#also happy sanctuary day!

[tinknevertalks]

Prompt: 3 - Okay, show me.

Fandom: Sanctuary

Rating: G

Warning(s): None.

Creature Feature - Ashley sees Henry in his HAP form. Drabble, pre-series, kinda fluffy, kidfic.

[irregularbillcipher]

i'm so sick of people who use the fact that mabel is very much like bill (yes, true!) and that bill even likes mabel (again, yes, true!) and understands her in some ways (again yes!!! true!!!!!!!!!! what was the bubble but a party that never ends with a host that never dies?) and then twist it to fuel their mabel hate. like for one, every pines family member has some deep commonalities with bill because he's an effective villain and plays off the heroes of the story so well! but ALSO because it completely disregards how their core philosophies about the world and people around them differ and it bums me out

i have said this before, exactly like this, and i will say it again. the main difference between bill and mabel is that bill finds the universe and the people in it constricting and dull and frustrating while mabel sees the beauty in dull people and things and sees them as full of potential. bill sees something boring, he destroys it, mabel sees something boring, she gets out her glitter glue. mabel is so filled to the brim with love and affection for others and such a wild desire to make everyone, including herself, happy at all times, and bill is trying so hard to be happy that he deliberately hurts people, ruins his own life, ruins the lives of everyone around him and then doesn't understand why he's so miserable. like these two are fascinating because they are both remarkably similar and WILDLY different and, most importantly, they are interesting to look at as foils because mabel is a good person

[ismails]

Please help me rebulid my Bakery

I'm Ismail Almughanni an entrepreneur from devastated Gaza trying his best to rebuild his Bakery 🍞🥐🥖

On a quiet morning, the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the street, signaling the start of a new day at your small bakery, a place you took immense pride in. For years, this bakery had been a haven where people from all around would gather to enjoy the warm, delicious pastries and bread that you carefully crafted. It was a symbol of hard work, a beacon of hope, and a destination for anyone seeking a taste of comfort amidst life's challenges.

But one day, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The sounds of bombing began to shake the city, and it wasn’t long before the fires of war reached your neighborhood. There was no warning, no chance to escape or save what you could. Shells rained down on the district that housed your beloved bakery. You watched helplessly from a distance, unable to do anything.

Minutes passed like hours. When the noise finally subsided, and the thick smoke that blocked out the sun began to clear, you looked towards your cherished place. It was destroyed.

The walls that once protected you and brought you closer to your customers had collapsed, and the oven where you had kindled the flames of hope had turned to ash. Everything was shattered, broken, as if that place had never been a sanctuary of peace and comfort.

But the destruction wasn’t just physical. The pain in your heart was far greater than any material loss, a place filled with beautiful memories now reduced to rubble. The moments when you saw smiles on people’s faces as they savored your bread, the laughter that echoed through the bakery—those were now just memories, dissolving in the ashes of devastation.

As days went by, you tried to piece together the fragments, not just of the bakery but of yourself as well. You knew rebuilding wouldn’t be easy, and the wounds left by the war wouldn’t heal quickly. But you also knew that the hope you had infused into your bread would remain alive in your heart, even if the tables and chairs were destroyed, even if the bakery itself was gone.

The bakery may have been destroyed by war, but its spirit lives on in you, in everyone who tasted your bread, and in everyone who walked into that small place and found a slice of happiness.

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[jakubrozalski]

'Zygmunt and Zośka'

Ewka joined the "Zośka" battalion before the outbreak of the uprising, together with her beloved Tomasz. She met Tomek in the Grey Ranks two years ago, they participated in many reconnaissance and sabotage missions together.  They both welcomed information about the planned uprising with excitement and euphoria. Those moments seem so distant now... The uprising has been going on for a month now...  Tomek is gone. All she has left are memories of long walks by the Vistula and those short moments together when they felt free and happy, despite the horror surrounding them. Now, with a Colt M1911 in her hand, which she received from one of the "Cichociemny" fighting in the Old Town, she is waiting for the Germans assault, leaning on Zygmunt statue, her last sanctuary, last support. They will both fall today, the old king Zygmunt and brave Ewa from the Zośka battalion. -

Exactly 80 years ago, 1 August 1944 at 5:00 p.m. the Warsaw Uprising broke out. The Uprising was supposed to last a few days at most, but it did last sixty-three days and claimed hundreds of thousands of lives. Directly, of course, it was aimed to liberate Warsaw from the occupation of the falling German Reich, but indirectly and politically (as part of Operation 'Burza') was aimed against the USSR and Stalin's plans. This was also one of the reasons for its calamity and the help ( of the Red Army ) that never came. It was definitely too optimistic for the Polish underground resistance command to count on any help from Stalin, whose plans concerning Poland were known and who, as a vindictive and unforgiving person - in my personal opinion - certainly wanted to take revenge for the 1920 and his personal defeat.

There is no doubt, however, that it was an uprising of brave young women and men, full of high ideals, passion and dreams of a free homeland, who wanted to feel a little freedom, self-agency and relief, but also to take revenge after 5 years of terror and occupation. Very tragic and beautiful at the same time. It is to them that I wanted to pay tribute and honor their memory. 

I also observe with great concern and sadness what is happening in the world currently. Not even 100 years have passed since the apocalypse of WWII and the world is again full of divisions, tension, polarization, violence and hatred... For this reason I believe it is worth remembering and reminding about history, to try to stop it from repeating itself, over and over again...  Honor and glory to the heroes who fought for freedom and higher values ​​against evil. Work process: https://jrozalski.com/projects/QKmkRd

[writella]

Screwed Up and Brilliant

Synopsis: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight.

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s half past 10.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever. “8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I really do miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him— no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was and how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time because, for once, he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won.

He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

[punkshort]

to have and to hold

A The Way We Were/Look What We've Become one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet morning together the day after your wedding.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, brief mention of oral (m!receiving), an absurd amount of happiness and love.

WC: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Was it what you always envisioned for your wedding day?

Certainly not.

No, you definitely didn't imagine finding the love of your life, who also happened to be your extremely intimidating boss, right before the apocalypse. You didn't think you would spend a year traveling across the country together, fighting for your lives and keeping one another safe while doing your best to deny your feelings for him, and he for you.

Yet somehow, it all worked out. After enduring unspeakable things in that year, you found sanctuary in Jackson, Wyoming, with Joel's brother. Tommy had a very different experience in that first year. He managed to find Maria, his wife, and create a beautiful community. The walls around the town were still being constructed when they found you both on the side of the road, on your way to Yellowstone to settle down together someplace safe. They took you in and you acclimated nicely, although it took a long time for you both to feel safe, to let go of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that said stay alert, keep one eye open, stay awake. But you did, and you each finally found peace.

Sure, it wasn't all easy. Old fears cropped back up when Joel mentioned starting a family and getting married. You said all the wrong things, anxiety driving you instead of your heart and it nearly destroyed you both. But with time, you managed to work through your fears and you came out on the other end stronger than ever.

And now you were married. Devoted to one another forever, said the words with tears in your eyes and smiles on your faces in front of your friends and family. Ellie never called you mom and dad, but you took on the roles for her, anyway. You fed her, taught her, kept her safe, kept her secret. She was just as much family as Tommy and Maria, who also stood by your sides as you exchanged vows.

As silly as it was, Joel still insisted on keeping the hair tie you had given him that night wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a makeshift ring, a symbol more than anything of your love and devotion to him, and even though you had since found a thin gold band for him to wear one day not too far outside the walls under Tommy's guard, Joel still never took off that hair tie.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes the day after your wedding. Your cheek was pressed against his bare chest, his right arm wrapped possessively around your middle and his left hand resting on his stomach. The way the sun beamed in through your bedroom curtains made the gold band around his finger practically sparkle, or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, it made you smile and nuzzle into his warmth even more, inhaling his natural, comforting scent.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising underneath your cheek, then you heard him grunt softly before his fingers twitched then left his stomach in favor of scratching his beard.

"'S'late," he yawned, voice thick and gravelly. The way it sent a wave of arousal through you, you would have thought he said the most filthy, depraved thing known to man.

"We were up late," you reminded him, biting your lip when you saw the slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I remember," he teased before his hands found your hips and shifted you so you were lying on top of him. You pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the center of his chest and you could feel his heart fluttering under your lips.

"What do you want to do today?" you asked him sleepily.

He hummed and you got your answer before he even had a chance to respond when you felt a familiar twitch against your leg.

"I planned on stayin' in bed with my wife all damn day," he said, making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that."

With Ellie at a sleepover, which was at her own insistence to give you some space on your wedding night, a gesture both thoughtful and embarrassing in nature, you knew you had at least a few more hours to yourselves.

"C'mere," he murmured, his chest rumbling underneath you. With a grin, you propped yourself on your elbows so you could reach his mouth. Pressing your lips together gently, you each sighed, feeling yourself relax even more in his arms.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you dropped your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traced your spine while the other cupped your cheek, cradling it like you were made of glass. You leaned your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close. It felt like he had you completely surrounded, like your body was just melting right into his, and you couldn't be any happier.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Turned out, you could be a little happier. That became rather clear when your kisses grew heated, your hands began to roam and your hips started to shift. You didn't even bother to ask, you just pushed yourself up so your legs were straddling him on either side and reached between both your bodies, angling his cock so it lined up with your opening and slowly, oh so slowly, you sunk down. You watched through heavy lidded eyes as his face went slack and his brow furrowed, taking great pride in the way you made this broad, strong, beast of a man all pliant and soft underneath you. How you and you alone with one touch or look could stop him dead in his tracks.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it," he growled when you started to move. He pressed his head back into his pillow and groaned, watching as the evidence of your arousal smeared between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands gripped your waist, one set of fingertips brushing up against the shiny, but faded, scars on your ribs. His eyes focused on them for a moment, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit when he recalled what you would be willing to do for him. It was the same he would be willing to do, and have done, for you: kill anyone who dared try to do you harm.

His hands drifted over your stomach, rough palms gliding over smooth skin, until he reached your breasts. He squeezed one, then the other, then drew small circles over your nipples, flicking his nail against the hardening bud and making you whine.

It didn't take much convincing. Just one hand pressing lightly on your back made you fall forward, planting a hand on either side of his head so he could take your nipple into his mouth while you continued to ride him at a pace you seemed to enjoy best.

"Feel so good," you practically slurred, your mind growing numb as your pleasure built. He released your breast with a smack to his lips and pushed you back so you were upright once again. His eyes looked black when he met your gaze and he clenched his jaw before he muttered lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, lemme see you work for it."

You took a deep breath and stabilized your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet house.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmured. You could see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrilled you. Gone were the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure was mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he was growing impatient. He bared his teeth while you kept up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck and you briefly thought he looked not unlike an animal, the thought only spurring you on more.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, sweetheart," he gritted out. "Look so pretty like this, all stuffed full of me. My beautiful wife," he added, his voice dropping to an adoring whisper with his last words. It had you tipping you head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continued to ride him as best you could with trembling legs.

And he could feel it. He could feel your legs shake, he could hear your breath stutter and he knew you were growing weak but fuck if you didn't try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuited his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you wanting to do what he asked. But he knew you were tired and sore from the previous night. He hardly let you rest once you finally tore away from the festivities to be alone for the first time as husband and wife, but you both knew the desire was double sided. You couldn't keep your hands off him, either. After all, it was you who dropped to your knees in your beautiful fucking dress right on the other side of your front door, barely making it inside, to take his cock down your throat.

So he decided to help. His hands found their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucked up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hung open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next. Your perfect fucking pussy clenched around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm ripped through you. The sight and feel was unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He lifted you off him quickly, making you yelp in surprise, and rolled you over so you were on your back. He knelt between your legs and furiously tugged at his cock, his eyes fixated on your spent cunt. He groaned loudly and fell forward onto one hand as he came, painting your stomach with his release, and you watched in a daze as you continued to catch your breath.

"Christ," he gasped when he was finally finished, then collapsed next to you with a tired groan. "Gonna kill me one day."

You giggled and tossed your forearm across your eyes, and he grinned before reaching toward the ground for something to clean you up.

"Why don't I make you breakfast?" he offered softly as he wiped the rag over your belly. You hummed and dropped your arm to your side with a smile.

"I think Julia baked us muffins as a wedding present. The basket should be downstairs somewhere."

He was surprised his stomach didn't growl on command.

"You stay here, I'll be right back," he said before kissing the tip of your nose and lifting himself up with a grunt. He slid on his boxers, not fully convinced that Ellie wouldn't come bounding through the front door unannounced, before heading down the steps. While the coffee brewed, he rubbed his lower back with a wince. The last twelve hours wore him out, but he wouldn't ever let you see it. But by the time he got back upstairs with a tray full of muffins, coffee and apples, he could tell you were just as exhausted as him. You had hardly moved from the spot where he left you, but he couldn't deny you looked completely relaxed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, picking at baked goods and feeding each other pieces of apple until you were full. Afterwards, you took his left hand in both of yours and admired the way it now looked adorned with a gold band, marking him as yours forever.

"Looks good on you," you murmured. He smiled and cupped your jaw with his other hand, kissing your lips so tenderly it took your breath away.

"What do we do now?" he asked, nuzzling the side of your face.

"What we promised we would do," you said with a sigh. You leaned into him, head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist, holding you as close as he could.

It took him a moment, but he understood what you meant.

I promise to love and cherish you. To remain faithful, to protect you, to laugh and cry with you. To grow together and lean on one another. Until my very last breath, this I swear.

His chest swelled at the memory and he felt so happy in that moment, he thought he could float away.

He took a deep breath and kissed the top of your head before replying.

"Okay."

[jayflrt]

golden boy

❝ c’mon, this is exactly like the bahamas if you close your eyes. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, best friends to lovers, summer romance au, rich kid au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, underage drinking, heeseung is the biggest simp ever, and he calls you princess, mc has a stepdad, she is also a little spoiled in the beginning, tooth rotting fluff (like might be the fluffiest thing i’ve written), mutual pining ofc because this is a jayflrt fic, friends being insufferable (mainly 02z)

SUMMARY ▸ in the summer between high school and college, lee heeseung is determined to make you fall in love with the city of los angeles after your vacation plans in the bahamas fall through. somewhere between the lines, though, you end up falling for your childhood best friend.

WORD COUNT ▸ 16,375 words

PLAYLIST ▸ youth by troye sivan • tongue tied by grouplove • ribs by lorde • sanctuary by joji • cruel summer by taylor swift • stars by duncan laurence

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have been waiting AGES to share this one so i hope u guys like it !! ♡ also pls play stars by duncan laurence during the observatory scene if you’d like :’)

IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER VACATION WHEN YOU RECEIVED THE GOD-AWFUL NEWS.

“Your father and I are finally gonna have our honeymoon this summer!” your mother exclaimed, grinning excitedly as if she was expecting you to reciprocate the same energy.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t god-awful, but this was the one summer where you didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of being a student. Having recently graduated from high school, you were basking in the glow of finally becoming an adult and an incoming college freshman. You were finally free from AP exams, college applications, and the pressure of balancing academics and a social life. So, given all that, you were rather upset that your parents were leaving you behind before you had to fall into the routine of being a student all over again.

You didn’t mind having this talk. In fact, you were glad your mother was telling you in advance instead of just jetting away to another country and leaving a note behind. However, you didn’t understand why she had to have this conversation in front of your best friend, Lee Heeseung.

It probably didn’t help that you two had been joined at the hip since you were wearing diapers, but your families had gotten far too comfortable with each other. Just last week, Heeseung’s mom was asking you if you both had finally “tied the knot,” to which you replied by explaining that you had just graduated high school.

You were happy for your mother and stepfather, really. Your mother had experienced her fair share of bad relationships after your father left, so you were glad that she finally met someone so kind and genuine. You weren’t ever one to judge the men your mother brought home, but your stepfather always got brownie points for playing Mario Kart with you whenever he came over. Not to mention, he bought you the Nintendo Switch to play it on. He seemed to be the only man who didn’t feel insecure about your mother’s success and lavish lifestyle, so you only had good things to say about him.

While you were genuinely glad with the outcome of your parents’ relationship, that unbecoming, spoiled side of you was slipping through the cracks. Even your brain was shouting at you for complaining about having to stay in Bel Air for the summer. Yet, you were just far too frustrated with the bleak vision of your own summer to care about your parent’s honeymoon. In two weeks, you should have been vacationing in the Bahamas with a piña colada in your hand, not waiting for your parents to come back from Rome.

“That sounds so fun,” you chirped with fake enthusiasm, although you supposed it was easily detected due to your gritted teeth, “and that’s not gonna interfere with our trip to the Bahamas, right?” When she didn’t respond, you asked again, “Right, Mom?”

Your mother wore an uneasy look on her face at the sight of your displeasure, so Heeseung cut in quickly, “I think you should probably forget about the Bahamas this year, Y/N.”

“Heeseung!” you whined, sending him a sharp glare. He did not just tell you to forget about the Bahamas. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Not around your mom, dude,” he muttered.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Your mother smiled as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “I mean, it would be good for you to stay here with all of your friends for once; I don’t think you’ve ever not left the country for the summer.” When you sulked, your mother tried to encourage you by gently squeezing your shoulders. “Heeseung and your other friends are here, and you have a car now! Yeji’s family moved to Irvine now, didn’t they? You can drive down to see her.”

You nodded, a little more encouraged. You and Hwang Yeji had been close ever since you met at Choi Jisu’s birthday party in middle school. When Yeji’s parents decided to move to Irvine, finding that housing was much more expensive in Los Angeles County, you were absolutely crushed. Plus, it wasn’t like Orange County was any less expensive, so you felt even more bitter about their sudden move. It wasn’t like you could drive and see Yeji whenever you wanted, either; the one hour drive felt like three with all the Los Angeles traffic.

You hung your head, dejected. “I guess so.” You turned your head to the side, noticing the snicker that Heeseung was holding back. After shooting him a dirty look, you looked back at your mother. “When are you leaving?”

“This weekend,” she responded, eyes fixed on her phone screen now. “I have to sort out my PTO with my boss today, though.” She kissed the top of your head and started heading for the door, heels clicking against the linoleum flooring with each step. “I’ll see you later tonight, Y/N! And make sure Heeseung actually goes home tonight!”

You shot a glance at your friend, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world in reaction to your mother’s words.

Heeseung tended to be scared of everything—everything except actually scary things, like biblically accurate angels or the wrath of his mother.

You gave your best friend a condescending half-grin, which he returned sheepishly. As of late, Heeseung had become notorious for staying out late with Jay Park, Jake Sim, and Park Sunghoon. (Yang Jungwon often joined them, but he was adamant about going home before midnight. Something about not wanting to miss out on his beauty sleep.) Everyone thought this was the beginning of Heeseung’s teenage rebellion (which was rather delayed), but then you discovered that all they did was play games in an internet café and occasionally use their fake IDs to get into VIP lounges at clubs.

When you heard the door shut, you circled around the couch to sit next to Heeseung.

“This sucks,” you said flatly. “Summer means an ungodly rise in temperature—hot enough to melt the skin off my bones, and I’d rather have that happen while I’m sunbathing in the Bahamas!”

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound right now?” Heeseung snorted, looking up from his phone where he was playing Cookie Run from the umpteenth time. You swore he was addicted to the game despite the numerous times he told you he was just playing it as a joke. Your best friend continued, “You should be happy for your mom instead of complaining about your summer being ruined.”

You sank back in your seat. You hated to admit it, but Heeseung was right; you were being uptight about this whole situation. You just couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the one thing you were looking forward to all year long.

Heeseung leaned closer so that you both were shoulder-to-shoulder, and he nudged you. You looked over and were met with his dazzling grin. Frankly, you were honored that you were graced with his attention in the middle of his Cookie Run gaming session.

“You can spend the summer with me instead,” he offered.

You snorted. “That was gonna happen, anyway. You spend all your free time at my place.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Heeseung asked, brows knitting into a frown.

He looked at you so intensely that your breath caught in your throat for a moment. The proximity coupled with the shift in tone made you feel self-conscious, and you were scared that Heeseung was going to let some unspoken feeling slip.

However, his face broke into a mischievous grin. “You guys have a jacuzzi.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and shoved him harder. This time, Heeseung was laughing as he fell against one of the cushions on his side. You grabbed one of the throw pillows and started pummeling him with it.

“You have your own jacuzzi, too, dumbass,” you retorted. “You’d know if you actually stayed at your own house for once! Also, you’ve lost your pool privileges here after you poured bubble bath in ours.”

“Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“You clogged our jets and we had to pay someone to get rid of the bubbles, Heeseung.”

“Jake was the one who poured the bubble bath in!”

“And who was the one who gave him the idea?”

Heeseung grimaced, and you were seconds away from reminding him how you took the fall for him when your parents asked what happened to the hot tub. Before you could, though, he spoke up.

“I was being serious, though,” he started, “do you wanna have a fun summer with me, or do you wanna stay bitter and do nothing?”

Something about Heeseung’s condescending tone was pissing you off. You stared at him before delivering one last blow with the throw pillow.

“Ow! What was that for?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics; you didn’t even hit him that hard.

“I’ll see you later,” you told him, turning on your heel to head upstairs without seeing your friend out. “I have plans with Yizhuo now.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you became friends with Ning Yizhuo, but throughout high school, everyone knew the two of you came in a package deal. When you were in third period AP World History, everyone knew that Yizhuo would switch out of her second period section to be in your class; when you didn’t show up to calculus, it was no surprise that it was because you were ditching with Yizhuo; when Zhong Chenle asked Yizhuo out, he realized that commitment came with becoming your friend as well.

At first, you assumed that it was because your mothers were close, but that didn’t explain why you spent countless nights at her place and picked her up for school every single morning. Heeseung even once admitted that he was jealous of your friendship with her. He was drunk when he mentioned that, of course. He would never admit to that while he was sober.

When she got into a school on the west coast and you got into a school on the east coast, though, you thought your life was over. (When you figured out your meet-up plans were somewhat manageable, you felt a little better.)

On the bright side, you were stoked to attend Yale with your partner-in-crime, Heeseung.

“Wait! Let me drive you,” said partner-in-crime offered.

You turned to face him, wide-eyed. “It’s like a thirty minute drive, Heeseung. I’m going to her country club.”

Despite your protests, you knew that Heeseung would be more than willing to drive all the way over there. Hell, you could tell him you wanted to go to Las Vegas right now, and he’d somehow manage to arrange a trip for you two. You had never met anyone as spontaneous as him.

Now, though, you were trying to get away from him because you were a little bitter about his comment. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to drive alone, so you kept his proposition on the table.

“Oh, her country club? The one up north, right?” he inquired. “Can I bring Jake, too? We’ll just hang out at the mall while you do your thing.”

You mulled it over—not for long, though, because you found yourself caving easily. “Fine.”

You forgot that Heeseung bringing Jake meant that Jay and Sunghoon were coming along for the ride, too.

The three of them were squeezed in the back of Heeseung’s Tesla, with Jay incessantly complaining about how he had to take the middle seat. He even went as far as to compare heights, and Sunghoon used his one centimeter on Jay to his advantage. Jake remained silent for once.

You ran your finger along the smooth leather of your seat and snorted.

“Are you making fun of my car?” Heeseung asked with a chuckle.

“No, I’m making fun of how you dropped extra money for white seats.”

“And for the seven-seater.”

“What?!” Jay exclaimed, swiveling in his seat to look behind him. “And you still squeezed me in the middle seat?”

“Not my fault you didn’t look behind you, dude.”

Sunghoon and Jake proceeded to laugh at their friend, and you were about to do the same until you realized you had looked to see if Heeseung was laughing along with you. To your delight, he was. That, and the wind was blowing in his hair so perfectly. The golden sun shone across his face in a way that made his eyes crinkle up and his smile grow. You would always scold him for not having sunglasses on him, but, this time, you were a little distracted by how he glowed.

Heeseung then turned to you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing at all.” You coughed, tearing your gaze away to look ahead at the freeway. “Are we almost there?”

You just then registered how the backseat had gotten awfully silent, and when you turned to check on The Three Idiots (you deemed this title upon them back in high school, and it stuck), they all had Cheshire grins spread across their faces. It was a little scary, honestly. Their antics were nightmarish on their own, but what their eyes suggested was something that would haunt you. You fought down the heat creeping up your cheeks in an effort to appear indifferent, and you turned back to look at the GPS.

Ten minutes. You had to deal with them for ten more minutes. That was 600 seconds. Maybe you could tune out the testosterone if you counted down your arrival time.

To your relief, though, ten minutes passed by much faster because the four boys got into a heated argument over the superior boba shop in the Bay Area. You had to interject by reminding them that none of them were even from the Bay Area. Heeseung wound up going on a tangent about how he and Choi Yeonjun went on a day trip last weekend, which you would have remembered “if you were a better friend.”

You did remember, actually. Heeseung was texting you the entire time about Yeonjun forcing him to choose between him or a PS5. You presumed that Heeseung chose the PS5 because Yeonjun posted a black screen on his Snapchat story with the caption “dhmu” followed by a wilting rose and broken heart emoji.

(They wound up gaming all night afterward, anyway.)

The Three Idiots sensed tension from the back seat, so they started a new debate: the superior boba shop in Los Angeles.

You couldn’t believe that this was the depth of their conversations.

When you finally arrived at Yizhuo’s country club, you were being nagged by Sunghoon to get out of the car. He was eager to go to the mall and try out a new sushi place that everyone had been raving about. For someone who seemed to lack any seriousness, Sunghoon was extremely diligent about his frequent Yelp reviews; he even got promoted to the Yelp Elite Squad.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” you complained, shooting Heeseung a withering look—a please save me from your friends, which he grinned at. “Bye, then.”

“Have fun, princess,” Heeseung called as you were closing the door, and you were grateful your back was turned so that he couldn’t see the look on your face.

(“Princess?” Jay questioned. “Did you just call her princess?”

“It’s an inside joke!” Heeseung rebuked.

“And were you just checking her out?” came Jake’s muffled voice from inside the car, and a bark of laughter followed immediately after from Sunghoon and Jay.)

You shook your head when Heeseung sped off as quickly as possible. You could picture it so vividly; he would be defending himself to his dying breath, cheeks bright red as his mouth ran. Although you found it funny, you knew that Heeseung was probably just glancing out the window to make sure you weren’t too close to the car before he drove away.

“Y/N!” Yizhuo called from the entrance. You turned to see her clad in a cotton shirt and tennis skirt, standing next to Zhong Chenle. “Did you think we were swimming or something?”

Yes, you most definitely did think you were going to be sunbathing by the poolside. With a sheer cover-up over your black one-piece, you were definitely not ready to play tennis with Yizhuo and her boyfriend. You even had your red heart-shaped sunglasses on your head.

You let out a petulant whine, taking your walk of shame over to the two. “I’m already in the racquet club, so why would I come here to play more tennis?”

Yizhuo shrugged, but the one thing you loved about her was that she was flexible with plans. “I’ll just change into my swimsuit, then. I’ve been wanting to sunbathe,” she said before handing Chenle her racquet. “Looks like doubles didn’t work out. Are you and Jisung good with playing singles?”

“I don’t mind as long as I win,” Chenle answered with a grin. “See you two later.”

He was clearly delighted because you were probably the only competition he had to worry about. You were sure Park Jisung would complain when he found out that you weren’t going to be his partner. Jisung was utterly hopeless when it came to tennis—or, rather, he was scared of anything flying in his direction.

Yizhuo grabbed her Prada leather tote bag, pulling out a white two-piece with a gold clip in the front after some digging. She excused herself to change quickly, and came back within five minutes. You were grateful she came prepared. For her, though, it was inevitable considering she drove thirty minutes most days to lounge around her country club with Chenle.

“They’re renovating the banquet room right now,” Yizhuo informed as she settled into the lounge chair next to yours. “I was going to invite you for the opening next week, but you’re gonna be in the Bahamas, as usual.”

“Yeah, about that,” you drawled, “vacation plans fell through, so I’m not going anymore.”

“What?” Yizhuo sat up, startling the server who brought over cocktails on a silver plate. “But you always go to the Bahamas!”

You gingerly took one of the cocktail glasses, mouthing your gratitude before turning your attention back to Yizhuo. “My parents wanna spend their honeymoon alone, and Heeseung thinks I’m acting spoiled.”

Yizhuo smirked against the rim of her glass. “How is it that Heeseung always manages to come up in our conversations?”

“He doesn’t!” you exclaimed. “He’s just always around, you know? Like a fruit fly.”

“Just like how Chenle’s always around?”

“Chenle’s your boyfriend; Heeseung’s just a gnat.”

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you and Heeseung are the dictionary definition of couple behavior. I swear, you two are meant for each other.”

You sighed. “Heeseung and I have been best friends since, like, forever. Our relationship is just… different from my other friendships.”

Yizhuo raised a brow, a coy smile still creeping across her face. “So how come you refer to everyone else as friendships, but with him it’s a relationship?”

“Psychoanalyze much?” You sent a mocking smile right back at her. “Can I not have a friend of the opposite gender anymore?”

“You can have one that doesn’t make heart eyes at you,” Yizhuo replied with a scoff. “I’m telling you, the guy’s head over heels.”

“Whatever.” You slipped your sunglasses down to rest on the bridge of your nose. You didn’t want to think about potential romantic feelings for your best friend that could threaten the stability of your life-long friendship. “Let’s circle back to what’s actually important: my summer.”

“Poor Heeseung.” Yizhuo tutted. “Bahamas over love.”

“Love can happen any time,” you said, “but the window of opportunity only opens once, and that golden period is the summer between high school and college. Think about it, Yizhuo! Every summer after this one is gonna be loaded with classes, internships, and work.”

“So, what’s your game plan?”

You pondered on her question. There were only so many options you had, and, clearly, going to the Bahamas was not one of them. Honestly, you hardly felt like a real Californian with the little knowledge you had about what you could even do around your area; all you could think about was the beach or Disneyland. Plus, with Yeji doing a summer program in Irvine and Yizhuo spending her days at her country club, you didn’t have much room for spontaneous activities with them.

Unless you wanted to spend every single day like you would on a regular weekend, you had to find someone who knew how to make things fun.

And, unfortunately, that narrowed it back down to Lee Heeseung.

You turned back to Yizhuo with a sheepish look on your face. “I think I have an idea.”

“Be my summer escort service.”

“Excuse me?” Heeseung nearly choked on the tea your mother made for him. You watched as he set the cup down as delicately as possible while his eyes welled up with tears. He hit his fist against his chest a few times before calming down. “I don’t think you know what an escort service entails, but I think I know what you’re getting at.” He grinned slowly. “You’re taking me up on my offer.”

You did a lot of thinking on the car ride back to Bel Air.

A lot of thinking during the time when Sunghoon wasn’t complaining about the quality of the sushi place they went to. You were almost inspired to write a negative review yourself because of how passionate he was.

“Well, it’s inevitable that I’m gonna be seeing you almost every day, anyway,” you said, “so we might as well make the most of it, right?”

“I knew you’d turn around.” Heeseung reached over and ruffled your hair. “I’ll make sure you have the best summer of your life, Y/N.”

Lee Heeseung excelled at virtually anything. You were sure he would surpass your expectations with these impromptu summer plans, too.

You deemed the nickname “Golden Boy” upon him for this very reason, and it had everything to do with the fact that Heeseung was absolutely perfect at everything he did.

For a while, you even coined a theory that he had been created in a laboratory, specially designed to be absolutely flawless in every way imaginable. Of course Heeseung was born rich, smart, and handsome. Some people were just born lucky into the world, and, when you were younger, it was harder to accept that. Heeseung grew up with the world at his disposal; he got everything and anything he wanted, but that didn’t necessarily mean he took his privilege for granted.

You had to admit that Heeseung was a hard worker when it came down to it. Although he was definitely affluent as a fourth generation trust fund baby, Heeseung made sure his parents were never disappointed with his results.

Throughout high school, he consistently ranked first every single year, always coming right above you after the semester ended. Not to mention, he had even been scouted by several Division 1 schools to join their soccer team. He was even published at the mere age of sixteen for the research he did with a college professor. And, with a face and personality like his, any reasonable mother would’ve loved for their daughter to bring Heeseung home for dinner.

Another thing he never failed to accomplish was making you absolutely flustered.

“Well…” You turned your cheek. “I always have fun when I hang out with you, so don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late. It’s getting to my head.”

You groaned.

“Hey, we might as well have fun,” Heeseung tried. “It’s not like any of us are vicariously living through each other’s summer romances.”

“Whoa. You said ‘each other.’”

“Yeah?”

You shot him a questioning look. “You’re implying that you have a summer romance that I’m not allowed to live vicariously through.”

“What? No!” Heeseung frowned as he tried to do the mental gymnastics to piece together your reasoning. “I said—actually, you know what, it doesn’t matter what I said. Who cares about being cuffed? Let’s just enjoy the last moments of our youth.”

“You know what, you’re right,” you agreed, getting fired up just by his words. Maybe it was the realization that time was fleeting, but you were determined to have the best summer ever now. “This summer, I’m Percy and you’re Grover. No one’s getting in the way of our side quests.”

“Why do I have to be the half-barnyard animal sidekick?” Heeseung deadpanned. “Can’t I be Annabeth?”

“No, put some respect on a satyr’s title.”

Your best friend picked his cup of tea back up when it had cooled. He blew gently on the surface before taking a careful sip, and then confidently drank more afterward. He set his cup down again and held a finger up, signaling that he wanted a chance to speak again. You were half-expecting it to be about the damn Percy Jackson lore.

“Your parents leave soon, right?” he asked instead. You nodded in response, somewhat surprised about his inquiry, so Heeseung continued, “Do they need a ride to the airport? We could have a sleepover after.”

“I think—”

“We would love a ride to the airport, Heeseung,” your mother gushed from the staircase as she was lugging suitcases down, “but you’re going straight back to your house after taking my daughter home.”

Heeseung swallowed thickly. “O-of course, ma’am. Straight home.”

You pouted a little. “You’re not staying?”

He smirked a little at your reaction, and you were a little flustered and disappointed that you managed to inflate his ego even further.

“Nah, I’ll just—” Heeseung cut himself off quickly when he noticed your mother was suddenly towering behind where he was seated on your couch. “I’ll—I’ll go straight to my house, like I said.”

“Come on, let the kids spend some time together before college,” your stepfather chimed in, following suit with a suitcase of his own. “Y/N hardly ever gets to stay in LA for the summer.”

“We’re going to the same college, Dad,” you pointed out.

“Of course,” He walked over to ruffle your hair, and Heeseung stared up at him as if your stepfather was some respected higher power, “but you never know what could happen in college. People grow apart whether you like it or not, and the life of a college student gets busy, so you two might as well enjoy this summer.”

When all you could do was stare at your stepfather in horror, he added, “I’m not saying you’re gonna stop being friends! It’s just easier to spend time together now than it is in college.”

“That’s why I’m your daughter’s escort this summer,” Heeseung spoke up.

“Escort?” your stepfather pressed. “That’s… a little concerning. Keep it PG, you two.”

“It’s not like that!” you whined. “Anyway, Dad, don’t you have to get to the airport soon?”

He checked his watch quickly and nodded at your mother. “Y/N’s right. We should get going soon, honey. I’m gonna go make sure I didn’t forget to pack anything.”

With that, your stepfather jogged upstairs with Heeseung’s curious eyes following him suspiciously. When you nudged him, trying to figure out why he was mugging your dad for no reason, he grinned a little. He gestured for you to lean closer so that he could speak quietly.

You leaned in close so that your ear was by his lips, and Heeseung whispered, “He’s totally packing your mom’s honeymoon present.”

“How do you know?”

“Classic move. My brother did the same thing for his wife.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth with a shocked look on your face. You had to keep yourself from audibly gasping since your mother was only a room away. Your face broke into a little smile. Seeing someone care for your mother so deeply made you so happy, especially with how she was the one who usually put in the most effort in her past relationships.

All your life, you wanted a relationship that was the complete opposite of your mother’s; now, though, you aspired to find someone who loved you that much.

Speak of the devil. She was walking over as you and Heeseung exchanged mischievous grins.

“What’re you two smiling about?” she asked.

“Nothing!” You smiled and fixed her hair. “Have fun on your honeymoon, Mom. I’ll make sure Heeseung doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Hey!” Heeseung interjected. “I’m not even that bad! Honest-to-god, Jake’s worse than me—just ask Jay or Sunghoon. Actually, don’t ask Sunghoon because I think he has it out for me right now.” He paused before adding, “Now that I think about it, don’t ask Jay, either. Just trust me on this one.”

You scoffed. “Nice going, Hee.”

Your mother smiled, and you could tell that it was a little sad. “We’ll take you to the Bahamas next time, okay, Y/N?” She did a quick sweep of the room before leaning in a little and whispering, “By the way, your stepfather was really happy that you started calling him ‘dad’ the other day. I think he almost cried!”

You hated to admit it out loud, but you felt inexplicably happy at those words.

“I’m ready!” your stepfather called as he came down the stairs. “Do you have everything you need? Are we ready to go?”

“Ready as ever,” your mother answered and turned to your best friend. “Are you ready, Heeseung?”

“Yep.” He got up from the couch, spinning his car keys around his fingers. “Come on, Y/N. Time to say bye-bye to mommy and—ow! Don’t hit me!”

The car ride to the airport wasn’t too long, but you and Heeseung fell into an uncomfortable silence while your parents were gushing about their vacation plans to each other. They weren’t even sitting next to each other. Your mother sat next to you in the back seat and your stepfather sat in the passenger’s seat to accompany Heeseung, but they were still going back and forth. You nearly considered asking your stepfather to switch seats with you so that you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of their incessant flirting.

When Heeseung pulled up to the drop-off zone, however, your parents pulled themselves together in record time. You received two kisses on your head from each parent after they got out of the car.

“Heeseung, let’s walk together for a bit,” your stepfather called. When you exchanged a shocked look with your best friend, your dad clicked his tongue with a laugh. “Just until the gates over there. I need some help carrying my bags.”

Heeseung, floundering for words, wound up not saying anything and scrambled to get out of the car to help him out. The conversation seemed to be light and easygoing, but you were craning your neck out of the car window to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on.

“Mom,” you whispered harshly, “tell me Dad isn’t telling Heeseung something weird right now. He’s still traumatized from the time he was interrogated about being my Homecoming date last year.”

Since neither you nor Heeseung had actual dates for the Homecoming dance last year, he made you a poster and asked you to be his date at your doorstep. At the time, you two were binge watching Parks and Recreation together, so he used that as inspiration for your poster: Please don’t REC my plans and say KNOPE to Homecoming. You vividly recalled being impressed by how neat the handwriting was only to be told later that Yeji helped Heeseung make it.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Your mother waved it off. “You should be more worried about how Mrs. Lee calls us in the middle of the night and asks where her son is. That’s gonna traumatize your friend.”

Wow. Lee Heeseung was already a pain in the ass to begin with, and only now you realized how his mother had it a thousand times harder.

“Have a safe trip, okay?” you told your mother after you helped her bring the rest of her bags to the gate. “And—don’t worry—I know when the gardener's coming by, so I’ll be home to let him in.”

She smiled fondly and kissed your forehead. “I’ll text you when I land,” she said. “Have fun, sweetheart, but not too much fun.”

“Mom!” you complained, cringing at whatever she was implying.

Heeseung and your stepfather were already at the front doors, and your best friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. You wondered if he needed saving from your father, and you confirmed this when you noticed him cower a little after shaking your stepfather’s hand.

“Heeseung,” your mother started, “thanks for bringing us here. I made brownies in the afternoon, so make sure Y/N gives you some before you go home.”

“Brownies?” Heeseung turned to you with a grin and thanked your mother profusely. “I hope you guys have a fun trip.”

After you all exchanged goodbyes, you and Heeseung headed back to his car. You were able to watch your mother and stepfather disappear into the crowd, a strange feeling lingering in your chest. You weren’t sure what it was, but you supposed you felt a little lonely. This was the first summer you were spending without your parents, and you weren’t sure what to expect.

As if Heeseung could read your mind, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a fun summer.”

“It better be the best summer of my life.”

Heeseung laughed and opened the passenger’s side door for you. “Then let’s start now.”

“Huh? Right now?”

“Let’s get bingsu,” he said. Come to think of it, you were craving shaved ice; you had mentioned it to Heeseung last week. “You said you were hungry, right? And then we can go home and dig into those brownies your mom made.”

“I never said anything about being hungry.”

“But you’re hungry, right?”

The corner of your mouth twitched before breaking into a little smile.

“Alright, let’s go.”

In all honesty, you didn’t expect anything special from Heeseung. That was why you had your own plans laid out for the coming week, and first on your agenda was going shopping with Yizhuo in Beverly Hills. Since your best friend was so adamant on spending the summer with you, though, you let him tag along.

“I hate you,” he muttered through gritted teeth as you handed him yet another shopping bag—Armani, this time. Heeseung was carrying at least six of them, letting them dangle off of his arms. “I said I’d show you how to have fun, not be your butler.”

“You said you would be my summer escort service.”

“Not like this!”

“Y/N, I swear,” Yizhuo started in a low voice, only loud enough to hear (although you wished you didn’t), “he’s like your boyfriend.”

You sped up to walk ahead of Heeseung, and Yizhuo matched your pace. Your poor best friend was lagging in the back, trying to keep up with the weight of your spending spree in his hands. Even though you told him virtually everything, this was a conversation that you couldn’t let him hear.

“He’s just my escort this summer!” you defended.

“His dad’s the senior vice president at Apple. You really think Lee Heeseung would just agree to be anyone’s manservant?”

“Well, I’m not anyone; I’m Y/N, and Heeseung and I have been best friends since forever, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he wants to spend time with me.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little strange.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved off her concerns and pulled out your phone. “By the way, is the group hanging out tomorrow or something?”

“I kept seeing it in the groupchat, but I wasn’t sure whose house it was at,” Yizhuo replied. She turned and called, “Heeseung! Do you know whose house we’re all going to?”

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Mine.”

“Yours?” you chimed in. “I thought Jake said it would be at his place.”

“He backed out ‘cause his cousins are visiting this week,” he clarified, “so I offered mine. My parents are going out of town, anyway, so why not?”

You were surprised that Heeseung was willing to host. Most of the time his house was the absolute last resort because he hated cleaning up after everyone. For this reason, it was normally at Jake’s house because he was the only one who would tidy up himself without nagging everyone else (read: Jay Park).

You always went to Heeseung’s place on your own. There were never times where the entire group hung out there together, so it felt like everyone was encroaching on your space with Heeseung.

Even though it was his house, technically.

“You’re coming,” Heeseung added, pointing straight at you with narrowed eyes.

You frowned. “You can’t decide that for me!”

“You agreed to let me be your summer escort service, so it’s within my power,” he argued.

You made a frustrated sound. “Fine. It better be fun, though. I’m sacrificing my Pretty Little Liars marathon for you.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “We can just watch it together.”

“Lovebirds!” Yizhuo interjected. “I would’ve called Chenle if I knew I was gonna be a third wheel.” Both of you turned to her with wide eyes, watching the blonde’s lips curl up in a small smirk. “What?”

“That’s not what any of this is,” your best friend grumbled.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing?”

Heeseung shook his head, completely turning his face away from you. You managed to catch the tips of his ears flaming bright red. It was rather easy to make Heeseung flustered, so this wasn’t something out of the ordinary, but, for some reason, you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

He walked ahead, saying something along the lines of, “Let’s just keep shopping!”

You and Yizhuo exchanged a look before hooking arms and bursting into a fit of giggles.

Yizhuo called after him, “We’re going to Miu Miu next!”

Slumber parties with your friend group sounded cute and tame, in theory. Add six men into the mix, and they became slightly terrifying.

“This is why we need to make plans in our group chat without the men,” Shen Xiaoting muttered to you with her eyes fixed on Heeseung’s flat screen TV. “This is not the girls night I was envisioning.”

Your friend group of eleven (excluding Yeji, who was away for the summer) was currently playing their ninth round of Mario Kart 8. You were all taking turns, though, since the game only catered to co-oping with four people. Frankly, you were starting to get tired of the game after about five rounds. You were hellbent on beating Jay, who was talking smack about how terrible you were at gaming, but it turned out that he was no better. You ended up beating him in the first race itself, and now you were just waiting for them to wrap it up.

“Fuck,” Jake hissed once Choi Beomgyu used his blue shell on him. Jake had been consistently winning every game he played despite everyone trying to get him in last place; in the last round, Kim Minjeong made a valiant effort to use most of her Crazy 8 items on him.

You were surprised that Jake showed up in the first place. Everyone suspected that he would be stuck at home because of his cousins visiting, but he somehow managed to get his way out of it. Although he was late, he showed up at Heeseung’s door with a pillow and a handle of cheap vodka. It probably tasted rancid, but there was no room for anyone to complain.

“Get the item box, get the item box!” Chenle yelled. “But you’re kind of screwed if you don’t get a super horn or a super star.”

“So, when are we wrapping up Mario Kart?” Nakamura Kazuha asked, sighing in frustration after being hit with a shell for the umpteeth time.

“Uh, after this game,” Heeseung replied.

“And how many more rounds is that?”

“Three.”

“Jesus Christ.”

The only girl in your group who enjoyed gaming was Yizhuo, but even she was tired of the seemingly endless rounds. Since the boys were going along with the girls’ plans later on, though, you had to be patient. Appease them with Mario Kart, and then the rest of the night was yours.

Somehow, you managed to grit your teeth and sit through the next three rounds (won by Jake, Yizhuo, and Beomgyu, respectively). Afterward, Jake got up to grab the case of Mike’s Harder on the kitchen island. He proceeded to open it up and hand each person a can.

Xiaoting cracked open her can and asked, “How’d you even buy these? Didn’t your dad confiscate your fake or something?”

Around a few months ago, Jake’s dad had caught him wasted at one of their charity galas. Apparently, the Sims didn’t care too much about their son drinking, but they were furious about Jake acting disorderly in front of their guests. Naturally, Jake was grounded for a month and got all four of his fake IDs confiscated. He deeply missed the one from Connecticut where his name was printed as Nathan Fielder, even though Jake looked nothing like Nathan Fielder.

“I got Vernon to buy them for me,” Jake said, “and please don’t remind me about the fakes. It still wounds me to this day.”

You remembered you used to have a little crush on Vernon Chwe, who was a senior when you were a freshman. When he graduated, you almost cried actual tears, but you stayed strong when you went to congratulate him after the ceremony. You figured he would have been a little freaked out if you started breaking down out of nowhere.

Jay, who was inspecting the handle of SKYY Vodka, let out a scoff. “Vernon? Then you could’ve at least asked for good vodka.”

“We can just make mixed drinks,” you spoke up, scrunching up your nose at the memory of blacking out because of alcohol during your prom afterparties. “Plus, it’s not like we’re actually trying to get drunk tonight.”

“Yeah.” Heeseung stood up and rested his arm on your shoulder. “Y/N and I can make the drinks. The rest of you can help put snacks out. Someone can put a movie on, too.”

Since everyone was impressed with Heeseung taking the lead for once, the plan was set into motion. While Kazuha and Sunghoon bickered over which movie to play, the rest of your friends brought out different snacks for the movie. Arguably, you and Heeseung had the hardest job, but you didn’t need any extra hands for drinks. By the time it took you two to finish eleven mixed drinks, they probably would have settled on a movie.

You looked back to see Heeseung eyeballing a shot into a glass cup, and then he proceeded to down its contents. You cringed when you saw him drinking. The last time he got drunk resulted in you trying to calm him down after he went on a long rant about how he just ate sushi, and the alcohol in his system would cause the raw fish to start swimming. You had to convince him that no, vodka would not bring an already dead and sliced-up fish to life.

Heeseung’s face soured and he pushed the handle aside. “Y’know what, let’s just take something from my parents’ liquor cabinet. This shit is vile.”

“You got triple sec and decent vodka?” you asked. “We could make Lemon Drops.”

“You read my mind.”

“You weren’t even thinking about that, were you?”

“Not at all.”

While you and Heeseung were making the drinks, though, you noticed some giggles coming from the living room. You raised your head to see about five of your friends look away as fast as they could. It hit you before you had time to process what was going on; they were making fun of you and Heeseung together.

You had no clue why. Sure, Heeseung and you had some strange moments here and there. But you two were just making drinks, for crying out loud. Nothing about the situation warranted this reaction from them.

You side-eyed Heeseung to see if he noticed. Thankfully, he was just focused on pouring the right amount of vodka so he didn’t accidentally kill anyone. You, on the other hand, were fighting down the heat rising in your chest.

After a brief war between you and Yizhuo, consisting of you glaring at her and her smirking at you, you ended up setting down a glass and sighing.

“Heeseung,” you said, “go crazy with the vodka in the rest of their drinks.”

“Huh?” he asked, genuinely contemplating whether or not to do it.

“Pour as much as your heart desires,” you muttered and set down six of the Lemon Drops on a tray with a little too much force. Without sparing him a glance, you picked up the tray and went to the living room to hand everyone their glasses. While you handed Yizhuo hers, though, you whispered, “I despise you.”

She grinned. “What? Still denying you like him?”

“I don’t like—”

“You like someone?” Heeseung called from the island, completely frozen in place.

You turned and stared at him, mouth agape.

Chenle spoke up, “No, she likes y—”

You kicked Chenle’s shin with enough force to shut him up, and he grunted before he could continue his sentence. Satisfied, you turned back to Heeseung and shook your head quickly.

“They’re just being idiots,” you explained. “Hurry up with the drinks. We’re watching My Best Friend’s Wedding.” You did a double take and turned back to Yizhuo, harshly whispering, “Why the fuck are we watching My Best Friend’s Wedding?!”

Yizhuo removed Chenle’s hand from her knee and stood up to loop your arm with hers. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, but she was already dragging you away from the living room. “Is that movie supposed to be some sort of sick message?”

“Oh, good. So you’re aware.”

After making some excuse about needing your assistance to get something from her bag, Yizhuo walked with you to the foyer until she turned on you. You nearly tripped backward over one of the boys’ shoes, so you used the wall to regain your balance.

“Tell me what’s going on between you two,” she ordered.

You let out a sound of exasperation. “Yizhuo, for the last time, Heeseung and I are just friends. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m just saying, the two of you are going to college together and all, but you have to sort out your feelings before you end up figuring them out after Heeseung finds someone else,” she said. “I mean, what’re you gonna do when Heeseung starts dating someone else? He looks decent enough to pull, so there’s no telling what’s gonna happen when he’s cut loose in Yale.”

You snorted. “He’s already cut loose. I highly doubt Yale’s gonna change anything.”

“You never know. I just don’t want you to realize your feelings too late—you know, when things get messy.”

You both were silent for a few seconds before Beomgyu called, “Y/N, Yizhuo, we’re gonna start the movie!”

“Coming!” you responded.

You chose not to respond to your best friend because you truly had no idea what to think, but it did leave seeds of doubt in your head. It almost distracted you from the fact that Heeseung grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit down next to him. This was bad; you were quickly becoming overly self-conscious of every little thing he did, and that would not bode well for your friendship.

Whatever, you told yourself. Push it down.

“Are there any more pillows?” you asked, scanning the room to see that everyone seemed to have one except you. You looked back at Heeseung and narrowed your eyes at his throw pillow. “Give me yours.”

“What? No way.”

“I wanna lay down,” you whined. He was really the only person you could act a little spoiled around. “Give me your pillow before I—”

Before you could finish, Heeseung threw his arm around you and pushed your head down so that you were laying on his lap. You were startled with the sudden gesture, but you didn’t complain. He was comfortable, after all, and you two usually watched movies like this in your house. So, you adjusted your position a little and continued watching the movie, making a mental note to scold Heeseung later for being all touchy in front of the friend group.

What you weren’t used to, though, was the way he started threaded his fingers through your hair.

You did the only thing you knew how to do in order to deflect; you showed Heeseung a TikTok of a baby otter. Your volume was all the way down, but you still bookmarked the video.

“Look,” you whispered, holding up your phone. His gentle fingers did not stop running through your hair, but at least you could hold onto his friendly hum of acknowledgement. It was the only thing that made any of this feel remotely platonic. “It’s a little guy.”

“Oh, it’s so cute,” Heeseung mused. “Kind of reminds me of you.”

Screw platonic.

He just grabbed platonic and drop kicked it to the next dimension.

That was it. You were going to put your phone away and ignore Heeseung for the rest of the movie. The rest of the movie would be watched in complete silence. In fact, you weren’t going to spare Heeseung any attention for the rest of the sleepover.

That didn’t end up happening, though. Ten minutes later, you cracked and started commenting about the movie to Heeseung. Unbeknownst to the others, you two ended up texting each other messages that threatened to make you burst into laughter. Even though you were sitting right next to each other, you felt like this made your conversation feel like a little secret, like even Heeseung wanted to keep what you two had to himself.

When the movie ended, you two were surprisingly still awake, although there were several moments where you were tempted to doze off on Heeseung’s shoulder. Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Jay were still up, and they were taking pictures of Chenle and Yizhuo to send to the group chat. You immediately separated from Heeseung, feeling a little terrified that you two would be the victims next. However, the others were so preoccupied with Chenle’s arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend and their foreheads pressed together.

“Should we wake them up?” Kazuha asked.

“Nah, let them sleep,” Heeseung answered and stood up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. You guys can use the other bathrooms—just not the one in my parents’ room.”

Minjeong stretched as she let out a yawn. “Alright, I’m gonna wash up, then. I’m exhausted.”

After Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Kazuha left the room to get their bags and wash up, you stared at Heeseung. Your best friend looked confused until you pointed toward his glass.

“Chug it,” you said with mischief dancing in your eyes.

“You’re kidding. It’s bedtime.”

You mocked a pout. “You’re gonna waste the drink I made just for you?”

“Oh, come on—we made it for everyone!”

“But I definitely made this one.” You took the glass and held it out to him, which he ended up taking reluctantly. “I wanna see you finish it.”

After a wince, Heeseung tilted the cup back and downed the contents. Although his face scrunched up, he relaxed once he had finished swallowing it down.

“That was actually pretty good,” he said.

“See? When have I ever let you down?”

“Honestly? Many times.”

You elbowed him in the side. “Hey!”

“Kidding!” Heeseung held his arms up in surrender before wrapping them around your waist. Another gesture you weren’t quite used to, but you went along with it. There was something funny about Heeseung; nothing he did ever made you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, but sometimes you weren’t sure if it was meant to be friendly. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”

“I can just use the bathroom on the second floor.”

“Huh? Just use the one in my room,” he said. “Come on.”

You hesitated before following your best friend upstairs. First of all, you were feeling overly-conscious about going into Heeseung’s room with him. Secondly, you weren’t too enthusiastic about the fact that you had to use a man’s bathroom.

To Heeseung’s credit, he kept his room and bathroom mostly spotless. Sure, there were a few sweaters piled over the head of his chair and some books left scattered across his desk, but it was definitely cleaner than Jake’s mess of a room. You remembered Yeji stepping across his piles of dirty clothes left on the floor, as if they were hazardous to her health.

As soon as you stepped into the grand bathroom, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It wasn’t the first time this happened, so you knew to just take one of the unopened toothbrushes from the drawer. However, Heeseung told you they moved some things around, so you wound up searching for the spare toothbrushes for around five minutes.

It was almost ridiculous how Heeseung needed a bathroom bigger than a living room.

You two brushed your teeth side-by-side. Heeseung occasionally cracked jokes that made you giggle and tilt your head back so that your toothpaste wouldn’t dribble down your chin. When that happened, he reached over and wiped your lower lip with his thumb, despite your complaints about how gross that was.

But, to you, it wasn’t really all that gross.

If only Heeseung knew how his actions made your cheeks burn hot under your skin.

The next week was interesting, to say the least.

Heeseung wouldn’t let you rest for a second. You were going out with him every single day, having to see his face from sunrise to sunset. Even when it was nightfall, he would just invite himself over to your place and crash on your couch.

You pointed out that you had a perfectly tidy guest room for him to use, but he insisted that he preferred your couch. You didn’t mind him sprawled out across the cushions because you could take as many pictures of him sleeping as you pleased. You would show him your collection later when he woke up, and Heeseung would get embarrassed to the point of tickling you until you were in hysterics and gasping out that you would delete the pictures from your camera roll.

At this point, it was almost like you two were living together. Even though his parents were out of town, you felt slightly anxious about one of the adults in your parents’ circle discovering what you and Heeseung were up to. Not that it was anything scandalous.

But, you had to admit, you were having fun.

On Monday, Heeseung took you to the beach. You complained incessantly about waking up at six in the morning for cold water and sand all over your clothes, but you managed to drag yourself out of bed. Still, Heeseung had to put up with your grumbles and groans until you were energized enough to stop complaining. All it took was Heeseung feeding you a granola bar and making you coffee while you did your hair.

“C’mon,” he told you, the wind sweeping his hair to the side as the first rays of sunlight shone bright against his glowing skin, “this is exactly like the Bahamas if you close your eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you spent the entire day at the beach with Heeseung, anyway. You finally warmed up to going into the water with him, letting him take your hands and guide you deeper until the water was up to your waist. At one point, a particularly heavy wave pushed him closer to you until you both were chest-to-chest. You had to hold onto his bicep to keep yourself from floating away. And you swore you caught Heeseung checking you out in your bikini later on, but he turned away with pink-tinged ears immediately after.

Later, when the sun was starting to set and you retreated from the water to curl up in your towel, you sat on your large beach towel and waited for Heeseung to bring over food from the food trucks. The tide was getting higher, so you had to move yours and Heeseung’s belongings further up the sand.

Heeseung returned with two takeout boxes of tacos, taking a seat next to you with a relieved sigh. Since you two hadn’t eaten a proper lunch, you had been waiting for this meal all day. You were properly tuckered out from all the swimming and beach volleyball, so you dug in immediately.

“Good?” Heeseung asked, watching you eat with a small smile on his face. He must have been impressed that you practically inhaled your first taco in under five seconds.

“Good,” you confirmed, voice muffled.

With the back of your hand shielding your eyes, you looked off into the horizon to watch the sunlight ripple across the water’s surface.

And, yeah, maybe it was a little like the Bahamas.

Just a little.

You didn’t expect Heeseung to wake you up on Tuesday morning and drag you to an empty field. Although he told you that he had a surprise for you, you didn’t think it warranted being woken up at 5:30 a.m. without a clue of where you were going.

“Alright, close your eyes, okay? It’s a surprise,” Heeseung said, gesturing for you to cover your gaze. You found it adorable that he was fumbling so much, so you closed your eyes with a grin. “Keep them closed—hold on.”

“Heeseung, how much longer?” you whined.

“And,” he drawled, stretching out the syllable, “open!”

When you opened your eyes, towering over you was a 60-foot tall hot air balloon, its brightly-patterned nylon reflecting the bright sunlight. You boggled at its impressive size—absolutely massive. The pilot got down from the basket, walking over so that he could greet you two and provide a rundown of safety measures and procedures.

An hour later, you were in the sky, eyes sweeping over the expanse of Los Angeles. You were never that great with heights, but, somehow, you weren’t too afraid as you peered down. Heeseung stood beside you, keeping one hand on the small of your back as he pointed out different landmarks he recognized.

“I’ve never seen LA like this!” you yelled over the wind, cupping your hand around your mouth so that Heeseung could hear you.

He grinned. “Isn’t it beautiful? Makes the city actually feel peaceful for once.”

You wouldn’t dare admit it but, all the way up in the sky, thousands of feet above ground level, what made you feel like you were soaring was Heeseung’s arm slipping around your waist.

On Wednesday, Heeseung took you fishing. You absolutely hated the idea, but once you had the fishing rod in your hands, you were determined to catch the biggest fish. Heeseung ended up catching more than you, but the two fish you caught were stars in your eyes. By the end of the day, you were laughing hysterically as Heeseung’s hat got stuck in your hook and was flung into the water.

On Thursday, Heeseung took you to play mini-golf. You had gone golfing before with company executives and their kids, but this was different. You didn’t have to show off or try to be the best one there; you just had fun and laughed whenever your best friend missed the ball. You two ended the day by going to an arcade and playing almost every game inside.

By Friday morning, you were exhausted. Your limbs were aching when you woke up the next morning, but Heeseung promised to actually let you rest over the weekend. Tonight was Yizhuo’s country club’s party to celebrate the opening of their new banquet hall, so Heeseung only planned one thing for the morning so that you would have time to get ready for the party later.

Pushing your red Jacquemus sunglasses onto your head, you fixed your best friend with a puzzled stare. He was acting weird all morning, from nearly snapping at you for trying to open the trunk of his car, to staying silent when you asked where he was taking you.

For a moment, you wondered if this was the climax of a horror movie where the killer drove you to a quiet place to get rid of you. Your suspicion raised more when Heeseung parked by a marina with a hiking trail nearby.

This is where your body’s being dumped, you concluded grimly.

But, then again, this was Lee Heeseung. He cried when he was eleven because there was a spider on his backpack; he didn’t have the heart to hurt anyone, especially not you. In fact, you recalled when he nearly passed out in middle school because he thought he caused you extreme pain once. (It turned out to be your period cramps.)

“Are you gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” you asked, exasperated. “If we’re swimming, I’m gonna tell you right now that there’s no way I’m getting my hair wet before the party.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess. We’re just going for a spin on the lake.” He nodded his head in the direction of the yachts lined up by the shoreline. “Jog your memory?”

When your gaze landed on the gorgeous white yacht gleaming under the sun, you couldn’t help but gasp at its glorious sight. Heeseung had gotten the yacht for his birthday last year, but he never had the time to actually use it. One reason was because he didn’t trust his friends to not trash it, and the other being that he wanted his first ride on it to be special.

Your face burned. His first ride was going to be with you.

“Shut up.” You were gaping at the sight before turning to your best friend, who looked smug while he parked his car. “Shut up. You’re actually letting me go on your yacht?”

“Yeah, why not?” He tried to brush it off as something casual, but your heart was still doing cartwheels and flips. “It’s about time I went out on it.”

You two walked down to the harbor together, your hands sometimes shyly brushing and pulling away swiftly. There had been moments of thick, unspoken tension throughout the week, but you didn’t have the courage to bring it up.

Once you two reached Heeseung’s yacht, he firmly slapped his hand against the smooth, brilliant white surface. “Carver c52 Command Bridge,” he gloated. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

You snorted. “You talk about boats the same way old white men do.”

You allowed him to help you into the yacht, gripping his hand tight as you stepped onto the deck. You hadn’t questioned it before, but as soon as Heeseung let go of you, he set down the picnic basket so that he could spread out the blanket.

You helped him with the corners of the blanket. “What’s this?”

“Well, I thought we could sail out a little and then have breakfast on the deck,” he replied coolly, as if the sincerity of his words wouldn’t make your heart twist painfully in your chest. You really didn’t deserve such effort from him, and it almost made you feel guilty that you had acted so spoiled before. “I’ll go start the engine. You can just enjoy the view.”

However, you followed him to the cockpit. Heeseung raised a brow at you, but you giggled as you took a seat behind him, watching as he stood at the helm, fiddling with some controls you knew nothing about.

“You actually know how to operate this thing?” you asked.

“My dad taught me,” he explained. “I’m not licensed, though, so I don’t think this is exactly legal.”

“Not like that’s stopped you before.”

Heeseung grinned to himself. He started up the yacht’s engine by pressing a button on the dashboard. You watched his hands fly across the levers and controls before he started turning the wheel to steer out of the marina.

“You wanna head out to the deck?” he called out over his shoulder, but you just took the empty seat next to him. “Don’t you wanna sunbathe? Or you could check out the stateroom.”

“Nope,” you said, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched him. “I’d rather wait for you.”

Sometimes, you’d almost catch Heeseung getting flustered. He’d always laugh and rub his nose, looking away shyly before anyone caught onto his awkwardness. The same reaction was unfolding before you right now, and you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot yourself.

You wondered if he ever felt butterflies in his stomach, too.

Once Heeseung had driven the yacht out far enough—far out enough in the water where the water was still and no one was there to disturb you two. You both headed out to the deck again. He took a seat to lay out what he packed in his picnic basket, and you removed your sundress so that you could tan a little in your bikini.

“Champagne?” he offered, holding up a bottle of Dom Pérignon that he most definitely stole from his family’s wine cellar.

You pulled out the two wine glasses in the basket and held them out for Heeseung to pour your drinks, smiling wide as he tipped the bottle. “Yes, please.”

“See, you wouldn’t be able to experience this if you were in the Bahamas right now.” He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. “We didn’t get to hang out like this any of the past summers.”

“As if we don’t hang out almost every day.”

“But this is different!” he argued. “It’s summer. It’s not like we’re making impromptu plans to New York and flying back home a day later to study for an exam. We have all the time in the world right now.”

He was right, in a sense. You and Heeseung were always together, but you two never really got to spend long days together like this. You two got to make plans without involving anyone else in the friend group for once, and it was a lot more fun than you had expected.

“Do you think we’d be this close if we weren’t rich?” you asked after a while. Heeseung raised a brow at your question, so you clarified, “I’m serious! We wouldn’t be able to do stuff like this—flying in hot air balloons, driving yachts, going to country club parties—if we didn’t have rich parents.”

Heeseung crossed his arms behind his head and pondered, looking up at the sky with a wistful expression. He hummed before answering, “I’d like to think that we’d make it work the same way everyone else does.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“What if… you were rich and I wasn’t? Or vice-versa?”

“Yeah, I mean…” he trailed off for a moment, eyes cast down as if he was trying to find the words on his tongue. Then, he continued, “I think I’d be happy doing anything with you, even if all we could do together was sit at home and watch TV.”

Whatever response you had prepared at the back of your throat had died on your tongue. All you could do was look at him helplessly, wondering why his words were making your heart beat faster than when you were thousands of feet up in the sky days ago. You wondered why such gentle words from your best friend had roused a violent storm in your heart.

The wind picked up, sending your hair flying every which way. Heeseung reached out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek as he pulled back. You went completely still, chest frozen mid-breath as he pulled away.

“You had something in your hair,” he mumbled, quickly scrambling to offer you a caprese skewer. If you looked closely enough, you would’ve noticed that his ears were bright red. “Eat quickly before the food gets stale.”

“I don’t think food normally goes stale that fast.”

“Shut up.”

There was one thing about formal gatherings that all trust fund babies could agree on: only get drunk behind your parents’ backs.

They definitely knew what was going on, but they paid no attention as long as their children were staying safe and not embarrassing themselves. When you were much younger, you would always catch sight of the older kids sneaking away to get drunk in the bathroom, but you never understood the excitement they felt until you became a freshman in high schooler, being dragged away by Yeji to drink with the older kids.

Back then, you were doe-eyed and curious as Vernon would pour shots for you in moderation. Now, you were nearly gagging when Yizhuo handed you a shooter of Pink Whitney.

You two had locked yourselves in the bathroom with Xiaoting, Kazuha, and Minjeong as Yizhuo pulled out various shooters from her purse. It was fine for you to drink wine with the other adults, but you were all certain that the adults would frown upon you drinking hard liquor in front of the other guests. So, the five of you snuck away to get drunk secretly.

For the past fifteen minutes, as you all were downing shooter after shooter, the girls had been pressing you about something going on between you and Heeseung. After he posted you on his Instagram story, showing off his boat in the process, you were bombarded with texts that you were only able to ignore until you got to the party.

A loud knock at the door nearly scared you out of your wits, causing Minjeong to bark out a laugh at the sight of you flinching.

“Occupied!” you yelled, although the syllables slurred together strangely.

“It’s us!” came Jake’s voice. “We’re going drunk golfing.”

You frowned and stepped aside to let Yizhuo open the door for Jake. He scanned his surroundings nervously before shoving his fists into his pockets and stepping into the girls’ bathroom.

“Jake,” Xiaoting started. Although her face and neck were completely red, she focused her eyes on him to keep a serious tone. “We need you to tell us if Heeseung’s into Y/N or not.”

“Xiaoting!” you complained.

“You know what, I’d like to know, too,” Jake replied with shocking enthusiasm. He leaned against the crystal sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Screw drunk golf; this is way more fun. Y/N, do you have feelings for Heeseung? ‘Cause everyone wants to know if—”

“Jake, we didn’t bring you in here for girl talk,” Minjeong cut him off with a wave of her hand. “We brought you in here for answers.”

He let out a childish whine. “But I wanna be here for girl talk.”

“Wait, but answer his question.” Yizhuo turned to you with a wide grin on her face, handing you yet another shooter—probably to make you more honest. You seriously wished you could call Chenle over to put a leash on your friend. “Do you have feelings for Heeseung?”

Did you? You had never been so confused about where you and Heeseung stood until this week. You two had always been close—always did everything together—so why were you feeling conscious about everything now?

But, despite all of your confusion, the one thing that was clear to you was that you felt something for Lee Heeseung with every beat of your heart.

Everything he did, everything he said—you weren’t sure what it was that had you so intoxicated on his attention, but you knew you would’ve felt sick to your stomach if he did the things he did with you with any other girl.

You felt it whenever you saw him lounging around your house, digging into the brownies your mother made as if he lived there. You felt it whenever someone told a joke and the two of you made eye contact with each other first, hoping to see if the other person found it funny, too. You felt it whenever he touched your hand and called you princess, unaware that your heart was fluttering pathetically in your chest.

His smile, his laugh, his happiness—you wanted to be the cause of it all.

You caved with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I think I might actually have feelings for him.”

A collective cheer erupted in the bathroom, the sound echoing for a few seconds after. Jake stood up just to high-five Yizhuo so hard that the impact left their palms stinging, and then Yizhuo proceeded to scold Jake for putting his full force into the high-five. You pinched the bridge of your nose with embarrassment flooding your chest.

Jake decided to abandon the boys’ plans to go drunk golfing and spent the next ten minutes discussing strategies to get you and Heeseung alone. He had integrated himself into your circle so well that he almost seemed like one of the girls. You slowly backed up into one of the stalls during their conversation, starting to feel horribly nauseous and lightheaded. You were pretty sure that Yizhuo handing you shooter after shooter was starting to have adverse effects on your body.

“How about we tell him that Y/N’s puking in the bathroom and he needs to—” Minjeong cut herself off as soon as she heard you retching by the toilet. “Oh, wow, she’s actually puking in the bathroom.” She turned to Jake after opening the door for him. “Go get Heeseung.”

“If you let me join girl talk next time,” Jake bargained.

“Are you seriously negotiating with me in this situation?”

“Yes.”

Minjeong groaned. “Okay, fine, Jake, we’ll invite you the next time we have girl talk. Now go fetch Heeseung.”

“On it!” he agreed quickly. “Don’t die, Y/N.”

“I’ll try not to” you croaked out weakly, your head hanging between your knees as you willed yourself to not barf out your guts.

“Are you okay?” Kazuha pouted as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. “This is all because you kept making her drink, Yizhuo.”

“I didn’t make her,” she retorted. “Y/N, do you need water or anything? I can ask someone in the kitchen for liquid IV, too.”

You shook your head. “No, just bring Heeseung here.”

They shared a secretive giggle, but you didn’t care. You felt way too sick to mind the girls teasing you. You even tried to distract yourself on your phone, but the bright screen just made you feel worse. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall, groaning miserably.

It had really gotten to the point where you didn’t care that you were sitting on the country club’s public bathroom floor. It was all fancy and sanitary, of course, but you would normally feel icky about this sort of scenario playing out.

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but eventually, you heard the door opening and the rest of the girls rushed to make sure it wasn’t someone outside the group. You heard them ushering Heeseung inside, explaining what had happened to you before they left the bathroom.

Heeseung knocked on your stall as a formality but let himself inside, anyway. The crooked grin on his face upon seeing you only made you turn your head away and sigh in exasperation.

You turned your head back to face him when you heard his shutter go off.

A scowl was plastered across your face. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

Heeseung snickered. “Yeah, I’m posting it on my story. Right after the one of you looking all pretty on my boat.”

“You’re supposed to be here to help me.”

“That’s why I brought soda,” he replied, holding up an entire bottle of Sprite. You were confident he snagged it from the kitchen, which you were pretty sure would result in Yizhuo scolding him for treating the country club like his house. “Anyway, why’d you drink so much? Just because I’m driving you home doesn’t mean you’re allowed to give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

You settled back into your previous position with your head between your knees. This way, Heeseung wouldn’t be able to see how stupid in love you were. There was absolutely no way you could tell him that you were mindlessly drinking while you were spilling your feelings for him.

“Where’d the girls go?” you asked instead.

“I told them to go drunk golfing while I took care of you.”

“Don’t you wanna go play, too?”

Heeseung shrugged. He took a seat on the floor next to you, not minding the indecency even though he was sober. You felt like your heart was going to explode if he kept doting on you like this.

“I can always go play another time,” he said. “Plus, I’d have more fun if you were there.”

You both went quiet for a moment. The weight of Heeseung’s words only made your heart feel heavier, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could go pretending that you only cared for him as a friend.

Then, your stomach started churning and twisting with the need to puke out your guts again, and the silence was filled with your retching. Heeseung rubbed your back sympathetically and held your hair back while you hunched over the toilet seat again.

This was definitely going down as one of your most unflattering moments.

“Want some soda?” Heeseung tried.

You shook your head.

“Drink some water, then—here,” he said, handing you a red solo cup that was filled to the brim. “I stole it from Hoon.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head to accept the cup from him. When you took a sip, though, you just ended up hawking and spitting out the contents into the toilet.

Trying your best not to gag, you got out, “Not water—vodka.”

“Oh, my bad.” Heeseung frowned, inspecting the cup. “Why’d Hoon pour this much? No wonder he drove the golf cart into the lake.”

After throwing up basically everything in your stomach, you started to feel dizzy all over again, stumbling and wobbling all over the bathroom until Heeseung had to hold you upright. He had already gotten Yizhuo’s approval to drive you home for the night, but there was no way you were making it to his Tesla in your heels. Heeseung had you hang tight while he ran to his car to get your Dolce & Gabbana rubber slides, knowing there was no possible way for him to carry you out to the car without the adults getting suspicious.

You felt much more comfortable in your slides, so you walked out hand-in-hand with Heeseung while he held onto your heels. Although you felt bad about leaving Yizhuo’s grand opening party early, you figured that it would be more shameful for her parents to see you in this state.

You had greatly underestimated the power of alcohol.

After you had walked up to about three different cars that weren’t Heeseung’s (including Jay’s Mercedes Benz, which started going off once you pulled on the handle), he had finally grabbed you by the shoulders and manually directed you to his Tesla. You giggled as you got into the passenger’s seat, allowing him to buckle you in and watch over you as he called Jay to turn his car alarm off.

Heeseung shot you a glance as he drove out of the country club’s gated entrance. “You’re going straight to bed when we get home.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He surprisingly gave up fast on trying to convince you. “What do you wanna do, then?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged. “Anything. Wanna bake cookies? Or watch a show?”

“Down for a show. Don’t know if I trust you around kitchen appliances right now,” he answered. After letting out a giggle, you caught Heeseung’s smile illuminated by the moonlight. “See? Aren’t you having more fun than you would’ve had in the Bahamas?”

“I wouldn’t ask this question after I nearly got alcohol poisoning.”

“The important thing is that you didn’t.”

You snorted, but something fond unraveled in your chest. You rolled the window down and looked outside, watching the bright lights of the city twinkle and shine under the inky black sky. You remembered all the skies you watched with Heeseung this week—the hazy gray in the morning, the bright blues of the afternoon, and the faint peony glow at sunset. And, yeah, you would’ve given up the Bahamas any day for this.

“Yeah,” you answered him, though you weren’t quite sure if he could hear you over the wind, “I’m having a lot of fun, Hee.”

Two weeks flew by far too quickly.

You were dumbfounded when you realized your parents were coming back the next day. You had spent two entire weeks solely with Heeseung, and you were having so much fun that you totally lost track of time. You were so caught up in your adventures that it had completely slipped your mind that summer would eventually come to an end.

Heeseung suggested that you two spent your last night doing something special. You had no idea what that meant, but you went along with whatever he had planned.

Apparently, he had been wanting to take you to see the stars, but you didn’t realize that he meant the observatory until you were in his car, parking on the steep slope of a hillside.

“It’s so far,” you complained.

He tutted. “It’s a five minute walk, princess, and it’s worth it. Trust me.”

You hesitated before grouching again, “It’s cold.”

Without another word, Heeseung took off his sweater. You tried to peel your eyes away from his white shirt that kept hiking up as he did. He passed it to you, and you couldn’t do anything but accept it because he was already getting out of the car. You wanted to hand it back to him because you knew he would be cold (made evident by the goosebumps that pricked his arms), but he profusely refused. He seemed perfectly content at the mere sight of you joining him.

He waited as you slipped on his sweater, the biggest grin stretching across his face. You were a little blindsided by how blinding Heeseung’s smile was, especially under the glow of the moon. Your cheeks heated up a little when you smelled faint traces of his Blackberry & Bay cologne in the fabric.

“You’re microscopic in my clothes,” he teased. You started walking a little faster to catch up with your friend, but his comment made you punch his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.” You waved off the comment, but part of you liked how the sleeves of his sweater fell past your wrists. “We used to be the same height in, like, middle school.”

Heeseung barked out a laugh. “That was so long ago! Look at our height difference now.” Before you could anticipate his actions, he stepped in front of you and compared both of your heights.

You looked up at your best friend, raising a brow at his comment. Of course you were aware. Maybe at one point you denied it, but that was when you both were in elementary school and Heeseung would tug on your hair because he sat behind you.

Being this close to him made you a little nervous. After realizing that you had feelings for him, it was becoming difficult to keep them at bay. It was very clear that Heeseung had become much more masculine over the years with his buffer chest, muscular arms, and deeper voice.

And he looked extremely attractive.

“Yeah, I know you’re tall,” you replied flatly. It was normal for Heeseung to tease you, but whenever he did so in public, you always felt your heart squeeze in your chest. Then, he’d brush it off, and the feeling would fade out like bubbles floating to the ground. “You know, giving me your sweater and messing around like this probably gives people the wrong idea, right?”

“Oh… does it?” Heeseung mumbled, voice an octave higher than usual, and he turned his face away before you could detect the dust of pink across his cheeks. “By the way, have you been to a planetarium before?”

“Nope.”

You had always heard of the large domes that showcased the night sky. People sat underneath as a narrator droned on about stories from the past and the history of the universe. However, you hadn’t ever actually been to one, although you almost would’ve if you hadn’t gotten grounded before a class trip, resulting in all of your friends going to a planetarium show without you. You remembered Yizhuo was texting you throughout the entire trip, complaining about virtually everything that was going on and telling you how much she missed you.

“You’re kidding,” Heeseung’s eyes went round. “No way! You’ve never been to a planetarium?”

“Well—”

“Oh my god,” he continued, absolutely astounded. “Have you even lived?”

“I’ve just never had the chance!” you argued. “It’s not like anyone’s ever asked me to go to one. Plus, if there’s anyone I’d go with, I’d rather just go with you.”

Silence.

You and Heeseung had been settling into a lot of awkward pauses lately. It always followed some odd comment or action between you two, like when he got extremely close to you on the yacht. You still had no idea what exactly his intentions were during that whole ordeal, but your heart had never raced so fast.

Eventually, your silence was broken by an employee ushering you and Heeseung to walk past the velvet ropes and into the observatory building. You both were still silent upon walking in, but when you saw the signs pointing to the planetarium, you nudged your best friend’s side.

“It says the next showing starts in five minutes,” you pointed out.

“Fuck.” He slapped the pockets of his jeans, feeling for something solid in them. “I have my tickets—somewhere. Give me a second.”

Thankfully, he managed to figure out that he saved his tickets to his Apple Wallet. The sign stating that the shows were sold out nearly made your heart drop, but, of course, Heeseung had planned this out well in advance.

As always.

“Where should we sit?” you asked when you walked into the room, looking up at the dome-shaped ceiling in awe.

“Anywhere.” Heeseung grinned at you. “All we have to do is lay back and stare at the sky, so wherever you wanna sit.”

You both settled with two seats in the middle. It was smack dab in the center of the dome, right where the screen curved. Heeseung made a comment about how this was the ideal spot because it felt like you were getting sucked in by the stars.

When the show started, you gazed up at the screen in complete awe. Swirling nebulas and galaxies were painted across the night sky, blinking down at you. The narrator’s soothing voice made you feel absolutely immersed, and you had to grab the arm rest whenever the animation started speeding through the universe.

Heeseung booed when they showed Earth, throwing up a thumbs-down and then quickly shoving his hand back into his pocket, as if the planet would take offense.

And you realized you were in love with him.

You didn’t know why it hit you right then and there—a person droning on about space overhead, glancing over at your best friend to see him gawking at the solar system—but you were certain you would never feel this way with anyone else again. The feeling stampeded through your body, making your blood rush and your bones feel light. You were engulfed in a fire that burned only for Heeseung.

It felt so simple, yet all the more complicated. You were in love with your childhood best friend—the person who had been with you through everything.

It wasn’t like fireworks. Not a splash of ice cold water or like you had been kicked in the chest. It was more like slowly sinking in quicksand, not even realizing how deep you were until you were completely submerged.

You had been in love with Golden Boy for a long time now.

Later, after the show was over, he took you outside to overlook the city. Apparently, it was quite the sight to behold from this high up. You were still gushing on and on about the planetarium show, but as soon as you took a glance over the railing, you forgot all about the wonders of space.

Now, looking over all the bright lights really made it feel like the City of Angels. You were completely captivated by the sight. It was different from how it looked from the hot air balloon; everything was so miniscule from that height, but you could see how far the city stretched from here. The lights blinked past the horizon, and you were certain this was your first time seeing stars down below instead up in the sky.

Heeseung folded his arms onto the railing and tucked his head in them. “You can’t get this view anywhere else.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, hardly audible.

“Yeah,” he replied. You wondered if he was talking about the stars above or the city below, so you turned your head to catch where he was looking. There was an alarming spike in your heartbeat when you realized he was looking at you, but Heeseung didn’t look away this time. “It really is.”

You never fully appreciated how gorgeous Los Angeles—never really looked past all the traffic and smog and crowd. The bustling city was tiring to keep up with at times. You saw it more as the city of burnouts than the city of stars.

But here, where the stars weren’t in the sky but down below, you realized that the brightest star of them all was the one right next to you.

It was Heeseung.

“You don’t still wish you were in the Bahamas, do you?” he asked suddenly, which spurred you to start laughing.

You stared up at him with incredulity in your eyes. “Hee, I never once wished I was in the Bahamas when I was with you.” You nodded to yourself. “I’d say you made this a successful summer.”

Your heart flipped in your chest when you saw those gleaming eyes and bright smile of his. It almost lit up the sky brighter than the city of Los Angeles itself. The way he was looking at you made you forget everything you were saying.

“Actually,” he started shyly, “there's something else that could make this summer perfect.”

“What’s that?”

“Will you go out with me?”

The question knocked you off orbit, electrifying every nerve in your body like it was cut wire. You weren’t sure what expression you wore on your face, but the shy look on Heeseung’s face was plunging you deeper in that inescapable quicksand. Of course, your friends had suspected this all along, but hearing it yourself was entirely different. You felt like you were glowing brighter than Polaris.

“I’ve liked you since we were kids,” he started to explain after gauging that you still needed time to process his words. “It’s not like I just felt this way overnight. I was just trying to make the right choices so that I could stay by your side for as long as I could. I mean, I’ll always be your best friend, Y/N, but I also wanna be something more than that to you.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he continued. “I knew that this could possibly ruin our friendship, but I also knew that if I didn’t tell you how I felt, then I would’ve been lying to you through college, too.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s only ever been you.”

Change was hard. You’d been at war with your mind for a while now over starting something new with Heeseung. Although it was unfamiliar and new, and although you were scared of things potentially not working out, you still wanted to try for him.

“You don’t have to worry about ruining our friendship.” The words were on your tongue like a pearl. Your soul leaked out of your body, straight into the Earth, then seeped back into you with newfound bravery. You blinked back tears that dared to spill and sounded so stupidly breathless when you confessed, “I’m in love with you, too, Hee.”

His eyes were as wide as saucers, unblinking. “You are?”

His voice was soft, imploring, almost desperate, so you stepped closer and cupped his cold cheeks with your warm hands. Heeseung’s gaze seemed faraway, but he placed his hands over yours, as if he was trying to make sure you were real.

“I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who would rent an entire hot air balloon just to make sure I wouldn’t miss the Bahamas.” You laughed, a moonstruck grin on your face. “And, for the record, I’d choose you over a stupid vacation any day.”

You had been waiting to see his face break into that dazzling smile of his where his eyes crinkled at the corners. Instead, Heeseung just gazed at you longingly before he placed a hand on your cheek and bent down to kiss you.

His mouth moved with yours carefully, almost like he was too scared to go any further. You moved your hands to loop around his neck, drawing him closer so that you could slowly deepen the kiss. You were grateful that Heeseung waited to match your pace, and soon he was dropping his hands to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him, too. It sent butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach whenever he smiled between kisses, mumbling something about how pretty you were or how he had been waiting to do this forever.

Sometimes, you realized, feelings didn’t need to be expressed through words. You didn’t need the confirmation because with Heeseung’s lips pressed to yours, you felt like you were glowing brighter than the stars above.

You supposed you could say your parents were a little shocked to come back home and discover a major change in your relationship status.

You had to give them the rundown of what happened, of course. It wasn’t very hard to do, considering you had reiterated the same story to Yizhuo about a hundred times until she was satisfied. Thankfully, your other friends just needed to hear it once to fully grasp that Heeseung was now your boyfriend. For Yeji, you had to bring out a whiteboard just to draw everything out to her over FaceTime.

As you broke down what happened while your parents were in Rome, you noticed the silver necklace on your mother’s neck that glimmered whenever the light caught it. You smiled to yourself when you realized it was probably your stepfather’s honeymoon present, and you were grateful that your mother was able to experience such a wonderful love herself.

“See?” There was an excited gleam in your mother’s eyes as she bit into one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Heeseung made for them last night. She pointed the cookie in your stepfather’s direction. “I told you they’d get together!”

“I thought so, too!” he agreed. “That’s why I had that little talk with Heeseung when you two dropped us off at the airport.”

“That’s what you guys were talking about?!” you exclaimed, jumping up to your feet and then sinking back down in your seat with your hands covering your face. “I knew it was gonna be something embarrassing.”

“Oh, honey, don’t say that. Have a cookie.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Heeseung, who had been silent the whole conversation, spoke up. He reached over and took the cookie from your mother, but you smacked his hand lightly while he was bringing it to his mouth. “Hey! You almost made me drop my cookie!”

You huffed. “She was talking to me, idiot.”

You were honestly over-the-moon that dating Heeseung was this easy. You worried about having a boyfriend and having to go through the hassle of introducing him to your parents and waiting for them to warm up to him. With Heeseung, though, he was already like family in your household, so nothing felt too different.

Except that your parents could outwardly tease you both now.

Since you were in his parents’ good graces, too, everything seemed to click for you two. Both of your parents were planning to go out for dinner sometime this week to celebrate your new relationship, which you felt was a little over-the-top. You suspected that Mrs. Lee was hoping you would be her future daughter-in-law.

They were even planning on renting a Airbnb together for yours and Heeseung’s move-in at Yale. It was almost terrifying how everyone in your life seemed to be fully on-board for this relationship.

Not that you were complaining, though.

“Are you guys going somewhere now?” your mother asked, eyeing Heeseung’s white button-up that you were wearing over your swimsuit. “Make sure you wear sunscreen. It’s supposed to be the hottest day of the year.”

You checked your bag to make sure your sunscreen was, in fact, there. Heeseung took his baseball cap off to put it on your head, which made you crack a smile.

“Yeah, we’re going to the beach,” you said. “Yizhuo and Chenle wanted to spend the day at Santa Monica, and then we were gonna head over to Jungwon’s house.”

“Well, have fun.” Your mother moved to the kitchen to grab Tupperware to package the cookies. Your stepfather followed her in to help her out. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the Bahamas this year, but the beach has to be the next best thing, right?”

You shared a grin with Heeseung, and his eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. “Yeah, it’s exactly like the Bahamas if I close my eyes.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you for reading all the way to the end if you made it this far !! :’) i have always wanted to write pure fluff without any room for misunderstandings or angst LOL and heeseung is just the perfect embodiment of bff2l ♡ i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this !! 

TAG LIST ▸ @mmsriza @changmin-wrlds @13isacoolnumber @from-xero @acciomylove @nyujjan @goldenhypen @bbanggami @lvsunq @cb97curls @ily-cuz-i @jakeyuni @soobisms @rikibae @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @outrologist @kyukittie @nabinthegardnn @viagumi @kpoplover718 @duolingofanaccount @jjongsha​ @teawithbucky @baekhyunstruly​ @mykalon @heelariously @hobistigma​ @ja4hyvn @candidupped @shmooooo​ @pr0dbeomgyu @heeyunkist @sunshine-skz @hiqhkey @baekhyuns-lipchain @fakeuwus @wvnkoi

[babygorewhore]

I’d let the world burn for you

Unsub!Spencer Reid x bimbo!fem!reader

Spencer Reid is obsessed with you. He stalks you. Removes anyone who’s possibly a threat to you. But eventually, that’s not enough. He has to take you. And keep you forever.

Requested by anonymous! Hope you enjoy! W.C Over 1.5K thank you to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me!!

Warnings! Talks of violence! Stalking! Murder! Non graphic! Kidnapping! Drugging! Oral!male receiving! Unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Light restraining! Praise! Light degrading!

You were the BAU’s little sweetheart. The pretty girl who everyone loved and wanted to protect. You had a tendency to get yourself in dangerous situations and Spencer knew he would have to use his work computer to just…make sure you were safe.

He had no guilt when he installed the cameras in your apartment when you were gone. He had to. How else would he make sure you were okay? He had to follow you around in his car when you took walks. Spencer never imagined he’d have the ability to kill outside of the job but when he saw you bringing in a date, it was second nature to shove a needle into the males neck and drag him off into the woods as he left your house.

It was all for your best interest. You were his little doll. An angel. Spencer didn’t come forward about this to anyone. His secret life where he kept in close proximity with you outside of work.

Hotch paired you with him as a partner as you both went to the family of the victim's house today. You were better with emotions than he was concerning consoling families. Your soft eyes and sweet words had a tremendous effect on them as they mourned.

Spencer idly watched in the corner as he examined their behavior. Everyone was drawn to you and your magnetic presence. It also made him angry. You were his. Someone he wanted to keep locked away from everyone.

After learning about the victim, you both got into the car and you crossed your legs. Your soft curves filled out your work pants as you applied a coat of lipgloss in the mirror. “Spencer, why does Hotch never let me interview families alone?”

Spencer withheld the urge to set a hand on your arm and tell you it was because you were simply unable to handle it. “He just wants to make sure you’re safe.”

“I do carry a gun. Just like the rest of you.” You rolled your eyes and snapped the mirror shut. You huffed, pouting your lips and he felt his cock twitch.

“Carrying a firearm is a lot of responsibility. The statistics of gun misuse are alarming and rising.” You giggled at his words and he almost started trembling.

“You’re so cute! I love it when you talk about dorky things!” You reached over and ruffled his hair. Spencer gripped the steering wheel tightly as he managed to smile.

God, he needed you. He’d never felt this carnal desire for someone before. Spencer went his whole life being pushed around until you. He killed for you. He followed you. Kept tabs on you through his computer and phone.

Of course, you didn’t know that as he stared at his screen while you slept in the hotel room. His own room down the hallway. Spencer watched as you turned soundlessly in bed. Cute little pajamas adorned your perfect body as you held a stuffed animal.

Spencer didn’t know how it could possibly escalate from murdering men you dated previously but he was corrected. Two days later, you had chased down the unsub in an abandoned building but had been knocked out cold. When he caught up, seeing you crumpled on the floor with a bloody nose; Spencer snapped. He emptied his clip on the male and then beat his dead body.

That’s when he knew he loved you.

And that’s when he would do what it took to keep you away from all the bad people in the world.

When you all flew home, Spencer had it planned. He got rid of the bodies. Created a sanctuary for you in his basement. He had inherited his childhood home and took time perfecting it. Gathering your favorite things. Clothing. Everything you needed to be happy. He couldn’t live with himself if you weren’t happy. So then, he called you and asked if you needed a ride to work the next day. However, you didn’t know that he had requested that day off. Forged an entire document explaining you were being transferred to another state to Hotch. It was approved.

Your family lived far away so it wouldn’t be surprising if you went out of contact for a few weeks. Enough time to make sure you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you or let anyone take you from him.

Spencer eyed the coffee in the cup holder on the passenger seat as you slid into the car with a bubbly smile. “Hi Spencer! Thanks for the ride!” He grinned.

“Yeah! No problem. I uh-got you something.” He cleared his throat and you smiled.

“Thank you! You’re so sweet.” You took a long sip and happily twirled your hair.

Spencer shuddered and swallowed harshly. It was working. You blinked slowly, biting your lip and you looked at him. “Spencer. I don’t feel so good. I feel…tired.”

He nodded. “Just close your eyes. We will be there soon.” You drifted off into sleep against the window and a sick sensation came over him.

Spencer carried your unconscious body into the house minutes later, his heart thudding against his ribcage as he delicately changed your clothes. Your perfect body and skin made him drool as he dressed you. Putting you into a little nightgown, knee socks and lace panties. They were your favorite color. His cock was throbbing as he tried not to focus too hard on your cunt.

Not yet.

He locked the door and waited for you to wake. The decorated room is lit up by string lights. He hoped you’d like it. Stuffed animals. Spencer also had a drawer full of toys that he would see you use on your pussy. Spencer actually hadn’t touched himself the whole time he watched you. He wanted to cum inside you. Breed that precious cunt.

His cum was only for you.

When you started to stir, Spencer carefully climbed into bed as you whimpered with confused blinks. “Shhhh, you’re okay. Everything is okay now….”

You shifted in bed, looking down and then feeling your clothes. “Spencer? What’s going on? Why-why am I here?” He gently smoothed your hair and tenderly stroked your cheek.

“It’s okay. I had to do it. I had to keep you safe. No one is ever going to hurt you again. You’re gonna stay here with me.” He softly smiled when you examined the room.

“You…did all this?”

He nodded warmly. “Yeah. All for you. Just for you, princess. You won’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you. Forever. Don’t be scared. I will never let any of those men near you. I took care of them.”

“You were the one…”You whispered. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side. “You knew I was watching you?”

You bat your eyelashes with and rub your thighs together. “Mhm. I liked the attention. I always thought you were cute. But I didn’t think you actually liked me this much.”

Spencer shook his head and rested his hand on your legs. “I love you. And I killed for you. And I’ll do it again. You’re gonna stay here with me. I need to keep you safe. Can you do that?”

You nodded rapidly with a hazy smile. “Yes. Of course. I want to stay here with you, Spencer.” And then you kissed him.

Spencer felt like he was on fire as he returned the kiss by hungrily mounting you. He straddled you, his hands wandering all over your body. This was it. This was exactly what he needed. You knew this was the right thing to do. Spencer swirled his tongue in your mouth, nibbling your lower lip as he maneuvers your panties to the side.

“Spencer, let me taste you,” You begged against his mouth. “Let me show you how thankful I am.” Spencer moaned as he allowed you to move him on his back. You tugged off his trousers and underwear. His dick slapped against his thigh and you lowered down. Your tongue lapped at his tip with drool gathering at the corners and you fondled his balls.

He threw his head back and his hand buried in your hair. “Fuck, feels so good,” He praised as you hummed and took him further in your throat. You bobbed your head up and down, working him over with your tongue at the same time and pulled back. You wrapped your lips around his balls and sucked. He saw you grind on the mattress and whine when he thrusted into your mouth.

You groaned and gagged on his dick but kept going. Spencer’s vision went white as he saw you shudder and shake as you continued sucking. “Did you just fucking cum?” He asked and you nodded with tears in your eyes.

He manhandled you around, pulling you off his cock and he was shoving it inside your pussy. Spencer lost control as he pinned your wrists down and moved into you roughly. “Such a tight pussy. You’re such a good girl. I knew you were perfect. You’re such a good slut for me. I needed you so bad.”

You cried out with a fucked out and your eyes rolled back as he reached down and massaged your clit at the same time. “Cum in me, please, please, please!” You begged and a sadistic smile came over Spencer.

“I’m gonna breed this perfect pussy. Cover you in it then fuck some back in. Nothing is gonna go to waste. You’re mine and you always have been.” Spencer kept his promise as he came inside you as a scream escaped your throat. He yanked out, pumping himself to coat your stomach before he gathered it with his hand and fucked it back in with a thrust. “Gonna fuck a baby in you. Just breed you over and over again. You’re never getting away from me. You’re mine. Say it!”

“I’m yours!” You wailed and wrapped your legs around his waist as pleasure overcame you. Spencer released your hands and you dug your nails into his back, sliding them into his hair. You pulled him down to your lips. You moaned loudly against his mouth.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I'm yours.” He sighed in satisfaction before heaving your legs over his shoulders.

“I’m just gonna use your holes until you can’t take it anymore.” He would burn the world for you yes. But he would also make you his personal whore.

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @starkeysprincess @oceandriveab @oceanblvd111 @bunnycrush @littlexdeaths @redhead1180 @an1t4k

[raekensluver]

second to none (2)

this can be read as a stand alone but in case you want more backstory- read part one here!

description: years after your breakup with spencer reid, you two reunite in a bookstore that the two of you frequented quite a lot when you were together, and you reveal to him that you are engaged.

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of breakup, r is engaged.

song rec: stay by rihanna and mikky ekko- "well, funny you're the broken one, but I'm the only one who needed saving"

w.c: 1.1k

an: i had to use a name for the fiancé so what better name to use than theo? 😋 also you all wore me down so here's the part two- i've worked on this for a while so i hope you enjoy it!

the scent of fresh ink and aged paper filled the air as you stepped into the cozy bookstore, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully. it was a sanctuary from the dreary rain outside, a place where the whispers of stories echoed off the shelves and into your soul. you had missed this place—the creak of the wooden floorboards, the soft hum of the heater in the corner, and the comforting silence that allowed the words on the pages to speak for themselves.

as you wandered through the aisles, your eyes scanning the spines for something to capture your interest, you felt a presence behind you. a familiar warmth that sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew before you turned around that it was him. spencer. your heart skipped a beat—part nostalgia, part dread. you hadn't seen him since you had ended things so abruptly after that fateful night.

you turned to face him, and his eyes widened in surprise, then lit up with a hopeful smile. "hey, you," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that used to soothe you after a bad day. your own smile was more of a reflex, one that didn't quite reach your eyes. "spencer," you replied, trying to keep your voice even.

the bookstore had been a place of shared memories, a place where you'd whisper sweet nothings while pretending to look for the next great novel. now, it felt like a battleground of unspoken words and forgotten promises. the air grew thick with tension as you both stood there, unsure of what to say next. your hands tightened around the book you were holding.

spencer took a step closer, his hands shoving deep into his pockets. "how've you been?" he asked, his voice tentative. "good," you said, trying to keep your emotions in check. "i've moved back to town, just settling in." your eyes drifted to the left, hinting at the ring on your finger. it glinted in the soft light, a stark reminder of the life you had built without him.

his gaze followed, and his smile faltered. "i see," he said, nodding. "congratulations." there was a beat of silence, filled with the weight of his unspoken questions. "who's the lucky guy?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

you took a deep breath, feeling the band of your engagement ring press into your skin. "his name is theo," you said, meeting his gaze. "we're getting married next summer." spencer's eyes searched yours, looking for a hint of doubt or regret, but all he found was the quiet confidence that had grown in your absence.

his eyes fell to the floor, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "i'm happy for you," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. "really." but you could hear the unspoken words—how he had hoped it would be him standing beside you, sharing in your joy. "it's been a couple of years," you said, trying to keep the conversation from becoming too awkward. "a lot can change in that time."

spencer nodded, running a hand through his hair. "yeah," he agreed, his eyes searching yours again. "i never thought i'd see you again, not like this." the pain in his voice was palpable, but you knew that rehashing the past wouldn't change anything. "i had to move on," you said gently. "we both did."

his gaze lingered on the ring, and he swallowed hard. "you look good," he said finally, his eyes meeting yours again. "really good." you could see the struggle in his expression—his desire to bridge the gap between you, to somehow make things right. but you knew that was impossible.

you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "thank you, spencer." your voice was softer now, a gentle reminder of the affection that once was. "how about you?" you asked, genuinely curious. "how's life been treating you?"

he sighed, looking around the bookstore as if searching for an answer in the sea of books. "it's been okay," he said, his eyes coming back to you. "i've been busy with work, trying to keep my head above water." there was a sadness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, a weariness that suggested he had been treading water for longer than he cared to admit.

you nodded, understanding all too well the toll that time could take on a person. "i should go," you said, gesturing towards the door. "theo's waiting outside." spencer's eyes shot up, the mention of your fiancé's name a stark reminder of the life you now shared with someone else.

"right," he said, taking a step back. "yeah, of course." he watched as you tucked the book you had been holding under your arm and began to walk away, the scent of rain clinging to your jacket. every step you took felt like it was etching the final goodbye into the floorboards, a silent acknowledgment that this was the end of an era.

as you approached the checkout, you felt his gaze on your back, heavy with regret. you knew he was replaying every moment and every decision that had led to this point. the way he had chosen jj over you, the way he had let his ambition blind him to the love standing right in front of him. you felt a pang of pity, but also a strange sense of relief. you had made the right choice.

the cashier looked up at you with a smile, breaking the silence. "find something good?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. you nodded, placing the book on the counter. "just a little something," you said, sliding your card into the reader. the beep of the transaction seemed to echo through the bookstore, finalizing the end of your shared history in a way that words never could.

you stepped out from under the warm embrace of the bookstore and into the cold, wet embrace of the rain. theo was waiting for you under the awning, his arms folded across his chest, a gentle smile playing on his lips. he didn't know about spencer, about the man who had once held your heart in his hands and crushed it so carelessly.

spencer watched you go, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure until you were lost in the rain. regret was a bitter taste in his mouth, a heaviness in his chest. he had hoped for so much more from this encounter—a chance to apologize, to explain, to somehow make it right. but all he had managed was to watch you slip away once more, into the arms of another.

edited 8.23.24

[httpsserene]

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 - 𝐥𝐬. 𝟏𝟖 | 𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐏𝐍𝐅 |

𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

summary: if you love her, you have to let her go. who the hell came up with that? content warning: vacation romance. profanity. a couple of suggestive lines. one line of dark humor (toaster bath). fluff and angst. sibling dynamics (bullying). friendship. hard launch (but sad). emotional support esteban ocon (shrugs). heartbreak. this might count as getting together/breaking up. pairing: lance stroll x fem!black!reader

from serene: i feel like i have to reiterate that this does have a happy ending (in the next part). i think my tags are over dramatic asl but, i’m not trying to getting jumped in my inbox for miss tagging anything. also, i know lance isn’t a “popular driver” (whatever that fuckin means) but i’m in love with this smau, and i will not be accepting any judgement xxx

⌕ prev | join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents | series toc | next ↻

instagram • ynplays • december 14th • cozy in a cabin ⚑

liked by valkyrae, yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, and 43,879 others

ynplays: falling love with canada🇨🇦🍁🏒⛸️🌨️

tagged yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, nhl

view comments

ynplays: sega cries after he walks us back to our room at night and leaves 😫

➥ user1: she’s just a liddol girl 🥹

➥ user2: the puppy has spoken u have to keep him i don’t make the rules 🤷🏿‍♀️

➥ user3: so...you have no choice but to run away with him into the sunset.

yoursister: booooo we get it you've been brainwashed by a canadian man 🙄🙄🙄

➥ ynplays: when was the last time you smiled today

➥ yoursister: it's difficult when ALL you do is yap about your crush on this hockey-core man 🤢

➥ ynplays: he gives himbo hockey player IM TELLNG YOU !!!

➥ user4: so he's canadian 😶

user5: his name starts with an L, he's approx 6'0, is brunette with brown eyes, and he's canadian with hockey player vibes👐🏻

➥ user6: i could walk two (2) steps outside of my house in ottawa and i'd run into a man who fits this description 😭😭

➥ user7: he sounds like every other bitch???

➥ user8: let's go through every minor and major hockey league roster again

➥ yourfriend1: "again?" who TF has time for that

user9: tagging THE nhl is crazy 💀

➥ user8: i'm telling you he's a hockey player

➥ user10: idk man he doesn't look like a hockey build in either of these photos🤔

igstory • yoursister uploaded!

[caption1; me and sis] [caption2; fuck. i guess they're kinda cute together 😒]

yourfriend2: did you see them doing snow angels together 🥺🥺☹️ yourfriend2: that had me smiling ngl...they're adorable yoursister: yeah, i'm just happy there's no red flags she's ignoring, he seems like a genuine dude

user11: do you improve of this lance? 6'0, brown eyes, brunette, canadian hockey player 🙂 yoursister: uhh i fear for his life,,are u gonna put a hit on him or smth yoursister: also he is not a hockey player lol user11: oh🫣 yoursister: i'm pretty sure he's like a car engineer or smth? i think i heard him say that

twitter • december 16th

instagram • ynplays • december 16th • sanctuary ⚑

liked by nhl, yoursister, yourbestie, yourmom, and 42,313 others

ynplays: i don't want to leave.

view comments

nhl: not me crying 😩 - admin

➥ user12: huh

➥ user13: nhl admin relatable

yourbestie: aw babe. enjoy your last five days here :)

➥ ynplays: i only have five days left 😟

➥ yourfriend1: oh girlie...it'll be alright

➥ yourfriend2: i always hate this part of the vacation

yoursister: please ask lance if he's willing to take you off my hands. permanently preferably.

➥ ynplays: are you familiar with the term sympathy?

➥ yoursister: oh you're sad for real

➥ yoursister: 😕 therapy session in the hot tub now ladies

➥ user14: this is depressing me

user15: hey, you can just elope? i don't think you've added that to your toolbox yet

➥ ynplays: too sad to even consider it rn

➥ ynplays: nvm he invited me to his cabin later 👅✌🏽

➥ user15: use protection 🙂‍↔️

user16: i feel like this should have a sensitive content warning

➥ user17: my day is ruined

➥ user18: and my disappointment is immeasurable

➥ user19: THERES 104 DAYS OF SUMMER VACATION🗣️🔊

➥ user20: read the room man @/user19

twitter • ynplays • december 21st

instagram • lancestroll • december 24th

liked by estebanocon, chloestroll, astonmartinf1, and 2,109,764 others

lancestroll: winter break has never felt so short. i missed you the second you stepped away from me. happy holidays, baby.

tagged ynplays

view comments

estebanocon: it’ll get better eventually mate ❤️‍🩹 believe it or not

➥ lancestroll: finding it hard to believe rn

chloestroll: come have some hot cocoa with me

➥ lancestroll: yn liked hot cocoa

➥ scottyjames31: oh mate…

➥ user21: okay, i'm concerned for my health. there's some sort of clear liquid leaking from my eyes

➥ user22: FUCK man this is sad 😕

astonmartinf1: chin up lance - admin

➥ alpinef1team: feeling for you mate - admin

➥ mercedesamgf1: sad it ended up like this for you lance - admin

➥ user23: the f1 teams are assembling like the avengers in infinity war for this

➥ user24: an unforgettable day in f1 history

yourmom: fix this. liked by lancestroll

➥ user25: w mama 🤩

➥ user26: tell him ma'am ‼️‼️

yourbestie: thank you for being good to her when you had her

➥ lancestroll: don't thank me for that.

➥ user27: cooking up my toaster bath actually

user30: well this is not the hard launch i wanted to confirm our theory.

➥ user31: brb about to create them in the sims and make them get married and have 6 children, sega, two cats and let them get old together

➥ user: realest cure for heartbreak

user28: no way they decided not being together at all is worse than being long distance

➥ yoursister: that's what i sad but nobody listens to me

➥ user28: why'd they do it???

➥ yoursister: my sister can be incredibly stupid about returned feelings. and for some reason she chose now to "protect her heart"

➥ user29: she deserves her happy ending and needs to allow herself to have it 😭😭😭

twitter • ynplays • december 25th

imessage • lance -> yn

© httpsserene 2024

[bunni-v1]

hii,

Can i request che‘nya, neige and rollo finding out you‘re a girl please?

(Just if u weite for em)

Freaking love ur serie 😍

Side Characters Find Out You’re A Girl?!?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Rollo

Info: Che’nya, Niege, and Rollo x Reader

🍓Thank you! I'm glad people enjoyed this series so much, it was very fun to write. This is the last part I'm afraid, but I hope it is a fitting goodbye to what has been a very long-running series now lol. Excited to move on to other things!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing

Che’nya

-Oooooo, Che’nya knows something is up the moment he (creepily) stalks you and the others from the garden.

-His sniffer isn’t as good as Leona’s — he’s just a tomcat, after all — but he can smell that something about you isn’t right.

-Plus, he’s a master of bending the truth, he can see through your lie a mile away.

-Still, he has no reason to bother you about it — he doesn’t even know you. 

-He just thinks you’re a little funny that you’d hide something as pointless as this.

-Doesn’t really have confirmation on it until he asks Cater at the tea party.

-Then he later asks Trey who is like ‘Yeahhhhh…’

-Again, he doesn’t really know you, but he does think you’re cute and stuff.

-He sees your around when he sneaks on campus, and he was happy to bump into you at the VDC.

-(He scored your number there, lets go Che’nya).

-Nah, you two don’t really get to interact until Noble Bell College.

-He’s excited to see you again, and really chats you up this time (everyone there thinks its weird, he literally has no reason to talk to you).

-You’re alone with him and Niege and Grim when he drops the bombshell of “A pretty girl like you should be wearing a dress, right?”

-You don’t know if Trey or Cater or even Riddle told him, but you were gonna deck them across the face the second you found out.

-Still, despite him outing you to Niege, he’s really only mildly annoying about it.

-He teases you and picks on you about it, but he’s more like an annoying older brother than a creep.

-He will hang it over your head though, because they way you get all huffy is funny and cute to him.

Neige

-Other than Che’nya— Neige really doesn’t suspect much.

-I mean, look at him and Vil. Feminine men is not his biggest concern.

-He respects you and your pronouns and he’s a real big sweetheart.

-He is… drawn to you, just a little. 

-You’re different from the other students, and you managed to make friend with Vil, so excuse him for being a little curious.

-Despie Vil being vehemently against it, you and him exchange numbers and start talking casually.

-It’s pretty normal stuff, and it’s not like you’re talking every day, but you consider each other friends at the very least.

-You’re both very excited to see each other again at Nobel Bell College.

-Neige feels bad that you’re sort of forced to go and babysit, but he gets to see you again!

-You bump into him and Che’nya at the fesitval, and Neige is… notably weirded out by Che’nya’s overt friendliness with you.

-“He’s never this nice with people he doesn’t know — never. It’s so weird.” He tells you.

-You brush off his concerns, and you live to pay for it too.

-You and Neige were just chilling, talking, and hanging out for the first time in person and Che’nya walked over and joined the conversation.

-All is good until he drops the one-liner of a century, leaving both you and Neige in shock.

-You because how did he find out, Neige because oh my god you’re a woman.

-He feels even WORSE for you now.

-I mean, being the only woman at NRC has gotta be awful.

-He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, bless his soul.

-He just shrugs it off and also offers his room as sanctuary on the weekends if you need it. 

-He does agree with Che’nya, though, you would look very pretty in a nice flowing ballgown!

Rollo

-Bless this little freaks soul. He is about as sheltered as Malleus and about ten times more evil.

-He, somehow, knows something about you is different from the get-go. Not just your inability for magic, no something more.

-Naturally, he is drawn to you, and evermore curious about you and your life at NRC.

-He, being observant, takes note that you are treated slightly differently by your fellow classmates.

-They are generally more respectful and courteous toward you — gentlemanly in some cases.

-It only makes his interest in you grow. What is it that is so special about you? 

-Then he overhears a conversation with Niege and Che’nya, and it all makes so much sense!

-You are a woman, of course you are. No wonder you were so captivating.

-Rollo holds this card close to his chest — he needs not reveal his secrets.

-Malleus is fond of you — as are the other magicians here. That could be useful.

-This information could aid him in his ultimate plan — and he could be your savior from the beasts you live amongst. 

-He reveals that he knows your gender in front of everyone at the festival, and takes you captive as his own.

-He is so diluted in thinking that he is your saving grace, and that what he is doing is so right and justified that he can’t hear you curing him out over his own thoughts.

-Obviously, you get saved by your friends and all is well, but now a whole lot of people who shouldn’t know you are a woman do, and Crowley has to do a LOT of PR work lol.

[nayziiz]

Our Home | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (she/her)

Warnings: Very soft & fluffy

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Carlos was a meticulous planner, a quality that permeated every aspect of his life, including the most significant moments. The proposal to his better half was no exception. Knowing her aversion to public displays of affection, he crafted a scenario that was intimate, heartfelt, and entirely personal.

Their routine bike rides had become a cherished tradition, a time for them to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life and simply be together. Carlos recognized the significance of this shared activity and decided it would serve as the perfect backdrop for his proposal.

As they pedalled along their familiar route, Carlos couldn't help but steal glances at the ring tucked securely in his pocket, a symbol of his unwavering commitment to the person he loved most in the world. He waited for just the right moment, biding his time until the setting felt just as perfect as the sentiment behind his proposal.

When they stopped to address the issue of tire pressure, Carlos seized the opportunity to transform an ordinary moment into something extraordinary. With a steady hand and a heart full of love, he knelt down before her, the words he had rehearsed a hundred times over finally spilling forth in a rush of emotion.

In that quiet, secluded spot, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of their shared love, Carlos asked the question he had been longing to pose. And as her eyes filled with tears of joy and her lips curled into a radiant smile, he knew that his meticulous planning had paid off in the most perfect way imaginable.

For Carlos, the proposal wasn't just about popping the question; it was a reflection of his deep understanding of her desires and his unwavering commitment to making every moment they shared as special as possible.

Navigating the intricate world of wedding planning can be a daunting task, but she and Carlos had found a harmonious approach that played to each of their strengths. With her sister and his mom by her side, the process felt more like a collaborative celebration than a burdensome chore.

She took the reins, drawing upon her organisational prowess and meticulous attention to detail to create a vision that reflected both of their personalities and desires. From selecting the perfect venue to curating a menu that would tantalise the taste buds of the guests, she threw herself into the planning process with passion and determination.

Meanwhile, Carlos stood steadfastly beside her, offering unwavering support and a listening ear whenever she needed it. While he may not have been as involved in the nitty-gritty details, his presence was a constant source of reassurance and comfort, reminding her that she was never alone in this endeavour.

Together, they navigated the inevitable ups and downs of wedding planning, leaning on each other and her trusted confidantes for guidance and support. And as the big day drew nearer, they found themselves more in love than ever, united not only by their commitment to each other but also by the shared experience of bringing their dream wedding to life.

Carlos's gesture was nothing short of extraordinary—a testament to his thoughtfulness and unwavering commitment to her happiness. With the wedding on the horizon, he embarked on a mission, fueled by love and determination, to find her the perfect home in Barcelona, a place where her dreams could take root and flourish.

Together with his father, Carlos scoured the city, poring over listings and exploring properties with a discerning eye. He wasn't just looking for any house; he was searching for a sanctuary, a place that would not only meet her practical needs but also speak to her heart and soul.

With each potential home they visited, Carlos envisioned the life they would build together within its walls—the laughter shared in the kitchen, the quiet moments stolen away in the garden, the memories that would be woven into the very fabric of the space.

And then, finally, he found it—the perfect house, a hidden gem nestled in the heart of Barcelona, brimming with charm and character. From the moment he laid eyes on it, he knew that this was the place where their future would unfold, where their love story would continue to unfold with each passing day.

Carlos's plan was set into motion with precision and care, his excitement barely contained as he orchestrated a trip to Barcelona under the guise of a family visit. Little did she know, this journey held a secret purpose—one that would soon unfold in a whirlwind of surprises and heartfelt moments.

As they boarded the plane, Carlos's anticipation bubbled beneath the surface, his heart pounding with the thrill of what was to come. With each passing moment, the excitement in his eyes grew, a telltale sign of the surprise he had in store for her.

Upon arriving in Barcelona, Carlos seamlessly blended the visit with his family into the fabric of your trip, effortlessly steering the conversation away from any suspicion. He was a picture of composure, his every move calculated to keep the surprise under wraps until the perfect moment.

As Carlos guided the car through the winding streets of Barcelona, she couldn't shake the feeling of excitement that hung in the air. The sun cast a warm glow over the city, illuminating the vibrant colours of the buildings and infusing the atmosphere with a sense of possibility.

As they pulled up behind a gated compound, curiosity bubbled within her, mingling with a hint of apprehension. Carlos helped her out of the car, his hand warm against hers as he led her towards the imposing entrance. With each step, her anticipation grew, the mystery of the moment hanging heavy in the air.

“What's this?” she asked, her voice tinged with surprise as she took in the sight before her. Carlos's gaze softened, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he turned to face her.

“I thought we could start house-hunting, see what the market is like,” he explained, his words carrying a note of excitement and anticipation.

She blinked in disbelief, her mind struggling to process the unexpected turn of events. House-hunting in Barcelona? It was a dream she had shared countless times, but she never imagined it would become a reality so soon.

With a sense of wonder and excitement coursing through her veins, she followed Carlos and the real estate agent inside, her heart racing with the thrill of what lay ahead. As she crossed the threshold into the unknown, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the man by her side, whose love and thoughtfulness knew no bounds.

After twenty minutes of exploring every nook and cranny of the house, Carlos found her standing in the spacious kitchen, her eyes alight with wonder as she admired the gleaming countertops and state-of-the-art appliances. With a tender smile, he approached her, his arms open wide as he wrapped them around her from behind.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, his voice filled with anticipation as he waited for her verdict.

“It's huge,” she replied, her voice tinged with awe as she took in the expanse of the room. Carlos chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through the air as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You like big homes, no?” he teased, his words laced with affection.

“Yeah, I do, especially if we want to start a family in a few years,” she replied, her voice soft with the weight of her dreams.

Carlos's eyes sparkled with affection as he took in her words, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. And then, with a sense of determination in his gaze, he dropped a bombshell that left her speechless.

“I bought it,” he declared simply, his voice tinged with excitement.

“What?” she gasped, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to comprehend the enormity of his words.

“I bought this house for us,” Carlos repeated, his voice filled with certainty and unwavering determination.

“You're joking, right?” she questioned, her tone tinged with disbelief as she searched his eyes for any sign of jest. Carlos's smile faltered slightly at the disbelief in her voice, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his expression.

Carlos's hand found hers, his touch warm and reassuring as he met her gaze with a mixture of affection and concern. 

“You don't like it?” he asked, his voice soft with genuine concern. She shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her  lips as she reached up to cup his cheek.

“I love it, but Carlos, you should have told me, baby,” she murmured, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the man standing before her.

Carlos's admission tugged at your heartstrings, his words washing over you with a wave of emotion. You reached up to gently stroke his cheek, your eyes shimmering with tears of gratitude and love.

“I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t want the house-hunting to stress you out, but I also wanted to buy you a house as a thank you for everything you do for me, for the late nights, the early mornings, the travelling, giving up your job to be by my side,” Carlos confessed, his voice filled with sincerity and love.

Her breath caught in her throat as she listened to his words, feeling the weight of his appreciation and devotion settle over her like a warm embrace. In that moment, she was overwhelmed with a profound sense of gratitude for the man standing before her, whose love knew no bounds.

“This is our home, honey,” Carlos said softly, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity as he gazed at her with affection. “It may be empty now, but it’s already filled with love. I know it doesn't matter where we live or what it looks like, but I really want to build a home with you. I want it to be the place I always want to be, because you're there.”

Tears welled up in her eyes at his heartfelt words.

“Carlos,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “You don't have to thank me. Being by your side, supporting you in every way I can—it's all I ever want to do. And this... this house, it's more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

“And that's why I want to marry you,” Carlos added with a coy smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked into hers.

In that moment, surrounded by the promise of a future filled with love and possibility, she knew that this house was more than just a building—it was a sanctuary, a haven where their love could take root and flourish, where every corner would be filled with the echoes of their laughter and the warmth of his embrace.

And as she stood hand in hand with Carlos, gazing out at the blank canvas before her, she felt a sense of excitement and anticipation for the journey that lay ahead. For in each other's arms, she knew that you had found the true meaning of home—a place where love dwelled, where hearts entwined, and where every moment was a testament to the beautiful bond they shared.

[kkuraissante]

✧ ultimate bias ✧

In which y/n is a big fan of Sakura (ft. aespa!y/n)

[y/n confessing her love for Sakura during an interview]

“so, y/n who is your celebrity crush?” the radio host in front of her asked. 

hearing the question, the rest of her members looked at each other, sharing a knowing glance. “huh, well… I think some of the fans may noticed it based on my phone wallpaper, but my celebrity crush is sakura from le sserafim.” y/n admitted shyly, lightly scratching the back of her head.

“I actually became her fans during pd 48 and have been her fans ever since. You don’t know how happy I was when I heard that she will debut again into a new girl group after the disbandment. I cried so hard after watching the intro videos,” y/n confessed. 

karina laughed after hearing her comments, “yeah, you wouldn’t believe how crazy she is for sakura. she collected albums and merch, basically a hardcore fan”.

“no, but do you guys remember how she sneaked out of the dorm during our free time to attend izone fansign? It was legendary. She talked our ears off about sakura that day” giselle added, groaning at the memories. 

the host and members laughed hearing the remarks. 

“well, I mean, who could blame me, she was perfect. a literal angel.” y/n tried to defend herself. “hopefully I will be able to go to her fansign again” y/n sighed happily at the thought. 

“you heard it guys, you need to steal y/n heart from sakura” the host joked.

[y/n’s room tour during her vlog]

“hi guys, today I will be showing you my room” y/n waved at the camera, standing outside her bedroom door. 

“so, here is the entrance. this is a custom-made sign that I bought on the internet and essentials to keep my sanity,” y/n gestured to a red sign that read ‘yoo jimin do not enter unless permitted’ in the middle of the door.

opening the door, y/n waved her hand excitedly for the camera, “welcome to my sanctuary.”

“first thing first, this is my closet, it’s a little messy since we’ve been busy these past few weeks, but its usually not this bad, I promise!” y/n said seriously, raising her pinky finger up.

“here is my desk, with my gaming setup. I’ve been playing valorant and lol whenever I’m free. over there is my keyboard and guitar wall. the black guitar is a gift from jimin unnie and the white one is from taeyeon unnie. this is actually my first guitar that I bought with my money” y/n showed everything before raising a red fender Stratocaster, showing it proudly. 

“moving on, this side is the bed. it looks comfy right?” y/n shoot the bed before raising the camera upwards, showing the hanging shelf, filled with albums, mainly her senior and izone albums. “and here is my album collection. most of these are gifts from sunbaenim during promotion and the only albums that I bought myself are the izones one” y/n smiled proudly at the camera. 

“look, this one is signed by all members” she showed the bloom*iz album. “Sakura was so pretty during this era,”

“and this is my photocards collection” y/n opened a photo album. “it’s mostly Sakura but I have other people too. this one is my favorite,” y/n raised sakura perfect night pc, “she look so cute with the glasses right?  oh!  I also want to flex a little, are you curious? this is not sakura, but I really like it” y/n show off a chaewon photocard. “ I think this is one of the rare photocard and are sold very expensive, so i’m really happy that i have it. also, chaewon-ssi looks so pretty here"

“so, that’s all for my vlog. thank you for watching the video. I love you MY’s, byee” y/n blowed a kiss at the camera before the vlog ended. 

[karinanana]: y/n is literally one of us

[y/n_wife]: I never expect that I will finally see an idol that collect photocards

[fimmily222]: y/n is the biggest sakura stan. we have an idol piona!!

[amboya.amboya]: I know the rest of her members are tired hearing her fangirling over sakura. look how much she rambled about her throughout the vlog. 

[thirstyfory/n]: the rare chaewon pc is killing me

[y/n showing her things during live]

“hi! Welcome to my weverse live!” y/n grins at the camera in front of her before reading the comments on her phone. 

“unnie, what items has you bought recently?” y/n read out loud. she scratched her chin before standing up abruptly, “wait a moment guys, let me pick some stuff up” she apologized, moving out of the frame, towards her bedroom. after 5 minutes she came back, holding a bunch of stuff on her arms.

“sorry for the wait but I’m back! let me review all the things that I bought recently” 

“first thing! its a t shirt” y/n raised a white t shirt, “it’s very cute right? i bought it in Japan during one of our schedules”

“this hoodie is also bought in Japan” y/n raised a black chrome hearts hoodie, “now I have a matching hoodie with Sakura” she blushed slightly at the thought.

remembering that its live, she tried to change the subject, quickly picking up the next item which is a headphone accessory. “oh, I bought it because it look cool, like, why does sakura always wear the coolest stuff” y/n whined at the camera. “she’s just so perfect”

“and the last thing is this” y/n raised a big basket filled with knitting yarn and needles. “I’ve noticed that sakura has been knitting a lot recently and I want to also try it. maybe trying to give her a handmade beanie if i succeed later”

“this is the first thing that I make” y/n picked up what looks like a knitted leaf. “it’s for headphones, but I think I screwed it to the point its unrecognizable, it’s way too crooked and ugly. minjeong teased me the other day saying that a year old could do it better than me” y/n pouted, remembering the teasing that she has to endure from her members that day.

“let’s move from my bad knitting projects…”

[winterarmyy]

Steal Me Away

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 2.6k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)

P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.

He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.

Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.

The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.

Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.

Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.

Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.

His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.

Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.

His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.

Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.

But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.

“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, “maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”

The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.

Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.

The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.

The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.

The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.

Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”

The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.

Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”

Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.

They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.

Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.

Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.

His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.

As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.

Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.

Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.

Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.

Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.

Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.

And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.

He missed her deeply.

The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?

Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.

As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.

The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.

Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”

Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.

Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.

“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.

Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.

A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.

But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.

Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.

The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.

Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.

Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.

Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.

He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.

Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.

“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.

Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.

But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.

The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.

The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.

As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.

Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.

The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.

Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!