#LIKE ????? 😭😭😭😭 BRO IS BEAUTIFUL 😭

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

I apologize in advance for the person this fic turned me into 😮‍💨😍😩

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

THE SEXUAL TENSION IS PALPABLE and Bucky is so charming 🤭

Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

I-

God damn he is just yummy and so protective 🥹🥵

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused

“What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,”

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you.

This made me feel bubbly and warm 🤭 I would be constantly blushing next to that man

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response.

In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck.

👁️👄👁️ I want this energy I need it, I love the way you write

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

JUST WHEN THINGS CAN'T GET ANY HOTTER WE GET THIS FLUFFY MOMENT I LOVE IT😭

He is so needy and precious and he knows what he wants and I love it I love it I love it

Lines Crossed

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warning(s): 18+ mdni / drinking / jealousy / forced proximity / smut / female reader / drunk jerk (stranger) / tension / will they won't they oh they will 🫣❤️‍🔥 / sex w/protection / pet names / sprinkles of possessive + protective Bucky so be prepared / there's a build-up so enjoy ❣️

Prompt: oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

a/n: Please be kind this is my first time writing something like this. 🥺🩶 I decided to challenge myself and join @mercurial-chuckles‘ smutty September fest. A tad late on the deadline because Hurricane Helene decided to take the power out. 😭 This is a standalone fic, but you can most definitely read it (and is intended to be) as a continuation of the events of A Night of Frights & Delights. Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! ❤️❤️

part one backstory // divider // ambiance 🤍

You step into the foyer of the Stark Manor, a grand staircase greets you, its golden railing glowing underneath an ornate chandelier. Various guests mingle around the manor, the buzz of conversation accompanying the music that pulses throughout. Everything about the sight in front of you screams old wealth and elegance. 

Your eyes scan the luxurious home with an expression of awe. Despite being invited before, you had never come to one of Tony’s parties. Choosing the comfort of your bed and your favorite show instead. However, this time knowing a certain captain of the baseball team would be here—and your history with him—well you just had to come. 

As you take it all in, your gaze locks on a pair of beautiful blues. The very same ones you were thinking of all day. And by the way he was looking at you, you knew he was awaiting your arrival just as much as you had been waiting to see him. 

There was no denying he most certainly had been. 

Bucky had arrived about half an hour earlier with some of his teammates. His impatience grew by the second at your absence. He was dying to see what you wore for the party. You denied him any sneak peeks, which only fueled his excitement. He tried distracting himself by greeting anyone he could and making conversation, but he continuously gravitated to the foyer, waiting for the moment you stepped in through those doors. 

When you finally did, Bucky knew with the utmost certainty that the wait was worth it. When his eyes met yours you knocked the air straight out of his lungs with the black dress you were wearing. The satin dawning your body accentuated your silhouette perfectly—and the high slit at your right leg showed off the right amount of skin. The way you did your hair and your makeup complimented you perfectly, and Bucky was losing his goddamn mind because of it.  

Sincerely, he was close to whisking you away and keeping you all to himself. 

You looked nothing short of beyond stunning. Bucky had been holding back for months, staying within the lines you drew that night in the tent, and honestly, he deserved a medal for that. It’s the hardest thing he's ever done. What he felt for you couldn’t measure up to anything else in his life. Never had he felt so over the moon in his feelings for anyone. Yet, you brought on those sentiments by just being you. He was sure if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he was damn near close to it. 

And right now, seeing you in that dress, his mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Places that only belonged to him and his bed on those nights you left him wanting more. Thoughts and scenarios where the night ends with him tearing that dress right off you and showing you just how serious he is about wanting you. 

He’s not so sure he can be on his best behavior tonight. 

Bucky discards the drink he had been holding and saunters over to you. Your heart races in your chest when you see the way his blues darken when he rakes his eyes over your form—shamelessly drinking you up. You take in his figure as well, the all-black suit giving him an aura of class and sophistication that was stirring something dangerous within you. 

Bucky cleaned up good, real good.

He stops a mere foot away from you, his eyes twinkling with intentions both of you long for. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until his voice broke you out of your trance. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you leave my side tonight, not in that dress,” Bucky’s voice is deeper than usual, contrasting the charming grin on his face. You roll your eyes playfully, “I don’t need a babysitter, Bucky,” you reply amused at the thought. Having Bucky by your side all night would definitely lead to you two enjoying each other’s company in other ways. 

Not that you would object if it did. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more as a light chuckle escapes him. “Maybe not you sweetheart, but I might. Someone’s going to have to keep me in check tonight. I already have a hard enough time keeping my hands off of you and now you walk in looking like a masterpiece and I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, almost as if to stop himself from saying too much. 

“Something tells me you’re going to lay it on thick tonight, aren't you?” You tease him, all the while your body thrums with the way he compliments you. Bucky always knows exactly what to say to make you feel like the only girl in the room. An effortless gift he had only when it came to you.

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

The spell you two were under was suddenly broken by Darcy, who rushed over to where you were standing and linked your arm with hers. “Sorry! I’m going to steal her away for a bit there Bucky!” She says unapologetically as she tears you away from the man who looks like he could have devoured you if your friend hadn't interrupted. Your protests fall on deaf ears so you're left waving a small—but not definite—farewell to Bucky. 

It seemed Bucky’s friends had been waiting for the right moment to steal him away too. As soon as you were in another room Sam and Steve went up to Bucky and dragged him to whatever antics the baseball team was up to. His disappointment matches yours, but if there was one thing he had proven all these months was that he had a lot of patience. He knew you two would end up crossing each other’s paths more than once tonight. It was only a matter of time. 

“You forgot you promised to stick by my side tonight. My ex is here, I need the support,” Darcy reminds you with a slight pout. She looks like a ball of fire with the way she pulls you through the crowd in her crimson dress. Her eyes dart to every guest looking to avoid her ex at all costs.

“I didn’t forget. I was just saying hi to a friend,” you explain emitting a snort from Darcy, “A friend? If he’s just a friend than I’m the Queen of England.” You roll your eyes, a small huff of a laugh leaving your lips. Darcy wasn’t wrong. You and Bucky weren’t just friends, but you also weren’t anything more—and that was by your account. 

You and Bucky have fallen into a grey area of what you are to each other. At first, after the camping trip, you tried avoiding him. Not because what happened upset you—but because you couldn’t trust yourself around him after that. Making out with him in that tent made you realize that what you thought had been an annoyance towards Bucky was actually the beginning of a deep-rooted crush. One that bubbled to the surface after that night. 

Avoiding him altogether was an impossible task when he lived in the other apartment in the duplex you rented. Especially after he insisted on giving you rides back and forth from campus with the excuse that now that you two were friends it's only natural for him to be more friendly. By his definition, it also included things like buying you food on days he knows you’ve been too busy to get something for yourself, walking you to your classes whenever he has the chance, and going with you to art exhibitions to dabble in your passion with you. 

Oh, and it also included kissing you mercilessly during tutoring sessions. 

Around the time that fall semester began, Bucky asked you if you could tutor him on a few subjects. He hadn’t done the greatest academically last semester and he wanted to keep his grades up before baseball season started. You were hesitant at first, but ultimately gave in when you realized how sincere he was about needing the help. 

Tutoring Bucky meant spending lots of time with him after classes. The sessions were innocent at first, but after the first time kissing on your bed, Bucky made it a tradition to have his lips on yours, and his hands wandering your body at every session. He even stopped hosting parties at his place, preferring being in your room and getting drunk on the taste of you. 

Bucky was too infatuated by you to ever want to do anything else. Studying was an afterthought whenever you were around, and yet he was doing better than he ever had before in all his classes. Being someone you could be proud of was honestly the best motivation he could ask for. 

Deep down you knew you were falling for him. There was a bit of apprehension on your part as you hadn’t known Bucky to ever have a girlfriend. From what you can remember, ever since you’ve known him, he was the kind of guy who preferred flirting and casual encounters. And there was no guarantee you would be the one to break that. So to keep yourself safe you drew those lines—built those walls up high to guard your heart. Bucky respected those lines and never crossed them. No matter how badly he wanted to. 

Some days, like today, made you want to say screw the lines and just give in to what you desired most. However, when that desire included lowering those walls you put in place, you weren’t brave enough to risk it—so you didn’t. Instead, you and Bucky danced around those lines until it drove you both mad. 

Your thoughts follow you for the next hour as you stay by Darcy’s side. Bucky has this natural way of consuming your mind lately—and your sketchbook. You wish you had it with you right now because when your feelings decide to overflow you channel that intensity onto the paper. For months, every page had been filled with graphite drawings of Bucky. His smile, his eyes, his determined expression when studying, his confident stance during baseball games, and everything else that sparked the creative fire in you. You found a lot of solace in drawing him. 

Bucky was undoubtedly your favorite muse. 

You're so lost in your thoughts you don’t register you’re in the kitchen of the manor until the guests around you cheer. It seems Darcy and Thor have fallen into a friendly competition of sorts to see who could down more shots than the other in one minute. A group of spectators and friends have gathered in the kitchen to watch the showdown go down. Your eyes dart to Jane who only gives you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. She is not looking forward to having to drive those two home later.

Contrary to your friends, you weren’t drinking much tonight. Bucky’s lingering presence at the party was all your senses needed to feel like you were in a daze. For appearances, however, you decide to grab one of the red solo cups to blend in with the rest of those around you. 

“Hey, Y/n! Enjoying the party?” A male’s voice comes from your right and when you turn to see who it is a friendly smile appears on your face. It was Ian Boothby, a fellow art major at your university. You’ve had him in enough of your classes to consider him a friend. 

“Hey, Ian. Yeah, I’m having a good time. Are you?” Your question is a catalyst for a much longer chat with Ian. The two of you fall into light conversation about the semester, art, and other relevant topics. It's a nice breath of fresh air compared to the thoughts that had been consuming you tonight. Especially when he tells you the story of one of his painting mishaps causing you to laugh along with him.

Soon after, a hand snakes its way around your waist, and when you smell that familiar woody muskiness you know exactly who it is. 

“Having fun without me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice has a slight edge to it as he speaks, his lips forming a smirk. You face him and the look in his eyes stills you. 

Bucky does not look pleased. 

“Bucky, hey man. How’s baseball prep?” Ian beats you to it by addressing Bucky first. Bucky's eyes flick between you and Ian before he presses you into his side by the hold on your waist. This does not go unnoticed by Ian.

“Boothby, it's going good. How’s the cross-country season treating you?” Bucky asks, his tone giving away how uninterested he is in continuing this conversation. If Ian picks up on the animosity he doesn’t show it as he goes on and on about the sport. Bucky’s impatience grows the more he speaks and his hold on you gets a little more firm. When Bucky’s expression finally gives way to how he genuinely feels Ian finds a way to excuse himself and exit the conversation.

A beat passes before you finally speak, “Ian’s my friend. You didn’t have to scare him off like that,” you say with slight annoyance. Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

“Oh? And how was he looking at me?” 

“Like in the way only I should be.” 

The possessiveness in his voice catches you off guard. The air electrifying around you both at his words. You weren’t going to drink, but you suddenly felt the need to. You take a sip of the substance in your cup, the bitter liquid doing little to ground you. Bucky can tell how he’s affecting you and joins you with his drink. His eyes never leave yours as he gulps some of it down. 

You have to stop yourself from inhaling the entire thing in one go. 

“Ian’s harmless. He’s just comfortable with me because he’s an art major too. I’ve had a lot of classes with him,” you do your best to continue the conversation and ignore the way your body heats up when Bucky gives your hip a possessive squeeze. Massaging the area afterward in gentle strokes.

“You do a lot of bonding over paint?” Bucky’s response is slightly mocking, licking his lips to catch a drop of alcohol that wanted to escape. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he relishes the way you're looking at him now. Your gaze trained on his lips. When you realize he’s noticed, the heat from your body goes straight to your face.

You wouldn’t let him have the upper hand though. Never. 

“Well, when you have to sketch someone’s naked body you obviously become friendly,” your reply causes Bucky to choke on his drink, the hand at your hip falling as he uses it to grab a few napkins from the granite counter behind him to wipe at the mess he made. You hide a wicked grin behind the rim of your cup. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Excuse me? What does that mean?” He knows what you mean, but he’s giving you a chance to tell him you're joking. He’s not hiding the jealousy that crawls up his spine at your revelation. 

“It means Ian’s a nude model for some of my classes. He may not look like it but underneath those layers, he’s got the most gorgeous—” Bucky cuts you off with a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you into him. There’s been plenty of times you’ve shut him up with your mouth and it was his turn to return the favor. Because hearing you talk about the naked body of another man gets under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to.  He wasn’t going to just stand there and hear another word of it. 

The kiss catches you by surprise, but soon your drink is discarded in favor of pulling him closer by his blazer. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks, since it’s the first time you’ve ever kissed in front of others. Your craving for him was far too loud to ignore anymore. Your lips stay locked until your lungs burn begging for air.

Bucky pulls away with a smug smile, his voice an octave lower as he moves to whisper in your ear, “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I know you love getting a rise out of me, but just so we’re clear—next time you want to mess with me like that—I’ll make sure you can’t even stand after I’m through with you,” his declaration causes a shiver to make its way up your spine. 

You swallow hard, your mouth opening to say something, but no sound comes out. Bucky lets out a rough chuckle, ghosting his lips against your cheek before pulling away to stare at how speechless he’s left you. He’s blatantly savoring every second of it. 

You want to say something—anything. Something witty or playful, but the thought of him making good on his promise—the image it conjures in your mind—keeps you silent.

“Buck! You’re needed at beer pong! Tony’s team is winning and the bet is up to five hundred,” Steve rushes into the kitchen, breaking through the bubble you two were in. His eyes dart between you and Bucky with a knowing look. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the sight of you two. 

You start to register there’s still an extravagant party happening around you.  

Bucky sighs with slight irritation as he once again gets his moment with you interrupted. He reluctantly tears his attention away from you to call back to Steve, “I’ll be right there!” Steve nods in approval before going back the way he came. 

Now’s your chance to say something, but Bucky pulls away from your body before you can. A coldness replacing where his touch used to be. “Hold that thought, baby. Looks like my team needs their star player,” he winks at you before placing a tender kiss on your forehead, “you keep thinking about what I said while I’m gone,” he says in a gruff whisper, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip in a barely there touch. 

He knows he needs to leave before he takes this somewhere you can’t go back from. 

Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to say anything as he makes a smooth exit. Heading out of the kitchen in the direction of the beer pong game. Your body prickling with an ever growing sexual frustration. You were embarrassingly close to snatching Bucky away and giving in to all your desires in one of the many rooms of the manor. 

“You two need to get a room,” Jane seems to read your mind as she teases you. Appearing from behind you once Bucky was no longer in sight. You can’t deny her words, letting out a small huff, “I don’t know what good that would do. I’ve been clear about not wanting to take things further.” You explain to her, not sure if you could go back on your words for the sake of giving in to what you want now. Jane has had this conversation with you a few times before, and it appears she's hit her limit today. 

 “That man is absolutely head over heels for you. How can you not see that?” Jane shakes her head at you, wondering how she can make you realize what you already know yet deny. There's a vulnerability that overcomes you when you reply, “It’s not that I don’t see it. I just—I’ve never seen him be serious about anyone. The only thing he’s ever serious about is baseball.” Jane looks like she’s about to do something drastic at your denial. 

“Y/n, Bucky is serious about you. He’s literally all about you—he’s chosen you over baseball many times. I’m not around him like you are and even I can see it clear as day. Do you know Thor and like half of the baseball team thinks you two are secretly dating? Stop denying what you know deep down is true and just give in—be happy,” Jane tells it like it is, her tone leaving no room for argument or denial. 

For so long Bucky has shown you another side of him—one not many get to see. He’s given you priority and importance when he didn’t have to. Care and consideration when you needed it most. A shoulder to lean on and a steady support to rely on. Time and time again Bucky has demonstrated how much you mean to him.

Perhaps, you both have been something more to each other for a long time and Bucky’s kept his wishes at bay to make sure things developed at your pace. 

When it finally hits you, you almost feel exposed by how skillfully Jane can read you. At how easily she can see the situation for what it is and not for what your worries twisted it to be. If Bucky had made it clear to you how he felt, what was stopping you from taking things further than they had been before?

At this point, nothing, nothing was stopping you but yourself.

This realization follows you to the dance floor. A very drunk Darcy had pulled you to it along with Jane, babbling tipsily after losing the drinking competition to Thor. You had never seen a living room with such high ceilings before or enough room to host a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth. The living space had been stripped of its furniture and supplied with top-notch equipment to make it resemble the inside of a club. 

At least in the near darkness, it resembled one.

You’re in a huddle of your closest friends, all of them letting the music guide their movements to their heart’s content. You sway absentmindedly, so you're not merely standing there awkwardly. The kaleidoscope of party lights strobe and kiss your skin with an array of colors as the music thumps around your body. 

A loud cheer catches your attention, the source of the sound coming from a table on the far left end of the room. Tony and his friends were boisterous as they made a shot against their opponent's team in beer pong—Bucky’s team. You had a clear view of it all from where you stood. 

Bucky’s team seems to be taking turns on who drinks every time Tony’s team makes a shot. They look amongst themselves until Bucky steps up and chugs the liquid in the red solo cup. It's like he can feel the shift in the air because as soon as the cup is away from his lips his eyes scan the space and find you, and suddenly it's like you two are the only two people in the room. 

You want him—all of him. You enjoy the teases, the banter, the back and forth, but you know you’d enjoy calling him yours more. 

The music picks up in tempo as your boldness grows. Keeping your eyes trained on him, your hips begin to sway provocatively, tempting him to say screw the game and make his way towards you instead. Bucky’s not even paying attention to the game anymore his eyes soaking up your every move as it fans the flames of desire between you. The atmosphere around you buzzes as the ground shakes due to the sea of dancing bodies, and yet nothing thrums within you more than your need for Bucky. 

The little show you’re putting on for him continues as you roll and wave your body in ways that seduce him. Ghosting your hand along the curves and dips of your figure showing him exactly where you’d like his hands to be. Bucky’s mind is reeling with everything he wants to do to you and none of it involves the dance floor and all of it involves you and him in some private corner of the manor where he can show you exactly what his hands are capable of. 

You are making it impossibly hard for him to concentrate on anything else. 

Slowly and with shady intentions a group of drunk guys circle the huddle of you and your friends like vultures. Finding their way to snake themselves into any corner or crevice they can fit into. Their bodies bumping and grazing against yours. There’s one guy in particular that has his sights set on you. Getting closer to you on the dancefloor and creeping his hands along your waist. You swat his hands away, but he doesn’t disperse immediately. The alcohol on his breath fanning your face causing you to gag. The more you dismiss him the more adamant he was about keeping you close to him. 

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused.

Bucky glares at the drunk guy, his gaze cold and unapologetic, “Alright, that's enough.” The drunk guy sneers, his words slurred, “What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,” Bucky’s reply is sharp and menacing. He directs it to all the men that had swarmed you and your friends. 

Shifting you so you stand at his side, Bucky steps forward to let the guys know he’s not messing around. Your hold goes to his right arm where you’re watching the exchange unfold anxiously. You hope things don’t escalate, not wanting Bucky to get into a scuffle. You know he can handle himself, but the idea of him getting hurt in any way caused your heart to ache. 

The guys size Bucky up and it seems some of them think they can take him on. Until the strobing lights illuminate Bucky’s darkened gaze enough that in their drunk haze, they finally recognize him as captain of the baseball team. That means that fighting Bucky meant taking on the entirety of the team. And with the way Sam and Steve were looking over to see if they needed to step in, and Thor was already storming over—they knew they didn’t stand a chance.

It was comical the way the drunk men scramble to get away as fast as they could. Muttering incoherences and apologies under their breath. They don’t get far as Tony’s hired security for the night promptly kicks them out. 

Thor comes up to check on everyone, giving special attention to Jane who keeps assuring him she’s fine. You turn to Bucky, who’s already inspecting you to make sure you are alright, “Bucky I—” You almost tell him not to worry, that you had things under control, but in reality, you’re glad Bucky stepped in. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, Bucky’s tense demeanor softens at your words. He moves to get a better hold on you, his grip at your waist protective teetering on possessive. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. I got you—always,” Bucky’s genuine response makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken. Your senses are awakened by his proximity, completely enamored with the way he looks at you. 

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you. There’s a sparkle in your eyes as you stare at him, Bucky’s heart racing at the sight of it.

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response. Bucky has never felt more elated knowing that maybe finally you two can go to places he’s only dreamed of. 

“Yours?” You question him playfully, which causes him to chuckle, the sound a low rumble, “You and I both know you are, sweetheart. I told you I had all the time in the world to make you fall for me—and I meant it,” he smiles, an intense fire in his eyes that only accumulates when you respond, “You don’t have to wait any longer, Bucky.”

He wastes no second to connect your lips, kissing you with a loving purpose. His lips have a slightly bitter taste to them from the beer that still lingered there. And yet, the bitterness disappears when one kiss turns into two and then three. His arms encircling you to pull you into his chest, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck.

Bucky pulls away to ghost his lips against your jaw until his lips brush against your ear, “Those little moves you were doing for me earlier, do them again,” his husky tone sends a shiver down your spine as he tugs you in to dance with him. Your bodies mold to one another, hips swaying in rhythm with the vigorous music. The beat allows you to gyrate and grind in ways that drive him to the edge of his control. 

His hand rests on the small of your back, holding you close, fingers splayed out as if making a silent claim. You can feel the way his gaze burns into you, the air getting hotter making it harder to breathe. Your hands trail up and down his arms as need be. The rest of the party fades away leaving you two alone in this space of this charged energy. Every lingering touch and longing glance is layered with unspoken urges that would soon intensify to the brink of madness. 

“You have no idea what you do to me do you?” 

“I do. I’m not immune to what’s going on between us, Bucky.”

Your body, your voice, the way you plead with your eyes for him to take this further—it causes a stirring within his pants—the fabric getting tighter the longer the dance goes on. He needs to get you away, to get you alone. Bucky needs to satiate this hunger for you that threatens to consume him or he is going to end up doing something Rated R on this dance floor. 

The throbbing between your legs agrees. 

An idea pops into Bucky’s mind when he glances at his group of friends. He increases the volume of his voice so you can hear him over the music, “The baseball team was going to host a game of hide and seek. Should we play?” Playful mischief glimmers in his eyes as he asks you. 

“Hide and seek? Seriously?” You raise a brow, wondering how that was going to work in a mansion full of a million rooms.

“Yeah, come on. It'll be fun,” Bucky draws you away from the dance floor and over to where his friends are mingling and taking a few shots. Steve sees Bucky approach and they have a quick whispered exchange. Your eyes dart between them, curious as to what they're discussing.

“Seems like we’re getting a head start,” he comments to you as he leads you away from the main party and down a few intricate hallways. His hold on your hand is firm, yet careful—almost as if he’s afraid you’ll get lost in one of the many corners of the manor. The thrum of the music fades the further you slip away from the party. Your pulse spikes, both from the adrenaline of the game and the heat that still simmers between you.

Bucky has been to Tony’s parties plenty of times before, so he knows the layout of the manor pretty well. The clicking of your heels along the marble floors echoes at the pace of the beating of his heart. He tries to focus on the expensive artwork that lines the halls instead of the way your hand perfectly fits in his. The artwork is what’s guiding his path through the manor and you are the best distraction he could ask for. 

“Where are we going?” Your voice echoes down the endless hallway. 

“Somewhere no one will find us,” he winks at you, your heart skipping a beat at his words, his pace steady and purposeful as he turns one more corner and slips you two inside a room. You're encased in darkness, blindly feeling for a light switch until Bucky uses the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the space. You faintly make out your surroundings. You seem to be in one of the many guest rooms of the manor. The attention to detail in the room was no short of the attention paid to the rest of the place.

You knew Tony’s family had money, but seeing how they splurged for a mere guest room, meant his family was beyond loaded. 

Bucky whispered something to you, but you didn’t catch it as he took you by the hand and ushered you into the room’s closet, clicking it shut behind him. He reaches up to turn on the small lightbulb to cascade the enclosed space in a soft glow, turning off the flashlight on his phone and putting it in his pants pocket. The tension is now thicker and more palpable in the small space, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

If you had a dollar for every time you and Bucky ended up in a tight space together, you would have exactly two dollars. While maybe strange, it somehow seemed fitting for you two. 

Bucky steps closer to you, your bodies inches apart, the dim light doing nothing to dull the intensity in his eyes, “Now that I’ve got you here—I think I did a good job with the hiding spot, don't you?” His heated whisper brings your breath to a hitch. 

You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, “I don’t know…We had a whole mansion to hide in, and you chose a closet?” You can’t help but tease him, trying to lighten the unbearable tension. 

“Would you rather go hide in the library? The wine cellar? The arcade?” His voice is dripping with mirth taking another step closer to you. He knows what you're doing, but he’s not going to let the tension die down—not this time.  

“The arcade sounds fun,” you quip, leaning back against the wall. 

“Hm, maybe, but I prefer the closet. It’s a lot more private and it has its…advantages,” he reaches out to pull your hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss across your knuckles. You go to use that hand to lightly push at his chest, but he catches it in time and intertwines your fingers instead. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. 

“Maybe the closet isn’t so bad, but these heels…Worst decision I made tonight,” you shift slightly, not meaning to change the subject, but your heels are torturing you. In the quiet of the closet the pain begins to creep up on you, begging to be acknowledged. After hours of walking on them, dancing, and standing overall—your feet were killing you. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stand upright while hiding. 

“Are they hurting you?” 

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Lets get them off then,” Bucky slides his hand underneath your right thigh, eyes locked on yours, as he hikes it up against the outside of his leg. Your hips brush up against his front, your breath catching at the intimacy of the moment. He watches your every reaction as he slides his hand down the underside of your leg until he reaches the strap of your heel. He’s able to undo it effortlessly, relieving you of the discomfort, his fingers grazing your ankle as he slides your right heel off. His every touch leaves heat in its wake. 

“Bucky you really don't have to—” he cuts you off with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes, switching his hold from your right leg to your left one, “I want to, sweetheart. Just let me help, ” he removes the other heel with the same tantalizing tenderness he used for the first one. Putting them to the side where they won’t get in the way.

The relief you feel is immediate.

“Better?” 

“Much.” 

“Good.” 

A moment passes before he speaks, his voice quiet with an underlying devotion, “You don’t get the hold you have on me, do you?’’ His right hand dances along the outside of your thigh while his left plays with the strap of your dress, twirling it between his fingers. The hand at your thigh traces patterns onto it. Trailing intricate swirls across the flesh, along your hips, ascending to your waist, and all the way up to the space between your breasts. The touch lingers there when you let out a soft sigh. 

You honestly forget how to breathe. 

“Say the word and I’m all yours, Y/n,” his voice is rough as his lips ghost against yours—seductively grazing against them. Going so far as licking his lips with an invigorating grin to really drive you crazy.

Bucky is waiting for you to make the deciding move. When you realize this, you throw all caution to the wind, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. You waste no time in granting him access to deepen it. Bucky follows your lead ardently. His hands snake down your body to cup your ass and pull you impossibly close to him. 

Your hands get lost in his hair, a groan rumbling through him at the way you tug at it. You two aren’t sweetly kissing, you're devouring each other. Yearning for the other all night leaves no more room for taking things slow or holding back. You’re both now giving in to what you want most—each other. 

The heat between you intensifies until it crescendos to a boiling point. The aching between your legs imploring you to do something about it. You reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants, causing Bucky to let out a husky laugh. 

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck. 

“Bucky….I…” your words are cut off by a soft moan when Bucky’s left hand sneaks its way through the slit of your dress until he reaches the inside of your thighs. He massages the flesh there, his thumb brushing against the hem of your panties. 

Your arousal pools impossibly more, and the lustful haze only increases at the way you feel his hardened cock straining against his pants—right against your hip. 

“Mm? What was that, baby? Couldn’t hear you over those pretty noises you're making,” his every word drips with cockiness. 

“You're insufferable.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Bucky kisses your neck with more fervor. Sucking and nipping at the skin hard enough to leave marks. Your thighs involuntarily close together at the way he calls you his girl. He eases them back apart with his deliberate touches. Kneading the soft flesh in his hands as his breathing goes ragged along your neck, tickling your skin. He was on the brink of losing what little control he had left. 

You suck in a sharp breath, losing what little semblance of control you had left the higher his touch gets. He only goes so far, barely brushing across your clothed cunt to give you a taste of what he can do if you just let him hear it. You were desperate for more and he knew it. 

 “Fuck me, Bucky,” you manage to whimper out, hooking your fingers into his empty belt loops and yanking him towards you. Bucky lets out a low growl at the brief friction, his eyes darkening to an almost unrecognizable color. For a moment, his brain short circuits at your words, processing that you really said that to him accompanied by that alluring sound. He’s heard those sinful noises from you before, but never like this. Never with the assurance of more. 

“Say it again.”

“Bucky, please just fuck me already.”

You don’t have to tell him another time. Bucky crashes his mouth onto yours with a new intensity, mumbling lustful promises into your mouth. How he wants you, how badly he aches to make you feel good, how he yearns for his pretty girl to lose herself with him, and so many more things that make you dizzy. 

He moves to bunch up your dress, hiking it up your legs until it's bundled at your waist. His breathing strains at the sight—your black lacy panties luring him in—his muscles tensing at the growing need to be inside you. His left arm reaches down to hook his forearm under your knee and bring it up to his hip. You wrap that leg around him, steadying yourself on your other foot as you grind against each other. You can feel the way his cock aches to be freed and it causes you to arch deeper into him. Your moans mingle into one, the slight relief overwhelming you. 

Bucky takes his free hand and splays it at the small of your back, offering strong support as your bodies continue to grind against one another. A chorus of moans and yearnful whines erupt from you both. All of the pining and hunger for one another amalgamates into one as you continue to rub against each other. You swallow each other’s sounds, tongues tangling carnally as neither of you leaves any room for air.

“Do you have—?”

“Back pocket. Wallet.”

Your lips barely disconnect at the brief exchange. You reach behind him, patting down his backside until you feel the outline of his wallet in his pocket. You take hold of it and bring it forward. Meanwhile, Bucky decides to leave wet kisses along the valley of your breasts. You can barely contain yourself and your soft moans as you pull out the condom. The wallet almost slips from your grasp as the attention to your breasts causes you to tremble. 

You hold it tighter intending to put it back in his pocket when something catches your eye. In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

You love this picture. You have a copy of it taped to your bedroom mirror back home.

At your stillness, Bucky looks up to see what’s going on. When he notices you staring at the picture, he smiles fondly. " It's the only picture I had of us,” he utters softly, causing a warmth to spread throughout you. You gaze at him in tender awe, marveling at the fact that Bucky is real.

Why had you ever doubted he was anything but yours? 

You kiss him this time with all the unspoken feelings you’ve bubbled up and kept inside. The wallet falls from your hands, but it's no matter as Bucky kicks it to the side with his foot, and shudders at the way your lips claim his. This goes beyond lust. Your heart beats with reason, and that reason is the man in front of you. 

“Bucky, I want this. I want you. All of you,” you whisper passionately, your hands lowering to help him unbutton and unzip his pants, the foil neatly tucked between your fingers. A guttural moan leaves him when you push the layers of fabric down and free his cock, pumping it a few times to get a feel of it. His head falls to your shoulder, sighing softly in a near whine as you tear the foil open and roll the protection down his length. It twitches in your hands, his hips bucking at the contact. 

His arms are preoccupied with keeping you close and steady, so you gently guide him to your center. Moving your panties to the side as he tantalizingly slides along your folds before he slowly enters you. Your mouth goes agape at the sensation while Bucky has to do everything to make sure he doesn’t cum right then and there.

This was so much better than what he had imagined in his dreams. 

It's been too long since you’ve done this and the burn at the stretch causes you to cry out quietly. Bucky peppers your face with sweet kisses and whispers of devotion. Trying to do his best to comfort you as he lets you adjust inch by inch. The hand at the small of your back rubs circles into it with his thumb, your own hands shooting up to grip his biceps for support. 

“I’m not gonna last if you tighten up like that sweetheart,” he hisses a groan at how tightly your walls envelop him. You’re really making it hard for him to not come undone in a short amount of time. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax for me.”

His gentle words are accompanied by thrusts that are slow with a deliberate purpose. He’s careful with his pace as he wants this to go at whatever speed you need. It takes a bit, but his soft kisses and comforting touches coax the burn away until you're left with the ardent ache of needing more. 

“Faster, Bucky,” you plead breathily. He rests his forehead against yours.“Can you handle it, baby?” His question is full of loving concern, prioritizing your pleasure over everything.

“I can…fuck…please,” you assure him, your leg pulling him in tighter causing him to bottom out. Bucky curses and moans all in one. At your assurance, he picks up the pace of his hips, rocking them against you with a fiery velocity. The lewd sounds bouncing off the walls of the closet in waves. 

He gives it to you exactly how you asked him to. That man would do anything for you—just say the word and its done. 

Bucky is on cloud nine at the way you take him. The way your bodies mold and arch into one another’s like you can’t get enough. As if all you ever needed to consume to live was each other. When he goes to kiss you, you can barely kiss back as you’re too lost in the way he slams into you.

“Fuck, baby, if only you could see yourself. You’re so fucking gorgeous making those pretty expressions for me,” Bucky grunts out, drinking up the sight of your face. A string of mewls leaves your lips at the keen attention he keeps on you. Everything about you right now is a work of art in his eyes he wants framed and kept at his bedside. A constant reminder he’s the one who gets to make you look and feel so damn good.  

“Don’t stop, please don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to, sweetheart.” 

Your words egg him on to go harder, causing your back to press tightly against the wall. Hiking your leg just a tad bit higher to thrust into you at another angle. This was the best decision he ever made as he hits the perfect spot within you. One that leaves you clinging onto him desperately as your walls tighten on the brink of release. 

It takes a few more fierce drives into you until your orgasm hits you and you're cumming with a feverish intensity. Moaning Bucky’s name in a euphoric mantra that’s music to his ears. It's what brings him over the edge and he stills at the force of his orgasm, his head collapsing into the dip of your neck as he releases into the condom. 

“My girl. My sweet girl. You feel so good, baby,” Bucky softly whispers against your neck. Planting small kisses as both of you come down from your highs. Your arms wrap behind his neck to embrace him and keep him close to you. Bucky continues to mutter sweet praises along your skin, as your hands thread through his hair tenderly. Both of you steadying your breaths as you come back down to Earth. 

If it weren't for Bucky holding your right leg up, it would've fallen from its position at his hip long ago. You’re even more grateful for it now as your body felt completely boneless. And when he pulls out, its the grip he has on your body that keeps your knees from buckling.

Bucky lifts his head so his gaze locks on yours. His blues are swimming with a vehemence that steals your breath and causes your pulse to race.  

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s not hearing it, afraid you’ll want to go back to a place that would devastate him. “Wait, just hear me out. Everything I ever did was to get you to notice me. From the moment we met there was just something about you that kept pulling me in. And I knew—I just knew I had to get to know you. And then one thing led to another and I fell for you—hard. Now I can’t imagine my life without you. There's only you. It’s always been you. Give me a chance, let me prove it to you every day, that I’m yours. That I have been for a long time,” Bucky’s tone borders on pleading, you give his hands a light squeeze to ease the worry in his features. 

“Bucky you have nothing to prove—”

“Y/n—” 

This time you stop him by clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“Bucky, you have nothing to prove because I’ve felt the same way for a long time. I just fought it for so long out of fear that maybe you weren’t serious about me. But I can see now I was wrong. I’ve been yours for a long time too, Bucky. I just pretended I wasn’t—and I’m done fighting it. I’m done being in denial. I want to have something serious with you. I’m ready for it,” your heartfelt confession immediately melts away the tension in Bucky’s shoulders. 

You wanting this as much as he did made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He mumbles something into your hand, the biggest grin on the other side of it. You laugh adoringly at the sight as you remove your hand to replace it with your mouth instead. Both of you sink into the kiss as a deeper devotion is exchanged. 

“Whoever is seeking is horrible at it,” you remove yourself with a light giggle, taking a jab at whoever the seeker of the hide-and-seek game is. A game that was long forgotten by Bucky until you mentioned it. 

Bucky smiles sheepishly, “About that…there's not actually a hide-and-seek game. And if there is they don't know we’re playing,” he confesses with a twinkle in his eyes. You shake your head at him, laughing in disbelief, “Bucky, then what were you and Steve whispering about?” Your curiosity is met with a boyish grin from Bucky, “I was just letting him know not to come looking for me. I wanted to get some alone time with you,” his hands find your hips again to give them a gentle squeeze.

Bucky is far from done with you yet. 

You roll your eyes lightheartedly at his revelation. Of course, he’d come up with a way to get you all to himself. Can you blame him? 

After a few more stolen kisses and lingering touches, you both start to compose yourselves. Adjusting your outfits and collecting your items from the ground. Thankfully, the guest room has its own bathroom where the two of you can clean up much better than in the small closet. Tousled hair, smeared makeup, and sweaty skin required a deeper attentiveness.

You both take your time in freshening up. The bathroom lighting does wonders to reveal every piece of evidence of your sexual encounter. You can now clearly see all the red marks that would eventually turn into hickeys that scattered your neck and chest. Bucky beams pleased at the markings he’s left as you scold him for making them so prominent. 

Bucky doesn’t give a damn. He’d gladly make more in an instant. 

By the end, all that's left is to get your heels on, which Bucky insists on helping you with. He offered to carry you for the rest of the party or even giving you his shoes, but you declined both options. You paid good money for these heels so whether you liked it or not, you were forcing yourself to wear them. 

Bucky helps you up onto the expansive marble counter. Lowering down onto his knees in front of you to slide your heels back onto your feet. Nimble fingers work the straps into place, making sure they're not too tight at the ankles. When he looks up at you, a devilish grin appears on his face. That spark of desire is back in your eyes when you see how good he looks knelt between your legs. Your mind was reeling with ideas as the heat once again pranced across your skin. Bucky’s gaze bore into yours, almost as if he could read your mind. He can’t help but get turned on again. 

You were in the same boat. 

“You know, I have a big stats test on Monday. I could use an emergency tutoring session right about now,” his tone is laced with suggestion as his fingers trace along your ankle. You hum, “Hm? Do you? I think I could accommodate that.” Your reply gives Bucky the go to start kissing up your legs until he reaches your knees. He never breaks eye contact as he places a tender kiss on each one before standing up and giving that same attention to your mouth.

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” Bucky mutters against your lips, the kiss a promise of the fun awaiting you for the rest of the night. Now that the lines were blurred beyond recognition, into something deeper, something real, you were both completely all in. 

[akascow]

the jayvik ending is making me SICKKKKK (no one is surprised) i cannot stop thinking about this goddamn 5 second scene bro

because jayce is bracing for impact or pain or whatever but hes wincing and tensing up, clutching viktor. he looks scared or worried or what have you

BUT VIKTOR?? his face RELAXES, he looks SO CALM that he almost looks like hes SMILING... HES SO CONTENT WITH THIS OUTCOME UGHHHH

like it makes sense that hes fine with ending everything bc he hated knowing he hurt people BUT OHHH THE MISERY. viktor tells him to leave so he doesnt sacrifice jayce for smth he doesnt deserve, and he looks so solemn when he tells him to go... BUT JAYCE STAYS and they die TOGETHER </3 and viktor RELAXES bc hes okay with this. he knows jayce is still standing with him despite everything hes done, despite what could happen if he stays with him and destroys it. and he wont feel guilty about it because he knows jayce wholeheartedly means it when he says theyre doing it together

and i may be just delusional rn but it almost looks like he strokes jayces arm to comfort him too what the FUCKKKK yall 😭😭

ALSOOOO BTW (not AS relevant but it makes me SAD) jayce looked SO unsure about ending it but he needed and wanted to be there with viktor and finish what they started TOGETHER because their relationship is PRIORITY TO HIM OUGH. theyve always been and will always be partners and theyre both gonna finish their creation TOGETHERRRR- they started this together and theyre gonna END IT TOGETHER

also how tragically beautiful is it that they both saved each other from killing themselves (when they attempted when they felt their most alone MIGHT I ADD) only for them to die together in each other's arms UGH what the hell man

btw ik ppl are theorizing that they didnt actually die (denial)-- but like saying they got yoinked to another space timeline is less dramatic and longer to write so im not going w that route today lmfao. plus THEY didnt know that going into it so thats what IM basing their reactions on lol

[h0estar]

every now and then i look back on this GIF i have of nalu during tartaros arc and cry about how this particular scene alone solidifies the beauty of their relationship (natsu holding lucy's hand gently in the face of chaos and panic did wonders to my heart)

[lotus-pear]

THIS IS FOR ALL YOU FUCKERS WHO SAID DAZAI LEFT SIGMA BEHIND. WHAT DO U GUYS HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELVES NOW😐😐‼️

[meanyart]

"Do we have a deal?"

[nounaarts]

What they spoke about after S1E9

[planetkiimchi-rbs]

i wish i didn't have to go to school today so i could curl up in my room and read all your fics like a christmas fic binge :(( but !! i'm so glad that it's FINALLY HERE (i've been waiting for this since june you don't even know)

full fic analysis under cut bc i rambled again :( but i finished reading this and i just. i love it so much??? the idea was so good and it was so well executed i can't imagine a better writer to write minghao this specific way. <33

For a moment, Minghao is simply taken aback by the quiet grace of your entrance, the way the afternoon light seems to favour you.

hell-O what happened to good morning ?? y/n really came into this fic like an ethereal being

"Each flower has its own needs, but with patience, they show their beauty. Much like people, I suppose."

this sentence set the stage for such a beautiful analogy of people being like flowers... also minghao's SO insightful ugh 😩😩

You respond with that cute grin of yours𑁋it seems more relaxed now.

aww that's so cute!! love how y/n slowly gets more comfortable w hao ☹️☹️

the tip of your tongue just barely peeking out in concentration.

people who stick their tongue out the side of their mouth when they concentrate >>> it's such a lovable trait

And flowers𑁋like people𑁋don't rush.

no why is this the PERFECT fic for hao and his patient, transcending calm???? 

The shift from the warm tones of summer to the cool shades of autumn had arrived, bringing a new, fresh palette for him to play with.

THIS LINE !!

"Not just you, no," Minghao replies amusedly. "But I think you could be. A flower, I mean. You're just someone who's figuring out what kind you want to be."

i love how he doesn't deny comparing people to flowers in general cuz somehow that is exactly what minghao is? like a guy who sometimes is a little on the sidelines simply because he enjoys perceiving other people a bit too much

The question rests upon Minghao's shoulders

NOO THIS SENTENCE 😭😭 absolute poetry how do people even come up with these ??

I've been liking the liánhuā lately𑁋the lotus. It grows in muddy water and blooms above the surface, even despite those circumstances. It also represents purity, resilience, and growth."

this is an amazing choice honestly the lotus is soo beautiful & strong (also i like the way lotus roots taste) and it's so minghao!!!

Then he just simply shrugs. "I guess I didn't mind it," he replies lowly, and meets your eyes warily. "Does it bother you?"

if someone said this to me i'd be folding on the spot bro like just confess already??

"I don't mind either," I like being in this place... with you. "Not at all."

rania and her lovely writing style of putting unsaid words in italics in between 🤩🤩 i love how distinctive it makes your writing 

Minghao has picked flowers for funerals before. He's also seen people hold onto flowers that are long past their bloom, clinging to them as if their presence alone could bring someone back. He's been there too.

oh GOSH the sorrow? so beautifully portrayed

The question feels a bit silly to ask, and it makes Minghao's features soften as he looks at you, a warmth in his chest that spreads like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a cold morning. "I've already been waiting for you," he says, almost cheekily, and it seems to lighten the moment a little. "I haven't planned on stopping anytime soon."

this fic is my other roman empire (this and moni's "finger trapped (ripped to its seams)")

His arms catch you instinctively, gentle yet steady, embracing around you like flowers petals folding inward for protection. His warmth seeps into you as if he were the sun reaching a flower in the early hours of dawn, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you to press closer into his warmth.

this whole paragraph healed me.

Minghao wonders if flowers ever feel the same bittersweet pull when their petals fall𑁋the ache of letting go, but the quiet hope of something new taking root.

holy shit. this line touched a part of me so raw that i didn't even know existed

caught in bloom, caught on you | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you find yourself becoming a regular𑁋or perhaps more than that𑁋at minghao's flower shop. PAIRING. florist!xu minghao x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers WARNINGS. hao basically falls in love at first sight HAHA, mild cursing, implied that yn lost someone close to them, a lot of yearning n pining, kissing WORD COUNT. 8.3k

notes: wheeboo is NOT in their short-ish fic era anymore and is in their long-ish fic era rn 😭 anyway,, i didnt have a title for the fic until hao posted his song on his birthday so... I hope u all enjoy?? this might be one of my faves haha

Minghao likes these kinds of days.

Thin, irregular shapes of cotton drift lazily across the endless blue embrace of the skies. The afternoon sun carries warmth in its hands that he could feel right through the glass windows of his flower shop. It's almost as if the season of summer itself is breathing through his shop, softly encouraging his little garden to reach for the light.

Minghao runs his slender fingers through the cool edges of a hydrangea, its soft petals a deep shade of prismarine.

Ever since he was younger, his mother had told him that flowers weren't just things to be cared for. They were companions, your friends if you'd let them be, each blooming with all different kinds of personalities.

He likes how the flowers didn't ask for much; they simply needed patience and care, and in return, they gave him a sense of peace that he couldn't find anywhere else.

The sudden chime of the bell pulls him from his thoughts. He straightens up, wiping his hands on the apron tied loosely around his waist, and glances toward the door.

The figure the walks through the door is unfamiliar, yet it's easy to catch the way the sunlight highlights the edges of your silhouette, almost like a halo as you step inside the shop. For a moment, Minghao is simply taken aback by the quiet grace of your entrance, the way the afternoon light seems to favour you.

Your gaze circles around the shop, taking in the rows of flowers with a soft curiosity. There's some sort of quiet hesitation in your movements when you take a few more tentative steps inside, as if you're trying to find the right place to be in this space, just as much as you're trying to find the right flower.

Minghao finds himself clearing his throat, drawing a polite smile across his lips and catching your attention right away.

"Good afternoon," he greets calmly. "Can I help you with something today?"

You glance up at him, a slight surprise in your eyes before they soften.

"Hi, um... Yeah, I was actually looking to see if I could buy some flowers. The shop I went to before closed down, so I've been searching for a new place. It was a bit of a drive." Then you hesitate briefly, before continuing, "I'm not sure what to look for exactly, but something for a first date would be nice."

Minghao's heart stirs a bit disappointingly at that, though he quickly suppresses the feeling away. After all, it's just flowers, and you're simply here to buy them for someone else.

He nods thoughtfully, giving a soft, understanding look.

"Ah, well. Congratulations first of all on the date," he says calmly, though the nerves itches his fingers. "A first date is always special, isn't it?"

"They are," You reply sheepishly, and the hint of a blush to your cheeks nearly resembles the colour of the roses displayed near the window.

"Is there a specific kind of vibe you're going for?" Minghao asks. "I can help you pick something that feels right."

You pause for a moment, eyes lingering on a beautifully-painted vase. "Hmm, I think... something romantic, but not too traditional, if that makes sense? Not something too cliché, you know, but I also want it to feel special."

Minghao simply hums in response, his mind sifting through the variety of options he could think of. There's this odd sense of responsibility within him to make your choice is beyond perfect.

"Roses are always a classic," he begins. "but they're quite conventional, so..."

He can sense you following closely to him as he walks toward another part of the shop.

"These are tulips," Minghao explains, gesturing to a row of soft, voluminous blooms in shades of pale pink and coral. "They're not commonly picked like roses, but there's a nice charm about it. They're meant to represent long-lasting love."

You take a good look of the flowers, and you're amazed by how bright they appear.

"Wow, they're so beautiful." Then you take a small glance up at Minghao, before back down at the flowers. "You must really take care of these flowers to make them look this vibrant."

"I try my best," he mutters quietly, watching as you continue to take in their beauty. "Each flower has its own needs, but with patience, they show their beauty. Much like people, I suppose."

Your eyes flicker back up at him, and for a moment, there's a quiet stillness between you, as if the space between you two is holding its breath. Then you let out a warm, somewhat nervous chuckle.

"I think I understand," You say, taking a step closer towards the tulips  and carefully running a finger over its petals. "It's about giving them space to grow, right? Not forcing them to be something they're not."

There's something about the way you speak, something thoughtful, almost as if you also understand the language of patience he's grown so accustomed to.

"Exactly." He smiles faintly. "That's what I like about flowers𑁋they don't rush. They just exist, and somehow, they slowly become what they're meant to be."

You lift your gaze to meet his, and in your eyes, Minghao sees something more than just curiosity. There's a softness there, a sincerity that draws him in. At his sides, he feels his fingers twitch slightly, but he quickly smooths his hands down his apron.

It's strange how a simple conversation about flowers can make him feel so... connected to someone.

"I think these are perfect," You tell him, eyes brightening with confidence.

A wave of satisfaction washes over Minghao, who nods in agreement.

"Would you like me to wrap them up for you?" he asks.

"That would be great, thank you," You respond with that cute grin of yours𑁋it seems more relaxed now. The thought makes his heart flutter.

Minghao begins to wrap the delicate stems with some brown wrapping paper, carefully arranging them so they're secure. As he ties a ribbon around the bouquet, he can't help but sneak up a glance at you. You're wandering around the shop with your hands clasped in front of you, looking at the other arrangements on display, and he smiles to himself.

He finishes the bouquet and smooths out any remaining creases with his fingertips. When you make your way back over to him, he offers it to you.

"Do you want to write your name on a gift tag?" Minghao asks, holding up a small card and a pen. He doesn’t know why his heart's beating faster𑁋perhaps it's the subtle hopefulness in his voice that will make your name linger longer, even after you leave.

You glance at the pen in his hand, considering it for a moment before nodding.

"Sure, I'd love to," You tell him with a faint smile, snatching the pen from his grasp, giving it a quick click before writing something down, the tip of your tongue just barely peeking out in concentration.

When you finish, you hand the card back to him. He takes it from you carefully, inspecting your neat, intricate handwriting. It's simple, yet there's a certain elegance to it it. Minghao reads it under his breath: For someone special, who I hope feels the same - Y/N.

Y/N, he repeats in his mind.

"I'll finish it up for you now," he says, placing the card with the bouquet. He arranges the flowers once more, making sure everything is perfect before handing it to you.

You find yourself fishing into your bag for your wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

Minghao hesitates for a moment, his fingers hovering over the register, but there's something about the way your features soften and how your eyes meet his that makes him pause.

"It's on the house."

You stop your hands, peering back up at him with a surprised look. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course," he assures calmly. "It's the least I can do."

You just blink at him a few times, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

"Thank you," You let out sheepishly as you take the bouquet in your hands, the ribbon slipping through your fingers as you carefully adjust it. There's a split second that passes where you sneak a glance at the nametag on his chest. "I really appreciate it. I'm sure they'll love them."

Something in his chest tightens at that𑁋they'll love them. Minghao tries not to overthink it, tries to ignore the brief twinge of something unsettling in his chest.

But you're smiling, so he smiles back.

"I hope so," he replies gently, and with a polite bow of his head, he adds, "I'm sure they'll appreciate the thought behind it."

As you walk towards the exit, you take a final look around the shop, eyes lingering on the shelves of flowers, before turning back to Minghao.

"I'll be sure to come back," You say brightly, and the way the afternoon sunlight pours down all around you in the doorway makes you appear almost angelic. "Thank you for everything."

"I'll be here," Minghao responds, offering a small, timid wave of his hand. "Take care."

The chime of the bell above the door announces your departure, and a sigh leaves him.

It's just flowers, he tells himself again. Just flowers.

And flowers𑁋like people𑁋don't rush.

Minghao finds himself wiping away some spilled soil on the counter, the soft hum of piano music drifting throughout the quiet flower shop. He had just gotten done cleaning up after a busy morning of rearranging a few displays around the shop to tie into the slow seasonal changes that were beginning to take shape outside.

The shift from the warm tones of summer to the cool shades of autumn had arrived, bringing a new, fresh palette for him to play with. Chrysanthemums, petunias, dahlias, and marigolds were beginning to make their way into the shop, taking their place next to the peonies and roses that had been so meticulously cared for.

When the last bits of soil are wiped away, Minghao steps back to admire the beauty of the shop around him, he takes in a deep inhale, letting in the earthy scent of the fresh blooms fill his lungs.

After storing away a few extra vases in the backroom, the chime of the door hits his ears, and Minghao finds himself straightening back up to greet whoever had come inside.

When looks up, however, he freezes for a moment. He catches you standing in the doorway, and Minghao has to blink a few times to make sure his mind wasn't playing any tricks on him.

"Hi, again," You're the first to greet this time, and then that grin spreads across your face once again, one that seems all-too familiar.

Minghao leans against the counter. "Back so soon?"

"I was just in the area, couldn't help myself, you know..." You drawl with a playful shrug. "I actually just officially moved into the city just last week, hopefully to be closer for this new job and well... The drive here isn't as long as before."

Minghao smiles softly. It's an unexpected but pleasant surprise for you to admit all that to him, and for some reason, it makes him feel a little lighter.

"That's great," he responds, pushing himself off the counter as he straightens up. "I imagine that must be a relief. How do you like it so far?"

You step further into the shop, your eyes eagerly scanning the new arrangements he's set up.

"It's been great, actually," You say with a relieved look. "Life has been... good, honestly. I think the city suits me. It's different, but in a positive way, and I'm already surrounded by a lot of nice people."

This warm and genuine feeling tugs at Minghao's lips as he listens to you, adjusting the stems of a vase full of a plethora of zinnias.

"I'm assuming that date from before went well then?"

His words makes the smile on your face flicker, and the change is subtle but noticeable enough for Minghao to catch it, even when he's not directly looking at you. You shift your weight between your two feet, and the way you glance around the shop seems almost like you're trying to distract yourself from something.

"The date didn't go well at all, actually."

Minghao's fingertips pause on the cold surface of the vase, brows furrowing in a bit of surprise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologises gently, regretting for the sudden change in mood. "I didn't mean to bring up anything uncomfortable."

You let out a small, rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no, it's okay. Really."

The air seems to thicken a little. You could only stand and watch for a few long moments as Minghao moves gracefully around, tending to all the flowers with his usual care.

After a long pause, you finally break the silence.

"It was good at first, I think, then it just became... awkward. Like really awkward. I thought I had everything planned out𑁋good place, nice flowers, all that jazz... but I guess it just didn't click. I think we both kind of felt it." You feel your shoulders deflate in a pit of defeat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you run a hand through your hair. "I don't know why I just rambled all that. Sorry about that."

Minghao doesn't say anything at first, simply giving you some space, but he feels his heart tighten in his chest. He casts his eyes on you, also unsure why you're telling him this or why it feels important to him, but he knows it's a moment of vulnerability𑁋a rare one𑁋and he wants to handle it with care.

"No need to say sorry," he reaffirms, tone soothing. "Sometimes things don't go as expected, and that's okay. It doesn't mean it wasn't meaningful."

You glance towards him, catching the sincerity dripping down from his words. It catches you by surprise at how almost... comfortable it feels to be open right now, with him. The atmosphere here doesn't demand anything of you.

"As people, we try so hard to make things go right that we forget to just... let them unfold naturally," he says softly, as if thinking aloud. "I think sometimes things don't work out because we're not ready for them yet, or maybe they're not the right kind of flower at the right time. You can spend so much time trying to arrange them, placing them in the perfect spot, hoping they'll just fit… but sometimes they don't. And that's okay."

You can't help but quirk a playful lip at that, but you can't resist the way his words appear to tug right at your heartstrings. "Are you comparing me to a flower?"

"Not just you, no," Minghao replies amusedly. "But I think you could be. A flower, I mean. You're just someone who's figuring out what kind you want to be."

The thought about being a flower𑁋in another life, perhaps𑁋is a bit silly. But you also wonder about other things too𑁋if you're being treated with the same care and attention that Minghao gives to his flowers, or if you're wilting like one that hasn't found the right light yet. And as you gaze around the shop, taking in the beauty of the blooms around you, you find yourself smiling.

"I think I'd like to try and take care of a flower," You announce, determination weaving around your voice and words. "I'm not sure if I'd be good at it, but I'd like to try."

Minghao crosses his arms together, letting out a thoughtful hum while studying you for a few seconds. "I think you'd do well."

For some reason, those few words were enough to send heat crawling up your body and into your face.

"Thank you," You breathe out sheepishly, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards. "Can you give me a few recommendations?"

Minghao just nods. "Sure."

From there, he leads you toward a small display near the front of the shop where a few different pots and seedlings are carefully arranged. He describes a few of them to you. You're immediately drawn to the passion dripping from his tone, and the way he appears to light up when he speaks.

"These might be a good start," he suggests, gesturing to a small seedling. "Marigolds are pretty low maintenance. They need light, of course, but they're easy to grow and care for."

You take a moment to study over the baby plant with sweet curiosity.

"I think I'll start with these, then," You say, glancing back at Minghao. "Something easy."

Minghao's eyes don't stray away from how you admire the tiny plant, how you cradle the pot in your hands to take a closer look at it as if you're already imagining yourself taking care of it.

"Taking care of them can be a good reminder to take care of yourself too," he points out. "They need patience, consistency… and a little bit of trust, just like people do."

You look up at him, a smile tugging at your lips once more, feeling something warm bloom in your chest. His words settle into you in a way that's hard to describe, but they feel right𑁋like they're exactly what you need to hear.

"That's true," You reply, the weight of the sentiment settling comfortably within you. "I guess I could use a reminder like that."

"Shall I wrap it up for you?" he offers.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

After mulling over some options, he chooses the perfect wrapping paper and adds a small note about caring for marigolds. You watch him, mesmerised by the ease in his movements, the care he pours into something so simple. For a moment, you forget about all the bustling noise outside the shop, and all that exists is Minghao and the flowers, his flowers.

As Minghao ties the final knot around the marigold pot, he hands it to you, and his fingertips briefly brush against yours.

"Thank you," You tell him softly. "For everything, really. It's very calming in here."

Minghao's smile widens, almost like he's heard those same words before, and perhaps he has; maybe many people find themselves drawn to his calm presence and the haven he's created in this little shop.

There's a strange warmth that spreads throughout your chest as you cradle the small plant in your hands. "I'll be sure to take good care of it."

A few moments of comfortable silence pass as you both stand there, your eyes drifting around the shop to take in the palette of autumn that colours the space. Yet it's almost instinctive in the way your gaze finds Minghao.

"I hope you won't mind me coming back, you know... to make sure I'm doing a good job with this little one." You gesture to the plant in your hands, a playful tone to your words.

Minghao chuckles, a sound as gentle as the petals surrounding him. "Of course. I'll be here."

"Do you mind if I take another look around with the place? It looks great, by the way."

"Take all the time you need."

And for the first time in a long while, Minghao felt like he wasn't just waiting for the next flower to bloom.

He was blooming, too.

"Do you have a favourite flower?"

The question rests upon Minghao's shoulders while he waters a cluster of orchids in the back corner of the shop. You're hovering near him, aimlessly trudging your fingertips over, but instead lets the question settle in between the quiet moments.

"I imagine it's hard to pick as a florist, right?" You let out a meek laugh. "It's kind of like asking a painter to pick their favourite colour."

The corners of Minghao's lips curl up slightly, his eyes fixed on the glistening leaves under the faint droplets of water. You can tell he's contemplating the question from the quiet hums leaving his mouth, and for some reason, you find comfort in his patience.

"Not exactly," he says after a pause, his voice steady, thoughtful. "A painter might have a favourite colour, but they don't use it all the time. It's about balance. Knowing when to bring it forward and when to hold it back."

"Ah, so you do have a favourite flower," You tease lightly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. "You just don't want to admit it."

The brief touch seems to linger in the air, a soft warmth that you both let pass without acknowledging. Minghao gently sets the watering can down and looks at you for a moment, his gaze a little deeper than before.

"In China, we have a lot of flowers that hold meaning," Minghao continues. "It's hard to pick one specifically, but... I've been liking the liánhuā lately𑁋the lotus. It grows in muddy water and blooms above the surface, even despite those circumstances. It also represents purity, resilience, and growth."

You tilt your head as you take in his words. You already knew yourself that you didn't know much about flowers, but there's a certain curiosity that washes over you from how Minghao speaks so fondly about them. Even something as simple as a flower has layers of meaning for him.

"That's really beautiful, I..." You trail off, trying to find the right words. "I've always looked at things really surface-level, you know, like I've always found daisies beautiful because they're so simple and bright, but I never really thought much about their deeper meanings. It's kind of like... I never thought about why I liked them. It's just easy to see them and appreciate them, I guess."

Minghao blinks at you, before lowering his gaze down to the floor. "Daisies suit you."

You turn to him, dazed. "Really?"

Minghao takes a contemplative pause. "Well, they're not only... beautiful to look at, but they brighten up any space they're in."

You feel your feet seep into the floor, sinking deeper as your cheeks warm, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were standing next to him. And it's the way he acts like he didn't fucking say anything out of the ordinary almost makes you lose it.

"Are you flirting with me right now?"

However, Minghao doesn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, his lips twitch into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then a few seconds later, your phone rings.

Minghao just offers you a little wave of his soil-painted hand. "Have fun at work, Y/N."

"Minghao! Can you teach me how to wrap these flowers?"

Minghao casts his attention up from displaying a new set of hyacinths, catching you behind the counter with a bouquet in your hands, along with a small old lady on the other side with a cheerful grin.

There's a subtle tug at the corners of his mouth when he hears you holler for him again, and he brushes his hands against his apron, before marching his way toward you. He steps up to you, taking the flowers from your hand while you beam happily towards the old lady.

"What's the occasion for the flowers, ma'am?" You ask curiously. Th elderly woman lets out a soft laugh, resting her wrinkled hands on the counter.

"It's for my grandson! He's graduating from high school today. Time flies by, doesn't it?"

"Wow, that's such a milestone! Congratulations to him," You exclaim enthusiastically, softly clapping your hands together as Minghao deftly arranges the flowers within the wrapping paper, before sliding it over to you.

He leans in a bit more, almost too close you feel the way his arm brushes against yours and the way his breath fans against your skin.

"Fold the edges like this," Minghao instructs softly, his hands hovering right over yours. "Make sure the paper covers the stems. Too much pressure could break them; too loose could make them fall apart."

You watch as his hands follow yours while you nervously, yet carefully trace the frail edge of the paper, showing you how to make each fold with a care that's almost tender. His close proximity sends strange flutters to your stomach, but you do your best to ignore it.

"Okay, like this?" You question, pulling the paper slightly tighter around the bouquet.

Minghao hums approvingly, letting you hold the flowers while he circles a ribbon around it with ease. His hands brush against yours as he neatly ties it, and the two of you pull back to watch how it delicately falls over the bouquet.

The old lady glances between the two of you with a knowing smile.

"The two of you make such a cute couple! Do you run the shop together?"

You feel your face fire up at that, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Then you instinctively glance over at Minghao, who surprisingly doesn't seem as flustered as you are.

"Oh, um, we're not𑁋"

"They like to help out here once in a while," Minghao adds in smoothly, though you aren't sure if that entirely helps or not. However you know what he's saying is true, because whenever your break for work comes or on your free time, you find yourself naturally walking towards the flower shop to help out at times.

The lady just beams up even more, scooping up the bouquet in her grasp. "Well, it's nice to see young faces working together! You two sure do have a lot of chemistry."

You offer a wave of your hand. "I hope your grandson enjoys the flowers. Congratulations to him once again!"

With that, the old woman offers a small wink before turning to head out of the shop. "Thank you, dear! Take care, both of you." Her delighted steps echo off the walls as she exits the shop.

The shop grows quiet again. You let out a sigh, cracking your knuckles as you turn to Minghao, who was already wiping over the surface of the counter, making quick work of putting things back in order, and for some reason, it still doesn't wipe away the pit of awkwardness you're feeling. You wonder if he feels the same too.

"So," Minghao starts, still continuing to clean without batting a glance at you. "You're taking over my shop, it seems."

You let out a haughty scoff. "I just wanted to try wrapping some flowers for someone. Don't let it get to your head."

Minghao only chuckles lightly, though he keeps his focus on the counter, yet you could only focus on him. You can't help but admire the way his hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, the slight endearing tilt of his head as he works, and how his movements are so meticulously unique to only him. There's a certain aura he exudes that makes you feel strangely at peace, a magic that only seems to reside within the walls of the shop.

"Why didn't you say no?" You suddenly ask, the question slipping out before you could shut your mouth.

Minghao pauses mid-swipe, looking back up at you. "Say no to what?"

"To, uh... the lady back there," You stammer, feeling the heat creep back at your neck. "About us, you know... being a couple."

Minghao remains silent as he tosses the dirty wipe away. For a moment, he seems to be contemplating something𑁋whether the question, the idea, or something more.

Then he just simply shrugs. "I guess I didn't mind it," he replies lowly, and meets your eyes warily. "Does it bother you?"

Your mind goes completely blank at his question. Does it bother you? The simple truth is that you didn't expect him to answer so casually. You were expecting him to probably correct her humbly, in all honesty. After all, it was just a passing comment from a lady who didn't mean any harm behind it.

But... does it bother you?

"No, it... it doesn't bother me. Really," You respond after a pause, voice coming out a bit forced. Your heart is beating super fast right now. "I guess I just didn't expect you to go along with it since we're not𑁋"

"𑁋not a couple," Minghao finishes for you. "I know."

You feel like you're melting into a pile of goo, your thoughts scattering like ants running out of their pile.

"I'm sorry, I'm overthinking," You mumble out, trying to brush everything off with an airy laugh.

Minghao shakes his head. "I should be sorry. I made you uncomfortable."

"You-You didn't, trust me!" You wave your hands dismissively, albeit a bit dramatic. "I was just caught off-guard and didn't know how to respond."

This seems to relax Minghao's shoulders a bit, but not entirely.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is as light as a  wisp getting caught in the wind. "But you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, right?"

You give him an easy nod, maybe even confident. "I would. I promise. And you'd... tell me too?"

Minghao meets your eyes with a steady gaze, his expression soft but thoughtful. For a moment, there's a subtle shift in the air, and you can feel the weight of his words before he speaks again.

"Yeah," he answers firmly, sincerely. "I would."

When you open your mouth to speak again, your phone dings in your pocket. You squint your eyes to read over the message in your notifications, before closing up your phone.

"My meeting got cancelled." Then you blink up towards Minghao, as if trying to convey an unspoken question to him.

As if the answer wasn't already obvious, Minghao gives you a small, almost teasing smile.

"I don't mind the company," he tells you, then quirks up a brow. "Unless you do."

"I don't mind either," I like being in this place... with you. "Not at all."

Flowers bloom when the time is right. And you don't mind waiting for it.

When a flower dies, there's a certain routine that comes after it. Trim away the wilted petals, dispose of the stems, recycle them as compost, and plant the next set of blooms.

Minghao hates seeing flowers die.

The sound of crumbling petals tie a knot in his chest, the stillness that follows afterwards is almost deafening. But he knows it's an inevitable part of life. Every flower has its chance to bloom and thrive, and eventually, it will fade.

The flowers don't belong to him, after all𑁋they are simply passing through his care briefly before going to someone else or withering away, like everything else in life. Minghao knows it's unnecessary to hold onto these flowers so tightly, but after being surrounded by them his entire life, it's merely impossible to let go.

The bell chimes as he's composting a few camellias that had sadly wilted, and he gazes up to find a gust of snow following your footsteps as you step inside. A large, black fluffy coat hugs your body and a scarf is wrapped snugly around your neck. However this time, Minghao doesn't notice any ounce of a smile to your face.

He sets the compost bin down and wipes his hands on his apron.

"Y/N?"

There's a very subtle twitch to your expression when he calls out your name.

"Hey," You croak out, voice a bit strained. "Um... is it fine if I buy some flowers?"

Minghao feels something in his chest clench at your tone, but he pushes the feeling away with his usual calm composure, masking away any concern simmering on the surface.

"Sure," he replies, focusing on the shadows that plague over your features. "Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

Your eyes drift away from to look around the flower shop, taking note of the bright, usual blooms that surround you, yet none of them appear are what you're looking for.

"Do you have, um..." You feel like you're already going to regret this. "...anything for a funeral?"

The words float in the air between you both. Minghao's expression falters for just a moment, the calmness that he usually carries slipping as his eyes soften toward you.

"Of course," he says softly. "I have a few options."

With that, he leads you to a particular spot in the shop, where it houses all sorts of flowers with muted colours𑁋white roses and lilies, pale chrysanthemums, and pink and purple orchids all arranged neatly. Minghao watches as you gaze over each flower, but he doesn't speak yet, simply allowing you the moment to breathe.

"These are the traditional flowers for a funeral," he explains finally. "White roses for remembrance, lilies for peace, chrysanthemums for mourning, and orchids for everlasting love."

Minghao has picked flowers for funerals before. He's also seen people hold onto flowers that are long past their bloom, clinging to them as if their presence alone could bring someone back. He's been there too.

It's bit a different when it's you though, and he doesn't exactly know how to explain it.

You plod slowly throughout the display, picking up a stem here and there, but each time, you set it back down as if it didn't feel right. But when you come across the orchids, you linger a little longer on them, tenderly caressing the petals as if you were scared to break them.

"I think I'll choose these ones. The orchids," You murmur, picking up a few stems and showing it to him.

Minghao just nods, taking the ones from your hands and grabbing a few more to finish the rest of the bouquet, moving with careful precision.

"I'll handle the rest, don't worry," he assures you as he gracefully works to arrange the orchids.

None of you choose to say anything more, only letting the diffident silence stretch. For some reason, the shop feels a little more cooler, the air heavier than usual. The only sound is the rustling of Minghao's hands moving carefully over the flowers, the quiet snap of a stem as he trims it with his shears. Outside, the snow continues to fall.

Minghao doesn't press for any details, yet even in the quiet, you have a feeling that he knows. Maybe that's why he's just letting his hands speak for him.

"Here you go." He offers you a neat bouquet of pale lavender orchids.

You step up to him to retrieve it from his grasp, bringing it close to your chest. "Thank you."

Minghao knows he shouldn't let his feelings get in the way, but as he takes note of the slight glassiness to your eyes and small tremble of your hands holding the bouquet, he isn't sure how much longer he can hold it in. He feels guilty when he lets his eyes drift down to your lips for a second, before averting it back up quickly.

The smile you give him is nothing short of fragile, faint, but it's there. And then, with a sudden leap, you find yourself leaning into Minghao's embrace without thinking, wrapping your arms around his body as if he was the only thing in the world that was preventing you from falling down. And in a way, he is.

His arms catch you instinctively, gentle yet steady, embracing around you like flowers petals folding inward for protection. His warmth seeps into you as if he were the sun reaching a flower in the early hours of dawn, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you to press closer into his warmth.

You don't cry𑁋not entirely. A single tear slips past your lashes, landing silently against his shoulder. He feels it, but he doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and just lets you... be.

"I'm sorry," You mumble into his shoulder. "I didn't mean to𑁋"

"Don't be," Minghao interrupts softly. "It's okay."

You pull away for a moment to look up at him. He's still holding you. His hands have fallen down to your sides, resting there as if he's held you like this before. The way you're looking at him has Minghao nearly forgetting how to breathe; it nearly urges to him to lean down and close the distance between the two of you.

His gaze lingers on your lips, and for a split second, Minghao almost allows himself to follow the instinct to lean in.

But then he stops himself.

He's not sure what this is, what the right thing to do is. His thoughts are tangled mess of roots𑁋he's always been careful with holding himself back, with promising to wait, yet something about the way you look at him makes it feel like the only right thing to do is to give in.

But he can't. Not yet. Not when you're so fragile and baring yourself raw to him.

Yet he sees the way your eyes flutter at him, the way a crease of question forms in between your brows as if you're also unsure of what this moment is, but there's a longing there too. It's almost pleading. And you lean in a little more towards him.

"Y/N," he breathes out your name, and it's the first time you ever heard his voice shake like that. "We... We shouldn't."

You don't say anything at first, your eyes searching his face like you're trying to read something. You open your mouth, close it, and then, with a slight exhale, you step back, only a little, but enough to let the cool air seep in between you.

"I'm sorry, I..." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, letting out a sniffle. "Fuck, I'm sorry..."

Minghao feels his chest tighten. "It's okay𑁋"

"I-I just wanted to feel something for a moment, you know? Everything is such a mess right now and the first person I thought of was you, because I like... the way you make me feel. I like it way more than I should. And that... that it's okay if you don't feel that way too."

Minghao's heart stutters at that, and perhaps the world even pauses too. All words that want to leave him become stuck in his throat, because he knows deep down𑁋from as far back as the moment you walked into the flower shop𑁋that he's felt the same way for far too long.

So, he settles with taking one hand from your side and slowly reaching up to trace your warm cheek with his thumb, his touch delicate as if he's afraid he might cause your petals to fall down. He brushes away a lingering tear that had been drying up on your skin and lets his hand stay there.

"You... deserve way more than just comfort in a moment like this," Minghao starts quietly. "But you're grieving right now, and I don't want to take advantage of that. I don't want to just be someone who's here for a moment, because... you mean so much to me more than that."

Your lips form into a tight, thin line, and you flicker your gaze towards the floor, the heaviness in the air still weighing down on your shoulders.

"Minghao..."

"And if I act on what I feel, it wouldn't be fair to you," Minghao continues, voice trembling slightly as he speaks. "I want it to be because you know what you want. And if you ever give me that chance, I promise I'll be here for you. Not just now, not just in this moment, but... for everything. When you're ready; when you're healed; when it feels right, I'll be here𑁋I always have been."

There's a lump in your throat that you swallow down. For a while, you could only simply stand there, feeling as if you're teetering on the edge of something you can't quite reach. But even as you stand in this stillness, there's something in his words that echoes off the walls of your mind𑁋it's understanding, and it's care, and it feels like a promise.

"I... I know. I just... I'm sorry for putting all this on you. I think I need space to... heal and think." Then you look back up at him, wonder tainting your features. "Will you wait for me?"

The question feels a bit silly to ask, and it makes Minghao's features soften as he looks at you, a warmth in his chest that spreads like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a cold morning.

"I've already been waiting for you," he says, almost cheekily, and it seems to lighten the moment a little. "I haven't planned on stopping anytime soon."

The chuckle that leaves you isn't forced; in fact, it's quite relieving. It feels like the start of something, and Minghao feels a flicker of hope at the sound.

You reluctantly separate yourself away from him, cradling the bouquet of orchids to your chest, and let out an exhale you hardly realise you were holding in.

"I'll be okay, you know," You tell him, even if it's a bit of lie, or half the truth. You can't tell which.

Minghao glances down to your hands, as if you're holding a piece of your heart wrapped up within the petals, before back up to your eyes.

"I know," is all he says.

The world doesn't stop for grief, but it's okay to pause for a little while.

Minghao wonders if flowers ever feel the same bittersweet pull when their petals fall𑁋the ache of letting go, but the quiet hope of something new taking root.

You haven't stepped foot in the flower shop in a while. At least, not as often as you used to come.

The absence is especially daunting, and Minghao can't help but feel it every time the bell chimes and it isn't you that walks through the door. On rare occasion you'd swing by to say hello during your breaks at work and sometimes, a pretty, shy smile from you before you disappear back into the world outside.

It's strange how easily your presence had come to be a part of the rhythm of his days. He used to wonder how someone like you would be drawn to the boring stillness of a flower shop. But now the place feels more emptier than before you came into his life, the petals around him somehow less vibrant, the air colder, even when the sun streams through the windows.

He tries not to dwell on it, but he can't help the nagging feeling that maybe you've drifted away, maybe things have changed. Maybe he was just a moment for you. And now, that moment has passed.

So he simply spends his days in the shop, moving between shelves of blossoms and arranging bouquets, but his thoughts always return to you. To the quiet moments when your voice would fill the space between the flowers, to the way you cared and tended the blooms even when you had no reason to.

It makes him think that if flowers could speak for us, then what might they say about you? Would they say you were someone who saw beauty in the smallest things? Minghao often found himself wishing that flowers could speak just so he can hear what they would say about you.

But flowers don't speak, of course. They just bloom and stretch toward the light, growing in places where they are tended to, and even in those that have been forgotten.

Maybe that's what Minghao was𑁋a forgotten flower of his own waiting to be seen, to be noticed.

Luckily, he was able to distract himself a bit today with a few deliveries for a couple of upcoming weddings and a new arrangement for the store he was preparing to do in the next few days, along with piles of orders for days. But it still wasn't enough.

As he flips the sign on the window to display Closed, he fumbles for his keys to lock the door. However, the sound of the bell rings through the shop, stopping him mid-motion. Minghao lifts a brow up, not expecting for anyone to show up right as he's about to close up.

And when he looks up, he freezes.

"I'm not late, aren't I?"

It's you.

The way your voice comes out all shaky like you're out of breath, yet soft has Minghao feeling as if he's sinking into quicksand. The sight of you standing at the doorway is a dream he never dares to wake up from.

"You're not," Minghao manages to say, somehow. "You're just in time."

Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click.

Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click. You take in the familiar, fresh scent of all the blooms and greenery around you, and it hits you in the heart just how much you've missed this place.

"I had, uh… a late shift at work," You explain unsurely. "so I thought about stopping by, but I wasn't sure if you'd still be here."

Minghao just shakes his head, watching as you brush your fingertips over some lilies and baby's breaths that were displayed on a small table near the window. Gosh, he'd do anything to flat out say how much he missed you, how much he'd been thinking about you, but he doesn't.

"Have you been busy?" You ask him.

"A little," he responds. "but manageable, I would say."

"Ah… that's good," You mumble, voice trailing off as you start to make your way in his direction, catching eye on a particular bouquet sitting on the counter behind him. "No-show again?"

Minghao lets out a sigh, and he feels you following behind as he walks towards the counter. He picks up the bouquet in his hand, letting his gaze fall over it.

"Mhm," he hums. "But it's alright, really. Happens more often than you think."

You quirk a brow as your eyes roam over the bouquet, and a particular, almost knowing look stretches across your lips.

"That's funny," You huff, taking the bouquet from his grasp. It held a colourful variety of hydrangeas. "It looks a lot like an order I placed a few days ago."

Minghao's heart skips a beat as he watches you carefully examine the bouquet, his breath caught in his throat.

"This… was yours?" he questions in surprise.

"Yeah, I…" You bite your lips sheepishly. "It was sort of an impulsive thing, I guess."

Minghao only continues to watch as you admire the bouquet, caressing over the delicate wrapping paper and the all-too familiar bow that he would tie all of his other arrangements.

"Impulsive, huh?" Minghao teases lightly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Well, you certainly picked a good one."

You look up at him, a small, tentative smile forming on your face. "I guess I just wanted to get something special. For someone."

Minghao feels his heart sink at that, a flutter of hope and uncertainty colliding in his chest. Someone.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat, unsure if it's his place to ask, or if he even wants to hear the answer.

"I see," he says instead, trying to keep his tone relaxed, though there's a hint of sadness to his voice that he silently hopes you don't notice.

You take note of his unreadable expression, over the way his eyes appear downcast and a subtle tension to his posture.

However, this doesn't make you stop from gripping the bouquet tighter in your grasp, and then in the next moment, you're stepping closer and offering it over to him.

"I hope you like them," You state, holding out the bouquet thing as if was the most natural thing in the world.

Minghao glances at the bouquet quizzically, the same one he had just been holding, then back at you. His face shifts between a million different expressions𑁋confusion, surprise, hope, and everything in between𑁋before the tension in his chest eases just slightly as he finally registers what you're doing.

He's a florist, for crying out loud. He's usually the one to be giving flowers to people. Never in his years of practically living in the shop has anyone offered flowers to him. The gesture is practically foreign, yet in this moment, it feels so right.

His fingers graze against yours as he hesitantly takes it from your hands, but you fully let go. Instead, you cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading between you as you gently press your palm against his. His heart is beating in his throat, in his ears, everywhere in his body, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

"I missed you," You declare softly, yet a pinch of urgency behind your words. "I missed you so fucking much."

His chest tightens, and it's as if the weight of everything crushes him in the best possible way. All the time he had spent wondering if you had forgotten about him, if maybe you had moved on, it all melts away in an instant. Because you're here. And you're saying everything he's been craving to hear.

And gosh, does he want to kiss you right now.

This time, Minghao doesn't waste a second. He brings a hand up to cradle the side of your neck as he presses his lips to yours. It's perhaps a bit desperate first, making him swallow down a faint sigh you let out but it quickly settles into something softer, deeper, like two people who've been waiting for this moment for far too long.

He can feel the slight tremble in your breath as your lips move against his, and he pulls back slightly, just to make sure you were still with him.

Minghao lets his thumb lightly caress over your cheek as if trying to memorise the feeling of your skin under his touch, as if he'd been starved for this closeness.

"I missed you too," he whispers, a breath away from your lips. "The flowers did too."

A light, airy chuckle escapes from you. "Oh, did they?"

"Of course," Minghao murmurs, his lips curling upwards against your skin. "They've been waiting for you to come back."

"Well, I better not keep them waiting anymore then, right?" You jest playfully, leaning in back once again.

Minghao doesn't hesitate to meet you halfway. "Nope," he says firmly against your mouth. "I think they've waited long enough."

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[foursaints]

re: last post. evan rosier being sacked from st. mungo's & then swiftly scooped up by tom to fill the death eater's need for a healer is something that can be so personal

evan had his own room at the back of riddle house. it was filled with antique surgical devices and "medical" textbooks with the most concerning titles & absolutely NOBODY ever wanted to get healed. i picture like, avery or whoever clumsily healing lucius's wounds until tom comes upon this like ? i've specifically enlisted a VERY SKILLED healer for this exact purpose. and the other death eaters are just like.... i don't know how to tactfully say that you couldn't PAY me to enter evan rosier's den of inferi autopsies & rusty bone-saws. he was FIRED from st. mungo's. his healing magic hurts WORSE than the original wound. he's WEIRD and it smells like DEATH in there

they go anyway because they're scared of tom. barty is the only one who just simply can't relate. that's his happy place

[ocudeus]

[clockwork-carstairs]

It’s actually so funny that Jem canonically has no idea how eloquently he phrases things and is like Noo I’m not good with words 😪😓 and everyone around him is like. ??????? NO???

[nemesyaaa]

jieidozodeieiez omgg you're sure it was 2k words because it feels so fast to read. i've enjoyed this too much ibthink ?? your first series (not really BC YOU made the one with honeymoon) but anyways, i'm so so so glad and i know it's gonna be really good. i already appreciate this story so much, and the relationship between rafe. i can smell the angst coming and i'm ready for it. your writings is just so beautiful, the way your sentences seems so perfectly written it's amazing. i can't wait for the part2. and the moodboard is so pretty 💕💕‼️

jaw ticking, rafe cursed to himself when his phone started ringing, ward’s contact lighting up the screen. “i’m going home already, alright? yes— yes, dad! i know we have a meeting with some investors in the morning.. what? no i’m not fuckin’ high!” he rambled on, feigning offense when his father called his bluff. “just stop— i know, okay? i’ll be there in a minute—” before rafe could finish his sentence, he took a sharp turn, swerving onto the curb before hitting a light pole. —.lmfaoooo it's hard to be a liar ??? 😭😭😭😭💀nobody believes you bro

“so.. you live all alone in this pink camper in the middle of the woods? aren’t you scared some psycho will come across it and want to know who’s inside?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” rafe watched as you unlocked the small screen door, a chuckle threatening to slip from his throat. “i would laugh if it didn’t feel like i had a thousand needles stabbing me in my brain right now.” he swallowed thickly, accepting the hand you offered him to step in. — she lives the fairy princess life damn it. anyways, this « “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” » 🙂‍↕️🥹 I love them

even now as you two sat in your favorite diner, sharing a milkshake and laughing at whatever the other was saying, you felt no worries when you and rafe were together, your heart threatening to burst at the seams everytime you looked at him. everything was perfect.. at least for now. all good things must come to an end, and when you two are threatened by none other than ward himself, the love bubble you two have been mindlessly floating in is suddenly popped. — this sounds so fluffy and good right now that i know the drama is about to come and crash everything....

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | PROLOGUE

a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©

SUMMARY: nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the handsome kook that came crashing into your life.. quite literally. it’s hard to think that at one point you and rafe didn’t know one another, especially since you two have spent every passing day together for the last four months.

WARNINGS: drug use, driving under the influence, reckless driving, rafe arguing with ward, descriptions of a mild injury, mentions of addiction and sobriety, blood, reader tends to rafe’s wounds, fluff, opposite of slowburn, forced proximity (?), time skip (from four months ago to the current day), slight angst

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ahhhhh!! it’s finally here, and i couldn’t be more excited to share this with all of you!! all feedback is deeply appreciated <3 feel free to ask to be added to the taglist if you’d like!

LINKS: series masterlist | next chapter

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

rafe set a new record for himself tonight, and he wasn’t proud of it. not only did he lose count of the lines he snorted off of topper’s coffee table, he also had ward blowing up his phone. “aye, man, i don’t think you should be driving.” topper slurred, downing the alcohol in his glass. cleaning the residue from his nose, rafe shook him off, stumbling through the crowd of people in the living room before hopping in his truck and peeling out of the packed street.

jaw ticking, rafe cursed to himself when his phone started ringing, ward’s contact lighting up the screen. “i’m going home already, alright? yes— yes, dad! i know we have a meeting with some investors in the morning.. what? no i’m not fuckin’ high!” he rambled on, feigning offense when his father called his bluff. “just stop— i know, okay? i’ll be there in a minute—” before rafe could finish his sentence, he took a sharp turn, swerving onto the curb before hitting a light pole.

you were locking up the icecream parlor when you heard the high pitched squeal of tires against the pavement, a loud crash making you jump from your spot in front of the door. spinning on your heels, your eyes widened when you saw a black truck just feet away from the main street, smoke billowing from under the hood. unsure of what to do, you looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but of course, the strip was always empty at this time of the night.

“son of a bitch!” you heard someone groan before they tumbled out of the front seat, falling face down against the concrete. you gasped, dropping your purse before running across the street. “are you okay?!” you helped the stranger sit up, wincing when you saw blood dripping from his nose. he stared at you wide eyed, his pupils blown as you kneeled in front of him. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” you reassured him, slipping off your cardigan before holding it against his nose. you noticed the open gash on his brow, your heart sinking when you saw his eyes soften. “we really need to get you to the emergency, do you have a phone?” rafe shook his head, leaning back against the tire of his truck. “no. well, yes, i have a phone.. somewhere.. but i can’t go to the emergency, not like this.” just then, rafe felt a sharp pain shoot up to his temple from his neck.

“yes, like this! you’re all scraped up.” you said incredulously. “no, i mean i’m not sober.” as if he was waiting for you to judge him, rafe watched as your expression didn’t falter. “i promise you, going to the emergency and getting help from a professional is a lot more better than not going at all. your truck can always be replaced; you can’t.” your words lit a fire in his chest, the sincerity in your tone making him crack a pained smile.

“i’ll go to jail for this, and i just can’t do that right now. i have to be somewhere in the morning, my dad will kill me if he finds out..” remembering that he was on the phone with ward before he crashed, he scrambled up to find the device, only to groan and plop back down on the street. still holding the pink cardigan to his head, you guided his hand to hold it for you. “what are you looking for? i can try to find it.” rafe let out a shaky breath, mumbling “my phone.” before you got up and spotted it near the tire.

turning it over, you held it up for him to see. it was completely shattered. “i don’t think it’s going to work..” you handed it to him, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “what the fuck?” he breathed out, holding his head in his hands. you’ve never seen someone look so defeated before, your feet moving on their own before you could think. “do you think you can walk? my place is only five minutes away.” rafe looked up like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

“your place?” he repeated, half shocked and half confused as to why you’d offer him help. “yes,” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, “i don’t have a phone there, but i can at least get you cleaned up..” rafe tried to weigh out his options, only to realize he didn’t have any. “are you sure?” he was truly at your mercy. “yes. here— just keep holding this to your head, let me go get my purse and we can be on our way.” you left him with your cardigan, running across the street and grabbing your bag before getting him up.

“i’m a lot stronger than i thought.” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood as you wrapped one of rafe’s arms around your shoulders. “fuck, what about my truck?” rafe leaned his weight on you, nearly making you topple over before you took a step. “someone will find it and call a tow, you could call the towing company tomorrow,” you explained to him, “do you have anything valuable in there?” rafe laughed, shaking his head. “just my piece of shit phone that has no value now.” he grunted, walking with a slight limp.

“hey, uhm, what’s your name?” rafe looked down at you, both of you sharing a glance before he looked away. despite him not being in the right state of mind, there was no doubting how insanely pretty you were. “y/n.. and yours?” why on earth were you getting butterflies right now? “rafe.” was all he replied before he started asking you an abundant amount of questions. rafe learned a lot about you in the short five minute walk to your camper. what you did for a living, where you currently worked for some extra money, what your hobbies consisted of.. along with being a pogue.

“so.. you live all alone in this pink camper in the middle of the woods? aren’t you scared some psycho will come across it and want to know who’s inside?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” rafe watched as you unlocked the small screen door, a chuckle threatening to slip from his throat. “i would laugh if it didn’t feel like i had a thousand needles stabbing me in my brain right now.” he swallowed thickly, accepting the hand you offered him to step in.

he was immediately hit with the smell of freshly baked cake and vanilla frosting. he loved it. “i know it’s really small in here, but you could just take a seat right there on that little couch and i’ll go get my first aid kit.” rafe did as you said, eyes darting around your space. pink florals, white lace trim, usually he’d be irked by this kind of decor, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he didn’t mind it this time. rafe leaned back on the soft sofa, settling into the cushions while you scrambled for the little first aid kit somewhere in your bathroom.

spotting the small box on your little shelf, you grabbed it before making your way back to where rafe was sitting. he opened his eyes momentarily, finding you even more pretty now that darkness didn’t surround you two. he kept his gaze on you, watching as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. “sorry about this..” rafe took the pink cardigan away from his head, the fabric now stained with blood. “oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “you needed it more than i did.”

pressing a damp cloth to his nose, rafe groaned when you applied the slightest bit of pressure. “i’m sorry!” you pouted, taking a seat next to him. rafe reassured you he was alright, a groan leaving his lips as he clutched his stomach. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you lifted his shirt, your eyes widening at the sight. he was scraped and bruised, a small wound adorning his lower abdomen. “here, lets get this off.” you pulled rafe’s t-shirt over his head, both of your cheeks heating at the compromising position.

“we could stop if this is too weird for you—” you shook your head, taking an ice pack out of your freezer. “no, it’s okay.” you pressed the cold bag to his skin, still wiping away the dried blood on his face. “i’m not sure how far you live, but i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk anywhere.” your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound of it soothing rafe more than any kind of medicine he could take right now. “don’t worry about me, i’ll be fine.” rafe watched your fingers dance across his stomach, your nails sparkling underneath the dim lighting of your camper.

you thought for a moment. “i guess what i’m trying to say is; i think you’re better off staying the night here..” you trailed off, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be able to get to a phone in the morning and call whoever you need to. you should just get some rest right now.” rafe was stunned. you wanted him to stay? “i don’t know..” he sounded uneasy, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. “it’s okay, i swear! you could take my bed since there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep on this little thing.”

“no, no way, i’m fine with sleeping on the floor.” you smiled at him, eyes flickering down to his lips. “no, really, it’s okay…?” you trailed off, unsure of what to call him since you didn’t know his name. “rafe.” he answered. “rafe,” he liked the way his name sounded rolling off of your tongue, “i’ve fallen asleep plenty of times over here, i’ll be fine on the couch.” you got up, wringing out the towel you were using to clean him up. “i just have one rule, though,” rafe held the ice pack to his stomach, humming as you grabbed some ointment and a couple of bandages.

“you can only lay in my bed if you’re clean.. and you need a shower.” the corner of rafe’s lips quirked. “if you want to see me naked all you have to do is ask.” you blinked, pushing his chest softly. “that’s not what i meant.” you giggled. “i’ll get you a change of clothes, just get in there for right now.” rafe was already too far in to look back. getting up with your assistance, you guided rafe to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. “there’s clean towels and wash rags on the shelf!” you called from the kitchen, yawning as all of tonight’s events started to catch up with you.

rafe didn’t know what to make of all of this. one minute he was high out of his mind, crashing into a light pole with his dad on the phone, and the next he was inside some gorgeous girl’s camper getting tended to before using a strawberry scented body wash in her shower. what the fuck was his luck? taking his time in the shower, rafe thought about how he’d explain everything to ward tomorrow, from the towed truck to the cuts and bruises.

he wondered if ward would even care.

by the time rafe was done, he was stepping out of the bathroom smelling like a slice of strawberry cake with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he glanced over at the couch, your back facing him as you slept soundlessly. moving aside the pink curtain that concealed the doorway to your room, rafe slipped into the sweatpants you left out for him, settling underneath your silky soft sheets shortly after.

how was it that you just happened to be the only person around when he crashed? how did he crash right in front of where you worked? and why were you being so nice to him? rafe had so many questions and couldn’t think of any logical answers. he didn’t believe in fate, but looking back on it, that seems to be the only explanation. the next day he woke up to his clothes freshly washed and wearable again, your music playing softly in the kitchen. “good morning!” you chirped, your hair and makeup already done for the day.

“hey..” rafe was still shirtless, his eyes following your every move. “what time is it?” he took a seat at the little booth by the wall, his head no longer pounding the way it did last night. “it’s about to be ten. i was debating if whether or not i should’ve woken you up earlier, but you really needed to sleep.” you leaned back against the counter, admiring the handsome man in your camper. “your wallet should also be with your clothes there on that chair,” you started, “..so i was thinking; the little store just right outside of these woods has a pay phone that you can use.”

rafe nodded. “yeah, that sounds good.” he couldn’t think of the last time he woke up without wanting the day to be over with already. “hey, listen— uhm, i owe you a huge one for everything you’ve done for me.. i apologize if it was an inconvenience in any way, but i really do appreciate you.” rafe got up, grabbing his wallet from your room. “here. please take it.” you looked down at the hundred dollar bills tucked between his fingers, shaking your head as you moved his hands away.

“absolutely not.” you laughed. “no, please, take it.” rafe got closer, opening one of your palms before closing it around the bills. “rafe, i don’t want it!” you backed away, “i’m serious.” rafe let out a sigh. he already knew how this would go, so instead of urging you to keep it, he placed the money on your dresser after he was done changing. “well i guess i’ll be leaving now.” you masked the disappointment on your face by offering him a smile. “yeah, i guess so..” without saying a word, you and rafe stared at each other before he wrapped his arms around you, the action giving you butterflies.

before you could say or do anything, he pulled away and left, leaving your camper feeling more emptier than usual. you walked over to the door where you watched him walk away until you couldn’t see him anymore, a pout on your lips as you did so. while you were sure that you would more than likely never see him again, you couldn’t be more wrong. that day was the first of approximately one hundred and twenty one days, and counting, that you two would spend together. rafe came back to you the next day with a brand new pink cardigan to replace the other one you so selflessly let him ruin.

one icecream date turned into several, which then progressed into him coming over to your place with an overnight bag, his very own toothbrush now taking a spot next to yours. which then led to him picking you up and dropping you off at work, and so on until he finally said that you were his. you two spent the entire summer underneath the trees, rolling around in the grass as you two gasped each other’s names into your mouths, sharing sweet kisses and an even sweeter love that continued to grow with no intentions of ever stopping.

rafe had gotten sober out of fear that he wouldn’t remember what a love like this felt like if he was high all the time, and without judgement, you were there with him every step of the way. you stayed by his side when he felt like all hope was lost, and for that he could never thank you enough. although ward wondered where rafe would go off to, he didn’t bring himself to care as long as he was doing what he needed to do for the family business. with his dad off of his back, and you to come ‘home’ to everyday, he could say that he was truly happy.

even now as you two sat in your favorite diner, sharing a milkshake and laughing at whatever the other was saying, you felt no worries when you and rafe were together, your heart threatening to burst at the seams everytime you looked at him. everything was perfect.. at least for now. all good things must come to an end, and when you two are threatened by none other than ward himself, the love bubble you two have been mindlessly floating in is suddenly popped.

taglist: @percysley @oceandriveab @archiveofvirtue @weirdowithnobeardo @mattyskies @ankoluvly @cnnamongrl @b3bybunny @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @lovinqbella @jeonmochi99-blog @corpsebridenightamare @whorelaud @mymvlody @idontknowwhyimhere33 @ursovaine

[xxplastic-cubexx]

bro the feminine wiles aren’t even a joke like. im with that anon who thought hellfire gala charles was a woman when they first saw him bc same, that design is insaaaane (/pos). how could u not think that when u see it lmfao. idk whose choice it was to give him a corset but the hourglass figure + female coded jawline combo do not lie. i saw it on pinterest and i was like ohhh don’t lie to me i know an anime girl when i see one- WAIT PROFESSOR X????

and that’s not even to mention movieverse charles ofc. we’ve all seen james mcavoy and his big sparkly kawaii anime eyes, i shouldn’t have to say it. charles xavier is never beating the allegations, i fear

gonna need this ask hung in the louvre i fear

[starii-lins]

screenshot redraw :] ver without text below cut

[m4homes]

…. and if i speak.

[javiersprincess]

INTRODUCING….JAVIERLAMB ! thank you so much @l1p3k4 for this work, it’s everything i wanted and incredibly beautiful ! i can’t wait to stare it this art longingly every five minutes🫶🏼

^ another javierlamb song

[mrmeepsmadmind]

WHY IS HIS TACTIC JUST SPREADING BUSSY OMG ?!?!??!?!?!?⁉️⁉️