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roosterforme · 6 days ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 32 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're struggling through your pregnancy, trying to stay calm as your worries about Bradley grow as quickly as the baby. Bradley wants to put his best foot forward at work, making himself available for office hours, but maybe he's made himself too accessible.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, smut, pregnancy topics, lactation kink, jealous

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley's new office was coming along nicely. Everything was standard issue Navy grade, but he started adding some touches here and there to make it look more personal. The file cabinet was covered in ultrasound photos, one column of Rosie and one of her younger sibling.

He glanced at the wedding photo on his desk before adjusting it and wincing. You were still mad this morning that he overdid it at the Hard Deck last night, but he wished you would just let it go. It's not like he drove home drunk or anything. Nat and the guys were just excited to learn he was going to have another kid. The drinks just kept coming.

There was a knock on the door, and then Maverick poked his head inside. "You have a minute?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, waving him inside. "It's not like I can tell you no. You're my commanding officer, Mav."

The older man chuckled, setting some folders on the desk. "I need you to keep all of the forms updated for each of the pilots. It's best if you work on it every day and then update the hard copies. You should have time to do this between visits during your office hours."

Today was the first time Bradley was holding office hours, and honestly he felt a bit like a college professor: the aviators were kind of his students, and he was responsible for making sure they were prepared to fly.

"Not sure how busy my office hours will be," Bradley muttered. He should probably send a text to remind you he'd be home a little later than usual tonight. While he didn't want to make a habit of missing dinner with his girls, this was a far cry better than being deployed.

"You might be surprised," Maverick replied with a smile as he backed toward the door. "You've got a lot to show the others, Lieutenant Commander."

Then he was gone, and Bradley could feel the warmth rising in his cheeks. He just wanted to prove himself, but the first time someone had him up against the wall, scrambling for an answer, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He'd only started to advertise his extra hours during today's lecture, so it would probably be another week or so until someone came to him for any sort of guidance on a Monday evening. But he would try to be ready.

He was just opening one of the folders from Maverick when there was another knock on his door. This time when he looked up, he was met with a flight suit complete with a Golden Warriors patch identical to the one he wore. That would have been enough to let him know it was Indigo, but then he met her eyes as he stood up behind his desk.

"Lieutenant Jeffries," he greeted with a smile as she strode inside. "How can I help you?"

She studied his face with a knowing look for a few seconds before breaking out into a smile of her own. "Sir, I can think of so many ways you could help me. It's not even funny."

Bradley blinked, brow furrowed as he examined her. "Well, why don't you start with an easy one? It's been a long day. And something tells me you might be regretting the late start you got at the Hard Deck last night."

Her laughter filled the room. "I could never regret finding the officer hangout before the rest of my peers from Texas. I need to keep the edge I have over Rex and Spice." When she started to close the door, Bradley frowned.

"Keep it open," he said casually, reaching out to catch it before it shut. He didn't want anyone thinking he was playing favorites, and the little pout on Indigo's lips convinced him she wanted to be his favorite aviator. But she didn't argue. She simply sat down on the edge of the couch and looked up at him.

"The easiest way you can help me is by telling me where I can improve," she said, fingers toying with the zipper at her neck. "I want to be the best you've ever seen."

------------------------------

You couldn't tell if Cat was actually annoyed with you or if she was just teasing, but you were too exhausted from a restless night to care.

"I can't believe Bradley told Jake you're pregnant before you told me yourself! I just saw you last night!"

Her gaze dipped down to your belly as you stood before her in the lab. You knew you were showing. There was no denying it now. You had a bunch of appointments coming up with Dr. Morris, and you were just going to keep getting bigger until you had to wear the maternity tent again. You knew you were already huge and that you'd probably never be your normal size ever again. And the last thing you wanted was Cat Coleman of all people scrutinizing your appearance when she always looked pristine.

Everything was made worse by Bradley's interactions with Indigo. She was everywhere on base, but now she had taken over your bar, too. You saw her this morning but managed to duck out of the way before those piercing eyes landed on you. She knew what you looked like now, and Cat's gaze lingering on your belly was doing nothing to give you a boost of confidence.

"Please make sure you're eating and drinking enough," she told you. "We don't want another repeat of Annapolis where you could barely give a presentation. Or a repeat of the day you fell at work."

You gritted your teeth. "This pregnancy doesn't even feel like my last one. Okay? I'm eating just fine. Too well, actually."

You turned on your heel, boot squeaking on the floor and headed out to collect Rose from daycare. Everything was just a reminder of your size right now. Visions of candy bars danced in your head as you told yourself you'd go home and eat a sensible dinner while Bradley held his office hours. But you already knew... you just knew Indigo would squeeze her way in there with her pretty eyes and her perky tits. And your husband seemed to be oblivious to her. At least you'd tried to convince yourself he wasn't actively looking. But you knew she found him attractive. You could smell it on her a mile away.

Tears filled your eyes as you approached the daycare facility. If he was looking at her, you couldn't blame him. Indigo was beautiful, her body stunning even in her flight suit. Meanwhile you looked like an exhausted, lumpy, khaki-covered potato with acne and zero energy.

"Let's go home," you whispered to Rose, trying to smile at the daycare staff as you pushed her out in her stroller.

You were absolutely fine. You were totally fine. Or at least you would be. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

But all week long, you heard the same collection of call signs spilling from Bradley's lips, and Indigo's was always the first one. She was the fastest, most cunning, smartest, most decisive pilot he'd ever flown with. Any time you asked him a question about work, she was the answer. And he was late coming home almost every day.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Sorry, I had to stay in the infirmary with Spice after she strained her shoulder," he said, rushing inside on Friday night as you made dinner. "She couldn't even raise her arm to get her helmet off."

He kissed your cheek, letting his hand rest on your belly for a beat before he ended up on the floor next to Rose's play mat where she was trying her hardest to crawl to Tramp. As soon as Bradley showed up, she changed her mind and tried to get to him instead.

You pressed your lips together as you turned off the stove burner. "Did anyone else stay with you and Spice?"

"Yeah, Indigo hung out," he replied easily, brushing his fingers along Rose's hair with a smile. You swallowed hard, watching him on his hands and knees in his khaki uniform. He looked so good. Like ridiculously good. Broad shoulders and big biceps and a handsome smile.

"Why am I not surprised?" you muttered, turning away from him.

"I think they're friends," he said. "It's kind of amusing getting to experience the love and hate dynamics amongst the group. The women tend to stick together on the ground, but anything goes in the air."

Your stomach ached with hunger pangs, and the only thing you wanted to eat was ice cream. When you realized you'd eaten a frozen burrito barely an hour ago, you desperately wanted to go to bed hungry, but you started to feel guilty about the baby.

"My parents listed their house today," you announced, trying to change the subject before you started to cry.

"Did you hear that, Nugget?" Bradley scooped Rose up in his arms and carried her into the kitchen where you were plating two meals. "Your grandparents are moving here to spend more time with you. And next summer, we'll take you and your little brother or sister back to Virginia to see where ol' Goose and Carole used to live, okay?"

He peppered her face with kisses until she was giggling wildly, and every negative thought started to get fuzzy around the edges. When his brown eyes met yours, you nodded toward the table, and his arm slipped around your waist.

-----------------------------

Bradley came home from his office hours on Monday to find you wearing only his old UVA shirt. The soft cotton was hugging your bump and showing off your legs, and he was ready to get on his knees and beg for you.

After he put Rose in her crib for the night, he met you in bed where you were wearing your glasses, your face freshly scrubbed. He was plainly getting hard in his gym shorts the more he looked at you. It was so obvious. When you stood on your knees and coaxed him closer with your finger, he met you there.

"I hope you know how good you have it, Roo," you whispered against his lips.

He knew. He knew all about it. He let his hand slide down over your belly, keeping you in place when you tried to scoot away. Then his fingers slowly yanked up the hem of his shirt until he was touching your pussy.

"Of course I know it, Baby Girl." He circled your clit with his middle finger before slipping it inside you. "I've got my Rosie. And my hot, pregnant wife with her perfect pussy." When you whimpered, he kissed your nose. "I've got it all."

You dragged the shirt up over your belly and chest, tossing it aside. For a beat, Bradley went completely dizzy at the sight of your tits. Then you made everything better by placing your hands on your breasts, working them until beads of milk appeared. Your head was tipped back, pussy squeezing his middle finger, and Bradley almost lost his mind.

His kisses were rough. He knew it. But you were whining Roo as he got undressed, and then you were guiding his lips to your tits. He had to have it dirty. His cock was so fucking hard, he needed to make you scream.

"Oh, fuck," he growled as his lips grazed your nipple, lapping up your milk until he thought he was going to pass out. Every inch of your body was so sweet and supple, but he wanted you babbling and begging.

Bradley meticulously cleaned you up until you were clinging onto him, then he pushed you onto your back. Without hesitation, he started fucking you. When you needed a hand over your mouth to keep from waking Rose, he was all too happy to help. When you spread your legs wider, he watched his cock glide inside your welcoming body over and over again until he felt his orgasm in his balls.

"Shit. I'm gonna cum," he groaned, waiting until you nodded against his palm to lose himself. Hips thrusting, filling you with shallow strokes, he fucked you until your pussy was dripping. He watched the mess he made dribble down your ass before catching it with his fingertips. "I swear I don't think I can keep my cock out of you long enough for you to not be pregnant ever again."

You snorted before reaching for his hand and bringing it to your lips. "After this one, I'm going right back on the pill. No more slip ups," you whispered. Bradley watched as your tongue darted out, licking his sticky cum and swallowing every drop.

"No more slip ups," he echoed, smiling at your belly. He'd never consider this a mistake. Not in a million years. A surprise? Absolutely. But not a mistake.

Bradley's phone lit up where it had been discarded on the floor when you slipped into the bathroom. He had a text from an unknown number with a Virginia area code. At first, he thought it might be his cousin Brenda letting him know she had a new phone number, but when he opened the message, his brow creased in confusion at first.

Lieutenant Commander, thanks for spending so much time with me today in your office today.

Only three people had been in his office with him earlier. One was Maverick. One was Forrest who he had to reprimand. The third was Indigo. Bradley hadn't been giving out this number, but it was readily available if anyone wanted to look through the registry in the lobby of the building where his small office was housed.

He scratched the rough stubble along his jaw, contemplating if he should respond after nine in the evening. He saved her number under her call sign and tossed his phone on the bed when you walked back in with a smile on your face. He should wait until the morning to respond if at all.

You yawned when he passed you. "I'm ready for bed, Roo."

"Give me a minute to brush my teeth, and I'm right behind you."

---------------------------

By the end of the week, your parents had two offers on the house where you were raised. They were officially downsizing to a cute bungalow a few streets over in Coronado, and you were excited. Or you wanted to be.

But every time you let your heart fill with happiness over your parents or the baby, you remembered that Indigo was texting your husband. You saw it for yourself. Right after he fucked you so good, you could barely walk, you glanced down at his phone on your bed. He had her number saved in his phone, and you wanted to cry.

You could ask him for permission to look at his phone. You could see what his reaction was. That would give you a good gauge of what exactly was going on between them. But Bradley had never once asked you to hand your phone over to him. He'd ever insinuated that there would be a reason he didn't trust you.

Unsure what else to do, you sat in your office during your lunch break and cried. The tears were hot and miserable on your cheeks, and a headache instantly started brewing behind your eyes. It took you almost ten minutes to get yourself under control, and by then you didn't even feel like going to the cafeteria for food.

When someone knocked, you looked up at your door. Maybe it was Bradley. Maybe you could get his phone from him somehow and check it yourself. "Come in," you called, voice soft from all the tears you'd shed. Instead of your husband, Jake strolled inside. "Did you get lost? Cat's probably in the lab."

"Aww, come on, Angel," he drawled, dropping down into your extra chair. "I came all the way up here to see you."

"Oh." You were a little surprised. Everyone was so busy as the last quarter of the year was beginning, you felt like you hadn't seen much of him.

"Why do you look so sad?" he asked, already leaning forward to stand again. "Want me to grab you and the baby something to eat and bring it up here?"

"No," you told him quickly. "I'm fine. Just a little stressed." You tried to smile, but you felt like you could cry again. "Are you having a slow day?"

"Nah." He leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just had to get away from your annoying husband and his band of misfits clogging up the comms with their exercises."

"Band of misfits?" you asked with a soft laugh.

"Bunch of children," he replied with an eye roll. "Look like they just graduated from high school." His eyes went wide. "Oh shit, that probably means I look old now."

"You don't look too bad for someone older than me," you promised with a smirk. "Hey, do you know anything about any of those new pilots?"

"I know they like to hog the line in the cafeteria. One of them took the last slice of pizza yesterday, and I had to wait for a new pie to finish baking. Food should be based on seniority. I outrank all of them."

You were laughing at his smile now. "Hey, maybe I should get something to eat. And it might be nice to get out of my office for a few minutes."

"I'll walk you down." Jake stood and helped you to your feet. "Can't hang out too long though. Mav has a fire under his ass about getting Phoenix, Bob and I in the air this afternoon."

You headed to the cafeteria with Jake, getting a chance to hear his side of the wedding plans after listening to Cat for weeks. They wanted something small and simple, but he assured you there would be room for the Bradshaws on the guest list. Once you had a tray piled high with a salad, breadsticks and once slice of pizza, you took a seat while Jake headed back out to the tarmac to get back to work.

Your lunch tasted incredible. The cheese from the pizza was practically melting in your mouth. When the cafeteria started clearing out, there were only a few tables occupied, and you started stacking the plates on your tray. You could have a calm, reasonable conversation with your husband. He'd let you look at his phone, and everything would be fine.

"Okay, but what's up with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?"

Your eyes darted up from your tray to find two officers sitting a short distance away. The one facing you had a patch on her flight suit that said SPICE, and you recognized her call sign from conversations with Bradley.

"He's hot, but he's wearing a wedding band," she added.

You swore your heart stopped at her words. Then you realized that the woman with her back to you was Indigo. Her jet black hair was wound up in a tight bun that accentuated her long neck even from behind, and her laughter set your teeth on edge.

"I already told you," she said, and you had to stop breathing to make sure you heard every word. "His wife is a civvy. I saw her at the bar the only night he showed up. They have one kid, and apparently she's pregnant again. At least that's what I heard Lieutenant Trace saying."

"What does his wife look like?" Spice asked, casually taking a sip of her drink as if your world wasn't crumbling to pieces.

"It was hard to tell in the dark, but her face seemed okay. Nice-ish body, but come on..." Indigo gestured to herself. "The man's only human, and his wife is definitely older than me. That much is easy to tell. And she'll be huge again soon."

You tried to get up from your seat quickly, fighting with yourself to get out of the room, but it was too late. Both of them were standing now, still chatting as Indigo turned your way. As soon as her eyes landed on your face, you saw them widen. That pretty blue color looked terrifying as a smile of recognition spread across her lips.

Indigo absolutely knew who you were now. Her eyes dipped down to the hyphenated name pinned against your chest, and now she knew you weren't a random civilian. She knew you were an officer who worked on North Island. She knew way too much as she took in every inch of your body. And she looked really pleased by what she saw.

-----------------------------

He has his sweet moments, but Roo doesn't see the bigger picture here. Next chapter will reveal if Rose is going to have a brother or a sister. Any guesses? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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430 notes · View notes

rispwr · 26 days ago

Note

can we have a drabble or oneshot where the oc says 'i can't pay for anything* this time' or offers to split the budget 50/50 and jungkook literally😒😤😡🤬 gets mad like I'm your man I'm responsible for you etc🤭hehehhe make me a delululu, I don't have work tomorrow♥️😂

number one girl - drabble - read here for full fic

complete fluff, not proofread

sypnosis : you prank your bf telling him to split the bill

wc : 1,5k

note : so kinda missed this couple so wanted to write a drabble. thank you for the requests!! will be taking more requests from now onn!!

if you've been tagged in this fic im sorry omg. idk how to put the character's socmed without it taggig sum1 else.

3 years later -

It's been 3 years and college life is exhausting. Between classes, endless assignments, and my political science presentation looming over my head, I barely had time to breathe. Today was no different. I was in class, scribbling notes while trying to keep up with the lecture, when my phone began vibrating incessantly in my bag.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was just another group chat blowing up, but the vibrations didn’t stop. They kept coming, one after another, until I was sure the entire class could hear the faint buzz.

At this point, my phone might as well have been a vibrator.

Finally, I gave in, pulling my phone out discreetly under the desk. The notifications flooding my screen were all from one person.

From Messages:

loml 💕: babyy loml 💕: babyyyy loml 💕: boyfriend being ignored.

To Email: From: To: y/[email protected] Subject: boyfriend being ignored

To Instagram: @jakayyy tagged you in a story: "boyfriend being ignored 😔💔"

To Twitter: @j.k tweeted: boyfriend being ignored....

And then LinkedIn: @jeonjungkook updated his status: boyfriend being ignored... i miss you.

I stifled a laugh, covering my mouth with my hand as I scrolled through the barrage of notifications. Jungkook was relentless, and honestly, it was impressive how far he’d go to get my attention.

I quickly opened my messages to reply.

Me: omygod kook, I was in class 😭 loml 💕: idc I miss youuuu Me: me or Sam and Rachael? loml 💕: both...? Me: I’m in class rn. Don’t you have class too?? loml 💕: I don’t... Me: did you skip??? loml 💕: gee no loml 💕: my classes aren’t until later loml 💕: wanna have dinner with me later? Me: I have a presentation to make.... loml 💕: baby... loml 💕: as much as I love you as my nerd, you NEED a break loml 💕: pleaseee pleaseee Me: fine. Me: I’ll make time. loml 💕: see you later pretty 😉

I sighed, slipping my phone back into my bag. It was impossible to stay annoyed at him for long. Jungkook had a way of breaking through the stress and pulling me back to reality—whether it was through relentless notifications or his absurd LinkedIn updates.

As I tried to refocus on class, my seatmate, Anna, leaned over with her phone.

"Girl, have you seen this?" she whispered, showing me a TikTok video of a girl pranking her boyfriend by telling him they’d split the bill 50/50 at dinner.

I smirked, glancing at the screen. "Yeah, I’ve seen it. What’d your boyfriend say?"

Anna sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "I tried it yesterday. This man pushed the bill to me and didn’t even reach for his wallet. I ended up paying for the whole meal."

"Damn," I chuckled, shaking my head. "You should find a new one."

She groaned, slumping in her seat. "Tell me about it."

As the lecture continued, the thought lingered in my mind. I didn’t like asking people for things, especially money, but the idea of pulling the prank on Jungkook intrigued me.

What would he do?

Jungkook wasn’t like Anna’s boyfriend. For the past two years, he’d gone above and beyond to prove himself to me whether it was getting straight A’s, joining every project he could find, or taking me on dates he planned down to the smallest detail.

-----

I was finishing the last touches of my makeup when I heard a knock at the door.

"Babyyyy!! Boyfriend at your service!" Jungkook’s voice rang out through my ring doorbell, his playful tone making me chuckle.

I opened the door, only to be met with his signature wide grin and a tight hug that nearly lifted me off my feet. His arms wrapped securely around me as he buried his face into my neck.

"Hmmm, I missed you so much," he murmured against my skin, his words accompanied by soft, feather-light kisses trailing from my neck to my lips.

I couldn’t help but melt into him, returning his embrace before he pulled back slightly to look at me. His eyes scanned me slowly from head to toe, and I felt a blush creep up my neck.

"Why are you staring?" I asked shyly, trying to hide my flustered expression.

"Why?" he repeated, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Can’t a man look at the most gorgeous woman in his life?"

I rolled my eyes, lightly hitting his arm as he laughed.

"Gosh, let me just wear my heels, and we’ll be good to go,"

We arrived at the diner a little while later, and I was immediately taken aback. The place was fancy too fancy. The kind of fancy that makes you wonder why you didn’t eat at home before coming.

As we walked in, Jungkook kept his hand lightly on the small of my back, guiding me to our table like a gentleman. The menu was placed in front of us, and when I opened it, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

"Goddamn," I whispered under my breath, scanning the exorbitant prices.

Jungkook, however, seemed completely unfazed. He looked at me with that easy, confident smile. "Go ahead, baby. Order whatever you want."

His words were casual, but the sincerity in his tone made my heart flutter.

Once we finished ordering, the dinner passed like it always did with Jungkook filled with laughter, shared stories, and moments where he’d reach across the table to hold my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"So," he started, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at me. "What’s my nerd been up to today?"

"Same as always," I said, shrugging. "Class, notes, presentation prep..."

He groaned dramatically. "You’re gonna burn yourself out. I told you, you need to relax sometimes."

"I’m here, aren’t I?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

"True," he said with a grin. "I’ll take what I can get."

Finally, the bill arrived, and I couldn’t help but glance at it from the corner of my eye.

It was time.

"So," I said, feigning nonchalance as I folded my napkin. "What if we split the bill tonight?"

Jungkook paused mid-reach for the check, his eyes snapping to mine.

"What?" he said, his voice calm but laced with confusion.

"You know," I said with a small shrug, "50/50. Equal partnership, right?"

For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Is this a test?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What? No," I lied, trying to keep a straight face.

Jungkook slid his card to the waiter with a firm gesture, cutting me off entirely.

"I’m your man, you’re my woman," he began, his tone steady but laced with conviction. "I am responsible for you and our finances. You’re my future wife, the number one woman in my life, and the mother of my future children. How could I even think of making you pay?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. "But—"

"No buts," he interrupted.

Then, as if on cue, his gaze shifted toward my phone. His expression softened, his brows raising slightly as realization dawned.

"Babyyy..." he whined, his voice taking on a playful edge as he looked at me with mock betrayal. "You’re filming me, aren’t you?"

I couldn’t hold back a giggle, my shoulders shaking as I tried to keep the phone steady. "Kook..." I whispered, almost apologetically, though the blush on my face deepened from the vulnerability of his earlier confession.

He sighed, shaking his head but chuckling as he paid for the meal. Once the waiter returned with the receipt, he stood and helped me up like the gentleman he always was.

----

Before he could start the car, I reached out and rested my head on his shoulder.

"You passed the experiment," I muttered softly, the words muffled against his jacket.

He let out a laugh, the deep sound reverberating in his chest. He turned slightly to look at me, his eyes warm as they met mine.

"You’re unbelievable," he said, his voice filled with affection.

We stayed like that for a moment, the silence between us comfortable and familiar. Then, without warning, he leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly grew deeper.

His hand cupped the side of my face, tilting my head slightly as he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer.

My heart raced as I kissed him back, my hand curling around the fabric of his jacket. But just as the moment began to intensify, I pulled back slightly, my forehead resting against his.

"Let’s go home first... please?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as I smiled at him.

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek before he leaned back in his seat, his eyes still fixed on me.

"Anything you want, baby," he murmured, his voice full of promise as he started the car and drove us home.

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pedgito · 1 year ago

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Chivalry, Secrets & Hot Tubs (Week One)

[strangers to friends to lovers, age gap (56/mid 20s), forced proximity, no outbreak]

(Series) Content Warning: a very, very lonely joel miller. copious amounts of lusting, tension, joel is an excellent cook (food, alcohol, ect), hot tubs, impromptu snowball fights, awkward situations, deep talks and tragic backstories (specified within chapter warnings, deeply depraved smut/sexcapades and the inappropriate use of a dining table (also specified within chapter warnings), nicknames of endearment (no use of y/n)

quick note: i love all the reblogs/feedback and that you're all enjoying this as much as i am <3 and a huge thank you to @swiftispunk for being the best and looking over the first chapter for me, i am completely scatter-brained and forgot to mention this when i posted last monday, so tysm han and pls go check her out if you haven't! & follow my fic update blog (@pedgitos) and turn on post notifications so you don't miss any updates/posted fics!

Chapter Summary: Settling in is easier than you expect, but it does come with a fair share of challenges. A week filled with getting to know one another and some moments shared, your week doesn't end on the best note, leaving you with a choice.

Chapter Warnings: (8k) no outbreak, grumpy!Joel, domestic shenanigans, Joel being naturally assertive, cooking dinner together, reading is good at encouraging Joel, one hot tub & two stubborn individuals, also...one bed trope incoming

You wake up refreshed, like you’ve been born with a new reverence for life—alright, it might be a bit of an overstatement but it’s a wonder what a decent night of sleep could do and you’re feeling that this idea, playing house with a stranger—though it wasn’t much like that anymore—wasn’t the worst choice. And it reminds you of Joel, having left him in the chair last night, not wanting to burden him but you can only imagine the ache in his bones, his back, the discomfort of sleeping in a chair all night.

You lay for a moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The morning sunshine wasn’t strong here, blanketed out by a stark white snow that covered the ground, it muted out most colors and left a cool, but bright blue that shined through the window above your bed.

It was peaceful. No cars, no buzz of strong electricity outside your window, people and their idle conversation a few floors down from your apartment window. Not even a bird, really. But, there’s a distinct clearing of a throat from the living room that has you stirring in bed, rising lazily as you move with the same enthusiasm.

It was a fresh week. The first official week of your vacation and you were going to start it off on a good note, clambering out of the bed and slipping on a pair of fluffy slippers to keep your toes from freezing off, not bothering to glance in a mirror on the way out—not that you needed to, it didn’t matter. It was early, you were still trying to shed the sleep from your body and you could care less. Plus, it wasn’t like an old t-shirt and sleep shorts was some foreign concept.

When you peek around the corner, arms crossed tightly over your chest, you can spot Joel’s head tilting to one side, hand kneading at the taut muscle in the center of his back where his neck starts to begin and then you’re stuck watching as he stretches his arms out wide, working out all of those muscles. Every single one. And you’ve been silent for far too long.

Yeah.

Clearing your throat softly, you approach from behind and keep your distance, announcing your presence like you hadn’t been lingering for a minute or two already.

“Morning,” You greet politely, resting your weight against the edge of the island, taking in full view of a freshly awoken Joel, eyes still puffy from sleep.

He looks very…gentle. Surprisingly, so. It softens his rigid demeanor significantly and you have to silently talk yourself out of glaring at him for too long, “I didn’t want to wake you—I’m so sorry.”

Jeez—you two are getting good at that. Apologizing, afraid to step on each other’s toes.

“Not your fault,” Joel massages his bicep with the heavy pressure of his thumb, looking slightly pained as he rolls his shoulders, “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“Yeah, but I forced you to stay up, so—”

“You didn’t,” Joel quickly shuts you down, “I’m a grown man,” there’s a laugh hidden somewhere in there, but Joel continues, “don’t blame yourself for my own irresponsibility.”

It’s too early for this. You force on a fake smile, void of any real emotion at this hour, running on fumes and the smell of coffee. Speaking of—you sniff, eyes searching for the smell like a dog would track a scent, and Joel is already pointing in the direction you should be looking for when your eyes land on him.

“I already finished it off on my own,” Joel admits, pointedly taking another long sip before resting the mug back on the counter, “I can get another pot goin’ if you need it.”

There’s an inclination to let him, seeing him assert himself so easily and offer, but you shake your head, “I think I can handle a coffee maker,” You assure him, meandering around the kitchen in search of the coffee grounds, ignoring Joel’s tracking of your movements, waiting for a moment to interject and point you in the right direction. You spot them a moment before the urge comes with a soft aha!

“I needed to make a drive into town,” Joel tells you after you’ve gone through the steps of starting your own batch of coffee, “pick up some more food, figured you might wanna tag along.”

He’s not asking, only assuming. But to be fair, his assumption is right.

“Sure,” You reply cooly, pouring yourself a hefty cup of coffee to sip on, letting your body take hold of the caffeine, “...how far away is the closest town?”

“Hour and a half.” Joel answers and you almost have the nerve to go wide-eyed on him, but then you remember just how deep into the woods you both were and that it was necessary.

Truthfully, there was a more concerning matter at hand.

“How’s your music taste?”

Joel has the gall to look offended by the question.

“I’m leavin’ in thirty,” Joel ignores you, “don’t think I won’t hesitate to leave you here.”

Okay, noted: Joel wasn’t much the morning person you assumed he was.

Joel immediately realizes how little disregard you have for touching things that aren’t yours when you reach for the makeshift box of cassettes tapes placed in the backseat of his truck—the thing was old, riding on it’s last leg, but it was something Joel would cherish until it was unsalvageable, torn seats, dents, and all.

“Ain’t gonna find anything you like in there,” Joel assures you, “None of that pop stuff they’re always playin’ on the radio these days.”

The tables turn on him suddenly, seeing your face contort into a similar emotion that he gave you earlier. Bewilderment, shock, annoyance. You scoff at the comment.

“Says you,” You retort back, sifting through the different cassettes until you find Joel trading glances between you and the road in front of him, almost worried you might chuck his collection out of the passenger side window, “Joel, eyes on the road.”

Joel enjoys a lot of country, which isn’t a total disbelief. But, it wasn’t something you shared the sentiment on, flicking away a handful of country artists you’ve never listened to and reaching some of the good stuff—older rock music, some classic 80s, and late 90s.

You pluck one out carefully, prying open the cassette case with gentle hands before sliding the tape in, allowing the low hum of the music to fill the car. There’s a brief moment of respite before Joel smirks to himself, thumb tapping against the steering wheel.

“What were you saying?” You look at him pointedly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Joel looks away briefly, biting back a chuckle, “Fine—I’ll give you some credit. Foo Fighters aren’t terrible, but you skipped right over Bruce Springsteen, so…”

You scoff in disbelief, “You don’t get to criticize me with that atrocious collection of country music,” You stare down at the box in thought, eyes brimming with a mischievous that Joel knows of immediately, he’s seen it before. Not with you, but he knows, “you know, maybe I should just do you a favor and—”

You can barely get a hand on the window roller before Joel’s hand is gripped tight over the box, trapping your other hand in his grip as he warns, “I’m not above leavin’ you stranded in the cold.”

Your grin is nothing but evil and Joel finds that there’s something about you that infuriates him in a way that is hard to describe, not in anger or rage, but a level that he thinks he could match. A game of back and forth that he could play into—but you’re quickly relenting regardless of the threat and placing the box on the floorboard.

“Already tried that,” You retort, “didn’t work too well for you, did it?”

Fair is fair. Joel doesn’t poke the beast.

Instead, he takes the chance to ask a question.

“So, what exactly was your plan?” Joel asks curiously. “You comin’ out here with no car and all?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Didn’t really have one, but I would have figured it out.”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, subtly resembling a face of disapproval.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me, okay?” You don’t wait for a response, “You can have whatever assumptions you want about me, but don’t try and act like you know anything about me.”

It was another reminder. Joel didn’t know you, but you didn’t know him either. You reign your frustration in slightly, quick to defend yourself but aware that not everyone handles confrontation in the same way—if Joel was quick to anger, you didn’t want to stoke the fire.

“I’m not,” Joel argues, his voice calmer than you expect, thinking back to the saddled rage his voice held the night you arrived, the threat that lingered with every word, “I’m not, alright?”

“Then stop that.” You comment, waving your hand in a vague motion toward his face, “Stop looking at me like—”

“Like what?” Joel interjects, eyes more pensive as he looks over at you.

“Like—like I need a fucking lecture on life or my choices,” You tell him, a hint of pleading in your voice, “I’m not some kid who doesn’t understand how life works.”

“You’re not a kid—”

“Good, great that we established that,” You lean back in the seat more comfortably, arms crossed over your chest as you keep your eyes on the snow covered road, “now shut up so I can enjoy the music.”

Thankfully, Joel does just that.

Conversation falls flat until you arrive at the store in town a while later, Joel fetching a cart and pushing it your way before he stops you suddenly, hand over your own again—a touch that normally you would flinch away from, but he’s already done it once before and the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

“I’ll catch up,” Joel tells you, “I forgot somethin’ in the car.”

You glance back briefly, knowing that the walk isn’t that far.

“Oh, I can wait. It’s fine.”

Joel doesn’t say so much, but the look in his eyes goes a long way. A silent plea for you to go with it and don’t ask questions—again, you didn’t have any right to. You nod quickly and wander off toward the store as Joel trails away.

It’s then when your phone starts to vibrate away in your pocket, the sudden availability of service sending a barrage of notifications your way—you’re terrified to take a glimpse, but you do anyway. It should be no surprise to bear witness to the many, many texts from your mother wondering where you’d run off to, but there’s a tinge of guilt settling in your stomach.

You send her a quick, dismissive text to explain that you were fine and enjoying your time, but no elaboration on the things she wanted to know, because really, there was nothing to tell. And if you did decide to expel the details of your trip, mentioning that there was no boyfriend and it was just a stranger you met in the middle of the woods, well…that wouldn’t go over smoothly.

You also find a quick, heated moment of frustration to send an unpleasant text to the owners of the cabin, still polite enough that it wouldn’t warrant your ability to work things out—and you decide that calling would reach them faster, that somehow they’d magically find a way to appear and fix things, but there’s no answer. Only a voicemail that gave vague details about being away on their own vacation.

Just your luck.

Great. You sigh deeply, shoving the phone away into your pocket and returning to the land of obliviousness as you step inside the small market.

You fend for yourself for a while, throwing several random necessities in the cart as you go, enough sustenance to spread over four weeks and manage meals the entire trip, also a few more bottles of alcohol don’t hurt, looking for a few hard liquors that catch your eye and adding them to the growing supply of items.

You’re lost in concentration of the ingredients on the back of a box dinner when Joel’s voice startles you back to the real world, eyes jumping up to look at him and he spots the panic immediately.

He nods slightly when you recognize him, “Sorry, keep forgettin’ how jumpy you are.”

“You’re just ridiculously fucking quiet,” You tell him, breathing out a long sigh as you toss the box into the cart, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Joel assures, doesn’t elaborate. Okay, cool. You weren’t going to pry, no matter how much your instincts told you to. He scans the cart casually, “Mind tradin’ off?”

You lend him the lead and follow, watching as he pointedly finds things, like he’s reading off a list in his head and moves around the store with a purpose. It’s only slightly annoying that you have to keep pace with him, but he’s suddenly speaking out to you as he’s glancing over something on the bottom shelf, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” You responded, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “Why?”

“Grab some of that fresh rosemary,” Joel says, pointing out somewhere behind you and you whip around, eyes searching furiously and coming up empty, “—find it?”

You’re a little dumbfounded as you search the shelf of fresh herbs, Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching behind you as he reaches over your shoulder and plucks the exact thing he’s looking for with ease, “Hey, I had the right idea.” You defend, noticing how amused he looked at your befuddlement, “And you didn’t answer my question, either.”

“Well,” He tosses the small, plastic package in the cart, still tucked up at your side and you can feel his body heat, the solid wall of his chest against your shoulder, “don’t like the idea of accidentally killin’ you if I cook something you’re allergic to.”

“Well, what if I’m lying?” You challenge and Joel shoves you aside gently to grab the cart, hands on your shoulder as he shifts you away—and when had things gotten so…touchy?

Truthfully, Joel finds it easier than telling you, noting how quickly you quiet down when he asserts himself and does rather than asks. He knows if it made you uncomfortable you wouldn’t have had a problem speaking up immediately.

“Look at me,” And there’s a deep timbre to his voice that has your chest sparking like a fire, eyes connecting with Joel’s for longer than you’ve ever allowed and it’s like he sees right through you, but he’s searching for something, “—you’re not lyin’.”

“But, if I was?”

Joel nearly leaves you in the dust, but turns to look at you with a subtle grin.

“Well, now I know you’re not.”

–

The ride back is easier, much easier—and Joel doesn’t fault you when you fall asleep halfway through, the heat of the car and the low hum of the music like a perfect mix as you curl in on yourself. Joel wakes you with a gentle hand on your shoulder when you finally make it back, allowing you a moment to shake the grogginess away with a word over his shoulder as he opens his door.

“Careful over that patch of ice on your side,” Joel instructs, “gettin’ colder so it’s slicker than it was a couple days ago.”

Careful. You roll your eyes carelessly, nudging the door open with your shoulder and hopping out, boots hitting the hard ground—your first mistake was underestimating the slickness and Joel’s warning, because the moment you take your first step it’s all downhill. Literally.

Luckily though, like a moment of divine faith as you pray that you don’t hit the ground, Joel is right at your back, arms slipping under your own as he plants his feet firmly and catches you. One arm crossing somewhere over your midsection and the other wrapping around your shoulder, a large palm holding you steady as he helps you back to your feet. You can feel him on the brink of making a comment, eyes looking down tenderly into your own—

“Don’t ask.” You warn him bitterly, face scrunched up like a kicked puppy, shrugging him off lazily. Joel doesn’t argue, making sure you’re steady before he allows you himself to fully let go.

Joel shakes his head subtly, a nuisance of his, and rounds the back of the truck to reach for the bagged groceries, “Fine, I’ll just say I told you so then. How’s that?”

Worse.

Joel never asks for help, doesn’t even seem bothered when you stand there aimlessly, watching him stow away the groceries like he already had a game plan and you feel slightly useless, but it does give you a good opportunity to watch without any explicit reason or excuse.

There’s an obvious purpose to Joel’s movement, clear that he’s used to doing a lot of heavy lifting and keeping up, probably prefers organization over clutter, and has a certain inclination to do things himself, always. And you can’t help the way your gaze clings to his face, noticing something a little off—not good or bad, just slightly different. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but with the extended amount of time your eyes lingered on him, you realize he’s cleaned up a bit, shaved his beard down to near stubble, a subtle difference…but you notice.

You’re not sure how long you’re stuck in this state, arms resting against the counter as you stood there, practically useless, thinking about what Joel looks like on a regular basis, when he isn’t cooped up in a cabin in the dead of winter. You want to see that side of him, crave it. It’s an insane thought that doesn’t make sense, eyes widening suddenly at the realization of the thought you’re having—

“You still with me?” Joel’s voice calls out in the haze, muffled slightly as you come back into focus, eyes landing on him. “Think I lost you there for a minute.”

“Oh—no. I mean, yeah. I’m still a little tired, I guess.” It’s a bold face lie, but Joel seems to believe you. “Why?”

“I was sayin’ I need to go chop up some wood for the fireplace,” He explains again, “then you went all wide eyed…”

“Oh, okay,” You nod jerkily, “...do you need help?”

Joel immediately declines. No surprise there.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Joel suggests, “I can manage just fine on my own.”

Sleep sounds great, but it doesn’t happen.

You try—you do, but the splitting of wood, the strong crack of the axe catching the wood outside of your bedroom window, it isn’t exactly soothing to the ears. So, you find yourself wandering into the kitchen, peeking between the curtains with a wild curiosity that reminds you of when you were younger and trying to catch a peek of the cute boy next door, a bashfulness replaced with a deep, insatiable hunger that you didn’t know existed until this moment.

Joel was attractive, you could easily admit that. But, seeing him now, it’s a done deal. There was a deep pit of despair in your mind and you were stuck at the bottom with no way out.

It’s almost abysmal how easy he makes it look, the axe he’d brandish as his weapon of choice against you swung over his shoulders, the unfortunate lack of skin stretching over taut muscles as he went through the motions, covered up by thick layers. But, you get the idea.

There’s a slight pout forming on your face before you catch yourself.

He slices full power through the wood like it was eager to give way to him. You also find that his face tugs up in a scowl after every swing of the axe, a soft sigh of exerted energy as he tosses the logs to the side and starts up again. You could watch for hours. But, you settle for the few more minutes he spends collecting the wood before you’re scrambling back into your bedroom like you had been there the entire time.

Unfortunately, Joel isn’t oblivious. Still, he spares you the embarrassment.

There was no reason for him to entertain whatever he thought might be going on. He couldn’t.

The next few days are uneventful, though that was to be expected. It allows you time to really settle in, usually curled up on the couch watching the fire crackle away until you thought your eyes might melt away, or reading a book that Joel always seemed to be trying to catch a peek at. There was an innocent curiosity there that you could appreciate.

You also learned that Joel only took his coffee one way, offering up your services to refill his cup while you refilled your own, sugar lingering over the rim and he’s quickly pushing away the small container of crystalized goodness.

“Joel, come on–” You grimace but relent, placing the cylinder of sugar on the counter.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Is all he offers, almost challenging you to take a sip.

You accept, obviously. But, it isn’t without consequence.

The moment the bitterness hits your tongue you’re scrambling away, forcing the mug into Joel’s waiting hands and spitting out whatever putrid liquid remained in your mouth in the sink.

It’s the first time Joel actually laughs, a full on chuckle that isn’t very receptive on your end.

Joel apologizes with dinner that night, a gesture that wasn’t expected or needed, still you’re thankful nonetheless. But, it offers you the realization of just how good a cook Joel can be.

Steaks grilled to a perfection that only came with repetitive practice and learned techniques, vegetables sautéed and seasoned to an enjoyable level, and a side of pasta that if Joel told you he made from scratch, you would’ve believed wholeheartedly if you hadn’t seen him dump the entire box of pre-made pasta into a pot of boiling water.

You’re halfway through dinner, chewing thoughtfully on a bite when you finally break the long, but comfortable silence that had blanketed over you both.

“So, Joel,” There’s a tone to his name that catches his attention, eyes flicking up to meet yours mid-bite, “what do you do for work?”

At this point, your nosey tendencies take hold.

There’s a scrunch to Joel’s nose before he speaks, almost as if he considered feeding you a lie alongside the beautiful meal he’d made. He settles for a simple answer.

“Uh, carpentry.” Joel tells you after a long pause, “I—build stuff for people, businesses sometimes.”

That explains some of his sturdiness, his practiced strength that came from, probably, years of hard constructive work and building. It also explains why he’s also working away at his hands, rubbing out the stiff joints and knuckles.

“I know what carpentry is, Joel.” You deadpan, but there’s a playfulness lingering in your voice.

You assume he’s used to explaining himself often, which is why he forces it on you so easily.

“And you?” Joel asks suddenly, “College? You’re about that age, right?”

You snort softly at the tone he offers, slightly patronizing, but all in good fun.

“I’m taking a semester off,” You answer indifferently, remembering how disappointed your parents had been about the ordeal, but you were suffocating, “I’m not sure what I want to do anymore.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel assures, “can’t fault you either. Never went to college so I don’t have an opinion on it.”

There’s no judgment on your end, but for the sake of conversation, you bite.

“Any reason?” You ask curiously, wondering if you'd receive the similar sentiment that it’s all just bullshit.

“Didn’t have the money,” Joel answers simply, “didn’t have the grades, either. I thought I could start my own business out of carpentry, but…”

But…you lean into the table slightly, hanging on his words.

“You need a lot of money for that,” Joel finishes, “and, I mean, I’m livin’ comfortable now, but that idea took a lot of money that I didn’t and still don’t have.”

“So, you waste it on month long vacations in the middle of the woods,” You surmise humorously, nodding in approval, “can’t say I blame you, either.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, chewing around a bite as he speaks, “Your turn.”

Right. An eye for eye. A question for a question. He's watching you expectantly, waiting for you to give a response to the same question you asked him.

“Oh—I work out of this bookstore in downtown Austin.” You admit, finishing up the last few bites of your food, scraping the plate nearly clean. “It pays the bills and then some. I like it.”

There’s no compliment needed for the food, all the evidence of it gone. But, you feel the need to appreciate it anyways.

“Thanks for this, Joel.” You speak again, softer this time.

“It’s no big deal, darlin’.” Joel assures you, holding up his hands in a feeble defense at the compliment, clearly something he doesn’t welcome easily. “Just food.”

“It’s been...months,” You tell him, “since I’ve had any type of home-cooked meal. Take the damn thank you, Joel.”

He smirks at that, seeing the threatening fork raise before you utter those final words.

“You’re welcome.”

And he means it.

–

You force Joel to stay seated while you clean, knowing it was the least you could do after he spent so much time preparing and cooking dinner. There’s a solid few minutes of arguing before you have to physically shove Joel back into his chair despite his protests, hands pressed into his shoulders as you threateningly speak down to him.

“If you move, I’m locking your ass out in the cold.”

Joel wouldn’t mind, but you’re silently hoping that he’ll just listen.

After all is done, tossing the damp washcloth to the side, you sigh with a newfound relaxation.

There’s only one thing that might top off this night, making it almost the first perfect day here.

“That’s it, I’m getting in the hot tub,” You decide, squeezing tenderly at the tense muscles of your neck, thankful that the owners had a small alcove connected to the cabin that allowed for you to enjoy the hot tub from the safety of the cold, “join me?”

You’re not sure what inclines you to ask so openly, but you don’t second guess it.

“While I appreciate the offer,” Joel starts, “I don’t think I brought the proper…attire.”

He’s still seated where you had him planted and it makes you laugh softly at the idea that he was taking it seriously, which—yeah, you did threaten the possibility of hypothermia on him.

“Fine,” You relent, rounding the corner of the island closest to him as you quickly call out over your shoulder, “but, there’s still a couple of chairs in there if you need the company.”

He didn’t need just anyone’s either and didn’t need, so much as wanted.

He wanted your company.

A while later, you’re already waist deep in the hot tub, figure hugging white bikini tied back securely, arms resting against the side furthest from the door as you press your chin against your forearms and staring out the wall of vast windows that line the room, allowing a view of the snow storm outside, coming down in a flurry that seemed to only be gaining in strength—and Joel, well, he’s still sitting in that stupid chair.

He’s allowed himself too much time in his own head, thinking over the events of the past few days. His call to Sarah was pleasant, a much needed moment of peace when he hears his daughter’s bright, hyper voice on the other end. When he doesn’t have her for the holidays, it’s hard. The calls are sparse, the communication is clipped, and it feels like he’s being forced away from her, knowing that she’s growing older every day. That he is growing older.

He’s allowed a lot of his life to slip away, when he wasn’t working to pay bills and put food on the table he was usually drinking, bar-hopping with Tommy at his old age to hide the pain he felt everyday, mentally and physically. There’s a problem brewing under his skin, using the company of his brother and alcohol to cope with loss he feels so viscerally everyday. The life he could’ve had.

He feels pitiful, miserable—only took this damn trip to get out of town by the suggestion of Tommy, away from all distractions, hoping for a refresh to clear his head. But instead, he met you.

He had no clue what the fuck to do anymore.

Joel’s never processed emotions well, feelings or anything thereof.

But, here he was, lusting after you.

He knows it’s the excitement, the taboo idea around sharing something special with a stranger. Someone who knows nothing about you, someone who doesn’t have the leverage to judge. Someone who doesn’t have to know about all the wrongs he’s committed and bad choices he’s made.

You’re not privy to the fucked up version of Joel that belongs in his hometown, cooped up in his childhood home that he inherited from his parents, filled with too many now painful memories that he’d made with Sarah when she was younger—when he still had her.

He can’t help the way his mind races every single second of the day, constantly worrying, always trying to busy himself with something, anything to keep that lingering cloud of anxiety away. But, when he thinks about you, even something so mundane as the way you squint to get a closer look at a paragraph of the book you’ve probably read a thousand times, his mind goes quiet.

Because, frankly, he’s fascinated by the idea of you. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t actually real. He’s halfway leaning toward the idea that he’s had a full mental break and this is all an illusion he’s cooked up in his head, but then he reminds himself that you are just as full a human as himself. There is a reason for this, even if there had to be some other force at play.

Maybe you needed this as badly as he did.

A fresh start, no judgment.

And that’s why he decides to follow you, the moment he catches a glimpse of you as you turn the corner to take the steps down into the room that connected to the kitchen, a full glimpse of skin and body that he’s tried to keep his mind off of, despite how openly you stare at him.

There has to be something there. He can’t have imagined all of this.

You feel his presence when the creak of wood gives him away, one hand shoved into his front pocket and his other arm helping him stay upright as he leaned against the doorframe. The steam billows and settles like a cloud over the bubbling hot tub but does nothing to hide how see-through your bathing top is and the slick slope of your breasts, his eyes trailing down toward the small bow that was sewn to the midpoint of your top and know he’s staring at your chest, very openly—Joel’s immediately regretting his choice.

Your eyes follow his but you dare not speak, afraid to startle him.

Now who was the jumpy one?

“Change your mind?” You ask curiously, shimming the expanse of the hot tub as you grab onto the opposite ledge, resuming your previous position, closer to Joel now. If you reached out you could touch the edge of his flannel and soak the trim, maybe even pull him closer, but you resist the urge. “It feels amazing. I’m serious.”

It wasn’t a ploy to get him in, but it wouldn’t hurt. He doesn’t respond, eyes staring at the soft wave of the water as it hits your side, his posture rigid.

Maybe you’d broken him.

“Joel,” You call out with a soft nudge to his thigh, as far as you could reach with your fingertips, cutting into his line of sight, offering a friendly smile, “just strip down to your underwear and get in.”

“I don’t think—”

Oh, for christ sake.

“You wouldn’t have come over here if you weren’t at least thinking about enjoying the benefits of the hot tub,” You argue, “so stop being grumpy and strip. I won’t even look.”

It shouldn’t sound as gritty as it does, a playful venom in your tone as you sink back slightly.

It makes Joel feel like he’s back in high school, flirting with who would eventually be his ex-wife and mother of his daughter, but there’s an assertiveness that intrigues Joel, your willingness to put yourself out there without fear. Take a leap, a jump, and hope that someone will catch you.

Joel caught you, he just needed someone to catch him.

You spot his fidgeting, the wheels and cogs in his mind turning and he just needs that shove.

Just enough.

You rise over the edge, palms pressed flat to bear your weight and squeeze your breasts together, belly button nearly level with the water as you’re close enough to see the fine details of his face, giving him a look that Joel couldn’t deny.

“Get. In.” You stress the words, making direct eye contact. “You can thank me later.”

Finally, he moves.

You sink back slightly into the pool and wade the water until you hit a corner, watching briefly as Joel works away at the buttons on his flannel, quiet air filling with an unspoken tension. You try to busy yourself with the view outside, something that didn’t require you to look in the vicinity of Joel for a second, knowing that the moment felt more intimate than it needed to. But, it doesn’t stop that sparse glances over your shoulder to check on him, now barefoot and pulling his shirt over his shoulders, the fabric pulling and obscuring your view of his face and his view of you, staring so starkly at him in that moment.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. The freckles that speckle his shoulders, nearly invisible from this distance because of his tanned shoulders and the unevenness of the tan as it continues down his arm, varying in shades of intensity, undoubtedly from hours of working in the sun. There’s also a smaller patch of hair on his chest that with his short cropped beard, seems to be trimmed down too. His strong build doesn’t throw you off, though—solid muscle that flexed across his stomach as he yanked his shirt a little harder to get it over his head fully, not built in a way that rippled down his abdomen, but showed a sturdiness to his figure that had your body humming to a tune that reached down to your core, thighs squeezing together under the water.

Joel passes the shirt off into a waiting arm chair, clothes slowly piling on the cushion alongside your towel and he pops the button on his jeans, still unaware of your…innocent observation. But, the moment the jeans stretch over his thighs you swallow a little too hard and you’re immediately averting your eyes when he looks up briefly.

Like you’d been caught.

Joel clears his throat like a warning, as if he hadn’t felt your eyes on him the entire time, and swings a leg over carefully, a view of the black briefs that molded to his skin perfectly and hugged his backside in a way that feels criminally illegal…and you’re staring again.

He hisses at the sudden change in temperate, but inch by inch he lowers and adjusts, eventually huffing out a low groan, eyes closed, when he finally settles on the seat inside of the tub.

Suddenly, this felt like a terrible idea.

“See?” You break the revered silence for him, “Worth it?”

“Almost forgot how you just bullied me in here.” He jokes—full on fuckin’ jokes before cracking an eye open to catch your reaction, a subtle look of disbelief on your face. “I’m kidding, darlin'.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the seat under the water and you smile, a half-hearted roll of your eyes thrown his way before you relax too, for a moment.

“This is so weird,” You speak softly, after a while, and Joel looks slightly puzzled as he opens his eyes fully now, perking up slightly as he adjusts himself, chest rising over the water slightly, his arms hanging over the ledge with his fingers gripping the ceramic—and you’re gaze is drifting again, mostly to his hands, but you mask it as you look away briefly, down the hall or out the window. Literally anywhere but Joel, “it’s just—not how I expected things to go.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Joel replies with an underlying amusement.

As the quiet settles, slowly drifting closer to one side, where you originally were when Joel came searching for you—voluntarily, he lingered and waited, waited for the push you gave him—Joel joined alongside you, burrowing himself in the closet corner nook and enjoying the view in silence.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Joel comments, “everything alright?”

Everything was fine and you couldn’t make complete sense out of it. The ability to be so inherently comfortable with someone you’ve only known for a little under a week, the attraction you felt despite your own rational thinking telling you otherwise, the urge to connect openly and without fear of judgment. It terrifies you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask quietly, “Like…a real question, not those superficial ones that we’ve thrown at each other.”

Joel doesn’t like the sound of it, but there’s also the inclination that he could feed you a total lie and you wouldn’t have any idea otherwise.

He nods, fist resting against his cheek as he turns to look at you and suddenly the pressure is on, your heart racing in your chest at his sudden, full attention.

“Earlier…you said you forgot somethin’ in the car,” Joel’s fist clenches unknowingly under the water, an instinct to bury his reaction, “I know it isn’t my business, but I was just curious what is was.”

Joel, against every fiber in his being that tells him to deflect, gives you a straight answer. It’s almost startling how easily it comes out, like he’s lifting a weight off his chest that he’s carried for years.

“I had to make a call,” Joel admits, “to uh—my daughter, she’s back home with her mom.”

Your brow pulls together in confusion, “Wait, are you married?”

Joel somehow amidst the heaviness of admitting his truth still laughs, quick to defend himself from your next question.

“Oh, not at all. Never, actually.” Joel responds, “We…I never married her mom, it was obvious pretty quickly we weren’t going to work well together.”

The answer is simpler than you expect, different too. Part of you wondered if he was pleading his own case to the owners and was just as unsuccessful as you, but this is much more vulnerable.

And despite your ability to lie, and his own, neither of you can force it.

You don’t pry further, feeling like it may push things too far. Too personal.

“Okay, your turn.”

“Do I scare you?” Joel asks suddenly, almost like he’s been anticipating the moment too.

You’re almost sure the expression you return makes you look insane, feeling the implication that he might, that he thinks—it’s so far left field that it throws you off.

“No—no,” You quickly reject any lingering doubt he has, “I mean…the first night, maybe. But, now…no.”

“Oh.” It’s all Joel can muster, unsure of why he was expecting a different answer. That you would say yes and whatever shroud of thought he had about this moment you were sharing was only out of fear, that you were just trying to be polite.

“Look, I get jumpy because you sneak up on me,” You answer, “and you have this…presence about you,” Okay, not the best wording, “not scary or anything, just…strong.” Big, like a wall. Like, if anyone were to ever approach you wrongly, Joel would attack without question. And maybe the fact that he would do that should scare you, but instead, it entices you.

Joel sits with the implication, burdened by his own mind.

You can see him lost in thought, speaking with a comforting surety, “Thank you…for telling me.”

The truth. Thank you for telling me the truth.

The next stretch of time, what feels like an hour, is spent in a comforting silence. You think Joel is nearly falling asleep but then he moves, make a comment about how the snow won’t let up and eventually you’re forcing yourself out of the hot tub, reaching over the side to snatch your towel and sending all of Joel’s clothes descending to the floor in the process and as if you had a death wish on Joel, your ass pops up at an angle that is physically impossible to look away from.

Joel is a gentleman, he swears. He was raised to respect and care and always put women first, but there’s a split second where he can’t pull his eyes away, feels like he’s just caught a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have, but then you’re turning your head over your shoulder and you definitely catch him—you could ruin the moment and say something or you could ignore it.

Fortunately, you save Joel some embarrassment, covering it with a sly smile as you apologize for dropping his clothes and take the final step out and wrap the towel around your body.

“Shit,” You quickly realize that in the midst of your pushing Joel to join you that he didn’t have a towel, “stay here—I’ll go grab you a towel.”

Joel wasn’t eager to move anyways, admittedly. Sporting half a hard-on under the water, he wouldn’t subject himself to the scrutiny of your gaze or what implications it would make, thinking every horrible possible thought to will it away—luckily your timing is perfect.

You quickly gather his dropped clothes and pile them in the chair as you toss the towel his way, ignoring any and all chances to glimpse at his wet body, back turned as you quickly excuse yourself away in fear of the idea that you might say something unforgettably stupid.

The walk to your separate bedroom is quick, swift, like a desperately needed escape.

But, as fate would have it, the moment you open the door and wretch the towel away from your body there’s a loud pop! to your left and a spark on the outside that has you halfway on the floor and slamming into the wall out of both shock and an attempt to shield yourself from whatever unseen force was at play, yelping out loud in the process.

From an outside perspective, you can understand why Joel doesn’t hesitate to come running.

He runs straight into your back, bare chest pressed against your know bare shoulders and leaving you half-dressed in front of him, scared out of your wits and willing to grab onto whatever was nearby to keep you upright—fortunately, Joel’s arm is the perfect anchor as your hand wraps around his wrist and squeezes.

“What the hell?” Joel inquires, slightly out of breath as he searches your face for any signs of injury, “What happened?”

You both look at the culprit—the heated window unit that was no longer expelling heat, and while the cabin was still heated, it didn’t reach the bedrooms well enough that you weren’t shivering without some type of additional help. You sigh in frustration, eyes turning up towards the ceiling as you feel no shame, too frustrated to care as you lean into Joel’s chest.

“Shit.” It’s all Joel offers as a solution, not that you were expecting one. But, still, it would be nice.

“Yeah, shit.” You echo, pushing away from him suddenly to gather your damp towel and a change of clothes, padding your bare feet toward the living room, but Joel is grabbing your wrist before you get too far from him.

“Hey, woah,” He starts in a calmer tone, “you can take my room—I’ll drive into town tomorrow and see if I can get ahold of the owners, we’ll figure something out.”

“I already tried calling them,” You admit, “Earlier. Straight to voicemail and something tells me they won’t be answering their phones until after the holidays.”

Pulling away again, you continue your way toward the living room and gather a few pillows and blankets, tossing them on the larger couch beside the fireplace. Joel doesn’t seem to entertain the idea, following on your heels as he gathers each item you throw in that direction and you finally reach a point of full, unrestrained frustration.

“Joel, cut the shit.”

“Take the room,” He offers as a counter, “I can sleep on the couch.”

With his back? Not a chance. But, he offers anyway.

“Fuck off,” You chuckle bitterly, “I’m not forcing you out of the bedroom.”

“Then it looks like we’re sharin’ the living room.”

You close your eyes, toss the blanket aside and breathe, clenching and unclenching your fists in an effort to not completely lose it on the man standing opposite of you.

Chivalry be damned, Joel wasn’t giving in.

Fine, two could play at that game.

“I’ll take the bed.” You quickly agree, but there’s a lingering ultimatum.

Joel waits, sees the thought brewing behind your pensive eyes.

“But, so will you.”

“Now—”

“No,” You interject, putting your figurative foot down, suddenly vividly reminded of your vulnerability as you stood there, still slightly damp and in a swimsuit that did nothing to cover your body—it was the reason Joel’s eyes were so pointedly stuck on your face, never lingering elsewhere, “either we both sleep in here on the couch or we share the bed.”

Joel’s hands shift to his hips, towel tight around his waist and you’re too annoyed to admire the way his muscles tense and flex with the movement, the underlying thickening desire settling beneath the surface.

You match his stance, daring him to challenge you.

A small part of you wants him too.

—

“Anyone ever told you you’re damn stubborn?” Joel asks, trailing behind you as you enter his bedroom, a clone of your own but with a small bathroom attached.

“All the time.” You answer truthfully. “I’m going to shower and sleep—no funny business.”

Meaning if Joel did sneak away into the living room to offer up the full amenities of his own room, he would feel your wrath tenfold.

Joel resigns to the idea and gathers his own pair of fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom down the hall, leaving you both to a moment of levity.

There’s no anticipation to the arrangement—but the idea is there, burrowing into the back of your mind.

You’re sleeping with a stranger…someone you knew little to nothing about, but it was your choice. And you trusted your gut.

Joel was safe, he was good.

You relax under the spray of hot water, a different heat to the one you enjoyed just a while ago, the type that allowed your thoughts to roam, and you laugh softly at the sight of Joel’s shower supplies, knowing he was stuck with whatever you brought—it wasn’t something you thought about in the moment, but there’s a brief realization that he was sharing a moment similar to your own, scowling at the sight of your fruity scented body wash that you left on the shelf there. It wasn’t a huge deal, Joel wouldn’t fuss over it.

But, it also lends your mind to roam more.

As if his bare chest wasn’t already at the forefront, and his eyes as they had stared at you so unabashed until the moment he was caught, all innocent looks with deeper intentions that invaded your mind like a plague.

You were so fucking frustrated—annoyed with him, the state of your life, this stupid vacation. With the suds gone and the water drowning out the silence you allow yourself one—just one moment of selfishness...

And as if the house was the biggest tattletale of them all, the floor creaks on the other side of the door.

“Joel?” You call out curiously, as if an intruder in the middle of nowhere was even likely.

There’s several seconds of silence before Joel finally answers.

“Yeah?”

“Your body wash sucks.” You goad lightly, hoping to ease the earlier frustration that had grown between you both, and while you can’t see him, you can hear his laughter on the other side of the door.

“Can’t say yours is any better.”

You smile to yourself, the way he responds with fondness that he tries to hide.

When you finish up and dress, peeking your head out before you move to open the door fully, Joel is already on his side, turned away. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be bothered. The small blanket of division rolled and wedged in the center of the bed like a barrier, a warning.

Keep your distance and you both may manage to survive the rest of this vacation.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, i love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedrostories #MMITW #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x fem!reader #my writing #let's just pretend ellie isn't in that gif lmao

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chaotic-iguana · 1 year ago

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dewdrop

in which miguel really, really likes mornings. or maybe not.

warnings: smut-ish? fluff? more of a braindump to get me back into writing. oh also yeah, add miguel to my character list.

morning: the suspension of time between night and day; reality warped and fuzzy and warm in the in-between; soft and slow and dripping like honey.

the steady weight of an arm resting on your back, a chest rising and falling under your head. the drag of the hours to come forgotten somewhere under muffled whines and fluttering lashes; greedy, grasping fingers and hungry mouths, burning kisses and whispers getting lost in the frigid air resting her fingers on your lips.

mornings are sacred. mornings are untouched; untainted by anything that was and anything that could be. golden tendrils wrapped around sighs breathed into skin, soft caresses and tangled hair met with gentle grins and gentler hands.

mornings when even the birds are asleep; flowers slumbering under dew, when your stirring prompts a raspy ‘sleep well?’, as you blink against the blinding light kissing your lashes. when small talk becomes a symphony of moans swallowed by the seal of your mouth on his, when miguel can really take his time taking you apart and putting you back together; lay back as you straddle him and leave burning trails of kisses down his chest, watch your eyes shut and your head tip back as your toes curl, fingers fisting the bedsheet beside him and you’re divine-

until the steady beeping of his watch signals the end of your stolen time, lyla popping up with a smirk and half-assing her way through a snarky comment while telling him about how ‘there’s another emergency and they need you now’ and day catches up with him again, sinking its claws into the delicate balance of dawn and dragging him with it. until all he can do is kiss your head and work you through it, leaving you under a heap of blankets and whispered praise before ripping off his sweatpants and activate his suit, fists curled in irritation and opening a portal, the breath knocked out of him when he turns for one last glimpse of you splayed out on his bed. until all he can do is handle it until morning comes around again.

short, i know (sorry). update - i might be coming back?? as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings,@josephquinnswhore,@millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk. i know y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

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bitterie-sweetie · 2 years ago

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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.

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leviscolwill · 1 year ago

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— dad!jude bellingham headcanons !

pairing: dad!jude bellingham x fem!reader

req: could you write dad!judebellingham ml <3

note: i tried writing headcanons because i feel like my writing is very 👎👎🍅🍅🍅 at the moment, i hope you'll like it still !! reblogs are VERY appreciated since the tags are in a silly goofy mood right now #useless 😝🤪

tag list: @ceofmercedes <3

it's well established on judeblr that he is a girl dad, so girl dad it is

i think he would spiral a bit over the fact that you're growing a whole human being in you

he would say random shit like “no but do you feel her legs grow ?”

and you're like 😐😐😐 of course not

but the poor boy is just clueless 😪

he would always remind you of how you're the most beautiful woman on earth, even when you're crying your eyes out because ron fell off his chess piece in the philosopher's stone

now,, i think we're all well aware he would spoil your daughter rotten

getting her new clothes or new toys whenever he passes in front of a store because “she might need it one day”

but !! he would never let her turn into a “daddy i want a squirrel” kinda girl

you would both make sure she's very well mannered because he is very aware his parents' education played a big part in who he is today

i feel like being strict wouldn't be a problem for him either

yk being the eldest in his family, he wouldn't be swayed by your girl's pleading eyes when she acts wrong

he would 100% cry on her first day of pre-school (it's the cancer in him)

and he would try to drop her / pick her up from school as much as he possibly can with training and stuff

if you speak another language, you'd learn it to your daughter and use it to talk shit about jude 🤭

“have you seen what he wore today ?” “yeah daddy's shirt is very ugly”

in my case she would say quoicoubeh to him

i feel like he'd get so frustrated and start sulking amd pouting before your daughter reassures him

okayy bc it's spooky szn rn 😋

family matching costumes !! (call it corny 😡 i do not care)

monsters, disney characters or the adams family... he'd have soooo many ideas

he'd go trick or treating just to eat all the sweets

playfights with your daughter for their girl's attention

“it's my mommy !”

“oh yeah ? but mommy liked me before, so i'm the number one in her heart”

“it's not true ! mommy tell him he's a liar”

you can only roll your eyes because he really has beef with a whole child ???

but he's just a kid himself !!

everytime she gets to see uncle jobe she's overly happy

and jude would smack the back of his head when he says a bad word

(like he's not the one to curse at home yk 🙄)

is it a bad thing i think he would secretly hope your daughter has a bad dream so she'd have a good excuse to sleep in between you both ?

because he would

just to cuddle with her

then he regrets it when she wakes him up early in the morning

when she grows up he would be soooo invested in her school's dramas

like, actually asking for updates during dinner like he's dan from gossip girl

“what do you mean ben is dating his ex's best friend ?? he's such a di... bad person”

he'd be so gassed whenever she would wear his shirt (especially at school)

like you got all these clothes but chose this particular england shirt ? 🥹🥹

(as if half her wardrobe isn't his jerseys from every club he's been at)

(+ jerseys he exchanged with other players and signed jerseys by football legends)

he would sooo show her off to his teammates

“yeah my girl knows how to read now” 😎

and show every picture of her EVER

even the embarrassing ones

100% would introduce his friends as uncles

“say hi to uncle gio” (🫠)

now hear me out bc i think it's my favourite idea

he would totally look up hairstyles tutorials for your babygirl and try them out

once he gets the hang of it, he would never stop finding new ones

and since he doesn't have a sister, he would go to his mum for advice

on hair, but also girl stuff so he can pretend he already knows it all in front of you

you'd also go to his mum to advice tho, because being a parent (especially a mum) is never easy

and she would gladly share all of them with you

when you get into fights with jude your girl would always try to make it better

“dad says he's sorry”, “mum said she's not mad anymore”

of course you both know she's lying but somehow it always works ???

so your relationship is the prime example of what she's looking for when she grows up

and she secretly hopes she gets to love her s/o just like her parents love each other (too corny now ?)

anyways jude would treat you both like his little princesses, and he's so so so grateful he gets to live a lifetime with you two

or maybe more than two who knows 🚶‍♀️

#is it too messy ??#or is it readable ?#is this too much ?#yeah probably #jude bellingham x reader #football x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham #jude bellingham headcanons #football one shot #football fluff #football imagine #football headcanon

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worldly-fluster · 20 days ago

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Like... WARNING THIS MIGHT TRIGGER SOMEONE.

The LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Xavier-- Part 2 of 4

I call my Diary, 'My Death Book' because I want people to be able to read it after I'm gone and be able to understand how I think, somewhat. I made these because I wondered what their reaction would be if they saw it with no context lol

All other details of this are on part 1 Sylus' so, go read it lol cause I also updated it to make it better.

Anyway- you done been warned it is ANGST.

Xavier-

•He felt he knew a lot about you, if not everything.

•Your favorite song, favorite food, favorite drink. He even knew your favorite color, even though it changed a lot.

•He wanted to know more, sure, but he didn't want to overstep any boundaries you set. Hell, it took him months just to be able to stand next to you without you taking multiple steps back.

•He asked once why you stepped back, you told him that you just don't like people that close.

•He was ecstatic when you started standing close enough to him to brush hands. His slow heart starting to beat a little faster at every small touch.

•He also noticed you laughed more, talked more. In the beginning you barely spoke two sentences before going quiet, you said it's because your voice hurt and you liked company more than conversation.

•Now you talk so much he noticed you had an adorable stutter and a slight accent. He loved to hear you speak.

•But then one day, while you both were having fun trying to get plushies in the claw machine, you were having so much fun neither of you noticed an older woman walk up and stand with her arms crossed and a disappointed glare.

•Not until you both heard an 'Ahem' from behind.

•The voice was familiar to you, making you flinch.

•"What are you doing? Haven't I told you not to waste your money on these games? And who's this? It better not be a boyfriend or we'll have to have another talk."

•Xavier stared at the lady for a bit before looking over at you, opening his mouth to ask you who this was, when he saw your face.

•Your face was now devoid of the spark he loved so much, your lips pulled into a thin line and eyes lifeless.

•He stood straight as his eyes widened a bit, especially when he heard your now small voice answer.

•"Yes Mom."

•Just before the lady could speak anymore, Xavier stood protectively in front of you, his hand reaching back and holding yours gently.

•He spoke in a stiff, confident voice, his lips in a tight smile as the lights around you flickered.

•"Okay Ma'am, I'm going to be taking her with me. If you follow us or say one more word to her, I will not promise your safety."

•He pulled you along as you both heard the lady spluttering out about manners. Your eyes widened as you stared at Xavier's back, not used to somebody speaking up for you.

•Xavier's blood was hot with anger towards that woman, your supposed Mother. How could she talk to her daughter like that? I mean, yeah, it's a waist of money playing the claw machine but you love it so he doesn't care. Spend his money.

•He took you straight to your apartment for some much needed downtime, he wants to cuddle and nap but he feels lucky to be holding your hand rn and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable with him. He'll wait.

•You both sat on your couch, he didn't want to leave you alone at the time, he never does.

•You weren't talking much so he decided to put on a movie, of which you immediately fell asleep watching.

•He smiled a bit as he got up to grab a blanket and cover you with. As he was tucking the blanket around you he found a notebook hidden away between the pillows on the couch.

•Out of curiosity and wanting to move it so you can be comfortable, he opened it. Thinking maybe it was a diary of some sort.

•The first page made him breathe in sharply and his blood run cold.

•The page was Titled, 'My Death Book'.

•As he flipped through it, he found it had things ranging from what you want at your funeral to small tidbits from day to day life.

•Most pages made him want to scoop you into his arms and protect you, even from yourself. Other pages had left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. As if to help whomever would read this through the grief of losing you.

•When he got to the last page you wrote in, he closed the book, put it back where he found it and sat on the ground next to your sleeping form.

•He lay his head next to yours as he watched you sleep, gently holding your hand, as a lump formed in his throat. He watched your lips part as you breathed deeply, seeing every small twitch you made. His eyes closed as he pulled your hand to his face, holding in there to feel your warmth.

•He wants to protect you from all the things written in that book, wants to make sure you never have to finish writing in it. He really wants to make sure you never run into any of those terrible people again...

•He doesn't ever think he'll be able to leave you alone, ever again. He doesn't want to have to read that book again...and not be able to hold you after.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace imagine #lads sylus #lads zayne #lads xavier #lads rafayel #lads #lads angst

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thighguys · 2 months ago

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Phan Fic Recs #3!!

here is the requested long fic list! these are all 100k+, not all of them are finished (i didn't put any on here that aren't actively updating tho) and all of them are SO good so i hope you enjoy :)

Silver Arrows To The Heart by @evermorepeyton (137k WIP)- this one is a duplicate from the other list but there might be a few on here, ignore that<3 anyway this fic is AMAZING!!! dan and phil formula 1 drivers au- they're both on Mercedes and lots of awesome teammates to lovers hijinks ensue<3 this one gets a special shoutout for having some fantastic female characters (who are dare i say just as intriguing as dnp themselves?) and also bc the author is a beautiful human who i love<3 a super fun fic and very in character for both of them (somehow lmao, you wouldnt expect it with racecar drivers but somehow it works so well)

dancing on the blades (you set my heart on fire) by kishere (123k)- imagine all the 2009 phan lore but if dan and phil were figure skaters. yep, it's a yuri on ice au where dan scores a spot in the famous Lester training gym and meets phil, who is one of the most well known figure skaters in england<3 fantastic fantastic fic, such perfect vibes and lots of great lester family cameos<3

Strictly Come Dancing but make it GAY! by @natigail (176k)- the final duplicate from the medium list<3 this fic is AMAZING!!!! this is the one that got me back into phanfic in general afterhaving not read any for about 6 years, it's a strictly come dancing au where phil is a hot pro dancer and dan is a celebrity/gay activist, and they accidentally become the first gay couple to compete in scd<3 FANTASTIC outfit and dance descriptions, i listened to all the songs while reading it and it was honestly so lovely i felt like i could see it so clearly<3 also- the lore references are AMAZING lol i felt like a pro every time i found a little easter egg. amazing fic, i HIGHLY recommend it<3

A Semester Abroad by @everything-is-as-it-was (162k WIP)- this one is really fun!! lots of domestic phouse vibes as it is about an american college student who gets stranded in England after a study abroad housing situation falls through and who gets accidentally taken in by these two random british guys with a REALLY weird house... sooo funny, it's really quite cute and i highly recommend giving it a read! I love outsider pov and this has an abundance of funny moments because dnp are Weird

Broke, Gay and New in Town by @natigail (347k)- do you want the softest, cutest, most magical and compelling story to ever exist??? literally look no further because right here is the dan and phil stardew valley au and it is SO CUTE!!! dan inherits a farm from his grandfather and decides to ditch his boring life to go and run it, and he has so many adventures along the way. oh yeah phil is there too and hes SO CUTE and they fall in love :3 seriously so cute, also you don't need stardew valley knowledge to enjoy this it is independently perfect (i have never played the game and actually learned what it was From this fic so ur good lol)

linger on by dizzy, waveydnp (184k)- this one is so so so sweet... non youtuber au where 33yo phil has been living with his parents, but when his dad dies his mom decides to sell the house and phil has to find somewhere new to live. so ofc he becomes roommates with some guy called dan, and ummm they fall in love? honestly they are SO perfect in this fic, i adore it<3 highly recommend

L'Histoire Française by danfanciesphil (105k)- suuuuper fun teachers au! phil is a history professor and dan is his TA. this fic is SO FUN!!!! genuinely adore it lol, it's one of the first phan fics i ever read and it has stayed with me forever<3

So Many Stars by transdimensional_void (152k)- another teachers au :) dnp meet when they both become english teachers at a school in japan and this is VERY cute <3

okay there's the list!! sorry this one is shorter than the others haha, there are too few long fics in the phandom :( but all of these are so so lovely and i hope you enjoy! lol some distractions may be needed during these trying times <3

#dan and phil #phan #dnp #phandom #dip and pip #phil lester #dan howell #dnpg #dapg #dan and phil games #phanfiction #phan fiction

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sherewrytes · 13 days ago

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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 6

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours

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Here is another chapter cause I'm still writing out the other fics right now :)

Chapter 6: The Weight of Loss

Y/N’s POV

It’s almost comical how different my life feels when I’m at school compared to when I’m at home. At Pratt, I’m a student, focused, and driven, with an entire future ahead of me. The campus is buzzing with the usual energy—students chatting, the sound of sketch pads flipping, the hum of distant studio lights. But the weight of everything outside these walls presses down on me more with each passing day.

It’s been weeks or days since the breakup with Sukuna.The loss of our relationship feels longer than the time we actually broke up but it feels like the echo of it still reverberates in everything I do. I’m trying to push forward, trying to act like I’m okay, but the reality is… I’m not. I haven’t been okay for a while.

The work in front of me should be enough to distract me. Finals are coming up, and my portfolio still feels like it needs a hundred more hours of attention before it’s anywhere near perfect. But I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to that night—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me when he left, the pain in his eyes I couldn’t fix.

I sit in one of the studio rooms, surrounded by scraps of fabric and sketches, trying to focus on the design I need to complete for my final project. My hand trembles as I draw out another silhouette. It’s difficult to concentrate, especially when my phone buzzes on the table.

I don’t even need to look to know if it's from Utahime. She’s been checking in on me regularly. She doesn’t understand everything, but she knows enough to ask if I’m okay.

I pick up my phone, hesitating for a moment before responding. Yeah, I’m good. Just a lot of work to get through.

It’s a lie, but I don’t want to burden her with the truth. Everyone has their own problems, and I don’t want to be the one who drags them down.

I scroll through the texts, my heart dropping when I see a message from Toji. It’s just a short note, nothing particularly alarming. Sukuna's in the hospital. He’s okay, but he had a breakdown. You might want to check on him.

I read it three times before I let it sink in.

Sukuna’s in the hospital.

I bite my lip, the sting of old wounds coming back. What’s going on with him? Why does everything feel like it’s falling apart? I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I spent so much time loving him, fighting with him, then pushing him away, only for him to spiral deeper into whatever this is. And now, he’s in the hospital… alone?

I don’t even have the right to care, do I?

I put my phone down, my hands running through my hair as I try to make sense of it all. What should I do?

There’s a knock at the door, and I look up, startled. Utahime enters with a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiles when she sees me but then stops when she notices the look on my face. She doesn’t even need to ask.

“Something’s wrong,” she says gently, placing the coffee down in front of me.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Sukuna’s in the hospital,” I say quietly. The words feel so surreal coming out of my mouth.

Utahime doesn’t speak for a moment, just nods, as if she knew this might happen. “You’re thinking about going, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice soft.

I shake my head, my chest tightening. “I don’t even know what I’d say to him, Utahime. I—” I stop, the emotions threatening to spill over. “He played with my feelings, and I let him. I gave him everything, and now... now look at us.”

She sits next to me, her presence comforting. “You don’t have to go to him if you’re not ready,” she says, her hand gently brushing mine. “But don’t ignore what your heart is telling you. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in anger or pride, but if you care about him, and you think he needs you—maybe you should go. Just to know he’s okay.”

I stare at the coffee in front of me, the steam rising gently. I feel so torn. Part of me wants to throw it all away and run to him, to make things right, but the other part is terrified of what that would mean.

“I’m just… so tired, Utahime. Tired of trying to fix everything,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t want to keep getting hurt.”

She leans back in her chair, giving me space. “You don’t have to fix him. You just have to decide what’s best for you. It’s okay to care about him, but it’s also okay to take a step back. You don’t owe him anything.”

I nod slowly, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. If anything, it feels heavier.

As much as I want to ignore the message, as much as I want to pretend everything’s fine and keep moving forward, I know deep down that the story isn’t finished yet. But the question is, how do I make peace with it? How do I let go of the part of me that still wants him in my life?

I guess I’m going to have to figure it out, even if it hurts.

I stare at the message from Toji, my thumb hovering over the reply button. I could feel the tension building in my chest, the pull to cave in and see him, to check on Sukuna, to offer whatever comfort I could. But I can’t. I won’t.

I text back quickly, trying to keep my answer as firm as possible, even though doubt gnaws at me. Yes. I’m sure.

I put my phone down and take another sip of the coffee Utahime bought for me. The warmth soothes me, but it’s not enough to quell the rising discomfort I feel. Maybe I’m running away from something I should confront, but every time I think about him—about everything that happened—my chest tightens. I know I’m not ready to face him.

Mei Mei sits beside me, her usual confident and laid-back demeanor a welcome distraction. She smiles at me, her eyes bright despite the obvious tension in the air. “I heard you’ve been dealing with some drama,” she teases, nudging my shoulder playfully. “You always seem to attract it, huh?”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah, it seems like it. Just trying to get through finals without any more drama.”

She leans back in her chair, clearly not convinced. “If you say so, but I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bothering you.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone. What’s going on?”

I set the coffee down, rubbing my forehead. Mei Mei’s known me for years. She doesn’t give up easily, especially when it comes to stuff I’d rather keep to myself.

“It’s… complicated,” I say, sighing deeply. “Sukuna’s in the hospital.”

Mei Mei’s expression softens. “Hospital? What happened?”

I explain the basics—the fallout from our breakup, his breakdown, and the fact that it seems he’s been spiraling for months. As I talk, it feels like I’m peeling back a layer of myself I’ve been trying to keep hidden.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly. “But now… I just feel like I made it worse.”

Mei Mei listens, her face serious. When I finish, she doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at me for a long time, her eyes calculating, like she’s trying to figure something out.

“You can’t keep carrying his weight, Y/N,” she says gently, her tone softer than I expected. “He’s not your responsibility anymore. I get that you care, but sometimes stepping back is the healthiest thing you can do—for both of you.”

I nod, trying to hold it together, but her words sink deep into my chest. I know she’s right. If I keep going back to him, trying to fix things that aren’t mine to fix, I’ll just keep breaking myself in the process. But knowing that doesn’t make the choice any easier.

I reach for my phone again, checking for another message. There’s one from Toji.

Y/N, I know you’re upset. I get it. But you need to understand he’s really struggling. He’s not the same guy anymore. Please, just think about it. He’s not okay.

I feel the weight of the message, the silent plea in his words. It almost makes me want to go. But no. I made my decision.

I turn my phone face down, looking back at Mei Mei. “I’m done with it. I need to focus on my future. On me.”

She smiles, a little proud of me. “Good. It’s about time. You’re a strong woman, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

I lean back in my chair, feeling the exhaustion from the last few months hit me all at once. Finals are coming, and I don’t have the luxury of letting my emotions run the show anymore. I have to finish this. For me.

But even as I sit there, I can’t ignore the small ache in my heart, the part of me that still cares, that wonders what could have been. For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine a different reality, one where everything with Sukuna was easier, where we were happy and I didn’t have to make these impossible decisions.

But that’s not my reality. Not anymore.

Toji's POV

I stare at the screen of my phone, Y/N’s last text still lingering in front of me. Yes. I’m sure.

The words hit harder than I expected. I knew she wasn’t going to just drop everything and run to Sukuna, but hearing it from her directly… it stings. She’s shutting him out, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Nothing any of us can do.

I glance over at Sukuna, still out cold in the hospital bed, his breathing steady for now. He’s been through hell these past few days, and I hate to admit it, but I’m worried. Despite all his bullshit, the bravado he puts up like a fucking wall, he’s broken. And it’s not just the aftermath of Jin’s death or the guilt he carries around like a fucking anchor. It’s more than that.

I thought, maybe if Y/N came, it would snap him back. But she’s not coming.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. The room feels too quiet now, even with the constant beep of the heart monitor in the background. The silence between me and Sukuna is almost deafening, and I can’t shake the sense of impending disaster that hangs in the air.

I think about what Y/N said—how she couldn’t keep carrying his weight. And part of me gets it. She’s right. I told her before that Sukuna wasn’t the only one who needed to get his shit together, but I guess… I didn’t expect her to walk away. Not like this. Not after everything.

I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d all handled this differently. If we had talked more, not let everything fester. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to make that decision. Maybe Sukuna wouldn’t be lying here, broken and lost. And I wouldn’t be standing here, feeling fucking useless.

Sukuna murmurs in his sleep, his hand twitching slightly, and I look back at him. He looks so different when he’s not putting on that mask. I can see the fear, the guilt, everything he hides away in his waking hours. It’s all on display when he’s vulnerable, like this.

He whispers something under his breath, and I lean in closer, straining to hear him.

“Y/N… I’m sorry…”

His voice cracks, soft and fragile. He doesn’t even know I’m here. Doesn’t know I’m watching him break down piece by piece. But I heard it. He said her name.

It’s fucking killing me to watch him like this.

I stand up, running my hand over my face, trying to shake off the weight of everything. I can’t do this. I can’t fix this. No matter how many times I try to tell myself that this is his fight, not mine, I can’t stop feeling like I’m responsible. We all are.

I check my phone again. Y/N hasn’t replied. I don’t expect her to. She’s made up her mind, and honestly, I don’t know what I would say if she did respond.

All I can do is sit here and wait, hoping that Sukuna pulls himself out of this hole he’s dug. He’s going to need all the help he can get, but I’m not sure I can even be that for him anymore.

I glance back at him one last time before walking out of the room. Whatever happens next is out of our hands. I just hope for his sake, he’s not too far gone to fix it.

I step out of the room, needing some space to breathe, even though the weight of everything is still pressing down on me. My phone buzzes again. Another message from Y/N. I don’t look at it. I can’t. Not right now.

The hallway feels emptier than usual, and I’m just about to sit down when I hear footsteps approaching. I glance up, already knowing who it is before I see their faces. Gojo’s impossible to miss, his presence like a fucking storm in the calm. And right behind him, Geto, walking with that same quiet intensity he always carries. They're holding bags in each hand, the smell of fast food wafting into the air.

Gojo gives me a lazy grin like he's just come back from a fun afternoon instead of dealing with a pile of shit that’s only getting worse.

“Got you something.” He waves the KFC sandwich in the air, the crispy fried chicken peeking out from the wrapper. “Figured you could use something real to eat. You’ve been looking like you’ve been living off hospital snacks.”

I glance at him, but I’m not in the mood for a joke. I just stare at the sandwich for a second before nodding. “Thanks.”

Geto just raises an eyebrow and slides a bottle of cold Coca-Cola into my hand. "It’s cold. Thought you could use a little sweetness with all this shit."

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I take the sandwich, unwrap it, and take a small bite. The taste is oddly comforting, and for a moment, it feels a little bit of normal. But only for a second. My mind is still a million miles away, locked on Sukuna, on Y/N, on everything that’s been happening. I can’t seem to get a grip.

Gojo leans against the wall casually, clearly unaffected by anything going on, while Geto remains quiet, eyes focused like he’s waiting for me to crack. The silence stretches, uncomfortable in its own way.

"Is he awake?" Gojo asks, breaking the tension, his voice light but his eyes searching mine for an answer.

I take another bite of the sandwich and sigh, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Yeah, but he’s not really there. Talking in his sleep… saying her name. Y/N."

The mention of her name hangs in the air for a moment, and I watch as Gojo’s expression shifts slightly. He doesn’t show it often, but I know he can’t be completely oblivious to what’s happening. Not with how tightly he and Sukuna have been bound, even when things were rough.

“I’m sure he’s just… in his head,” Gojo says after a pause, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly struggling with his own thoughts. “He’s got a lot of shit on his plate.”

Geto’s expression hardens slightly. “He’s not the only one, Gojo. Y/N’s been through her own hell. She’s not just some side character in his story. It’s never been that simple.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gojo mutters, though he doesn’t seem entirely convinced by Geto’s words. He glances back at the door where Sukuna lies, still deep in his own turmoil. “We all know what happened between them. It’s fucked up, but that doesn’t change what he’s going through.”

The words cut through the tension like a blade. I swallow the rest of the sandwich, my stomach growing heavier with the implications of their statements. The more I think about it, the more it feels like we’ve all fucked up in our own ways. We’ve all allowed this to spiral out of control, and now, we’re left picking up the pieces.

“I get that he’s hurting,” I say, voice tight, “but what do we do now? What can we even do? She’s not coming, Gojo. She’s done.”

The words feel bitter in my mouth, even though I know they’re true. Sukuna has lost her, and there’s no going back.

Gojo and Geto exchange a look, the silence dragging on as the weight of the situation settles in. Gojo pops the cap off his own bottle of Coke, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You just keep pushing forward,” Gojo says after a moment. “You don’t get to wallow in this shit. That’s not how it works, Toji. You just keep moving forward. That's all you can do.”

I’m about to respond when I hear a low murmur coming from Sukuna’s room. The door creaks open slightly, and I glance toward it, the worry clawing at my insides again. Gojo stands up and gives me a pointed look.

“Let’s go see how he’s doing,” he says, voice more serious now, and I can hear the weight of his words.

We all walk to the room, our steps heavy with the unspoken truths we’ve been avoiding. Inside, Sukuna stirs in the bed, his eyes barely open but wide enough to see the panic in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, his hand gripping the bed sheets tightly.

The room feels cold as we stand there, watching him struggle with the demons only he knows. His words hang in the air like a knife, cutting through the silence.

“Maybe we can fix this,” Gojo mutters softly, more to himself than anyone else. "But not like this."

I watch Sukuna’s face, the same man who used to be full of fire and rage, now broken. Maybe Gojo’s right—maybe we keep pushing forward. But even I know, with everything that’s happened, there’s no easy fix to the mess we’ve created.

Sukuna's POV

I’m trapped in the in-between, stuck in the land of the awake but not living. I can hear them talking, but my mind refuses to connect. Every word that escapes their lips feels like a blur, and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about Y/N or Jin or my own damn self.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the only thing grounding me in reality, reminding me that I'm still here, still breathing, even if it feels like everything else is slipping through my fingers. The voices swirl around me, but none of them cut through the fog in my mind. Not even Gojo’s voice, not even Geto’s.

Y/N.

Her name lingers in the air like an echo I can’t escape. It’s all I can think about. How I fucked things up. How I hurt her. How I lost her. I can’t get away from the image of her, standing there in her apartment, looking at me with those eyes—those brown eyes I used to drown in. Eyes that no longer saw me the same. Eyes that were filled with pain.

My stomach churns. I want to scream, but the words catch in my throat.

My younger brothers.

Yuuji. Choso.

I’m supposed to be their older brother. I’m supposed to be strong for them. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t afford to lose them, too. But if I keep spiraling like this—if I let this guilt eat me alive, if I let my demons drag me under—then what happens to them? What happened to me?

I’m supposed to protect them, but I’m barely holding myself together. I can’t keep breaking like this. I can’t keep letting everything fall apart just because I don’t know how to deal with the shit that’s happened.

I’m supposed to be better. Better for them.

But how? How do I fix this? How do I fix myself when everything feels broken beyond repair?

I hear Gojo again, his voice louder this time. "He's just... lost in his head right now. We can't help him until he helps himself." It’s all I need to hear to understand that I’m not getting any sympathy here. Not from any of them. They know me too well.

And maybe that's what I need.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block out the pain. Maybe if I don’t open them, I won’t have to face the reality of what I’ve become. A broken man. A fuck-up.

But the truth is, I can’t run forever. I can’t stay in this fog of regret and self-loathing. I don’t want to be this version of myself. Not for my brothers, not for anyone. I’ve been here too many times before. Spiraling, falling, too afraid to face what’s staring me in the face. I’ve always been this way. But I can’t afford to be anymore.

I can’t let myself be the reason they lose me. Not when I still have a chance to fix it.

I hear Geto’s voice again, softer this time. "Sukuna... we’re here. But you need to come back. Come back to us." His words hit me harder than I expected, and I feel the weight of them pressing down on my chest. Come back to us.

I’m not sure how, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel something other than numbness. A crack in the wall I’ve built around myself. A tiny opening to a possibility that maybe—just maybe—I can still get out of this.

But first, I have to face the one thing I’ve been running from.

I have to face myself.

“Y/N,” I whisper to no one in particular, my voice hoarse, rough. "I'm sorry."

I don’t expect anyone to hear it. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it yet. But it’s the first step. And for now, that’s all I can give.

I open my eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights above. The hospital room is sterile and unfamiliar, and for a second, I forget where I am. But then it all comes flooding back—the weight of my actions, the destruction I’ve left in my wake, and the realization that I can’t keep hiding from it.

I don't even remember when I said it, but those two words still echo in my mind: I'm sorry. They were the first words I’ve said aloud in what feels like forever, but they carry so much weight. So much guilt.

I sit up slowly, feeling the ache in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s from the panic attack, the guilt, or just the overwhelming sense of being broken. But whatever it is, it makes it hard to breathe, to think. To feel.

Gojo is still here, his presence just as obnoxious as ever. But there's something about him being here that gives me a sense of stability like maybe he doesn’t expect me to be perfect, but he’s still here, regardless. And Geto... Geto is just sitting there, staring at me like he’s waiting for me to get my shit together. Maybe he’s right. Maybe they both are.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How did I get here?"

Geto looks up from his phone, catching my eye for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’ve been here, Sukuna. You know the drill. You need to pull yourself together, for them.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. He’s tired, I can tell. We all are.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking. "For them."

It’s a mantra I’ve been repeating to myself for weeks now—for them. For Yuuji and Choso. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t be the one to break.

But I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I rebuild what I’ve destroyed? How do I fix myself when I’m not even sure who I am anymore?

Gojo leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not alone in this, you know.” His words are blunt, but there’s something softer in his eyes. He doesn’t say it often, but I can see it. The understanding.

"I know." I don’t meet his gaze, my eyes locked on the floor. It’s easier that way. “But I still fucked up, Gojo. I messed it all up.”

Geto sighs heavily, shaking his head. "You didn't just mess it up. But that doesn't mean it’s over. You’ve got to take responsibility for it, man. For her... and yourself."

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. The words feel like they’re stuck in my throat. But then I think of Y/N. Her face, her eyes... the way she looked at me when I ruined everything. I see her pain in every single interaction we had before it all came crashing down. I can still feel it. The way she’d retreat from me, the way she’d pull away. And the way I never truly let her in.

"I didn’t mean for it to go like this," I finally whispered. "I never meant to hurt her."

“You need to talk to her, if she’ll allow it” Geto says, standing up and moving closer. “And if she’s willing, maybe... maybe you can fix it. But you have to start with yourself first.”

I feel the weight of his words, like he’s trying to lift me out of the quicksand I’ve been sinking into. But I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the guilt, in the shame, in the regret.

“What if she doesn’t want me back?” I ask, barely above a whisper. "What if I’ve already ruined it too much?"

"You won’t know unless you try," Gojo says, stepping forward. “You can’t undo the past, but you can at least try to make the future better. For her. For you.”

I feel something shift inside me, something small but significant. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s just the desperation that’s been eating away at me. I don’t know. But it’s there, and for the first time, I let myself feel it.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, I can start rebuilding—starting with myself. I have to try. For Y/N. For Yuuji. For Choso. For me.

I stand up, feeling the weight of my body shift. My legs feel weak, but I force myself to stay upright. Geto watches me carefully as if waiting for me to collapse, but I don’t. Not this time.

I might not have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure.

I’m done running from it.

“I’ll fix it,” I murmur, barely believing the words myself. But I have to say it. I have to believe it.

For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel so alone. Maybe I’m not as far gone as I thought. Maybe I can still fight my way back from this.

Maybe I can still be the man I used to be.

the nurse filled in, "We tried to contact your emergency contact yn ln but they didnt respond. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?

The nurse’s words hang in the air, thick with unspoken tension. I feel the room grow heavier as they linger, and I find myself grasping for a response. Y/N’s name still feels like a foreign sound on my lips.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. What would I even say? She won’t answer me anymore. Not after what I did. The silence stretches between us, suffocating.

"I have—" I start, but the weight of it stops me.

Before I can finish the sentence, Toji speaks up, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife.

"You can take my information. What do I need to know?"

I look up at him, and for the first time in what feels like days, I feel a bit of relief. Toji, as blunt as he is, never lets me down. He’s been here since the start, and I know, deep down, he’s always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.

The nurse nods, taking out her tablet and entering Toji’s information with practiced ease. It’s almost like they’ve done this a thousand times before, and maybe they have. Maybe they’re used to people like me. People who screw up their lives and end up here, needing a reminder that they’re not completely gone yet. That there's still a chance.

But I don’t know if I believe that.

I watch the nurse leave, and the silence settles back into the room like a heavy blanket. Toji stands there, looking at me with something between concern and resignation. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know exactly what he’s thinking.

"Stop blaming yourself," Toji finally says, his voice low, but firm. “You're not in this mess alone, and you’re not gonna fix it overnight. But you’ve gotta stop running from it, or you'll end up buried.”

I can feel his eyes on me, watching for any sign of weakness, but I can’t give him that. I can’t give anyone that. Not after everything.

"I know," I mutter, my voice barely audible.

Toji shrugs and moves to the side, making space in the small hospital room. "We all fucked up, Sukuna. But it’s not the end of the world. You’re still here."

The words settle somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I didn’t even know was still capable of feeling something. I look away, pretending the words don’t hit me the way they do.

But I can’t stop thinking about Y/N.

Her face. Her eyes. How she would look at me when I failed her. The way she pulled away.

I failed her.

But I still want to fix it. God, I want to fix it so badly that it hurts.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that. I’m not sure if it’s even possible. But for the first time in months, I feel like I can try. I have to try.

For me. For her. For everyone I’ve hurt.

“Thanks,” I say to Toji, my voice gruff and unsteady. "For doing this... for me."

He doesn’t respond right away, just gives me a sharp look like he’s waiting for me to crumble again.

But I don’t.

Not this time.

Instead, I stand up slowly, feeling the weight of my legs beneath me. There’s no escape now. No more running from my mistakes. No more hiding. I have to face this.

And maybe... just maybe, I can start with making things right.

For once, I don’t feel like I’m completely drowning. But the battle is far from over.

"I’ll make it right," I say softly to myself, more than to Toji.

The words feel fragile like I’m trying to piece together a shattered mirror. But I have to try.

I won’t be the man I used to be. I can’t go back to that.

But maybe, just maybe, I can be someone worth loving again.

For Y/N. For everyone I’ve hurt.

And for myself.

I’m finally being released from the hospital. The sterile white walls feel like they’re closing in as the nurses hand me a prescription for the medications I’m supposed to take. But I don't care about that right now. I just want to go home. I just want to breathe again.

The ride back to the apartment feels like it takes hours. The air in the car is heavy with the weight of everything I've done, everything I’ve messed up. I haven’t spoken a word the whole way. Toji’s driving, the only sound between us was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the road beneath the tires.

When we get to the apartment, I’m not sure what to expect. The door’s wide open when I walk in, and there’s Choso, pacing back and forth. His voice rises, sharp and full of frustration as he glances over at me. His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in days, and I know it’s because of me.

"Sukuna!" Choso shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, his face a mix of anger, pain, and worry. “What the hell were you thinking?! You scared the shit out of us, man!”

I flinch at his words, the sting of them going deeper than I want to admit. But I don’t say anything. I don’t have a defense, not for this. I can’t make it better with a few words. So, I stand there, silent, my head hanging low.

Yuuji’s sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes glued to the floor, his friends Megumi and Nobara beside him, looking as stressed as he is. The weight of it all crashes into me. I did this to them. I’ve been selfish, and it’s clear they’re carrying this burden with me.

Yuuji finally looks up, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm glad you're home, bro."

His words don’t hit me like I expect them to. Instead of feeling the relief I thought I’d get from hearing him, I just feel hollow. I’ve caused too much damage to fix it with just a few words. He shouldn't have to say that. I shouldn’t be the one causing him so much pain.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I mutter, the bitterness slipping out before I can stop it. "It’s not like I’ve been some fucking good example for you, right?"

Toji steps up beside me, his presence grounding. “That’s enough,” he says, his tone low but firm. “He’s home, and that’s what matters. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

Choso doesn’t let up though, his hands on his hips as he glares at me. "You’ve been running from everything, running from us, from yourself. We were worried you were gonna fucking end up dead, and now you’re back, but are you even gonna stay back?"

I want to answer him, to tell him that I’m trying, that I’m going to get better. But I know he won’t believe me. None of them will. Not after everything.

"Look," I say, my voice thick. "I’m sorry. I’ve fucked up, and I can’t fix everything in a day. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere right now."

It’s all I can offer, and I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I can’t be the man I was before. I can’t just wipe away all the mistakes I made with a simple apology. But maybe I can try to be better.

Yuuji stands up slowly and walks over to me. I brace myself, waiting for him to yell, for him to say something harsh. But when he reaches me, he simply pats me on the back, like he’s trying to offer something I don’t deserve.

“It’s good to have you back, Sukuna,” Yuuji says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing. I don’t know if I’m crying or not. But it sure feels like it. Maybe this is the first step in making things right. Maybe not for everyone, but for me, for Yuuji, for Choso... and Y/N.

The tears come without warning, falling like a flood. I feel them before I even know they’re coming, a warm rush down my face, blurring my vision. I can’t stop them. Not anymore. I’ve been holding everything in for so long, trying to keep the pieces of myself together, trying to be the strong one for my brothers. But I can’t do it anymore.

My knees give way, and I drop to the floor, the weight of everything—of all the things I’ve lost, of all the things I’ve fucked up—crushing me. My chest aches, tight, like it’s too small to hold all the guilt, all the pain.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter through gritted teeth, though I don’t know if I’m saying it to Choso or Yuuji or even myself. My voice cracks, the rawness of it is unfamiliar and painful. “Jin’s gone because of me... and Grandpa... he’s gone. They’re both gone.”

The tears come faster, like a storm I can’t outrun. I can’t hold it together anymore. Not for anyone. Not for them. Not for myself.

I hear Choso’s footsteps, feel his arms around me as he pulls me up, but I don’t want to be touched. Not right now. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, to not have to face any of this, to not have to be the one who let them all down.

“Grandpa's funeral,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Our parents didn’t even show up. They didn’t care. They never did.”

The words sting, but it’s the truth. The truth that I’ve been running from for years. Our parents left us. They abandoned us, and the only one who was there, who gave a shit, was Granpa. And now he’s gone, too.

“I’m tired of holding this in,” I choke out. “I can’t keep pretending to be the fucking strong one. I’m... not strong. I’m broken.”

I look up at Choso, and his face is pale, but his expression is gentle. I can see the hurt in his eyes, but there’s something else there too: understanding. He knows. He knows what it’s like to lose, to feel like you’re drowning in your own shit. And maybe he’s the only one who can truly get it.

I look over at Yuuji, and his face is full of concern. He’s standing in the corner of the room, silent, but I know the words are there, sitting heavy on his tongue. He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The fact that he’s here—just here—means more than words ever could.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I say, my voice low and broken. “I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to let everyone down. I don’t want to keep losing people.”

But I’m scared. Scared of what it will take to fix all this. Scared of how much of myself I’ll have to break in the process.

“I’m so fucking tired,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper.

Choso pulls me close, his hands gripping my shoulders as if he can somehow hold me together. “You don’t have to have it all figured out, Sukuna. We’re here. You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

His words hit me like a lifeline, but the truth is, I don’t know if I deserve it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person they want me to be.

But I know one thing: I can’t keep drowning in my own shit. I have to try to be better. Even if it’s just for a little while.

I’m home. But the journey to redemption? That’s just the beginning.

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