an epiphany about what to do."
"And did you?"
"Yeah."
"Even without the reading? The boss would've done a good job on it." That part is true; you may be the real psychic of the two of you, but you can't deny how good Jeonghan's readings are. Heck, you'd rather choose to believe his words over what you see in your own visions.
A nod. "Just going there gave me what I needed. I decided it would be good to start fresh, to try something new." He pauses to take a sip of water, but then his eyes snap to yours. "Wait, hold on. Did you say he's your boss? You were going to ask your boss to be your date? For the party?"
"Oh, Jeonghan?" You want to laugh at the incredulous expression on his face. "Nah, he's not exactly my boss. We met in college as classmates."
Your previous thoughts about not needing to talk completely disappear as you tell him about how this little psychic shop started. It had been Jeonghan's idea, a backup plan for a backup plan essentially. He'd always joked about starting a business if nothing else worked out after graduation, and the opportunity came around sooner than expected.
"Damn, I wish my boss was chill like that. Mine really makes everyone stay back to finish the projects that he deems urgent when they aren't."
"You mean you're not in school?" You have to wipe the shock from your face. "I would've thought that you were some frat boy in college."
Mingyu stares at you blankly, blinking a couple of times. "You know, I'm not sure if that was a compliment or insult." He frowns. "Well, I guess it's good that my job hasn't aged me too much yet. But frat boy? Really?"
"Hey, maybe that should be our cover instead," you tease. "Frat boy Mingyu who I met at a party in college years ago but only recently reconnected with."
He rolls his eyes at you, suddenly starting to chew so aggressively that you have to laugh at his expression.
The rest of the night goes by similarly, allowing you to forget all your worries about awkward first dates. Mingyu is a good conversationalist and surprisingly funny to, and when he drops his fork and later bumps his head on the chandelier is so endearing that you find yourself smiling every time you look at him.
As the two of you walk back to the shop afterwards, your time together leaves you thinking about how he's not the person you thought he would be. Maybe you should know that already based on the glimpse into his future because the warmth that you'd seen from those scenes alone could've been an indicator.
"There are two more things you saw, right?" Mingyu turns to you, sparkles in his eyes from the reflection of streetlights right outside the shop. "Are you free next weekend too?"
"Wait." You're almost sure you heard wrong. "You—you want to see the rest of them? The scenes I saw?"
"Yeah, of course," he says like it's obvious, seemingly unable to understand the surprise that must be on your face.
This is a possibility that you never considered at all. You don't get why he would want to see you or spend time with you again, or how showing him what you saw in the visions would possibly convince him that they're real. "Oh, um. I didn't think you would be interested."
"Why not? We still need to figure out more of our cover story for this party too." He gives a shrug and then raises a hand up in a wave. "See you next week?"
"Yeah, okay," you manage to say. "Next week."
The rest of the way home is filled with Mingyu's words echoing through your mind.
When you open the door to your apartment, Soonyoung drops his phone mid-scroll, giving you a onceover that makes his eyes as big as saucers. Then he's running over to you.
Right, you completely forgot about your state of being until this reminder.
"What the fuck happened to you? Did the Mingyu guy do all of this?" He stops you in the middle of the hallway, hands on your shoulders to spin you around as he glances over every inch of the mess of blood and dirt on your clothing. You understand what it would look like from the outside—the result of your fall must be fueling his thoughts about Mingyu being a bad guy. Maybe it looks like you bravely jumped out of a moving car and managed to crawl back home.
"No—"
"See? I told you he was bad news," he huffs and then guides you into the kitchen where he sits you down on a chair. "What happened? Did he pull something weird? Should we be calling the police?"
You feel a laugh on the verge of escaping your throat, but you bite it back. Soonyoung's questions are so absurd that you almost want to keep quiet and make him frustrated by his overwhelming curiosity. That'd certainly be one way of annoying him the way he always annoys you.
"No, nothing like that," you say instead, shaking your head. "I tripped and fell while walking through the park." Then you hold up your palms to show him the small bandages where they're peeling at the corners. "He helped bandage me at the restaurant."
Soonyoung nods slowly, but judging by his narrowed eyes, he's entirely unconviced. "Okay, but you look like you got into a fight with him or something. And why would you go through the park?"
"You're the one who made me late, okay? I had to take the shortcut." You go to push him then instantly regret it when the contact makes your palms throb. "Anyway, Mingyu was really nice. Though the, um, reenactment didn't really go as planned."
Then you begin to update him on everything that happened during your date, starting from the restaurant and how it didn't match the visions, to your fall and the bandages. But as you go over all of the moments, you realize there are a few things you intentionally leave out, like the tiny crinkles that appeared at the corners of Mingyu's eyes whenever he smiled. His soft hands that bandaged you so tenderly. Maybe he was right that love is all about the small gestures—even though you initially thought the moment paled in comparison to the one in the reading, the more you replay the day over in your mind, the more you realize that it was indeed romantic in its own way.
"And? Is that it?" Soonyoung gestures wildly. "You won't have to see him until the party, right?"
You can feel the smile on your face fade. "Um, actually. He wants to meet again for the next scene that I saw."
"Don't tell me that's the kiss scene?"
"Yeah... the kiss."
"Well, good luck with that one." Soonyoung's smirk only grows at your reaction. He gives you a pat on the back, but it feels just as insincere as his words. "Try not to fall for him."
As your roommate leaves the room, you can only sigh. This is exactly why you left out those details about this date—Soonyoung would be making fun of you forever. Yes, that has to be the reason. It definitely wasn't because you considered those moments special.
All week, you try to come up with a plan to avoid showing Mingyu the next scene from the visions. You think about making up a more PG-rated scenario since there is no way he would know if what you're showing is real or not, but how can you lie about it when he'll experience the real thing in his future? Besides, Soonyoung tells you the scenarios you come up with are lame.
So your choices for this scene are really limited—either you would have to share a kiss with him in public or watch as his face contorts with disgust at the thought of having to kiss you. Or perhaps you would be dealing with the awkwardness of dead silence between you once he turns down the kiss. Either way, today is not looking good for you.
On top of that, the location for this scene gives you even more trouble than the first one did. You hadn't exactly gathered much information from it; without being able to use your sense of sight, you only know there was kissing, the smell of the outdoors, and light chatter in the background. A park might seem too public, too open of a space to be doing this, and a forest trail might be too isolated and not sunny enough compared to the sun you'd felt on your skin.
In the end, you decide on the market. A cute date at the market seemed like it could be the perfect balance, and today it bustles with the afternoon crowd of couples on their date and the elderly running their errands. When you look at Mingyu, your hypothesis is confirmed—beside you, he watches the rows of vendor carts and tents with amazement in his eyes.
"You've never been here before?"
Mingyu shakes his head. "Nah. I've been meaning to, but just haven't had the chance to yet." Then he turns to you with a teasing smile. "You chose the perfect spot. It's like you actually read my mind."
"I can assure you I'm not psychic like that," you mutter, stunned for a second. "Let's take our time exploring and see everything today."
So the two of you slowly walk through each aisle and you watch him marvel at different items from each of the stalls you stop at. It's merely an excuse, though. You're stalling. You still haven't told him about what is supposed to happen in the second scene, and you've been carefully dancing around the topic each time he asked. How are you supposed to blatantly say that the two of you are supposed to kiss? All you can do is hope that the wonders of the market would distract him enough so that he forgets why you're here at all.
"So how long have we known each other?" Mingyu turns to ask as the two of you walk to the next stall. "And what kind of party is it? Don't tell me I unknowingly signed up to go to a wedding with you."
"It's not that much better actually—it's an engagement party."
He stops dead in his tracks. You laugh.
"A year minimum," you continue like he's not giving you a deadpan stare. "Maybe two? We should be pretty serious about... each other."
"Do you think I could watch over the shop for you while you take your boss to be your date?" He pauses, looking at you with hopeful eyes that immediately dim when you shake your head. "What have I gotten myself into?" Then he's walking to the next stall with dramatically loud steps, though you manage to catch the smile he tries to hide.
The rest of your cover story slowly comes together over the course of the date—he asked you out, some of the places you frequent are last week's restaurant and today's market, and you sometimes spend the weekend at his place which is why Soonyoung and Wonwoo haven't met him yet.
After exploring the majority of the stalls a while later, Mingyu finally turns to you.
"Hey, let's head over there." He nods at the field behind the market, shooting you a grin when he takes your hand in his.
You hope he doesn't hear the startled sound that escapes from the back of your throat.
Tucked away behind the row of vendors at the very edge of the market is a field with a few empty picnic tables. And while you aren't sure if this is how the kiss happens in the vision, you get the feeling that maybe he knows. The bit of privacy behind the stalls and the way the noises of the market gradually fade into the background as you approach the table tell you as much—if you were looking for an opportunity to reenact the scene today, it would be here and now.
You climb onto the table, letting your legs dangle off the bench while Mingyu follows suit beside you.
"You haven't said anything about why we're here today." He eyes you up and down with amusement playing on his lips. "Why? Is it something bad?" The teasing tilt in his voice paired with a slight eyebrow raise is enough to have your cheeks quickly burning up.
Then the embarrassment kicks in. You know that there is no avoiding it when the two of you are already at the location of the second scene in your vision, and now it's just a matter of telling him. But no matter how you try to phrase it in his head, what could possibly be a good way of telling your client that you're supposed to kiss him? That's what Mingyu is, right? A client that wanted to see and experience the things in your reading of his future.
"Um. It's... a hug," you say hesitantly, testing the way it sounds in your mouth. Picturing the way his face would fall at the word 'kiss' is enough to scare you into changing your mind at the last second. "A hug is supposed to happen here."
As if he knows you're not telling the truth, Mingyu cocks his head. "Oh yeah? Here of all places?" Maybe it really was a bad idea to lie; you should've believed Soonyoung when he said you can't tell a lie to save your life.
"Yeah." You try to swallow the lump in your throat. "I'm not sure why it's here either."
If he does detect your lie though, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, his expression morphs into something softer. "Love can be found everywhere, Y/N. Even in a hug at the market if you want it to." Then he gets up and holds his arms open, eyes twinkling with the question of whether you want this.
And do you want this? It might be too soon to be doing this when you barely know each other, but it's also too soon for your heart to be speeding up the way it does, for you to feel a small burst of butterflies in your stomach every time he so much as stares at you for a moment too long, and for this cover story and the reenactments to feel more tangible than the abstract concepts they are meant to be.
But despite all that, you find yourself getting up from the table and carefully stepping into Mingyu's arms. You slowly relax in the warmth of his embrace and let the faint scent of his cologne envelop you, and though it's a tender, loose hug, you can feel the steady beating of his heart and the rises and falls of his every breath.
"Is this how it happens?" he whispers, the rumble of his voice vibrating through his chest.
You can't respond. You don't know how to, nor do you know why he's even the slightest bit willing to act out a scene from a stupid reading that he probably deems a scam anyway. So the obvious answer would be to say yes and call it a day.
The answer is at the tip of your tongue. But as you open your mouth to respond, something stops you from continuing the lie. "No, not quite."
It's the same feeling that tells you to cup his cheek and bring him closer to you, and it makes you lean forward, just until you can see his smooth sun-kissed skin and the small mole at the tip of his nose. And then you're slowly squeezing your eyes shut and bringing your lips to his—kissing him, like how it happens in the reading.
Mingyu's surprise is evident in the way he freezes momentarily, and the rational part of your mind would think that this is it. This is your big mistake and now he's going to back away and—
He kisses you back.
He pulls you even closer and you expect it to feel like the delicate kiss in the reading, but it's completely different in that he kisses you like he wants this. Like he wants you. Those supple lips glide across yours, consuming you, making you feel like you're sinking into the depths of his touch and his body. And all you can do is hang on, grasping weakly at his collar as every essence of your being is filled with want for a person you shouldn't want.
Mingyu breaks the kiss just as you start to think this might be too intense to be done in public.
He catches his breath and then gives you a shy smile, not quite meeting your eyes. "Oh, so that's how it happens?"
Your head is still spinning, but when you look at Mingyu, it's like he's glowing. The way the sun glistens on his skin and lights up his face makes him so beautiful that you almost forget to breathe. If the kiss hadn't felt so real, you might've been thinking that this moment, and Mingyu himself, are straight out of a dream.
You can answer him easily now. "Yeah, it is."
When he takes your hand a moment later, all the thoughts about cover stories and readings and Minghao's party disappear from your mind, leaving only the warmth of him beside you and the memory of his lips on yours.
However, reality hits you very soon. There, by one of the nearby stalls, is someone who looks like Mingyu's lover in the visions. They have the same hairstyle as you, the same smooth skin, and even the same face shape. Without directly glancing at their face, you can assume that you are looking at yourself.
But even though they don't turn your way as the two of you walk by, simply seeing them has your heart sinking. It sinks at the thought that the kiss might be nothing more than a figment of your imagination or of a world where you're both pretending that you really are the lover from the visions. That Mingyu's eagerness to kiss you, to want you, wasn't actually meant for you at all, but rather for someone he hasn't met yet.
And you don't get it. You don't understand why you're disappointed by this when it isn't even real. It shouldn't ever be real. Regardless of whether it was a good kiss, of whether it felt wonderful and realistic and enticing, you should know that it wouldn't mean anything.
Because you're not the lover from the reading.
Perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise to you at this point, but Mingyu agrees to reenact the third and final scene of the vision. You were sure that he would say no, that he definitely wouldn't appreciate having a stranger barge into his home for this one. So to have him actually agree to it has you thinking that maybe if you tell him you're going skydiving he'd agree to that too.
This time it's not as difficult to tell him what happens in the scene—it's just slow dancing, which should be easy to reenact at least compared to the kiss at the market. All you have to do is rest your hands on his shoulders and then step side to side to the beat of the music. How hard can it be?
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Soonyoung peers at you from the doorway of the bathroom. "You barely managed to escape from this guy during your first meeting, and now you're walking right into his home." He comes closer to where you're checking your outfit in front of the mirror, and says in a loud whisper, "where you'll be alone with him."
Right, that is the part you're trying not to think about.
"You sure you can handle it? After," he gestures in the air, "what happened at the market and all."
Internally, you grumble. Externally, you ignore him.
"I know you're picturing that steamy kiss." He rolls his eyes, which you can all too clearly through the mirror. "But anyway, if you're sure about going to his place tonight, just remember to be safe, yeah? Share your location just in case. Hold your head if you're about to jump out of another moving car."
"Don't you have a boyfriend you should be bothering instead?"
That earns you an enthusiastic nod. "He should be coming soon. So take your time on your date tonight."
You finally get some peace and quiet when you step out, once again leaving your roommate mid-sentence about how you picked another terrible outfit.
You're the first to arrive at the restaurant, though it isn't long before you spot Mingyu coming from a block away—he's late for your date and clearly running to make up for it by the way he dodges other people on the street, nearly knocking them over. He gives a big wave when he sees you.
"Sorry for being so late," he pants as he bends over to catch his breath. "Thank you for waiting."
"Guess that makes us even. Although I hope you didn't trip on your way here."
That puts an instant grin on his face. "Nah, I just had to clean up the apartment a little. Well, actually," he pauses, the grin fading, "a lot. Can't have it be a mess for when you come over tonight."
"Oh, right." You still don't know why he would agree to all this, especially if it takes that much work.
The dinner goes well. It's one of the few moments of peace, considering your first meal together was ruined by the remnants of your nasty fall, and the market date was interrupted by an abrupt awakening. Despite the mishaps, you don't exactly see these events as losses when your memories are brimming with Mingyu's gentle touch when he bandaged your hands, and the warmth of his lips fitting so perfectly with your own.
And tonight? You know that there will be another moment for you to commit to memory forever.
When you arrive at your destination, you finally understand why he was late for your dinner. The place is spotless; unlit candles fill the room, a bottle of wine with empty glasses are on the counter. There are flowers in a beautiful vase on the table. It's like he spent all day running around just to set up for this moment.
"It's presentable, right?" Mingyu cracks a smile, slipping off his shoes and sliding his jacket onto the rack, followed by taking your coat as well. "Not sure how it's supposed to happen, but I figured I should at least try to make it—well, as romantic as possible."
"Wow, you didn't have to do all this," you manage to get out. You're still standing right in your spot as he goes over to light the candles, in shock and confusion over why he would possibly do such a thing.
He turns back to give you a small shrug. "I wanted you to have a good time."
When he finishes lighting the candles, he puts on some music by selecting it on his phone, seemingly having put together a whole playlist for the occasion. And if you didn't know any better, it would be so easy to believe that he simply put together a romantic date night at his place for the two of you. That he did all this because you're someone special to him. That this means something.
Well, if he can pretend for a night then maybe you can too.
You shake the thoughts from your mind and replace them with a smile as a song you don't recognize starts softly in the background. Mingyu heads to the table, beckoning you to follow, and then pours two glasses of wine.
"You know, I'm really glad I went to you that day." He takes a sip of his wine and then swirls it when he puts it down. "For the reading. I'm glad I met you. And um, I should thank you for showing me all of this."
"Shut up," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "Don't lie. You still don't believe in any of this fortune telling stuff, right?"
Mingyu bursts into laughter. "Okay, you're right. I don't. I just wanted to see some acts of love after going through a breakup, to kind of feel like there could still be hope for me. Honestly though, when you offered to show me what happens, I thought you would make up random scenarios just to date me or something." He waves dismissively at the frown on your face. "But it doesn't matter to me. Real or not, I like spending time with you, and... well, maybe you've convinced me."
"I convinced you that the reading was real?"
You're met with a shrug as he takes another sip of his wine, and in that brief silence you ponder about what he's referring to. There is no way he believes in fortune telling, so what else is there to convince him of?
But then something else pops into your mind.
"Can I ask you something?" You take a deep breath, letting out a sharp exhale when Mingyu nods. "What happened with your ex?"
It's clear that he hesitates with the way he swirls his glass, pressing his lips together and avoiding your gaze.
"Never mind. We don't have to—"
"It's okay. It was a long time ago and I'm over it." His eyes meet yours before flickering away. "Actually, I think I knew it was over long before it was really over. But I kept hoping that things could be fixed. I was stupid and kept trying."
"Hey, no, that's not stupid." You reach over and take his hand. "You were willing to put in the effort to save your relationship, and that shows you care."
But he merely shrugs. "Seems like a waste when they were busy cheating on me."
"That's not your fault, and it's not a waste. The love that you show the world is never a waste." There's a flood of emotions running through you, you belatedly realize—you're clutching the glass so tightly in your free hand that you begin to fear it might crack. It's directed at Mingyu's ex, at the thought that someone would hurt him like that when he's done nothing but fight for their relationship.
"It's kind of ironic now that I think about it," he continues. "Right before I found out they were cheating, I went to a psychic and got a reading done on the relationship. Apparently the reading said everything would be fine, and I just stupidly believed it."
"Mingyu... is that why you don't believe in this stuff anymore?"
He nods.
"I wish I didn't either." You swallow the lump in your throat, letting go of the glass. It's not only the mention of his ex that's making you feel this way, but also the lover from the visions. You want to hate them, to curse at them and at your fate for ripping away what could be a beautiful relationship before it's even within your reach.
But it all makes you want to try harder to prove it to Mingyu. That he's worth more than what his ex had made it seem, and that he doesn't need to be closed off to the idea of love because someone in the future is going to walk into his life and show him exactly that.
"Why?" He squeezes your hand lightly. "What makes you say that?"
"It's also because of an ex."
It was Junhui. Or rather, what you saw in his future. Two years after the start of your relationship and four after the start of your friendship, you'd trusted him enough to tell him about this little fortune telling party trick, and he'd trusted you to take a look at his future. Maybe that's where things went wrong.
Looking back, you aren't surprised that you saw someone else in his future. They appeared so happy together, he made her laugh, and she seemed to fit in all the ways you didn't. But there was no point in waiting for fate to inevitably bring them together while pulling the two of you apart, so you ran—you didn't want to stick around to find out what would happen.
"Wow." Mingyu blinks at you, seemingly unable to speak after your story. "Do you know if they ever met or got together? Your ex and the person you saw in his future."
You shake your head. "Haven't heard anything about him since we broke up."
"And he's the one who's going to be at this party?"
"Yeah. He's one of Minghao's close friends."
"I'm sorry that happened to you," Mingyu drops his gaze as he gently traces circles into your palm with his thumb. "I see why you don't want to believe in that stuff now. Actually, it's kind of funny how it was this fortune telling thing that screwed both of us over."
"Right? I should get Jeonghan to close the shop and we could open a boba store instead or something." You roll your eyes, chuckling at the thought. "Probably makes better money than this ever will."
"That's not a bad idea." Then he sets his glass down and stands, coming to your side to pull you into a hug. "But Y/N, don't beat yourself up for what happened, okay? You didn't know what you would see, and you have no control over it."
"I guess."
"Besides, I'll be such a good date that you won't even notice him the entire night." Mingyu releases you and steps back, smile turning shy as he holds out a hand. "Shall we?"
"I have to warn you that I'm not great at dancing," you mutter, taking his hand anyway and letting him guide you towards the space in the living room. "Don't hold me accountable for any injuries you might sustain."
When you put your hands on his shoulders, you can feel yourself tense up—your body is awkward, and your arms are too stiff as if not wanting to rest your weight on him. But when you hear a bubble of laughter and see the way Mingyu looks at you so fondly, you feel the same pull as you'd felt at the market. The pull that makes you want to relax and sink into the warmth of his body.
His touch is gentle when he places his hands on your waist, all too carefully and delicately. It makes you wonder if it's even possible that those are the same hands that his ex had willingly let go of, and if those light steps that he takes when swaying to the music are the same footsteps that will walk into the life of the lover in the visions. You wonder if this Mingyu, glancing back at you so tenderly, is the same as the one that will forget about you as soon as this moment is over.
But most of all, you wonder if the you that had originally agreed to do this is the same as the you whose heart beats faster and faster when he meets your gaze now. If the you who only wanted a date, any date for the party, could possibly be the same as the you who now finds yourself wanting to lean into his touch, wanting him to want you.
"You okay?" he murmurs, pulling you out of your thoughts.
"Yeah. Perfect."
Mingyu breaks into a soft smile. "You know, I've always wondered what you keep thinking about. When you get lost in that world in your head, what do you see? What do you dream about?"
"It's different every time." You try to ignore the way your palms feel all too hot against his shoulders. "But these days... it's you."
You don't tell him that it's also getting to know him, falling for him, and imagining how you should be the one doing all those things with him like in the reading. It's picturing a love that flourishes ever so slowly, one that silently rests between the two of you, growing steadily until a day when it becomes the only thing you notice.
And though you leave all that out, your answer seems to be enough for him.
"Me?"
"Yeah," you say softly. "Whatever happened in the past—I really hope it doesn't keep you from experiencing the kind of relationship you deserve. You're not hard to love, Mingyu." Just a brief moment of hesitation before you admit, "Not at all."
Your words feed the twinkle of hope in his eyes as well as the one that seems to have been blossoming in your own heart for a while now. Maybe you can finally admit it; this would be the last time you see him, so maybe it wouldn't matter what happens tonight.
The thoughts swarming your mind are soon forgotten though. Mingyu pulls back slightly to gaze at you with a bright grin that sends your heart back into the frenzy it never recovered from. And a moment later, when his lips are on yours, the dancing, the music, and the entire scene are long forgotten in the background.
This time you let yourself believe that it's real.
You fall deeper into the world where you're the lover from the visions, a world that contains just the two of you. And this time you aren't afraid to kiss him back like you want him because you do. You pull him close until your bodies are inseparable, and you allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth and the burns of his touch. You let yourself want, as your back hits the wall and you're trapped between it and the weight of Mingyu's body pressing against you, and you let yourself take, let your hands trace over the defined lines of his muscles, the smoothness of his skin, and the softness of his hair.
You kiss until you're breathless, until your knees are weak and you're sinking once again. Until his little breaths come out in fuller moans, and hands are wandering into dangerous territory.
"Is this how it happens?" Mingyu whispers, gaze dropping as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. "Is this how we fall for each other?"
No, you immediately think, not at all. The apartment is dim with only the small lamps at the sides of the room and the candles lining the table as the only source of light. The music, despite being slow and romantic, feels much too loud for some reason. It feels forced. And the way you manage to step on his toes on all the wrong beats surely can't be the right path to falling in love.
But maybe you're not afraid to admit it anymore.
"Yeah," you say instead, "it is."
Mingyu eyes snap to yours, and what you find in them makes you want to repeat your answer again and again. You're not sure why he would be hoping for this answer or why he would be satisfied if his own creation were to match perfectly with the one that you'd seen. Even more uncertain is why he would choose that particular set of words to say. But none of it matters when his lips are back on yours, writing an answer of their own.
And for one night, you let yourself be Mingyu's lover from the visions.
One thing becomes painfully clear after that—you cannot be seeing Mingyu ever again. Not even for one last party date.
On the surface, you know that your job is done. You showed him all of the moments that are supposed to happen in his future, and you upheld your end of the deal. But the truth is that every time you were with him, it became difficult to remember that you're not the lover from the reading, and every time you talked to him, you found yourself wanting more and more to be that person.
Your plan to avoid him doesn't go as expected though, for he keeps texting you. He sounds normal, continuing to send memes and share posts like he's been doing for the past while. And when he asks you for a movie date the following weekend, he acts as if the past three meetups were exactly that—dates. It's like it never occurred to him that you were there only to show him how everything happens, and not to actually date him. Though now, you're no longer sure if that's true.
So you say you're busy, you limit your texts to once per day, and you don't pick up when he calls. You follow the textbook formula for ghosting for days to the point where Soonyoung hides your buzzing phone under the couch cushion while spewing threats about throwing it out the window, and even Jeonghan's sighing at you tiredly, telling you to call Mingyu back.
You give in eventually. You call him back and schedule a meetup, and now you find yourself sitting at a cafe with him across from you.
"Hey, thanks for agreeing to meet with me. This won't take long." There is no smile on his face this time, and you realize that it might really be the first time seeing him like this—eyes devoid of emotion, face a neutral mask. It reminds you of the first time you met him at the shop, when he was spiraling into a hopeless void, but perhaps even worse.
You nod slightly in acknowledgement, trying to hide the way your heart sinks at his words. They are something you should be relieved to hear, but you know you're still clinging onto the inkling of hope that you can go back to pretending the two of you mean something to each other.
"Have you been doing okay?"
"Just busy," you repeat the same kind of boring answers from your texts. "You?"
"Yeah," Mingyu says slowly, dragging out the word. Then he takes a deep breath. "Are you avoiding me?"
Yes. "I didn't really see any reason we should stay in touch." A partial lie. It barely makes it out of your mouth.
"Are you for real? Y/N, where is this coming from?"
"I did what I said I'd do." The mask on your face was threatening to crack, especially after seeing the flash of pain in his eyes. "I showed you all of the scenes I saw in the reading. What more is there?"
"I—well, yeah." He frowns. "That might be what we initially agreed, but you can't deny that we had something special. There is no way you didn't feel anything when we were together."
You merely shrug and try your best to harden your eyes instead of giving in to the tears that threaten to spill. Because how can you tell him the truth? How can you give him hope just to crush it with the reality of your doomed fate?
"So—so what, all of it was just pretend? The things you said—you lied, didn't you? When you said I'm not hard to love..." He looks away, biting his lip. "I should've known."
"Hey, no. Everything I said was true, but this has nothing to do with that."
"Did you want to do this at all or were you doing it out of pity? Did you hate every moment of it?"
"Mingyu, stop. Okay, you're right. Let's say I did feel something and that I do like you. But does any of it matter? You're forgetting that I'm not the one in your future. You might not believe in this stuff, but my readings have never been wrong before." You can't do it anymore; it's too hard hiding it. Everything comes tumbling out all at once when he looks so broken. "You're going to meet them someday, and you're going to love them. Whoever they are. It just won't be me."
His jaw goes slack, mouth opening but nothing coming out. It's as if he finally realizes the truth that both of you had forgotten along the way.
"Oh and also," you say, clenching your fists at this final difficult lie you have to tell. "You don't have to hold your end of the agreement. I'm not going to the party anymore."
You know that what you said today would definitely change things since people tend to be averse to anything that goes against what they believe to be their fate. So when you get up from the table and leave, you know that Mingyu won't be chasing after you.
You're right.
Mingyu stops texting you.
It should be a good thing; now you would both return to your normal lives and pretend like this entire thing never happened. But even though you know all this, there is still something weighing you down. It weighs down each step you take, becoming a salient presence that you can't seem to wrap your mind around.
And despite knowing that your relationship with him was only temporary, that you would be no more than a filler until the person in his future arrives, you still look over at your phone in the hopes that maybe the notification would be from Mingyu. You can't help but want him to still want you.
"You're in your head again, you know," Soonyoung jabs you in the arm, dragging you away from the thoughts and back to where you're seated in your living room. "Can't you think more quietly?"
"Can't you shut up for once?"
"See? I told you he was an asshole!" He flicks a piece of popcorn over at you, hitting you perfectly on the head. "I told you that he was all kinds of bad news. Didn't I say you were too nice for your own good? I knew something like this would happen."
"You said," you roll your eyes at him, throwing the piece of popcorn back, "that he might try to kidnap me. And to stop being so nice to hot people—no, I'm not making an exception for you."
"He really said that last part?" Wonwoo asks incredulously.
You nod. Soonyoung shakes his head.
Wonwoo clicks his tongue at his boyfriend and sighs with disbelief. "So about this fate thing. I know you believe you're not the one in Mingyu's future, but do you think a relationship with him is something worth pursuing regardless?"
"Why would it be worth pursuing if I know it'll just end?"
"Well, how do you know that for sure?" Wonwoo puts a hand on your shoulder and pats you comfortingly. He shakes his head a little. "Y/N, maybe you weren't meant to see his partner's face. Look at the rest of us—we don't have your abilities and we all go through it blindly. I started dating Soonyoung because I liked him, and not because I knew that he was the one who would be appearing in my future."
"But—" you start, and then stop. It takes a few replays of his words to let their meaning sink into your head.
"Hey," he continues, "if you think this is something worth going for—and by the way you've been moping around, it sure seems that way—then you should talk to him. See what he thinks."
Maybe Wonwoo is right, and part of you really wants to believe him, but you can't help but think that you should be using the information you have to your advantage. Surely, your ability has to be a blessing at some point, right? Isn't it a good thing to have put an end to your relationship with Mingyu now so that it wouldn't hurt even more later?
"You never know what could happen in the future." It's as if Wonwoo can hear your thoughts. "Maybe the future can change, or maybe the person in the reading really is you. There may be other people who can fit what you saw but that doesn't discount the possibility that it might be you."
"Yeah, yeah. All this talk is nice but that doesn't mean that Mingyu isn't just an asshole who's playing with you," Soonyoung stuffs a handful of popcorn in his boyfriend's mouth and turns to you with a serious look. "You need to think this through, okay? Do you really like him or do you just like the attention he gives you?"
"Y/N can't possibly fall for someone that easily, right?" comes out muffled from where Wonwoo is still trying to chew through the popcorn. He raises a brow at you.
"You'd be surprised." Soonyoung rolls his eyes then turns back to you. "Do you really like him or do you just like kissing him?"
You feel the full force of their scrutiny when Wonwoo also peers closely at you, searching your face for answers. Maybe the heat on your cheeks is enough to provide one.
"Do you really like him, or do you just enjoy fixing broken people?"
"Um—"
"Do you really like him or is he just hot?"
Wonwoo snorts. "By that standard, I'm quite surprised that Y/N never had a crush on you."
"They did—" Soonyoung quickly stops himself, but it's too late. Wonwoo's judging eyes are already on you, making you slowly sink into the couch and hoping you can disappear.
Not going to the party was a lie that you told Mingyu—an excuse so that you would have no reason to ever see him again. However, the problem is that scrapping the agreement hasn't only left you with a broken heart, but it also brought you back to square one: you still do not have a plus one for Minghao's party.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad though, or at least that's what you tell yourself.
From the outside, Minghao's house looks massive. He has fancy lights installed at every corner, lighting up the exterior walls every couple of feet, and giant windows through which you can already see people mingling about. Wonwoo pulls into the driveway slowly and turns back to give you a worried glance just before the three of you step out.
The interior of the house is just as impressive. A chandelier hangs in the front foyer, and symmetric spiral staircases spread off to either side. Minghao stands near the front, a drink in hand, and his shy smile is plastered all over his face as he greets everyone that walks in. He greets you with a hug.
"Congrats on your engagement," you say, taking in his new look while trying not to glance around the room. His hair is a bit longer than what he had back in college, and you don't recall ever seeing him wear anything remotely formal back then.
"Y/N, how long has it been?"
"Considering the last time I saw you was when you were single?" you laugh. "Yeah, it's been a while."
"It's good to see you again," Minghao grins and then goes to peer behind you. "Oh, is your boyfriend here too?"
"Um, he wasn't feeling very well so..." A lame excuse but it's the best you could come up with at the moment. "He couldn't make it."
"That's okay," Minghao's face falls for the briefest second before it lights up again. "Oh, you even brought the Soonyoung? What a rare sight." And then he goes off to wrap Soonyoung and Wonwoo in a big hug before dragging them off into the living room. At least he wouldn't be the one questioning you about your non-existent fake boyfriend tonight, though Minghao isn't who you should be worrying about.
You follow along, sticking to the walls in the hopes you'd be just as invisible as wallpaper. Even without seeing Junhui here, this is what you fear the most—being amongst your college crowd would bring back feelings you haven't touched in years. Feelings that you're not sure you want to ever unpack. But soon it gets a little easier when Minghao pulls you with him to greet everyone around the room, and so you catch up with Vernon and Seungkwan, and then later, you say hi to Chan and Jihoon.
It isn't until you reach the kitchen when you finally spot him. Junhui has his back turned to you, helping with preparations, and beside him, Seokmin greets you silently with a nod as your eyes meet. You smile at him, thankful that he's not alerting everyone of your presence especially when you know just how loud he can be.
Just before you turn to leave and make your escape, you see her. From far away, she's another face in the crowd, though you can feel a spark of familiarity as if you've seen her somewhere before. Perhaps in one of the readings that you've done over the years for clients? You've read somewhere that the brain never forgets faces, after all.
She greets you and then heads over to the kitchen.
"Hey, Junhui, right? It's so nice to finally meet you," she says, holding out a hand. Her voice seems just as familiar as her face, and now you're sure you've seen her before. "I'm Minghao's cousin."
When Junhui takes her hand, she smiles. It's a full smile that reveals her teeth, and her eyes disappear, and—
The drink you're holding falls to the floor.
It all rushes back to you. The reason why she's so familiar is because you've seen her in the scenes of the fateful reading you did years ago. You've seen her on an amusement park ride, with one hand in the air and the other in Junhui's. On a dancefloor at a wedding—that you now assume to be Minghao's—with arms wrapped around him and later, lips against his. And then there was this very moment where their handshake was interrupted by a glass of wine hitting the floor.
This is the moment they would meet. The one that you've been running from all those years ago, the one that would start everything between them.
This is how it happens.
"Are you okay?" She comes rushing to your side without missing a beat, paper towels in her hands. "Be careful of the glass."
You're frozen on the spot, unable to feel bad about dropping the glass and unable to help clean it up. Unable to feel anything except for the one thought that flashes through your mind: you have to get out of there as fast as you can.
Everything is a blur after that. Somehow your feet get moving, slowly at first and then quickly after that, and you hear your name being called a few times as you head to the door, but you don't stop until you're outside and halfway down the steps.
Outside it's quieter and the air is cooler, and it's enough to slow down the thoughts running through your head. You end up sitting on the steps and leaning against the cold metal of the railing in the hopes that it might numb your feelings.
"Y/N? You okay?" a voice mumbles above your ear. It's familiar for a different reason this time, and you look up to see the person you least expected but wanted the most. Mingyu steps out of the house and closes the door behind him, glancing at you with an unreadable expression. You hadn't seen him inside, but he must've arrived sometime after you—too late to be your date, and too early to miss your embarrassing moment.
"Mingyu? Why are you here? I told you I wasn't going to the party."
"I hate to break it to you, but it wasn't exactly a believable lie." He gives a weak smile then sits down beside you on the steps. "I wanted to make sure you'd be okay."
"I really should've stayed home. I knew this would be a bad idea but—" You quickly turn away to get rid of the tear that slips out.
"Hey, Y/N. Talk to me. What's wrong?" Mingyu takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, and then gently moves you until you're leaning against him, buried in the crook of his shoulder. "Was she who you saw in his future?"
"Yeah, but it's—it's not just that. This was the moment that I saw in his reading. This is how they meet."
He tenses slightly. "This was in your reading? That's tough. Y/N, I don't even know what to say. I'm sorry, I should've gotten here earlier to be here with you from the start like we planned."
"It's okay, it's not your fault. But Mingyu, what have I done? I broke up with him thinking that he would leave me for her one day, so I didn't want to find out if and when they would meet." You have to swallow the sob in your throat. "I've always held onto the hope that it would be wrong. But now, I got to witness it anyway, right in front of me."
"Do you regret your decision?"
"No." You shake your head. "Well, I don't know. I'm over him but I just—I hate it so much. I hate feeling like I'm helpless and unable to do anything about fate."
A silence stretches out between the two of you with only the music from the house and the distant rumble of cars filling the night. It hasn't been long since he sat down beside you, but the warmth of his arms around you and the rising and falling of his chest are enough to slowly wipe away the worries from earlier.
"Look, I thought about what you said," Mingyu breaks the silence, pulling away to meet your eyes instead, "and I don't think it changes anything."
You immediately know what he's referring to. "How does it not?"
He takes a deep breath. "You want to know why I don't believe in fortune telling? This is exactly why. I don't like the idea that we are locked into our fates, or that certain things will or won't happen no matter what choices we make."
"What about when you really meet them one day? And inevitably fall for them?"
"I get why you would be afraid of that, Y/N, I really do. But none of that matters. When I say I want to be with you, this is my choice. It doesn't matter who it is that you saw in your reading; I want to choose you and love you on purpose. Not by accident, and not by fate."
You know he's right and Wonwoo was too. This entire time, you've been trying to run away from a fate that you can't escape, and what you saw today only proves that.
But maybe now, it's time to stop running.
"Do you really think that we can change things?"
"We can do anything we want to do." Mingyu nods firmly. Then he takes your hand, squeezing you gently. "But first, let's get out of here?"
"Yeah." You smile for the first time that night and let him lead the way.
A small diner at the corner of the street near your place is what the two of you decide on. When you enter, the first thing you notice is how much it reminds you of the "before" images of that nice restaurant. Half of the diner is dark with the overhead lights flickering once in a while in an attempt to turn on, while the other half is cast in an unpleasant fluorescent light. There are pieces of garbage on the floor that an employee sweeps up as she greets you. In short, the state of it almost makes you want to walk right out.
But instead, you order your food. You sit down at a table towards the darker half of the room as you wait.
Mingyu clears his throat. "You know," he starts, a shy smile on his face, "I can read your palm too."
"What?" That isn't remotely close to anything you might expect him to say. You give him a questioning look as you put your hand on the table, palm up. "Um, sure. Go for it."
He takes your hand and then gently runs his fingers over the lines on your palm, tracing them as he closes his eyes and pretends to envision something the way you do. Soon, your confusion fades into amusement at the effort that he's putting into this. Each of his feather-like touches causes your heart to speed up a little, and you have to try to will your palms not to start sweating because that would not be attractive at all.
"So? What do you see?"
"Shh," he whispers with his eyes firmly shut. "The spirit is still talking."
You use the chance to really glance at him. Not much has changed since the last time you'd seen him, but somehow he looks even better now—perhaps healthier or more radiant, like he's completely healed from the remnants of a broken heart plaguing him before. Maybe even happier. You wonder if what Soonyoung said about you healing broken people is true.
"I saw a lot of things," Mingyu finally says as he opens his eyes, and his lips automatically curl into a smirk when he catches you staring. "First, I saw myself in your future."
"Yeah? What were we doing?"
"We went on a picnic and ended up getting chased by bees," he chuckles. "Then we went to a bookstore but ended up making out between the shelves, but we got kicked out by a tired employee who looked like it wasn't his first time kicking people out for doing that."
You stifle a laugh. "Why does it seem like our dates are always being interrupted?"
"Hmm, there was one where we had some peace, actually. It was when we were skating, and I fell right on my butt. Then you asked if it hurt when I fell for you—well, you tried to say it as a pickup line, but you messed it up." Mingyu pauses for a second, biting his lip like he's almost hesitant. "Instead, you ended up asking me if I've fallen for you."
"And? What did you say?" Your heart speeds up tenfold.
"I said yes, Y/N. I've fallen for you. I think you already knew it by the time I said it, but you just smiled. Then you suddenly fell too, and we laughed about it."
The way he says it with all the confidence in the world tells you that maybe it's okay for you to admit it too, that there's no need to be afraid to confront your feelings like you'd always done before. Now the insecurities that had been plaguing you suddenly fade away, leaving only one thing clear in your head: there would be no more running.
You break into a smile. "Then I said I fell for you too, right?"
"Yeah, you did." It takes a moment for the initial shock on his face to disappear, and when it does, he's smiling so widely that small crinkles appear near his eyes. "And if you want, I can show you how each of these scenes are supposed to happen."
"Okay, sure. Show me."
Mingyu lets out a loud exhale. "That's a relief. For a second I thought you were going to complain about everything the way I did with your reading."
"Hey—see? I'm nicer than you are." You shoot him a glare. "Who even does that?"
"Yeah, I'll admit that wasn't the greatest impression. Maybe we can start over?"
"Well," you pretend to think about it but can't help the smile creeping onto your face. "This is kind of a shitty place for a first date."
"Maybe our first date will be that picnic I saw in my reading then. But without the bees, yeah?"
You nod.
"Oh yeah, have your wounds healed? They didn't leave any scars, did they?" He lifts your hand to examine it carefully before taking your other hand as well, turning both of them over to look for the evidence of your wounds from the fall. Then he simply holds them.
And suddenly, it clicks into place. The small scars you'd seen on the hands in the vision, the dimness of the diner, and the blurred face of the lover. Everything seems to line up so perfectly that it has your head spinning for a moment with deja vu. Had it really been you in the vision?Was the lover not someone with your hairstyle, nor Mingyu's ex, but actually you yourself? And wasn't this moment at the diner—with your hands and the tiny, healing scars on them enveloped by Mingyu's—the first scene in the vision? Maybe this is how it happens. You really hope that this is how it happens.
You don't know whether you should tell him or not, but when you look up and see the small smile dancing on his lips and the sparkle in his eyes, you get the feeling that Mingyu already knows. And whether he's purposely trying to recreate the scene or whether he merely lets it occur, the gesture ignites a sort of warmth in your heart. It fuels the seed of hope that maybe, just maybe, you won't have to say goodbye one day.
It takes a couple of weeks for life to settle down after that. Between working your regular hours at the shop and then coming home to Soonyoung and Wonwoo's invasive questions, you also have to deal with the aftermath of Minghao's party. Which, surprisingly enough, is not as scary as you once might've thought.
Junhui is actually the one who reaches out to you first. He sends a text asking if you're okay after what happened, and you nearly jump at seeing the name flashing across your screen; admittedly, you never did end up deleting his contact info. And with a bit of encouragement from Mingyu, you end up not only texting back but also meeting him for a chat about everything that's happened since college.
He's grown up since you'd last seen him, but otherwise, he's still the same Junhui: quiet, smiley, and laughs easily at the things you say. Most of all, he doesn't resent you for what you did and rather understands. You're not sure if he says this because he's finally met who he's meant to be with, or whether he remembers the scenes at all, but you don't bring it up. You want to save him from going into this new relationship with any expectations, whether that be the failure or the success of it—something you only learned recently. Regardless of what happens, you hope he can be as happy with her as he was in all the scenes of his reading.
The weekend after that, the picnic date that Mingyu jokingly mentioned in his reading finally happens. Well, it's not exactly a picnic date since he switches it up at the last minute and the two of you end up going apple picking instead.
It's a beautiful day—the sun is shining brightly with no clouds to be seen—and it gives you a sense of relief when the past while has been so hectic. Mingyu picks you up at your apartment, and you rush out while ignoring your roommate's terrible advice and continuous questions about what you'd be doing and where you'd be going. Although even after you go downstairs, you're almost sure you can see Soonyoung peering from your seventh-floor balcony; knowing him, he's probably got binoculars out too to watch your every move.
"So what happened to the picnic date that you saw?"
Mingyu shrugs without missing a beat. "The reading changed, and I just went with what I saw."
"Oh, did it?" You give him a questioning look, but he only smiles back at you and doesn't give away any more information.
The drive to the orchard is slow with the busy traffic of the city around you, and you enjoy your time relaxing in your seat and listening to Mingyu talk about his week. He tells you about his new job and moving to new place and says that Seungcheol is a much better manager than his previous. And when he asks about meeting Soonyoung, you're ready to spill all the details about all of your roommate's silly antics—from avoiding baking because he didn't know to use oven mitts when taking things out of the oven, to setting an eight-hour timer every night in place of an alarm. There was also a time when Wonwoo had unknowingly poured salt into Soonyoung's coffee instead of sugar, and being the considerate boyfriend he is, Soonyoung drank it without so much as a grimace.
They are stories that have gotten old to you, yet Mingyu laughs like they're the funniest thing. The way he turns to you at each red light to simply look at you with a smile is enough to have your heart speeding up and your palms sweating. He takes you in like he's committing each moment to memory. Well, at least until the cars behind you start to honk impatiently when the light turns green.
It turns out that Mingyu does that a lot. During your time at the orchard, you could be saying something as you reach up to grab the apples, and he would just be staring at you as he listens intently.
"What?"
A nonchalant shrug. "Just appreciating the view."
"So tell me," you say, glancing at him up and down, "what's supposed to happen here? What did you see?"
"Hmm, we picked two bushels of apples."
"That's it?"
"Yeah," he confirms enthusiastically. "And they got quite heavy to carry."
"Oh."
"Were you expecting something more? Hmm?" A small smirk rests on his lips when he leans in a little closer. He's so close that you have your lips parted and eyes nearly shut, anticipating the feel of his soft lips on yours. But instead, he pulls back with an apple in his hand. "Found a good one right behind your head over there."
You roll your eyes, turning to leave so he doesn't see the embarrassment on your cheeks.
"Hey, I'm kidding. But if you want me to kiss me, you should just say so." He stops you from leaving, and this time he traps you in place with hands on the branches on either side of you. "I'm all yours, Y/N."
Then he finally closes the distance. You expect it to be like the last time, for hands to wander and for lips to consume you, but this time his lips are barely there. It's almost achingly slow the way he kisses you so tenderly, lighter than you thought possible, like a gentle breath against yours with the taste of apples lingering between you. His hands reach up to caress your jaw as if any more pressure would break this fragile moment, and then your senses are overwhelmed by sweetness. The sweetness of apples, the sweetness of Mingyu's lips and the warmth of his mouth, and the sweetness of the sun against your skin and breeze in your hair and voices floating over from a world away.
When you pull apart and open your eyes again, something about this suddenly triggers a memory. You thought the second scene of Mingyu's reading would take place at the market because the faint taste of apples in it reminded you of the cider at the market. But maybe the answer isn't the market at all, and rather an orchard. And maybe it is this particular moment.
Your heart races a little faster at the thought that it really could be it. You really could be Mingyu's lover from the visions.
"Oh, watch out." He steps aside, pulling you with him to avoid a bee flying by.
"Hey—I thought you said no bees?"
That gets you a laugh as Mingyu takes your hand and tugs you along. "Maybe it's good that it interrupted us."
And you simply smile, brushing off your thoughts and letting yourself enjoy the moment.
"I know you said he's hot, but I didn't expect him to actually," Soonyoung gestures, "be hot."
You turn away from the rink to shoot him a glare. "I am offended."
Initially, you thought Mingyu's idea for turning your skating date into a double date would go terribly. How were you supposed to let him meet the two friends who thought he was a creep? Especially Soonyoung—you were sure he'd make some crude comments that might entirely sabotage your budding relationship. But to your surprise, a charming smile and an offer to help lace up their skates is all it took for Mingyu to have them wrapped around his finger.
Pretty privilege, that's exactly what it is.
"Hey! I wasn't sure if you were serious or if you only found him hot because he gave you attention—" The rest of Soonyoung's words get cut off as he goes to dodge your punch. "Anyway, you're treating him well, right? Are you nicer to him than you are to me? Don't hurt him, okay? Don't break his heart."
"I can't believe you," you snort. "Whose side are you on?"
"I'm saying all of this for your sake, Y/N. We can't have you moping around like you did for the past few weeks."
You turn back to the ice and pretend you didn't hear him at all. Should you be laughing or crying in this situation? While you're glad your friends are getting along with Mingyu, it's all too ironic how a pretty face is all it takes for Soonyoung to go back on his words about not being so nice to hot people.
After Mingyu and Wonwoo finish up their laps around the rink, Mingyu comes back to drag you with him this time. You go, albeit reluctantly. The feeling of falling at the park was still too fresh in your mind, and so you skate with one hand in his while the other is grasping at anything to avoid a hard collision with the ice.
"You're not going to fall." Mingyu raises an eyebrow at you, eyes brimming with amusement. "I was only joking about that."
You glance at him warily. "You said that you would."
"Maybe, but only for you."
He smiles, and despite the anxiety that courses through your veins, you find yourself smiling too. Every step you take with Mingyu squeezing your hand reassuringly, you're able to relax like you're basking in the warmth that radiates off of his happiness, and slowly but steadily, the two of you make it safely around the rink without falling.
By the time you stop to take a break, Soonyoung and Wonwoo are nowhere to be seen. You scan the rink, trying to find the familiar faces amongst the larger afternoon crowd now, but your search is unsuccessful. What you find instead, strangely enough, is that people are suddenly gathering around on the opposite side. The rink seems to quiet down with a silence now lingering in the air as if everyone is waiting with bated breath, and in your curiosity, you pull Mingyu over with you to join the crowd.
And that's when you see it: Wonwoo on one knee, Soonyoung covering his mouth in shock, and a ring resting in the box in Wonwoo's hands. The same thin, silver ring that you've familiarized yourself with from seeing it in Soonyoung's future. This must be the exactmoment you saw.
Soonyoung smiles brightly when he gives his answer that you're a little too far to hear, though you don't doubt it's a good one judging by the looks on their faces. The crowd erupts into applause and then Wonwoo is tackled to the ice by Soonyoung enveloping him, and two of them are lost in their own world, too busy to notice anything or anyone else.
"And this is how they fall for each other," Mingyu murmurs into your ear. "Guess my reading was wrong—it wasn't us. It's them."
Once the crowd dissipates, the two of you wait for the newly engaged couple by the bench. Soonyoung flashes the ring on his finger before heading to the snack bar, and while later, Wonwoo joins you with an endearing grin on his face.
"Wow, congrats!" You pull him into a hug as soon as he steps off the ice. "But why didn't you tell us? We could've helped you prepare for it, or we could've taken pictures or something."
"That was..." He lets out a loud exhale. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I was going to do it over dinner—I had one of those private rooms booked out at the restaurant and all. But the ring fell out of my pocket when I fell on the ice, and well. It landed right in front of him. So," he gives a wry smile, "I didn't really have a choice."
Mingyu pats him on the back reassuringly. "Hey, it's about the simple things. Love doesn't always have to be romantic."
You remember him saying these exact words from your first date at the restaurant but hearing them again now makes you wonder if you had it wrong this entire time. Maybe you've been focusing so much on making your reenactments romantic to match the scenes in the visions that you never realized the scenes are meant to happen anywhere. They're meant to happen in between the normalness of everyday life. They're simple acts of love, just as Mingyu always says.
Later when the four of you are sufficiently warmed up with hot drinks and laughter is in the air, you think you have it figured out. Each of these moments can easily be something that you witness in a reading, but maybe the point isn't to go out searching for them or to run away from them. Maybe it's to make choices that will create a future that you want—on purpose, and not by fate.
"What do you think, Y/N?" Mingyu pulls you out of your thoughts, gently wrapping an arm around your waist.
"What?"
"You can come over tonight," he suggests. "Since Soonyoung will be out all night anyway."
"Wait, are you sure? I don't want to intrude or—"
"Yeah, it's fine. Besides, you haven't seen my new place yet."
Your heart gives a loud thud at the thought of being alone with him again, all too reminded of what happened the last time. But you swallow the nerves away, put on a smile, and agree.
The two of you leave the couple to go to their fancy dinner as fiancés, and afterwards, you find your hand in Mingyu's as you head back to his place.
Right when you step into his apartment, you get the strangest thought that you're relievedto see nothing is set up. There are no fancy candles lining the room this time, no vase of beautiful flowers on the table, and no strings of sparkling lights hanging from above. Mingyu's place looks entirely normal, albeit slightly messier than before since it's clear he hasn't fully unpacked yet.
"Don't judge," he says, quickly going to collect the few pieces of clothing left in the living room while avoiding your gaze. "I just moved in recently."
It's a smaller space than his previous apartment, but much nicer—newer looking and without any cracks at the seams like there were in his previous. As if this were a fresh start for a fully healed heart, one that was ready to love again.
Mingyu cooks a nice dinner and as you try to help out in the kitchen, you start to think that you could really get used to this. Watching him add all the different ingredients and seeing the gears turn in his head, and then when you're seated at the table, feeling the smile lingering on your mouth until the last bite of the first proper meal you've had in a while. You think that maybe this is it.
And a while later, you're settled on the couch to watch a movie though it quickly fades into the background when the warmth of his body is pressed against yours. His lips are soft, mouth sweet from the wine, and all around you is the faint smell of oranges from his bodywash and a hint of citrusy detergent from his clothes clinging to your skin.
It has to be past midnight when the movie comes to an end, with the credits slowly fading out. Mingyu gets up to refill your glass of water and you follow him into the kitchen grab a snack when suddenly a blast of music comes from the other side of the wall. It's noticeably loud at first but is soon turned down into a quiet melody in the background.
Mingyu frowns, pausing to listen to the song. "These walls sure are thin, huh. It's generally been pretty quiet around here until now."
"You could probably Shazam their entire playlist like this," you joke. Or, well, maybe it's not so much of a joke when you feel like looking it up yourself because there is something familiar about the song. You can't quite place it, but it's so familiar that it almost bothers you like an itch you can't scratch.
The corner of his lip twitches. "It's okay, maybe they also have something to celebrate."
You're still thinking about why the song sounds so familiar when Mingyu gently takes your hands and guides them to the back of his neck, and then wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. And when you look up, everything clicks. The familiar walls and familiar music, the snacks on the counter, the light scent of oranges from the bodywash, and even the clothes that you're wearing—Mingyu's clothes. This is the final scene you saw in your vision. This is how dancing in the kitchen at midnight is supposed to turn out.
"You're not going to step on my toes again, are you?" Mingyu's eyes twinkle with amusement as he slowly starts to move with the music, dragging you with him.
The two of you step and you sway, and it's not quite to the beat of the song. You do end up stepping on him, your knees bump a few times and your foreheads nearly do too. It's every bit as awkward as the first time you did this, and even more so without the blanket of darkness or the pretense of romance.
And yet, you hear the endless bubbles of laughter coming out of your mouth. You see the sparkles in Mingyu's eyes, the bright smiles like he can't contain his happiness. You feel it in the way you dance together at a rhythm that belongs to no one else but the two of you.
You know it when he leans in, breath but a whisper at your ear as he says, "Thank you for making me believe in love again."
Now you don't have to look into his future to know that all the scenes you'd seen were about you. Now you can picture it—Mingyu looking up from your laced hands on the table and seeing your smile, face no longer out of focus. Pulling away from your kiss in the orchard has you seeing your own gaze, surprised but content. And then there is this very moment when you see yourself in Mingyu's eyes and you just know.
This is how you fall in love.
#mingyu fic#mingyu fluff#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#seventeen fic#svt fic#mingyu x reader#seventeen fluff#mingyu x you#svt fluff#svt scenarios#my fic#anyway hbd to kim mingyu i guess#this wasn't supposed to be his bday fic LMAOO#i planned on finishing the jogging fic that i started on his bday last year#aka my first ever svt fic!!! but alas... it isn't done#i do think this fits him the most out of my 3 versions tho#his positivity and strong beliefs about chasing what makes you happy#and choosing a path that you want#and seeking out new experiences to get him out of his sadness#gahh i'm rambling about kim mingyu once again 🫠
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divergent evolution, a solving counting sheep fic
a.k.a. as a Christmas gift for the inimitable @theminecraftbee, I wrote an ordinary, more canon compliant Watcher Grian meeting Three! This was an idea I've wanted to write for over a year, and I'm delighted that it finally came to fruition :D
———
This is the last season he’s going to spend messing with extradimensional portals, Grian thinks. Grumbot was one thing, and the people from Empires were friends, but a complete stranger turning up out of the blue is something else entirely.
The interloper’s face is entirely obscured by a gaudy harlequin mask, decorated with bright patterns of red and gold. Strangely, the eyes of the mask are filled in with dark fabric, but Grian still gets the sense that he is being intently stared at as he nervously inputs the request for Grumbot to reverse the Rift and send the unwanted guest home.
Grumbot’s digital mustache wiggles, and a note is dispensed.
RIFT INSTABILITY DETECTED. TIME NEEDED TO REPAIR MALFUNCTION: UNKNOWN.
Great. Just what he needs.
“So, er.” Grian does his best to look apologetic. “It seems as though you may be stuck here for a little while until Grumbot gets the Rift sorted. In the meantime—” He gestures idly around the basement lab. “Hello, my name is Grian, and welcome to Hermitcraft?”
It is deeply uncomfortable, not being able to gauge any expression from his guest with the mask in the way. All he gets is a stiff nod and a simple statement of, “Yes. I am familiar.”
Grian raises his eyebrows. “You are? With me or with Hermitcraft?”
The guest takes a long pause, clearly considering the question, before landing on, “Both, though in different ways. I am also from Hermitcraft.”
“Oh, good, more alternate timelines.” Grian sighs and rubs his temples. The existential weirdness of Grumbot Prime’s universe was already bad enough. “Well, do me a favor and don’t tell me about alternate me’s inevitably ominous circumstances; I think I’d rather not know at this point.”
Three stares at him another long moment, then slowly nods. “Yes. Complying.”
———
“Well, this is the base,” Grian says. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”
Three stares down into the gaping hole beyond the birch floor of the entryway, then up into the cavernous space above, where the inner faces of the hollow rocks are dotted messily with torches to prevent mob spawns. “I see your habits regarding interiors appear to have remained consistent,” it notes.
Grian squawks, indignant. “I— okay, nice to know that I’m apparently the same everywhere, but also, hey!”
“It was not intended as judgment,” Three says judgmentally.
“Okay, listen,” Grian explains, doing his best to sound rational and not defensive, “the point of this build isn’t to be livable, it’s just to make a cool set piece! I don’t need a fancy interior when I’m happy keeping my storage and spawn outside.”
This logic does not seem to appease Three. “I do not see why you bother to build a base, if not to live in it.”
“Well, you know.” Grian waves a hand vaguely. “It’s just nice to have a big project going on in the background. Something to flex the building skills! Like I said, it’s mostly about making something that looks cool.”
“And if a day should come that you are no longer here?” Three asks. “If you were to somehow vanish from this world, and the only things left behind in your wake were empty set pieces, containing no traces of who you were, or how you lived. What then?”
And, well. Grian has no idea what to say to that.
He settles for changing the subject. “How about we find you somewhere else to stay?” he says weakly.
“That is probably for the best,” Three says.
Strange that even without visible eyes, the weight of its gaze still feels so heavy.
———
“Here we are,” Grian says as they touch down at their destination. “This is the Empires Christmas Village.”
Grian catches an odd motion ripple over Three’s skin, but it passes too quickly for him to make out any detail. “Are the players of Empires also on this server?” it asks.
“Well, not anymore. We had a crossover event where they came over to visit.” Grian gestures at the houses that ring the snowy basin. “They built this village while they were here, and I figured, hey, since it worked for the last otherworldly visitors...”
He leads them along the path around the Christmas tree, only for Three to come to a sudden stop. Grian follows its gaze to the scene on the hillside above, where various Hermits and Emperors mingle and play in the snow.
“It’s all posable armor stands,” he explains. “Do you have ZombieCleo on your Hermitcraft?”
“I know Cleo, yes,” Three says, “and I recognize their work.” It climbs up the hill towards the statues in the back corner of the scene, where it then crouches down to be level with their miniaturized faces.
Grian follows, bemused. He squints at the statues, trying to look at them with fresh eyes. Joe and Jimmy’s tiny heads are tilted towards each other in a facsimile of conversation, and they share cocoa and cookies with bright, relaxed smiles. It’s cute, Grian thinks, but he can’t see why anyone who already knows Cleo would be so fascinated. Maybe Three is just an armor stand fan?
“She’s very good at what she does,” Grian says, mostly to fill the silence. “It is a bit uncanny though, the way the heads still look exactly like the Players she got them from.”
Three does not look away from Jimmy’s face.
“Uncanny,” it murmurs. “Agreed.”
———
After the initial hiccup of getting it settled, Three proves to be a shockingly elusive guest. Grian does not encounter it again until several days later, when he happens upon it in his basement lab, writing a message for Grumbot Prime.
“Checking on the Rift?” he asks.
Three shakes its head, but otherwise continues to write. “Only initially,” it says. “Now Grumbot is telling me about himself.”
Grian blinks. “Have you not seen Grumbot before? I thought you said you knew me?” His eyes widen as a horrifying scenario dawns on him. “Wait. Do you not have a Mumbo?”
This makes Three fix him with a sharp look. “Of course I have a Mumbo,” it says.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Grian sighs. “But then, if Mumbo and I are both there, how is there not a Grumbot?”
Three’s head tilts curiously. “Is it a given that if you and Mumbo exist together, the two of you will create a child?”
“Well, obviously.”
“I see,” Three says. “Perhaps for the best, then, that you never met. You are a terribly neglectful parent.”
Grian sputters. “I— Look, Grumbot can take care of himself just fine! It’s just, when you make a lovable robot son with your best friend, and then later you get stuck with an alternate version of your robot son who doesn’t like you very much, it doesn’t make for the best conversation!”
Grian catches that strange ripple along Three’s skin again, only now he realizes it’s not skin at all; it’s feathers, bristling and flaring with some unknown agitation.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” it says flatly, and before Grian can respond, it equips its borrowed elytra and rockets off, leaving Grian to blankly stare after it.
“Hang on!” he shouts. “What do you mean, Mumbo and I never met?”
———
“Can I ask you a weird question?” Grian asks.
“Sure,” Mumbo sighs, resigned. “Not like this build was getting done anyway.”
“What would you be doing if we never met?”
Mumbo frowns, considering. “Huh. I guess I’d still be on Hermitcraft, but— gosh. I can’t imagine what it’d be like, not ever knowing you.”
“See, that’s what I thought!” Grian says.
“A lot more productive, I bet.”
Grian laughs. “You know you need me distracting you from time to time.”
“Unfortunately,” Mumbo sighs. “Go on then. Any other existential questions while you’re here?”
Grian fidgets, thinking back on Three’s ominous hints. “If I were to disappear one day,” he asks, awkward and tentative, “what would you remember me by?”
Mumbo raises his eyebrows. “Wow, really pulling out the big guns.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Probably all the trouble you’ve caused, if I’m honest.”
“Hey!” Grian elbows him in the ribs. “I’m being heartfelt and vulnerable here!”
“Ow— No, I’m serious!” Mumbo says. “I mean, when I think ‘Grian’, I remember things like— like chickens in my message system, or breaking Sahara with a potato. All the different tag shenanigans. Your ridiculous death games. The way you’ll have an idea, and then suddenly half the server is having a grand time covering Doc’s perimeter in dirt.” He nods. “Yeah, that’s what I’d remember. You, pulling people together.”
Grian’s chest blooms with warmth. It’s really miraculous, he thinks, the way Mumbo so often melts his doubts away. “Aww!” he croons, dramatically throwing his arms around Mumbo’s waist. “You do like me!”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head.”
(As the conversation shifts to playful banter, Grian feels a prickle on the back of his neck fade, as if a pair of watching eyes chose that moment to look away.)
———
“Alright,” Grian says the next time he encounters Three, “I’ve decided I want to know. What happened to me in your universe?”
He knows enough now to spot the way Three’s feathers shift in response. “Are you certain?” it asks. “It is, as you’ve surmised, not pleasant.”
Grian shrugs. “Better to know than not? Especially if it’s something I can avoid.”
Three shakes its head. “I doubt it will be a concern for you,” it says. “Grumbot tells me you survived your time with the Watchers, and that they are no longer an active threat.”
This draws Grian up short. “How does Grumbot even know about— Right.” He sighs in annoyance. “Omniscient interdimensional hivemind. Just giving out my backstory to total strangers. Great.” He rubs his temples. Even now that he’s reached a sort of tentative peace with them, the Watchers still aren’t his favorite subject in the world. He much prefers to ignore them whenever possible.
“So,” he says, “I suppose that means in your universe they killed me instead of just, er.” He fidgets awkwardly with the hem of his sweater. “Taking me in and changing me, I guess? Is that it?”
Three visibly hesitates. “Yes,” it says slowly, “and no.” It squares its shoulders. “Perhaps it will be simpler to show you.”
And then it removes its mask.
Grian’s jaw slackens in shock. The hair is longer, the feathers that mimic skin are paler, and the eyes are squeezed firmly shut, but—
“You’re...me?” he stammers out. “I— How are you me?”
He sees Three’s mouth twist in a grimace before the mask is quickly replaced. “If I have learned anything from my time in this universe,” it says, “it is that I most definitively am not.”
Grian’s stomach feels cold. He swallows. “Explain.”
And Three does.
———
Grian feels himself trembling.
“After I left the Watchers,” he says, “I had to try very hard to remember that just because they changed me, it didn’t make me a different person. Even now, some days I forget.” He clenches his shaking hands into fists. “And you’re telling me there’s a world out there where I’m perfectly happy not being me at all?”
Three’s feathers flare. “I am not you,” it insists. “I had to try very hard to learn to become a person who was myself, and then had to try very hard again to remain that person, even when others wanted me to be you. Even now, when I sometimes suspect they would still prefer I was you.”
“Are you sure you’re not?” Grian asks, desperate. “I’m not in there at all?”
“I have been told we share similarities,” Three says, “but, meeting you, I have observed far more differences. You lack the commitment to complete projects—”
Grian sputters. “Hey!”
“—you avoid responsibility whenever possible—”
“Okay, that’s just—”
“—and, you have the ability to move people, in a way that I cannot fathom,” Three says. “I am glad that a world exists in which you are alive, and where your friends do not have to miss you. I understand more, now, why they would. But I am more certain than ever that I am not you, and that I do not want to be.”
Grian can almost envision his own face behind Three’s mask, and the resolute expression he would be wearing in its place.
He takes a shaky breath.
“It’s a bit unfair,” he says. “You spent this whole time learning things about me, while I know almost nothing about you.” He smiles tentatively. “Tell me about yourself?”
Three’s shoulders relax. “What would you like to know?”
———
The next day, the Rift reopens.
“Sure you don’t want to stay longer?” Grian jokes weakly. “You could build the interior to my base.”
Even with the mask, the look Three gives him feels scathing. “Far be it for me to diminish your lack of hard work,” it says.
“Ouch!” Grian laughs. “Probably for the best anyway. I, ah, imagine it’s probably been weird for you, being here, and you’ll want to be getting home.”
Three takes a moment to dutifully deposit all of its borrowed and scavenged items into an empty shulker box. Only when it’s done does it look up at Grian to respond.
“It was good,” it says, “to meet you. I had thought before, based on the way others remembered you, that I might have liked to be your friend. You are not quite what I expected, but I am glad, I think, to have had the chance to learn that.”
Grian’s smile wavers.
He considers being honest, considers saying, I can’t begrudge you who you’ve chosen to be, but all I can think about when I see you is the idea of being hollowed out so thoroughly that irrevocably that the only thing that’s left is a stranger walking around in my skin. You’re my worst case scenario, you’re everything I was scared I might become, and now I have to live with the knowledge that somewhere out there, in some other world, you’re real, and I don’t know what to do about that except add it to the list of things that keep me up at night.
Instead, he nods and says, “It was good to meet you too.”
If Three picks up on the lie, it says nothing; it merely inclines its head in a nod, steps through the Rift, and is gone.
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Sweet Dreams, Stardust
Okay, so I have a lot of feelings about In Stars and Time. But let me say first, wow, this game irreversibly changed my brain network. For anyone who is considering buying this game, please do. I don't think I've had a story touch my heart and mind like this for a long time. And that goes without mentioning the stunning visuals and entertaining battle system. (Be careful, though, because this game handles heavy topics regarding mental health)
If you're still hung up on buying it but are curious, there is a free demo on Steam if you like to try.
Thank you, @insertdisc5, for this gem of a game. I will be turning it around in my head like a microwaveable gourmet meal for months to come.
Technically the illustration has no spoilers (unless you count Siffrin having a good nap as a spoiler). But I will be going into heavy spoiler territory under the keep reading since I need to get my thoughts on this game off my chest.
And a monochrome version because you know me, I can't help myself. Even in black and white art pieces, I will put in some colour.
And a very tiny Loop
Initially, I was going to do a piece with a theatre stage and the cast (Siffrin, Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie and the head house maiden) taking a bow and finally leaving the spectacle to a life not controlled by a script and Wish Craft. But it was more fitting to put my feelings into creating a peaceful scene. Like, oof, I needed this very badly. I used sepia to make the painting warmer and added some more details like headcanons. The stars/colours might be remnants of Siffrin's transformation. Or maybe they were always there, but he never paid attention to it. Who knows.
I'm going to keep this brief. Otherwise, this post will take way too long.
I adore Siff's character. It's perfect for a game and narrative such as this. I saw a post not long ago on Tumblr going into depth about how their role as the rogue and not the hero works so well, so I won't linger on it for long. But how they would rather listen and fade into the background perfectly aligns with the player's experience of being the silent observer. (And the nodding off that changes into zoning out. It took me way too long to realise that small but essential narrative change) Oh, and the portrait change! It flew over my head until I was staring at the game menu. I was so confident Siffrin had a mischievous grin and not a frown. I always feel slightly surprised when the party asks for Siff's opinion or mentions that they have been too quiet. I felt Siffrin's excitement like my own when he got excited at finding clues to end the nightmare they were in. So I knew it would end up falling on their face because they were too excited. I just had this bad gut feeling the whole time during Act 4.
And oh boy, speaking off acts. I thought it would have been the standard 3. Boy, I was wrong. Whenever I felt I was nearing the end, I was thrown back at the start with more mysteries than answers. It made exploring the game intriguing since there is almost no information about it online (at the time of writing this post). There is the Discord, but I didn't know about it until I finished it.
This game has a lot of secrets, and I had a lot of fun uncovering them. The looping mechanic works so well in discovering little details and further leads. (even though my stubborn arse kept trying to do everything in the least amount of loops as possible. I thought the ending would be different if I exceeded a 100. My final number is 59. I am still not sure if I should be mad about it not being a rounded number like 60 or that I went over the 50 threshold)
However, it is a good thing that only some mysteries were solved. Like, what's up with colours in this world? Everyone sees in black and white, and the idea of shades and colours is only spoken of in scientific studies. They do exist and are not a part of the disaster that happened to Siffrin and their land. But there is definitely something mysterious about it. I adore how the dialogue reflects this, as the characters do not speak of shades or colours. Isabeau expresses surprise to see a streak of red colouring the sky in Act 6. It makes you think about how colour is perceived and how you describe it. (The lore inside this game is immaculate. I eat this shit up)
We never find out the name of the country north of Vanguard or what it was like. We can only infer that the beaches had black sand, with shells that shine like stars, high-reaching mountains, forests and plains. Which is vague and yet intriguing enough to make you wonder. It connected me to Siff and King because I also wanted to know. I was desperate to know. I needed to know. But in the end, we never will know because that is not the story's point. Siffrin even says in the game, that King should let go because he is hurting everyone and everything, including himself, in his desperation to preserve Vanguard. This is all the more ironic when Siff accidentally does the same with his family and the loops. I might gush more about what the country might be like and their technology in another post. This game makes me want to theorise. This is the first time I've wanted to write and post theories. ISAT fucked me up good.
Which, by the way, was genius. Siffrin and King are mirrors of each other. Siff does not have King's disastrous ambition, but their love/obsession will be the downfall of both of them. They have more than being each other's countrymen in common, and I imagine Siff despises that.
I love the fact King's question to Siffrin before the showdown was/could never be answered. Usually, in a game such as this, you must figure out how to solve everything, especially for the big bad. But that was never the goal. King is a delusional monster who will not stop before achieving his dream. He will raze everything to the ground and hurt many people because he must succeed. It is what he desires. Nay, the universe wills it. What a witless excuse that can easily be made into someone's truth. Especially to somebody who is driven mad with grief.
How King's character's done is so excellent. Because, at first, I wasn't scared of him at all. He was just the big bad, and I felt nothing much but the glory of victory when Siffrin outsmarted him by looping and making sure Mirabelle learned the shield spell that would protect the party from freezing in time. But each time you fight him, you get more frustrated until Siff figures that talking to him might be fruitful. It does, but unfortunately, you and Siffrin leave yourself emotionally and mentally vulnerable. King stops being a one-dimensional villain and changes into an actual person. Someone you can sympathise with and possibly mend peace with without fighting. You and Siffrin opened his heart for a kindred spirit and got hurt.
King stopped being a monster and became human. And while monsters are wretched, humans have intent behind their cruelty. I felt so betrayed, so angry, but most of all - terrified. I felt it when Siffrin spiralled when fighting King again after their actions caused such a catastrophic turn of events for Bonnie. Every time after that, the fight with King felt tense and nerve-wracking in a dreadful way. Because even victory could not soothe the dread I felt. (The track 'It's finally over" will forever haunt me. I already feel anxious whenever it cycles to that when I listen to the playlist)
He was not, however, the final villain, even though everything that happened was King's fault. You were always your greatest enemy (or Siffrin in this case, since you are supposed to be Siffrin). I never could have guessed that the whole reason why Siffrin could not escape the loops was because Siff accidentally wished to never let go of their friends. This reminds me of Modaka Magica, where (spoilers for the OG anime) Homura goes back in time so much that the universe ties itself around Modoka, making her a waiting egg whose wish and magic will be massive when she becomes a magical girl. The one thing Homura was trying to prevent.
(Siffrin and Homura are identical in that sense. Shy characters who are loyal to a fault but are rendered into something cold, bitter and cutting by their traumatic experiences. Only Siff has people who care about them and would do anything to save him, too, whereas Homura never lets go, making the world a worse place to live in. Yes, I did go into doomed Yuri. That anime lived in my mind rent-free in my mind for years)
The Head House-maiden not being the villain was also a great touch. I am used to the apparent antagonist turning out not to be the big bad and the trusted, friendly character ending up being the evil one. Twist villains no longer work when everyone expects them to be villains.
That was my biggest theory as I played. The second biggest being that Loop is someone who enjoys Siffrin's suffering. I am so glad that was also not the case. They are apathetic but not cruel. Never intentionally, anyway. They were like the player, urging Siffrin to go deeper into the mystery to solve it. Ultimately, I chose and made cold and cruel decisions simply because I wanted to see what would happen. So yeah, I warmed up to this cosmic star thing as the game went on and even started trusting them. Act 5 really is a punch in the gut. I am so sorry, Loop. Thank you for coming through in the end.
Oh man, this is so long, and I haven't even gone into the main cast. I will leave that for another post. They are such great characters, as are the people of Dormant and the House. (Don't think I don't see the wordplay in this game. Very clever)
Going into this game completely blind was the best experience I could have had. I felt anxious, happy and scared so severely that my neurons were rearranged. I don't know if there are more endings (aside from the obvious action of attacking Odile in the True(?) ending of the game), but I am taking a break from it to make art and write for this game before I dive back into despair-o-land.
Anywho, thank you for coming this far and reading my ramblings. Have a fantastic day or evening further! o(*'▽`*)ブ
#in stars and time#isat#siffrin#isat siffrin#isat isabeau#isabeau#isat odile#odile#mirabelle#isat mirabelle#Bonnie#isat bonnie#isat loop#I love this game so much#and the charachters#I want to do an essay on their designs#and even some theory posts#I never had this happen before to me#long post#nothing to see here but me singing praises for this lovely game#isat spoilers#you're safe though as long as you do not go under keep reading#do Siffrin and Isabeau have a shipname yet because there is little of it in the drawing#Siffrin x Isabeau#heh fuck it#isat fanart#my art
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Sugar || 1
Masterlist || Part Two
Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader
Word count: 1.9k
Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.
Author's note: hello and welcome to the most unoriginal title ever. this was originally intended to be a oneshot, but just as I was about to finish what ended up being this first part, I realized that would be impossible (unless I wanted an insanely long oneshot, which i did not). to be honest, i don't have a real plan for this series. i don't expect it to be very long, and there may be some Marc/Reader in the future, but for now, this is just about our boy Steven.
Series note: Set before the events of the Moon Knight series. I haven't decided yet if this is going to be following canon in regards to the powers/Avatar aspect but I'll let you know whenever I decide. Steven is still an alter, Marc still has DID, and assume Marc and Jake are around and know what Steven is getting up to.
It’s not like you were looking for someone when you visited the museum that day. Typically, when you do look for a new baby, you go through the regular channels. Word of mouth, the specific sites—the free ones and the paid ones. You’ve never just seen someone out in the world and thought Them.
It just wasn’t something that was done. It wasn’t something that you do. There’s no way to vet someone you met in person, and you don’t conveniently have all their personal details laid out in a neat format sent directly to you with the results of their background check.
You always thought picking someone you met randomly was a bad idea despite the fact that you haven’t exactly heard horror stories from others in these circles. You suppose it comes to the arrangement being based on trust. And you don’t exactly trust most people.
That is until you laid eyes on Steven, the slightly mousy yet also impertinent gift shop clerk.
You walked into the gift shop looking for a bottle of water. You had spent the last couple of hours wandering the Ancient Egyptian exhibit and needed a break before walking through the rest of the exhibits on display. You don’t know when you’ll next make it to the National Art Gallery, so you figured you’d make a day of it since you didn’t have any meetings to attend or calls to make.
You aren’t exactly impressed with the man when you first walk in. In an attempt to help another customer, he bumped into one of the displays and knocked down some of the figurines, smashing them on the floor.
“I’m so sorry!” he says, falling to his knees to start cleaning up his mess while the woman he was speaking to takes her child by the arm and steps away. But then he seems to change his mind and stands again. Looking over the display, he grabs one of the surviving figurines. “Here, this one’s perfectly fine.”
“That’s okay. I think he changed his mind,” the woman says, gesturing to her son. She then quickly leaves the shop without buying anything.
The man sighs, his shoulders dropping as he sets the figurine down and mutters himself. He then walks away from the mess on the floor to the back room.
When he’s out of sight, you step up to the display. Broken pieces of several figurines depicting a bird of some sort stare up at you helplessly.
You pick up one that appears intact, examining it. Although you just came from the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, you can’t tell which god the white plaster bird is meant to be. To you, it’s simply a bird of prey; its sharp beak and talons give it away, but it lacks any particular godly features.
Finding no fault other than that it’s a rather generic figurine, you set it back on the display with the other surviving merchandise. You’re about to pick up another from the floor, hoping to make the clerk’s job a little easier, when a voice stops you.
“Oh, no, you don’t need to do that.” It’s the clerk, having returned with a broom and dustpan in hand without you noticing.
“Thought you could use a hand, is all,” you say, smiling at him as you step away from the pile of broken figurines.
The man stares at you for a moment, frozen, giving you time to study him.
Curly hair falling over his forehead, large, dark eyes, clean-shaven, and baggy clothes that don’t quite fit him properly.
Your eyes catch his name tag.
Steven.
All of a sudden, the man—Steven seems to flinch. You see a slight flush to his cheeks before he tilts his head down, hiding his face from view.
“Sorry,” he says as he starts to sweep up bits of several birds, though you’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. “Let me just clean this up, and I’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you,” you say as you wander away to look at the other souvenirs on display. You keep glancing at Steven, though, finding your interest piqued by him.
“Make a mess again, Stevie?” a woman calls as she walks into the shop.
“You know that’s not my name, Donna,” he says as the woman walks past him into the back room. He follows, though he doesn’t look happy about it.
Steven comes back quickly, now missing the broom and dustpan, and when he spots you, the tension drains out of him, if only slightly.
“Sorry about that. Do you need help with anything?” He steps close to you, though still far enough away to maintain a respectful distance.
You just need your water, and you’ll be back out in the museum in no time. With your tight schedule, you shouldn’t waste a minute if you want to actually enjoy all the exhibits. But something in you, something about Steven, makes you stay.
“Actually, I wanted to ask,” you start as you lead Steven back to the display of figurines. “Who is this even supposed to be? It doesn’t look like one of the gods.” You point to the birds he knocked down.
“Horus, if you can believe it.” He scoffs as if personally offended. “Honestly, I wouldn’t look for anything in this shop to be all that accurate,” he whispers conspiratorially.
“The gift shop in a popular museum can’t even be bothered to pay for accuracy?” you ask, even though you’re not surprised. The best way for businesses to make quick profit is to sell cheap products for far more than they’re worth.
Steven steps closer, keeping his voice low, not wanting to be overheard.
“My manager, Donna.” He gestures toward the backroom with a jerk of his head. “She’s in charge of ordering everything. When I saw she had picked out these, I tried telling her how inaccurate they were, that nobody would know who it was and have no reason to buy them. All she said was, ‘Nobody’s going to care, Stevie.’” He raises the pitch of his voice, a mocking impression of the woman in the other room.
“But you care.” It’s easy to see how much he does. Not everyone would get so worked up over an overpriced souvenir at a museum gift shop.
“Of course I do!” Steven says emphatically. “It’s why I work here. Well, not here here. Can’t say the gift shop is my favorite, but the museum—” He suddenly stops, cutting himself off as he stares at you.
You would think you’ve done something wrong, except all you’ve done is smile at him, the expression still on your face even now. Then you notice Steven is flushed again, and you can’t help but be pleased at the sight.
“Sorry, I’m just talking your ear off. You should have stopped me,” Steven says with an awkward laugh.
“I don’t mind listening to you speak.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Usually, you’re in better control of yourself, your words. You have to be.
Thankfully, Steven doesn’t find your honesty off-putting as some others have. He laughs again, this time with disbelief and a smile playing on his lips.
“You’re just saying that,” he says.
“You’re getting paid to sell things, Stevie, not to stand around flapping your lips,” Donna says as she walks out of the backroom, a box of merchandise in her arms to restock one of the shelves lining the walls.
“But I am getting paid to be nice to the customers, yeah?” Steven replies. Donna only rolls her eyes, a look he copies when she turns in the other direction.
You like seeing that he isn’t cowed by his frankly rude manager, even if he can’t exactly square up to her, not without likely risking his job.
What’s he like outside the gift shop when he doesn’t have to hold back? When he can say what he wants without being afraid of offending someone?
You push the thought away. You shouldn’t be thinking like that. Thoughts along those lines should be reserved for people you’ve properly vetted.
“Sorry about her. She’s…” Steven whispers, trailing off when he can’t find anything charitable to say.
“A bitch?” you supply. You don’t have to worry about offending Donna.
“Keep your voice down!” he half-heartedly scolds, placing a hand on your arm as he tries to suppress a grin. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I’d rather not get caught, thank you.”
You’re about to say something else when Steven’s face falls, horror replacing the glee. He quickly snatches his hand away, stepping back as he realizes how close he is to you.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He gestures to your arm but quickly drops his hand as if afraid he’ll touch you again.
“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I didn’t mind.” You would have minded if it had been any other man, but Steven…
Stop it.
“You’re sure?” he asks tentatively, looking like a puppy about to be told he’s a good boy, eyes lit up hopefully.
You can feel yourself starting to burn with an overwhelming want.
“Absolutely,” you say, and Steven sighs in palpable relief.
“Oh, good. Still sorry, though. For not thinking and all.”
And though you tried to deny it, you can’t stop thinking that Steven…could be fun. Something alights in you the more you look at him. The different sides you’ve already seen. His helpfulness, his genuine interest, and knowledge about the place he works. The roll of his eyes and complaints about a manager. A man who’ll snark back, but only just enough to keep from getting into trouble. How he spoke to you as if you were friends before the slight mortification hit, and he realized the two of you are nothing but strangers.
You recognize something in him, and it makes you want him. Want to lavish him with affection and praise and gifts. Want him to give that same affection back to you. You want him on your arm. You want to play with him, see what makes him tick.
You want to give him all you’ve never had.
You shouldn’t think about him like this, not when you don’t know anything about him.
But you know enough. Enough to intrigue you. And he intrigues you more than any of the others you’ve been with. None of them have sparked this deep desire, not so instantaneously, not until they worked out exactly what you wanted and played that role. They weren’t like this naturally.
They weren’t like you.
But it has to be a no. You can’t. You have rules.
And yet…
You glance at your watch, the thin band flashing gold on your wrist, the crystal face sparkling up at you in the light.
“I have to get going,” you say regretfully, and Steven looks slightly disappointed. You want to keep talking to him and wipe that look from his face. You have to force yourself to take a step back.
“But I’ll see you around, Stevie.” You’re practically possessed as the nickname rolls from your lips, even though you know, based on his interaction with Donna, that he doesn’t like it.
You just need to see that fire. Need to know what it’s like when it’s directed at you.
“It’s Steven, actually,” he corrects with a slight annoyance that he tries to cover with a smile. He even taps his name tag a little more forcefully than he needs to, as if to make sure you get the point. He may like you well enough to have a chat, but he won’t put up with things that displease him, either.
Oh, he will be so much fun.
You try to smile sweetly at him, but it feels more like a predatory grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. See you around, Steven.”
#moon knight x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#moon knight fanfic#x reader#sugar series
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A manswear blogger in twitter is talking about seat and bust adjustments in clothing. I can't stop but think about a stucky tailor shop au where Steve goes to get his trousers and jackets adjusted and getting all flustered. I mean Buck doesn't need even be the tailor. He can be a shop sitting friendly neighbour or smtn
spiritually, this ask feels connected to this gorgeous piece of fanart
and while we're here, on the topic, this art too 👀
Oh my god
Oh. my. god.
I can see this so well in my mind, and goddamn, this is such a good idea, too! We've all seen Steve Rogers--and Chris Evans by proxy--and we all fucking know he needs clothes to be custom fitted, so, of course, Bucky would have to step in. It's only fitting.
Every universe, they find each other and take care.
Why wouldn't tailor Bucky make sure Captain America Steve is well-fitted, thus, well taken care of?
I imagine that the whole situation would spring out of the teasing relationship that exists between Natasha and Steve. The first person to ask Steve if he knows how to dress himself is Nat--she asks if he wants some tips to blend in to the background, as she's become so adept to, yet allowing him to choose his own clothes rather than being chosen for him. She cracks a smile when suggesting he stay out of the sizes he used to wear or don't, that's pretty fitting for the modern century, too. Natasha will readily workout with Steve; the contrast in their focus while fighting makes it actually challenging, besides, it's refreshing, too, to have someone look at her and not underestimate her based on her size. It's during those workouts where Natasha suggests, teasing while blowing a sweaty tendril of hair out of her face noisily, multi-tasking as always, that they get matching sports bras. Before he's used to the comments, Steve sputters, but eventually, he laughs them off--he's still working on controlling his blush, though.
He doesn't... it's not, they're not... no.
He doesn't need a bra. It's not like it's uncomfortable. Natasha asks if he's sure it's not uncomfortable once, still grinning like a shark, pleased with their dynamic--her teasing and his batting back once he has his feet underneath himself--because she knows how tight clothes get. Then, Nat tugs at the collar of his clinging shirt, "I don't dress in clothes that tight unless it's for a special occasion."
"Oh, special?" Steve raises an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah," she responds, her mouth twisted, "like when I'm bagging targets."
"Lucky them," he huffs out a laugh.
She's already distracted by the opening their conversation has given her, still sparring, "mmm-hmm."
Commets and jests aside, Steve doesn't stop dressing himself in such tight clothes. Maybe Natasha's clothes or women's clothes generally are built differently, but Steve doesn't find it uncomfortable. Not within himself. Sometimes, he gets stares that drag on too long, sending a weird feeling through his tummy, maybe more than discomfort, but he rationalizes that it's sooner the onlookers recognition of Captain America walking the streets and less barely-restrained-attraction.
Still.
Steve's wordrobe full of tight clothes doesn't change, everything off-the-rack *tries very hard not to make a joke about Steve's rack* until Natasha corners him after another gala, doing her version of begging to just get some clothes that fucking fit.
Basically, she stares him down until he folds like a house of cards. Rolling his eyes but snatching the business card, she's pointing at him like a gun out of her hands and promising he'll make an appointment for himself.
If he doesn't appoint himself, Natasha will, and she'll go with him, and she will list off each and every painful detail in plain clarity to the tailor with Steve there, in the room, standing on that little pedestal under lights and in front of full mirrors, to blush up a storm...
The strain of his shirts across his shoulders, thinning the fabric to near transparency. The screaming of the seams of his underarms, suffering from his biceps. His boob gaps with those little diamonds of pale skin or undershirt showing through that just don't go away, he can't escape them, his chest is just too big. The atrocious extra, wrinkling, loose fabric of his shirts where they bunch up around his ballerina waist, never concealed no matter how desperately he tries to stuff the extra fabric into his jeans, belted tightly. His belts! He can't ever seem to find belts that don't have all this extra length to them, his waist with just the opposite problems to his shoulders, chest, and arms. The line of his lower body always seems to be a little cut off, his pants understandably too short when facing up to those mile long legs. His ass doesn't fit in his too short pants, nor do his thighs! That has to change.
He needs some change.
He looks fucking great, he does, Natasha is not challenged by other people's interest in Steve when matchmaking, she is challenged by Steve's interest in others and she... she would just like to see some confidence in her friend. The easiest, fastest way to feeling like a whole new human, she knows, is fashion.
So...
A tailor.
Steve is going to see a tailor.
One highly recommended and researched by Natasha. Apparently, according to his website (which Steve gets from his card), this tailor normally works with women and women's garments but isn't above making exceptions.
Steve doesn't want to be a bother, but... Nat assures him that he'll be fine. He's curvy enough, more than. This is all out of the goodness of her heart, after all. She just can't stand to see the pain his clothes are in! And if he won't be set up with a nice girl, boy, or whoever for an off-the-books encounter, then she damn will set him up with a professional. Not that kind. Not yet? Who's to say what she'll get Steve into...
Despite how having Natasha with him would help ease his anxieties (and hurt, just mildly hurt, because he would like to retain some of his dignity if possible, thank you very much, Nat, if she were here, he would stick his tongue out at her), Steve makes his appointment and attends it alone.
Alone with this fucking tailor.
This tailor that looks like he might as well have been made by a fucking sculptor. He makes art through fashion but, Jesus Christ, he is also art. When Steve first meets him--led to the back of a warm, pleasantly-cramped storefront by a welcoming, peppy assistent--he is struck dumb by the tailors beauty. He fumbles his words when reaching for a handshake. As it turns out, he doesn't need Natasha here to embarrass himself. Great!
This guy.
His face.
Pale gold skin with bone structure that will actually haunt Steve until he etches it onto paper. Eyes the most entrancing color--blue, grey, nearly silver. Lips pink and soft-looking, shadowed by a beard trimmed down to the prettiest stubble. The bridge of his nose looks like a statue smoothed by one of the ancient masters. And shiny, wavy hair styled into something that's half collected behind his head in a knot and half falling effortlessly over his shoulders. He looks every bit put together, his hair done, his face shimmering with what might be subtle makeup, but if it's not, then he's just the worst kind of perfect human being, his clothes immaculate, fitted ideally, accessorized beautifuly, and--
The way he talks. He's so confident and in his element, but so nice too. Sweet and caring.
The way he looks at Steve, like he's a person, like he's interesting, listening, but also calculating, already planning what he can do for him, how he can flatter him, how, how, how--
That's the fucking question.
How is this guy real?
He wants to hear what Steve has come in for, but based on how he nods along, he doesn't need Steve to say any of it. He already knows. He's that damn good.
After Steve's done, his unsure words stalling out in a stutter, Bucky jumps in immediately, rattling off tailor jargon for what he can do for him. Bust adjustments for the gaps in his buttoned shirts. Underarm adjustments to help his arms fit better in his shirts. Other seam stretching when it can be done to try and fit his arms more, too. Seat adjustments for all his pants from casual jeans to formal slacks. Waist suppression on all his shirts, suit jackets, and maybe even a few of his less formal jackets. Letting out hems on the pants that can be saved. Forming new, custom patterns for all of the above where the existing clothes Steve already has just can't be altered to the extent they're looking for.
And...
After they get to know each other, after Steve comes back again and again, bringing armfuls of clothes with him each time, plus slowly taking more clothes from Bucky's place of work, too, new custom clothes that fit impressively perfectly, Bucky notices something else that should be altered in Steve's wardrobe.
Steve becomes Bucky's most regular client. It seems like they don't go a week, at most, without seeing each other. So, it's natural that Bucky would begin to notice things about Steve. Habits. Bucky is a damn good tailor, and he's learned to pick up on body language to know when a client is having issues that they might not even be aware of. Steve has a habit of--when he thinks no one is looking as he sits waiting for Bucky to be ready for him--of adjusting himself. Sure, whatever, your dick and balls get bunched up in your underwear and pants sometimes. It's normal. It happens. And you gotta do what you gotta do when your dick isn't happy. Normally, Bucky wouldn't think twice about it. But...
Steve does it a lot.
Now, Bucky has a very good spatial memory. A memory that's aided by plenty of opportunities to be close to Steve's body with a fair number of those opportunities being at Steve's feet. Measuring the inseams of his pants, shorts, or what have you, hemming or unhemming his pants, finding the circumference of his muscular thighs, adjusting the fit of the seat of his pants, all very professional. Steve likes to talk, though, so a lot of the time Bucky is down there, and he's looking up at Steve and...
He's just a man.
Just a weak man with the most attractive man he's ever fucking seen in his whole life on his step riser, calling his eyes up, past the crotch of his pants... sometimes he looks. He tries not to. But. He has. He does.
And when he connects how often he catches Steve adjusting himself to how much time he's spent forming a spacial awareness of Steve's body, Bucky knows what adjustment needs to be made to his clothes that they have yet to tackle. Steve, sweet guy, must be too shy to bring it forward. It's perhaps similar to saying, hey, none of my pants fit because my ass is superhuman-ly pert and round and you could bounce quarters off of it, but at the same time, it is much more... intimate... to say, hey, my dick doesn't fit in my pants, either. Could we do something about that, maybe?
Bucky shivers, trying not to think about why and failing miserably... is it too long? Too thick? Both? God, his balls probably don't help, do they? Bucky might be weak at the knees, thinking of his whole package, but especially heavy, heavy balls, fuck, what he wouldn't give to get on his knees and rub his face against them, all that musky vitality, such a big boy, and--
Bucky is so unprofessional.
Jesus Christ.
What is wrong with him?
Steve just needs a gusset! He's done that a million times without fantasizing about his clients' bodies. It's just different now. Why now?! Bucky knows why...
Ughhh.
It's fucking different because Steve is so nice, so shy yet, so witty and sassy when he wants to be, he smells so good, and his hands are delightfully warm when Bucky accidentally missteps and almost falls, but no matter, Steve's lightning fast reflexes will always be there to catch him. It's different because Bucky has a big, fat crush on the one, the only Captain America back from the dead, who's bursting out of all his clothes with his stupid, perfect sculpted body, always obscene no matter what Bucky puts him in, loose or tight clothing. Always genuine, no matter what Bucky throws at him, even if he does get a little embarrassed.
Guh.
Bucky is so fucked.
Steve is so fucked, too, matching Bucky's idioticness. Steve's head is so full of Bucky that he can't think of anything else. Anyone else. He scrounges up every piece of stupid clothing he has to be altered, just as an excuse to be around Bucky. He sweats through his shirts, peering down at Bucky from his place on that little step-stool, riser-thing, whatever fancy name Bucky had for it, and tries not to think about the position out of context. And, worst of all, he has to fight for his life to block out the sense memory of Bucky's hands on his body through his clothes when he's alone and drifting. He can't think about his tailor when he's jerking off, he just can't! That's so bad!
Steve is so fucked.
...if only they could figure out some other way of being fucked. Together.
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