#update: it turns out i can fit in that pair i mentioned I was just too sweaty to do so comfortably

[weedle-testaburger]

sometimes i get reminded how much anorexia profoundly fucked my sense of what's normal about clothes

[goldfades]

LOVE IS THE ONE THING THAT CANNOT BE TAINTED BY FEAR OR DOUBT──FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW

part two!!!

for this request!!

─ summary | you and father charlie share a bond that goes beyond the confines of your church duties, with your public image as a nurturing servant masking the frustration and resentment you harbor privately. when nun megan grows suspicious and begins spying, she uncovers the intimate, vulnerable side of your relationship, catching a moment where emotions boil over into something more forbidden

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!mother!reader

─ word count | 6k

─ warnings | few kisses, kinda angsty, pretty wholesome though, nun megan being nosy AF, mentions/descriptions of being longing to be a mother + have a family, forbidden love, ends on a cliff hanger (part 2 coming soon, i just couldn't fit everything in one part)

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). again this turned out very wordy and self-indulgent, my apologies

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The faint scent of incense lingers in the air, the wisps of smoke curling upward toward the stained glass windows, where muted beams of light filter through, casting the nave in shades of gold and crimson. The church is quiet now, save for the soft rustle of robes and the shuffling feet of the last parishioners as they take their leave. You remain rooted to your spot at the front, hands clasped in front of you, your gaze lowered in practiced reverence.

You’ve spent years perfecting this image—a serene, dutiful figure in service to the church. The warmth you offer is genuine, but it's also an armor, a shield from the world beyond the altar. You can feel their eyes on you as they depart, expecting grace, expecting humility, expecting nothing more than what you’ve always given them.

But beneath the surface, you can feel the stirrings of something else. The long hours, the endless work, the weight of expectations—it grinds against you, slowly wearing away at the image you’ve created. And no one sees it. No one, except him.

Father Charlie stands beside the altar, his back turned to you as he speaks to one of the deacons, his voice low and calming, as it always is. There’s something about him��something steady, something real—that draws you to him. He’s the only one who understands the pressures you both face, the only one who sees through the veneer you maintain for the sake of the church.

As the last of the congregation filters out, a wave of relief washes over you. The doors close with a soft echo, leaving the two of you in the lingering quiet of the empty church. You allow yourself to breathe, to let go of the tightness in your chest. It’s only in moments like these, when the others have gone, that you can finally be yourself—unburdened by the expectations of the flock, free from the eyes of those who can never truly understand.

But you sense it, don’t you? That something else is watching, something creeping at the edges of this sanctuary, waiting for you to slip.

You feel a prickle of awareness, an instinct, perhaps, that you’re not as alone as you think. But you push it aside, telling yourself it’s nothing—just the remnants of the day clinging to your thoughts. After all, in the safety of the church, what could possibly be wrong?

You step forward, closer to Father Charlie, your voice dropping to a murmur. “They never stop looking, do they?”

He turns toward you, and there’s a softness in his expression—something that tells you he’s been thinking the same thing. “No,” he says quietly, “they never do.”

You exchange a glance with Father Charlie, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. He sees the cracks in your facade, the weight you carry, but you don’t speak of it yet. Instead, you let the stillness of the church settle over you like a heavy cloak.

From the corner of your eye, you notice a figure lingering near the back of the nave, her sharp eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. Nun Megan.

She’s always watching, isn’t she? Always hovering on the fringes, her gaze lingering just a second too long whenever you’re near Father Charlie. At first, you thought it was nothing—just her usual vigilance. But lately, you’ve felt her eyes more than ever, probing, curious. She’s never said anything outright, but the suspicion is there, woven into every glance, every pause when the two of you are together.

Today is no different.

She lingers by the back pew, her hands folded in front of her, eyes flicking between you and Father Charlie, as though waiting for something, anything, to confirm what she already suspects. You can feel the weight of her judgment, subtle but ever-present, like a shadow you can’t shake.

Father Charlie hasn’t noticed her yet, his focus still on you as he speaks softly, a reassuring tone to his words. “You know we can’t let this consume us. What we do here… it’s bigger than us.”

His words are meant to calm you, to pull you back from the edge of frustration, but your thoughts are already racing. You glance toward Nun Megan again, just in time to see her quickly avert her gaze, pretending to adjust a candle on the altar. She’s watching—of course, she’s watching.

You wonder if she’s been watching longer than you realize.

“I know,” you say, your voice low. But the bitterness creeps in, twisting your words. “But sometimes I think we’re expected to be more than human. How long are we supposed to pretend we don’t feel anything?”

Charlie’s eyes soften, but before he can respond, you see him glance over your shoulder—finally catching sight of Nun Megan. The tension in the room shifts, subtle but palpable. He straightens, his face smoothing into the calm, composed expression he wears so well. “Sister Megan,” he calls out, his voice gentle but pointed.

She steps forward, her smile small and tight, her eyes darting between you both. “Father Charlie,” she says softly, inclining her head in a show of respect. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just… making sure everything was in order.”

Her words hang in the air, innocuous enough on the surface, but there’s something else there, hidden beneath her polite tone. You can see it in her eyes—the doubt, the questions she doesn’t dare ask.

Not yet, anyway.

Father Charlie offers her a kind smile, though you can tell he senses it too. “Everything’s fine, Sister,” he says. “We were just finishing up.”

But even as she nods and steps back, you know this won’t be the last time. She’ll keep watching, waiting for the moment when your guard slips. And when it does, she’ll be ready.

As Nun Megan retreats to the back of the church, your pulse quickens. You’ve held your composure for now, but the unease gnaws at you. The walls feel tighter, the air more stifling. She’s already too close, and it’s only a matter of time before she sees more than you want her to.

Father Charlie steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “We have to be careful.”

You nod, but inside, you know it’s already too late. Megan’s already seen enough to suspect—and suspicion, in a place like this, is dangerous.

───

You lay on Charlie's bare chest, still breathless from the earlier exertion. The warmth of his skin radiates beneath your cheek, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the scars and soft ridges of his chest. The room is quiet, save for the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the muted sound of your heartbeats thrumming together in the aftermath of what you’ve just shared. The intimacy of the moment feels stolen—like something you shouldn't have, but neither of you can resist.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself sink into the softness of him, the way he smells of incense and something darker, something distinctly him. This is the one place where the world falls away, where the weight of your roles within the church, the expectations, the endless eyes watching your every move—they don't matter here. In these stolen moments, you’re not the pious Mother superior they expect you to be, and Charlie is not the solemn priest. Here, in the seclusion of your shared quarters, you are simply you and him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers brushing through your hair as if to anchor you to him, to the present. You shift slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are softer now, the usual veil of composure lowered, revealing the tenderness he reserves only for you. There’s a question in his gaze, though, something unspoken yet palpable, like a prayer hanging in the air between you both.

“Do you think she suspects?” you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, as though even here, in this hidden sanctuary, you’re afraid to speak too loudly.

Charlie’s hand stills for a moment in your hair, and he hesitates before answering. “She watches,” he says softly, his tone measured but tinged with a hint of unease. “Megan always watches.”

You bite your lip, trying to push away the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. Nun Megan’s eyes have been everywhere lately, her presence lingering in corners, her footsteps echoing in halls where no one should be. You can feel her judgment even when she’s not there, like a shadow creeping just behind you.

“What if she knows?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly. “What if she’s already seen too much?”

Charlie’s hand cups your cheek, drawing your gaze back to his. “We’ve been careful,” he reassures you, his voice steady and soothing. “But even if she suspects, we won’t let her tear us apart. Not here. Not now.”

His words should comfort you, but they don’t. There’s too much at stake—too many risks. And yet, despite everything, you can’t pull away. The bond between you both is too deep, too powerful to sever. You close your eyes again, letting the quiet blanket you both, willing the worries to dissolve into the stillness.

But somewhere beyond the walls of this sanctuary, you know Nun Megan is watching. Waiting. And it’s only a matter of time before the veil of secrecy slips, and the forbidden truth of what you share is laid bare.

The silence between you and Father Charlie feels heavier now, like the air has thickened with all the unspoken words and the knowledge that your time together might soon be fractured by someone else’s gaze. You shift your body, propping yourself up slightly on his chest so you can look at him fully.

His brow is furrowed, but he wears the same soft expression he always does when he's with you, the kind that calms your nerves even when the weight of the world presses in on you. You reach out and gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"You can’t be the one to carry all the worry," he murmurs, his voice deep and soothing, laced with that unwavering faith that you’ve come to rely on. He places his hand over yours, his thumb tracing circles against your knuckles. “I can see it in your eyes—you’ve been holding too much inside.”

You want to deny it, to say that you’re strong enough, that you can bear whatever comes next, but you know he’s right. There’s too much weighing you down—too many people to answer to, too many demands, and far too many secrets.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. “Not just of Megan… but of what happens if we get caught. What they’ll do to us. What they’ll do to you.” You lower your gaze, the vulnerability of the confession hanging between you like a leaden weight.

Charlie exhales softly, his hand moving to your jaw, tilting your chin up so that your eyes meet his again. There’s something fierce in his gaze now, an intensity that reassures you despite the uncertainty swirling around you both.

“Whatever happens,” he says, his voice firm, “we’ll face it together. They can’t take that away from us.”

“What if it’s not enough?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “What if this… this thing we share, this love—what if it’s not enough to save us?”

The church is supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of peace and solace, but lately, it’s felt more like a prison. You can sense the walls closing in, the tension rising between the expectation of holiness and the very human desires you’ve tried so hard to suppress.

Charlie shakes his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “It is enough,” he insists. “Love is the one thing that can’t be tainted by fear or doubt. What we have—it’s sacred in its own way. Even if the church sees it differently.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. His words wrap around you like a protective shroud, and in this space—this room, away from the watchful eyes of the others—it’s easy to imagine that maybe, just maybe, he’s right. That what you have can survive the scrutiny, the judgment, and the dangers that loom just outside these walls.

But as much as you want to cling to that hope, the doubt is still there, lurking at the edges of your thoughts.

You don’t say anything else, instead letting your head fall back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you. The sound is calming, a tether to the present, to this moment you share together.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that time is running out. That soon, Nun Megan will step beyond suspicion and into certainty, and when she does, the fragile world you’ve built with Charlie will come crashing down.

Outside, the wind howls against the old stone walls of the church, a reminder of the world waiting for you beyond this small sanctuary. But for now, for this brief and precious moment, it’s just you and him—together, against whatever comes next.

───

The sun hangs high in the clear afternoon sky, casting a golden light over the open field where the annual church picnic is in full swing. Children run through the grass, their laughter ringing out like tiny bells carried on the breeze, while the adults gather around tables laden with food, exchanging pleasantries and stories. You stand near the edge of the field, watching as a group of children pulls you into their game of tag, their faces lit up with joy and mischief.

You can’t help but laugh, your heart light as you chase after them, the stress and fear that have weighed on you for so long melting away, if only for a moment. The children's energy is infectious, their innocence a brief but welcome reprieve from the gravity of the world you usually inhabit. They dart around you, giggling and shrieking with excitement as they narrowly avoid your grasp, their small hands brushing against yours in passing.

You catch a young girl in your arms, swinging her around in a playful twirl before setting her down. Her laughter is so pure, so unburdened by the weight of the world, and it stirs something inside you—a long-forgotten lightness that you’ve almost forgotten was there.

From across the field, Father Charlie watches you, his eyes softening as they follow your movements. You are radiant in this moment, free from the burden of secrets and suspicion, your face bright with genuine joy as you interact with the children. His heart swells at the sight, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest.

He has always admired your strength—the way you carry so much, how you stand tall even when the weight of your responsibilities threatens to break you. But here, now, seeing you like this, surrounded by children, laughing freely, Charlie feels something different. Something deeper.

It's more than just admiration. It’s a longing, a quiet ache for something more than the life he’s chosen. Watching you with the children sparks a warmth inside him he hadn’t known he could still feel, a yearning for a different kind of closeness. One that he knows is forbidden, yet he can’t help but dream about.

You twirl around with another child, your smile wide as they tumble into your arms. For a brief second, you catch Charlie’s gaze from across the field, and your eyes meet. There’s something in his look that makes your breath catch—a tenderness, a softness that you’ve rarely seen outside the privacy of your hidden moments together. His lips curl into a small, almost shy smile, as though he’s caught himself staring but can’t quite tear his gaze away.

For a moment, it feels as if the rest of the world fades away. The laughter of the children, the hum of conversations, even the sounds of nature—all of it dulls into the background as you stand there, frozen in that quiet exchange with Charlie.

It’s a connection you feel deep in your chest, one that’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but is now rising to the forefront, too powerful to ignore.

The children pull you back into the game, and the moment is broken, but the warmth of Charlie’s gaze lingers with you. As you chase after the little ones again, you feel a blush creep up your neck, knowing that even here, in the open, with the church congregation all around, there’s something between you that no one else can touch.

Charlie tears his eyes away, his heart still beating a little faster than before. He forces himself to join in the casual conversations around him, but his thoughts remain with you, and that moment. He’s always been good at keeping his emotions at bay, keeping his desires hidden beneath the layers of duty and faith. But now, watching you like this, he feels those walls crumbling, just a little.

And for the first time in a long while, he allows himself to wonder: What would it be like to have this warmth—to hold onto it, to let it fill the hollow spaces inside him? What would it be like if the life he’d chosen wasn’t a barrier but something that could coexist with the connection he feels with you?

He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. But they cling to him, persistent, like the warmth in his chest that refuses to fade.

As the afternoon wears on, and the children slowly tire out, you make your way back toward the picnic tables where the rest of the congregation was. Your cheeks flushed with exertion, your hair slightly wind-tossed, and you catch Charlie watching you again, and this time, there’s something in his gaze that makes your heart flutter—a promise, perhaps, or a confession yet to be spoken. Charlie begins making his way over to you, a warm smile on his lips.

One of the little girls run up to you once again, practically tumbling into your arms. You giggle, grabbing her waist and pulling her into your lap.

"Mother Y/N, have you ever wanted children?" she asks.

Her question catches you off guard. The little girl's innocent eyes peer up at you, wide and curious, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. You feel Charlie’s presence nearby, his footsteps slowing as he hears the question, and your heart skips a beat.

You smooth the girl's hair back gently, buying yourself a second to gather your thoughts. Children… it’s not something you’ve allowed yourself to think about much, not with the path you've chosen. Being a mother in the literal sense feels like an impossible dream—something meant for another life, another version of you.

Still, the warmth of the child in your lap, her trust and affection, tugs at something deep inside you.

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. “I suppose I have,” you admit, your voice gentle. “There was a time when I thought I might have a family of my own one day. But now... I think my place is here, taking care of all of you.”

The little girl tilts her head, a frown crossing her face as she processes your words. “But wouldn’t you like to be a real mama?” she asks, her small hands gripping your arm as if to anchor you to the moment, to the question.

Before you can answer, you feel a presence behind you—Charlie has arrived. He crouches down beside you, his hand brushing your shoulder in a gesture so natural, so easy, that it almost makes your heart ache.

“The way you care for everyone here,” he says softly, his voice warm and filled with admiration, “I think you’re already a mother to so many.”

You glance up at him, your eyes meeting his, and there’s something in his gaze—something gentle and understanding, but also deeper, more personal. His words resonate in a way that goes beyond the roles you’ve both taken on within the church. For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine it—what it would be like if things were different, if you and Charlie could have a life beyond the confines of the walls you’ve built around yourselves.

The girl beams, nodding in agreement. “See? You’re like a mama to us already,” she declares, then wraps her small arms around your neck in a tight hug before hopping off your lap and running back toward the other children, her energy renewed.

You watch her go, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. When you turn back to Charlie, he’s still crouched beside you, his expression softened by something you can’t quite put into words.

“You handled that well,” he says quietly, his smile reaching his eyes.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I was prepared for that kind of question, if I'm being honest.”

He chuckles too, and for a brief moment, the world feels lighter, the weight of everything you’ve been holding inside lifted by the simple connection between you two.

But as the children’s laughter echoes around you and the other parishioners continue with their picnic, you feel the weight of reality creeping back in. This quiet moment with Charlie—this glimpse of what could be—feels like a fleeting dream. You know the path you’ve both chosen is far more complicated than that. Yet, as you stand together in the warm afternoon sun, you allow yourself to linger in this feeling for just a little while longer.

Charlie’s hand brushes against yours, lingering for just a moment, and you know that whatever happens next, whatever challenges come your way, you won’t be facing them alone.

───

The last light of day has faded, leaving the courtyard steeped in a deep, quiet twilight. You stand by the fountain, your fingers tracing the cold, rough surface of the stone. You try to breathe deeply, but frustration gnaws at your insides. On the outside, you wear the same mask you always do—calm, nurturing, and devout. But inside, there’s an ever-present storm, growing louder by the day.

Your thoughts drift back to Father Charlie, to the comfort he offered earlier. His words felt like a balm on your wounds, but they didn’t erase the resentment. The weight of expectations presses on your shoulders��constant demands, endless servitude, all while suppressing the truth of who you are.

Your gaze flickers toward the chapel, half-hoping to see him stepping into the courtyard. But the figure that emerges from the shadows isn’t him.

Nun Megan.

Her steps are silent but deliberate, and her eyes are as sharp as ever. You’ve noticed her watching lately—her gaze lingering on you and Father Charlie, suspicion glinting in her eyes.

“Out late again, I see,” she says, her voice carrying a quiet accusation. She stops a few feet away, her gaze fixed on you, unblinking. “You’ve been spending a great deal of time in Father Charlie’s company.”

You stiffen at her words, but force yourself to remain composed. You know how to wear the mask—how to keep the perfect image intact. “I seek guidance, Sister Megan,” you reply, your voice measured. “Father Charlie offers wisdom.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her expression hard. “Guidance, is it?” There’s no mistaking the suspicion in her voice now. “We all seek guidance, but you’ve been… close.”

The accusation hangs in the air between you, cold and heavy. You feel a flash of anger rise within you, but you suppress it, keeping your voice even. “We are all called to be close to God. To each other, Sister.”

Megan steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Perhaps. But eyes are everywhere. You should be careful. It’s my duty to protect the sanctity of this place.” Her words are a thinly veiled threat, warning you that she’s watching.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.

“Sister Megan.”

You turn at the sound of Father Charlie’s voice, relief washing over you as he steps into the courtyard. His presence brings with it a sense of calm, as if the storm threatening to engulf you has momentarily eased. His gaze flicks between you and Megan, though when his eyes land on you, they soften.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his tone neutral, but his eyes hold a silent reassurance.

Megan stands a little straighter under his scrutiny. She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with challenging him, but her suspicion remains. “No, Father,” she says finally. “I was simply offering our sister here a reminder of her vows. It’s important we maintain propriety.”

Father Charlie’s expression doesn’t change. “Of course, Sister. We all must uphold our vows. You may return to your duties.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you think Megan might push further. But then she inclines her head and turns away, her steps sharp and purposeful as she leaves the courtyard. The weight of her presence lingers, like a shadow refusing to lift.

As soon as she’s gone, you exhale, tension slipping from your shoulders. Father Charlie steps closer to you, his voice low and steady. “She grows more suspicious.”

You nod, swallowing against the knot in your throat. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The mask you’ve worn for so long feels suffocating now, the weight of expectations unbearable.

Father Charlie’s expression softens, and when he reaches out, his fingers lightly brush your arm. “You’re not alone,” he says, his voice filled with warmth. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

His touch sends a spark through you, and for a moment, the weight of your burdens eases. But as you stand there, alone in the darkness with him, you know that the road ahead will only grow more difficult. Still, with him beside you, it feels less daunting.

You stay silent for a long moment, standing there with Father Charlie. His presence should be enough to calm you, but the weight of your thoughts has become unbearable, pressing down harder than ever before.

“I never wanted this life,” you finally whisper, eyes fixed on the fountain’s surface, the soft ripple of water reflecting the sky. “When I was a little girl, I dreamed of something else.”

Charlie says nothing, letting you speak, his silence a kind of permission.

You take a breath, the memories flooding back. “I used to imagine myself far away from here—away from society, the rules, the eyes always watching. I dreamed of having a family, children running through an open field, laughter filling the air. I wanted to be a mother,” your voice wavers slightly, “to nurture my own, not just serve others.”

The words feel strange as they leave your mouth, like a confession you’ve never dared to speak aloud. Even though you’ve lived in service, dedicating yourself to this life, there’s always been a gnawing ache inside you for something more—something that belonged solely to you.

“I imagined a small cottage,” you continue, your voice growing softer, “with a garden, flowers blooming. Somewhere far from this place, where no one could judge me, where I could be free. I wanted to love, to build a life that was mine.”

Father Charlie shifts closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours, offering silent support.

“But instead… I ended up here.” The words hang in the air, heavy with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing, choosing this path. I thought it would bring me peace. But it didn’t. It feels like every day, I’m giving up more of myself—burying my real desires so deep I hardly recognize them anymore.”

Your throat tightens as a tear escapes, sliding down your cheek. The picnic earlier flickers in your mind, how for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel happiness. Real happiness. Sitting under the sun with him, laughing, letting your guard down—it had stirred something in you, something real and raw, a glimpse of the life you had always wanted.

“That picnic…” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in so long, I felt alive. I didn’t feel like the person everyone expects me to be. I felt like… me.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he doesn’t pull away when you step closer, his presence like a steadying force. “It’s not wrong to want more,” he says gently. “You deserve to feel whole.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you confess, your voice trembling. “I’ve given up so much already. What’s left of me?”

He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, and in them, you see the same conflict, the same struggle that mirrors your own. “There’s still time,” he says, his words a quiet promise. “There’s still time to find yourself.”

Tears spill freely now, and before you can stop yourself, you collapse into his arms, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the walls around your heart crumble, and you let yourself feel the ache of all you’ve lost—the life you could have had, the dreams that seem so distant now.

“I wanted a family,” you whisper into his shoulder, your voice breaking. “I wanted to be a mother, to love, to be loved. But instead…”

He tightens his arms around you, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are loved. In ways you may not see yet.”

Father Charlie holds you close, his arms steady around you as your tears soak into his robe. The dam has broken, and there’s no holding back the flood of emotions anymore. You cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s crumbling beneath your feet, each sob rising from a place so deep it scares you.

“I thought… I thought if I buried those dreams long enough, they’d go away,” you murmur into his shoulder. “But they haven’t. They’ve only grown louder. I see families, mothers with their children, and it’s like a knife in my heart. I want that—so much it hurts.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his face for understanding. His brow furrows, concern etched into every line. “I feel trapped here,” you continue, voice cracking. “I’ve spent my life giving and giving, but no matter how much I give, I can’t find peace. All I ever wanted was a simple life, with love. But instead, I’m… this.”

Father Charlie’s hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. “You’re not alone in this,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “I see your struggle, and I feel it too. Every day I ask myself if I made the right choice. If this is what my life was meant to be.”

The vulnerability in his words makes your breath hitch. You’ve never heard him speak like this before, never knew he had the same doubts gnawing at him. It’s both terrifying and comforting at once—knowing that even someone like him, someone who always seems so sure, is just as lost as you are.

“I don’t know how to keep pretending,” you admit, your voice a fragile whisper. “That picnic, earlier today… it felt like a glimpse of the life I could’ve had. And for just a moment, I was happy. Truly happy. But then it all came crashing back—the guilt, the expectations. The life I chose. It feels like a prison.”

Father Charlie’s thumb pauses on your cheek, and he lets out a slow breath. “I understand,” he says quietly. “More than you know.”

The air between you feels heavy, thick with unspoken truths and shared pain. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, a longing that mirrors your own, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s wrestling with the same thoughts—if his dreams have also been sacrificed for a life he’s no longer certain of.

“I never thought…,” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. “I never thought I’d feel this way, here of all places.”

His hand slips from your cheek to your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Feelings are complicated,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Sometimes, we think we’ve made peace with our choices, but deep down, our hearts tell a different story.”

A silence stretches between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. There’s something raw and honest about this moment, like the two of you are finally shedding the masks you’ve been wearing for so long.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice barely audible. “I feel so lost.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he leans in just slightly, his face close. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he murmurs. “But you don’t have to face this alone.”

The weight of his words settles over you like a blanket, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to carry this burden on your own. Maybe there’s room for something more—something real.

Your heart races in your chest, and you take a shaky breath, eyes locked with his. The closeness between you feels electric, every nerve in your body attuned to his presence, to the quiet intensity in his gaze. It’s dangerous—this connection. You both know it.

But in this moment, it’s all you have.

───

The church bells have just finished ringing, signaling the end of Sunday Mass. You stand outside with Father Charlie, your heart still heavy from the morning’s sermon. The congregation begins to disperse, everyone offering quiet blessings to one another as they leave. You and Father Charlie remain, lingering by the old stone archway. It’s quieter now, the sacred stillness of the church grounds wrapped around you both like a secret.

He turns to you, his gaze soft and familiar, and you can feel the pull between you—stronger now than ever. The unspoken connection that had simmered all week after your vulnerable conversation feels unbearable in its intensity.

“I shouldn’t…” you start, but your words falter as he steps closer, the warmth of his presence radiating into the space between you.

“I know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way his eyes flicker from yours to your lips betrays his struggle, mirroring your own.

Before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, your lips meet in a kiss. It’s soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepens, fueled by the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. The world seems to disappear—just the two of you in a moment stolen from time itself, as your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

The kiss is both a comfort and a confession, a silent surrender to everything you’ve been too afraid to say. You clutch the fabric of his robe, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidness of him, to anchor yourself in this forbidden moment.

But then, a gasp—a sharp intake of breath that slices through the intimacy like a blade. You break apart, breathless, and turn to see Nun Megan standing at the edge of the churchyard. Her face is a portrait of shock and disbelief, eyes wide, hand clasped over her mouth as though she cannot believe what she’s just witnessed.

Your stomach drops, cold dread flooding your veins.

“Goodness…” she whispers, her voice laced with horror, “what have you done?”

Father Charlie immediately steps back, but the damage is done. The air is charged with accusation, and you can see the betrayal written across her face. The weight of your actions crashes down around you, guilt mixing with panic.

“Megan, it’s not—” Father Charlie begins, but there’s no stopping her now. She turns and rushes back toward the church, her steps frantic as if she’s running to report what she’s seen, to stop the corruption before it spreads further.

You and Father Charlie are left standing in the aftermath, the kiss lingering on your lips, now tainted with the knowledge that everything is about to change.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 28-Gynecologist!Miguel x Nervous!Reader (Teasing/Fingering)

*Requested by reader ;) Also, early update due to working both jobs tmw*

        It was that time of year again for you. It was always a nerve racking experience since you always worried about anything being wrong with you. After a long shower, you changed into a fresh pair of clothing, ready for your appointment. The fear of you smelling or sweating or anything for that matter made you nervous. It was just a regular checkup. Nothing changed from last year, so there was going to be nothing wrong.

        Besides, your friend, Lyla, worked at the gynecologist as an assistant. She always helped you calm down. Lyla even tried to set you up with one of her friends. A handsome man named, Miguel O'Hara. You had dated him a few times and found him very attractive. If only you weren't so timid. During those dates you barely uttered a word, just a small squeak here or there. You were honestly surprised that he even asked you out a few more times. 

        You were starting to get comfortable with him. Perhaps on your next date you could ask him about his job and his likes. Miguel was so kind. He was defiantly your type. You even thought about him at night. Gasping lowly, you slapped your cheeks. Now was not a good time to think about Miguel. It would be embarrassing to be wet for your checkup.

"(Y/n)~ Come on in!" Lyla chirped, motioning you inside.

        You took your regularly deep breathes, slowly following Lyla's lead. You friend gave you a quick hug before leading you into a private room. Lyla hummed as she closed the door and asked the routine questions.

"Alright, and did the front desk girl tell you about the new gyno? I hope so,"

"S-She did. I was okay with it being...a male," You whispered, trying to hide your stutter. Lyla just curled her lips into a smile,

"Don't worry, (Y/n)! You'll be perfectly fine! Anyway, how's it going with Miguel?" She asked, changing the topic. Your eyes lit up,

"T-Thank you again for giving me his n-number! He...He is really kind...and sweet. He doesn't r-rush me when I try...try to talk to him," You explained, "He doesn't mind me texting him....instead."

"I told you he was a good one!" Lyla grinned from ear to ear, "He likes you a lot too~"

"H-He does?!"

        Lyla chuckled at your flustered expression. Upon hearing a knock at the door, Lyla hummed as she got you ready. You were getting nervous again. She helped you relax before opening the door.

"Hello, Miss-(Y/n)??" Miguel paused as he stared at you. You squeaked in response before turning to Lyla.

"Oh, totally forgot to mention that Miguel is your new doctor~" She said with a wide grin, "Now I know I'm supposed to stay in here with you both, buuuuuut you guys know each other~ Bye!"

        Just like that, Lyla left both you and Miguel alone. Your face was a million shades of red as you tried to fit your gown, recalling that you were naked in front of the man you were dating. Miguel cleared his throat as he took a seat by the computer. He glanced over your files before turning towards you.

"This must be awkward," He started and read your body language, "Would you like your phone to text me?"

        You nodded violently in response. Miguel resisted a chuckle and went to your pile of clothes on the separate chair and looked for your phone. He glanced at your panties, restraining himself. He gave you the phone and grabbed his, waiting for your response. A smile on his face as he watched you. You were so cute. Someone worth his time. Someone worth his love. Miguel would do anything to keep you happy and relaxed.

'Did you know I was going to be your patient?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at the message,

"No, I just started here two days ago. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I can get another doctor." He replied. You hesitated before typing,

'No, it's okay. I was just surprised. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.'

"Not at all," Miguel chuckled lowly and stood from his seat, "Just let me know when you want me to start. I'll take as much time as you need."

        Your eyes soften as you looked at Miguel. You remembered when you first met him. He was so tall and seemed so threatening. Putting your phone to the side, you played with your fingers as you took a deep breathe. You looked into Miguel's eyes and gave him a nod, allowing him to start.

        Miguel was slow and gentle. He asked you to raise your right arm before moving your gown. He watched your facial expressions, making sure that everything was okay. You whimpered quietly as his large hand took ahold of your breast, gently massaging it to check for any lumps. Normally, you would just tremble as the doctor checked you, but this was different. This was Miguel touching you. Something you only dreamed of. Not only was he making you shake from nervousness, but also giving you those dirty thoughts.

"All good on this side, now for the other." Miguel's hand gently trailed your back as he repeated the process on your other breast, "You're shaking, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes," You whispered lowly.

        You inhaled deeply as you tried not to focus on Miguel touching you. He was just doing his job. So what if his large hands felt good as they massaged your breasts. So what if he was more gentle with you than your previous doctors. So what if he smelled amazing? You were here for a check up, not to fantasize on him railing you. It wasn't like you were up for such a task anyway.

"Alright, you're all good there, no lumps. Now for the main part, just let me know when you're ready by propping your legs up for me, okay?" Miguel told you, rubbing your shoulder.

        God, he was so fine. You gave him a nod, watching as he got his gloves and tool ready. Now this, you were embarrassed about. You always hated this part. You could feel your heart about to leap out of your chest. Miguel was about to look at your pussy. You haven't even kissed the man yet and you were about to skip a bunch of steps. It was hard to think about his job now. All you could focus on was Miguel examining your wet pussy.

"U-Um," You gulped, reaching for your phone. Miguel handed it to you,

"Want some water?" He offered.

'No, I'm just...please be gentle with me. I know this is your job, but I can't help but feel even more nervous since we're dating.' You texted him. Miguel looked at his phone and chuckled lowly,

"Have I ever told you how cute you are?" He said, switching his glove, "I won't judge. How could I?" He gave you that sweet smile you loved.

        Nodding once more as he stole your breathe away, you got ready. You placed your feet in the little prompt set up they have and spread your legs. A shiver ran up your spine as the cold air hit your pussy. Miguel tighten his gloves and sat on his chair, rolling towards you. You bit your lower lip as he sat directly in front of your cunt, spreading your legs out even more. This was just a check up. Just a check up and nothing more.

        Miguel withheld a groan as he noticed your cunt already wet. Despite your nervousness, it seemed like you were practically excited for him to be looking at you, to be touching you. This was turning him on. Normally, Miguel would get these over with since every other girl would not hesitate to spread their legs for him. Miguel was loving this change of pace. He was loving everything you did. Miguel wanted to hear your voice. A voice only for his ears.

"Alright, let me know if anything feels uncomfortable. I'm just going to feel around for anything, okay?"

"O-Okay," You stuttered.

        Miguel had to bite his cheek. He proceeded to enter a finger inside you, with holding a groan at how tight you were. So wet and so tight, just for him. As he felt around your velvet walls for anything strange, Miguel could not help but hear a quiet whimper coming from you. He glanced at your expression, watching as you closed your eyes and biting your lower lip. God, Miguel was going to lose his patience with you. He knew that you were only like this because it was him. Lyla had told him about how difficult it was for other doctors to even touch your breasts. The fact that you were letting him do this was just so tempting.

"How are you doing?" Miguel asked. You gasped lowly as he pressed his finger up,

"F-Fine," You said, shaking from his touch.

        Miguel's finger was just exploring your insides for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't like he was actually fingering you. However, his finger was so thick and it was making you hot. You tried to think of something else, but the idea of Miguel doing more was turning you on. You whimpered lowly as you felt yourself clench against his finger. Why did these thoughts have to come now? Miguel was just doing his job and here you were getting horny.

"I'm going to insert the tool now. It will feel uncomfortable for only a second, okay?" He told you.

        You just nodded in response and followed his orders. Once he finished with the tool, Miguel approached you. He was so close. Miguel took his gloves off, bringing his hand to your cheek,

"You did so good for me. Are you okay?" He asked you. 

"Y-Yes," You told him and rubbed your legs slightly, "U-Um...S-Sorry...But...I..."

        Miguel raised a brow and read your body language. Your perky nipples and the juices that were streaming down your cunt were just all so tempting. He glanced into your eyes that screamed, 'fuck me'. Knowing that he couldn't or he would lose his job, Miguel inhaled deeply. He leaned down to peck your lips,

"Can I just say, that you are so goddamn tempting?" He whispered, enjoying your expressions, "I know what you want, and I can't give it to you here...But I can help release that tension."

"P-Please?" You nearly squeaked.

        Miguel nearly cussed. He returned to his chair, sitting directly in front of your poor, lonely cunt. He leaned forward and blew against it, watching you twitch. A smile formed against his lips as he entered two fingers this time. He stood up and pumped his fingers inside you, watching your face contort in pleasure. You were so tight for him. So needy. 

"I want to hear your voice later tonight, could you do that for me?" Miguel whispered in your ear as his fingers pumped into you.

"Hah...hah....Y-Yes....I can," You whimpered a soft moan, raising your hips slightly. 

        Miguel hummed happily and curled his fingers right at your sweet spot. Your body arched as you grinded your hips against his hand. Miguel quickly swallowed your moans with a kiss, not wanting anyone to hear you. As much as he wanted to hear those sweet moans, he knew that if he did, he would fuck you right here and now. Feeling your pussy tighten against his fingers, Miguel curled his fingers again. You held onto him as you reached your orgasm.

"That's it. That's my good girl," Miguel whispered, removing his fingers and licking them, "Taste so sweet. I'll have to reward you later,"

"M-Mig," You whispered, panting softly as you sat up. You reached for you phone, 'Want to come over to my place after work?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at his phone,

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He leaned down to kiss you again, "Get dressed. I'll see you later."

        You smiled softly as Miguel left. Quickly putting your clothes back on, you noticed that your panties were missing. Your face turned a million shades of red, knowing that Miguel must have swiped them. You whined softly before grabbing your phone.

'Please bring my panties back!'

'Sure, when I see you tonight.'

[darkeunology]

♡ Dirty Little Secret ♡

Word Count: 2830

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, oral (M receiving), public sex, mentions of sexual acts

Summary: Derek has an idea of something you can do on the jet while everyone is asleep, except Spencer wakes up.

This is my first entry for the CM kink bingo 2024, this is a fic I had originally posted on an old account of mine, just in case anyone thinks it's familiar, it has been rewritten today since I wanted to rewrite my old fics and make them all better, I thought this one would fit perfectly with three prompts on my bingo card so I decided to rewrite it now. Updated bingo card here

Prompts used: Friends with benefits, Caught in the act, Oral

CM Kink Bingo Masterlist

The jet was quiet, a far difference from how the jet was on the way to Texas, with everyone talking about the case before you arrived; now that the case was solved and the unsub in cuffs, the jet ride back was silent, only the noise of people breathing quietly as they caught up on the sleep that they had been desperately lacking the past few days. Well, everyone except you and Derek. The two of you were sitting together on the sofa, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm was wrapped tightly around yours, his thumb stroking the bare skin of your shoulder, his lips every so often moving to place a chaste kiss on your head. 

 The two of you weren’t dating, it had never really been a discussion of the two of you actually becoming official, even if sometimes that was what you wanted, however, right now, the two of you were simply friends with benefits, whenever one of you would need some form of stress relief, the other was willing to help - initially it started out innocent, just going to each other’s places to watch movies or play some video games, but it slowly started turning sexual. Starting with making out with Derek on his couch after one particularly tough case, to Derek pounding into you, begging him to let you cum after another tough case. You weren’t exclusive, Derek had told you a number of times that you were more than welcome to find someone else and end this arrangement whenever you wanted, and you told him the same, but neither of you found yourselves wanting to pursue anything different; you were addicted to each other, addicted to the little sighs, the touches, the kisses, the moans, everything about each other. Both of you swore to the rest of the team that there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were simply good friends; the team never believed you both. They would see the way you would both look at each other, the hugs that would sometimes last a beat too long for most friends, the way that your hands would linger on each other, the signs were subtle, but they were there. 

-

Derek and you were simply just whispering amongst yourselves, talking about everything and anything you could think of, just trying to keep your minds occupied, neither of you really able to sleep after the many days of this case. Derek quickly looked around the jet, checking to see if everyone truly was asleep, his gaze finishing once he’d checked that Spencer, who was sitting opposite the two of you at the tabled seats, was also asleep, the realisation made the man smirk at you. He moved slightly so that his lips were now at your cheek, placing sweet kisses there, you moved to give him better access, “You know something I’ve wanted to try with you for a while now?” He asked, a teasing tone clear in his voice as his lips trailed down to your jaw,

You hummed lightly, prompting Derek to keep talking, you gasped at Derek’s lips now right by your ear, whispering seductively, “I’ve always wanted you to give me a blowjob whilst everyone’s asleep around us.” his teeth grazed your earlobe, forcing a shiver out of you, 

“Fuck.” you mumbled, not meaning for Derek to hear the desperation in your voice, but he did. 

“You like the idea of someone waking up to see your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, don’t you sweetheart?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice as one of his hands moved down to your thigh, squeezing it harshly, he loved the way you were squirming under his touch. His cock hardened in his jeans at the thought of you on your knees for him. Derek noticed you hadn’t answered him, he moved his hand to your throat, squeezing at the sides lightly, just enough to hitch your breathing, a small whimper spilling past your lips, “Answer me honey.” he demanded, his voice still quiet to not wake anyone. 

Shakily, you nodded your head, arousal pooling in your belly at the thought, “Yes, yes I want that.” you stumbled, causing Derek to take his hand away from your throat, moving it to the back of the couch, sitting with his arms spread out, waiting for you to start. 

“Good girl.” He smirked, knowing what those two words always did to you, his body slouched down in the seat slightly, his legs opening wider. He raised an eyebrow at the fact you hadn’t yet moved, “You know what to do honey.” he spoke cockily, watching with hunger in his eyes as you slid off the sofa, taking your place on your knees in front of him, your body fitting between his legs perfectly, almost as if you were made to be down here. Your hands reached out to his zipper, eagerly pulling it down, Derek helped you get his jeans and boxers off enough so that you could release his hardening cock. Instinctively, you clenched your thighs together. No matter how many times you’d seen Derek’s cock, it always amazed you every time, he was the perfect size to fill you perfectly. 

His cock was begging for attention, so you started with just your hands, gripping his cock in one hand, you slowly started moving your hand up and down, twisting your wrist slightly as you did so, going slow enough to just tease him, “Don’t tease.” he muttered out, his eyes looking down at you, a warning look in them. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you leaned forwards, licking a strip up his cock before circling his head, collecting his pre-cum on the tip of your tongue, he groaned lightly, his head falling back on the couch as you wrapped your lips around him fully, your head sinking down as far as you could without gagging, knowing that you needed to be quiet. 

Derek moved his hands to your head without looking back down at you, beginning to thrust his hips ever so slightly, also being cautious of going too deep since he didn’t want you to wake everyone up with your gagging. He threw his head forwards as you began hollowing out your cheeks, your mouth working faster. Instead of looking down at you, his eyes met Spencer, who was now awake, his eyes trained on watching you on the floor, watching the way you were taking Derek’s cock perfectly. 

He hadn’t woken up immediately, but Spencer tended to be quite a light sleeper, so when he heard the mumbles of you and Derek talking he started waking up, turning his head slightly and having to take a double look to believe what he was seeing in front of him. If he was being honest with himself, he’d always had a crush on you, pretty much from the moment you’d joined the BAU, he’d thought your intelligence and charisma was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He never had the courage to try anything with you or let you know how he felt about you, and when the rumours started about you and Derek being just a bit too close, he gave up, hoping that it wasn’t true, but from what he was watching now, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He deflated slightly, knowing that he now didn’t stand a chance with you when you were Derek’s, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you, he knew he probably should before Derek could catch him staring, but he was transfixed on you, his cock stirring slightly in his jeans, imagining that you were on your knees for him instead of for Derek. 

“You’re doing so well for me babygirl. Taking my cock so well.” Derek spoke, only slightly louder than last time, just loud enough that he knew Spencer would be able to hear him - which he did. His eyes snapped up to Derek’s which were looking directly at him. Spencer thought he’d be angry, but the only expression in Derek’s eyes were lust and amusement as he sent a wink in Spencer’s direction, that, in Spencer’s eyes, was permission enough that he could keep watching, his hands gripping his thighs tightly, teasing himself as he watched your head bob up and down on Derek’s cock. 

Spencer resisted the urge to touch himself, not wanting to do with Derek watching, embarrassed enough that he’d been caught watching you and was hard from watching. His eyes constantly flicked between you on the floor and watching Derek and the way he would moan quietly, the way Derek would look down at you with so much love and lust in his eyes as you worked. Derek was doing the same, looking down between you and looking back at Spencer, watching as the young genius was so pent up from watching. 

Derek smirked to himself as a thought formed in his mind, thrusting his hips up quicker, his grip in your hair tightened, pushing you on his cock quicker “Go on baby, I’m so close. You’re doing such a good job for me.” he groaned quietly. You hummed around his cock, pushing him over the edge. His hips stuttered as he came into your mouth, his cock twitching, he kept thrusting his hips slowly, drawing out his orgasm. You moaned around his cock as his cum filled your mouth, swallowing it as you pulled your mouth off his cock, using your thumb to collect what had spilled out your mouth, chuckling as Derek groaned above you. 

You sat back on your heels, your breathing slightly ragged, you looked up at Derek who was smirking again, you being still blissfully unaware of the second set of eyes plastered on you. “You’re such a good girl for me.” Derek praised you, leaning forwards to catch your lips with his, kissing you fervently, his tongue pushing into your mouth, claiming you as his in front of Spencer. He pulled away after leaving another short, chaste kiss to your lips, quickly looking around the rest of the jet to ensure you hadn’t woken anyone else up, which thankfully, you hadn’t. His eyes ran back over to Spencer for a split second before looking back down to you, his eyes full of mischief. “Why don’t you go and give pretty boy over there the same treatment.” he spoke, nodding towards where Spencer was sitting across from you. 

Eyes widening, you whipped your head round, watching as Spencer’s face turned red after being called out by Derek, he looked away from you. You didn’t need to be told twice by Derek as you stood from the floor, your steps wobbly for a second after being on the floor for so long, Derek quickly tapped your backside, urging you to move quicker. You took the few steps over to where Spencer was sitting, kneeling down in the seat next to him, one hand going to the curls on his head, running your hand through them lightly, “Do you want me to help you relax, Spence?” you asked, not doing anything until Spencer told you that you could.   

Spencer whimpered slightly, giving a feeble nod as his eyes moved back to you, one hand coming to your waist, leaving a feather-like touch there, almost like he was scared that you would disappear if he touched you too hard, “I need to hear you, Spence.” you told him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Please.” he whispered, nodding again, more confidently this time. 

“Okay then, pretty.” you spoke, using your hand to turn his face, allowing you to place your lips on his, sharing a slow, almost tentative kiss. You pulled away first after a moment, chuckling lightly as Spencer followed your lips. Giving him another chaste, quick kiss, you moved onto your knees, slipping down onto the floor, your body concealed by the table above you. You placed your body in between his legs, your hands running up his thighs causing him to shiver slightly, your hand hit his clothes erection, pressing down slightly causing Spencer to whimper again. 

You looked up at Spencer as you started pulling his jeans down, “Lift your hips for a second honey.” you spoke lightly, moving his jeans and boxers down as he lifted his hips to help you. The size of his cock happily surprised you, he wasn’t as big as Derek was, but he was still well endowed, enough to have you rubbing your thighs together again, your own arousal tortuous to you. Spencer didn’t need to get any harder, he was already hard enough just from watching you with Derek, you pumped your hand around his cock only a few times before licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, collecting his pre-cum on the tip of your tongue, the exact same way you did with Derek. You wasted no time with sheathing him inside of your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. You bobbed your head up and down, slowly to begin with, until you had Spence begging above you. 

Spencer was a lot louder than Derek had been, his moans and whimpers almost too loud. Derek had sorted himself out and moved over to sit next to Spencer, placing his thumb in his mouth, giving him something to suck on to keep him from waking the rest of the team up. Derek didn’t really fancy having to explain this to everyone. “You need to be quiet pretty boy. You don’t want everyone to wake up do you?” he asked. Spencer nodded his head, moaning a bit quieter around Derek’s thumb, which he kept inside his mouth, “Good boy” Derek mumbled, his lips going to Spencer’s neck, biting and sucking to leave a mark that Spencer would cover with a scarf when getting off the jet.  Derek moved away from his neck for a moment to look down at you, “Don’t tease him honey, I think he deserves a treat, don’t you?” he asked you. 

Humming around Spencer’s cock in affirmation, you started moving your head quicker, taking Spencer’s cock almost all the way down. One of Spencer’s hands was fisted in your hair, helping bob your head up and down, the other was on Derek’s thigh, squeezing tightly. You knew Spencer was close as his cock started twitching in your mouth, his body being pent up for too long watching you earlier. 

Derek could tell that Spencer was close too as his moans started getting too loud again. Spencer looked towards Derek, lust taking over his eyes as he whimpered around Derek’s thumb, his eyes flicking down to Derek’s lips. Derek quickly took his thumb out of Spencer’s mouth, replacing it with his lips, kissing him aggressively, allowing Spencer’s moans to be swallowed by his mouth, muffling him enough as he came into your mouth, his lips struggling to be able to kiss Derek back, the kiss was all teeth and tongue, but it was able to keep Spencer quiet, he was under the control of the both of you, he would do anything either of you asked him to do. You hummed as Spencer’s hips stopped thrusting, your mouth moving off of him,looking up at Spencer and Derek who were still kissing, Spencer now able to kiss him back a lot better, tucking Spencer away, you made your presence known under the table again causing the men to break away from each other.

“C’mere honey.” Derek murmured, his hand reaching down to help you get up from under the table, you groaned slightly as your knees cracked as you stood. Carefully you draped yourself over Derek’s legs, your legs resting on Spencer’s, his hands coming to grip your thighs, keeping you planted on him, Derek’s coming to wrap around your waist, holding you close to him. 

“If Spence is up for it,” Derek started, looking towards Spencer for a second before moving his attention back to you, “We’ll take him home with us and give you a little reward for being so good for us.” he finished. You looked towards Spencer waiting for his reaction first, 

“God yes.” he chuckled, his mind running wild with what was going to happen once the three of you got off the jet. 

“I’m in.” you spoke after Spencer, giving Derek a quick kiss on the lips. 

The team didn’t question when they woke up to the sight of you draped over Derek with your legs on Spencer, they figured you three had stayed up talking and you decided to get comfy. They did question, however, when the three of you were the first off the jet, almost rushing off, and they definitely questioned when they saw a blatant hickey on Spencer’s neck that certainly wasn’t there when they first got on the jet.

[woewriting]

amae (ii)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her. word count: 4619 warnings: mdni, +18 only! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (reader receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness.

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house  — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.

“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.” 

“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”

At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath. 

A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.

But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back. 

Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.

And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.

“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.” 

“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him. 

When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together. 

“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”

“Anytime.” 

“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.

“God, no.” He laughed.

“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist. 

“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”

Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you. 

The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor. 

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch. 

The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.

“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.

From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”

You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth. 

Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him. 

As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you. 

“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re  overdressed as usual, I see.”

“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.

“You like?”

You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”

“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.

Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death. 

The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.

While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.

“What is it?” 

Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house. 

“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”

“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.

“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol. 

“She can disappear with him for all I care.”

Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”

“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle. 

As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you. 

The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart. 

Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.

“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.

“Maybe you should.” 

Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn. 

The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.

“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.

Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.

“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”

“He could've forced me to do something!”

“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"

"Yes!"

You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"

"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."

"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.

"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you." 

Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head. 

Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.

“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol. 

“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”

Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.

“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”

Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go. 

“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.

Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.

You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.

“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.” 

Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.

You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.

The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.

A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.

“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs. 

You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.  

Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.

Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue. 

“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.

“And you taste divine.” 

It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow. 

“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp. 

The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.

Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you. 

One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth. 

The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine. 

Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you. 

Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh. 

Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.

You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death. 

Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes. 

The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse. 

“Come to me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her.  Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor. 

It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you. 

“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed. 

The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door. 

When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms. 

The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.

[amerricanartwork]

Look at that! The little creatures are back! And there's two new ones this time!

Hey, what brings you guys around here—

Oh. My. God. This little blue one is so cute!! And those little frill things are so pretty!

What's it carrying, though? Come here so I can get a closer look!

Whoa! Calm down, purple one! I wasn't gonna hurt your little friend here!

See, it's alright!

Though I must say, you two are quite the interesting pair! I'd love to get to know you more! Both of you, feel free to stay as long as you'd like!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At long last, a new update to Rain Wool is here! And to hopefully compensate for the very long time it's been since my last addition to this project, I've decided to showcase TWO new figures this time!

First up is everyone's favorite little wet goober, Rivulet! And I must say, this one's been the hardest so far! Like I mentioned in a previous ask, it was quite hard to find a suitable blue color for Riv, in the sense that it both matched the in-game sprite as closely as possible and looked nice with a pink color that fit for the gills (which was also a bit hard to find). Then, on top of that, actually felting all six gills and attaching them to the cheeks was rather tedious. However, the end result was definitely worth it! Rivulet's gotta be my favorite Rain Wool figure so far; it's just so cute, I wanna hug it every time I see it!!

And next up is the quiet yet deadly messenger, Spearmaster! This one was a bit easier to make than Rivulet, though dark-colored slugcats are always a bit of a challenge for me. Visually, it's the same as Nightcat in the body, with the main difference, of course, being that thick spotted tail. It was a bit of a challenge to gauge just how thick I wanted the tail to be, but once it seemed satisfactory, placing the spots was pretty relaxing, and I like the way they came out in the end!

And, like my last two figures, I made little props for these guys as well! Again, I tried to make things matching their characters and stories. Using the same mini bamboo skewers with some hot glue and white ink, I made three of Spearmaster's special white spears, while some black and blue wool was used to make a little rarefaction cell for Rivulet.

That's about it for now, though. I hope you enjoyed seeing these two new figures! I'm pretty excited myself, not just because they both turned out great, but because I now only have two more slugcats to make!

Stay tuned for more Rain Wool: Downpour! I'll see you next time!

[yooniivrse]

subtle changes | myg

summary. your carefully structured mornings takes a heartwarming turn when yoongi becomes a welcome part of your days, leaving you unexpectedly craving more.

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pairing: yoongi x f!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: none :3 (i think, plz tell me if i missed something)

a/n: the end of summer hit me like a truck, which is why this took super long 😭 i'll try my best and have an update schedule to keep me on track, but no promises! idk how i feel about this chapter but you guys have been waiting for too long lol. i hope you enjoy <333

!!! this is the second part of a mini-series. you can read this as a stand alone, but things make more sense if you read the first part !!!

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You were very fond of routines.

You liked knowing what would happen next; liked being able to go into auto pilot as your body steered you through the morning, liked leaving it up to your routine to anchor you back to reality whenever life took a toll on you.

Usually, you hated change. You hated its unpredictability; hated the way it slapped at you abruptly like a whip, hated the queasy feeling that bubbled in your stomach whenever it occurred.

But the change that snaked into your strict routine was welcomed with warm, open arms. He slotted into your mornings and evenings with ease, like a jigsaw piece that fits perfectly into the space in a puzzle. A puzzle that happens to be your life.

Yoongi was the first person you greeted every morning before leaving for work or classes. He left his home at the same time as you—something you only noticed in the last fortnight—and would wave at you from his door. You returned the gesture with a bright smile, one that was starting to feel almost too natural.

He waited for you every day without fail, with hands shoved deep into his pockets as he leaned against the wall. When you finally managed to reach his door, he would make small talk with you as you descended the elevator.

You’ve always hated the awkwardness that lingered with small talk but those feelings dissipated when it came to Yoongi. He always listened attentively when talked, chuckling whenever you complained about the lady living opposite you as he agreed. It made you feel comfortable about rambling on about whatever it was that swam through your mind, leaving no space for awkwardness to bubble.

Today, your topic of conversation was the music he claimed to make.

“At this point, I’m starting to think you’re a fraud,” you said.

You both stood outside the elevator of your apartment complex. Yoongi leaned in front of you to press the bottom button, and a ring of red light awoke along the sides of it.

Yoongi’s music has always been a topic of mystery. You’ve practically begged him to share a snippet of his songs with you ever since he mentioned being in a band, and each time he has refused. Though your words were playful, you had no idea if he made music at all. You recently realised how little you knew of him as a person too.

“And why would I lie to you about making music?” he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I dunno. You could’ve been using it to make me fall in love with you or something. Pretending to be some cool, mysterious person in a band when you’re actually the opposite.”

“Well, did it work? Are you in love with me yet?”

You turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes as if to analyse him.

“Nope. You’ve got to try harder than buying me food and walking me to the lobby every morning.”

Yoongi let out a sigh, feigning disappointment. His lips pressed into a thin line that did little to hide the growing smile on his face. “Damn, I really thought I’d have you by now.”

A giggle escaped your lips just as the elevator doors slid open with a ding. You stepped in and returned to your position beside Yoongi, who clicked the second last button. Faint music played in the background, a soft ballad that you instantly recognised.

“I love this song,” you said. Yoongi turned his head to look at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“You do?”

You nodded. “Mhm. I’ve been having it on repeat for the last week.”

“Oh- I love this song too. Well- I’ve only listened to it once or twice whenever my friend plays it, but it’s really good.”

“I know right!” You were grinning as you looked at Yoongi, enthusiasm spilling from your tone, eyes wide with excitement. “It’s so- like- cosy? I don’t know.” A laughing breath escaped you.

“No, you’re right. It has that nice, cosy feel to it.”

You gesticulated wildly as you rambled on about the song and why you loved it so much, while Yoongi watched you with a wide smile. It was nice seeing you talk so passionately about something so mundane, how a simple song could brighten your entire day.

Yoongi didn’t interrupt you once, listening to your every word attentively. He wished he could stay with you, maybe even walk you to your college, just to hear your pleasant voice. There was just something about the smile on your face that made his heart beat a little faster.

But alas, he was forced to part ways with you as you reached the lobby doors. You waved goodbye and walked down the pathway. Instead of going his own way, Yoongi stayed as you grew smaller in his view.

Just before turning a corner, you looked back at him. You threw your head back as what Yoongi assumed to be a giggle—he was too far away to hear—left you. You brought your hands up and swatted them in his direction as if to shoo him away. He moved his hands to rest over his heart, feigning a hurt expression. He failed miserably, earning more laughter from you.

He liked making you laugh. It made his skin feel warm, the mere sound of it causing butterflies to erupt in his stomach.

It was stupid how much of an effect you had on him. He was absurdly comfortable around you, something he found difficult to accomplish around people he’s known for the better half of his life, let alone less than a month.

You lit up his day, your everyday routine giving him a reason to get up and be productive each morning. He never woke up before noon; there was simply no need to because anything to do with the band was held in the afternoon, and he usually did the night shift at his part-time job.

So why was he sacrificing the comfort of his blankets just to see you for ten minutes? Why was he debating on whether to change to a day shift because he didn’t even have anything to do in the morning other than seeing you? Why was he smiling to himself as he walked down the street, earning looks from passersby? And why didn’t he care, all because you were the only thing on his mind?

Honestly, he didn’t have an answer. It was too soon to conclude that he liked you. You were just a genuine friend, someone he happened to click with.

Right?

────

“I wrote a new song. I need you guys to sing it.”

Yoongi threw a leather notebook to the side, where it landed on the brunette who lay sprawled across the couch.

“Ow! Hyung, what the fuck?”

Taehyung plucked out his wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in exaggerated pain as he took the notebook into his hands. He flicked through the pages meaninglessly before landing on the newly written pages.

On the couch opposite him sat Jungkook and Seokjin, completely immersed in some sort of game they played together. They yelled out profanities and shared movements intended to sabotage the other’s gameplay. Yoongi sighed.

Calling the room a mess was an understatement. A multitude of empty energy drinks, a few random sticky notes—reminders from the members to each other that would end up being forgotten anyway—and a stack of empty plates littered the coffee table. A hill of clothes sat neglected in the space beside Jungkook and Seokjin, and Yoongi automatically crinkled his nose despite the lack of any unpleasant odour.

He would have attempted to tidy up the room, but the long day weighed down on his shoulders. He moved Taehyung’s legs off the couch and slumped down beside him.

“Since when did you write love songs?” Taehyung asked. It was comical how fast Jungkook and Seokjin’s attention turned to Yoongi.

“It’s not a love song, it’s a ballad, idiot,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Same thing,” Taehyung replied, rolling his eyes as he flicked to the next page.

“Aw, Yoongi’s in love,” Seokjin piped up, feigning a sympathetic expression. He brought his hand up and added with a whisper, “Don’t worry, it’ll go away soon.”

“Fuck off, hyung.” Yoongi flipped him off and Jungkook chuckled at the exaggerated gasp that fell from Seokjin’s lips. Before he could start rambling on about how you should respect your elders, the youngest spoke up.

“So, who’s the girl, hyung?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I told you, it’s not a love song. There’s isn’t any girl.”

“Yeah, right. Just tell us wh—.”

“Is she the one that lives a few doors down?” The new voice emerged from the side of the room, and everyone’s heads snapped up in its direction.

Jimin shut the bathroom door softly as he vigorously rubbed a towel over his hair. The ink tattooed under his chest was displayed in his shirtless form, grey sweatbands lying low on his waist.

“Who?”

“Why was I not told about this?”

“Yoongi has a girlfriend?!”

“She’s not my girlfr—.”

“No, she’s just the only reason you wake up at ass o’clock to see for like- ten minutes.” A teasing smile played at the corners of Jimin’s lips as he propped down between Seokjin and Jungkook. Yoongi shot him a glare.

“She’s a nice person. So what if I wake up a little earlier to see her? I’d do the same for you guys if we didn’t live together.”

Everyone in the room turned to look at him with a deadpan expression.

“Okay, maybe I wouldn’t, but it’s not that big of a deal!”

“Clearly is if you’re writing love songs about her,” Taehyung added. He threw the book over to the three who sat on the opposite couch, and Jungkook caught it with ease before eagerly flicking to the page with the lyrics.

“I’m not writing love songs about her! It’s not even a love song, it’s a ballad!”

“Okay, maybe you’re right. But there’s no way she’s not even a tiny bit of the reason why you wrote this,” Jimin said.

Seokjin nodded in agreement. “You’ve been struggling with writer’s block for like- the past week. And now you’re suddenly writing a song that’s a complete 180 of everything we’ve made so far?”

All four of their beady eyes stared at Yoongi, waiting for an answer. It felt like an interrogation.

“This isn’t fair, this is bullying. If Namjoon was here, he would’ve stuck up for me.”

“Yeah, cuz you’re a big baby that can’t even stick up for himself,” Taehyung mumbled, though Yoongi heard him loud and clear. He opened his mouth to curse at the younger when Jimin interrupted him.

“Uhm, no he wouldn’t. How’d you think I knew about the girl?”

“Asshole,” Yoongi muttered under his breath.

He told Namjoon about you around a week ago. How it had slipped into the conversation, Yoongi didn’t know. But his mind had been foggy from his intoxication that he found himself eventually telling Namjoon everything; about how you met, how you helped him, the dinner you shared. He didn’t even spare the details; how he thought you’re eyes were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, how your laugh made his heart leap, how he hadn’t felt like this is years—if ever—and it was scaring him how fast he was falling for you.

Yoongi was frustrated at Namjoon but was also grateful that he didn’t reveal everything he had told him that night. If he had, the members wouldn’t be questioning him right now because they would already have a clear answer.

Yoongi sighed, leaning back his head.

“I- Last week, she mentioned this song that she loved ‘cause it was playing in the elevator. And- I don’t know- I don’t think our usual music is her taste. She’s been asking me to play her some of our songs for weeks and I’ve just avoided the subject. I just- I want her to listen to something that I know she’ll love.”

Because he loved seeing you happy. He loved the way you’re face lit up and he wanted you to have the same reaction when you listened to his songs. But he didn’t say that, of course. Just treasured the thoughts deep in his mind because he hated the truth they carried.

“That’s so cute, hyung,” Jungkook said.

“Whatever,” Yoongi mumbled, becoming more aware of the warmth spreading across his ears. “So, will you guys sing the song? I don’t think any rap verses would fit it, so it’s completely up to you.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to get it finished fast enou–,” Jimin started, but was abruptly cut off.

“Of course, we will,” Taehyung said, throwing a hand over Yoongi’s shoulder. “When you guys get married, tell her that we’re the only reason she fell for you. You know, with our angelic voices an-.”

“Taehyung, I swear to fucking God-.”

────

Snowflakes poured from the sky, clinging to your clothes for a brief second before disappearing into the fabric. The cold air bit into your skin, slowly seeping into your bones and numbing your face.

You were delighted when the snowfall first began a few weeks ago. It had been the only thing that marked the start of the holiday season, and you found yourself giving into the festivities of it all despite the reminders of your finals looming over you like an angry, dark cloud.

Now that your exams were buried in the past, you realised what a hassle the weather was when it wasn’t the only thing cheering you up.

Your nose was stuffy and an angry shade of red. Your limbs ached, weighing down on you. It took you double the time it usually took for you to walk home due to the black ice that coated the sidewalks. You made the mistake of trudging through it carelessly once, and that ended up with a sprained ankle and complete humiliation. No way would you let that happen again.

No one would willingly go out in such weather.

So why was there someone standing outside your apartment? Why was he choosing the bitter cold instead of the heated lobby that stood a mere three steps away? And why was it Yoongi?

A thick scarf hung around his neck, obscuring most of his face with it’s deep, red fabric. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his black jacket, his head turned down to the floor.

He didn’t notice you as you approached his figure.

“Are you trying to freeze to death?”

His head snapped up. He stared at you blankly for a second before his cheeks rose up ever so slightly, the signs of his rare smile that always made your heart flutter.

“Hi. No—.” He chuckled softly, the sound quickly lost to the busy city. “—I was waiting for you. Didn’t know what time you came back, so...” His voice got quieter as he spoke, trailing off into a mumble.

“Oh, that’s so sweet.” Your words brought a smile to his face, his expression no longer holding a sense of hesitancy. “Why were you waiting for me though?”

“Right. I had to give you this.” He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a square-shaped envelope. Sensing your confusion from your puzzled expression, he added, “It’s a CD. You wanted to hear some of our songs, so I put together my personal favourites.”

All the words of thanks and appreciation died on your tongue as you took the cover from his hands. It was incredibly light, and you could trace the circular outline of the CD that lay inside.

“Yoongi, I– you really didn’t have to,” you finally managed.

“I wanted to.”

Your eyes crinkled to accommodate the smile growing across your face. “This is literally the best thing anyone has ever gotten me. You could’ve sent me a playlist online, y’know, instead of putting so much effort into it.”

Yoongi hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“I thought you’d like a CD more.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, of course I love the CD. I was just wondering why you chose the harder way.”

“I thought you deserved something more than just a few texts.”

You hoped that Yoongi would overlook the heat crawling across your skin as a result of the cold instead of his words.

“I- Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much.”

He nodded. “You do have something to play it on, right? I actually didn’t think about whe–.”

“Oh yeah, no don’t worry. I have an old laptop that I can put these into.”

Another nod. Yoongi’s eyes darted away as soon as they met yours, glancing around everywhere but you.

“Do you wanna go inside and not risk hypothermia?” you said with a small laugh.

“Uh– I actually have to visit a friend today.”

“Oh, okay.” Had he noticed the way your shoulders deflated at his answer? You hoped not. “I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

You stepped past him and fished out your keys from your pockets. By the time you opened the door and turned back to wave goodbye, he had already walked away.

────

Click.

The CD slid into the side of the laptop with ease. Files popped up on the screen, casting shadows across your skin. You could feel the quiet hum of the machine beneath your fingertips, a steady, calming rhythm that contrasted with the sudden quickening of your heartbeat.

Your eyes wandered over it, soaking in the half a dozen songs Yoongi had chosen. You’d already listened to them all once, but you wanted to hear them again.

There was something about the way they played in your ears, something almost magical in the way the melodies intertwined with your thoughts. Each note seemed to resonate with a different part of you as if Yoongi had handpicked them to speak to your soul.

The songs were beautiful. Despite it not being your usual choice of music, you found yourself treasuring each song close to your heart. You hadn’t expected to feel this way, hadn’t anticipated how deeply you’d connect with the music that was so different from what you normally listened to. But here you were, replaying them over and over, savouring each lyric like a secret only you and Yoongi shared.

Maybe it was because you got to see a new side of Yoongi in his music. A confident, almost arrogant version of him that sang each lyric with pure passion. You could feel the intensity in every word, every note as if they were laced with emotions he could never quite express in person.

Or maybe he just knew you well enough to pick out songs he knew that you would like. Songs that would make you think of him, songs that would linger in your mind long after the last note faded away.

Whatever it was, it failed to stop the giddy feeling that enveloped your skin. A warmth that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers, leaving you lightheaded and dizzy with emotions you weren’t quite ready to name. You couldn’t remember the last time something—or someone—had made you feel this way.

Your fingers scrolled down on the mouse, a habit that had formed ever since you first got the laptop. You hadn’t expected the screen to move. But it did. A subtle movement that caught you off guard, your breath hitching slightly as you leaned closer to the screen.

A seventh file revealed itself at the bottom of the screen. It didn’t have a name. Just a small, blank icon that seemed to stare back at you, as if daring you to click on it.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Yoongi had probably added it by mistake, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was something he had intended to keep hidden, something private that you weren’t meant to see. You clicked into it.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Uh, hi. I don’t know if you’ll see this or not, but I hope you do.”

Yoongi’s voice was low and smooth, just like you’ve always known it. But nervousness curled around his words, the hesitance before each one clear as day. It was a stark contrast to the confident, almost cocky tone in which he carried himself within all his other songs.

It made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“This is a cover.” He chuckled softly before his voice turned to a mumble. “God this is mortifying.”

You didn’t even realise that you were smiling. The corners of your lips had curled up almost involuntarily. There was something incredibly endearing about the way he sounded so vulnerable, so unsure of himself, and it only made you want to hear more.

“So–uhm. I hope you enjoy, ___.”

Oh, how you loved the way he said your name. The way the word fell from his tongue; like he was born to utter your name over and over again. It felt like a caress, soft and gentle, wrapping around you like a blanket on a cold winter night. You could almost see him there, sitting in front of his microphone, his eyes closed as he let your name slip past his lips.

He plucked the string of a guitar, the high-pitched sound quickly lost to his voice as he began to sing.

The familiarity of the song washed over you, a wave of nostalgia that tugged at your heartstrings. It was a cover of the same song you heard in the elevator a few days ago. The same one you had mentioned to him in passing. The same one he remembered to be your favourite.

He remembered, and it was almost pathetic how such a simple gesture had you feeling things that hadn’t been awakened in your heart for a dreadfully long time.

His voice filled the space with a melodic warmth that seemed to wrap around you like a comforting embrace. You leaned into the embrace—leaned in closer to the laptop in an attempt to be as close to him as you could so that you wouldn’t miss a single word. It felt as if he were singing directly to you as if every note was meant for your ears only.

His voice reminded you of honey; smooth, sweet, clear, and so fucking addicting. You could feel yourself getting lost in it, letting it seep into your very being, soothing parts of you that you didn’t even realise needed healing.

Unfortunately, the song was short. He had only sung half of it, lasting only around a minute and a half. But the enchanting melody lingered in the air long after he finished. You found yourself replaying it in your mind, trying to hold on to the feeling it gave you, not wanting it to fade away too soon.

“I hope I did the song justice.” A breathy laugh. “If I ended up ruining it for you forever, I’m sorry.”

If only he knew how much you would treasure his cover of the song in your heart, or how you would play the CD almost every day because you liked listening to his voice. How you would wake up every morning and–for the first time in a long while–would find yourself looking forward to change.

Looking forward to him.

[f1daydreamers]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: Here's Part 1 if you haven't read it already!

Warnings: mentions of divorced parents, sister lives w/ Reader, awkwardness, cliff-hanger but not that big of a deal tbh so soz anyways

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading avg)

…

"Kaia! You're going to be late!" You yelled from the kitchen, your voice echoing through the hallway.

You hurriedly placed sandwiches into a fresh sandwich bag and then slipped it into her college bag.

"Okay, okay. Can you chill?" Kaia's voice, slightly muffled, floated down from the end of the corridor. You rolled your eyes, placing her water bottle next to her bag with a practiced sigh.

"No, I can't. You can't be late again, they've already sent two letters home about your attendance." Your tone was firm but laced with a hint of concern.

"For being 10 minutes late? Bit extra," she retorted as she finally appeared, her hair still slightly tousled from sleep.

"No, for always missing your first class even though I always wake you up on time," you countered, a frown creasing your forehead.

"So?" Your sister shrugged, nonchalant as ever.

"So, if you get kicked out, you have to live with Mom or Dad. You know the deal." Your voice softened a bit, hoping the reminder would make her see reason.

"Fine, fine. I'm going." She sighed heavily, zipping up her jacket with a dramatic flair and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You stopped her at the door, walking over to the far counter. She turned back to you with a very loud, exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes.

"Water bottle." You tossed it to her, which she caught mid-air, before she turned to leave.

"And make sure you go to-" Slam. You winced at the sound of the door shutting so harshly, the finality of it echoing through the flat. Your shoulders slumped.

"Class," you finished lamely, the word hanging in the air.

"Why am I a mom before I'm a mom?" You mumbled to yourself, rubbing your forehead in frustration.

You slid your phone off the counter, texting your dad a quick update that your sister just left. You'd let it slip about her attendance letters the last time you spoke, and now it was a regular point of concern.

A quick 'good' and thumbs up emoji followed seconds later.

Your eyes flickered over to the clock hung on the wall, noting there was a measly half-hour left until you were due at work.

Luckily, the office was barely a ten-minute walk from your flat. You packed your bag at a steady pace, making sure you had everything you needed. As you descended the stairs to the ground level of your complex, you waved to a few of your neighbors, all of them scurrying off with their children to avoid being late for school.

Some things never change.

...

You juggled a stack of papers that Lee had handed you right at the front entrance.

You eventually approached your office but with your keys clutched awkwardly in your other hand, and your bag precariously draped on your shoulder but now threatening to slip off, you fumbled to fit the correct one into the lock.

The papers teetered on the brink of tumbling from your grasp, prompting a flash of irritation to cross your face.

Just as you were about to lose your grip on them entirely, Curtis appeared at your side. "Need a hand with that?" he asked, his accented voice made him sound friendly and slightly amused.

You looked up, relief washing over you. "Yes, please."

He took the stack of papers from you, his easy smile making the moment feel less chaotic. With your hands free, you managed to unlock the door with ease.

"Thanks, Curtis. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem at all," he replied, plopping the papers onto your desk with a subtle thud.

"So, who'd you piss off?" he asked, pointing his chin at the stack of papers.

You chuckled, dropping your bag by your desk and draping your cardigan over your chair. "I haven't a clue, probably God."

He laughed, turning his shoulder to the door. "Are you coming down to the canteen for breakfast?"

You paused, considering the invitation. "What's on the menu?" You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, powering on your computer.

Curtis grinned. "Just about everything. You name it, they’ve got it."

You smiled, the tension from moments ago melting away. "Sounds tempting. I'll be down in a bit."

Curtis nodded and exited swiftly, leaving you with a sense of belonging. You'd been most worried about fitting in, about getting along with the players beyond mere professional courtesy. If you were going to be working with them for the next few years, building friendships was essential to you.

And maybe skipping breakfast wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

You made your way down the stairs for the second time today, smiling to a few familiar faces as you walked to the canteen.

There was a black board right out front, with the times for breakfast and lunch clearly displayed on it.

Your phone buzzed just before you entered. It was a message with a photo attachment from your sister.

You quickly opened the notification, letting the picture download. A ghost of a smile touched your lips as you rolled your eyes; it was a picture of her iPad showing a class presentation, with her classmates surrounding her.

You typed a brisk response before locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket.

Inside, there weren’t as many people as you’d expected. An equal mix of staff and players, some recognisable and some not.

Those you did recognise were engrossed in their conversations, laughing, smiling, some serious - a mixture of emotions painted on everyone’s faces.

It was refreshing to see something other than an email inbox for the first part of your day.

But there was one person’s emotions you couldn’t quite understand.

His back was facing you, but after staring at it during most of your confrontation a few days ago, it was clear as day as to who was standing at the front of the canteen.

You wrestled with your thoughts, weighing the pros and cons of approaching him. Mostly cons, if not all, but you couldn’t build true relationships with the players if you shied away all the time.

Crossing the floor, you grabbed a plate from the stack at the beginning of the serving line. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances at his body language; you were a psychologist, after all.

His tense shoulders and slightly furrowed brow told you he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but you pressed on.

Maybe it was just his resting face?

“Morning, Trent,” you greeted him with a smile, trying to keep your tone friendly.

He glanced at you briefly, unsurprised by your presence, likely having noticed you long before you approached.

“Psychologist,” he muttered, not making eye contact as he focused on the food in front of him.

“I must say, I admire your professionalism,” you quipped, attempting to lighten the mood, though the ensuing awkward silence made you regret your attempt.

“Any plans today?” You ventured.

“Training,” came his curt reply.

“Routine must be comforting,” You remarked, trying to maintain a conversational tone.

“Why are you talking to me?” he abruptly stopped in his tracks, his tone sharp.

You were fortunate to notice his halt in movement, otherwise you could’ve bumped into him if you hadn’t.

But judging by his build, you doubted even a nudge would’ve stirred him. His cold stare bore into yours, and you fought to maintain composure.

"Because I think you're a great conversationalist," you said with a smile. He paused briefly, rolled his eyes, then slid his plate off the tray rail and walked away.

A faint chuckle escaped you as you watched Trent walk away, his expression guarded. Sighing inwardly, you turned back to the serving line, reaching for a piece of toast with a mix of amusement and resignation.

One of the canteen ladies, her silver hair neatly pinned back and wearing a crisp white apron over her uniform, approached you with a knowing smirk.

Her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as she leaned closer. “Wow, haven’t heard a conversation that awkward since my first double date in ’97.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, grateful for her light-hearted approach. “Yeah, it was pretty rough, wasn’t it?”

You let a brief moment of silence pass before you continued.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Y/N,” you said, extending your hand.

Carol, as she introduced herself, took your hand with a firm shake. Her affable demeanour was a stark contrast to Trent’s disinterested reception, one you welcomed.

“Ah, the young psychologist. Lee’s mentioned you a wee bit. I’m Carol. Been working here since the beginning of time, or so it feels.”

“You look as young as me,” you complimented with a smile, noticing the genuine kindness in her eyes.

“Oh, stop it,” Carol chuckled softly, waving off your compliment. “How are you finding it here?”

You shrugged in response, glancing around the canteen before meeting her gaze again. “You really want to ask me that after what you’ve just overheard?”

Carol nudged your shoulder playfully. “I’ve heard worse back in my day. What’s happened between yous two?”

“Nothing,” you reassured her quickly. “He’s still getting used to me being around.”

“Well, if he’s anything like the Trent I know, he’ll come around at one point, just keep pissing him off,” Carol joked cordially, her voice carrying a touch of wisdom.

You nodded with a bright smile, tilting your head. “Yes, ma’am.”

…

As you sat in your small office, you locked your phone after messaging your sister to warm up dinner for herself, knowing you’d be home late.

Your mind wandered again - to your family, to your work, to him.

The glow of your laptop screen illuminated the dimly lit room. You had been poring over articles for what felt like hours, hoping to uncover more about him than he had revealed to you personally.

You had always found the internet to be your greatest ally when working with clients, especially world-famous athletes.

You wanted to delve deeper into understanding the anomaly that was Trent Alexander-Arnold, to move beyond your brief and often contentious interactions.

With a few clicks, you eventually navigated to interviews featuring him.

The first video showed him discussing mental health in football, a topic he approached with surprising openness. His words were measured yet sincere, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with what you had witnessed so far.

“I guess I’m not as trusting as some of the other guys on the team,” Trent admitted on screen, his gaze sincere as he spoke directly to the interviewer’s camera. “I’ve never been comfortable sharing my personal issues, outside of my family. There’s always a fear of judgment.”

You watched intently, feeling a pang of empathy as Trent’s words resonated with you. It was as if he was sitting right in front of you, confiding in you directly.

In another interview, Trent discussed the pressures of fame and the struggle to balance his private life with the demands of professional football.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he spoke, revealing glimpses of a man grappling with expectations far beyond his years.

As you paused the video to let his words sink in, Trent’s earlier rebuke echoed in your mind.

“Don’t expect me to pour my heart out to some stranger. Especially on someone else’s schedule.”

Then suddenly, a light bulb went off in your mind as you rattled through all the different strategies you were taught at university.

You realised that perhaps your approach with Trent had been too clinical, too focused on schedules and protocols.

Without hesitation, you opened your email and addressed a message to both Arne and Lee.

Your fingers tapped out a request, concise yet loaded with implications that only you understood fully.

For now.

…

Part 3

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx

[onceuponastory]

shopping spree

Plot: To fully enter the modern world, Bucky decides to switch up his wardrobe first, starting with some jeans. Unfortunately, he has no idea where to start with all the new trends and styles... but the sales assistant Y/N is more than happy to help. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader sort of Warnings: A few mentions of Bucky feeling like a man out of time and out of his depth. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: So I saw an anon on @anothersebastianblog mention that they wanted to see Bucky shopping for skinny jeans, and it gave me some inspo, so here we are! Also I wrote most on this on the bus to work after being up since 4am so....sorry if it makes 0 sense

Bucky stands with his arms crossed, jaw clenched. This is a nightmare. He should never have done this. Ever since he got his life back, he’s decided to try to fit in more, rather than being seen as an Avenger for the rest of his life. And since Sam constantly brings up his ‘dark and depressing’ wardrobe, his first step will be to make a change by updating his clothes. Starting with jeans.

Initially, it sounded like a great idea. But now, he’s completely lost, and doesn’t know where to start.

In front of him, various styles and colours are displayed. Ones that flare slightly at the bottom that look like something he saw in the 70s, more loose fits, and ones that look so tight, he would need to be cut out of them.

And are those…holes?

“Why the hell are they selling these things half finished?” Bucky grunts to himself.

Where is he even going to start?

How is he even going to start?

Maybe he should’ve just got Sam to show him online, or stuck with what he knows, what he’s comfortable with. This was a terrible idea and-

“Can I help you find something?” A voice asks, cutting through his stream of thoughts. 

Bucky turns to see a sales assistant smiling at him. But it’s not an overly fake smile like someone desperate for a sale. No, she seems like she genuinely wants to help him.

And for the first time that day, Bucky Barnes can relax.

“Yes, please. I’m a little lost.” He admits, his gaze flickering to the floor so he doesn’t see her reaction. Despite his big, tough and grumpy exterior… all Bucky wants is to feel like he belongs. Even though he’s an Avenger, he has never felt more lost and out of place. After being a man out of time for decades, placed in and out of cryosleep, he’s completely oblivious to what the modern world is like nowadays. And of course, being blipped didn’t help either. “I just don’t know what’s cool with the kids nowadays.” He sighs.

Y/N frowns. This man doesn’t even look that old, probably mid thirties. Definitely not old enough to say something like that. But he does look lost, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little bad for him. 

He is very cute though - with gorgeous silvery blue eyes, his short brown hair and stubble. She can also see muscles straining through his shirt, despite the jacket and…gloves? It’s enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

“Well, that depends.” She begins. “Nowadays, it’s more what you want to wear, rather than what’s ’cool with the kids’.” She chuckles. 

For a moment, Bucky frowns, expecting to be the butt of the joke. Instead, it’s the opposite. She’s laughing with him, making him feel comfortable. Bucky smiles, something in his gut fluttering.

“Thanks…” he glances at her name tag. “Y/N. I’m Bucky.”

“I love the way he says my name. And he has a lovely smile.” Y/N thinks. “Well, Bucky, I’ll show you our most popular styles and we can go from there.” Bucky nods. “Any colour ideas?”

“Black.” He answers quickly. Y/N nods. 

“A man after my own heart.” Bucky smiles. He wonders what it’d be like to know her in real life, outside of her job. To have a friend, one who isn’t an Avenger. A regular, normal civilian.

But just as he thinks that, has one moment of hope, it’s quickly squashed by his anxiety. “She’s just being polite to help you. She probably doesn’t even care about you that much. Nobody does.”

“You okay?” Y/N asks softly, bringing him back down to earth once again. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He lies. This poor sales assistant definitely doesn’t get paid enough to hear all his woes.

Y/N nods, pulling out the first pair of jeans. “These are slightly baggy, and they’re really comfortable.” She says. “What do you think?”

“Uh….” He murmurs, still feeling completely out of his depth. “Maybe not yet.”

Next, a pair of skinny jeans. “It’s entirely up to you,” Y/N insists. “but these are definitely our most popular, and they’re always in fashion.”

“And they’re not… too skinny?” Bucky asks. Y/N shakes her head. 

“Nope, they’re nice and comfy.”

Honestly, the more Bucky thinks about it, the more he trusts Y/N and her judgment. So, he nods, and she adds them to the pile. 

She pulls out another pair, one with rips all over the legs. Bucky frowns. “Those aren’t even finished! They’re destroyed.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No! That’s the style. Very…rock and roll, I guess?”

“You’re serious? People wear jeans like this?”

“Deadly.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Not for me.”

“I think you’d suit them.” She admits, smiling. “Maybe not as many…extreme rips, but we have ones with just rips at the knees.” She suggests, holding up a pair. “It’s entirely up to you.”

Bucky frowns, thinking it over. Originally, it was a hard no. But Y/N does recommend them, and Sam said to try new things. And they don’t look that bad.

“Okay. Just cause I trust you.” He says, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Y/N’s grin widens, a sight that sets him off too. “Aw, thanks Bucky.”

~ * ~

“Ready?” Y/N asks, leaning against the changing room wall.

“Almost!” Bucky calls. The door opens, and he steps out. He’s in a pair of basic black skinny jeans.

“How are they? How do you feel?”

“I feel…great!” Bucky grins, staring at himself in the mirror. He looks so happy, so confident, that Y/N can’t help but smile just as wide as him. 

He turns, admiring the way he looks. Y/N can’t help but let her eyes drift lower. His ass looks incredible in the jeans, and she can’t help but feel her cheeks heating up. He’s gorgeous. “What do you think?” Bucky asks, oblivious to her staring.

Or at least she hopes he is.

“Y-Yeah.” She stammers. “You look incredible.”

~ * ~

After trying on all his picks, Bucky and Y/N go to pay. “Thank you so much for this.” Bucky says. “You really helped me feel a lot more comfortable and confident with this whole thing.”

“Not at all.” She chuckles. “It was my pleasure.”

Y/N rings up his jeans, and Bucky watches her. Maybe he could ask if they want to hang sometime? No, that’s creepy. She’s just doing her job, not flirting. She doesn’t even feel the same about him.

“Can I get your number?” She smiles. Bucky goes red. Or maybe she does feel the same.

“I mean, we just met, but if you wanna…..” He stammers, pulling out his phone. Y/N’s eyes widen.

“Oh, not like that.” She gasps quickly. Immediately, Bucky's heart sinks. “I just mean it’s for our rewards program. When you give us your phone number, you receive points each time you shop. After a while, you get a discount. It’s a good deal.”

Right then, Bucky wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh! Oh, I-I mean…sure.” His skin is burning with embarrassment now, and he can’t wait to pay and get this over with.

Despite the second hand embarrassment flowing through her veins, the look on Bucky’s face makes Y/N’s face soften.

Honestly, she would give him her number. He may be just a customer, but there’s something different about him, something that seems to pull her closer to him.

“There you go.” Bucky quickly pays and takes the bag, ready to get out of here and home to Alpine. As he walks away, Y/N sighs. “Bye, Bucky.”

~ * ~

Later that day, Bucky takes out his new jeans. Alpine curls up in the empty shopping bag, swatting at the receipt. “Hey!” Bucky chuckles, pulling it away. “That’s not yours, buddy.”

As he lifts it up to put it away, trying to dodge his cat’s claws, Bucky spots something. A note is scribbled on the back of the receipt: 

Hope to see you again soon, Bucky. If you ever need style advice, you know where to find me. Y/N :)

Bucky grins, placing the receipt down.

He was looking for some new t-shirts, funnily enough.

~ * ~

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[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

BIG OL HECKIN EDIT:

I am a dum dum who forgot how to spell @sassenach-on-the-rocks amid my existential terror and dread of the deleted-draft incident mentioned below, and then did a Dum Dum no Double-Down by forgetting to update until now. This headcanon is their brainchild and they deserve all the credit for it.

You may now continue with your previously intended brainrot viewing.

I'm VERY INCREDIBLY MIFFED, MY GUYS.

I had this entire post finished and almost completely formatted and saved it as a draft to finish formatting it on my computer

And it DIDN'T SAVE. And I nearly SCREEEEEMED.

It was for an ask request and I also can't seem to tag the person that sent the ask.

I am A N G E R Y

But after several deep breaths and reminding myself that violence is not the answer, here we are.

At any rate. The ask request was for headcanons involving One Piece boyos taking reader to a Masquerade ball.

To the asker, should you still be around to see it, I really really loved this and thank you so, so much for it ❤️❤️ I really enjoyed finding masks to match their aesthetics.

Only deviation I made was Zoro; you meet him there rather than going with him. It just felt right that way for some reason.

And awaaaaaaaay we go~

The Masquerade

Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

SFW Headcanons

This was really so fun and cute and I thank Asker so so much for this.

♫♬Little By Little — The Fratellis♬♫

You wear your mask, I'll wear mine, they don't come cheap but they fit just fine

You can be her and I can be him, and we can both sink while the rest all swim

Sanji

He heard about it when you made port, and there's no way he's not taking you.

He's been looking for an opportunity to take you on the perfect first date, and this is it.

Perfect opportunity for the two of you to get away from the crew for and have a little alone time.

A little dancing, a little wine, a little champagne—it's perfect.

Makes sure not to tell anyone else, if Luffy hears there's free food he'll insist on going and the whole thing will no doubt end in chaos.

He doesn't even tell you—all he tells you, after presenting you with a brand new dress and jewelry (which most likely cost him every last berry in his wallet), is that he would like to take you out for the evening.

And how could you turn him down?

"Come on, love. I promise it will be the best evening you've ever had."

The effort he's already put in, those puppy-dog eyes....

You spend the evening dancing, talking, enjoying the free food, every ounce of his attention on you the entire time as he ensures that you feel like a princess.

Making sure that everyone has their eyes on the pair of you on the dance floor, that they know you're there with him.

Somehow ending up chit-chatting with the catering staff toward the end of the night and being invited to their far less formal after-party.

Stumbling back to the Merry hours later together, half-drunk and giggling and positive that it's the best night you've ever had.

Zoro

"What the hell...?"

He got lost and wandered in.

No idea what's going on, why are all these people wearing masks and dancing?? What exactly is going on this is weird as—

Oh hey there's an open bar, cool.

You recognize him from his bounty poster fairly quickly. There are a lot of marines here, and he really isn’t causing any problems, but he's getting a lot of strange looks...so you decide to do the guy a favor and shove a mask in his hands.

He looks at you like you're speaking another language as you explain where he is and convince him to just put on the damned mask already.

"A ball? I thought this was some kind of weird cult or something."

You just stare at him in disbelief—he thought it was a cult and he's just standing around enjoying the free drinks. 

What.

You brush it off and tell him if he wants to fit in, then dancing is probably a good idea.

He's frowning at you again.

"Yeah, I don't really...do that."

You roll your eyes—there are still people eyeing him suspiciously, you have to do something, so when he finishes his next drink you just grab him by the wrist and drag him out to the dance floor.

Cue impromptu ballroom dancing lessons. He keeps stepping on your feet and mumbling apologies, but it's kind of cute how hard he's trying.

You really can't help but giggle at his explanation that he just got lost and wandered in here.

But you're glad he did—you doubt you would have had nearly as much fun otherwise.

Shanks

Heard about the whole shin-dig while in port.

"Hey that sounds like fun, we should crash it."

You try to be stern, but he pulls out the puppy dog eyes.

"Oh come on please?"

God dammit....

And maybe an hour later you're both making masks.

There's glitter and glue and feathers all over the captain's cabin and you're already dreading cleaning it up.

His has a giant gaudy pirate hat. Because of course it has a giant gaudy pirate hat. He's so proud of it, grinning like a little kid in an arts and crafts class when he holds it up to show you, that you can't even bring yourself to admonish him for it.

And of course the whole thing is invitation-only, and of course he manages to sweet-talk his way in anyway.

Just having such a good time, really doesn't care if anyone recognizes him.

Really doesn't care, just drinking and making small talk and joking with several lower-ranking Marines in attendance who are clearly very nervous.

Within an hour, while you're in the middle of dancing and deciding that maybe this wasn't *such* a bad idea, an announcement is made for everyone to leave immediately.

Judging by the sheer number of Marines outside there's no doubt as to why.

He just gives you a guilty grin before picking you up over his shoulder and bolting back to the ship.

Mihawk

Actually received an invitation, just rolled his eyes and tossed it in the trash.

You dig it out and pout about it until he rolls his eyes and gives in.

"Fine. No more than an hour."

At lease there will be free wine.

Unsurprisingly spends a great deal of time standing in a corner and sipping said wine while staring around haughtily at the other partygoers.

Would much rather be drinking wine back in his secluded castle and not having to deal with other humans.

Spends the vast majority of the evening standing in a corner and nursing a glass of wine while glaring around haughtily at the other guests, daring them to even think of attempting to make small-talk with him.

Doesn't move from his designated corner until he sees other guests daring to flirt with you, at which point he promptly saunters over to pull you to the dance floor and ensure everyone is well aware that you're there with him.

Lightens up a little after that (which may or may not have something to do with the several glasses of wine he's already consumed), but absolutely will not admit that it actually turned out to be a rather nice evening.

He will, however, hold this over your head and remind you that you owe him.

But you know the truth, considering he's a little more willing to attend such events with you after this.

Buggy

Oh what now? An excuse to be absolutely flamboyant and unhinged in public?

You're going. Period. There will no arguments.

He's already got a collection of masks and costumes anyway, this is going to be a blast.

You lose track of him shortly after you get there. You're pretty sure that the explosion that went off toward the back corner of the dance floor had something to do with him.

He finds you while you're sipping a glass of champagne in downright annoyance and proudly informs you that he's made bank going through pockets at the coat check while everyone was distracted by his little diversion.

"Ah, don't worry, babe, they won't notice. They're too busy schmoozing and kissing ass."

Standing around making small-talk with other guests in the most ridiculous put-on aristocratic accent he can possibly muster, introducing you variably as some foreign dignitary or princess from a far off land.

Literally can't take this idiot anywhere.

[bitterie-sweetie]

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.

[emeritusemeritus]

Wanna Bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt. 1

[F.W X Reader X G.W ]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sex, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting.

Tags will be updated along the way.

Part 1

"Oh, y/n dear, how wonderful to have you with us!" Mrs Weasley said wiping her hands on her apron before she threw her arms around you, embracing you in a warm and maternal manner as you stepped inside the Burrow.

"Mrs Weasley, thank you so much for having me," you smiled, wrapping your arms around her, smiling at the comforting feel and smell that encapsulated the entire Burrow and each Weasley inside.

"Oh Mrs Weasley," she laughed pulling apart, "how many times do I have to say, call me Molly!"

"Maybe just once more," you joked, smiling wide as she huffed out a laugh, rubbing your shoulder.

"We're back too you know," Fred said from behind you, leaning on the doorframe with George fixed to his side. She hurried over smiling, pausing briefly to hit Fred's shoulder at his tone, before wrapping her arms around both the boys at the same time. It was a sight to behold, seeing little Molly Weasley trying to reach up to give her two 6ft 3 sons a hug but it was completely heartwarming, seeing their smiles.

"Oh how lovely to have my boys back," she smiles, standing beside them. The entire scene was entirely endearing, particularly the hint of a blush that spread almost in perfect sync upon the twins' cheeks.

"Is Ginny not with you?" She suddenly asks, realising that two of her expected children were not present.

"No they're stopping by Hermione's to get some things before they come home," George replies absently, wandering over to the counter where a fresh batch of scones caught his attention, sat cooling on a wire rack. He reached for one and was immediately intercepted by Molly, earning a swift slap to his hand in a silent warning.

"Right, y/n dear," she says, turning to you with a smile. "I wasn't sure what the sleeping arrangements would be for you all so you can either share Ginny's room with her and Hermione or," Molly began to say, trying to do the mental arithmetic of sleeping arrangements until she was interrupted by George.

"She can stay with us mum, we'll move our beds together and pop up the old cot from Charlie's room," he says, sounding like he had already planned it out in great detail.

"Oh, yes I suppose that would work," she says, completely unaware of the relationship blooming between the three of you. You knew she'd never agree to you sleeping with either of the twins alone, but having the other one in the room seemed to ease her mind that nothing untoward would happen.

"You aren't making her sleep in that old thing!" She suddenly says, horrified at the thought of her guest having to sleep on the death contraption that had been in their family for decades.

"No mum, she can have my bed, I'll sleep on it," Fred says, moving forward to place his hand on your shoulder, doing his best to act innocent, though you could see straight through it.

"Wonderful," Molly says, clapping her hands together as she moves away and busies herself in the kitchen again. She shouts to the boys to help you with your bags, to which they both reply in perfect synchronisation that they already were.

They usher you up the stairs, each twin carrying one of your bags as you make your way to their bedroom. It's exactly as you remember, except it looks like it's been cleaned recently, no doubt by Molly.

"You're not really sleeping on the cot are you?" You ask, turning to Fred. He gives you a look of bewilderment before snorting out a laugh, reaching out for your hand to pull you into his chest, his right arm securing you to his body as it wraps around your waist.

"Not for a single second," he smirks, reaching up to play with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your ear.

"But we are pushing the beds together," George says from behind you, moving closer to you both.

"And you are going to sleep right in the middle, between both of your handsome," Fred adds.

"Charming," George.

"Well endowed..."

"Boyfriends," they both say, sandwiching you between their bodies. You couldn't help but smile at their antics, realising that they had clearly had this planned for quite some time.

"So I get to sleep on the divide of the beds and fall between in the middle of the night? How romantic," you joked, reaching up to play with the collar of Fred's jacket.

"Ahh we've thought of that too," George says from behind you, reading down to place a kiss to the side of your neck.

Suddenly, both twins pull away and start organising the bedroom. Fred pulls away the small cabinet between the beds and places it next to you near the door, winking at you as he moves back to help George move the beds. They drag Fred's bed over from the right towards George's on the left and create one large bed in the middle of the room. George rushes off to get the cot from Charlie's room and unfolds it for decorative purposes in the space left behind where Fred's bed used to be.

Fred suddenly pulls back the sheets from both beds and then pulls out his wand and casts a charm you'd never heard of. The bed is immediately fixed together through magic, causing you to raise your eyebrows in amazement. He throws the covers haphazardly over the beds before doing the same to the sheets, making it one large duvet. He turns his head to you, seeing you look on in amazement and shoots a cocky smirk towards you.

"Your boyfriend's good right?" He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes slightly. George then moves the cabinet beside you towards the back of the room, sliding it under the space of the desk, kicking the little waste paper bin to the side.

"Fit for a Queen," George smiles, gesturing towards the large bed.

"Or for a fit Queen," Fred quips, gesturing towards you. "Crash test?"

You huff out a laugh at the terrible pun and move to throw yourself down onto the newly extended bed, instantly surprised by the lack of divide between the two and the fact that it was actually quite sturdy.

"You know we could test it out in different ways," George says smirking as he looks at you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You look up at him with a sultry look, liking the idea very much, before you turn to look at Fred with the same pointed look.

"Boys! Y/n! The others are here and lunch is ready!" Molly's voice radiates surprisingly well up the stairs of the burrow, effectively ending your next moves and the boys immediately huff and grunt in frustration. You offer them a sad smile before reaching your hand out to George for him to pull you up. He instantly reaches out for your hand in his large one and pulls you up towards him effortlessly.

"Later?" You ask with a small smile, reaching up and pouting so that he'd kiss you. His eyes light up just slightly as he silently nods enthusiastically before reaching down to give you a sweet kiss. You then turn to Fred who is not so patiently waiting his turn before he drags you out of his brothers arms and into his own. He also reaches down to give you a sweet kiss, though his is much more loaded than George's, his tongue licking along your bottom lip as he fights to deepen the kiss. You pull away with a chuckle, placing your hand on his chest. "Down boy," you joke and he grins down at you.

"Not me you need to be telling princess," he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows and poignantly flicking his eyes down to his groin, which seems excited to say the least. You bite your lip and drag your hand down his chest towards his excited member, placing your hand gently over the bulge in his trousers. You flick your eyes up to his face as he stands with wide eyes and his lips parted in a little 'o' shape, following your movements very carefully.

"Down boy," you whisper, teasing as you suddenly pull your hands away and move to walk out of the bedroom door. You can hear George's laughter as you descend the stairs and then a little commotion and 'ow' from George, no doubt caused by Fred.

You greet Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the kitchen, followed by George only a minute later and then by Fred five minutes after that. You don't miss the little mock glare he shoots you as he takes a seat at the table, one twin either side of you. All you can do is give him a little innocent, doe-eyed smile before you focus your attention on the array of food that Molly had prepared.

"So, y/n, what are your plans whilst you're here?" Ginny asks you from across the table, pausing at the end to frown at Ron who had shovelled as much food as possible into his mouth and then asked, with a mouthful of food, for Harry to pass the bread rolls.

"I'm not really sure," you smiled with a little shrug, not really considering what was on the agenda.

"She's busy, whatever you've got planned," Fred says bluntly as he pokes at his food, already disliking the idea of you spending time with anyone else whilst you were away from school. You immediately elbow him roughly in the shoulder, earning a laugh from George who watches on silently.

"Never too busy for you Gin," you said, winking at her with a smile. She smiled back and began talking about you girls having a sleepover one night, which did sound fun. Fred muttered something under his breath but you gave him a swift kick to the shin under the table which George snickered at, keeping quiet himself as to not also feel your wrath.

As soon as Fred and George had finished eating they all but dragged you away from the table and up to their bedroom, pausing only briefly for you to shout out your thanks to Molly for a wonderful lunch.

As soon as you were back in their room, you threw yourself down onto the bed, rolling to lie on your stomach as you watched them pull out their trunk of tricks. You'd already agreed earlier on that morning on the train home that you would help them with their new idea for their business, some sort of new confectionary, no doubt with a sinister twist.

From your conversation and actions before lunch, you'd assumed the boys had dragged you upstairs for another reason entirely, but it seemed that their current developments had overshadowed their needs. You had to hold back a laugh at the pair, realising that they were the only two men you knew that would focus on their pranks over sex with their girlfriend.

They had assured you not long after that they had the afternoon and evening all planned out and they would only spend a little time doing this before you could do something more exciting, something you'd really enjoy.

"So they're like puking pastilles but not?" You asked from your position on the bed, bent legs swinging behind you as you watched them concentrate on their project. Fred simply nodded, eyes never once leaving the prototype, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he tried to perfect the recipe.

"Kind of, angel," George explained, using his nickname for you, flicking his eyes up to yours as he spoke, "but they don't make the eater sick, just make them turn pale and sickly looking."

"Ahh make them turn into a Weasley then," you joked. George immediately threw a piece of whatever he had in his hand at you in retaliation and Fred simply snorted, still focusing on the task at hand.

It was the most you'd spoken since they began tinkering, their full attention and focus on their creation. It wasn't exactly the day you had in mind and you were quite frankly thoroughly bored, something you very rarely were in the presence of the Weasley twins. You couldn't blame them, they were in the development stage of their new product, which meant perfecting the recipe and then the antidote which took time and patience.

"Are you adding them to the skiving snack boxes?" You asked after a few more moments of silence, trying to occupy yourself as you sat bored in their room.

"No, they're more like an additional add on," George explained, reaching up to grab something beside you on the bed, briefly pausing to touch your leg as he leaned beside you.

"Ah a savvy business move," you replied cheekily.

When it fell silent again, you rolled over onto your back and stared up at the disjointed ceiling, watching how the wooden beams interlocked at awkward angles and looking at all the various memorabilia and stuff that littered the walls of their room. You briefly considered going to visit Ginny and the others before your eyes started to close on their own accord.

———————————

"Bugger bugger bugger!"

You frowned at the sudden burst of noise, your eyes struggling to open and then focus as you realised you'd fallen asleep on the bed. You sat up, squinting at the light from the windows around you and watched in confusion as George paced around the room in a tizzy.

"George?" You asked weakly, your voice not quite working yet. He turned around with such a speed it was almost alarming. His face looked panicked and nervous and you immediately sat further up in concern, your sleepy haze fading rapidly as worry took over you. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Fred, I told him not to but you know what he's like when he gets something in his head and he wouldn't listen," George babbles, messing with his hair as he paces the room.

"Fred? What's wrong with Fred?" You asked, trying to figure out what George was saying.

"He ate the bloody thing!" He says, throwing himself down onto the rickety metal cot in the corner of the room. It suddenly all made sense to you and a lingering unease settled in your stomach as you thought about the dangers.

"Where is he?" You asked quickly, worried that he wasn't in the room.

"Toilet," George mumbles, running his hand through his hair again.

You immediately leapt off the bed and ran out into the corridor, trying to be quiet as to not alert anyone else as you quickly scaled the wooden staircase that lead up to the next level of the burrow where the toilet was.

You quietly knocked on the door, "Freddie?"

You heard a brief, slow shuffle on the other side of the door and the door creaked open to reveal Fred who looked bloody awful.

"Bloody hell," you said without thinking, looking upon the appearance of your boyfriend. He quickly pulled you into the bathroom and closed the door behind you both. You scrunched your nose at the vague smell of sick that hung in the air but you quickly got past it, moving to stand in front of Fred.

He looked ghostly pale and a little green in his undertone, sweat forming like droplets on his forehead where he had pushed back his hair. His eyes looked sunken and dull, no longer twinkling like usual and his under eyes were almost purple looking. You tried not to react, already feeling bad about your subconscious outburst at seeing him and tried to wipe away a few beads of sweat off his brow. To your surprise, they wouldn't actually wipe off and had become an effect of the sinister sweets they'd created. "How you feeling Freddie?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"At least we know they work, a little too well," he says, deflecting the question. He suddenly lurches away from you and shuffles quickly to the toilet as he heaves whilst clutching his stomach, though nothing comes up. "Sorry," he cringes in embarrassment at you seeing that, "thought I'd got through the worst of that."

"How long does is take for the antidote to kick in?" You asked, concerned about the lasting effects, not knowing exactly how long ago he'd eaten it. He didn't verbally reply but instead gave you a little uncomfortable smile, telling you everything you needed to know.

"Fred Weasley!" You whisper yelled, striking him in the shoulder as you realised he hadn't created the antidote yet. "You frigging idiot!" You hit him again and he just stood there and took it, though he did seem to lose a little of his balance.

"It was more to test out the taste," he said quietly, as if it was an excuse for eating the contraption. "Which definitely still needs work by the way, bloody awful aftertaste, too much caramel." You shot him a look of utter bewilderment as he heaved again, frustration building in you as he didn't take it seriously at all, despite looking like a walking corpse and heaving all over the place.

"Come on, you need to lie down," you said, extending your hand to his to lead him back to his bedroom. You lead him down the stairs and into his and George's room, carefully avoiding anyone else in the house.

"Bloody hell," George said, looking up from his hands, not moving an inch since you'd left, as his brother entered the room, seeing him look absolutely awful.

"At least we know it works," Fred says with the hint of a smirk, though his eyes still looked sad and glimmer-less.

"Bed. Now." You ordered, annoyed at his joking especially at a time like this. Surprisingly, Fred complied without any qualms and threw himself down onto the bed, his eyes closing in relief as he lay there. You tipped out a few loose crumbled papers from the waste bin next to the desk and placed it beside the bed incase he needed it.

"George, can you get him some water please?" You asked, turning your attention back to the notes they'd made on the recipes, trying to figure out if any of the ingredients had a reverser you could use to cancel out the effects.

Fred heaved again and you tensed, turning to offer him some help, only to see him half flinging out of bed to lean over to the bin. You stood and reached out for the bin and placed it into his arms, where he kept it secured and never out of reach.

"What do you mean he's sick? Fred, er, George move out the way!" You heard Molly's voice getting louder and louder, matching the influx of panicked footsteps that seemed to be running up the stairs. She immediately burst through the room and made an ungodly sound as looked upon her son, seeing his frighteningly pale complexion and overall malaise as he clutched his bin, looking helpless.

"Oh my boy," she said, running over to him. She immediately put the back of her hand towards his head and frowned at feeling a lack of temperature.

"That's odd," she mutters. "Are you two okay?" She asks, turning to you and George who are standing off to the side, both a little scared of her reaction and Fred's symptoms.

"Yeah mum."

"Yes Molly," you both replied at the same time, trying to sound completely sincere.

"Did he eat anything on the train?" She asks, trying to smooth his hair down in the front to keep it away from his face. You could tell he tried his hardest to hold back the impending heave but he couldn't hold it any longer and dry heaved once again into the waiting bin.

"Cauldron cake," you said, thinking quickly, "he did eat a cauldron cake on the train, but we shared some fizzing whizbees, didn't we George?" You looked at George, imploring him with your eyes to go along with it.

"Yeah," George said suddenly nodding as he looked at you before turning to his mum, "maybe the cake was bad?"

Molly mumbled something in frustration as she looked at Fred before zooming out the door, muttering something about her apothecary kit which might be of use.

"Georgie," Fred says quietly as he tries to get his brother's attention. George moves closer to Fred and leans down so that Fred can whisper in his ear. You frown, watching them secretly converse, wondering what they are saying.

Molly returns not a moment later, armed with an array of various potions and elixirs which could hopefully cure Fred.

The truth was, the only thing that was able to cure their inventions quickly were the antidotes, otherwise the symptoms would stick around for roughly 24 hours at most, the effectiveness of the enchanted foods rapidly decreasing once the 12 hour mark passed with the entire malady vanishing after 24 hours. You and George both knew that Fred would be okay tomorrow but it wouldn't hurt for him to at least take some of the potions to ease his queasiness.

"Here eat this, slowly, that's right," Molly says, thrusting some form of wafer towards Fred. He pulled a disgusted face as he ate it but to his credit he did manage to consume it without gagging and keep it down. "Dehydrated ginger root, it should help with the nausea," she explained to no one in particular as she faffed about in the little case, searching for a specific bottle. She eventually gave up and pulled out her wand, mumbling accio to bring the thing she needed to the front.

"Here, drink this, it's dandelion root and burdock oil, it will help with your complexion and ease your tummy," she said to Fred, smoothing back his hair again as another wave of gagging ran through him.

He took slow sips of the potion and raised his eyebrows at the taste, clearly not expecting it to be so tasty.

"We have that at home," you said, not really sure of why you said it but it was funny to see the wizard if equivalent to a muggle drink.

"Really?" Molly asks, turning to you with a surprised look on her face.

"Yeah but it's just a fizzy drink, not really medicinal anymore," you explained with a laugh, feeling a little silly about your random tangent.

"We need to get some," Fred mumbled, drinking down the rest of the potion enthusiastically, causing Molly to loudly warn him to take it steady.

"We could nip into the village and get some for you?" You turn to George, asking him with your eyes if he'd join you, "I know where they sell it." George nodded with a little shrug. You then turned back to look at Fred and Molly who looked at you in surprise, "if it would make you feel better." Fred nodded enthusiastically with a little smile, already seeing a little more colour coming to his face.

"Oh, how lovely, what a lovely gesture," Molly said with a warm smile. "You can take your father's car, as long as you are safe," she said, fixing George with a look of warning.

"How little you think of me," George said sarcastically.

"Or how well she knows you," you snorted, reaching behind him to search for a sweater in your trunk.

"I'll go get the keys," Molly says, taking her apothecary case with her as she moves out of the room.

"Fuck," you mumbled, still searching for a sweater but not finding any.

"What's wrong?" George asks, moving to stand behind you.

"I can't find my sweater," you mumbled again, trying to dig through your belongings but coming up empty handed.

"We've got plenty, borrow one of ours," George says casually, walking straight over to the drawers on the left side of the room and pulling out a thick knitted cardigan that you'd remembered the both of them wearing to the quidditch World Cup. "This okay?" He asks, extending it towards you.

"It's perfect, thank you," you smile, reaching for it and slipping it around yourself, feeling the warmth and coziness of it already, the wonderfully comforting scent of the twins surrounding you. You couldn't help but raise the fabric of the sleeve up to your nose for a closer smell, your eyes closing as you smiled at the scent. You could tell this one was Fred's from the unmistakable but subtle marshmallow sweetness of his natural scent which George didn't have.

When you looked up, the boys were both watching you with smirks on their faces, clearly seeing everything you'd done. You blushed under their intense gazes and turned away, grabbing a few things you'd need and placing them into the little bag you'd brought, making sure you had your little coin purse of muggle money.

"You ready?" You asked George, who was stood next to Fred quietly talking. He turned and nodded, mumbling out 'nearly' and walked over to the little wardrobe hidden in a nook in the corner before pulling out a blue patterned shirt. He slipped off the polo shirt he'd been wearing and you couldn't help but watch as he stood shirtless, slipping into his blue shirt and slowly buttoning it up. You couldn't take your eyes away from him, admiring his naked torso and staring at the small patch of hair on his chest and the beautiful trail that started just below his naval and stretched downwards. He looked at you, amused with his eyebrow raised as he caught you looking and for the second time in minutes you couldn't help but blush. "Ready," he said with a firm nod, appearing by your side.

"Do you want anything else?" You asked, turning to Fred but found him sleeping, clearly exhausted by his sickness or one of Molly's potions had knocked him out cold. George reached for your waist and smiled as he guided you out the door, slowly closing the wooden door as to not wake his brother as you both went on your little adventure.

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 1, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: sexual content, mention of unprotected piv sex, swearing, workplace relationship. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: guess who's back... back again... natty's back... tell a friend.... hey besties lol ik its been a year but i've been obsessed with the bear so i decided to write this. it will be a multichaptered fic and i will update it as soon as i've finished writing the chapters lmao. inspired by the song "jaded" by miley cyrus. pls pls pls enjoy

summary: fresh off of his breakup with claire, carmy needs a rebound. he just doesn't expect it to be his pastry chef.

masterlist | chapter 2

It starts with a ride home after service.

The sun had fallen down over the horizon, painting Chicago black with night. It’s chilly, middle of February, and you and Carmy are the only ones left at the restaurant. You’re both at the lockers, grabbing the last of your things and turning off the last few lights, leaving it behind you as you step out into the darkness of the street. Only amber lights are above you, illuminating Carmy’s face, along with the glow of his lighter around his cigarette. “How are you getting home?” He asks, looking down the alleyway. “Just the train,” you reply, gesturing towards the station a few blocks down the road. “Let me drive you,” he smushes the cigarette underneath the toe of his shoe, looking up at you, rather softly. “Oh, it’s not far,” you try to step the other way, before he grabs your shoulder lightly. “It’s cold, and fuckin’ dark, and there’s murderers. Just let me drive you home.” He was nothing if not protective. 

It really had been a short drive, slow tunes coming from his old car’s radio, drowned out by the sounds of the city around you. It was generally silent, Carmy’s hand on the gear shift. “It’s just up here,” you gesture to the building up the street. “Just take a right.” He does, obeying your action, pulling up in front of a 3-floored walk-up. “Thanks,” you grab your backpack by your feet, opening the door and giving him a small look before stepping out. “Hey, listen,” you start. His eyes are dark, sunken, tired. He’s wearing his usual wool jacket around a cozy navy blue sweater. “I was working on something before work this morning. A… a dish. Can I show you really quick? And you can tell me what you think?” He looked at the time on his phone, and then up at you. Baby blue eyes, peering from under thick lashes. “Sure, chef,” he says quietly as he puts his car in park and unbuckles the seatbelt. 

When you walk him up to your apartment, he’s endeared. You let him in, and your place smells of vanilla candles and laundry, from the load you’d done before work earlier that day. “Sorry about the mess,” you gestured to small pile of plates and spoons in the sink, and the aforementioned unfolded laundry on the couch. “You’d lose your mind if you saw my place if you think this is mess,” he laughed, pushing a hand through his soft golden hair. Your own coat comes off as you make your way into the kitchen, and he has to stop himself from staring. Your tight jeans fit your body perfectly, white t-shirt coming up over your hips only enough for him to see a dark tattoo on the back of your hip. You poured him a cup of cold water and put it in front of him, before firing up the burner on your stove and putting a stainless steel pan on the orange-blue flame. “Make yourself at home.”

He wandered around your apartment a bit, peering into your bedroom. Soft white bed, soft sheets, big fluffed pillows. An open window, letting a chilly breeze in, curtains slightly swaying with the night air. It reminds him of her, her soft sheets, big eyes, the nights he slept next to Claire and kissed her supple cheeks and pink lips. She was like this too; eager, clean, happy, simple. Easy to be with, and easy to like. You’d given off a similar energy the same day you walked into the restaurant on your first day, and you had reminded him of her. Kind eyes, warm presence, but with a different demeanour that chefs almost always had. A jaggedness, he thought. 

The sound of the plates being put on your small kitchen table snapped him out of his daydreams, as you held out a fork for him. “It’s a, uh, mango custard, bit of toasted cardamom and coconut cream in there, and, um, a coconut macaroon with a homemade chutney.” He raises his eyebrows at the dish before him, plated beautifully, and takes a small bite of each component. You seem to wait for hours as he takes his time, feeling every ingredient on his tongue before setting down his fork on the small white plate. “It’s tremendous, chef,” he says quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Almost perfect. Could use maybe an acid, it’s a little sweet, but, wow,” he looks up at you to see your wide eyes, excited at his answer. This was, essentially, the highest praise from Carmy you could get. “Thank you,” you say quietly, watching as he takes another forkful of the dessert. 

“What’s the tattoo on your hip?” he asks, pointing at the right side of your body, where your shirt had ridden up before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he caught a glimpse. “Oh, um,” your cheeks turned a soft shade of red, standing up to lift up your shirt and show him. “It’s, uh, a snake. It goes down my leg too,” you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to show him a bit more of the ink, further exposing the thin strap of the black thong you had on. “Got it a long time ago, in school. Just wanted to feel cool I guess.” He stands up, slowly, coming to lightly pin you against the counter. It’s safe, it’s easy, and suddenly it feels so fucking right to have him here under the dim kitchen light. “Can I see the rest of it?”

All bets are off, then. Your jeans are pooled around your ankles in a second as he’s feverishly kissing your lips, hands everywhere, his calloused palms against your soft ass. His sweater is off, along with his signature white tee, showing off the glistening gold chain against his bare chest. You’ve managed to push his jeans down just enough to slide a hand into his waist band, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him into your mouth.

When you stumble back into your bedroom, it’s all a blur. It’s hot skin against hot skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as his hands work their way in between your wet folds. They’re so gentle, yet he knows what he’s doing, so the slow circles on your clit as he lets himself rut against you are making you unbelievably wet for him. “I want you so fucking badly,” he pants into your ear, letting a finger easily plunge into you as you open your legs wider for him. “Is this a good idea, Carmy?” you let your fingers thread through his hair, allowing him to look up at you. His usual baby blues were dark again, lustful and wanton. “No,” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips is so unbelievable, a cruel man above you. “Should we do it anyways?” You ask, your own smile playing on the corners of your mouth, allowing your hips to rut against his fingers, fucking yourself to feel more of him. He takes a large hand to your breast, letting it slide up, thumb slipping onto your lower lip and into your mouth. “Yeah… yeah, of course we fucking should.”

It’s so easy with him, which is what makes it so hard. He knows right where to kiss, where to touch, where to love on your body. He knows to take his hands to your sides, pushing you into the mattress as he laps at your clit and kisses your inner thighs, looking up and watching you take your own tits in your hands, squeezing them together, looking down at him with such need. He knows to slide up between your legs, and to cradle your neck in his hand, his thick cock plunging into you and making you weak, making his thumb wet with his own spit and bringing you to your orgasm, spasming around him, moaning his name into his mouth like a prayer. It doesn’t take much longer after that for him to spill inside of you, warm and deep, lips locked around his as you helped him ride his orgasm out. And it feels right, and real, when he lays next to you and kisses your chest and arms before falling into a deep sleep, your soft comforter over his chest. It all feels so fucking right, that first time.

But the next morning, all you have is an empty bed. And it doesn’t feel right anymore.

[deerspherestudios]

Hey! I just recently met and went through the demo of "Mushroom Oasis", and I already have so many questions! I hope I won't be too intrusive. You may not answer some questions if the answers contain spoilers.

Questions about the game: 1.Will it be possible to choose the MC gender? Is it possible to choose the gender of the cat in the same way? It's just that when I started the game, I named the cat after my cat and it was a little funny to me when the pronoun of the cat was "she" when my cat is male.

Will we be able to choose some kind of "style" for the MC, according to the type of clothing, at the beginning of the game?

Questions about Michael:

Does he see the world like an ordinary person? I mean he has 2 pairs of eyes and 3 pairs of pupils. And it baffles me.

If the MC suddenly goes out alone and doesn't come back by midnight, will Mychael worry about the MC and will he go looking for the MC?

How does Mychael feel about piercings and tattoos? Does he know about it? If so, would he like a piercing/tattoo?

I wonder where Mychael gets things for the house. That is, I saw that he had a broom, thread and knitting needles. Where did he get them???

If Mychael saw me (I'm 164 cm tall and I have red hair), would he think I'm some kind of witch, because of the color of my hair, or something like that? How would he react if he saw me?

And sorry for the mistakes, I used google translator. English is not my native language :( I also want to say that I am your fan from Latvia (I don’t know why I’m saying this, I just want to please you with the fact that you have a fan from the Baltic countries)

Oop!! Ty for the questions!! Let me try and answer em under the cut, since it might end up as a pretty long post hahaha. But hi hello!!! I'm always happy to know where my fans come from, it's always a surprise for me to see people around the globe enjoy my silly little game ;v;

Questions about the game:

1. Will it be possible to choose the MC gender? Is it possible to choose the gender of the cat in the same way?

Being nonbinary, I just choose not to mention pronouns when writing for the game, so anyone can fit in their shoes. Unless it comes to a point where I have to use it, I'll probably code in a pronoun tool but for now it doesn't seem necessary! As for the cat, that's a good suggestion. Perhaps I'll try coding it in for the next update so the cat can be male or female, according to player preference!

2. Will we be able to choose some kind of "style" for the MC, according to the type of clothing, at the beginning of the game?

Probably not, as I'm not really good at setting that up in Ren'Py. I did make an MC design though! But what they look like is entirely up to you. I've drawn a POV shot of them wearing jeans and sneakers but that's about it. They can look however you like!

Questions about Mychael:

1. Does he see the world like an ordinary person?

He does! Trigger warning for unsettling iris images if you wanna look this up, but his bottom pair is kinda what people with polycoria has. Except it's normal for him, and not really a condition. His vision is normal, he just has lotsa peepers.

2. If the MC suddenly goes out alone and doesn't come back by midnight, will Mychael worry about the MC and will he go looking for the MC?

Yes? He didn't save you just to have you running off into danger again. He'd absolutely track you down and find you.

3. How does Mychael feel about piercings and tattoos? Does he know about it? If so, would he like a piercing/tattoo?

He knows about it, but not enough to really understand how it works! He finds it fascinating humans decorate their bodies with shiny beads and jewels, and turn their skin into tapestries for art. He'd probably assume you can take them off any time and that the tattoos are drawn onto the skin.

I don't imagine he'd want a piercing, but he'd probably try a tattoo! (Until he realizes it's ink going under the skin, in which case he might change his mind haha)

4. I wonder where Mychael gets things for the house. Where did he get them???

He has his ways ::-)

5. How would he react if he saw me?

He wouldn't be reacting much to how you look. You're not the first human he's seen! He's been around plenty of them, but you'd be one of the few he's interacted with the longest. And that's what makes you stand out more than anything else.

Phew that was a big ask!! But thank you for the interest :-D!! Hope everything's good in Latvia!

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Seventeen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Okay! Hi!:) Just have to say thank you for all the love you lot keep showing this series, it’s so mad and so very appreciated. Honestly makes me want to carry on writing. But I also wanted to add a quick warning to this update.. There is a lot going on, we finally get what we’ve been waiting for!! But there are other topics that also come into play. SO that being said please read the warnings below.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (past tense), as well as sobriety, also a previous death, bit gruesome but needed- this relates back to a conversation held between Matty and Jamie in Part Eight.

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

She never did call.

Matty waited, and then waited some more. He fidgeted the rest of the day, smoked his way through a pack of fags when they’d been down at the studio, and then nursed a single pint after having allowed the guys to bully him into one of the local pubs.

It wasn’t until much later that night that he heard anything from her at all, and it hadn’t been a call, but instead a text.

Messages now Squeaks xx I listened to it 

He’d been cooped up in his office since the second he’d gotten home, looking through a couple of older demos and other sound clips in hopes that he’d find something that would fit with the current sound of their new album. George had been on his case about it all, claiming he’d been too spaced out as of late, so Matty had huffed but ultimately followed through.

Songbooks from years before were piled up high on his desk and on the floor, pages full of chords and scribbled lyrics cluttered the rest of the space, but he continued on, using it to distract him from the torturous wait.

When his phone finally did buzz, Matty had almost decided not to answer it, figuring that it would just be a message from Jamie, or maybe his mum. He was still waiting for that ring. But fuck was he glad that he’d taken a glance. Otherwise he might’ve missed it.

Are you busy?

The next text had come through almost a minute after the first, as though she’d been debating sending it. Matty frowned down at the screen, pushing away from his desk slightly.

She’d heard it.

She’d heard the demo. 

He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, or what to take from her clipped response. It was why he had essentially asked her to call him, because at least then he would’ve been able to somewhat determine what she’d thought about it, how she might’ve felt.

His tongue slid between the row of his front teeth in thought, staring down at the messages he’d received whilst his thumbs hovered over the keyboard looking for something to say.

Can you come over?

His fucking breath got caught in his throat just reading that, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. Matty didn't even think before he hastily answered her, worried she might take it all back.

Give me ten minutes.

He could do ten minutes. 

Fuck it. He’d fucking speedtail it out of here and try for five if it meant that she’d just let him in again. The last week had been painful enough, no need to fucking prolong it.

So that was what he did, throwing on the first pair of trainers he’d found in the hallway and grabbing at the car keys he’d tossed down on the counter months earlier. Forgetting about the album and the work he’d planned to do, along with whatever else that had seemed so important just a second ago.

She called and he would come running.

…

It was pissing down by the time he made it to her place.

Headlights on and ignition still running, Matty went to make his escape from the driver's seat, practically vibrating with the anticipation of it all. But he did momentarily pause to yank the keys from beneath the wheel before eventually scrabbling his way out of the sidedoor, feet immediately dropping into the murky puddle sat beneath. 

He’d parked like a fucking dickhead, halfway onto the curb and his boot sticking out into the empty street, but he could care less about it as he jogged around the front of the car and up the first few steps to her door.

There was blood rushing in his ears, filling up his head and making him dizzy with it all. He raised a fist to knock, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

He’d gotten there in just under seven minutes. 

His heart was pounding like mad. 

He knocked. 

It was minutes or maybe seconds before he heard a slight scuffle on the other side. Before the hallway light turned on and peered through the painted window pane sat atop the familiar front door. 

The chain fell with a clang and Matty swallowed, watching on as the hinges creaked, revealing her face.

She stared up at him, standing in a pair of pyjamas he remembered seeing on a late night call of theirs, her hair all tied up in one of those pretty buns, soft curls escaping at the sides.

Her lips parted with her next breath, the sound of it jumped out at him and Matty couldn’t really hold back anymore. It had been six months. Six whole months. Almost to the day they’d met... Back when he’d been cocksure and arrogant. When he’d still been reeling from another stint in rehab, and from the stunt before the summer, and from Luke’s death.

Matty paused. 

He hadn’t really thought about Luke so easily. Not ever. Not since that night. Not in passing.

But she was currently staring back at him. Her eyes wide and tired. Shining in the light of the street lamps that crowded the street outside. 

Matty stepped forward, reaching for her. 

“Tell me to stop.” He muttered. 

She didn’t. 

And so his hand found the edge of her jaw, fingers nestling into a place at her hairline, skimming the tip of her ear.

“I can’t.” She answered him. Always so full of truth. 

And Matty, Matty was a selfish man. He’d been a selfish kid, too. A bratty teenager. A hellish son and an even worse boyfriend. Always so egotistical, so bold, so brazen. But even more so, selfish. 

He would take and take. And this moment was no different. He took.

Her mouth met his with an agonising fever, and there was an eager sigh that escaped in the breath shared between them that Matty couldn’t really determine if was his or hers.

She let him in so easily, let his tongue roam. She let him pull her close, let his hand find purchase on her hip and hear her moan. 

It was a whimper of a thing, a sound that was swallowed up by his mouth as he consumed her again. But it fuelled that fire within him, that heat which had been simmering so close to the surface of his skin for weeks, months now. 

“Mouse.” Matty said shakily, walking her backwards, further into the flat, where their feet shuffled over the hardwood floors. The door swung shut behind them and rattled in the silence before he was spinning and pressing her shoulders up against its cold wood. 

“Matty.” She breathed back to him, fingers catching on his neck, then his jaw, winding their way up into his hair. Tugging. 

A grunt escaped him and he pressed harder with it, teeth catching on her teeth, hands moulding into her skin. 

She tasted of something sweet, it coated the length of her tongue and melded well with the cigarette he’d lit on his way over. He wanted to taste more of it, found his nose pressing against the skin of her cheek in an attempt to do so. 

It was a second later that he felt himself rut up against her, accidentally mind, but the zip of his jeans tugged at the band of her bottoms and the movement made him realise he was hard. Had been half-way there from the moment she had texted him, but now, in her hallway, with her grinding up against him, and with those pretty little sounds she let slip, it was almost painful.

“Squeaks.” He managed to force out and she swallowed her own name right up, one arm wrapping around the length of his shoulders whilst the other tugged at the nape of his neck. 

Matty followed her demands effortlessly, a hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel at the warm skin hidden beneath, a calloused thumb brushing against the jut of her hip.

He explored, felt the edges of rigid flesh she kept hidden and out of sight, the freckles that lingered and dotted her torso, then wedged his knee between her legs. Hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs. 

One of her knees rode up higher on his side as he shifted even closer, letting her use him like a makeshift ladder to lift herself further up in the little space which stood between him and the door. 

He rutted again and the joint of her knee tightened by his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the back of his leg, forcing him even nearer. He grabbed at the swell of her arse, noting the way she arched into him at the touch. How her stomach tensed. 

It had just been pissing it down outside, he recalled belatedly, but her warmth in that moment seemed to dry up the remaining raindrops caught in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat. His fingertips pressed harder into her thighs at the thought, feeling the bottom of her shirt ride up higher between them upon catching on the zip of his jacket. 

She nipped at his lip, then his jaw, hands all but clawing at his neck and his back.

“Squeaks.” He tried again, brain hazy with want but needing to do this right. He had to do this right. “Squeaks.” Again he said, a plea within a shared breath between them, “Baby, please.”

She retreated all too quickly, letting him go with a sharp inhale. Lids heavy with avidity as she blinked back at him. 

Matty realised then that he’d had her pinned to the door, crowded against the wood and practically having lifted her up off of her feet. He swallowed thickly at the sight and willed his dick to calm the fuck down. But it had been way too fucking long. 

He was unhurried in the way he shifted beneath her before carefully letting her go, unwinding the leg he held at his hip before she slid slowly down his front. Feet hitting the cold wood floors with a soft thud.

He blinked and gone was that selfishness they had just shared, that immediate heat, and suddenly she was all wary, shy almost. Matty reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before he steeled himself and finally took a step back.

“You came.” She murmured after a breath, and had his mind been in better shape he’d have been quicker with his quip.

But yet, he was left drifting in between the heady thrill and the uneventful come down they’d shared. 

He blinked slowly at her. Could see that the hallway light was the only one on, but somewhere, further down the hall, a soft glow from one of her many lamps crept its way past a door. 

“You said you’d call.” He found himself saying in reply, though it wasn’t the reprimand he’d thought it was. 

Her smile was soft then. Fond. 

His breath caught at the sight of her, still laboured from the minute before.

“After.” Squeaks whispered in recall. And Matty heard himself repeat it, “After, you said.”

She took a small step closer to him, the padding of her feet echoed in the narrow walkway. Matty’s hands twitched at his sides.

He saw her throat bob. 

“Tea?” She questioned, and Matty was both thankful and resentful for the quiet offer. 

He nodded, blinking owlishly at her. 

They stood there, not moving, for a long moment. The sound of a car passed, then the scuffle of a person or two outside, as well as the far off yap of a neighbouring dog. And still they just stood there, staring.

She took another step nearer and Matty attempted not to react to the way her fingers caught on the front of his coat, memorising the careful way she started to peel it off of him, turning so that she could claim it and then hang it off some place to the side. He looked at her the whole while, scared to take his eyes off her, in truth.

He licked at his lower lip when he caught her staring too and captured her hand in his when she went to step around him. 

“Tea.” He reminded himself and she smiled, eyes flickering across the length of his face. As though she was seeing him for the first time.

“Tea.”

…

Her kitchen always felt so homely. 

She had spices fixed to a rack on the wall, wound in growing ivy attached to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill beside it. Her fridge was dotted in magnets and polaroids, and a drawing of Teddy’s hung front and centre. The table was always so neat, though still cluttered with the odd crayon and lego piece, a bowl of fruit was perched in the very middle. She had one of those kettle cosy’s too, a knitted one that reminded Matty of days spent at his nana’s house when he was just a boy. 

His favourite part of all of it though, had to be her. 

He stood in the doorway and just watched as she puttered about the space, flashbacks of previous visits coming back to him. She had this easy grace about her, an elegance he always seen but could never quite make out. She was a piece to many puzzles in the way she typically held herself, so ready to fight and so willing to wilt, but in that moment she just was.

And Matty could hardly tear his eyes away from her, from the length of her back to the curve of her waist. The taste, the memory of her still coating his tongue.

He’d kicked off his shoes before he could trail a messy track throughout her home, so his footsteps were quiet when he finally crossed the kitchen tiles. He paused just behind her, his hands falling to her hips whilst his chin dropped to rest on her shoulder.

She allowed it. Picking up the kettle to pour over two mismatched mugs, he simply watched her work.

It was a difficult task not allowing his hands to wander, or to keep his mouth from pressing against the pulse in her neck, but he withheld, content to just hold her. Humming when she picked up the milk and thinking over the last day they’d spent together. That night at his.

They moved over to the table not long after, her kitchen blinds were still open so the moon gifted them all the light they needed. Matty kept close, knocking his knees against hers at the very corner of the table, unwilling to go without.

She was quiet still whilst she danced a finger around the rim of her steaming brew, Matty was mesmerised by the delicate motion.

A hum of hers broke the silence they had since settled in, the softness of it causing him to blink and look up, immediately recognising the faint tune of the demo he’d sent her.

He smiled, his eyes caught on to the one she wore too. Practically conspiratorial.

His legs reached outwards to capture one of her ankles between his feet, her gaze flickered back and forth between both his eyes. He wondered what she saw in them, what she made of him.

“I’m guessing you liked it then.” Matty spoke, voice ever so low, still scared to break their languid solitude.

Mouse dipped her chin in a nod, peering up at him through dark lashes that made him want to catch her by the neck and pull her in again. He knew what she tasted like now, he felt as though it would forever haunt him.

“Thank you,” She whispered after, fingers cupped around the bottom of her mug. His brow furrowed.

“For what?”

She smiled again, blinking at him sweetly, “For my gifts, for always being so lovely, for sending me that song.”

Matty snorted, knowing that the last thing he could possibly be was lovely.

Fingertips touched his chin then and she guided his face back up to meet hers, he hadn’t realised he’d even looked away. But it was then that he was reminded of that night in his own kitchen, crowded between her legs and the counter, her kind eyes. You’re enough.

“Was it for me?” She questioned, watching him closely again. Something she tended to always do. “‘Cause that kiss, it sort of made it feel like it was for me.”

Matty grinned, eyes squinting with the strength of it. 

It was so easy- too easy, even- for her to make him smile like that, and he couldn’t even begin to decide whether he loved or hated the fact that she had the ability. 

“Yeah, Squeaks. It was for you.”

Her cheeks dimpled in an attempt to dim the smile she then wore, elbows pressing against the table’s edge, her foot resting on top of his own. “Good.” She murmured, leaning in closer now.

“Good?” He chuckled, following the motion. Eyes caught on the curve of her mouth.

“Uhuh,” She breathed into the small space between them, nose brushing against the side of Matty’s own. “Really good.”

He laughed again, low and breathy this time around, before he finally closed the distance and kissed her for a second time.

She laughed too, smiling against his lips.

–

For an insomniac, the dark was a place full of many contradictions.

Matty had spent countless hours staring up at all types of ceilings, in all sorts of places, and in all kinds of countries. But hers, he reckoned, was possibly his favourite. As most things had come to be in the short time he’d spent with Mouse.

Because even as she slept on beside him, bundled in the duvet and a blanket that smelt of her, he didn’t stress over the fact that he was still wide awake. 

His mind was too preoccupied to stress. Just thinking back to the expression she’d worn when she’d first opened the front door. To the breathy gasps that had escaped her in the hallway. The way she’d gently carded her fingers through his hair after she’d lured him into bed. Promising to talk more tomorrow.

He thought of Luke then, as well. As he often did whenever the darkness plagued him.

The fucker would be laughing if he could just see him now, obsessing and all soppy over some bird. Smiling away to himself in the dark.

But Matty knew that he’d be happy too. Glad that he was finally getting back on the right track. Actually trying this time around. Because Luke had known the hardships of addiction just as well as Matty had- it was what had killed him in the end, wasn't it.

He could still picture his face, both before and after the fall. One second they’d all been grinning on that roof, high as kites and drunk out of their minds, having the time of their lives, and then his had hit the concrete.

Matty’s stomach rolled at the thought.

At the eerie silence that had followed.

He’d been struggling that night, trying to get clean, to stay clean. And they’d only gone to the party, Luke and Danny, to appease him. Luke, having tagged along wanting to look out for him, to make sure that he didn’t get too caught up in anything he couldn’t get himself out of.

Luke had been sober three months at that point. Clean of the drugs and the drink. All of it. He’d drank that night though, the party had been at one of his dodgier mates places and he wouldn’t have been able to have stayed in the clear.

Matty remembered egging him on, telling him to live a little. To have a beer. A shot. And then another. And another. Someone else had offered him that line though.

He’d been hammered by the time some idiot had come up with that dare and they’d all thought it had been a sick idea to try and walk the length of the roof. Like they were at Zippo’s sodding circus.

Luke had been doing so good. Matty had known it too. What with his first EP coming out that September, something which Jamie had made happen, and his new flat that he’d not long moved into. Away from the familiarity of street corners he knew far too well and faces of dealers that he’d seen time and time again before.

He’d been good. Been going steady.

Then he was just dead.

Matty didn’t close his eyes then, even as they began to water. Didn’t want to see him like that. Knew that he would if only he shut his eyes. Because he couldn't stand to see the reminder, the life that had left him too quickly.

A slight sniff broke him from his thoughts then and he stilled as Mouse moved and turned in her sleep.

He let himself breathe a little easier once she’d settled again, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder and nestling further into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, needing her close, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall shut, burying his face in the top of her hair.

He wondered if she’d let him stay from now on and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

He hoped that she would, listening to the quiet that hummed throughout the rest of her flat as his mind began to let go of what consciousness it had once clung on to.

‘Tomorrow’ was his final thought before he eventually drifted off. It had been a long time since he’d thought that he’d ever make it to a tomorrow.

–

It was a grunt I woke up to. The heavy and unfavoured kind, the type that was only ever forced out of you when you received a hefty blow to the stomach.

I felt my face wrinkle as I pressed in closer to the warmth beside me, unhappy to have been woken. But then I heard a whisper, followed by a giggle, which had me blinking blearily and peering up at the toddler now towering over me.

“Wake now?”

“Teddy.” I heard someone else laugh right above my head, and I was quick in the way I looked up, recognising that the warmth I’d been clinging to had been Matty all along. “You’re an actual monster, you know that?”

Teddy squealed happily when Matty tickled his sides, but seemed content with his place on the man’s stomach and the fact that Matty was here at all. 

I wanted to groan at the very idea, I hadn't much thought this through. Not when I’d heard the song, thinking back to the night I’d spent at his, the fight we’d had, the way he’d held Teddy and promised him that things would soon be alright.

It hadn’t felt real. It still didn’t.

“Wake?” Teddy said to me again and I had to give a soft laugh when I felt his finger prod at my cheek, which was probably marked with the line of Matty’s t-shirt now. “Yeah?”

I chuckled again, peering up at him. “Yeah, I’m awake.” I replied, smiling before I rubbed at my eyes.

Matty’s arm seemed to be tucked up under me because it twitched a tad when I moved. I grimaced at the loss of feeling he must have experienced and murmured a quiet “Sorry,” shuffling over slightly so that I could free the limb. But he merely laughed to himself before his hand came up to rub at my arm, keeping me close. 

“It’s fine.” Matty replied, his voice tinged with sleep and grainy from lack of use, but then he winced and flexed his fingers, “Oh.”

I snorted softly and glanced up at him, “Pins and needles?”

His nose wrinkled further, as did his lips when he tilted his head back and tried to shake loose the feeling from his wrist. I let him have his arm back, turning over onto my stomach to simply watch him, drinking in the sight of him whilst I still could.

“Yeah.” He hissed out and Teddy, who was watching too, started to shake his arm alongside Matty.

Matty only noticed the mimicking movement when he felt the toddler shift on his torso and opened his eyes up only to laugh at the way that Teddy was now copying him.

“Oi,” He admonished, using his other hand to playfully pinch at the boy’s side, “What you think you’re doin’?”

Teddy giggled, hair a mess from having just woken but grinning all the while. “Dancin’! Like you!”

I shook my head and bit back my sudden amusement before dropping it down into my hands when I couldn’t quite manage to hide my growing smile.

“Oh, we’re dancing are we?” I heard Matty say, and could feel the grin he probably wore. Then Teddy was laughing again and squirming beside me once more, sounding so happy, before the bed tilted more so to one side and a soft thud was heard. “Oi, where you off to!” Matty asked him whilst Teddy’s giggles still echoed around the space.

“Tele!” Was the only response he got and I listened to the way Teddy’s feet hurried out of the room, having escaped Matty’s merciless tickles.

There was a quiet for a moment before I felt a hand come to cradle my head and fingers card their way through my hair.

I leaned into the touch, savouring it. I didn’t think anyone had ever touched me with such a softness before, like I was something to be treasured, to be held and kept close.

It was a long while before I finally raised my head again, blinking at the sweet sight I was met with. I smiled at the mess his curls were in and the way his eyes squinted in the dim light of the room.

“Hi.” I whispered and his fingers stilled in my hair when he looked back at me. 

Matty didn’t say a thing though, merely shuffled further down the bed, the duvet being kicked somewhere to the bottom before he finally settled in beside me, both our heads now resting on a single pillow.

His fingertips skirted along the edge of my jaw and trailed across the bottom of my lip before his thumb reached out to catch it too, pinching the flesh ever so slightly.

“You snore.” Matty said to me then and my mouth dropped open slightly in offence.

“I do not.”

He snorted to himself, grin widening, “You do.”

I shoved him but his hands were quick to grab at my arms, wrapping them up and moving to press them against his chest. “It’s cool though, they’re cute snores.”

“How the fuck can they be cute, Matty?”

He rolled his eyes at the ask, still grinning away. “Like, just soft and stuff. Don’t stress, I’ve roomed with George and he’s got the lungs of a whale or summat. I could probably sleep next to a fog horn and feel at home.”

A bright laugh escaped me at that, before I was shaking my head gently and looking back at his sleepy smile. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Matty smacked his lips around another grin, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. He reached out then, brushing a loose strand from out of my face and let his thumb linger on a freckle.

“Your breath stinks as well.”

I bit into my bottom lip at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well yours is no better! And besides, you didn’t seem to mind it much last night.”

I went to turn over then but he was hasty in his movements to grab at me, tugging me back towards him, closer this time. I laughed joyfully, “Hey!”

“Hi.” Matty grinned smugly once we'd settled, his hand falling to the small of my back.

I was gripping one of his shoulders now whilst my other arm laid in the little space between us. “I said that already.” I told him, feeling each soft exhale that escaped him. 

He hummed, thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “I missed you, you know.”

My brow furrowed, “You slept right beside me, you muppet.”

He pinched my hip in retaliation and so I chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

I did know.

“Missed you, too.” I murmured, letting my fingertips trail up over the side of his neck, liking the feel of his barely there stubble. “But-”

He stopped me then, nudging my cheek with the tip of his nose, “I know. Later, yeah?”

My eyes fell closed and I hummed in agreement, later was fine. We could talk later.

His hand pressed against the curve of my back, forcing me even closer, and so my fingers worked themselves into his hair. I exhaled softly and tilted my head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between us in a single heartbeat.

Kissing Matty was different, everything about it just felt right in a way that no other kisses ever quite had. Things appeared to click. Fall into place around me. 

But don't get me wrong, it was painful too, because there was that ache in my chest again, the hole that hollowed out my unforgiving heart. I wanted him but at the same time, I was too terrified to reach out and touch.

Our lips brushed, once, twice, then a third time, hesitant and careful, before something shifted and I was taken back to the previous night. To the way his fingers had dug deep into my thighs, to the front door pressing against my spine, to the way he’d held me so weightlessly.

Talking could wait til later, I reminded myself.

Now, all I wanted was for Matty to consume me and I immediately gasped at the cold hand that dragged its way up my side to tease me, thumb brushing against the nipple that hardened beneath it. 

I wouldn’t let him have all the fun though, so without a second thought I rolled him over and settled on his hips. He was surprised by the change but adapted seamlessly, rutting up off the mattress to meet me, one hand still toying with me, taunting, whilst the other cupped the back of my head.

It was back and forth for a short while, mouth chasing mouth, chests heaving with the force of it.

But then, a bang hollowed out the flat.

I jumped at the sudden noise and shot my head over towards the door, listening in closer.

“Okay?” I called out, noting the breathless quality my voice now had. I waited and didn’t move even when Matty’s hands came to just sit on my waist. 

“‘Kay!” I heard Teddy shout back and I released a semi-amused huff before turning back to face the man beneath me, “Sorry.”

And I was. I really was, especially when I forced myself to drop back down onto the bed sheets next to him.

Matty simply chuckled and I glanced over at him, smiling slightly when he reached out to swipe a gentle thumb over the scar on my jaw. “You’re good." I wondered if he was just saying that, but then, "What do you think he’s actually done though? Sounded like the bike to me.”

I sighed at the very thought. The bike had been one of my mum’s many Christmas gifts to Teddy, one which I hardly had any room for in the flat. I silently hoped that it wasn't the bike, but was caught on the way Matty had so easily adapted, moving on without complaint.

Was that normal?

Matty’s hand coaxed me back into looking at him again and I softened when I saw the smile he wore. “Later,” He reminded me, knocking a knuckle against my chin before he withdrew completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “How about a fry up then? There's that bakery by the studio or the cafe up near mine, choice is yours but it’s on me.”

“Matty.” I huffed, not a whine but near enough, extending an arm out in hopes that it would call him back to bed.

He smirked, glancing at me from over his shoulder once he'd stood. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Come on, got a growing boy to feed- Teddy too, I 'spose.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“So you’ve said.” He quipped and I could hear how his laughter filled the flat even as he headed for the bathroom, “Teds get ready, mate! We're getting bacon!”

I fell back onto the mattress with a smile, staring up at the ceiling above me with a little bit of hope.

[barnesafterglow]

betting

summary: bucky's yours, it's just that not everyone knows that yet

pairing: college!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 824

warnings: mention of drinking, making out in public, passing mention of smut

a/n: here is day one of my 2023 valentine's blurbs with the prompt pulling your lover closer by the waistband !!

main masterlist - challenge masterlist

i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary and turn on notifications for post updates! 🤍

The music vibrated through the club so hard you could feel it in your chest, replacing the heartbeat that was supposed to be there. Wanda had dragged you to another house party, though lord knows you hadn’t done anything else with your weekends since she met Sam in her biology lab.

He and his friends were known on campus as stereotypical party boys, and they fit the description perfectly. Even in the few weeks you’d known them, you were amazed at their ability to attend class and maintain their grades when they were blackout every weekend. It was something of a talent, if you were being honest.

Though that wasn’t their only talent, you thought as a flush creeped down your neck, remembering just last weekend how one of said friends had managed to get you alone in their hall closet and drop to his knees to worship every inch of you.

Bucky’s flirting had started out as just that - simple flirting. He had a bit of a reputation for being a playboy and, even though you weren’t looking for anything serious, you also weren’t looking to be a notch in his bedpost. But he was relentless, from the very first night Wanda brought you around, and soon drunken makeouts every couple of weekends turned into secret dates and a weekend getaway that you still weren’t sure how you had managed to keep your friends from finding out.

And you were sure your luck was running out, because every weekend brought a new place in the house to hookup, a new opportunity for the two of you to get caught in a very compromising position. And it didn’t seem like Bucky had any intention of stopping any time soon.

You never really stopped to wonder why the two of you had decided to keep your situationship a secret; it had started out as nothing serious, but the more you fell for him, the more you wondered what it would be like to have his intense focus on you not only in the comfort of empty apartments and hotel rooms, but in front of your friends as you sat in his lap at a party or next to him in the library.

Every thought left you anxious, scared that Bucky didn’t want the more that you did, scared that he would laugh in your face and leave you for the next person, even though you all but knew for sure that he was just as taken with you.

With more than a little liquid courage in you, you decided that tonight would be the night to risk it all - you couldn’t take not knowing anymore.

Eyes searching, you followed Bucky’s movements across the party, moving from the kitchen and serving drinks to the living room, partnering up with Steve for a round of beer pong. You sidled up to Wanda and Sam - playing opposite Bucky and Steve - and she looked at you knowingly; it was like she could read your mind.

You waited as the game went back and forth, sipping on your drink but trying to maintain a relatively straight head, and took your chance as Bucky sunk the last cup, winning them the game.

He threw his hands in the air, high fiving his friends all around, before his gaze fell on you. He pushed through the small group of people that had gathered to watch, halting right in front of you. Your eyes met his, not sure what his next move was, as he reached for you. He moved slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, to stop whatever decision he was about to make, but you wouldn’t dream of it.

You let his hands run gently down your arms, caressing the exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation and, when he saw none, he hooked a finger in your belt loop, pulling you flush against him. His other hand came up and rested at the nape of your neck, tilting your head up until your mouth met his.

It was as if the rest of the world melted away; even the cheers and whoops of your friends were muffled as Bucky’s lips moved over yours.

When you finally broke apart, Steve was begrudgingly shoving a twenty dollar bill in Sam’s outstretched hand, a smug smile on his face, and Wanda looked on ecstatically. 

“Took you long enough,” you teased, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you towards your friends.

“No kidding,” Sam said. “Another week and Stevie here would have won, and I just couldn’t have that.”

Steve grumbled under his breath as you laughed, feeling happier than you had in a long, long time.

“No,” Bucky replied to Sam, though his attention was still solely focused on you. “We certainly couldn’t have that at all.”